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[Mating Games 2014] Weekly Entries

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Week Four:

Prompt: Light Vs. Dark: For this challenge all entries need to focus on either the theme of Light and/or Dark. This can be related to the type of story it is (fluff or angst), an interpretation of the words themselves, or even light and dark as the nature of a person. 500-750 word limit.

 Title: The Weeping Boy

Warnings: Based On A Song, Song Fusion, First Time, Ghost AU, Murder

Pairing: Derek/Stiles


Stiles can’t remember yesterday. He can’t remember the last time he saw his father, or the last person he spoke to. He walks the town of Beacon Hills morning and night, but he does not know why. He drifts from house to house, pub to pub. Hears the town folk mutter in hushed whispers.

That poor boy, they say. What a shame, they say. He had his whole life ahead of him, they say. They call him The Weeping Boy, but his name is Stiles Stilinski. Why they call him that, he does not know…

On the first night, Derek sees his prey from across the drawing room. He’s more beautiful than any boy he’d ever seen. Skinny and pale, with lips that begged to be abused by Derek’s mouth.

The boy laughs and smiles and reminds Derek of everything he’s not. His innocence bleeding from his whole being. Derek aches for him.

They do not speak, but the looks they exchange are all the conversation Derek needs to find himself standing at the boy’s door. He knocks and the door cracks open.

“Hello mister,” Stiles says, shy as a fawn - and how appropriate, Derek thinks.

“May I come in?” Derek requests. Stiles is trembling. He’s never had a man in his room before, but he cracks the door the rest of the way so he can enter.

“I’m Derek,” he tells the boy and takes him in a sure embrace.

“I’m Stiles,” he answers. And how beautiful.

Derek takes charge, lays his delicate boy out on the bed. Undresses him slowly, praising him with every tremble. Kisses his neck and hips and the side of his knees. Touches every inch of Stiles’s body. Stiles is pliant like the chaste virgin he is, lets Derek have every bit of him.

When Derek pushes his cock inside Stiles, they look into each other’s eyes. It’s intimate. Derek is caring and tender with him, everything Stiles ever wanted from his first lover. And Stiles comes with tears falling down his face, hearing sweet praises slipping from Derek’s mouth.

When they part, it’s with promises of more to come, and Stiles couldn’t be happier.

On the second night, Derek beckons Stiles to the woods.

“I want to show you something so beautiful, only you rival it in its magnificence,” Derek entices.

And Stiles follows, because how couldn’t he when Derek’s words are so sweet.

Derek leads Stiles to a clearing with a little stream where wild flowers grow. To Stiles, it’s breathtaking, the woods lit by the full moon. Derek takes his lover into his arms, kisses his lips, his neck. Stiles couldn’t feel more content here in Derek’s strong embrace.

“I want you forever, Stiles.” Derek whispers into his ear. “Give me your loss and sorrow. Give me all of your woes.”

“You can have it all,” Stiles says.

“You’re the one, Stiles.”

Warmth fills Stiles’s body, at last, this is love, he thinks. “I’m yours,” he says.

“You’re mine,” Derek murmurs. “Your beauty haunts my every thought.”

“Let it haunt you no further, for I am yours completely,” Stiles answers with a beaming curve of his lips.

Derek takes Stiles’s face in his hands and kisses him deeply. One last exchange of passion.

Derek ends the kiss, rolling his shoulders, grips Stiles’s face and whispers grimly in his ear, “But all beauty must die, Stiles.”

With that Derek transforms his face, fangs extending, blue eyes glowing as Stiles looks him in the eyes. Fear dances across his face, and Derek sinks his teeth into Stiles’s neck and rips out his throat. He’s holding Stiles up, feels the life leaving his body. Hears Stiles’s weeping song echo through the silent wood.

Derek lays Stiles out in the wild flowers, as the light leaves his eyes. Looks at his beautiful creature for one last time. Eternally beautiful and perfect like this.

“Mine,” he says to the night.

That poor boy, they say. What a shame, they say. He had his whole life ahead of him, they say. They call him The Weeping Boy, but his name was Stiles Stilinski.

Why they call him that, he does not know…

 Based on this song: