Chapter 5: Moonlight
A/N: To the critique from Anonymous — Thank you for your suggestions, I truly took them to heart and they were not harsh at all. I found them to be true, and honestly I would have beta readers if I had to the time to deal with an additional layer to this process. I'll give more then one edit, I was being lazy, but regardless errors are errors, and they happen. Furthermore, to all the reviewers — Thank you! I really appreciate your compliments.
On another note, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this series. I'm not sure if I want to turn Stiles or keep that Alpha-human relationship that is between them. I'd like to keep this fan-fiction as close to the actual show as possible. Yes, I know that it is very difficult to do that when this whole relationship between then is fictional (although, potential). I've kept up with season two and as it stands I'd like to know more before plunging head first into the dealings with Jackson, Victoria Argent, and whatever the Vet. has up his sleeve, so as of now I'm going to keep this series strictly between Stiles and Derek avoiding what happened in episode 8. Therefore, not going passed it... I hope I can get enough out of it until season 2 is over. Oh I hope they don't cliff hang.
Sorry for spiel... Oh and also been researching age of consent and age of majority, since Derek is 20ish (24?) and Stiles is 17. Some countries are different, and the laws are archaic and homophobic because depending on the type of relationship the laws change. Furthermore the states are odd, they don't have a uniform age, New York (Derek's driver's license was issued there) is 17, California 18. I know Canada as a whole is 16, with exceptions.
~ Burning.
P.S. New song to the playlist Animal by Neon Trees. Also a friend of mine told me that ~7k words was too much for one chapter, but I liked the juxtaposition between characters and their emotions and such. There was something about it that forced me not to split it apart. Let me know if I should have shorter chapters.
Previously on Harmless: "No buts! We can't afford any mistakes," Gerard Argent said coming into the room, Chris Argent in toe. "There is a war out there, and we can't allow for interference." Gerard went to cabinet near and pulled out a scabbard. He unsheathed his English broad sword and pointed it to the throat of the lackey. "You're damn lucky we don't kill our own for stupidity."
Stiles eyes fluttered open. In his sleep the implications of their union had not been felt; the soreness hadn't caught up with him, nor the sheer filthiness of his body, but all the sweetness of sleep crumbled under the weight of awakening. The room was pitch black and without moving he glanced around looking for a clock of some sort. Finding nothing, he wondered what time it was, it was Monday, he had school. Tensing he was debating about leaving, but Derek's fingers wrapped around his waist, securing Stiles by his side. He softly, yet domineeringly growled, stubbornly preventing the teen from leaving him. With some bizarre wolven purr, he hummed into Stiles' neck, before dragging his tongue across the back of the teen's neck and leaving a delicate kiss in its wake. Stiles could feel Derek's limp manhood against him, elevating the blood in the teen's veins.
Derek brought the teen closer to his chest, warming his lover. Stiles could feel the werewolf smile against him, although it didn't help when the pain and soreness caught up with him. He shifted his weight off his arse, forcing a rather indicative chuckle from Derek's throat. The werewolf knew he was feeling discomfort and in some sadistic way Derek enjoyed it.
"You're enjoying your self," Stiles said accusingly.
Another smile. "Maybe," Derek breathed into Stiles' ear.
"Don't get too cocky. I've got to go to school." Derek tightened his grasp around Stiles' waist, securing the teen to him with his supernatural strength. He kissed Stiles, tickling the teen. Stiles continued to speak with increased levity, "I've got a test, I can't miss." Stiles could feel Derek pouting into his back, so the teen shuffled in the werewolf's tight grasp so that he was facing him. Their nakedness pressed together, Stiles let out a soft sigh before pressing his lips against Derek's. "And I need to shower, I can't go to school looking like a used up tissue."
"I think you look rather attractive, dishevelled and sated," Derek said oh-too devilishly.
"What time is it?" Stiles asked, hoping Derek would have an answer. He buried his face into Derek's chest, he didn't want the werewolf having the satisfaction.
Derek twisted to the left slightly, reaching down to Stiles' discarded pants and searched for the teen's phone. He pressed the home button, "Six."
"I biked here," Stiles said.
