Hey There Little Red... 4/?
Jun. 27th, 2012 04:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
1lostoneTitle: Hey There Little Red...
Fandom: Teenwolf (shame. I have none.)
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 5550, this chapter.
Warnings: *highlight for spoilers: H/C, Angst, POSSIBLE spoilers for upcoming episodes, rimming, first-time, knotting, possessive behavior... and uh, yeah. Underage. I don't know how old Stiles is in the show, but for my peace of mind he's going to be seventeen.
Summary: (Post ep for S2e04) Stiles knew that agreeing to meet Lydia in the middle of the damn woods, in the middle of the damn night wasn't one of his best ideas. Really. He did.
A/N: This is my first fic in this fandom. Thanks to Jen and
jihime47 for taking a look at this the first chapter of this for me, but everything else is unbeta'd. Jen has the patience of a saint. That is all.
Chapter Notes: Please don't kill me over where this leaves off...
Chapter 4
Stiles woke up all at once, adrenaline and fear making his heart almost feel like it was in his throat. Dreams of ripping flesh, of the thrill of the hunt, of the mechanic’s last scream of horror as he was crushed to death all whirled in his head for a second until his brain caught up with him and he realized that he was in his own bed, in his own room.
It should have come as no surprise that Lydia was a complete bed hog. They had moved away from each other as they slept, Lydia snug in a cocoon of both the topsheet and the blanket, Stiles shivering on three square inches of the far corner of his mattress in the cool air of the morning.
Well, now that was just unfair.
Stiles slid out of bed, scratching absently at his stomach. Lydia opened one eye then moaned. She sat up with her hair
looking like a cross between an electrocuted hedgehog and a late-night extra in a cheap-ass horror flick. Stiles didn’t think he’d be mentioning this to her, however.
His dad didn’t raise any idiots.
He did go ahead and snap a few pictures on his camera though. But that was just between him and Facebook.
By the time he got done in the bathroom, Lydia was sitting up, yawning a little. She gave him a shy sort of smile that Stiles returned rather goofily.
“Stiles! You and your friend going to eat today? It’s already almost eleven!”
Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Your dad seems pretty cool for the sheriff. You have a lot of girls sleep over?” She seemed completely unselfconscious as she bent over in her bag, pulling out a different pair of panties.
Ho jeez. Lydia Martin’s panties. Scott was never gonna even believe this.
“Uh. No. You would be the first.” This was the weirdest sense of deja vu ever.
“Nice. Can I borrow some clothes? And your shower?”
Stiles just nodded towards his chest of drawers, trying to reign in his ridiculous grin. He waited until she was safely in the bathroom before stripping down and getting dressed with lightning speed, the idea of Lydia catching a glimpse of his naked ass vaguely terrifying.
He kind of felt like he should be spazzing out more over the fact that there was a naked girl in his bathroom, but ... it just wasn’t there. It was a little weird in a ‘ha-what the fuck is my life’ sort of way, but Stiles still couldn’t help comparing her to Derek in his head. When Derek had asked if this was his first morning after he’d practically swallowed his tongue.He’d practically fainted just creeping on Derek washing dishes: a completely domestic, everyday task. Even now at the thought of his muscled back, Stiles’ mouth went a little dry. He shook his head and headed downstairs, grabbing his phone and checking his texts on the way.
A text from Derek:
I’ll be out of town for a few days. Taking Erica to track down lead. Are you ever going to tell me what you needed to tell me?
He rolled his eyes. It kind of pissed him off that they had all left him here, merrily going off on a hunt for the Kanima.... when he’d been the one that had done all the research. Stiles texted back:
Not much to tell. Cya when you get back. Try not to let Erica brain you with anything. You sure you trust her, right?
His dad was working on a case file at the dining room table. Stiles was used to the way he would immediately take the photos and case notes and shovel them into the file so that Stiles wouldn’t get an eyeful of confidential information. “Good ...morning.” He pulled the newspaper to him and shook it open, disappearing behind it.
Stiles winced.
“I hope that you don’t have any plans for your first day of break.” His dad smiled thinly over the top of the paper.
Stiles thought briefly about changing his name and moving to Sarasota. “No. I don’t.”
His dad’s smile turned a lot nastier. “Oh yes.... yes you do. As soon as your guest leaves.”
Fuck. A. Duck.
Stiles was a master at using food as a diversion. He made himself an egg and pickle sandwich and sat down, popping right back up to get himself some tea, and bringing the whole jug back to the table.
“So....”
“Oh we can wait for all that. That Lydia Martin?” His dad jerked his head in the vague direction of his bedroom giving him the same intense stare from yesterday.
Stiles was really lucky that red just happened to be his color. He wondered if that was something else they taught in parental school: the ability to find Random Intimidating Props for Awkward Conversations. Why even have the newspaper if he wasn’t going to read it? Stiles took an exceptionally large bite of sandwich, nodding. He made a little face, wrinkling up his nose.
“The same one that you’ve been gaga over since you figured out what your dick was for?”
Stiles choked. “Daa-d!” Jesus!He set down the sandwich, his stomach jumping around uncomfortably. His dad, being that he was a complete and utterly evil bastard, just snorted and went back behind his newspaper. Stiles continued to pick at his sandwich.
Lydia came downstairs in a pair of sweats and a tshirt of Stiles’. Her wet hair was done in a braid down the center of her back.
“Miss Martin. Would you like something to eat?”
Stiles watched as Lydia flushed slightly, smiling at his dad. His dad practically melted in front of him. It was damn embarrassing, to tell the truth.
“No, sir. I think I’ve imposed enough.”
“It was no imposition!” Stiles half stood, smiling a little at her. “I was... glad. That I could help.”
Lydia’s smile turned into the full mega-watt beam of happiness that usually made Stiles’ heart thump in his chest. “Thank you, Stiles. See you later?”
Stiles nodded. “I’d wish you luck on your finals, but since you’re smarter than I am, I don’t really think you’ll need it.”
Her grin turned wicked, then pleased. She waved at him and his dad, hefted her bag over her shoulder and letting herself out of the house before either of the Stilinskis could rise to see her out. Stiles’ phone buzzed and he checked his messages. It was from Derek.
What? I trust her. She’s harmless.
Stiles snorted and texted back.
Ha. Tell that to my face. She’s got a mean left. Especially when holding car parts!
“Well.”
Stiles took a drink of his tea.
“So, anything you want to tell me?”
Stiles froze for a second, mind stuttering. Really? Where would he even begin?
“I take it from your deer-in-the-headlights look that you need a little help getting started.” Stiles’ dad said as he set down the newspaper. “Let’s start with Derek Hale.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Oh shit, indeed..., oh fruit of my loins.” The sheriff waited politely, giving Stiles a few minutes to compose his thoughts. “Hmm. Nothing?Lucky for you that I have a few additional conversation starters. Laura Hale. How about that little matter of the dead video store clerk? No? The dead janitor at your school? None of this ringing a bell?”
