Blurry » Sterek

Chapter 31

Scott's head lulls to the side for the fifth time, and Derek decides if the beta is in enough control to fall asleep then he might as well go home and actually get some sleep. Stiles is seeing him out, stressing that Scott needs to message him as soon as he gets home so they know nothing happened. He sleepily complies, sliding the door shut behind him.

"I thought you'd go with," Derek says, watching the human carefully. A part of him wishes Stiles would leave, because his wolfs want is overriding his common sense at the moment. "I figured you didn't want to talk because of Scott's super senses, since he's gone I thought..." Stiles turns around to find Derek standing directly behind him, "...we could talk now. Why wait?" Subconsciously, the teen backs himself against the wall, Derek following.

With glowing red eyes, Derek presses his palms flat against the door, resisting his urge for mere seconds before his fingers glide across Stiles' shoulder and down to his waist. Stiles audibly gulps, heart pounding against his rib cage, both in arousal and fear. Earlier, the alpha seemed to be in control, so Stiles isn't quite sure if his control is slipping or the glowing eyes is by choice.

"Derek?" The human manages to utter, studying the werewolf that's eyeing him up and down. "Yeah?" He replies coyly after a few moments. "You, uh, wanted to talk? Although, your silence is saying a whole lot right now..." He trails off awkwardly, attempting and failing to ignore the thumbs rubbing and pressing against his hip bones.

"Good," Derek deadpans, "I don't know how much explaining I could do right now." Stiles wants to ask what that means, but he knows, and playing dumb doesn't seem like the move right now. They hold an intense eye contact for what feels like forever, the bleeding red fades back to their normal blue-green, nearly taking Stiles' breath away—but not quite as much as Derek's lips suddenly on his own.

The logical, barely functioning, voice is Stiles' mind tells him to stop, and Stiles knows he should listen; instead, he shoves it into the back of his mind. Honestly, Derek's hands pulling them together, and his needy lips nipping and licking at Stiles' could stomp on any rational thought he might have, ever. There's groping, grinding, preening, and moaning. Stiles gets lost in it all, the sound of Derek and the pleasure.

-

"Lydia, hey, sorry for calling so early. Can you meet me at my place before school? And uh...bring make-up. The stuff that covers blemishes and what not--I'll tell you when you get there, okay? Thank you, seriously. Bye." Stiles ends his hushed phone call, still picking up his discarded clothes from the kitchen and living room floor. He glances back at Derek's room, who thankfully hasn't woken up yet.

As quick as he can be while trying to be quiet, Stiles gets his pants and shirt on. He beelines for his Jeep once the loft door is shut behind him. His thoughts are racing all the way home, he breaks the speed limit and his genuinely surprised when he pulls into his drive without causing an accident.

Thankful his dad already left for work, Stiles unlocks his front door and walks in without trying to hide his exposed skin. He send Lydia a text to let herself in before he hops in the shower, clearing his mind completely to stop any thoughts from last night. He has to deal with it as soon as he turns off the water, and every second he's at school.

"So," Lydia starts with a smirk, legs crossed as she sits on the edge of Stiles' mattress. The male nearly has a heart attack. "Just...give me a second," Stiles sighs. He already has boxers on, thank god he remembered those, so he digs for a pair of jeans. He throws his shirt on the desk for later, plopping down into his chair.

Lydia spins the chair around, still grinning wickedly as she begins matching his skin tone with different foundations.

"Start talking," she prompts, already mixing two shades and dabbing a makeup sponge across Stiles' hickey littered neck. "Okay, but you can't tell anyone, Lydia. I mean it."

"Fine. Our secret, now spill."

Stiles chews on his bottom lip, avoiding Lydias gaze. "It was Derek Hale," he finally sighs. The redhead squeals with excitement, pressing more firmly with the sponge. "Owe, Lyds, can you stay focused please?"

"Trust me, I'm focused," she smirks, "I want to know everything. How, when, and why the hell you're having me cover up the evidence instead of parading it in front of everyone." Stiles rubs the side of his neck, which, luckily, is the side Lydia hasn't worked her magic on yet.

"Look, it's complicated. Derek and I have a past, and it wasn't supposed to happen like that. I was caught up in the moment, we weren't ready for that step. We completely jumped past everything else." Stiles gets caught in his own head after that, in his own little personal hell, playing out the next week of school in his head. He only realizes this when Lydia begins pushing him toward the bathroom, where she flicks on the light and presents her work.

Stiles twists his neck from side to side, genuinely relieved and impressed that not a single hickey is visible. Though, a few moles are also hidden beneath the makeup, he just prays the people close to him don't notice.

"Thanks, Lydia, it's perfect."

"Not my first rodeo," she smiles, tapping just under his chin, "Come on, we're going to be late for school."