"I'll drive you, I'll get one of my pack to take your bike home, they won't mind," Derek replied.
Derek loosened his grip on Stiles, disappointed that he had to let his lover go. They both stood up and rustled up their clothes. While they dressed, Stiles observed Derek; taking in the glory that was his lover's muscular body and the triskelion tattooed on his back just enhanced the musculature. Stiles eyes wondered south towards Derek's firm arse and felt the need to claim them, but he couldn't be late, his father wouldn't be happy if he missed a test. He couldn't put his father through anything more, he already was shot. They took the 'secret' passage out and walked to another warehouse near by. Derek's car, his prized black Chevrolet Camaro, was parked inside.
"Do you own all the industrial sector?" Stiles asked jokingly.
"My family had money stored away, and since I don't stay in one place for long, or luxurious places, it just collects."
They drove to Stiles' place and once they were in, Stiles had stripped and was in the shower, the warm water loosening sore muscles. Tears flowed without the teen's approval. He was leaned over, his head directly underneath the shower head, and one arm braced against the wall. A warm hand was placed on his back, Stiles pressed backward into the palm.
"We'll find out who did this to your father," Derek said, his wet naked flesh against Stiles'.
"What if I had lost him, Derek, he's the only family I have," Stiles murmured through tears.
Derek cooed. "I know the actual loss, and no matter what Stiles, I'll be there for you."
Brushing off the subject, Stiles said, "I hope you didn't come in here with the intention of making it even harder to walk."
"I came in here to shower, and since time is tight," Derek replied.
"Of course, time management is crucial," Stiles said sarcastically.
Derek slid his hands down Stiles' hips, taking one finger to press against the teen's hole. Stiles jerked forwards surprised, "I said I was sore!"
Derek chuckled, "I was just checking."
Stiles didn't believe him, the werewolf was just salaciously playing with him. They showered after their toying with each other and once he was out, he placed yesterday's clothes in the washer to destroy any evidence once his father was home. He wasn't sure when his father would return, but he wanted to tell his father on his own terms. He dressed while Derek watched, the wolf studying every inch of his lover's body. He left Derek side momentarily and went to his father's room, taking a few things. He would have to drop things off for his father, or he would be left at the hospital without any proper clean clothes.
"Want me to drive?" Derek asked.
"No, I want to talk to Scott, I have a test and I need to study before my test, and you're my greatest distraction," Stile said. He pushed Derek down onto his bed and climbed on top of his werewolf. Derek took control, wrapped his arms around Stiles and dragged the teen down into a deep kiss. He licked across Stiles' lips before entering. Derek broke them a part and lifted Stiles up with him. He carried Stiles from his room to the front door.
"I probably should walk as much as possible to stop being sore," Stile admitted.
Derek laughed, "Sorry, you can blame it all on me."
Stiles lightly slapped Derek across the werewolf's bicep, wanting to leave a palm mark to leave something of himself on Derek, besides his scent, of course. The werewolf's stoic face was unmoved until Stiles was about to leave when his face grew sad momentarily. As if he sensed it, Stiles turned around.
"On second thought, would you drive me to school?"
It was as if Derek's ears perked up, he smiled in his odd way, and began to pick Stiles up, but Stiles squirmed out of his loose grip. "Derek, I'll need to walk to class and all. And I know what you're thinking, Derek, but you can't carry me to all my classes."
They pulled up in front of the school, Derek leaned over and pressed his mouth into Stiles' neck. He left a hickey-nip-mark that was clearly visible, even if Stiles adjusted his shirt. He moved from the teen's neck to his lips and left a deep kiss there. Several early-bird students became onlookers, gawking. Stiles hopped out of the car, flung his backpack over his shoulder, then bent down to look at Derek through the passenger door's window. "Pick me up after?"
"I'll be here."
"Thank you."
"Have fun walking."
