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I can't just let you go

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It was supposed to be a two day trip in the jumper, there and back. They didn’t need to bring anyone else along with them. Sheppard had wanted all the muscle back on the planet helping to move the settlement to its new location. So, it’s just Stiles and Derek on the return trip. There’s a storm brewing overhead, the sky a strange yellowish grey, and Stiles is glad they don’t have to trek through the woods in the rain to get to the gate.

Lightning flickers just as the jumper goes through the gate, but Stiles thinks nothing of it until they emerge into open space rather than the gateroom back at Atlantis. For a moment Stiles is at a loss.

Derek glares at him. “What the hell did you do?”

“Uh, I dialled Atlantis? I spoke to them. I don’t know what’s happened.”

Stiles runs a scan, assuming they just accidentally dialled the last gate number, which should mean they are still within the galaxy. When he sees the coordinates of where they actually are, he thinks there’s a glitch in the system. He looks through the windows, baffled.

“What?” Derek asks.

“It says... we’re in another galaxy. It says we’re outside Pegasus.” Stiles rubs at his neck, frustrated.

Derek sighs. “Good one.”

“Hey, this was not me! I dialled Atlantis and spoke to the freakin gateroom. I entered my IDC.”

Stiles glares at the heads up display, waiting for the answer to jump out at him.

“Stiles, why are we sitting here? Dial this gate and we’ll go back.”

“Yeah. Right. I’ll get McKay to run a diagnostic when we get back. He loves stuff like this.”

He dials the gate, but nothing happens. He tries radioing, but there’s no response.

“Oh, come on.” Stiles tries again, and again, then stops and rubs his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks quietly.

Stiles looks down and swallows before lifting his head and looking at Derek.

“There’s no power going to the gate. Whatever sent us here has fried the circuits or something. And I can’t reach Atlantis.”

Derek pauses. “Can’t you just... fire it up again?” He gestures in the general vicinity of the gate.

Stiles stares blankly at it. “Even if I knew how, which I don’t, it’s a space gate, not a land one. No DHD. Nothing to play with. And...“ He gets up and heads to the rear of the jumper. “No space suits.”

Derek turns back to the controls. “Okay. So we can’t use the gate. How far away are we from Atlantis if we have to take the long way? Or... where’s the nearest gate?”

Stiles drops back in his chair. “Uh...“ He presses a few buttons and a chart appears on the screen. He points. “There. At our top speed, it would take us about… 16 weeks to get there.”

Derek exhales. “Four months.”

“Well, yeah. But that means...“ Stiles breaks off and he darts to the back of the jumper again. Derek rolls his eyes and follows him. Stiles opens up the storage lockers in the rear compartment, rummaging through boxes. After a minute he sighs and turns back to Derek. “We have two week’s worth of emergency rations. Unlimited water from the purification system, more or less...“

“So all we need is food?”

“Well. Laundry and bathing are going to be fun.”

Derek looks at Stiles and thinks for a moment. “Does Atlantis know where we are? Can they dial the gate?”

Stiles considers. “That’s if they know we ended up here. And I don’t think they’re going to be able to fire up the gate from their end. Not if we can’t do it.” He flops back in front of the controls again. “The nearest M class planet that might be able to supply us with food is nine days away. We can’t afford to wait here and burn through our rations on a rescue that might not be coming.”

Derek nods. "We should wait for one day then set off. If McKay hasn’t figured something out by then he’s probably not going to.”

“Yeah,” says Stiles, slumping down further in the seat.

“Has this ever happened before?” asks Derek.

“Gate malfunctioning? Sure, Sheppard was once--“ Stiles' eyes widen and he sits upright, jabbing at buttons frantically.

“What?” asks Derek.

Stiles exhales. “Oh, thank god.” He glances up at Derek. “A storm sent a power surge through a gate just as Sheppard was going through it. He ended up 48,000 years in the future. McKay had to pull every trick in the book to get him back.”

“But that hasn't happened here?”

“No. Going by these readings, it’s the same time, just a couple of billion light years away. “

“Lucky us.”

“I’d rather lose a couple of months of my life than be stuck in the future, wouldn’t you?” He pauses. “Or is it the idea of being stuck in a tin can with me?”

“It’s fine, Stiles,” Derek says. “We’d better run a full diagnostic, make sure nothing else got fried that we don’t know about.”

