Watching the sunset's lively golds, pinks, and purples through French doors, Stiles couldn't help but despise the beauty of its descent. Casting its colorful assault in the sky for all to see, displaying what little beauty the world had left. The endless rise and fall of the sun was the only consistent reminder of time he could possibly possess. Time, although nonexistent to the supernatural world, was everything to Stiles. Time was the bane of Stiles's very own existence.
Life itself within minutes, seconds, nanoseconds, would die and ruthlessly take everything with it, along with the little bits of humanity Stiles held so dear.
He sighs deeply, closing his eyes, his shaking hands gripping the metal doorknobs, swinging open the French doors, and allowing the spring wind to wash over his face as the last remaining sun rays burn through his flesh.
In an instant, Stiles was back at his old home in Beacon Hills, watching the sunrise with his father on their old porch like it was yesterday. In a comfortable silence, Stiles and his dad enjoy each other's company, sipping on their beers on New Year's Eve of 2013, the year his father turned 50 and Stiles himself graduated high school. Although, the memory is distorted when his body contorts in protest, sunrays sizzling his skin.
Another more disturbing memory overcomes him as he is sent back in time to the night he was turned. Not being able to get away from the sunrises burning rays as he ran blindly through Beacon Hills unprotected preserve. The night he lost Scott, the smell of blood on his hands...
Stiles feels himself fall to the ground, groaning in pain as flashbacks of him running through the woods calling out desperately for Scott become all too real.
In a flash, he's thrown onto his bed with one strong thrust. He cries out in pain as his 3rd-degree burns make contact with his sheets. His disoriented eyes look up, only to see Lydia's blurred silhouette outlined by the retreating lights of the sunset.
His body already healing itself as her form comes into focus; Lydia is standing over him.
She's as beautiful as ever, in a white A-line dress, with net details overlaid on her skirt and neckline, arms crossed with a deep scowl on her red lips. Stiles, broken out in a sweat leans back against his headboard, panting and bracing himself as he gazes up at Lydia's deceiving angelic form.
"My God! Wait... Is that you?" Stiles says sarcastically. Lydia gives him a pointed look, which has him instinctively holding his tongue in both a literal and physical way since he has seen her rip one out before. Lydia rolls her eyes and sits on the edge of his bed.
"Stiles…" She reaches for his hand, which he reflexively flinches from but is too slow for her grip. Her holds firm as she stares him down with concern. "Stiles. You know you don't have to do this. We can cancel…"
"No!" He interrupts. "No Lydia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" His voice breaks. She lightly squeezes his hand.
"It's alright Stiles. I know what this place does to you...It's not your fault." He swallows and nods. Willing the memories away, he clears his throat as he straightens his back on the headboard.
"No I'm fine Lydia I promise. I just...I need to do this... It's what my father would've wanted." Lydia nods, eyes sad for a moment before she's quickly standing up and releasing his hand. She dusts off her white skirt before turning around with her hands on her hips, she gives him an unimpressed arched brow,
"Well, since we've got exactly one hour to make you look somewhat presentable, let's save the psychotic breakdowns for the after-party ok? Come on, up we go! No time to waste!" She reaches out both her hands for him to grab. He sighs deeply with a small smile and grabs her hands to help him up.
"Woah!" He squawked, trying not to topple over her, her grip so strong, he goes flying up and almost crashes into her. She laughs out loud, steading his flailing limbs before dragging him over to his walk in closet.
Making her way over to his color-coordinated wardrobe, Lydia does her magic once again, dressing Stiles with her impeccable taste. Maroon button up and light grey checkered, detailed suit, complementary of Giorgio Armani. Lydia insists he wears his matte black, Rolex watch that she gave him for Christmas, which he has to stop himself from arguing with her over being too flashy and just caves instead. Once she's done playing dress up with him, she gives him a cheeky wink and leaves to create beauty elsewhere.
Looking at his reflection Stiles sighs. The perks of being a bloodsucking, Vampire was ageless beauty, well...for some. Stiles's 19 year old, immortalized body was nothing special, to say the least. Ripping out people's throats did help with the lankiness of his limbs though, toning his muscles a bit but nothing more.
He couldn't grow facial hair, couldn't pretend to be anything other than barely legal. Designer clothes be damned. Funny thing is, he was pushing into his 500s this year and oh god did he feel it.
