Author's note: I was so happy to hear you enjoyed the last chapter! This one has a bit less action in it, but hopefully will still be enjoyable=)
Just as promised, Stiles slept like a baby that night. He woke up to the sounds of the coffeemaker and the quiet background noise of some TV show. It was 10 am and Stiles could certainly stay in bed for a bit longer given it was Saturday but he couldn't exactly leave Derek to fend for himself at his place. He was a guest after all.
A guest that was apparently brazen enough to make use of his kitchen and cook breakfast. The french toasts on his plate looked very appetizing and Stiles noted that more of them were still sitting on the pan, presumably left for him.
Derek didn't look nearly as well-rested as Stiles though. His shirt was all mangled, his hair a mess, his vest and jacket splayed on the sofa, indicating that the Dom had subjected himself to yet another terrible night on the 'couch of torture'.
Stiles refused to feel bad though. Nobody forced him to stay the night (though Stiles was really pleased that he did). And despite appearing tired, Derek didn't seem to be in a bad mood. He was reading through one of Stiles's magazines and glancing towards the TV on occasion, as he sipped on the coffee and munched on the french toasts. Such a lovely domestic sight... Stiles took a moment to just observe and file the mental picture away for the future.
"Looks good," he said pointing to Derek's plate.
"Oh, finally. Good morning. You don't mind, right? I didn't want to wait till Your Highness finally deemed to wake up, so I kinda improvised. There's more on the pan."
"It's fine, thanks," Stiles said, as he put the rest of the french toasts on his plate. "Though, if I'm of royal blood, you better call me 'Sir'."
Derek let out an amused snort. "Not on your life."
Stiles looked at the chair, then at Derek, then at the chair again, and weighed the pros and cons of sitting. In the end, he opted for comfort laced with a dose of humiliation, as he fetched a cushion from the sofa and placed it on the chair before carefully lowering himself on it.
"Oh, shut it." He didn't have to look at Derek to know what kind of expression he would find on his face.
"I didn't say a word."
"You didn't have to, your smug face speaks volumes."
Derek chuckled and the two of them fell into companionable silence, as Stiles ate his breakfast, while Derek turned back to reading the magazine. Stiles was a bit surprised by how completely at ease he felt around him, given that not so long ago he was a blubbering mess writhing in pain over his knee. But despite his expectations, there was no awkwardness between them whatsoever.
"Stiles?"
"Hm?"
Derek waited for Stiles to look at him. "Are we good?"
"Yeah."
Another minute passed.
"I'm sorry too, you know."
Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly not following.
"For the lobby," Stiles elaborated. "I… there was so much stuff going on, it just slipped my mind. You usually agreed to my suggestions, so I just assumed you must have given me the green light for it. I swear it won't happen again."
Derek waved his hand dismissively. "It's fine, you fixed it. And I should have supervised this better. Everything was going so smoothly I grew comfortable and didn't go to the site nearly as much as I was supposed to."
"Well, I'm glad we agree that it's all your fault then," Stiles teased.
Derek narrowed his eyes at him. "For someone sitting on a pillow, you sure are acting brave."
Stiles chuckled into his plate. He missed their usual banter. He could certainly get used to having Derek around, doting on him, making him breakfast, teasing him...
But would that be the case every time he played with the Dom? Or would Stiles be just one of the many subs Derek went through the night? Assuming he would even want to scene with him again, now that he finally got his hands on him. But even if he did, Stiles wasn't so sure he was ready to join his fanclub of submissives. He was already too much at his beck and call at work. He needed distance to maintain the status quo. It worked for them so far… (well, most of the time).
Last night was… not a mistake, God no, Stiles would never use such a word. Last night was horrible and special and wonderful in the most unconventional way, and the memories would probably serve him as fapping material for many nights to come. It's just that it was not a situation Stiles found himself in very often. And the one he intended not to find himself in ever again. He was not a self-sabotaging spiraling out of control anxious sub. He always had his shit together, and he fully intended to stick to that. He was grateful that Derek took charge and didn't let the situation get any worse, and then helped him unwind. But in the end, it didn't really change anything between them. Stiles avoided scening with Derek for a reason. And that reason hasn't changed. Yesterday it might have not mattered, but today it did again. Stiles was simply not ready to jeopardize his first big project by further complicating his relationship with a client.
However, after the hotel was finished... perhaps they could revisit this topic.
"You done? I want to see my work of art before I go."
