So, here is the third chapter ! It's a bit long, it's a bit hard and explicit with sex scenes (totally nsfw) and it's the beginning of what I could call a 'real' plot.
Hope you'll like it !
Cissa
Sometimes, you really wish your private life was actually private. Stiles knew it wasn't really the case. He dumped Malia and was more or less forced to officialize his relationship with Derek. This had more consequences that he could have imagined, and he knew that. His best friend was the Alpha, the pack leader, so he naturally turned to him when all the wondering was too heavy to bear.
"Hey Scott!"
They were in the locker room after a lacrosse training session that went more boring than anything else. Stiles was totally ok with that. Too many bad things had happened on the field, so let's get lacrosse be boring, thank you. Scott looked at Stiles, genuinely concerned. He always was.
"What's wrong?"
"I wanted to talk to you…"
Stiles looked around, making sure she wasn't nearby. Why would she? Well, you'd never know.
"…about Malia." Scott lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. Stiles went on. "She's mad at me for breaking up with her, maybe mad at Derek too, and for all I know, mad at you for not disapproving."
"And?"
"She's still pack, Scott. I'm just wondering why we can still be a team now that I…"
"It's not your fault."
"It is. And it should be my own problem, but with all the fangs and fur, it's also yours now. I'm so sorry…"
Scott land a friendly hand on Stiles shoulder. "Don't be. You only did what you thought was right, you don't have to feel guilty about it. Let me handle this ok? We'll find a way. We always do."
Stiles nodded, taking a good breath. Scott was pure gold as an Alpha, and he really thanked him for that. The problem is that Scott didn't have the first clue on how to solve the Malia issue. So he guessed he'll do as usual: getting things done solely trusting his instinct and not knowing what he was doing. That worked well so far!
Stiles felt almost bad for letting Scott sorting his own shit out, just before remembering that his best friend was the Alpha and that it was part of his job, as strange as it could appear. Stiles wondered if he would ever get used to the whole pack thing. Yet, he had more pressing matters to attend. The afternoon was coming to an end, so he had to hurry to get himself prepared. His dad was done grounding him, and he couldn't wait to go out see Derek. He expected him tonight.
They had talked about raising Stiles top's skills a bit, so this evening was a training session more than a romantic night. The teenager couldn't help but worry with anticipation. He never manipulated a leather stockwhip before, and he knew what kind of wounds that nasty thing could leave. Sure, Derek could handle more physical pain than any regular human being, but Stiles was still afraid to hurt him. Then he realized that maybe tonight wasn't involving any practice on a real target. Maybe they'd stick to the basics, the theory.
Don't fool yourself… he tought. One day or another, he'd have to overcome that fear if he didn't want to regret it later. He asked for it. He wanted it. He only dreaded any unwanted consequences, and there was nothing odd in this.
He entered the shower with a long exhale, the hot water taking over his body and relaxing his muscles. Tonight was another step into a world he was eager to know better. The dread soon mixed with desire and lust. His hands glided down along his body, reaching out his groin, touching himself shyly at first. The images of a totally submissive Derek popped in his head, exploding into a kaleidoscopey chaos. A Derek that screamed in pain and pleasure, a Derek that licked his boots while he pulled his leash, a Derek unable to move under the restraining ropes, a Derek soaked in sweat, sperm, piss and blood. A Derek that could endure anything and say 'thank you Master' in response, only to ask for more. Stiles' body leaned onto the shower wall as he was coming. Damn, he got so tense with these dirty thoughts that his wrist was burning, and his arm aching. His mind still clouded with lust, he actually got to the part that he washed himself. When he finally got out of the bathroom, the dread of hurting Derek was back but couldn't match the hunger for more. Stiles was 100% certain of what he was doing.
On the contrary, Derek wasn't worried at all. He had a total trust in his own capacities and in his teenage boyfriend. That could sound very wrong, if only Derek's life hadn't be wronger to begin with. Looking through the window, Derek waited for Stiles. He was on time, as usual, yet this time Derek saw a little stiffness in his shoulders as he got out of the Jeep. Nervousness was to be expected, and it was Derek's job to make it go away.
The door opened on a lightly smiling Stiles. Derek walked up to him and gave him a gentle kiss, hoping to see that smile a bit wider. He wasn't disappointed.
"How are you?" he asked then.
In his mouth, this sentence had nothing to do with the usual greetings. It was a real question, so the least that Stiles could do was to answer with honesty.
