Two months of almost desperate longing, that was nothing compared to the years of pining he'd suffered over Lydia. The time was almost laughable, a blip in the span of time he had spent suffering his thoughts for someone who didn't want him back. Yet two months seemed like a lifetime now, they made each day feel like a year as it passed slowly before him, then left in the time of a breath.
Time lapsed so strangely now, especially the moments in which nothing happened, when he was alone or at school, or dealing with some other soft of disaster. Seconds ticked by a dozen at a time, leaving his head spinning, silently crying, begging them to stop. Other times they dragged on forever, pulling at his heart and making it impossible to concentrate, wishing thrice between each tock for it to speed up and give him freedom from its throng.
Nothing seemed to work, time was an expedient form of torture designed to leave the teenager in a perpetual state of unrest. It had existed long before him and would continue on as if he never existed when he was gone, leaving him powerless against its clutches.
His thoughts were demons too, working against him in the worst of ways, making it impossible to know reality from imagination, creeping up on him when it was most inconvenient. Like math class, rendering him immobile for the better part of the period, only to captivate him in his seat the moment the bell rang. No book was large enough to hide his thoughts, nor a teacher kind enough to leave him sit, camouflaging his embarrassment with aid of his desk.
Thankfully Scott had rescued him, spoken up and offered to step in for him; which locked the two of them into an argument with the teacher long enough to distract his thoughts and calm the engorged humiliation suffocated within his jeans. But his friend would not always be there to save him, not in school or in life, and in this he was alone, unable to speak to anyone about the romance that had rekindled the dying embers left within his heart.
After Lydia had chosen Jackson, admitting to her love, he saw it there before him, the chance he'd never have, brandished like a sign encrusted with diamonds and framed in neon light. 'I will never love you.' It was all he needed to know, all it took to break his heart. And though it laid there, shattered at his feet as he watched the two of hem kiss, he proceeded to hold hope.
Fools hope won some battles but lost wars, that was how it worked. And there he'd sat, wasting away, the fires within his heart slowly dying. He had lost the war.
But the fires were no longer out, the last ember had sparked a new log tossed into the ashes. Hope still remained, despite the blow he'd been given, despite the desperation ever creeping in on him, like suffocating, drowning slowly. A life raft remained afloat beside him, and though he would have liked to say it had been Scott to throw it to him, his best friend there to rescue him, they were brothers and in matters of the heart something else was required.
As unlikely as it had seemed, as unlikely -if not more- than he and Lydia, was who had rescued his heart from complete and utter devastation. It had begun as tension, nothing more than heads constantly on track to butt with one another, and yet, underneath it all, they had always shared an understanding. It was that understanding which drove them together, to defend and protect each other in the most unexpected of times.
Perhaps it was more than a mere two months, maybe it had begun long before then, something ignored by the both of them. However long it had been, it felt like forever now, and the feeling of time weighing on him would not relent.
Today would be different, it would give him peace, yet the seconds ticked on like hours, taunting him as he watched the clock in desperation. So close to freedom, yet so far. Stiles stared up from his textbook as the rest of the class read, eyeing the second hand as it passed ever slowly by the eight, as if gravity were cheating him of the bell ring.
"Faster!" he mouthed, feeling his canines dig into the soft tissue of his lip.
It felt like an eternity, but the minute finally passed, the second hand hesitating with its ever annoying half tock back before the tick and the bell, and he was out of the door before anyone else.
Scott ran behind him, trying to catch up, but there was no time for deterrents; he had a clear straightaway to his jeep and he was taking it. Aware the moment he sat down behind the wheel that he had forgotten his bag, Stiles rolled his eyes toward his friend's direction, looking at him as Derek often did himself, like he would tear out his throat. But there, in the boy's hands, was his bag, which held his keys since gym class.
"What's the hurry?" Scott huffed in a cheery fluster.
"No hurry!" Unable to avoid the small crack in his pubescent voice, Stiles lied, trying to avert any further delay.
"You forgot your bag," the wolf chimed, hoisting the thing through the passenger side window, and lowered it onto the seat.
Reaching over with no more than an idle thanks, the boy rummaged through the pocket for his keys, shaking them as he thrust them into the ignition.
"You sure you're okay?"
