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It's one thing to promise and another to do it.
[Tate's voice is soft and low, and he's chewing on his nails again. He's used to promises. Kept or otherwise, the majority of them let him down. People let him down. But if Derek wants to actually make vows and promises? Keeping them is going to be what has Tate trust him indefinitely. The way he wants to.]
I'm trusting you so... that's all you need to do for now.
[Tate's voice is soft and low, and he's chewing on his nails again. He's used to promises. Kept or otherwise, the majority of them let him down. People let him down. But if Derek wants to actually make vows and promises? Keeping them is going to be what has Tate trust him indefinitely. The way he wants to.]
I'm trusting you so... that's all you need to do for now.
[ there's an atmosphere in stiles' room that derek feels with his gut. it's this isolated, slightly drunk happiness, where his body feels warm and his heart feels full and it's easy to forget the lack of privacy afforded to those who live in the down. every time derek's with stiles like this, he always ends up feeling like he's carved out a private, perfect bubble, still in stasis, where nothing can go wrong. this is something he's thought again and again and again, but it's as true now as it ever was: stiles makes him feel safe.
they kiss, and - and stiles has to know what he's doing to him. he bares his throat, and derek doesn't react, not verbally, but his expression darkens with lust, and when he pulls back, his eyes lower to the flushed curves of his neck, the pristine skin he's yet to mark with soft bites and swipes of his tongue. he leans in, sets his lips against the dip in stiles' throat above his collarbone, and he sighs against his skin as he kisses him again.
we can be whatever you want. all that anxiety derek was feeling, the worry that he wasn't going to be enough - it melts and dissolves, completely powerless in the atmosphere of stiles' room and the future stiles is offering him. the potential to really be something special. derek kisses up stiles' throat, over his jaw, up to his lips. ]
Good.
[ he's - reinvigorated. stiles wants him. stiles wants him, not as just some-- cheap fuck in the back of his car, not as some limited, physical expression of comfort who only serves to chase away some of the pain of duplicity. stiles wants to be something, whatever derek wants, and derek doesn't know what he wants, yet, not exactly, but he knows he wants this to be real.
derek presses his finger tighter against stiles' hole, adding the tiniest modicum of pressure to the touch. he sinks in further, stretches him a little more, giving stiles time to breathe and adjust as he's guided into gently, easily yielding for him. he scrapes the very edge of his teeth along stiles' throat, moving downwards, sinking blunt, human jaws around the bridge leading to stiles' shoulder, and he exhales through his nose.
he bites. not hard - at least, not as hard as it would be, if he weren't in control of himself. it's dulled and human but still hurts enough to leave a mark, just on the patch of skin derek can reach before stiles' collar. steadily, derek starts to fuck stiles with his finger, drawing out to the tip as he sucks the impression his teeth left at the edge of stiles' neck. he moves forward, pressing in, keeping stiles tilted down on the bed, held in place.
and he bites a little harder, though still not hard enough to bruise. it's this sharp, singing pain that derek quickly soothes with dragging laps of his tongue. he sucks, turning the skin beneath his teeth a soft and rosy pink, and he fingers stiles a little deeper, feeling almost dizzy from the tight, welcoming heat of him. derek closes his eyes and lets himself just - lose himself, for a second, in the tight grip stiles has on his wrist, in the rhythmic squeak of the messy, dishevelled bed, and in the light of the man he loves. ]
Stiles.
[ he inches forward, sinking his finger down to the second knuckle. he's deep enough in stiles to curl his finger and brush against his prostate, relentlessly trying to pull a reaction from him, to-- to overwhelm him with nerves and sensitivity. he's aggressive and consuming and going too fast, he gets that, but it feels like every second he spends disconnected from stiles is frantic, wasted time. how has he spent so long with stiles without - doing this? having him. fucking him. taking him. his stiles. his very good boy. ]
Stiles.
they kiss, and - and stiles has to know what he's doing to him. he bares his throat, and derek doesn't react, not verbally, but his expression darkens with lust, and when he pulls back, his eyes lower to the flushed curves of his neck, the pristine skin he's yet to mark with soft bites and swipes of his tongue. he leans in, sets his lips against the dip in stiles' throat above his collarbone, and he sighs against his skin as he kisses him again.
we can be whatever you want. all that anxiety derek was feeling, the worry that he wasn't going to be enough - it melts and dissolves, completely powerless in the atmosphere of stiles' room and the future stiles is offering him. the potential to really be something special. derek kisses up stiles' throat, over his jaw, up to his lips. ]
Good.
