There he was again. This kid. Back to ruining his already fucked up life a bit more. Derek couldn´t stop thinking about him, particularly not after their very unique encounter in the woods. Fuck. He was barely able to reply to Scott´s request for help for the shaking Erica, that´s how disarranged he felt by Stiles´s sudden appearance at his hideout in the train car. The sight of Stiles hurt like a strip of skin was suddenly ripped off his body. Deeply conflicted Derek did what had to be done, meaning that he had to hurt Erica in the cruelest way to make her better, unable to ignore the shocked face of Stiles in the process. You think I´m a monster. Good. Maybe that way you´ll stay away from me.
Of course all this mess was once more his fault. He had sent Erica to get on Scott´s and Stiles´s good side, because they needed allies. Erica´s mooning over Stiles had turned the few hours waiting for her return into mindless fits of jealousy. Don´t touch. He´s mine. Derek squeezed his eyes shut. In the last days he had been watching Stiles a lot more than was healthy, literally stalking him. Since he had caught him thrashing through the woods, he was tempted to teach him another lesson. He resisted because he feared losing control, ravishing Stiles like the animal that he sometimes was. He had barely held himself back that night listening to Stiles jerking off in his room while hiding under the window. Fertilizing the small patch of green with a spurting mess, Derek had come seconds later, scolding himself silently for being so pathetic. He wanted to break into the room afterwards and just take the boy who was able to inflame the most dangerous spark in him, some deep down buried memory, burning bright red and painful, a sensation he hadn´t experienced since before the time his family was killed. He wanted to show Stiles how much he needed him. A dangerous desire for which he once had paid the highest price. He wanted to love him. He was ready to go down that path again. This was not good. No. Not what an alpha being responsible for his pack should feel. Not what any man should feel. Not now or ever. Not that he was like any other man, but considering that he was a born werewolf, he was behaving even more stupidly. Violently he shook those thoughts off, and went to talk to Scott alone, leaving Stiles with the recovering girl.
The talk went better than expected and Derek was in a softened mood when Stiles stepped outside the train car, looking like a lamb on the way to be slaughtered, giving Derek the most powerful vibe.
Scott had already climbed up the stairs to the surface and Stiles intended to follow him without even looking at Derek.
Derek blocked his way. "Didn´t I tell you to stay away from all this?" He knew he was unfair because Stiles had partially saved Erica´s life.
"Leave me alone. I already told you I have enough cold-blooded people around me."
Derek grabbed Stiles by the wrist, holding on to it like he intended bruising its soft skin thoroughly. "You consider me cold?"
"Ah...well...no." Stiles dropped his gaze and blushed, though he didn´t free his wrist. "Not so much."
Ah. Natch. The clash in the woods. "That didn´t mean anything," he said in the coldest voice on purpose, while his wolf fought to break loose, eager to rip every wall between them down. "Just a terrible mistake."
"Right." His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, giving him the spot on expression of unconcealed humiliation. "How stupid of me to think otherwise."
He released Stiles´s wrist like it was something he didn´t like to touch in the first place, behaving like a jerk to scare Stiles off. "Go now. Hurry. Scott is waiting."
Shoulders hunched over, Stiles shuffled away, mumbling under his breath, while pulling his shirt straight. He didn´t look back.
Derek picked up a very familiar phrase. Hate you. He huffed in despair. Happy now? Really? He felt like trashing something. He felt like running into the woods. He felt like howling at the moon. Because of some kid. Stupid sourwolf. Yeah. That the nickname fit perfectly was the bitterest truth about Stiles´s tease.
Fuck.
Being in pain. This was his life. Back then. Now. Always.
********************************************************************************
The next hours he tried to concentrate on what was important. Protecting the pack. Finding the kanima. Not running into Stiles.
Certainly nothing worked as planned. Scott was almost killed. The kanima got away. And Stiles was breathing down his neck once more.
Just after Deaton had left the room to get some covers for Scott who was resting on the operating table at the animal clinic, Derek turned his attention to Stiles lingering in the back of the room. Derek´s anger flared up again. He didn´t want Stiles to be here. He didn´t want to be near him. He had asked Stiles not to come. Crashing into Stiles at the factory when he was creating the mountain ash circle had been awkward and unexpected enough to stir his feelings wide awake. He had touched Stiles without reason. His need to touch him was almost as strong as the need to change at a full moon. That the boy had ignored his orders once again added a lot of fuel to his anger. Stiles had insisted on accompanying him and Scott but since they had arrived at the clinic he had not spoken a word. Surprisingly this infuriated Derek even more. Why wasn´t he glad that the annoying chatterbox had finally shut up? Why was his silence hurting him in a different way? Why did he always worry about him? Foaming he leaped up from the bench and closed in on the boy leaning against the wall. "I told you to go home."
