Archive of Our Own ^beta

Derek’s never exactly had trouble getting people into bed; all it takes is a sly smile, a well-timed wink, breezy laughter, gentle touches and they’re his.

It also probably doesn’t hurt that Derek is an incubus.

Anyways, so the whole incubus thing is why Derek finds himself at a club half past midnight, eyes wandering as he wonders which of these lucky people he’ll lure into bed tonight. He’s never been picky, lets his gaze roam over men and women, younger and older, until something catches his eye –sometimes Derek can just feel who would be best, and well, those nights are the best.

His eyes land on him then, a boy sitting at the counter (his hair is just long enough to grab and he can imagine tugging it so well, can picture the sounds the boy would make so easily) talking to the bartender between serving drinks. He’s laughing at something Derek can’t hear –he probably could, if he tried hard enough –eyes bright with his head thrown back and Derek, Derek wants.

And that’s, that’s new, while sex is something Derek enjoys –because, why wouldn’t you? –the reason for doing it has always been more for energy than pleasure –not that it ever lacks either. Still, he can’t remember ever specifically wanting someone. He shrugs the notion off though, as he walks towards him, it probably just means the boy’s energy is just too good.

His mouth maybe waters at the thought –not that he’d ever admit it.

He slips through the crowd of people, maybe suggests a couple of people back off when they try to cling onto him (he usually has such better control than this) along the way, and glides smoothly to the seat next to the boy.

The boy’s –and up close he can tell that although he is most definitely boyish looking that this is a man –still talking to the bartender, who gives him a look and Derek smells the sharp spike of arousal, a wide smile on his face.

“–you should’ve seen Scott’s face though Danny! It was hilarious.”

He tries to get his attention –and he’s never had to try before –but the boy continues to focus solely on the bartender, Danny.

He seems to notice his attempts because he chuckles before excusing himself, going to the other side of the bar.

“Hey” He tries, smirking in amusement when he flails blindly, mouth opening wide in a silent ‘o’ of surprise.

“Wh-oa,” The boy says once he’s regained his posture, limbs still sort of flailing, but Derek thinks that might be his normal state of being. “H-hi there dude, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” he says, smiling disarmingly, “didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Don’t worry about it!” He chirps, “Anyway, my name’s Stiles.”

Then the boy –Stiles, looks at him expectantly, mouth sucking at the straw in his drink and. And wow that mouth, Derek may have suddenly short-circuited because no one should be able to make drinking through a straw seem so obscene.

Maybe he’s an incubus too –even though Derek knows he isn’t but still.

“Derek,” he finally chokes out, when Stiles starts to look at him like he’s worried about his sanity.

“You okay there buddy?” Stiles asks, and Derek wants to say no because it doesn’t feel like he’s doing the seducing here, Stiles hasn’t even tried to flirt and Derek feels like a schoolboy with a crush.

His life feels so upside down right now.

“Yeah, fine, just a bit dizzy.” He says, and watches in amusement as his brows furrow in concern.

“Seriously? How much have you had to drink tonight? Do you need Danny to call you a cab –or I mean, I guess I could but…” He’s still rambling but Derek tunes him out, focusing instead on the swinging movements of his hands and far too expressive face.

“You could take me to your place instead.” He says instead, interrupting Stiles’ ramblings, underlying his words with hints of suggestion.

Stiles frowns, and Derek worries he put too much or too little into the words, but then the expression clears and Stiles laughs and waggles his eyebrows. “Sure big guy, I know just the thing we can do there too.”

And Derek, well Derek likes the sound of that.

-

Video games.

They are laying on Stiles’ bed playing video games.

Stiles is animatedly talking about the story line of the game –even though since its co-op he can’t actually see the story line –something about snarky asshole robots (that, he does get to hear, and the deadpan voice of the robot is absolutely grating) a badass girl dressed in an orange tracksuit and something about potatoes and cakes being lies.

