Abnegation
He was just a boy – a completely ordinary boy – but he had a way of getting under Derek's skin.
No, that was not true – Stiles was many things, but he was far from ordinary. Still, it annoyed him to no end.
He wasn't like the rest of them – he wasn't really pack.
Except he was.
It made him angry, that a simple boy – so fucking human – would be with them, all the time. He was a liability even with all he could do to help. He was a problem.
Not Derek's problem, of course.
Derek couldn't – wouldn't – care less about him.
Except when he got into danger.
Except when he came to his side.
Except when he breathed.
Except when he looked at Derek as if he was surprised that the man could care so much, that he could hurt him so much.
He cursed the day the boy had gotten into his life – Scott's very own baggage, in a sort of two for the price of one deal.
It wasn't a deal he had signed up for – it wasn't one he would ever wish for.
Stiles should be away – far away, without his brown eyes that tried to strip his soul bare (and making Derek want to fight him, to rip him apart, claws and teeth tearing Stiles' clothes, marking his skin), without his hands that tried to touch his very being (and making Derek want to possess him, his body pining the boy's while he made him come apart), without his mouth that said things he didn't want to hear (and making Derek wanting to hear the things that could never be said, the sighs and moans and gasps that were a secret yet to be uncovered by anyone – that would never be discovered by anyone else), without his presence that was such a nuisance (making Derek want to keep him on a tight leash, having him around all the time and pulling his strings).
He was just a boy, just another boy, just an ordinary kid, and Derek would never want him.
(He would never have him, never keep him, never love him)