Beautiful skin, utterly unmarked apart from the moles dotted in various places. His torso was lean but muscular, evidence of working out in the six pack now on display.
“Everything good?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Derek replied, shaking his head. “Just – for your first one, are you sure on the placement? The ribs can get a bit – gnarly.”
“Yeah – I thought about numbing cream but I know part of what makes it work is intent, a sacrifice and well, let’s be honest, pain,” Stiles replied, grimacing slightly. Derek nodded, pleased that he understood how this worked but still a little concerned.
“Is – does your Alpha know you’re doing this? I mean – normally, humans don’t have the pack marks on them,” he said, unconsciously stroking the smooth skin of Stiles’ side.
“No – I mean, I don’t have an alpha – not any more. I just want protection, man. You go through one possession, it tends to make you feel like no thanks, been there, got the tee-shirt and the blood on my hands!” Derek’s eyebrows rose and he met Stiles’ gaze to see if he was bullshitting. The vulnerability in the brown eyes as well as remembered pain made Derek want to know more about this guy who had booked a special appointment. Derek knew Erica did as many checks as she could to make sure customers requesting the ‘extra’ package understood what it entailed but he liked to check.
“Where did you say you were from?” he asked as he began to ready his needles and other equipment. Silently, Stiles handed over the vial of his blood, watching with avid eyes as Derek set everything up, mixing the blood with the special ink.
“I didn’t,” Stiles replied, his voice calm but resolute. “Who did your ink? I mean, for you guys doesn’t it generally involve a blow-torch?”
“God, where did you hear that old chestnut?” Derek laughed.
“Seriously? I thought – “
“Hell, no – my uncle Peter started that rumour when the kids in our pack hit their late teens. It’s one way to weed out the people who just like the idea of tattoos but aren’t prepared to back it up,” Derek continued, wiping down the site and grabbing the stencil. It was a beautiful image of a stylized fox that Stiles wanted on his ribs, pointing towards his heart. A familiar? “It was also the only way to make my alpha, who also happens to be my Mum, calm down – she hates tattoos with a vengeance!”
“Which is why you’re practically covered in them?” Stiles said, smirking. His face looked so different when he smiled, his eyes lighting up as his lips curved.
“Something like that!” Derek replied, setting the stencil in place and giving it a few moments. “My Mom hit the roof when I got my first one.”
“What was your first?” Derek turned around and tugged at the neck of his shirt to pull it up so that the triskele on his back was on display.
“It’s our pack symbol but Mom wasn’t exactly impressed,” he said, allowing his shirt to drop down. He turned back to Stiles and leaned over, carefully peeling off the stencil and pleased to see that it had taken beautifully and should be easy to work with. “You okay if I freehand a little, make the important details stand out more?”
“Absolutely,” Stiles replied, leaning sideways carefully so that he could see how the stencil looked before resuming his prone position.
“What colour eyes?” Derek asked, already wondering if he could capture the beautiful shade of brown that were Stiles’ eyes. Maybe he’d use a little gold or amber in the ink to give it depth?
“Blue.” Stiles’ face was suddenly closed off, his posture stiff as if awaiting judgment. In reply, Derek flashed his own eyes, seeing the moment Stiles registered the colour. Derek wasn’t ashamed of his blue eyes any longer – his mother had insisted that he have therapy and his uncle had explained to him that the whole mythos around blue eyes was either exaggerated or misunderstood. “You – you killed – “
“Bite rejection – she asked me to put her out of her misery so I did,” he said solemnly, thinking of Paige and the pain she had gone through by the time he had found her. He didn’t like talking about it but it no longer sent him into the depths of depression to remember that whole period of time.
“Rejection – I hadn’t heard of that,” Stiles said, his voice musing as he searched Derek’s face. “Mine was – I – a friend of mine died because of me. We were in the woods and – hunters got him but I thought I could save him. Instead I made things worse.”
“Damn – sounds rough,” Derek said, settling his needle in his hand and taking a seat next to the bench that Stiles was laid out on. “No one around to help?”
