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“Just, mmm, just, what is the point of all this, buddy?” Somehow, I get my voice to not tremble as I stare at Derek, who is in front of me.
“Don’t call me buddy. And you must be able to react to a threat,” he answers, making me clear in his tone that he is using a lot of patience by just answering my simple question.
Which sure, but it is necessary for you to be shirtless, because… no, not a good idea to ask that, I’ll wait a little longer to make him rip my head off. Maybe a couple of minutes, because that’s how long it’s going to take for my willpower to fly out of the proverbial window and not being able to continue looking into his eyes and not down his naked torso. Fuck. It was easier to not look at Erica’s neckline. Which doesn’t say too much about my heterosexuality, but hey, I don’t think anyone could blame me here. There are some muscles that will turn people gay, and he has all of them.
“Stiles.” Oh God, I’m not looking at his eyes. Willpower, I’m very disappointed at you.
“Yes, yes, I’m here, I’m… here.” Well, it is being harder than I thought, looking up again. In fact … yep, I’m still not looking up, actually. I’m still looking at his collarbone. I’m stuck there.
“Well, apparently the first thing necessary for your survival is that your attacker has his shirt on.” Did he just… Did a semi-naked werewolf just mock me?
“Excuse me!” My sense of dignity seems to be stronger than my self-control, because I’m finally looking up to a pair of eyes that are looking at me funny. I didn’t know there could be humor under those eyebrows.
“Don’t underestimate me, buddy. I’m only studying my opponent, you know, looking for vulnerabilities.” Like that point between his neck and shoulder, that seems a point in which I could sink my teeth… Oh my God, focus, Stiles! Normally, I’m better controlling my hormones.
“Oh, of course, sorry.” I’m too familiar with sarcasm as to not smell it in that sentence, you are talking to the king of sarcasm, how dare you use it against me. “And have you?”
“Your neck.” Definitely, my filter today has decided to go on vacation.
“My neck?” While he seems to be having the time of his life, my nerves begin to wreak havoc as he starts getting closer to me with studied slowness.
“Yes, there’s– ahem. There’s a spot, the skin appears to be more sensitive. Right there, above your collarbone.” I think I’m shaking, yep, I’m definitely shaking. I am a deer in the middle of the road, and rather than turn away, my gut is telling me to run towards the car and lick its neck. Derek. Lick Derek’s neck, not the car’s. That would be extremely weird.
“Where do you say?” You son of a bitch, he can barely hide his smile while talking, and I can see those stupid, silly, not-at-all cute, bunny teeth. At least I’m glad I’m bringing some light into your miserable existence, asshole. Even if it’s at the cost of losing my dignity and sanity. “Please, show me.”
Show him? Show him what? Is he joking? Oh, oh no. It seems that I’m stupid enough to not think about the consequences of where this is going, because yes, there goes my hand, to rest on his shoulder. Great Stiles, you’re dead. Only you’re not dead. Oh God, I’m not dead. I’m touching Derek’s skin, and I’m very much alive after doing it. After touching his warm and soft skin. How can it be this soft? How–? Wait, am I? Oh, yes, I definitely am. I’m stroking the spot where his pulse beats with my thumb.
“Why are you so nervous?” Who is nervous? Excuse me, but what I am is hysterical. And wipe that stupid grin off your face like you’re doing what you want with me, I’m the one here that have you by the neck.
“I’m not nervous.”
“Stiles, don’t forget that I can hear your heart beating.”
“Well, don’t be so proud of yourself, mister Sourwolf. I’m pretty sure the entire state of California can at this moment.”
And he laughs.
And it’s a little harder to breathe suddenly.
I think the car hit me.