Inamorato VII
Stiles is a dreamer. It seems that it's one of the few ways he's able to keep his ADHD under control. But something soon starts to make his dreams restless, make them more vivid and panicked. Little does he know that his mate is looking for him. He's caused the leather-clad werewolf out of hiding and would stop at nothing for his inamorato.
Reminding everyone, THIS IS MY FIRST TEEN WOLF FIC.
Thank you to all my reviewers:
xxSterekfan6xx
ilovetoread356
MentalCase570
AllForCarlosBTR
And thank you to everyone who added this on their favorites and alerts lists! I'm so glad everyone likes it so far!
Chapter 7: Restraint
Stiles debates whether or not to take the couch that night.
He settles in next to Derek instead, to make sure the alpha is okay. Stiles knows the alpha just needs a lot of time to recover. But what is he supposed to tell his dad about this? He's managed to clean up the blood from his floor and the bathroom and tossed Derek's shredded clothes. Getting Derek out of the bathtub was a chore, especially because the wolf was semi-conscious and covered in injuries.
Stiles managed though, carrying Derek into his room and not bothering to dress him in clothes he brought, just slipping Derek into a pair of his own wide waistband Batman briefs and sweatpants that just barely fit the man. He bandaged Derek up, his head, shoulder, abdomen, and various other places wrapped in gauze he'd dug out of the back of his jeep. Now, the wolf was sound asleep, tucked into the warmth of Stiles's comforter.
Stiles's heart aches seeing Derek vulnerable like this. It's nearly two in the morning and Stiles can't sleep at all, not while Derek's like this. His back is up against the headboard and he sighs to himself at the irony of the situation. The fact that he was sitting up worrying just as Derek had done a few nights before. Although, Stiles's mind is whirring. He's terrified for Derek, for himself. He doesn't know what to expect, how he's going to handle it. He doesn't know how to protect himself, for he's only human. He doesn't know how to protect Derek.
Stiles's mind stops though, when Derek rolls over and splays an arm over Stiles's abdomen. It brings a smile to the teen's face because Derek looks so serene, the way the moonlight shadows the right side of his face and illuminates the left. Stiles slinks down so that he's laying flat instead of against the headboard and Derek unconsciously cuddles up to him, the alpha's scruff scratching the crook of the teen's neck.
—
It seems that their lips fit together perfectly, smoothly sliding against the other's. It's hot and passionate, because he's waited for this. He's waited so long. His wolf stirs inside, growling, 'MATE.' He's drowning in the smells of nature, of fresh rain and strong pine and Derek is in bliss. His hands are running up the forming abs underneath the campy Batman tee, his lips on fire from the way the teen's tongue begs for entry.
And Derek allows it. He feels his control slipping, the way it does when he's angry. But this isn't anger driving him. It's his want, his need. He craves Stiles, all of him. He's growling and he doesn't even realize he's literally ripping Stiles's shirt in two in his attempt to remove it.
"Fuck," he mutters and Stiles laughs, untangling himself from the fabric.
"That was my favorite one."
Derek's mouth latches onto the teen's once more. "I'll buy you a new one," he mumbles against Stiles's lips, his heart throbbing in his chest.
Stiles's hands wrench loose from the hand Derek's using to pin them over his head and start running them over the shreds of green flannel that cling to Derek's body.
And Derek feels it, the ache in his bones swells to pulsing pain. His breathing becomes more ragged as Stiles trails his lips over Derek's scruffy jawline and down his neck.
"Stiles..." is all he can manage before he tears himself away from the teen and hunches against the corner of the bedroom.
Stiles pants heavily, stepping away from the wall and kneeling beside Derek's curled form.
"Hey," he says, "it's okay."
Derek looks up at him with scarlet eyes and razor sharp canines. "It's not. I'm a monster."
Stiles smiles and sits against the wall, reaching to Derek's claws and pulling the alpha in between his spread legs so that the wolf can lean back against his chest. "I've told you, Derek. You're not a monster. You're a hero. And I love you, all of you."
"Even this?"
"Yes, even this."
Derek melts into Stiles as the teen's nimble fingers remove the shreds of clothing from Derek's battered frame, a pair of soft lips trailing kisses along the older's shoulders and neck. Derek feels his wolf roaring inside of him and he lets out a low growl, a rumble deep in his chest. He can feel Stiles smiling against his sweat-slicked skin, and it makes Derek grin too, the alpha tilting his neck to one side to give Stiles more access.