[ he's - reinvigorated. stiles wants him. stiles wants him, not as just some-- cheap fuck in the back of his car, not as some limited, physical expression of comfort who only serves to chase away some of the pain of duplicity. stiles wants to be something, whatever derek wants, and derek doesn't know what he wants, yet, not exactly, but he knows he wants this to be real.
derek presses his finger tighter against stiles' hole, adding the tiniest modicum of pressure to the touch. he sinks in further, stretches him a little more, giving stiles time to breathe and adjust as he's guided into gently, easily yielding for him. he scrapes the very edge of his teeth along stiles' throat, moving downwards, sinking blunt, human jaws around the bridge leading to stiles' shoulder, and he exhales through his nose.
he bites. not hard - at least, not as hard as it would be, if he weren't in control of himself. it's dulled and human but still hurts enough to leave a mark, just on the patch of skin derek can reach before stiles' collar. steadily, derek starts to fuck stiles with his finger, drawing out to the tip as he sucks the impression his teeth left at the edge of stiles' neck. he moves forward, pressing in, keeping stiles tilted down on the bed, held in place.
and he bites a little harder, though still not hard enough to bruise. it's this sharp, singing pain that derek quickly soothes with dragging laps of his tongue. he sucks, turning the skin beneath his teeth a soft and rosy pink, and he fingers stiles a little deeper, feeling almost dizzy from the tight, welcoming heat of him. derek closes his eyes and lets himself just - lose himself, for a second, in the tight grip stiles has on his wrist, in the rhythmic squeak of the messy, dishevelled bed, and in the light of the man he loves. ]
Stiles.
[ he inches forward, sinking his finger down to the second knuckle. he's deep enough in stiles to curl his finger and brush against his prostate, relentlessly trying to pull a reaction from him, to-- to overwhelm him with nerves and sensitivity. he's aggressive and consuming and going too fast, he gets that, but it feels like every second he spends disconnected from stiles is frantic, wasted time. how has he spent so long with stiles without - doing this? having him. fucking him. taking him. his stiles. his very good boy. ]
Stiles.
[ derek has these moments with stiles that feel... memorable, for no real reason. looking at stiles when he's throbbing with stolen pain, slightly more exhausted from worry than he's letting on and still smelling salt and dirt from being so deep in those caves... looking at him and seeing this thin, battled smile on stiles' face while he struggles to counterbalance how pleased he is to be cared about with a weak, bristling, funny little anger... seeing that expression slip into genuine worry, genuine panic, genuine concern, as he tries to ease his arm out of derek's grip to-- to bear with pain, so that derek won't have to?
this is going to be one of those moments. he's going to remember this. he's going to see stiles' face when he tries to sleep, and then his heart's going to beat fast enough to keep him awake. he's going to roll over tonight, and stiles is going to be there on the other side of the bed, safe and warm, cuddled up against him. he's going to kiss stiles on the back of his neck, and he's going to want to tell him he loves him for the ten thousandth time since fort harmony, and he's going to quietly promise to himself that he'll do everything in his power to keep stiles safe. he's going to remember this.
it's. good. it's really good. derek's going to remember a lot of really good things, because of stiles. it's been a long time since his memories were good.
stiles touches his elbow, his arm. it's soothing and comforting and makes him feel loved, and after siphoning away so much pain, he doesn't have the wherewithal to stop himself from smiling. he just - grins, his smile splitting apart his face and making him look ten years younger, eyes crinkling at the edges and looking all that softer. stiles calls him big guy, and that actually kind of turns derek on more than it should, given that under the sweetness of the moment, he's still sort of annoyed this afternoon went the way that it did.
but it's fine. derek sways on his feet a little and starts to move, grin fading, but stiles intercepts before he can get too far, slinging his arm over his shoulders and offering himself as something to lean on. derek doesn't even notice that that's what he's doing, at first; their bodies fit so neatly and naturally together that he just feels like he's walking comfortably with his boyfriend, like normal couples do. stiles asks a question, and derek doesn't really have much of an opinion, but. he still finds a way to be annoyed. ]
I don't need to sit down. I don't-- ugh.
[ wait, hold on. he realizes all at once that stiles is trying to offer him support, as if he can't walk to the up on his own, or something. ugh. impatiently, derek slaps at stiles' arm and slinks out from underneath it, putting a couple of paces difference between them. all that softness, the sentimentality - that's gone, because now the pain he stole is genuinely starting to get on his nerves, and the ache in his bones is quickly pushing him back into that old grumpy shithead standard he's so well-known for. ]
I don't need to lean on you, either. You dick. I just want to go home.
[ from the direction he's walking, it looks like derek's heading back to the elevator, if only out of spite. he's slightly hunched over, hands in his pockets, and he's not walking as fast as he could. he's not worried - it's only pain, and he's not really injured, so once he gets home and lays down for a while, his body will rush through the healing process and make him feel better.
it's stiles, that he's worried about. the pain might be gone, but that's not going to knit his tailbone back together if it really is damaged. derek drags his feet up the street, one hand on his neck. he feels a little feverish, and that's annoying, more than anything else, because the patchy complexion and the sweat is only going to make stiles think he's suffering more after taking his pain than he is. derek heaves a very big, very canine sigh. ]
Let's - pick up the key to the new place. We can just...
