[ stiles paws through the contents of the bag, setting aside what he doesn't want. the silk ropes are gone, and that's... fine. derek brought them because they're softer, less likely to dig into stiles' skin or leave ropeburn if he was held in place for too long - six hours is a fucking trek - but they're easy enough to get out of, and something more sturdy might be more beneficial, given that stiles is a wriggly son of a bitch.
there are a few other options to play with, other than rope. handcuffs, if stiles wants to play the detective route. zipties. belts, specifically designed for this. it's all actually kind of intimidating, once derek's seeing it laid out in front of him - when he was at the store, he just kind of frantically grabbed whatever he could in case stiles had a preference, but now that they're here, he just feels like kind of a pervert. or, like. a hunter.
derek's got his head down, teetering on the edge of self-conscious. when stiles laughs, it snags his attention, and he looks up in time to see him say don't make fun of me. derek listens, eyebrows narrowing, and... a lot of that self-consciousness fades in one hard blow. stiles tells him to pick a gag, he apologizes for holding him up, and yes, great, that's all very well and good, but derek holds up his hand to stop him from talking. ]
Hold on.
[ hold on. hold on? hold the fuck on. derek grins, this slow spread of a smirk that starts at the corner of his lips and spreads inwards. hold on. ]
I don't believe you for a fucking second. You're telling me - you, Stiles Stilinski, are telling me - that you've never gone down a weird rabbit hole on wikipedia and learned way too much about the sex toy industry? You've never put off doing your math homework by looking up obscure sex toys worth sending to yourself as a "prank" on your birthday? I don't even know who I'm dating anymore.
[ but - okay, okay, maybe that counts as making fun of stiles, so he shakes his head with a playful roll of his eyes and lets this part of the conversation die. he's still smiling as he looks back at the bag, but - it's hard not to feel kind of nervous. this is a pretty new frontier for them. he's, uh. he's not sure he's ready. he's not sure if stiles is ready. he might just end up, like, tying him down and jerking him off, like the boring piece of shit he is. but.
the options are there. derek chews his bottom lip for a second, darting his eyes back up. he can't really figure out where he wants to look. ]
Anyway. C'mon. I'll always be around when you need me. You should know that by now. I'd drop all my plans for you.
[ not that he had any plans, but even if he did, stiles comes first. derek thumbs over the gags, each still in their individual packaging. there's something he sets his eyes on - it's just your run of the mill bar gag, but it's held together with a pretty blue ribbon, and stiles has always looked good in blue. derek fingers the plastic edge of the package, looking at stiles from the corner of his eye. ]
no subject
there are a few other options to play with, other than rope. handcuffs, if stiles wants to play the detective route. zipties. belts, specifically designed for this. it's all actually kind of intimidating, once derek's seeing it laid out in front of him - when he was at the store, he just kind of frantically grabbed whatever he could in case stiles had a preference, but now that they're here, he just feels like kind of a pervert. or, like. a hunter.
derek's got his head down, teetering on the edge of self-conscious. when stiles laughs, it snags his attention, and he looks up in time to see him say don't make fun of me. derek listens, eyebrows narrowing, and... a lot of that self-consciousness fades in one hard blow. stiles tells him to pick a gag, he apologizes for holding him up, and yes, great, that's all very well and good, but derek holds up his hand to stop him from talking. ]
Hold on.
[ hold on. hold on? hold the fuck on. derek grins, this slow spread of a smirk that starts at the corner of his lips and spreads inwards. hold on. ]
I don't believe you for a fucking second. You're telling me - you, Stiles Stilinski, are telling me - that you've never gone down a weird rabbit hole on wikipedia and learned way too much about the sex toy industry? You've never put off doing your math homework by looking up obscure sex toys worth sending to yourself as a "prank" on your birthday? I don't even know who I'm dating anymore.
[ but - okay, okay, maybe that counts as making fun of stiles, so he shakes his head with a playful roll of his eyes and lets this part of the conversation die. he's still smiling as he looks back at the bag, but - it's hard not to feel kind of nervous. this is a pretty new frontier for them. he's, uh. he's not sure he's ready. he's not sure if stiles is ready. he might just end up, like, tying him down and jerking him off, like the boring piece of shit he is. but.
the options are there. derek chews his bottom lip for a second, darting his eyes back up. he can't really figure out where he wants to look. ]
Anyway. C'mon. I'll always be around when you need me. You should know that by now. I'd drop all my plans for you.
[ not that he had any plans, but even if he did, stiles comes first. derek thumbs over the gags, each still in their individual packaging. there's something he sets his eyes on - it's just your run of the mill bar gag, but it's held together with a pretty blue ribbon, and stiles has always looked good in blue. derek fingers the plastic edge of the package, looking at stiles from the corner of his eye. ]
This?