Stiles felt all the blood in his face drain away. He felt faint as he stared at his dad. “Uh..”
“Uh! Excellent rejoinder. So, being that I am actually trained in law enforcement... which judging by your gobsmacked expression you weren’t actually aware of... I went ahead and tried to think what those things had in common. Actually, I will admit that it took me a little bit for my brain to head this way. We wouldn’t want to forget the hospital and your most recent adventure at the garage. You know what all these crazy incidents have in common, Stiles?”
Stiles blinked, adrenaline flooding his system. His hand tightened on his phone.
“That would be you. My son is the common element in all of these crimes.”
Stiles blinked again, his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn’t so much the sarcasm. Stiles had practically embraced sarcasm as a second language. But the look on his dad’s face, the look that showed how far beyond disappointment he was, the cop look made him want to start talking.
His dad smiled nastily again and opened the folder. “So... I thought that perhaps I could... oh, I don’t know... put together some sort of whadyacallit? What do those cop-type people do again? Investigation. I began with taking a quick gander at your mileage. Unless you want to tell me that you’ve been driving to Scott’s house and back twelve times extra a day... or perhaps you’ve been doing donuts around the school? Nope? Okay then. Well, the extra mileage happens to miraculously coincide with the mileage to... yep! Derek Hale’s house. Waaaay out there in the woods. Several times a week even. Isn’t that interesting? Then there’s the even more... fascinating tidbits of your browser history.”
Shit. Shit Shit. There was no way that this was going to end well. Either he told his dad, and has several pissed off werewolves come after them both for fucking up the secrecy. Disloyalty was frowned upon... to put it lightly. Or... he doesn’t tell his dad...
“Werewolves. Alpha pack dynamics. Wolvesbane. The moon’s effect on a group psychosis. Okay, that actually sounds interesting. Huh. Oh, lookee here. The Hale murders. Derek Hale’s case file, and don’t think we’re not going to have a discussion about using my password to break into confidential information, young man. Something called a ka-min-a? Building code laws? For houses destroyed by fire? A truly frightening amount of porn.” Stiles’ dad paused for a second, flipped through another two pieces of paper. “A... lot of.... jesus, kid. You know that thing does chafe right?”
Stiles briefly considered the merits of drowning himself in the tea.
“And recently, the school. Your phone, found in the bottom of the pool. In-ter-rest-ing. Looks like your phone is in your hand. Huhn. Vandalism. Then you disappear all night?” Stiles dad paused, staring at his son. His voice just sounded tired when he spoke again. “So. A profile. An older man, who has been involved with the law. One who my son seems to be really interested in, enough that he goes to his house constantly. One who seems to be involved in one fuckload of crazy coincidences... one who has gotten my son involved in...” he trailed off. Seconds ticked by on the kitchen clock. Stiles was too afraid to speak. He was afraid not to speak. What the fuck is going on, Stiles?” His dad’s voice cracked.
Stiles honestly he didn’t know what he was going to say, but hearing that sick-with-worry, almost broken sound ripping out of his dad’s throat hurt. He felt his eyes burn with the sting of tears and opened his mouth.
“Dad--”
“Mr. Stillinski?”
Both of their heads whipped towards Scott, who stood in the doorway of the kitchen. They were long beyond the point where Scott needed permission to come inside, but the interruption was not welcome. The tension in the room was so thick Stiles thought he was choking on it.
“Uh. Mr. Stillinski. I couldn’t help but overhear. I know that this is not a good time. But Stiles isn’t up to anything illegal. Or wrong. Well, I’m not exactly sure what’s up with him and Der-- er. But what you’re thinking isn’t... it isn’t a bad thing.”
Stiles blinked really hard, stunned that Scott had managed to climb out of his self-inflicted angst to notice... or to care. Then, of course he immediately felt bad for thinking such shitty things about his friend. He dimly realized that his head was pounding from the stress and took a sip of his tea. It tasted like ashes in his mouth.
“Okay so... Mr. Stillinski? This is why Stiles has been acting so crazy.”
Stiles had time for a split-second of foreboding, then Scott wolfed out in front of his father. Stiles fumbled the tea, catching it just in time to keep it from spilling across the table. His dad sprung up, reaching for a gun that wasn’t there, putting himself in between Stiles and Scott. Scott kept back, raised both hands to show he was harmless. He morphed back to a human kid, then just let his eyes go that crazy yellow orange color.
Stiles recalled rather fondly the first time he’d seen a werewolf, reached up to grab his dad’s arm. He patted it and sighed. “I know dad. Kind of pants-shitter, right? Welcome to my life.”
***
It took Scott changing back and forth three more times, six shots of the whiskey, and three hours of semi-hysterical shouting for his dad to kind of go numb, staring off into space with the occasional twitch. Scott even did a few tricks, showing off some of his abilities. They didn’t tell him everything, of course. Neither of the boys were particularly stupid. Scott eventually left to go do his nightly pining on the top of Allison’s roof thing, not that that was creepy at all and Stiles was left on the couch besides his dad, staring at a muted episode of Mythbusters. His dad was going to town on some Doritos like he hadn’t eaten in a week. Stiles was so numb that he didn’t even bitch about it.
“So!”
Stiles groaned, staring at his dad warily. His head was pounding and he got up to get some aspirin, swallowing them down dry.
“You were attacked by a .. a what now?”
“It’s called a Kanima. Think of a giant lizard looking thing. I haven’t been able to find much about it. The general consensus is that it’s some kind of were-jaguar, but that is definitely not what I saw. Dad. If Derek hadn’t been there... I would have ended up clawed up. Or like that mechanic.”
His dad threw back the rest of his drink.
“I did find a guy near Portland that is some kind of expert, but he hasn’t emailed me back yet.”
“So you’re some kind of ... researcher? Stiles. I... you know that I’ll love you no.. no matter what but I have to ask. Do you turn furry once a month?”
“No! Dad, come on. If Scott hadn’t been here and I was all... So! Dad. Dad.. daddy-o, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t mind that I figured out what killed Laura Hale for you. It was a grrrr! Yep dingdingdig! A werewolf! Lookout Lon Chaney! Yes. A werewolf. Oh no, there’s not one... there’s actually like five of them around.... you would have put me in the psycho ward so fast my head would have spun.” Speaking of a werewolf. Stiles tried to check his phone messages without his dad being too aware of what he was doing.
Still nothing from Derek.
Derek? Hello?
“Hmm. So.. what’s with this Hale guy?” His dad leaned back from where he had been obviously looking at Stiles’ phone.
“You know that I’ve got that conference in a few days. Maybe with all of this I should cancel...”