Would this torture not cease? "Yup. Just really looking forward to that ten page paper due Monday." Rolling his head over to shoot his friend a dismissive look, he watched as Scott backed away, stealing a step back onto the curb with a sigh. He was being short, lying, and pushing him away again. "I'm just having one of those days, sorry."
"It's cool. I was gonna ask for a ride but… Maybe I'll catch you tomorrow. We can work on that paper together, get it knocked out in one shot."
"Yeah, maybe," he replied, putting the car into reverse as the engine purred like a dying cat. Their gazes broke as Stiles pulled away, kicking himself mentally for the way he'd behaved.
It was difficult not to though, not when his better judgment told him not to rub this love in his heartbroken friend's face; not when it was already complicated enough as it was. Two months of it and he had never once told a soul about it, not a single peep, and for no other reason than everyone else. So he pushed those he cared about away, held them at arm's reach, until he knew more of what this was, of what he had been doing, what he'd become.
No, he wasn't a werewolf, he hadn't changed, not deep down. Still the Stiles everyone knew and… tolerated, he was fundamentally the same. But something had transformed him, altered a part of who he'd thought he was, and made him whole.
Definitions were always so shaky, so resolute, so definitive, which Stiles had often seen so black and white. Life was never so stark and regimented though, and he could not deny that what engulfed him now was a cloud of gray, so thick like soup he could hardly move. So he remained, exploring it, trying to understand what all of it meant, as promptly as he could, in hopes one day he would tell everyone.
For now, it was best left alone, left to their private exploration, which was where he headed now. Through the woods, veering from the streets of town, to the burnt shanty the Alpha dwelled. The charred timbers and broken windows, the dungeon full of cells and shackles; it was home, it always would be, which the boy understood now. Derek would never leave, he'd found it impossible to stay away, and nothing about that confused the human any longer, it made sense.
The moment he stepped out of his jeep, Stiles looked to the house and saw Derek waiting there for him, hands wringing around a dirty rag, muscles glistening with sweat. How that image stunned him now did all but surprise, since he'd always stood in awe of the man's form. Only now, now it held an allure that haunted his thoughts, aroused in him daydreams, and left his sheets sticky and cold in the morning.
They shared a glance before the Alpha took a step forward, inviting the boy to come to him. Walking the short distance from where he'd parked, Stiles climbed the steps onto the porch, and stood before the werewolf, breath already catching in his chest.
"You got here fast."
"Yeah, I think I broke a couple speed limits by the time I got out of the parking lot."
"I take it you missed me."
Most redundant statement in the world, but Stiles managed to still nod.
"You ready?"
Again, the boy nodded, agreeing with the rhetorical question, eagerly.
They'd promised they'd wait, they'd take their time. Heavy petting, kissing, an exploration of each others bodies and their limits. Neither of them had, had such an encounter, Stiles even more so, since he'd had no encounters at all, wither with the same or opposite sex. Their genders posed an interesting experience, but their love evolved past the awkward curiosity and inexperience. They'd moved past his premature releases and from Derek's urge to bite him when lost in the grip of passion. But there was still a level they hadn't explored, one they had agreed to wait for.
As awkward as the conversation had been, no conversation in which Stiles made suggestions or spoke about sex, could ever not be awkward. Yet the Alpha, with his grace of withholding words, choosing only the best and simplest ones to use when he felt best, countered the boys rambling and exasperation.
They picked a random date, one on which they would finally explore the last level of this, whatever it was. Whatever happened, however they felt after, would determine what they were, would give them all they needed to know. It could have simply been tension, a mere arousal of curiosity and frustration. With Stiles it could have been his heart recovering from the blow Lydia gave, and Derek an outlet for his aggression; but both suspected it was much more, both secretly hoping it was more.
Leading the boy toward his room, Derek tossed the rag from his hands, discarding it on the floor as they entered, and stood with his back to him, ashamed of the sparse surroundings. Candles would have been romantic, it would have at least given the room something more than the gloom and resemblance of a burnt prison cell, but he feared an open flame inside the house.
