11 Secret relationship
Also written for the nonnie who requested āan exploration of Derekās traumaā and a bit of Sterek bingo: touch starved.
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Derek didnāt know what he could call them.
He was much too scared to say that out loud. Them. He and Stiles. Bodies tangling in the night and separating in the morning. Derek would like to say he didnāt know whoād started it first, but that would be a lie.
He was the first one to show up in Stilesās bedroom. Climbing through the window while the boy startled so hard in his desk chair, heād nearly gone tumbling to the floor. Tousled hair, pale skin, and amber eyes were all Derek wanted to see that night.Ā
At first, thatās all it had been.
A visit, a glance, a retreat. Then it was more. A feeling, a movement, a taste. Soon, Derek was lost in the way Stiles traced gentle fingers across his chest, whispered soft things in the night, and then curled up in his arms come morning.
They kept it quiet.
So Derek wasnāt sure what it could be called. Heād go to Stiles or Stiles would come to him. The boy would have a nightmare and Derek would spend the entire night holding him. Derek would wake up to flashes of Boydās tear-streaked face, or flames curling into the air, and Stiles would wrap around his shoulders and trace the tattoo on his back until Derek was lulled back into a trembling sleep.
Sometimes, heād look at Stiles, surrounded by the rest of the pack, and be overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him. To trace his fingers across Stilesās neck, to bite marks into the pale skin of his neck, to show the others that this boyā this wonderā was his.
Derek never did that. But sometimes he wished he could.
Sometimes though, when Stiles was wrapped up in his arms, Derek felt like he could be satisfied with this. If he had Stiles at night, Derek could go about the rest of his day with the boy ten feet away. He could look at Stiles, laughing with the rest of the pack, and just quietly want.
Other times, Derek would bury his face in the boyās neck and tried to smother the crushing feeling of not right, not enough, not mine that overwhelmed him.
He didnāt know if Stiles felt the same. Derek didnāt think he had the right to ask.
Because sometimes, he hated himself for this.
Everyone around Derek got hurt. Everyone he dared touch, dared love, dared call his own, ended up facing the punishment for that. Derek used to think he was cursed. Until Stiles had pulled him into his arms at least, gentle fingers putting him back together as Derek broke.
Derek didnāt know what he could call them.
But he wished more than anything he could call Stiles āhisā.
āDer?ā
Derek came back to the real world, blinking a few times. Amber eyes watched him quietly, a small smile dancing across Stilesās lips as he studied Derekās in the night. Derek felt his face grow warm and instead of saying anything, he leaned forward and brushed a kiss across the boyās lips.
Stiles laughed softly. āWhat was that for?ā
āNothing.ā
āOkay, Sourwolf,ā Stiles said, eyes sparkling. āYouāre just being extra gooey in bed because I was that great, huh? Lemme guess, I fucāā
āOkay,ā Derek said, cutting him off. āDonāt get a big head.ā
āThatās coming from you,ā Stiles said with a snort. āMr. Derek āI Preen for Days When I Make Stiles Scream My Nameā Hale.ā
āThatās quite the title.ā
āItās your title.ā
āAnd shortened?ā
Stiles scrunched up his face for a second, before grinning. āSmugwolf. No! Sexwolf.ā
āI donāt understand your brain sometimes.ā
āBut you love it.ā
Derek went quiet. Because despite Stilesās teasing tone, despite the glimmer in his eyes, Derek did. His heart ached for Stiles and those words to be said aloud with actual meaning. But instead, he just huffed and pulled Stiles into his chest so the boyās face was pressed into his neck.
Stiles spluttered a few times before shifting around and going still. Derek focused on the dark wall across the room and just tried to breathe. Tried to listen to Stilesās heartbeats, inhale his scent, and tell himself that this was enough.
Stiles with him here, now, was enough.
Mostly, he was terrified heād say it, heād spill his guts out, and Stiles would draw away. Because what even was this? Derek didnāt know what to call them. Comfort when the days turned dark. Stiles seeking him out when he smelled like want and arousal. Derek coming in through his window when he wanted was somethingā touchā anything.
It was enough. Stiles was enough.
Derek hated himself for wanting more.
There were times he could get out of his own head. Beacon Hills was always attracting a new threat; like flies to honey. When Derek wasnāt seeking Stiles out, they were working side by side to deal with the new Monster of the Week. Derek could throw himself into that. Forget about nearly everything else.
