There Are Some Things You Can't Walk Away From

[tsunwolf]

He'd figured it would be simple. He'd told McCall, and slipping away with Cora was the easy answer. The past year all condensed down into a duffle bag of clothes and sunglasses; no room for all of his mistakes. It seemed like the best solution, to walk away, go off on their own, leave Scott and Stiles and Isaac and Beacon Hill to their own devices. There was no taking back that he'd screwed up. Saving Cora didn't make up for Boyd and Erica. They were holes in his heart that he didn't think could ever be filled.

They'd saved the last three sacrifices, they'd saved Deucalion from himself, at least for now, and Jennifer had been far beyond saving. He'd heard about the price for the ritual, about Beacon Hills becoming a literal beacon, but he still didn't think he should stay. He could work with Scott, but he'd never be his Beta. Scott had his own pack now, non-traditional as it might be, filled with hunters and Betas and Alphas and a Banshee. It was easy enough to believe that they were better off without him.

Scott could do it better, which was an acidic thought that curled in his chest. No one appreciated it, but he'd tried. He'd done his best, he had tried to be a good leader. He'd made a point to take this most likely to survive the process, to not take the strongest, but the most vulnerable, those who needed the Bite. Isaac, Erica, Boyd... They were people that had been stronger, better as werewolves. He'd wanted to protect them, to keep them safe, to teach them. Their blood was on his hands, except Isaac, who hadn't really been his since he'd sent him away. He'd done too good of a job making the blond Beta hate him.

He flips the lightswitch, and the empty loft plunges into darkness. Despite everything that had happened, it looks like no one had ever been there at all. How he liked it. He tugged at his jacket, as he picked up his bag. Cora was waiting for him and he was already halfway out the door. But he lingered, brows drawing together, looking at the dark doorway. There was so much to leave behind.

Comments

[tsunwolf]

Stiles says he'll stay, and that's comfort that blooms in his chest, voiced in the rumble of a slow exhale. There's a hint of a smile that curls at his lips as Stiles slides down over him, collapsing on top of Derek's body. He shifts a little, curling in toward Stiles and wrapping an arm against the teenager. Making sure he can't leave. He just wants to keep him, wants him to stay, even if he's not exactly prepared to look at that desire too closely. It's not recent, so much as tonight just sparked off everything he's been ignoring for the past year. Ignoring it was easier.

"I want you here," Derek breathes in a huff, words muffled as he nuzzles into Stiles' skin. He can deal with all of this in the morning. What happened, how he feels, what happened and that he wants to do it again, that he wants sex, wants to feel Stiles against him, and the fact that he's staying. The fact that his loft is nearly bone-bare, and he's honestly lucky he left the comforter on the bed. He pulls Stiles close, breathing in the way their scents mingle together as pleasure curls through his body.

[causticly]

Stiles grins at the admission, sighing quietly. "Good, you won't be able to get rid of me after this. I hope you know that," he says, half- well mostly- meaning it. Because he does want to be with Derek, but only if the man wants him in return. He wants them to be happy. They both deserve that, he thinks idly.

He curls up against Derek's warm body and closes his eyes, listening to his breathing relax from their activities, letting their legs twine together where they lay. As he lays there, he turns his head in a bit and nuzzles, rubs his cheek against the man's strong chest and sighs contently again.

[tsunwolf]

"Good," Derek manages in return, the words tinged with just a touch of a growl. A hint of something possessive, the wolf that doesn't want Stiles to escape, to leave. His body is heavy with his orgasm and because it's maybe the first night where he hasn't had to worry about something. The first night where things feel impossibly, traitorously, as if they're okay. As if he can steal this moment without the world collapsing around them with monsters and things that seem to always, always be his fault.

He lets himself drift off easily with their bodies twined together. Derek nibbles lightly the teen's shoulder, not enough to break skin, but just enough to leave an imprint, something that will linger, satisfy a desire he's not looking at to mark him. His. His hand curling against Stiles' arm, keeping it curled against him as his own arm sleepily drapes across the teen. He wants him, here, with him.