"Feeling tense. Nervous… But I'll get over it."
"Too bad." Derek smile raised Stiles' eyebrows. "I was planning on giving you a massage."
"Great idea, keep it up. I like it." Stiles laughed softly as he put away his jacket. He noticed the straps hanging on one of the beams. The perspective of real target training was a thing, after all. Stiles stood still and swallowed.
"Something's wrong?"
"No… No, that's ok."
Derek made a face and crossed his arms on his massive chest. "No, that's not. What's bugging you?"
Stiles hesitated before reminding himself that the day he would keep secrets from Derek will be the beginning of their end. And he didn't want that. He inhaled and let it all out in a breath.
"The straps. I thought it was only a training session. Like, theoretical training. I don't think I'm prepared to whip your ass, unless you want it turned into a bloody pulp. And even if you want it— you even might like it, wouldn't surprise me, I don't want to. I really like your ass as it is right now. Firm, round and with all the skin it needs."
Derek fought a smile. "Don't worry. It's only if I feel like you can do it, and only if you want to. Anyway, it's only straps. We can do a lot things, besides whipping." Stiles' shoulders lowered a bit as he felt reassured. "And you're not wrong." Derek added. "I do like it."
"I knew it. I definitely knew it." He lifted his hands and laughed. "Man, you're way too metal for me."
"We'll see that. Here."
Without any further intro, Derek handed him a big leather whip. It was a bit heavier than he thought, and a lot softer. The touch of the leather was something Stiles knew he would grow very fond of. He caressed the whip, examinated it in detail. It wasn't as long as he would have imagined, though five feet of hard braided leather were more than enough.
"This one is a classical stockwhip, only it wasn't made for animals." Always that obsession of using made-for-it gear. Stiles couldn't agree more. "It's a bit harder to learn how to use these. Horse whips are the beginning. This is serious business, but I think you know that."
Derek made a gesture, inviting Stiles to just try it out on nothing but air. The loft had been cleaned so no furniture would get it the way. Ok, let's do this.
Stiles lifted his hand and made a wide struck. A loud noise cracked in the air, following by the one of something falling. Stiles was completely panicked. He didn't know what he was doing and brought down a chair. It wasn't broken, but could have been.
"I'm sorry!"
Behind him, Derek couldn't help but smirk. He approached Stiles and breathed into his ear.
"You're putting too much strength into it. It's all in the wrist… I thought you'd know that."
"Stop joking, this isn't funny!"
"It is!" Derek laughed and put his hand over Stiles'. "Here. You only need a firm grip, the length of the whip would do the rest. Just a slight strike…" He made an almost lazy gesture from right to left, and then another one. "…you understand? The speed at the end is tenfold the speed you give it. Whipping gently shouldn't be tiring. Also, keep it as horizontal as possible. It's easier to aim that way."
Stiles nodded and Derek let go of his hand. The whip sang in the air, a little bit too high and loud for Derek, but that was clearly progress.
"Only the wrist." he said, and Stiles tried again.
The training took more time that they would have thought, yet Stiles didn't end practicing on Derek. He wasn't ready for that, both of them knew it. Instead, they eat pizza watching Daredevil.
"The half-empty penthouse loft with big dirty windows is really a thing, then?" Stiles asked.
Derek shrugged and shut him up with a kiss. It was good, but Stiles is not someone letting go that easily.
"If you keep on eluding my questions like that, I might find a really good use of those straps."
"I can't wait."
That's where Stiles had to back down. He was too tired to go full dominant tonight, so he just resumed watching the show. When the end credits fell, he finally found the courage to ask the question that was burning his lips.
"Derek… Who taught you all this?"
Every teacher has his own teacher, after all. Derek dreaded the question, but he could only answer honestly.
"…Peter." That was something Derek wouldn't have said, but since Stiles asked… Anyway, he'd eventually know. It was better if it was Derek who told him.
"Your uncle…? But…"
"Yes." Stiles was obviously doing the math so Derek cut it out for him. "I was young. Really young."
"How…?"
"Sixteen."
Since Stiles wasn't much older, he didn't say anything. He had no right to judge, anyway. He opened his mouth, wanted to know more about it, but shut it since he couldn't come with a good question.
"Don't worry Stiles, it's over now."
"What?"
"Peter and I."
"Ah. Oh, that's what you thought I'd worry about? Really?"
Derek gazed at him, perplexed. He was lucky that Stiles couldn't resist those eyes… He just made a gesture.
