melange of love [r] derek/stiles
Title: mélange of love
Author: enablelove
Rating: R
Pairing: Stiles/Derek
Warnings: Unapologetic schm♥♥p. References to knotting.
Word Count: 1861
Summary: A broken, taunting, deadly, slow, and quick ‘I love you’.
Disclaimer: These gorgeous boys aren’t mine, no matter how much I wish they were.
A/N: This is an exercise in writing all of these prompts. ♥ Self-indulgent birthday fic ☺
26. Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave
“I love you!” Stiles says, voice catching brokenly and clutching the sleeve of Derek’s leather jacket, even as he knows his begging plea falls on deaf ears. “Please stop!”
Derek’s stubborn to a fault and at least this time he has the grace to say goodbye. Small mercies.
“Just give us a chance,” Stiles tries, hoping that tears aren’t falling down his face, even though he can feel the wetness. They’re not many (he’s never been a huge crier) but it’s enough to jar Derek into stilling a little bit.
“Stiles…” Derek starts and god, Stiles fucking hates that placating tone of his. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this to himself. Why he’s begging Derek to stay when clearly he doesn’t want to. When he doesn’t think they’re worth it. He loves the idiot, but it seems that he’s in this more than Derek is and maybe it’s time he finally listens to his therapist and takes a chance on himself.
As much as it kills him inside, he lets go and turns away. Stiles can feel a chasm of hurt and longing opening up within him, but there’s nothing that can be done now. He’s tired of being the only one fighting for this relationship.
“Go,” Stiles says woodenly. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”
Derek whirls him around and pulls him into the filthiest, fiercest, most desperate kiss of Stiles’ life before pulling back just enough that they’re still sharing air.
“I’m going to come back,” Derek whispers against his stinging lips. “I love you too, dork. And I promise you, I’m going to come back for you.”
Stiles nods, unable to do or say anything else and watches the love of his goddamn life walk away. He holds onto the promise like a mother clutching her newborn, hoping that Derek is right.
27. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips
Derek keeps his promise. Six (six!) long ass months later, he strolls into Beacon Hills like he never left. Stiles sees him leaning against the door frame of his bedroom, one eyebrow raised and a smile forming on his face. A genuine smile. Not a fake one that he used to try and give Stiles. Not a smirk or a grimace. Not a smile that had pain in his eyes and unused face muscles getting a work out. An honest-to-goodness smile. And that, more than anything, let Stiles know he was back for good.
Derek’s hands are in the pockets of his jeans, and though there’s a smile, Stiles can sense the hesitancy. Because it has been six fucking months.
But every month, week, day, hour, minute, and second that he spent counting melts away at the sight of Derek. Stiles wants to give him a hard time. He wants to tease and play the push and pull game they have. But he’s so tired. He’s tired of waiting and wanting and aching. He walks up to Derek and traces a hand up Derek’s arm and shoulder and rests it on the back of his neck, waiting for permission. Derek juts his chin down a little, just enough, and Stiles takes the kiss that he’s been waiting for. It’s been 15,120,000 seconds, give or take, and Stiles finally feels at rest.
“I’m sorry. I love you,” Derek says against his lips, reminiscent of the moment so long ago with the kiss that’s still seared into his brain.
“You back?” Stiles asks, still holding himself back just a little and at Derek’s nod, he replies with his own taunt.
“Then I love you too, jerkface.”
Stiles lets go of his fears and lets himself fall into Derek.
28. When I am dead
Things aren’t automatically perfect. Both of them still have a shit ton of issues to work out on their own and between them. But, they are together, and at least that’s a step in the right direction.
Stiles can still recall with clarity how he found an envelope tucked into his desk a month after Derek left that only had Stiles name on it. Stiles was in one of his cleaning fits that he got when he couldn’t focus.
He knew instantly it was from Derek from the handwriting. He flipped it over quickly, eager for some contact and saw the most terrifying words: when I am dead
He broke down right there, not sure where Derek had gone and what he was doing. He called Lydia and she helped calm him down, forbidding him from tearing open the note and trying to have him give Derek the benefit of the doubt.
Stiles had asked Derek about it which resulted in their first major argument. So now Stiles sits on his bed in his dark bedroom, still holding the damn unopened envelope. He flips it in his hand, fingers expertly flicking it one way or another.
There’s a noise at his window and he looks up to see Derek jump inside. Gracefully, of course. The bastard is such a show off. Stiles can’t help the uptick at the corner of his mouth and eyes, though.
Derek glides in next to Stiles on the bed, eyes glowing a little bit so he can see.
