Derek knew he had made a huge mistake the moment he realized who was in bed with him. A part of him, a very small, in-denial part, reassured him it was some stranger lucky enough to have been bedded by Derek Hale. Every other part of him screamed that it wasn't and that he should get up and leave without so much as a word.
He rolled over anyway.
Yep. That was definitely Stiles. He could hardly detect the boy's scent because it was quite over-powered by his own, but it was there. Which meant they had most definitely fucked. There was no way Stiles could be so consumed by Derek's musk otherwise.
Yeah, that was not a good thing.
Turning away Derek laid his head stiffly on his bicep. Hmm. There were only so many things Derek could do in a moment like this. Walking away was still an option, but something told him it wasn't the right one. Leaving the vulnerable young man seemed...cruel. Probably not as bad as fucking him in a moment of weakness.
Guilt rolled over Derek in waves.
Wasn't this statutory rape? He couldn't remember a refusal once in all of Stiles' moaning and gasping. Not so much as hesitation from the younger man. So if Stiles had wanted it, and had enjoyed it, did that make it okay?
Skewed as his moral compass was, Derek saw Stiles as an adult who could make his own decisions. Right or wrong, that was on him. Stiles, after all, was the one who showed up on Derek's doorstep soaked to the bone under the heavy rain, and he was the one who pulled Derek into a hot, hungry, kiss that left them panting for minutes. And really, how was Derek supposed to say no to that?
Something about the whole situation seemed so much more complicated than a one night stand ought to be. It didn't feel the way it should have. Stiles had come to Derek seeking comfort, but the moon was full and Derek was hungry, starving, and Stiles pressing against him, begging for his body, was to delicious to refuse.
It wasn't Derek's problem and Stiles could hate him, for all he cared.
Except, Derek did care. He cared about the way Stiles would react when he woke up, he cared about Stiles being upset, or blaming himself like he always did, he cared for Stiles. That epiphany hit him like a slap to the face and his entire body tensed reflexively. Derek Hale did not care about other people. Everyone knew that.
Everyone but himself apparently.
A shiver of something he hadn't felt in a long time shot through his veins. It was fear. Fear that last night with Stiles meant more to himself than he could ever admit out loud. He was afraid that Stiles was just another Kate Argent. A little voice in the back of his mind whispered to him that it wasn't possible.
Stiles was different.
That was the understatement of a lifetime. Stiles never failed to surprise Derek, ever. So few people could do that these days. Stiles did not give up. He did not back down. He did not disappoint. Stiles was a genuinely good person; the only one Derek had ever known or could remember knowing. Derek admired Stiles.
Stiles was special.
It was for that reason that Derek found himself relaxing into the sheets. Derek could have left without Stiles even stirring, but that wasn't what he wanted. Derek wanted to stay with Stiles. Just like he wanted to see the younger man's smile, hear his voice, see his expressive hazel eye staring back at him with joy.
Derek wanted to make Stiles happy.
It was that thought that had Derek rolling over to wrap Stiles up in his arms. The embrace was warm and comfortable. When Stiles opened his eyes, Derek wanted to be the first thing he'd see. Nuzzling closer, Derek planted a kiss on Stiles' forehead.
Derek had made a lot of mistakes in his life. Stiles was not one of them.