[ derek pauses. he keeps walking. ]
It's not like we have a lot to move from the apartment. We could seriously just... get the key and go.
this is going to be one of those moments. he's going to remember this. he's going to see stiles' face when he tries to sleep, and then his heart's going to beat fast enough to keep him awake. he's going to roll over tonight, and stiles is going to be there on the other side of the bed, safe and warm, cuddled up against him. he's going to kiss stiles on the back of his neck, and he's going to want to tell him he loves him for the ten thousandth time since fort harmony, and he's going to quietly promise to himself that he'll do everything in his power to keep stiles safe. he's going to remember this.
it's. good. it's really good. derek's going to remember a lot of really good things, because of stiles. it's been a long time since his memories were good.
stiles touches his elbow, his arm. it's soothing and comforting and makes him feel loved, and after siphoning away so much pain, he doesn't have the wherewithal to stop himself from smiling. he just - grins, his smile splitting apart his face and making him look ten years younger, eyes crinkling at the edges and looking all that softer. stiles calls him big guy, and that actually kind of turns derek on more than it should, given that under the sweetness of the moment, he's still sort of annoyed this afternoon went the way that it did.
but it's fine. derek sways on his feet a little and starts to move, grin fading, but stiles intercepts before he can get too far, slinging his arm over his shoulders and offering himself as something to lean on. derek doesn't even notice that that's what he's doing, at first; their bodies fit so neatly and naturally together that he just feels like he's walking comfortably with his boyfriend, like normal couples do. stiles asks a question, and derek doesn't really have much of an opinion, but. he still finds a way to be annoyed. ]
I don't need to sit down. I don't-- ugh.
[ wait, hold on. he realizes all at once that stiles is trying to offer him support, as if he can't walk to the up on his own, or something. ugh. impatiently, derek slaps at stiles' arm and slinks out from underneath it, putting a couple of paces difference between them. all that softness, the sentimentality - that's gone, because now the pain he stole is genuinely starting to get on his nerves, and the ache in his bones is quickly pushing him back into that old grumpy shithead standard he's so well-known for. ]
I don't need to lean on you, either. You dick. I just want to go home.
[ from the direction he's walking, it looks like derek's heading back to the elevator, if only out of spite. he's slightly hunched over, hands in his pockets, and he's not walking as fast as he could. he's not worried - it's only pain, and he's not really injured, so once he gets home and lays down for a while, his body will rush through the healing process and make him feel better.
it's stiles, that he's worried about. the pain might be gone, but that's not going to knit his tailbone back together if it really is damaged. derek drags his feet up the street, one hand on his neck. he feels a little feverish, and that's annoying, more than anything else, because the patchy complexion and the sweat is only going to make stiles think he's suffering more after taking his pain than he is. derek heaves a very big, very canine sigh. ]
Let's - pick up the key to the new place. We can just...
[ derek pauses. he keeps walking. ]
It's not like we have a lot to move from the apartment. We could seriously just... get the key and go.
she stopped replying to me
after reading the messages
kinda cold?
after reading the messages
kinda cold?
I asked her if she could help me out contract wise
I know it's a lot. Too much.
but I just thought...
I thought she would've at least thought about it after
after everything we had.
[#tragicallyobsessed]
Guess I freaked her out
I know it's a lot. Too much.
but I just thought...
I thought she would've at least thought about it after
after everything we had.
[#tragicallyobsessed]
Guess I freaked her out
Oh.
Big gestures and big asks aren't going to fix things between you.
Girls don't actually like it when guys John Cusack outside their windows playing music from a boombox.
That much emotion, that much responsibility - it'll scare her away. Especially if she's already asked for some space.
But.
The fact that she's talking to you at all is a good sign.
[ he thinks. what would he know. he's old and unlovable, he can't dissect teenage romance. ]
When do you have to be signed by?
Big gestures and big asks aren't going to fix things between you.
Girls don't actually like it when guys John Cusack outside their windows playing music from a boombox.
That much emotion, that much responsibility - it'll scare her away. Especially if she's already asked for some space.
But.
The fact that she's talking to you at all is a good sign.
[ he thinks. what would he know. he's old and unlovable, he can't dissect teenage romance. ]
When do you have to be signed by?