Stiles looked up and the playful gleam in Derek's eyes was on a whole new level. "The canvas is private property, sorry," he chaffed.
"No no no, I have my authorial rights. Besides, I wanted to apply the arnica again."
"I'm fully capable of applying it myself."
"Dom's responsibility, champ. Chop chop." Derek prompted him up and pointed towards the couch while he went to fetch the Arnica cream.
Stiles decided it was not worth arguing over, so he lowered his pants and bent over the armrest, feeling a bit awkward and on display.
"Hmm, not bad," Derek said, gently touching the bruises. "Though the daylight is definitely less flattering."
"Gee, thanks, my canvas shall be very offended."
"Your canvas is mighty fine even in daylight."
"10/10 would recommend?"
"Yes, I shall write a review on 'Buttadvisor' - Great shape, pleasant to touch, colors nicely, mouthy owner, gag recommended."
Stiles laughed at that. That was definitely the silliest exchange they ever had, and while Stiles was no stranger to being a goof he certainly never expected Derek to play along. Perhaps something did change, after all. Stiles glanced back as he pulled his trousers up again and Derek looked… happy. Like genuinely happy. But then he remembered how pleased and relaxed the Dom looked after whipping Jeremy in TRZ, and decided it was simply the afterglow after a nice punishment session.
Derek stretched his arms and neck for the umpteenth time and Stiles took a small pleasure in knowing that he was not the only one sore after the night. "Perhaps you require some aftercare too?" he grinned gleefully.
"Oh, don't get me started," Derek grumbled, glaring at the sofa. "Next time you need a punishment, I'll just force you to sleep on this yourself." He put his belt back on, grabbed his vest and the jacket all set to go, but then paused and looked at Stiles, finally taking notice of the lack of comeback. "Unless this was a one-time thing?" He hit the nail on the head.
"It was a one-time thing," Stiles confirmed, feeling oddly guilty as he said it.
"Ok, well if you ever want a repeat, feel free to yell at me some more," Derek quipped with a grin.
"I'll keep that in mind," Stiles replied, forcing a tiny smile of his own. Though in truth, he felt a bit hurt at how little Derek cared that they won't be playing again. He expected Derek to question his reasoning, to try and persuade him for a repeat. Hell, at least look a bit sad or angry. But Derek obviously didn't care all that much since he had a horde of subs to replace him. Which only confirmed that Stiles made the right decision.
He saw Derek to the door and the Dom surprised him by opening his arms in an invitation for a hug. The confusion must have been apparent, because Derek explained, "It's for me."
No matter his feelings, Stiles would never deny a play partner a hug. Tops needed reassurance just as much as bottoms did, so Stiles let himself be enveloped in a tight embrace which felt so fucking good, it made his chest hurt. He noticed how Derek breathed in his hair and almost opened his mouth to ask him to stay... But before he could do that, Derek let him go and the moment was gone.
"See you at work, champ." And with a flash of his signature smirk, he was gone.
xxx
Sitting at work on his bruised ass was both a blessing and a curse. Stiles's body generally healed quite fast and usually by Monday most of the marks from the weekend play were gone or were not particularly noticeable, but that was not the case this time. He kept shifting around, trying to find a position that would allow him to focus on the task at hand and not picture Derek wearing out his backside with a bath brush and then soothing the pain by gently rubbing it, only to reignite the sting shortly after. And then pet his head and murmur soft reassurances and…
Oh, here we go again. REPORTS. Focus, Stilinski, for fuck's sake! But no matter how much he scolded himself to pay attention to his work (or rather to that stupid paperwork, that he was doing for somebody else), he kept catching himself grinning like a dork every time his ass throbbed from sitting too long in some unfavorable position.
He didn't manage to be particularly productive and by the end of the day decided he'd had enough being anyone's bitch, so he told his colleagues that he didn't have time for their paperwork anymore and to finish it themselves. Surprisingly enough, they didn't even argue. Which only proved how short Stiles sold himself and how much of a sucker he was.
On Wednesday he and Derek had a meeting with an interior designer, who prepared a long-ass PowerPoint presentation on every last piece of furniture that "shall compliment the design and spirit of the hotel absolutamente exquisito!".
Stiles's experience with interior design was limited to 'this I like and this I don't', Derek just wanted stuff to look good and fit the budget. But neither of them wanted to appear rude, or offend the guy who was clearly really into this, so they patiently kept their butts on the chairs and their eyes on the screen.
