First let me thank my loyal reviewers: Guest, Sterwolf59, Tleightblack, random-nasha, Kieron77, Sasu-Sama' Sarukiji-Sempai, MentToBeForever, and Storylover158 for their reviews. Thanks guys.
Second, the beginning of this is... it's not something I normally write, so if it's bad I apologize.
And third, I'm bringing in a major obstacle for Derek and Stiles. Let's see how much fun I can have with it.
So, thanks for alerting and favoriting last chapter, I don't own these characters, and drop me a comment if you can.
See ya!
Okay, I was suffering from sensory overload. Surprise battled pleasure, confusion battled triumph, hormones battled logic. It was World War Three in my head, and I wasn't even sure what side was winning. Actually, I didn't even care which side was winning. Should I care what side was winning? Oh, who gave a shit because Derek freaking Hale was kissing me. Me! Stile Stilinski! Awkward, gawky Stiles who babbled when he was nervous, who owned way too many hoodies, who had been thinking about this for too freaking long. Me!
And what was I doing? Thinking about emotional World War Three and wondering what side was winning and freaking the hell out. Was I dying? Was he dying? Why was he suddenly kissing me? Were we a couple? Was this a onetime thing? Did he want sex? Was I ready for sex? Would my dad kill him? Holy crap, I'm going to hyperventilate. Stop thinking, Stiles. Just stop thinking.
I forced my brain to shut down, shoved logic to the back of my mind, and hopped onto the pleasure train; next stop Stiles' happiness. I kissed him back fiercely, listening as he growled in the back of his throat. Not meaning to sound like Paris Hilton, but that was totally hot.
I felt myself get hoisted up and placed on my desk. I heard a few things fall off the surface and hit the floor. My hand landed on my stereo's remote, and All Time Low immediately began blasting from the speakers. I ignored the song, something about needing therapy, my mind more preoccupied with the hands that were roaming all over my body. Holy crap did that feel good; his touch was gentle, warm just like his lips. His soft, soft lips. I wondered if they were naturally soft or if he used some type of lip balm.
And just like that logic took control again. It threw me from my pleasure train, laughing as I bounced against the ground. As his lips began to wander away from my mouth-oh my God, that's my collar bone-I managed to gasp, "W-what changed y-your mind?"
"You," he answered gruffly, his lips moving against my jaw. He really, really, really needed to go back to my lips otherwise I was going to lose it.
"W-was it, um…?" Okay, that's my ear. Lips Sourwolf, go back to the lips… ah. "W-was…?" What the hell was I talking about again? Why was I even talking? What was this talking I kept thinking about? And why was I even thinking? Thinking was bad; really, really bad.
Pleasure rolled through me in waves, making me very warm, and I was fairly certain someone would have to physically pry me off of Derek, until the pleasure was replaced by pain.
I hissed, feeling Derek wrench himself away from me. My hand went to my neck, my fingertips brushing against two scratches. I hissed again, pulling my hand away from the side of my neck. I looked at my fingers, noticing the blood.
"I-I'm sorry," Derek whispered from across the room, his arms crossed, his red eyes locked on the floor.
"It's okay," I said quickly. "It's just a scratch. It's not even that bad." I slid off my desk and crossed the room slowly, raising my hands when it looked like he wanted to bolt, and softly said, "You didn't hurt me. It stung for a moment, but I'll live. It's fine." I stopped within touching distance of him, resting my hands on his shoulders. "It's fine," I repeated, whispering.
He breathed deeply, uncrossing his arms, letting them fall to his sides. I watched as his eyes slowly shifted back to green. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. "I don't know what happened," he admitted quietly.
"You lost control," I murmured, breathing in his scent. "It happens."
"Not to me," he said and I could feel his breath against my face. "And not when I'm around you. It can't happen around you."
"I think you need a new anchor," I stated dropping my hands from his shoulders, grasping his hands. "We'll find you one."
"I think I already found it," he said softly, lightly kissing me.
I snorted, definitely breaking the moment, and said against his mouth, "That was so cheesy."
"Shut up," he growled, but he was smiling.
"But in a good way," I quickly replied. "I would be honored to be your anchor. Though, I won't get it tattooed on my body. I think my dad would kill me, and having 'Derek's anchor' plastered anywhere on me would just raise too many questions…" he snorted, shaking his head. "What?"
We were quiet for a moment, but I just couldn't stay quiet for long, unless our little display on my desk had anything to say about it, and I broke the silence. "So, I changed your mind?"
"It was a combination of you, and me not being able to stay away," he admitted shrugging.
"Maybe you should get 'Masochist' tattooed on your forehead," I commented grinning. He playfully growled, shaking his head again. "I'm glad you changed your mind because I was totally lying about not waiting forever. I was actually thinking about stalking you. You know, since I learned from the best and everything."
"You're an idiot," he grumbled.
"But a loveable one," I retorted and he smirked. "Let's not forget that."
He pulled away from me, crossing the room to sit on my bed. I moved to sit next to him, turning to face him. "So, are we like officially a couple now?" I hadn't meant to ask, but the words left my mouth before I could stop them. Again, sometimes my mouth moved faster than my brain. "I didn't mean… I'm sorry." Okay, how did I fix this?
He was quiet for a moment, pensive (without the brooding; a step up for my Sourwolf), but he finally turned to me and said, "If that's what you want…"
"I'm all in," I replied without hesitating. "Though you may have to walk me through this whole dating thing. I've only had one relationship, when I was thirteen, and she broke up with me because I didn't like her shoes."
"Yeah, well, I'm about as lost as you are," he admitted quietly. "My last relationship…" he trailed off, looking away from me. I did know about his last relationship, and I hated that he had to live with what Kate did to him. He didn't deserve that; nobody deserved what she did.
"I'm not Kate," I reminded him.