[ stiles has those kinds of moments too. moments where derek says or does something relatively unremarkable to most, but to stiles, those little moments - when derek laughs unexpectedly, when he says something sarcastic or impressively witty, when he does something so human that it's strange, when he smiles, wide and unguarded and beautiful like he's smiling right now - as few and far between as they are, as they have been over the past two years for stiles, those moments stick.
as they walk, stiles cranes his head up an inch or two to look at derek, patiently waiting for his answer. they have a little ways to walk yet before they'll have to veer off in a specific direction toward whatever derek settles for, but even though stiles may not be in pain anymore, he's not in any particular rush to get anywhere fast, either. the only reason he's not hurting is because derek is now - which stiles is still kind of annoyed about, but it is what it is and stiles will just have to make it up to him somehow. he'll think about it later.
i don't need to sit down, derek says, and stiles opens his mouth to mmmaybe try and push his point, but he just wets his lips instead, licking at the corner of his mouth in a poor attempt to disguise a doubtful, shitty little smile. and then derek smacks at stiles' arm and ducks out from his loose and casual and definitely-not-supporting embrace and puts a little space between them with a handful of wide strides, and stiles just kind of - throws his arms up and rolls his entire head like he's already fed up. he huffs a sigh, dropping his arms so his hands thump lightly against the outside of his thighs, and just. stops.
for no particular reason, stiles stops and he watches derek continue to stomp off, veering in the direction of the elevators like he's going to prove some kind of point here, but stiles just feels... good. he feels a quiet sort of fondness, even after derek calls him a dick for wanting to take care of him - because they're going home, where they live, together. it's still relatively new, stiles living with derek, and sometimes stiles has to remind himself that it's real.
he jogs to catch up to derek, muscles still a little stiff and tight, but not sore, and pulls up at his side with a couple of heavier footsteps as he slows his approach. stiles almost shoves playfully at derek's arm in retaliation for calling him a dick, but catches himself when he notices his's posture and his complexion and his dewy skin. he frowns softly and curls his hand into a loose fist, lightly running his knuckles down derek's side instead before letting his hand fall away.
stiles is concerned, but he also doesn't want to be overbearing, and derek distracts him anyway with talk of their new place. his eyebrows furrow gently and then lift sharply, and he takes a few hurried steps ahead of derek, turning on his heel so he's walking backwards, but also able to face derek a little more head on.
derek... has a point. kind of. stiles doesn't really have a whole lot of stuff to haul - just his backpack, full of clothes and essential toiletries like his toothbrush and deodorant, his laptop and charger, a jar of mountain ash; his bat, and whatever clothes don't fit in his bag, and derek has... probably less, if stiles knows him at all.
stiles holds his hands out a little, taking a quick glance back over one shoulder to make sure he's not about to eat shit again before looking back at derek. ]
... Are you serious? [ his tone isn't accusatory or doubtful. it's quietly hopeful, if anything. ] I mean, I'm down, I'm ready, I'm so ready, but.
[ stiles takes another second or two to look derek over. his mouth twists subtly, and he sighs, anticipating a little push-back here. ]
Are you sure you don't want to just - relax first? I know you're like, a big bad - [ he lifts his hands slightly, spreads his fingers and curls them, bares his teeth to demonstrate werewolf, because he's still wary about saying it out loud here where anyone could hear him and anyway, the gesture itself is up for interpretation, ] - but... that fall really hurt, and I can tell you're feelin' it.
as they walk, stiles cranes his head up an inch or two to look at derek, patiently waiting for his answer. they have a little ways to walk yet before they'll have to veer off in a specific direction toward whatever derek settles for, but even though stiles may not be in pain anymore, he's not in any particular rush to get anywhere fast, either. the only reason he's not hurting is because derek is now - which stiles is still kind of annoyed about, but it is what it is and stiles will just have to make it up to him somehow. he'll think about it later.
i don't need to sit down, derek says, and stiles opens his mouth to mmmaybe try and push his point, but he just wets his lips instead, licking at the corner of his mouth in a poor attempt to disguise a doubtful, shitty little smile. and then derek smacks at stiles' arm and ducks out from his loose and casual and definitely-not-supporting embrace and puts a little space between them with a handful of wide strides, and stiles just kind of - throws his arms up and rolls his entire head like he's already fed up. he huffs a sigh, dropping his arms so his hands thump lightly against the outside of his thighs, and just. stops.
for no particular reason, stiles stops and he watches derek continue to stomp off, veering in the direction of the elevators like he's going to prove some kind of point here, but stiles just feels... good. he feels a quiet sort of fondness, even after derek calls him a dick for wanting to take care of him - because they're going home, where they live, together. it's still relatively new, stiles living with derek, and sometimes stiles has to remind himself that it's real.
he jogs to catch up to derek, muscles still a little stiff and tight, but not sore, and pulls up at his side with a couple of heavier footsteps as he slows his approach. stiles almost shoves playfully at derek's arm in retaliation for calling him a dick, but catches himself when he notices his's posture and his complexion and his dewy skin. he frowns softly and curls his hand into a loose fist, lightly running his knuckles down derek's side instead before letting his hand fall away.
stiles is concerned, but he also doesn't want to be overbearing, and derek distracts him anyway with talk of their new place. his eyebrows furrow gently and then lift sharply, and he takes a few hurried steps ahead of derek, turning on his heel so he's walking backwards, but also able to face derek a little more head on.
derek... has a point. kind of. stiles doesn't really have a whole lot of stuff to haul - just his backpack, full of clothes and essential toiletries like his toothbrush and deodorant, his laptop and charger, a jar of mountain ash; his bat, and whatever clothes don't fit in his bag, and derek has... probably less, if stiles knows him at all.
stiles holds his hands out a little, taking a quick glance back over one shoulder to make sure he's not about to eat shit again before looking back at derek. ]
... Are you serious? [ his tone isn't accusatory or doubtful. it's quietly hopeful, if anything. ] I mean, I'm down, I'm ready, I'm so ready, but.