As you can guess, Stiles was not very good at keeping still and whenever he shifted, he would catch Derek looking at him with that knowing smile. He didn't say anything but Stiles could see how much it pleased him. So by the end of the presentation, Stiles might have squirmed a few times just to see Derek smile again, even though his bruises were mostly gone by that point.
He skipped TRZ on the weekend. His butt was fine with just one barely visible yellowish mark that he couldn't even feel anymore, but he decided it would be better to take a break. To take a breather… to fix his headspace… to keep his distance.
Stiles had no intention to stop scening altogether though, so the next Friday he was back at TRZ and was greeted at the entrance by a weird combo of Malia, Kira, and Lydia.
"Stiles!" Kira waved at him.
"Write him in, write him in!" Lydia told Malia, who was the only one of the trio calm enough to actually greet him.
"Hi Stiles, it's 'Spanks for Africa' night, wanna participate?"
"What's that?" Stiles asked, slightly unnerved by the obvious excitement radiating from Kira and Lydia.
"A charity event. We are raising money for the victims of the recent hurricane that hit Florida. Participants are donating 'spanks', bidders are offering money for a specific implement and amount, the Monitors are choosing 3 options every round and present them to the couple to choose from."
"But I don't have a couple."
"No one does. People are paired randomly, Tops and bottoms. You should sign in, it's a lot of fun."
"What if no one would want to bid on me? That would be kinda embarrassing."
"No Stiles, that never happens, people love to bid and they are very generous here. This is one of the most popular events, that's why there are at least 2 every year. Trust me, you will get so many bids, the monitors will have a hard time filtering the best options to present you."
"How many rounds are there?"
"Ten rounds, with maximum 20 hits per round, bids are going up in value and intensity towards the end."
So that could be a maximum of 200, which didn't really say much, as it could translate into a simple 2 minutes of hand spanking or into something completely crazy like 200 with a cane - ooops. "What if I don't last 10 rounds? Or what if I choose the bid and then can't take it?"
Malia waved her hand dismissively. "Happens all the time. And I haven't seen a single bidder ask for his money back. Besides, your Top can just cheese it if it gets too much for you. It's charity Stiles, really, don't worry, the aim is to raise money and have fun."
Stiles remembered the slave auction party and knew she was telling the truth. He looked at Lydia and Kira. They were both Switches and therefore could join as either Tops or bottoms or even both if they so desired. "Are the two of you participating?"
"Absolutely! I even volunteered to help with the draw! Come on, Stiles, I bet your ass is gonna be the one to raise the most money!"
Well, if Lydia with her measly pain tolerance wasn't afraid, then he was not gonna chicken out either. "Ok, sign me in," he told Malia.
"Submissive, right?"
"Yup."
The girl typed something on the computer and then handed him a scanner for his wrist.
"How many people signed up?"
"Eighteen with you. I think we could probably get another couple or two before it starts."
Stiles nodded and went inside, followed by Lydia and Kira. Both of the girls were wearing white watches, which meant that they had been invited by somebody.
"Are you here with Derek?" Stiles asked Lydia, trying to keep his voice from sounding jealous.
"With Peter," she replied with a grin.
"Really? I thought he was vanilla."
"He is a work in progress, and I quite enjoy educating him. Today I got backup," she hinted at Kira.
"Wow…and what does Derek say about all this?"
Lydia laughed, playing with her hair flirtatiously. "Derek is trying very hard to pretend Peter is not there."
Stiles was a tolerant person, but just imagining seeing his dad scening in the same kink club gave him creeps. It was probably not that bad when it was your uncle, but still. He couldn't help but feel for Derek.
"I got a very interesting phone call from Derek, two weeks ago," Lydia noted, eyeing Stiles suggestively. "He called me in the middle of the night, all freaked out, asking if I knew anything of your whereabouts. He was ranting something about the car and you not being in it. I didn't get much, as I was still half asleep, but he got me worried. And then I got the message in the morning that it was all good and that you were at home. With a smiley face... I repeat, a smiley face. From Derek," she stressed the name meaningfully, "Sooo… wanna tell me what this was about?"
"Nope."
"Come on, Stiles, tell me! Did you finally get lucky?"
"Lydia, let it go. I told you many times, we are just friends."
"Right…"
Stiles huffed in annoyance at her skeptical tone, resisting an urge to flip her the bird. Instead, he simply turned around and made for a bar to get himself a drink.
A smiley face, huh?
...