Running his hands through his pomade hair, he slightly messes up the perfectly sculpted quiff Lydia spent way too long styling. He sighs deeply, walking over to the very classy vampire suppressant kept in its convenient cupboard and glass bottle. Ah Whiskey, his best friend.
He walks with his glass over to his balcony, facing the backyard of his estate. Full moon, keeping him company as he leans over the banister, looking down at the hired help Lydia insisted on having to organize the party.
Humans, fussing around with their slow limbs and lively beating hearts. Humans were amusing little things. They claimed to be highly evolved, civilized, and moral beings, but when threatened or overwhelmed, they instantly reverted back to animalistic fight or flight tendencies. They held self-preservation above all else which was really just pitiful in a world ruled by the supernatural.
Stiles has tried to remember what it felt like to be human. The memories were there but the emotions were so foreign, it made the entire experience useless. Although, being back in Beacon Hills after so many years awakened something inside of him, a hunger that even his appetite for human blood could not quench. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but if he had to describe how it felt, it would feel like an incessant itch crawling under his skin.
Beacon Hills after all was a town haunted by his human memories and its deception of promises of sanctuary for humankind. Stiles takes a sip of his drink.
The town was just as miserable as it was when he had left. There was no Nemeton keeping the monsters at bay, no Lycanthropes who protected its borders. Lycanthropes were extinct regardless of how enthusiastic Scott once was about their mysterious disappearance all those years ago.
He smiles sadly to himself as he glances up at the full moon. He straightens up and holds his whiskey glass up towards its luminescence.
"For you Scott…" The wind answers him back, blowing through his hair in response. Closing his eyes for a moment, he lets the cool wind breeze through him before he's downing his glass.
Pulling himself together, he heads out of his bedroom, walking down the long corridor of doors, grand foyer with symmetrical twin curved staircases, and into the chef's kitchen where Allison is sitting on the island sipping from a wine glass. She's wearing a sexy sheer black and white embellished, high-slit, halter dress. He walks over to her with a sly smile on his face.
"Allison you're looking stunning as always."
"Oh thank you, darling!" Allison says overdramatically, in her perfected British accent. She winks at him as she holds her hand out. He smirks and does as he's told, kissing her manicured hand.
"Allison dear, have you heard from the hooligans yet?" Stiles says in his butchered British accent earning a fit of laughter from her. She smiles as she says in her normal American voice,
"Danny and Jackson are on their way. Isaac is getting ready in my room."
He laughs, "Oh really? Glad you guys seem to be getting along now instead of trying to tear at each other's throats." His tones teasing but he was genuinely surprised.
Isaac was their new recruit and Allison's new love interest at the moment. She was usually very reserved with new people Stiles introduces to the clan, taking time to warm up to them if she let them live long enough. So he actually felt bad for the guy, assuming it must be the sex.
"Oh you know, just having a little fun. Teaching him a few new things here and there." He groans, yup he was right but he couldn't help smiling back at Allison's dimpled, mischievous face.
"Your lucky I have a weakness for dimples…" Allison's smile widens.
Isaac being the fifth member of their clan to have dimples was undoubtedly a coincidence but it's become an inside joke amongst the members to point out anyone with the small indentation on their cheeks, asking if Stiles could adopt them into their Vampiric clan. Though Stiles decision to add any other Vampire to their clan usually took years . A few months of deliberation was unheard of, even downright foolish on his part but Issac's case was rare...
"Hey dweebs." Lydia interrupts, placing a huge vase of red roses in the middle of the island.
"Hey, need any help?" Stiles asks, nerves setting back in. Lydia pops her hip and takes a moment to think.
"Uh. No actually. I'm pretty sure everything's set up. Just in case…" Lydia walks over and opens the double door refrigerator, taking out three O negative blood bags.
"Here." She throws Allison and Stiles each a bag which they catch easily. "Drink up. Extra O negative to calm the nerves." Stiles somehow finds himself already slurping the end of the bag which quickly catches Lydia and Allison's attention. He smirks and scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.
"I guess I'm more nervous than I thought..." Which was only half true, he was more on edge than anything, not feeling like himself since the incident from earlier. Lydia sighs and goes back into the fridge, pulling out two more bags and throwing them at him.
"God please don't let anyone pop any fangs tonight." Lydia pleads to the heavens as she walks past Stiles and saunters outside. Allison looks at him worryingly.
"Stiles, everything ok?" Eh, things could be worse, so he shrugs and pathetically nods over his blood bag. Allison smirks and jumps down from the island, grabbing the two extra blood bags left on the table.