[ stiles takes another second or two to look derek over. his mouth twists subtly, and he sighs, anticipating a little push-back here. ]
Are you sure you don't want to just - relax first? I know you're like, a big bad - [ he lifts his hands slightly, spreads his fingers and curls them, bares his teeth to demonstrate werewolf, because he's still wary about saying it out loud here where anyone could hear him and anyway, the gesture itself is up for interpretation, ] - but... that fall really hurt, and I can tell you're feelin' it.
I have a little bit of time
[Emphasis on "little".]
we were going good before that though
texting back and forth felt like old times
[Emphasis on "little".]
we were going good before that though
texting back and forth felt like old times
Hm.
Just circle back around, I guess. Keep things casual.
If she's willing to give you more than that, she'll bring it up on her own.
If she's willing to sign you, she'll bring that up on her own, too, now that she knows you need it, but.
I wouldn't get your hopes up too high. You should find a couple of safety nets.
Just circle back around, I guess. Keep things casual.
If she's willing to give you more than that, she'll bring it up on her own.
If she's willing to sign you, she'll bring that up on her own, too, now that she knows you need it, but.
I wouldn't get your hopes up too high. You should find a couple of safety nets.
okay
[Big response. He's quiet, letting it sit.]
without talking about how stupid it was to ask or whatever
it's ok to be
to feel like shitty, right
[Big response. He's quiet, letting it sit.]
without talking about how stupid it was to ask or whatever
it's ok to be
to feel like shitty, right
but she was the only good thing I had
she was so important.
moving on makes that feel like
a lie or something.
I don't want to
she was so important.
moving on makes that feel like
a lie or something.
I don't want to
[ when stiles drops behind him, derek keeps walking, pointedly acting as if he's not keenly aware of the distance they're putting between themselves. when stiles jogs ahead of him, though, walking backwards and maintaining eye contact, derek doesn't really have the luxury of acting like he's big and tough and fine with heading back to the elevator alone. he's immediately standing up straighter, walking slower, keeping an eye on stiles' feet. ready to rush out and grab him in case he falls.
back at the apartment, derek doesn't have too many belongings to call his own. no laptop, no baseball bat. he has a small, squirrelled away pile of medical supplies he's been trying to keep stocked since a week or so after the fort - he's gotta take good care of his human, after all - but stiles started that, he's just been maintaining it.
he doesn't have anything particularly precious to hold onto. the chessboard was his most important purchase, and he thinks of that as stiles' more than his own. everything precious in his life comes back to stiles, in some way.
anyway - it's fine. the less to carry, the sooner they can move. stiles says he's ready, and derek can hear the budding excitement in his voice, and maybe it's just because the pain is really starting to put him in a bad mood, but the but stiles ends his sentence with kinda ticks him off. derek meets the wry shift of stiles' mouth with a big, stone wall of narrow eyebrows and flaring nostrils. annoyed. annoying. this is annoying.
derek walks a little faster. yes, he's serious. yes, he's sure. yes, he's a big bad werewolf, however poorly and condescendingly stiles chooses to express that fact through spectacularly shitty charades. dismissively, derek shakes his head, holding his hand up like he's stopping stiles from talking. ]
I want a blowjob.
[ ... maybe a little direct, but. derek stares at stiles, dropping his hand. he can relax when they get there - he's pretty sure getting blown will be more relaxing than laying around in an apartment he hates, being miserable and worrying about all the ways stiles could have died in that cave if things had gone wrong, dwelling on the ache in his back. moving might be a hassle, but getting there and spending the night together matters more to him than anything else. he just wants to live somewhere private and quiet and alone with somebody very important to him. he'll keep arguing until stiles gives in, if he has to.
the elevator's just up ahead, and it doesn't take much time to get over there, though it looks like it's going to be a pretty long wait until it descends from the up. more exasperated than anything else, derek slumps sideways against the metal panel to the side of it, his shoulder propped up against the wall. he gives stiles his attention while he listens to the distant, drowned out hum of the elevator's machinery somewhere far, far above them, and he pushes himself to say more. ]
If you really think I need to rest before we move, then...
