#missmaladicta

He had told himself he wouldn’t let anyone manipulate and use him like that ever again. If he was with people, it was his choice. He slept with people, after, in New York. But it was always quick, with the express purpose of getting off, and then he was gone. A few times, someone did something she had done and he had had to stop it. Eventually he stopped trying when it became too much to try to avoid his own mental minefields. His own triggers.

He thought he’d never be used like that again, never manipulated like that again. But then Jennifer happened.

He tried with Braeden. He did. He was able to sleep with her a few times - but eventually she tried to get more intimate by touching him in ways that had brought back memories, or kissing him in a way that made his skin crawl, even though he knew that wasn’t her intention. One time she started taking his clothes off without him agreeing to it, and he let her do it. But it felt too much like Kate for him to be able to bear it.

They didn’t last long.

It made Derek wonder why sometimes he could get through sex and sometimes he couldn’t. Why some things brought back the memories and some things didn’t.

By the time he made it back to Beacon Hills to help Scott, Derek hadn’t slept with anyone since Braeden. He was tired of trying, so he stopped.

Stiles, though, was another story entirely.

They first kissed in Stiles’ DC apartment, after the events in Beacon Hills. Stiles had to get back for classes, and Derek had never intended to go back to Beacon Hills to stay. Stiles offered him a place to stay, and Derek said yes.

It took months, but Derek’s feelings began to grow, and eventually Stiles’ as well, as Stiles was the one to ask him first if he could kiss him.

Derek shocked himself by saying yes, but when Stiles leaned in tentatively and kissed him softly on the lips, Derek’s nerves were set alight, his blood pumped faster, and pleasure tightened in his groin, made butterflies fly through his stomach.

Derek wasn’t sure he’d ever felt quite like that during just a kiss.

Derek was scared to have sex again, but he wanted Stiles, badly. He didn’t know what to do.

But Stiles seemed patient. He didn’t try to take more than that kiss, and when he pulled back, he smiled softly at Derek, and Derek couldn’t help but smile back.

Derk began work at a mechanic’s garage over the following months. He knew cars and needed something to do, so he applied. And he found that he quite enjoyed it there - his coworkers were nice, his boss was fair, and he loved fixing cars.

He and Stiles didn’t have sex, but they’d kissed. A lot. Made out heavily on Stiles’ couch. They talked and agreed on exclusivity.

And yet Stiles never demanded or even asked for sex. When Derek brought it up to him, Stiles smiled and said he wasn’t ready for sex yet either.

“Either?” Derek had asked.

“I know you want me, Derek, but I can also feel your hesitancy and fear, as well. I’m not going push it, because I want us to do this right. You’re important to me.”

Derek had definitely been stunned. In all his sexual encounters before, he’d never waited, and his partner had never wanted to wait. 

A few weeks after that, when they were making out on Stiles’ couch once again, Stiles went onto his back and pulled Derek on top of him. When he ran his hands under Derek’s shirt and pulled it up a few inches, Derek pulled back.

Derek had never felt comfortable enough with anyone before to voice his fears, but with Stiles, it was different. With Stiles he felt he could voice them and not be laughed at or ignored. “What are you doing?”

Stiles froze, looked up at Derek in slight shock, and moved his hands away from Derek’s back, letting them fall to the couch. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment. Was that not okay?”

“It was…” Derek cleared his throat. “It just felt like you were going to take off my shirt.”

“Oh…” Stiles breathed, shifting slightly underneath Derek. “Did you not want me to?”

“I, um…” Derek took a few moments to think about it. He thought, with Stiles, it might not be so bad to be shirtless. But it had felt automatic by now, to pause when anyone tried to take off his clothes. “I think...I think I’d rather do it.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, and that was it. Okay. Derek waited for Stiles to say more, for him to ask questions, but he didn’t.

“I’m...ugh, I’m sorry,” Derek murmured, and he sat up, then, breaking their connection.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for ruining...this. I’m just…” Derek struggled for the right words. “My...experiences….sexually, they haven’t always been...well, they’ve just-”

“Not been great?” Stiles sat up as well, leaving about a foot of space between them. “I know,” Stiles murmured. Derek looked into Stiles’ eyes at that, when before he hadn’t been able to meet them. “Kate.”

“And Jennifer,” Derek swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“Right, she tricked you too,” Stiles winced.

“She didn’t just do that,” Derek said, and hands were shaking so bad he clenched them into fists to try to stop it. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, and he had to look away from Stiles again. “She used those virgin sacrifices to...do something to me. Magic me, I guess, into liking her. Feel something for her.”