"I know," he replied nodding. He looked up at me again, his eyes zeroing in on my cut. He gently touched it and I felt the stinging ease. I had read about werewolves being able to take pain, had even seen Scott do it once, but it was surreal to have my own pain taken away. "Sorry," he said quietly.
"It's just a scratch," I reminded him.
"It won't happen again," he promised dropping his hand from my neck. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," I said softly. "Besides, your entire pack would kill you if you did. Remember, they love me." He gave me a small smile. "You need to do that more often. It makes you look less growly."
"God you're annoying," he muttered rolling his eyes.
"Admit it. You love that about me," I retorted kissing him. He merely smiled against my lips, shaking his head. Eh, it was worth a try.
TW
We didn't do anymore 'desk' activities, instead we watched the rest of Donna's episodes and began Martha Jones', and Derek was out of the house ten minutes before my dad got home. Him and those damn ears.
My dad must have picked up on my good mood, and believe me I was in the best mood ever, because he smiled at me and said, "We should go out tonight."
"Are you treating me to dinner, father mine?" I asked curiously.
"Yes," he replied nodding.
"Well, as long as you're paying…" he shook his head, moving towards the stairs to change out of his uniform. When he came back down the stairs, we headed out to a diner we usually frequented.
On the drive there, my dad glanced over at me and said, "Did something happen to your neck?"
"What?" I felt the scratches, my face burning red. "Uh, I was walking through the woods today. Must have hit a tree branch or something."
"Did you put anything on it?" he asked curiously, a little skeptical of my story. I couldn't exactly tell him I got the scratches while making out with my werewolf boyfriend. Holy crap I had a werewolf boyfriend. I was in the same league as Lydia and Allison… and Erica by default. Huh, I hadn't thought of it like that; it was like our own special club. That is, if Derek wanted people to know; did he care if they found out? Should I keep it to myself? And didn't my dad just ask me a question?
"Uh, yeah," I finally answered. He gave me a curious look, raising one eyebrow, but otherwise didn't say another word. The car was filled with an awkward silence, one I just could not handle, and I ended up saying, "So, Dad, how about those Mets?"
TW
Dinner was filled with mostly small talk. Dad told me about his time at the station, being careful not to let anything remotely interesting slip, and I told him about school. He seemed interested in my friendship with Lydia and Danny the most, asking me when I had started hanging around them. He also wanted to know if I was still friends with Scott.
"Yeah, Dad," I started picking at my food. "It's just, Scott has Allison and Isaac, and I needed a friend."
"Well, I'm glad you have Danny and Lydia," he said softly, smiling at me. I smiled back, though it was partially forced. I wanted so badly to tell him that I had Derek, too, but I had a feeling that would be a terrible idea, especially since Derek had already been a person of interest in one murder and who knows how many petty crimes. He was the town delinquent. I was dating the town delinquent. Could I get anymore 1955?
After dinner, as we were driving home, Scott called me and told me we had a emergency pack meeting tonight. Great, a pack meeting, and I probably reeked of Derek. This was going to be an awesome meeting.
The moment we got home, I ran inside and up the stairs. I headed into the bathroom, striped down, and got in the shower. I wondered if I scrubbed hard enough, the essence of Derek would just go away. I doubted it, but it was definitely worth a shot. Besides, Derek would most likely smell like me unless, you know, he's doing the exact thing I'm doing. Wet, hard body covered in soap, his muscles…
Oh jeez, Stiles, stop picturing him in the shower.
After my shower, I quickly changed my clothes, put a bandage over my cut, and hurriedly left the house with a quick good-bye to my dad. As I drove to the train depot, my car full of the strong scent of my soap, I wondered what the meeting was about. Were the Alphas back? Did they find the hunters? Did Peter start killing people again? Were we going to kill Peter? I liked that option best.
I parked my jeep next to Lydia's car, took one last whiff of myself, and got out. I walked inside and immediately went down the stairs, very much aware of murmuring. Murmuring that seemed to stop the moment I stepped off the last step.
Erica and Lydia were looking at me, their eyes wide, knowing grins on their faces. Great, so the soap hadn't worked, but I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of knowing they caught me. So, I put my hands on my hips and said, "What?"
"Oh nothing," Lydia said grinning.
"Lover boy," Erica stated and both girls laughed.
"What are you…?
"I smelled you on Derek," Erica said slowly, her grin widening. "He pretended like nothing happened and disappeared to take a shower, but I smelled you. And, though that soap is really strong, I can smell him on you, too."
"When did it happen?" Lydia asked curiously.
"When did you two join forces?" I countered still not giving them the satisfaction. "Last I checked, you weren't exactly best friends."
"Stiles just tell us." Erica put her own hands on her hips, giving me an intimidating stare. I'll admit, she pulled it off slightly better than Isaac, but it still wasn't up to Derek's standards.
"Tell you what?" Derek said, coming in from the old train, Isaac right behind him, moving towards us. Erica and Lydia shared a quick look, shook their heads, and moved over to the corner, away from us, taking Isaac with them.
"My hero," I murmured batting my eyelashes. Derek merely glared, turning to watch as the rest of the pack joined us. The only one missing was Peter. So, maybe we were killing him after all. I could only be so lucky.
"What's this about?" Scott asked the moment we were all assembled.
"Yeah, I've got a English project to finish," Jackson said from against the wall. His arms were crossed and he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Truth be told, as much as I liked being in close proximity to Mr. Sourwolf, I'd rather be anywhere else, too. The train depot was rank. Seriously, did they ever hear of air fresheners? (Note to self: buy air fresheners.)
"Isaac caught the hunters' scent," Derek informed us, frustration flickering across his face, his eyes settling on Jackson. "They're closer," he continued, his eyes flicking over to me, "and they are far from done with us."