Stiles blushed, turned around dramatically, and walked away from the car. His face grew sorrowful, he didn't want to leave Derek, he wanted the werewolf to be by his side, even through school. Derek had a way of grounding him, without him, his father was in the hospital, and he had no one to hold him. His test was first thing this morning and he had an hour or so to study. He was glad that Scott never arrived to school early, that would have been problematic. He needed to cram anything into his brain before the test. Yes, he had studied, but he wanted to ensure that he would slide through with an eighty. It was econ. so it wasn't going to be that difficult, even if the teacher said it was going to terribly hard. He walked to his locker, feeling just how sore he was. He was walking somewhat awkwardly, but to an untrained eye it wouldn't be noticed.
"Hello, Stiles," Danny said. "Interesting night?"
Stiles flushed, "Great night," he replied, in a somewhat reminiscently.
"I bet... How is your dad?"
"Thankfully my dad's fine, I went to see him last night, but he was sleeping. I'll check up on him at lunch. Thanks for asking. Oh and thank you for giving such great advice this weekend."
"My pleasure, I'll glad it panned out."
"Anyway, for once all I have to worry about is this econ. test."
Danny nodded, and Stiles was off. He found a quiet place to study and went at it for what remained of the hour. He was in the econ. room by the time Scott arrived. He sat in his usual place near Stiles, but refused to talk with him before the test started. Great, Stiles thought. Now my best friend isn't speaking with me.
Stiles finished fairly quickly and waited outside of the class for Scott to finish. Scott wasn't fast, he took his time since there was nothing on his mind, at least not today. Sure there was the Kanima, but today he had to worry about his school year. He didn't want to fail the year. He was one of the last people out of the classroom, and when he saw Stiles, he booked it.
Stiles caught up rather quickly, "Scott!"
"Leave me alone Stiles," Scott said abrasively.
"Scott, be reasonable."
"Whatever you've been up to Stiles, Derek's the enemy. He's changing people, you saw Eric, Boyd, and Isaac. So why do reek of him?"
Pain shot through him, his soreness sending him back to the memory of last night for only a moment. "Derek and I."
Scott could smell the shot of pain that ran through Stiles, the way it forced out other emotions — not negative emotions, but positive. He came to realization then than Stiles and Derek had been together. "I thought. What about Lydia?" Finally Scott noticed the hickey on Stiles' neck. It was as if Derek had tagged him with the word, Mine. Scott felt some anger towards the mark, towards Derek for leaving such a blatant mark of procession on his friend.
"She'll only love Jackson, or at least, she'll never love me. Derek. Derek does."
"But he's the enemy."
"He may not do things in the same way you do, but you've both led different lives. Honestly Scott, do you really believe that he is so bad? Yes, he was trying to give himself more protection, by having more pack members, but he also saved people from nightmares."
"I know, but."
"I love him, Scott. Please believe at least that."
Scott's eyes averted to the floor, "I'll at least try."
"That's all I'm asking for."
"How is your father?" Scott said, finally returning to their friendship.
"He's fine. He was shot through and through the right shoulder. They've kept him over night, but as far as I can tell he'll be fine."
"You were worried."
"Very."
"Anything I can do?"
"Did your mum lend you her car?"
"Yes, why?"
"Could you drive me to the hospital at lunch? I need to pick up a few things for my dad."
"Yeah sure. What happened to your jeep?"
"Derek dropped me off."
By lunchtime the two teens were in Scott's car driving to the hospital. Melissa McCall was at her desk and was surprised to see Stiles and her son arrive during their lunch break. "How'd your test go Scott?"
"Fine, mom," Scott said, looking bashful.
"Just came to drop some clothes off for my dad," Stiles said.
"Oh Stiles, we're keeping your dad for a little longer. He's alright, but if we release him, we all know he'll be back on the job and his wound needs time to heal."
"He'll hate that," Stiles said.
"We know, but luckily the doctor's given him orders that if he moves he'll tear the stitches," Melissa said.
"Thank you Ms. McCall."
Stiles left the two to go into his father's room. He was awake, reading through case files until Stiles came in. He closed the files, "Shouldn't you be at school?"
"Lunch break dad."
"I must have lost track of time."
"I hear that they've got you here for a while," Stiles said, giving his dad a goofy smile. He adjusted his shirt uselessly, trying to hide his lover's mark. He hoped his father would just write it off as Lydia, he didn't want to have another talk with his father. Those talks were always the most awkward, the most crippling, not to mention this would catch his father off guard.
