The Hell You Came From [Derek/FemStiles]

Rip Out My Throat

This was the moment the wolf has been waiting for this morning...

It’s why he stayed awake all night...

He needed to concentrate his energies on keeping his healing slowed to a natural speed.

For this very moment...

The moment Stiles wants to check on his bullet wound...

Stiles places the fresh bowl of water back down. She smiles as she watches him drink at a more leisurely pace (rather than dying and parched paces.) And when he’s done, he looks up at her and gives her a slow blink. Stiles blinks back, her smile widening when she pats her leg; motions for him to follow, and he does so, without a moment of hesitation.

Stiles leads him into her bathroom. She leaves the door open for him (so he doesn’t feel trapped.)

Stiles turns to face him, and the wolf can see her eyeing his bandaged shoulder. Her eyes meet his again and she gives him that cute and heart racing little smile. He notices the slight awkward stiffness to her posture and in the next moment, he finds out just why that is when she sheepishly mumbles out an entirely unsure, “S-Sit...?”

The wolf almost gives himself away by laughing. But he’s not laughing at her command, he’s laughing at how utterly endearing and sweet she both looks and sounds.

And of course, he doesn’t sit. Mostly, just because he wants to mess with her a tiny little bit.

Stiles frowns softly when the wolf simply tilts his head and stares curiously up at her. She puffs out a chuckle, nods at her stupidity. “I was just checking. Guess you’re not exactly housetrained.” She mumbles out, mostly to herself as she throws him a teasing little grin.

Again, the wolf fights back a snuffled laugh, his razor sharp fangs silently gritting behind his tightly sealed black lips as he does.

Stiles lets out a sigh, “OK, Max...I’m trusting that you’re not gonna rip my throat out with your teeth if I just...do this...”

Stiles slowly kneels down in front of him, her eyes almost level with his (only, she’s looking up at him now.) Thankfully, he either understands, or he really does just like her, because the wolf simply continues to stare at her.

Stiles smiles.

The wolf’s heart stops, then, sings.

Stiles reaches out to run a gentle hand down the curve of his impressive black mane.

The wolf can’t help it, this time, he’s letting out a soft series of groans as he leans into her touch.

Stiles giggles softly, and the wolf almost melts completely into her.

Now that she’s relaxed him a little bit, Stiles lightly rests her other hand over his wounded shoulder. For the moment, she keeps it simply just resting there, lets him get used to her touching him there. She smiles to herself, because with her other hand still petting him, he doesn’t even seem to be bothered.

The wolf’s fluttering eyes spring open and he stiffens when her hand on his shoulder moves towards the knot of the bandage. Though, when she gasps softly and slowly pulls her hand back, the wolf forces himself to relax again. He lets out a short huff, wags his tail a couple of times, gives her hand an encouraging lick, and then, he finally sits down for her.

Stiles stares at him for a moment, more wary of hurting him than the other way around...

But when he lets out another huff and gives her fingertips another brushing lick, Stiles smiles and nods. “I bet this thing’s real itchy, huh?” She chuckles when he noses at her hand rather eagerly then, wetting the inside of her palm instantly. “I believe this snot belongs to you.”

When she wipes her wet palm across the side of his snout, the wolf rears his head back just enough to throw her that evil side eye that dogs seem to be so good at.

It doesn’t go as planned, she doesn’t look nervous, in fact, he makes her giggle loudly and blind him with that smile. (And OK, that’s definitely a lot better of a reaction...actually, it’s more than he could hope for.)

(Because it means she’s not afraid of him.)

(She’s still a little wary of him. But that’s because he knows how smart she is.)

Stiles chuckles. And when she reaches out to wipe away the wet patch at his snout, the wolf can’t help the instinctive playful little nip he gives her fingertips when she pulls her hand back. Of course, then, it means he has to fight back a big shit eating grin when she gasps and shoots him a clear playful glare in return.

Instead, the wolf settles for staring at her. She scoffs back when he doesn’t move again, shakes her head, but is still wearing that cute little smile.

Stiles huffs dramatically, then, finally, places a hand lightly over his shoulder again. This time, she’s glad to feel him completely relaxing under her touch.

He stares at her, and for once, she isn’t gulping as she stares back, instead, she’s looking at him with gentle concern on her face as she tells him, “I’m gonna take this big ol’ thing off of you and we’ll find something smaller and less itchy to put over your wound, OK?”

While she is careful not to jar him as she tugs at the knot of the bandage, the wolf is back to fighting against the incredible urge to sink down onto her lap (and just let her do whatever the hell she wants to him...)

(Any Hell is better than the one he just came from... And a Hell with Stiles? That only sounds like a wishing dream to him...)

Stiles tosses the bandage up into the sink before turning to get a good look. She sees the tiny wound has now turned very slightly pink, instead of the angry and obvious bloody red from last night.

The wolf breathes out relief with her. Thankfully, his merely sounds like a tired sigh. He chances a look at his wound, while she’s busy softly brushing away the sticky bits of fur matted against it.

OK...maybe he really is tired, because the next thing he knows, he’s swaying from where he sits. And Stiles sweetly props her hands up against his chest to keep him steady. He hears her heart racing a little and eagerly licks at her face to reassure her that he’s OK.

Shit, he thinks, now he really does have to focus on healing himself.