Instincts [Chapter Three]
Title: Instincts
Author: andromedacain
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating: NC-17
Character/Pairing: Derek Hale/Scott McCall
Genre: Angst, romance, bits of fluff
Word count: 14K
Disclamer: I own nothing involved with Teen Wolf but the words I wrote below.
Summary: Scott's never done well with subtlety. Derek soon finds out.
It's still dark when I wake up. I'm disoriented as I look around, trying to remember what happened, and why I'm lying outside of my house. I shake my head, trying to loosen my sleep-deprived thoughts. They're not coming back to me, though. I feel the side of my face, wondering why it hurts. Oh, fantastic. The pebbles I was lying on left a large impression on most of the left side of my face.
I groan, sitting up slowly, taking in a sharp breath as the blood rushes to my head. I'm shivering with the cold, my teeth chattering. I use the house for support as I stand, my movements awkward and clumsy. When I'm finally upright, my memories come slamming back to me and I wince, almost losing my balance.
I see Derek's expression, so full of hate and malice. I see him reject me, and his feelings. I remember how he didn't even bother to follow me, to see if I was all right. Maybe…he didn't really like me. Maybe he wasn't lying.
I lean against the wall, a shaking hand covering my eyes. I know it's not very manly, but I can't help the tears flooding out from my sore eyes. I can't help this gut-wrenching pain I feel deep inside my stomach, making me want to throw up just to see if that will get rid of the torturous feelings.
When nothing happens, I just take in a shaky breath, pushing off of the wall to enter my house, which is unlocked for some reason. Still shivering, I shut the door quietly, making sure not to wake my mom. I walk further into the house, squinting to see what the digital clock on the microwave reads. "4:17," I whisper, then groan. God, at least I don't have to go to school for a week.
I look up at the stairs through the corners of my eyes. Jesus, if I tried braving those, I wouldn't get very far before falling back down them. In truth, it would be a Sisyphean effort. ((Haha, I had that for a vocabulary term last year. I finally get to use it! _^o.o^_)) Huh, there's a word you'll never hear from me again.
I just sigh, grabbing a blanket that seems to appear out of nowhere and flop down face-first on the couch, closing my eyes. A few seconds pass. Suddenly I sit up straight, my legs criss-crossed. "Fuck…" I whisper to myself, rubbing a palm against my exhausted face. No matter how tired I might be, that doesn't change the fact that I'm only seventeen ((I think that's his age…I'm too lazy to check.)) and I've already lost the love of my life twice. And one of those times, the girl's father tried to kill me, as well as the rest of her family. And the other time, he was a guy. Shit, what a fucked-up life I live.
I groan when I realise I sound like a whiney bitch. Goddammit.
Derek's face pops back in without notice and I let out a tiny whine, digging my face into a cushion. If this keeps up, the next time I get some sleep is when I collapse from exhaustion. Fucking werewolf asshole cunty dick-face whore. Looking so fucking goddamn sexy. Rejecting me so easily, as though I don't really matter. Making me feel like an idiotic five year old.
I groan into the cushion, the pain in my heart worse than anything I've ever experienced. This is worse than when Allison dumped me. This is worse than when I got turned into a werewolf. This is worse than just wanting Derek. This is real. This is love-sickness.
I curl into myself, my eyes, body, heart, soul all sore. I shut my eyes tight, remembering how Derek felt. How he smelt. How I could feel his racing heart beat in time with mine. How eager he seemed at first. How he looked at me, for just a small millisecond of time. How I felt as though maybe we could be together.
"Ignorant little fuck," I berate myself, shoving my hands through my ruffled hair, my fingernails scraping against my scalp. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I state, my chin hitting my chest in despair. Finally, when I realise that sleep is just a passing thought for me now, I flip on the TV, hoping that somehow it'll distract me.
Oh, shit, a dude that looks like Derek. Tyler Hoechlin or whatever. I quickly flip away from that channel, sighing when I finally end up on a shitty movie. Utterly fantastic.
-----
It's four days into my suspension and I'm dying.
Laying on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, my mind a blank. These days, I find it hard to leave bed unless it's utterly important, like taking a piss. Other than that, though, I just stay here, hoping that nothing will remind me of "He Who Must Not Be Named". My head pops up when I hear the knob on my door turn, stupidly thinking it may be him.
"Shit, man, this place reeks," Stiles says, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger to accentuate his point. "No, seriously," he says in response to my groan, "did you take a dump in this place? When was the last time you took a shower?"
Summoning up the energy to roll my eyes, I flip my arm over them, hoping that if I can't see him, he can't see me.
"Dude, your hair looks like Jack White's," he says, his voice closer to me. I can imagine him standing over me, a disgusted look on his face and his hands shoved in his pockets, one of those stupid button-up shirts left open to reveal a shitty band name. I move my arm a fraction of an inch to show him my glare. "Hey," he says through a small chuckle, "just sayin'. Anyway, I'm here with all the homework you didn't ask me to bring." He flops the papers on the bed, silent for a few seconds. "You're welcome," he says pointedly, his eyes accusing.
