He was staring again.
Dammit Derek, get your shit together.
He looked away, trying to focus on the book he was reading. It didn't work. He groaned quietly, glancing around. The library was practically deserted; a few people still cramming for tests or getting homework done. He was a junior in college, and the library wasn't a place he would usually find himself.
That is, until he met Stiles, an annoying freshman who was in his biology class. How he was taking a senior level class as a freshman Derek didn't know, but then again the class was above his grade level too so it definitely wasn't out of the realm of possibility. There was something about Stiles that drove Derek insane, for various reasons. He was extremely sarcastic, obnoxious, and had that 'yes-I'm-younger-than-everyone-here-but-I'm-still-better-than-everyone' attitude that Derek couldn't stand. Aside from that, he was brilliant and witty and knew exactly how to push Derek's buttons.
And then there was just the visual. His hair usually messy, body usually covered in a flannel and jeans, glasses slipping down his nose, gnawing on a pen. It drove Derek crazy and he didn't know why. Maybe it was because he couldn't really tell what Stiles looked like underneath it all, which left too much to his imagination, and he had something of an imagination.
Usually he found himself slipping into cute little daydreams of just him and Stiles together, talking and just being together. Then he would snap back to reality and realize he missed 10 minutes of class to escape into his own mind. He remembered a specific instance where he was thinking of how tight Stiles' pants had been when he came into class and he spent almost the whole class thinking about his ass, only returning to reality when he heard Stiles say the word dick then correct himself to 'penis'. It was biology after all. He couldn't remember anything about that lesson, just the way 'dick' sounded coming out of his lips and...
It was happening again. He squeezed his eyes shut and licked his lips, trying not to be too weird about it. Stiles barely knew who he was; sure he sat right behind Derek but he was always too busy spitting random facts about the human body or taking selfies or texting. He was infuriating, and Derek wanted to get to know him better. Was that just some kind of outer shell, or if he dug a little deeper would he still be an asshole? He turned a page in his book, realizing it had been almost 10 minutes since he had done so. Shit, has it really gotten to the point where I have to pretend to read just to stare at this kid?
He decided he would give up on the reading, considering nobody was really watching him anyway. Every so often Stiles would quickly look up and Derek would have to avert his gaze, but for the most part he could stare in silence and nothing would disturb him. Stiles scratched his head, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and squinting a bit. He dragged his hand across his forehead, sweating due to either a hard math problem or the heat in the building. Sure it was October, but in California it was still warm. Maybe that flannel wasn't such a good idea, you should probably take it off...
He said little things to himself like that all the time. They were stupid and kinda embarrassing but nobody would ever really know so it didn't matter. So when Stiles pulled his arms out of the sleeves and draped the shirt on the seat behind him, Derek's eyes widened a little bit. Mainly because Stiles did exactly what he hoped he would, but also because all he was wearing underneath was a sleeveless shirt. Derek swallowed and inhaled deeply, looking at his arms and shoulders. Stiles was slim but toned, adding a whole new level of hotness and removing some of the mystery.
Shit. Shit. This has gotten bad. And creepy. I'm so creepy. But... those arms... I think I can live with myself. I wonder what he could do with those arms...
Derek was a muscular person himself, but he had never considered himself tough or dominant in any way. He just liked to keep himself healthy.
He could probably hold me up against a wall and keep me there. He might even be able to pick me up and throw me on a bed. How fucking hot would that be?
He tugged at his collar, trying to look casual. Stiles looked up again and he quickly went back to his book, reading a line over and over until he saw Stiles look down through his peripheral vision. Stiles scratched his head and licked his lips, leaving his tongue hanging out of his mouth just a little bit, obviously concentrating pretty intently on this homework.
Those lips though, I wonder what it would feel like to have them forced against mine, or traveling down my body, or surrounding my dick, or-
He stopped himself, he was starting to get turned on and that wasn't something that needed to happen in public. He took a deep breath and a sip from his water bottle that he carried with him everywhere, wishing he didn't feel like such a creep. Then Stiles frowned and threw his pencil at the book, the pencil bouncing off the table towards Derek. He raised an eyebrow as Stiles groaned, standing up and stretching his arms upward, revealing a dark trail of hair that started below his belly button and led down into his pants. Derek wasn't exactly sure but he might have made some kind of animal noise as Stiles slowly walked toward him, eyes on the pencil that was on the ground. As he reached it, he quickly glanced up at Derek, walked right past the pencil, then turned around and slowly bent down to pick it up.
His pants hugged his ass and his shirt slid down his back and Derek felt himself getting hard, wanting to look away but at the same time not. So he didn't. He was confused almost as much as he was turned on; something about it seemed so deliberate. Stiles returned to his seat, slumping down and this time carefully tossing the pencil onto the book. He combed both hands through his hair, obviously exhausted and hot.
I could probably make you exhausted and hot too.
Derek wasn't a superstitious person, and on a whole thought anything supernatural was bullshit. But something about the way Stiles had taken off his flannel just as Derek wished he had, the way he (maybe?) purposefully dropped his pencil just to show Derek his ass... It was just weird. So Derek decided he would try something he saw in a movie once; the main character suspected one of the other characters was reading his mind so he did something about it.
So um... Stiles... If you're reading my mind right now, which would really fucking suck because I've thought so many sexual things in the last half hour, just... cough or something.
He waited, eyebrows raised... nothing. He let out a small sigh of relief, chastising himself for being so childish. He decided that he had had enough, so he started putting everything into his backpack. That's when he heard a cough from a couple tables over. His eyes widened and he slowly sat up, looking over at Stiles, who was smiling at him.