I'll Always Know It's From You (A Sterek Novella)

Chapter 1

{WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MATERIAL THAT MAY NOT BE APPROVED OF FOR CERTAIN READERS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND ENJOY, MY LOVELY STEREK SHIPPERS}

Derek's POV

"Stiles! I swear to God if you can't hang these decorations right I'm going to choke you with them!" I shake my head and grab the decorations from Stiles' hands, earning a sigh from him as the decorations jingle and clink between us like a ball and chain.

I stand in Stiles' living room, the afternoon Saturday sun peeking in through the open curtains, as I hold Christmas decorations, a bag of mostly broken ornaments for the bare tree in one hand, slightly dusty mistletoe in the other.

"Hey! I was only trying to help! We never hang decorations; I'm not use to this! My mom was the one who always did the decorations, and since she died, and with my Dad always working and neither of us really home, we never hung decorations, so I guess we never really get into the holiday spirit." He shrugs, looking down at his now empty hands.

I follow his gaze, but quickly pull him from his sad stupor. I hold the mistletoe above our heads, clearing my throat loudly and shaking the fake plant until he looks up.

Before he has time to react, I lean forward and press my lips against his.

A surprised sigh comes from his vocal cords as he kisses back, his hands tightly gripping my shirt and tugging me forward, closer to him. I smile at the deepening of the kiss, my hands releasing the mistletoe, my thoughts occupied at the moment, the noise of the dusty thing making contact with the floor in the background of our kiss.

"Mhm Derek..."

The unexpected moan surprises both of us and Stiles quickly pulls away, his face a rough shade of red, like a backwards Santa, his hand dropping from my shirt, the material unclenching.

"Uh, we should finish putting up these decorations." Stiles mutters, picking up the mistletoe, using his lean fingers to push the dust bunnies off, sending them sprawling back to the floor to find a new home.

Stiles doesn't wait for me as he puts the mistletoe in the kitchen on the table, picking up a wreath, his hands visibly trembling.

I watch him for a few moments as he just studies the wreath, his fingers turning the fake leaves as if he can undo what just happened. I walk over to him, setting my hand beside his, now frozen with mine next to it. He looks up at me, his eyes not quite meeting mine.

"Stiles." My words force his eyes to lock with mine, and I hold them there. "Are you ashamed of what just happened?"

The sentence forces Stiles into a corner he knows he cannot escape. His eyes begin to glisten as he clenches his teeth. "Which event? The fact that I couldn't put up Christmas decorations, my sad and pathetic life because of my mother's death, the kiss, or the moan during it? There's so many choices here."

Stiles breaks the eye contact and walks back into the living room, his face turning to match the color of the bow sitting pristine in the heart of the wreath.

I turn and watch him, tilting my head a little. "Stiles...there's nothing wrong about any of those situations, especially the last one. Unless you're too ashamed of being with me, then I can take leave."

He almost flings the wreath as he whips around, his light brown eyes widening, his plastered hair rising with his eyebrows. "I never said that! Of course I'm not ashamed of you, or us! If I was ashamed I wouldn't invite you over for dinner every night or hold your hand or kiss you goodnight. I may be other things, but I am not ashamed of what we are!"

I lessen the distance between us, the wreath still in between us like a wall. "Then why-"

"Because I like you Derek, I like you a lot. And I know we're a thing, kind of, but I want more, I need more. The moan was only a little part of what's been building up inside me." He cuts me off, throwing the wreath on the couch, littering it further with old decorations still yet to be hung.

Stiles' steps are swift and gentle as I feel one of his hands tightly grip the collar of my shirt again as he pulls me close to his face. I watch as his eyes flutter shut as he brings my lips to his, my eyes following suit of Stiles' and closing, the heat between the two of us fueling the hot kiss.

His other arm wrapped around my neck as he pulled us even closer than I thought possible. I feel the tip of his tongue enter my mouth as I slide my hand up his shirt, grabbing his hips as the other ruffles his down hair from his face, glued to his forehead from sweat.

Stiles' body reacts to my touch, his hips bucking and moving him closer to me, our shirts bunching together as we near each other more.

I grin at the kiss again, Stiles returning the grin as I continue sliding up Stiles' shirt, breaking the kiss to move down to his cheekbone, leaving quick yet vicious kisses, as I make my way down to his neck, my lips slowing as they reach the more expanse land of skin.

I feel myself beginning to lose control, as I do every time I get to this part, but I hold the beast of the wolf back, my lips exploring Stiles' neck, electing another moan from him, except this time he doesn't pull away, his grip on my neck and shirt loosening tremendously.

I smirk in satisfaction as my body reacts to the moan this time, a low growl coming from my lips.

"Stiles..." I warn, my voice beginning to resemble more of a beasts'.

"S-sorry, I just c-can't help it. I-it's your fault for doing this t-to me." He barely just stutters out, his voice soft and practically incoherent to any ear not a wolf's.

"I want to do this to you, but how long I can hold on before losing control is indeterminable." I say into his skin, dark spots blossoming on his skin, marking a path from my lips.

"Mhmm." Is all he can get out, his mind clearly over-powered by the bliss.

I continue making my way down his neck, making my way to his collar-bone when we both hear a loud cough, someone clearing their throat. We quickly disband and I turn, seeing Sheriff Stilinski folding his arms over his chest, his gun still in its holster, glistening hungrily in the kitchen light.

The Sheriff's expression is completely unreadable as I feel Stiles stiffen behind me, "Am I interrupting something you two?"