It’s the absolute opposite of what Derek had expected when Stiles had invited himself into his apartment and he had no idea how to feel about it. He’s tried lighting a spark to Stiles’ lust, his desire, but nothing happens. The first time he’d done it Stiles had laughed, loud and vibrant and oh so nice to his ears, like he could feel it –which he couldn’t, shouldn’t, have been able to –and proceeded to push Derek’s character off screen, he wasn’t even sure that was possible.

It’s as if he has no desire whatsoever towards him and Derek’s just, never met anyone like that. Everyone feels something, however small, however faint has always felt something and Derek doesn’t know how to react to that.

“-rek, Derek?”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“I asked if you wanted pizza; I know this really good 24 hour place.”

“Sure, uh, I like pineapple.” And then Stiles stares at him like he just offended his first born or something and launches into this rant about how Derek is weak as is family and how they won’t survive the winter.

Derek understands absolutely none of it but finds himself laughing at just how enthusiastic Stiles is about the whole thing.

They order the pizza, a regular pepperoni with extra sauce and Stiles somehow manages to get them to put pineapple on exactly one slice. Derek eats it with gusto even as Stiles shoots him this look as if he’s never been more disappointed in anyone.

They end up playing until the sun comes up and its around then that Derek realizes he should maybe head home –he doesn’t have work today and by the way Stiles doesn’t seem to care about the sun filtering through the window he either doesn’t either or simply doesn’t care.

“I should go probably”

“What? Wh- oh shit when did the sun come up?” His eyes widen and he spins, facing Derek completely.

“You should’ve said something earlier man!” Derek says nothing in response to that, because he didn’t want to say anything earlier, doesn’t really want to now either, and only is because he really should.

Stiles stands abruptly, pulls Derek up along with him with strength he doesn’t think someone of Stiles’ size should really have, and drags him into the living room.

“Here’s my number,” he says, smiling, “call me if you want I had fun today!”

And then he pushes Derek out the door and closes it behind him.

He stands there for what feels like hours trying to process what just happened, and tries to decide if he just completely failed as an incubus.

-

He calls Laura later, when he’s back home, and explains to her what just went down with Stiles.

She laughs for ten whole minutes, tells him to try the internet, and hangs up.

He thinks he might be missing something, but then again Laura just might be being an asshole.

Probably that.

-

Derek swears he isn’t following Stiles around, swears it to the heavens.

So it has to be by complete coincidence (his conscious laughs at him; it sounds suspiciously like Laura –and well, basically his whole family) that he starts to see Stiles everywhere he goes.

The first time had been two days after their initial encounter, he was walking to work when he’d seen Stiles on the other side of the road walking side by side with another boy, they were talking animatedly from what Derek could tell, and kept bumping shoulders with each other. They seemed overly close for just friends and it made Derek frown.

Were they going out? Sure, Stiles had invited (well Derek had invited himself) to his apartment but Derek had supposedly been tipsy and they hadn’t done anything remotely romantic or sexual. His frown turned into a scowl and he turned his attention away and kept walking –Derek could have anyone he wanted and what Stiles did was none of his business.

(Stiles texted him that same night; with some horrible joke about not being able to wait the standard three nights before calling your date. Derek had laughed anyways and replied without thought; they ended up talking about nothing until two in the morning at which point Stiles had bid him goodnight, something about getting up early for work.

They’ve been texting daily since.)

The second time they actually ran into each other –he’d been at a coffee shop during the lunch rush and through the push and panic that accompanied it had ended up bumping into him. Stiles had beamed, seemingly unaware of the coffee that had spilled into his hand –didn’t it hurt? –and dragged him away to where he was sitting.

The same boy from the other day was there, and up close he could tell the boy smelled of wolf, of alpha, and wondered how he hadn’t smelled it on Stiles, how even now he still couldn’t. The boy quirked a brow, and if he could tell what Derek was he made no show of it and simply smiled and introduced himself as Scott.

“He’s my best friend,” Stiles chimed in, “my practically brother.” The relief of knowing they weren’t going out was cut short by the fact that Stiles cuffed Scott around the neck.

