Stiles didn't know how it had happened. He had told Derek and Scott he would meet them at Derek's loft but he never made it. He couldn't remember how it started, one minute he was walking to Derek's loft and the now he was down the block being held to the ground in a choke hold. A strong painful choking choke hold.

He couldn't see the man, or werewolf due to the lack in daylight. He couldn't move either. The man (it was obviously a male because of his built body and overpowering strength) had pinned him down to the pavement, as Stiles clawed at the single arm gripping his neck as his body flailed about, trying to knock off the offender. It was useless, he knew, but he still tried. His life depended on him trying.

His knee came up, roughly jabbing the man in the groin. For a split second the man faltered to the side, groaning, and Stiles made a move to jump up. Yet, the knee wasn't enough to completely throw his offender off. Stiles was thrown back down on the cement with a painful thud and the man was back on top, straddling the teenager. The big hand of the man went back to his throat, painfully choking him again. Stiles gasped for air, trying to get some into his lungs, which burned, yet he was powerless against the beastly man holding him.

"You're a feisty human, aren't yah?" The man's gruff voice spoke. He could have sworn he saw a flash of something long and sharp pointing out of his mouth. "Good thing I'm in the right mood for a hot snack." Stiles knew immediately this wasn't a human, this person was far from it.

"G...gert... off... m-me..." Stiles struggled to say. His was starting to see stars now, his vision failing him. The pain in his back was starting to ache more and more the longer he was pushed against it.

"Not after I get what I came for." The man hissed, momentarily pulling his hand back. "You come find me when you're done."

Stiles couldn't make sense of the words. What did this man mean? Either way, he couldn't stop think too long because suddenly the man was leaning forward, putting his lips to Stiles' bare neck. Goosebumps rose and he tried to more, but the man grabbed his wrists holding them to his stomachs. One of the man's hands came up and he bit his own wrist, drawing blood.

"Open up..." Stiles clamped his mouth shut, refusing to open. The man laughed a little and forced his jaw open, then pushed his bloody wrist into Stiles' mouth. "Now swallow."

Something about the way the man said it, made Stiles obey. No matter how hard he resisted, he couldn't. The with a mouthful of blood, he reluctantly swallowed it, gagging horribly in the process. The blood was warm, taunting him to like it. But he didn't. He told himself he didn't like it. A small part of him did though. A small part of him wanted to suck more and swallow more. Then the feeling was gone and he wanted to push the man's hand away and go home. He wanted to be away from this monster. He wanted to run and be alone. Then the wrist was gone. Stiles gasped, filling his lungs with air.

"This is gonna hurt." The man's breath tickled the skin on his neck and he swallowed deeply.

Stiles shut his eyes, knowing he couldn't do anything more, with his body weak and his mind fuzzy from the blood. Fatigue and nausea swept over him. But before he could do anything more, the man had given a small laugh before plunging his teeth into the side of the Stiles' neck, hitting the main artery and drawing blood. Lots of blood. Pain shot through his body instantaneously as the fangs made the contact. The man was right. It did hurt. A lot. Stiles screamed bloody murder and hoped for the best before passing out, the taste of the man's blood still on his lips.

###

Stiles' hearing was coming to him as he began to wake.

"That's not a wolf bite, Scott!" Was that Derek speaking?

"You think I don't know that?!" Scott was there too.

The pain hit him then, but he was too weak to do anything about it. He whimpered a little as it spread, firing him. His whole body lit in invisible flames.

Then he heard Lydia speak; "He had lost a lot of blood."

"He's gonna be okay, Lydia." Jackson was there? Reassuring Lydia?

"You don't know that!" A few people started talking at once.

"Can we all just calm down?!" Deaton's voice boomed over everyone's, making Stiles cringe.

That caused a ripple effect and started his whole body with throbbing bursts of pain. He cried out, his hearing taken over by a strong ringing and a headache worse than anything. His hands moved to his head and he dipped a little, falling to the floor a short distance. And suddenly he could feel someone handling him, hurting his body, probably not anything intentional but it still hurt. He cried louder, falling into a person. They stood still, not comforting him or anything. Nobody else touched him.

After a couple minutes the ringing in his head stopped and the pain had dissipated, leaving him shaking in a state of shock. Someone touched his shoulder and he immediately recoiled in pain, pressing harder against the person supporting him.