[ fine, he almost says, but no, he's still willing to argue until stiles caves. derek visually changes his mind and cuts himself off halfway through, scrunching up his face like he just doesn't fucking get why stiles is holding out on him. ]
Then - you're wrong? And kind of stupid?
[ he folds his arms over his chest, crosses one foot over his ankle. he leans more weight against the wall, and it's not because he's hurt, or because he needs it, even if that's actually sort of maybe the truth, partially, perhaps. he just likes to lean on things. ask anyone. ]
back at the apartment, derek doesn't have too many belongings to call his own. no laptop, no baseball bat. he has a small, squirrelled away pile of medical supplies he's been trying to keep stocked since a week or so after the fort - he's gotta take good care of his human, after all - but stiles started that, he's just been maintaining it.
he doesn't have anything particularly precious to hold onto. the chessboard was his most important purchase, and he thinks of that as stiles' more than his own. everything precious in his life comes back to stiles, in some way.
anyway - it's fine. the less to carry, the sooner they can move. stiles says he's ready, and derek can hear the budding excitement in his voice, and maybe it's just because the pain is really starting to put him in a bad mood, but the but stiles ends his sentence with kinda ticks him off. derek meets the wry shift of stiles' mouth with a big, stone wall of narrow eyebrows and flaring nostrils. annoyed. annoying. this is annoying.
derek walks a little faster. yes, he's serious. yes, he's sure. yes, he's a big bad werewolf, however poorly and condescendingly stiles chooses to express that fact through spectacularly shitty charades. dismissively, derek shakes his head, holding his hand up like he's stopping stiles from talking. ]
I want a blowjob.
[ ... maybe a little direct, but. derek stares at stiles, dropping his hand. he can relax when they get there - he's pretty sure getting blown will be more relaxing than laying around in an apartment he hates, being miserable and worrying about all the ways stiles could have died in that cave if things had gone wrong, dwelling on the ache in his back. moving might be a hassle, but getting there and spending the night together matters more to him than anything else. he just wants to live somewhere private and quiet and alone with somebody very important to him. he'll keep arguing until stiles gives in, if he has to.
the elevator's just up ahead, and it doesn't take much time to get over there, though it looks like it's going to be a pretty long wait until it descends from the up. more exasperated than anything else, derek slumps sideways against the metal panel to the side of it, his shoulder propped up against the wall. he gives stiles his attention while he listens to the distant, drowned out hum of the elevator's machinery somewhere far, far above them, and he pushes himself to say more. ]
If you really think I need to rest before we move, then...
[ fine, he almost says, but no, he's still willing to argue until stiles caves. derek visually changes his mind and cuts himself off halfway through, scrunching up his face like he just doesn't fucking get why stiles is holding out on him. ]
Then - you're wrong? And kind of stupid?
[ he folds his arms over his chest, crosses one foot over his ankle. he leans more weight against the wall, and it's not because he's hurt, or because he needs it, even if that's actually sort of maybe the truth, partially, perhaps. he just likes to lean on things. ask anyone. ]
[ derek's breath is warm against his throat and his lips are soft and stiles should probably be more fearful about baring his throat to a predator - but if there's anything he knows like the back of his hand, if there's anything he's researched backwards and forwards to the best of his ability, it's werewolves. the hierarchy, general behavior and customs, displays of aggression and submission and respect. recognition of power and authority.
he knows what he's doing by baring his throat, even if he's never really had to do it before. even if he's never truly felt the desire to submit like this until now, until derek. stiles sighs, closing his eyes and exhaling a slow, fluttery breath as derek presses a line of kisses up the column of his throat, kisses his mouth, too. he says good, and stiles swallows and he nods because it is good. this is good and whatever derek wants, stiles will make that good, too, if it's the last thing he ever does.
by now, derek's gentle ministrations to stiles' throat has coaxed stiles into relaxing so much that he almost feels a little boneless, loose and easy and warm and safe and wanting, and there's little to no resistance or squirming from him when derek works his finger deeper. his body doesn't instinctively try to fight the intrusion, but he's still a little tight and the stretch is still slightly uncomfortable, if only because he isn't accustomed yet. stiles breathes in through his nose, impulsively drawing his knees in a bit closer to either side of derek between his legs, but he forces himself to relax as he exhales, easing the way with a couple of lazy, uncoordinated strokes of his dick as he spreads his thighs again.
the scrape of derek's teeth against his throat is a welcome distraction, but it's the fit of derek's jaws over the dip between his neck and his shoulder that has his heart beat jumping and his hand stuttering over his dick. it's not panic that floods through him, and it's not fear, either, but something stiles can't quite describe - something like absolute, unquestionable trust, and adrenaline, and the indescribable thrill of something else stiles couldn't put a name to if he tried.