He heard Stiles gasp next to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at him.

“I wasn’t just tricked. I remember the foggy feeling in my head whenever I was around her, and even when I wasn’t, this strange physical pull to be with her. Not just like a wanting to be with her, like how I feel with you, not even just an attraction to her. But like something was physically trying to get me to go to her. I was able to ignore it sometimes, but sometimes it was so bad that it actually felt painful.”

When Derek looked at Stiles, he saw that he had tears in his eyes, and his jaw was clenched tight as if in anger.

“I’m so sorry, Derek,” Stiles whispered. “I know that’s not nearly enough, and that it can’t change anything. But I am. So fucking sorry that happened to you.”

Derek sucked in a shaky breath.

“Did she-” Stiles cut himself off.

“Did she what?” Derek urged him to say it, even though he knew what Stiles was going to say before he said it.

“Did she rape you?” Stiles whispered. He winced right after he said it, but Derek didn’t. Because he’d never outright thought it to himself, but he’d known in the back of his mind all along what it was.

“Yes,” was all Derek could say.

“Can I...can I hold you. Just hold you?” Stiles asked. And him asking made all the difference for Derek. Because if Derek said no, Stiles wouldn’t have. He would have backed off. Derek knew it in his bones. Which is what allowed him to say yes. Because if he said no, he knew he’d be heard and listened to.

Derek found himself lying on Stiles’ couch, his head on Stiles’ chest, with Stiles’ arm wrapped tentatively around his shoulders. Stiles put on the TV to some news station, and they watched mindlessly, saying nothing as they just lay there, wrapped around each other, and offering comfort.

Derek had never felt so safe in his entire life.

He realized, then, that he was crying, and he was never more grateful for Stiles ignoring that he was, that he just continued to hold him and run his hand through his hair after he asked him if he could.

Derek knew, right then, that he was falling in love with Stiles. A deep, passionate, forever kind of love. It scared him. It made his heart pound faster; it even made him sweat a little.

But he didn’t move from Stiles’ arms, and he didn’t even want to. Because along with the fear, he felt...happy. It was an amazing, extraordinary feeling that Derek wasn’t sure he’d felt since his family died. Maybe even since Paige.

Derek wanted to hold onto that feeling as much as he wanted to push it away.

He did it in equal measure after that. He was still cautious, he was still wary, as much as he was excited and eager to be with Stiles.

They did more as the months went on, and Stiles asked for permission with everything they did. Derek asked for it too, because one night Stiles admitted to having some intimacy issues as well. He’d only ever been with Malia before Derek, but they hadn’t always communicated during sex - as in, they never did, Stiles admitted.

“It wasn’t rape...but she did things during it that I didn’t like. Even when we weren’t having sex. She never seemed to have a problem with anything I did, so I never asked. I think I should have. To be honest, she and I were over almost as soon as we started.”

Eventually, he and Stiles got to doing more than just over the clothes things. They got down to just their boxers, and they touched each other over the material. Then eventually, under it. They both made sure they were consenting the whole time.

Some might have been annoyed by the constant “is this okay?” and “is it still yes?” during sex, but Derek wasn’t. And Stiles assured him he wasn’t either.

“It takes two seconds to ask the question. It hurts no one to take the time to ask, to pause and make sure. If it’s no, then it’s fine to stop. The world doesn’t end just because I didn’t get off. Your safety and happiness is more important to me than that, always.”

Derek had been so stunned he’d cried, just a bit. He’d always thought Stiles would ask before if it was a yes. But he’d never thought he’d stop in the middle of it if Derek needed him to. He’d never known that was okay to ask for.

With Kate, she bowled over any objections he had, any worries. If he stopped, for just a second, to ask if they could wait to do something, or if they could just cuddle and talk instead, she’d tell him to shut up with a laugh and continued kissing him despite his protests. He’d always thought it wasn’t rape because his body had responded to it. He’d been attracted to her.

Sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes he was just a horny teenage boy who had a hot, older woman who wanted him. But sometimes...sometimes, he wanted more, or something different than just quick and dirty, rough and hard. But she never allowed that. She had never allowed them to cuddle or talk that much.

He knew why now, but at the time he’d wondered if she liked him that much at all. But then she’d laugh and blush and kiss him sweetly and say she couldn’t wait to see him again, would then wink at him and leave, hips swaying, and a look over her shoulder at him before she left, and he’d forget his worries.

He shouldn’t have, though. He should have listened to his instincts, but he hadn’t. He regretted that every day.