"The doc's worried I'll wreck the stitches, so I'll be in for at least the rest of the week. You'll be fine?"
"Yeah, dad I'll be fine, and before you ask, I promise not to have any parties."
His dad laughed, "And don't be out late, Stiles. We don't know much about why I was shot."
"Okay, dad, I promise," Stiles said. He removed his backpack and pulled out several sets of pajamas and clothes, and other essentials. "I didn't know what to bring, so I brought a little of everything. I left out the kitchen sink."
His dad laughed, "Thanks Stiles. Now go get yourself lunch."
"Bye," Stiles said, sliding out of the room, but returned to wave goodbye to his dad.
The school day went without a hitch, but toward the end of the day Stiles' mind couldn't keep from straying from his studies — now that was normal, he had ADHD for God's sake, but instead of aimlessly drifting from subject to subject, he obsessed over Derek. The way his odd frown-smile would light up whenever Stiles did something awkwardly; or the way he would growl when he didn't get his way; or the way his eyes flashed red when he was having trouble controlling himself — sometimes that was a bad thing, but when it was Derek, he knew he was safe. God and his smell. His smell took hold of him, even if he was in a crappy plastic seat listening, well not listening, to some English speech about Macbeth or maybe it was Hamlet, but whatever it was it was laden turmoil and sickening-thickening plot. Now back to his smell: cedar, the forest, the wild, and so unbelievably seductive.
When the bell rang, Stiles was out of the room in a flash. He stopped by his locker, quickly only dropping off books that he wouldn't need, he hadn't any homework. He could tell that Scott was adjusting to his new affection for the Alpha of Beacon Hills. He went through the main doors — Derek was waiting, his smile visible from the doors. Stiles practically bounced towards the car.
"Waiting for me?" Stiles asked.
"Get in."
Stiles opened the door and was strapped in within seconds. "I'm still sore you know, and your mark, not to mention the rest of my bruises, made it hell. Every teacher noticed, but the students are worse."
Derek drove out of the school's parking. He seemed to enjoy Stiles' fidgeting whilst the teen spoke about all the people that noticed his love-marks. There was a sort of pride about it. They pulled into Stiles' driveway and got out of the car, Derek once again tried to pick Stiles up, but he continuously prevented the werewolf's advances. Once in Stiles was met by the smell of cooking. He glanced toward Derek before entering the kitchen.
On the breakfast table was several diner biscuits, two individual portion sized ramekins, and a pot full of some type of stew on a trivet. Everything smelled lovely and it made Stiles' mouth water.
"Whole wheat diner biscuits, lavender crême brûlée, and a hearty beef stew. I said I'd cook for you, something gourmet," Derek said.
"Everything looks and smells delicious," Stiles said. He sat down in his usual chair, Derek sat opposite, and they dug in. Derek kept his manners, but he did consume more than Stiles expected he could. By the time they had finished there was still plenty of strew, enough, Stiles ventured, for at least until his father was home. Derek stood up from his chair and helped put away the leftovers.
Quickly Derek seized Stiles, tightening his grip so that the teenager couldn't leave his grasp. Stiles playfully wriggled in his captivity. Derek growled and took Stiles upstairs, taking him to his bed and laying there. Derek slid out of his shirt before laying behind Stiles, pulling the teen closer and wrapping his leg over Stiles'.
"Still sore?" Derek asked in a low seductive whisper, his breath hot against his ear.
"Unfortunately," Stiles said. He sounded and looked disappointed.
Derek brought his hands under Stiles' shirt, releasing an exasperated sigh from his lover. The werewolf began to kiss and lick at Stiles' neck. The teen could feel Derek's jeans tighten and the desperate way he wanted him. Derek was grinding into Stiles shamelessly only for a moment before controlling himself by grinding his teeth, bunching a fist, and extending his wolf-nails into the soft flesh of his palm. His eyes had lit red before the pain, at which point they dimmed down to their regular shade. He breathed on Stiles neck, each breath laboured and withered from the strain on his mind and body. He growled, not to seduce Stiles or to intimidate, but more of a frustrated call towards himself. Stiles shifted, forcing Derek to remove his hands rather quickly. He was face to face with Derek, the heavy breathing werewolf had his eyes shut. Stiles brought his hands to the side of Derek's face, rubbing his thumbs against the werewolf's eyelids. He pressed his lips to Derek's, and lingered there, his lips pressed together.
