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P.s. I had to leave this on a big cliff-hanger because it's 3:30am and I'm really tired, sorry! I promise to update ASAP.

Warning: Sexual content in this chapter

Chapter 11

Stiles had her legs firmly wrapped around Derek's waist, pulling him in as close as possible. Her hands were running through his slick black hair, making sure he didn't try to part his mouth from hers. His own hands were gripping her waist, keeping her pressed against him. She didn't know how long they had been making out for, nor did she care. She wanted to continue kissing him, to kiss every inch of him. His lips, his neck, his chest… everything. She wasn't sure what had come over her, this sudden, undeniable, and extreme hunger for him, and only him. She hated him just a few days ago, and now here she was, unable and unwilling to pry herself off him. Hormones, she told herself.

She couldn't breathe, literally. She needed to stop, to refill her lungs so she could go on all night, but she didn't want to. Her body eventually got the better of her, she reluctantly allowed their lips to break, and leaned back from him, sucking in the air. It was only then that she realized that the smell from the purple ointment still clung to the air, to her arm. She scrunched up her nose in disgust.

"Wow," she breathed. "That's kind of a mood killer."

Derek detached himself from her took a step back so he was not within reach anymore. He wouldn't look her in the eye.

"I should go," he said. "Make sure you leave that bandage on for a day."

"Oh," she replied, disappointed. "Okay. Thanks, again."

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he gave her a final glance before leaving the way he had come – out the front door.

What the hell was that? She thought. What was all of that? Had she gone mental? She hopped off the desk and sat in a daze on her bed. She had to have entered the twilight zone, was that a real thing? She didn't know anymore, her whole reality had been flipped. She had just made out with Derek Hale. Sure, it was awesome, but it was also stupid. Her relationship with him had been so unstable up until now; she would be an idiot to trust him just because he had a moment of kindness. He was a werewolf. He was also an unspecified amount older than she was. It was kind of weird, and made no sense.

Don't overthink it, Stiles, she told herself. However, being Stiles, she couldn't help but over-analyse it in her head to the point where she exhausted herself into sleep. Even in her dreams, Stiles saw Derek. She was in a forest, looking for him, though she couldn't find him. The last thing she saw before she awoke was his wolf-form, big and black and blue eyed.

The next morning, Stiles tried to convince herself she had dreamt the whole thing, or that she should at least pretend it was a dream, because it was not likely to happen again. She walked downstairs to find her Dad making pancakes. Yummy. He must have just gotten back from his night shift.

"Morning," he said. "Stitches out today, right?"

"Ah… actually, I had them out yesterday. The doctor changed the appointment," she lied. Her Dad spun around to face her, his eyes wide.

"And?"

"Well, I had to put this cream on it for a day, so I won't be able to tell until I wash that off," she said. "I think it will be okay though."

"I hope so," he smiled warmly, and then returned to making the pancakes.

Stiles decided she needed to distract herself. So she had breakfast with her Dad and then went over to Scott's to see what he had planned for the day. He and Kira were going to the school to practice lacrosse, even though it was a Sunday and not a scheduled training day. They had the State Semi-Finals coming up soon. She joined them, but they were wary of letting her participate in the physical side because of her arm – which wasn't sore at all – so she mainly watched. She loved seeing Scott and Kira together. They were so alike, so kind and fun and cheerful. They made each other happy. It got Stiles thinking.

"How do you know when you like someone?" she asked as they ate lunch, sandwiches that Kira's Mom had made.

"What do you mean?" Scott replied.

"How do you know the difference between like and lust?"

"Are you talking about someone in particular?" it was Kira who spoke. Stiles panicked.

"No," she said, perhaps too quickly. "What if there was someone who you didn't really like or had nothing in common with, but you wanted them. Badly."

"That's lust," Scott concluded. Kira wasn't as oblivious as Scott was; she knew Stiles wasn't posing an open question.

"There's nothing wrong with lust," Kira continued. "It can be fun, especially at our age. As long as you don't let yourself get hurt and keep your emotions in check, why not give in to your inner animal?"

Stiles smiled, she liked that. Her inner animal. The thought of little vixen-Stiles inside her waiting to unleash itself on someone made her laugh. Okay, so maybe she wasn't in love with Derek or hadn't developed intense feelings for him, but she was incredibly attracted to him. She was still a girl – a woman – and she had needs. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be with him physically, and only physically. She knew she read too much into everything; maybe now she just needed to throw caution to the wind and say fuck it.

Later that night, her Dad made her sit in the kitchen while he took her bandage off. They both watched anxiously as he peeled off the last layer, and they both dry reached when the smell of the purple ointment hit their noses.

"Ugh, Stiles! That's disgusting!" her Dad yelled, holding a dishcloth over his face. Stiles couldn't help but laugh, it was exactly what she had said when she first reacted to the smell. The dried up ointment blocked their view of her scars, so they carefully washed off the stuff in the sink.