Other times, Derek would go into town. Find a corner in the small coffee shop, the nearly empty bar, or the quiet library. Even though the whispers always seemed to follow. The āThatās Derek Haleā, āthatās the one from the fireā, āthatās the one they almost convicted for murderā.
āHis own sister.ā
Derek didnāt go out as often after that.
The first time Stiles pinned him down to the mattress, licking a stripe up his stomach, Derek had nearly tossed the boy out of bed. When Stiles had pulled him close one night and whispered the soft word āsweetheartā Derek had stayed wide awake until the sun peeked over the horizon. Fast forward to the next night and Stiles had held him tight as Derek cried.
Derek had kept Stiles out of a fight once, working the plan around him, and the boy hadnāt talked to him for two weeks. Derek was pretty sure they were the longest of his life.
Stilesās touch was like phantoms that followed him into waking hours and out of them.
It was this whole fake relationship, secret relationship, no relationship, that messed with Derekās head. He felt like he was drowning. Or suffocating. Or maybe he was just addicted. If he let go of the source though, Derek didnāt think he would survive.
He didnāt think he could survive losing Stiles.
Which might have been why Derek started pushing him away. Because it hurt, it hurt so fucking bad, but Derek could know he was safe. Everyone around Derek got hurt. Everyone that got close to him, got underneath his skin, snaked their way into his heart, ended up punished for it.
Derek refused to lose Stiles.
But he still lost against himself sometimes.
There was a figure standing in the doorway of the loft that night. Derek knew the rest of the betas were out and honestly, he didnāt expect them back until at least the next morning. So when Stiles stood there, amber eyes pleading, a faint stutter to his heartbeats, Derek didnāt even have the strength to turn away.
āSexwolf,ā was whispered against his skin as Stiles laughed. Derek picked him up, long legs wrapping around his waist, and carried the boy toward the bedroom.Ā
Sharp teeth skated down his neck and Stiles sucked a mark there, always so frustrated when he couldnāt leave a lasting mark. There was one time heād completely forgotten they were both naked, dropping out of the scene midway as he glared at Derekās neck like he was trying to silently will dark red claiming bites there of his own.
Derek had loved him even more for that.
āYou,ā Stiles said, as Derek dropped him down onto the mattress. āYouāre pulling away from me again, Sourwolf.ā
Derek looked at him for a long moment. Then he forced a chuckle and stripped off his shirt. Stilesās eyes dilated and Derek could always tell when all of his thoughts turned to abs.
āWhat do you want, Stiles?ā
A crooked smile tugged at the boyās lips. He leaned up, wrapping a hand around the back of Derekās neck and pulled him in close.
āYou.ā
Derek always thought it would get easier. But he still closed his eyes, swallowing words, and stripped off Stilesās shirt too. The boy let loose a litany of soft curses as Derek moved to his jeans, pulling down the zipper and stripping those off too.
By the time Derek had come twice, Stiles three times, and the boy was panting underneath him with Derekās face buried in his neck, he felt nothing except a little woozy. There was a fog in his mind, a daze behind his eyes, and as Stiles combed careful fingers through his hair, Derek let himself go for the first time.
āI love you.ā
Stiles froze. The touches paused and it took Derek a moment for his own words to catch up with him. Then he felt horror, nausea, and terror crash over him. In a second, Derek was shoving himself up and stumbling out of bed, feeling like someone had grabbed him by the neck and ripped out his throat.
Ā Stiles sat up in bed, the sheets pooling around him. And his eyes were wide. His scent loud. Derek thought he could be sick.
A sob threatened to tear from his chest.
āDerekāā
āDonāt,ā Derek said, moving a step back. āIām sorry, Stiles, Iām sorry. I didnāt meaā Iām sorry. I wonāt say it again.ā
The boyās eyes cracked.
Slowly, he pushed himself out of bed and Derek froze as Stiles stepped closer. The boy reached out, then stopped, and one brow slowly raising. āDerek, can I touch you?ā
Derek barely breathed for a second. Then he nodded and Stiles splayed a hand across his chest. It moved over his shoulders as Stiles stepped closer, cupping the back of his neck. Stiles brought their foreheads together, breaths warm against Derekās skin.Ā
āYour heart is beating crazy fast, dude.ā
āIām sorry.ā
āDerek,ā Stiles said, sounding broken. āPlease stop apologizing to me.ā
Derek felt like he could fall apart. He closed his eyes and nodded, and Stiles drew back a little, searching his face. He never removed his hand, though.
āCan I ask what happened?ā
Derek looked at him, shocked. Stiles wet his lips before speaking again.