Stiles flushed. “ No! Dad. It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t do that.” He flailed his hand around. “All this has been happening, will be happening whether or not you’re here.”
His dad just furrowed his eyebrows, and Stiles took a deep breath. “Derek. Uh. He is... confusing. Very confusing.” Stiles saw his dad’s bloodshot gaze focus on him, that same intense stare from before making him feel both very uncomfortable and very lucky that he was so concerned.
“That was a pretty rough blow, losing his sister like that. They were pretty tight from what I remember. He... was a good kid. the Hales kept to themselves. Weren’t any trouble... that’s why it was such a shock when they were all gone.”
“He says I smell good,” Stiles blurted, then wanted to smack himself.
“Hunhh. Did he say you smell legal?”
Stiles just rolled his eyes. He held up a finger. first- I’m seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in a few months. That’s like... nothing. And let’s really focus on the real fact here: we live in a society that says it’s legal to have sex before you drink alcohol? What the hell is that about? Not that I’ve ever. uh. done either of those things. Obviously.” Stiles coughed, blushing. Well at least one of them was true. “And the second thing: If anything Derek thinks of me as kind of a really annoying kid. Who is good with a computer.” Yeah and that sucked. Stiles shoulders slumped. He hoped that his dad didn’t notice how dejected his voice sounded. They were quiet for awhile. By mutual consent they switched the television to Top Chef, then stared in a stupor for awhile.
“So... are orcs real? Shit. Vampires? Elves? Do you know any fairies?”
Stiles snorted. “I just said I was confused, dad.Let’s not start with the name-calling. ”
His dad’s eyebrows curled in confusion for a second, then he snorted with laughter, which set Stiles off. Stiles’ dad swatted him with a pillow and Stiles collapsed in helpless giggles, overtired and over emotional from everything that had happened since waking up with Lydia.
It had been a long time since their mingled laughter filled a room Later, when Stiles fell asleep on the couch, his dad just kissed him on the forehead, pulling the ratty blanket over his son’s exhausted form. His dad hadn’t missed the exhaustion, or the not-eating, or the lassitude. He sighed and stood up a little unsteadily, flicking off the television and the light. He was pretty sure that he still had Hale’s cell number from his booking. Maybe it was time to give him a call. He put away the Doritos and shook his head.
“Werewolves. In Beacon Hills. What the fuck.”
**
To: stiles_the_still@hotmail.com
From: Thomas.Levitt@orr.com
Re: Research Project
I found the topic of your research project fascinating. I would be interested in meeting with you in person to discuss, as it’s not really the type of conversation I would be comfortable putting in an email. Please respond with date and time of expected visit, and I will make myself available to you.
Thomas. Levitt, Professor of Biology and Endangered Species, .M.S. PhD.
***
Stiles sat in his jeep, biting his lip. It had been two days since his dad had been clued into the preternatural goings on of Beacon Hills. He looked down at the bag in his hand, then looked away from it as though it would bite him. Stiles knew that his dad was working a double tonight. If he hadn’t been, Stiles would have just jerked off and called it a day.
But.
He was feeling weird again, that kind of skin-too-small feeling that he tended to associate with Derek. Which was weird. Derek still hadn’t bothered to answer his text. Stiles knew that he’d be back in time for the full moon though. That was only a few days away. But the fact remained that: 1) He’d spent the night with Lydia Martin and hadn’t even spazzed out once. 2) Even looking at Derek’s name in his phone caused his body to tighten. So yeah. Logic says...?
He was a hell of a lot more than curious. Hence the trip three towns over.
Surely no one would know him, or his car, or that he was the sheriff’s kid. Some things had to be sacred, after all. Stiles licked his lips and shifted in his seat, grabbing the bag and heading inside. He itched the back of his neck as he unlocked the front door, peering right and left to make sure no one saw him, then slipped inside, holding the bag with a white-knuckled grip that caused the brown bag to crinkle.
He thundered up the stairs, tossed the bag on his bed and went to take a shower. He had been in the middle of a game of Mass Effect with Scott when it had hit him: maybe he needed to experiment a little, play around to see if he was really into the whole ass deflowering thing. He’d almost blurted it out, but Scott had given him a weird look before he could and shifted slightly away from him.
Stiles had recalled Derek’s words about scent and had blushed hard enough to feel dizzy. Scott had been so distant lately with the end of school, the fact he was working forty hours a week at the vet’s, wrapped up with Allison and his pack training that Stiles hadn’t wanted to make anything more strained. It had been nice to just have some bro time. Not that he didn’t feel he could discuss his (maybe) gay crisis with his best friend.... but. Just not now.
Scott hadn’t known were Derek and Erica had been either. The others had been scarce too, which quite frankly was a little weird. It wasn’t normal for everything to be so quiet. But there had been no sign of the Kanima. Hell, even the Argents were quiet since Allison and her crazy-ass family had gone on vacation. Some kind of survival camp. What the hell.
Stiles huffed out a breath and turned off his shower, stepping out and wiping a streak in the steam from the mirror. He didn’t bother with a towel. He still looked tired. Which was weird because he slept all the damn time. He must have some sort of stomach thing, because he hadn’t really felt like eating much of anything lately. Stiles started to climb on his bed, then got up and decided to lock his door and pull his blinds. He felt weird about checking in with his dad before he went off on his gay sexscapades, but the promise to always call when he got home was a hard habit to break. He hadn’t wanted to lie to his dad, but telling him that he was off to go buy a dildo was probably pushing the truth thing. Stiles made a face as he left a message, then set his phone on his night table.
Stiles’ dick twitched when he pulled out the small container of Boy Butter, and had the horrifying thought: what if that huge-ass stockpile had belonged to someone else and not Derek? No. Derek’s whole house had burnt down. There wasn’t anything in that bathroom that he didn’t need. If it was there, then it was because Derek had put it there. Stiles shivered when he imagined Derek using it and felt his mouth dry up, his breathing change a little. He took off the plastic and opened the lid, grinning a little at the fact that it looked just like a tub of margarine. Yeah and that hand gripping the churn thingy wasn’t suggestive at all. Stiles shook his head, his grin widening. Pure marketing genius. He sniffed it, then stuck the tip of his finger in to rub it against his thumb. Oh.. yeah. Slick. It felt a lot lighter than the lotion he usually used. Cautiously he licked at it, pleased that it didn’t actually taste like butter. That would just be too fucking weird.
Stiles bit his lip as he opened the plastic on the little Vibe-O-Matic. It was small. Well, it wasn’t small but it didn’t look like that other silver looking monstrosity either. That thing wasn’t coming near his ass, thank you very much. He’d almost collapsed in nervous laughter when he had seen that the ginormous thing had been called the Silver Bullet, and had scurried away. It hadn’t helped that the sales lady looked to be about seventy years old, and amused as hell at his embarrassment. Stiles had tried to be all blasé about being in the porn shop, while his eyes were probably bugging out and dick hard in his jeans. He looked at the small vibrator and frowned. It was shaped kind of weird, and when he turned it on he jerked at the muted buzzing that filled his room. Oh. So that’s what the package meant about prostate massage.
