Derek knew that this wasn't good; that he shouldn't be doing this. His mother always taught him to respect others and most of all, to respect himself. "People won't accept you if you don't esteem yourself."

The thing is, that's exactly what's happening. After another terrible date that his family has insisted on (again…), Derek didn't have the highest opinion of himself. He blamed himself for falling for Kate's deceiving words, for Patrick's expensive presents and Jennifer's body. He should have learnt it by now: his dark and cynical view of life, his dry and sarcastic sense of humor (when it came out, that is) was not for everybody. His body, on the other hand, obviously was.

And this is exactly why he always came back to this, even if he had wanted to do what his family expected of him, a partner and a relationship. But people didn't appreciate his personality, so he needed other ways to feel wanted, to see people enjoy his company. Even if it was only his mouth. And he wasn't using it for talking.

No, he went to his favorite gay bar a few towns over from Beacon Hills (you can't be too careful). He loved this place because people knew him here. They knew that he came here every Thursday and that he took the leftmost bathroom stall for two hours. But they didn't know more than that. They didn't know his story, and they didn't pity him for that. Not like people did in Beacon Hills. Here he could leave that all behind and concentrate on giving pleasure; since he himself couldn't get any, at least, this way, others could.

The other reason he liked this bar was that this was a place he surely wouldn't meet any coworkers from the school. Mike, he knows, prefers The Jungle in Beacon Hills, so Derek couldn't go there. He sure as hell would lose his job if the kids' parents figure out that he sucks cock as a hobby on every Thursday.

He had contemplated asking money for it but that would make him feel used. He didn't do it for the money, he did it because he loved it and it helped to escape reality.

He'd been 17 when he first realized what a liberating feeling it was to have a hard, warm cock in your mouth. It'd been the first time he was with a man; before that it was only girls. But when he turned 16, Kate Argent, former star of Beacon Hills High, had almost destroyed him. She was funny, witty, charming. No wonder Derek fell for her. He was 4 years younger than she was, totally against the law and his family's knowing. Because he couldn't tell them; no, Derek had known that his mother would strongly disagree, would argue about it. The worst of it all was that, looking back now, she was right.

Kate had played him, you could say it was almost an art form for her: promises, secrets, and satisfying his teenaged hormones. But deep down Derek had known that this wasn't right, that he shouldn't give his heart, too, not just his body, to this woman.

The moment of realization had come when he was tied to a bed, naked, gagged and shivering in the cold as sweat cooled on his slap-reddened skin. Kate had been only wearing her blood red (how fitting...) lingerie and she had a dagger in her hand, a maniac grin on her face. Derek'd tried to break free, he pulled on the ropes but his teenage body hadn't been strong enough yet, he was stuck, dread filling him as Kate approached him. The worst thing was that she was talking, saying filthy things that made Derek's stomach turn, while she had put the blade to his chest and slowly dragged it towards his belly button. In that moment, all Derek could feel was pain, humiliation and hate. He hated himself for believing that the most popular girl to ever attend BHH would be interested in him; gangly, nerdy freshman Derek Hale with his hipster glasses and braces.

She hadn't cut deep, only to draw blood all along the lines, but by the time she sat up and whistled, admiring her work, his whole chest, arms and thighs were streaked with long cuts. When she'd felt satisfied with her work, having had stared at him for a good three minutes, she put her clothes back on, washed her hands and the dagger and kissed Derek on the forehead. Then she left.

It was in the morning, two days later, that they found him; the police had tracked him down using the GPS of his mobile. His mother had cried when she saw the cuts; his uncle was raging, thirsting for Kate's blood. He had spent all his time helping the police but they had never found her.

Having had a history with women and being overpowered by them like he had, there's no wonder that he grew up avoiding situations where he didn't have the upper hand.

This is why he chose to do this anonymously, through a hole. It spared him from the tortuous process of hitting on someone (after being through that trauma at 16, he had completely closed himself off, had asked his mom to hire tutors so he didn't have to go to school where people would either mock him, or pity him). And with a wall between him and the other person, there was no way someone could grab him and make him do something he didn't want. He was the one with the power in his hands, and he liked it. Or with the power in his mouth, but that's not the point. The point is, over the years, he sucked a lot of dicks, got better and better; but that was all he did. Of course, there had been phone numbers on a slip of paper slid into his stall but he had never called any of them.

He was 26, ten years after what had happened with Kate and he was proud of the life he had. He was teaching literature in the closest university to his home town and he was good at it. The first few years were horrible, because his home schooling and trauma definitely had a huge effect on his social skills (that hadn't been the best even before) but with practice, he got where he was now. His students liked him, his snarky, nerdy attitude and they seemed to be interested in the school work, too. Of course, it was all too good to be true.