"That's ok. Just me being too curious, I guess." he finally said.
Looking grumpy again, Derek didn't make a move, so Stiles went to him and gave him a tender kiss that turned out to be more passionate that he first intended. He landed on him, his hands shoved into his hair, and his lips in his neck. When it came to cuddling, Stiles wasn't tired at all.
When he came home that night, Stiles found out he really wanted to talk to Peter. The problem was he's been locked up in Eichen House and Stiles couldn't hope to reach him without getting spotted— after all, the staff knew him too. Why things always had to be so complicated? There was also another matter in this: why the fuck would Stiles want to talk to Peter in the first place? What did he want to know? How an uncle went all BDSM with his 16-years-old nephew? That was none of Stiles' business! He didn't have any right to judge, or even to know. He just wanted to understand, even if that meant being utterly indiscreet.
He had to renounce. There was nothing more he could do but rely on whatever Derek would tell him. Sighing, he went to bed, and found himself dreaming of Peter and Derek. Together, and younger. Stiles actually saw what Derek was like when he was in high school, so the dream was even more vivid. Younger Derek was gorgeous… unsufferable, but definitely gorgeous. When he woke up, Stiles noticed his desire couldn't be hidden. It came like a heat wave from his groin, and he soon started to touch himself. Again. It was the first time he did it while thinking of the person he loved being with someone else. That felt strangely good, though. Picturing Peter giving Derek orders was more exciting that he would have thought. He saw him whipping Derek, waxing and spanking his ass red, and then savagely fuck him. Submissive Derek was really Stiles' turn-on n°1, and his orgasm was so violent he slept just after, exhausted.
They had fixed the session for tonight. A few days had passed, so Stiles had still the time to change his mind. Did he really want to do something like that? Yes, obviously, since he didn't say anything to Derek. So, on this tuesday, he drank a lot of water. Hell of a lot. He read somewhere that some food could leave a taste in urine, like coffee or pineapple, so he avoided any of it. Beer could have been a solution, but being drunk for a session was a stupid-ass idea. Derek wouldn't have it anyway, and he would have been right. The first rule— well, one of the first rules— was to be always sober, in control. So Stiles drank only water, a thing that seemed to puzzle Scott.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"What? Staying hydrated!"
"It's like your third liter today…"
Stiles shrugged, acting like everything was normal. His best friend sure knew he was in a relationship with Derek, but he didn't need to know the details. The details being 'I'm going to piss on him all night long'. That sort of things was kind of private.
"Hey Stiles…?"
"What?"
"You're acting weird these times."
"Don't worry, Scott. I'm fine!"
Stiles smiled, so his friend let go. He'd be more alert, though, just in case. We can never know… The classes were over and they were on the parking lot, reading to go home. Stiles got in his Jeep, but Scott made a gesture.
"By the way, we got a meeting friday night, remember?" Scott added.
"Yeah, I didn't forget."
"I think we'll talk about Malia."
Sooner or later, they had to talk about her. Stiles sighed. He didn't like the idea, yet he knew that was necessary. He wouldn't let the pack be torn apart by the instability of his love life, especially when he wasn't even a werewolf to begin with. They didn't deserve something like that. He nodded.
"I hope we'll be able to sort it out."
"We will." Scott reassured him.
Then, he let Stiles go.
The Jeep entered Derek's building parking lot a few minutes after. Stiles didn't want to wait to see Derek. Things were becoming a bit too complicated when werewolves were involved. All supernatural put aside, it all were just love issues as most human beings knew them. Stiles breathed. He had to forget about Malia, at least for tonight. He wasn't here for her, but for Derek. Thinking of one while being with the other was the biggest insult he could make.
The door opened on a Derek leaning against his desk, with a concerned look on his face and his arms crossed. Like… Stiles did something wrong and needed to be punished. Did he? He wasn't sure, so he went for the sarcastic half-jokey attitude.
"Am I not the one who should look pissed and about to spank asses?"
Derek smiled a bit. "I wasn't expecting you this early. I thought it'd be someone else."
Stiles frowned. "Like who?"
"Scott. Or Malia."
Walking quickly, Stiles crossed the distance between him and Derek. They kissed and hugged each other, finding this embrace comforting. Derek needed it: he didn't show it but he dreaded this week's pack meeting. He too was feeling guilty. He was afraid Scott would kick him from the pack. That was unlikely, but Derek had so many bad surprises in his life he tended to get paranoid. And the perpective of being an Omega terrified him. He didn't want to be alone anymore.