They speak very little over the next 24 hours. Stiles is starting to feel overwhelmed at sharing such a confined space with Derek for that amount of time. They’ve got along fine since leaving Beacon Hills. When Stiles suggested that Derek sign up for SGC he didn’t think Derek would actually do it, but to his surprise Derek had not only been accepted but thrived in the structured environment. Having a target that wasn't born out of a deep-seated need for revenge seemed to be good for him. They both got selected for Atlantis, Derek under Colonel Sheppard and Stiles working in McKay’s team. There had been some clashes, sure, but more often pizza and beer on the pier and watching movies in each others’ quarters after missions. Stiles purposefully wasn’t examining too closely that both of them had, more than once, fallen asleep in the other’s bed and beaten a hasty and silent retreat the next morning.

This, however, might be entirely too much close contact for Derek’s liking. Luckily McKay had loaded up the jumpers with a, “stuck of an indeterminate amount of time” drive and they had enough movies, tv shows and books to keep them going. Other than the lack of food, they could hypothetically stay on the jumper fairly comfortably for many months at a time.

They laid in a course for the M class planet after their self-imposed 24 hours is up. Stiles trusts that McKay will be able to trace the jumper if he ever tracks them down to the gate.

Initially they try to stick to some sort of rota, but without daylight each 24 hours blends into the next and they just make sure one of them is at the controls while the other sleeps or runs checks on their systems. The last thing they need is for something essential to break while they’re not paying attention.

Derek keeps up with his usual exercise routine, with a seemingly endless amount of energy.

“You sure you’re getting enough protein to do all that?” Stiles asks finally.

Derek drops to the floor from a pull up bar he’s McGyvered from some tools. “I was doing sprints around Atlantis every night as well as weights. This isn’t taxing enough, but it’s all I can do.” He glances over at Stiles. “You might want to think about doing some.”

“Yeah, I’ll do some jumping jacks next time I feel a surplus of energy.”

“You should,” Derek says seriously. “Otherwise at the end of four months you won’t be able to keep up with anyone.”

“Oh, like I can now? We’re not all built like terminators.”

“You shouldn’t have a problem doing body weight exercises. I could train you.”

“Derek. I appreciate the offer, but that might be the end of beautiful friendship. You’d throw me out the rear doors in a fit of growly frustration.”

Derek gets his “stop talking shit” look on his face and Stiles knows he’s not getting out of it. And there’s only so many times he can run full systems diagnostics on a jumper.

Derek barely looks up when Stiles is exercising, just grunts out the occasional, “Twenty more,” when Stiles is panting in exhaustion.

“So help me I will thump you for making me burn all this energy off if we find out this world eats bugs,” Stiles complains as he collapses into the control chair beside Derek, two days out from the planet.

“They don’t. They’re arable farmers. We have mineral samples and basic tools we can trade. Should be enough to get food to keep us going for at least a month.”

“Okay then. I say we get lots of fresh fruit and vegetables.”

Derek snorts.

“Or just cured red meat, wolf boy. What else did you learn? What should we disguise ourselves as? Humble peasants? Door to door salesmen?”

Derek enters the planet’s details into the system. “I was really only concerned about whether they had food supplies. I didn’t read that much about them. Uh… farmers. Limited contact with the Wraith due to no gate nearby. There’s only one other recorded visit, probably due to the remote location. Cultural practices…” Derek’s voice trails off.

“What?” Stiles asks.

Derek says nothing, still reading.

“Derek, what?”

He finally looks up at Stiles, an unnerved look on his face. “They place a particular emphasis on romantic attachment.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

“What does that mean, ‘particular emphasis’?”

Derek sighs. “Basically if you’re not seen to be in an obvious committed relationship, you’re fair game. Members of the last team that visited narrowly avoided being dragged off by interested inhabitants of the planet until they figured it out.”

“Dragged off? Wow, rapey.”

“Yeah, well it’s not rapey here. It’s culturally acceptable. Encouraged, even. They have a small population, so reticence isn’t going to get them anywhere.”

Stiles pushes back in the chair and looks up at the ceiling. “So what are you saying? We need to fake being in a relationship to avoid getting kidnapped. Uh, you think maybe we shouldn't go?”

“We have to go,” Derek says heavily. “No other suitable planet nearby. We’ll be out of food in four days.”

“And the fact that we’re both dudes in this little scenario? Not really gonna help repopulate anytime soon.”

“It says here it’s more about forming bonds, strength in numbers. They’re safer in pairs. Procreation is a separate issue I don’t think we want to look at.”