"Ok then, heading off to give these to Isaac." Stiles nods, glancing at the time on his watch. Eight a clock was a bit early for any Vampire to have dinner but they agreed on eight o'clock on behalf of their non-nocturnal guests.
Stiles walks outside surveying the excellent job Lydia did on having arranged the white, modern style couches and fire pits. Lava wave heaters lighted the whole perimeter of the patio, lighted infinity pool, and jacuzzi. Soft trance plays in the background through the surround-sound speakers. Candlesticks and red roses placed strategically around and next to the covered food. It looked like something straight out of a magazine.
His eyes catch Lydia's gaze as she comes over to him wrapping an arm around his waist. Setting her head against his shoulder, they stand there gazing at the lavish display in comfortable silence.
"Lydia I don't know what I'd do without you…" Seriously. The invite list, invitations, staff, just everything that went into making this house warming party, the luxurious ambiance of it all... She was literally a genius. Lydia nods against his shoulder.
"Me either…" Stiles can't help but laugh as Lydia sighs contently.
"You guys need anything? Some snacks? A condom? Let me know!" Jackson yells from the patio open doors, looking annoyingly handsome, modeling an attention seeking navy blue, tailored suede blazer, white button up, black bow, and trousers.
"Jackson!" Lydia squeals running supernaturally fast to him in her killer silver six-inch heels. Jackson rushes to meet her halfway in a bear hug, picking her up and spinning her around. Stiles groans at their overly sweet PDA and decides to say hi to Jackson's husband, Danny instead, who's asking the bartender for a drink.
Danny turns as Stiles approaches him with an omniscient smirk, wearing an all black suit with a silk black shirt, unbuttoned slightly; showcasing his amazing tanned pecs.
"Danny! Dude, so glad you could make it! How's everything been?"
Danny and Stiles catch up for what feels like five minutes before the doorman is letting their guests in. The party fills up quite quickly with guests from every part of the supernatural realm.
Paired up almost instinctively now, Stiles and Lydia, Danny and Jackson, and Allison and Isaac make their way through the party in pairs. Introducing themselves, revealing only the vaguest details of their lives, skillfully mastered over time.
Being an expert conversationalist was not only a useful skill but also a surviving mechanism. All Vampires, including Stiles himself, were ruthless with this, manipulating and scheming their prey and enemies to their ultimate demise or ulterior motive. The supernatural world had only one rule that existed. Survival of the fittest. He got off lucky having been turned into a supernatural apex predator.
Vampires were rare and highly exclusive to their own kind. It was the exact reason why Stiles and his clan were known notoriously throughout the realm. You either knew from word of mouth or bore witness to the terror that his clan reigned. After all, no one gained authority in the supernatural world from a guilty conscience or displays of mercy.
Violence, Rape, Drugs, and Magic, anything and everything was game, anything less was prey.
If you had blood on your hands, name recognition, and big targets on your back, you gained a reputation vital for survival. Becoming Vampire Royalty over time, gained them the control and connections they had around the realm to stay alive. Although, Beacon Hills majority of beings were magically oriented, and taking control of its borders was going to be challenging to say the least.
Any place with a strong magic presence usually meant demonic or soulless creatures were not welcomed, including Vampires, but strangely as Stiles and Lydia made their rounds many of the beings were amiable and predisposed of any judgment towards their kind.
In fact, Stiles and Lydia were able to learn more about Beacon Hills history. Listening intently to stories of dark entities that plagued Beacon Hills for years after the Nemeton was destroyed, possessing humans and supernatural beings alike. Killing each other and stripping Beacon Hills of its magical protected borders over time.
Though after a while, Stiles and Lydia had a hard time differentiating between what was real or what was folklore by the overwhelming amount of horror stories they were being told one after the other. He had to excuse himself a couple of times, refilling his champagne glass of Goût de Diamants, to clear his head.
Each story was like a punch to the gut as memories of his father and Scott hit him with hot flashes of guilt. So, he makes sure to pay full attention to his surroundings with all five of his heightened senses, keeping an eye on Danny, Jackson, Allison, and Isaac who were all doing an amazing job with flirting and charming the pants off their guests. There was nothing particularly threatening worth Stiles vigilance but his instincts were telling him otherwise.
As Stiles and Lydia listen to a Healers tale about a creature called Nogitsune, Stiles attention gets distracted by a particular scent. If he hadn't been paying so close attention to his surroundings he might have missed it completely, but it was just faint enough for him to notice.
Stiles gets a sharp elbow nudge in his side from Lydia, instantly causing him to open his eyes.
"Oh…" Stiles says as he realizes he had completely spaced out. Lydia's eyebrow arches up at him as he excuses himself, making his way to the award winning dessert buffet. Stiles grabs a strawberry and dips it into the chocolate fondue fountain, taking a bite and turning around, casually surveying his guests.
Looking for the source of that bizarre scent, his nose flares as a gentle wind carries the scent over to him from his left. A faintly sweet, earthy, herbal tea scent that has his mouth watering.
He turns towards it, tracking it down to the direction where a waiter is offering hors d'oeuvres in front of two men. When the waiter leaves it's only then that his eyes land on the man's beautiful physique.
Stiles can only gape, strawberry long forgotten and fallen to the ground as he studies the man from the side talking to an older, dark skinned man he hadn't introduced himself to yet.
With swept back, jet-black hair, expertly trimmed stubble, biker leather jacket, light blue button down, black tie, and dress pants. The guy had to be some sort of model, 6 ft tall, thick muscled body, amazing ass, he was practically drooling for a taste…
"Stiles?" He ignores whoever's calling his name, eyes never leaving his prey.
"Stiles for god's sake…." Lydia stops mid sentence as she tracks his line of sight back to the GQ model.
"Oh my... Stiles no! Stop, Stiles, knock it off!" Lydia harshly whispers at him. He finally looks back at her as she stares at him with disbelief. She starts to smile and huffs out a laugh, shaking her head at him.
"Stiles. Don't even think about it. He's out of your league," she says teasingly. He sighs and licks his lips, fangs retracting reluctantly.
"Lydia, You know what they say; the way to a psycho killer's heart is through his stomach..." He says in a daze, watching the man of his dreams continue to socialize just a few feet away from him. Lydia bursts out in laughter. Wiping tears from her eyes she hits his arm playfully.
"Well, keep it in your pants, Jeffrey Dahmer. If he hasn't already noticed you he will soon enough. You're so obvious!"
"Really?" He bites his lip, finally tearing his eyes away to look at her properly. Lydia facepalms, trying to suppress her laughter.
"I think it's time for us to get you another drink. Let's go, babe."
He snickers as he goes with her to get a drink making sure to ask the bartender for his trusted glass of Macallan this time. Lydia glances back over her shoulder.
"Stiles! Quick! He's talking to Danny and Jackson! Let's go!" Before he can protest she's grabbing his arm and dragging him along the cobblestone patio, drink nearly spilling on him as he tries to chug the rest of it down.
"Hey, guys! Oh sorry, who's this?" Lydia says rudely and a little drunkenly interrupting the couple's conversation with the GQ model. Jackson smirks and looks at Stiles immediately. Damn him. He literally wants to jump off a cliff but downs his drink instead.
"This is Derek Hale. Derek, this is Lydia Martin and Stiles Stilinski." The non-formal introductions of their names clueing in Stiles and Lydia that they weren't far from age which, was...surprising, to say the least. I mean their Vampires after all, they're used to being the oldest ones at any event. Annoyingly, nothing outwardly displayed Derek's supernatural origins, nor was it proper etiquette to ask in such a public setting so Stiles simply observes him with curiosity. Lydia reaches out her hand.
"Pleased to meet you..." His voice, god, Stiles wanted to wax poetics about it but he was too overwhelmed by the sight of perfection before him.
He could already tell by Derek's demeanor that he was the reserved, mysterious, bad boy type that could handle it rough and bloody, might even bite back a little. All Stiles wanted to do was hunt him down, taming him in his fangs until he quenched his undying thirst. Stiles could just eat him up. No, he wouldn't let this one get away...
As Derek shakes Lydia's hand he notices an impressive, sterling silver, wolf's head ring on his pointer finger and thankfully, no engagement ring. Thank god . Stiles eyes, traces along the outline of muscle in Derek's arms, hidden behind the black, tight, leather jacket, taking in the way it stretches over his broad shoulders, and how perfectly it looks with his stubble, and oh god! Derek was looking at him.
Straight at him! His light seafoam sparkling eyes strikingly contrasted with his black, long lashes and tanned skin. He gives Stiles a pointed look and for a moment he just stares back at him. But when Derek arches his brow, it's only then that he realizes Derek's hand is out for him to shake.
"Uh sorry! Stiles. Nice to meet you." He gulped thickly, reeling in his thirsty thoughts before reaching out his hand. When their hands meet, their strong grips feel like a promised conviction of something otherworldly. The tension in the air around them blazing to life, like two foreign worlds colliding. The lingering of their hands undeniable as Stiles struggles to move his hand away fast enough to disguise the effect it has on him, face flushing as he clears his throat, looking anywhere but at the attractive stranger.
Derek nods slightly, "You too." His gaze is unmoving and defiant. Never averting his gaze respectfully like what was expected of him.
It was a universal rule to never look too long into the eyes of another supernatural superior unless to dual, openly disrespect, or offer something of interest to them. Their stare off lasting just long enough to spark some debate in his mind before Lydia's voice can cut through the tension.
"So how long have you lived in Beacon Hills?" Lydia asks casually, knowing it was game on from here on out. Lydia knew something was up. She was going to make sure Derek was worth keeping around and Stiles couldn't love her more for it. Derek turns to face her.
"For about a month now. Recently bought a house not too far from here. Further north of Beacon Hills preserve." Huh, that's strange Stiles thinks, mountain ranges were usually no man lands, only reserved for the most dangerous creatures in the supernatural world or in Derek's case, the most rebellious.
Danny clears his throat. "Hey, Derek, nice meeting you! See you around!" Danny links their arms and pulls a reluctant Jackson away towards a group of Fay's Stiles and Lydia talked to earlier. Derek nods and turns his attention back to them.
"So you live up in the mountains? You must have some amazing views, I'd love to check them out... " Stiles jokes before his mouth can catch up with his brain. That sounded way better in his head. Oh well. He waggles his brows for more emphasis, just glad he's finally found someone worth using his awkward Stilinski charms on, and by the looks of it, his efforts didn't go unnoticed.
Derek raises both brows in surprise before his lips twitch, letting Stiles have just a glimpse of what beautiful smile is surely waiting to be discovered as he hides his face from view, looking down bashfully. Stiles could've sworn he'd seen his ears flush. Lydia bites her lip trying to suppress her laughter.
Derek smirks, shrugging humbly, "Yeah, it's not too bad. It's on sacred grounds." He catches Derek's eyes lighten a bit in amusement underneath the candlelight haze. Of course, now all his time tonight was going to be spent on making this gorgeous man smile.
"Sacred grounds huh? Well then, you must have some territorial claim to it right? As you can tell, we Vampire's love our dinner parties and our acquired tastes demand us to know what places have the best menus in the area. If you know what I mean... " He says adding a cheeky wink. Unless you'd like to be the main course, that could definitely be arranged, he thinks but he keeps those naughty thoughts to himself, saving them for later on until he can find out personally. Lydia smiles and nods in agreement.
Derek studies his face for a moment. "Yes, of course. I could give you a personal tour of the grounds. With you, it shouldn't take more than a day." Derek says, his darkening gaze looking up and down Stiles's body in a carelessly seductive way. Challenge accepted.
"Oh yeah? That sounds amazing," Stiles says unable to resist biting his lip, watching as Derek's eyes track the movement. Lydia clears her throat. Derek's eyes flicker back up to Lydia's face. Damn it.
Lydia laughs out loud giving him a warning look before smiling back at Derek. He felt bad for making her feel like the third wheel but even she couldn't blame him. He's struck gold.
"So glad we have such friendly neighbors. Do you have any more tips for us new kids?" Kids. He smirks, if Lydia was making her lame Vampire jokes now, she's probably got only one more drink to go before she's really up to no good.
Derek thinks for a moment, his face visibly resigning to something more serious as he says,
"Tips? No, just a little warning..." In an instant, the tension in the air is suffocating as Lydia and Stiles brace themselves for the onslaught of Derek's words.
"Vampires usually don't stay long in Beacon Hills. As you can see, most people here are of Fey descendants, they hold immense power here…" Stiles scowls as he glances back at Lydia with a similar look on her face. He tightens his jaw, realization dawning on him with where this conversation was going.
"Sorry, what exactly are you intending?" Lydia says in a clipped tone. Uh oh. Stiles glances back at Derek who's smirk turns predatory in an instant. The dominance Derek's exuding unapologetically challenges them where they stand and oh did Stiles want to play...
His fangs drop, licking them openly in front of Derek's gaze in warning. He couldn't remember the last time he's felt this giddy with anticipation.
