Warning: This chapter has explicit sexual content.
'Ms. Morrell,
I will be stopping by your shop tomorrow evening to peruse your stock of herbs.
Lady Katherine Argent'
The missive was short and simple and exactly the test run they'd all been planning for. Stiles flexed his fingers afterward, still feeling an oddly numb sensation whenever he had to use them. The doctor assured him that the feeling would fade with time, once his fingers got used to being used again. Stiles believed him, because it was a similar sensation to when you'd sat on your foot too long and tried to walk on it.
"Well done, Stiles," Kate said, handing the note back to him.
Stiles sealed the envelope with his newly restored hand. It felt like a statement of pride whenever he used his hand for anything. "So the herb helped you?" he asked.
"Excuse me?" Kate had been making her exit but paused at his words.
"The flower she sent. The sample helped you? I mean, I didn't even know you were sick, but it sounds like you found someone to help you manage your-"
Kate clapped her hands loudly. Had she been near him and not across the room, he expected he would have been slapped, but he didn't know why.
"Stiles." She pressed her lips together and then smiled tightly. "Dear, stupid Stiles. I hired you to write my letters, not to pry into my private life. Just post the letter and don't tell anyone what's in my mail. Do we have an understanding?" He said nothing, but she continued with, "Good."
Then she was gone and Stiles was left alone with the sealed letter. It was both normal for Kate to be protective of her personal affairs and odd for her to care that Stiles had taken an interest. Usually she liked to flaunt her personal affairs in his face. Not that he much cared.
Lunch was nearly upon them when Stiles handed off the letter. He and Derek had made no plans to dine together. The lord had to keep up his appearances at the Argent table more often than he ate with Stiles, and Stiles did his best not to pout about it. Normally Stiles went to eat with the servants, but this time he changed his mind. He wasn't particularly hungry anyway.
Ever since revealing his ex-title, Stiles could tell Derek thought differently of him. He would catch the lord staring at him even when they weren't alone, threatening their entire enterprise, and when they were alone Derek often kept his hand on some part of Stiles' body – like his arm or knee. It was as if Derek thought Stiles needed constant grounding or protection, and Stiles felt both excited at the contact and queasy about the reasoning behind all the touching. He hated that Derek thought of him as weaker now because of his fit or more pitiable because of his loss of title.
The mixed feelings he got whenever Derek and he were alone, or even when Allison accompanied them, was one reason he didn't mind not seeing Derek for lunch. It was also why he had a loss of appetite.
Instead of eating, Stiles went to the library. He was still curious what kind of ailment Kate had that needed curing, and her defensive nature had only doubled his interest. In the library, he scanned the shelves until he found a book of medical plants and herbs. He scanned the pages for Kate's original cure, the moringa root, but there was no mention of the plant. Next he searched for aconitum. Again, the medical book had no listing of it.
If these plants were to help cure Kate of some hidden affliction, why were they not listed in a book of medical uses for plants?
Frowning, a dark thought entered Stiles' mind. What if the plants weren't for healing? He scanned the shelves, looking for a book of non-medical plants and soon discovered a book documenting an extensive collection of herbs and roots. Moringa was listed under a section of foreign folk medicine. There didn't seem to be any downsides. Its listed benefits were everything from curing headaches to increasing libido, depending on the part of the plant used.
Gross. Stiles' dark thoughts scattered as he imagined her needing the root to help her sex life. Maybe she needed it to help her lovers? She certainly didn't give the impression of a decreased libido herself. Maybe she needed it for- for Derek. The thought was at once disgusting and unthinkable. Derek had no interest in Kate, but perhaps that's why she'd sought out moringa. She wanted to get him in the mood. And this new alternative was masked by the flavor of other foods. He'd never know he'd been doused.
Shivering, Stiles closed the book. Thoughts of Derek and Kate were swirling in his mind and he tried to mentally bat them away. He also apparently swung at them in real life, because he knocked two books onto their sides on the shelf. Cursing, he fixed them and told his brain to get out of the disgusting gutter.