I finally move my arm away from my eyes, squinting at him. "Oh, yeah, totally, thanks for barging in my room, insulting me and my odor, and dropping off homework that I just can't wait to start on," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
He takes it in stride, sitting back in my desk chair. "You know, man, you seem...I dunno. Depressed or something." He raises his eyebrows at my lowered ones. I turn my face away, hoping he doesn't notice anything. No chance. "Dude, seriously, I'm here for you if you, like, I don't know, wanna talk about Allison and all that...I know you guys had a bad end and I for one feel..." He continues on like this, babbling. I can't summon the energy to stop him. Fucking Stiles.
Finally, I have to do something when his sentences turn into fragments and his eyes become confused. "Stiles. Stop. Seriously." I say, holding up my hand to accentuate my command.
"F-figurative language..." He says randomly, leaning back in his chair to try to ease himself. Oh, fuck, chair...I wince as just thinking too much about a chair brings Der- "He Who Must Not Be Named" back into my thoughts.
Trying to contain myself, I speak around grit teeth. "Allison and I...we're through. We have been for a while. I think she knew that; she just needed a good enough excuse. And she found one." I've sat up by now, and lean my head back against my headboard, shutting my eyes. "I don't really even think about her anymore."
I don't have to open my eyes to notice Stiles' confusion. "Wait...so...uh...then what's got you so down? I haven't mentioned the fight with Jackson yet, but that was weird too. Is it just a werewolf instinctual thing? Did Derek say anything about that?"
I can't stop the choked intake of breath when I hear his name. My eyes, closed before, are now open, threatening to leak tears. Stiles jumps back, almost falling out of his chair. "W-whoa!" He cries out, grabbing my desk for balance. When he's firmly upright, Stiles finally looks at me, his expression flabbergasted. "Holy shit dude, you look like I just killed your puppy or something. Did De- uh, did he do something or...uh...something?" He ends lamely, editing out Derek's name just in case I go crazy again.
Evasively, I stand up, throwing my covers back. "You know, you're right. I do look and smell disgusting. I think I'll take a shower, thanks for bringin-"
Stiles whips me around, staring into my eyes. "Dude. We're best friends. You can tell me anything." He pauses for a few seconds, his stance shifting uncomfortably. His cheeks suddenly grow red and he won't look at me. "Did he, uh...ta-take advantage of you or something?" He finally blurts out, digging his hands into his pockets.
My eyes widen, my mouth open in shock. Surprisingly, a little laugh escapes my lips, startling my best friend. "N, no, he didn't," I say around my laughter, holding my sides, "I did."
Stiles' eyes go wide, unable to speak for a few minutes. When he finally realises he can use his mouth, he does. "WHATTHEFUCKDOYOUMEANYOUTOOKA DVANTAGEOFHIMWHATDIDYOUDODID HEMAKEYOUAREYOUGAYIDIDNTKNOW YOUWEREGAYWHATTHEFUCKISGOING ON!" He ends as quickly as he starts, panting. He really put forth some effort into that shouting.
I stretch, leaning against the wall. "You know, I haven't laughed in a while. It felt good," I say, a slow smile appearing.
Stiles just stands there, a helpless expression on his face, unable to form a coherent sentence. A few words will pop out of his mouth at times, such as "wait" "fuck" and "penis", which I guess means "Wait, you took advantage of Derek? Does that mean you guys slept together? Fuck, I don't even get how that's supposed to happen...I mean, where do you even put your penis?" I don't know if my deduction was correct, but I'm betting it was.
I finally sit Stiles down, deciding that I should tell him the truth, starting at the beginning. Hopefully, his brain will still be able to function afterwards.
-----
I'm back in school. Well, not really, I haven't actually reached the school property, but it counts if I'm on my way there. I'm sitting in the passenger seat of Stiles' car, my feet resting on the dashboard and tapping against the window nervously. "Hey, man, you're scuffing up my window," he says. I ignore him.
He sighs, shaking his head. He turns on the radio, probably to drown out the silence. A stupid sappy song about unrequited love comes on and I immediately switch the channel. "What, you missed church so now you have to make up for it?" I'm confused by this, until I realise I picked a station with a preacher yelling into the microphone about the wrongness of homosexuality. "Ha, how ironic," Stiles states thoughtlessly, oblivious to the death glare I shoot him. He just smiles, switching to an Indie music station.
I lean my head back, looking over at Stiles through the corners of my eyes. I'm still afraid he'll think I'm weird for liking a guy. But, he's actually been pretty cool about it. Except for the tactless jokes. "So," he says out of the blue. I turn towards him, wondering if he'll change his mind about being "cool". "As a gay guy, are you...attracted to me?"
I groan into my palm. This is that infatuation with Danny all over again. "No, seriously! I wanna know, do you find me even a little hot?"
I sigh, turning my full attention on him. Nothing comes to mind but 'Whoa, that's an ugly shirt.' I shake my head. "Sorry, man," I say, feeling kind of sorry for him.
He nods his head, not speaking for a bit. Finally he says, "Well, that's good. There's no good way I could turn you down." He smiles at me, punching my shoulder.
