I could feel the pad of Stiles' fingertips softly stroking my hair, back and forth. I was lying on my side in Stiles' bed, as he held me from behind, molding his body to mine. At some point downstairs, Stiles was able to pull me back to his room and onto his bed. I still hadn't stopped shaking, and there were a few instances where I tried to make a run for it again. But as always, without failing, Stiles held me back, cradling me harder against him. Stiles was a lot stronger than people gave him credit for, or maybe I was just too weak to fight against him. Or maybe, deep down, I didn't want to leave him, which is why I submitted to him so easily. Either way, I was still here in this house…still here with Stiles. I had been up for several minutes, but I didn't have the strength or courage to turn around and face him.

I was so ashamed.

How could I do that? How could I lose control so easily? How could I have hurt him like that? I can still smell the faint traces of blood from the cuts I left on his hips. I made those marks; I hurt him. It could have gone down so much worse. I could have raped him: tore into his flesh, unrelenting with my brutal force over and over again. The thought alone made me physically cringe, which Stiles took notice to.

"Hey, you up?" Stiles whispered into my hair, ceasing his stroking. He scooted closer to me, tightening the arm he had around my abdomen. I remained silent, hoping to brush it off as a natural jerk as if I were dreaming. "Derek?"

Stiles began to peer over my shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of my face. The closer he got to me, the more vivid and frequent the flashbacks of the previous events became in my head. It was too much to bear. I abruptly sat up from the bed and began to search the floor for my shirt. Stiles sat up as well, watching me carefully. I didn't know what to say to Stiles; no words could make up for what I had done. Each time I looked at him, I was only reminded of the terrified shriek of his voice, begging me to stop as I pushed his face further into the mattress.

"please stop…."


"oh my God…"

"don't do this…"


The mantra continued in my head as my own personal torture and punishment for the selfish, reckless behavior, and I embraced it. I should be reminded of what I had done, of what I am capable of. I had no right to be forgiven and put at ease. It was all my fault, therefore I needed to bear the guilt and shame on my own.

Once I found my shirt thrown in the corner, I hastily pulled over my head and strode over to the window. Stiles didn't move from the bed, nor was he looking at me anymore. He stayed silent, picking at the threads from his comforter. I pulled open the window and placed my hands on the windowsill, ready to jump out. However, I halted. There was a sound. It was the sound of breathing. It was not the normal rhythm of long intakes and calm releases of air from the lungs. No, it was staggered and heavy. It was trying to be calm and steady, but it just continued to stagger and hiccup with each intake. Stiles was trying to keep it together, but each breath was a task because all he seemed to want to do to is cry. I turned to face him, my eyes softening at the boy on the bed – the boy that I seem to always end up hurting.

I hesitantly let go of the windowsill and walked over to the bed, easing myself to sit down next to Stiles. He still hadn't looked up at my face, which nearly killed me. "Stiles?" I brought my hand up to his cheek, cupping the soft, creamy flesh in my palm. He didn't lean into me as he usually did – he stayed absolutely still. "I…I'm so sorry."


"Okay." I nodded, shamefully, letting my hand fall from his cheek, only for him to catch it in his hands.

"Stop trying to always leave me. I don't think I can take much more of that." Stiles brought my hand back up to his cheek, leaning into my palm. He looked at me with glossy eyes and subtle quiver in his chin, swallowing back the lump that had formed in his throat. He leaned closer into me, so that our chests were touching. I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck to bring his forehead to mine, as I pulled him in even closer to me. I inhaled his scent, cautiously, still afraid of what I might do to him. "Promise me."

I was shocked by his statement - not exactly by what was said, but more by how he said it. It wasn't a request or question; it was a demand. I looked at him, at a loss for words. His eyes bore into mine, waiting for my answer, silently begging for the answer that he wanted to hear. "Promise me, Derek."

"I promise," I said, and I meant it every word. No matter how many times I tell myself to leave him and how much better off he would be without me, I can't stay away from him, especially now - now that I know what his lips feel like, what they taste like. I've felt his skin against mine, hot and smooth against my calloused and scarred body. I've heard my name fall from his lips in the most blissful, beautiful way you could ever mutter or sigh someone's name. I've felt what his love feels like – I can never let that go. I should, but I'm in too deep and I never want to be without him. "But Stiles, last night-"

"Was an accident and I don't blame you," Stiles said, once again stroking my hair.

