They’ve been going around and around for thirty minutes, deciding who should approach the succubus directly, when Scott finally begs, “let’s just draw straws!”
“That’s dumb,” Isaac declares, head lolling against the poster covering the brick wall. “I hate to say it but it needs to be Scott. He’s in love with someone, so it will have less sway over him. It’s the safest option.”
“Yeah, and the least believable!” Stiles scoffs. “Have you seen this guy bumble through a pickup line? It’s painful to watch.”
Isaac rolls his eyes. “I doubt a succubus will care what he’s saying. She’s looking for an easy meal and if he’s offering himself up like a cheeseburger on a silver platter, who’s she to refuse?”
“I beg to differ,” Stiles argues. “Demons like her don’t take a night out for ground beef, Isaac, they want a steak. Prime rib! Filet Mignon! She’s hunting, and easy is no fun. You think Chris Argent wants werewolves to just sit down in front of him, waiting to get shot?”
He shrugs, contrary. “All I’m saying is pour some A1 sauce over it and it all tastes the same.”
“What’s she gonna do suck it out of his d—“
“Okay!” Scott yells, eyes going wide. “I’m getting a little uncomfortable with your meat analogies, guys.”
“I’m doing it.” Derek’s voice is quiet, but firm. He leans over the exam table, knuckles turning white as he grips the edge, expression pained but determined.
“The hell you are!” The statement comes out with more vehemence than Stiles intended, and Derek slides on his bitch face as he turns toward him.
“I’m the Alpha.” Everyone in the room rolls their eyes. “I’m the oldest. I have the most experience. I’m doing it, and that’s the end of the discussion.”
Stiles can’t help it, he laughs. Derek is pissed, pulling his shoulders back and crossing his arms over his massive chest. “What’s so funny, Stiles?”
Stiles waves his hand in a gesture encompassing all of Derek’s broody, menacing majesty. “The most experience? Come on, dude. What’s your lead in? Punching her in the face? You may have more experience but there’s no way you can romance her into our trap.”
“And you’re the king of romance?” Isaac laughs. Scott looks like he wants to come to Stiles’ defense but he’s got nothing to contribute. Thanks a bunch, Scott.
“What, like it’s hard? A few kisses, some cuddling, and I can lead her right where we need her.”
Derek looks constipated. “That’s exactly why I have to be the one to do this. Kisses and cuddling. Physical contact. You can’t—“
“You think I can’t do it?” Stiles cuts him off mid-sentence. Sure, he has very little in the way of sexual experience but he’s a romantic, through and through. Why doesn’t anyone believe he can seduce the shit out of someone? Rude!
“What? No! That’s not what I was trying to say. I think I’m—“
“You think you’re a better kisser than me?” Every eye in the room swivels to Stiles. He can feel the weight of their incredulous stares. Derek’s eyebrows creep up his forehead. “You think you’re a better cuddler than me?”
Stiles glances over his shoulder at Isaac, and at Scott, who are wearing matching disbelieving expressions. Fuck it, he thinks, never one to back down from a challenge, especially one that can end this inane debate. He’s all in.
“Come over here and prove it, punk.” He pops the p, staring Derek down with a knowing smirk. No way Derek will take the bait.
There’s a pregnant pause, during which Stiles starts to prematurely celebrate his victory. It’s the perfect end to the argument. The succubus won’t expect an ambush from a mere human. Scott will stay safe, (which—let’s be honest— is Stiles’ ultimate goal) and so will the Alpha, in turn keeping the pack out of serious danger. It will be an in and out job, no pun intended.
His celebration is cut short, however, as he watches the expression on Derek’s face transform into something he’s never seen before. Something that makes his blood run hot. He’s seen Derek flirt with people before; the exaggerated chummy smiles and fake laughs. There is none of that now. He looks like he’s seeing a free meal or a rare, mint condition Batman comic or whatever the hell Derek Hale wants most in the world but the bottom line is he’s looking at Stiles like that, like he’s valuable and delicious.
Derek’s eyelashes lower a fraction, making him look a little sleepy, as if he’s just rolled over in bed and happily found Stiles lying next to him. “Hey,” he says, voice gone deep and low, a rumble—a purr!— as he slowly steps forward with predatory grace. Stiles’ heartbeat spikes dangerously and his breath gets lost somewhere in his lungs as Derek stalks into Stiles’ personal space, until there is a hair’s breadth of space between their chests. There’s nowhere for Stiles to go, even if he wanted to escape; his ass is pressed into the cabinets mounted to the wall of the exam room. He’s trapped by the look on Derek’s gorgeous face. It’s all very sexy and confusing in his brain (and also in his pants).
Derek’s massive arms come up slow, one sneaking up to his shoulder while the other slides to his waist and around his lower back, pulling them together and oh shit oh shit their groins are pressing together what is happening. Derek leans his head in and down, and Stiles has never understood the need to submit that seems to be ingrained in the pack’s DNA as soon as the bite takes, but he gets it now, dropping his head to the side and allowing Derek’s hand to travel up the side of his exposed neck, fingertips tickling the tendons on their way to the back of his head, where they twist in his hair and tug.
Derek rubs the tip of his nose gently against Stiles’ cheek, takes a deep breath and dips his mouth down, grabbing Stiles’ plump lower lip between his teeth. The teeth are human, but there is a hint of sharpness to them that stings, making Stiles whimper, and Derek’s tongue soothingly swipes the abused skin.
He pulls away, only to wrap his arms fully around Stiles and haul them together, impossibly close. Derek is all hard muscle but his strength is soft , calming and comforting, and Stiles melts against him, clinging to him and emitting a groan of happiness as he buries his face into Derek’s neck. He could seriously stay wrapped up in Derek’s embrace all day.
Scott loudly clears his throat and only then does Stiles remember that there are other people in the room. He backs out of Derek’s arms and oh my god Derek’s shit-eating grin is priceless.
“Okay fine, asshole,” Stiles begrudgingly admits. “You’re better.” Isaac’s making a face like he sucked on a lemon, and Scott looks like he might barf.
“Told you,” Derek flaunts, but his grin softens just the tiniest bit as he holds his gaze, and Stiles’s heart turns over in his chest.
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