Stiles exhales. “So, what? We just stick close together and cast adoring looks? Use pet names? Oh my god, I think I might do that anyway.”

Derek is still reading, looking more uncomfortable by the minute. “That’s not... going to be enough.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “We’ll have to be openly affectionate and demonstrative. Physical contact whenever possible. Make overtures of a sexual nature, although actual sexual contact is not required in public.” He drops his hands and glances quickly at Stiles.

Stiles blurts out a laugh. “In public? Are you fucking kidding me? We have to hump like horny teenagers or else we’re likely to be dragged away and forcibly married?”

Derek just stares into space and says nothing.

Stiles sits up, suddenly resolved. “Okay,” he says. “This is doable. This is totally a thing I can do. You’re a freaking GQ model and I’m completely adorable; we can totally pull this off.”

Derek has a rabbit caught in the headlights look.

“What, is the thought of getting snuggly with me that repulsive?” Stiles asks.

Derek sighs. He says eventually, “I just think we’re going to have to be really convincing. And we haven’t… I mean we don’t...“ He gestures vaguely between them.

Stiles follows the movement of his hands then gives him an “...and?” look. He stands up. “Well, as distasteful as this might be for you, suck it up. We need food, so just get ready to get all up in this.” Stiles waves his hands around himself then stomps off to the shower.

***

Stiles barely speaks to Derek for the next two days. Just after they land and are packing up, Derek has had enough and grabs his wrist, forcing Stiles to look at him.

“I don’t find it distasteful,” Derek says, looking at him steadily. “Just, we have to get this right and I don’t want to mess up the only chance we have for food or risk getting either one of us kidnapped by getting complacent. And, you and I...“

Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“We... I don’t want things to be weird between us.” Derek realises he’s still holding Stiles' wrist and drops it.

Stiles says nothing for a moment then grins and claps him on the shoulder. “Weird? Dude, I nearly sawed off your arm that time. This is nothing.”

Derek gives a nod but doesn’t look happy.

Stiles moves as if to step away. “Wait,” Derek says. “I need to do something.”

He moves closer to Stiles, crowding him against the bulkhead. He tilts his head and leans in to Stiles' throat.

“Uh, Derek?”

“Stay still. I have to scent you.”

“You have to, what?”

“It’ll… help. Me. To… reinforce the idea of a bond. Just…” He sighs. “Just go with it, okay?”

Derek is holding the back of Stiles' head in his hand, nuzzling at his neck and inhaling deeply. He has to suppress the sudden instinct to lick and bite at Stiles' skin. When Derek forces himself to raise his head, Stiles looks as dazed as Derek feels. For a minute they just stare at each other.

Stiles clears his throat. “We’ve been stuck in here for days, you weren’t familiar with how I smell by now?”

Derek shrugs and steps back. “It was your smell. Now it's mine too.”

“Way to not make things weird, Derek.”

Derek turns away and hefts his pack on his back. “You ready to go?”

It takes Stiles a minute to respond. “Yeah?”

Derek follows Stiles out into the trees.

They walk in silence for about half an hour until they see the settlement up ahead.

“We should start now, right?” Stiles says. “In case we’re seen, I mean.”

Derek nods, frowning. He takes Stiles’ hand and moves closer so walk side by side, shoulders brushing.

Stiles glances up with a smile. “Wouldn’t it be funny if this was all practical joke by the last guys who visited here and this is actually a really uptight society who frown on physical contact?”

“Well. One way to find out.” Derek tugs Stiles with him and they go through the entrance to the town.

 

***

 

It all seems very normal. There are a few curious glances cast their way, but not the horde crowding around them that Derek was expecting. Stiles is uncharacteristically quiet, eyes darting left and right as they walk towards the town centre. Derek observes that no one is walking alone, everyone is in pairs, most walking hand in hand. He’s very conscious of Stiles' hand, their fingers laced together

When they reach the marketplace and start trading, Derek turns on the smile that always makes things run more smoothly and he hears Stiles snort quietly. When they are forced to stop holding hands to trade the goods Stiles slides his hand up Derek’s back and lightly scratches between his shoulder blades. He manages to find a spot that makes Derek want to lean back into it and close his eyes, and he has to force himself to concentrate on getting enough supplies to get them through the next weeks.

The woman serving them smiles and remarks how well-suited they are for each other. Without missing a beat, Stiles grins and lays his head on Derek’s shoulder, looking adoringly up at him.

