Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7325947.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Panic_Attacks, Explicit_Sexual_Content, POV_Derek, POV_Stiles, sort_of
      underage?, Happy_Ending, Fluff_and_Angst, Slow_Build, Oblivious_Derek,
      Oblivious_Stiles, Bisexual_Stiles_Stilinski, Bisexual_Derek_Hale, Sheriff
      Stilinski's_Name_is_John, Magic_Stiles, season_5, kinda_non-con_not
      really, Scott_is_a_Bad_Friend
  Series:
      Part 1 of Weather_the_Storm
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-28 Completed: 2017-03-23 Chapters: 15/15 Words: 32012
****** And The Thunder Rolls... ******
by MERMAIDGIRL
Summary
     Stiles is falling apart after killing Donovan and Scott's
     confrontation. Derek hears Stiles' heart rate increase and comes to
     save Stiles from an unknown threat, to find that the threat, is
     Stiles himself.
Notes
     Hi all! I have been writing a lot of things for a bit but would like
     to start getting some feedback, so since I love STEREK so, so much
     and have read such wonderful fics in the fandom, I thought I'd give
     it a try! Feedback is appreciated, I want to write what you want to
     read so request away!
     I have some of the chapters written but no real definite plans other
     then some good old fashioned Sterek feels. POV shifts from Derek and
     Stiles.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** So it is. *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles returns home, emotional from Scott's onslaught of guilt, full
     of anger and angst. Panic in his heart, tears in his eyes, he looses
     it, and has an emotional freakout that is earned. A surprise guest
     jumps in his window....
      
     Still in process, please request to your heart's content. No request
     is silly or unwanted, Ill find somewhere for it. <3
Chapter Notes
     For those lovely people who only read when fics are complete... I am
     you. Usually. I totally support you, that's what I do, so shoot me a
     message/comment with preferences (EVEN IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN A WORD)
     and Ill see ya in a bit when I finish!
     For those who love a build up, I got lots of plans, request away for
     what you wanna see.
     (I personally love adderall stiles and protective derek...)
     <33333
Stiles POV:
Stiles' hair was soaked by the time he made it home, but his emotions were too
hostile to give him the ability to care about his soaked clothes and dripping
hair.
He slammed into his room with fury and unrestrained rage, the panic, pain and
hurt he felt had turned into a tornado of emotions that threatened to overwhelm
him. He wanted to maim, kill, scream, maybe drown his emotions in the Jack
Daniels his dad had downstairs, but for now he was stuck in his room, wanting
the familiarity, feeling like he was going to explode.
He punched the wall first, to the right of his door after he slammed it shut.
His fist went through the dry wall with a strangled scream. He felt the impact,
felt it cut his skin and damage his knuckles, felt the blood flow out of his
self inflicted wound. It felt mildly good, keeping his emotions in check, so he
kept going, emotions fueling his fervor. He knew he was borderline having a
panic attack; breath coming in short bursts, vision blurring, tightness in his
chest, he felt hot and cold, shivery. The mild relief of the extreme emotions
that came from the pain, caused him to continue his rampage.
Panting heavily, he punched another hole in the wall of his room, plaster flew
around his hand, causing more gashes to open in his already torn fist. He
turned violently and knocked everything he owned off his dresser and his desk
in a fury that was barely contained. His breath was coming fast, while tears
were streaming freely now, he noticed belatedly, they were falling down his
cheeks and neck dampening his graphic tee. He didn’t bother to wipe them away
as he continued the assault on his room in a panic.
He was grateful his father was working late, so he could unleash this burning
fire of pain and hatred. Fuck Scott and his self-righteous bullshit. Fuck him
and his no killing rule. Stiles had to do it, he thought angrily and, it was
mostly pure luck. He could have been the dead one right now. Donovan would have
killed him and his father; he was in the right and Scott was wrong and too
stubborn to listen to reason. So fuck him, fuck Scott for not believing him.
Stiles was furious, emotionally devastated and so fed up with Beacon Hills at
that moment that he could get in Roscoe and leave; if it wasn’t for his father.
On top of all this shit, he barely even had a chance to mourn the loss of his
own innocence, after taking a life. He had hidden it because of Scott and how
he would react. Theo had make it clear that Stiles was a monster, and gods, now
it felt like he was right. Stiles had to pretend it never happened, when he
should have been able to confess and mourn to his best friend over something he
had to do. Scott would have cried with him, in righteous anger about Stiles
being put in this position due to the hell mouth that was Beacon Hills.
But no, now, his emotions were ruining him, everything flowing out like tornado
hail and hurricane winds. He couldn’t get control. He was shaking with
adrenaline, his heart was racing, his palms sweating, tears running freely down
his face and into his shirt, his fist and arms dripping with blood as he
punched and screamed out his emotional agony. He punched the glass board with
his police like string chart and felt pure pleasure when his fists screamed in
pain, the harsh glass-like plastic cutting him, so he kept punching it Until it
was riddled with holes and blood, pieces falling on the floor. He wiped a hand
across his cheeks as the tears irritated his red skin causing streaks of blood
to cover his face.
The panic attack reached a peak he had never experienced before, head pounding,
stomach clenching with nausea and lava running through his veins. He fell to
his knees as his legs gave out, with a loud groan, head dropping beneath his
shoulders, as he clenched his hands into fists and sobbed outright with how
horrible his life has been lately. Always second, never important; the side
kick, neglected, forgotten, left aside. Possessed, a murderer...and now he
really was one. What was worse was, he actually felt like one.
His heart felt like it was in a vice, his gut churning with anxiety and sorrow.
He was glad he hadn't eaten anything today or he would have thrown up on the
floor with the flood of emotions pounding through him. He hadn't let himself
feel anything after his first kill, the first life he took. He had so much pain
and regret and no one cared or noticed. He felt like the pack was full of
ignorant, blind stupid people who didn’t see that Theo was evil. He couldn’t
help but feel like Derek would have known better, like he would have known what
had happened, anticipated it, because he's Derek and he knows everything, and
trusts no one. He would have smelled it on Theo, and he would feel Stiles'
emotions. Being a born wolf had to mean that he knew things no one else did,
and he maybe didn’t distrust or hate Stiles as much as Stiles thought he did.
But, Derek was gone, never to be seen again, happy with Braeden, satisfied to
be away from the place that caused him pain. It had been months, and he was
never coming back, even when they needed him badly to fight this new threat.
Stiles was curled in on himself, deep in a panic attack, oblivious to his
surroundings. Tears were streaming down his face, knees on the floor, blood
dripping freely, as unnoticed, a dark figure jumped in through the window.
Derek POV:
He had been having dreams, detailed, heart wrenching, emotional dreams that
felt real. Disturbingly real. The first dream he had after leaving Beacon Hills
was of Stiles playing lacrosse, running and frantic in a wild game. The second
dream was of Stiles sitting with his hands in his lap, nervous, and anxious,
long fingered hands twisting in his lap while Derek looked on with fascination.
The last, most recent dream took the fantasies further. Stiles was lying in bed
with his neck bared, panting, breaths coming short as he mumbled his pleasure
in panted exhales and gasps. The last image of his dream destroyed Derek's
rationality for staying away. Braeden was an unnecessary distraction and Beacon
Hills needed him, Stiles was in danger. He knew it in his soul, Stiles needed
him. Derek fled without Braeden's blessing, with a brief excuse of helping his
remaining pack as he bolted out of their hotel room and into his waiting car
for the trek back t Beacon Hills.
Derek heard Stiles' heart rate on his way to Scott's house, elevated and
panicked. He was in full wolf shift form, senses heightened, he heard Stiles'
panic and pain. He had scented his anguish and hurt from over five miles away.
His full wolf form heard, smelled and saw things he never imagined as a beta
wolf or even as an alpha. He thought that after months of having this ability
he would adapt, he was wrong. Hearing and scenting Stiles' anguish was a new
feeling of pain and anxiety he hadn't anticipated. His own heart rate
increased, his wolf went crazy in his mind, even being unleashed fully. He did
not understand this reaction to Stiles' pain but either way if Stiles was under
attack he was going to be there to help. He knew from the increasingly frantic
texts from Scott that Beacon Hills was a war zone, which was why he came back.
Not because of a pale, whiskey eyed human, that Derek inexplicably dreamed of
and thought of more frequently then he would like to admit. Derek bolted
towards Stiles' house, hoping he wasn’t too late to save his life.
Things had gotten bad in Beacon Hills, from the tone of the text messages he
hadn't bothered to respond to. Seeing Stiles was just a small part of his
mission he told himself. However, on his way to let the new Alpha know he was
home to help, he heard Stiles in a struggle, his heart rate so fast each beat
was impossible to distinguish from the next, and went to investigate. He
automatically jumped onto the roof and through his open window in wolf form and
seeing what he could do to help. His own emotions a wreck of anxiety and dread
making his blood pump faster, heart racing.
What he didn't expect was to find Stiles alone, sobbing into his chest, knees
on the floor, arms wrapped around his body as if to hold his emotions in. The
image hit him hard, like falling from a thousand feet into shards of broken
glass. That's when he knew it was bad. Worse than bad, possibly irreparable, no
one was hurting Stiles, but he was still too late. Always too late to save
anyone.
Standing on all fours in his wolf form right under the window he could smell
Stiles' blood, scented his physical and emotional pain, words having no meaning
for the chemo signals being emitted from the small curled up body of the
seventeen year old boy on the floor. Derek could smell the salty tang of
Stiles' tears and wanted to rush and curl up as a wolf around Stiles and
protect him. Pass along his strength and comfort some way. He refrained
himself, but barely. He trotted as a wolf to the dresser he was familiar with
and transformed back into a man. He grabbed some gym shorts, so he wasn’t
naked, as his eyes tracked Stiles figure on the floor. Derek hadn't been
noticed yet as he watched Stiles fall apart. It made his heart hurt, he
realized Stiles wasn’t in much physical pain, past the injuries he inflicted on
himself, wasn’t being attacked, but it was minimal consolation; Stiles was so
far from okay. He inhaled, nostrils flaring and scented pain, anguish, deep
emotional hurt and Derek was frozen at Stiles dresser barely in human form
while he watched Stiles lose everything that made him Stiles. Or maybe it had
already been lost before today, Derek considered.
Holding back his flashing blue eyes as his wolf threatened to surface, Derek
approached the crying, mess of a boy with hesitance. Then he gave up, let his
instincts carry him and grabbed the boy around the middle, trapping his arms
beneath his as Stiles sobbed into his bare chest. Barely getting enough breath
and still sobbing he glanced up and saw who was comforting him. Their eyes met,
and Stiles began lashing out, trying to free his arms. Derek let him punch and
hit, let him use his body as a punching bag. It was the least he could do. It
was his fault. He was too late. Always too late.
***** The Confrontation *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek just breezes in after all this time and Stiles is furious.
Chapter Notes
     Hi all, just posting what I have so far. Let me know if you have any
     requests. I've been going back and editing some things, let me know
     if anything is weird....
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Stiles:
He felt a bare body and arms wrap around him and he sank into the warmth and
comfort, sobbing, his breath hitching, he didn’t even care who was holding him
and providing comfort. Until he looked up and saw Derek's bright blue wolf
eyes, face creased in concern and he became furious all over again.
His world was crashing down around him and Derek gets to waltz in like the
savoir of the world, Fuck that. He felt warm arms, saw a half naked Derek who
abandoned him like his mother, like anyone who mattered and lost it. He punched
and kicked and lost his shit. Derek left and fuck Derek. He lashed out, like
his life depended on it. He kicked and screamed, scratched and hit. He sobbed,
tears streaming down his face.
"Fuck you, fuck you, let me go" he screamed through sobs to the giant werewolf
holding him down.
Stiles managed a good hit onto Derek's jaw, feeling a crack, either from his
own knuckle or from the stupid werewolf's face. Whatever, Derek could heal, and
his own body was numb to pain, his hands and arms a mess from the brutal
punishment he inflicted on himself earlier.
"Get the fuckoffmeyoustupidass" he screamed words blending together in his
anger.
Derek just held him tighter, didn’t fight back.
Stiles kept hitting, felt blood beneath his fingers, either from before or from
his assault on Derek.
He hit Derek's jaw, felt the stubble, felt his hand creak. Hit his nose, his
neck, his chest, battered him a hard as he could until his breath ran out,
feeling his fight drain away as he crashed into the reality that was his life
now.
He gave up and curled in on himself, and in turn on Derek. His face was wet,
tears still streaming down his face but his panic had not lessened. It had
intensified. The panic and pain from Scott's blatant rejection had faded to
many other things, or not faded but multiplied.
Stiles had murdered someone, not as a nogitsune, not as a possessed creature,
but as a human, as himself. Avoiding it had kept some emotions hidden, but they
all rushed to the surface now, being held, feeling safe, and his eyes blurred
and he couldn’t inhale any oxygen. His shoulder ached from where Donovan bit
him, partially healed, but forever a scar to remind him. He had murdered
Donovan, and he knew he was right to, he knew he had to, he remembered the
flailing panic and pain, desperate to escape. But, without Derek and Scot,
there was no one to save him. He had to save himself. But, he couldn’t, he was
just a fragile human. He didn’t even understand how he had gotten away. Just
the feeling of SURVIVESURVIVESURVIVE being screamed from inside. And he had, he
had gotten away, he saw the image of the pole piercing through Donovan, blood
spurting.
His panic peaked, from the numerous unhealthy thoughts streaming in from where
they were locked safely away. It was like he was exposed now, Scott knew, soon
everyone would know. When he was pretending it didn’t happen, it was easy to
lie to himself, put up a front, now those walls were down. He remembered
killing when he was possessed by a nogitsune, remembered the feeling of
plunging a sword in Scott's stomach, remembered all that death he inflicted. He
may not have been controlling the body, but he had to watch it, and feel it,
every life, every terrible, manipulative, murderous thought. It haunted him
every day. Now he had this, murder. This fear of the dread doctors, fear of the
unknown, fear for his father. His breathing got heavier as his eyesight
blackened, he was drowning, he couldn’t breathe, why was he under water? Did
his body decide it should cease existing to fuel this horrible person
inhabiting it?
Panicking as his mind got fuzzy from lack of oxygen, he started to clutch
tighter onto the man he was previously trying to hurt and escape from.
"Breathe Stiles" Derek said. Stiles heard him through the fog. Tried to listen,
didn’t want to feel this.
"Breathe, it's okay Stiles, it'll be okay." Tight hands squeezed him harder, he
tried to listen.
Stiles leaned in, couldn't help it with his need for comfort, and buried his
face in Derek's chest, right above his heart and moaned with pain.
"It’s okay Stiles, no one can hurt you now, you're safe, you're safe in your
room, take a deep breath." Derek said with a frantic whisper.
He couldn’t do this anymore, Stiles thought to himself. He could not be the
model student, model son, Robin to Scott's batman. He was so afraid and so over
it, just done and helpless and Derek was there and he sobbed in relief because
Derek was there. Derek was there, he didn't have to do it alone anymore, and
with that thought he felt his brain start to shut down from lack of oxygen.
"Please" he sobbed. He didn’t even know what he was begging for. For relief,
for understanding, for a pain free, stress free life? He wasn't even sure.
"STILES!" Derek screamed as Stiles' breathing became more ragged. "STILES!" He
said again with more urgency. But Stiles was done, he hit his limit on crazy
pants shit, hit his limit on emotions and he just blacked out, vision fading
out around the edges and crumpled into Derek's arms.
 
Derek:
Derek watched Stiles with increasing panic and concern as the teen utterly lost
it in his arms. Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell happened in the six months
he was gone, Derek thought to himself. He thought back, the frantic texts
didn’t start until about a month ago, maybe a little more, what could have
happened in a month to make Stiles fall apart like this? Derek felt that he was
way more panicked then he should be, but his palms were sweating and his chest
felt like shards of ice were flowing though his veins to his heart. What the
actual fuck happened to Stiles?
Stiles was the strongest person Derek knew, wolf or not. He wouldn’t admit it
out loud but, Stiles was loyal, steadfast, perseverant, and annoyingly
persistent in the pursuit of justice, he was surprisingly intelligent and a
quick thinker. What could have happened to that strong unyielding person so
quickly? As Derek had encountered from being falsely arrested numerous times,
Stiles was terrifyingly cunning and brave to the point of stupidity. This
Stiles was more like a trainwreck, or a tornado of pain and anger. Derek
couldn’t decide which, maybe both, causing and fueling the destruction of this
once strong young man in his arms. It was different from the aftermath of the
nogitsune, Derek was sure, he didn’t smell that scent of burnt wax and cardamom
that came with the nogitsune. He smelled familiar, like the way Laura and
himself smelled after the fire. Anguish, deep sorrow and loneliness to name a
few. The scent was too complex really. It was more. Underlying fear, anxiety,
panic, anger. Shit, every negative emotion was there, no wonder he was a wreck.
Derek smelled blood and looked around. The room was in shambles. His eyes
zeroed in on every surface that had Stiles's blood while Stiles continued to
punch him in the face, neck and stomach over and over. He saw the holes in the
wall, the board that was used to keep track of the teens thoughts, papers
strewn around, his desk destroyed. His room looked like it had been ransacked
and then attacked. His heart lurched in his chest, made him want to cry out in
confusion while he was being beat on. But, if this could help, he'd take it. It
made Derek thankful that Stiles was human or he would be suffering along with
him, with the scent of emotional pain and anguish that pervaded the room.
Stiles was falling apart in his arms, lashing out and nearly breaking his own
bones and Derek's. Derek felt Stiles' bones creak with strain on his
supernatural body but no matter how hard he tried to hold him to prevent
injury, Stiles broke free, and Derek didn’t want to hurt him. He decided to let
him, let him unleash this pain and hoped that he could minimize the damage. He
focused his energy on not letting Stiles get hurt while letting himself be hit.
Guiding hits to fleshy parts of his body, it made him wish he was not quite so
muscular and unyielding, so he didn’t hurt Stiles with his own body.
Fuck, he was even failing at trying to comfort someone. Gods he was useless.
Just his presence was hurting Stiles.
Then it was over, quicker then it hard started, deflating like a popped
balloon, Stiles had run out of energy, sagging against his body. Derek felt
himself being clutched harder, Stiles' face pressing into his chest, pulling
Derek closer in his agony. He felt Stiles' long strong fingers grab around his
waist desperately, Derek clutched back as gently as he could while still trying
to provide comfort. He felt his heart speed with an unknown emotion and he
grabbed Stiles tighter. Derek was close to tears himself, so angry at himself
for leaving, for not coming sooner, for even messing this up, for whatever
Stiles was going through. Stiles sobbed into his skin, his breathing increasing
and it took Derek too long to figure out what was happening.
Even though he could hear Stiles' heart rate and breathing like it was his own,
he belatedly realized that Stiles was in danger of actually hurting himself
with these strong emotions and for once, Derek was exceedingly terrified. He
didn't know what to do, humans need to breath, he thought frantically, their
heart beat is vital and oxygen is needed for his brain, and Derek was
officially freaking out because he had no one to fight, just the emotions
Stiles was struggling with. He couldn't win against those, he had no idea what
caused them. Fuck.
.
He started saying nonsense didn’t even know what...telling him to breathe, and
he was okay…. And then he realized that it wouldn’t help, he was too late.
He heard Stiles beg, "Please, please" and Derek didn’t know what Stiles was
begging for, but Gods he would give it to him if he could. And his heart
clenched in pain and stomach rolled because he wasn’t there, he couldn't do
anything and this was all his fault.
Shit, shit fuck, "STILES!" I DON’T KNOW WHAT DO HERE, he screamed internally.
He was frantic and about to lose it himself and that wouldn’t help anyone.
"STILES!!!! BREATHE!!!" but Stiles didn’t breathe, he apparently couldn’t and
being screamed at wouldn't fix it.
He started to panic, grabbing tighter, losing his mind on what to do as his
wolf called out to try to help, begging to be free and scent and curl around
the boy's shaking body.
But it was too late. Anything Derek could have done was proved to be too little
late as Stile crumbled into unconsciousness in his arms.
 