"Oh, thank God we're at school," I state, sitting up straight as Stiles turns into a parking place.
"Hey, I thought you enjoyed the pleasure of my company," he says, following me around the hood of the car.
"The only thing about you that I enjoy is your car," I say, smiling at Stiles' outraged expression. "Well, anywa-" my words die on my lips when I see what's in front of me.
"What?" Stiles asks, coming up behind me. He stops next to me when he sees what made me silent.
There, resting against that sexy Camaro, is the equally sexy but much more dangerous Derek Hale. His eyes are serious and his stance moody, his arms crossed defiantly as he stares down all the looks he's receiving, ignoring all the whispers. When he catches my scent, he looks toward me. He gestures from me to himself, signaling that I should get the hell over there. I'm finding it hard to breathe, and wonder if my asthma's picked up again. "Want me to go with you?" Stiles asks, glaring at the werewolf across from him. He turns meek, though, once Derek turns his head towards Stiles, who steps a little behind me. I repress my urge to giggle, just patting Stiles on the shoulder before starting forward, my expression turning serious.
As I get closer, I can literally smell the anxiety rolling off of Derek. It makes me want him in a weird way. I guess I'm attracted to the fact that I can make him anxious? I decide to ignore these questionable feelings, my face set in a mask as I finally reach him.
We both stand stand there awkwardly, studying each other. I'm sure he notices my red eyes, along with a bunch of other imperfections. He, on the other hand, looks absolutely perfect, as usual. Not even a hair is out of place. The only sign he's had any trouble the past few days is his smell. Which, as noted before, is absolutely intoxicating. Shifting his feet, Derek finally speaks. "Uh...get in the car."
I widen my eyes, my expression indignant. "And why the hell would I do that?!" I ask him, my tone coming out in an unwarranted yell.
"Just do what I fucking say," he growls out through his teeth. Not waiting for a response, he grabs my wrist, pulling me around the car. He opens the passenger side door and unceremoniously throws me in, shutting the door on my protests.
He gets in the car then, shifting into drive and pealing away from my stunned fellow students.
We don't talk for a while, he stares straight ahead, I try to stop myself from staring at him (unsuccessfully). Finally, when the silence becomes unbearable, I shout, "All right, just what the fuck is going on?!"
Derek shoots me a glare, flipping on a turn signal. "Things ended weirdly between us. If we're gonna be in a pack together, there's no way we can leave this hanging."
"Wait wait wait. Who said I was gonna be in your pack?" I ask, my tone disbelieving.
"You think you and the people you care about are going to be okay, the way you drag them into stuff they shouldn't know about and risk their lives almost every day?"
That makes me pause. He's got a point there. Not wanting to verbally concede to that fact, I turn away from him. "So what? I'll be more careful next time; won't drag anyone into the werewolf-stuff anymore."
He stares at me, forgetting the road for a second. Finally he just pulls off to the side of the road, taking off his seatbelt so he can face me fully. "First of all, 'werewolf-stuff'?" I just ignore that, looking out of the window pointedly. He continues. "Secondly, you think it'll be easy? What about the next time you get caught by the Argents? Do you think they'll just tap you on the back, yell 'You're it' and expect you to chase them? It doesn't work that way! The only way werewolves function effectively is in a pack. It's the only way we can survive."
I turn to face Derek, who's looking out of the windshield, seemingly lost in thought. I forgot he had all that with his family; of course he would want it again. Of course he misses that feeling of fitting in. He's so aloof and self-confident, it's easy to forget that he can get lonely too. As I stare at him, it's impossible to resist the urge to touch him. So I don't.
I reach a hand out, resting it on his cheek. My thumb strokes it gently, reveling in just the feel of his skin. He looks at me, his gaze unreadable. His hand slowly comes up to grip mine. It's as he holds my hand that I feel connected to him, his shaky grip telling me more than his words ever have. I can tell he misses human contact; he misses affection. His lips are trembling, his eyes endless in their depth of sadness. I lean towards him, closing my eyes as I try to place my lips on his.
"N...no," he states, letting go of my hand and holding up both of his as a barrier. "I said we need to be a pack. Not mates." His voice is still trembling with emotion.
"Can't we be both?" I ask, this time taking his hand in mine, kissing it gently.
He shivers, caught up in the moment as my lips slowly trail their way to his forefinger, biting the tip of it gently. He shuts his eyes. "No..." He says again, trying to take his hand away. I don't let him. I hold it with both of my hands now, unwilling to let go.
"Derek...just, let this happen. We can see what happens, experience it together. You mean more to me than Allison ever did."
He stares at me, his expression blank. Finally, he speaks. "How do you expect me to respond to that?" He asks, his face angry. He whips his hand away from my grasp, fumbling with the door handle as he tries to get out. He finally manages it open, leaving the car without another word. I open my door, following him as he runs out into the woods. "Derek!" I cry, unwilling to believe he would just run away.
-----
What is this. What the fuck is this?! Why does this faggy little punk affect me? The only girl I ever loved was Kate, and she turned out to be a psycho bitch who just wanted to kill my family. So why the fuck would this stupid, gangly, pubescent little fuck make me feel like this?
