He shivers at the way that Stiles says he should make him pay for it, for not telling him, for hiding it. He can't stop thinking that Stiles is gorgeous, that he's perfect like this. He wishes silently, that he was a werewolf. That they weren't just conspiratorial in darkness, in both being monsters, but that they were Pack. Derek ached for that feeling of belonging, of family. If Stiles had been a wolf, they could have had a family, Stiles could have become an Alpha, could have knotted him, bred him, they could have had beautiful pups, remade the Hale pack, the Hale family.
Derek ached for it, wanted it. He looks at Stiles, breathless, as his tee-shirt gets pulled off over his head. A keening noise from his lips as fingertips drag over his nipples, which harden under the attention as his shirt hits the floor. And the truth was that Stiles did know him well, that hanging his desires just out of reach, just out of what he could touch, hold onto, was a sweeter and more effective torture than Kate and her electrical lines.
He gasps, sharp, his breath coming hot as Stiles rolls his hips, and he can feel his cock, interest already apparent through the layer of his denims. Slender hands press to Derek's strong shoulders, and it catches his breath, makes him shiver at the uncharacteristic strength in his hands, how he so easily pins him to the wall as he whispers into his ear. His hands come up, touching, sliding against Stiles' bared skin, needing to feel it. He'd never thought he could have this, that he'd somehow ruin Stiles. Maybe he already has, so why not just enjoy it?
He gasps quietly, a hitch as he says that word: knotted. And Derek shakes, leans in against Stiles with a hint of a whine because the teen was never supposed to know, never supposed to understand, but the demon does, apparently. Their chests brush, and he talks about Derek being bred like a bitch and the moan it pulls from his mouth is filthy. Because he does. He wants it, needs it. He craves it on so many different levels. Physical pleasure, the emotional closeness of being tied together like that, being mated. And the ultimate fact that Derek wants to be bred, wants children.
He leans in, nuzzles against Stiles' jaw with a needy noise as he shakes, a flutter in his green eyes. "Yeah. I would. I want to be knotted, tied to you, want you to breed me, I want to have your pups." There's a pause, and somehow, all of this; the demon, and feeling Stiles against him so raw and so powerful and somehow part of this creature that's just power keeps stealing the truth from his lips. "I wanted to turn you. Wanted to be your mate. I wanted to remake the Hale pack."
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Derek ached for it, wanted it. He looks at Stiles, breathless, as his tee-shirt gets pulled off over his head. A keening noise from his lips as fingertips drag over his nipples, which harden under the attention as his shirt hits the floor. And the truth was that Stiles did know him well, that hanging his desires just out of reach, just out of what he could touch, hold onto, was a sweeter and more effective torture than Kate and her electrical lines.
He gasps, sharp, his breath coming hot as Stiles rolls his hips, and he can feel his cock, interest already apparent through the layer of his denims. Slender hands press to Derek's strong shoulders, and it catches his breath, makes him shiver at the uncharacteristic strength in his hands, how he so easily pins him to the wall as he whispers into his ear. His hands come up, touching, sliding against Stiles' bared skin, needing to feel it. He'd never thought he could have this, that he'd somehow ruin Stiles. Maybe he already has, so why not just enjoy it?
He gasps quietly, a hitch as he says that word: knotted. And Derek shakes, leans in against Stiles with a hint of a whine because the teen was never supposed to know, never supposed to understand, but the demon does, apparently. Their chests brush, and he talks about Derek being bred like a bitch and the moan it pulls from his mouth is filthy. Because he does. He wants it, needs it. He craves it on so many different levels. Physical pleasure, the emotional closeness of being tied together like that, being mated. And the ultimate fact that Derek wants to be bred, wants children.
He leans in, nuzzles against Stiles' jaw with a needy noise as he shakes, a flutter in his green eyes. "Yeah. I would. I want to be knotted, tied to you, want you to breed me, I want to have your pups." There's a pause, and somehow, all of this; the demon, and feeling Stiles against him so raw and so powerful and somehow part of this creature that's just power keeps stealing the truth from his lips. "I wanted to turn you. Wanted to be your mate. I wanted to remake the Hale pack."
It's not I love you, but maybe it means more.