Derek feels it. The passion. It heals him. The wounds on his face, on his shoulder, his chest, start to close as Stiles's teeth graze his jawline. His claws dig into the wooden floor because fuck, the kid knows how to use his tongue. It's licking along the nape of his neck and Derek growls again, a low moan tearing from his throat. Stiles brings his hands around the alpha's chest and slowly, tantalizingly fumbles with Derek's belt before they pop the button on his jeans and rub along the V of Derek's hips.
Derek moans low again, his claws dragging along the floor. "Fuck, Stiles," he breathes, pushing his hips up into the teen's touch, "do something."
And Derek roars when the blunt, human teeth sink into his shoulder. He's sweating, his wolf clawing inside. He backs up against Stiles, his butt coming in contact with the bulge in the front of Stiles's jeans. Derek's panting at the sound of the harsh breath Stiles draws in.
"Shit, Derek, God."
Derek's head cranes to see Stiles flustered and mussed, his chest heaving. And it's the hottest thing he's ever seen. He's leaning forward to capture his lips when he feels a sting in his shoulder—
—
Derek roars as he wakes up, his shoulder bleeding through the gauze. His whole body aches as sweat drips down his chest. In seconds, Stiles is in the doorway, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and a roll of gauze in his hands. He mumbles something but Derek can't make it out, so he settles for nodding, eyes following Stiles as he runs out of the room.
The teen returns with the roll of gauze, a washcloth, and a bottle of alcohol, coming to Derek's side with minty breath.
"Are you okay?" Stiles questions, the scent of peppermint ghosting past Derek's nose. "What happened?" Stiles tugs down the covers and pushes lightly on Derek's lower back, getting the alpha to straighten so that he can change the bandages.
Derek hisses as Stiles's touch sends fire straight to his crotch, warmth spreading throughout his entire body. His dream vividly flashes in his mind and he desperately tries not to growl as Stiles removes the gauze from his chest and his shoulder.
"I must have twisted wrong and—fuck!" Derek lets loose a loud rumble, half in lust, half in pain. Stiles smiles sheepishly and dabs the alcohol-soaked cloth at the wound again.
"Sorry," he mutters, face flushed. He goes to put more alcohol on the cloth but Derek's hand firmly grips his wrist.
"Don't. I'm fine," he grits.
Stiles wrenches his hand free and continues anyway. "No you aren't." He looks at Derek's sour face and he reaches out, fingers lightly touching Derek's skin. "Derek, this isn't fine." Stiles stares at Derek in disbelief when the alpha shrugs. His honey brown eyes roam over the expanse of Derek's skin. "Derek, look at this." His fingers run over the inflamed area around the wound. His thumb brushes over the stitches he'd put in the day before and he freezes, body going rigid and Derek shudders as Stiles's hand stays in place on the wound on his shoulder.
"Stiles?"
Stiles doesn't hear him. What he does hear is roaring, growling, leaves crunching. He opens his eyes and he's in the woods, and Derek's running out of the house and swinging at the beast getting up at the base of a tree.
"Derek!" he yells, running over to the alpha that just took a claw to the thigh. Stiles screams as pain sears through his own thigh, his stomach burning as well. He lifts his shirt to reveal claw marks, blood dripping down his abdomen. He's panting, leaning against a tree to brace himself as he watches the battle in front of him, catching glimpses only from the moonlight shining down into the trees.
He screams when he feels the skin ripping across his cheek and down his shoulder, something tearing through the muscle in his forearm. He's on the ground in agony, eyes glued to Derek's body slumped against the tree. He sees the beast rearing, huffing, and he's mustering all of his strength to yell once more to the alpha, "DEREK!" even though he knows the wolf can't hear him. And Stiles's hands cover the blow to his abdomen, and he can feel the horns impaling his body, his mouth open in a silent scream. He tastes the metal in his mouth before blood flows down his chin and he limply falls in the dirt, barely hearing Derek muttering something about Stiles before he succumbs to the pain.
Derek's still staring at Stiles when the teen gasps, face full of fear. He's been out of it for about ten minutes and it seems that Derek moving his hand from their place on his shoulder snapped him out of whatever trance he was in.
"Stiles? Are you alright?"
The teen slowly nods, face pale as he life his shirt and drags his fingers across his smooth abdomen. He reaches up and touches the side of his face, his fingers feeling for any imperfections. "I-I was there. With you. Last night," he whispers, sitting back on his knees. "I felt it, everything. I watched it. I saw you fighting and then you got hit and so did I."
