Chapter Text
The emptiness of his home didn't calm him as it usually did. No. He needed someone. But who the hell would answer their phone at 2 in the morning? Stiles grabbed his phone, dialing the familiar number. It rang. Rang. Rang again.
Voicemail.
Scott was probably asleep.
Another number. Straight to voicemail. Lydia wasn't someone to count on, anyways.
Stiles sniffled, running a hand through his hair.
This was his last shot.
-----
Derek sighed, scrolling through his television guide. Nothing was on. Well, nothing interesting, to say the least. His phone buzzed beside him and his ears perked up, grabbing it. "Stiles?" He read off the caller ID and sighed, answering the phone.
"Hello?"
"O-oh thank god." Derek could hear the shakiness in the younger boy's voice and he stood up abrupItly. "Stiles? What's wrong? Are you okay? "
Derek had always felt protective over Stiles. Sort of like an older brother, but also in the sense of Stiles being his mate(though he would never admit it).
"Y-ye.. actually, no." Stiles admitted.
Derek bit his lip. "Is someone hurting you? Is someone else there?" Derek growled, feeling his muscles ache.
"I'm alone. And I need you here." Stiles whispered. "I'm alone."
Derek nodded to himself, running his free hand through his hair. "I'm on my way."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"Bye?"
"Bye."
-----
There was a loud knock on the door around 15 minutes later. Stiles ran to the door with damp eyes. Derek looked at him with a confused look and Stiles pulled Derek inside, closing the door.
"Okay, you're freaking me out. And that's pretty hard to do." Derek said, stepping towards Stiles. "What the hell is going on, Stiles?"
Stiles sniffled, looking into Derek's eyes. "I-I'm just lonely." Derek removed his jacket, then looked at Stiles again. "Your house is hot, why are you in long sleeves?"
But then, it clicked.
Stiles had been wearing longer clothes. He had been more dependent on everyone. And now, he was standing in front of Derek, a weak, shaking, crying, lying mess.
Derek inched closer, taking one of Stiles's arms into his own. Stiles's breath caught in his throat as Derek pulled up his sleeve, then gasped. "Oh, Stiles.." Derek said softly, pulling Stiles into his arms. Derek held Stiles against his chest. The soft thump of Derek's chest made Stiles sigh, melting closer to him.
"I'm sorry." Stiles whispered, his eyes watering. Derek shook his head. "No. Don't apologise." He said. Stiles nodded.
-----
They ended upstairs after a few minutes of hugging and comforting touches. Stiles was sitting up and Derek was in front of him.
"Why didn't you try to talk to us? Me? Scott? You could've even gone to Lydia, for gods sake." Derek said, concentrating on Stiles.
Stiles laughed softly, his cheeks pinkened. "Well, I called Scott first. Then Lydia. But, it would be awkward telling Lydia I'm depressed, lonely, and horny at 2 in the morning."
Derek felt his face get hot and he stayed silent.
Stiles chuckled nervously. He looked over at Derek, but his eyes averted to a different location, to tented jeans.
"I-"
"It's"
Derek inched closer to Stiles. "I want to make you feel better." Derek mumbled, his voice husky. Stiles barely nodded before he was pinned to the bed, Derek over him. "Let me make you feel all better." Stiles nodded.
Derek hungrily kissed Stiles's lips, his hands resting on the younger teen's hips. Stiles kissed back, moving one of his hands to rest on Derek's chest.
"You're a virgin?" Derek asked against Stiles's lips. Stiles let out a whimper. "Tell me what you want me to do to you." Derek hummed against Stiles's neck, sucking hard. Stiles moaned out, tangling his fingers in Derek's hair.
"Touch me." He muttered. Derek pulled away, examining the mark he had made on Stiles's skin. He got off the bed, unbuttoning his jeans before sliding them down. "Pants. Off." Derek said, throwing his shirt aside.
Stiles had stripped down to his boxers in a matter of minutes. He sat on the edge of the bed and Derek kneeled in front of him. Stiles's heart pounded in his chest and he looked down at Derek. Derek smirked, putting his hand on Stiles's thigh.
"I'm gonna make you feel so good." He mumbled. Derek hooked his boxers with his thumbs and Stiles lifted his hips as Derek slid them down his legs.
Scars, cuts, scabs, they littered Stiles's thighs. Stiles looked away. "So fucking beautiful." Derek mumbled, leaning down to kiss his thighs. "Beautiful."
"Please." Stiles said softly. "Touch me please." Derek chuckled and moved his hand towards Stiles's length, curling his fingers around him.
And sure, Stiles masturbated. It wasn't the first time he had the feeling of being stroked. But Derek was different. He took his time with Stiles, like he actually meant something to him. Maybe he did. Maybe Stiles was too caught up in the moment. Maybe Derek had feelings for him, too and they could be toge-
Stiles's thoughts were interrupted and he let out a soft moan, his eyes fluttering closed. "Faster." He groaned out, tangling his hands in Derek's hair. Derek nodded, stroking Stiles a bit faster before he leaned his head down, wrapping his lips around his tip. Stiles let out a loud moan, propping himself on his elbows to watch.
"Fuck. Close." Stiles watched Derek suck hard on his cock, and Derek looked back up at him.
He lost it.
Stiles bucked his hips with a loud cry, shooting hard down Derek's throat. Derek waited until he knew Stiles was completely done before pulling him out, pressing his lips against Stiles's.
"So good for me." Derek mumbled against Stile's lips.
Stiles cuddled against Derek lazily, pulling the covers up. "That was amazing." Stiles laughed. Derek lazily kissed Stiles's cheek, smiling. "Sleep, Stiles."
They fell asleep as a tangle of limbs, Derek holding Stiles against him as if the world depended on it.
And it did.
Because Stiles was Derek's world.