----
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks as always <3
     Hope you guys dont mind a little smutty smutt soon, I haven't really
     written alot of smut but I've sure read enough, so I'm willing to
     try!
     Thanks for the feedback already you guys are awesome!!!!
***** Sun shines in.... *****
Chapter Summary
     Some smutty smutt! Stiles might be slighty embarassed when he wakes
     and whats a better stress relief then some self love.....
Chapter Notes
     I love your comments! You guys are amazinnnng <3
     oh no beta, in case you havent noticed....
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Stiles:
He woke up to the sun, warmth shining through his blinds on his face and for
the first time in a while he felt rested. But, it was different from before the
mess with Donovan, something was different, he couldn’t remember what. He
blinked, looked around and the past night's events flooded into his memory like
a wave of embarrassment and shame. Derek. Derek was here. Derek was here, and
Stiles had cried on him… after he turned his room into a fucking crime scene
like a maniac with no control of his emotions. Super.
Stiles realized that the warmth he was feeling came from Derek, not solely the
sun. He glanced over to see that there was a giant, muscled, chiseled man,
holding his body flush against a warm bare chest, cuddled into blankets and
holding him tight. The werewolf's stubble was scraping on his shoulder as he
breathed, making marks. Arms wrapped tightly around his torso in his bed, legs
linking like vines. He sighed heavily, feeling Derek's breath against his neck,
almost groaned out loud as he realized that his body was responding to this
attention. Derek might be behind him, not quite spooning him, but his cock was
pulsing and hard, as if it had somewhere to go. Being a seventeen year old
virgin sucked, he thought sourly. It was the morning , it wasn’t a shocker,
there were many other shockers, but that was definitely not one. He was torn,
stay or shy away with a millimeter of his dignity in tact. Decided on leaving,
he had enough to be embarrassed about without his morning issue becoming
headline news in Derek freaking Hales morning wake up call. Sighing quietly, he
tried to disentangle himself from the hot, warm, welcome body of the past alpha
to make his way to the bathroom. He worked his way free of the arms and limbs
carefully and ran to the shower before Derek could wake.
He turned the shower on as hot as it would go and jumped in when it was still
cold. Felt the horrific pounding of ice for a few seconds before his skin was
scalding hot. It felt euphoric, the hot pitter patter of raindrops from the
shower clearing his head. He sighed and reached down, hands skimming slowly
past his abs, towards his hips. He thought about his hard on, about Derek in
his bed, and grabbed at his dick like it held the last drop of water in the
desert. Gods it had been so long since he had time for this, finally feeling
free and rested after his emotional breakdown. He wrapped his long fingers
around his shaft and stroked quickly. He vaguely noticed that his hands and
arms were clean of blood, and the worst injuries bandaged. He wanted to get
this necessity over with and get on with his day. He rolled his thumb along his
slit as he slid his hand up and down like he always did, ignoring the sore
muscles of his abused hands, trying to get this done before Derek woke.
Worried about the ears outside his room, but too desperate, he felt wrecked and
urgent. He felt his orgasm build rapidly, he knew it would be quick. It had
been so long since he was aroused enough due to life and the drama that is
Beacon Hills he was surprised he hadn't been woken after a gut wrenching wet
dream. That would have been way worse, he thought belatedly. It had been weeks,
longer since he had gotten off. He gripped himself tighter, conscious of
werewolf ears and worked himself towards his orgasm. He continued to pull and
tease, sliding his hands down his balls and cupping them, twisting his hand
around his shaft and increasing his speed in anticipation of relief. He felt
the build of release the pull in his spine, the warmth, tingle, toes curling.
It came on quick, but the orgasm that he was aching for failed him. It fizzled
out like a bad firework, dying before the magic. He grunted with effort, tried
again, tugging on his hard dick like it was a lifeline for his survival,
pulling, almost too hard, and building to orgasm again. As he got close again
he pulled hard thrusting into his hand, tugging hard his balls and rubbing his
slit hard. But, his orgasm wasn't coming. He used to do this all the time, why
couldn’t he get off now?! He thought of Derek of Lydia and all the fantasies
from porn, but after way too long of no release he was about to give up. His
dick was red from overstimulation and build up, flushed and ready to spill but
nothing came out. Nothing but drops of precome. He had unintentionally edged
himself tortuously and repeatedly while trying to reach his end goal, a quick
relief. But, his orgasm was out of reach, anything but quick. He gave up with a
grunt, but he couldn’t stop slowly stroking himself, up and down, slowly, in
the wet stream of the shower flowing down his body.
He was beyond confused. Time had surely passed... alot probably. He kept
rubbing himself, over and over, teasingly, keeping himself on the edge, ready
to spill over to the mind numbing bliss of an orgasm. Gods did he need it
badly. He kept his fist loose but strong as his rubbed himself the way he
always liked and felt himself slowly peak towards relief again, thank god,
desperate for that mind numbing bliss. But nothing he could do tipped him over
that edge. He kept trying, desperate, and for longer then he probably should
have. But the almost, but not quite there, blissed out feeling, was making him
crazy for release and he was so close, so so close. He continued to stroke and
run his bandaged hands over his body, dying for stimulation. But, after the
constant disappointment he started to slow, and was no longer reaching for an
orgasm, just touching himself softly. After way too long, he turned the shower
on cold and gave up. His injured hands were tired and sore even though his body
was strumming for something. He felt desperate, he was desperate.
He got out and wrapped a towel around his waist when he finally was calm enough
to leave the security of the cold shower. He went straight to his dresser and
donned pants. After crawling into bed next to a sleeping Derek, he remembered
why he tried to get off in the first place. His semi hard dick filled with
blood immediately, after the body heat from Derek soaked into his skin. Derek
smelled warm, soft, like sunlight and forests. His problem went from desperate
to crazy in seconds. He felt like his skin was on fire, nerve endings crackling
and lighting up, he got dizzy with how fast the blood left his brain and flowed
downwards. He didn’t know what he would do, Stiles was so fearful he thought he
might grab, slam and grind onto poor sleeping Derek, who held him during his
most vulnerable time. Because his mind was a terrible person in that moment.
And oh fuck, was he going to lose it.
Trying to calm his bodily response to Derek, he decided to just soak it up,
breathe and enjoy the peace of lying there, warmth against his side, but his
body had other ideas. It took a very long time for him to calm down enough to
sink back into the bed near Derek.
Embarrassment, shame and dread filled him and he closed his eyes and tried to
escape his world.
 
Derek:
His eyes opened slowly as he felt Stiles heartbeat increase, as Stiles became
conscious to the world around him again.
Derek felt Stiles mild panic as he untangled himself from Derek's hold on him,
Derek let him. As Stiles moved off the bed Derek almost visibly flinched with
smell of arousal pouring off of Stiles as he moved towards the bathroom. Derek
purposely tried to keep as relaxed as possible, breathing even, so Stiles
wouldn’t know he was awake. Derek figured Stiles would be uncomfortable if
Derek noticed him being aroused in the morning. So, Derek ignored the flare of
possessive desire that flared through him as Stiles walked fast out of the
room. When Stiles was out of the room, Derek brought a hand up to his face,
covering his eyes as they flared blue, sighing quietly and trying to regain
control.
He thought about last night, after Stiles lost consciousness; Derek's emotions
had been turbulent at best, eyes closed trying not to look at the destroyed boy
in his arms, his claws extended as he pulled his hands away from the already
injured body. Coming back to himself, Derek had retracted his claws and reigned
in his glowing eyes and gathered Stiles up taking him into the bathroom. He had
cleaned the wounds that Stiles had inflicted on himself in his rage, gently
bandaged the ones that were deep and bleeding freely. He took a washcloth and
wiped the streaks of blood that marred his pale cheeks, uncovering the
smattering of moles that led down to his neck. Derek remembered how his eyes
had dipped briefly to Stiles' cupid bow mouth, his vulnerable, pale neck, and
how he had filled with hot rage thinking about who had hurt Stiles this much.
Bringing himself back to the present, he immediately regretted it. He heard
him. In the shower. Stiles was jerking off in the shower, not ten feet from
where Derek was "sleeping". Derek turned bright red with this knowledge, and
groaned inwardly, trying to turn his senses elsewhere. It was impossible. He
heard every movement, every soft exhale, every quiet, bitten off moan. Derek
felt himself grow hot with want as he pictured Stiles' pale, lithe body, wet
and rippling with movement. Derek got lost for a while in the images the sounds
were creating, growing hard and flushed, dripping precome in his borrowed
shorts. He waited for the inevitable conclusion with hopeful anticipation and
dread. Then he heard Stiles struggle, falter, try again, increasingly louder,
desperate. He remembered his own emotional traumas, how he hadn't been able to
touch himself for a while, even longer until he could be with anyone else. His
own insecurities and pain caused him the same struggles and failures. That
thought doused the heat he felt, returning him to a normal state. He heard
Stiles leave the shower and braced himself, pretending to sleep to spare Stiles
from thinking about him hearing.
Eyes closed he heard Stiles slip back into bed, and the second Stiles slipped
under the covers, Derek scented his arousal, strong and so present in the room.
Was that for him? It couldn’t be possible that Stiles was thinking about Derek.
Derek shoved the thought out of his mind and tried to just enjoy the warmth of
a body, of Stiles' body, next to him.
…
Later Derek woke to hearing Stiles shuffle in the bed, grunting with pain.
Derek opened his eyes, committing to being awake now.
"Hey" Derek mumbled quietly.
Stiles froze and looked over, eyes meeting hesitantly.
So many unspoken words traveled through them in those seconds.
"I'm…uh….sorry" Stiles said back quietly.
"Don't be" Derek dismissed, "Can you fill me in on what happened since I've
been gone?"
Stiles was silent next to him, the scent of his pain and sorrow filled the
room, Derek reached over and put his hand on his cheek. It was the closest,
bare body part to him that he was ready to touch, after the scent of arousal he
experienced earlier from both him and Stiles. He looked into Stiles eyes as
they flickered closed in relief, as black veins ran up from Stiles face to
Derek's hand and arm. It wasn't much, but Derek could take it, he owed him this
much.
Stiles let out a breath as his pain lessened.
"Thanks" He sighed "A lot. A lot happened" Stiles said on an exhale.
"I got that. But what happened to you?" Derek tried again, the lingering
effects of Stiles' pain fading.
"I killed someone" Stiles whispered, eyes downcast, tears forming in the
corners of his eyes, but not falling.
Derek felt shock at that statement, and quickly hid it, he knew Stiles, he
wouldn't hurt anyone unless he had to, for his survival or someone else's. He
had it in him to be strong enough to take a life, if he absolutely had to.
"I'm sure you had a reason." Derek responded casually.
He felt Stiles stiffen and look at him with wide innocent eyes, his mouth
dropped open in surprise.
Derek thought Stiles was going to start crying again, with the look he was
giving Derek. Awe, shock, surprise and agony flashed through his features
quickly.
"I did, I think I did, Scott, no so much." Stiles replied quietly.
Derek grunted in amusement and displeasure, "Ah, Scott, of course."
"He said some things, fucking stupid things, didn’t believe me, but of course
you do." Stiles said with an displeased smirk.
Derek felt his eyebrows crinkle, he wasn’t sure what that meant, so he tried
again, "What happened."
Stiles took a deep breath and started the story.
Chapter End Notes
     More coming soon.... maybe tomorrow, any requests? Hope you like the
     smidge of smuttiness. Gotta love pain sucking Derek, can't get enough
     myself :-)
     Comments are love, make requests, etc <3
     Trying to decide if I should go full story here and rewrite some of
     season 5a and b or just do a smutty smut fest. Maybe both? Thoughts?
***** And lightning strikes *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles' story about the last few weeks and Derek's reaction.
Chapter Notes
     Alright, long story short, tried to write this on my tablet at work,
     epic failure, sorry about that. Super lots of errors, it was
     terrible. I re-did the wholleeeee thing.
     I am also sitting down, mapping out the next few chapters and writing
     alllllll night so I have a few chapters ready to go.
     Request to your hearts content, I'm here to please.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Stiles:
Stiles sat heavily on his bed and leaned against his headboard, barely ready to
have this talk with Derek about what had transpired in the past month. At the
same time, he needed to tell someone, and Derek seemed to already know that
Stiles wouldn't hurt anyone maliciously. That thought warmed Stiles' heart a
little; he wasn't sure why.
Derek was sitting on the edge of Stiles' bed looking like a Greek statue come
to life. Gorgeous, perfectly carved from the shiniest marble. Derek was
watching Stiles expectantly, waiting, for Stiles to spill.
"Everything was good, really good. The summer was quiet, almost too quiet. I
should have expected it all to go to shit, but I didn't. False hope, thinking
we could have a peaceful senior year. Stupid." Stiles sighed, Derek's eyebrows
squirmed in amusement, mouth twitching in an almost smile.
"Then this dickwad from elementary school blows in to town, and SURPRISE, he's
a fucking werewolf. Theo, what a dick, never liked him. I was suspicious
immediately. Scott wasn't, he kept saying I was too paranoid, that I had been
wrong about you, that I should trust someone."
Derek looked confused about the reference to trusting him, and Stiles rolled
his eyes, "Yes Derek, I was wrong about you, you want me to write it in the
sky, compose a sonnet?"
Derek rolled his eyes, pleased with this revelation, despite the terrible
circumstances. He stayed silent, gesturing with a vague hand motion for Stiles
to continue.
"And…. then, everything fell to shit. People started disappearing, teenagers,
kinda like when you went on your alpha spree, turning teenagers in to
werewolves, all, 'the bite is a gift'" Stiles said wryly. "Except more violent
and less consensual. We couldn't figure it out, they were always one step ahead
of us. While Theo was all 'trust me, trust me I'm here to help, let me in your
pack'. Asshat." Stiles grumbled. He paused, thinking, trying to consider how
much Derek needed to know about the past few months. He looked towards the
ceiling and decided to cut to the chase.
"So, I guess you want to know what happened that I killed someone..." he
glanced at Derek, who's face betrayed no emotion. Greek statue people, Greek
fucking statue.
"Fine…" Stiles rolled his eyes, "So these dread doctor creeps are turning teens
into chimeras, gross mixed supernatural creatures, and naturally they turned my
enemy into a wendigo with scary teeth." Stiles shivered at the thought.
"He threatened my dad at the police station, was arrested and escaped, or was
taken to be turned into a chimera. He came after me in the parking lot of the
school. Mutated, deformed teeth formed out of his hands and latched on to me.
He attacked me, he threatened my dad, Derek, my dad. I was alone, no one was
coming. He bit me, fucking bit me. I bashed his head with a wrench, slammed my
head into him and ran to the library." Stiles unconsciously rubbed his sore
shoulder, and Derek's eyes darted to the motion.
"I still don't know how I survived, I climbed a construction scaffold to get
away and materials fell off, he was impaled on a metal rod." Stiles swallowed,
reliving the fear, heart rate increasing. Stiles swallowed, I tried to pull it
out, but, silver blood started coming out, he was dead." Tears formed in
Stiles' eyes, hands shaking, as he recalled the terror, the fear, the sick
exhilaration that he survived. But not without consequences.
"I called 911 from the library, but then the body was gone, crime scene cleaned
up, so I didn't tell anyone. Theo's been blackmailing me ever since, until now
when he conveniently let it drop to Scott." Stiles was breathing heavy. He
pictured his blood covered hands, how he held the steering wheel. How he waited
to be arrested for murder. Recalled how he couldn’t look at himself in the
rearview mirror. Couldn't make eye contact with his friends for days after. His
confusion when the police had radioed that there was no body, false alarm, his
relief. How he held back sobs in him room, alone that night. Stiles felt his
palms start to sweat, heat rate increasing with the flood of memories.
Abruptly, Stiles found himself being grabbed by Derek, who was a blur of
supernatural movement on his bed. Derek grabbed his shirt and pulled it from
the neckline, exposing the length of his neck, collarbone and shoulder. Stiles
had no idea what was happening until Derek's supernaturally warm hand touched
his skin, searing him and making him flush all over. Derek's hand was warm on
his neck, on his pulse point where his blood had sped up. Derek let out a low
growl. Oh, the chimeras bite, Donovan's bite.
Stiles tried to pull his shirt back, self consciously, "it's fine Derek, it
doesn't hurt that much, forget it."
But Stiles knew what it looked like, torn, scarred skin, vicious teeth marks.
Stiles shuddered at the memory.
"It is not fine." Derek ground out with a growl, teeth clenched. Stiles was
confused about Derek's tone of voice. He sounded infuriated, and conflicted.
Stiles suddenly found himself in Derek's embrace, Derek's face buried in his
neck. Stiles froze, surprised by the gesture. As soon as it happened, it was
over. Feeling cold with the lack of touch, he looked up to find Derek on the
other side of the room pacing angrily, eyes glowing blue. Stiles was shocked at
the loss of control the adult werewolf was displaying. Derek always seemed to
have such intense control.
"He's dead then?" Derek asked, looking like he would rather be the one to
commit murder. Repeatedly, possibly daily.
Stiles nodded.
"Good." Derek said. "I won't bother telling you that you did the right thing,
you know it and it won't help." Derek paused. Looking at Stiles. "Taking a life
isn't..... easy, even when it's necessary. It changes you."
 
Stiles swallowed, nodded. He knew Derek would get it. He had to kill his uncle,
even though the asshole came back to life.
"I don't know what to do about Scott, everyone, it's worse then with the...you
know... nogitsune thing, I did this. They think I'm a monster." Stiles said
quietly.
"You're not a monster" Derek said harshly, eyes still blue. "I'll handle
Scott."
Stiles looked up and Derek was gone, out the window, just as quickly as he had
come.
Stiles' shorts lay crumpled on the floor near the window.
 
Suddenly, all Stiles could think about, with regret, was how he wished he had
seen Derek transform in a wolf, blushing at the thought.
 
Derek:
 
Derek was watching Stiles with rapt attention, trying to remain casual and
unaffected. Inside, he could barely keep his claws hidden, felt them digging
into the mattress, cutting the cushioning underneath him. He was sitting on
Stiles' bed instead of the desk chair like last time. Derek glanced around the
room, trying to get control.
When Stiles said that the abomination had bit him, Derek almost lost it. He was
glad Stiles was lost in his story and didn't notice how his eyes flashed, claws
extended, and a full beta shift came on so sudden it was like he was a teenager
again, no control. No anchor.
He reigned it in before Stiles could see and launched himself at the boy to see
what damage had been done on his pale fragile skin.
Derek barely heard himself growl, barely felt his eyes shift. Didn't even
consciously make the decision to touch the man in front of him. Stiles pale
neck tilted unconsciously with his touch. A circular, jagged mess shining like
a beacon on the boys pale, mole dotted neck. Stiles kept talking, but all Derek
heard was ringing in his ears. Suddenly, he found his face pressed in Stiles
neck, both taking and giving comfort. Needing to scent him in that moment,
needed Stiles' scent of waterfalls and thunder on his skin, all over him.
He backed away quickly with that thought, grunted out something about Scott and
leapt out of the window in full shift before Stiles could process what was
happening.
Before Derek could do something he would regret, before he messed everything up
again. Before he could hurt Stiles or take advantage of him in this vulnerable
moment they found themselves in. Before he followed his instincts, what his
body was screaming at him to listen to.
When his paws landed on the grass outside, he bolted away from the tempting
scent of a waterfall during a thunderstorm, away from the soothing beat of the
boys' heart.
He ran, thoughts in turmoil, and sprinted fast through the forest, towards his
original destination. He was frantically trying to reign in the urge murder a
teenage boy and become the alpha that Stiles deserved.
His thoughts turned to how easy his life had been in the past six months. How
easy it had been. How bored he had been. He realized how much he had changed
since he left Beacon Hills. He was not as dark, not healed, but not quite so
broken. Now, he wasn't even back in Beacon Hills for an hour and he was ready
to kill a seventeen year old, true alpha because his… his what? His friend? His
friend who evoked such extreme emotions he couldn’t hold back his shift. He
shook out his fur and kept running, coming back to himself. A little. Enough to
keep Scott alive, hopefully.
He neared Scott's house, jumped onto the roof and into his window, it held much
different emotions then jumping into Stiles' window. He landed in shadows,
Scott's red eyes shining in the muted lightness of the room, tensed to spring.
Derek shifted back into a man. Early morning light shone in through the open
window. "Give me pants." Derek grunted out. Scott relaxed minutely and went to
his dresser throwing Derek some clothes.
"What the fuck, Derek?" Scott said. "What… what are you doing here? You're
back?"
Derek glared at Scott, still fuming. Scott seemed to notice that Derek was
pissed, and was shifting back and forth on his feet self consciously.
"Uhh… Derek?"
Derek took a steadying breath and lifted his blue eyes to Scott's red ones.
"What the fuck is going on Scott?"
Scott deflated at Derek's question, hand rubbing the back of his head. He
looked like a child. A stupid, selfish child who had stolen a cookie before
dinner. Not like an alpha who was supposed to be running a fucking pack. A pack
with Stiles' in it. A fragile, breakable, infuriating, confusing human.
"Shit, Derek. I don’t even know anymore." Scott said helplessly.
"Tell me, how a member of your pack, a human member might I add, ended up being
attacked and alone with no one to help him." Derek asked, arms crossed.
Scott had the audacity to look confused, "What?"
"Fucking Stiles, Scott! He was attacked by a chimera. Your best friend." Derek
said sarcastically.
"Donovan…what?" Scott asked.
"You're telling me, that you had no idea that Stiles' was attacked by a chimera
at the school and had to defend himself, and you had no idea?" Derek
questioned.
"I mean…. Yes, I just found out" Scott said defensively.
Derek raised his eyebrows, arms still crossed, eyes still blue. He tried to
portray his best disappointed adult face. Was pretty sure he fell short, but he
tried. He probably just looked murderous. He felt a bit murderous still.
"What do you think you know?" Derek asked
"Stiles killed Donovan, with a wrench." Scott said.
"He was a fucked chimera, Scott, a wendigo, with teeth, sharp, deadly teeth.
What did you want him to do, die for you? Maybe dance around like a court
jester and tell jokes until you showed up to save the day? Fuck Scott, use your
fucking brain." Derek said in a rush.
"We don't kill people Derek, its….its not necessary." Scott said adamantly
"Jesus Scott, are you fucking kidding me." Derek asked "Not necessary?"
"What are you even doing here? I thought you were with Brayden? In Mexico or
Arizona or something. I've been texting you!" Scott exclaimed.
"I'm here now." Derek grunted out, letting his eyes fade back to green for the
first time in way too long.
"Well, how did you know about Donovan?" Scott asked
"Stiles." Derek answered.
"Stiles? You saw Stiles? How long have you been here?" Scott asked
"I just got here." Derek answered.
"And you saw Stiles first?" Scott asked angrily.
"I don’t answer to you Scott." Derek replied.
"But, what…" Scott fumbled for words. "Stiles told you what happened?"
"In detail" Derek replied. "You fucked up, apologize."
Scott looked upset. "What, why? We can't just kill people Derek."
"He was in danger Scott, Donovan, a chimera, attacked him. He barely made it
Scott. Be reasonable." Derek responded. He was getting more and more frustrated
with Scott. Fuck, this was his fault too. He had falsely believed he could
leave Beacon Hills in Scott's capable hands, fucking incapable hands.
"Okay, I'll talk to Stiles. But, I still think there is a better way then
killing people Scott finally answered, after a long pause.
Derek nodded. Turned back into a wolf, and dove out the way he came in. Leaving
the alpha in his room.
Derek landed outside and headed back to Stiles' house. Nothing else was
happening to Stiles' not if he could help it.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm deciding to ignore that Malia and Stiles had sex in eichen,
     because gross. No problem with Malia or Stalia, just, ya know....
     basement of a psych hospital while possessed? No thanks.
      
