The second time around, Derek had purposefully waited until the Sheriff's cruiser had pulled into the Stilinski driveway. Even from so far away, he could sniff, practically see, the mounds of fatigue rolling off the Sheriff. Work really had been taking a toll on the widowed father, and his son. As of late, Stiles had been craving more and more attention from Derek- not gaining enough from his Dad who would pass out on the couch before Stiles could come downstairs to ask if they finally had a lead, nor gaining near to nothing from his 'best'friend who was so wrapped around his relationship with Allison and being lacrosse co-captain.
Now Derek wasn't exactly complaining about this whole situation because, hey, the sex was seriously phenomenal despite the fact that Stiles passed out every time afterwards as if he weren't getting enough sleep.. Derek hadn't told Stiles about the noticable bags under his eyes or how he could read him like an open diary, and even dismissed the obvious lies Stiles' attemped to hide under. Derek wanted to help but every time he would try to bring it up, the teenager's fingers would instantly bring up to the Alpha's killer abs or begin playing with his jean's zipper, or even dancing along his black t-shirt-which may seem like a tiny gesture yet caused so many things to happen. Derek didn't stop him either, feeling as though it was the least he could do to make Stiles feel a smidge better.
As the werewolf approached, his ears perked up, eavesdropping on Stiles and his Father. . He couldn't help it!
"Stiles? Are you asleep? I- Can we talk? With...- I- I haven't been around much these past few weeks, and when ever I am ho-," Stiles' Father explained through the door, forehead pressed to the cool wood with his hand hovering over the handle, wishing his wife could be there to open the door for him.
"-Dad, you're tired. Just go to sleep, I'll see you in the morning," Stiles interrupted.. Lies. He wouldn't see his dad in the morning. He'll be lucky if he even sees him before dinner, the next night.
Derek couldn't listen to this much longer. He couldn't listen to the painful way Stiles forced his voice to remain steady as if he were holding back a thousand tears. He couldn't listen to their relationship stripping thinner and thinner. Derek waited until the Sheriff had closed his door down the hall to climb through Stiles' window, which hadn't closed for the past month even during freezing nights incase Derek came over.
"I don't know if you knew this- but they made doors so you don't have to do that. You know, those things that open and close if you turn the knob- yeah, those contraptions," Stiles humoured, hiding himself with his largest, and possibly his only, strength: Sarcasm. He was already swaying towards Derek on all fours, crawling across his bed as if he were the predator and Derek was the pray. Perhaps they could role play that out one day- As in, Stiles would bring it up and Derek would shoot it down with his infamous bone chilling glare. The one that sent Stiles up the wall, in a good way. And the exact same one he wore in that moment.
"...Stiles," the werewolf growled, not moving an inch towards the bed where said male lingered at the edge, sitting on his heels. His shirt seemed to have gotten loose since the last time Derek saw him wear it. Not. Acceptable. People did tell him he had a knack for detail when it came to certain things, his more-than-a-friend-but-not-exactly-a-boyfriend in this case, that actually mattered.
"De-Derek, I don't want to talk abou-" Stiles began, his voice sounding like the human equivalent to a damn kicked puppy before he was interupted- "Off. Shirt, I want it off," Derek commanded, eyes flashing speckles of deep red before returning to its original colour as he took a few steps forward, shedding his jacket.
Doing as he was told, Stiles fiddled with the hem of his shirt before obeying and peeling it off his fragile skin. With his arms stetched above his head, Derek's eyes instantly caught on the protruding ribcage that were highlighted by the moon, which only darkened that shadows beside it. It looked unhealthy along with the way his hip bones jutted forward, much more than usual. Derek had to hold himself back from making a whimper, involuntarily. It was the look on Stiles' face that made Derek promise to wait until Stiles was ready to speak about it himself.
Just a few moments later, Derek was pinning Stiles to the bed, adding sweet kisses to his cheeks, nose, each and every mole that grafitti'd Stiles' porcelain skin. Sitting up, balancing himself right above Stiles' pelvis, afraid he could crush the poor thing if he were to actually lower himself an inch. With curious and seeking eyes, Derek raked his bare torso, not allowing Stiles' to squirm away this time. With rough fingers, he dragged them down his rib cage, bumping across each rib and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Derek wanted to test something out..
His thumbs pathed across Stiles' collarbones then each nail, still human, tapped against the lengthy bone. He made sure it wouldn't scratch the surface too harshly to bring up blood, but enough to leave a faint pink trail. And he did exactly that. Derek hadn't exactly expected such an erotic, inaudible reaction.. Stiles' back was arched off the bed, as if his torso was begging to get closer to Derek's hands, to get moe than just a pink trail. His mouth forming an 'O', knowing if he were to make an unusual noise he would have to explain something to his Father that he would love to go another week-Scratch that, another year without doing so.
author\s note : this will be edited still and revised, and spaced properly ANDDD finished. I'm on the road, so I wanted to post this while I still had wifi c: