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“You’re awake,” Stiles stated as he looked down at Derek, his head moving to block the sun from Derek’s eyes. The tips of his fins barely touched the water now.
“You’re real,” Derek uttered in fascination, his voice hoarse and weakened from the night’s events.
Stiles brightly smiled at Derek.
Peter sneered, “Let him get the better of you. It’s foolish of me to think you could rule as a King.”
Derek turned a glare on his uncle.
“Tell me, will the Dread Wolf of Triskelia bow down to a boy?”
- Part 2 of The Dread Wolf
“I apologize,” Stiles started.
“You apologize often,” Derek commented.
“It's expected,” Stiles explained. “But I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I haven't seen … I haven't seen much in life.” His heart was beating fast with excitement.
“And you're here to see much?” Derek softly asked, curious why such a perfect creature would be hiding away when a ball carried on elsewhere.
“I'm here to meet someone,” Stiles replied.
In which, Stiles and Derek find themselves in a star-crossed predicament.
Stiles was used to getting called at, most of them men offering him money for sex. He had even accepted a few times, pinched for cash while having a stone-hearted landlord meant that he didn’t have a lot of options.
Deep down, he knew he could always go home—that despite the fight, his dad would always let him come home, even with James. That was why he hated himself more every time he accepted the cash.
(Or, the one where single parent Stiles strips and prostitutes himself out to feed his kid.)
“Lay with me,” Stiles plainly stated, as if he asked a menial thing of him.
Derek narrowed his eyes at Stiles, observing him carefully as he kept his features stoically guarded. “To touch you is sacrilege,” he finally uttered, unable to completely deny his desire to discover what touching Stiles would be like.
“What they force me to do is sacrilege,” Stiles countered, carefully observing Derek. “What you would do would be divine. You would keep me from being their plaything—taking a key player off the board in their pursuit of corruption. What I’ve asked of you … I’ve already seen it—the phantom touch of it lingering on me afterwards.”