     Ill post before next week. Promise!
     Thanks for all your comments!!!
     Xoxo
***** Stressed out *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles has a heart to heart with his dad.
     Derek reflects on his history with Stiles as he spends the night
     protecting Stiles' from afar.
Chapter Notes
     So, plot happens, I have an idea where I'm going now. Yay.
     I am disregarding everything past episode 9 when Scott and Stiles
     fight about Stiles killing Donovan.
     So this is my redo of season 5. Send requests, I'm adaptable :-)
      
     <3
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Stiles:
He was still sitting on his bed an hour after Derek left. Unmoving. Now he was
the statue. Definitely not as well carved as Derek's version, but just as
stationary. He flopped over on his side, deep in thought. He felt free. Free-
ish. Less tense, less burdened. Lighter somehow. He thought obsessively about
Derek. Still shocked he had been here, in his room. He had thought frequently
about how he would react if Derek returned. Pictured many options: running into
his arms was one, another was a manly bro hug, or a nod. Never did he picture a
wolf Derek jumping into his window, consoling him and cuddling him to death. Or
how intensely Derek had reacted to his retelling of the events. His reaction to
Donovan, the nuzzling. Scenting, he thought to himself. Derek had scented him,
with a fervor.
Stiles was confused, he realized. Confused about Derek. More then usual. He had
known for a while that he wasn't just into girls, no real revelation there.
But, he was confused about the change in Derek. Derek seemed wound up, but
still somehow more…. composed, sure of himself.
Stiles felt alone, and unsure of his future, unsure if any of them had a
future. But, he felt better that Derek was back. Derek. Fucking Derek. Well, if
anyone could solve this, Derek could. Stiles considered the possibilities, the
options in front of them. He got up and looked around at his destroyed room.
With a deep sigh, he decided to get to work.
He spent the next five hours undoing the damage of the night before, finally
putting something in his stomach. He thought about last night, barely
remembered any of it. Other then the the panic, tears, being unable to breathe.
The shock of Derek's hot skin on his, the light banter and serious confessions.
He heard his dad come in downstairs, front door slamming.
His dad's footsteps were heavy on the stairs. Stiles sat down and waited,
fearing what was coming.
Hi dad was in his doorway, looking gray and stressed. Stiles' heartrate
increased, he'd need a pacemaker or some super strong anti-anxiety meds if this
kept up.
"So, son. I was fed a load of shit today by a friend of yours." John said.
"Want to tell me why Theo confessed to a murder that I'm pretty sure you
committed"
Stiles froze, world ending, breath catching. He felt his face heat, tears
flooded his eyes.
"Dad" He gasped out.
"Shhhh son, it's okay." His dad wrapped his arms around him. "He was a chimera
wasn't he?"
"Yes." Stiles said, still shaking, nodding into his dads shoulder.
"I'm so glad you're okay son, no matter what. I'm here for you. I know you had
to. I love you." John said, tears in his eyes.
Stiles crumpled with his father's words, Heart inflating in his chest with a
gasp. Thank god. If Derek and his dad believed him, then surely, surely he was
right and Scott was wrong.
"Thank you." Stiles finally said.
"I came back to tell you that, figured you were beating yourself up. You're not
off the hook. You lied to me. Never lie to me again. You can tell me anything.
I still want the whole story, soon. I would burn this town to the ground for
you. I have to go back to work. Everything is a mess. I love you." John said,
ruffling his hair.
Stiles looked up at his dad, the one person who mattered the most. He felt
himself smile, for the first time in weeks. His dad grinned back, and walked
out of his room, leaving Stiles to his thoughts.
He heard his dad pull out of the driveway as he laid back in bed, the full moon
shining in his window. This had been a bizarre day. Revelations and emotional
ups and downs and he was exhausted. His eyes slipped closed as he thought about
Derek in his bed, entwined with his body. He drifted off into a deep, calm
sleep.
He jerked awake hours later as a thump woke him up. He shot up in bed,
adrenaline flooding his body as he flipped on a light to see. Theo fucking
Raeken was standing in his room, looking like he owned the place, a pleased
smirk of his face. Stiles leapt out of bed grabbing is baseball bat and ran at
him with a war cry.
Before he made impact there was a huge black wolf lunging at Theo's throat with
a deadly snarl. A snarl that put Stiles' scream to shame with its terrifying
threat of death. Derek. It was Derek. Stiles sighed in relief. He wasn't alone.
The black wolf attacked Theo with a savage intensity that Derek barely
possessed as an alpha. Theo had no chance of surviving this. Derek was a force
of nature not to be trifled with. Derek may have lost a lot of fights before
this one, but it was clear that being a wolf gave him many advantages. Stiles
watched the majestic wolf with glowing blue eyes attack the yellow eyed
werewolf with a grace that would have been beautiful if it wasn't also
incredibly deadly.
It seemed like time slowed as Stiles watched with open mouthed awe. The lights
flickered. With a blink of time, there were three dark shadows in his room,
while Derek froze mid swipe, claws hovering above Theo's throat. The wolf
turned his head to the intrusion, wolf ears twitching.
Stiles moved with the bat again, awe on pause as he advanced. They were out
numbered. Stiles knew why they were there. He reached them just as Derek
changed direction to head towards the new threat. Stiles reached the figures
with masks first. but, before he even had a chance at impact, one of the dread
doctors swatted him down, his body slamming into the floor with a deafening
noise.
Derek lunged at one of the dread doctors, latching onto an arm of one of the
overbearing figures. Stiles saw Derek's powerful jaw wrapped around the figure
in relief. Relief that lasted for just a moment, as the lights flickered again
and he felt himself disappear from his bedroom with the scream of Derek's name
on his lips. He heard the echo of a devastating roar before he lost
consciousness. For the second time in twenty four hours, was his last thought
before the world slipped away into blackness.
Derek:
The grass underneath his fur felt calming, as the trees swayed in the light
breeze, grass moving underneath his flank. It was almost afternoon now, he was
laying in the shade in the forest behind Stiles' house in full wolf form, eyes
and ears trained on the house in front of him. He hadn't slept really, hadn't
gotten his car, or went back to the loft. He just stayed with Stiles. Near
Stiles, felt like he had to. He had heard Stiles shuffling around his room all
day, cleaning up the mess inside. Derek could almost feel his detachment, how
he robotically moved around his room. Felt the emotions shift with Stiles'
heart beat as he realized Stiles was thinking hard about something.
Derek could hear the life in the forest, the animals moving, the bugs crawling.
He quirked his ears towards the house, focusing on the boy in the room upstairs
as Derek's eyes dipped closed, tongue slipping out to wet his nose. He listened
to his heart beat like it was his lifeline. Stiles. He was okay, or he would
be. He was alive, that’s what mattered. The rest would heal with time, Derek
would make sure he wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.
Derek considered where his thoughts were going, recalled the comforting scent
of Stiles. The mix of a thunderstorm during a sunset, rain hitting the rocks
above a waterfall. The fragrant smell of comfort, the sharpness of anxiety and
burn of the Adderall that ran through the boy's bloodstream, faint smell of the
boys father, gun oil, coffee. The scent of high school, fresh notebooks, musty
textbooks, a library. A mess of the life that Stiles lived, such a clear,
distinct differentiation between Stiles and everyone else. Derek knew, He knew
he had feelings for the stubborn, hyperactive teen. Maybe Derek was just
lonely. It wouldn’t be the first time he latched onto something to fill the
void his family left behind. Kate was a desperate child's attempt at filling
the void that Paige left. His attachment to Laura after the fire filling a void
that his family left, the life in New York a desperate attempt at normalcy. The
wolfsbane infused alcohol, sex with strangers when he was desperate for touch.
His self created pack filling a void that Laura left, and the emptiness of his
family that never left. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, All desperate attempts at family,
pack, a new chapter. All full of regret, loss. Mistakes. No, Derek thought, not
mistakes. He could never regret the brief moment he was an alpha, he had loved
his pack more then he thought he could ever love other people again. It had
filled him, he was complete, and it was stolen again. He didn’t think he could
go through it again. He could never, never lose Stiles.
Derek thought back to all the times that Stiles had risked his life, all the
times Stiles had been in danger. Scott almost killed him a handful of times
when he was first turned. Stiles kept trying to help the new wolf, his brother,
determined to save him. Derek had stuck close to the boys then, not for Scott,
but for all the people Scott could hurt. The new wolf's very human best friend,
who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He remembered when he had sent Stiles into
the long term care facility where his uncle was, how he realized that his uncle
was the rouge alpha. He had sent Stiles in to a dangerous situation without
even knowing it. He was barely there in time to save him. He remembered Isaac
wolfing out in the police station, how he flashed his red alpha eyes, thoughts
only on the human boy. He remembered being called Miguel and raising his
eyebrows at being called Stiles' cousin when he could smell the boys arousal
around him. Cousin, he had snorted.
He recalled when it all changed. He had already been surprised by the teenage
boy, fascinated, irritated and intrigued. He threw himself in front of Stiles
when the kanima attacked them at the pool. Leaving his beta unprotected. It was
uncharacteristic of an alpha, protecting someone who wasn't in his pack,
disregarding his own beta's safety. But Stiles was sort of in his pack, if only
adjacently, Plus, it was Stiles, human Stiles, he had told himself. The teen
had surprised him that night. Holding him up in the pool until his muscles were
shaking with strain, body protesting, barely keeping itself afloat let alone
his own muscular, heavy form. The lanky body behind him was surprisingly
strong, lined with muscles from lacrosse and running from the supernatural
threats. Derek was openly bisexual, even as a teen. But, he had never thought
that he would be impressed by Stiles body, by his strength, endurance, his
commitment to keeping Derek alive. Derek had already been impressed by his
mind, his analytical thinking. He was awed by his love, his enduring friendship
and steadfast passion. Derek had lied when he said he didn't trust Stiles. He
just felt like he shouldn't not yet. He was lying to himself.
He remembered when he sat outside of Stiles bedroom after Scott had been
turned, how excited Stiles was that Scott was a werewolf. He wasn’t afraid, he
had welcomed it.
Derek wanted to be a source of excitement, fascination.
Derek was drifting asleep as he heard a car approach the house. It was the
sheriff. He listened in on their interaction with a strange pride. He was
overflowing with happiness that Stiles' dad knew too, and supported Stiles. He
was confused why this simple interaction caused his heart to warm. Maybe it was
the fatherly aspect, Derek missed his own father desperately.
Derek was almost asleep from listening to the soothing hum of Stiles' heartbeat
as he jerked awake with the sudden change in rhythm. He lunged out of his
resting state and jumped up into the open window again and tackled the body
that Stiles was advancing towards. Jaws closing in on the man in Stiles' room.
He could tell from Stiles' reaction that it was a welcome intrusion and tore
into the other werewolf with fervor.
The scent of the werewolf was familiar, it was on Stiles' skin the yesterday.
It wasn't quite werewolf. The smell was too sweet. False, fake, altered. This
was Theo. He had to die. Now.
It was almost done, and then his worst nightmare came to life. Three more
people appeared out of thin air with a cackle of energy. Stiles' anxiety shot
through the roof and Derek turned to defend Stiles.
He watched as Stiles flew towards the floor and hit the ground with a thud that
made Derek's hackles rise as he lunged at the intruders.
As the lights flickered again, and Stiles was grabbed by one of the men in
masks the room shifted and they flickered out of focus, as Stiles faded from
sight he called out, "Derek!!!!"
Derek roared in fear and desperation as Stiles disappeared with the flickering
of lights.
Derek stood on all fours in Stiles' empty room, frantic. He was gone. He was
gone. Taken right out from under him. He had failed again.
Stiles was gone.
He collapsed to the floor on a low whine and devastation flowing through him
like mud. He resolved to find the human that had begun to mean everything to
him. If it was the last thing he could do.
Chapter End Notes
     Love you all.
     thanks for your comments, feedback and encouragement.
     Criticism is welcomed.
     OH AND betas welcomed? I've been reading and rereading and its super
     hard to edit work you've written. No ones perfect :-)
     ----
     This whole fic was something I thought up when I missed Derek and
     hated season 5 (hate is a strong word), hated how there was no Derek
     and how Stiles was so misunderstood. I kept imagining Derek coming
     back, judging scott and saving the day. Andd this was born in hopes
     and dreams.
     hope it tickles your fancy like it did mine.
***** Unsteady. *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles has been kidnapped by the dread doctors. He struggles to
     understand their intent as Derek risks it all to save him.
Chapter Notes
     Potential triggers, and possible non-con, if your concerned,
     description at end...nothing smutty or sexual really this chapter,
     maybe next?
     love you alllll!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Derek:
He berated himself for his brief pity party as he jumped to his hind legs,
changing to human faster then ever before. He ran to Stiles' dresser putting on
pants and a tight, black, graphic tee that had a blue outline of a wolf on it.
He let himself be amused by the shirt, deciding that Stiles would be fine, and
he could be amused by the fact that it seemed like this shirt was almost meant
for him. It was slightly bigger then the rest of his shirts, and it smelled
like Stiles mostly slept in it.
He would find him if it killed him. He was dressed quickly and headed to the
window for what felt like the hundredth time, ready to head to Scott's again.
He ran in beta shift towards Scott's house. He wanted to be clothed this time.
He thought back to the last time he had searched for Stiles. The memory drained
some of his hope. The last time he had searched for Stiles, he was possessed by
the nogitsune. He didn't sleep for days, searching with no luck. He would find
a scent and it would disappear. Over and over. He knew now the nogitsune had
been fucking with him, causing chaotic thoughts. But, at the time it had driven
him almost mad. He had been all over town then, desperate. He knew Stiles was
in there. He had teamed up with Chris Argent, he was desperate.
But, Stiles wasn’t possessed by an evil fox spirit now, he would find him
easily. He was certain. There was no scent outside of Stiles' house or near the
trail to Scott's, but he was still determined. He got to Scott's to find the
alpha outside, arms crossed in consternation, eyes red.
"I heard you coming asshole. Come to tell me how run MY pack some more" Scott
said maliciously.
"Stiles was taken by the dread doctors, Theo was there. I couldn't…." Derek
tapered off, fear over whelming him in the moment as he realized he couldn’t
hear Stiles' heartbeat anymore, or smell his mouthwatering scent.
Scotts whole demeanor changed, good, he gave a shit about his friend,
"What!!!?' Scott exclaimed
"I was at Stiles' house outside, Theo came in his window, I jumped in and
attacked, the dread doctors showed up, took him. I came straight here." Derek
replied
Scott looked shaken and terrified. "But, everyone they take dies" Scott looked
as if his best friend was already dead and he was mourning.
"We can't let that happen" Derek replied tersely.
"Haven’t you listened to or read a single fucking message I've left Derek.
We've tried!!! We can't save anyone from them!!!" Scott yelled outraged.
Derek was silently thankful that Melissa and John have late hours or both boys'
parents would be alerted constantly to every noise.
"Lets go. Call whoever can help." Derek grounded out anxiously moving towards
the road, itching to shift, eyes blue, claws out.
Derek could admit that control was harder with the full shift burning under his
skin, like needles, but this was ridiculous. Sure it was a full moon, but he
hadn't had this much trouble in a while. He suddenly remembered the anti-aging
spell that had him literally a teenager again, how good Sties was with oung
him, and felt like this was his life now. Lack of control, lusting after
underage boys. Stiles didn’t seem underage to him though. He was…. Infuriating.
Scott's eyes narrowed at him, like he could read Derek's mind. Maybe he could
as Derek heard the nxt words out of Scott's mouth.
"Why were you even at Stiles' house?" Scott asked predictably.
"Do you want to do this now and have your best friend die? Call your pack now."
Derek retorted, getting ready to go by himself.
"Fine, but this isn't over" Scott retorted as he pulled out his cell phone.
Derek closed his eyes and tried to zero in on Stiles' distinct heartbeat.
Stiles:
It was damp, and drippy. He was damp. Alone, terrified as he remembered what
had transpired. The distant noise of water dripping on concrete was all he
could hear as he tried to move.
He couldn’t move. He was strapped down on a medical gurney.
Awesome. Super. Fuck. Like he didn’t need more shit in his life. Derek
definitely needed his death on his conscience, Stiles thought with displeasure.
Stiles thought back to the first time he realized that Derek was more then just
a stranger who rolled into his life. With purpose, self confidence and gorgeous
side burns, glowing eyes and chiseled jaw line.
When he had called him sour wolf. When he realized that Kate, a person Derek
had trusted, even loved, had burnt his home down to the ground with his family
inside. No wonder the sour wolf trusted no one. Stiles trusted no one as well.
Anger flooded his system as he thought of Kate.
Stiles was sore. His hands were still aching from the beating he gave to his
room. Now his head ached, ribs and hips bruised from hitting the floor in his
own room. He tried to focus on something else. Derek, he wanted to focus on
Derek.
He thought back to the first time he met Derek in the forest with Scott. He had
recognized him because he always thought Derek was impressive, masculine,
gorgeous. He had watched Derek from afar over the years. Throughout school,
Derek was older, by about 4 or 5 years. But he was memorable. Star everything,
smart, good at sports; which made sense now. Rich, popular, smart… everything
Stiles wanted to be and everything he ever wanted. He thought back to Derek,
topless in his room. He was trying to entice Danny, but he had ulterior motives
that Derek probably picked up on, which Stiles realized belatedly when Derek
had gently slammed his head into the steering wheel of his jeep.
Stiles had all the time in the world strapped down, so he thought of Derek.
Hoping for but doubting rescue. He pictured blazing red eyes after Derek became
an alpha, and had felt no fear, just awe. He had been intoxicating to behold.
Stiles had been impressed by him repeatedly, saving him from Scott, Isaac,
Peter, the kanima. The images flashed behind his eyes. Until he realized he
wasn't alone anymore.
"You're awake" stated a robotic voice from one of the dread doctors.
Stiles almost pissed himself in shock and anxiety. He was going to die. Shit.
Shit. Shit. His heart pounded in his chest.
They approached the table he was strapped to.
"You are the key to it all. We underestimated you. You hold everything. There
is a new threat. A true wolf, who loves only one. You are ours now" The stilted
voice echoed in the concrete hallway.
Stiles heard the words but was too shocked to register what was happening. Love
what? Who? What was going to happen to him, his dad would be all alone.
Cold, clammy hands grabbed his ankle. Stiles jumped in his restraints. This was
it. No one survived this.
"We have plans for you" The echo voice said
Stiles twitched, tensing for impact of something.
He felt nothing, just the slight twinge of a piercing needle in his arm, in the
crease of his elbow.
"You will not be a chimera. No. You do not have the makeup. But, you will be
vital. Powerful on your own. Unique." The dark voice said.
Stiles felt his eye lids drop, while heat filled his veins. He felt so hot.
Burning. He thought of how he had read Twilight, curiosity getting the better
of him. He remembered how Bella felt flames running through her veins when she
became a vampire. Maybe he was becoming a vampire, he thought hysterically. But
no, it was worse, way worse.
The fire in his heart didn’t decrease, the power was building. He felt himself
flush red with heat, adrenaline and terror. His body responding in strange
ways. He was hard all over, muscles tense, blood pumping from his heart down
his body, so slowly. It felt like feathers on fire were tickling his
extremities. Filling his lower body with a flare of lava like intensity. He
couldn't possibly be aroused right now, this was not happening, he thought
frantically. But the strange new fire burning through his veins told a
different story. He abruptly regretted that he had zero sex life to speak of,
maybe he wouldn't feel like a literal, out of control teenager. His limbs
tingled. Lips numb, eyes clenched shut in the agony of pleasure that was so
overwhelming he thought he would die.
His panic reached a new level. What did they give him? Not a chimera, that’s
good, no metal tears flowing when his dad finds his body. But this? What was
this? They want him aroused, horny… why? What nefarious purpose could men in
scuba masks want him to be aroused for, he thought with fear. His thoughts
fuzzed a bit as whatever they injected him with worked its way through his
body.
He wasn’t making any noise. Nope, no noises. None. Nothing embarrassing. None
at all. Definitely no moaning happening here.
"It is temporary. No one will touch you. You will live." The darth vader like
voice said.
Stiles did not relax at that. No way. Fuck them. Relax. Sure no problem.
Strange substance, hot lava veins. Unexpected, devastating arousal. Totally
going to put his feet up and crack a beer. Fuck them.
His stomach clenched, back arching off the table as the heat faded pleasantly.
Ohhh. Stiles thought on a breathy exhale. It is fading, thank god. He thought
of Derek, to keep himself sane. Tried to reach out into his mind to the memory
of the wolf's scent, the woodsy, comforting smell. It calmed him. He thought of
Derek's green, gold, gray eyes, the flecks of emotion and color.
He distantly heard the sound of breaking pipes, hearing steam hissing. Was that
coming out of his ears? His body was still heated, not overwhelmingly, but
steam could happen right? Stiles thought delusional. He heard muted movement,
shuffling, fighting. His hearing was impaired as he struggled in the bindings.
He opened his eyes and saw blurs of motion.
There were people here. A lot of people. Hopefully saving his ass before….
Before what, the dread doctors killed him with sex drugs, before he became a
chimera? He had no idea what was happening. He was slowly regaining control of
his mind and body but his body buzzed pleasantly still. He sank back into his
restraints, help was here. He felt electricity in his veins. It was different
from the burning, lava-like feel of the drug, just as pleasant and just as
terrifying. He was safe he thought to himself.
And then he felt the clammy, cold hand of one of the dread doctors, grabbing
his arm and sinking another syringe into the crease in his elbow. He tensed in
fear. No, he was saved, how was this still happening.
But this time, instead of hot lava, he felt ice water in his bloodstream,
coursing through his body. His body that was buzzing like bees were burrowing
in his skin. Maybe he was becoming a hive for honey, maybe they just needed
honey, he was laughing now. Loudly, like he was drugged. Was he drugged? He
rolled his eyes at himself, being drugged was the least of his problems. He let
himself laugh, trying to find humor in this terror. Trying to be thankful he
wasn't aroused while tied down to a gurney anymore.
His laughter stopped abruptly as he tried to check himself over and figure out
what was happening around him. He was still laughing he realized distantly. A
distant psychotic laughter rang out in the dense concrete room. Wait, that
wasn’t him, or laughter. It was a growl. A low but loud, rumbling growl. Mm,
that was Derek's growl, Stiles thought. How did he know that? He wondered.
The thought of Derek being here to save him had his thoughts clearing abruptly,
his thoughts solidifying, mind becoming clear. He laughed again, this time in
relief, he was alive, Derek was here, and he would be okay.
He lifted his head and watched a sleek, black wolf rip off the heads of one of
dread doctors, before he sank into unconsciousness again.
Chapter End Notes
     The dread doctors inject stiles with a substance that causes him to
     become aroused against his will. no touching or actual sexual
     anything.
     Potentially considered drugging because stiles feels drugged.
     Thanks for reading!
***** You're like lighting in a bottle… *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek attempts to saves Stiles. But can Stiles' really be saved...
Chapter Notes
     As usual,,,,Thank you all for reading!!
     Wanted to post before the 4th festivities.
     Smutty smut... at the end.....
     see more at end for notes.....
     Requests for betas? if anyone is interested.
     Can't believe over a thousand people have read this, I love you even
     if you haven't commented or kudosed. Keep in mind that I'm super open
     to criticism and feedback if you're looking for something specific.
     I'm still learning and would love to cater to you. Love you all.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Derek:
He had closed his eyes and listened for Stiles heartbeat, sorting through the
pattering of the hearts of the hundreds of Beacon Hills residents. He heard it,
briefly, muted, slow. He was going to panic soon, if he didn’t find Stiles, if
he couldn't touch him, and he needed to be calm. He HAD to find him now. Stiles
needed him, and he needed backup, so he waited. Not patiently. He paced, back
and forth, desperate to shift.
Scott eyed him with a knowledge he couldn’t possibly possess.
"I want to shift, I can hear and smell better." Derek said instead.
"Then what are you waiting for." Scott said with sarcasm usually reserved for
Stiles.
Derek glared at Scott, showing him that his attitude was unacceptable right
now.
"These are not my clothes and I need to speak" Derek said with reluctance.
"Ohhh so you don’t go around purposely smelling like my best friend on a
regular basis?" Scott retorted harshly, with extreme disdain.
Derek was mostly confused by his tone, of course he was wearing Stiles'
clothes, he had been at his house. Obviously...
"No, I don’t." Derek didn’t know how else to respond. He was confused about
Scott's comment about his smell. He may enjoy being wrapped in the boys scent
more then he would admit, but it wasn’t intentional. Not really.
Maybe a bit, now that he thought about it. Scott looked disbelieving and angry
and Derek couldn't give two shits.
"Is anyone coming, we need to go, his heartbeat is fading." Derek said quickly.
"Wait" Scott said, hesitantly "You can hear his heartbeat?"
"Yes" Derek grunted out anxiously.
"Shit, Shit! Go, I’ll find you. Call me whatever, go!" Scott yelled.
At least Scott sort of cared, Derek thought with slight comfort.
Derek didn’t hesitate. He ran, sprinted, towards the fading beat of Stiles'
heart.
He didn’t know if it was fading in distance or death but he wouldn't hesitate
any longer.
He followed his instincts to an abandoned part of town, Stiles' heartbeat
consistent in his ears until it spiked abruptly. Derek felt his body respond in
turn and it made him furious. Stiles was close, sort of. He texted Scott his
location and began hunting Stiles like prey. He was infuriated that he was so
affected, disturbed that he was reacting, and terrified about Stiles' fate. The
spike in his heart rate was different from fear-it confused him. Derek couldn’t
pin point what was unusual. It spiked in fear, or anxiety, and then leveled out
to mild panic. Then spiked again, in definite fear, and then in hunger or
arousal. It was unusual and unexpected, and caused Derek to basically froth at
the mouth, like a literal animal. Derek walked in circles, certain that Stiles
was underground at this exact location. He couldn't break down streets to get
to him. Well, he could, but he needed to wait for Scott.
The scent of Stiles' extreme arousal and fear became so strong that Derek had
done exactly what he didn’t think he could do. He bashed in the asphalt street.
Repeatedly. His fist slamming the hard, unforgivable material into dust. There
was no reason for Stiles to be aroused, he may be a teenager, but really, this
was extreme. It reminded Derek of the other night. When Stiles had fled to the
bathroom, when he was under the spray of his shower. But more. It was more
intense, more everything. Tinged with the scent of his fear; burning wax,
sulfur like from a match. Derek lost it. Fearing the worst. Derek assumed the
dread doctors were doing something horrible, he bashed his fists and dug until
there was a hole big enough for him to drop down into the underground of Beacon
Hills.
If he was a better man he wouldn’t be swelling in his jeans with the scent
Stiles' pure lust coming up through the broken asphalt. He is not a better man.
He was brought up short by the arrival of others he hadn't heard in his
distraction.
"Oh shit" said Malia, obviously recognizing the scent. Derek was decidedly
unhappy to realize that she could recognize Stiles' lust. Derek was suddenly
and irrationally possessive of Stiles' scent, it should only be for him.
The group was there, Liam, Kira, Lydia, Malia, Parrish and Scott.
Lydia looked like a demon from hell, with a smarmy face, arms crossed. Kira
looked confused but ready to rage war. Liam looked like an uncertain puppy,
with no idea where to go. Parrish had his arms crossed, eyes disconnected from
the world, glowing orange. Scott was openly distressed.
Derek didn’t hesitate, didn't wait for the alpha's permission, he jumped down.
Into the depth of the town.
He ran through a tunnel, a stone-like underground, following Stiles' scent and
heart,. He was comforted to be a wolf again. He sniffed and listened intently,
like his life depended on it.
He came to an opening in the tunnel and entered to see the pale boy on a metal
slab. He was strapped down, convulsing and struggling in his bindings with his
pants tented in arousal, reeking of fear. Tear tracks stained his face,
evidence of the trauma he had been through. Three strange looking shapes
hovering near him. Even though they weren't touching him, Derek lost it,
completely. His thoughts fogged, mind turning fire red in anger at the fact
that the boy was in this state, Stiles was obviously harmed and not consenting.
Derek had no clue as to what had transpired, but someone had to bleed for this.
Derek lost himself for a long while, throwing himself at the bodies around
Stiles, not caring for his own safety. Ripping, tearing, going fully feral in
defense of Stiles.
He felt thick, sand-like blood drip down his face as his teeth ripped apart one
of the dread doctors. He had no realization that almost everyone was
incapacitated in some way from the fight with the doctors.
He spared a brief thought to hope he hadn't hurt any of his allies in his
blood-lust.
He slowly realized that the threats to Stiles were gone as he ran to the body
on the table. He started shaking the unconscious body, suddenly finding himself
human again. He was dripping blood from his body from wounds he didn't remember
receiving. He was unconcerned about his own nudity.
"Stiles" Derek said as he shook the unconscious boy, "STILES" he screamed
shaking harder. Hands running down his body to feel for injury.
Someone tried to grab at him, he turned to growl to see it was Scott.
Scott who looked uninjured and judgmental.
Stiles stirred on the table and Derek continued his perusal of the boy's body
until Stiles flinched from his touch. Derek instinctively grabbed his hands
back, sensing Stiles' distress to his touch. He became enraged about what had
happened to Stiles while he was in this horrifying situation, bile flooding his
throat, guilt, anger, anxiety pumping through his veins as he felt Stiles' fear
spike with consciousness.
"What did they do, Stiles, did they touch you?! What did they do!" Derek asked
frantically, terrified that they had violated the boy and trying to refrain,
with effort, from touching the vulnerable body in front of him.
"Derek…" Stiles whispered.
Derek came closer, put his shifted face in front of the boy, eyes glowing
preternaturally in the darkness. He couldn't bother to pretend he had control
right now. He quickly unstrapped him and Stiles lifted a hand and touched
Derek's cheek.
"You came" Stiles said, slowly.
"Are you okay" Derek said without question or preamble, demanding an answer.
"Yes" Stiles said, heart up ticking in a lie.
"What did they do." Derek grated out.
Scott coughed behind Derek, and he spared not even a glance to the stupid alpha
child for letting this happen.
"Dunno, they injected me with something. I don’t know with what, I'm just so
tired, take me home, Derek, please." Stiles said with so much emotion and
desperation that tears sprung to Derek's eyes.
Derek reached for Stiles, and he only tensed for a moment before relaxing.
"I'm just going to carry you, I wont hurt you" Derek said, realizing that touch
was scaring Stiles.
"I know, sorry, I've been tense." Stiles tried to joke.
It fell short.
Lydia moved forward, "Stiles, what happened?" She asked.
"They injected me, said they didn’t want to make me a chimera, which I'm glad
for, but I don’t know. Can we dissect this tomorow Lyds, I'm wiped."
"Of course." Lydia said with her forehead creased in concern.
Parrish stepped forward and placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder, ignoring Derek's
low growl. "Your dad is fine. Has no idea, but you should maybe tell him,"
Parrish said calmly.
Stiles grunted and nodded in thanks, out of words for once.
The rest of the group passed along some sort of reassurance, except for Scott,
who remained leaning against the wall, watching with detachment. The rest of
his pack looking torn.
Stiles:
He hurt all over. Felt like he was hit by a bus that burst into flames on
impact. He tried so hard not to flinch from Derek's touch but the thought of
the dread doctors has him panicky still.
Thankfully, the heat had faded from his limbs and groin, but he knew the
supernaturals in the group could scent the lingering arousal, and if Derek's
reaction was anything; it was concerning
Stiles tried to take steadying breaths, willing himself to relax. What had they
done to him?
Stiles had no idea, but he was so done with being awake, with life, with taking
care of everyone. He was relieved, Derek had come, and Scott had come for him,
everyone did. Maybe he wasn't a useless human. Derek surely wouldn't have
bothered if he was useless, he tried to reassure himself.
His body flared with heat again at the thought of Derek. Stiles hoped that it
was covered by the other extreme emotions that were lingering in the air. His
own lingering emotions.
He had woken up to hands all over him and flinched, remembering the dread
doctors and his unwanted heat and erection. But when he opened his eyes, he saw
a sight he never thought he would see. Derek, above him, frantically running
his hands over his body, searchingly.
Derek's facial expressions had been baffling Stiles' lately. He didn’t look
grumpy or angry anymore. He looked desperate and unsure. Emotional. Stiles'
didn’t know if it was because of him or if was a new Derek he needed to
relearn. They still bantered, but this seemed new.
Stiles couldn’t deal with these thoughts now, he thought to himself. He was
sore, his hands and wrists still hurt vaguely. He heard Lydia's question and
couldn’t answer, couldn’t give Parrish an answer. Just had to check out and
deal another day.
He made it home somehow, no thought of to how, and couldn't care less.
He was relieved Derek had taken on that burden himself.
He looked over at Derek who was perched on the desk chair in his room as he
drifted off to sleep, exhausted.
Stiles' dreams fell over him like a soft blanket. Carrying a mix of his earlier
arousal with them.
He was in the shower touching himself, reflective of his time in the shower
when Derek was outside of the bathroom sleeping.
The dream replayed real events, his hand was running up and down his length in
stilted pleasure, reminiscent of the time after his first few failed orgasms,
when he was still dying for release and desperate for touch. His body felt hot
in his dream. He was heated, so flushed, like he had been when the dread
doctors had forced that arousal. But, oh, god he was even more hot now. Just
like in real life, when they had injected him, his dick was hot and swelled.
He was under the running water in his dream, he knew he was dreaming, it was
reassuring and he relaxed into the fantasy.
But it was the same as his failed attempts in the waking world. Naked and
dripping in his dream he grabbed himself, frustrated, Eager. Willing. Incapable
of reaching an orgasm. Dream-him followed the same path, the desperate urge to
get off. The edging feeling, the same desperate, desire, urgent, seeking
release. Until it changed. The dream shifted from reality. There was another
body behind his. Muscles pressed against his back and hand sneaking down to
assist his motions. He leaned into the touch of the hard body behind him,
sighing in pleasure. His body was sparking in pleasure. Senses lighting up in
want. Lightning in his veins. Finally, here in his dream he could have what he
needed so desperately. He sank further into the dream, giving up all control.
Derek was in the shower with him in this dream. He was rubbing a wet hand down
his backside. Up and down in soothing motions, lower back to ass and back
again, like an erotic massage. Until, Derek's hands were spreading his him,
carefully, running a single delicious finger against his opening. The furled
hole opened willingly as Stiles willed it so in his dream. Derek's finger ran
slowly around his hole, delicate, gentle, teasingly. Until Stiles moaned
loudly, and found himself bent over, ass up, as he was manhandled in position
with a flare of lust. Stiles' face was pressed in the tile with dream Derek's
mouth licking at his hole were frantic licks and kisses.
Stiles groaned, actually trying to hold off the orgasm he was previously
running towards. Desperate to enjoy this pleasure longer. His back arched up,
pushing his ass into Derek's face, while Derek's tongue licked and his mouth
sucked messily, wet heat soothing over his hole in a new feeling of pleasure
that Stiles had never experienced or even imagined. His limbs were shaking in
pleasure. He was loosing his mind, limbs shaking, moans falling easy from his
lips, almost screaming, basically screaming. Self consciousness gone, just a
primal urge powering through him. Derek's fingers ran along his skin, past his
hips and around, until it joined his mouth in its worship. His finger slipped
in easily finding his prostate, while his mouth worked his body to pleasure.
Derek ran the pad of his finger along the nerves inside of Stiles, a constant
onslaught on his prostate, rubbing slowly, tortuously with precision, hooking
up in the perfect place. The accuracy made Stiles toes curl, breath harsh,
panting out moans and curses, almost painful in the amount of pleasure shooting
through his body.
Dream Derek's finger slipped in and out of Stiles' puckered hole, gently
rubbing his prostate lazily, while his mouth sucked and licked slowly on his
furled rim.
Stiles was heating up again, brain short circuiting with the intense feelings.
Building up and up and up and up- until Stiles reached an orgasm and then Derek
stilled, almost stopping completely to Stiles' sobs. Stiles screamed his
displeasure when it slowed, begging in panting breaths and tears. Stiles pushed
his ass back closer to dream Derek. Desperate for friction, for touch,
anything. He begged, desperate, "Derek, Derek, please, please..." He dreamed of
Derek taking his throbbing dick in his mouth down to root abruptly as his
fingers stroked his prostate mercilessly. Rough, with eager abandon.
Stiles couldn't hold off any longer, lighting lit up through his body as he
finished in Derek's mouth, as dream-Derek rubbed his prostate, milking him
though his desperate orgasm as Stiles came down from the high. Slipping deeper
into the dream world.
Chapter End Notes
     For those who requested Derek interrupting Stiles' self love shower
     time, here is a smutty shower scene with Derek interrupting.
     Its how i imagined it.....and basically the whole point of my
     fascination....oh but my imagination had Derek never putting pants on
     in the first place because...Derek...
     As usual, let me know if you have any requests, I'm new to this whole
     posting thing. Do you guys prefer weekly or whenever i feel like
     it....?
     Also new to writing for people and not myself so i'm finding myself
     desperate for ideas. If I don't use them now, i will for future one
     shots/ other fics.
     I dont' know if you noticed, but some of the chapter titles are song
     titles. Its mostly intentional, I'm not original at all. Just my own
     jams that are playing while i write.
     .........
     Spark!Stiles is happening.... he was injected, Derek couldn't save
     him. You can blame the characters, they took over in my mind.
     Stiles' couldnt be saved sorry, better spark then chimera in my book.
     it'll be a slow realization. any power requests?
      