He thought only of Derek then, of their long conversations and all the tiny details Derek was interested in now that he knew Stiles' family name. Where did Stiles grow up? Did he have a dog growing up? What kind of games had they played? What was his opinion of his father's method of business? Did he ever sneak into his father's study when he was small to get a look at the documents hidden inside his father's desk even though he was too small to understand a word of them? That answer was most definitely yes.
Then his mind couldn't help but draw back in thoughts of the moringa and Kate… except it wasn't Kate. He imagined Derek eating the laced food and becoming unaccountably hard through his pants – Stiles had a beautiful imagination for that – and then Derek was pulling Stiles from the dinner table and they were in Stiles' room. No, they were in the garden, barely hidden by the hedgerows. No, they were in the forest by the stream, away from all prying eyes.
"God," he groaned and shifted his stance to adjust his own arousal. He needed to get his shit together. He'd probably gotten himself off thinking about Derek every other night of the man's stay. Honestly, he'd thought he'd get over that eventually, but Derek had been around for over a week and Stiles was still horny for him with no signs of it letting up.
"Am I disturbing you?" Derek's deep voice asked, and Stiles turned to find that he was no longer alone in the library.
"No," Stiles said and swallowed hard. "Nope. Not at all. Just looking up plants."
He felt light headed from his fantasy and then finding himself alone with the central figure of that fantasy. Part of him wanted to be pressed up against the bookcases and kissed like a brazen teenager. Part of him wanted both their pants to be off. Part of him wanted Derek's hands all over his body. All three parts were the same part, and it was a very hard part to ignore.
Stiles cleared his throat. "Lunch over already?"
Derek nodded, stepping closer to look at the books behind Stiles. He perused, his finger dragging over titles. "I excused myself for a moment to find you. I wanted to tell you in person that I won't be going around town with Allison today. Lord Christopher Argent and I are going out instead."
"Oh." Stiles' mood deflated, but his body still thrummed with desire. It really needed to take the hint and calm down. "That's alright. I will see you at dinner, though?"
Derek nodded again, and he was still very close. Too close to be strictly proper. If someone walked in on them… Derek leaned forward slightly so his mouth was near Stiles' ear, and Stiles forgot all rational thought.
"I need to speak with you. Can you meet me in the study tonight?"
Stiles could have melted. "Yeah. Yes. Of course." Derek could have asked him to jump through a fiery hoop, and Stiles would have done it.
"I'll see you tonight, then," Derek murmured. His lips briefly touched above Stiles' ear before he pulled away. Then, with a final, silent nod, Derek turned and left the library.
Only when he was gone did Stiles allow himself to fall ungracefully into the nearest chair. He was perhaps even more aroused than he'd been before Derek had entered. What was all that? Derek's deep timber of a voice right in his ear, the kiss to his hair, the request for a late night rendezvous – Stiles almost couldn't stand it.
He hadn't wanted someone so badly since… well ever. He couldn't remember a single person from before his father's death that he'd ever wanted as much as he wanted Derek Hale. Yes, Derek would be an Earl one day and Stiles would never have a title, but he didn't care. He wanted their long lunch talks and the sight of Derek riding horseback in the late summer air. And he wanted Derek late at night, wanted him as intimately as anyone could want another person.
Damn. He rose from the chair and scurried from the room, barely making an effort to appear casual. As quickly as he could, he made his way to his room and shut the door behind himself. He tried to breathe his way through the unusual rise of desire in him, but it seemed he'd once more have to get himself off while thinking of Derek Hale.
To think that all of this started over a dubious letter from Kate. It was ironic because Stiles hated her so much, and yet it was her he had to thank for his current relationship with Derek. Their relationship was so far limited to a few stolen kisses and hand holding sessions, but it was far better than Stiles had initially hoped for. Now he hoped for much more, but he didn't want to ruin everything by pressing Derek to give more than his position would allow.
Although if Derek asked Stiles to sneak away with him and become his secret lover for the rest of his life, Stiles wasn't sure he'd come up with a reason to say no. At least that way, he'd have some part of Derek for himself forever.
When Stiles made his way to the study, all the lamps had been put out for the night. He walked quietly in the blackness of the house, gauging his path from memory and the slivers of moonlight peeking through some of the curtains. He hoped Derek could find his way too.
