ext_256317 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
saraste-impi.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2013-12-18 11:33 pm
saraste-impi.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2013-12-18 11:33 pm
[December 18th] [Teen Wolf] Nothing Like Reality
Title: Nothing Like Reality
Day/Prompt: 18.It is not about wanting or not wanting. It is about the will in your jaw, and the egg on your back.
Series: Teen Wolf
Rating: PG-13
What Stiles had ever imagined the bite would feel like, it was nothing like the reality. Not that he had actually entertained the notion seriously before. He hadn't when Peter Hale had asked, but most of that had been because it had been Peter, the creep. Who was now luckily dead. Stiles hadn't thought about what he would say, if he would agree, if Derek had asked him. He never had, had never seemed to be interested in having Stiles in his pack, as a werewolf, at least. Stiles knew that he was pack in some capacity. Knew packs had human members. He was one.
Even if Derek kept pushing him away, even if Derek refused to awknowledge the attraction, the tangible pull between them. Despite that, they had always had each others backs, had always made sure neither came to mortal peril, got hurt.
Except now Stiles had.
Being possessed would have been bad enough, but the things the demon had made Stiles witness, while he was helpless within his own skin, unable to prevent the things the demon made his body do... it had hurts Stiles in ways he wasn't sure he would recover from. If he survived, he was sure that he would have nightmares for years and years. The image of his dad lying on their kitchen floor in a pool of blood would be one of them, it was etched to his memory, along with how broken his dad had sounded. The other would be the way the knife had sunk into his own body, the way it had felt, the demon making sure that Stiles felt every single inch of it as it pierced his heart, even if there had been the numbness after, because apparently the demon hadn't wanted to walk around in his skin while Stiles was screaming in his head in agony.
There was no escaping the bite.
It was a gift and curse wrapped into one. It was more than Derek just piercing his skin with his fangs, breaking the skin and making blood spurt out, digging deep and working the magic of it. It was... Stiles didn't know what it was other than it hurt like hell. It was like Derek's fangs were fire, it felt like they were rending his flesh into ribbons, digging in deeper than what they actually were, felt like they were hitting bone, scraping it. Maybe they were, Stiles didn't know. He was lost in the blinding agony of it, intensified by the demon, the way it kept half ranting and cackling in his head. It was too much.
And then it was over.
Stiles arm throbbed in the wake of the bite. He would endure it. If he could have, he would have flinched when Derek touched his arm to wrap a bandage over the bite, covering it but not cleaning it. Not that would have affected the bite, maybe, it would either heal or fester and kill Stiles, there would be no alternate. Stiles could feel the magic of it thrumming through his body and the best of it was... it made the demon antsy. It still clung to his soul, his flesh, with all it's might, but Stiles could tell it was affected, worried even. Which was good, since Stiles had no plans to continue sharing his body with it. He wanted his head to be his own, wanted his words to him self, his senses and his movements. He wanted to be just Stiles, even if that might be were-Stiles if the bite took.
“I need you to not fight it, Stiles.” It was Derek and whoa was he close. “Give in.” He says.
Give in. Sounds so easy, yet there are two things Stiles could give in to, the demon or the bite. He knows which one Derek means. Doesn't mean that he doesn't think about the other. Especially when the demon is distracting him. Telling him about all the ways that everything can go wrong.
Stiles back arches up from the examination table as the demon fights against the magic coursing through Stiles' veins. The demon's control is slipping, slithering, shaking. As Stiles gives in to the bite, invites the magic to fill him, change him, save him, the more the demon fights him. It makes his body convulse and shake. There's a background hum of panicked noises around him, which Stiles can't really concentrate on, can't pinpoint and latch onto.
Until...
Derek's hands are holding him down, how Stiles knows it's him he couldn't say. He can't really see Derek with the way his eyes are shifting between normal and the inky black sheen of demon vision, but he knows it's him. There's a rush of air against his ear as Derek leans in. Then three words which help him focus, fight, hold on.
“I love you.”
* * *
Derek doesn't really know why he tells Stiles that he loves him, why he leans in, restrains the boy's convulsing fragile body, and whispers the words into his ear. Yes, Derek knows that the words and the meaning behind them, are true, are what he feels, but the situation they're in now, why he says them now, when he couldn't before. He reasons it must be because it might be his last chance to ever say them.
Because Stiles might die.