So okay. True or false. He was attracted to Derek Hale.
True. Definitely, definitely true. Stiles lay back on his bed, idly stroking down his stomach, over his abs. He bit his lip and tried thinking of the other guys he knew to see if his body reacted the same way. Jackson- no. Hell no. The douche factor took away from any possible boner-inducing admiration of his body. Danny? Not.. entirely unattractive. At all. Huh. Scott? Stiles wrinkled his nose, jerking his hand away from his dick. Ewww. No. Stiles ran through a few other guys that he knew, and some girls, but finally gave it up when for no reason at all Stiles remembered what it felt like to have Derek pin him against the tree in the woods, his whole body keeping Stiles’ from moving.
Stiles leaned up and dipped his fingers back into the lube, running them up and down his shaft, then began tugging,
grunting a little as pleasure caused his whole body to tense. He reached up to thumb at his nipple, gasping a little bit in the quiet of his room. Stiles closed his fist around him, rubbing the thumb over the head of his cock, his other hand rubbing over his skin, his balls, tugging at his pubic hair. He imagined Derek’s face as he woke up with him, the eyes just a little sleepy, his face in that too-careful frozen mask that he did when he was super angry. He imagined if he had just leaned a little closer...
“Shiiit.” His whole body felt like it was on edge, and he hadn’t really even done anything.
Stiles moved so that he was braced against the headboard, giving his cock one final tugging twist and dipped back into the lube. He spread his legs and reached down, biting his lip a little, his head rolling back onto the headboard so that he could look up at his ceiling.
He spread some of the lube around his hole then pushed in the tip of one finger. He could feel himself tighten around the little intrusion, and pushed a little further, gasping again. He moved it, wincing a little, then pulled out and slicked it again. His finger went in easier this time, and felt less... okay no. It still felt weird.
He imagined in his head what Derek would be like. Would he be slow? Angry? Would it hurt? Stiles gave himself another finger. The angle was a little weird as he moved his fingers, in and out, using his other hand to sort of awkwardly hold his cheeks open. Maybe it would be easier if he was on his hands and knees? His second finger pushed against the rim and he cried out this time. That... definitely didn’t hurt. His dick gave twitch, like it was agreeing, and Stiles could feel a little bit of precome on his abdomen.
He took out his fingers and used them on his cock, which was red and hard and mmm That felt... “Yeah.” Stiles shifted again and almost knocked the lube off the bed in his haste to get to the toy. He leaned over, using a lot of lube on it, globbed some more on his hole as he turned over, bracing one hand against the headboard and reaching back with the toy, his harsh breaths loud in his room. He was too tense and it didn’t go in easily. The angle was too... “Damnit!” Stiles had to stop again and shifted so that he was on his side, facing his door with his back to the window. He moved his leg up and out of the way, and reached back again, trying to relax. He slid it in slowly, his breath absolutely stopping as the bumps on the vibe stretched him, allowing him to tighten back over it.
The first inch hurt a little. Well, not hurt, but was too tight. It made him feel like he was stretching just this side of too much. He idly noticed his dick had softened a little bit at the new sensation and he tried tightening his fist a little. He took another deep breath and worked it inside, slowly. There was pressure, then ... a slide and his whole body jerked again, nerves singing.
“Oh.. Oh...”
Stiles was covered in sweat, but thought his eyes were going to roll back in his head as he moved it in and out. It was only about three inches long, but it felt a lot bigger. Stiles had the thought Derek would be thicker, longer, would split you open when he fucks you and jerked again, moaning low in his throat. His slippery finger hit the switch and Stiles arched as his spine bowed, his eyes wide open and blind as he felt his whole body tighten at the vibrations of the toy. It was too much.... god! Stiles thought he was going to have a seizure or something so he turned it off with another cry. His dick lept up, and Stiles started jerking his fist, trying to fuck himself with the toy and fuck into his hand, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to move right, overwhelmed with what his body was feeling.
Stiles turned over on his back, his legs splayed wide as the vibe jostled inside of him, slipping out as he turned. Derek wouldn’t let it be awkward. He’d hold him down and just fuck into him, staring down, leaning down to rub his face on him again. Would Derek like to kiss? Stiles’ whole body was on the knife’s-edge of coming apart and he wanted it, was greedy for it, but he couldn’t quite... It was there just ... almost and... “Der--ek!” Stiles whined curling his toes into the sheets as he thrust up into his tight fist.
He thought heard a sound at the window.
Stiles jerked his gaze up, but was too close to stop. Derek had frozen in the middle of climbing inside of his room, his hand mangling the drapes that he’d pulled aside so that he could enter. Derek’s eyes were a bright, clear blue as he stared down at him.
“Stiles.” Derek’s eyes gleamed red in the faint light of the room.
Stiles’ mouth opened with a wail as he starbursts claimed his vision, his dick spurting, come landing on his chin. The second spurt landed on his chest and he was horrified but couldn’t stop moving his hand, finishing himself off until he was just lying there, wrecked. Had he... dreamed..? Had Derek just...?
He blinked his eyes open, looking at the window. “Oh... no. Oh please no.” No was right. No way did he imagine that Derek had seen him, had spoken to him. The curtains that he’d pulled shut were wide open, the window letting in the cool breeze of the night. Stiles heard the low growl of the Camaro’s engine, then the squeal of tires.
Stiles panicked.
His dad. Was going to be out of town for at least a week. He could go. He had to go, to leave, before Derek came back.
Stiles sat up, panting now, hyperventilating as shame made the air in his lungs disappear. He sucked in a breath on a sob, humiliated and disgusted with himself, then he was packing, shoving clothes in his backpack. Out. He had to get out of here. Hurry. Have to hurry. Derek was going to kill him. He’d probably been so sickened that he actually ran off...
disgusted. Angry. He used his towel from earlier to swipe at the come and lube on his chest and ass, skin crawling. Stiles dressed quickly, throwing on whatever he found in his dresser.
Stiles jerked the plug to his Mac out of the wall and shoved it and his computer in the backpack along with his wallet. His bed was messed up, the lube and the toy sitting innocently on the mattress. Stiles made a high-pitched, almost wounded sound and shoved the toy and the lube in the brown sack, frantically looking around for somewhere to stash it, deciding that he should just take it with him to throw it away.
He had to get out of here. He grabbed his phone, on autopilot, grabbed his backpack and ran down the stairs. Scott? No. Scott was pack. Scott wasn’t safe; he’d do whatever Derek wanted him to do. He had to go somewhere ... anywhere else. Just had to... go.
Somewhere safe.
Somewhere that wasn’t Beacon Hills.
