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That Awkward Moment

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"Fuck, harder, h— yes! Right there!"

"I must not be doing something right," Stiles panted, pale hands gripping Derek's hips tighter, "if you're still able to speak."

"Maybe n— holy shit."

Derek's eyes rolled back, and he gripped the sheets, hands forming fists as he gritted his teeth. He continuously slammed himself back to meet with Stiles' rhythm. With every thrust, the bed beneath them creaked and he could only find it in himself to practically howl.

Derek released a groan from deep down his throat, "ah— yes, God damn it, fuck me Stiles!"

"Thought that was what I was doing."

"Fuck me like you mean it," he hissed, head turning back to look at Stiles.

Suddenly, all movement had stopped. Stiles' hips stilled but his hands kept a firm grip on Derek.

The glowing light of the moon reflected his body perfectly; hair damp and wild, sticking in all sorts of directions and to his forehead as sweat produced from behind his hairline came running down his pale skin. His cheeks flushed red, pink lips glistening from his own saliva. His nipples were hard, and they still looked swollen from all the pressure Derek had applied to them earlier with his mouth. If he could, he would be sucking the small bulbs at the moment but that could be saved for another time.

"Fuck you like I mean it," Stiles repeated in a questioning tone, ending Derek's exploration of his features, "like I mean it?"

There was a dark gleam in Stiles' eyes, predatory and almost sinister.

Derek was always known to be able to speak many words with just one look, and the slight furrow of his brows, the way his eyes widened a tad and the little pout of his lips told a thousand different stories.

The look Stiles gave him said his goal for innocent worked out well.

"You are no Saint Derek Hale," said Stiles before switching his position to mount him.

From that angle, Stiles began to pierce into Derek with sharp thrusts and from than on all Derek saw was white.

He was bound speechless now, more focused on trying to catch a breathe than trying to speak. The pleasure was unbearably amazing, and he wanted nothing more than to feel that satisfaction for the rest of his days.

"That feels like I mean it," Stiles asked through a choked off moan and gripped Derek's hair.

Derek said nothing, he couldn't. But his attempt to thrust backwards said enough.

And oh how terribly sorry Derek felt for poor old Mr. and Mrs. Wilson who lived downstairs.

But Stiles was doing that thing again, where he curved in such a sinful way and the tip of his cock hit Derek's prostate head on, and well, he just couldn't find it in himself to care much after that.


Derek woke up with his body sore but tingling, the bliss from last night still so fresh that he felt like humping the air could ride him over the edge.

The sun was blazing through his windows, curtains pulled apart.

Everything felt great. Well, aside from his butt. That part hurt quite a bit, but everything else aside from that felt amazing.

That was until he turned his body to find the other side of the bed empty. He felt, the sheets were cold.

Derek sat up and looked around the room finding that the only scattered clothes were his own. He got out of his bed and walked out of the room completely bare because it was his apartment, and there was nothing anyone one could tell him about it.

In the living room, he found no one. In the kitchen, he found no one.

And Derek did not even bother to call out because it became clear to him, Stiles was gone.

He felt stupid for being upset about the situation, but he couldn't help it. Everything between them seemed so different from how a regular one night stand would go, that's why he didn't believe it to end so casually.

Stiles was unlike anyone else he's ever met; lively, quick-witted, sarcastic, highly intelligent, humorous, and absolutely beautiful. He was the kind of man that knew how he looked, noticed the way others would look at him and try to catch his attention, but still walked around like he couldn't snatch up just about anyone who walked his way.

Stiles was so full of life yet so simple. And he spoke a lot, but for the first time, Derek found that he wasn't annoyed by someone's continuous tendency to speak.

They talked for hours in the bar, had a few drinks before Stiles actually bought him dinner despite all his protest. It felt somewhat like a date, but that part was unspoken.

Still, everything else was clear. They were attracted to each other, they did enjoy each other's attention, and neither would mind meeting again.

Somehow, saying goodbye at Derek's doorstep led to a kiss that was hard to get out of. But Derek didn't want to anyways so it didn't bother him.

The moment was what many would call perfect.

Stiles' hands were as sinister and skilled as his lips. They ignited a fire within Derek that could not be watered down by even the most furious of storms.

He felt alive. He felt so alive for the first time in a very long time, felt bright in a way that not even Paige made him feel.