These thoughts are racing through my mind as I exit the car, ungraceful in my haste. All I can think is 'Get the fuck out of here now!' I can hear the little asshole now, running after me. "Just leave me the fuck alone, Scott," I grit out, knowing he can hear me.
"No fucking way," he responds, and he sounds closer than he should. Fuck, have I lost my stamina? Were all those random workouts for nothing? I shake my head, pushing myself to go faster. Still, he keeps chasing after me.
"I'm not fucking worth it!" I yell out, catching myself before I trip on a vine. This is all the hesitation he needs.
He rams into me, pushing me to the ground. We struggle, his hands touching places you wouldn't normally expect them to be in a fight. I growl, trying to buck him off of me. Sickeningly, he gets a boner. "Goddammit, what the fuck?!" I cry out, trying to loosen my arms from the grip he has them in.
"S…sorry," he states, not seeming to mean it. His eyes are hooded so I can't see them well, but he perturbs me all the same. Finally, he gets enough leverage to pin my legs down with his knees, rendering me motionless, except for my head.
"Ow!" He cries out when my head hits his. He glares down at me, then reciprocates my headbutt with a hickey on my racing pulse.
I let out an almost-shriek, my body involuntarily bucking again. This just gets him more worked up though, as his werewolf instincts start to kick in. His eyes turn gold as he sucks on my neck, trying to fit in as much of my skin as he can. I howl, digging my hands into the dirt. "Scott! Your instincts are making you like this! Just calm down; breathe evenly!"
He ignores me, brushing his hard-on against my leg. "It hurts," he whines into my ear, panting softly. I'm confused, before he rubs his erection fully against my leg. "Pants…constricting…"
My gaze is quizzical, before an expression of horrified understanding appears on my face. "Oh, no, oh, fuck no, there is no fucking way you are taking your fucking pants off you stupid fuck!"
Scott just whimpers, his rubbing turning into full-fledged humps. "Mm…fuck…sounds good…" he says between humps, biting my ear affectionately and territorially.
"OH HELL NO," I shout, finding enough strength to push the horny kid off of me, pinning him down. I sigh, seeing that our positions have become reversed. He's just panting expectantly, not tearing his eyes away from my boner. Wait a second, what? I risk a doubletake to find that yes, indeed, my penis responded to this kid's awkward movements. Oh, Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?
I sigh, digging my head into the area of ground above the kid's shoulder. He gasps in excitement, wondering if I'll do something. "Don't get your hopes up, Kid," I state, exhausted. There is no fucking way this is happening. There is no fucking way that I'm into a snot-nosed little bastard like this. I'm straight, for fuck's sake!
Looking pointedly down at my boner for a second, I concede that maybe I'm not so straight. I curve off a bit more than I expected. I turn my gaze to Scott's eyes, my expression weary. Staring in his expectant, wanting, possessive eyes makes me shiver, so much so that I have to look away. Fuck, I haven't been through this in a while. Hormonal werewolves are the worst. I don't even have a way to calm this little fuck down. Sighing, I rub my cheek against my shoulder, wondering how I'll get out of this situation. Finally, as I hear a tiny noise, inspiration strikes.
Sure, it's about fifty degree weather right now, but I'm sure the kid will survive. He's a fucking werewolf for Christ's sake.
Without warning, I stand up, pulling the kid over my shoulder. "Oh, shit, you weigh more than I did when I was your age," I state, grunting at how much weight the kid's packed on.
"Are we gonna play a sex game?" Scott asks eagerly, and that's when I notice his erection digging into my shoulder uncomfortably. I sigh. Sadly, I'm gonna have to play along if I'm gonna get him anywhere.
"Yeah, it's a sex game. You're gonna get…wet," I state, not used to dirty talk. He seems to be eating it up though, if the fact that he's eagerly rubbing his penis against my shoulder blade says anything. I swallow, trying to ignore my own penis. Instead, I head off towards the direction of that sound, trying to hold the kid's hips farther away from me. His thrusts have started to become violent; it's really starting to become painful for my shoulder.
Thankfully, we reach the water in a matter of seconds, thanks to my speedy little legs. Sometimes, being a werewolf has its ups. Then again, we wouldn't be in this situation if Scott wasn't a werewolf.
I wade as deeply into the water as I dare, shivering already as goosebumps start to riddle my body haphazardly. "Ooh, what are we-" his sentence is unfinished as I unceremoniously dump him in the water, throwing him out as far as I can. I'm hoping the cold will calm him down; it already got rid of my boner.
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT'S SO FUCKING FREEZING!" Scott exclaims, jumping up and racing towards the shore. Smirking, I notice that now he's now only at half-mast. Thank God for cold water.
I wade back to shore, standing next to Scott with my arms crossed. "So, think about that the next time you try to rape me," I state, unable to make my smirk even a little pitying.
He glares at me, his whole body shivering violently. "Yuh-yuh-yuh…yooooouu buh-buh-buh-bastard!" He stutters out, "Geh-get me ou-out of-f here!"
I comply, grabbing his hand and towing him behind me, chuckling. What a funny little kid.
Author: andromedacain
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating: NC-17
Character/Pairing: Derek Hale/Scott McCall
Genre: Angst, romance, bits of fluff
Word count: 14K
Disclamer: I own nothing involved with Teen Wolf but the words I wrote below.
Summary: Scott's never done well with subtlety. Derek soon finds out.
It's still dark when I wake up. I'm disoriented as I look around, trying to remember what happened, and why I'm lying outside of my house. I shake my head, trying to loosen my sleep-deprived thoughts. They're not coming back to me, though. I feel the side of my face, wondering why it hurts. Oh, fantastic. The pebbles I was lying on left a large impression on most of the left side of my face.
I groan, sitting up slowly, taking in a sharp breath as the blood rushes to my head. I'm shivering with the cold, my teeth chattering. I use the house for support as I stand, my movements awkward and clumsy. When I'm finally upright, my memories come slamming back to me and I wince, almost losing my balance.
I see Derek's expression, so full of hate and malice. I see him reject me, and his feelings. I remember how he didn't even bother to follow me, to see if I was all right. Maybe…he didn't really like me. Maybe he wasn't lying.
I lean against the wall, a shaking hand covering my eyes. I know it's not very manly, but I can't help the tears flooding out from my sore eyes. I can't help this gut-wrenching pain I feel deep inside my stomach, making me want to throw up just to see if that will get rid of the torturous feelings.
When nothing happens, I just take in a shaky breath, pushing off of the wall to enter my house, which is unlocked for some reason. Still shivering, I shut the door quietly, making sure not to wake my mom. I walk further into the house, squinting to see what the digital clock on the microwave reads. "4:17," I whisper, then groan. God, at least I don't have to go to school for a week.
I look up at the stairs through the corners of my eyes. Jesus, if I tried braving those, I wouldn't get very far before falling back down them. In truth, it would be a Sisyphean effort. ((Haha, I had that for a vocabulary term last year. I finally get to use it! _^o.o^_)) Huh, there's a word you'll never hear from me again.
I just sigh, grabbing a blanket that seems to appear out of nowhere and flop down face-first on the couch, closing my eyes. A few seconds pass. Suddenly I sit up straight, my legs criss-crossed. "Fuck…" I whisper to myself, rubbing a palm against my exhausted face. No matter how tired I might be, that doesn't change the fact that I'm only seventeen ((I think that's his age…I'm too lazy to check.)) and I've already lost the love of my life twice. And one of those times, the girl's father tried to kill me, as well as the rest of her family. And the other time, he was a guy. Shit, what a fucked-up life I live.
I groan when I realise I sound like a whiney bitch. Goddammit.
Derek's face pops back in without notice and I let out a tiny whine, digging my face into a cushion. If this keeps up, the next time I get some sleep is when I collapse from exhaustion. Fucking werewolf asshole cunty dick-face whore. Looking so fucking goddamn sexy. Rejecting me so easily, as though I don't really matter. Making me feel like an idiotic five year old.
I groan into the cushion, the pain in my heart worse than anything I've ever experienced. This is worse than when Allison dumped me. This is worse than when I got turned into a werewolf. This is worse than just wanting Derek. This is real. This is love-sickness.
I curl into myself, my eyes, body, heart, soul all sore. I shut my eyes tight, remembering how Derek felt. How he smelt. How I could feel his racing heart beat in time with mine. How eager he seemed at first. How he looked at me, for just a small millisecond of time. How I felt as though maybe we could be together.
"Ignorant little fuck," I berate myself, shoving my hands through my ruffled hair, my fingernails scraping against my scalp. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I state, my chin hitting my chest in despair. Finally, when I realise that sleep is just a passing thought for me now, I flip on the TV, hoping that somehow it'll distract me.
Oh, shit, a dude that looks like Derek. Tyler Hoechlin or whatever. I quickly flip away from that channel, sighing when I finally end up on a shitty movie. Utterly fantastic.
-----
It's four days into my suspension and I'm dying.
Laying on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, my mind a blank. These days, I find it hard to leave bed unless it's utterly important, like taking a piss. Other than that, though, I just stay here, hoping that nothing will remind me of "He Who Must Not Be Named". My head pops up when I hear the knob on my door turn, stupidly thinking it may be him.
"Shit, man, this place reeks," Stiles says, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger to accentuate his point. "No, seriously," he says in response to my groan, "did you take a dump in this place? When was the last time you took a shower?"
Summoning up the energy to roll my eyes, I flip my arm over them, hoping that if I can't see him, he can't see me.
"Dude, your hair looks like Jack White's," he says, his voice closer to me. I can imagine him standing over me, a disgusted look on his face and his hands shoved in his pockets, one of those stupid button-up shirts left open to reveal a shitty band name. I move my arm a fraction of an inch to show him my glare. "Hey," he says through a small chuckle, "just sayin'. Anyway, I'm here with all the homework you didn't ask me to bring." He flops the papers on the bed, silent for a few seconds. "You're welcome," he says pointedly, his eyes accusing.