"I nearly forgot," Stiles said softly. "Full moon's tomorrow." He took Derek's lips with his own again, biting into the werewolf's lower lip, enjoying the groan produced from his closed-eyed lover. Derek allowed entrance to Stiles' tongue which explored him rather clumsily, before he took hold on Stiles' head with his hands, and took control. He was fierce in his attack upon Stiles' mouth, and only broke to give himself time to control himself.
"I'll be with the Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. Will Scott be alright?"
"He's been rather unwilling to allow me to help anymore," Stiles said.
"He just wants to keep you safe," Derek said. He paused before speaking again, "I want to keep my distance from you tomorrow. The full moon brings out the worst in us wolves. I don't want anyone of my wolves to hurt you, nor myself."
"I thought you said you could control the change," Stiles said.
"I'm still learning how to control myself as Alpha," Derek said.
"You'll stay the night?" Stiles looked somewhat distressed that Derek wouldn't be with him and the werewolf could smell the slight fear that grew from the anticipation of his comment.
Derek nodded, his lover's panic only dissipating slightly. "I'd stay if I could guarantee your safety, but I don't think I could control myself."
"Gonna chain yourself up in the wolf cave?"
"No, the chains won't work, even if I oiled them with wolfsbane, I've been speaking with the Vet.. I'm going to attempt to keep myself at bay, mentally and physically. Regardless, just stay here, Stiles. Stay safe."
"The second time I've heard that today," Stiles said, he kissed Derek again before snuggling closer to the werewolf. The teen glanced over his shoulder at the clock, eight-thirty, and the sun was setting in deep orange-red hues. Stiles quickly fell asleep without really meaning too.
The next morning Stiles was awoken by movement. Derek was sitting up in the bed glancing at a framed photograph he had retrieved from Stiles' desk. He was looking at the people: Stiles, his father and his mother. They looked so happy together, and he couldn't help but think about his own family. He let out a drawn out sigh, as he reached over Stiles to leave the frame on the nearby table. Stiles sat up and leant against Derek.
"Picture of my family, before... You know."
"I understand, I might not have many photographs, but the ones I do I keep close."
Stiles jumped from his bed and withdrew a camera, he went back to bed and snuggled right close to his werewolf. "I'd like a photo," Stiles said.
"Werewolves don't photograph well are eyes cause lens flares," Derek said.
"Well then I want two photos," Stiles said rather demandingly.
"Fine, but I take at least one of them," Derek said.
Stiles gave a quick explanation of how to use the camera before giving the device to his lover. Derek pointed it towards them, his long arms making it easy to snap a picture. Derek quickly kissed Stiles, taking the picture then, his eyes open. Stiles took the camera quickly, slightly embarrassed. He aimed the camera towards them and snuggled close to the werewolf's bare chest. He took the picture; Derek's chin on top of Stiles' head for support, and his closed eyes gave way to the expression of tranquility on the werewolf's face. Stiles smiled, popped up and sat on his computer, quickly printing off two regular sized photographs and handed them to Derek.
"Add two more to yours," Stiles said.
Derek took them and admired them before looking at the clock. "You don't want to be late for school, and anyway I've got to remind my pack about the curfew tonight."
Stiles laughed, "Alright alright."
The day passed by slowly; classes had lost their importance, until of course, chemistry. He had to pay attention, he didn't want detention — again. Scott was looking terrible, the moon's pull was weighing on him; Alison looked worried; and he wouldn't speak to Stiles. He was probably going to chain himself up in his room or in the remains of Isaac's house. Stiles' mind lately had been flooded with Derek, but today it was more worry — worry about Derek; worry about the change Derek was going through, mostly because the hunters always go stalking en masse during the full moon. What if he got out? What if Derek was killed? Cut into two by Gerard and his god damn English broad sword. Stiles nostrils flared, an unfamiliar anger grew within him before dissipating. Derek had dropped off his jeep like he had promised, and so he drove home alone.