That's how it had felt for the rest of the time that followed. The time they kissed, and touched, and laughed, and fucked.

The two went at it almost endlessly, in many different positions. Stiles obviously knew more than Derek, but that was no problem, they both enjoyed many mind blowing orgasms.

Afterwards, they had laid a sweaty mess on Derek's bed. And Stiles talked and he talked and he talked until Derek fell asleep to the sound of his voice like soft music to his ears.

And then he woke up alone, feeling somewhat abandoned.

He felt pathetic.

He felt terribly dramatic like in the way Romeo had broadcasted after his break up with Rosaline. Which was his fault he suspected, because he should not have been as easy as Juliet.

Like in the past Derek was stupid. But Stiles was a great actor. He made it seem like every word and every touch was sincere, was a promise.

He didn't say anything to Derek, he didn't say he would stay but when a man treats you like that, it's something one would suspect.

But Stiles has obviously had enough time perfecting and mastering his act.

If he wasn't already gone, Derek would give him a round of applause.


"You need to stop being so disgustingly depressed."

"I'm not depressed Laura."

His sister did not leave him alone and listen to his words.

What she did do was roll her eyes and exclaim, "you're pitiful."


"It's been two weeks Der. You gotta get over this guy," said Laura.

"I am over him. I was never even on him to begin with."

Laura cocked a freshly done brow at her younger brother.

"You know what I mean," Derek hissed.

She grinned, "I do. And I also know that despite the fact that you've been walking around here trying to act all jolly, you've been sad with his disappearance. I imagine whoever this guy was was great, even though you won't even tell me his name," she spoke accusingly.

"Because if I do you'll try to find him. His name is unique so I'm sure it won't be hard to narrow down."

"You're an asshole. Why protect someone who left after practically taking advantage of you?"

"He didn't take advantage of me Laur. I gave full permission for everything that happened that night. It was my fault for not ignoring his existence as a whole that night. Now I have to pay the price and I'm okay with that. But he did nothing wrong."

"He did. He left you. Who would leave you all lonely in bed? No goodbye note? No 'call me later?' No nothing? You're worth far more than that."

Derek sighed, "I appreciate it Laura. I do, but I'm fine, I swear."

"You are not," she declared, "but I am going to fix this even if it's the last thing I do."

Laura left Derek's home without a last word and a single glance back.


Laura's idea of fixing things meant setting Derek up on a blind date which he had no option but to attend.

The date was already going terribly since whoever he was supposed to be doing this with was already twenty minutes late.

He told his sister this, and all she said was to wait. She said he'd be worth it.

Derek couldn't understand, but he didn't argue. There was never any point in arguing with Laura, the woman was persistent. She was specifically persistent in getting a name out of Derek, which she did. Eventually Derek did tell her Stiles' name, and actually feared what she would do with it.

He suspected that this blind date wouldn't help fix anything though. He was still bummed about the whole thing but it didn't change his daily life.

Derek still worked at the library, he still had beers with Erica, Boyd and Isaac in the evenings, he still went on Saturday runs with Laura and ate Sunday breakfast with Cora, he still had talks with his parents over the phone every week, and all around, he was still himself.

He was hurt, yes. But there was no way he was letting that get in the way of his life.

He suffered through heartbreak that was worse and brushed it off as if nothing happened. He could handle this one. He made that very clear to Laura, yet she was still determined to get him to "move on."

In his opinion, it looked like he moved on pretty well.

Just because one guy decided to be enough of a jerk to not even say goodbye after a great night together, he wouldn't allow that to hold himself down.

And there was really no telling if this blind date would help or not, especially since the person wasn't even showing up.

Derek waited a while longer; rejected the waitress multiple times when she asked if he was ready to order, sipped at his water, texted Erica who was getting more impatient than he was, and played multiple rounds of Trump Dump only to end up scoring zero in the end.

The moment finally came though.

The moment Derek heard, "hello," his heart almost stopped.

He was never nervous when trying new things or meeting new people. He was a pretty closed off person, but when the time came he would be able to release his social skills.

So in any other situation, Derek wouldn't switch off like that. But this one was different, because he knew this voice, the same voice that was urging him on and begging him and praising him not even a month ago.