"What do you mean 'I don't blame you'? Of course you should blame me. What the hell is the matter with you, Stiles?" Stiles' tendency to forgive too easily set me off; I got up the bed, removing myself from Stiles' embrace. I paced the bedroom floor, my anger only building. "I turned last night and nearly raped you. I almost stole your virginity in the most inhuman, cruel way possible and you don't blame me?" I barked at Stiles.

"No, I don't. Why should I blame you when you do all the blaming for the both us?" Stiles barked back. Man, that shut me up real quick. "I understand what happened last night and yeah, I was scared but I knew what I was signing up for. This is my choice and I know there are consequences to every choice, but you outweigh all the bad that comes with this life."

"Stiles, you are so stupid. I am the consequence. I am the bad." I coldly stared at him, clenching my jaw and fists as I tried to keep my anger at bay. I don't need another reason to lose control…again. "What if I hadn't stopped myself last night? What if I succeeded in getting what I wanted? Would you be so forgiving then?" Stiles didn't respond. "Huh, well would you?!" I yelled, my voice booming off the walls.

Stiles' head snapped towards me, his lips in a tight line. "What your wolf wanted."

"Excuse me?" My anger was at its boiling point. I knew that if I didn't drawn in the reigns soon, I was going to snap.

Stiles huffed out a breath, frustration and annoyance etched onto the features of his face. "That was your wolf last night, not you. It is a part of you, but not the whole thing. You are still human, Derek. The human side is a lot stronger than you realize. And even in times when you can't control your animal side, I will still love you and forgive you, because it is part of your nature and I know you are trying you are best. You are trying for me and that is always worthy of redemption."

I was so angry it hurt. Angry for losing control, angry for hurting Stiles, angry at Stiles for be forgiving and understanding, but most all, angry that I had nothing to say to him at that moment. Stiles had just shown me what it really means to love someone for all their ugly and deformed parts, and yet, I was still angry because I know that I don't deserve to have that kind of love. After all I've done, why do I get to have him? It doesn't make sense.

I was so absorbed in my own thoughts and Stiles' words, that I didn't notice that he had risen from the bed and walked over. He stopped a mere few inches in front of me, our chested barely touching. Stiles picked up my hand and kissed the fingertips. That's when I noticed that I had slightly shifted as Stiles pressed his lips to my clawed hand. "I love all of you," Stiles breathed onto my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, unafraid that I might cut or hurt him.

I wanted to yell at him some more, call him crazy and stupid for loving me. But I did no such thing. I was selfish and I just wanted to hear him say those words over and over again. "Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again," I said, nearly pleading this time.

"I love you, Derek."

I pulled Stiles into my arms, crushing his body to mine. Stiles threaded his fingers in my hair, burying his face into the nook my neck. "I love you so much," I sighed into his shoulder, finally letting myself enjoy his touch. Stiles tightened his grip, a satisfied hum vibrating from the back of his throat. "I'm going to be better for you. I need to be better for you." Stiles didn't argue with me or protest. Instead, he brushed his lips, lightly, onto my stubbled cheek. Suddenly, I lifted Stiles by his legs, earning a surprised yelp from him as I carried us over to the bed. I laid him down on the mattress, with my body still firmly pressed against his. I turned us over, so that I was lying on my back while he laid his head against my chest, sprawling half of his body onto mine.

We laid like this for several minutes, I reveling in the sound of his now steady breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart, while his fingers danced across my chest in patterns and shapes. "Derek?"

"Yeah?" I turned my head down to see Stiles peering up at me with a light pink blush spreading cross his cheeks.

"We should go on a date."

I suck so much at updating. I know.

But I still hope you enjoy this chapter. I agree with some of the comments about building the relationship more before the sex. So the smutty goodness will have to wait.

Please review! I love that stuff.

Thank you for not giving up on me.

btw, please excuse any errors. It happens.