His house was empty again. No dad. No boyfriend. No best friend. No one. The silence was haunting, so Stiles attempted to keep himself busy since his father and Derek for apparently separate reasons had ordered him to stay home. He did laundry, reheated some strew, and finished off all his homework by twilight when he glanced outside his window. The moon was massive and Stiles could only imagine the pull would be even worse. The drier buzzed, Stiles folded his laundry, and was hovering downstairs for a few minutes. The sun had set, his house was in darkness, except for the minimal light cast through the windows from the streetlights and the passing cars. He frowned — he had nothing better to do, so why not go to sleep and maybe expect Derek to be there in the morning... Probably not, he would be recovering tomorrow. Great, Stiles thought, another day alone. He walked up the stairs, still feeling the embarrassing soreness and pain that Derek had left him as aftermath of their connection. Stiles hadn't minded, he loved Derek and great pleasure was worth pain, especially since it had furthered their relationship; it really solidified it — validated it. Made it real.
He opened the door to his room — a car passed by the house illuminating his room — He saw a shirtless Derek sitting in his computer chair, but before he could say anything Derek red eyes flashed towards him. He leapt from where he was seated and was on Stiles in moments. His firm hands were on the teen's arms, preventing him from moving. Derek took Stiles' mouth with his own more violently then he was used to, but he took it in stride without faltering. The werewolf's breathing was shallow and harsh, he could hear it as Derek brought him closer to his much stronger body. Derek released one of his hands, tore away Stiles shirt with a quick movement, leaving superficial scratches that held no danger to Stiles. The irritation of injured flesh took the teen off guard, but desperate frantic kisses he was being given distracted him entirely. Derek growled and forced Stiles to his bed. The werewolf was on top of him in moments. His hands released, Stiles fumbled with Derek's jeans, effectively undoing the button before Derek removed them. His nakedness, visible in the flashes of car light as they drove by. Stiles couldn't bear it any longer, he doffed his pants with near instinctual precision. Derek was persistent, assertive to a point of dominance, and ground into Stiles. Hardening in a frenzy of thrusts, moans, and growls, Derek grew impatient; his thrusts more desperate, more lustful. He paused then, suddenly as if he was frozen in time. Meanwhile, regardless of what Stiles saw there was inner turmoil, Derek's inner werewolf urging him forward, but somewhere deep down, Derek wanted to be gentle, but the werewolf won. It was the full moon — the wolf held sway.
"More," Stiles said, his voice low and concupiscent, unwittingly tempting the werewolf. His teenage hormones doing their job and coursing through him. He wanted Derek; he wanted Derek so badly, it (stereotypically) hurt. He whimpered wantonly, wanting more than his sore body could truly handle.
Derek let ring a low and long growl that trembled through Stiles as Derek forced open his lover's legs. He leant forward into Stiles, pressing himself into the teen's hips. He trailed marks down Stiles neck, claiming him as his own, through a series of kisses and nips. The werewolf returned his attention to Stiles' posterior. He lifted Stiles' up quickly, giving his lover no time to realize his intentions. Through the combination of sweat and his own fluids, he plunged into Stiles, using his lover's hips to force himself deeper. Stiles jerked forward, the pain was all that hit him at first. He cried out, but he wasn't given any time to adjust. Stiles tried to squirm, but Derek kept rocking himself into Stiles who arched his back shamelessly, deepening their union — each thrust a scream. Waves of pain shook him, tears formed as he felt the sheer size of his lover forcing through him. Derek didn't stop — his kindliness replaced by animalistic rage. Another growl vibrated through Stiles and soon the pain lessened as he violently loosened. Pleasure seized him just as roughly as the pain had come. He jerked forward, arching his back as Derek increased his pace exponentially. Hitting Stiles' prostate, Derek began to grunt intermittently which became faster as his pace increased. Stiles moaned, lifting his head up and wrapping his arm around Derek's neck. The teen grasped at Derek's hair pulling hard enough elicit a low growl every time he tugged. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, lifting him up into an embrace. Using a wall for support, Derek continued his savagery, and with each thrust an exclamation slipped through his lips. Derek held Stiles' arms fast, leaving bruises on his lover's flesh. Derek roughly shoved Stiles against the wall again, grunted, and continued. Stiles full erection rubbed in bounces against Derek's abs, eliciting moans and whimpers. Soon they both came to their peaks; Derek's pace was increased and became nearly, if not, inhuman and Stiles let pass moans. Soon Stiles came between the two of them, whilst Derek with a few even more forceful thrusts, let a roar send shiver's down Stiles' spine. Derek opened his mouth wide and bit into Stiles' shoulder before coming into his lover. Stiles let out a loud moan from both the pleasure of Derek's thrusting and surprising the sheer erotic feeling the bite had given him.
