I can see the darkness in your eyes / can you see the love in my heart?

[tsunwolf]

It's a phonecall that brings Derek back to Beacon Hills. Cora argues, ends up staying in New York. The whole idea was getting away from these things. It's not an escape if he comes running when they need him. But Derek doesn't care, because there is a short list of things that will get him to come running, and even if he'd never admit to it, never say it out loud, Stiles Stilinski is one of those things. And so he packs up his things, heads back out west, drives too long and too fast until he's back in Beacon Hills, breathing in air that is sick with the smell of memories. It's been months, and it doesn't hurt so much, he doesn't feel like his ribs are collapsing under the guilt, but it's still... he's not sure he belongs here anymore.

He's certain that he doesn't deserve Stiles, not when someone can so easily get into his head like that.

He rents a room at the small bed and breakfast in town, someplace to drop his things off, and then he heads over to see Scott. It's not an hour later that he finds himself standing alone, looking at the teenager. There's something about him, a change that is both seductive and off-putting. It's like someone polished the rough edges, and lined them with razorblades. He's gorgeous, and it's in how he moves, but Derek misses those jittery twitches, the things he did with his hands. How normally, Stiles would be halfway through babbling about something or other instead of looking at him like he wants to devour him whole.

"Scott's worried about you."

It's a stupid, obvious statement, but Derek has to say something, break the silence before it eats him alive. He doesn't say what he meant: I'm worried about you.

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[bemycatwoman]

"I didn't have to…" he breathes against Derek's neck. He can tell that this was something Derek needed to know, both that he wasn't being held captive and that he hadn't bargained away his soul. That hadn't been the payment for this power, the power was the payment, another tenant inside him, giving a voice to that darkness that had grown around his heart.

He can tell that Derek wants him. That knowing he's still there makes it okay. Stiles supposes he'd guessed right, that he couldn't let himself want if it was just the demon, if Stiles was inside, captive and possibly unwilling. Derek didn't just want his body, he wanted him, and he was glad to see that, at least as far as he could tell, that he wasn't holding his darkness against him.

He feels Derek growing hard, and he gives a slow movement of his hips, grinding himself against Derek as he leaned closer. He could feel what he wanted. There was a hint of regret as he feels a desire to be fucked like a wolf, to be mated, bred, knotted, and there's a glimmer of the old Stiles with a wide-eyed giddy grin that seems to say he's just happened across something particularly perverted, and there's a quirk at the corners of his mouth that say he's not sharing just yet…

"I asked for exactly what I got," he breathed as he let go of Derek's wrists and leaned back, just slightly, upper torso only, holding him against the wall with his hips as he starts to peel up his t-shirt.

"I know what you want," he teases, a knowing smile catching one side of his mouth and spreading, playful as he exposes himself to Derek, an inch of skin at a time.

"Me," he adds in a stage whisper, mocking the reveal like it's not really a secret at all. "You want to get fucked hard… big bad wolf," he muses with a grin, eyes dragging down his body.

And to think, Stiles had been afraid of him once.

[tsunwolf]

The thing that Derek had needed to know was that, right there. That Stiles was still Stiles, that he was going to stay Stiles. He didn't really understand demons, not the metaphysics of it, but he knew there was something about demons and souls and that somehow, he would lose Stiles. But that wasn't the case. Or, at least, it didn't sound like the case. Maybe his heartbeat didn't matter with a demon inside him, but it was the only meter Derek had aside from his eyes, from the feel of him, and it felt like the truth.

But, he'd be a liar if he said part of it wasn't how Stiles rolls his hips, presses against that erection, and it makes Derek keen. The way the motion, the friction melts with the look on his face, the wicked grin that curls the corners of his mouth, and there's a terrible moment where he thinks that like Derek was born to be a wolf, Stiles was born to be a demon. He wants him like this. Black eyes and leering into his heart, he wants him. Because he can see glimpses of his flush-faced crush, and they don't seem tortured.

Stiles lets go of his hands, keeps him pinned with his hips and strength that overwhelms him. But, Derek can't keep his hands still. He's reaching out, reaching up, he's pushing up Stiles' teeshirt, helping him drag it off over his head, and then he's dropping it to the floor. Don't, Stiles. He just can't. No teasing, because it's just been too long, it's been something he never thought that he would deserve. But now they're all monsters in this glass house.

