Hey guys, big trigger warning on this one. Please see the end for notes if you have ANY triggers with violence or non-con themes.
The first one goes down smooth. He doesn't even announce his presence, just buries his blade into the man's neck and carves him a new smile. There's a choked off scream and a thud. The cigarette in his hand burning a hole in the cheap hotel carpet before being extinguished by the expanding puddle of red.
The second man they find at a pub just on the outside of town. He recognizes the license plate number on the van parked in the mostly vacant lot. Derek goes in and Stiles makes his way around to the back entrance.
Half an hour later Derek comes out, supporting the man on his shoulder, as soon as the door clicks he shrugs him off on to the pavement and makes his distance.
The man struggles with himself for a moment before taking notice of the boy standing in front him.
"Well look who decided to show up for roun-" his slurring gets cut off by Stiles steel toe burying it's self in the side of his face.
"No thanks" he fires twice into the man's head "I'm not much into necrophilia"
Finding the third and fourth takes them to a small trailer out in woods. They parked the Camaro off the street and followed Derek's nose for two miles before stumbling across the tin can.
After subduing both men back to back on the floor of the trailer Stiles gives Derek his cue to head back to the car. Once he's sure the wolf is out of hearing range he turns back to the two men who are looking at him with calm and collected faces.
"We aren't going to tell you anything about the organization" the first man sneers. Earning a nod of agreement from his friend.
"I could care less about whatever organization you work for, we'll take care of them when the time comes. I'm more interested in correcting something you said earlier."
"C'mon kid just relax. You know, people who fuck wolves are destined to burn in hell for it"
"Yeah kid, think of this as us doing you a favor"
Both men laughed as they continued thrusting into the limp boy
"You see, you got the saying wrong" Stiles tells them as he starts shaking the contents of his water bottle around the room and onto the men.
"It goes like this" he holds up a lighter "People who fuck with wolves are destined to burn for it" he drops the flame and quickly exits the trailer.
The sounds of their screaming follow him all the way back to the car, where Derek is sitting with his headphones in listening to what sounds suspiciously like Metallica.
They don't find the last guy until the early hours of the morning. Ironically he's staying at yet another cheap hotel. Stile's tasers him as soon as he answers the door.
It's funny, he thinks as he looks down at the man chained to the radiator with a makeshift gag keeping him from alerting anyone to his current situation. It's funny that this is the man he remembers the most.
He's younger than the other guys, who were all in their early thirties. He isn't bad looking either. Stiles remembers him though. Remembers him making weak protests as the others starting removing Stiles's clothes. Remembers him watching from the stair case leading down to the basement. He remembers the look of regret in the man's eyes as he watched the others. He even remembers how the man draped a towel over his lower region before following the other men out.
This man hasn't seen the blood that the others had. He hadn't tortured hundreds of innocent people. He didn't get off on firing his gun into soft flesh.
He never learned to write off his human emotions when on the job.
And now he never will.
Later it's Derek who lowers a mostly sleeping Stiles down onto his bed at the loft. He pulls off the man's boots and helps him shrug out of his pants and shirt.
He takes a moment to lean back and appreciate the rising sun splay golden rays over creamy skin, seeming to catch on the various moles running up his chest and neck. It's a sight so pure and innocent. It makes him seem so fragile. It's deceiving. Underneath that beautiful completion is a tight frame wrapped in lean muscle. Yet people always seem to underestimate the human. They think his will should be the easiest to break.
That's what makes him a force worthy of running with a pack of wolves though. His ability to pick himself up and turn every bad situation into an opportunity to educate the world about the meaning of the word pack.
He lets himself admire the sight for a few more minutes before sinking into the bed, curling an arm around the younger man's waist and pulling him close. He drifts to sleep with a smile on his face and the scent of satisfaction filling his nose, the events of the last 24 hours replaying in his head.
Derek found him the morning after he disappeared. The hunters were long gone and Stiles was lying in a heap in the middle of the basement of the old shack, only a towel to cover his modesty.
He struggled and fought until the wolf agreed to take him back to the loft instead of the hospital, but not before grabbing the few articles of clothing that were left behind by the men in their haste.
"We can still go to the police" he offered, watching as the younger man pulled on his boots and packed one of his knives into his pocket.
"We can" he agreed. Standing up to wrap the gun holster around his waist.
"We won't though?" It was only half a question, a way to fill the air as he helped fasten the holster properly in the back.
"No" Stiles smirked, the afternoon sun catching on amber, setting it ablaze "We won't"
Notes for triggers:
This story contains brief mentions of rape and heavy mentions of violence and murder. Includes throat slitting and being burned alive. Do not read if these trigger you.
Thank you to everyone who reads, i'm a whore for comments so let em flow! :D