a/n: Episode Tag: Magic Bullet. AU ending. Derek/Stiles.
Stiles couldn't help couldn't help but keep glancing at Derek from the corner of his eye. When he told Scott that Derek scared him; he may have twisted the truth slightly. Derek made him nervous; like he didn't know how to act or what to say when he was around the guy. Stile had never felt this way before, at least not to this level. He also felt awkward and uncoordinated around girls - but when he was around Derek it was like that but a thousand times more.
It was more than that now that Derek was a foot away; and did it make him sick that he was thinking inappropriate thoughts considering the condition that Derek was in? With his skin an almost grey pale and covered in sweat, his dark haired matted to his temples, dark circles under his eyes, his . . . his lush lips dry and cracked? Stiles liked his own lips, imagining what Derek's would feel like against his own. Despite the slight tang of death that was starting to come off of him, or the blood that was slowly leaking from the bullet wound in his arm.
Stiles gripped the steering wheel tightly as tried to swallow down his nervousness. Tried to subtly shift in his seat while drove as he felt heat flush his body and travel downward. Because he could too willingly and easily picture what was beyond that arm, beyond the clothes that covered it.
Stiles let out a breath as he pulled the Jeep into the Animal Clinic; he barely shut off the engine before he jumped out. He unlocked the storage door, trying to use the time to get the heat to leave his body, but it was no use as Derek stumbled out of the Jeep and into the garage, trying to rip his shirt off. Stiles was barely able to catch him as his legs gave out, and dragged him into the exam room. Stiles hated that he loved this contact with Derek, as unintentional as it was and suppressed a moan as he laid Derek against the exam table and caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the middle of his back.
"Help me," Derek ground out as he tried to hold himself up and tie the band around his bicep at the same time.
"W-what can I do?" Stiles stuttered out as he watched Derek, his heart racing.
"I think you to get it out," he growled, his eyes flashing that ice-blue of his wolf form.
Stiles took a surprised back. "H-how?"
Derek look up at him, his grey eyes fierce; his skin was paler, the bruises under his eyes darker, the smell stronger. "Suck it out."
Stiles jaw literally dropped. How many times had he imagined Derek saying that to him? How many times had he dreamed the event that would take place after it was said? Even though those three words weren't said in that type of situation or tone, it still caused blood and heat to rush downward. Stiles took a slow step forward, unsure of how to pursue this supposed plan of action.
"Do it!" Derek barked, his eyes flashing blue and his fangs appearing, his nails grew as he clutched his hand into a fist. "Or I'll rip you head off!"
"Okay!" Stiles yelped, scrambling over to him.
Stiles took reluctantly took a hold of either side of Derek's wounded arm and bent his head over it. He took quick breaths like a pregnant women in labor. Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Stiles open his mouth and put his lips around the gushing wound, closing the seal. He sucked, instantly tasting the salty-coppery taste of blood fill his mouth.
"Don't swallow," Derek whispered as watched in amazement as Stiles came up for air and spit a mouth full of blood onto the floor.
Stiles went back down, his lips latching over the wound as he sucked more contaminated blood into his mouth. Now, as well as tasting the copper of blood, his could taste the bitter tang of whatever was doing thins to Derek. He forced himself not gag and choke, to continue to suck the contaminated blood from his arm. The next time he came up for a spit take, he took the chance to see if this was helping at all. The tendrils that had started to branch out from the gunshot wound and travel up Derek's arm had receded slightly. Stiles did this several times more, until the tendrils of poison that were killing Derek finally receded and the wound slowly healed itself.
Stiles took one last mouth full of blood, careful to make sure that he didn't taste any more of the tang before he spit it into the puddle of blood that had accumulated on the floor at his feet. Derek could seem to take his eyes off of Stiles, as the blood traveled down his chin in rivulets, as his blood trailed from Stiles' lips.