He held Stiles tighter, enough for the boy to look at him with wonder.
"What is it, Derek?"
"I just… I just realized how bad I needed a pack. You're my only family now."
That wasn't quite true, since Peter wasn't dead yet. But Stiles knew the subject was too explosive to bring it up in this situation. He kept silent and kissed Derek again.
"I need you." the wolf said.
I know, Stiles thought. And I really need to pee.
"Are you ready, then?" Derek asked. He didn't have to remind Stiles of what was suppose to happen, the boy remembered it well. He nodded and smiled.
"I'm more than ready. After all, you didn't even expected me."
They went in the corner of the loft, the one that Derek kept for working out, among other things he wasn't keen to tell people about. Straps were still hanging, but Stiles didn't want that.
"Can I go through your stuff? I'm wondering if… I got an idea."
Derek smiled enigmatically, and opened a closet otherwise locked up with a key. Inside were accessories of metal and leather, things that Stiles knew how to use, and things he didn't. Even things he never even saw. Derek let him search for what he wanted, looking slightly amused.
"Why are you laughing?"
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"I'm not. I'm smiling."
"Same."
"You're cute."
Stiles blushed, and fought for a good line to throw back. It came with difficulty, but he found one: "You'll change your mind when I'll whip your ass bloody."
"You're not ready for that, you know it."
"Someday I'll be."
Derek shrugged. "So, what are you looking for…?"
Stiles kept silent and put things aside. Ropes, for a start. He could use those, and it was not something new. Sometimes, sticking to the basics was the best thing to do. But for today, he wanted something else… There!
"A leash?" Derek raised his eyebrows with a smile.
"What? Aren't you a dog?"
Derek laughed, but didn't disagree. Standing in the middle of the loft, he took off his v-neck. That was the signal. Stiles' smile turned into a vicious smirk. Both of them changed clothes: they liked to be shirtless for their sessions, wearing only a pair of old jeans. Stiles kissed Derek a last time before it all began, then looked at his outfit.
"Am I dreaming? You're not wearing pants tonight, dog."
Derek instantly looked apologetic. They were both getting into their roles, something that was strangely easy. The wolf lowered his head, and took off his jeans. Now he was completely naked.
"Sorry, Master. I didn't know…"
"Shut up." Stiles' voice was cutting through the air, sharper and lower than usual. "Kneel."
Derek obeyed, but his Master didn't look pleased.
"Not like this. Are you already tired? Straight back, and don't sit on your feet."
"Yes, Master."
Stiles waited for Derek to get in the right position, and took the leash. He placed the collar on Derek's neck, being careful not to tie it too tightly. Then he went for the ropes, choosing a shibari figure that immobilized only the upper-half of the body. Derek didn't move, only moaned when he felt the cotton biting into his skin. Stiles was gentle though: the knots were good and the ropes didn't cut his blood flow. Stiles was always worried about safety, sign that he was a good Dom. Derek couldn't be more serene than when he was in his hands.
Even when Stiles just left him in the middle of the room, bound and kneeling on the hard floor. Waiting was a big part of the play, he knew that. He just didn't think that hyperactive-but-medicated-Stiles would dare use it in their sessions. He thought about it as a good thing: if Stiles wanted to gain some control over his ADHD, why not? Even if it was just an illusion. Both of them knew there was little he could do against it. So, Derek waited, his knees beginning to ache from the position he was holding. Images flashed into his mind, and he soon got a boner. He could have a vivid imagination, sometimes. His breathing accelerated as he felt like shouting, begging Stiles to come back and punish him. He was about to do it when he heard steps and the screech of metal being dragged on the floor. Stiles had brought a chair that he left just in front of Derek. He didn't sit in it right away, instead he went to the wolf and clipped a leather leash on his collar. Then, he took a step back, saying:
"I must say I appreciate the picture." He pulled the leash, making Derek moan. He turned around him, slightly scratching his back, pulling his hair. Then he came back in front of him, pushing his face onto his groin. Derek could feel how Stiles was enjoying this.
"You'd like that, huh?"
Derek violently nodded. "Yes…"
"Yes who?"
"Yes, Master…"
"Is that the best you can do?"
Stiles took a step back, admiring the frustrated thing Derek had become.