āYouāre terrified.ā
āIā I didnāt mean to.ā
For a moment, Stiles didnāt answer. Then he nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed. āYou said you loved me. You didnāt mean it?ā
āNo, I didnāt mean to.ā
Something the boyās scent changed. It went soft, vanished altogether, and then came back in an overwhelming wave. Derek thought there was the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Stilesās lips but he didnāt know why.
āI wonāt say it again.ā
āDerek?ā
āYeah.ā
āI love you too.ā
Derek didnāt think that was right. He hadnāt heard right. Or maybe something else was wrong. Heād fallen asleep, he was having a nightmare. Stiles had never come over in the first place. This was all a dream.
Derek didnāt realize Stiles was leading him down to the floor until he realized his chest was too tight. The boy guided his head into his chest, whispering calm, soothing things, and wrapped careful arms around Derekās shoulders, tracing fingers over the outline of his tattoo.
āHey,ā he said softly. āAre you okay?ā
āIām awake.ā
āYeah, big guy.ā
Derek turned his face up, nose tracing along Stilesās collarbone. The boy made a surprised noise before chuckling and a going lax.Ā
āYeah, big guy, Iām here. You alright?ā
Derek just inhaled, eyes closed. Stilesās entire body vibrated as he chuckled again.
āOkay, Softiewolf, youāre okay. Big whiff now, yeah? Smell that? Thatās this human. This Stiles. Your human, alright? Your Stiles. Youāre okay, Derek.ā
Derek didnāt say a word. They sat like that for a long moment, the silence overwhelming.
Stiles covered him like a shield, pale neck tilted a little in submission. One hand stayed on Derekās back, fingers outlining his tattoo. The other petted down the back of his neck. Derek stayed stock-still through it all.
āYou said you didnāt mean to.ā
Derek didnāt answer. Stiles swallowed.
āI did.ā
Derek pulled back and Stiles studied his face.Ā
āI meant what I said, big guy. I just⦠I didnāt want to scare you away. And I know there are some things that are better off not said, butā¦ā
āWhat is this?ā
Stiles blinked. His scent turned nervous. āWhat is it to you?ā
āI donāt know.ā
āOh man,ā Stiles said, laughing. āSo itās not just me. Listen, Sourwolf, I donāt know if youāre scared of my dad, or the betas, or whatever, but Iām totally fine with keeping it under the wraps until youāre good to goāā
Derek stared. Stiles trailed off.
āDerek?ā
āIām not scared.āĀ
That was a lie. Derek was completely and totally terrified. But not of what the pack would think, or how the Sheriff might threaten to shoot him. Derek was terrified that the moment he said it out loud, the world would use that as a reason to take Stiles from him. To tear him away just like all of the others.
āDerek,ā Stiles said softly, pulling him out of his thoughts. āDerek, Iām here. Iām not going anywhere.ā
āYou donāt know that.ā
āI do,ā Stiles said, eyes flashing in the night. āDerek, I swear to god, I will never leave you. Iām Stiles Stilinski, remember? Iām stuck to you like glue now. And Iām never letting go.ā
Derekās chest tightened again. Stilesās face softened.
āDerek, I love you.ā
Derek moved forward and kissed him. Stiles tasted like cinnamon and apple spice and the boy smiled around his lips, hand tangling through his hair. Derek closed his eyes and just let himself want, curled against the boy like Stiles had all the control here.
Because maybe he did. Derek could be taken apart by a simple touch if it came from Stiles.
āI love you,ā Derek said, the word whispered around Stilesās lips. The boyās scent flooded with happiness and he laughed against Derekās lips, pulling him closer and kissing him hard.
āIām yours, big guy.ā
āMine.ā
Stiles guided his head down to his neck, fingers softened in his hair. āAnd I want everyone to know it.ā
His.
Derek didnāt think the terror would end tonight. Heād always be afraid of losing Stiles. But there was something about wanting him, about wanting more, and Derek knew he would go to the ends of the earth for Stiles. Feelings of right, of enough, of his.
āI love you.ā
Stiles held him closer. And he didnāt need to say a word because Derek knew it was okay. Stiles here. Stiles was his.
And Stiles was always enough.
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Apparently, I write sad and happy things now? I promise to offer you guys a bit of both as often as I can <3 Thanks for the prompt, Matt! Sorry, itās kinda lot of prompts pushed into one XD
(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your struggling student writer? You can also request a prompt if youād like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer
