And Derek wants to apologize for that too, for possibly killing Stiles. Even when he can't think like that, can't give reign to such thoughts because if he does he can't stop. Won't be able to. And fuck if he doesn't need all his wits to him. Now when Stiles is flitting on the edge between death and life, an edge Derek has pushed him to.
So.
“I love you Stiles and you'll make it through this.” He repeats his declaration and adds to it, breathing the words into Stiles skin, pressing his lips against his neck. He almost tries to make the words sink in through the sweaty be ingrained in Stiles' skin, sink in deep, down to bone, sinew and flesh. Even when he knows that he has no right to hope for that. Not after rejecting Stiles, earlier, not after not watching over him when he should have been, not when he's bruising Stiles now with the amount of strength that needs to be used to keep the boy's flailing body down. He wishes he could hear Stiles, because he hasn't heard him speak in hours and his words had been breathless, panic-laced and Derek didn't want to remember him that way.
Derek is past caring that his beta's have heard his words. Have heard the desperate note in his voice. Have heard the way his heart beats wild, in sync with Stiles, how his blood must be thundering through his veins as he looks down at Stiles, powerless to do anything but hold the boy down and watch him struggle for his life.
Against a fucking demon.
With all they've come across that fact shouldn't surprise him but it does. He should have been able to protect Stiles from this. From the nightmare he's living through. From the nightmares to come, the memories which will take forever to fade. His heart beats with Stiles', his breath hitches with his and he leeches the pain out, makes himself feel it, punishing himself. Because Stiles pain is his fault. His bite, his pain. If anything, Derek will make sure that Stiles feels no pain, that he'll... No. Stiles will survive this. He has to.
If he won't, Derek doesn't know, doesn't want to think what he would do. Now that it has come to this, he knows that he can't deny himself his feelings, that he cannot keep away, can't make himself keep away, shouldn't keep himself away. Because if he does, after this, it will break Stiles even more. It will wreck him beyond anything the boy has already been through now. Derek's rejection and distance would be the last draw and it wouldn't matter that Stiles' body will be alive if his mind would be broken. A werewolf with a broken mind would be something Derek couldn't be able to overlook. And then, then he would have to put an end to Stiles. Kill himself too.
Because he loves Stiles all too much, yet not enough to let him have a relatively peaceful death, because alive is better than dead.
Stiles writhes.
Day/Prompt: 18.It is not about wanting or not wanting. It is about the will in your jaw, and the egg on your back.
Series: Teen Wolf
Rating: PG-13
What Stiles had ever imagined the bite would feel like, it was nothing like the reality. Not that he had actually entertained the notion seriously before. He hadn't when Peter Hale had asked, but most of that had been because it had been Peter, the creep. Who was now luckily dead. Stiles hadn't thought about what he would say, if he would agree, if Derek had asked him. He never had, had never seemed to be interested in having Stiles in his pack, as a werewolf, at least. Stiles knew that he was pack in some capacity. Knew packs had human members. He was one.
Even if Derek kept pushing him away, even if Derek refused to awknowledge the attraction, the tangible pull between them. Despite that, they had always had each others backs, had always made sure neither came to mortal peril, got hurt.
Except now Stiles had.
Being possessed would have been bad enough, but the things the demon had made Stiles witness, while he was helpless within his own skin, unable to prevent the things the demon made his body do... it had hurts Stiles in ways he wasn't sure he would recover from. If he survived, he was sure that he would have nightmares for years and years. The image of his dad lying on their kitchen floor in a pool of blood would be one of them, it was etched to his memory, along with how broken his dad had sounded. The other would be the way the knife had sunk into his own body, the way it had felt, the demon making sure that Stiles felt every single inch of it as it pierced his heart, even if there had been the numbness after, because apparently the demon hadn't wanted to walk around in his skin while Stiles was screaming in his head in agony.
There was no escaping the bite.
It was a gift and curse wrapped into one. It was more than Derek just piercing his skin with his fangs, breaking the skin and making blood spurt out, digging deep and working the magic of it. It was... Stiles didn't know what it was other than it hurt like hell. It was like Derek's fangs were fire, it felt like they were rending his flesh into ribbons, digging in deeper than what they actually were, felt like they were hitting bone, scraping it. Maybe they were, Stiles didn't know. He was lost in the blinding agony of it, intensified by the demon, the way it kept half ranting and cackling in his head. It was too much.
And then it was over.
