Faunoe o fatuoe (Sterek slash)

Chapter Five

It took a good ten minutes for Stiles to compose himself enough to leave the kitchen and join Scott and Derek in the dining room where they were sat at opposite ends of the table. The atmosphere in the room was tense as Scott glared at Derek, who in turn was glaring at the wall and digging his claws into the wood of the table.

"Can you please not?" Stiles leaned over and grabbed Derek's wrist, pulling the claws from the delicate wood. "My dad will kill me."

At those words the Alpha immediately tensed and Stiles dropped his wrist, backing away before finally dropping into a seat between the two wolves.

"So," said Scott. "You were explaining?"

If it wasn't for the way his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed Stiles would have sworn that Derek hadn't even heard the question since he remained in exactly the same position. Something inside Stiles himself bristled at Scott though, even though he wanted to know where Derek's sudden attraction to him had come from he hated the insinuation of his best friend that he needed to be protected. Just because he had been sexing it up with Allison for two years didn't mean he was suddenly the relationship expert, especially not in this case.

"There's something wrong with Stiles."

That had not been what Stiles had been expecting to hear, in fact something along the lines that the great Derek Hale hadn't been able to overlook his sexiness and charms any longer would have been much more appreciated.

"Something wrong with Stiles," muttered Scott. "Is that why you had your tongue down his throat?"

Well that was blatantly untrue.

"Ew dude." Stiles stared at Scott in horror. "There were no throats involved."

"Then why do you have teeth marks in yours?"

Derek's head whipped over to stare at Stiles with wide eyes, and Stiles couldn't help but slap his hand against the left side of his neck where it was still stinging. He looked quickly from Scott, who was looking disgustingly smug, to Derek who now had an expression on his face like someone had just kicked his puppy.

"You bit me!" Stiles' voice was humiliating high pitched as he jumped out of his chair to consult his reflection in the huge mirror his dad had spent five days last summer hanging in the den. "I can't believe you bit me."

"It's not that kind of bite." Derek's voice rumbled from the dining room.

Gently tracing the bruising around the shallow puncture marks on his neck Stiles flinched at how tender they suddenly felt.

"How do you know?" he yelled back. "Oh God I'm going to go all furry aren't I? My dad's allergic to dogs!"

"You're not turning into a werewolf."

"When's the last time you had a rabies shot?" Stiles jumped when he looked back in the mirror to find Derek right behind him and Scott lounging in the doorway. "Dude you've got to stop doing that."

Derek made a low whining noise in his throat and reached out to press his fingers lightly against the bruises and in the next moment the sting and tenderness had disappeared as very faint grey lines swam up those muscled forearms. When Derek pulled his fingers away the bruising was considerably less but the marks themselves still remained.

"Hey you didn't ..." He was about to complain that the Alpha hadn't completed the job when he glanced over at Scott who was shaking his head. "Never mind."

"I've got to go." Derek suddenly pulled himself away from Stiles, his eyes not moving from the crescent of teeth marks in his neck. "I'm ..."

He didn't even finish his sentence before turning around and stalking from the room, after a few seconds the front door slammed shut and Stiles was able to take his first deep breath.

"What is going on?" demanded Scott.

"I don't know," whispered Stiles, pressing his fingers against his neck.

*

Not surprisingly Stiles found it almost impossible to sleep that night, his dreams filled with red eyes, hot kisses, and that same gentle singing that had been ringing in his ears for days now. Taking a deep breath he swung his legs out of the bed and stood up. He just needed some fresh air that was all, so despite the fact that winter was well and truly here he padded across his bedroom to open the window.

The moment he did so a feeling of uneasiness came over him, like he was being watched but it wasn't the same feeling of protectiveness that he got when it was Scott or Derek. Placing his hands against the window frame he leaned out of the window to find that there was a man standing across the street. He looked like he was in his late twenties or early thirties, dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets and he was looking up at the house, eyes trained straight onto Stiles.

Then as he watched the man smirked at him, turned and walked away into the dark.