Tittle: Ferocious Attractions
Pairing: Sterek
Disclaimer: I do not own the show, you would know if I did. I just own the lovely plot bunnies.
Stiles lay face down in a mess of pillows, blankets, and sheets. He had just woken up from a good night's sleep, despite it being only two in the morning. It was one of those overly comfortable moments that you feel only when you wake up. He smiled and breathed in deeply. An unfamiliar, musky, yet arousing scent filled his nose. He felt his body twitch, making his eyes shoot open. All around was darkness, save for the slight green glow of his alarm clock. He breathed in again, the scent was stronger, earning a stronger reaction from his body. He tried to roll over to see what was there, emitting the scent, but he couldn't. Stiles felt large, rough hands pressing gently on his back, keeping him face down. He shuddered at the contact. One hand slid up his back, over his shoulder and came to a rest on the pillow next to his head. The other hand started to slip lower, and around his waist. It stopped, resting on the bed, right next to his hip. The owner of the hands seemed to crouch closer to Stiles' body. He could feel hot, musky breaths glide across his ear and neck. He felt the body slowly press itself against his back as a rough, hot tongue made its way up his neck and behind his ear. Stiles uncontrollably let out a low moan at the contact. As the tongue retracted back to the owner, he felt the hand by his waist slip between him and the bed, searching lower on his body. Stiles remembered how to move, jolting his hand down to try to keep the hand from going lower. A pair of moist but rough lips attached themselves to Stiles' neck, just below the ear, making his grip release on the arm by his waist. As the hand continued to its destination, Stiles could feel the muscles of the arm tensing and releasing as the hand moved around his body. He let out a gasp. The hand caressed him gently, yet roughly as the lips kept letting the tongue return to his sensitive flesh. All he could do was let out subconscious moans at the actions. He caught himself mid moan, biting his lip to keep his sounds quiet. He felt a slight nip on his ear, causing a sharp inhalation through his nose of the potent, musky scent, pushing him over the edge.
Stiles awoke with a start, body covered in sweat, his shorts a bit of a mess. He breathed in, trying to see if he truly imagined that musky scent; there was a trace of it.
"What in the hell was that?" He breathed out, glancing over at his clock. It glowed three AM back at him.
Breathing in a few more times to regain his head, he ran off to the shower to clean himself off and to hopefully figure out what just happened in his head. Who was it? He mused while he started the water. They were bigger than me, definitely. He stripped off his sweat soaked shirt. Which means it had to have been a man. Stiles froze with his thumbs tucked under the waistband of his shorts, the thought hitting him. I just had the hottest wet dream I've ever had about a man. An overpowering, larger than me, man. Why a man!? Stiles let out a sigh, removing his soiled shorts and stepping into the shower. I just hope that if it's someone I interact with on a normal basis, it's not an enemy.
Stiles was getting his books from his locker, trying to forget about his dream last night. He was so caught up in thought that he didn't notice his best friend come up behind him.
"Morning Stiles." Said man jumped, dropping his economics book. "Hey, are you ok?"
Stiles sighed. "Yeah, I'm just a bit out of it. I slept really funny last night." He watched as Scott leaned down to pick up his book.
"Do you think it's at all related to anything Dr. Deaton gave you or the wound? Which, by the way how is it?" Scott handed the book back to his friend.
Stiles stood still for a little bit, trying to process what Scott had suggested. That hadn't even crossed Stiles' mind until it was suggested. What happened was, yesterday, there was a run in with a werewolf hunter. They used a strange type of bullet that was neither silver nor laced with Wolfsbane. The hunter either didn't realize or didn't care that Stiles was not a werewolf and tried to go after him. He fired said bullet but missed, hitting a tree instead. However, the bullet exploded and some of the shrapnel imbedded itself in Stiles' side. Scott had tried to help Stiles get to the Animal Clinic while Derek tried to hold off the hunter. Scott ended up having to get back to Derek and Stiles, somehow, was able to get to the clinic where Dr. Deaton fixed him up. Now that Stiles was thinking about it, Dr. Deaton had done one of those suspicious pauses when he was cleaning his wound.
"Stiles? We'll be late for class." Scott snapped his fingers in front of Stiles' face.
"Um, right, yeah. I'll go pay him a visit after school." Stiles finished gathering his books and shut his locker. The hall was almost empty.
Scott put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You sure you're ok Stiles?"
"yeah-" He turned his head to look at his friend but inhaled a musky scent that was almost exactly like the one from the dream. He leaned into Scott's arm and inhaled deeply. It was coming from the jacket that Scott was wearing. His body felt weak after registering the scent.
"Stiles? What are you doing?"
Stiles snapped out his slight trance, shaking his head. "Is that a new jacket?"
"This? Oh no, it's Derek's. Mine got wrecked this morning-"
Stiles cut him off. "Wait wait wait wait. Did you say this was Derek's jacket?"
"Yeah. It's the one he is almost always wearing. I'm surprised that you hadn't recognized it." Scott took a better look at his friend's face. "You really don't look well."
"I'm not feeling too well." Stiles was having a slight panic attack, mind reeling from the thought that the figure he dreamed about was Derek of all people.
"Hey, why don't you go home? I'll just tell our teachers that you are really sick today." Stiles nodded. "I'll come see you after school."
"Ok, see you. I'll stop by the clinic on my way home too, see if your boss can shed any light on this."