Derek searches his mind for an explanation, but nothing. "Stiles, I—"
"Let me try another spot."
Derek ponders it for a moment before giving in and nodding.
Stiles makes him turn and places his hands along the scrapes on Derek's lower back.
Stiles is out of it for about two, three minutes and the whole time Derek watches him, the way his eyes are closed and his lips parted, the feel of his soft fingers on his lower back. He feels his wounds become a little less painful and when he looks down at his tattered abdomen, everything becomes a little less red and it closes up just a little.
Stiles focuses on Derek and tells him, "I saw you come in my window. You got those scrapes when I yanked you in so you wouldn't fall off the roof."
Derek searches Stiles's face and the boy is terrified, Derek knows. "We need to see Deaton. Now."
"We can go later," Stiles drones, clearly out of it. "Let me finish fixing you up."
Derek doesn't argue, knowing full well that Stiles is scared and more vulnerable than he's ever been. He knows Stiles hates him, by the way they act around each other and how his anger flares up around the teen. Better to keep the kid off his case instead of mounting him and keeping them tied together forever, right?
He lets Stiles clean the wounds and they sting, Derek's wincing the whole time but still doesn't protest. He wants Stiles to be okay.
He's deep in thought and Stiles has to snap his fingers in front of the dead look in Derek's eyes for the alpha to focus again.
"Hmm?"
Stiles simply tugs on the waistband of Derek's sweats.
The alpha furrows his brow.
"Derek, I need to get to your thigh. Take 'em off."
Trying not to look surprised, he complies, raising his hips as Stiles slinks the pants down to Derek's ankles. He sees the gruesome gash on his upper thigh, uncovered by the Batman briefs he's wearing...that aren't his. He catches the scent coming off of them and it smells like fresh laundry, like cinnamon sugar and rain, and Derek has to reign himself in because the blood is starting to rush south.
Stiles cleans the wound and rewraps the gauze. He rewraps Derek's shoulder, his abdomen, and his back, having the alpha turn so that Stiles can look at the side of his face.
Derek winces and glances at Stiles's lips, only inches from his own. His eyes flicker red and waver up to Stiles's eyes, the honey brown orbs focused on his jade ones. It takes Derek's breath away and his eyes go red once more, his heart thumping heavily in his chest.
Stiles drops the cloth in his hand and it falls into Derek's lap, effectively snapping the pair out of their trance.
Derek brings his hand up to the side of his face and Stiles goes out of the room only to return with a large bandage and roll of medical tape. He covers the gash on Derek's face and tapes the bandage on, tossing a shirt at Derek from his bag under the bed.
"I made pancakes, if you're up for it."
Derek nods and watches Stiles leave the room before he falls back on the bed and huffs, feeling his dick throbbing with need. "Fuck," he mutters, "what the hell did I get myself into?"
—
"We could've taken my car."
"You're in no condition to drive Derek."
The alpha knows Stiles is right. "Whatever. Just—where are we going?"
"The Sheriff's Department. I have to bring my dad some lunch."
"No!"
Stiles swerves in surprise and pulls over, glaring at Derek. "Why not?"
"I'm an alleged criminal. How well do you think it'll blow over that the Sheriff's son is harboring a criminal, huh?"
Stiles grits his teeth. "Y'know, I think if Iwanted, I could drag your little werewolf ass out in the middle of the road and leave you for dead!"
"Start the car."
Stiles looks at him, a tinge of humor in his features. "I don't think you're in any condition to be making demands."
"Stiles, start the car or I'm going to rip your throat out. With my teeth."
Stiles sighs and thinks about it for a moment before he starts the car and drives to Deaton's first instead of the Sheriff station.
The parking lot is deserted when the pair arrives. Deaton's car sits in the front parking spot as usual.
"Let's go Derek."
"Wait."
"What now? I need to bring my dad lunch! Get your ass out of the car."
"Something's wrong."
Stiles approaches the door and sees the handle stained with dried blood.
"Derek. It was here."
Stiles enters the clinic and takes note of the trashed exam room.
"And Deaton's gone."
Have you guys figured out who the Erchitu is? Comment who you think it is!
PLEASE REVIEW! I THRIVE ON THOSE.
Follow me on tumblr: AllForStilesTW
Much love,
—A
