Heathens_Gate
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"I'm a virgin," Stiles says because he has to. It must be known.
Derek lifts himself up, braced on his forearms in a sort of plank, so he can look down at Stiles. His face is still human and his eyes are the colour of pond-water. Stiles collects these details for later. When this is over, he can figure out the spell's intent. For now, all he knows is that the more they touch, the more human Derek remains.
"I know," Derek says, and it's not soft or kind. Just matter-of-fact. "I… I can't let you go."
"I know," Stiles echoes. "Um. Can you be…" he trails off when Derek looks away, eyes filled with shame. His first time won't be with someone he loves or gentle. Okay.
"I'm sorry," Derek says, still looking away. "The instinct is too strong. To chase you down, to bite." His hips grind down, punctuating his words. "If I don't - if we don't do this, then I'll - "
Fuck or die. Those are Stiles' options. Well then. What's that video game motto? Hesitation is defeat.
Bookmarked by Heathens_Gate
14 Jul 2025
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"I'm not wearing a muzzle," Derek snaps.
"Look, if you wear this then we're golden! There's no way you can bite through this, Deaton said so."
"Oh well, if Deaton says," Derek says snidely. It's a silly argument. Sure, Deaton is shady and enjoys bending the truth on occasion, but unless it's a complex assassination plan he wouldn't lie about this. Something that Stiles knows that Derek is aware of.
"There's really no reason for him to lie," Stiles points out. "What's your real problem with it?"
"It's demeaning," Derek says through gritted teeth.
"What? No! Lots of werewolves have to wear one of these," Stiles says, waving the muzzle around. The leather and clasps jingle.
Derek sneers at him. "Wolves who can't control themselves."
"Pot and kettle, buddy. Wait, wait," Stiles says hurriedly when Derek turns to leave, "let's just... let's try it, okay? Come on, have I steered us wrong before?"
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In which Derek can't control himself while having sex with Stiles and needs to be muzzled.
Bookmarked by Heathens_Gate
14 Jul 2025
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“You kissed me,” Stiles says.
To that, Derek says nothing. His gaze does not leave Stiles’ mouth.
“But you… you’re straight,” Stiles carries on.
And still, Derek says nothing. His fingers twitch harshly around his grip on thin air.
“You have a girlfriend,” Stiles whispers.
Derek is on his feet in an instant.
Stiles is the gay, terminally-single loser of Beacon Hills High. Derek is the straight, cheerleader-dating jock he should have been smart enough to stay away from.
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Bookmarked by Heathens_Gate
12 Jul 2025