It changes things, that revelation. That Stiles is there, isn't drowning in his head, captive under some dark, black thing that offered him power and took away everything that made him Stiles. He can hear the difference in the cadence of his voice, the rise and fall, invisible lift of tone that's just the faintest hint of playful. And it kills him. It kills dead any ideas he's had of how this was going to end, it steals his breath and any chance he'd had of fixing this. Because how does he fix this when Stiles himself doesn't want it fixed? And there's the larger question of it there's anything to fix at all.
He shakes as Stiles catches his wrists, pins him tight to the wall, and he can feel that arousal in Stiles' jeans, and his eyes close for a moment, although it doesn't take long until Derek's half hard in his jeans. His eyes flutter open and he's looking at him, searching, trying to answer that question. "You asked for this? You didn't.. sell your soul?"
Because he can't hold it against him. Not with what Derek is. There's that wolf inside him, that maybe isn't a coherent creature with a discrete voice, wants it could demand, but it's there. Part of him. What was the difference? For those that were bitten, the Bite always changed them. How they moved, dressed, shifted their personality.
Derek had wanted Stiles to be a wolf. He'd wanted him to fuck him as a wolf, too. His desires are unraveling without the sanctity of it to hold onto; that idea that there was something wrong with him. Instead, it's rising, those wants he'd buried deep. Derek wanted Stiles to fuck him, wanted it hard, rough. Maybe it was surprising, maybe it wasn't, but he'd always wanted slender fingers in his hair and soft hand shoving at his body.
He won't say it, but... this is better. He just needs to know that it's okay. That Stiles is different, but he's still okay, at least by some measure.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-09-25 04:50 am (UTC)He shakes as Stiles catches his wrists, pins him tight to the wall, and he can feel that arousal in Stiles' jeans, and his eyes close for a moment, although it doesn't take long until Derek's half hard in his jeans. His eyes flutter open and he's looking at him, searching, trying to answer that question. "You asked for this? You didn't.. sell your soul?"
Because he can't hold it against him. Not with what Derek is. There's that wolf inside him, that maybe isn't a coherent creature with a discrete voice, wants it could demand, but it's there. Part of him. What was the difference? For those that were bitten, the Bite always changed them. How they moved, dressed, shifted their personality.
Derek had wanted Stiles to be a wolf. He'd wanted him to fuck him as a wolf, too. His desires are unraveling without the sanctity of it to hold onto; that idea that there was something wrong with him. Instead, it's rising, those wants he'd buried deep. Derek wanted Stiles to fuck him, wanted it hard, rough. Maybe it was surprising, maybe it wasn't, but he'd always wanted slender fingers in his hair and soft hand shoving at his body.
He won't say it, but... this is better. He just needs to know that it's okay. That Stiles is different, but he's still okay, at least by some measure.