"Please, Master… I'm begging you…"
Hmm, not bad. Stiles came closer, and unzipped his fly. His erection popped out: when he changed clothes, he didn't bother with underwear. Derek jumped on it as if was dying of thirst, and sucked it hard. Stiles let out a loud moan, but quickly pulled the leash with brutality.
"Not like that! Nobody taught you good manners?"
"Excuse me Master."
"No. No I won't excuse you."
"Please, Master…"
"I won't! Now shut the fuck up, dog!"
"Master…"
"What part of 'shut the fuck up' you didn't understand?"
Stiles slapped him on the cheek, then pulled his face against his cock.
"Is that what you want, dog?" he asked rhetorically. "You want it, huh?"
Derek nodded, scrubbing his face against his Master. He licked him, sucked him again, more gently this time. He let his tongue play, his lips stroke the shaft, his teeth dangerously brush the skin, until the moment when Stiles couldn't hold it back anymore. He didn't want to come that quickly, and he still have a surprise for Derek. Well, since everything was planned, it wasn't really a surprise, but whatever.
"You know what? You don't deserve it." Stiles said harshly. "The only thing you deserve is this."
He needed all this intro to get to the point of the session of the day. He had to shut down a big part of his brain to overcome his mental block. It didn't come easy, but it did, eventually. And he would never have thought he'd like the sensation this much. As he pissed on Derek's face, he let go of everything. The power and the feeling of freedom were intoxicating, as well as the humbled and grateful look in Derek's eyes. Eyes Stiles was careful to avoid, of course.
The piss was unexpectedly clear, at least for Derek. Stiles meant it to be as bland as possible, not knowing if his method would work. It did, yet Derek was feeling a bit disappointed. Maybe he was indeed too metal for Stiles.
However long the flow lasted, it finally came to an end. Panting, Derek opened his mouth, asking silently to taste Stiles again. His Master conceded, the fact that Derek was a good sucker not entirely stranger to that decision. Derek could do this for hours, and not getting tired of it. Stiles wouldn't be neither, if only he wasn't on the verge of coming again. He withdrew, and sat on the chair, looking at Derek. A smirk appeared on his face, his big brown eyes glowing with desire.
"What a poor thing you are, all soaked and smelly. You repel me. Yet…"
Not without a theatrical gesture, Stiles produced a condom, and put it on himself.
"…I believe you can earn your way out. But you'd have to come and get it."
If Derek was surprised, he didn't show it. He stayed in character, and without so much of an hesitation, got to his feet. He struggle a little with balance, being all tied up and his knees aching, but he managed to walk to Stiles. He did it without breaking eye contact, looking right into Stiles' irises.
"All you want, Master." he whispered as he sat on Stiles' lap. He wanted to kiss him, but Stiles pulled his leash back with a grin.
"I'm not here to kiss you. I'm here to fuck you, or, as it seems, for you to fuck yourself on me."
He guided his shaft into Derek's ass, and let him sat on it.
Derek couldn't help but let out a badly concealed sigh. It was so good to feel Stiles like this again… Especially when he was looking at him with those surprisingly cold eyes. His Master was so deep in character that was disturbing, frightening and exciting at the same time. Derek didn't know how he managed not to come.
Yet, as he focused on Stiles, coming up and down on him as his Master didn't even touch him, he ended up coming anyway. Semen lazily run on his hardened and pulsing cock as his husky voice fell into silence. It wasn't the most violent orgasm in his own private history, but surely the most intense. It came up like magma out of an effusive volcano, painfully slow until it was here and he didn't notice. Then it took over all of his senses, paralyzing him in complete silence. His brain just shut down, and for a moment, he didn't know where he was.
He felt Stiles' hand in his back.
"You're one big bad dog, yet still weak." he said as he lifted Derek from him. Then he let him fall to the floor down into the pool of piss, watching him like he was garbage.
"You're filthy." Stiles added, putting out the condom and throwing it out at Derek's face. The wolf tried to kneel again, but that didn't satisfy his Master anymore.
"You're a dog. On all fours." He took back the leash, pulling it a little. "Don't forget to show me your ass."
Derek knew what was coming. He heard Stiles going through his stuff, choosing a whip to punish him. Not a long stockwhip he still didn't know how to use, but a small horse whip. Strikes came down soon after, with a deadly regularity, becoming stronger and stronger.
"Did I give you the permission to come?"
"No, Master…"
"Then you understand why I must do this?"
"Yes, Master."