He pushed open the door to the study and hesitated in the doorway. Someone was already inside. Derek was seated at the scribe's desk, inspecting the inkwell and rifling slowly through the spare paper. He moved lazily, as though he had all the time in the world and he didn't want to miss anything. It was a complacent, familiar scene, as though that were Derek's desk instead of Stiles'.
Only when Stiles let the door click shut behind him did Derek make any notion that he'd noticed he was no longer alone.
He hummed thoughtfully. "This is where you wrote all your letters," he said. His eyes glanced up at Stiles when the other finally approached, but then returned to the papers. "How can you bare it? Pretending to be little better than a servant when you're a gentleman?"
"I'm not a gentleman," Stiles reminded, slipping the inkwell away and back into its storage space. "I was flippant with that courtesy when I had it and now I am little better than a servant."
Derek frowned. "But you-"
"Have no title, no inheritance, and barely any possessions to my name," Stiles finished for him. His mouth screwed up in an odd frown as he tried to decide if he was sad or annoyed. "I thought I told you already. I'm not notable anymore, but I'm not weak. I don't need you to feel sorry for me."
However, the lord was determined. "But you are the son of a gentleman, aren't you? Surely you have other connections outside of the Argents."
Stiles groaned and turned away from the desk. "Sorry to disappoint, but I don't," he said, not sounding sorry at all. He walked several steps away, his hands half curled into fists. "I'm no one outside of this house, so can we just drop this subject before it starts smoldering?"
Was this what Derek had wanted to discuss? He wanted to talk about Stiles' title, or lack thereof? Damn. Stiles had hoped this meeting would involve more kissing or at least some intimate hand holding and caressing.
"I apologize." Derek rose from the chair and took a hesitant step toward him. "I often say the wrong things around you. I was more eloquent in my letters… I admit, I'm not an experienced conversationalist."
He sounded so self-degrading that Stiles tried to pretend he hadn't been annoyed by the questioning. He returned to facing the lord and shrugged, hands held out in submission. "I think you do just fine. Besides, I speak enough for the both of us. I'm honestly surprised I haven't admitted to far more embarrassing things than I already have. Normally, I admit to all sorts of unacceptable things I try to keep locked in my head."
One of Derek's eyebrows quirked up. "Oh? What kind of embarrassing things?"
Stiles actually snorted. "I just said I try to keep them locked in my head and you want an example?" He meant the question to show that he hadn't meant to share any of his thoughts, but Derek was unmoved and continued to watch him expectantly. Stiles clasped his hands behind his back. "Ahem. Fine then. Something embarrassing… I don't want you to leave next week."
Both of Derek's eyebrows rose at that, and he seemed to draw in the world's longest breath. But he didn't speak, so Stiles, in true Stiles fashion, continued on.
"I'm dreading it, to be honest. Allison is going to school in the spring and moving to the next county. You live across the country, which is far further. Mail is a fine way to keep in touch, but it's abysmally slow, and I have so much to say to you. There really just isn't enough time in the day. I need more than a week, especially a week where you spend half your time surrounded by people I hate."
"I'm not leaving next week," Derek interrupted, and while the statement sounded great to Stiles' ears, Derek's face looked strangely sad. "I'm leaving tomorrow. That's why I asked to meet you tonight. I needed to tell you."
"What?" It felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, and he would know exactly how that felt. Gerard had hit him there a couple of times.
"I received word from my mother today, while I dined with the Argents. It was an emergency post." Derek's frown deepened and his eyes became unfocused, as though he were reading the letter in his mind. "It seems my father has taken suddenly ill. It happened two days ago, but she didn't want to worry me. The doctor says that if his condition improves by tomorrow morning, then all will be well. But if he doesn't, then-"
"Then you need to go," Stiles said, though the words felt almost too thick to voice. He was losing Derek a week earlier than expected. It was the worst news possible. "It's your father. I understand. If I'd been able to-… I would have taken any extra time with my father."
His father hadn't died of an illness, but he felt he understood the situation better than anyone who'd never lost someone. Illness at least gave warnings. Fire gave no last minutes. Fire gave no second chances.
