Derek was lying on his couch staring up at the mould growing in the corner of his ceiling.
I need to move.
He stood up and walked around aimlessly, seeing a broken wall here, crumbling ceiling there.
I really need to move.
He heaved a sigh before dropping to the tips of his feet and palms of his hands. Slowly he lowered himself towards the floor then pushed back up again. He picked up the pace and was soon set in a fast rhythm of push-ups. Relentlessly he carried on, pushing himself even after his muscles started to scream, sweat bead trickling down the spine of his back and his rhythm started to falter.
Just a few more –
Suddenly he jumped up and stalked towards the door. He swung it open and stared down at the reason for his frustration standing on his porch.
"Heeey sourwolf! It's like you knew I was coming!" He grinned at him and then glanced at his bare torso. "Seriously, do you ever wear shirts?"
"What do you want Stiles?" Derek was breathing heavily from his workout and each deep breath filled Derek's nostrils with the smell of damp earth, cinnamon, old books and the distinct scent that was Stiles. His fingertips tingle and he clenched them into fists to try and dissipate it.
"Hey! No need to be grouchy. Well, actually, given it's you, I guess there's always a need to be grouchy huh? Is it like a Derek code? It can't be a werewolf code cuz I mean, have you met Scott? He's a frikkin – " Stiles rambled off as he pushed his way past the door.
"Stiles!" He spun around to look at Derek who had one hand gripping the doorknob, the other in a fist and his majestic eyebrows furrowed over irritated eyes.
"What. Do. You. Want?" Derek asked biting off the ends of each word as Stiles clenched and unclenched his hands by his side. He walked towards Derek and closed the door. Stiles' scent was tinged slightly with fear and…arousal. Well, sometimes the two aren't always exclusive but right now all it did was make Derek tingle all the more, weaving its' way through his nervous system.
"I need to… show you something" Stiles muttered as he stared at anywhere but Derek's face. His scent was becoming stronger with both fear and arousal sparking some concern (and maybe little arousal) in Derek.
"Stiles, what is it?"
Stiles eyes were fixed ahead as if he were staring through Derek with concentration, no, more determination etched on his face.
"I think this is the longer you've ever gone without talking" Derek smiled a little, "Seriously, what is it?" He started forward a little and went to reach out for his shoulder when Stiles' hand shot up and grabbed his wrist. He looked up then, searching Derek's face as he lowered Derek's hand. As he passed his shoulders, confusion was imprinted on Derek's face that turned into wonderment and then disbelief as their hands passed the bat symbol on Stiles' shirt and cane to rest on the bulge between his legs.
Both Stiles and Derek inhaled sharply, arousal flooding his senses. Stiles moved his hips forward slightly rubbing against Derek's hand and Derek froze. Stiles removed the hand holding Derek's and placed it on his bare chest. He was heating up fast, following the trail left by Stiles' hand as it trailed ever so slowly towards the top of his jeans and then lower as he cupped him. He squeezed gently and Derek inhaled again, his eyelids fluttering.
"I knew it." Stiles breathed as he leaned in and reached up and gripped the back of Derek's neck tightly, pulling him closer. "I knew it."
Derek sat up sharply breathing heavily, his eyes darting around desperately. He looked towards the door almost in longing then down at the tent in his jeans. He flopped back unto the sofa. He exhaled sharply, closed his eyes and unzipped his jeans.
I am so fucked.
