Stiles snored softly, his long arms stretched out along his bed. The covers were crunched up and tangled amongst his pale legs. His chest rose and fell with every breath, he was making soft chuffling noises in his sleep, rubbing the side of his face into his pillow.

Derek sat outside, his hands tight along the steering wheel of his car. It was two am. The moon was out, shinning bright and beautiful. Two more days until it would be full. Derek didnt need a calendar, he could feel it, simmering under his skin. Everything was heightened around this time. Reflexes, Hearing, Strength, Sight..

Smell.

God, why did Stiles always have to sleep with his window open?

Derek inhaled slowly. The air suddenly seemed thicker as Stiles scent washed over him. He swallowed audibly.

This wasnt the first time. He was just going for a drive. Some fresh air, clear his head, he had tried so hard to convince himself. But he found himself yet again, driving along the same familiar street, parking in front of the same familiar house. Stiles' home.

Derek's eye lashes fluttered as he inhaled again, deeper this time. Stiles smelt like no one else he'd ever met. Fresh and light at first, but underneath the mask of toothpaste and hastily applied deodorant, there was a thick and heady scent. Stiles smelt like the forrest, he smelt wild.

And it was irresistible.

Derek closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Stiles breathing. He remembered the first time he'd noticed. Stiles had been hot and sweaty from practice, and Derek had to leave, practicaly tripping over himself in his haste. Worried he'd end up pressing Stiles against the nearest flat surface, rubbing every square inch of himself against him, anything to get closer to that scent.

Stiles shifted around in his bed again. Derek tried hard not to imagine what Stiles must look like right now. His body all stretched out along the bed. Maybe he slept shirtless, his pale chest muscled and firm against his dark bleu sheets. Maybe his moles go all the way down to his-

Dammit.

Derek tried to ignore how hard he was, instead tightening his hands on the steering wheel until it creaked.

Im not doing anything wrong. Im not doing anything wrong.

Derek's eyes snapped open when he heard Stiles make out a low sound. He froze, listening, barely breathing. He heard it again, a light gasping sound.

A nightmare?

Stiles let out a low moan, and he writhed against the bed, his eyes fluttered, still fast asleep.

"Yes" he whispered. "yes"

Derek's breath left his lungs in a rush. He could feel the wheel denting under the strength of his hands. Stiles scent wafted over him again, thick and wet, the smell of his arousal hot in the air.

Stiles let out another moan, his voice thready and desperate. A low whine escaped Dereks throat, his hips bucking helplesly against the seat. He grabbed at his keys, his hand slipping as his newly sprouted claws scrapped along the metal.

Im leaving. Im leaving now. Right now.

Suddenly Stiles short breaths became wet panting, and Derek snapped. He hands tore apart the front of his jeans. He growled low in his throat, jacking himself off hard and fast to the sound of Stiles choked gasps.

Derek was moaning low in his throat, pumping franctically into his hand, his head thrown back against the seat. He could smell Stiles excitement, he could practically taste it in the air.

Stiles breath came faster and faster, his hands clenched into his sheets.

"Please" he gasped "Please"

Stiles body began to tighten, his back arched in a tight bow. Derek could smell the change in Stiles scent.

"Yes" Derek panted, his voice hoarse."Come on."

"Come on"

Derek's eyes began to glow, his hand moving faster and harder, his hips twisting desperately.

"Derek" Stiles gasped.

Derek eyes flew open wide, and he came, hips jerking, head thrown back, writhing helplessly against the seat. He moaned, stroking himself through it, listening as Stiles came, gasping and panting, untouched amongst his crumpled sheets.

God. Did he just.. did he?

Fuck.