Derek closed the short space between them and slipped his hand tentatively up onto Stiles' cheek. "I don't want to leave you here," he admitted. "As soon as this illness is beaten, I will come back for you. My uncle will have found your records and we can free you from Katherine's clutches."
Maybe it was the memory of his father's last moments, but Stiles felt raw and vulnerable. He put his hand on Derek's and gave a feeble smile. "I told you when we started this… I only asked for a piece of you, Derek. I won't hold it against you if you don't come back."
Derek looked as vulnerable as Stiles felt, and his fingers held tighter to Stiles. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Stiles' open lips. He held the kiss for several seconds before starting a new one, and then several more. Stiles' hand held to Derek's wrist, and his other hand found the lord's shoulder. It felt like Derek was trying to communicate something to him, something his words couldn't fully say. Stiles wasn't sure what that something was, but the kisses, the grip on his skin, the sound of Derek's breath – it all made him feel grounded and wanted, and he let himself believe in that for a few beautiful moments.
"In the library earlier," Derek breathed out when he finally stopped the kisses. His face was still a bare breath away. "What were you thinking about?"
Stiles' gut stirred and his whole body immediately felt hotter than it already did from the kissing. He remembered the book of plants, the uses for moringa, the thoughts of Derek and Kate, the thoughts of Derek and him. His next breath came out stuttered and he pulled back.
"P-Plants," he half-lied. He pushed past Derek toward the desk so that Derek couldn't see his flushed face. "Kate needed a letter about a plant, a moringa root, and I was looking up what it was for."
"What is it for?" Derek asked, but it didn't sound like he cared. He sounded too deep and husky to be normal.
"All kinds of stuff," Stiles muttered and reached out to adjust the paper on the desk. He'd been trying not to let his mind wander to those thoughts. Derek was leaving and they had no real future together. He needed to keep those thoughts inside his brain for once.
One of Derek's strong hands slipped around his waist, and all the breath in Stiles stopped. His groin was definitely not on the same page as his brain, and he cursed himself inwardly. Stop it, he told his body. You're asking for too much.
"I saw-" Derek's voice hesitated, his breath ghosting over Stiles' ear. "I thought I saw… You looked like you needed to loosen your clothes."
Stiles felt embarrassment flood his system. Derek had seen his erection through his pants. It was mortifying and… strangely hot. He managed to breathe again, but it was heavy. "Derek," he murmured, and it sounded like a question to his own ears.
They were alone in the middle of the night, and Derek's arm was around his waist, and Derek was standing so close that Stiles could feel the heat of him through his clothes, and his voice was gruff in Stiles' ear, and- And it was possible that this lord might once again be of the same mindset as Stiles. Because Stiles really, really, really wanted to be touched, to be wanted by Derek Hale for even one night, even if he couldn't keep all of Derek forever, and especially if he was losing Derek in the morning. And it certainly seemed that Derek wanted to touch Stiles more too, because his hand was sitting lower on Stiles' stomach than strictly necessary and his breath sounded too heavy behind Stiles.
"Tell me something," Derek murmured. "An unacceptable thing you can't keep in."
Derek knew. He knew or he wouldn't have asked this way. Stiles leaned his head back against Derek and sighed out, loudly – a sound of giving in. "I was thinking of you," he admitted. He squeezed his eyes shut, a lump building in his throat. "I really… really don't want to lose you in the morning." Then, quieter, "I was thinking of you."
Derek's lips were on his throat, his hands moving up Stiles' stomach and chest. A gasp slipped out of Stiles' lips and he reached back, hand finding Derek's hip. The lord's fingers moved deftly, easily undoing the buttons of Stiles' shirt, and then his hot hands were directly on Stiles' skin. Stiles groaned as Derek's fingers ghosted over his nipples, and he felt Derek shiver behind him.
With barely a moment of warning, Derek pulled back and turned Stiles to face him. He pressed Stiles back until the scribe was half sitting on the desk. He captured Stiles' lips again, his fingers returning to Stiles' chest. Stiles had to support himself on the desk with one arm, but the other was firmly attached to Derek's hair, not letting him move away again as they kissed.
