stop coming @ me
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Summary
He doesn’t look over. Not even a glance. Because if he looks, he’ll see. And if he sees, he’ll have to deal with the way Derek’s still not moving. The way that second stretched too long. The way his hips shifted just slightly up into Stiles’ weight before he froze like a goddamn statue.
So he doesn’t look.
But he thinks. Oh, he thinks.
Because that wasn’t just a moment. That was a reaction. That was heat under his hands and stillness that screamed yes and Derek not throwing him off when Stiles had him pinned. And the part that really messes with his head—the part he can’t stop circling in his brain like a fucking vulture—is that Derek could’ve stopped it. Could’ve ended it with one arm and a snort. And he didn’t.
Which means—
Shut up, Stiles tells himself. Stop. Don’t be that guy.
He scratches the back of his neck, sits up a little straighter, grabs the nearest throw pillow just to do something with his hands. He pretends he’s watching the screen. He pretends he didn’t notice the way Derek was breathing like he’d just run a mile, like Stiles had done something to him without even trying.
But he let me, Stiles thinks.
Series
- Part 15 of Sterek Oneshots