Lucid
bloodwrites"What do you hear?" Stiles presses his palms to Derek's cheeks and stares into his eyes. "Sound, smell, anything. We're so close, but we need your help."
Sunlight spills bright over the bed where they lie tangled in white sheets. Derek laughs and turns his head to press a kiss to Stiles' palm. "I hear your heartbeat. I smell..." He inhales through his nose, filling himself with the scent of sex. "I'm on your skin, everywhere."
Derek pushes Stiles down, tugs the sheet from between them as he nudges Stiles' legs apart. "It's strongest here." He presses his face into Stiles' perfect ass, licks at his hole. It's hot, leaking Derek's come. "You taste so good."
Stiles sighs, even as he arches back. "Not here," he whispers. "Damn it, Derek. Not here."
He's in a place of perfect darkness. Damp and warm, moss grows on the boards beneath his fingers. He scratches at it, a line for every time she comes. He counts them when she's gone, fingertips sliding across the floor like a blind man.
Open wounds and hunger make him weak. He gets lost at eighty-something and gives up, lets himself sink into unconsciousness.
"You're not in California," Stiles says. "But she left a trail. We think she went South."
The loft windows paint squares of light on everything. Derek peels away Stiles' shirt to expose pale flesh turned gold from the sun. "You should never wear clothes."
"Focus, Derek. We're trying to find you." Stiles sighs. "You're happy here."
"Because you're here." Derek leans in to press his lips to Stiles' mouth. "I love you."
"You love me?" Stiles pulls back, looks into Derek's eyes. He's smiling, but there's a hint of sadness there.
Derek nods. "Never leave, Stiles. I hate it when you go."
"Hold on," Stiles says. "Don't give up. We're coming."
The pain is terrible, but his voice died long ago and now he can't even scream. He knows it'll be over soon, he can't last much longer.
Soon he'll beg for it. Right now all he wants is a chance to say goodbye.
"Stiles." Derek's breath hitches, voice breaking as he twists his hips to drive himself deeper into Stiles' body. His cheeks are wet, and a tear falls onto Stiles' chest and shines in the light from the window.
Stiles' eyes roll back in his head. His skin is flushed, and he gasps for breath as his cock leaks on his belly. His legs shake as they bracket Derek's hips and his palm flies up to press against Derek's chest. He starts to come, his body squeezing Derek's cock in rolling spasms.
Derek drops his eyes, counts fingers, and wishes this were real.
"Come on," Stiles says. "Come inside me."
If Derek had his wish, he'd stay with Stiles forever, but he's had more here than he ever had the right to ask for. "Thank you," he says, as everything he is pours into the body of the boy beneath him.
They lie in the sunlight after, tangled in the sheets. "We found you," Stiles whispers as his fingers play in Derek's hair. "It's time for me to go."
Derek chokes on tears and wonders why his mind still feeds him exactly what he wants to hear. "Goodbye," he says, and leans in for one last kiss.
Derek stares into the darkness. Tears wet his cheeks here as well, but he's long past caring.
The grinding crunch of the door heralds his death. He won't sleep again. He won't see Stiles again, and that thought cues a fresh flood of grief.
"Finish it," he rasps.
He waits for her taunts. They don't come. He waits for the pain. He expects his flesh to tear, instead, gentle fingers card through his hair.
"I'm here," Stiles says. "I've got you."
Someone breaks the chains that held him for so long. They bring a light that hurts his eyes. Stiles kisses him, kisses his chapped lips and sunken cheeks. "This isn't real," Derek says.
"It's real." Stiles taps his fingers against Derek's palm, one at a time.
"Then why are you kissing me?"
Stiles chuckles softly. It's the most beautiful sound Derek's ever heard. "Those days in the loft, with the sun shining in the windows? I was there. I've been with you the whole time."
fin