The spanking session didn't seem to have an end. Derek nearly screamed with every strike, his hoarse voice full with pain mixed with pleasure. His cheeks were burning, and his knees were aching again. And then suddenly, everything stopped.
Stiles pulled his leash again, approaching his cock to Derek's face.
"You owe me a better apology than a reddened ass. Suck."
So he did. Stiles couldn't help but running his fingers into Derek's thick hair, slowly taking control of his movements. Soon he was just face-fucking him until he gagged, saliva pouring obscenely from his mouth. Between two breaks to let him catch his breath, Stiles was unexpectedly brutal, as if he finally embraced the joy power could provide him. In the crescendo of his own voice, Stiles let out a bigger moan, an ending long note as he reached his climax. He withdrew and ejaculated on Derek's face.
"You're filthy." he repeated as he spread his semen on his cheeks and made him lick his fingers. "But you're a good dog. Aren't you?"
"I am, Master."
"Come here."
The mad light glowing in Stiles' eyes faded away, and he held Derek in his arms. He began to untie him gently, stroking his back and kissing his neck.
"Are you ok?" he asked.
"I am."
Stiles smiled lightly. "Then let's take a shower."
The loft had to be super clean for friday night, so Stiles helped Derek with the chores. They had pretty dirty hobbies, no pun intended. It was all fun until the 'clean-up-your-mess' part, that is.
"We're lucky you're not into scat." Stiles said, just before considering that Derek might actually be into it. As the wolf was only smiling and not answering, the boy raised his hands. "Ok, you are."
"I don't know." Derek finally said. "I never had the chance to try. Maybe I'm not, maybe I am. Are you?"
Stiles lifted one eyebrow. "You remember when I said you were too metal for me?"
"Yeah…" Derek laughed. "Too metal, then?"
"So metal you're freaking adamantium combined with vibranium!"
As it was to be expected, Derek didn't get the reference, and gave Stiles his most puzzled look.
"Bah! Forget it!"
"No, tell me."
Stiles' eyes got wider. "You have a bunch of movies to catch up, that's all."
"We'll watch them together then."
They smiled, genuinely pleased with each other.
Friday came faster that they would have thought. Everybody was there, sitting on the couch or the desk, most of them unsuspicious of what could happen when it was only between Stiles and Derek. Kira sat next to Lydia and Liam, while Scott was still standing up. Derek was leaning on his desk, Stiles by his side although not too close to him. Malia was as far as possible from them, pacing nervously through the living room.
"Tonight we're not just watching a movie or play Soul Calibur. We have actual issues to sort out." Scott began.
Actual issues, huh? Stiles lowered his head, suddenly wanting to disappear.
"I'm leaving the pack." Malia threw at them. "Simple as that. I got nothing to do here anymore."
"Wait… You can't just go like this…" Kira replied, genuinely shocked and worried.
"You can't be an Omega again…" Scott added in disbelief.
"I don't want to be part of your pack anymore. You can't force me to stay. I know you won't do it."
Malia wasn't wrong after all. Scott had a gentle heart for an Alpha, and he wouldn't do something against her will.
"I just have a question for you Malia." Derek spoke.
"I'm not answering to you." Anger flashed in her eyes, glowing blue for a second.
"I'll ask anyway. Do you really want to leave only because of an ex-boyfriend?"
Please don't, Stiles thought. On the other side of the room, Malia was about to explode with fury.
"It does seem pretty futile to you, doesn't it? That I just can't breathe the same air as you, knowing what's going on. I just can't."
Stiles refrained from smiling sadly. The worst part being you don't actually know everything that's going on here…
"The truth is, Derek, I know that if you're in danger, I won't help you. I'll just sit by and watch you die and I'd be happy about it. Do you still want me in your pack?"
Derek didn't answer. He had nothing to say, neither did Stiles. Sitting in the couch, Liam, Kira and Lydia weren't sure of what was happening here. Feeling like she had missed some episodes, maybe a whole season of it, Lydia dared to ask:
"Ok, what's really going on here? We only know that Malia and Stiles aren't dating anymore, but… Why talking about it in a pack meeting, hmm?"
Malia had a sour laugh. "I thought you were clever. Stiles left me and lied to me, saying there was nobody else. Instead, he dumped me for Derek."
"I didn't lie, you asked about 'another girl'…" Stiles defended himself. Considering the death glare Malia was throwing at him, what he said wasn't the most intelligent thing to say. On the couch, the three people that didn't know stayed awkwardly silent.
