Work Text:
“You heard him, McCall. Get within fifty feet of me, and you’re going to the big house. I guarantee you your not-so-secret girlfriend won’t be able to visit you there.” Jackson smirked. He knew just where to strike to make it hurt.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. Allison broke up with me weeks ago.” Scott’s voice shook and his eyes widened a little. Of course Jackson saw past their poor acting. Did everyone know that he and Allison weren’t really broken up?
“Do I look like I care, McCall?” Jackson turned and walked out of the cafeteria. He’d been standing at the other end of it.
“What did he say? What did you say? I know I’m standing right next to you and all, but hey” Stiles points to Scott, “werewolf”, and then he points to himself, “human. So, uh, clue me in.”
“He knows about me and Allison.” Scott pouted.
“Hate to say this, but it’s kinda obvious that you two never actually broke up. What with the long-suffering glances you give each other. And the sighing. Oh, god, the sighing.” Stiles said. Scott rolled his eyes.
- Later that night -
Stiles sat hunched forward, typing furiously. He was thankful that keyboards could not talk, or he’d probably hear agonizing screams day in and day out. As it was, it was another night of research. Actual schoolwork lay in a mostly finished pile atop his backpack next to his closet. It wasn’t as important as trying to figure why a kanima would need or want a Master. Or, even more important, who a particular kanima’s Master might be. So far, his searches had yielded nothing.
If Derek let us peruse his werewolf knowledge, we might have something, Stiles thought. He shook his head. Derek wouldn’t be any help. All Derek wanted was to kill Jackson. But then, Stiles was all for that plan. Maybe Scott hadn’t been wrong to suggest they all work together. More resources. Dead Jackson. Win-win, right?
Stiles didn’t hear the window open. He did, however, feel his shoulders get gripped by someone from behind as he was whirled to face that someone.
Stiles jumped.
“WHAT are you doing here?! You can’t just show up in people’s bedrooms at – what time is it?” Stiles strained to turn his head back to his laptop momentarily. “It’s two in the morning. What do you want?”
“I WANT Jackson. You’re going to bring him to me.” Derek gave him one of those disgustingly predatory smiles that he’d been throwing around quite frequently these days. He patted Stiles arms before releasing him to turn around and sit on the edge of the unused bed.
“Right. Yup. Because my main goal in life is to serve a psycho-wolf with reject pups who can’t hunt down a snake. This is what my life has become.” Stiles threw up his hands. His eyes were a bit wider than a few moments ago. This was all a little over-stimulating compared to his sedentary Google searches which only most of the time came up with porn or archaic Latin. Never both. Though he wondered if it was out there. Rule 34 and all…
“You’re being overdramatic.” Derek rolled his eyes. He feigned annoyance well, but inside he felt like he’d been kicked in the ribs. Sure, the words weren’t particularly vicious. Especially from Stiles. The kid didn’t really mean it. He was just overwhelmed. Yet for some inexplicable reason, Stiles’ words cut him right to the heart. Some illogical part of Derek wondered if that was really what the boy thought of him.
“I know.” Stiles sighed. “I just. Dude. Jackson has a restraining order against us. That’s number one. Number two; how would I even bring him to you. And three? Scott isn't going to just let you kill Jackson.”
“Scott doesn’t have to let me do anything. He may be the ‘Alpha’ of your little human pack, but he’s a puppy compared to me.” Derek stood from the bed as he spoke, walking closer to Stiles and stopping when he was inches away.
Derek smirked when he arrived in front of the teenager, expecting the pungent aroma of healthy life-preserving fear. Then his face contorted into confusion as he realized that what smelled was arousal.
Stiles heard every word. He really did. But Derek was so fucking close to his face. It was funny, really. That his dad was convinced that there was no way Stiles could be gay. If his dad only knew the dreams he’d been having about Derek lately. Speaking of Derek. Stiles’ very hard cock wanted very much to say hello to the murderous wolf.
Confusion didn’t really suit him, Derek decided. So instead of turning his head to the side and furrowing his brows, he did something about the hormone-laden teen staring back at him. He brought his palm down to meet Stiles’ bulging erection.
“What are you doing?” Stiles could barely speak. His voice was raspy; needy. He wanted morenowquickly. Stiles was sure he’d explode from Derek’s hand alone.