"Stiles." It was Lydia. "Can you hear me?" Had she been the one who touched his shoulder?

He couldn't respond, didn't know how. He made a whimpering noise in the back of his throat and gripped the person's tee shirt. They stayed like that for a while and Stiles took deep breaths, trying to calm.

"Stiles?" Scott asked, worry surfacing in his voice. Who was he cuddling up against then, if not Scott? "How are you feeling?"

"Ehhh..." He shuttle his eyes tightly, gripping the material harder in his hands. "It hurts to move."

"Okay... can you-"

Deaton interrupted with, "Found it!" The sound of shuffling filled the room, making Stiles wonder what was going on. The person he was pressed against didn't move, neither did he. "Stiles, you were bitten by a Lamia."

"What's that?" Someone asked quickly.

Deaton sighed. "It's the Latin word for... vampires..."

"Are you telling me that Stiles had one of those blood sucking freaks hanging off his neck?" He must have nodded because Stiles didn't hear a reply. "Is there any damage other than blood loss?"

"There is... a possibility that there could be side effects..." Stiles gulped, what had that monster done to him? Did it have something to do with what the man had said? "Depending on the events leading up to bite."

"As in?" Lydia asked, urgently.

"Hunger... for human or animal blood." There was a few murmurs that went around before Deaton spoke again. "This is a possibility... I'm not saying that-"

"He'll turn into one?" Scott intervened.

Stiles heard his own heart speed up along with the person he was leaning against. He wouldn't become a vampire would he?

"I honestly don't know. Only if the Lamia gave him some of his own blood."

Stiles froze. That was exactly what happened. He remembered the man shoving his wrist into his mouth and demanding him to drink. It was horrible. It was painful. It affected him.

"But there is a strong likelihood of him turning into... a vampire?" Scott asked, wanting the truth.

"Yes..." Stiles croaked. He nodded, still not able to do anything because of the pain. "The man..." He trailed off. "He... uh... made me drink his blood. Then he bit me in the neck."

Nobody said anything for a second. "Is there a cure?" Lydia asked, quietly.

"I haven't found one yet." He told her. Stiles' heart dropped. "There's not many records of these Lamia. The ones that we do have, show no indication of cures or normality in human nature after the transformation."

Stiles heard footsteps, almost like some one was pacing. "How much time does he have?" Scott asked. "Is it like a werewolf bite? Can he reject the bite? How does he become one of those... Lamia...?"

"I don't know." Deaton told him. "What I do know is that he needs to be moved to a proper bed, so he can rest."

Stiles heard movement around him. "I'll take him."

Derek's gruff voice came from behind him and vibrated through the person he was leaning against. Was Derek the person he was against the whole time? He didn't have much time to think about it before he was scooped up in the werewolf's arms and pain was zapped through his body.

###

He could smell it. It was like water for a parched man who had been wandering about in the desert. He was that parched man. His mouth had gone dry, it was sore. His body didn't have any aches or pain in it as it did earlier. All he could think then was how much he would love to drink in that beautiful smell.

It was downstairs. Stiles slipped out the bed and moved quickly down the short stairs to the center if the loft. The group was there.

"Stiles, you're up." Scott came towards him, the smell strengthening. "How do you feel?"

How did he feel? He felt amazing. It was like someone gave him a superpower. "Great." He smiled, distracted by the lovely smell. "What's that smell?"

Scott gave him a question look, sending a glance back at the rest of the group. "What'd you mean?"

"Something smells really good..." He walked toward the smell more, finding it got stronger the more he came closer to the group.

"Morning, Stiles..." Jackson said, uneasiness and fear scavenging his body.

Stiles frowned, and stood before everyone. His eyes flickered across them and the scent hit him harder, causing throbbing in his teeth. How strange. Then he caught sight of it, a bandaid on Lydia's finger. It smelt so good he realized.

Before Stiles had even processed what he was doing, he had moved over to her at an impossible speed and bite down sharply on her neck, and sucked, earning a cry from her. Blood filled his mouth, tasting sweeter than a meal on thanksgiving. The liquid poured down his throat and fed his belly. Pleasure and thrill consuming him both. No later had that happened was he pulled back by a strong force. He hissed like some sort of creature. The blood had been so satisfying. So gleeful and now it was gone!

"Stiles!" Scott's voice pulled him out of the trace and he froze. What had he done?

"Lydia!" He caught sight of her, Deaton had taken her away, holding her neck. A terrified expression was written across her face. "Lydia, I'm so sorry! I couldn't help myself!"

"Stiles, calm down!" Scott told him.

His eyes darted to his friend nervously then to the people holding him, Derek and Jackson. The feeling was gone. The overpowering urge to drink. But a small part of him still wanted another sip. The smell of blood was still there though, coming in through his nostrils.

"Oh God." Stiles crippled to the floor, Derek and Jackson letting him fall. His hands went to his mouth, smearing the blood on his lips. His fingers felt the throbbing point on his teeth. Fangs. There were long piercing fangs in the place where his canine teeth were. He suddenly wanted to puke. "I'm sick." He whispered. "I'm a monster." He wiped his bloody hands on the hem of his shirt. "Oh God, what have I become?" He looked up, his friend watched him in pity. "What happened to me?"

###

Stiles was laying in his bed staring up at the ceiling. Scott and Deaton had explained everything. What they had talked about earlier was happening to him. Stiles' was becoming a Lamia. His initial thought about that was how he would act from there forward. Would he be able to control himself? Would his condition worsen? How far would the urges go? He had no idea. This new form was different to everyone.

When he had talked with Scott, he learned a few things.

He would be faster and stronger than he was before. Faster than a werewolf, maybe even an alpha. He would be strong as strong as a werewolf, able to fight and move with equal strength.

The need to feed on blood would be constant and fluctuate depending on the situation.

His physical appearance would change some from his human form. He would develop longer canines and sharper teeth. His body wouldn't need to heat him as much, leaving him cold, but feeling normal. He wouldn't need to eat like a normal human either. Blood was his main source of food. His bones would toughen up a bit, making him less easy to break. He would heal quicker, like a werewolf, and his senses would be amplified. Unlike a werewolf, he wouldn't age. His body would stay the same and he would be immortal.

His emotions would be all over, drastic and unpredictable. They will eventually settle after the first couple weeks of adjustment then return to a new normal.

He wouldn't be able to touch vervain, or crosses. Holy symbols and the like were restricted and could be dangerous. Drink blood would give him strength and darkness would be his natural state. He would feel more lenient on sleeping during the day and moving during the night. He would still be able to see himself in the mirror and be able to eat garlic. Sunlight and holy water would burn his skin. He wouldn't be able to die easily, as he had no heart beat now. The man had killed him, snapped his neck. The only real things that would kill him would be burning to death, whether that be in sunlight or a fire, a wooden stake to the heart, decapitated, having his heart removed, or shot in the heart with a sliver bullet. Other silvers may also slow him down, including his healing process.

He would have abilities. Powers, to make him a better hunter with his food. He would be able to compel humans into doing what he wanted, a kind of hypnotic state. He would be able to be more agile, faster, able to heal quicker, and be stronger (as said earlier).

All of this was in theory, of course. They had no idea what would actually happen and what he could do. There was little information about the Lamia, and the information they did have was a jumble of words and phrases they could only partly understand. Then there was all the online crap about vampires and other hoaxes. None of it was really reassuring to Stiles at all. They didn't know what he was capable of or anything. And there was no cure. Deaton had confirmed that this morning.

He sighed and rolled onto his side. He was so hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since the incident this morning with Lydia. His mouth ached and his stomach grumbled from another drop of the red liquid. He shook the thoughts away, he wasn't suppose to be thinking like that. That was the thinking of a monster. He would not become a monster.

Looking to the wall, he found the clock read 11:10 PM. He was so awake right then, not able to sleep at all. Slipping out from under the covers, he moved down the spiral stairs to the main floor of the loft. Upstairs was like the attic. It was full of boxes and unopened suitcases. The bed he was on wasn't exactly meant for a person, it was more like a a pile of blankets on top of a thin layer of pillows. He could see the windows, no doubt in the day this place was flooded with sunlight.

Derek was sleeping on his bed when he got downstairs. Everyone else appeared to have gone home. He was quietly stepping over to the fridge when he got a whiff of Derek. It was almost overpowering. His scent was everywhere. It was delicious.