Stiles couldn't believe her eyes. Just yesterday, her scars had been ugly and red and swollen. Now, they were smooth and white, as if the wound had occurred years ago. They were still clearly visible, there was no escaping that, but she didn't feel as embarrassed by them. She knew she had no shame in her original scars, they weren't her doing, and she would never judge anyone with similar scarring, yet the sight of her new ones swept her with relief. After closer examination, she noticed they looked like leaves. The shape, the size, light veins running through them.

"That's… not that bad," her Dad said eventually. "That doc did a pretty good job."

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, still in shock. "I'm going to go and show Scott."

"What? Now? Stiles, it's late," her Dad, protested.

"I know, but he'll want to see," she said, grabbing her hoodie, wallet and keys and racing out the door before her Dad could fit in another word.

Something had overcome Stiles. Call it bravery or stupidity or impulsivity, whatever it was she was riding its wave and going with the flow. She was going to let it control her and hoped it would lead her somewhere great. She started the car and drove, not to Scott's, but to Derek's loft. She had guessed that her surge would take her here, she had a feeling it wanted her to do something extreme, and this was what her subconscious wanted.

It wasn't until she was standing at the door of the loft that she became somewhat self-aware. What was the plan? What was she intending to say and do once he opened the door? What if he wasn't home. She looked at herself, she'd had a bath not long ago and her hair was still wet and she was wearing shorts and a hoodie. God help her. Before she could dwell on her thoughts any longer, the large sliding door was pulled opened by Derek. He was wearing a tight white singlet and sweatpants.

"I thought I could smell you," he said.

Stiles stepped inside and closed the door behind her while Derek watched curiously. She held on to the handle for a moment, preparing herself, before she turned around to face him. She took a deep breath, and then walked straight up to him and kissed him. She didn't hold back. She let her hands run wild over his body, through his hair, gripping his biceps, over to his chest. He was hesitant to respond at first, probably out of shock, though he ultimately yielded. He pinned her to the closest wall and tenderly kissed her jawline, trailing to her neck and collarbone and back again, while his hands found their way to her waist. She unzipped her hoodie faster than lightning and let it drop to the floor. She was wearing a tank top underneath, which allowed Derek's hands easy access to slide up and run softly over her stomach, his mouth still on her neck. She responded by slipping off his own singlet and kissing down his neck, to his chest, to his stomach, until she was crouched on her knees, running her wet mouth against his waistline. She felt his body tremble, was that a good or bad thing? She stuck out her mouth and slowly stood up, running her tongue against his torso as she went. Their mouths met again and hands returned to exploring. Derek's hands found her thighs and he ran his fingers up and down them as she slipped hers into the back of his pants and felt the skin underneath.

They went on for some time until Stiles couldn't take it anymore. She wanted him so badly it was almost physically painful, she needed to have him, more of him. All of him. Still pinned against the wall, she slipped from his grip and, holding his hand, began pulling him towards the bed on the other side of the loft. Derek stopped, letting his hand drop.

"Stiles, no," he said.

"Why not?" she asked, trying to be seductive and not desperate. She had to hide her nerves.

"Because it's wrong."

"I'm legal," she quipped. He hesitated. "Don't worry, I know what this is and I know what it isn't," she pushed. "I'm not going to fall in love with you or anything."

He still didn't move. She had to do something to get him motivated. Daringly, she lifted her singlet over her head and dropped her shorts to the floor so she was left in her bra and underwear. That got his attention. She could feel his eyes examining her body, though she wouldn't look at him because she was shy. She finished off the act by unclipping her bra and stepping out of her underwear. She was now completely naked and vulnerable.

Without meeting his eyes, she tiptoed over to his bed and lay down, propped on her elbows. Moments later, he climbed onto the bed, positioning himself on top of her. She wrapped her bare legs around his waist and drew him to her so that he was leaning against her stomach. They stared at each other, a mixture of fear and excitement in their eyes. Stiles felt herself beginning to overthink so she silenced her thoughts by fixing her arms around Derek's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. He used one elbow to keep himself up, and his free hand traced the surface of Stiles' breast. She was momentarily embarrassed when she remembered how small they were and hoped it wouldn't remind him of how young she was. His hand gradually travelled down in between her legs and found that she was already wet. How could she not be? Stiles' back arched as Derek pleasured her. She'd never been touched there by a boy, and as Derek seemed to know exactly what he was doing, she was in ecstasy. It was certainly better than doing it herself.

He brought her so close, to the brink, but she stopped him before she finished. She wanted to finish with him.

"I want you," she said, her hand slipping into his pants. He was definitely ready too.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his warm breath against her neck.

"Yes," she moaned into his ear.

She had never been so sure of anything in her life.