Stiles...Stiles was completely, one hundred percent different. One time they were in bed and Stiles was kissing down his chest and gave a teasing bite to Derek’s nipple. Derek tensed and asked him to stop, and Stiles did, backing off and away from him so that he was standing to the side of the bed.

If it had been Kate, or Jennifer, or hell, even Braeden, they would have looked at him, confused, and said “why? Your nipple’s hard, you liked it,” and would have continued. Or they would have laughed and continued. Or done anything different than that.

Braeden wouldn’t have had malicious intent, but she wouldn’t have taken that into consideration, what Derek was feeling. It had just been sex, after all, and that was all she’d wanted from him. If Derek had insisted, though, he knows she would have stopped. That set her apart from Kate and Jennifer. But she wouldn’t have stopped right away.

When Derek calmed down again, he asked Stiles not to bite him on his nipple, and Stiles nodded and said he never would again, unless Derek explicitly asked him to.

One time, Stiles brushed his hand lightly on the inside of his thigh and Derek had to tell him to stop, and Stiles did.

They learned each other’s bodies. They took their time to learn each other’s wants and desires, as well as the things they didn’t like and couldn’t stand. Derek one time ran his fingernails down Stiles’ back, fairly hard, in the throes of passion, and Stiles asked him to try not to do that anymore.

Whenever they were in bed again, Derek was always mindful not to.

When they got to blowjobs, Derek ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair and held on, tight. Stiles pulled off him and asked him not to. He didn’t mind him running his fingers through his hair, but he didn’t like his hair being pulled or held onto. Derek never did it again.

It was all these little things between them. These little wants and dislikes between them that they explored.

Stiles told him he’d never bottomed before and he wanted to try it. Derek told him he had, and he liked it.

When they eventually got that far, they both tried it, and they both loved it. Stiles whispered happily after one time that he loved the feeling of Derek so deep inside him as much as he loved feeling Derek around him when he fucked Derek. Derek agreed.

And it wasn’t just rough and fast all the time. Sometimes they slowed it down, kept it gentle, and Stiles was happy with that as much as he was with rough and fast. Derek prefered it slow and gentle more often than not, though, and Stiles was happy to oblige. Either way, it was never any less passionate.

One time, Stiles was fucking Derek, thrusting slowly in and out, and they were gasping, sweating, holding on each other. They didn’t use condoms, and it felt amazing having Stiles inside him bare, that he would come inside Derek. Derek was in complete bliss, drowning in Stiles’ kisses and his cock, when Stiles said something.

“You’re so beautiful.”

And then Derek was lost in a memory of Kate above him, holding him down, grinning, a look in her eyes Derek couldn’t decipher, that put him on edge, and then she was holding his throat in her hand, squeezing slightly, and she laughed as she said, “what a beautiful boy you are.”

It wasn’t the same, Derek knew it in his head. He knew it in his bones.

But pure instinct, his brain’s way of protecting him, made him flinch and push Stiles off and out of him so fast that Stiles gasped and fell off the bed.

Derek was apologizing before Stiles even hit the ground. Fuck fuck fuck.

Derek knew it wasn’t the same. Stiles’ words came from love. Kate’s had come from a twisted, dark place.

It didn’t stop him from having that gut reaction though.

Even as Derek apologized, Stiles was saying it was okay, it was more than okay. Derek almost cried.

“I thought I was past it,” Derek said, and turned his face away from Stiles.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered. He sat on the edge of the bed gingerly, away from Derek, not touching him. “It’s okay. I know you aren’t automatically cured of your past trauma just because we’re doing it the right away, or that we’re in a good place, or that we love each other. I know that. I told you that your well being and happiness was more important to me, and I meant it. I always will.”

“Love each other?” Derek whispered, and looked at Stiles. They had never said the words.

Stiles blushed and looked away. “I-I mean, I don’t know. I mean, I know I do. But I don’t know if you do, and that’s okay!” Stiles looked back at Derek, almost frantically. “You aren’t obligated to love me, I hope you know that. I just meant...I mean, I do love you, I do. I’ve just-”

Derek sat up and put his finger to Stiles’ lips, silencing him. Derek couldn’t believe that he had Stiles in his life. That Stiles wanted him, that he loved him. That he would never try to hurt him, that he would never want to. Not that he never would, just that he would never do it on purpose. That thought warmed Derek to his bones, and he grinned, letting out a shaky laugh. “I love you, too.”

“Oh good,” Stiles let out a shaky breath. “Or, I mean...awesome. Not that I would have like...left you if you didn’t, nothing like that. Just that it’s fucking awesome you love me back, okay, so-”

“Stiles.” Derek laughed, and then he cupped Stiles’ cheek. “Shut up.”