“Yes, he’ll never admit it, but we knew within five minutes of meeting we were destined to be together. We just always get on so well and never really argue, right sweetie?”

Derek smiles back, showing a glint of teeth. “Please. We both know who did all the chasing in this relationship, and it wasn’t me.”

Stiles' eyes narrow and he presses a soft kiss to Derek’s neck before Derek has a chance to react, then leans back, smirking. Derek realises with a jolt that Stiles has him trapped, he can’t scowl at him or threaten him without blowing their cover. He tilts his head and considers for a moment, then leans in and kisses Stiles full on the lips. He feels a stab of triumph as Stiles flails slightly beneath him.

Derek steps back and grins, and Stiles shakes his head almost imperceptibly in disbelief and mouths, “Asshole.”

“Think it’s time we headed back,” says Derek.

Stiles presses his lips together. “You bet.”

They’re both carrying supplies, so can’t hold hands in the walk back through the streets. They walk as close together as possible, hips bumping; Derek hopes it’s enough to convince. The smell of freshly cooking food wafts over them and Stiles looks at Derek with pleading eyes.

“Stiles, we have food now. That we should really get back to the ship.”

“Not fresh home cooked food. Oh my god, that smells like barbeque. Come on, we haven’t had a decent meal since the week before last. And this stuff will have to be eaten raw or blasted.”

Derek pauses. The food smells amazing after a week of bland rations. “One hour.”

“Yesss.”

They find the source of the smell in what looks like the local tavern, and get a corner table where Derek barters for two meals in exchange for the last of their minerals. They stay pressed together, and Stiles idly plays with Derek’s fingers on the table.

“So… what was that back there?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs and pulls Stiles' hand to his mouth, dragging his lips over the back of it. Stiles shivers. “We needed to put on a good show, remember?” Derek says, looking at Stiles' hand contemplatively. “And as I recall, you kissed me first.”

Their food arrives before Stiles has the chance to offer a retort. It’s good, root vegetables and some sort of grilled meat, and they both shut up while they devour it. At the end of the meal Derek moves to stand up then hesitates. “What?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Why? Oh.” Stiles grins. “Dude, go pee. I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe you should come with me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I went before we left. Didn’t your mother teach you to do that? Besides, someone has to mind our stuff.”

When Derek still looks torn, Stiles says, “You know you could have been back by now, right?”

Derek glares at him, but with a last glance around to ensure they weren’t being watched, he heads to the bathroom. After the fastest pee of his life he emerges to see a man standing over Stiles at the table, hand on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles is trying to shrug it off and Derek can hear him talking. “Seriously, man. I am totally taken. And you do not want to piss him off, believe me.”

“Yet he left you all alone,” the man purrs. “That’s an invitation as far as I see. I think we should continue this somewhere more private.”

When he closes his hand around Stiles' arm Derek is on them in an instant, yanking the man back and throwing him on to the floor. “Take your fucking hands off him,” Derek growls.

The man holds his hands up in defeat and retreats, muttering about not valuing what’s important. The tavern has turned to watch them, but don’t seem massively affronted. Clearly this sort of thing is a common occurrence.

When Derek looks back at Stiles he looks half impressed, half pissed. “Okay, can we say over-reaction? Your eyes are red, dude. Calm.”

Derek forces himself to relax. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

***

Stiles sticks close to Derek’s side and says little as they make their way back to the jumper. Night is falling by the time they get there. Derek helps Stiles put the supplies away then says abruptly, “I have to go for a run.”

“Now? You don’t wanna get out of here?”

Derek is already pulling off his shirt and toeing off his boots.

“Derek…”

“Stay here and keep the jumper cloaked and the door closed. You’ll know when I’m back.”

Derek has stripped the rest of his clothes off before Stiles processes what he’s doing. As he heads down the ramp of the jumper, he drops to all fours, seems to ripple and shifts to a wolf right in front of Stiles' eyes.

“Oh, my god.”

The wolf glances back at Stiles before silently padding away and breaking into a run through the trees. Stiles goes to the door to try to catch a glimpse of him in the fading light.

“Just don’t eat anything! Or pee on anything! Or stare at any glowy fungus things growing on trees!”

Stiles closes the door and paces for the next two hours, unable to settle. He knows that Derek can handle himself, but these are unfamiliar woods on an alien planet and he didn’t seem to be in a reasonable state of mind when he left.

Just when Stiles is going to go looking for him he hears a noise outside the door. When Stiles opens the door it reveals Derek’s glowing eyes, a low growl in his throat.

“Hey, Derek.”

Derek stalks around him in a circle and pushes his nose into Stiles' hand.

“Wow, you’re much friendlier as a wolf. Have a nice run, did ya?”

Stiles sits in the open doorway with his feet hanging over the edge, and Derek sits beside him, staring out into the trees and panting a little. Even sitting he’s still half a head taller than Stiles. Stiles breathes out an impressed laugh. “Dude, this is so cool. I’m kinda glad you couldn’t do this when we first met, it would have scared the shit out of me. Even more than you did. Not that you even did. Not that you scared me, at all.”

Stiles lifts his hand, then pauses. “Can I pet you? Or is that demeaning or something?”

Derek huffs and keeps looking around in a “Do what you want, I could care less,” sort of way. At least Stiles hopes it is. He carefully settles his hand on Derek’s head, between his huge ears, and strokes down to the ruff on his neck. “Wow,” he murmurs.

Derek rumbles contentedly in his throat and they just stare out at the trees and the night’s sky for a while.

Eventually Stiles stirs. “Come on, I want to get out of here before I crash. Last thing we need is for some villager to stumble into us in the morning.”

Derek glances at Stiles and licks his face before he has a chance to react.

“Ugh, Derek, are you kidding me?” Stiles says, wiping his cheek. “You better not have eaten anything disgusting on your little excursion.”

Derek makes a huffing sound that sounds suspiciously like a laugh and stretches on his front paws, butt in the air, before turning and heading into the jumper.

“Yeah, yeah, wag your fucking tail. Weirdo.”

When Stiles stands and turns around, he comes face to face with a very human, very naked Derek. “Geez, warn a guy,” Stiles says, looking at the ceiling, floor, anywhere, his cheeks hot.

Derek just turns and heads for the shower. “Take us up,” he says over his shoulder.

Stiles stares after him. “Sir yes sir,” he mutters.

He stays at the controls after he sets the course for the nearest gate, not turning around when he hears Derek emerge from the shower. After a few minutes Derek takes the seat beside him, hair damp. They sit in silence for a few minutes until Stiles can’t stand it.

“What’s up with you?”

“What?”

“Uh, that little pissing contest back in the tavern? And you just disappeared for like, hours.”

“I needed to stretch my legs,” Derek says, unperturbed. “And I thought me being demonstrative was the whole idea. Would you rather I let that guy drag you off?”

“Well, for starters, I could have handled him myself.”

Derek snorts.

And,” Stiles continues angrily, “I know you. That wasn’t an act. You were pissed someone put their hands on me.”

“So?”

Stiles twists in his chair towards Derek. “I think it was the fact that someone put hands on me other than you. You've had me all to yourself for a while now.”

Derek says nothing.

“And then you ran off. What were you running from, Derek? Afraid what you might do if you stayed?”

“Stop pushing this, Stiles,” says Derek, his voice low and warning.

“Oh, no, I think I’m going to push this. You behave like a possessive dick then literally revert to your animal side and run around the woods for hours. Forgive me for asking what’s up with that.”

Derek is suddenly on his feet and leaning into Stiles' space, arms either side of the chair, trapping him. His eyes are glinting dangerously and his face is only inches away from Stiles'.

“What do you want from me, Stiles? Say it now or we don’t talk about this again.”

Stiles stares at him for a moment then drops his gaze to Derek’s mouth then back up. He swallows, then slowly and deliberately tilts his head back, exposing his throat. From this close, he can see Derek’s pupils dilate and his nostrils flare. He drops his face to Stiles' throat and breathes in, and Stiles can’t move.

Derek lifts his head up again. “Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish,” he says quietly.

Stiles says nothing, but slides further down in the chair so he is practically lying under Derek. Derek stays still for one more second then with a growl is leaning in and kissing him, hard and demanding. He licks his way into Stiles' mouth, bites on his lip then drags his teeth down Stiles' neck, biting at his throat almost hard enough to break skin.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Stiles gasps. Derek pulls back and grabs Stiles' shirt, hauling him up and out of the chair, towards the bunks.

“Wait wait wait,” says Stiles, pulling back. Derek pauses, looking uncertain.

Stiles hits a few buttons. “Autopilot.”

Derek grins and tugs Stiles back towards the bunk, pressing him down on his back and leaning over him. He kisses him again, softer this time, hand curved around Stiles' skull. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s waist, digging into his back.