He had never heard of a werewolf, let alone an alpha, let someone whom didn’t smell of pack do something that left them so vulnerable. Moreover, even more so how they could be so close and not already be pack, did Stiles even know?

“Earth to Derek,” Stiles had said, placing a hand on his arm and that –more so than the words –brought him to attention. The touch sent a jolt though him and he focused back to the present, and listened to Stiles and Scott ramble for the rest of the next few hours.

“Don’t hurt him,” Scott had said while Stiles went to buy another coffee, “I’ll make sure you regret it.” He had finished, eyes flashing red and it did nothing to convince Derek that Stiles knew about the whole werewolf thing, it did though, frighten him the smallest bit.

Then there was a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth, until Derek lost count and was worried he was actually stalking Stiles without knowing.

He called his uncle and asked about it but he’d simply said something about Derek being ‘young and naïve’ in the tone of voice that implied he thought Derek’s life was pitiful and it was absolutely hilarious for Peter.

His family was the absolute worst sometimes.

-

It was about three weeks later that Derek realized that it had been, well, over three weeks since he last fed. The he hasn’t since the time before Stiles, and he’s not sure when that was. Which wasn’t exactly bad, he could go around two months without absolutely needing to but Derek never let it get close to that. Especially since around the halfway point things get harder; their focus can become hazy, concentration harder to hold. Keeping down food –of the nonsexual energy kind –is difficult, their bodies rejecting it, trying to emphasize that it’s the wrong kind of sustenance.

And by this point Derek should be feeling some of the effects, should be feeling something, but he doesn’t. If anything Derek feels better than he has in years, as if he’s riding the high that comes from the moment right after he takes that final bit of energy constantly and permanently.

He doesn’t know what this means either, but he’s learned better than to try asking a family member about it.

-

The next night finds him back at the same bar he found Stiles in; despite the fact he doesn’t feel it. It’s a precaution, he tells himself, ignoring the sharp twist in his gut.

Sometime later, he has a man with a name he can’t remember pressed against the wall, the scent of lust overpowering his senses. And while Derek may have used his powers to get him to come to him in the first place the lust now is completely their own. That fact alone usually excites him, knowing that he doesn’t need to use his powers to get what he needs, but instead he finds himself looking down at the man (Kyle, Kenny?) and feeling nothing.

He frowns, tries to ignore how this feels so wrong but finds that he can’t. It’s like an itch that he can’t scratch and he just wants the entire situation to go away.

There had never been a moment where’d he’d been happier to be what he is. Someone so deep in their desires, especially towards him, is easy to manipulate and he manages to detangle himself from the other and leave without so much as a complaint –well, if you ignored the small whine they let out but he paid no mind to it.

As the cool air of the late evening hits him, he finally feels the knot in his stomach dissipate.

-

He’s not exactly sure how he ended up here, why it is that he’s standing in front of a bookstore when he’s not interested in buying one. Nevertheless, he’s here, and has been here for a while he thinks, he doesn’t exactly remember walking up to it.

The shop is large, despite the way it appears from outside, and despite the size still seems to not have enough room. There are shelves upon shelves, the space between them just enough to walk through, filled to the brim with books. It’s disappointing though, because he loves the smell of books, new and old, yet the only thing he smells here is the overpowering scent of one of the many plants that line the shops, he’s never seen a bookstore with so many plants, and so many he’s not sure he’s ever seen before. He focuses on the scent though, which seems so very familiar.

“Derek!” A voice behind him exclaims and he stumbles, nearly tumbling a shelf down in the process. He turns slowly, hoping his face doesn’t betray his embarrassment. “You okay there?” The voice, Stiles he now recognizes, asks through peals of laughter.

Derek wishes it didn’t sound so nice.

And then he wishes he didn’t turn around because Stiles is wearing glasses and a beanie as if he wasn’t already attractive enough.

“So, what are you doing in my fine establishment?” he inquires, leaning against a glass case filled with a bunch of stones and gems. What kind of bookstore is this?