“No – we took him to our – well, to the guy who was meant to be our Emissary – but he wouldn’t help.” A glint of tears in Stiles’ eyes and Derek couldn’t decide whether he should change the subject or not. Maybe Stiles needed to talk it out?
“Did he say why? Your Emissary?”
“He said it was all about the balance – of course, that was before I was possessed – again, no help!”
“Stiles – I don’t want to overstep but – if you have no pack and your Emissary is hiding information from you – I could put you in touch with someone who might be able to help you out. Is it just you?”
“I don’t know – I haven’t decided if I’m going to settle here or move on. I just wanted this done before I went – it’s a dangerous place out there when you know the things that go bump in the night are real as fuck,” Stiles replied. Nodding and not wanting to press when Stiles seemed so antsy, Derek turned on the machine, the buzz and vibrations in his hand reassuringly familiar as he settled himself into position.
“The offer’s there – my Mom is the alpha and she can be a bit of a hard-ass but she won’t turn away someone in need of somewhere to stay. Even if it’s temporary.” He couldn’t explain why he felt the need to make the offer but something about Stiles said that he could be important. Or just be a person in need that Derek could pay it forward with. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Stiles replied and Derek set the needle against the first line and began.
“Okay?” he asked, adjusting for the way Stiles flinched at the first bite of the needle.
“Yeah – just wasn’t expecting it to feel like fire ants!” Stiles replied. Carefully following the lines of the stencil, Derek concentrated on his work, adjusting for each breath that Stiles took. A quiet bit-off moan caught his attention and he looked up to see that Stiles was staring at him, his eyes glowing slightly blue, his lips parted as he panted slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Stiles was reacting strongly to the feel of the needle, his hand moving to cover his groin as he flushed bright red.
It wasn’t the first time someone had enjoyed their time on his table in such a manner but it was the first time that Derek felt himself having a similar reaction. Whether it was because Stiles was a completely blank canvas, his energy signatures or just how attractive Derek thought he was, he wasn’t used to reacting like this.
“If you need to release the energy, it’s cool – it might actually strengthen the tattoo,” he said, his voice thick. Stiles nodded, avoiding Derek’s gaze as he closed his eyes. Within moments, Derek felt the strong push of Stiles’ power surrounding them, ebbing and flowing, gently pushing against Derek’s skin, caressing his chest before swirling around his head. It was beautiful – distracting but beautiful – and he allowed himself a few moments to simply enjoy the feel of it. Needle held away from Stiles’ skin, he let his senses reach out, feeling the shifts in energy, the aura flaring around Stiles taking the form of a red fox.
A kitsune – but not just a kitsune.
“You’re a spark!” he said, gasping, eyes flying open.
“I – “ Stiles sat up as if to get up from the bench and Derek pressed down on his shoulder.
“No – I didn’t mean it in a bad – wait, you’re from Beacon Hills!” He recognised it now, the wild scent of the Preserve, the touch of a Nemeton within Stiles’ power. Before he could react further, Stiles had pushed his hand away and jumped off the table, scrambling to his feet as he grabbed his backpack and faced Derek.
“I didn’t do what they said – I swear, I – “
“No, wait!” Stiles shook his head, wrapping his flannel shirt around his chest as he backed towards the door.
“I’m sorry – I can’t – “ The anguish on Stiles’ face was painful to see and Derek got to his feet, hoping to stop his retreat. He’d overheard what had happened in Beacon Hills – the rogue alpha that attacked various people, the deaths that followed, then the stories of the Spark that had ended the massacre, unfortunately killing some innocents in the process.
But possession? That hadn’t been mentioned and Peter had been tight-lipped when Derek tried to question him.
“Call Alpha Hale if you need help – or just, call me here – Stiles, you don’t have to be alone!” he managed to say as Stiles wrenched the shop door open. He turned and stared at Derek, his power wrapped tightly around him, his eyes wide in his face. “Stiles – you can call me!”
Stiles nodded jerkily before disappearing through the door and by the time Derek made it to the street, the other man was gone, leaving behind far too many questions and a desire to know so much more.
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