Derek's hands slid around him, pulling him closer, and then his fingers found the bumps of Stiles' burn scars. Derek didn't slow down, didn't hesitate, and it felt freeing to know that the marks didn't turn Derek off. The man's hands were everywhere, making Stiles' head spin until even he didn't care about the scars.
Stiles' body was hot and thrumming and Derek kept toying with his nipples, and he was going to lose his mind. He gasped mid-kiss and his whole body rocked forward with the desire to be closer.
Derek growled, something full of desire, and started undoing his own buttons while he reattached his lips to Stiles' neck. His mind was a little hazy, but Stiles was pretty sure he moaned Derek's name, and he got a little nip of teeth for his trouble, which just had him moaning again. He covered his mouth, trying to muffle the sound. They were alone, but someone could still hear them.
When Derek's shirt was fully open, he withdrew from Stiles' neck and pulled the hand away from Stiles' mouth. "You won't lose me in the morning," he said. Then he pressed their lips together and reached for the strings holding Stiles' pants on.
He made short work of the laces and then the pants were shimmied lower and Derek's hand was on his crotch and Stiles knew only that he wanted to press his whole body to Derek's and never move away. He was rocking into Derek's hand without shame, and Derek was watching him with those intense eyes, and it was all going to be over before it had really begun.
"Derek," Stiles panted. "I'm-"
The hand pulled away from Stiles' erection, keeping his climax at bay, and he actually whimpered. With hardly any effort, Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles' body, pulled him close, and lifted him from the desk. He walked them the suddenly huge distance to the couch and laid Stiles down on it, their bodies still pressed close.
After another kiss, Derek nosed at Stiles' neck. "I'm going to admit an unacceptable thing too," he murmured. "I want to touch you. I never want to stop touching you. In every way possible."
"God. So touch me," Stiles groaned and rolled his hips up into Derek's. He could feel the other's erection, still trapped inside his pants, and he moaned. He needed to see it, to feel it. "Touch me right now, Derek."
They undid Derek's laces together and then disposed of most of their clothes at once, shoes discarded haphazardly on the floor. It was just them, bare except for their open shirts, and Stiles had no words for how gorgeous he thought Derek was, hovering over him like a wolf on the prowl.
"God," he breathed out, daring to drag his fingers down Derek's chest and into the hair at the base of his belly. Derek's eyes closed, a soft moan escaping him.
Then there was no air for words. Derek was kissing him and rubbing against him, and it was obvious he wanted to slide himself firmly into Stiles, but neither of them had planned for this, so there was no lubricant to ease the process, and Derek didn't seem keen to put Stiles through that. But Stiles ached for it – ached in a way he hadn't known was possible.
They fumbled and thrust against one another, and Stiles had to cover his mouth again to hold back the sounds. The sight seemed to make Derek even more intense. He brought his hand up to his mouth and licked his finger, and Stiles didn't understand why until Derek reached that hand down and probed Stiles' ass with the slick finger.
"Ah, yes." The gasp, the beg, was audible through his hand as it slipped slightly away from his lips. "Please."
The finger pressed in and Stiles bit his lip around the moan. Just that little bit of extra sensation sent a jolt of electricity through him and he came, hot and sticky, across both their stomachs. Derek did not immediately remove his finger, but Stiles wasn't complaining. The shivers of sensation it caused with every thrust of Derek's hips carried Stiles through the pleasurable aftershocks of his climax.
Derek came shortly after, the sight of Stiles' blissful climax almost enough on its own to send him over the edge. Then he pulled his finger free and lay, half collapsed, on top of Stiles. They panted together, both sticky and wet and still enjoying the feeling of skin to skin contact.
When they had caught their breaths, Derek pressed a final kiss to Stiles' lips and lifted himself up. "You look even more irresistible than you did the first day we met," he said.
An undignified giggle escaped Stiles, and he covered his mouth to try and stop it. But he couldn't help it. His mind was blissfully foggy in the afterglow, and his heart felt full to bursting. Above him, Derek smiled, and Stiles thought he could probably die happy if he could just look at that smile for the rest of his life.