Satisfied, Derek took them both to Stiles' bed and lay on top of his lover before giving a couple final thrusts before extracting himself from Stiles. Within the wake of Stiles' pleasurable sensations, that only momentarily cloaked the pain, the teen could see through his tear-blurred vision. Derek pulled on his pants before jumping out the window, howling, and then Stiles could hear the sound of the werewolf running.
The teen felt used and spent, and he couldn't decide whether or not he was angry or happy. He was still caught up in the aftermath emotions of their sexual union. But, within the emotional fall the pain reawakened and came back with more soreness and now with an add debilitating agonizing pain whenever he moved. Tears formed, he couldn't move without pain. This paralysis of sorts released his shoulder and he screamed, he could feel it. He let all his muscles go and fell back down, he couldn't move. Teared formed, that was all he could do for the moment.
Realizing in steps, Stiles shot up. He had been bitten. He had been bitten. He tried looking at the wound, seeing only the redness that would generally surrounding a bite. He choked on his own spit, the shock forced out of the way by pain. It increased rapidly until he couldn't handle it; ninety percent of pain came from his arse, five percent from the bruises and the remaining five from the wound on his shoulder. He tried to muster the strength to stand, but he couldn't, not yet. If he was bitten the full moon would effect him (not change him) within the hour, not to mention how powerful the moon was this evening; it even drove Derek's will to bend. Derek had been born werewolf, and he had extreme self control for he had bore it throughout his twenty or so years. It couldn't allow his home to be broken a part by his own hands if he was turning. He had to make it to Derek, and he prayed that he hadn't been truly bitten. But what would be so bad? The Argents would always been on the hunt for him and his pack, but he could be with Derek without him worrying if he would hurt him. A little bite would mean nothing, but more pleasure, and he didn't want to think how hot a full bite would be. With the worry of turning and the expansion in his pants from his lascivious want for Derek, he stood up; feeling how sticky he was and feeling the effects of gravity upon all the fluids on and within him. He slipped on a pair of jeans and tried to put on a shirt, but the pressure on his wounds was unbearable. He clenched as he walked, pain wave after pain wave, but he kept trekking. He lifted his arms over his head again, the bruise or the bite twinging. He cried out, gritted his teeth, and pulled his red hoody on. He winced as he kept moving, biting his lips as he went down the stairs, each step sending jolts of pain through his body. Step after step, shock after shock, until reached the door. He grabbed his car keys and house keys before leaving his home. Once in his jeep he was off down the road, each pot hole or grate a wakeup call.
He was careful to shake any tails, if there were any. His dad had taught him, his dad had taught him a great number of things. He got out of his car, his jeep still running, unlocked the code he had memorized, and parked his baby-blue jeep next to Derek's. He was thinking about which entrance to take, the front or the back. He could feel the tension in the air, whether it was imaginary or he could really feel it, he didn't know. He walked into the forest, keeping his eyes on anything that moved, he couldn't take chances. He was careful when he slid into the tunnel, he made sure not to disturb the hatch too much, keeping the leaves attached to its surface. The only obstacle was the dresser in the room that blocked the entrance into Derek's room. By some feat or miracle he moved it out of his way; the strain on his muscles did him no good, pain made itself known within him, but he grunted and moved it back once he was in the room. The door had been bolted from the inside, Derek had went out the back before he had left here last.