Previous || Next
Fandom: Teenwolf (shame. I have none.)
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 5550, this chapter.
Warnings: *highlight for spoilers: H/C, Angst, POSSIBLE spoilers for upcoming episodes, rimming, first-time, knotting, possessive behavior... and uh, yeah. Underage. I don't know how old Stiles is in the show, but for my peace of mind he's going to be seventeen.
Summary: (Post ep for S2e04) Stiles knew that agreeing to meet Lydia in the middle of the damn woods, in the middle of the damn night wasn't one of his best ideas. Really. He did.
A/N: This is my first fic in this fandom. Thanks to Jen and
jihime47 for taking a look at this the first chapter of this for me, but everything else is unbeta'd. Jen has the patience of a saint. That is all. Chapter Notes: Please don't kill me over where this leaves off...
Chapter 4
Stiles woke up all at once, adrenaline and fear making his heart almost feel like it was in his throat. Dreams of ripping flesh, of the thrill of the hunt, of the mechanic’s last scream of horror as he was crushed to death all whirled in his head for a second until his brain caught up with him and he realized that he was in his own bed, in his own room.
It should have come as no surprise that Lydia was a complete bed hog. They had moved away from each other as they slept, Lydia snug in a cocoon of both the topsheet and the blanket, Stiles shivering on three square inches of the far corner of his mattress in the cool air of the morning.
Well, now that was just unfair.
Stiles slid out of bed, scratching absently at his stomach. Lydia opened one eye then moaned. She sat up with her hair
looking like a cross between an electrocuted hedgehog and a late-night extra in a cheap-ass horror flick. Stiles didn’t think he’d be mentioning this to her, however.
His dad didn’t raise any idiots.
He did go ahead and snap a few pictures on his camera though. But that was just between him and Facebook.
By the time he got done in the bathroom, Lydia was sitting up, yawning a little. She gave him a shy sort of smile that Stiles returned rather goofily.
“Stiles! You and your friend going to eat today? It’s already almost eleven!”
Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Your dad seems pretty cool for the sheriff. You have a lot of girls sleep over?” She seemed completely unselfconscious as she bent over in her bag, pulling out a different pair of panties.
Ho jeez. Lydia Martin’s panties. Scott was never gonna even believe this.
“Uh. No. You would be the first.” This was the weirdest sense of deja vu ever.
“Nice. Can I borrow some clothes? And your shower?”
Stiles just nodded towards his chest of drawers, trying to reign in his ridiculous grin. He waited until she was safely in the bathroom before stripping down and getting dressed with lightning speed, the idea of Lydia catching a glimpse of his naked ass vaguely terrifying.
He kind of felt like he should be spazzing out more over the fact that there was a naked girl in his bathroom, but ... it just wasn’t there. It was a little weird in a ‘ha-what the fuck is my life’ sort of way, but Stiles still couldn’t help comparing her to Derek in his head. When Derek had asked if this was his first morning after he’d practically swallowed his tongue.He’d practically fainted just creeping on Derek washing dishes: a completely domestic, everyday task. Even now at the thought of his muscled back, Stiles’ mouth went a little dry. He shook his head and headed downstairs, grabbing his phone and checking his texts on the way.
A text from Derek:
I’ll be out of town for a few days. Taking Erica to track down lead. Are you ever going to tell me what you needed to tell me?
He rolled his eyes. It kind of pissed him off that they had all left him here, merrily going off on a hunt for the Kanima.... when he’d been the one that had done all the research. Stiles texted back:
Not much to tell. Cya when you get back. Try not to let Erica brain you with anything. You sure you trust her, right?
His dad was working on a case file at the dining room table. Stiles was used to the way he would immediately take the photos and case notes and shovel them into the file so that Stiles wouldn’t get an eyeful of confidential information. “Good ...morning.” He pulled the newspaper to him and shook it open, disappearing behind it.
Stiles winced.
“I hope that you don’t have any plans for your first day of break.” His dad smiled thinly over the top of the paper.
Stiles thought briefly about changing his name and moving to Sarasota. “No. I don’t.”
His dad’s smile turned a lot nastier. “Oh yes.... yes you do. As soon as your guest leaves.”
Fuck. A. Duck.
Stiles was a master at using food as a diversion. He made himself an egg and pickle sandwich and sat down, popping right back up to get himself some tea, and bringing the whole jug back to the table.
“So....”
“Oh we can wait for all that. That Lydia Martin?” His dad jerked his head in the vague direction of his bedroom giving him the same intense stare from yesterday.
Stiles was really lucky that red just happened to be his color. He wondered if that was something else they taught in parental school: the ability to find Random Intimidating Props for Awkward Conversations. Why even have the newspaper if he wasn’t going to read it? Stiles took an exceptionally large bite of sandwich, nodding. He made a little face, wrinkling up his nose.
“The same one that you’ve been gaga over since you figured out what your dick was for?”
Stiles choked. “Daa-d!” Jesus!He set down the sandwich, his stomach jumping around uncomfortably. His dad, being that he was a complete and utterly evil bastard, just snorted and went back behind his newspaper. Stiles continued to pick at his sandwich.
Lydia came downstairs in a pair of sweats and a tshirt of Stiles’. Her wet hair was done in a braid down the center of her back.
“Miss Martin. Would you like something to eat?”
Stiles watched as Lydia flushed slightly, smiling at his dad. His dad practically melted in front of him. It was damn embarrassing, to tell the truth.
“No, sir. I think I’ve imposed enough.”
“It was no imposition!” Stiles half stood, smiling a little at her. “I was... glad. That I could help.”
Lydia’s smile turned into the full mega-watt beam of happiness that usually made Stiles’ heart thump in his chest. “Thank you, Stiles. See you later?”
Stiles nodded. “I’d wish you luck on your finals, but since you’re smarter than I am, I don’t really think you’ll need it.”
Her grin turned wicked, then pleased. She waved at him and his dad, hefted her bag over her shoulder and letting herself out of the house before either of the Stilinskis could rise to see her out. Stiles’ phone buzzed and he checked his messages. It was from Derek.
What? I trust her. She’s harmless.
Stiles snorted and texted back.
Ha. Tell that to my face. She’s got a mean left. Especially when holding car parts!
“Well.”
Stiles took a drink of his tea.
“So, anything you want to tell me?”
Stiles froze for a second, mind stuttering. Really? Where would he even begin?
“I take it from your deer-in-the-headlights look that you need a little help getting started.” Stiles’ dad said as he set down the newspaper. “Let’s start with Derek Hale.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Oh shit, indeed..., oh fruit of my loins.” The sheriff waited politely, giving Stiles a few minutes to compose his thoughts. “Hmm. Nothing?Lucky for you that I have a few additional conversation starters. Laura Hale. How about that little matter of the dead video store clerk? No? The dead janitor at your school? None of this ringing a bell?”
