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Stilinski Ranch: Part Seven

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Derek was in a bad mood for the next few days. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to talk to Stiles. It really didn’t have to be like this and Stiles was acting like a little kid. Derek hated feeling guilty when he knew that if he had done the reverse of what he had actually done, he should feel guilty then. Attraction and feelings made absolutely no sense, which was why he stayed away from them. Well that, and crazy ex-girlfriends that murdered an entire family when they were broken up with.

But Derek really didn’t want to think about that.

He returned to his old way of doing things, throwing himself head first into the work and forgetting the rest of the world and as much of life as he possibly could. And it was working well until Stiles found him out, looking absolutely livid. Derek was taken aback and could only stare. The moment passed and he turned back to what he was doing, which was fixing the old truck.

“Thought you weren’t talking to me,” he said, a hint of annoyance and betrayal present, though it didn’t need to be there.

“I’m not!”

Derek looked up, raising his brows pointedly. Stiles pressed his lips together, making them all but disappear as he released a frustrated sound. Derek rolled his eyes, wiping the grease from his hands onto his worn blue jeans.

“Well, I wasn’t. But then I realized that I have something to say. A lot to say.”

Derek snorted. When didn’t he have a lot to say? He wanted to ask the other honestly but he didn’t think that it would help the situation. Instead, he moved to lean against the truck, crossing his arms over his chest. When Stiles just looked at him blankly, he scoffed.

“Speak.”

Stiles blinked before he jumped in.

“You had no right ending things like that. You’ve been leading me on! If you didn’t want to, thought it was a bad idea, you should have said so. But you didn’t. Not really, Derek. You might have said the words but your body wasn’t agreeing.”

Derek said nothing. What could he say? Stiles was right, but he couldn’t tell him that.

“I like you, Derek! I like you a lot. No, don’t look at me like that. I like you and you like me back and you really need to get on the same page with yourself so I can stop looking and feeling like an idiot every time I do something like this.”

Derek took it all in but his brows furrowed in confusion at the last bit. Like what?

He was about to ask when the other was moving toward him, a determined look on his face. This could not be good, he decided but he didn’t move. He knew what was about to happen and yet he stood there. He even dropped his arms to his side just as Stiles moved in. The younger male was right, and he hated him for it.

Well, maybe not hated.

Stiles gripped his greasy, sweaty A-shirt, tugging him toward him with surprising force as he leaned in to kiss him hard. Derek responded accordingly, kissing back as hard and lifting his hands to twist into the fabric of Stiles’s shirt. He tugged him hard against him, releasing one hand to grip the back of Stiles’s neck as he deepened the kiss.

Hungrily, he devoured Stiles as the other whimpered. He flipped them, pressing the younger male against the side of the truck. Their mouths moved against one another, kisses open mouthed as the gasped and grunted, moaning lightly.

Derek pulled away but not before nipping hard on Stiles’s lower lip. He couldn’t do it anymore, he decided as he took in the other, against the truck, deliciously flushed. He could no longer deny himself something that he wanted. Something he had grown to need.

“Stiles,” he began, his voice thick with need.

Stiles sighed, a pitiful note to it that made Derek frown. “I know. I know. We can’t do this anymore. This is a mistake. All of it. Doesn’t matter how we feel, because it’s wrong. Does that sum it all up? If so, you should probably let me up so I can get out of your hair and out of your life.”

Derek stared down at him and rolled his eyes. Scoffing, he leaned in, pressing him more firmly into the truck. He tugged on Stiles’s earlobe with his teeth and sucked a nice mark onto his collarbone before pulling away.

“Actually, I was going to tell you to come to my place tonight,” he said, trying for nonchalance but there was a definite desperate sound to the words. He swallowed hard. “If you’d rather do what you said, I am perfectly fine with—”

“No!”

Derek smirked. The other shook his head rapidly and groaned.

“No. No. Your place. Tonight. Perfect.”

Derek smiled and nodded. They were silent for a moment—a moment of silence being all you could have with Stiles around—before Stiles spoke again.

“Do I have to go now?”

Derek rolled his eyes and instead of dignifying that question with an answer, he shut him up with a kiss.

***

Derek was pacing around his room, which doubled as his living room and kitchen. That was all it really was. One large room with a small chunk separated to form a little kitchenette. Then there was a bathroom that was fairly large but not only held a sink, a walk-in shower, and a long counter top complete with two sinks but a washer and dryer as well.

Even for how small the place was, everything inside was lightly used and in very good condition. And to Derek, it was home.

Derek continued to pace. Stiles had texted him to tell him that he was headed over. Derek had texted back only to tell him ‘K’ before he’d called himself several kinds of idiot. He didn’t even text like that. He moved to put on a cup of coffee, thinking that they should start out slow. Ease into things. He didn’t want to move quicker than either of them was comfortable with and he didn’t want to push things further than either of them was willing to go. However, for his part, Derek knew that if Stiles decided that he wanted to go all the way, Derek would not object.

Minutes ticked on and Derek finally stopped pacing and took a seat on his bed. He was just thinking that Stiles must have wised up and decided not to come when there were three sharp knocks on the door and Stiles’s voice called through the door.

“Derek? It’s me. Stiles.”

Derek took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them again and crossed to the door to let Stiles in. As soon as the teenager entered, Derek shut the door and locked it, pulling Stiles into a kiss. Stiles responded favorably, sliding his hands into Derek’s hair and tugging him closer. The ranch hand deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along the back of Stiles’s teeth. When Stiles moaned, Derek remembered that they were supposed to be taking it slow.

Pulling away, he straightened Stiles’s clothes and headed into the kitchen.

“Come in here. I made us some coffee. We’ll sit down and talk a little for now. Take things slow. Okay?”

He glanced back at the younger male who licked bruised lips before nodding.

“Yeah. Sounds good. I like a lot of cream and sugar in mine,” he said before taking a seat at the table, watching Derek. Derek snorted softly and made Stiles’s cup and then his own which was far more simple. Black. He didn’t even know why he had the cream and sugar for to be honest. Well, the sugar could be used for other things, but not the creamer. Now he had a perfectly good reason for having them both and would probably buy more from then on.

Heading to the table with both mugs, he handed Stiles his before taking a seat in the chair next to his, sipping carefully from the mug. The bitter liquid was hot as it slid down his throat but Derek didn’t mind. He pulled his cup away, holding it in his hands as he watched Stiles drink from his. The silence was surprisingly comfortable, even for the slight apprehension radiating from the both of them. Derek decided to get a conversation started.

“Was your dad always a rancher?”

Stiles shook his head.

“Naw,” he said. Derek watched as Stiles put his mug down and looked at him. “He was the town’s sheriff for years but when I was three, my mom—” He stopped, looking hurt but that passed. Derek had already known from the other workers that the late Mrs. Stilinski was one of those topics you didn’t bring up with either of the Stilinski men. Derek suddenly felt bad, not to mention a little concerned.

Was Stiles going to leave now? He wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. In fact, it would have probably been best for the both of them.

Stiles didn’t leave. He shook his head and smiles sadly. Then he looked off to the side a bit, the smile growing in memory. “She saw these horses. She’d always loved horses, dad said. But these horses. They were breathtaking. Thus began the dream of owning a ranch. I was four when she finally told dad. Then five when they started the ranch, mom running it while dad still working as city sheriff.”

He stopped, taking a drink and Derek wondered if he was done. He was okay with it if he was. He’d already said more than Derek could have ever expected. Stiles was not done, however. “She loved the ranch. She loved the horses, the land, the workers. The town prospered because of it too. Still does…”

The teen put his cup down and looked down at his lap. “She got diagnosed with cancer three years ago. A year later, she died.” If it wasn’t for the falling drops and the shaky intake of breath, Derek wouldn’t have realized that Stiles was crying. His throat closed up. He got it. Losing family. It was what had brought him here. He put his mug down on the table.

Reaching out, he took Stiles’s hands in his own and, eyes holding the younger male’s, he brought them to his mouth. He kissed the backs of each before releasing one to open the other, kissing the pad of each finger.

“Thank you,” he said between the soft kisses. “For telling me.” He lowered there hands, sliding his thumb across the back of Stiles’s hand. The younger male’s eyes dropped to Derek’s mouth and Derek slid his tongue along his mouth self consciously Stiles’s tongue mimicked his and with no words involved, the two leaned in at the same time.

Derek took Stiles’s face in both of his hands as he kissed him hard. Stiles gripped onto his wrists, holding him there as he kissed back. When they broke away, it was Stiles who pushed to move things along.

“Your bed? Yeah, your bed. Can we? Can we now?”

Derek should say no. He knew he should but he wouldn’t. Not after everything. Not with how he felt.

“Yeah,” he breathed and they stood at the same time, bumping into each other. They laughed raggedly and rushed back into the main room, falling onto the bed together. Somehow, Stiles ended up on his back, Derek hovering over him.

They were silent, holding each other’s eyes, searching for the very same thing. They had obviously found it because Stiles was reaching for him as Derek was leaning down, the two of them kissing one another as if that was all they had in the world. As if that was all that mattered.

And maybe it was, for the moment at least.

***

Derek looked up from his pillow as Stiles left the bathroom. He was wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his pajama pants. Derek decided that he really liked the way that his clothes looked on him.

Stiles crawled onto his bed, laying down on his stomach and there was a slight silence, and it was awkward. Then their eyes met and Derek scooted closer. Stiles shifted onto his side as Derek turned to lay on his back. The younger male leaned over him and rubbed at his collarbone.

“I wanted this, Derek,” he said finally. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You didn’t defile me or anything.”

Derek sighed. “You were a virgin. I’m pretty sure taking that is grounds for defiling.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and glared down softly at the other.

“Not in this case. Not for me.”

Derek looked into his eyes. It was true. There was no regret in those amazing brown eyes. He smiled.

“Not for me either.”

Stiles grinned and leaned in, Derek leaning up to receive his kiss.

They stayed like that for awhile longer, not quite ready to return to the rest of the world.