Without realizing and without thinking, Stiles like the blood from his lips and swallowed convulsively as he tried to wipe the blood from his chin with his shirt before it dried. He looked down at Derek to find the werewolf staring up at him with an instance gaze. Stiles couldn't help it when his body flushed with heat and his face turned beat red.
"Um," he said, suddenly shy. "It's all gone, right?" he asked, looking down at his shoes which had specks of Derek's blood on them.
"Yeah," Derek said, seemingly to see Stiles for the first time.
He wasn't seeing Scott's geeky, annoying, twerp of a friend that he wanted to eat or tear apart - or maybe do both of those. He wasn't seeing that kid that asked too many question, got in the way and was irritating. But the boy who had sucked the poison from his blood, all but drank the blood from his lips. The kid that had been so voice-y, but was now ducking in shyness. Now that pain wasn't hindering him, Derek could hear the way that Stiles' heart rate sped up, the way that his body flushed with heat, and the rush of blood.
Derek grabbed his arm, jerking Stiles towards him. Though he was still weak, he had enough strength to that. Stiles' mouth opened in surprise and Derek crashed his lips against those of the teens. He used Stiles' surprise and inserted his tongue, exploring this new and moist cavern. Stiles' eyes slipped closed as e felt a slight tingle in his lips; anywhere that Derek touched. It was like a dream, a dream that he didn't want to ever end. He was ecstatic that this was his first kiss, which it was taken by Derek Hale, the werewolf that he had fallen head over heels for.
Derek finally pulled away, his ministrations leaving Stiles panting for breath. He could feel the hardness of the kid against his thigh and his own manhood responded in kind. Derek looked at the kid in front of him; so young, so inexperienced . . . so willing. Derek himself had not had any sort of sexual contact or release in such a long while, and at that moment he was ready and in need. And in front of him was a willing and ready recipient.
Derek took the front of Stiles blood specked tee and pushed him down onto the exam table, snapping off the band on his arm in the process. Stiles gave a small gasp of surprise as Derek was on top of him, cradling his hips. As Derek slowly, sensually rocked it elicited as moan of pleasure as friction was caused. Derek unsnapped the button on Stiles' jeans, freeing his achingly hard member. Stiles let out a small squeak as some of the pressure abated and his throbbing cock sprang free into the cool air. Stiles gripped either side of the exam table ledge as he watched and waited in anticipation as Derek unbuttoned his own jean zipper.
A drawn out moan escaped Stile's parted, moist lips as he looked at Derek's own cock, big and thick; a sight that the teen would never forget. In his fantasy Stiles had always pictured what it would look like; none had even come as close to the real thing. Derek could help but smirk at the expressions that crossed Stiles' face as he leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of the kid's head.
Stiles looked up at him with wide, eager, Carmel colored eyes. His hips trying to jerk upward, to meet with Derek's, but the muscular thigh prevent him from doing so - a distressed noise escaped him throat.
"Eager, are we?" Derek whispered, his voice husky.
A shiver trailed Stiles spin and he was that close to coming right there - to just the sound of Derek's voice. It wasn't his fault that he didn't have any experience with this sort of thing, had never been touched by a girl, had only been touched by himself. Derek leaned forward slightly and shifted his hips, making it so that their cocks brushed together. Stiles gasped at the contact, his hips jerking upward; demanding more contact. Derek rocked back and forth, each and every time their hardness making contact - both growing closer to release with every rub.
Of course Stile was the first to cum; having no experience with this sort of thing. He may have jerked himself off
to the image of Derek in all of his spare, but that gave him nothing for the real thing. Derek came to the feel of Stile's warm release covering his own cock.
Derek knew that this was dangerous, that his feelings could get out of control and that he could change. The sharpness of his nails against the steel table proving that, the sharp points of his teeth cutting into his lips, the flashing of his eyes and the urge to howl his sexual victory. He knew that if he did change that he could either tear Stiles apart, or change him. But Derek really didn't see anything wrong it . . . if Stiles were to change.