How Different We Were at Seventeen
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Scent. Derek has always had a heightened sense of smell, even for one of his kind. His mother taught him to use it, to respect it as a gift. He wonders if anyone’s scent had washed over her like Stiles’ washes over him. Would she still had called it a gift?
Stiles' scent had thrown Derek off in the beginning, it had been an easy excuse not to trust him. Like any teenager he was steeped in hormones, budding desires, both basic and complex curiosities. Derek hadn’t like it, the way Stiles scent reached out past all the other teenagers he had come to surround himself with, and pushed itself past his periphery to center, making him more aware of the teenager than he should have been… should be…
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- Part 1 of How Different We Were at Seventeen
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Show me.
Those had been Derek’s words. Now, he sits, claws digging into the faux leather on the arms of the computer chair, listening to the running water from the shower down the hall. His own arousal so strong, he can smell the scent of it filling Stiles’ room.
Stiles' words had been vague, but leading…
A fill in-the-blank of filthy thoughts and images had bloomed in Derek’s mind.
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Mate, the word is from the marrow of his bones. The conversation isn't going to be simple.Series
- Part 2 of How Different We Were at Seventeen