derek bites down. derek bites down, presses the flat edges of his human teeth into soft flesh and tight muscle and it's not hard, but stiles feels the dull, hot pressure behind it and it does more for him that he expects it to. he clenches his teeth lightly, closes his eyes, and when he breathes out, there's a soft, unsteady moan that hovers just under his breath. his fist tightens up around his cock, fingers curled just below the head and his wrist flexing with short little pulses.
stiles' fingers grip a little harder at derek's wrist, not to push him off or get him to ease up, but almost as if to anchor himself instead, to stay connected with him at as many points as possible. derek starts to move his hand, starts to fuck him with his finger, fits his teeth back into the impressions they left before - and he bites again, but this time it's harder, and it hurts, and stiles... doesn't hate it. he shivers and he clenches his teeth and he closes his eyes a little tighter and he - likes it. his voice is a little gravely, a little thin, breathy, similar to a whine but not quite there. ]
God...
[ he really, really likes it, and that's somewhat unexpected considering that, in his experience, sex and pain have never really had any positive associations for him. but this is good. maybe there are limits they just haven't hit yet, but right now, this is really good.
stiles skin flushes with heat, eyes blinking open halfway because he wants to see derek, wants to look at him but he can't because derek's face is still pressed in close to his throat, hot, wet tongue licking and soothing the sharp imprint of his teeth. stiles is left staring up at the ceiling instead, feet pressed flat to the mattress and hips rolling in tiny little circles, trying to meet the steady thrust of derek's finger, seeking more.
derek says his name. stiles takes his hand off of his dick, not because he's close, because he isn't, not yet, but because he's aware enough to know that that could change very quickly, and he's nowhere near ready for this to be over when it's only just begun. he hums a soft, low note in acknowledgement, but it just sounds like another soft moan. stiles reaches backwards with his free hand, extending his arm up over his head like he's about to reach for a pillow that he doesn't actually have, but he never makes it that far.
stiles' fingers grip at the thin bed sheet, grabbing a fistful of it by his head with his elbow bent sharply as derek strokes his finger over his prostate. his eyes fly open the rest of the way and his mouth opens and his toes curl. he doesn't make a sound at first, but his body tenses up and he digs his heels into the bed, and then the breath comes rushing out of him and derek says his name again, and this time he does whine, soft and thin and completely unintentional. his nerves feel like they're buzzing, intense but quickly fading.
stiles pants, mildly overwhelmed and surprised and horny as fuck. he lets go of the sheet, his other hand still circled around derek's wrist, holding it so tightly that his knuckles are white and his fingers feel a bit numb, and he clumsily fits his hand over the back of derek's neck, stumbling through his words. ]
I need, I want— I need - more than this.
[ he needs more than just derek's finger, for one, even if knows somewhere in the corner of his mind that he probably shouldn't rush through prepping. but he also needs for this to be more than just sex - which they've already established that it is, that it will be, that they're more than just friends, but stiles still says it anyway, even if he doesn't clarify out loud what it is he needs from derek. ]
Please.
he knows what he's doing by baring his throat, even if he's never really had to do it before. even if he's never truly felt the desire to submit like this until now, until derek. stiles sighs, closing his eyes and exhaling a slow, fluttery breath as derek presses a line of kisses up the column of his throat, kisses his mouth, too. he says good, and stiles swallows and he nods because it is good. this is good and whatever derek wants, stiles will make that good, too, if it's the last thing he ever does.
by now, derek's gentle ministrations to stiles' throat has coaxed stiles into relaxing so much that he almost feels a little boneless, loose and easy and warm and safe and wanting, and there's little to no resistance or squirming from him when derek works his finger deeper. his body doesn't instinctively try to fight the intrusion, but he's still a little tight and the stretch is still slightly uncomfortable, if only because he isn't accustomed yet. stiles breathes in through his nose, impulsively drawing his knees in a bit closer to either side of derek between his legs, but he forces himself to relax as he exhales, easing the way with a couple of lazy, uncoordinated strokes of his dick as he spreads his thighs again.
the scrape of derek's teeth against his throat is a welcome distraction, but it's the fit of derek's jaws over the dip between his neck and his shoulder that has his heart beat jumping and his hand stuttering over his dick. it's not panic that floods through him, and it's not fear, either, but something stiles can't quite describe - something like absolute, unquestionable trust, and adrenaline, and the indescribable thrill of something else stiles couldn't put a name to if he tried.
derek bites down. derek bites down, presses the flat edges of his human teeth into soft flesh and tight muscle and it's not hard, but stiles feels the dull, hot pressure behind it and it does more for him that he expects it to. he clenches his teeth lightly, closes his eyes, and when he breathes out, there's a soft, unsteady moan that hovers just under his breath. his fist tightens up around his cock, fingers curled just below the head and his wrist flexing with short little pulses.
stiles' fingers grip a little harder at derek's wrist, not to push him off or get him to ease up, but almost as if to anchor himself instead, to stay connected with him at as many points as possible. derek starts to move his hand, starts to fuck him with his finger, fits his teeth back into the impressions they left before - and he bites again, but this time it's harder, and it hurts, and stiles... doesn't hate it. he shivers and he clenches his teeth and he closes his eyes a little tighter and he - likes it. his voice is a little gravely, a little thin, breathy, similar to a whine but not quite there. ]
God...
