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Derek shook. His eyes flashed blue and back to his normal green in even intervals, as his claws came out and disappeared in time with his heartbeat. There was another hole in the wall of the loft and his entire body was visibly vibrating. Plates in the kitchen laid crashed and scattered on the kitchen floor, mixed in with the sorry remains of the glasses that had shared their space in the cabinets. A few of the forks, knives and even a spoon or two stuck to the wall beside the door leading into the living room, the rest of them on the floor underneath. The sofa had been flipped and the crack running across the TV was unfixable. The shelf was overturned and the majority of the books torn apart. It looked like a battleground, but the only thing he was battling was himself.
Stiles found him crouched in a corner in the upstairs bedroom, sheets ripped apart and feathers from the pillows spread across the dark floor. He took a few careful steps through the doorway, but when Derek didn’t make any move to acknowledge him he crossed the floor determinedly, sinking down beside the shaking wolf. Derek’s head snapped up, eyes flashing before he realized who it was – he hadn’t even realized Stiles was there. Some of the tension seemed to seep out of him and Stiles wrapped him in his long, gangly arms, one hand buried in his hair and the other gripping his shoulder hard enough to bruise if he’d been anything but a werewolf.
He made hushing noises, whispering small nothings into Derek’s ear. Eventually he found himself led to his messy bed, tucked in a few blankets that had avoided his path of destruction and Stiles hand still in his hair, soothing him as he whined and growled. He fell asleep to Stiles endless chattering and woke up to a clean apartment and Stiles lying beside him, one hand in a death grip around his wrist.
Stiles hadn’t left.
---
The pack didn’t take long to figure out what was going on; the scent of sex and mixed body fluids on each of them was enough to give it away. Derek didn’t mind, and it seemed that neither did Stiles. Derek was content - still somewhat damaged, but content - legs tangled with the human in his bed, sun just rising to shower them in a warm glow. The view of Stiles messy hair, head turned away, lying on his stomach, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other stretched out in Derek’s direction, fingertips brushing against his abs every time he breathed, caused a ghost of a smile to grace his lips.
Derek lifted that hand to his mouth, sucking one of the fingers between his lips, moaning softly. The taste of them both still lingering on Stiles fingers from after he fingered the come right back into Derek's fucked out body the night before. Stiles stirred lightly and upon finding his hand captured lifted his head and turned it to look at Derek, soft look on his face and light smile curling his lips. Derek sucked harder, eyes locked with Stiles amber ones and Stiles groaned and shifted closer to Derek. He turned slightly on his side, exposing his morning erection to Derek who fixed his gaze on it.
“Stiles…” he breathed, letting Stiles fingers fall from his mouth, hand reaching out to fit around the plump, flushed organ, tugging a little.
Stiles let out another groan and Derek found himself pushed back into the mattress as Stiles hands skimmed his sides. His fingers teased where Derek was still loose, open and wet, causing a keen to spill from Derek’s lips. He had long since stopped being embarrassed about the noises that Stiles could tease out of him. He whined when the fingers pulled out, only to moan wantonly as they returned with another one; three fingers fucking him open.
“Stiles!” he whined and Stiles knew what that meant, knew how desperate he made Derek. He didn’t tease and swiftly pulled his fingers away to replace it with the head of his cock. The hot length slid slowly into Derek’s heat, a moan escaping Stiles bite-swollen lips. Derek attached his mouth to the side of his neck, sucking dark purple bruises into the skin as Stiles moved languidly in and out of him. He switched from marking to simply pressing light kisses against the column of Stiles neck, Stiles ragged breathing in his ear. Stiles hand moved down do wrap around his own stiff, weeping cock.
“I love you.” He whispered between kisses, over and over until he spilled between them, Stiles following shortly after.
He said it again as they both lay beside each other on the bed, bathing in the afterglow, fingers tangled and Stiles head resting on his stomach.
“I love you.”
Stiles had saved him.
