The bad side was definitely that Stiles could think of no way out of this situation that wouldn't result in Derek knowing and he didn't want that. He stared at his reflection, at his obviously dilated eyes, at the bright flush of his cheeks and he resisted the strong urge to slam his head against the sink and hope that it would go away. But it wouldn't. His body had other ideas, other very definite ideas.

It wasn't as though this was the first time he had this reaction to a man. He knew he was bi, had known for about a year, at least that he'd been sure that he was also attracted to men. If he had any doubts left, they were well and truly gone now.

Stiles shifted, splashing the ice cold water onto his face. Now was so not the time for this. He was obviously very attracted to Derek, physically. But he knew practically nothing about him. Lust was one thing. In this case, a very inconvenient problem because he was alone in the woods with the man. Which, could have been a good thing, except for the fact that Derek was a werewolf and he wouldn't be getting any… relief any time soon. That and this was Derek-Rip-Your-Throat-Out-With-My-Teeth-Hale, Derek who could smile, laugh and had fifty thousand different frowny faces and thirty-three different glares each of which meant something different -and Stiles was by no means an expert in the Derek code.

This was Derek whose ex-girlfriend had betrayed him and killed his family and left him with a lot of baggage and a little emotionally stunted. And that wasn't fair to say, because Stiles couldn't fault him for that. With a groan, he pulled back from the cold water. His hair was wet and clinging to his face, but his pupils were slowly contracting again and his cheeks were bright red with the cold of the water.

He turned the tap off, exhaling softly before towel drying his hair. Maybe he would get lucky and Derek wouldn't have noticed anything -but then he was a werewolf. He probably smelled the arousal. Stiles closed his eyes tightly. Well… that wasn't going to make things awkward, now was it? He had lived through some pretty humiliating things in his life, a lot of them, actually. Plenty. But this… this was going to be unavoidable. Like two trains destined to crash; the lusty Stiles and the resentful Derek and it wouldn't end very pretty. It would probably end bloody and with Stiles missing a throat -nah, the Sourwolf wouldn't be that drastic. And as for him not to kill him? Well… his body would still be scented of him, right? So technically that probably wouldn't get in the way of Derek stopping himself from killing him.

Well there was no time like the present. Doing himself a once over, he nodded and walked out of the bathroom. Derek was standing in the living room, putting the fire in the fireplace out. He was unfortunately -or was it fortunately clothed again -and stop that train of thought right there, Stiles commanded his brain as he scurried to the guest room and shut the door tightly behind him. He really didn't want Derek killing him for what he couldn't help -honestly, the man was built like an Adonis.

Stiles crawled into the bed, curling up under the blankets before shucking his jeans and shirt off. He seriously contemplated relieving that moment from minutes ago, but he didn't want an angry alpha werewolf breaking down the door. It took a very long time before sleep claimed him, sending him off into a restless sleep.

When he woke up, it was to find that he was freezing. It was still pitch black outside and he pulled his blankets closer to his body, wiggling around to try and get some heat but there was nothing. He waited as long as he dared, until his toes were so cold he couldn't stand to touch them to his flesh because it was almost painfully cold. He gathered his blankets around him, tiptoeing out of his room. He stumbled, almost crashing into the door, he caught himself, opened the door and hurried across the slippery, hazardous wooden floors to Derek's room. He almost fell three more times, tripping over the kitchen chair in his haste before stumbling in to Derek's room and throwing himself onto the bed. He dove under the blankets and shamelessly cuddled up to the older man, pressing close carelessly. It was too cold -far, far too cold and too early for any of this to matter.

Derek shifted with a disgruntled sort of grunt/moan, and Stiles latched onto the werewolf. His toes were so, so cold. He waited a second, listening to the deep regular breaths before he slowly poked Derek's exposed calf with one toe. Derek inhaled sharply, frowning in his sleep and Stiles groggily clung on as he put his feet onto the furnace that was Derek Hale. Within seconds he was passed out once more.

He was barely conscious, still functioning in the mostly asleep haze, moving closer to the source of warmth, a sleepy groan working its way from deep within his throat. He pressed closer, shifting his hips, finding that perfect rhythm. It was a mark of how deeply asleep he was, that his brain didn't catch up with his body until he heard the other man's low groan. And then he was trying to pull away, to get away, to give Derek some space and to try and not feel like he had been raping the man in his sleep -but Derek's arms were tight around him, and his own hips were moving in such a delicious way that Stiles gave up as abruptly as he'd tried to start moving away.

He bucked against Derek, his face buried against the man's well muscled shoulder as he felt a familiar tightening, his body tensing up as he continued to move against Derek's slow moving hips until he was hit with a blast of ecstasy. He groaned deeply, suddenly overwhelmed with the sensations -totally alien and yet so similar and so much more heightened. He exhaled heavily, blinking blearily, suddenly acutely aware of Derek growling low in his throat as he ground his lower body against Stiles'.

He was mewling lowly, half-hard and breathing heavy by the time that Derek was rocking his hips erratically against his own until their briefs were heavy and sticky and the breath was stolen from their lungs with hot breaths. Stiles slowly became aware of how warm he was, pressed right up against Derek -but he still had his arms limply around the other man and he could feel Derek's arms around him with their sweaty limbs entangled.

And suddenly, the realization struck Stiles of what had just passed between them and that this was way more than he had ever bargained for and a snarl of fear curled around him. Prior to this morning, he could say that the most experience he had ever had, was one kiss years ago and masturbating to porn. Now he had just… with Derek of all people. Not that it was a bad thing -he was clearly attracted to the werewolf and maybe, just maybe, the werewolf was attracted to him. But then that would clearly depend on who started this humping fest so early in the morning, because the light was spilling through the windows and Stiles looked at his-his bedmate? timidly, noticing how his pupils were contracting and his breathing was evening out and his brows were drawing together in a frown.