Derek's gaze narrows in on him as he continues, "Beacon Hills was built on the magic of druids. Keeping any Nightcrawlers out. Any public building or house you go into will prevent you from entering due to protection spells." And there it was. It's indirect but definitely a threat no less. Before he can remark Lydia beats him to it.
" Nightcrawlers ? Really? So people here use derogatory words too? Or is that just your own biased opinion somehow influencing your speech."
Stiles feels his hands fist, claws out, and ready to make the first move, dragging Derek away to his dungeon and having his way with him. Show him who exactly he's fucking with. The leather leash around his neck would look so good on him, training him how to be a good boy. No one would dare stop him, not after being challenged under his own roof. His guests would simply have to turn a blind eye to the screams coming from his bedroom. The thought alone has Stiles ready to pounce.
But sadly, someone clears their throat, breaking the tension only momentarily.
"Now. Now. Has my nephew been causing trouble?" Stiles and Lydia turn to face Derek's uncle who's equally just as fine and as menacing looking as Derek himself, just aged by the years, like fine wine. Dressed in a classic black tie suit with hints of leather on the collar and tie, he moves with that grace and ease of somebody with power. His scent laced with musky cologne and hints of sandalwood, which even his heightened Vampire senses could appreciate whilst preferring Derek's sweet amber scent.
He saunters over, his ice-blue eyes transfixed on his target, clearly interested in Lydia.
"Oh? Is this your nephew? I hope your vocabulary is far more exceptional…" Lydia says in a biting tone before downing the rest of the champagne in her glass, in a celebratory shot for the solid burn. Stiles smirked to himself, knowing her all too well. She's still tense from the stiffening of her shoulders but as a slight wind breezes through them, she's affected the same by Peter's scent, her hazel eyes clouding over with desire.
He glances back at Derek, watching as his stubble, chiseled jaw tightens but doesn't make a move to interfere. Looking back at Derek's uncle sauntering dangerously close to Lydia's personal space, he brings her hand up between them to leave a lingering kiss on her hand without breaking eye contact. Stiles scoffs the gesture known in the supernatural world as a shameless offer of sexual favors.
"Peter Hale. I would love to show you just how sorry I am for my nephew's negligence." Derek just slightly left of his uncle sighs deeply and walks away towards the bar and naturally, this is when Stiles's buzzed idle brain decides to make a detour. Watching all too intently at Derek's retreating back, his eyes lingering on his ass a little longer than it should.
But from his peripheral view, Peter instantly pulls Lydia in by the waist, hand dangerously close to her bum. Veering back quickly to watch in horror as Lydia accepts the offer and teasingly inches their lips closely, merely inches apart.
He wants to look away but can't as he helplessly watches Lydia turn and walk away, with a possessive grip on Peter's hand as she leads them through the crowded bodies of people. Stiles facepalms but can't help the smile that spreads across his face. Looking over at the trouble making, younger Hale sitting at the bar, chugging down his glass. Stiles just couldn't help himself. He decides to join in on the fun and try out a Hale for himself.
Making his way over to the bar, Stiles orders a Manhattan cocktail, turning around, he rests both elbows on the counter, crossing his black velvet Louis Vuitton shoes. He strikes a casual pose at the smirking bad boy, Derek Hale sat on a bar stool, eyeing him with an arched brow.
Derek looks especially good under the led lights of the bar. The central heterochromia of gold and amazonite surrounded by a ring of dark blue sapphire depths. Those stunning eyes, glaring daggers at him seemingly intensified tenfold by his raven feather lashes. His dark majestic looks were tinged with a wildness and mysterious allure that made Stiles want to study the supernatural origins of his lineage, trace his fingers along with his striking features and memorize every muscle plane and curve of his body.
Stiles stares right back in awe at the most beautiful man he has ever seen. He doesn't say this lightly, he's seen a lot of beautiful people in his 500 years on earth but this man right here? He's on a whole other level. His not so subtle gesture of interests makes Derek's poker face break with a smirk, turning back to pick up his glass of Dalmore as he says,
"Your drinks ready idiot," before taking a long sip from his glass. Stiles blushes, heart skipping a beat at the pet name as he turns and grabs his own drink that the bartender left for him, gulping its crimson contents down in seconds. He places it back on the counter with a loud clank. Clearing his throat, not wanting to waste any more time, he gets straight to the point,
"So about that personal tour…"
"Oh?" Derek interrupts with a terrifying smirk on his face. "Still interested? I thought I scared you off?" Derek says, forwarding his brows in confusion at him.
