Work Text:
I can make your heart slow, I can feel the weather in my bones
Wish hard enough I could turn it to what I like, your pupils, they're big, big, they're rolling like dice
When Stiles went full werefox he couldn’t hide his tail or ears. It was really annoying for him, because it wasn’t necessarily during the full moon, but every now and then he would lose control of his ability to hide his extra assets. His eyes shimmered golden and his claws were short, sharp and black. He could move his ears forward and back, to hear better, but he had no control over his tail. It would move around by itself and no matter how hard he tried to keep it in check, it would flick and swish of its own account.
Scott liked to have someone keep an eye on Stiles when he turned, though he wasn’t really a danger to anyone. They had never encountered anybody quite like him before so it was best to play it safe.
Most of the time Isaac or Scott kept him company, but tonight they were going to the drive in cinema. Some sort of charity thing for the school, raising money for some program or trip. Derek wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but all he knew was that every school aged wolf was out and there was no way Scott was letting Peter look after Stiles.
So Derek was at the Stilinski house, rummaging through the pantry to find himself something to eat, as Stiles watched television absent-mindedly in the next room.
“Are you getting food?”
Derek rolled his eyes but replied. “You want something?”
“Yeah, maybe,” replied Stiles. Derek looked over to see him lying on his side, curled up with a pillow. He was tired but couldn’t sleep well during his ‘time of the month’, as he put it. His tail was flicking every now and then, before it settled down to rest on his leg. It was a very pretty tail – the fur was dark golden-orange with a perfectly white tip. It was clean enough, but it wasn’t combed. The fur was tangled and messy.
Grabbing a packet of cookies from the pantry, Derek wandered back into the lounge and stared down at Stiles on the couch. He dropped the cookies down to him, before he said, “Do you groom your tail, Stiles?”
“I – what?” Stiles asked, glancing up. “No.”
“You should. It looks pretty matted –” Derek said, reaching down to run his hand over the orange fur. He was not prepared for the sound that came out of Stiles’ mouth – it sounded like Stiles was about to protest, but his words turned into a startled moan, torn from his throat like he couldn’t hold it back.
Derek frowned and glanced up at Stiles, whose cheeks had flushed bright red, and before Derek could say anything Stiles had leapt from the couch and fled from sight. Derek heard his footsteps on the stairs and the door slamming.
Derek wasn’t exactly an expert on foxes, and he wasn’t exactly an expert on Stiles either. But he didn’t have to be an expert to figure out what touching Stiles’ tail did to him.
When Derek knocked on Stiles’ door, he didn’t hear anything in response. “Stiles,” he said, keeping his voice calm and as non-threatening as possible, “Let me in.”
“Go away,” came the muffled response.
“If we don’t talk this out its gonna get awkward.”
“It’s already awkward, asshole. What didya have to touch my tail for?”
“I was trying to help.”
“Some help you are.”
Derek sighed. “I could break this door down if I wanted. I’m being polite. Let me in.”
There was a moment of silence before the sound of movement, and then the door clicked, unlocked and opened. Stiles was peering around the edge, his ears laid back against his hair, tail between his legs. He was embarrassed. That much was obvious.
“Can we just forget this happened?” he asked.
“Probably not. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, and if something’s wrong I need to know.”
Stiles’ mouth twisted, nose scrunching up. He was frustrated. “There’s nothing – wrong. Ya know, apart from the obvious. It happens all the time.”
“What does?”
“Don’t make me say it, dude!” Stiles sighed. “The tail thing. It’s like – sensitive.”
When Derek’s eyebrows went up, Stiles said, “Well you wouldn’t know, you don’t have one.”
“So you get off when people touch your tail?”
“Yeah.”
“If that’s the case, why isn’t it clean? If it feels good, why don’t you do it more often?”
The way Stiles’ blush blossomed across his cheeks was endearing. “Jesus Christ, Derek! We are not talking about that!”
“Seriously though, why don’t you?”
“Don’t you get it? You touched it for a second. How do you think it feels when I touch it for longer than that?”
“Has anyone else found out?”
“Nobody else has invaded my personal privacy,” said Stiles with a glower.
Derek couldn’t help but smile, even if it was just a little turn-up at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s rude.”
“So is touching up someone’s tail,” said Stiles as he slammed the door shut again. Derek stepped back and shook his head, smiling as he wandered back downstairs.
Stiles leaned against his door and sighed, trying to ignore the way his pants were tighter than they had been before. Derek had such nice eyes. And Stiles wasn't saying he wanted Derek to touch his tail again but Stiles really really wanted Derek to touch his tail again.
But in classic Stiles fashion, he had completely lost his cool and instead of going with it and having what was probably going to have been mind-blowing-tail-tugging sexual relations with a fine looking werewolf, he was in his room, alone with a half-hard dick and a blush that wouldn't go away. Stiles slapped his face with a half-hearted hand and moved forward to slump on the bed, his tail still twitching.
He'd have to wait until Derek left to get off, because the stupid werewolf would be able to hear it.
"Stupid werewolves," muttered Stiles into his pillow, hoping that Derek had heard that.
Not the boy I was, the boy I am is just venting venting. Dear gravity, you held me down in this starless city
Oh baby you're a classic, like a little black dress, you're a faded moon, stuck on a little hot mess