“Hey!” Stiles protested with a pout, but Derek just laughed again and kissed Stiles firmly on the lips. When he pulled back, he asked if that was okay.

Stiles just grinned and said, “More than okay, you goof.”

They didn’t go back to sex that night, but they held each other so tightly, wound around each other so tightly, and it felt better than sex, in a way. Sex was amazing with Stiles and it always would be. But having Stiles there, holding him, loving him, not caring if they had sex or not that night - or ever again, Stiles added - meant more to Derek than anything else ever could.

Stiles loved him. Not his body, him. He didn’t love what Derek could do for him, he loved Derek himself.

That was everything.

“Huh? What?” He looked up, his brows hiked. “Uh, no. Nope, I’m fine.” Shaking his head, he pursed his lips and looked back at the freezer. A split second later though, he was looking back at Derek. “You know those frozen dinners are terrible for you, right?” 

Derek blinked. “I’m sorry?” 

“I know they’re cheap and convenient and blah, blah, blah, but they taste like shit and they’re loaded up with preservatives and fat and...” He shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. “And you don’t want to hear this from a complete stranger. I should just let you get back to shopping...” He nodded and waved back to the fruit. “Which I’m doing, right now. Sorry.” 

Derek stared at his back a beat, considered just letting it go and heading home, but found an irrational defensiveness come over him. “I work a lot. I’m also in school full time, getting my Masters. I don’t really have time for cooking.”

Wincing, the man turned back around, tugging at his earlobe awkwardly. “I’m not judging... I mean, I was. Okay, I still am. But you’re right, I don’t know you and I can’t tell you what to do.” 

“Are you sure?” Derek’s brows arched and a faint snort left him. “Because it still sounds like you’re judging.” 

“Well, it’s just...” The man stalked toward him then, lowering his voice like he was telling Derek something personal, that no one else should hear. Which should’ve been ridiculous, considering they were the only two people in the aisle. Only Derek didn’t hate it. As irritated as he was with this stranger trying to give him tips on his eating habits, this was the first time he’d had any interaction with someone that didn’t involve school or work.

“Look, you’re obviously a fit guy.” The man looked him over and then reached out, bridging that socially accepted gap into something... different. He squeezed one of Derek’s biceps and then nodded appreciatively. “Clearly.” 

Derek glanced at the hand still resting on his arm and then back to the man. “But?” 

“But... You can’t start taking your nutritional health into consideration too early.” He patted Derek’s arm. “My dad’s a Sheriff, kicks ass all the time, but his cholesterol is off the charts. That’s why you have to start planning early. You get a little prep done over the weekend, throw some homemade meals in the fridge or the freezer, you’re good for a week. Then you avoid the greasy fries and burgers and pizza. Not that a cheat day isn’t great, it is. But if you want the inside to look as good as the outside, well...” 

Derek stared at him a long moment. Was he getting hit on in the frozen foods section by a man who somehow managed to compliment and insult him in the same breath? At least he was cute. Twitchy, but cute.

“I’m Stiles, by the way.” Grinning, he waved a hand and then held it out to be shaken. When Derek didn’t immediately react, he winced and let his hand fall away. “Okay, well, sorry for interrupting your shopping. I, uh, I’ll let you get back to it...” 

Just as Stiles turned away, Derek sighed. “Derek. My name is Derek.” 

Stiles turned back around on his heel, looking curious and, if he was reading it right, hopeful. Nodding, Stiles said, “Do you cook?” 

“Not well,” Derek admitted. “So, I’ve picked up a few bad habits since starting school.” 

Stiles half-grinned. “I get it. But, uh, I do. Cook, that is. If you ever wanted a lesson or... just to hang out, make a meal sometime...” 

Derek paused. “Can you make lasagna?” 

Stiles’ mouth twitched. “Better than the ones you’ll find here.” 

Nodding, Derek reached into his cart, grabbed out both lasagnas, and put them back in the freezer. “What’re you doing after this?” 

Stiles’ eyes widened and he stood a little taller. “I’m free.”

Derek glanced at the basket he was holding. “Are you done?” 

Stiles looked from him to the basket and back quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I am.” 

“Let’s go.” 

Nodding eagerly, Stiles started walking, scrubbing a hand through his hair and down his neck. “What, uh, what are the chances you have one of those novelty aprons that says ‘kiss the cook’ on the front?” 

Derek pursed his lips to hide a smile. “Low.” 

Stiles hummed. “We should stop by housewares. See if they sell one.”