Stiles cursed at himself mentally, scolding the part of him that thought of Derek's blood as a nice snack. He was going to the fridge for a nice snack, not to Derek's neck. Opening the door of the fridge, he found it to be nearly empty. He groaned in disappointment. He was really hoping for something. After grabbing a cheese stick, Stiles closed the fridge and sat down at the barstool, peeling the package open.

A second later he heard bed sheets being tossed about and Derek was standing beside him. Stiles didn't look up, refusing to meet the werewolf's eyes. "You have a different scent." Derek said after a few seconds. Stiles swallowed a bite of his cheese, resisting the urge to focus on his senses, which wanted to gouge out Derek's artery. Stiles just nodded, not trusting his voice or himself to even speak. A few seconds went by and Stiles' could feel Derek's gaze pressed at him. "What's it like being a Lamia, then?"

Stiles looked up then, which was a bad decision on his part. The cheese fell out of his hand, dropping on the counter. His eyes went straight to Derek's neck. The beating of the werewolf's heart was clear in his head, focusing on the pumping blood coursing through his veins and arteries. He immediately cleared his throat and looked away, pushing away the urges.

"Terrible." He looked down, picking at the cheese. "I can't even look at you without wanting to suck you dry." He laughed a little bit, not earning a reaction from the wolf. "God, that sounded so wrong." He pursed his lips and got serious again. "My teeth are so sore. They won't stop aching." He put his fingers to his fangs, feeling the teeth. "And I'm so hungry." He shook his head, not knowing what else to say.

"Scott stopped by," Derek said, walking over to an ice chest and pulling open, perfectly calm and casual. "His mom got a hold of some blood bags from the hospital." He pulled out two and closed the lid. Stiles' eyes followed the red bags in Derek's hand until they were set on the counter. "Go ahead."

As soon as Derek had said that, Stiles had one of the bags to his lips, teeth penetrating the plastic and he began to suck. His eyes darkened, turning a dark red, almost black and bloodlust overcame him. Mouthful after mouthful he drained the bag empty in nearly half a minute. When the first one was finished, he reached for the second with vampire speed, bring that one to his lips, and repeating the process. All the while, Derek watched almost hypnotized, his eyes glued to Stiles' lips and fangs. When the second bag was done, Stiles dropped it on the counter. His eyes softened then returned to their normal color and his head became clearer; more focused.

"Better?" Derek asked, breaking his own gaze at Stiles and moved to throw away the bags.

Stiles nodded, his eyes closing. Then he caught a scent of something. It was strange, smelling an emotion. He looked at Derek, smelling the uneasiness and excitement rolling off him in waves. It was confusing, he wasn't used to this, being able to smell things clearly and identify emotions off the smells.

"You okay?" Derek asked, looking at him strangely, coming back to the counter, standing across from Stiles.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah..." He cast his eyes down at the counter, picking the cheese back up. He sniffed the air, smelling the dairy product and getting whiffs of other scents. He didn't feel all that hungry anymore, so he moved over to the garbage can and disposed of the stick. Derek, again watching him, didn't move from his spot. "Am I under house arrest?" His back was turned to the werewolf.

"You're not allowed to leave unless you're with one of the pack members."

Stiles nodded. "Understandable." He swallowed, licking his lips, clearing them off any excess blood. The hunger was already starting to come back.

"I set up an area for you to sleep." Derek said, moving around the kitchen. "It's the only spot I could find that didn't have sunlight during the day. It's behind the stairs." He walked over to the spiral stairs. The loft was already a very open place, Derek's bed was on the main floor by the wall of windows. The base of the stairs started just after they ended on the right side, leaving the perfect spot behind them shaded from the daylight. "I put one of the spare mattresses over there."

Stiles nodded. He didn't know how long he would be staying, but he figured a while if Derek had set up a sleeping area for him. "Thanks." He moved past the werewolf and flopped down on the cushioned square.

Derek pursed his lips before moving to grab a magazine off the coffee table and spreading out in the couch. Stiles could see him through the stairs, he could see the whole loft except upstairs.

###

Stiles had faded in and out of sleep for a while, watching Derek and not watching him. Eventually the werewolf fell asleep, dropping the magazine in his chest and letting his hands fall. Stiles watched, wondering if he was that far in. He spaced out for a little bit, thinking about what his father's reaction might have been, or what school would be like tomorrow if he were to go. None of that seemed to matter anymore, he had all the time in the world.