 “I… don’t know?” He offers, and tries for a(n awkward) smile when Stiles eyes brighten in delight.

“Now Derek if I didn’t know better I’d think you were stalking me.” He says, and turns towards the door as the bell above it jingles.

“Hey Amber!” Stiles cheerfully calls, waving at the petite girl with platinum hair who walks in, she gives him an icy stare and walks towards the back without so much of a word. “Always nice talking to you.” He continues, smile twitching in amusement.

“You own this place?” He asks after a beat of silence, and realizes that the smell he’s picking up on is familiar because it’s the one that always clings to Stiles, just covering his actual scent.

(It’s been weeks, he and Stiles talk every day and have gone for lunch or dinner almost has often, he doesn’t know why he never thought to ask Stiles where he worked –it does explain why he seemed so unconcerned that first night they met. He doesn’t know when this store opens but it’s not as if he’s going to get in trouble for being late.)

“Yup! My old teacher told me about it, big demand for shops like these ya’know.” He doesn’t, he didn’t even know personally run bookstores like these even lasted against brand names. “It’s never really busy but people always come here with the intention to buy so it’s good.”

“So, what is it that you want?” Stiles’ gaze is intense and Derek swallows, suddenly feels too warm.

“I want to buy this.” A soft, firm, voice says to his left and Derek doesn’t jump, but probably does blush when Stiles laughs as if he knew exactly what Derek was thinking.

“I’m pretty sure Ashe said I wasn’t allowed to sell you these kind of books yet Amber.” Amber huffed, crossing her arms in exasperation. “Don’t give me that, Ashe is terrifying, and I happen to enjoy my walks through the woods.”

“She doesn’t have to know!” She exclaimed, though she didn’t seem to believe herself either.

“Look,” Stiles said, placing a gray-blue crystal on the counter, “take this it’ll help, and talk to Ashe she’ll help.”

Amber frowned, but nodded and handed the money over. “Thank you.”

“No problem, tell Dew I said hi.” She nodded once more, and then left. “She’s nice, but young and reckless.” Stiles himself didn’t look anything over twenty so Derek didn’t think he had much room to speak, but he couldn’t deny that his voice had sounded much older for the barest of moments.

“When do you get off?” He asked, looking towards the book that was left behind on the counter. It was in Latin and despite his mother’s best efforts, Derek remained absolutely horrid at the language; all he could make out was earth and wind.

“You want the real answer or owner answer?”

“Real?”

“Then, not for another hour and a half, but as owner and sole employee I am allowed to close whenever I want.”

“Want to head over to my place?”

“And do what exactly?” The question seems weighted, like there’s another question Stiles is asking and it makes him want to fidget.

“Uh, watch a movie?” Stiles snorts then and the odd air around them dissipates.

“If that’s the case, than I’d love too.” He smiles, and Derek is so sure he could live on those alone, and follows it up by kissing him.

Derek’s world stops, jolts, and then fires back up again.

Like lightning, like fire, it makes Derek feel so alive.

He follows Stiles as he goes to lean away, grabbing his lips in his before they can fully break apart and feels Stiles laughter warm in his space.

They don’t end up going back to Derek’s apartment.

-

So he and Stiles are dating -dating, it’s intoxicating to even think –and not even a week in his sister (and his other sister, and his entire family) calls him to say how happy she is for him. He has no idea how she found out but Laura’s always had a habit of knowing things she shouldn’t.

They’ve been dating for a few weeks now (he still hasn’t fed yet whenever they kiss, whenever they touch even in the most platonic of senses, it feels like he’s sucked someone dry) and its lovely and wonderful. He’s never had a relationship, despite his parent’s chiding. Didn’t know how to make it work worried that he’d take too much without meaning too, too often, too much and fretted.

He doesn’t have that problem with Stiles. Doesn’t have it because they don’t have sex.

He doesn’t know why, but he knows that whenever he tries to bring it up –no matter how subtle –Stiles changes the subject with a small frown. It makes him feel bad about asking, but no matter how good he feels he worries it’ll all come crashing down, that there’s a clock ticking until everything that should’ve happened by now will.