Stiles leans over and turns on the bedside lamp, the dim light illuminating the room just enough to make out his name scrawled across the white paper. The envelope isn’t crisp anymore, worn away from Stiles holding it tonight and the past few months when the ache almost got too much.
“It only says one thing,” Derek says, his voice hushed. “It says I love you. I didn’t want you to open it because it’s not enough. I wanted to leave it in case I didn’t come back. But I didn’t want you to read it because those three words aren’t enough for the millions of feelings I have for you. I can’t name them all and let me tell you, they aren’t all unicorn and rainbows of happiness, but they’re real.”
Stiles lets Derek get the words out, sentences halted and words broken, like each word is a shard of glass.
“I definitely didn’t want you to open it today or try explaining what was going through my dumb mind. I didn’t want to explain that I left you with three measly words,” Derek continues.
Stiles stops him, because he can’t stand hearing Derek beating himself up over this.
He kisses Derek, softly and deeply, putting every single emotion he has into it.
“The words are perfect, but more than that, it’s your actions that tell me everything. And they tell me you love me in a million different ways. I know words aren’t quite your thing, but these are enough. I promise you. Even if I would have brought you back to life just to kill you again if you ever left me like that,” Stiles says, ending it with a smack to the back of Derek’s head.
The slow blush, small grin, and ducked face? That says more than Derek’s words could ever say.
29. Slowly, the words dripping from your tongue like honey
“Fuck,” Stiles groans out as Derek pushes in deeper, his knot pressing perfectly against his prostate. He loves when Derek gets in this mood for slow sex. It’s usually rushed between them, clothes thrown off with no finesse and frantic kisses exchanged because they can’t get enough of each other.
But these moments in between are amazing too, both of them caught up in the moment of each other, no threat hanging above them. They hadn’t had too much time for that, before.
“God, you’re gorgeous like this,” Derek pants above him. A quirk Stiles learned about Derek was that when he knotted, something let loose in his brain apparently, and Derek loved to talk dirty to him - endlessly. “Tight and perfect for me. Begging for my cock. You look so good all splayed out for me, taking me in so good.” Stiles moans, arching his back and Derek whimpers against his throat at the multitude of sensations. A few more thrusts and both of them reach orgasm, shouting out each other’s names as they come.
Derek gingerly rolls them onto their sides and Stiles is so ready to fall asleep, even if it is going to be a bitch of a clean up.
“I love you,” he murmurs slowly, words dripping from his tongue like honey. He feels fucked out and raw, but alive in the most thrilling way. He’s tired and can’t move, but he can feel blood thrumming under the surface of his skin. Derek lets his fingers trail down Stiles arms and then to his waist to pull him in just a little bit closer. He kisses Stiles, molasses-thick and sweet, and says the magic words.
“I know.”
Stiles rolls his eyes, but can’t help feeling like a bulb burning incandescently inside him.
30. Too quick, mumbled into your scarf
Winter arrives and with it, the influx of Scott and the crew from college for winter break. It’s nice having everyone back, but Derek seems to retreat a little bit.
“What’s going on?” Stiles finally confronts, not used to this side of Derek anymore.
“What? Nothing,” Derek says, putting up an expression the picture of innocence. Stiles knows better though.
“Truth?” Stiles asks. They do this to pull the reality from the situation, both of them having promised to just be more honest with each other. Derek looks up and fiddles with the scarf Isaac had shyly given him.
“They hate me.” Derek says bluntly.
“What? Why would they hate you? They love you! You’re pack.” Stiles is honestly confused. He was so excited to hang out with everyone again, but with Derek being standoff-ish, conversation was stilted and awkward. They’re outside on the deck in the cold while everyone is inside. Stiles knows they can probably hear him and Derek knows too, but it’s not use to try hiding it - they’d find out eventually anyway.
“I left for so long and they had to see you handle that. I did that to you and I’m trying every day to fix it, but they saw the direct aftermath.”
Stiles is an idiot. He should have thought of that and the effect it would have on Derek. He tugs Derek close, using the scarf to reel him in.
“What do you feel about me now?” he asks directly.
“I love you,” Derek says quickly, voice muffled as he turns his face into the scarf. Stiles can see the telltale blush he has every time he says the words and feels his own face lighting up in a grin.
“Then that’s enough. And they’ll see that. Promise,” Stiles says.
Derek just raises his brow at him but lets himself be pulled into a kiss. One that’s short and sweet because the door suddenly opens and wolf whistles ring out around him.
“Y’all are assholes,” Stiles declares, but the small smile on Derek’s face is a step in the right direction.