Suddenly he smelt fear, his eyes darted to Derek. He was sleeping. Was the fear coming from him? His suspicions were confirmed when the werewolf started to whimper and whisper under his breath. Stiles wasn't sure what to do, should he go wake him up? Could that be dangerous? Before he thought anymore on the subject, Derek was yelling.

"Run!" His body was covered in sweat, Stiles could smell it, that and the fear coursing through his body. "Laura!"

Stiles didn't think. He moved, running quickly over to the sleeping Derek. He grabbed his hand and put the other one to his forehead, running it down his temple and cheek. "It's alright." He whispered, softly. The twitches and whimpers eased away as his breathing calmed. "It's okay, Derek." The wolf shook, no longer yelling out or physically moving too much. The strong smell of fear now was replaced with comfort and his usual mood. "It's gonna be fi-"

The wolf's eyes snapped open, glowing bright red in the darkness, and Derek's hand closed around his wrist, holding Stiles' hand that held his face.

"Stiles." It wasn't a question, Derek knew it was him.

He swallowed, wondering how the wolf would take it. Derek looked down at the hand Stiles had held, his eyes dimmed and returned to normal, before he removed his hand from Stiles'. The Lamia pulled back slightly as Derek released him, backing away still on his knees.

"You... uh... You were having a nightmare..." Stiles tried to explain.

Derek grunted as he sat up, pulling himself into a seating position. "What time is it?"

"What? Huh? Time?" Stiles looked around for a clock. "Uh... I don't-" he spotted one on the far wall. "Oh, it's 12:17." Derek rubbed his face, running his hand through his hair. "So uh, what-"

"You talk far too much."

Stiles shut his mouth. He watched as Derek got up, moving to the kitchen. He realized then how hungry he was. He followed Derek and went to the cooler. Upon opening it, he found it half full with blood bags. He picked out two and closed the lid then made his way to the counter, and sat on the barstool. Derek moved to the pantry and grabbed a package of tea. Then he moved to the kettle and started up the process of making tea. Stiles watched for a while before looking down at his blood packets and bringing one to his mouth.

Again, his eyes darkened, his fangs priced the bag, and blood rushed down his throat. The cool liquid sent him into a frenzy, wanting more and more after each mouthful. It was so sweet, so amazing. He hummed a little in pleasure before moving to the next blood bag, not looking at Derek. He was far lost in his own bloodlust he momentarily forgot about the wolf watching him. When the second bag was sucked dry, he pulled back, his eyes still dark with need. He needed more. Not thinking, straight, he heard the blood pumping around in Derek's body. It was like a pull. He moved quickly to the wolf, pressing him against the counter.

"Stiles!"

He could smell the fear peeling off the alpha in waves. He smiled, his eyes darkened and his vision different from its normal state. "You know what I want to do?" He asked, running his hand over the wolf's jugular.

Derek swallowed hard. "Stiles, you need to get in control." He tried to move from the Lamia's grip, but found he couldn't. He was pinned.

"I am in control." Stiles hissed, leaning in and smelling the wolf's neck. He closed his dark eyes. "You smell like fear and excitement." He ran his nose up the wolf's jawline to his ear, Derek pulled back a little at the action. "Do you know what that does to me?" He whispered in the beta's ear, his voice husky. "It drives me crazy."

Stiles ran his tongue over Derek's neck, above his main artery. The wolf shuddered and tried to move away, but as before Stiles held him still, placing a hand on either of the wolf's hips. His own hips moved to press firmly against Derek's. This new stance made Derek's dick twitch slightly but Stiles didn't seem to notice, too wrapped up in the blood flowing through him. His fangs skimmed the skin at in his neck, teasing the wolf. A sudden growl from Derek, made Stiles hesitant. It only lasted a second before Stiles rubbed his nose in the nape of his neck, rubbing his scent off on the wolf. Derek growled again, warning.

The Lamia smirked and within a flash bit into the flesh on the wolf's neck. Derek cried out, a sudden burst of pleasure and pain hitting him at once. His body arched into Stiles' as he drew blood. The blood tasted so good, so fresh. He couldn't seem to stop. Stiles sucked him, swallowing a few mouthfulls of blood before reality came crashing down.