Stiles, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less what it looked like; he'd been inside the room before, he'd seen the blackened walls, the crumbled ashes of the paper that once lined them, the indistinct posters of the former boy's room that depicted things he'd once been enthused about in another time. This was where he'd once been free, a place he'd been happy, his retreat. Much like his room at home, it held memories for the man, it held a kind of safe ground for him, which Stiles found welcoming. He didn't need candles, he only needed him.
Placing a hand gently upon the wolf's shoulder, his fingers slightly shaking as the anticipation built inside him, shooting adrenaline and hormones racing through his body. He felt the dapple of sweat lining the man's flesh, felt the heat radiate off him. With each deep breath, he felt Derek's muscles stretch and groan, the tightness in them, the decades of stress held within. Slowly he moved toward him, letting his hand slide over his arm, around to his bare chest, followed by the other, which snaked around his waist, holding himself to him.
One of Derek's large hands rest upon his smaller one, fingers lacing gradually as they stood there, and Stiles pressed a kiss on his back, assuring him this was alright. He was ready, they were ready, as ready as they'd ever be. It didn't have to be heavy and steeped in passion, it could be soft, it should be, gentle, tender, that was how he wanted it.
Still unable to shake his uncertainty, Derek allowed Stiles to lead him over to the bed, sitting them both down as he hung his head, eyes shut apprehensively. Slender finders brushing against bristles of unshaved scruff, the boy turned the wolf's head toward him, leading him into a kiss, which lingered with a breath between them, whispering, "It's okay."
Gripping the boy's thigh, running his fingertips over the pulse running along the inside, just under the seam of his jeans. It was there he felt the growing erection of his lover, inching toward his hand, which cupped itself in place, following the steady pound of his heart.
Nipping lightly at Stiles' ear, Derek felt his passions rise, his own erection causing him to shift his position, shuffling himself without a touch, as he leaned more into the boy. Laying a strong kiss upon his jugular, letting his lips linger over the thumping rush of blood that coursed through the human's body, he growled, low and deep, almost purring.
The sound enticed the boy more, feeling his hand graze over the crotch of the Alpha's jeans, fumbling his fingers lightly for the buckle of his belt. Stealing his hand from its place on Stiles' thigh, Derek took hold of his wrist, gently, leading it slowly up along the zipper, toward his belt, and held it there a moment before replacing it once more in his lap.
Freeing his lover's manhood in just a few, well made motions, he let his fingers graze the silky flesh of his head, feeling it twitch against his hand, before gripping it loosely. Again, his own member grew, feeling Derek's hand slide over it, less than an inch of fabric teasing the dulled sensation of his touch. A deep sigh escaped him as the wolf tightened his grip ever so slightly, as his hand slid up his shaft then fell.
Pulling away from the boy's neck and moving suddenly away from his hand, Derek stood, leaned over above him, encouraging him to lay down. But as Stiles began lowering himself, the wolf's fingers inched under his shirt, gripping it as he fell, and lifted it over his head with minimal effort.
The two fell back then, the man atop of him, kissing him deeply, his hot breath heating their lips as it escaped in a huff, like steam, from his nose. Their hands explored each others chests: Derek letting his fingers wrap around Stiles' side and hold his panting form in place, while the boy felt his thumbs pass over the wolf's erect nipples, hearing him give a yearning groan at the way it tormented him. Wrapping his arms around the man, Stiles held him close, forcing his body to press against his, until he felt the distinct brush of his head against his stomach.
Moaning softly, he stole a hand from Derek's chest, letting the other slide over the ripples of his abdomen, and began unbuttoning his own jeans. With a buck of his hips, the wolf ground himself against the boy, inadvertently pushing his hand away, but swiftly relented. He calmed himself, allowing the boy to continue, until he heard the button pop from its place, and the zipper give as a few of the teeth broke from each other.
Derek lifted himself from off the boy, letting his firm hands glide down his sides, which caused the his back to arch as he writhed and fought against the slight tickle it gave him. Yearning, Stiles' eyes looked into the lacquer of the wolf's dim, green-tinted orbs, barely lit in the dimming light cast through the window from the setting sun. He let his hips rise and fall as the Alpha slowly stripped the clothing from him, pushing his jeans and boxers together to rest upon his ankles, cuffed by the sneakers still on his feet.