He scoffs rolling his eyes, "Well, you're going to have to try harder than that." He says with amusement, leaning his weight on his elbows a little more over the counter and into Derek's personal space with a bit of liquid courage.
Derek huffs out a laugh, looking away before returning his gaze to give Stiles a sassy once over, arching a judgemental brow at his shameless attempts at flirting. Noticing Stiles not faltering in the least, Derek's face breaks out in a blinding smile, and Stiles gasps, spotting the deep indentations on either of his cheeks. Dimples. Yup and Stiles is a goner.
"Persistent I see... There's really nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?" Derek says with a dangerous smile. His alcohol-fueled mind wanting to taste it on his lips. To taste every bloody drop of him.
A cocky smile spreads across his own face, smiling through the torment, he shakes his head, replying with, "Not with my stamina. I can woo for days, weeks, years even. I'm immortal after all."
Derek sighs exaggeratedly, rolling his eyes so hard it had to be one of the best eye rolls he's ever seen. Derek's beautiful eyes come back to glare at him, "What if I said what I wanted was to be left alone?"
If that was what Derek truly wanted, Stiles would leave him alone but just for tonight.
Yeah, you heard that right, he won't be using mind compulsion to take what is his tonight, even though he had every right to in this case because Derek challenged him first, it wasn't his style.
See, being as old as he is, the thrill of the chase was something he has learned to treasure greatly. With his resilience and immortalized teenage sexual libido, this fight for dominance between them was a game he did not intend on losing.
Derek's teasing tone in his voice does little to hide his implications so he was fully aware, Derek was testing him. Stiles doesn't blame him for it, respect is earned, so he plays along.
"And then what? Leave so somebody else can take my place? I don't think so. My house my rules, buddy. I want you all to myself and I always get what I want..."
Derek raises both brows in surprise, "Are all Vampires this desperate? We've just met? You're going to have to try harder than that." Derek says slyly, mimicking his words and taunting him further, even leaning into his personal space over the counter as if to intimidate him.
So Stiles leans in too. Their faces now an inch apart.
Derek's eyes flicker down to his lips as he makes sure to lick them teasingly slow.
"Desperate. No. Possessive? Very. I'd love to get to know you better…inside and out if you allow me." His words holding an unspoken weight.
Considering, vampires are incapable of love, they were known to lay claim on their victims until death do them part. The daunting sound of ticking slowly progressing in their minds until obsession ensures and madness takes over, draining the victims of their blood before time can claim their lives aside.
He couldn't wait to see how long Derek lasts until he makes a run for it, trying to escape from his grasp but there's just something about him...
Something that tells Stiles it'll be the longest chase he's ever had.
With half lidded eyes and lips inches apart, they stare at each other. Derek searching his eyes to see if any deception lies beneath them like he even has a choice, Stiles wants to laugh but he keeps his gaze.
The sexual tension thick with suspense until Derek smirks and pushes back. Cooly walking towards the open doors of the terrace with his hands deep inside the pockets of his black leather jacket, but just slow enough for someone to trail along.
"Game on," Stiles says under his breath, fist pumping in the air, he prowls after Derek through the crowd. The crowd parting for them as they make their way into the house, the feel of envious eyes hot on his back.
He smiles smugly to himself, glancing back up at Derek whose head is twisting, pulling on his black tie and loosening it from around his neck. The movement alone has Stiles arousal blurring the edges of his vision to focus solely on the movements of his prey.
Unknowingly passing Allison and Isaac who tap on his shoulder as he passes, giving him knowing smirks as he glances quickly but reverts his hungry gaze back to Derek and Derek alone.
When Derek finally stops in the grand foyer, he turns inhumanly fast, grabbing him roughly by the collar of his grey blazer. He forcefully pushes Stiles up against the wall, sinfully aligning their bodies in all the right places. The compromising position they were in concealed thankfully by the shadows of the dimly lit room.
He moans, heart racing as Derek waits teasingly with his lips just inches apart from his own. He licks his lips impatiently, his own hands tightening into Derek's light blue button up.
"Don't . " He warns, letting out a ragged breath, "Don't tease me… please Derek...not now." His hoarse voice, barely a whisper.
