Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1381801.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Threat_of_Rape, Possession, Lack_of_control, Nogitsune_Stiles,
      Psychological_Trauma, Past_Abuse, Psychological_Torture, Angst, Dark,
      very_dark, no_really, I'm_not_kidding_it's_not_happy
  Series:
      Part 3 of Well_Shit,_What_Now?
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-28 Words: 1327
****** Memories Never Fade ******
by HeartOfTheMirror
Summary
     The Nogitsune is hungry and Derek is a five course buffet of angst.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Stiles woke to the musty air of morning, cracked sunlight filtering through his
crooked blinds. The air in his bedroom was still and tepid, heavy with morning
breath. His fingers were still tangled with Derek’s, damp palms clasped
together, bodies to hot and too close. It was their only point of contact and
even that felt like too much. It was everything Stiles couldn’t handle, this
closeness, this inescapable bond that left them each suffocating for breathing
the other’s air. Which was all so stupid because he was the one who’d asked
Derek to stay.
Derek was still asleep, mouth open, snoring softly, his cheek pressed awkwardly
against his forearm. It was weird to see Derek so vulnerable, to feel himself
like he’d already been flayed open, like he was invulnerable because nothing
more could be done to him, because-
Then there was Derek. Who was more to him that he was willing to admit, than he
even understood. It was hormones he tried to tell himself. He’d read about the
neurochemical effects of sex, oxytocin and serotonin and all the chemical
chains your brain creates to make you believe the person lying next to you is
somehow different, might somehow be riding the same primal high as you, might
somehow want the same things.
Stiles had read that article on the neurochemical effects of affection in one
of Mrs. McCall’s magazines, hoping to impress Lydia someday.Who the fuck knew
when that might come up, but even now he felt like she might appreciate it.
She understood this better than anyone, better than Scott with his unbridled
puppy optimism, reinforced by steel will and wolf teeth, better than his dad
who would still be utterly devoted to his mom if she’d lived. Only Lydia seemed
to get that sometimes it didn’t matter how you felt about someone or how they
felt about you. The pieces didn’t fit and you wanted different things, needed
to move in different directions that strained at that delicate chain of
neurochemistry with distance and time until it broke, crumbled into something
blacker than mountain ash and only again gleamed under the weight of a
nostalgic eye.
People like him and Lydia, they knew these things, the futility of feelings too
ephemeral and transient so rely upon, to trust yourself to. Stiles couldn’t
live his life in constant freefall the way Scott did, always willing to throw
himself backwards and trust the crowd to catch him. There are no guarantees.
The saddest thing about betrayal, after all, was that it never came from your
enemies.
Sometimes the softest touch was the most cruel. What could Stiles do if he
spewed up all this nonsense words and woke Derek and confessed that Derek had
him in chains? That Stiles was bound to him now, by fickle, unreasonable
neurochemistry? That sad look, the pitying regret, the slow breath as Derek
said his name, trying to find some words that no one has ever found, words that
don’t hurt when he says he doesn’t feel the same.
Because Stiles knew, knew, that Derek didn’t.
Suddenly Derek’s sour heavy morning breath was too much, his presence in
Stiles’s bed to surreal. He wanted to be alone, he did, but alone-ness ached
like a loose tooth, the kind of ache Stiles couldn’t help prodding at, even as
it made the aching worse. He couldn’t force away this odd off kilter feeling
that tormented him like a tilt-a-whirl full of pins and needles. Something was
wrong. When he slipped out and sneaked into the bathroom he was amazed that
Derek didn’t wake up.
...
When Derek woke up Stiles was straddling his hips.
Stiles saw himself pinning Derek to the bed, as though through a foggy glass or
perhaps a dream. His lips twisted into a painful smile a half a centimeter from
Derek’s lips.His fingers were gripping Derek’s wrists bruisingly tight, the
rough fabric of Derek’s designer jeans creating friction against his, the
intense heat from his werewolf metabolism radiating into Stiles’s thighs making
his whole body too warm. It wasn’t his body anymore though.
“You like him, don’t you?” The voice was smug, predatory, curling around
Derek’s ear, turing Stiles’s chestnut voice to something harsh and navy blue.
Nogitsune. Stiles’s earthy whiskey and molten gold eyes were flat, cold, and
depthless brown, darker than they had any right to be. He was stronger than
Derek, pinned him down easily as Derek wolfed out and roared, surging up
against him. His wrists and hips didn’t budge, he had no leverage.
“Oooh,” The nogitsune moaned, throwing back his head so that Stiles’s long pale
neck was on display. “Do that again.” The Nogitsune bit his lip playfully and
ground himself down into Derek.
“Sleeping in the same bed as the weak, helpless little human… you really do
like him, don’t you? Or maybe you’re just so lonely you’ll settle for anyone.
Just beginning the next passerby to slip their leash around your throat and
take you home, aren’t you Derek? You’ll settle for anyone. Killer. Hunter.
Darach. Pathetic,” the nogitsune whispered against Derek’s cheek, leaning down
to bite none too gently between Derek’s shoulder and his neck, moving away
before Derek could sink his teeth in in return.
“Oh but we wouldn’t want that, would we? Damaging fragile little Stiles? I
doubt he’d be quick to forgive you for scarring this pretty face. I don’t see
why you’re so upset, puppy. I’m not doing anything plenty of people haven’t
done before. Holding you down, taking what I want… I thought you liked that
kind of thing? Not into it? Is this body not as appealing as Kate's? As
Jennifer's? Not willing to sacrifice people's lives for this piece of ass? Ah,
well. Your opinion never much mattered anyway.” The Nogitsune rubbed himself
along Derek’s crotch rhythmically, Derek fought with every ounce of his
willpower not to turn his head to the side or close his eyes, not to show any
sign of submission in hopes of making it stop.
“Oooh, look at that,” the Nogitsune purred, licking a satisfied stripe along
Derek’s neck. “A little friction in the right place and suddenly you’re ready
for it.” Derek felt the same flood through him, not an unfamiliar feeling. He
didn’t want this, not for him and not for Stiles but it was just a physical
reaction, he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t.
“I could turn you over on your knees,” the Nogitsune whispered against his ear.
“Fuck you until you screamed, tears running down your cheeks, you begged me to
end it but you didn’t even know what you were saying. So hot and hard for me,
hanging between your legs, bobbing each time I thrust into you, dripping
precome all over Stiles’s nice clean sheets, ready to go off at the slightest
touch.
“But I wouldn’t touch you anymore than I had to to hold you down, your arms
twisted up behind your back, face pressed into the mattress, jeans tangled
around your knees. I wouldn’t touch you because that would have been a gift and
I would have already given you a gift. Stiles’s virginity. ” The Nogitsune
smiled as Derek’s horror and revulsion showed on his face, struggling futilely
to escape the hold the Nogitsune had on him.
“Looks like our time is up, precious,” the Nogitsune said, voice unusually
strained. “But I’ve had so much fun. You’re so delicious. I’ll definitely be
seeing you again soon.”
...
“Stiles?” Derek asked. “Stiles!” Stiles woke up pinning Derek to his bed.
Everything was a blur. He’d went to the bathroom, feeling so strange, wanting
it to stop, wanting to go back to sleep and escape it all and then...
“What did I… what?” Stiles asked aloud, throwing himself off Derek. He held up
his hands, each with a perfect number of long, trembling, fingers looking as if
he’d never seen them before, as if they belonged to someone else…
End Notes
     Hope you liked it! Kudos and comments are always welcomed and
     appreciated! <3
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