For now.
Author: enablelove
Rating: R
Pairing: Stiles/Derek
Warnings: Unapologetic schm♥♥p. References to knotting.
Word Count: 1861
Summary: A broken, taunting, deadly, slow, and quick ‘I love you’.
Disclaimer: These gorgeous boys aren’t mine, no matter how much I wish they were.
A/N: This is an exercise in writing all of these prompts. ♥ Self-indulgent birthday fic ☺
26. Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave
“I love you!” Stiles says, voice catching brokenly and clutching the sleeve of Derek’s leather jacket, even as he knows his begging plea falls on deaf ears. “Please stop!”
Derek’s stubborn to a fault and at least this time he has the grace to say goodbye. Small mercies.
“Just give us a chance,” Stiles tries, hoping that tears aren’t falling down his face, even though he can feel the wetness. They’re not many (he’s never been a huge crier) but it’s enough to jar Derek into stilling a little bit.
“Stiles…” Derek starts and god, Stiles fucking hates that placating tone of his. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this to himself. Why he’s begging Derek to stay when clearly he doesn’t want to. When he doesn’t think they’re worth it. He loves the idiot, but it seems that he’s in this more than Derek is and maybe it’s time he finally listens to his therapist and takes a chance on himself.
As much as it kills him inside, he lets go and turns away. Stiles can feel a chasm of hurt and longing opening up within him, but there’s nothing that can be done now. He’s tired of being the only one fighting for this relationship.
“Go,” Stiles says woodenly. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”
Derek whirls him around and pulls him into the filthiest, fiercest, most desperate kiss of Stiles’ life before pulling back just enough that they’re still sharing air.
“I’m going to come back,” Derek whispers against his stinging lips. “I love you too, dork. And I promise you, I’m going to come back for you.”
Stiles nods, unable to do or say anything else and watches the love of his goddamn life walk away. He holds onto the promise like a mother clutching her newborn, hoping that Derek is right.
27. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips
Derek keeps his promise. Six (six!) long ass months later, he strolls into Beacon Hills like he never left. Stiles sees him leaning against the door frame of his bedroom, one eyebrow raised and a smile forming on his face. A genuine smile. Not a fake one that he used to try and give Stiles. Not a smirk or a grimace. Not a smile that had pain in his eyes and unused face muscles getting a work out. An honest-to-goodness smile. And that, more than anything, let Stiles know he was back for good.
Derek’s hands are in the pockets of his jeans, and though there’s a smile, Stiles can sense the hesitancy. Because it has been six fucking months.
But every month, week, day, hour, minute, and second that he spent counting melts away at the sight of Derek. Stiles wants to give him a hard time. He wants to tease and play the push and pull game they have. But he’s so tired. He’s tired of waiting and wanting and aching. He walks up to Derek and traces a hand up Derek’s arm and shoulder and rests it on the back of his neck, waiting for permission. Derek juts his chin down a little, just enough, and Stiles takes the kiss that he’s been waiting for. It’s been 15,120,000 seconds, give or take, and Stiles finally feels at rest.
“I’m sorry. I love you,” Derek says against his lips, reminiscent of the moment so long ago with the kiss that’s still seared into his brain.
“You back?” Stiles asks, still holding himself back just a little and at Derek’s nod, he replies with his own taunt.
“Then I love you too, jerkface.”
Stiles lets go of his fears and lets himself fall into Derek.
28. When I am dead
Things aren’t automatically perfect. Both of them still have a shit ton of issues to work out on their own and between them. But, they are together, and at least that’s a step in the right direction.
Stiles can still recall with clarity how he found an envelope tucked into his desk a month after Derek left that only had Stiles name on it. Stiles was in one of his cleaning fits that he got when he couldn’t focus.
He knew instantly it was from Derek from the handwriting. He flipped it over quickly, eager for some contact and saw the most terrifying words: when I am dead
He broke down right there, not sure where Derek had gone and what he was doing. He called Lydia and she helped calm him down, forbidding him from tearing open the note and trying to have him give Derek the benefit of the doubt.
Stiles had asked Derek about it which resulted in their first major argument. So now Stiles sits on his bed in his dark bedroom, still holding the damn unopened envelope. He flips it in his hand, fingers expertly flicking it one way or another.
There’s a noise at his window and he looks up to see Derek jump inside. Gracefully, of course. The bastard is such a show off. Stiles can’t help the uptick at the corner of his mouth and eyes, though.
Derek glides in next to Stiles on the bed, eyes glowing a little bit so he can see.
