He knew it. It'd been too good to be true. There was no new bond between them. Derek hadn't felt any different about him than the first day they'd met.
"You probably just a bad day." He started. "And I was just…"
He couldn't form the words; nothing was able to really capture what he was thinking.
A poor excuse for a hormonal punching bag?
The moments they'd only just shared replayed in his head, sans all previous romantic haze. Reaching for the hem of his jeans, he felt sick just thinking about it.
"Fuck."
"Do you ever stop talking?" Derek whispers, taking hold of Stiles' wrist.
When the younger didn't look up to return his gaze, he grasped either side of his jaw and turned his chin.
Stiles didn't open his mouth but raised his brows instead with a sneer.
"Cute." Derek quipped.
He sighed, letting the irritation melt from his stance as he brought a kiss to Stiles' frown.
It was warmer this time, enough to coax him into relaxing against the wall. To his surprise and delight, the boy kissed back. He was a little clumsy, lost between puffs of breath and startled when his were cut off with Derek's exhales.
"…Don't fuck with me." He panted as Derek paused for another breath.
"Shut up."
He disregarded the comment, going in for another kiss only to be resisted.
"I mean it. I'm not a whore."
"Stiles." Derek groans.
He quiets at hearing his name. Derek's never said it that way before. A grunt, a passing quip, but never actually spoken. It's draw out just so, and the tone of his voice is pleasing.
Stiles decides that he likes it.
"W-what?"
"Shhh."