The sun filtered through the curtains, slowly creeping towards the bed where Derek lay. The bedclothes were tangled around him, his body warm and relaxed, and for just a moment he forgot who he was, where he was and just allowed the peacefulness of waking up in Stiles bed settle around him. Last night had been…perfect? Could he use such a clichéd statement to describe how wonderful it had felt spending the night wrapped up with Stiles? Too much heat, too many limbs, salty, sweet. Yes, it was perfect.
He turned towards where the younger man lay but Stiles was facing away from him, the hard lines of his back just visible under the comforter. Derek immediately felt panic welling up from the ice cold pit that had replaced the contentment spreading its pool of warmth just moments ago. Oh god…this wasn’t how it was supposed to go? Panic rushed through his body, his hand coming up to his hair, rubbing, tugging, not sure how to fix it.
“Stiles?” his voice was soft, raw and full of emotion.
He could hear the boy was awake, the slight up-tick of his heart giving it away.
“Stiles…” Derek couldn’t seem to form any other words. What else was there to say? Regret had crept in between them, and at least for Stiles, things looked a little different in the harsh light of morning. Derek heard him sigh gently, the covers rising and falling, the hard lines of his body rigid and unmoving
“Derek…” His voice cracked a little, the threat of tears close to the surface
Derek closed his eyes
He would always love Stiles’ voice but at that moment, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it.
(photocred: dontbesuchasourwolf1.tumblr.com)