Stiles felt all the blood in his face drain away. He felt faint as he stared at his dad. “Uh..”
“Uh! Excellent rejoinder. So, being that I am actually trained in law enforcement... which judging by your gobsmacked expression you weren’t actually aware of... I went ahead and tried to think what those things had in common. Actually, I will admit that it took me a little bit for my brain to head this way. We wouldn’t want to forget the hospital and your most recent adventure at the garage. You know what all these crazy incidents have in common, Stiles?”
Stiles blinked, adrenaline flooding his system. His hand tightened on his phone.
“That would be you. My son is the common element in all of these crimes.”
Stiles blinked again, his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn’t so much the sarcasm. Stiles had practically embraced sarcasm as a second language. But the look on his dad’s face, the look that showed how far beyond disappointment he was, the cop look made him want to start talking.
His dad smiled nastily again and opened the folder. “So... I thought that perhaps I could... oh, I don’t know... put together some sort of whadyacallit? What do those cop-type people do again? Investigation. I began with taking a quick gander at your mileage. Unless you want to tell me that you’ve been driving to Scott’s house and back twelve times extra a day... or perhaps you’ve been doing donuts around the school? Nope? Okay then. Well, the extra mileage happens to miraculously coincide with the mileage to... yep! Derek Hale’s house. Waaaay out there in the woods. Several times a week even. Isn’t that interesting? Then there’s the even more... fascinating tidbits of your browser history.”
Shit. Shit Shit. There was no way that this was going to end well. Either he told his dad, and has several pissed off werewolves come after them both for fucking up the secrecy. Disloyalty was frowned upon... to put it lightly. Or... he doesn’t tell his dad...
“Werewolves. Alpha pack dynamics. Wolvesbane. The moon’s effect on a group psychosis. Okay, that actually sounds interesting. Huh. Oh, lookee here. The Hale murders. Derek Hale’s case file, and don’t think we’re not going to have a discussion about using my password to break into confidential information, young man. Something called a ka-min-a? Building code laws? For houses destroyed by fire? A truly frightening amount of porn.” Stiles’ dad paused for a second, flipped through another two pieces of paper. “A... lot of.... jesus, kid. You know that thing does chafe right?”
Stiles briefly considered the merits of drowning himself in the tea.
“And recently, the school. Your phone, found in the bottom of the pool. In-ter-rest-ing. Looks like your phone is in your hand. Huhn. Vandalism. Then you disappear all night?” Stiles dad paused, staring at his son. His voice just sounded tired when he spoke again. “So. A profile. An older man, who has been involved with the law. One who my son seems to be really interested in, enough that he goes to his house constantly. One who seems to be involved in one fuckload of crazy coincidences... one who has gotten my son involved in...” he trailed off. Seconds ticked by on the kitchen clock. Stiles was too afraid to speak. He was afraid not to speak. What the fuck is going on, Stiles?” His dad’s voice cracked.
Stiles honestly he didn’t know what he was going to say, but hearing that sick-with-worry, almost broken sound ripping out of his dad’s throat hurt. He felt his eyes burn with the sting of tears and opened his mouth.
“Dad--”
“Mr. Stillinski?”
Both of their heads whipped towards Scott, who stood in the doorway of the kitchen. They were long beyond the point where Scott needed permission to come inside, but the interruption was not welcome. The tension in the room was so thick Stiles thought he was choking on it.
“Uh. Mr. Stillinski. I couldn’t help but overhear. I know that this is not a good time. But Stiles isn’t up to anything illegal. Or wrong. Well, I’m not exactly sure what’s up with him and Der-- er. But what you’re thinking isn’t... it isn’t a bad thing.”
Stiles blinked really hard, stunned that Scott had managed to climb out of his self-inflicted angst to notice... or to care. Then, of course he immediately felt bad for thinking such shitty things about his friend. He dimly realized that his head was pounding from the stress and took a sip of his tea. It tasted like ashes in his mouth.
“Okay so... Mr. Stillinski? This is why Stiles has been acting so crazy.”
Stiles had time for a split-second of foreboding, then Scott wolfed out in front of his father. Stiles fumbled the tea, catching it just in time to keep it from spilling across the table. His dad sprung up, reaching for a gun that wasn’t there, putting himself in between Stiles and Scott. Scott kept back, raised both hands to show he was harmless. He morphed back to a human kid, then just let his eyes go that crazy yellow orange color.
Stiles recalled rather fondly the first time he’d seen a werewolf, reached up to grab his dad’s arm. He patted it and sighed. “I know dad. Kind of pants-shitter, right? Welcome to my life.”
***
It took Scott changing back and forth three more times, six shots of the whiskey, and three hours of semi-hysterical shouting for his dad to kind of go numb, staring off into space with the occasional twitch. Scott even did a few tricks, showing off some of his abilities. They didn’t tell him everything, of course. Neither of the boys were particularly stupid. Scott eventually left to go do his nightly pining on the top of Allison’s roof thing, not that that was creepy at all and Stiles was left on the couch besides his dad, staring at a muted episode of Mythbusters. His dad was going to town on some Doritos like he hadn’t eaten in a week. Stiles was so numb that he didn’t even bitch about it.
“So!”
Stiles groaned, staring at his dad warily. His head was pounding and he got up to get some aspirin, swallowing them down dry.
“You were attacked by a .. a what now?”
“It’s called a Kanima. Think of a giant lizard looking thing. I haven’t been able to find much about it. The general consensus is that it’s some kind of were-jaguar, but that is definitely not what I saw. Dad. If Derek hadn’t been there... I would have ended up clawed up. Or like that mechanic.”
His dad threw back the rest of his drink.
“I did find a guy near Portland that is some kind of expert, but he hasn’t emailed me back yet.”
“So you’re some kind of ... researcher? Stiles. I... you know that I’ll love you no.. no matter what but I have to ask. Do you turn furry once a month?”
“No! Dad, come on. If Scott hadn’t been here and I was all... So! Dad. Dad.. daddy-o, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t mind that I figured out what killed Laura Hale for you. It was a grrrr! Yep dingdingdig! A werewolf! Lookout Lon Chaney! Yes. A werewolf. Oh no, there’s not one... there’s actually like five of them around.... you would have put me in the psycho ward so fast my head would have spun.” Speaking of a werewolf. Stiles tried to check his phone messages without his dad being too aware of what he was doing.
Still nothing from Derek.
Derek? Hello?
“Hmm. So.. what’s with this Hale guy?” His dad leaned back from where he had been obviously looking at Stiles’ phone.
“You know that I’ve got that conference in a few days. Maybe with all of this I should cancel...”
Stiles flushed. “ No! Dad. It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t do that.” He flailed his hand around. “All this has been happening, will be happening whether or not you’re here.”