"Stiles?" he asked, his voice rough with his post-orgasm state. "When the hell did you get in my bed?"

"L-last night?" he chanced, clearing his throat, blushing, and looking away from the intense stare of the alpha werewolf.

"Why?"

"I-I was cold," he whimpered, meekly, ducking his head, moving away from the werewolf- suddenly too close and too hot.

"…and that led to this?"

"Apparently," Stiles snapped, getting out of the bed, feeling the familiar panic start to creep in.

What was Derek going to do? He could skewer him and eat him alive -how did this even happen? This was -was earth shattering, both in the categorizing of the experience and the fact that it had happened at all. Where did that leave Derek? Holy hell where did that leave him? Where did it leave the both of them? Their relationship was supposed to cut and dry and obvious. Derek threatened Stiles, Stiles used his natural wit and charm to worm his way into Derek's heart. Yesterday there had been some worming and some appreciation and arousal and today -how had yesterday gone from fighting off an urge to jack off to thoughts of Derek to being mostly naked and they had just-just done whatever that was. And Stiles was totally not freaking out about this because hey, it was a very handsome hard to resist Alpha and clearly Stiles' sexiness despite that humiliating strip dance hadn't hindered that effect he had on people. But my god, it was Derek and the way he was sitting there and boring a hole into Stiles' head with that intense stare was enough to make him want to wilt and cower and proclaim apologies.

"Stiles," Derek said firmly.

"What?!" he shouted, leaping to his feet, whirling to face Derek panickedly.

"Stiles, it's okay," Derek said, his tone softening and gentling. "I'm not- I'm not mad."

"How are you not mad?! This is -is totally something to be mad about!" he raved, waving his arms in emphasis.

Derek blushed faintly, "Stiles, this isn't the first time for me. And I, well I don't think it was intentional…"

"It wasn't!" he proclaimed, more loudly than necessary, feeling some of the panic recede.

He had only wanted to get warm, to crawl into bed with Derek and stay warm -not to wake up unsure of who had molested who and feeling both elated and crushed. Because that was not how he had ever visualized any sexual encounter he had going. Usually there was… there were supposed to be feelings! There was supposed to be a clear, happy fond recollection of what had happened not some hazy sleep-addled one.

"I'm sorry."

The low gruff voice surprised him beyond words and Stiles found himself retreating from the room and straight to the bathroom for an immediate shower. What the hell was he supposed to do? He had no idea. What did this even mean? He could feel his heart racing as he got under the cool stream of water. Sure Derek was hot, sure he had a great ass and there was no reason to not fantasize about him. Except maybe for the emotionally stunted thing, that was a strike against him. On the plus side, he had a good sense of humor although maybe it was a little bit twisted. And he had the whole anger thing… another strike against him. He was an accused murderer, another strike…

He had a great smile, when he smiled. And his laugh. And his voice and that mouth and there was nothing physical about him that was remotely unpleasant. His personality wasn't that bad, for as quiet and angry he could be. Despite his anger issues, he hadn't killed anyone and considering that he was a werewolf and a relatively recent alpha werewolf, perhaps that could be considered as a really big bonus?

And he wasn't totally straight. He had handled their sexual encounter this morning quite well, considering everything, as though it hadn't even fazed him in the slightest. So what the hell did it all mean?

A small part of Stiles felt like had lost something that he couldn't get back. It wasn't his virginity, at least not in the technical sense. He exhaled heavily, turning the water on hotter. Okay, so he liked Derek. That was something he could come to terms with. And he had been getting a little hot and heavy with the guy -at least he knew him. That was a pro, a very good pro. Derek had not murdered or maimed him in any way -another good sign.

Stiles frowned. What was he going to do about all of this, exactly? He liked him, he was attracted to him. He liked seeing Derek smile, liked making him laugh even more… He was pretty well screwed, all things considered. He finished washing, making sure he was clean of sweat and semen before throwing a towel around his waist and walking out, back to Derek's bedroom where he had just finished putting on jeans before he bravely and impulsively kissed the corner of his mouth.

He pulled back, watching worriedly as Derek frowned -one of his unreadable frowns. He watched the way his brows tightened, the way that his eyes moved in an obvious sign of how he was considering and calculating and Stiles let out a shaky breath that he wasn't aware he had been holding.

"If I watch closely, I can seeing you failing to comprehend everything." And, in what could probably be considered a suicidal impulse, Stiles leaned back in and kissed the terrifying Derek Hale. And the bastard didn't even kiss him back, in fact, he tensed up and Stiles withdrew in horror and fear, panic curling around his stomach as he backed up. "Ohgod! Pleasedontkillme!" he whimpered.

He was a puny human -Derek was the mighty alpha. This was Derek-Rip-Your-Throat-Out-With-My-Teeth-Hale. And this was who he had a crush on, who he had just kissed…obviously against his wishes. He was going to die now. He knew it. There was no recovering from this moment, this monumental misunderstanding.

Well I'm really nervous, about this chapter. I hope you guys like it. For those of you who haven't stalked my profile or anything, this is the first time I have written fanfiction like this.

And one really big question for all of you out there:

Where do you want this fic to go? I can add and layer and work plot through the relationship of Derek, or I can write a few more days the way this is going and end it? I would really prefer to add plot, as Stiles and Derek work towards a relationship but I don't want to lose anyone...

Thanks for all the feedback!