What the hell is a Stiles? (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} _stiles) wrote, |
The place he’d bitten Derek wasn’t visible anymore, but Stiles still leant over to press a kiss there.
Eventually the two of them managed to crawl out of bed and wander into the shower. As nice as it was to be clean again, Stiles regretted having to wash away Derek’s scent and the dried evidence of their love making. Another wave of sadness, an odd feeling of loss or emptiness slid over him. His body thought he should be pregnant, he should be carrying a child but there was nothing there.
He pressed his hands to his belly, rubbing slowly. He didn’t want to tell Derek, it seemed stupid that he was mourning a child they hadn’t conceived. The right time and place would come, they’d be ready for their pup. Now wasn’t the time.
There were a few messages from Scott on his phone, mundane things that irritated Stiles even more. He huffed and threw his phone onto the bed, stalking naked out towards the kitchen. Derek would make him feel better.
“I’m hungry,” he said to his mate, sliding his arms around Derek’s waist and nuzzling against him. “Can we have cake now?”
Stiles had looked at his neck in the mirror when he’d showered, enjoyed the shape of the bite and the slight bruising that was coming up around him. Scott would probably be annoyed. Stiles didn’t care. He should tell his dad, though. Before his dad saw.
"Should I put on some clothes, will it distract you from the film?" he teased, because damn, Derek's body was very much a distraction. Stiles' fingers trailed down his abs, to the tight muscles of his stomach, drifting around his navel before settling on the curve of his hips.