"Wow," Stiles says, eyebrows raising in put-on surprise. "And he's got a messenger that he calls in from New York to relay that to me? That's pretty impressive."
Nothing has changed, but he's not the same. He's still Stiles, still lanky and goofy looking, as quick to smile as he is to bite with sarcasm, but he's easier. He moves more easily, more fluid, more purposefully, like there's a plan in everything he does. He's easier on the eyes, but it's hard to look at too long, hard to focus on where the charmingly gawkish boy has been replaced with this dangerous, seductive creature.
His eyes trail down Derek's body, as if he's seeing him for the first time, and a part of him is. That part that's new, that's darker than he used to be, is seeing the Derek that he's previously only been able to see in Stiles' memories and filthy thoughts. He controls the impulse to smile as he sifts through those perverted thoughts, things that Stiles had conjured up, things that were so much more depraved than your average sex-crazed teenage virgin. Not that he still was a virgin, these days.
There's more. More that Stiles had never known, pieces that the demon in him can see through to. He can tell that Derek wants him. Or well, that Derek wanted Stiles, the way he had been, full of energy, jittery, powerless and yet so stupidly courageous, always pushing back until there was nothing left within him, no reserves of strength with which to push. That was when he'd reached out, when he'd met Crowley, and when he'd made a deal. Rather than barter his soul for a prize, this was the prize, this demon who now shared his body and mind. With it brought power and control over himself, his surroundings, it was answer and payment all in one, and Stiles was loving it.
He pushed the door open and leaned against it, his black t-shirt inching up his lean torso just a bit as he slouched against it, the pose effortlessly seductive and inviting, but his gaze predatory, trapping Derek with those pretty brown eyes.
"Come in," he says, and it's not so much an invitation as it is a command, and if Derek refuses him, he's going to grab a fist-full of shirt and drag him inside because he knows this is were Derek wants to be.
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Nothing has changed, but he's not the same. He's still Stiles, still lanky and goofy looking, as quick to smile as he is to bite with sarcasm, but he's easier. He moves more easily, more fluid, more purposefully, like there's a plan in everything he does. He's easier on the eyes, but it's hard to look at too long, hard to focus on where the charmingly gawkish boy has been replaced with this dangerous, seductive creature.
His eyes trail down Derek's body, as if he's seeing him for the first time, and a part of him is. That part that's new, that's darker than he used to be, is seeing the Derek that he's previously only been able to see in Stiles' memories and filthy thoughts. He controls the impulse to smile as he sifts through those perverted thoughts, things that Stiles had conjured up, things that were so much more depraved than your average sex-crazed teenage virgin. Not that he still was a virgin, these days.
There's more. More that Stiles had never known, pieces that the demon in him can see through to. He can tell that Derek wants him. Or well, that Derek wanted Stiles, the way he had been, full of energy, jittery, powerless and yet so stupidly courageous, always pushing back until there was nothing left within him, no reserves of strength with which to push. That was when he'd reached out, when he'd met Crowley, and when he'd made a deal. Rather than barter his soul for a prize, this was the prize, this demon who now shared his body and mind. With it brought power and control over himself, his surroundings, it was answer and payment all in one, and Stiles was loving it.
He pushed the door open and leaned against it, his black t-shirt inching up his lean torso just a bit as he slouched against it, the pose effortlessly seductive and inviting, but his gaze predatory, trapping Derek with those pretty brown eyes.
"Come in," he says, and it's not so much an invitation as it is a command, and if Derek refuses him, he's going to grab a fist-full of shirt and drag him inside because he knows this is were Derek wants to be.