I finally move my arm away from my eyes, squinting at him. "Oh, yeah, totally, thanks for barging in my room, insulting me and my odor, and dropping off homework that I just can't wait to start on," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
He takes it in stride, sitting back in my desk chair. "You know, man, you seem...I dunno. Depressed or something." He raises his eyebrows at my lowered ones. I turn my face away, hoping he doesn't notice anything. No chance. "Dude, seriously, I'm here for you if you, like, I don't know, wanna talk about Allison and all that...I know you guys had a bad end and I for one feel..." He continues on like this, babbling. I can't summon the energy to stop him. Fucking Stiles.
Finally, I have to do something when his sentences turn into fragments and his eyes become confused. "Stiles. Stop. Seriously." I say, holding up my hand to accentuate my command.
"F-figurative language..." He says randomly, leaning back in his chair to try to ease himself. Oh, fuck, chair...I wince as just thinking too much about a chair brings Der- "He Who Must Not Be Named" back into my thoughts.
Trying to contain myself, I speak around grit teeth. "Allison and I...we're through. We have been for a while. I think she knew that; she just needed a good enough excuse. And she found one." I've sat up by now, and lean my head back against my headboard, shutting my eyes. "I don't really even think about her anymore."
I don't have to open my eyes to notice Stiles' confusion. "Wait...so...uh...then what's got you so down? I haven't mentioned the fight with Jackson yet, but that was weird too. Is it just a werewolf instinctual thing? Did Derek say anything about that?"
I can't stop the choked intake of breath when I hear his name. My eyes, closed before, are now open, threatening to leak tears. Stiles jumps back, almost falling out of his chair. "W-whoa!" He cries out, grabbing my desk for balance. When he's firmly upright, Stiles finally looks at me, his expression flabbergasted. "Holy shit dude, you look like I just killed your puppy or something. Did De- uh, did he do something or...uh...something?" He ends lamely, editing out Derek's name just in case I go crazy again.
Evasively, I stand up, throwing my covers back. "You know, you're right. I do look and smell disgusting. I think I'll take a shower, thanks for bringin-"
Stiles whips me around, staring into my eyes. "Dude. We're best friends. You can tell me anything." He pauses for a few seconds, his stance shifting uncomfortably. His cheeks suddenly grow red and he won't look at me. "Did he, uh...ta-take advantage of you or something?" He finally blurts out, digging his hands into his pockets.
My eyes widen, my mouth open in shock. Surprisingly, a little laugh escapes my lips, startling my best friend. "N, no, he didn't," I say around my laughter, holding my sides, "I did."
Stiles' eyes go wide, unable to speak for a few minutes. When he finally realises he can use his mouth, he does. "WHATTHEFUCKDOYOUMEANYOUTOOKA DVANTAGEOFHIMWHATDIDYOUDODID HEMAKEYOUAREYOUGAYIDIDNTKNOW YOUWEREGAYWHATTHEFUCKISGOING ON!" He ends as quickly as he starts, panting. He really put forth some effort into that shouting.
I stretch, leaning against the wall. "You know, I haven't laughed in a while. It felt good," I say, a slow smile appearing.
Stiles just stands there, a helpless expression on his face, unable to form a coherent sentence. A few words will pop out of his mouth at times, such as "wait" "fuck" and "penis", which I guess means "Wait, you took advantage of Derek? Does that mean you guys slept together? Fuck, I don't even get how that's supposed to happen...I mean, where do you even put your penis?" I don't know if my deduction was correct, but I'm betting it was.
I finally sit Stiles down, deciding that I should tell him the truth, starting at the beginning. Hopefully, his brain will still be able to function afterwards.
-----
I'm back in school. Well, not really, I haven't actually reached the school property, but it counts if I'm on my way there. I'm sitting in the passenger seat of Stiles' car, my feet resting on the dashboard and tapping against the window nervously. "Hey, man, you're scuffing up my window," he says. I ignore him.
He sighs, shaking his head. He turns on the radio, probably to drown out the silence. A stupid sappy song about unrequited love comes on and I immediately switch the channel. "What, you missed church so now you have to make up for it?" I'm confused by this, until I realise I picked a station with a preacher yelling into the microphone about the wrongness of homosexuality. "Ha, how ironic," Stiles states thoughtlessly, oblivious to the death glare I shoot him. He just smiles, switching to an Indie music station.
I lean my head back, looking over at Stiles through the corners of my eyes. I'm still afraid he'll think I'm weird for liking a guy. But, he's actually been pretty cool about it. Except for the tactless jokes. "So," he says out of the blue. I turn towards him, wondering if he'll change his mind about being "cool". "As a gay guy, are you...attracted to me?"
I groan into my palm. This is that infatuation with Danny all over again. "No, seriously! I wanna know, do you find me even a little hot?"
I sigh, turning my full attention on him. Nothing comes to mind but 'Whoa, that's an ugly shirt.' I shake my head. "Sorry, man," I say, feeling kind of sorry for him.
He nods his head, not speaking for a bit. Finally he says, "Well, that's good. There's no good way I could turn you down." He smiles at me, punching my shoulder.