Stiles sat down on the bed, right in the middle near the headboard. He stacked Derek's pillows behind his back and waited. He could hear the howls, growls, and clawing from the other room, it was loud enough to be from three werewolves. Who knew where Derek was? He could feel the blood drenching his pullover from his shoulder and every time his body involuntarily clenched or he moved his arm he, depending on the severity, would either whimper or cry out. He could hear the werewolves trying to break free from their chains, but they held firm.
Slowly, unaware, Stiles slipped into sleep, his eyelids flickering as he tried to keep himself from sleeping. When the morning came Stiles was even more sore, but the pain had become familiar, a burden he had to bear. The bite twinged, he didn't know what to do about it. He shuffled slowly, soreness his greatest obstacle, and took his phone from his pocket. It was eight in the morning, and so he dialled his father. The hospital switch board would make it nearly impossible to track his location.
"Dad," Stiles said. He hacked out a cough.
"Stiles," his dad replied. "How are you? You sound sick."
"Yah dad, I think I've got a cold. Could you call the school? They don't trust me much."
"Sure thing. You did stay home? All night?"
"All night, thank you dad, I'm gonna get some rest."
Stiles let out a withered exhale, before adjusting himself again, could keep in one spot for long without the soreness or pain returning, or his ADHD acting up. He closed his eyes to gather his strength.
Meanwhile Derek awoke at his own old home, he scrambled and picked himself off the floor. He ran as fast as he could away from his old house. The hunters would always check for a weakened wolf in the morning, and his old house used to be his haunt after all. The taste of blood presented itself in his mouth, it was familiar, but not animal. It was Stiles'. He flitted through the forest, his feet moving as fast as his human form would allow. He reached Stiles home quickly, and got in through the window. Using all of his senses he was forcing the memory of what had occurred back to the surface of his mind. Within minutes he collapsed to his knees; the weight of grief on his shoulders. He stood up, his eyes seemingly glistening from the formation of tears that couldn't quite roll pass the rims. His stoic face broke into uncertainty that truly marked his age. He wasn't more than a young adult, with only a few years between himself and Stiles. He had only been out of high school for a few years before his return to Beacon Hills.
When Derek arrived at his liar his pack at been freed from their chains and he scowled at them. "I could have sworn I locked these and laced the lock with wolfsbane powder." His pack glanced towards his room and he followed their silent instruction. Stiles was on his bed, in his red pullover and his jeans sleeping, but his face was not that which Derek had seen whenever he slept next to him. He looked disturbed, as if he was suffering. Derek used his senses, smelling the fear, the panic, the pain — and the blood. Stiles awoke then, looking towards Derek unencumbered, still caught in the haze of sleep. He blinked and then opened his eyes wide.
"Derek!" Stiles exclaimed.
"Stiles! I'm so sorry. I... I wasn't myself. I couldn't —" He climbed on top of the bed, crawling on all fours till he was in range of Stiles at which point he sat in front of him. He reached out, put his hand on Stiles shoulder. Stiles jerked backwards.
Derek's facial expressions saddened, "Are you afraid of me, now?"
"No," Stiles retorted. "You need to control yourself better next time. I'm not saying I didn't eventually enjoy it, but look at the state of me. Now help me with my sweater." He pulled off his sweater, needing Derek's helped when it came to getting it over his arms. Suddenly, once his sweater was off Derek could see the true extent of the injuries he had inflicted on Stiles. His eyes started from the bruises on Stiles arms before seeing the bite. Meanwhile the teen had come to terms with his bite, if he was going to turn, he was fine with it. He was fine being Derek's. Derek saw the bite catching them both off guard. Stiles thought Derek remembered everything, but when he saw Derek's face, he knew that it had surprised them both. Derek didn't hesitate before his tongue was on the teen's wound, noticing the old hickeys and the new that littered his lover's neck as he went towards the teen's shoulder. He licked across Stiles' wound, tasting the blood and checking for infection.
A/N 2: I wanted to go through this more then twice, but it has been days since I released a chapter and I felt guilty. Errors are human. Oh and reviews are always appreciated, I'd like to know what you all think is coming.