Holding On to You

Chapter 8

         The side of Stiles' house creaked, his mind telling him over and over again that it was time. He glanced out the window, seeing the crescent illuminate the sky. Derek emerged from the curtained panes, claws out cannibalistically and eyes a freezing blue that focused merely on Stiles. It was as if he could feel it- could hear Derek whisper how much he wanted him despite their silence.

         Once again, but more desperately this time, Stiles found himself against the wall, Derek's strong arms pinning his wrists by the sides of his head. A wrinkled growl slipped from his fanged teeth, Derek closing his eyes skirmishly. Stiles' breath was heavy, exasperated out in stillness. Then Derek's forehead pressed against his own, eyes reopening to a hazel and claws diminishing back within his fingertips.

"I'm sorry." Derek uttered, Stiles made completely aware of how hard it was for him to do anything but take what he wanted. And for that, the boy was grateful, "I-I can't help it, I need you."

         Stiles swallowed, feeling Derek's erection against his thigh, their bodies pressed entirely together. Derek looked down on him in despair, wishing Stiles would say it was okay- that Derek's hands were welcome to his fragile body. But he wouldn't because Stiles didn't want this. Unfortunately, as the moon christened wind scraped across Derek's back, he was now unable to resist.

         As Derek expected, Stiles didn't respond, however, went willingly to Derek's lips. Heavy breath intoxicated the wolf, one hand sinking down the side of Stiles' clothed body. It wrapped around his waist, gripping tightly as if the boy was going to attempt escape. This time, Derek took advantage of Stiles' willing mouth, tongue sliding in. The kiss was fast, Derek's lips seeming to want to devour Stiles'. The boy couldn't say he was surprised, however, predicting it didn't minimize his fear.

         Derek's other hand left Stiles' wrist, releasing both of the boy's hands to grip onto his shoulders. After all, Stiles needed something to latch onto as Derek's own hands found their scattered way to his bottom, fists clenching around the soft tissue. Stiles released a small yelp, it echoing through Derek's lips and into his mouth. Unable to decipher whether it was a cry of pain or surprise, Derek realized he didn't have the luxury of pausing to find out. Stiles was addictive, the wolf not believing he could be with anyone else ever again. It might have been the eclipse thinking for him, but Derek was sure that no others body would match as perfectly with his own.

         Lips leaving Stiles, the boy was given a moment to breathe, however, Derek couldn't stop, his face burying itself in Stiles' neck. Sucking and biting, Derek held the boy close. Throughout the occurrence, Stiles wasn't sure how he felt. His physical sensors appeared good, tickles being shot up his spine. However, that was slowly taking over his mentality, making it indiscernible whether Stiles was truly enjoying this or not.

         Back remaining pressed sternly against the wall, it provided support as Derek reached down, lifting Stiles' thighs to wrap tightly around his waist. The boy let slip his first whimper, length reacting pleasurably to Derek's. He seemed to like it too, a snarl-laced groan vibrating against Stiles' neck.

"Stiles," Derek muttered, hands groping his thighs and bottom of which were circled around him, "w-what's wron-ng?" Stiles could barely understand him, the wolf's desire preventing any words to distract him from what he wanted.

Stiles wanted to respond with nothing to get this over with and be done, but he was too scared, "Derek, this is- I-I've never..." is all he managed to choke out amongst the butterflies in his stomach.

Derek knew what he was trying to say and cringed, wishing he knew beforehand. Not that it would make much of a difference. This was going to happen either way, "I'm sorry."