"Oh, thank God we're at school," I state, sitting up straight as Stiles turns into a parking place.
"Hey, I thought you enjoyed the pleasure of my company," he says, following me around the hood of the car.
"The only thing about you that I enjoy is your car," I say, smiling at Stiles' outraged expression. "Well, anywa-" my words die on my lips when I see what's in front of me.
"What?" Stiles asks, coming up behind me. He stops next to me when he sees what made me silent.
There, resting against that sexy Camaro, is the equally sexy but much more dangerous Derek Hale. His eyes are serious and his stance moody, his arms crossed defiantly as he stares down all the looks he's receiving, ignoring all the whispers. When he catches my scent, he looks toward me. He gestures from me to himself, signaling that I should get the hell over there. I'm finding it hard to breathe, and wonder if my asthma's picked up again. "Want me to go with you?" Stiles asks, glaring at the werewolf across from him. He turns meek, though, once Derek turns his head towards Stiles, who steps a little behind me. I repress my urge to giggle, just patting Stiles on the shoulder before starting forward, my expression turning serious.
As I get closer, I can literally smell the anxiety rolling off of Derek. It makes me want him in a weird way. I guess I'm attracted to the fact that I can make him anxious? I decide to ignore these questionable feelings, my face set in a mask as I finally reach him.
We both stand stand there awkwardly, studying each other. I'm sure he notices my red eyes, along with a bunch of other imperfections. He, on the other hand, looks absolutely perfect, as usual. Not even a hair is out of place. The only sign he's had any trouble the past few days is his smell. Which, as noted before, is absolutely intoxicating. Shifting his feet, Derek finally speaks. "Uh...get in the car."
I widen my eyes, my expression indignant. "And why the hell would I do that?!" I ask him, my tone coming out in an unwarranted yell.
"Just do what I fucking say," he growls out through his teeth. Not waiting for a response, he grabs my wrist, pulling me around the car. He opens the passenger side door and unceremoniously throws me in, shutting the door on my protests.
He gets in the car then, shifting into drive and pealing away from my stunned fellow students.
We don't talk for a while, he stares straight ahead, I try to stop myself from staring at him (unsuccessfully). Finally, when the silence becomes unbearable, I shout, "All right, just what the fuck is going on?!"
Derek shoots me a glare, flipping on a turn signal. "Things ended weirdly between us. If we're gonna be in a pack together, there's no way we can leave this hanging."
"Wait wait wait. Who said I was gonna be in your pack?" I ask, my tone disbelieving.
"You think you and the people you care about are going to be okay, the way you drag them into stuff they shouldn't know about and risk their lives almost every day?"
That makes me pause. He's got a point there. Not wanting to verbally concede to that fact, I turn away from him. "So what? I'll be more careful next time; won't drag anyone into the werewolf-stuff anymore."
He stares at me, forgetting the road for a second. Finally he just pulls off to the side of the road, taking off his seatbelt so he can face me fully. "First of all, 'werewolf-stuff'?" I just ignore that, looking out of the window pointedly. He continues. "Secondly, you think it'll be easy? What about the next time you get caught by the Argents? Do you think they'll just tap you on the back, yell 'You're it' and expect you to chase them? It doesn't work that way! The only way werewolves function effectively is in a pack. It's the only way we can survive."
I turn to face Derek, who's looking out of the windshield, seemingly lost in thought. I forgot he had all that with his family; of course he would want it again. Of course he misses that feeling of fitting in. He's so aloof and self-confident, it's easy to forget that he can get lonely too. As I stare at him, it's impossible to resist the urge to touch him. So I don't.
I reach a hand out, resting it on his cheek. My thumb strokes it gently, reveling in just the feel of his skin. He looks at me, his gaze unreadable. His hand slowly comes up to grip mine. It's as he holds my hand that I feel connected to him, his shaky grip telling me more than his words ever have. I can tell he misses human contact; he misses affection. His lips are trembling, his eyes endless in their depth of sadness. I lean towards him, closing my eyes as I try to place my lips on his.
"N...no," he states, letting go of my hand and holding up both of his as a barrier. "I said we need to be a pack. Not mates." His voice is still trembling with emotion.
"Can't we be both?" I ask, this time taking his hand in mine, kissing it gently.
He shivers, caught up in the moment as my lips slowly trail their way to his forefinger, biting the tip of it gently. He shuts his eyes. "No..." He says again, trying to take his hand away. I don't let him. I hold it with both of my hands now, unwilling to let go.
"Derek...just, let this happen. We can see what happens, experience it together. You mean more to me than Allison ever did."
He stares at me, his expression blank. Finally, he speaks. "How do you expect me to respond to that?" He asks, his face angry. He whips his hand away from my grasp, fumbling with the door handle as he tries to get out. He finally manages it open, leaving the car without another word. I open my door, following him as he runs out into the woods. "Derek!" I cry, unwilling to believe he would just run away.
-----
What is this. What the fuck is this?! Why does this faggy little punk affect me? The only girl I ever loved was Kate, and she turned out to be a psycho bitch who just wanted to kill my family. So why the fuck would this stupid, gangly, pubescent little fuck make me feel like this?