Lowering himself to his knees, their eyes never leaving the boy's, Derek tenderly slid each shoe from Stiles' feet, removing every stitch of clothing, and reveled for a moment in the naked form before him. He was lean, a misapprehend, shapely body, toned but not to the same definition his own was. An athlete, Stiles had managed to hide himself from everyone else, the true image of him that he allowed others to assume, was that of a weakling, frail, but he was far from it.
Admiring how delicate he still was, Derek smiled, soft and understated, which caused the boy to blush. "What?" he asked, almost coyly.
The wolf did not reply, instead, he climbed slowly on top of the boy, letting his lips rest upon the slight definition of muscle on his stomach. Trailing a line of kisses gradually from his navel to chin, Derek brought his head up and swung his lips to crash onto Stiles', feeling the boy's body deflate and melt slightly into the bed. Assuring him with his kiss that nothing was wrong, he appreciated the boy more for his modesty, sharing the bank of reservations they both kept hidden from others.
It was all that either of them never said aloud, the things no one else could understand, that they shared. The pain they knew of losing family, of being misjudged and assumed, of being outcast despite the deep seeded desire to be accepted. They knew each other, related in a deeper way than anyone had ever cared to venture with either of them, and had unexpectedly found their soul mates.
This was what Stiles yearned to know for sure, to feel without doubt or hesitation, to define for once in a way he could express to someone other than the man who's body pressed into him. While Derek -the broken wolf, full of guilt and remorse- longed for the way the boy knew him, how he could say all the words he couldn't, to keep him, forever, to cling to what they had and never let it slip through his fingers.
The trust that had grown between them had frightened him at first, driven him away; the trepidation of past experience too strong for him to accept. But somehow the boy had broken down his defenses, he had wormed his way into his heart, into his soul. What they were was clear to him, but seeing as he had many years on the teen, he took his time, played his patience in the name of love, and allowed him to define it how he wished, in how ever long a time he required.
It was time, now, here, and they both readily entered this, looking forward to the end, but the experience itself just as much. Attentive to his lover, the wolf had gripped him firmly and had been pleasing him. Leaned onto his side, he sighed softly into his kisses as the boy writhed with pleasure, moaning deep inside his chest, at tones he rarely employed. But stopped short, saving the boy from release, allowing him to savor it, to harbor until the right moment.
He let the boy push his jeans away, feeling his shaking hands glide over the mound of his backside, through the tufts of hair along his thighs, then run his fingertips their way back up along his spine. Their eyes met for a moment, Derek inspecting the boy's gaze, judging how prepared they were for this, while Stiles expression assured the man he was ready, a hint of elation lingering in his auburn pools.
Shaking his clothing from him, Derek sat back on his heels, hooking his hands to the crook of Stiles' knees, and brought the boy closer to him, sliding him through the mangled sheets, to rest perfectly beneath him. "Ready?"
The boy nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the Alpha's features as the man reached for lubrication, and watched as he hung his head, applying it to himself. There was apprehension there, which Stiles quelled with a gentle hand, running it slowly over Derek's forearm, his head cocked to the side sweetly, assuring him there was nothing wrong in this. They were ready, he was old enough to give consent, and after this, there would be no need for guilt or fear, it would be easy. All the had to do was get past this first time.
Leaving a dab on the tips of his fingers, Derek reached his hand toward Stiles, carefully pressing them against him, before applying pressure and letting them verge inside him. The boy shook, closing his eyes to the sensation, finally breaking the stare he had locked on his lover's face. He let himself find the pleasure in it, moving past the discomfort, and gradually relaxed into Derek's touch.
Removing his fingers slowly, the wolf leaned forward, pressing his hand to his surgation, guiding it downward, leading it toward the human's willing hole. Parting his cheeks carefully, he inched himself into his lover, rather than plunge deep inside him. The tension built swiftly inside him causing his body to tremble, his eyes to glow fire red, and mouth to fall agape. Pressing on, containing the wild beast within, Derek continued to enter Stiles slowly, savoring the sensation; sparing the boy from excruciating pain.
Eyes winced shut with discomfort, Stiles forced them open, forced himself to take the length, to feel every inch, to find the pleasure amidst the sting and ache. Feeling himself stretch to take his lover in, he stole a sharp breath, letting it out, loud and long, allowing it to form into the softest moan.