Stiles arm throbbed in the wake of the bite. He would endure it. If he could have, he would have flinched when Derek touched his arm to wrap a bandage over the bite, covering it but not cleaning it. Not that would have affected the bite, maybe, it would either heal or fester and kill Stiles, there would be no alternate. Stiles could feel the magic of it thrumming through his body and the best of it was... it made the demon antsy. It still clung to his soul, his flesh, with all it's might, but Stiles could tell it was affected, worried even. Which was good, since Stiles had no plans to continue sharing his body with it. He wanted his head to be his own, wanted his words to him self, his senses and his movements. He wanted to be just Stiles, even if that might be were-Stiles if the bite took.
“I need you to not fight it, Stiles.” It was Derek and whoa was he close. “Give in.” He says.
Give in. Sounds so easy, yet there are two things Stiles could give in to, the demon or the bite. He knows which one Derek means. Doesn't mean that he doesn't think about the other. Especially when the demon is distracting him. Telling him about all the ways that everything can go wrong.
Stiles back arches up from the examination table as the demon fights against the magic coursing through Stiles' veins. The demon's control is slipping, slithering, shaking. As Stiles gives in to the bite, invites the magic to fill him, change him, save him, the more the demon fights him. It makes his body convulse and shake. There's a background hum of panicked noises around him, which Stiles can't really concentrate on, can't pinpoint and latch onto.
Until...
Derek's hands are holding him down, how Stiles knows it's him he couldn't say. He can't really see Derek with the way his eyes are shifting between normal and the inky black sheen of demon vision, but he knows it's him. There's a rush of air against his ear as Derek leans in. Then three words which help him focus, fight, hold on.
“I love you.”
* * *
Derek doesn't really know why he tells Stiles that he loves him, why he leans in, restrains the boy's convulsing fragile body, and whispers the words into his ear. Yes, Derek knows that the words and the meaning behind them, are true, are what he feels, but the situation they're in now, why he says them now, when he couldn't before. He reasons it must be because it might be his last chance to ever say them.
Because Stiles might die.
And Derek wants to apologize for that too, for possibly killing Stiles. Even when he can't think like that, can't give reign to such thoughts because if he does he can't stop. Won't be able to. And fuck if he doesn't need all his wits to him. Now when Stiles is flitting on the edge between death and life, an edge Derek has pushed him to.
So.
“I love you Stiles and you'll make it through this.” He repeats his declaration and adds to it, breathing the words into Stiles skin, pressing his lips against his neck. He almost tries to make the words sink in through the sweaty be ingrained in Stiles' skin, sink in deep, down to bone, sinew and flesh. Even when he knows that he has no right to hope for that. Not after rejecting Stiles, earlier, not after not watching over him when he should have been, not when he's bruising Stiles now with the amount of strength that needs to be used to keep the boy's flailing body down. He wishes he could hear Stiles, because he hasn't heard him speak in hours and his words had been breathless, panic-laced and Derek didn't want to remember him that way.
Derek is past caring that his beta's have heard his words. Have heard the desperate note in his voice. Have heard the way his heart beats wild, in sync with Stiles, how his blood must be thundering through his veins as he looks down at Stiles, powerless to do anything but hold the boy down and watch him struggle for his life.
Against a fucking demon.
With all they've come across that fact shouldn't surprise him but it does. He should have been able to protect Stiles from this. From the nightmare he's living through. From the nightmares to come, the memories which will take forever to fade. His heart beats with Stiles', his breath hitches with his and he leeches the pain out, makes himself feel it, punishing himself. Because Stiles pain is his fault. His bite, his pain. If anything, Derek will make sure that Stiles feels no pain, that he'll... No. Stiles will survive this. He has to.
If he won't, Derek doesn't know, doesn't want to think what he would do. Now that it has come to this, he knows that he can't deny himself his feelings, that he cannot keep away, can't make himself keep away, shouldn't keep himself away. Because if he does, after this, it will break Stiles even more. It will wreck him beyond anything the boy has already been through now. Derek's rejection and distance would be the last draw and it wouldn't matter that Stiles' body will be alive if his mind would be broken. A werewolf with a broken mind would be something Derek couldn't be able to overlook. And then, then he would have to put an end to Stiles. Kill himself too.
Because he loves Stiles all too much, yet not enough to let him have a relatively peaceful death, because alive is better than dead.
Stiles writhes.