      
     Side note: I always thought authors were a bit full of shit for
     saying that a story took on a life of it's own. I was like, shit,
     your writing it... you control it.....but since I've been writing
     lately, its so, so true. scary true.
     so no, i didnt start this thinking spark!stiles. actually this was a
     smutty one shot i came up with in my dreams. but it really does
     happen, you're just typing with a goal and suddenly the characters
     come out and demand things. and stiles just couldn't get out of this
     unscathed.
     human stiles will still be real for a while, I love human Stiles. he
     may eventually evolve into BAMF because stiles should be BAMF and
     totally deserved that gun Brayden threw.
     Im going to write some more smutty one shots now.
     byeeee happy 4th!
***** All I Want Is,,,, *****
Chapter Summary
     Hi all, short update, just Derek POV, some smuttyness. Sorry for the
     delay, had a virus on my computer!
     Thanks again for reading!
     Taking requests!
Derek:
The drive back to Stiles' place went by in a blur for Derek. His emotions were
still raw and he felt like someone had taken sandpaper to the inside of his
skin. The extreme emotions caused him to recede into his mind and rethink every
action of this horrible, very bad day. Images and thoughts were flickering
around in the inside of his mind like a damaged DVD.
He did what he should, the only thing he could. He took Stiles home. He put him
in bed, uncertainly sliding pajama pants over his boxers, and sat in the desk
chair watching. Stiles would be lucky if he could take a piss tomorrow without
Derek hovering. Derek hummed in satisfaction, he would never leave this seat
again if it meant that Stiles was safe and watched over. Fucking Christ. Derek
couldn't believe he was intentionally babysitting this seventeen year old
danger magnet. He thought back to Stiles on the metal gurney and internally
freaked out about what they had done. Why was he aroused, clearly against his
will? Stiles said they injected him, not to be a chimera, what did that mean?
Derek slowed his unproductive, catastrophic thoughts and tuned in to Stiles'
heartbeat. It was steady, even, calm in sleep. Derek would not sleep, no, he
wouldn’t leave the room even if he was dragged out against his will; he would
fight and win. Derek inhaled briefly; scenting dirty clothes, faint traces of
his father, his friends, sweat from his lacrosse gear, past orgasms
accomplished alone, and Stiles' strong thunderstorm like scent, fresh water,
stone, electricity, and undertones of the Adderall he took. Derek hesitated as
he recognized a new smell of burnt sugar mixing in with Stiles' base scent. It
wasn't a nefarious smell, but it was new. Derek inhaled deeper, soaked up the
scents in the room again. It was good, the smell was amazing. The burnt sugar
smell contradicted Stiles' natural scent in a way that had his mouth watering.
As he inhaled again, a new scent became apparent. The smell of Stiles' arousal
started permeating the air, hot sauce, sage and cinnamon. It added, twisted,
melded, naturally to his base scent in a way that had Derek leaning forward
unconsciously.
Fuck.
Fuckkkk, he internally groaned.
Just like that all the blood in body shot south with a speed that had Derek's
head spinning. He was well beyond hard already, just from scenting the boy's
arousal, and he was leaking heavily into his briefs. Hot liquid was running
down his length in bursts, into his briefs, staining them. His dick was
behaving selfishly, disregarding of Stiles' previous trauma, he was hard as
hell, conscience be dammed. His erection was pressing painfully into his
zipper, tight pants straining at the stitches in the fabric with it’s
persistence.
Previously, he had realized that when he was an alpha, he had become more
intensely aroused more frequently. Recently, as a true wolf, he was not only on
a hair trigger for arousal, he was also felt like it was possible he produced
more come then usual. He constantly felt like his balls were heavy, full of
thick liquid. Heavy between his thighs regardless of how frequently he got off.
It seemed like he was always full to bursting, never empty, always ready for
more, ready for release.
Being so close to Stiles, scenting his arousal, which seemed so frequent
lately, made the urge almost unbearable. He wanted to bite, lick, pin, claim.
He couldn't explain it, he had never felt so out of control. Before he left
Beacon Hills, he had noticed how he would frequently glance at Stiles' red lips
when he would wet them, but it hadn't been like this. This undeniable surge of
lust.
On top of these changes in his body, he also hadn’t had a break in weeks, even
before coming to Beacon Hills, too busy searching for Kate. He had felt pent up
in general lately. He thought he had it under control, that he could take care
of it soon. That was until Stiles' scent of arousal had invaded his mind that
first morning. It was like Stiles had set off a flood of everything; emotions,
fear, desire, ferocious need to protect and an even more constant state of
arousal. Now, movement was uncomfortable for him in his human state. Jeans
cupping his erection so efficiently that every breath he took shifted the
fabric just so, it brushed against his thighs and shaft, the rough texture
managed to feel like a soft caress from a lover. Derek was quickly loosing it.
It had been way too long since he had some alone time to handle his increased
libido. It had been five days, maybe six since he had headed towards Beacon
Hills. He instantly regretted it now. It had been a five day journey to Beacon
Hills and he couldn't even remember when he had the chance to touch himself
before that, maybe four days on top of that? He was breathing heavily now, skin
tight. He felt like he was being slowly tortured; sitting in a room, steeped in
Stiles' inescapable scent, his enticing arousal coating Derek's senses, muting
his rational mind with unspent lust. Derek was about to burst with the
pounding, pulsating, demanding desire coursing through his veins. Derek was
remembering Stiles. Stiles warmth, smell, comfort. Derek hadn't thought he had
wanted Stiles enough to act on it, now he realized he wasn’t sure that he could
want anyone else. The underage, seventeen year old boy was slowly tearing him
apart, making him careless and wild. The age thing had always bothered Derek,
even if he had considered Stiles' to be attractive and mature, he was off-
limits. No touching allowed.
Derek shifted, cautiously, the denim of his pants pulled tightly against his
sensitive length and made him shiver with the intensely stimulating sensation.
He panted heavily, trying to regain control of his desires as he soaked in the
overwhelming scents surrounding him. He pushed a palm down, firmly, on his
erection, willing it away. But the pressure just fueled his desperate want.
Derek was breathing heavier now, eyes squeezing shut in intense concentration,
sweat was beading on his forehead, dripping down his temple as undeterred as
his cock dripping come. He was getting desperate enough to run to the bathroom
to relieve himself of this pressing need. But, he wouldn't, couldn't, leave
Stiles alone again. Not for a minute. So he kept his hand on his straining
pants, pushing down on his desperate erection. He felt the wetness leaking
through his thick, denim jeans, dampening his palm. The scent of his own
arousal was mixing with Stiles', wonderfully, perfectly, in a way that set
Derek's teeth on edge. Jaw clenching with the amount of strain his arousal was
putting on his tense, overwrought body. He started counting numbers in his
head, anything to distract himself. Trying to count the beats of his pounding
heart, ignoring Stiles' heart beat, desperately clinging to what was left of
his sanity.
But, of course, instead of an un-arousing distraction, he found himself
wondering what it could be that Stiles' was dreaming of that had the room
flooding with the scent of arousal. The scent was thick like smoke, making it
hard to breathe, his imagination filled his mind with images of Stiles' naked,
writing, moaning, neck exposed to Derek in submission.
He realized belatedly that he was thrusting frantically forward into his palm,
thought his pants. Rubbing the sensitive flesh with the harsh soaked fabric,
causing his need to grow exponentially. Unintentionally. He cursed under his
breath on a gasp of air.
He struggled to stop touching himself, pulled his hand away from himself,
hovering above his erection. He remembered when Stiles had tried to get off in
the shower, how he wished he could touch him now. Gods, how he wanted to
undress him. To trace his skin with his fingertips, lick his neck, down his
chest, across his nipples and down towards his hip bones, biting along the way.
Derek's thoughts were so clouded with lust he didn’t realize the spike in
Stiles' heartbeat as he slept. Not for while. Not until Stiles' outwardly
groaned and Derek's eyes shot to the sleeping boys' face as he moaned lewdly,
cheeks flushed red.
Stiles moaned again, and Derek quickly moved his hands away from his tented
jeans, leaning forward in the chair to hide his obvious arousal.
"Derek" Stiles said on a breathy moan that had Derek's stomach clenching,
tingling running down his limbs as his hips lurched upwards on instinct.
Derek leaned further forward, still in his chair, far away from Stiles in his
bed. Derek tried furiously to keep his hands away from his traitorous dick that
wouldn’t let up, trying to hide the evidence.
Stiles was thrashing in bed now, limbs splayed, head tilted back. Derek thought
it made sense if he was having a nightmare about the dread doctors.
Stiles was full on panting now, limbs rigid, sweat beading on his flushed skin,
head rolling back and forth on his pillow. The confusing reaction to dreaming
had Derek about to wake Stiles, thinking he was suffering or in pain. But,
Derek was still so incredibly hard, obviously so, he didn't want to wake Stiles
and have him notice. Once he determined Stiles was still deep in sleep, he
leaned back and pressed his hand down on his jeans again, hoping to discourage
his lust in case he had to intervene. The pressure once again just fueled his
desire.
Suddenly, Stiles let out a sound that was such a pure sex noise that Derek
almost came in his pants, without any additional friction. As it was he grunted
heavily, grabbed the base of his dick hard, and stemmed off an orgasm by less
then a second. Just as he stopped his own orgasm, dick pulsating with the lost
orgasm, Stiles tensed in his sleep, groaned out Derek's name and came in a
torrent of shivers with the scent of his semen filling the small space.
Derek watched from the chair, shocked, as Stiles relaxed back into sleep,
fulfilled. Derek swallowed thickly, hand still holding himself back as his
blood slowly stopped pounding. He quickly let go of his erection and ran a hand
through his hair in frustration. Derek lifted his head and studied Stiles' face
in sleep. Stiles' cheeks were flushed, heart rate slowing back down. Derek
quickly rose from the chair and opened a window to air out the room. He
listened outside to the birds starting to chirp with the sunrise, and decided
he could risk a very cold shower before Stiles' woke. And before he did
something regrettable, like maul the boy while he was asleep.
***** Cars and Calories... *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek and Stiles team up to discover what Stiles was injected with
     and some unexpected events transpire that leave them both reeling.
Chapter Notes
     It's a long one! Something we've all been waiting for......
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Stiles:
Loud voices rising from downstairs woke him from a deep sleep. The bright sun
was shining in through the blinds, creating shadows in his otherwise darkened
room. He looked around, realizing the room was empty and he was surprised that
Derek wasn’t hovering. Raised voices from downstairs had him jumping out of bed
to figure out what was happening. Last nights events flooded in through his
mind as he readied for the day. He shivered with the memory of the dread
doctors injecting him and the horrible effects he experienced. He was so elated
that he wasn’t dead, or the next chimera, that he only vaguely gave thought to
the fact that he was injected.
As he was brushing his teeth, he was surprised by the way his pajamas stuck to
him. He pulled the elastic of his pajamas back to realize that the cloth was
sticking to his legs. In horror, he realized that he must have had a wet dream
in his sleep. With Derek right there. In his room. He flushed bright red at the
thought. Or at least he thought Derek was still there. He vehemently hoped that
Derek wasn't there for that.
He tried to remember the dream but failed, he ran to the shower to clean up the
evidence of his embarrassing orgasm. In the shower, he tried again to recall
the dream that was his undoing and only recalled obscure feelings of elation
and passion and fuzzy images of warm hands caressing his body with intent. He
washed quickly and scrubbed off the mortifying evidence before dressing at
rapid pace, popping an Adderall, and running downstairs.
Stiles didn’t know what to expect downstairs, naturally he was curious, as
always. By the time he was about to round the corner and become visible, he
paused, listening. It sounded more chaotic then he anticipated. It seemed that
Scott, Kira, Liam, Parrish, Lydia, Mason, his father, and Derek were all
yelling at each other. About him.
"Something happened!" Growled Derek, "Why are you not understanding this!"
"He's fine!" Retorted Scott.
"He is not fine, Scott. I believe something did happen. We just don’t know
what, yet." Lydia retorted
"Exactly" Derek said harshly.
"Let me get this straight," John said, "These dread doctors kidnapped my son
and injected him but didn’t make him a kanima?"
Numerous people loudly sighed, "No he's not a kanima, or a chimera." Mason said
knowingly.
"Well what the fuck is he! What else could they have done! I know they did
something!" Derek yelled back.
"Derek. Calm. Down. We don’t know that." Scott said with disengagement. Stiles
could tell from his tone that he was rolling his eyes.
"Scott. Shut. Up." Derek ground out with barely contained anger. "Your bias
against Stiles is childish and wrong, so shut up."
The sheriff looked between the two boys with confusion and decided not to
intervene.
Stiles hesitated on the stairs, wanting to hear more.
"I believe he was injected with a supernatural substance, I am not sure what, I
have some ideas, but Deaton may be able to tell us more. Either way, I agree
with Derek. Something obviously happened, we just have to wait and consult
Deaton." Lydia said contemptuously.
Scott snorted and ignored Lydia, "He killed Donovan, in cold blood, how is no
one else concerned by this!"
"Hey now! That is enough! Scott, I know your not actually suggesting that
Stiles would intentionally hurt someone. I know my son did what he had to and
if anyone thinks otherwise they can take it up with me. " John said sharply.
From his father's tone he was definitely glaring at Scott with his
authoritative sheriff face.
Most of the participants in the conversation seemed to agree, in their silence.
All except Scott, who Stiles could hear huff in disbelief. Stiles felt his
blood run cold, so Scott was still angry at him. Scott didn’t believe him.
Stiles almost turned around and went back upstairs to hide and wallow in his
self pity, until he heard his father continue.
"Look, kids, I get that this is hard. You’ve been thrown into an impossible
situation, but Stiles is not the bad guy here. Lets focus on that. Scott, I
know you have a very strict sense of right and wrong. However, as the sheriff,
I can assure you that even if Stiles was not my son, he would not be getting in
trouble for this." John stated adamantly.
The room seemed to be filled with silent agreement so Stiles decided to make an
appearance.
He trekked downstairs, harshly slapping his feet on the floor and eyed the
room.
"Soo, do I have any say?" Stiles asked sarcastically.
It seemed like the whole room turned to look at Stiles. Everyone simultaneously
getting serious and rolling their eyes, waiting for one of Stiles' infamous and
terrible plans. Stiles inhaled and prepared to launch into a tirade- which was
interrupted by a knock on the door.
Stiles immediately glanced to Derek, catching the wolf's surprised face, and
wondered who was at the door to cause Derek to look surprised, and not
murderous.
Stiles sighed and went to go answer the knock.
Stiles pulled open the front door aggressively, ruffled by the interruption.
Standing there on his doorstep, with a sly smirk, red scarf, and hands in the
pockets of his kakis, was Isaac.
"Hey Stiles" Isaac said casually.
Stiles mouth dropped open in disbelief before he unfroze and grabbed the lanky
man into a hug. It had been way too long, and he had actually missed Isaac. He
stepped back and let Isaac find the group with his preternatural wolf-ness,
following behind him in shock.
Isaac strolled into the living room like it was his own personal castle.
Greetings quickly took over the meeting, exclamations and introductions changed
the pace of the once stilted and emotional conversation.
The group quickly brought Isaac up to date while Stiles scarfed down pop tarts
and coffee, content to let the group handle the agonizing story filled with
little knowledge and no leads.
The brief hiatus to the conversation, that was brought by Isaac's arrival,
quickly ended and grew heated again. Lydia, Scott and Derek started fuming at
each other again, about Stiles and the dread doctors; naturally. Stiles' father
sat at the table, rubbing his forehead in obvious distress.
"How about, I just go to Deaton and have him figure out what they did. Then we
can stop this circular conversation that is going literally nowhere." Stiles
interjected randomly, trying to impede this pointless discussion.
"Fine" Derek testily stated as he marched towards Stiles, grabbed his arm and
dragged him out of the house towards his car. Stiles waved belatedly back at
the group as Derek manhandled him out the front door.
Stiles obligingly let Derek pull him out of the house and towards the Jeep. He
wanted to know what had happened as well, and Deaton probably had the answers.
If he stopped being mysterious and vague for five freaking seconds to give them
a straight answer. For once.
Stiles arrived at Deaton's with minimal fanfare, and maximal scowling on
Derek's part.
"What's up your butt, Sourwolf?" Stiles asked with levity, leg jumping in the
passenger seat.
Derek gripped the wheel tighter, turned to look at Stiles and his eyebrows said
things his mouth couldn't. Angst, confusion, anger, fear, sadness, Stiles
guessed at least. He didn't have a dictionary of Derek's facial movements, and
lately, Derek had been bizarrely hard to read.
Stiles sighed, Derek was so dramatic. "Look, Der, I'm fine. Maybe I won't be
fine eventually, but I'm okay now. Can we celebrate tiny good things when they
come." Stiles sighed again, as Derek continued to glare out the windshield, not
making moves to get out of the car.
"Look you haven't been here for a while, but trust me, this is a boon; we won.
Sort of, and that is super rare let me tell you. I'm okay, right now in this
moment, I am alive. Maybe things go to shit later, but right now, in this
moment….well we need the little things." Stiles finished with flailing hands
and excessive movement.
Derek moved his head slowly, went from glaring at nothing outside of the car,
to intently gazing at the roof of the jeep. As if he was praying for a deity to
appear and rescue him from this unpleasant, undesired situation. Stiles felt
himself grow increasingly warm and uncomfortable in the silence. He was unsure
why Derek was even there with him when he clearly didn’t want to be. Stiles
started picking at the fabric of his jeans, "I'm sorry." Stiles said
hesitantly, looking down at his hand. "I…. I know you didn’t come back for
this. To be dragged back into this mess. I'm sure whatever you were doing with
Miss. Kick-Ass was way more fun then babysitting a hyperactive, spastic
teenager like me. " Stiles was wringing his hands in his lap, trying to sound
light while feeling like a burden; like a child.
Suddenly, there was movement as Derek reached over and clasped an enormous hand
over both of Stiles' hands, stilling the nervous movements. Stiles froze at the
unexpected touch, surprised by the gentleness, the softness of Derek's hands.
He turned to look at Derek, eye brows raised, mouth parted. He opened his mouth
to speak, and lost all his words as he looked in Derek's freckled green, grey,
blue eyes. His blood started pounding through his body like whitewater rapids,
violent and tumultuous. He started breathing heavier as he evaluated Derek's
face. He looked… devastated, torn, conflicted. Maybe Stiles did have a
dictionary to Derek's facial expression. Each emotion was laid bare in that
moment, vulnerable to Stiles' appraisal. The breath caught in Stiles' throat,
he suddenly felt minuscule, like he had never experienced the suffering that
Derek had- and never could.
Hot, soft lips crashed against his in urgent, desperate need as Stiles gasped,
lips parting as Derek's warm tongue slipped into his mouth with burning,
fevered, intensity. The overwhelming sensation of the scorching mouth on his
lit all of Stiles' nerve endings on fire. Heat flooded through his body,
radiating from his lips, invading his abdomen and spreading down to his toes as
if an accelerant was poured on his body and Derek's tongue was the match. All
his thoughts fled from his mind, leaving him reeling, as he forgot his name,
his worries, his fears. As his worries dissipated with Derek's skilled,
aggressive tongue, he moaned into the kiss, returning the tenacity that was
Derek's mouth on his.
Stiles felt Derek's shaking hand slip gently against the nape of his neck,
fingers sliding through the hair there, pulling Stiles even closer, angling his
head just right as his tongue continued to dominate Stiles' mouth. His other
hand wandered downwards, hesitantly, to Stiles' hip. Derek's hand sliding
beneath his t-shirt, thumb rubbing firmly against his hipbone in rhythmic
strokes while pulling Stiles' upper body flush against Derek's hard muscles. He
was grasping at Stiles with unyielding strength as if he was afraid Stiles
would disappear from his embrace. Even in Derek's forceful hold, Stiles was
surprised by the slow, tenderness of his touch which contrasted from Derek's
vigorous, firm, kisses as he sucked Stiles' tongue into his mouth and licked
into Stiles' mouth with passion.
Stiles was panting heavily, moaning quietly under his breath as he sucked
Derek's bottom lip into his mouth with zeal. He was feeling lightheaded and
frantic as he grasped Derek's silky hair in his fingertips feeling the soft
strands tickle his palm, his only thought; to possess Derek as thoroughly as
Derek was owning him.
Abruptly, he felt Derek pull away, feeling cold at the loss of body heat
against him, the loss of Derek's soft lips caressing his. He heard the car door
open as Derek got out of the jeep with out warning. Stiles sat in his seat
staring blankly at the vacant space next to him; his mind spinning with
confusion. Stiles blinked rapidly, shook his head back and forth in an attempt
to clear the fuzziness from his brain, that was caused by being kissed so
thoroughly. As his mind came back on with languor, his thoughts started
swirling in his mind as if he hadn't taken his ADHD medication this morning. He
glanced down at his lap and quickly adjusted himself in his jeans, breathing
still ragged. He took a deep, steadying breath, determined to follow Derek's
lead. He was beyond bewildered at this turn of events, he didn't know what to
think. He got out of the car slowly, and followed Derek inside the vet's
office, stumped at what the fuck had just happened.
In their distraction, neither had noticed the way the pebbles on the concrete
had risen up high into the air, and fallen back to the ground- just as Derek
had exited the car.
Derek:
After a freezing cold shower that took shockingly long before he calmed down
enough to leave, and literally no sleep, Derek heard the sheriff rise and head
downstairs. He decided to follow. He quietly dressed in more of Stiles' loose
fitting clothes. He would have to collect his things from his car eventually if
he was going to continue to stay here; Stiles' larger clothing options were
running dangerously low.
He made his way down into the kitchen, unable to sit in the room with Stiles
for another moment without taking advantage of a traumatized, sleeping, teenage
boy. The underage son of the sheriff, no less. Derek shook his head,
disappointed by his lack of control. He could not sit in that room, steeped in
that intensely complex scent for another second without going mad.
The sheriff was sitting at the kitchen table with an unopened newspaper as the
sounds of the coffee maker filled the small room. Derek tuned out for a moment,
in the doorway, and listened upstairs to hear Stiles' heart beat continue,
steady in sleep. Confident Stiles was safe for now, Derek entered dangerous
territory.
Derek advanced towards Stiles' father as the older man raised his eyebrows at
Derek's presence in his house.
"Do I want to know why an adult male is leaving my seventeen year old son's
room, in clothes that belong to aforementioned son, at 7 in the morning?" John
asked with a knowing look, one eyebrow raised in question.
Derek sighed, no energy left to be embarrassed, and sat down at the table, put
his head in his hands, exhausted.
John's demeanor instantly changed, his heart rate spiked, scent becoming a mix
of anxiety, fear and concern. He leaned forward, putting his hand on Derek's
forearm.
"What happened." He ground out his teeth clenched. "Why are you here."
Derek flinched and looked up. He was feeling way older then his mere 20's as he
saw the sheriffs worried face.
"I'm sure Stiles would like to tell you himself, but I don’t see how that could
happen. He needs to rest and you need to be informed. So I'll fill you in. Then
the rest of the pack is going to want to come over soon." Derek said slowly,
waiting for John's reaction.
John waived his hand, motioning Derek to go on.
"Stiles was kidnapped last night---"
"What!!!!" John interrupted loudly.
"He's fine…..mostly… He's upstairs. I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. There…
really…. wasn’t time." Derek said, fearing John's anger.
Instead, he was surprised to see John slump forward in his chair, forehead
resting on his palm in relief.
"Continue." John managed to say.
Derek listened to the man's heartbeat, relieved it was only slightly elevated,
no danger there at least. "He was taken by the dread doctors. We're not really
sure how, he just disappeared from his room when I was keeping watch over him.
They came out of nowhere. I- I couldn’t stop them." Derek added.
"We ran to get him, tracked his scent, heartbeat. We- I was too late-"
John abruptly stood up, moving to ascend the stairs and storm into Stiles' room
and check on his only son. Derek rose quickly as well and grabbed the man
before he woke the drained boy. Or worked himself up. Derek berated himself, he
was doing a terrible job at explaining, he was just so drained.
"He's not harmed." Derek said. "I meant that…. They injected him with
something, we don’t know what. But they did tell him that they weren't going to
hurt him or make him a ---- an abomination." Derek said the last word under his
breath as John collapsed back into his seat like a puppet whose strings were
cut.
Derek's phone vibrated, repeatedly, in his pocket. He whipped it out, knowing
what to expect.
Is Stiles okay? from Lydia
Pack meeting, Stiles house, 20 mins.From Scott
Along with various confirmations of receiving the alpha's message.
"They'll be here in 20 minutes. What else do you want to know?" Derek asked,
resigned.
John looked at Derek with critical eyes. "Son, when was the last time your
slept?"
"I don’t remember." Derek replied shortly, thought it was clear John wasn't
going to drop it. "A few days.... maybe."
John rubbed his hands over his eyes before rising to fill up two cups of
coffee.
He handed one to Derek, who nodded gratefully, gulping the coffee down
quickly..
They sat in companionable silence until Derek heard a caravan of cars approach
the house, and noisy footsteps approaching the front door.
John rose at the knock that announced the presence of the pack.
The group followed the Sheriff into the kitchen, looking mostly as exhausted as
Derek felt; except for Scott who looked well rested.
Scott came in first, followed by Kira, Lydia, Parrish, Malia, Liam and Mason.
They all crowded around the table as Mr. Stilinski put the coffee pot back on
to brew.
"I'm assuming Stiles is okay?" Scott asked
Derek brought his attention to Scott, narrowing his eyes at the boy, claws
sinking into his palms, fists clenched in anger.
"Do you care?" Derek asked on a growl.
John looked confused by the aggression, but stayed silent.
They began to argue heatedly, hurling insults at each other.
Derek was astounded by Scott's arrogance and lack of concern for his best
friend who had almost died.
The rest of the pack shifted uneasily as Derek and Scott furiously argued.
The tension was broken with Stiles' arrival, and subsequent comic relief.
 Derek was both relieved and infuriated that Stiles could joke right now.
When all of a sudden there was a knock on the front door and Derek scented a
wolf he didn’t think he would ever smell again.
Derek was surprised by the new arrival, and waited for Stiles to return with
the wolf he had turned, not too long ago. The only wolf that remained from his
short term as an alpha.
The arguing started up again, with renewed energy. Until Stiles declared his
desire to go to Deaton.
Derek's mind had been overwhelmed and his thoughts were flashing out of
control, his wolf balancing at the edge of his humanity, desperate to escape;
to run.
He stood abruptly, ignored the audience, and hauled Stiles out of the house by
his arms.
The drive to Deaton's was silent. Stiles' nervous energy filled the jeep, along
with his mouthwatering scent that wrapped around Derek tantalizing him. Derek
was half hard already, balancing precariously on the precipice of wolfing out.
The frantic energy he had felt last night renewed in his body, as if he hadn't
taken a cold shower at all. Only the thought of keeping Stiles safe kept him
human. Barely.  He was confused about his reactions currently, why he felt so
unhinged. So on edge around Stiles. Literally on edge. Maybe....it was the
dread doctors energy on Hale territory, he rationalized to himself. Trying to
excuse his extreme arousal in the presence of the teen boy.