His dad just furrowed his eyebrows, and Stiles took a deep breath. “Derek. Uh. He is... confusing. Very confusing.” Stiles saw his dad’s bloodshot gaze focus on him, that same intense stare from before making him feel both very uncomfortable and very lucky that he was so concerned.
“That was a pretty rough blow, losing his sister like that. They were pretty tight from what I remember. He... was a good kid. the Hales kept to themselves. Weren’t any trouble... that’s why it was such a shock when they were all gone.”
“He says I smell good,” Stiles blurted, then wanted to smack himself.
“Hunhh. Did he say you smell legal?”
Stiles just rolled his eyes. He held up a finger. first- I’m seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in a few months. That’s like... nothing. And let’s really focus on the real fact here: we live in a society that says it’s legal to have sex before you drink alcohol? What the hell is that about? Not that I’ve ever. uh. done either of those things. Obviously.” Stiles coughed, blushing. Well at least one of them was true. “And the second thing: If anything Derek thinks of me as kind of a really annoying kid. Who is good with a computer.” Yeah and that sucked. Stiles shoulders slumped. He hoped that his dad didn’t notice how dejected his voice sounded. They were quiet for awhile. By mutual consent they switched the television to Top Chef, then stared in a stupor for awhile.
“So... are orcs real? Shit. Vampires? Elves? Do you know any fairies?”
Stiles snorted. “I just said I was confused, dad.Let’s not start with the name-calling. ”
His dad’s eyebrows curled in confusion for a second, then he snorted with laughter, which set Stiles off. Stiles’ dad swatted him with a pillow and Stiles collapsed in helpless giggles, overtired and over emotional from everything that had happened since waking up with Lydia.
It had been a long time since their mingled laughter filled a room Later, when Stiles fell asleep on the couch, his dad just kissed him on the forehead, pulling the ratty blanket over his son’s exhausted form. His dad hadn’t missed the exhaustion, or the not-eating, or the lassitude. He sighed and stood up a little unsteadily, flicking off the television and the light. He was pretty sure that he still had Hale’s cell number from his booking. Maybe it was time to give him a call. He put away the Doritos and shook his head.
“Werewolves. In Beacon Hills. What the fuck.”
**
To: stiles_the_still@hotmail.com
From: Thomas.Levitt@orr.com
Re: Research Project
I found the topic of your research project fascinating. I would be interested in meeting with you in person to discuss, as it’s not really the type of conversation I would be comfortable putting in an email. Please respond with date and time of expected visit, and I will make myself available to you.
Thomas. Levitt, Professor of Biology and Endangered Species, .M.S. PhD.
***
Stiles sat in his jeep, biting his lip. It had been two days since his dad had been clued into the preternatural goings on of Beacon Hills. He looked down at the bag in his hand, then looked away from it as though it would bite him. Stiles knew that his dad was working a double tonight. If he hadn’t been, Stiles would have just jerked off and called it a day.
But.
He was feeling weird again, that kind of skin-too-small feeling that he tended to associate with Derek. Which was weird. Derek still hadn’t bothered to answer his text. Stiles knew that he’d be back in time for the full moon though. That was only a few days away. But the fact remained that: 1) He’d spent the night with Lydia Martin and hadn’t even spazzed out once. 2) Even looking at Derek’s name in his phone caused his body to tighten. So yeah. Logic says...?
He was a hell of a lot more than curious. Hence the trip three towns over.
Surely no one would know him, or his car, or that he was the sheriff’s kid. Some things had to be sacred, after all. Stiles licked his lips and shifted in his seat, grabbing the bag and heading inside. He itched the back of his neck as he unlocked the front door, peering right and left to make sure no one saw him, then slipped inside, holding the bag with a white-knuckled grip that caused the brown bag to crinkle.
He thundered up the stairs, tossed the bag on his bed and went to take a shower. He had been in the middle of a game of Mass Effect with Scott when it had hit him: maybe he needed to experiment a little, play around to see if he was really into the whole ass deflowering thing. He’d almost blurted it out, but Scott had given him a weird look before he could and shifted slightly away from him.
Stiles had recalled Derek’s words about scent and had blushed hard enough to feel dizzy. Scott had been so distant lately with the end of school, the fact he was working forty hours a week at the vet’s, wrapped up with Allison and his pack training that Stiles hadn’t wanted to make anything more strained. It had been nice to just have some bro time. Not that he didn’t feel he could discuss his (maybe) gay crisis with his best friend.... but. Just not now.
Scott hadn’t known were Derek and Erica had been either. The others had been scarce too, which quite frankly was a little weird. It wasn’t normal for everything to be so quiet. But there had been no sign of the Kanima. Hell, even the Argents were quiet since Allison and her crazy-ass family had gone on vacation. Some kind of survival camp. What the hell.
Stiles huffed out a breath and turned off his shower, stepping out and wiping a streak in the steam from the mirror. He didn’t bother with a towel. He still looked tired. Which was weird because he slept all the damn time. He must have some sort of stomach thing, because he hadn’t really felt like eating much of anything lately. Stiles started to climb on his bed, then got up and decided to lock his door and pull his blinds. He felt weird about checking in with his dad before he went off on his gay sexscapades, but the promise to always call when he got home was a hard habit to break. He hadn’t wanted to lie to his dad, but telling him that he was off to go buy a dildo was probably pushing the truth thing. Stiles made a face as he left a message, then set his phone on his night table.
Stiles’ dick twitched when he pulled out the small container of Boy Butter, and had the horrifying thought: what if that huge-ass stockpile had belonged to someone else and not Derek? No. Derek’s whole house had burnt down. There wasn’t anything in that bathroom that he didn’t need. If it was there, then it was because Derek had put it there. Stiles shivered when he imagined Derek using it and felt his mouth dry up, his breathing change a little. He took off the plastic and opened the lid, grinning a little at the fact that it looked just like a tub of margarine. Yeah and that hand gripping the churn thingy wasn’t suggestive at all. Stiles shook his head, his grin widening. Pure marketing genius. He sniffed it, then stuck the tip of his finger in to rub it against his thumb. Oh.. yeah. Slick. It felt a lot lighter than the lotion he usually used. Cautiously he licked at it, pleased that it didn’t actually taste like butter. That would just be too fucking weird.
Stiles bit his lip as he opened the plastic on the little Vibe-O-Matic. It was small. Well, it wasn’t small but it didn’t look like that other silver looking monstrosity either. That thing wasn’t coming near his ass, thank you very much. He’d almost collapsed in nervous laughter when he had seen that the ginormous thing had been called the Silver Bullet, and had scurried away. It hadn’t helped that the sales lady looked to be about seventy years old, and amused as hell at his embarrassment. Stiles had tried to be all blasé about being in the porn shop, while his eyes were probably bugging out and dick hard in his jeans. He looked at the small vibrator and frowned. It was shaped kind of weird, and when he turned it on he jerked at the muted buzzing that filled his room. Oh. So that’s what the package meant about prostate massage.