He pulled away, taking a few steps back until he hit the island. Derek's glowing red eyes were watching him, his hand on his neck where Stiles had bit him. The bloodlust left Stiles and his eyes returned to normal. He couldn't ignore the fact that they both had very prominent boners. Derek was still giving him a death glare when Stiles eyes began to fill with tears, and all the arousal was gone.

"Oh shit." Stiles' hands went to his mouth, covering his lips and wiping away the blood. "What have I done?" Derek took a step forward, his mouth open to say something but Stiles moved around the counter away from him. "No, no, no, I'm sorry." The tears spelt over as images of what had happened came through. "Derek, oh god, Derek, I... I..." He didn't know what to say.

"Stiles, it's fine, you just need to work on self control and-"

"No!" Stiles yelled, his hands on his head. "No, this is not okay!" He looked up at the wolf painfully. "Fuck, this is far from okay." Derek came over to him, releasing the wound on his neck, which was now healing.

"Stiles, you need to calm down."

"Calm down?!" He yelled, moving away from the wolf more. "I just fuckin' fed off of you! People don't just do that! Why didn't you push me off?!"

"I tried to..." He trailed off. "It's not your fault."

"Like hell it is!" Stiles screamed. "I'm the monster! I drink people's blood as a way of survival! What I do is always my fault! It always will be! I'm the predator!"

"I get it, okay?" Derek told him.

"You get it? You get it?" He spun in a circle, his hands on his head. "No, Derek, you don't get it! You don't know what it's like to think about the future. The future where I watch my friends die. The future where life just goes on and on. The future where I kill people, and enjoy it!" He scoffed. "No, I don't think you do get it, Derek."

"You're wrong." Derek growled. "I do. I do understand because I've lived it. I've watched my friends and family die before me. I've been there where everyone else's life is gone and I have to keep living. I know what it's like to kill people. I know what it's like to take their life and shred their future and enjoy the fact that they suffer. I know the guilt. I know, Stiles, because I've done it."

They were quiet for a moment. Stiles wiped his nose and dried his fallen tears. "I'm sorry." He apologized. Derek just nodded, silently accepting the peace offering. Stiles took in a deep breath. "I'll just..." He pointed to the stairs.

"Yeah."

He pursed his lips, and made his way over to his new 'room'. He fell down on the mattress and curled up, wishing for sleep to take him and the day would end.

###

Stiles slept all through the day and awoke the next night at dusk. Scott and Derek were in the kitchen talking when his eyes finally opened.

"... all fine..." He heard Derek say. "It was only that one time."

Scott nodded. "Sure."

"He just needs self control. That's all it is." Derek argued.

"Are you sure you can handle him?" Stiles sensed Derek nodded due to the fact that there was no reply. "Alright." Stiles could now see them as they walked into his line of view and they stood at the door. "I'll be back in the morning to make sure he hasn't eaten you."

Derek just gave a bow of his head and opened the door, letting Scott out. As soon as the door closed, Stiles realized Derek had his eyes closed and was leaning against the wall. He wanted to ask how he was, but before he could do so, Derek spoke; "I'm guessing you heard all that?"

Stiles hesitated, unsure how to act right then. "Uh, yeah, I did."

Derek's lips pursed and his eyes met Stiles. "You need to learn control."

"It's not as easy as you think it is, Derek." Stiles told him, feeling slightly irritated. "I can't just be in control-"

"I know." He said. "Which is why I have to train you to be in control."

"Is that possible?"

Derek nodded, then walked towards the kitchen area. Stiles stood, following the werewolf. Derek opened the top of the cooler and pulled out three blood bags. Stiles froze, not liking where he was going with this.

"Stay." Derek told him as he grabbed a cup from the cabinet. Then he cut one of the bags with his claw. The scent of blood was nearly intoxicating for Stiles as it hit him with full force, yet forced himself to stay put. "Very good." Derek murmured in approval as he drained the blood bag into the mug.

Stiles swallowed thickly, his eyes starting to darken. "Derek." He warned.

The werewolf ignored him and threw the plastic bag away. Then he picked up the cup and sat down at one of the barstools, and finally turned to face Stiles. He tried to keep his eyes from darkening into bloodlust but it was growing harder every second. He could feel his fangs already fully out and he could hear the blood pumping in Derek's neck.