They arrived at Deaton's and Derek couldn’t bring himself to move yet. His
blood was pumping, speeding up, becoming a furious pounding beneath his skin,
his jeans had been uncomfortably tight since he closed himself in the small
space with Stiles. His mind was also flooded with fear on top of his
unrelenting arousal that was fogging his thought processes. He was dreading the
answers or lack there of that would be provided in the next few moments. He was
terrified about what had happened to Stiles, when he couldn't save him. He
glared out of the windshield, inhaling Stiles' intoxicating scent. Fearing
possibility of a day when he could no longer smell the intense mix of burnt
sugar, the chemical tang of his medication, thunderstorms, fresh rain on rocks,
like a waterfall. Derek felt his mind lock up in fear, dread and deep desperate
need to possess and roll around in the unique scent that set his wolf on edge
like nothing else in the world. The irrational lust from the night before was
zinging through him as he had never found release from it. He shifted in his
seat, seeking a position that did not perpetuate his unattainable need. But,
Stiles scent continued to swirl around him and he tried to gather himself. He
realized he hadn't spoken in too long, hadn't been able to use human words when
his wolf was so close to the surface. His exhales sounded like low rumbling
growls to his ears as it was.
He felt his eyes flare their shocking blue shade as he struggled with control
over the animal inside of him who was clawing to get out. He gazed at the roof
of the vehicle, breathing heavily. and trying to regain his tenuous control
while his lust ate away at his reality.
At the peak of Derek's hardship, when he was bordering the transformation to a
full wolf in the jeep in Deaton's parking lot, Stiles started talking,
somberly. Apologizing.  Derek felt his own emotions dip further then they had
in months with Stiles' harsh negative emotions flooding the car.  Stiles' scent
twisted into shame and self-hatred. Derek despised the change, intensely, he
had to fix it. That sour smell was overtaking the beautiful mix of contrasting
scents that he wanted to be surrounded in.
He didn't remember when he made the conscious decision to move. Until he felt
Stiles' warm hand under his, warmth spreading through his arm at the contact.
Another moment later, he tasted Stiles' hot mouth in his own. With shock
radiating through his mind, he pressed his mouth harder against Stiles' own.
Resigned that his control was obliterated, a decision made, something he
couldn't take back, he decided to pour his heart and soul into this passionate
joining of their lips. He felt Stiles' moan ghost across his mouth as he dove
in swiping his tongue against Stiles' lips, into his hot, tenacious mouth.
Licking up the cinnamon, hot sauce flavor, chasing the burnt sugar and herb
flavor with his tongue.
Stiles' scent began to coil in his senses, evolving into that inciting scent of
peppers, sage and the new sugary scent. The scent that had Derek swelling
insanely fast in his jeans, pushing well beyond his previous state of desperate
arousal. The rush of blood and flood of adrenaline causing his head to spin and
his limbs to shake in urgency. His tight pants cradled him as he shook with
shock and want. His body was frantic, clenching in anticipation of overdue
relief. Too long. Stiles has been too temping, too mouth watering, writhing in
front him unknowingly the night before. Derek felt like a true animal in that
moment. All primitive urges and desperate need as he tried to cool the fiery
lava that had overridden his rational thought as it flooded his body; just from
the taste of Stiles' on his tongue. The scent of him caressing his skin.
He lost himself in the feeling of Stiles' body heat against him as he urged
himself closer, wanting more. He felt Stiles' heart beating rabbit fast against
him. His own heart was splintering, breaking into a million pieces with fear,
doubt, regret. Then his broken, destroyed heart was swelling, filled with hope,
possibilities and joy. in a sensation that was indescribable. No words, just
feelings, impossible frenetic feelings.
Derek forced himself to stop thinking as he melted into Stiles languid mouth.
Elated by the sensations he felt, he shoved his fear and self loathing down
into the deepest depths of his soul. He was soaking in the boy's addicting
taste and scent, finally. He would enjoy it, however brief this fleeting moment
of ecstasy.
Derek's lips felt like they were being electrocuted with loving caresses, all
warm tingles, that speared through his body uncontrollably, fire and ice. He
was taken aback by the sensations coursing through him. He had never felt this
intensity with anyone before. Ever. It was like coming home to the Hale house
filled with raucous laughter and family, like diving into the lake in the
preserve on a 110 degree day, like soaking in the sun, carefree---and more,
like sprinting through the dense leafy forest as a full wolf, trees and grass
caressing his fur and he playfully frolicked through the wildlife, one with the
wilderness. He rumbled contently under his breath, almost purring. His tongue
continued pillaging Stiles' warm, honeyed mouth, as he had the urge to touch,
desperate for more. He felt Stiles soft brown locks in his fingers, the
blistering heat of the delicate skin on Stiles' hips electrifying his
fingertips, his palm. He was so terrified of losing this, of losing Stiles. He
was suddenly so desperate he had no idea what he would do next to debauch this
delicious human in his arms, he wanted it all. He felt everything intensely,
magnified, like his heightened senses were multiplied even more. He felt the
goosebumps rising on Stiles' neck, the way his nipples pebbled against Derek's
chest, thought their clothes, as he pressed them closer. He could sense the
flood of blood beneath the human boy's skin, flowing rapidly downward, filling
Stiles' cock. Stiles' furious heart beat pounded through his body, causing
Derek's skin to pulsate with his desperation, a comforting song soothing his
feverish mind.
Stiles moaned deeply, heart wrenchingly, a sound reminiscent of the night
before when Derek had accidentally been a witness to Stiles' intense orgasm.
Derek wanted to give him a more intense orgasm, wanted to take him apart and
hear his screams as he ripped an orgasm from his lithe body. He wanted to hear
Stiles scream his name. Derek's skin vibrated at the passionate sound of the
boys' want, his mouth was violent and searing against Stiles' lips; searching.
Dipping in, wetly, drinking Stiles in like they were alone in world and Stiles
was his. Stiles gripped him tighter, tongue fighting back for dominance and for
more. They kept reaching for more, frantic, ghosting hands, strokes and pants.
They clutched at each other with fevered, unmet need, as if they could find
paradise in each other's mouths. Derek did, he found paradise, but it was
scorching hot, his body was buzzing like bees were under his skin. His pants
were straining against his rock hard erection, the fabric was pulled taught,
his pulsing, leaking, erection was pressing against his zipper, seeking
friction. He grasped Stiles closer still, aching for the orgasm that he had
been constantly denied in the boys' presence. He owned Stiles mouth, heavily,
muddled with his desperation to come. The buzzing continued to increase beneath
his skin, spine tingling, body shaking, as he realized not a second too late,
that he was about to shift against his will. His wolf clawing at the surface of
his already fragile control. If he shifted, he would hurt Stiles. No question.
Derek's sharp claws and unyielding fangs could do more damage then the dread
doctor's had. That thought had Derek pulling away fast, flinching internally,
reaching for the door handle and leaping out of the car. He took four quick
strides, bringing himself far away from the vehicle as he retracted his claws
that had sprung free, tried to reign in his fangs. He couldn't be near the car
with the one person in the world that had him falling apart wonderfully,
temptingly. Stiles was tempting, and Derek was lost to him.
He put his back to the car, determined to drown out Stiles' racing heart beat,
cover the cinnamon scent of his arousal by inhaling the clean, crisp, air in
violent gasps.
Even in his fear, his anger, his shame at losing control, he couldn’t regret
the feel of Stiles in his arms. Couldn't find it in him to regret the insanity
that led to his tongue dancing in Stiles' mouth.
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks for reading lovelies!
***** What I Like About You... *****
Chapter Summary
     Deaton says a lot, and nothing at all.
     :::Slight update, edits:::::
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Stiles:
His limbs felt heavy like they were full of sand as he trekked to the vet's
office. He followed behind Derek, watching how the man's limbs moved so fluidly
while he felt like he was wading through water. His limbs were tingling,
fingertips numb and singing, stomach tight with nerves. Derek pulled the door
open and waited for Stiles. They walked in together, silently. Deaton walked
into the waiting room and Stiles was amused to see the vet's eyebrows shoot up
upon seeing his visitors.
"I assume a welcome back is in order Mr. Hale." Deaton said, eyebrows sinking
from amused back to his mask.
"We have things to discuss." Said Derek.
Stiles grunted in agreement.
Deaton looked over at Stiles and his grin widened.
Stiles shuffled his feet back and forth, hands in his front pockets. He felt
decidedly uncomfortable under the vet's penetrating gaze.
"Ah. I see." Said Deaton without preamble, "Come on back, let's talk in my
office."
They men moved towards the opening and followed the vet back to office.
"I am assuming that something occurred to trigger this visit." The vet asked
Derek and Stiles exchanged loaded glances, both not trusting the man, and
unsure how much to divulge.
"I was taken by the dread doctors." Stiles said in one breath. "They.... they
injected me, with something... it didn't seem to do anything, but we figured….
We better check." Stiles finished lamely.
Derek's eyes flashed red briefly as Stiles spoke about the trials he endured.
"I see." Deaton replied after observing Derek's eyes glowing.
"Uh. Okay, doc, wanna give me a little more then that… should I strip or give
you blood or what…?" Stile said with sarcasm, eye sliding around the room. His
limbs jittery with nerves.
Deaton stared at Stiles with no emotion and made no movement to accomplish
anything.
"Uhh, doc?" Stiles said. No one has ever called him patient.
"Well, I will take some blood and run some tests. I have an idea of what may
have happened, however, it is better to confirm my thoughts before placing
unnecessary stress on you at the moment." Deaton responded.
"Unnecessary stress? Does that mean there is something to be stressed about!"
Stile said, voice pitching high at the end.
Deaton seemed to refrain from rolling his eyes, "No, Please provide an arm." He
approached the boy who was fidgeting as he exposed his right arm
Derek seemed to growl low in his throat as the doctor approached him. Stiles
shot a look at Derek, and shook his head minutely. Trying to signify that it
wasn’t worth the effort to fight the doctor on his ambiguousness.
The needle slipped in easy, blood flowed without issue. Stiles waited patiently
for the doc to finish his work, swearing internally that he had no answers. He
planned to do his own obsessive research later anyway.
"All set. You can leave, I'll contact you when my suspicions are confirmed."
Deaton said.
"Wanna tell me those suspicions doc? " Stiles asked.
"Not just yet, no." Deaton said , with his usual mysterious air.
Derek grunted low, the first time he had made noise since blood was drawn.
Derek walked towards Stiles, stood in front of him. "Deaton, any information
you could give us is necessary." He grunted out.
"There is nothing I can say for certain, I assure you." Deaton replied.
Stiles met Derek's gaze and rolled his eyes as he moved towards the exit.
"Bye Doc, don’t be a stranger." Stiles said as he exited.
He felt Derek follow behind him as he left.
They got into the car and Stiles felt the air charged with electricity. Zipping
energy lit his body on fire, causing his nerves to hum in excitement and
anticipation. The last time they were in this car, Stiles was kissed so
thoroughly that his heart sped at the thought. He doubted that would occur
again. Stiles took a steadying breath, as Derek started the car.
They made their way back to Stiles' house in heated silence.
Stiles obviously broke the silence first.
"duh doctor silent said nothing as usual. Hate that dude." Stiles said. "I was
convinced he was the alpha you know, such a dick. Ugh, really hate him."
Derek responded by grunting. His hands seemed tight on the steering wheel.
Stiles ached to slide his hands on Derek's knee, maybe slide up his thigh.
Slowly. Teasingly. He refrained. Barely.
His ability to refrain took a toll on his body, knees jumping with anxiety. His
hands were clenching at his sides.
They pulled up to the house and Stiles turned to Derek, meaning to ask if
anyone was still there. Instead he found himself face to face with the
werewolf. Warm, humid breath, ghosting across his face and making his body
erupt in goosebumps.
Stiles felt his breath catch, lungs constricting with adrenaline, anticipation.
Neither of them moved. Stiles searched the green-grey-blue-hazel flecked eyes
for emotions. The world froze. Time froze. Stiles reached out, to touch and
feel, looking for something tangible in the flood of floating emotions he was
feeling.
Derek looked away first. "It won't happen again." He said between clenched
teeth.
"Huh" Stiles said, brain fuzzy, floating on hormones.
"I won't kiss you again." Derek clarified.
"Why not." Stiles hoped he didn’t whimper, but he's pretty sure he did.
"It’s not right. I shouldn't have." Derek replied.
Stiles tried not to take it personal, he nodded and exited the car.
Derek made to follow Stiles.
"Stop. Don't. Just, you don’t need to watch me anymore. They did what they
wanted. I'm safe. Just go. I want to be alone." Stiles said with emphasis.
Derek nodded and pulled away from the curb. Leaving the smell of burning rubber
and agony in his wake.
Stiles walked to his house, slowly, feeling energized but oddly vacant. He
reached his room, and grabbed for his Adderall, seeking clarity for his
befuddled emotions.
He sat at his computer and pulled up his most recent browser history. He was
wired, and needed to calm himself. He felt strung out from Derek and his
temping mouth and ugh everythig. He pressed play, watching some random man on
man porn. He undid his jeans, slipped his hands under his boxers and grabbed
his already half hard length. He cupped himself, enjoying the touch of flesh
against flesh. He gently placed feather light touches on his balls, slowly
rolling them between his fingers. He imagined Derek running his hands along his
thigh, teasing him. Strong hands clenching and grabbing his balls, his thighs.
He continued his slow exploration, imagining Derek's strength behind the
movements. Rough palms casing his thighs, fingertips ghosting over his
hardness, sliding downwards to his hole. Stiles started breathing heavy, he
grabbed himself tightly, pulling himself to hardness.
He was aroused already, liquid leaking profusely out of his rock hard length,
even though he just barely reached hardness. He was that turned on by Derek
Hale and his stupid bunny teeth and grunted words. He felt hot liquid drip down
his tip and imagined Derek scenting it, swiping it up with a fingertip, licking
it. He groaned deeply, imagining a future with Derek, futilely; passionate
kisses, passionate morning sex, dinners and movies. He continued to pulse hot
liquid into his boxers, a fountain dripping down the head of his length with
unfettered passion, hands sneaking up his body to slowly rub his swollen
nipples. He sighed out Derek's name on an exhale. It felt so exquisite, he
continued to rub his nipples, switching sides ever so often. At some point he
slipped out of his boxers and was leaking down his length, liquid coming to
rest at the base of his dick in a puddle. He ignored his hot, swollen cock to
continue to place feather light touches to his nipples; it felt like heaven.
Even with ignoring his cock, he continued to leak heavily. He felt so close, so
close to euphoria. His hips arched upwards, ass clenching, while grunting
loudly, hands grasped the sheets below him. He pictured Derek, only wanting
Derek. His slipped his hands back to his hard length, ready to complete his
teasing. So ready. He grasped his length, murmuring Derek's name as he reached
for his hard member. He was aching for release, balancing on a precipice of
pleasure.
He stilled suddenly, hearing his father slam the front door and trudge up the
stairs.
Stiles leapt out of bed, hiding his enormous hard on in the elastic of his
boxers and went to greet his father. Imagining when he could have a chance like
this again. Maybe, having Derek for real.
Derek:
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He kissed him. He fucking had to kiss him. He was raw from thinking he was
going to die and reacted based on instinct. He ruined their tentative, banter
filled friendship. He ruined everything. The boy was traumatized, and Derek
felt like he was more capable of a friendship or a relationship, he had healed
somewhat, but he was not whole, not yet.
He wanted to be whole for Stiles. with Stiles. The thought of pain or suffering
in Stiles future made his eyes flare, and the vet was no help. Derek ignored
the proceedings, full of doubt and regret. He let his mind wander. Stiles was
receptive, that was sure. It was clear he was interested, the flare of lust
made that clear. But, he was young… he would be open to anyone showing
interest. Right?
Derek felt like his mind was full of cotton after that mouthwatering kiss. He
wanted to pin the boy against his car and devour him. Lick a line up his neck,
worship his collarbone, bury him self in his scent.
Derek shivered in the doctors office, trying to tune in. He gave up. Let him
self roll into some fantasy of Stiles spread beneath him, full of his seed,
plugged up and begging for more.
Derek decided to lose himself in this, and imagined pulling the plug out,
pounding in, finding solace in Stiles' body.
He was straining against his jeans already. Thankful when the doctor wrapped
up. He barely stuffed down his protective nature when the doctor stuck Stiles
with a needle.
Sitting in the car felt like he was underwater. Hot, wet, heavy. He looked
over, was caught in Stiles' gaze. He imagined pillaging the boys mouth again,
groaned internally. Still half hard in his tight pants, erection pressing
against his zipper painfully. He counted days in his head, fourteen easy, maybe
twenty more realistically. Since he had come, definitely twentyish days, felt
like fifty with the way he ached. He was going to die. He felt hot all over,
sweat dripping down his brow. His lower body ached. It felt like a desperate
urge now. He would hump the seat of his car ust to orgasm near Stiles. He hoped
Stiles was too oblivious to notice, but the boy was observant.
Then Derek ruined it all by pushing the boy away, saying it was a mistake.
Stiles crumpled, withdrew and ran. Derek accelerated, quickly, hearing tires
squeal. Leaving the boy he needed like air.
Derek pulled around the block and walked to the Stilinksi house. He sat in the
tree line, waiting out the night.
He heard Stiles' heartbeat pick up and almost launched himself into the bedroom
that belonged to Stiles. He barely held back. He was glad and also upset he did
when he heard Stiles' breath pick up, heard his name being whispered. Derek
groaned out loud, desperate, feeling almost feral. Only Stiles. Only Stiles
could do this to him. Stiles was touching himself the way Derek ached to touch
him.
He was already full to bursting, balls swollen so heavily, jeans pulling tight.
He was sitting on the floor of the forest, near the house, listening, knees
close to his ears as he reigned himself in. He heard every breathy exhale,
every groan. Derek was so hyper sensitized the air felt like nails against his
skin.
He felt Stiles' self inflicted orgasm ghost across his skin and curled up for
the impact, stilling his own reaction by a second. He shuddered, and for the
first time made a conscious decision to wait to orgasm, to hold off, until he
could share it with the boy, if he could wait that long. It would be close but
he had to wait, he needed Stiles. Only Stiles. However long it took to woo and
earn him. He would wait. However long it took for him to get off, he would
wait.
Chapter End Notes
     Soooooo.... I love you all so much...... thanks for reading.... and I
     am prone to liking smutty goodness. Are we getting dirty with this
     series? How dirty would you like? Taking requests, I have plot done
     but how porny it is, is up to you!!!!!!! So in case you havent
     noticed im prone to torturing derek with orgasm denial.... im open to
     opinions.... i just feel like hed be reluctant to pleasure....
***** Gold *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles feels a lot of emotions on a regular basis. Some come to bite
     him on the ass.
     Derek is speechless.
Chapter Notes
     Hi all, sorry to delay. Been writing my dissertation and I had a
     death in the family.
     Derek's pov is added. Sorry for shortness, def not a filler tho
     <3
     Next comes plot and actual story line.
     love you all.
Stiles:
Waking up in the morning felt surreal and bizarre. It was like he needed a
tattoo on his forehead that screamed, 'I MADE OUT WITH DEREK HALE' but no such
mark appeared. He replayed the night before slowly, Deaton knew something he
didn’t and Stiles was not partial to being in the dark and his failed attempts
at relieving the arousal he felt from being with Derek. He rolled out of bed,
walked up to his desk, took a few Adderall and convinced himself to research
all day. He liked the drive the Adderall gave him, focusing his thoughts.
Normally, his thoughts were tangential at best, at worst, enough to give him
nightmares. He was sick of nightmares.
He sat at his computer and pulled up a new tab. A new category to extinguish.
He felt the flood of emotions hit him from his encounter with Derek and didn't
know how to handle it. It wasn’t like he could call Scott an gush about his
crush. Scott hated Derek, being a werewolf. It was futile. He also didn’t know
what to feel about Derek, their undeniable and delicious moment. Derek seemed
ashamed or regretful, while also desperate for more. They were very conflicting
emotions to infer from another, and Stiles had no idea what to think.
Stiles felt bereft, drifting at sea, desperate for an anchor. He closed his
eyes, breathing deep, heavy. He though about Derek, and the kiss to end all
kisses. He felt a burning urge of passion and a tingly warmth of love and
happiness. He opened his eyes to a room full of floating objects. With a loud
yelp everything came crashing down violently. He felt his heart rate accelerate
painfully in his chest.