He moves his head to close the distance between their lips but Derek's hands pinning him down stop him from doing so. He's practically salivating from being in such close proximity to Derek's aphrodisiac aroma.
Huffing out a laugh Derek leans their foreheads together, taking Stiles face in his hands.
"Promise me we'll meet again," Derek whispers sincerely. Stiles gapes, looking back into his stunning eyes. The fire of determination burning intensely through Derek's very being and back at him.
Stiles can sense it now, the unknowing power hidden within him. He gulps, tightening his own hold, greedily feeding off the waves of dark desire radiating between them as he nods frantically.
"I promise. Whenever, where ever you want." He says, letting the edge of his desperation seep into the tone of his voice, trying to convey the same intensity.
His gasp turns into a moan as their lips crash against each other in a smoldering wet kiss. His eyes roll back into his head as Derek rocks their hips together. He arches his back from the wall, pushing further into his hips for more friction.
The heat radiating off Derek's skin scorching hot in comparison to his own ice cold, vampiric skin. Derek ruthlessly fucks into him, squeezing his ass tightly and letting out a throaty long hum.
Stiles's whimpered moans stifled by his tongue, kissing him oh so good and deep, his sense of control weakening by every passing second.
Derek growls, letting go of Stiles's lips, he rips open his maroon shirt down to the very last button, using his hot tongue to lick in between his exposed pecs. Stiles moans deeply, body rolling into it, his mouth open and gasping, grabbing the back of his head for some leverage.
But Derek's mouth continues to edge him on, wetly kissing his way down his neck and collarbone, marking deep hickeys into him with his stubble rubbing and burning all so painfully good against his skin.
He grips his shoulders, only managing to get out little gasps and whimpers of encouragement. Feeling the precum leaking from his cock, he bangs his head against the wall, fangs dropping down dangerously, the amber, sweet, earthy, herbal tea smell washing over him in waves, tempting him to bite . Fuck!
He grips Derek for dear life, trying to hold back his Vampiric nature.
His efforts are useless though, his hunger virtually consuming him when Derek picks him up effortlessly, wrapping his legs around his waist with purpose, Derek's shear strength makes him totally lose it.
"Oh fuck yes, harder!" Stiles yells.
"Mmhm" Derek moans into his mouth, his warm hand twisting painfully hard at a sensitive nipple. He pulls away from the kiss and at thick, black hair roughly to gasp for air. Moaning loudly, his head falls against Derek's shoulder, minutes away from simultaneously combusting from sexual frustration. Groaning deeply, no longer able to hold back, he grinds down with all his might into the thrust, and to his utter disbelief, Derek matches him, purring deeply into his ears.
To say he was gone would be an understatement, the new force of their thrusts so brutal it's literally taking all of his willpower not to cum his brains out right then and there. He's never felt this completely and utterly wrecked before. Like he'll lose his fucking mind if Derek stops.
"So good. Don't stop please .." He begs. Derek shuts him up with his tongue, skillfully moving his hips and continuing to draw out the copious amounts of precum already saturating through his pants.
"Oh shit Der..." He whimpers, his back hitting the marbled wall as Derek pushes him further up and against the wall with each thrust of his hips. "Fuuuck, so close!"
Derek huffs out a laugh, sucking in his bottom lip, he bites taking it between his teeth and pulling until his bottom lip satisfyingly snaps back.
"Mmph oh yeah cum for me." Derek the menace, whispers back into his ears before kissing him deep and sensually, the pornographic sound of their lips parting has Stiles aching for more, chasing his mouth to drown in them once again.
Yet Derek holds back, caressing the sides of his flushed cheeks while gazing intensely at him with parted red, slick lips and half lidded eyes as he continues to nail him back into the wall.
"Close your eyes, it's alright," he says breathlessly. Stiles shutters, groaning as Derek's mouth goes back to licking and kissing around his neck. Tilting his head back in bliss, his eyes obey.
His mouth hangs open in a silent scream, Derek rolling his hips just right to bring him over the edge but then Derek's thumbs brushing over his lips and down his bottom left fang.
In an instant, he tastes blood.
Almost bittersweet, richly thick with what can only be described as what nature in its purest form would taste like, if it even had a taste. It ignites every nerve in Stiles's body to the point of being painfully over sensitive.
He feels the warmth of the other body leave him as he slumps over on the floor, gasping at the mind blowing orgasm he's experiencing.
Untouched.
Stiles convulses for what feels like hours on the cold tiled floor. Eventually blacking out completely.