"Well… That's a surprise…" Kira muttered.
"We didn't know you two were g…" Liam began.
"Bisexual." Derek intervened. "And that's none of your business anyway."
"So why are we talking about it?" Lydia had a point.
"Because it could have consequences on the pack." Scott pointed out. "As Malia said, if she can't work as a team with Stiles or Derek, we might have a real problem here. We're a family, we have to trust each other with our lives."
"That's why I'm leaving. I'd be an Omega, and I won't stand in your way. I'm used to be alone anyway."
"Malia, you know I don't want this." Stiles tried.
"I don't care what you want."
"Nobody is kicking you out, that's what he's trying to say." Derek replied. "You're pushing yourself away."
"I know. And Stiles doesn't need you to speak in his stead."
"Actually, he does. You're frightening him."
The room fell silent with the revelation. Maybe Derek was a bit exaggerating, but Stiles didn't protest. The bitter truth slapped Malia's face, and she stood still for a second.
"You're afraid of me?" she asked. He nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Aren't you afraid of Derek? Scott? Kira? Liam? Lydia? Peter?"
Peter… Even after all they've been through, Stiles felt weird when thinking about his absence.
"I'm not." he answered. "I might have been, but I know I can trust them, that deep down, they know what's the right thing to do. That, somehow, they're human." He dreaded her reaction to what he was about to say, but he owed her at least the truth about his feelings. "The problem is… I don't know if you're human enough for me."
Malia's mouth was agape for a few seconds, until she found something to hang on to.
"And Peter? Is he human enough for you?"
Damn, she had a point here. Peter could be a hell of psychopath and the moment after, a cinnamon roll. What Stiles could answer to that, without any bad faith? He could say that he hadn't dated Peter, but neither had he dated Scott. He could say that Peter had saved their asses a few times, but Malia did too. He could say that Peter never threatened to let Derek die if he was in danger, but he tried to kill him several times and told Kate how to create Berserkers! He couldn't tell her, but he had to admit that Peter was kind of his problematic fave.
"You're not saying anything." Malia finally pointed out.
"You're right. Is that what you want to hear?"
"Talking about Peter…" Lydia intervened, really wanting this drama to end. Stiles couldn't be more grateful. "I still have this weird connection and… He's not well. Not at all."
"Who cares?" Malia began. "If Stiles is afraid of him, he's not worth anything!"
"You're not helping, Malia." Scott muttered.
"Of course, and that's why I'm leaving the pack."
Without any other words, she left the loft. Stiles understood why she was upset, but there were some things that you just couldn't control. Being more comfortable with Peter than with her was one of these. He sighed, and got back to what Lydia was saying.
"She'll come around." Derek whispered to him, putting his hand on his. I hope so.
"I had nightmares about him, like he was being tortured or something. I was wondering if…"
Scott looked genuinely concerned. "We're the one that put him there. We're kind of responsible."
"And he's responsible for turning you into a Berserker!" Liam said, suddenly recovering his tongue.
"I know but…" Scott sighed. "He's pack."
"More than Malia?" Derek asked, without any irony in his voice. He questioned his Alpha only to make him say it aloud.
"Malia wanted to leave… Peter never did."
"He's toxic." Kira said, and Liam agreed.
"He's also cunning. We might need him." Lydia muttered.
"He might be all you want him to be, if he's in danger we have to help him." Scott declared. "He's not like when we first met him. I say we rescue him, and then we'll decide what to do with him."
"Are we really risking our skins for his?" Liam asked.
"I don't know. Who agrees with me?" Scott was requesting a vote, putting his hand in the air.
Stiles was the first to raise his hand too, soon followed by Lydia. "What? I'm tired of those nightmares."
Kira also raised hers. "We can't let people torture him, no matter what he did to us."
"I hope we'll kick him out of the pack after that but…" Liam's hand raised from his lap.
"Derek?" Stiles was perplexed. The wolf was remaining silent, his face completely neutral. He was thinking about it, without coming to accept the fact that, once more, Peter was going to be an issue.
"If only he stayed dead…" Yet Derek raised his hand.
"Ok, that's settled then." Scott said. "So, how do we do that? Any ideas?"
Of course, they had none. Eichen House wasn't the kind of place you leave easily, but since Derek was his own parent left, they still had a chance with the legal way. Otherwise, they could always break in and take him back by force. Stiles had the feeling that was what they were going to do. That was what they always did.