What. The. Actual. Fuck
As suddenly as the occurrence that was on point with Matilda proportions
occurred, a large bang came from his window.
Stiles jumped and saw the shadow of a certain grumpy who was glaring at his
window.
Stiles glanced around his room, trying to make certain that nothing was
floating in the air. Finding his room to sorts, he opened his mountain ash
window.
Derek blazes in the room, fangs and claws drawn for a fight.
"What happened!?" he growled out.
Stiles flailed in his chair.
"What… n…nothing… no..nothing happened"
Derek cast his a disparaging look.
"Fine. I'm Matilda, or Harry Potter. Its cool" Stiles tried to shrug it off,
heart racing.
"What." Derek said with his judgy hot eyebrows.
"I….I think I may do things now. Supernatural things." Stiles said reluctantly.
"Things?" Derek responded, while moving closer.
"Th…things. I did things. Supernaturally" Stiles replied
As if he had willed the world to cooperate, papers lifted up in the air.
Floating as if on strings.
Maybe it was due to stress? Stiles felt stressed. Maybe it was Derek.
Regardless, objects in his room seemed to swirl slowly around the room at
Derek's sudden presence.
Derek's jaw dropped open, a sight Stiles didn’t think he would ever see. Stiles
watched the objects increase in speed as he watched Derek's reaction with
increasing anxiety. He felt his heart accelerate, almost in time with the
movement of the objects.
What if Derek didn't want to hook up with a magically crazy teenager? What if
Derek didn't like him at all? What if he accidentally knocked himself or Derek
out with the force of these objects? These what-if's circled rapidly in his
brain as the objects began swirling so fast hey were a blur.
Derek eventually glanced away from the moving objects to notice that Stiles was
quickly losing it.
Derek came closer to him as he belatedly realized his breathing was shallow.
Oh. Panic attack, of course.
What else. Stiles thought to himself.
Derek's proximity awakened different emotions in him. Emotions that didn’t seem
to help the raging storm of teenage possessions that were making his room a
full fledge tornado of objects.
Derek grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and his mouth was moving.
Stiles squinted as he gasped, he couldn't hear words. He stared at Derek's red,
wet, mouth with a fervor he didn’t think he could ever possess. His mind ran
wild with sexual thoughts and fantasies.
Derek's hot mouth licking in to his mouth, welcoming the intrusion.
Derek's mouth, wet with saliva, sliding down his neck, nipples and sucking on
his hip bones causing an explosion of pleasure.
Derek grabbing him by the hips and flipping him over, so he was face down with
Derek's liquid tongue exploring his virgin ass.
Stiles' snapped out of his fascinating imaginings with a loud snap as all the
objects fell to the ground with a gasp of air.
"I guess I'm not just a human anymore" Stiles replied, suddenly sapped of
energy. He sank to his knees and Derek was quick to catch his as he sagged,
gasping for air.
Derek:
He heard a noise. Different from the gasping pleasure of Stiles reaching
pleasure. This was more fearful. He heard a spike in heartbeat As reluctant as
he was to burst in on Stiles' achieving an orgasm, this sounded different.
He burst into Stiles' room and shouted at Stiles, demanding to know what had
happened.
He barely heard Stiles' stuttered reply as he scented the room and almost came
to his knees with the scent of arousal and pleasure.
He was so distracted he almost missed the slight lift off and movement of a few
things in Stiles' room.
His desk lamp, laptop, textbooks, papers, printer, tissue box and other lighter
objects started moving around the room.
Derek looked on in awe. Everything was moving, he was beyond shocked.
Indefensible, small, harmless Stiles seemed to be making the objects in his
room into a storm.
He dragged his attention back to a flood of sensory input. Stiles' scent had
gone sour and then intensified into lust. His eyes were black and wild, almost
supernatural in their nature. He was overwhelmed with Stiles' anxiety and fear,
hearing catching the increase in Stiles heart.
He was having another panic attack.
Derek curseD under his breath as his sought to ease the boys pain. He felt his
own, normally calm heart, increase with worry.
"Stiles! Inhale, breathe, calm down!" Derek screamed.
Derek worried about the boys dad hearing, but a quick, exterior scan revealed
that no one else was home.
"Stiles!"
"Stiles, breathe!"
He felt a flood of Stiles' emotions then; sadness, fear, anxiety, lust, pain,
desperation and exhilaration.
Stiles snapped back to reality with a loud, reverberating noise that echoed
through the room
He barely caught Stiles as he slumped in exhaustion, his small, slight stature
feeling porcelain in Derek's stone like grasp.
"I guess I'm not just a human anymore" The boy of his dreams gasped out with
his remaining energy.
Derek couldn't help but smile at the boy's sass, even in face of adversity.
***** Closer *****
Chapter Summary
     Thanks for reading lovelies.....
     So Harris is alive.
     In my world.... not alot of teacher options,,,,
     Hes a good mini-villian. He sucked as a teacher and I like to pick on
     him. So I used him. Rip Harris.
     There are bad teachers, there are good. One thing i've learned is
     that regardless of bad teachers there are bad bosses, we need to be
     better then those who bring us down.
     Sorry for delay...ive been avoiding, life.
     Big main chapter. no smut. New character etc...
     Introducing my new take on season, full of smut coming soon.
     I may need a tiny break. But Im not done.
     xoxo <3
     not beta'd im too abrupt and late for that. let me know if there are
     errors.
Stiles:
Derek had left soon after his embarrassing collapsing spell. Derek had slipped
out the window in a sleek panther-like fashion like he was being burned, bad
pun. But Stiles was no where near done. He had magic. He had to learn. If
anyone would ever succeed at this, it would be him. It was his nature to
immerse himself into learning everything he could get his hands on. He did not
trust Deaton to give him answers. He only trusted himself.
He popped another Adderall and sat down.
He felt his attention slip into focus like the lenses in a pair of glasses,
after so long without proper sight.
The leaves became crisper and individual, the words on the pages jumped out of
the pages and into his brain as he devoured everything he read.
Days seemed to pass on fast forward. No attacks, nothing happened.
Stiles didn't see Derek.
He frequently looked over his shoulder at his window. He realized he was
disappointed when the tell tale sound of the window slipping open didn’t occur.
But, then again, Derek had dedicated a lot of time to him over the past few
days. He probably needed a break from rambling embarrassing talks and well...
Derek probably regretted the kiss.
Stiles felt himself slip into a daydream about the kiss. THE KISS.
The kiss that changed his world.
Not in the sense most would think. Stiles always knew he was bisexual, since
way before ogling Danny in the locker room and the way his mind would blank
when he saw Derek's bare chest. But, he was sort of shocked that Derek felt the
same. The way that most average people would feel from an older, hot as sin
person kissing them like the world was burning around them. Stiles felt his
sexuality was a nonissue, his dad would be supportive and so would his friends,
well Scott would be upset for other reasons...Derek reasons. But Stiles didn't
feel he needed to announce his sexuality, straight people don't have to be
like, Hey I like the opposite gender, why should he have to tell other people
his private business. Besides, he was pretty sure everyone knew already.
Derek' soft and powerful lips haunted his waking thoughts. Stiles wasn’t doing
much sleeping, not with all the excitement of new magical powers and how much
he needed to learn.
The remaining dread doctors seemed to be MIA. Stiles wouldn't admit this ever,
but, he was thankful to not be the token human that gets in the way with his
fragile-ness. He had power now. He could help. He was worried about the dread
doctors. If any of them actually perished. Stiles had doubts. Things had been
quiet. Creepy quiet. The calm before the storm as they say. Beacon hills high
school was still, like a funeral parlor. Full of dread, sadness and loss.
But Stiles was flying high now, screw Scott. Screw everyone who doubted his
badassery. He managed to get through school with minimal magical repercussions.
By minimal he means that no one seemed to try to burn him in a ritual to rid
the world of evil. Witch burnings or what not did not occur. Yet. It could be a
distinct possibility in the future. He considered looking up how to survive
being burned.... .............
Four days ago he went back to school after a weekend of research, trial and
error. The day went smooth, at first. First period he suffered through his
boring history class, he knew history better then most. Second period was easy
pie. By the time he got to Harris' class after lunch he knew he was in trouble.
He felt a stirring in his gut, he had chalked it up to heartburn. He did okay,
until Harris started his usual harassment.
"Stilinski! I see you’ve managed to slip in on time lately. Lets see if you’ve
been paying attention. What was last night's reading about?"
Stiles felt heat flood his cheeks. He could pass a test, but he didn’t do last
nights reading.
He decided to be himself and fill the silence. Obviously.
"Well I learned that it is illegal to climb trees in Oshawa, a town in Ontario,
Canada. Brown eyes are actually blue underneath, and you can actually get a
surgery to turn brown eyes blue. Also, when you blush, the lining of your
stomach also turns red. On a side note a bolt of lightning is six times hotter
than the sun. Annnnnd when a person cries and the first drop of tears come from
the right eye, its happiness. if it from left eye, it’s pain." Stiles said,
hands gesturing widely.
Harris seemed to increasingly look like he was sucking a lemon, hard.
"I am sick of your nonsense! You are a wart, a fungus that infects my class!
You insult other students intelligence with your stupidity! Your father was a
horrible deputy and a worse Sheriff. I bet your mother died just to get away
from your incessant antics!!!" Harris finished, spit flying from his mouth and
hitting the students in the front.
Stiles had rolled his eyes, let the remark about him being a wart invoke a low
chuckle under his breath. Until the comments about his mother and father, he
felt hot with his anger. He narrowed his eyes because of the blatant disregard
this so called teacher kept showing him. Silence fell over the class like the
room was slipping underwater. Every one around him seemed to hold their breath,
waiting. You could hear each breath, a distant clock ticking, and Stiles'
increasing heart beat. The burning feeling had increased in intensity. Running
through his body, to his veins like hot lava. His eyes were focused on the
enemy in front of him. Fire flooded his vision, tinting the world red. He was
so consumed in his hatred he didn’t notice his text book vibrating. He didn’t
notice everyone's books shaking with his rage. Desks stuttered against the
floor as they quaked in place. Stiles couldn’t see it, but more then half the
class had their jaws dropped wide in shock. It had barely been a second since
Harris had stopped speaking, but to Stiles it felt like hours. Hours to rage,
build and unleash his anger.
The build of anger reached a peak, like a slow burning orgasm lacking pleasure,
joy or release. But it did release. The extreme emotions seemed to shoot out of
Stiles, aimed towards Harris through his vision. The expended energy leaving
his body expelled in a sharp pain that caused Stiles to hunch forward
imperceptibly. He flinched as the metal valves in front of Harris seemed to
creak and turn on their own, chemicals in vials spilling forward towards the
evil man who dared cross him. For a flash, he was a nogitsune. All dark, void,
death and destruction. Stiles reveled in watching the flames catch and spread
in slow motion towards the person who had insulted him so deeply.
The fire skipped over the table like stones on water and shot towards Harris
like a bullet. He erupted into flames, covering his shirt and spreading towards
his skin. Harris flailed and swatted at his chest, trying to put out the fire.
He was screaming high pitched. Scott jumped up as half the class gawked, Stiles
felt a smirk slip onto his face in destructive pleasure, frozen, fists
clenched. Scott grabbed a fire extinguisher ran towards the front of the room
and put the flames out before damage was done to Harris' skin.
Scott glanced towards Stiles in alarm, but sat back down next to him without
comment.
Class was obviously cancelled. Stiles was shaken, felt his eyes widen in shock.
Did he do that? He knew he did.
Deep down he knew.
Stiles got through the rest of the week with minimal book shaking, minimal
repercussions of the magical persuasion. He spent his nights downing Adderall,
energy drinks, and learning. Desperate not to loose control again. He may hate
Harris, but he was not possessed, he was no a nogitsune, he did not murder
indescriminately.
Scott hadn’t talked to him in days. Derek was MIA. Now he sat at his desk
practicing. He had a tab open about channeling power. Most of the research
online was bullshit, created to woo wanna be witches, but Stiles wasn't a fake
anymore. He tried everything he found anyway. He closed his eyes, took a deep
breath. He had no desire to go all void on anyone again. That thing with
Harris, as not sorry as he felt sometimes, continues to haunt him.
He forced those thoughts from his mind and focused on the breeze from the open
window. He pictured a steady flow of a stream and focused his thoughts to
moving one pencil on his desk.
The pencil lifted, and hovered in air. Stiles was afraid to move. He exhaled
and pictured the pencil moving away from him. The pencil shot off his desk and
impaled itself into the wall by the door.
He felt elated and upset. That was way too much. But he did it! Stupid rapey
dread doctors, shoving powers into his human body. He could hurt someone. He
was terrified, vulnerable, it felt like ice in his stomach. Fear. He didn’t
ever want to feel the nogitsune again.
Terrible thoughts flooded his mind, images of the carnage the void had
inflicted in it's past.
Never ever.
Stiles was afraid, but he would use that fear.
It was like he summoned them, with those fears and thoughts of the dread
doctors. After so much peace, he was taken off guard.
Two solid figured appeared in his bedroom with a slow flicker of his laptop.
One by his door, one by his bed. Stiles wanted to flinch, scream, run but he
was not the Stiles he was two years ago.
Stiles remained seated in his computer chair, not bothering to rise. He felt so
done with them. He hadn't eaten properly, or slept properly in days with his
Adderall use. He took a moment to think about when he had eaten a full meal or
slept a full night and came up blank.
He felt drained and so fed up with life. Bring it dicks, fucking bring it.
"Fucking ass clowns, poof your fucking asses out of here before I really make
you regret it!!!" Stiles screamed, feeling unhinged and the now familiar flow
of lava of energy in his veins that signified his new magic.
Stiles noted the number of dread doctors. He was soothed by the thought that
one was down. Even if it was only temporary.
It boosted his confidence to a degree the would normally be unsafe. He felt
like they could suck it hard. They would suck it, they would wither and die if
Stiles has any say. Sure he was afraid, he's not insane. But, they have beaten
other baddies, they’ve beat worse before right? These things seem unbeatable,
'seem' being the keyword. He may not be human anymore, due to these ass clowns,
but he still could bruise, could break (he had checked, he still bled and
healed as a human). So he had to beat them. They deserve it.
The dark shadows of the two dread doctors made no move towards him. Still, he
felt the flow of energy and heat that came before his powers erupted. He
hesitated, not wanting to make the first move.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to. As the dark, foreboding shapes of his worst
enemy moved closer, another dark shape leapt into his window to stand in front
of him.
Derek:
After the magic show at the Stilinski house he had run away like a shamed
animal, literal tail between his legs. He had followed through on the one thing
he tried to keep hidden. But, Stiles…. He smelled so fresh and homelike. So
irresistible. So Derek ran. Relationships mean pain, heartbreak and betrayal.
He was better with trust but not ready for love. He was so overcome with
desire, he lost his urges for a moment. A moment he can never repeat. Stiles
was 17, the son of a Sherriff and damaged,just like he was. He had felt a flare
of power from Stiles that rolled over him, power like he had as an alpha. He
couldn't explain it. Being around and near Stiles awakened things he had kept
buried. His sexuality was never talked about with his family, mostly because as
wolves, gender and sexuality was irrelevant. Scent, connection, love, a person
mattered more then their gender. The person behind the skin was more important.
Always.
Derek sprinted from the Stilinski residence and settled back in the bare
concrete of the brick apartment for the first time since reaching Beacon Hills.
He hid for a week. Stalking the shadows of Beacon Hill High like a pervert. He
heard that teacher, he felt Stiles' pain. He almost broke a window to get in,
until it all went to shit. He witnessed the magical conundrums Stiles
experienced and ran back home. Once it was settled. It was close.
Days past slowly. Stiles was abusing his Adderall. Derek knew it, heard the
shake of the pill bottle, frequently. Too frequently. He wasn’t eating, or
sleeping. Derek was worried. He stayed close but didn't slip in the window, he
so wanted to. But, before he could think of an excuse to follow that impulse,
he scented a change in emotions.
Fear.
He waited, peaked in the window. Not wanting to interrupt or be vulnerable to
Stiles' pull.
But his desire to avoid Stiles was thwarted in a big way. The fear Stiles
emoted was real.
Two large shapes hovered in Stiles' bedroom. He felt the change in energy that
he recognized as Stiles gearing up for a fight with his new, untrained, magic.
Without a thought he was through the window, in front of Stiles and the dread
doctors.
The dread doctors had been moving towards Stiles and Derek felt his protective
nature flare up to devastating degrees. He growled low, eyes electric, fangs
out, claws long. He crouched, ready to spring, to defend his Stiles.
"Stiles!" Derek screamed.
The dread doctors moved like water, all fluid motion in flashes, towards
Stiles. Derek sucked in a breath, moved to intervene. One of the doctors
grabbed Derek by the throat and almost snapped his neck. He slammed into the
wall with a loud crack.
The Sheriff was home, he burst in Stiles' room with a shotgun and a hard frown.
Eyes crinkled in anger he shot the dread doctor closest to Stiles. The dark
figure fell with a hard thud.
"Run Son!" John screamed.
Derek slowly regained his footing and charged the remaining doctor. Battling to
protect the boy who had come to mean more then just soft kisses and slim body.
Stiles was wordless, unmoving.
The doctor Derek battled with was fierce with his movements. Arms whipping out
faster then Derek could keep up. His jaw cracked with impact, lip bleeding and
healing, eye bleeding and healing. He dodged, swiped with claws and met nothing
but air. He felt a quick slice across his neck, and the room started to shake.
He fatally picked his head up, to look at Stiles before he was dead and
couldn’t see the pale mole speckled face ever again. Dying while protecting
Stiles, soaking up Stiles, seemed a fair way to go. Stiles had a warriors face,
fists tight. Fire danced in his eyes, squinted in anger. The room shook. The
house trembled. Derek was grabbed around the neck into a tight, deadly, choke-
hold. The life being squeezed out of him. He spent his last minutes searching
out Stiles. He knew he would die. It was inevitable. He struggled, slashed,
tried to get out of the choke-hold. He made eye contact with Stiles.
"St..Stil.es, run.." He ground out as he met Stiles' eyes.
Chills ran up his spine, he felt power behind that whiskey gaze. Stiles' honey
smooth eyes changed as Derek watched, they flared white, then red.
The house shook harder, rattling. He heard the sound of dishes smashing in the
kitchen. The windows shattered.
The grip on him loosened. Not enough
"LET. HIM. GO." Stiles screamed with a power that could send people running if
they were mere mortals.
The power from Stiles' voice reverberated through the house, spreading out like
an echo.
The two dread doctors, one incapacitated and one mid lunge shivered with the
power behind the voice.
They seemed to glance at each other, if they could express fear, Derek was sure
they were. Before they could do anything more, in the next second they
evaporated into dust with a loud boom that spread throughout the house.
Everything seemed to explode. Plates downstairs, windows, mirrors burst.
Objects in the house lifted and slammed.
Wind flooded the house, whipping and surrounding Stiles like a comforting
breeze that left destruction in its wake. The wind funneled around Stiles, dust
of the dread doctors remains joined the tornado. It built and built. Every
object in the room flew towards Stiles to join the growing tornado evoked by
their master. Fire erupted from Stiles, flowing into the whirlwind from his
hard gaze. Stiles was surrounded by a firey tornado of death.
Derek was terrified. Fire was understandably a sore spot for him. He wasn't
sure if he was more scared for Stiles or of the fire in that moment.
He was free of the grip that would have been his death, so he looked towards
Stiles. The teen was bowing over with the pressure of his power he couldn’t
control. Derek scented fear, panic and pain and rushed into the flames
regardless of his own fear.
Stiles had lost it. He had to stop whatever it was. He grabbed Stiles by his
shoulders and shook him.
"Stiles!!!" Derek screamed.
John stood by shocked by his son's display, his destruction. Motionless.
Derek grabbed Stiles around the nape of his neck and did the only thing he
could think of.
He placed his lips on Stiles', softly. Held him, pulled back and waited.
It took a moment, the wind ended, the fire disappeared. The house was in
shambles. But, Stiles was safe.
Derek was alive. Stiles was safe.
John moved forward, wrapped both of them in an embrace.
Stiles was sobbing. Outwardly sobbing. He was inconsolable and shaking.
"Shhh, it's okay now" Derek kept saying
"Stiles, its okay, you saved the day" John said slowly, hesitantly.
Derek heard movement downstairs and almost pulled away to investigate until he
scented Malia, Isaac and the rest of Scotts' pack.
Too little too late Derek thought harshly. They had work to do still though.
Derek would not let Stiles loose himself.
 
Other POV:
The sun shone down on the asphalt beneath her apartment, and Phoenix seemed to
relish in the heat. For the first time ever there was clarity in a world of
uncertainty and pain. For the first time, she didn't feel sorrow and agony. All
thanks to a conceited shit of a therapist that actually helped her. She felt a
click, like a puzzle piece falling into place, like the cliché lightbulb that
lit and then burst with knowledge.
Her struggle to understand herself was over, her wishy washy confusion was a
thing of the past, and like a match lit in a desert full of gasoline, the fire
sprung to her fingers as easy. The burning coil and passion of life was within
her grasp and she quite literally held it in her hand. The large burning
basketball sized fireball was resting in her hand as simply and as easily as
breathing, twisting and turning with its own mind. She felt her breath go
heavier, her strength both dwindling and growing stronger, feeding off and
feeding this ball of flames. She felt her energy drain quickly with the size of
power she was wielding but in that drain came a different sense of power that
fueled her fire. She was getting weaker with use, but the show of power was
also fueling her desire.
In her palm rested the most powerful show of ability that the world could ever
see, shining brightly, blue, orange and blood red, coiling together like snakes
in a pit fighting for prey. She knew this was power, when thinking about those
who she trained with and those who came before her, those who perished with
ashes and screams. With this power came the overwhelming surge of energy, and
almost a manic high where the world was hers to take. Because it was, she could
take the world. No one could take her power, she knew that now, she could turn
anyone or anything to ashes with this gift. She could do anything, and that was
both terrifying and very close to what she wanted. Beneath this new found
strength she grasped harder to the emotions that led her here; anger, revenge
and hate. Revenge for her people and the hate that was formed with their
decimation. Phoenix smirked a devious smile while she tossed the flames in the
air with glee, the emotions and events that led to the downfall of her kind
would be her most coveted accomplishment to date. She relished the irony; where
a normal girl could utilize emotion to warp the physics of the world and punish
those who made her feel those emotions. Anyone who dared cross her would
experience the burn of betrayal, or the burn that fire could bring. Phoenix
smiled with mirth as she planned the gruesome demise of those who harmed her,
and let her humanity burn away in turn.
***** Goner *****
Chapter Summary
     Sorry for the delay!
     So from this point on I will have some plot, but mostly fluffy
     smuttiness.
     Hopefully. I will also try and update regularly and channel some of
     my fave Sterek fics to do them justice.
     On a regular basis I think about this fic, half the time I hate it
     and want to stop and the other half of the time I love it but have no
     idea what to do next soooooo I'm just going to keep powering through!
      