Stiles leans over and turns on the bedside lamp, the dim light illuminating the room just enough to make out his name scrawled across the white paper. The envelope isn’t crisp anymore, worn away from Stiles holding it tonight and the past few months when the ache almost got too much.
“It only says one thing,” Derek says, his voice hushed. “It says I love you. I didn’t want you to open it because it’s not enough. I wanted to leave it in case I didn’t come back. But I didn’t want you to read it because those three words aren’t enough for the millions of feelings I have for you. I can’t name them all and let me tell you, they aren’t all unicorn and rainbows of happiness, but they’re real.”
Stiles lets Derek get the words out, sentences halted and words broken, like each word is a shard of glass.
“I definitely didn’t want you to open it today or try explaining what was going through my dumb mind. I didn’t want to explain that I left you with three measly words,” Derek continues.
Stiles stops him, because he can’t stand hearing Derek beating himself up over this.
He kisses Derek, softly and deeply, putting every single emotion he has into it.
“The words are perfect, but more than that, it’s your actions that tell me everything. And they tell me you love me in a million different ways. I know words aren’t quite your thing, but these are enough. I promise you. Even if I would have brought you back to life just to kill you again if you ever left me like that,” Stiles says, ending it with a smack to the back of Derek’s head.
The slow blush, small grin, and ducked face? That says more than Derek’s words could ever say.
29. Slowly, the words dripping from your tongue like honey
“Fuck,” Stiles groans out as Derek pushes in deeper, his knot pressing perfectly against his prostate. He loves when Derek gets in this mood for slow sex. It’s usually rushed between them, clothes thrown off with no finesse and frantic kisses exchanged because they can’t get enough of each other.
But these moments in between are amazing too, both of them caught up in the moment of each other, no threat hanging above them. They hadn’t had too much time for that, before.
“God, you’re gorgeous like this,” Derek pants above him. A quirk Stiles learned about Derek was that when he knotted, something let loose in his brain apparently, and Derek loved to talk dirty to him - endlessly. “Tight and perfect for me. Begging for my cock. You look so good all splayed out for me, taking me in so good.” Stiles moans, arching his back and Derek whimpers against his throat at the multitude of sensations. A few more thrusts and both of them reach orgasm, shouting out each other’s names as they come.
Derek gingerly rolls them onto their sides and Stiles is so ready to fall asleep, even if it is going to be a bitch of a clean up.
“I love you,” he murmurs slowly, words dripping from his tongue like honey. He feels fucked out and raw, but alive in the most thrilling way. He’s tired and can’t move, but he can feel blood thrumming under the surface of his skin. Derek lets his fingers trail down Stiles arms and then to his waist to pull him in just a little bit closer. He kisses Stiles, molasses-thick and sweet, and says the magic words.
“I know.”
Stiles rolls his eyes, but can’t help feeling like a bulb burning incandescently inside him.
30. Too quick, mumbled into your scarf
Winter arrives and with it, the influx of Scott and the crew from college for winter break. It’s nice having everyone back, but Derek seems to retreat a little bit.
“What’s going on?” Stiles finally confronts, not used to this side of Derek anymore.
“What? Nothing,” Derek says, putting up an expression the picture of innocence. Stiles knows better though.
“Truth?” Stiles asks. They do this to pull the reality from the situation, both of them having promised to just be more honest with each other. Derek looks up and fiddles with the scarf Isaac had shyly given him.
“They hate me.” Derek says bluntly.
“What? Why would they hate you? They love you! You’re pack.” Stiles is honestly confused. He was so excited to hang out with everyone again, but with Derek being standoff-ish, conversation was stilted and awkward. They’re outside on the deck in the cold while everyone is inside. Stiles knows they can probably hear him and Derek knows too, but it’s not use to try hiding it - they’d find out eventually anyway.
“I left for so long and they had to see you handle that. I did that to you and I’m trying every day to fix it, but they saw the direct aftermath.”
Stiles is an idiot. He should have thought of that and the effect it would have on Derek. He tugs Derek close, using the scarf to reel him in.
“What do you feel about me now?” he asks directly.
“I love you,” Derek says quickly, voice muffled as he turns his face into the scarf. Stiles can see the telltale blush he has every time he says the words and feels his own face lighting up in a grin.
“Then that’s enough. And they’ll see that. Promise,” Stiles says.
Derek just raises his brow at him but lets himself be pulled into a kiss. One that’s short and sweet because the door suddenly opens and wolf whistles ring out around him.
“Y’all are assholes,” Stiles declares, but the small smile on Derek’s face is a step in the right direction.
For now.