Word: Braggart

...

Derek wasn't a fan of being tied to a fence and tortured via electrocution, but unfortunately, in his life, it seemed that this exact thing happened often enough that he could adjust to the pain, excruciating though it was. Most times he was tortured on his own, but sometimes his uncle was hanging right there on the fence beside him. Derek usually loathed the people torturing him, but he got a sick kind of pleasure from listening to Peter scream because he just knew that Laura would have screamed while Peter cut her the fuck in half.

Right now, however, he's faced with a rather new development in his torture experience. He's been water boarded, electrocuted within an inch of his wolf's life, physically maimed, and even emotionally manipulated to the point where the woman he thought he'd loved killed his entire fucking family. This, however, is worse than all of that. Because this is his mate, his very human mate (one that's apparently too stubborn to accept the bite), and Stiles is in front of him and screaming in pain.

Being forced to see Stiles beaten and hit, hearing his ribs creak under the pressure, the blood congealing under his skin to form bruises, smell the blood as those bruises become scrapes, it's all too much for Derek to handle. He's wolfed out and snarling, pulling on the cuffs around his wrists, and though he can smell his own blood seeping down his arms from the damage he's doing, Derek can't feel a thing. He's too focused on Stiles screaming and laughing and taunting their fucking captors because - of course! - what the fuck else would Stiles do while confronted with a psychotic bastard with a hard fist and a sharp knife?

"You'll talk, boy. I make everyone talk," the knifeman snarled.

"You! You're... such... a fuck- ... fucking... braggart," Stiles breathed, laughing between each laboured gasp for air.

There was a slight pause of confusion - great, they'd been captured by a thug with no knowledge of simple Shakespearian insults - then the thug lowered his knife, sneering over at Derek as he sliced into Stiles' arm.

"Ow-ow-ow-ow-owwww! Fuck, at least give some warning before you go slicing me up like a turkey!" Stiles groaned.

The thug returned his attention back to Stiles, obviously surprised at how steady his voice sounded. Derek just grinned because this is his favourite part. Stiles straightened up slowly, his eyes glowing white, and he smirked at the thug.

"Now that you've purposely spilled my blood, please, allow me to return the favour," Stiles snarled.

The guy dropped to his knees, various thin slices appearing across his body, blood seeping through his clothes as he screamed in a mix of pain and fear. It's a heady scent, and Derek's body shudders as he breathed it in. Stiles shook his hands, the ropes around his wrists falling off like they were made of silk, and grinned at Derek as he made his way over, the thug still screaming behind him.

"They should really know better by now, don't you think?" Stiles asked with a sigh, touching the fence.

The thick iron cuffs around Derek's wrists simply melted away and he dropped to his feet soundlessly. He didn't reply, wrapping his arms around Stiles as he felt his wounds start to close up.

"Of course, if we actually left any alive after they attempted doing stupid things like this, maybe word would get around more," Stiles mused, licking one of the rapidly closing wounds on Derek's neck.

"But that would mean letting one live. This guy doesn't even know Shakespeare, so we can't let him go," Derek muttered.

Stiles hummed, pulling back as he contemplated Derek's words. Then he smirked broadly, his eyes glowing white again. "You're absolutely right. We cannot let such an uncultured swine to live."

Stiles pulled Derek in for a kiss that would have been deemed inappropriate had it been seen by others. Behind him, there was a gurgling noise as the man's blood stopped seeping out of his wounds and instead redirected into his throat, airway, and lungs. He had choked to death on his own blood before Stiles pulled away from Derek, licking his lips.

"Come on, Derek. Let's go home," Stiles murmured, stepping over the dead body calmly as he lead Derek out of the warehouse.

...

End of word challenge.

Thanks for reading!