Reaching the hilt, Derek held himself still a moment, hesitating, waiting for the boy's reaction. His nails dig into his shoulders, he felt them give, releasing slowly, consenting him to proceed. Hips swaying ever more back, he took his time, allowed Stiles to concede to his passage.
Gradually his gesticulations increased, his hips bucking more with each thrust, the pace growing. Moans of discomfort eventually turned to those of contentment, urging on each plunge causing a louder and more gratified response. Until the point Stiles had placed his hands upon Derek's posterior, guiding him deeper, harder against him.
They grunted and moaned in unison, the euphoria erupting between them, the sensations pure ecstasy. Stiles had moved his hand to pleasure himself as the other adhered to the nape of Derek's neck, as he immersed himself in his swain, feeling his resolve snap and buckle under his desires.
Once again, the boy had clenched his eyes shut tight against the fever of bliss, feeling his loins ache. Winding his arm around Derek's shoulders, he held him close, feeling his body quiver just before the explosion took him, forcing his head to toss back in a cry of zeal.
His cry pierced the very fabric holding the Alpha together, from tearing the boy to shreds with his fervor. Groaning in agony as he attempted in vain to remain placid, his motions tender and loving, he could no longer resist. Throwing himself off the boy, he stood back on his knees over him, taking hold of his hips, and drove into him hard, growling vociferously.
The boy whimpered, moaning as the pleasures would not cease, feeling his body grow limp and weary with excursion. His tired eyes, heavy with the weight of his orgasm, fluttered and faltered, before finding his beloved's, their gazes locking in the most profound union they had yet to share. Feeling this, the way it tugged at his heart and made it race, engorged with emotion, Derek felt himself grow close. The ever familiar pulse, then with each he spilled inside the boy.
Head fallen and back bowed a moment, he thrust himself to the limit, pitching himself back with an mammoth howl. The sound shook the crumbling rafters and dank wood of the charred ruins, echoing throughout the surrounding forest. It lingered in the air, reverberated within the boy's racing heart, and sent shivers down his scorching spine.
Feeling his lover sway, his body wavering as his exerted strength was finally vanquished, and left a steady hand against the man's chest. Derek panted heavily, almost stealing the oxygen from the room as he hunched forward, nearly falling on top of the diminutive human. He collapsed, laying beside Stiles, his legs stretching out slowly, face buried in his neck, and arm draped across his chest. Breathing in unison, they laid there, reveling in the experience, engulfed in emotion and revelry.
Stiles let his fingertips drift over Derek's back, as his arm laid pinned under him. Taking in his lover's scent, the Alpha purred, knowing in that moment he had found his mate.
As fearful as he had been, traumatized by Kate's betrayal years ago, he had languished those feelings long before he had ever first kissed the human residing within his embrace. Had he ever questioned Stiles, he would have never risked such a thing, to trust him, but the boy had begged, and quite honestly -despite their former feud- for him to let him in, to place his life in his hands. Without even the slightest inkling of deception, the boy had proven himself, saving Derek from a sure and violent death. In turn, he had repaid him by giving him his heart, awaiting the right moment before making his feelings known, and rescued the boy from the heartbreak Lydia had cast over him.
This was how Derek loved Stiles, wholly and without reservation, content the moment he felt their lips meet, and now, as they lay in their coital rapture. And Stiles, he allowed it to dawn on him gradually, ruling over each limit they tested each time they met, stealing moments to explore the boundaries of this uncultivated territory. Finally, with tenacious affirmation, he could finally admit to himself that he was in love with the wolf steadily falling asleep atop him.
His eyes moved to examine Derek's profile, watching the stubble of his cheek flinch as he clenched his jaw, likely dreaming, and he imagined the man pawing and whimpering like a dog locked in a dream. The image caused a smirk to thin his lips, dimpling his cheek as he surrendered to the fog swiftly moving across his brain.
Craning his neck once more as he felt Derek's lips pucker against his chest, a dogged grin pulled at either corner of his mouth, before letting his expression and head fall, sinking into the pillow beneath his head. A soft breath escaped him as he whispered to his lover, his boyfriend, a compassionate, "I love you," feeling the sleep finally grip him, stealing him into a peaceful dream.