"Yeah. I want you to fuck me, I want it rough, hard, I want you to make me shake with it, Stiles."

His voice is soft and breathy, his lips trembling as he looks up at him. "I always wanted you to fuck me." He whispers that like a secret, but something he wants him to know. It's not just because he's a demon now. He's always ached for him, wanted hands on him and Stiles' cock shoving into him or down his throat. This didn't change things. Maybe it should.

[bemycatwoman]

Stiles lets Derek peel off his shirt, because he's so eager, wants it so much and he can taste the desire pouring off his skin. He'll tease if he wants to, regardless whether Derek thinks he can handle it or not. You'd be surprised what you can handle, how much you can take.

"You should have told me…" he can tell now, but if he hadn't made the deal, if he didn't have the darkness within him, he still wouldn't be able to tell, would be busy second guessing himself every step of the way.

"I should make you pay for that," he adds with a conspiratorial nod and a little smirk as he goes for Derek's shirt, tugging it up his torso, exposing his taut, muscular stomach, taking the time to drag fingertips over his skin.

"…and I might, if you wouldn't like it so much," he adds, fingertips dragging over his nipples before he peels the shirt up and off, tossing it aside. The fact that he'd enjoy it won't stop Stiles from pushing, from punishing him for keeping his secret all this time. Especially because he knows the best, the most effective way to punish Derek is to keep what he wants just out of reach. It was more thorough a punishment than anything rough and physical he could dream up, to just leave him aching and wanting.

Stiles shifts his hips, making sure Derek can feel just how hard he's getting, and he leans in, hands on his shoulders and pushing him, pinning him back against the wall, and he's talking in Derek's ear, "…you know, Derek, there's nothing wrong with wanting to be fucked like that…"

He's not talking about just what he'd said, just that he wants it hard. He's talking about wanting to be fucked like a wolf.

"…knotted," he practically growls against his ear and shifts close enough that their chests brush, "Bred like a bitch… you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just being so full of my cock and my come…"

And there is a hint of that old Stiles, the Stiles that flushed when he was flustered as well as when he was aroused. He's flushed now, cheeks ruddy with arousal, and his lips are brushing against Derek's neck, his breath hot on his skin.

[tsunwolf]

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."

It's not I love you, but maybe it means more.

[bemycatwoman]

Just because Stiles isn't a werewolf doesn't mean that he can't be pack, doesn't mean that he doesn't fit into the role of Alpha, doesn't mean they can't be that close. Maybe it won't have the same words, but they can still fit together the way Derek craves. And he's not the only one.

Stiles wanted it from practically the first moment he'd seen Derek, before that night in the woods, and the crush he'd carried had only grown more intense and, in his mind, less and less attainable as time progressed. He missed the signs that said Derek felt the same, because Derek was terrible at letting his emotions show. Now, he realizes that he was probably the last to know, that it was likely everyone around them suspected there was more going on than the nothing that was.

Stiles grins as Derek's breath hitches on knotted. Derek is shaking in his arms, leaning in like he's desperate, like he's unable to do anything but arch for more, and he's moaning and the sound shivers through Stiles' body, the sound electric.

Derek presses in against his jaw and says it all, how much he wants it, how he's wanted him and all the things he's wanted. Wanted Stiles to join him as a wolf, wanted to be mates, wanted children. It means so much more than anything he could have said, and maybe there's a twinge of regret, that he hadn't offered him the bite. He had said no to Peter because it hadn't been Peter that he'd wanted.

He knew, though, that if he'd taken it, if he'd let himself be turned, that wouldn't have prevented this, this darkness that had taken him over, the demon that resided with him. And he wouldn't have wanted it to. He's happy like this, he's different but little has changed in many ways. He's still Stiles, still himself underneath it all and behind those ink black eyes. He's just powerful.

"It's not too late," Stiles coos into Derek's skin, and he pushes him harder against the wall with his whole body, holding him there, possessing him, making a show of his control. He wants this just as much as Derek does, maybe more - it's hard to know - wants to belong, wants Derek all to himself, to be mates, all of it. His hands drop to Derek's waist and he's undoing the button and the zip, because teasing is one thing but he needs to be touching him, now.

"We can have that," he kisses Derek's jaw and bites at his full lips as his hands slip down into Derek's jeans beneath his boxer briefs, pushing them down and very soundly groping his ass. "All of it," he adds between kisses, hands moving to his own jeans to undo them and push them down.