[ he really, really likes it, and that's somewhat unexpected considering that, in his experience, sex and pain have never really had any positive associations for him. but this is good. maybe there are limits they just haven't hit yet, but right now, this is really good.
stiles skin flushes with heat, eyes blinking open halfway because he wants to see derek, wants to look at him but he can't because derek's face is still pressed in close to his throat, hot, wet tongue licking and soothing the sharp imprint of his teeth. stiles is left staring up at the ceiling instead, feet pressed flat to the mattress and hips rolling in tiny little circles, trying to meet the steady thrust of derek's finger, seeking more.
derek says his name. stiles takes his hand off of his dick, not because he's close, because he isn't, not yet, but because he's aware enough to know that that could change very quickly, and he's nowhere near ready for this to be over when it's only just begun. he hums a soft, low note in acknowledgement, but it just sounds like another soft moan. stiles reaches backwards with his free hand, extending his arm up over his head like he's about to reach for a pillow that he doesn't actually have, but he never makes it that far.
stiles' fingers grip at the thin bed sheet, grabbing a fistful of it by his head with his elbow bent sharply as derek strokes his finger over his prostate. his eyes fly open the rest of the way and his mouth opens and his toes curl. he doesn't make a sound at first, but his body tenses up and he digs his heels into the bed, and then the breath comes rushing out of him and derek says his name again, and this time he does whine, soft and thin and completely unintentional. his nerves feel like they're buzzing, intense but quickly fading.
stiles pants, mildly overwhelmed and surprised and horny as fuck. he lets go of the sheet, his other hand still circled around derek's wrist, holding it so tightly that his knuckles are white and his fingers feel a bit numb, and he clumsily fits his hand over the back of derek's neck, stumbling through his words. ]
I need, I want— I need - more than this.
[ he needs more than just derek's finger, for one, even if knows somewhere in the corner of his mind that he probably shouldn't rush through prepping. but he also needs for this to be more than just sex - which they've already established that it is, that it will be, that they're more than just friends, but stiles still says it anyway, even if he doesn't clarify out loud what it is he needs from derek. ]
Please.
nobody's liked me like she liked me
["what if nobody does, again?" Emo. Emo. Emo.]
I just feel like I don't have a focus
["what if nobody does, again?" Emo. Emo. Emo.]
I just feel like I don't have a focus
I like you. Stiles likes you. I know that's not what you mean, but.
She was your first. Not your last.
You'll find someone else. Someone else after that, too, probably.
That's how life works.
I can help you find focus.
What do you like to do? I know you like reading. You could write something.
She was your first. Not your last.
You'll find someone else. Someone else after that, too, probably.
That's how life works.
I can help you find focus.
What do you like to do? I know you like reading. You could write something.
that's not what I mean by focus
I just
sometimes things are just... so important to me
she was that thing. before her I was just
[trying to give a ghost a baby, uh]
it's not like a hobby or like. I guess it's a passion
but it doesn't feel like something I can just pick
it just happens. and in between I feel like useless shit
I just
sometimes things are just... so important to me
she was that thing. before her I was just
[trying to give a ghost a baby, uh]
it's not like a hobby or like. I guess it's a passion
but it doesn't feel like something I can just pick
it just happens. and in between I feel like useless shit
[ this, to derek, sounds like something tate could find if he were pack. a constant routine of protecting yourself and protecting others and finding value and self-worth in that kind of survival. derek doesn't bring up the bite, but. thinks about it. ]
What were you passionate about before Violet?
[ other than ghost baby. ]
What were you passionate about before Violet?
[ other than ghost baby. ]
[Drugs. Music. Doing whatever it took to make a point.]
I used to have to protect my family, I guess
hating my mother took up a lot of my time
I used to have to protect my family, I guess
hating my mother took up a lot of my time
yeah.
["If someone makes you feel safe, whether just in general, or maybe talking about something, or if you feel confident in relying on them, they're probably someone you can trust." Something Stiles said to him, that Tate's thinking over. While, ironically, Stiles and Derek are lowkey betraying that trust. IT'S COOL.]
my siblings couldn't always protect themselves.
if I'd done a better job, my brother would've probably still been alive
["If someone makes you feel safe, whether just in general, or maybe talking about something, or if you feel confident in relying on them, they're probably someone you can trust." Something Stiles said to him, that Tate's thinking over. While, ironically, Stiles and Derek are lowkey betraying that trust. IT'S COOL.]
my siblings couldn't always protect themselves.
if I'd done a better job, my brother would've probably still been alive
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