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tsunwolfIt'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.
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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Date: 2013-10-01 09:27 pm (UTC)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.