“Y’know, what is up with the whole biting of the abdominal muscle crap anyway? I mean, how even do you like, get your jaws to like, open and clamp…?” Stiles asked, trailing off and using his curled fingers to prod at his stomach in lieu of a werewolf’s mouth.
Derek gave him one of those patented what the fuck Stiles? glares before turning back to the tv screen. He uselessly pressed buttons on his controller, trying to unpause the game but as Stiles was the one who had paused it in the first place his efforts were a no go. He sighed, dropping his controller, and Stiles takes a moment to wonder when his life got so strange that it’s totally normal for him to be sitting in his room after school, playing video games with the Alpha of the Beacon Hills werewolf pack.
Derek gave him another glare and Stiles realized he’d said something that he hadn’t bothered to listen to. “Huh?” he asked innocently.
Derek rolled his eyes. “You paused the game to ask a question and then didn’t even bother to listen to the answer,” he sighed, exasperated.
Stiles shrugged. “Have you met me? You’re lucky I remember asking the question.” He rolled over onto his back on his bed, his head twisted at an awkward angle so he could still look at Derek, leaning against the foot of his bed. He waved impatiently with his hand. “Well, I’m listening now.”
“We go for the torso because it’s less breakable. The neck would be an easier place to bite but if a werewolf lacks control they could easily snap the person’s neck, or a tooth could slice through the jugular and the human would bleed out before the change took effect and healed them,” Derek explained in a blasé manner.
“Yeah, but, like, what about the wrist?”
Derek stiffens all over. Stiles watches with a raised eyebrow as the werewolf becomes a rigid line of tension. “The wrist?” he grits out.
“Yeah. I mean, that’s where your creepy ass uncle tried to give me the bite-” Stiles starts but suddenly Derek does that thing where he was in one position and now he’s in another without ever seeming to have moved, and fuck if it isn’t awkward, because he’s on his knees, looming over Stiles’ head where it’s hanging off the end of his bed, their faces merely six inches apart. Stiles let’s out a tiny squeak of surprise.
“He did what?” Derek growled, suddenly all kinds of a feral Alpha wolf with territory to protect and Jesus did Stiles hate the shiver that went up his spine at Derek’s voice all low and dangerous, and really, that nonsense had to stop before he popped a happy during male bonding video game time and ruined this fragile friendship.
“Um,” Stiles said lamely, his usual nonstop chatter and wit put on hold for the moment. “Did you not know about that? Because, uh, I thought you knew about that.”
“What did he say?” And there was that growl again, bound and determined to halt all efforts of Stiles’ campaign against having a boner right now.
“He just offered me the bite. He took my wrist,” he waved his right wrist in the air before dropping it, “and made like that’s where he wanted to bite me, but I refused.” Stiles casually left out the part where Peter had pointed out that he was lying, because yeah, maybe he was, but if he was going to take the bite he wanted it to be on his schedule, and sure as hell not from some creep like Peter Hale.
Stiles yelped when Derek’s hand shot forward like a cobra’s strike, grabbing his wrist and bringing it to his nose to sniff. “Uh, y’know Derek, you don’t have to go all creeperwolf on my arm there buddy, that was a while ago and I have showered several times since then. What’s the big deal anyway? I said no.”
“He tried to bite your wrist,” Derek said, spitting out the word wrist like Stiles had said Peter had tried to bite his ass.
“Yeah, I know, I was there, and I’m the one that told you about it, right just a couple of minutes ago. Seriously, what is the deal? And also, why did he act like he liked me? I mean the guy was a psychopath, I’m sure I didn’t win him over with my charm.”
Derek released his wrist and sat back on his haunches. Stiles rolled back onto his stomach, propping his chin on his hand as he waited for Derek to answer.
“The wrist is more intimate than the torso, bloodlines from the heart, all that. If an Alpha offers a human the bite, and offers it on the wrist, it is an indication that the Alpha wants to mate with him or her.”
Stiles takes all this information in with his mouth hanging open. He tries to spin around and sit up all graceful like Derek would but instead he ended up flailing his arms and throwing himself into the floor. He sat up, gaping at Derek.
“Your creepy ass uncle wanted to bad touch me!” he exclaimed. “Oh my god, he could’ve totally bad touched me if he wanted to, friggin’ Alpha and all that, I wouldn’t have been able to stop him,” he realized, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.
“I would’ve killed him,” Derek assured him, offering Stiles his hand and pulling him to his feet.
“Derek, you did kill him,” Stiles pointed out slowly.
“I would’ve killed him slower,” Derek growled and yeah ok, Stiles can get down with that, especially since after pulling him up Derek hadn’t let go of his hand, his long fingers pressing against the pulse point on his wrist, the wrist, and Stiles wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t feel nice. And they’d just been standing like that for a long silent moment, all lack of personal space and breathing the same air and Stiles couldn’t find anything to complain about there either because it’s not like Derek Hale isn’t one of the most stupidly gorgeous people he’s ever seen in his life, and to be honest the werewolf thing just made this place twist low in Stiles’ gut that screamed danger run, but he’d never been one to listen to his gut.
He forced his mind to slow down, made himself blink and stop staring into Derek’s ridiculously soulful eyes. “Why would he want to mate with me?” he asked, finally distancing himself from the ick factor and focusing on the why.
Derek pulled his eyes away from Stiles mouth -which wow, that’s hot how had he not noticed that? - to glare at him like he was stupid. “He wanted to claim you as a mate so he could hurt me,“ Derek said as he released Stiles’ hand, his fingers skimming across the veins in his wrist before they pulled away.
Stiles narrowed his eyes in confusion. “How would that have hurt you?”
Derek rolled his eyes. “You are just as thick as Jackson said.”
Stiles gave him a hurt look. “You’ve been talking about me to Jackson? You don’t even like Jackson! You said he was an assho-” his tirade was cut short as Derek grabbed him by his arms and pulled him in for a harsh kiss. Of course Derek’s kisses are brutal, hungry, needy, and desperate, except Stiles quickly realizes he’s the one being brutal and hungry as he pushes back into Derek, claiming his mouth fast and hard after the first initial kiss while Derek’s just being desperate. The werewolf releases his grip on Stiles’ arms in favor of wrapping his own around the teen’s waist and Stile’s lets him, clinging to Derek’s neck, not letting him escape.
Eventually they both have to come up for air, and they part, gasping for breath as they stare at each other, pupils blown wide with lust.
“Oh so that’s how it would’ve hurt you,” Stiles said quietly.
“Yeah,” Derek replied breathlessly.
“Huh. Ok. So my dad’s not gonna be home for a few hours, wanna make out for a while?” Stiles asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and giving Derek his best look of doe-eyed innocence.
Derek’s lips turned up at the corners. “The perils of being into a horny teenaged boy.”
“I don’t hear a no,” Stiles said hopefully, taking a half step forward.
Derek crossed the small distance between them. “And you’re not going to.”