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    Summary

    “I love you.” Stiles whispered, for the first time, when they’d redressed and Derek was once again straddling his thighs. Derek didn’t reply with anything but a pained whine; Stiles heartbeat was steady, but the words curled tight in his chest anyway.

    "Lies..." a voice whispered in his mind. His hands sneaked slowly up Stiles torso, stopping with his fingers around Stiles neck. Stiles arched an eyebrow, but allowed it; they’d done some of this before, choking and painplay, so he didn’t worry and simply assumed it was Derek’s way of initiating another round.

    But the hands around Stiles throat didn’t ease up when they should have, didn’t let go and let him breathe as usual. They kept pressing, harder and harder and panic rose in Stiles eyes as he realized where this was heading.

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