So okay. True or false. He was attracted to Derek Hale.
True. Definitely, definitely true. Stiles lay back on his bed, idly stroking down his stomach, over his abs. He bit his lip and tried thinking of the other guys he knew to see if his body reacted the same way. Jackson- no. Hell no. The douche factor took away from any possible boner-inducing admiration of his body. Danny? Not.. entirely unattractive. At all. Huh. Scott? Stiles wrinkled his nose, jerking his hand away from his dick. Ewww. No. Stiles ran through a few other guys that he knew, and some girls, but finally gave it up when for no reason at all Stiles remembered what it felt like to have Derek pin him against the tree in the woods, his whole body keeping Stiles’ from moving.
Stiles leaned up and dipped his fingers back into the lube, running them up and down his shaft, then began tugging,
grunting a little as pleasure caused his whole body to tense. He reached up to thumb at his nipple, gasping a little bit in the quiet of his room. Stiles closed his fist around him, rubbing the thumb over the head of his cock, his other hand rubbing over his skin, his balls, tugging at his pubic hair. He imagined Derek’s face as he woke up with him, the eyes just a little sleepy, his face in that too-careful frozen mask that he did when he was super angry. He imagined if he had just leaned a little closer...
“Shiiit.” His whole body felt like it was on edge, and he hadn’t really even done anything.
Stiles moved so that he was braced against the headboard, giving his cock one final tugging twist and dipped back into the lube. He spread his legs and reached down, biting his lip a little, his head rolling back onto the headboard so that he could look up at his ceiling.
He spread some of the lube around his hole then pushed in the tip of one finger. He could feel himself tighten around the little intrusion, and pushed a little further, gasping again. He moved it, wincing a little, then pulled out and slicked it again. His finger went in easier this time, and felt less... okay no. It still felt weird.
He imagined in his head what Derek would be like. Would he be slow? Angry? Would it hurt? Stiles gave himself another finger. The angle was a little weird as he moved his fingers, in and out, using his other hand to sort of awkwardly hold his cheeks open. Maybe it would be easier if he was on his hands and knees? His second finger pushed against the rim and he cried out this time. That... definitely didn’t hurt. His dick gave twitch, like it was agreeing, and Stiles could feel a little bit of precome on his abdomen.
He took out his fingers and used them on his cock, which was red and hard and mmm That felt... “Yeah.” Stiles shifted again and almost knocked the lube off the bed in his haste to get to the toy. He leaned over, using a lot of lube on it, globbed some more on his hole as he turned over, bracing one hand against the headboard and reaching back with the toy, his harsh breaths loud in his room. He was too tense and it didn’t go in easily. The angle was too... “Damnit!” Stiles had to stop again and shifted so that he was on his side, facing his door with his back to the window. He moved his leg up and out of the way, and reached back again, trying to relax. He slid it in slowly, his breath absolutely stopping as the bumps on the vibe stretched him, allowing him to tighten back over it.
The first inch hurt a little. Well, not hurt, but was too tight. It made him feel like he was stretching just this side of too much. He idly noticed his dick had softened a little bit at the new sensation and he tried tightening his fist a little. He took another deep breath and worked it inside, slowly. There was pressure, then ... a slide and his whole body jerked again, nerves singing.
“Oh.. Oh...”
Stiles was covered in sweat, but thought his eyes were going to roll back in his head as he moved it in and out. It was only about three inches long, but it felt a lot bigger. Stiles had the thought Derek would be thicker, longer, would split you open when he fucks you and jerked again, moaning low in his throat. His slippery finger hit the switch and Stiles arched as his spine bowed, his eyes wide open and blind as he felt his whole body tighten at the vibrations of the toy. It was too much.... god! Stiles thought he was going to have a seizure or something so he turned it off with another cry. His dick lept up, and Stiles started jerking his fist, trying to fuck himself with the toy and fuck into his hand, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to move right, overwhelmed with what his body was feeling.
Stiles turned over on his back, his legs splayed wide as the vibe jostled inside of him, slipping out as he turned. Derek wouldn’t let it be awkward. He’d hold him down and just fuck into him, staring down, leaning down to rub his face on him again. Would Derek like to kiss? Stiles’ whole body was on the knife’s-edge of coming apart and he wanted it, was greedy for it, but he couldn’t quite... It was there just ... almost and... “Der--ek!” Stiles whined curling his toes into the sheets as he thrust up into his tight fist.
He thought heard a sound at the window.
Stiles jerked his gaze up, but was too close to stop. Derek had frozen in the middle of climbing inside of his room, his hand mangling the drapes that he’d pulled aside so that he could enter. Derek’s eyes were a bright, clear blue as he stared down at him.
“Stiles.” Derek’s eyes gleamed red in the faint light of the room.
Stiles’ mouth opened with a wail as he starbursts claimed his vision, his dick spurting, come landing on his chin. The second spurt landed on his chest and he was horrified but couldn’t stop moving his hand, finishing himself off until he was just lying there, wrecked. Had he... dreamed..? Had Derek just...?
He blinked his eyes open, looking at the window. “Oh... no. Oh please no.” No was right. No way did he imagine that Derek had seen him, had spoken to him. The curtains that he’d pulled shut were wide open, the window letting in the cool breeze of the night. Stiles heard the low growl of the Camaro’s engine, then the squeal of tires.
Stiles panicked.
His dad. Was going to be out of town for at least a week. He could go. He had to go, to leave, before Derek came back.
Stiles sat up, panting now, hyperventilating as shame made the air in his lungs disappear. He sucked in a breath on a sob, humiliated and disgusted with himself, then he was packing, shoving clothes in his backpack. Out. He had to get out of here. Hurry. Have to hurry. Derek was going to kill him. He’d probably been so sickened that he actually ran off...
disgusted. Angry. He used his towel from earlier to swipe at the come and lube on his chest and ass, skin crawling. Stiles dressed quickly, throwing on whatever he found in his dresser.
Stiles jerked the plug to his Mac out of the wall and shoved it and his computer in the backpack along with his wallet. His bed was messed up, the lube and the toy sitting innocently on the mattress. Stiles made a high-pitched, almost wounded sound and shoved the toy and the lube in the brown sack, frantically looking around for somewhere to stash it, deciding that he should just take it with him to throw it away.
He had to get out of here. He grabbed his phone, on autopilot, grabbed his backpack and ran down the stairs. Scott? No. Scott was pack. Scott wasn’t safe; he’d do whatever Derek wanted him to do. He had to go somewhere ... anywhere else. Just had to... go.
Somewhere safe.
Somewhere that wasn’t Beacon Hills.
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Date: 2012-06-29 10:52 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for taking a chance on me!!
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