The main stage was redecorated for the event, leaving only racks with implements, a variety of spanking furniture, and a huge screen hanging in the back. All the tables were provided with wrist scanners and there were a lot of people standing in the audience, as they didn't manage to snatch a sitting place for themselves. The club was really packed. And yet, not many people were eager to be the entertainment providers which unnerved Stiles a bit.
There were roughly 20 others with him on stage, the vast majority being young and attractive, which, Stiles supposed, directly translated to more money being raised. The way Malia phrased it, it appeared that people simply volunteered, but now Stiles was getting a feeling that they were actually chosen. Which in the end, was probably a good thing. He was happy to note that all the Tops were good and experienced and while he hadn't had a chance to play with most of them, he had seen their scenes and wasn't afraid to get paired with anyone there. Well, there was Derek, of course, but the likelihood they would be paired together was less than 10%, and even if... well it was all for charity, right?
The event hostess, a professional Domme Miss Marilyn, joined them on stage to introduce the event and remind everyone of the rules. People were supposed to bid on the implement, the number of spanks (though no more than 20), and the amount of money (no limits there) they would donate to the cause if their bid was chosen. The higher the money the more likely the participants were to go for it, but it was still ultimately up to them. She reminded the audience that the bids didn't have to be limited just to spanks, that they were welcome to add tips and donations outside of rounds, and that the participants themselves were free to join in the bidding.
"Why is it called 'Spanks for Africa' if we are raising money for Florida?" Stiles asked Chase standing next to him.
"I think the first event was connected to the Ebola pandemic, and then the name just stuck."
"So you have participated before?"
"Yeah, they ask me every time. Though they always find a couple new willing bottoms to spice things up," Chase explained, winking at him.
Great, I'm the new meat.
In the meantime, Miss Marilyn moved on to the draw. Stiles saw Lydia print down a piece of paper and then scuttle over to hand it to the Domme.
"And the first couple of the night is... a second of drumroll," she quipped, taking a dramatic pause, "Jackson and Danny!"
There was a round of applause as Jackson's Dom joined him at his side with a victorious smile.
"Destined," he said, chuckling.
Jackson rolled his eyes at him. "Yeah, right. You totally paid them off to pair us together."
"It's all for charity, baby," Danny replied, kissing him on the temple.
So the draw was rigged. What a surprise, Stiles thought sarcastically. The next couple announced was Robert and Clair, and Stiles was confused when Chase suddenly walked over to the other side to join the sub.
"The fuck? Why is Chase suddenly a Robert?"
"His name is Robert Chase, silly," Jackson 'helpfully' explained. Stiles decided then and there that he shall bid Jackson 20 with a cane for his troubles.
The third couple was Kira and Jeremy. And then he heard his name being called out, paired with what-are-the-odds/this-absolutely-ain't-gonna-happen Derek.
Stiles tilted his head to the side, hardly even surprised at this turn of events, as he gave the approaching Dom the look that said it all.
Derek chuckled, raising his palms in surrender. "I swear, that wasn't me."
Stiles glanced towards the computer where Lydia was printing her papers and immediately identified the culprit. He vowed to have a word with her when this thing was over.
"Derek, psst," Danny called, "Hundred bucks says I beat you this year."
"A hundred?" Derek raised an eyebrow in that mocking way he often did. "That doesn't speak well for your confidence, Danny-boy."
"Make it a thousand," Jackson retorted with a smirk. "We go first, and Stiles looks like he is about to faint already now. This is gonna be too easy."
Stiles narrowed his eyes at the insufferable arrogant brat. It was likely that going first while everyone in the audience was still rich and pumped was an advantage, but hell, Derek and his horde of fans had to stand for something, and Stiles was no sucker either. They should be able to raise plenty of money!
He hooked his arm around Derek's waist and lifted his chin with a challenge. "You're on."
Derek looked at him with a mix of surprise and amusement, probably not expecting that he would rise to the bait this easily. Stiles didn't either. Plus, he was never the one to initiate any type of physical contact between them before. And yeah, he might have been a bit hasty in latching himself onto Derek as if they were an item. But well, desperate times called for desperate measures.
"We split fifty-fifty when we win," he told Derek, hoping that the Dom will not leave him alone in this, because he sure as hell couldn't afford to spend a thousand bucks to pay for his wounded ego.
Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles's shoulders and pulled him closer. "You heard the man," he addressed the other couple with that obnoxiously smug look that Stiles loved to hate and hated to love, "We are looking forward to wiping the floor with you."
TBC
I know this feels a bit back and forth, but I promise Stiles's walls will slooowly but surely be going down=)