Stiles blinked. "Yeah, well, this is a free country?"
"That´s why I saw you doing this...thing...with the ash...all by yourself...even after I asked you not to get involved anymore?"
"Not...my...alpha..." Stiles´s reply was a strangled sound of words barely strung together.
"Nope." Derek looked at those annoyingly wet lips. There. Stiles was licking them again. His tongue a slippery teasing little thing asking for more. The breathing distance between them was loaded with tension.
"So? Are you done?" Stiles blinked rapidly. His mouth was hanging open like an invitation. Kiss me. Shut me up. Mark me.
"You like that? Testing me?""
"Huh? Don´t you think you´re the one liking exactly that a bit too much, wolfman?"
Derek listened to Stiles´s heart running like a rabbit caught in a hunter´s trap. A very naughty rabbit with glowing pink ears, Derek noted, with pupils dilated all the way and lips glistening wet with anticipation. All that because of him. Yet he didn´t feel superior or sure of himself because Stiles wanted him. No, the warm, fuzzy sensation rumbling through his insides was so frightening he was unable to form a rational reply, but also so befuddling he was unable to let go and walk away. Noticing the pulse on Stiles´s neck was beating rapidly under the freckled skin he got caught up in those honey-brown eyes staring at him like an innocent rabbit waiting to be ripped apart. "You think that´s funny? Is everything a joke to you?"
"Um...no...," Stiles stammered, his breath a minty tease of air touching Derek´s lips. His wolf jerked awake and seized Stiles´s flailing hands to pin them above his head against the wall. Irritating! Infuriating! Insufferable! He wanted to kiss that cheekiness away. He wanted to make Stiles whine for his touch. He wanted to make him come so hard he couldn´t talk anymore. Derek leaned in to accept whatever he was getting out of this, sniffing the scent coming off in waves, intoxicating himself. The freckles on Stiles´s neck were standing out like small wounds, screaming red, tempting him to lick and bite, leaving a mark of his own.
Stiles was whimpering yes and oh god even though Derek had barely touched him yet. His eyes closed. His hands wriggled. His hips pushed forward. "Derek...I...want..."
"Yeah..." Gently he moved his mouth along the jaw until he caught Stiles´s trembling lower lip between his teeth, nibbling....
"Ah..."
"Scott is safe with me," Deaton interrupted their heated encounter in the calmest and softest voice. "Maybe you two should go home."
Derek jerked away from Stiles like he was the one who got bitten, uttering the most agonized sound. Stiles yelped, and stumbled a little bit forward, almost in danger of falling flat on his front for a second but finally getting a grip and leaning back against the wall.
Derek choked down a laugh at the sight which hurt a great deal. He glanced warily at Deaton. The vet´s expression was as unreadable as in earlier situations which meant you could only guess what he was really thinking. Yeah. And what was he thinking himself, for god´s sake? Wasn´t his life messy enough? Did he have to make out with an underaged boy? Deaton could get him arrested here and now.
Stiles gulped. "Not what it looks like. Derek was just...um, well, he was just..."
Derek rolled his eyes. God help me. "Stiles," he grumbled. "Go home."
"No way. I´m staying right here."
"Fine." He dropped back down on the small bench, trying to ignore his insides being a turmoil of sensations. Fuck. He didn´t need that. Not now. Not with him. Not ever. "Make this worse."
"Worse?" Stiles made a face. "Thanks. I thought it was kind of awesome...."
"Shut up."
"Derek..."
"Stiles!"
"Okay. Shutting up." He glided down to the ground, pouting like a pro.
Out of the corner of his eye Derek caught a glimpse of sparkling amusement in Deaton´s eyes.
"No blankets necessary for you two," the vet said, deadpan, and left them to their silent match.
No wonder the man didn´t take him seriously, Derek concluded sourly. After this here he never would. He noticed that Stiles´s heartbeat had slowed down and glanced briefly towards him to check his condition. The boy had closed his eyes. Obviously he was trying to go to sleep. Good. For now I averted disaster. Derek forced himself to get some rest as well. He didn´t know what was about to come. He had to be strong.
For Scott.
For the pack.
For Stiles. 