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.
“How do you know I’m even into you?” Stiles asked after a period of uncomfortable silence.
“Aren’t you?”
Stiles eyes went wide and his hands, which he’d plunged into his pockets, were twisting and turning about in the shallow dip of denim. He dropped his gaze immediately after the smirk on Derek’s face grew wider, drinking in the view on the way down. Derek’s grey t-shirt clung to him so well it was as though it was custom made for him, and his black pants showed off his muscled thighs then gradually loosened towards the bottom to reveal charcoal boots where he hadn’t bothered to tie the laces.
He swore it had only been a quick look, but when Stiles looked back up again Derek looked more than pleased with himself. He licked his lips absentmindedly and without a thought to the fact that he was probably staring again, Stiles mirrored the same action. His breathing had become ragged, despite his efforts to calm himself. Breathe Stiles, breathe.
Stiles was just about to try his his luck at testing his motor skills, lifting his foot to take a step backwards from the situation, but without warning Derek’s hands were on him again. They held the teen at his waste, firmly but not too tight that Stiles would classify it as uncomfortable.
“Woah woah woah, big guy!” he said almost immediately, lifting both hands up to push weakly at the broad expanse of muscle that was Derek’s chest, “I didn’t say yes.”
“Not vocally, no.” Derek did not relinquish his grip. “But I know how to read people, Stiles, and your body is screaming for it.”
Stiles willed the fluttering in his abdomen to stop, hoping that if he could kill off the angry bats bustling about in there that he might cut off the link, but it was no use. He knew better than to try and fight against Derek’s heightened senses, but it didn’t stop him from trying even though every time he did he failed.
Suddenly Stiles arms felt like lead and they fell limp against Derek’s chest. There was a part of him that wanted to protest, that didn’t care for the elder male’s advances, but as much as Stiles tried to inflate that part to block out his bodies more primal urges, the pump kept breaking, and to make matters worse — there was a damn whole in the negatory balloon.
“It’s your call, Stiles,” said Derek, breaking the young man’s train of thought. “If you say ‘No’, I will let you walk out that door right now. But if your answer’s ‘Yes,’” he grinned and Stiles legs almost gave out underneath him. There was a reason he didn’t …couldn’t, spend this much time alone with Derek.
“Well … we’ll figure something out,” he finished, and Stiles swore he saw him glance back at the cloaked table.
It wasn’t fair that Derek was putting him on the spot like this; taking advantage of his inability to maintain control of his own testosterone driven body, but he certainly didn’t want to die a virgin. He didn’t want to die anytime soon, period! But as a virgin — No way! Certainly not for some stupid ritualistic sacrifice.
Stiles was still playing out the possible solutions to this problem in his head when his survival instinct kicked in. Before he knew it he was on Derek, sucking and biting at his lips like they were slathered in honey and he was a hungry bear.
It felt a little awkward at first, whether it be the way they were standing, too much saliva, or the fact that Stiles was simply a lot more eager than he thought, but soon he found a steady rhythm and Derek followed suite. This wasn’t technically his first time kissing a boy, if you counted that quick peck with Brian Oracle in elementary school, but it was his first time really knowing how.
Derek was raking at Stiles lower back, pushing aside the plaid button-down he wore over top of his favourite band tee. This certainly led Stiles to believe that whatever he was doing was a good thing, but it wasn’t until he heard the older male making appreciative sounds deep in his throat that he thought it appropriate to mental praise himself for it.
When the fabric of Stiles t-shirt gave way, as Derek blindly scrambled for the hem to slide it upwards, his nails scratching lightly against the nodes of the leaner one’s spine, to which the teen pulled back in protest.
“Hey! Watch it with those!” he said, mildly alarmed, though his brain was too focussed on another part of his body to put too much power behind his exclamation. “As impressive as your wolf-itude is, I would rather not wake up on the next full moon with the intense urge to slaughter everyone I meet and drink their fluids.”
Derek let out an exhilarated chuckle; Stiles tended to exaggerate.
“That’s vampires,” he corrected, then ducked in to lick a line up the side of Stiles throat. “Besides, I haven’t broken the skin. You’re fine.”
For several moments the pair remained locked in this embrace. Stiles eventually moved his arms around to grip his partner’s strong shoulders, and Derek took the opportunity when the teen pulled away for a breath of air, to hoist him upwards. Stiles wrapped his legs tightly around the brunette’s middle, strengthening his hold on Derek’s deltoids.
He was shaking, embarrassingly violent to which Stiles tried his very hardest to ignore it. Though it looked like he had just been doused with a bucket of cold water, his flesh felt heated, and Stiles began to wonder how much of that was his own body heat and what was simply transfer from the waves of torridity emitting from the man who held him.
Stiles had developed somewhat of a pattern to kissing Derek. Deciding he equally enjoyed the feel of his upper lip trapped between another pair, as he did with the warmth of his bottom one when Derek sucked it into his mouth, he pressed his mouth to the werewolf's lower for two beats then did the same for the top.
The younger male pulled away reluctantly when he felt the pulse of his phone going off in the depths of his pocket. His fingers massaged at the back of Derek’s neck, and Stiles could feel two strong hands holding his rear as he reached for his cellphone against his better judgement. His sex-addled mind told him to throw it across the room, but his sanity prevailed long enough for him to check the screen.
He groaned when he saw the name.
“It’s Scott,” he said simply.
Derek made an similar sound of dismay.
“What’s he want?”
“I don’t have telepathy, Derek. I would have to answer it to find that out.”
The alpha gave him one of those looks that clearly meant ‘So do it then!’; Stiles rolled his eyes but obeyed.
“Scott! Hey! What’s crackalackin’?”
Derek shook his head and smiled.
“Ah, you’re with Allison?”
Stiles rolled his eyes again. Of course. Where else would Scott be.
“Let me ask you something. Do I sound surprised to you? Because really… I am,” the younger male let out a laugh that was so typically Stiles, full of sarcasm and the faintest tinge of amusement. His legs were starting to tingle a bit, but to remedy that he could do nothing more than tighten his legs vice-like grip to cut off the sensation all together. If Derek chose to set him down though Stiles wasn’t sure his limbs would do well to support him.
“Where am I… uh… would you believe hanging with Derek?” This time his laughter was genuine, and he couldn’t help but to spare a glance down. There was chortling on the line as well, the wolf could hear it as smoothly as if the phone were pressed to his own ear. Of course Scott didn’t believe him, and that’s what Stiles was hoping for.
“Yeah, of course you don’t … I’m actually at home watching shitty re-runs and making sure my Dad doesn’t hit the liquor too hard. Those murders have had him up all night. You should see him, case files everywhere, it doesn’t look like he’s showered for… what? Yeah, yeah. It’s fine, I’ll survive. Tell Allison I said ‘Hi’, oh and ‘I want my man back!’”
Stiles laughed again, for the final time and the phone clicked on the other end, to which he responded by flipping it shut. Before stuffing it back in his pocket, Derek watched as he pushed down on one of the top-most buttons along the mobile’s side.
“It’s off,” he said, his voice heady, “Ravage me.”