True Mate » Sterek

Chapter 15

Stiles hums to himself while plating some frozen cheese pizza roles onto a plate. For the moment, he's care free, purposely warding off the thoughts about Jackson being a psycho lizard killer and his game tonight. All he can think about is food.

He leans against the counter until the microwave beeps three times, making him rub his hands together before grabbing them. "Hot, hot, hot," Stiles hisses, dropping the pizza role back onto the paper plate. He groans and turns around, waiting for them to cool off. Only they're spilled all over the floor as Stiles drops them in shock.

"Derek!" Stiles scolds. "There's such thing as a door, ya know?" He gets that climbing through his window is kind of their thing, but the sheriff isn't even home. He mutters under his breath as he picks the few pizza roles that he dropped.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Well, for one, I wouldn't have a freaking heart attack," Stiles says matter-of-factly. Derek rolls his eyes, continuing to lean against the wall. Stiles narrows his eyes, tossing all of the ruined pizza roles into the trash can. "You know what? Just for that, no sex. Yeah, that's right, I'm taking it off the table. See the sex card? Me neither because I took it away." Derek just cocks an eyebrow, a slight glint of amusement crossing his features. "Stiles, you've been having sex for one week."

"And I've turned it into my weapon. How ya like that, big guy?" Stiles grins, patting the werewolf on his shoulder. "Oh really?" Derek eyes the teenagers up and down, arms folded across his chest. "Yep."

Derek let's a sly smirk cross his lips, "Then I guess this won't faze you." Without warning, he has Stiles pinned against the wall with tempting lips on his. Stiles allows the tease, he even knits his fingers through that lushes black hair.

"I told you, Derek, it's my weapon."

"You misunderstood, I was kissing you because if it's your weapon, I don't want to use it." Derek has the slightest smirk on his face as he watches Stiles think about what he just said. If Stiles really thinks he can use it against him, he has another thing coming. If it comes down to who can hold out longer, Derek is betting his experience against Stiles hormonal body that has just had a taste of sex.

Stiles groans, tipping his head back in frustration. "Please tell me that means something other than what I'm thinking." Derek chuckles breathily, "You shouldn't have challenged me, Stiles," he backs the teen up, getting teasingly close to their lips touching and whispering, "Because if sex is going to be anyone's weapon...it's going to be mine."

Stiles clenches his jaw, just his voice makes the teen tingle. What have I done? Derek easily recognizes the scent of Stiles arousal, which almost instantly triggers his own. Maybe this'll be harder than he thought too. Stiles wants to admit that this new found abstinence phase of their relationship is going to be a hell of a lot harder with the wolf's hot breath breezing across his neck, but he doesn't exactly want to give Derek pointers on how to break him.

"So, you're coming to my game tonight, right?" Stiles asks. Really he's just trying to focus his attention on anything else right now, and it's that or 'hey, any news on our runaway killer reptile that disappeared?'

Derek pulls away with a sigh, "You know I can't do that." Stiles immediately frowns, forgetting about how he wished he was half naked in bed with a pair of wet lips leaving bruises on his body. And Derek senses—or rather smells—the mood change. Stiles slips past Derek so he's not trapped between him and the wall, so he doesn't feel so small and vulnerable with those damn eyes prying into his, giving him an annoyed look. Only if he did, he would see guilt.

"Why not?" Stiles quizzes nonchalantly, even when he knows Derek can read him like an open book, and clearly he's pissed about it. He knows the answer too, but for some reason Derek's response presses in his mind. "You know why."

"Fine," Stiles states back. He climbs the stairs up to his bedroom, an irritated Derek following after him. Stiles knew the consequences or their relationship when they started this, even if it's an unspoken thing. Not bringing it up just makes it more obvious, there's no need to talk about something if both know it to be true. Things are complicated enough without the pack knowing about the two, especially Scott.

"Really? Walking away, Stiles?" Derek snaps once reaching the teens room, where he pretends not to hear the invading voice as he types away at his computer. "Like you don't run away from your problems. And I mean literally, you get all wolfy and take off into the woods like an animal," Stiles says after minutes of silence, because he doesn't want Derek to have the last words. If all the the things Deaton said about being his true mate or whatever, why doesn't Derek try harder?

"That's different and you know it."

"That's not even the point!" Stiles exclaims, suddenly standing from his desk chair. "How come you can come into my room in the middle of the night to sleep, and you can kiss me—have sex with me—call me 'yours', but you can't even show up to one of my games? Is it all physical? Because I honestly don't understand you!"

"Because you're so damn easy to understand," Derek retorts mockingly, his eyes turning from guilt to dark. "My father shows up, even though I don't play."

"I'm not your father," Derek growls. The comparison alone pisses him off. "You're right, even my dad isn't ashamed of me when I'm all spazmatic and getting him fired," Stiles responds with an equally threatening tone. The werewolf can't decide if his blood boils because of Stiles yelling at him over something so meaningless, or because Stiles says those things about himself with ease, like he's always disappointing people. However, his caring side diminishes with his raising temper and he takes the bumpier path. "As always, you're reading into nothing," he snarls.

The usually suffocating thoughts about not getting Derek all worked up completely slips Stiles' mind. He forgets that doing it makes Derek shift because of the soulmate bond—if that's even true. He's definitely questioning it right now. Maybe it was all a lie to get into the teens pants, at least that's the assumption when anger his clouding his judgement.

"Name something you've done for me besides being physical, Derek. As far as I'm concerned, this is all for the sex," Stiles accuses. Then Derek stands down. "That's what you still think of me?" His hardened gaze softens, but it doesn't last long. "You think I put up with you and your pestering teenage-self for the fucking sex, Stiles? Maybe I should remind you that you kissed me first." Derek turns away and wipes a hand down his face, shaking his head and chuckling dryly. "Well maybe you should know that you calm me down, did you even think of that? Despite the fact that your rile up my wolf, I'm half human, Stiles, remember that."

Before Stiles can get another word in, Derek is out his window, probably running it off like Stiles had mentioned before.

"God, I'm such an idiot," the teen mutters to himself and slides his back down the wall to sit on the floor, tucking his knees to his chin. He can never just accept what Derek gives him. He knows how much Derek has been through, and how hard it is for him to open up. Yet, instead of being grateful for the fact that Derek offers as much as he can, he adds to the pile of self-blaming that Derek already carries around. And when Stiles thinks about it, he's usually the one who puts a strain on them by pressuring Derek for more information than he's comfortable giving and indirectly saying it's his fault that they can't publicize what they have. Stiles doesn't want that either, not yet. The pack is always going through so much, there's no need to add to that pile.

"Always gotta fuck it up."