Derek slides his hands under the hem of Stiles' shirt and pulls it off him, gets his mouth back on Stiles' skin, mouthing and licking down over his chest and stomach.

“Oh, god,” Stiles breathes.

Derek, working his hand under the waistband of Stiles' underwear, looks up at him, eyes tinged with red. “Stiles, can I - “

“Yeah, yeah.”

***

Derek swallows Stiles down and sucks. Stiles arches off the bunk and Derek has to sling an arm across his hips to hold him down. Derek’s senses are overwhelmed, he can taste and smell Stiles, hear the sounds he’s making and feel his hand pulling at Derek’s hair. He never wants to let Stiles go.

Stiles is letting out a litany of, “Derek, oh my god, oh my god.”

Derek drags his blunt nails down Stiles' side, and Stiles' hand tightens in his hair.

“Derek, I’m going to come, I’m going to - “

Derek doesn’t pull back, he needs to taste him. Stiles comes with a choking exhale and Derek swallows and drags his mouth over to Stiles’ hip, biting at the skin stretched taut over bone. Stiles rubs a hand over his face. “Oh my god,” he says again. “Derek.”

Derek moves up to brace himself on one arm over Stiles as he jerks off hot and fast above him, eyes locked on Stiles’ face. Stiles stares up, wide-eyed as Derek shudders and groans, striping come all over Stiles’ chest and stomach.

He collapses on top of Stiles and hears him breathe out a laugh. “Marking your territory, you possessive freak?”

Derek says nothing, just presses his face into Stiles’ neck and breathes in. Stiles threads his hand through Derek's hair and they lie there for a few minutes in silence.

Finally Stiles shifts underneath him and says, “Dude, I'm sorry if this is doing it for you, but I'm not going to fall asleep like this.” Derek moves back and sits up. Stiles props himself on an elbow and looks down at his torso. It's covered in come, stubble rash, and bite marks. Stiles groans. “Oh my god. I look like such a skank.”

Derek smirks. “Yeah, admire your fucking handiwork,” says Stiles, sitting up. He heads to the shower, and Derek pulls on a shirt and tries to rearrange the bunk back into some semblance of order.

When Stiles emerges from the shower, he's clean and wearing pyjama pants slung low on his hips, but the marks Derek has left behind stand out vividly on his pale skin. Derek can't take his eyes off them. “Enjoy them while you can,” Stiles says. “They better have faded by the time we get back.”

He prods gingerly at the bite mark on his hip and Derek grabs his hand without meaning to. Stiles eyes him. “You like marking me, Derek?” he asks softly. “You like seeing what you’ve done to me?”

Derek growls low in his throat and pushes Stiles back hard against the bathroom door, kissing him hard and open mouthed, grinding their hips together. Having his hands on Stiles has become a sudden, overwhelming addiction, one that Derek is already scared of losing.

Stiles twists his head to the side to take a breath, and Derek's mouth ends up on Stiles’ throat. Stiles’ arms are wrapped around Derek's shoulders, his hands tracing the skin on Derek's back. “You should go take a shower before this gets messy again,” Stiles says.

Derek lifts his head to meet Stiles’ gaze. “What if I want it to get messy? I want to… god, Stiles. Since I saw that asshole with his hands on you I've wanted to… you have no idea what I've wanted to do to you.”

He bites along Stiles’ jawline and lays his hand on his throat. He feels Stiles swallow.

“You can, you know,” Stiles says finally in a low voice.

“Can what?”

“Do what you want. I mean, I want you to.”

Derek tilts his head. Stiles looks flushed but he's looking at him steadily.

“You don't. You just think you do. You hate it when I tell you what to do. And when I used to throw you around.”

“Do I?” Stiles stays still under Derek's hands, but there's a calculating look in his eye and Derek can can feel the spike in his pulse rate.

“You ever think I just wanted your hands on me?”

“Stiles,” Derek manages hoarsely.

Stiles steps forward so Derek's fingers are digging harder into his throat.

“Maybe we both need this,” he whispers. Derek swallows and hears Stiles’ breathing become restricted. He drops his hands abruptly. “You trust me that much?”

“Have for a long time now, despite what you may think.”

Derek kisses him again, with none of the urgency of before. He pulls back slightly and rests their foreheads together. “You need sleep.”

“I can take first shift.”

“No. I'll shower then you can get some rest.”

Stiles smiles. "Whatever you say."