"Control Stiles." He advised. "Force the bloodlust back."

Stiles shook his head, not able to do as he was asked. "I- I can't-" The urge took hold and he was suddenly standing in front of Derek. No fear was rolling off him this time. Only... excitement and something strange. Was it hope? "Why aren't you scared?" Stiles whispered.

Derek looked up at him, his hand still on the mug. "Because I know you won't hurt me."

Stiles closed his eyes. "You don't know that. Last time-"

"Last time it was just me." He interjected. Then he moved the mug amd in that small action Stiles was looking at the pool of blood in the cup. The red liquid shadowed by the rim. "Now come back to me, Stiles."

He shut his eyes tightly, trying to make the bloodlust go. Yet, he could still feel the darkness in his eyes and hear the beating of Derek's heart not a few feet from him. Then, he couldn't focus. Derek's heart beat. The heart that pumped blood. The most delicious blood he had ever tasted. He wanted more in that moment, not aware of what he wanted was exactly what he didn't want. He let the darkness in.

"Stiles." Derek growled, noticing the change.

His eyes shot open, fully dark. Then he had Derek up against the counter with the cup to blood forgotten. Derek's pulse was vibrating in his mind, pulling him forward. He tried to move, tried to struggle against the Lamia, but it was useless. Stiles had Derek clamped by the wrists with his own hands and his body was pressed against him, pushing him back into the hard surface.

"Stiles, this isn't you." Derek said. Stiles recognised it then. There was the fear that he had questioned about earlier. The excitement and hope still there, but the fear just as strong as the other emotions. "Just take the cup and get in control."

Stiles pressed his cheek to Derek's, whispering in his ear. "I am in control." A shiver went down Derek's body and he was suddenly turned on. "But you seem to be enjoying this..."

"Stiles, stop." Derek said, shutting his own eyes.

He gave a small laugh, smiling at the control the werewolf was fighting with. "Why?" He asked, then ran his tongue down to Derek's jugular. "We both are pleasured from this." He licked around the pulsing neck and froze as Derek's emotion in fear amplified.

"Stop."

"I can't do that, Derek." He told him darkly. "It's too much."

"No, it's not." He growled, fear suddenly gone. "Fight it!"

"I don't want to." He whispered, his hand loosening on Derek's hold a little. "It feels... It feels so good..."

He opened his mouth, ready to plunge his fangs into Derek's neck when a burning pain hit his stomach. He faltered back, leaning over slightly, but the action was enough for Derek to escape out of his grasp. His head shot up in confusion and he saw what Derek held. A silver cross in front of him, directed at Stiles. Stiles lifted his shirt, seeing a burnt cross mark on his flesh.

"Control Stiles." Derek instructed. "Force it back."

Stiles was mad now, not liking the idea of betrayal, which was slightly ironic given the situation. "I'm so hungry." He whined, his eyes still focused on Derek's pulse point.

"You're not eating until you learn to control your appetite." Derek hissed.

Stiles shrunk back a little, being so used to doing so since his human years. Stiles realized his reflexive action. Human. He used to be human. He was monster now. He needed to stop being a monster now. Slowly, he told the hungry part of him to go away. He felt his eyes go first, changing back to their original color. Then his teeth, the fangs retracting slightly but never all the way.

"There you go. Progress." Derek praised, then picked up the cup. Stiles' eyes went straight to it and started darkening again. "And one step back." Stiles closed his eyes, forcing the monster back. "Good." When his eyes opened again, they were normal. "Very good, Stiles. Control is possible." The boy didn't say anything. "Eat." Derek told him, pushing the cup into the Lamia's hands and walking towards the couch. Stiles just stood there with the cup, not moving and still looking straight ahead. "Try not to shift when you do!"

Stiles nodded dimly and then looked down at the red liquid, which made his teeth burn in hunger. He brought the mug to his lips, his eyes flashing a little, and then him pulling away. Half the cup drained with little shift. That was good. He let the blood settle at in his stomach before breathing in a few calming breathes.

"Control." He whispered to himself, bringing the mug to his lips once more and downing the rest of the drink his eyes only flashing briefly this time. He sighed, placing the cup on the counter and opening the other blood bag.