---
He had been wrong. He’d given all he’d had left, sacrificed everything he’d ever been. And he had been wrong. He and Stiles didn’t - wouldn't - last forever. Love wasn’t forever and he knew somewhere that they’d been doomed from the beginning. Although he'd known, he was still upset. And angry. Mostly he was angry. Stiles was leaving him, but Derek wasn’t letting him go without a fight. He felt stretched thin, the tether on his heart tightly pulled and fragile. He imagined Stiles leaving. Something snapped within him.
The door to the Stilinski home slammed open and Derek stalked inside. Stiles looked up from the box he was packing as Derek stormed into his room, an eyebrow arched.
“Derek? What are you-“ he was cut off by Derek’s lips on his, Derek wrapping his arms around the boy and lifting him off the ground. He growled against the boy’s mouth, carrying him downstairs and out of the house.
“Derek. Der-“ Derek pressed another kiss against his lips, drowning any complaints or questions he might’ve had and deposited the boy in the passenger seat of the Camaro. A look in Stiles direction had the boy closing his mouth before even attempting to say something. They drove in silence before Derek pulled up before the remains of the Hale house, the preserve quiet around them. Derek gestured for Stiles to get in the backseat before following, straddling his legs. His lips pressed desperately against the column of Stiles neck.
"Don't leave." Derek mumbled, "Don't leave me. Never leave me." he repeated like a mantra, and the dizzyness of arousal kept Stiles from understanding what he was saying. When he finally managed to make it out his eyes flew open, worry and heartache flashing through him at the broken pleading.
"Never. Never!" Stiles replied to every mumbled plea. His heart was racing, but all Derek heard was the lie. Stiles was leaving, already one foot out the door, even as he said he wouldn't. It made Derek even more desperate, yanking at Stiles clothes as well as his own to get them where he wanted.
It was quick and dirty, clothes being pulled roughly off their bodies, the only sound the noises crossing their lips and the wet slapping of Stiles cock pistoning in and out of Derek. There was too little prep to really be comfortable for either one of them, but Derek needed to feel it, needed to preserve what he could from Stiles before it was too late.
When he smelled Stiles getting close, his fingers gripped Stiles shoulders. He came with a muffled sound, filling Derek up from inside, Derek still hard and slapping against his stomach as he bounced on Stiles cock. Derek stopped moving when he felt Stiles spurt inside him, gripping his own cock, Stiles hand joining his in jerking him to completion.
They were both panting as they came down from their highs.
“I love you.” Stiles whispered, for the first time, when they’d redressed and Derek was once again straddling his thighs. Derek didn’t reply with anything but a pained whine; Stiles heartbeat was steady, but the words curled tight in his chest anyway.
"Lies..." a voice whispered in his mind. His hands sneaked slowly up Stiles torso, stopping with his fingers around Stiles neck. Stiles arched an eyebrow, but allowed it; they’d done some of this before, choking and painplay, so he didn’t worry and simply assumed it was Derek’s way of initiating another round.
But the hands around Stiles throat didn’t ease up when they should have, didn’t let go and let him breathe as usual. They kept pressing, harder and harder and panic rose in Stiles eyes as he realized where this was heading.
The wild gleam in Derek’s eyes, the way he’d picked him up and taken him from the house lacking the undernote of softness that Derek usually had. Stiles knew, he just didn’t want to go there. Didn’t want to believe what Derek was capable of.
Derek let out his own breath when Stiles went limp against the seat, amber eyes still wide but with no signs of life. He heard Stiles heartbeat pull to a stop and loosened the grip around the boys throat. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he reached for the bundle of dark cloth lying in the back window of the Camaro, revealing a needle and a gun, both containing enough wolfsbane to kill him several times over. He wasn't taking any chances.
With a cold efficiency he didn’t know he was capable of, with the love of his life lifeless beneath him, he prepped the needle and uncocked the gun. Taking a deep breath he plunged the needle into his chest, pressing the wolfsbane concoction into his body. The pain that erupted in his chest felt like flames - like the ones that had burned his entire family to death - and he whined loudly. He ran a trembling hand through Stiles hair with his left hand, the right hand lifting the gun to his temple.
He let out a howl of sorrow, long enough to hear the reply from the pack and he knew they were on their way. He pressed the finger against the trigger, letting out another howl.
The bang of the gun cut the howl short.
They were space bound now.