He still wonders why they don’t, and wonders if they ever will.

-

He likes visiting Stiles’ workplace, it makes him feel calm, and the people who come in are always interesting. There was the girl with bright blond hair and orange skin with too sharp teeth who walked in with an equally tall but meeker girl dressed in all black; she had been quiet and kind while her perkier friend while nice seemed to glare at anyone who stepped too close. And the bald man with the blindfold who walked with better grace then most people Derek had seen –without a cane. There were tons more but they all recognised Stiles; a couple even seemed reverent around him and that was bizarre.  

Today when he walked in though, he recognised two faces instead of the usual one.

“You still haven’t told him?”

“I don’t wanna know how he’ll take it.”

“It’s not as if he’ll be needing it.”

“He could still want it!”

“Uncle Peter?” He called, and watched as Stiles shot up from his slightly hunched over position, and Peter smirked.

“Well hello there dear nephew, it seems you’ve caught me just in time for me to go. You really should consider telling him Stiles.”

“Fuck off you creeper.” Stiles yelled as the bell jingled to signal Peter’s departure.

“You know my uncle?” He asked, bewildered.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, looking at him as if he’d forgotten he was there, “Him and Laura are regular customers.”

He nodded wordlessly, and wondered what business they would have in a bookstore.

Later, when they’re curled up on the couch and Stiles has long since fallen asleep, he wonders what is what Peter and he were talking about.

-

“I’m asexual,” Stiles blurts and then tenses, he’d been fidgety the whole time they were at the diner, thumbs twirling and head bobbing.

Derek stares, and wonders what that’s supposed to mean.

“… Congratulations?”

Stiles laughs, a slightly hysteric sound that makes Derek frown in worry.

“You don’t know what that is?” Then, before Derek can answer, continues, “Of course you don’t, of course why would you.”

“Stiles…”

“It means I don’t have sex, don’t want to, don’t like it, practically can’t.” His hands are fluttering and Derek wants to hold them, tell him it’s okay but he’s not sure what to do, what to say. “And then you of course, just have to be a goddamn sex demon a –“

“You knew?” Stiles laughs again, but it’s a much kinder sound this time.

“How did you not know I knew? I laughed when you tried to use your powers on me, I get Fae and Vampires and Druids and a bunch of other things in my shop on a daily basis. I basically run a Wicca store under the cover a bookstore.” Derek stares, because it makes sense in a weird sort of way but, just, what?

“They don’t smell supernatural.”

“Nothing in my store does, I bury the scents with this special plant, it’s safer that way. Also has the added bonus of covering the scent of supernatural on me –you’d be surprised how useful a Spark is in spells and rituals.” His gaze is distant, as if remembering something from long time past, before focusing his gaze back on Derek. “Anyways, just, like, I have no sex, and you’re a sex demon/spirit/person whatever and I just –“

“When I’m with you I don’t need it.” He says firmly, ignores the blush he knows is burning bright on his cheeks. “You feel like more, like better.”

“Y-yeah, but,”

“No buts, I have sex because I need too, and yes, I like it, but I like you so much more.”

Stiles beams and kisses him hard. It’s like every time before the sensation is almost too much, a bright thing that threatens to consume him whole and he’s very much inclined to let it.

“I like you so much more too.”

-

So they go out, and they don’t have sex, and he gets to hear Laura and Peter and Scott and rest of Stiles’ friends tell them that they are absolutely nauseating together.

Stiles takes it as a compliment and proclaims that he’ll make them all vomit with their adorableness.

Amber (who he finds out is a wood nymph) threatens to have the trees make him disappear if he ever hurts Stiles –who chimes in with a laugh saying she can’t do that yet, but flowers are totally in her league. A couple other of the customers give him a similar talk (and he wonders how they can tell the difference between official and official) and it’s nice to know how many people care about Stiles.

It’s nice and wonderful and works even if it isn’t perfect.

(It totally is though.)