These thoughts are racing through my mind as I exit the car, ungraceful in my haste. All I can think is 'Get the fuck out of here now!' I can hear the little asshole now, running after me. "Just leave me the fuck alone, Scott," I grit out, knowing he can hear me.
"No fucking way," he responds, and he sounds closer than he should. Fuck, have I lost my stamina? Were all those random workouts for nothing? I shake my head, pushing myself to go faster. Still, he keeps chasing after me.
"I'm not fucking worth it!" I yell out, catching myself before I trip on a vine. This is all the hesitation he needs.
He rams into me, pushing me to the ground. We struggle, his hands touching places you wouldn't normally expect them to be in a fight. I growl, trying to buck him off of me. Sickeningly, he gets a boner. "Goddammit, what the fuck?!" I cry out, trying to loosen my arms from the grip he has them in.
"S…sorry," he states, not seeming to mean it. His eyes are hooded so I can't see them well, but he perturbs me all the same. Finally, he gets enough leverage to pin my legs down with his knees, rendering me motionless, except for my head.
"Ow!" He cries out when my head hits his. He glares down at me, then reciprocates my headbutt with a hickey on my racing pulse.
I let out an almost-shriek, my body involuntarily bucking again. This just gets him more worked up though, as his werewolf instincts start to kick in. His eyes turn gold as he sucks on my neck, trying to fit in as much of my skin as he can. I howl, digging my hands into the dirt. "Scott! Your instincts are making you like this! Just calm down; breathe evenly!"
He ignores me, brushing his hard-on against my leg. "It hurts," he whines into my ear, panting softly. I'm confused, before he rubs his erection fully against my leg. "Pants…constricting…"
My gaze is quizzical, before an expression of horrified understanding appears on my face. "Oh, no, oh, fuck no, there is no fucking way you are taking your fucking pants off you stupid fuck!"
Scott just whimpers, his rubbing turning into full-fledged humps. "Mm…fuck…sounds good…" he says between humps, biting my ear affectionately and territorially.
"OH HELL NO," I shout, finding enough strength to push the horny kid off of me, pinning him down. I sigh, seeing that our positions have become reversed. He's just panting expectantly, not tearing his eyes away from my boner. Wait a second, what? I risk a doubletake to find that yes, indeed, my penis responded to this kid's awkward movements. Oh, Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?
I sigh, digging my head into the area of ground above the kid's shoulder. He gasps in excitement, wondering if I'll do something. "Don't get your hopes up, Kid," I state, exhausted. There is no fucking way this is happening. There is no fucking way that I'm into a snot-nosed little bastard like this. I'm straight, for fuck's sake!
Looking pointedly down at my boner for a second, I concede that maybe I'm not so straight. I curve off a bit more than I expected. I turn my gaze to Scott's eyes, my expression weary. Staring in his expectant, wanting, possessive eyes makes me shiver, so much so that I have to look away. Fuck, I haven't been through this in a while. Hormonal werewolves are the worst. I don't even have a way to calm this little fuck down. Sighing, I rub my cheek against my shoulder, wondering how I'll get out of this situation. Finally, as I hear a tiny noise, inspiration strikes.
Sure, it's about fifty degree weather right now, but I'm sure the kid will survive. He's a fucking werewolf for Christ's sake.
Without warning, I stand up, pulling the kid over my shoulder. "Oh, shit, you weigh more than I did when I was your age," I state, grunting at how much weight the kid's packed on.
"Are we gonna play a sex game?" Scott asks eagerly, and that's when I notice his erection digging into my shoulder uncomfortably. I sigh. Sadly, I'm gonna have to play along if I'm gonna get him anywhere.
"Yeah, it's a sex game. You're gonna get…wet," I state, not used to dirty talk. He seems to be eating it up though, if the fact that he's eagerly rubbing his penis against my shoulder blade says anything. I swallow, trying to ignore my own penis. Instead, I head off towards the direction of that sound, trying to hold the kid's hips farther away from me. His thrusts have started to become violent; it's really starting to become painful for my shoulder.
Thankfully, we reach the water in a matter of seconds, thanks to my speedy little legs. Sometimes, being a werewolf has its ups. Then again, we wouldn't be in this situation if Scott wasn't a werewolf.
I wade as deeply into the water as I dare, shivering already as goosebumps start to riddle my body haphazardly. "Ooh, what are we-" his sentence is unfinished as I unceremoniously dump him in the water, throwing him out as far as I can. I'm hoping the cold will calm him down; it already got rid of my boner.
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT'S SO FUCKING FREEZING!" Scott exclaims, jumping up and racing towards the shore. Smirking, I notice that now he's now only at half-mast. Thank God for cold water.
I wade back to shore, standing next to Scott with my arms crossed. "So, think about that the next time you try to rape me," I state, unable to make my smirk even a little pitying.
He glares at me, his whole body shivering violently. "Yuh-yuh-yuh…yooooouu buh-buh-buh-bastard!" He stutters out, "Geh-get me ou-out of-f here!"
I comply, grabbing his hand and towing him behind me, chuckling. What a funny little kid.