The strong smell of cinnamon, honey and mint followed like a sweet burn to his nose.

And he was almost too afraid to look up, but he had no other choice.

Derek gazed at the man before him who stood awkwardly and seemed to be feeling out of place.

He understood why, Derek would feel the same.

"Well," said Derek, "aren't you going to sit," because despite their very short lived history, now that they were there together it only made sense to clear things up.

Stiles sat, and he rested his forearms on the table, crossed over each other.

"I'm sorry," he uttered.

Derek arched a brow at him, "for arriving almost an hour late?"

"That, I'll explain that I swear. I just had the craziest trip here," Stiles informed, "but I'm mostly sorry for..."

Derek blinked at him.

"Because I—" Stiles sighed as if he were defeated and shook his head, "I'm an asshole okay?"

"Yeah, you are," Derek agreed.

"And I don't deserve to be sitting here with you right now because I messed up."

"You did."

"And I'm sorry, because I swear that's not who I really am. I wouldn't have done that that. Even if I wanted nothing more afterwards, I would've at least said goodbye."

"But you didn't."

"I know," said Stiles then lower, "I know."

Derek stared at him for a moment, looking at the man who seemed so saddened, but he refused to comfort him. That wouldn't make sense, not when he was the one who really needed comforting.

"Why did you," he asked.

Stiles looked at him, "I woke up to your phone buzzing. And I didn't mind for a while so I let it go, but it wouldn't stop. I got annoyed so I checked myself and realized someone named Laura kept texting you, asking about where you were and she called you babe in one of them. I don't know, I just panicked I guess. And when I left the room I realized you had a lot of pictures with this gorgeous brunette, and some with a lot of people but most with her. I just assumed—"

"That I was married," Derek finished.

"Yeah," Stiles sighed.

"She's my sister, Laura. She calls everyone babe and baby and honey and sweetheart— God I hate it. And I have a lot of pictures of her around the apartment because her and my other sister Cora, are the only ones who live here in Florida. The rest of my family lives in Los Angeles, so I don't often get to take pictures with them."

Stiles groaned and looked about ready to slam his head against the table, "I'm so stupid. Why didn't I just stay and ask?"

"I don't know," Derek answered because honestly, the mistake Stiles made could have been easily prevented if he had only waited to interrogate Derek, "but you're an idiot."

"Derek, I'm so sorry," said the man, "I never wanted to leave. I just panicked. I haven't had the best luck in relationships and I really felt like you were too good to be true. So when I saw the pictures and began to assume... I guess it just made sense because I'm so used to it."

The fact that Stiles allowed something so small and solvable to get in the way of things was evidence of his terrible past love lives. And all Derek wanted to do now was treat him right, hold him tight and never let him go.

"I know I already messed this up by not only leaving but coming in late," Stiles voiced, "but I'm not an asshole. I swear. I mean, I am but not in the way that it actually hurts anybody terribly. And I really want to prove it to you. If you'd give me this chance... maybe I'll be able to show you."

Derek couldn't even pretend to consider it, he was all in for that. There weren't many people like Stiles left and he'd be idiotic to let go of such a beautiful rarity.

"Depends," he trailed off.


"Why you came so late."

Stiles released a deep breathe and clapped his hands together, "Derek, man, do I have a story for you. So I was driving, right..."


The next morning, Derek woke up with his head laid on Stiles' chest, one of Stiles' arms wrapped around his naked back with one of his own hands on one of Stiles' pecs. They were both cuddled under the soft comforter, bodies tied together.

"I never asked you," Derek spoke up, "who made you go on this blind date?"

"Oh, my very close friend Lydia," Stiles answered.

"Lydia? Lydia Martin? As in Laura's girlfriend Lydia," he questioned, eyebrows forming a frown as he lifted his head off of Stiles' chest to look up at the man.

Stiles was silent for a moment as he blinked up at the sealing, face displaying confusion.

Then, "holy shit. I've never actually seen a picture of Laura let alone met her but—"

"We were set up," Derek stated.

"We were totally set up."

But that didn't matter, because Stiles was kissing him, their most previous conversation long forgotten.

"Remind me to get Lydia a gift basket or something," Stiles mumbled into the kiss as he began to roll on top of Derek.

Sometimes, Derek was extremely thankful for Laura's existence.