For His Protection [A Sterek Fanfiction]

For His Protection (Part 2)

Derek was so close now that Stiles wasn’t sure whether to pay attention to his fear or the swirling in his stomach. He was breathing deeply as if he had just run a race of some kind. Stiles swallowed again, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he came to the realization that the other males sudden race in pulse was more likely the fight to stay in control.

“You’re joking right?” asked Stiles, his voice wavering a little.

Derek shook from side to side before angling his head closer to the younger’s neck and inhaling deeply. Stiles held his breath for a moment and prayed to God that he had remembered deodorant. The scent of perspiration and terror would certainly be a mood killer, and to be completely honest, he wasn’t so sure that’s what he wanted.

His eyelids fluttered shut for the briefest of moments as Derek’s hot breath his his skin.

“Does it look like I’m joking, Stiles?” said Derek, and his voice was a little raspy.

“Uh.. Well, you are kind of impeding on my personal space more than usual, so … n-no, I guess not.” 

The front door slammed shut behind them, such a loud noise would normally have Stiles flailing just as he might had he discovered a tarantula crawling up his arm, but in the moment he found he could not move. It was as if someone had nailed his feet to the floor and sprayed him with liquid nitrogen.

Though his mouth remain open, temporarily at a loss for words, the teen found movement regained in his limbs again as Derek suddenly took him by the wrist. Walking backwards, not once bothering to look behind him for obstructions, stepping over broken boards and glass effortlessly, the hunkier male lead Stiles to the table. 

His steps felt heavy as he walked and the need to stand upright on his own two felt was ever stronger which in turn made Stiles much more certain that he might fall flat on his face if the wolf wasn’t their to catch him.

Soon Derek stopped moving, hitting the table’s edge, but Stiles did not as he was pulled impossibly close to the point where he could probably have counted the hairs speckling the alpha’s chin.

Derek’s smile was smile was still fixed on his face, and the things it was doing to Stiles were a little unsettling, though it was unclear whether that was due to fear or otherwise. The way they were standing, so close that at most one could fit a hand through between their stomachs, made Stiles feel a little awkward but he didn’t dare move. Derek had since released his grip on Stiles wrist and now held to the rim of the table behind him.

“You’re serious about this?” he was basically just reformatting his earlier question, but for some reason Stiles felt like he needed to buy some time, expecting that at any moment Derek would lose his patience.

Derek raised his bushy brows in agreement and gave a half nod. Stiles bit his lip.

For years there had only been one person in his sights. One person who he fawned over incessantly and was willing to do just about anything to get into her good graces. She treated him like he was invisible, and even though it hurt sometimes, it didn’t change how he felt for her.

That was before Derek came into the picture. It’s not to say that his feelings for Lydia had disappeared entirely, in fact, they might have even grown stronger in his attempts to compete against Jackson, but his attraction to the long, lost Hale deviant was undeniable. It would be a lie to say otherwise, and in the end, when Stiles realized he would never be more than a good friend, his sights switched to the man with the permanent brood.

It wasn’t long after Scott was turned that Derek became their confident for all things supernatural; which meant a lot of long and painful nights of condescending tones, daggered glares and criminal threats. Rather than turn him away however, this sparked Stiles intrigue even more. When he managed to finally break through that hard outer shell, the wolf wasn’t so big and bad after all.