     EDIT: 2/6/17
      
      
     Let me know any requests!
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Stiles:
Heat, flames, ash. He woke slow, hot and dripping with sweat. Haunted by
nightmares of lava and ash. The taste the dream state thick in his mouth like
he licked a fireplace. He tried to remember if he did lick a fireplace last
night, it would explain a lot.
His head was pounding, and he was surrounded by heat. Stiles turned his head
slowly, flinching at the flare of pain the motion caused. Derek was there, he
thought, next to him. In bed. He was fully enveloped in the wolfs body, Derek
was in his wolf form with his eyes closed, sleeping. Derek was causing the
heat, not lava, not fire. Stiles felt relief.
That relief quickly changed to confusion, he couldn’t remember how he ended up
in bed with Derek. He felt himself harden at the direction his thoughts took.
He didn't think he would be very upset if something dirty had occurred,
although, he was disappointed he couldn't remember any sexy-times.
Stiles tried to move, causing Derek to wake and jolt onto all fours. Derek
suddenly growled at Stiles, like a startled animal. Stiles felt a flare of
fear, and of course his hardening erection pulsed in response.
The air pulsed, hard, and electric. In that moment, there was a very naked,
human, Derek standing next to him. Stiles closed his eyes and moaned
lewdly...under his breath of course.
Jesus fuck. Stiles felt his cock leak profusely in his boxers. Slow steady
pulses of liquid heat slipped through as he tried to regain composure. Stiles
gritted his teeth and tensed to avoid exploding just by getting an eyeful of
Derek's enormous, uncircumcised cock. His hips twitched forward and he shoved a
hand down his pants to grip his now fully hard erection and prevent the
inevitable embarrassing conclusion.
What. The. Fuck was Derek doing to him.
He opened his eyes to find Derek wearing pants and found himself disappointed
instead of relieved.
His confusion was replaced with a shiver of desire as Derek forcibly pulled him
out of his warm bed and shoved him against the nearest wall.
Oh. Stiles thought.... So we're back to that, super. Love walls. Not too
discouraging to his arousal at all. The exact fucking opposite.
But, walls are good...much to enjoy.
Being thrust into this position he was forced to look at Derek, He gazed into
Derek's eyes, they were glowing and... well... Derek was panting, his shoulders
moving heavy with deep breaths.
"What. The. Fuck. Derek. " Stiles managed to whisper after seeing this wolfy
display./> Derek just growled and pressed against him harder, lining up their
bodies and causing Stiles to gasp on a moan as his hard dick came in contact
with Derek's steel beam of a cock.
It felt, to Stiles, like it needed its own zip code. Maybe even its own name,
The Vicious, Balthazar, The Destroyer. Something powerful.
Stiles pulsed with the feeling. "Derek." Stiles gasped, "If you don’t put me
down, I'm going to come all over myself and it will be very embarrassing as
well as enjoyable. "
Derek dropped him like he was electrocuted and moved across the room. Still
half wolfed out, still gasping.
"You. Almost died!!!!" He roared through his huge fangs.
"Whatt!!!? What are you talking about Derek, I just woke up!!!"
That seemed to calm Derek down. "You don’t remember?"
"No!!!" Stiles exlaimed
Derek visibly deflated and rubbed a hand down his now human face.
"Sit." Derek said.
Stiles complied without question, getting back on his bed.
It seemed like Derek was having a hard time finding words. He just stared at
Stiles with an expression that Stiles could not find a name for, the emotions
there were overwhelming though.
"The dread doctors showed up, you turned them into dust particles and then your
turned the house into a tornado of fire and almost died." Derek finally ground
out between clenched human teeth and with narrowed eyes.
Stiles felt his jaw drop open with an audible click. He felt his heart pump
faster with his shock and then the pain in his head intensified blindingly as
the nights events unfolded like a movie playing in his head on fast forward.
He felt proud and not...as the memories flooded back. He opened his eyes, he
didn’t even realize he had closed them. Derek looked concerned and started
moving towards him, eye brows creased in confusion over Stiles' silence and
long pause.
"They… I thought…." Stiles was breathing heavy now, "I thought they were going
to kill you…"
"They were, they would have." Derek said.
"Ok, then I'm glad."
"You're glad? You're fucking glad, of course you are."
"Yes Derek, I'm fucking OVERJOYED that I saved you, I would give my life for
yours in a heartbeat. And by the way that was the worst summary ever of last
night." Stiles yelled.
"Its been a fucking week, Stiles! And don't ever fucking say you would die for
me again or I'll have your dad ship you to Canada!" Derek roared.
Stiles scoffed, he saved the day, problem solved, back to rubbing against Derek
and definitely more kissing.
Kissing, fuck, Derek walked through fire to stop him.
Stiles shot out of bed and appeared in front of Derek so fast that it was
possible he was using his new powers. He started touching every exposed inch of
Derek.
"Omygod the fire! Did I hurt you, are you okay? I'm so fucking sorry Derek! So
sorry!" Stiles felt tears dripping down his face as he searched for injuries.
Slowly realizing his error with his spontaneous fire. .
Derek seemed to soften at his touch, he reached out and grabbed Stiles' wrists,
stopping his frantic touching.
"Shhh. Breathe, I'm fine. No fire, but you are never to abuse your Adderall
like you did, you stopped eating, you stopped sleeping, and you lost control.
Never. Again. Stiles. Understand.?"
Stiles nodded rapidly and sank into Derek's warm embrace.
"I'm so sorry Derek, the fire, that was not okay. Never. I will never use fire
again. I will do everything I can to control this and it will never happen
again. I can't, I can't." Stiles felt devastated, his stomach was in knots, ice
cold, no lava or heat present in his body now. As far as Stiles was concerned,
if he never used his magic again it would be too soon. It was too intoxicating
He felt Derek's arms come around him as he sobbed into Derek's bare chest,
barely noticing that Derek's body was both soft and hard, such a contradictory
man Derek was.
After he had calmed down, Derek reached down and lifted his chin.
Stiles felt his heart skip a beat as he gazed in to Derek's green, gold, blue
eyes, and then take off in a fast rhythm when they filled with lust.
It happened so fast. One minute he's being held softly and the next his legs
are around Derek's waist, mouth colliding against his wet lips like the world
is ending. But, the world isn't ending. It's just beginning, isn't it?
He's licking into Derek's mouth, tasting his heat and unique Derek flavor. He
can't get enough. It's dirty, but still soft, filthy, and beautiful. Derek is a
man with many contrasting definitions. Harsh and cold, but still loving and
dedicated, loyal. He's been torn down and rose back up through the ashes of his
burnt family and ruined life to make a new one. Derek is everything. And Stiles
wants to possess him in every way.
Derek lowered Stiles onto the bed and Stiles began ripping his own clothes off.
Derek grabs his wrists and pins them above his head.
"Your fathers home, no sex, but I need you, I can't wait anymore. Please
Stiles. What do you want?" Derek whispers softly while grinding his hard length
into Stiles ass.
Stiles moans in frustration and desperation.
"God Derrrr, I want you inside me. I want your cum in me, filling me, marking
me as yours." Stiles was lifting his hips into Derek.
Derek growled low, a warning. then, it was like a light switch, Derek lost
control.
Stiles was roughly turned on to his stomach. Claws ripped his clothes off his
body, grazing his skin. Stiles shivered in the sudden chill and trusted bare
into his mattress.
Derek hovered over his body and spread his legs exposing his ass and hole to
cold air.
"I can't Stiles, I need to be inside of you. I'll go slow next time"
Stiles jerked as Derek thrust his wet tongue into his hole and rapidly began
bringing Sties to orgasm. Stiles began moaning into his mattress, writhing with
need.
Derek produced lube from nowhere and quickly shoved two fingers into him,
opening him up. Stiles was thankful he had invested in a large plug last summer
and was used to the stretch.
"This is going to be fast and dirty Stiles."
Derek shoved in quickly with a curse and began thrusting slow, and deep. Stiles
felt his brain click off as he was flooded with pleasure and the pain from the
stretch. Derek's hand wrapped around his cock and held him off from coming the
second he started pulsing. He grunted in response and shoved back onto Derek's
dick harder, feeling it hit his prostate repeatedly. Derek began thrusting fast
and hard and Stiles was sobbing with pleasure and the need to come. Derek began
to loose rhythm as he chased his orgasm, holding Stiles tightly, like he
deserved to be treasured, protected. Derek began rapidly stroking Stiles
weeping, red cock pulling his orgasm from him forcibly. Stiles felt himself
clench onto Derek's pounding length and covered the bed in come. He felt warmth
fill him as Derek growled and bit his shoulder gently, holding him while Derek
filled him with hot wetness of his orgasm.
Stiles seemed to not understand the concept of time because it felt as if
Derek's orgasm had lasted hours, continuing to fill him in the most intimate
ways. Stiles felt every pulse, every flood. He felt so full and warm and loved.
He closed his eyes and sank into the heat while Derek stroked his sides and
face lovingly, still buried deep in Stiles' warmth. He drifted off feeling more
safe and loved then he could ever remember. His last thought was that his dad
was somewhere in the house....busted.
Chapter End Notes
     Still working on my smutty writing abilities. Haha. Love you all!
***** Way Down We Go *****
Chapter Summary
     Sorry for the delay, started reading sterek and felt inadequate.....
     Well. thats it.... thinking of putting out some oneshots to
     accompany. more sexytimes and maybe a resolution of scott and stiles
     fight.
     let me know what youd like to see. <3 thank you for your loyalty
     changes made 3-30- wow sorry redid a lot.....
Derek
Saturated in Stiles warm scent in the morning was a new heaven for Derek. He
wasn't cold and alone outside, or in an empty house or loft, he was surrounded.
A blanket of warmth that came with the scent of home, earth and love that
provided more comfort and security then any fabric could ever hope to
accomplish. It was an unusual experience for Derek; waking up whole, happy. The
feeling was novel and unique; instead of fire and pain or the numbness that
came with healing, it was a paradise. The scent of Stiles, the warmth of his
body and the arm that was in a vice grip around his torso was a utopia,
Valhalla, nirvana, an unimaginable dream of perfection. That Derek never
thought he would deserve..... Derek felt a desperate need to prolong this
closeness that was unparalleled by anything he had ever felt. He hadn't known
what he was missing; it was like going without water in a desert and finding a
waterfall. being under water and finding air, sustenance after starvation. Now
that Derek found the part of his soul that was missing, he couldn't go back to
emptiness. As healed or improved as he was from his time away from Beacon
Hills, this bodily comfort, of closeness, of touch shoved light deep into the
darkness of his soul in a way that nothing else could... ever. The mix of their
scents whirling in the room creating the perfect scent unwound his tightly
constrained muscles, let his breathe a full breath in a way he hadn't since his
parents were alive. Stiles' natural scent of petrichor and the sharp cinnamon-
sugar scent of his arousal, combined deliriously with Derek's earthy forest
scent in a way that had Derek growling in content. He was ready to roll over
for a more passionate round two, he slipped his hand on to the younger man's
bony but defined hip bone, aiming to sneak his hand towards the teens hard
length. Derek felt himself swell rapidly at the thought of touching the boy
while he slept...he would never be done with Stiles and he wanted to touch his
fill without words or explanation. Derek let his doubts and pain melt away as
he let his fingertips trail the silk-like skin of the beautiful boy naked in
bed with him. His fingertips led a delicate dance, caressing the pale, mole
marked skin of a very human boy. A boy that was his. A boy that he wants to
make moan in extreme pleasure...He proceeded to throw away his apprehensions
and aim to do just that..... Derek had a few minutes of oblivion and peace in
the teen's scent and the feel of his bare skin before the door to Stiles room
slammed open startling him to full alertness. The wood of the door cracked with
a thunder like sound as an intruder ruined his attempt to worship the pale boy
in his sleep. A growl rumbled low in his throat at the intrusion. Stiles
stirred sleepily next to him with a yawn, and a sensual stretch of his long,
pale limbs .
"What. The. FUCK." Scott said with venom as he burst into the room like a
storm. Derek was naked and barely covered by a sheet. Stiles was naked laying
on his stomach, head on Derek's chest, exposed and shiny with lube, sweat and
fluids. Derek quickly adjusted the sheet to cover the vulnerable, naked boy,
that no one was allowed to see like this, with a possessive growl and flash
neon blue eyes. The turned wolf had literally no IDEA what he was intruding on.
No clue how he almost lost his neck. He had no idea what it meant to invade a
wolf's territory like this. This was Derek's territory now, Stiles was HIS. He
aggressively Interrupted Derek's claim and nature, it was Derek's scent
permeating the room and this type of display was basically a deceleration of
war, or intent to steal Derek's claim on the boy in his arms. Derek hadn't
stopped growling, eyes a steady, harsh blue. Derek ached to rip out the turned
wolfs throat, with his very sharp teeth. The rational part of Derek's
possessive mind kept him launching at the true alpha. Barely. Only for
Stiles... for now. Derek was beyond not okay with this interruption. His own
erection was barely hidden with a sheet, due to the scent of Stiles and the
thought of more... activities. And Scott was on his shit list. Throat rip out
list.... The room reeked of their activities from the night before, which was
clearly fueling Scott's ire.
Derek felt too comfortable to rise to the bait of an angry Scott, especially
since it would mean a dead or bleeding Scott, and merely raised his eyebrow in
question.
He pulled Stiles body closer, to protect him as Scott stalked into the room
like an aggrieved, angry puppy.
Stiles jumped forward suddenly with the noise Scott was making. Blankets
falling from his body as he woke abruptly.
Derek was reluctant to let Stiles leave the cozy warmth of the bed with the
stressful events he had endured the night before. Even if Scott was there,
especially since Scott was there.
"What Scott?" Stiles said bluntly, once he realized who had burst in his room,
A yawn following his rough words.
"Are you fucking kidding me!" Scott screamed. "I don’t even know who you are
anymore! You're murdering people and ...and fucking....fucking DEREK!" Scott
was worked up and spewing hate, with a frown creasing his face.
Stiles sighed loudly and settled back into Derek. Derek was relieved. He
thought Stiles would have jumped up and denied it if he honestly thought about
how this would play out. That he would have tried to diffuse the conflict,
appease the angry Scott. So yes, he was relieved.
Stiles sat forward, pulled the sheets to cover them and seemed to tense.
"Honestly Scott, I don’t give a shit if you feel like you don’t know me. I
don’t think I know you either. If you're really this upset with me being
happy.... for once. Fuck, Scott, look at yourself." Stiles said with venom. "I
didn’t murder anyone!!!! And you're not who I thought you were if you believe I
did!!!! It took Derek and my dad to make me see that when it should have been
you telling me I did what I had to. Instead it took Derek being there for me,
listening to me and caring about me, so fuck you very much. You might look like
a puppy-wolf with good morals but your really just a judgmental asshole. And
I'm done." Stiles finished, running a hand through his hair aggressively.
Derek leaned back and started running his thumb along Stiles hip bone, slowly,
as Stiles melted into his touch. Scott hovered in the door way, fuming.
"Fine." Scott huffed childishly, "We'll see about that, you're no longer
welcome in my pack."
At that moment Derek heard more movement and the Sheriff was there behind Scott
with a scowl that could end the world.
That was where Stiles got his fire. "Scott. You need to leave." the Sheriff
said. "You're no longer welcome here if your going to talk to my son that way".
Scott huffed and turned to walk out, pausing mid-step.
He turned to look at Stiles, half out the door. "Stiles, this isn't you, you
hate Derek, this is worse then the nogitsune, I don't know what you're doing
anymore, but remember that."
Stiles rolled his eyes and huffed loudly at the rebuke and Derek heard his
heart rate pick up in anger, but Scott was gone. Down the stairs and out the
door.
Stiles threw the covers off himself, nodded at his dad in thanks and
disappeared into the bathroom. Leaving Derek feeling vulnerable and unsure of
himself.
One thing was certain. He cared for Stiles. He was also certain that Stiles
deserved a better friend then Scott.
He resolved to be better then Scott.
The Sheriff turned, and gave Derek the most heart warming smile he's received
since his family burned to the ground so long ago.
Derek could do this, he could be everything for Stiles. He could be halfway
healed, and heal more with Stiles by his side.
They just had to help Stiles with his power, and well, Derek could do that,
Derek could be his alpha.
He was ready to be an alpha again.
With a mate, he could do anything.
***** Series *****
Chapter Summary
     Hello all!
After much requested continuation of thunder i decided to make a series!!!!
Please leave requests here for pairings, characters, sexy times etc that you
would like. I am in process now.
I am not a fan of the derek, stiles pov switch off the way I've been doing it
so I'm going to have both derek and stiles pov without designating it that way,
it was repetitive and annoying so I'm working on that.
As I'm new to the whole fanfic writing I'm super open to negative feedback, on
writing styles, flow, character development.... not sexuality or whatnot..
I'm working on being able to include other characters better like issac etc.
Please feel free to leave what you would like to see in relationships and what
not. I need some inspiration!
Im also going to write 90% of the fic before posting first chapter to avoid
delays due to life and writers block.
You are who I'm writing for, I want to make you happy. no request is too weird
or unwelcome, more the merrier.
thanks again for reading and your wonderful comments keep me going when I'm
feeling inadequate as a writer <3
End Notes
     Let me know if I should add any tags!
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their work!