halfbloodhill | SITUATION POST: JULY 21, 2013 (APHRODISIA)

[ Oh god, wow, okay, that's kind of really hot, and Stiles' heartbeat practically triples, and for just a second, he licks his lips, not even thinking about it. ] I dunno, I'm kinda forgetful.

[ Stiles is also ten times worse at hiding impulses, or crushes, or pretty much anything that's sort of emotional, and his gaze drops from Derek's eyes to his mouth for half a second. ]

[ Briefly, Derek's eyes flicker down to Stiles' mouth when he licks his lips, and he suddenly recalls that this is a very, very bad idea. On so very many levels, actually. Because it's moments like these where his carefully honed control could slip, nevermind his distrust and general attempt to keep people away from him.

And yet.

He looks up in time to catch Stiles looking at his mouth, and he chuffs out another deep, throaty chuckle as he adjusts their hold on the glaive to hook the shaft behind Stiles' neck. ] That's what repeated courses are for.

[ Even at the sudden pressure of the shaft of the glaive pressed to his neck, Stiles doesn't flinch, or draw away to Derek. He does look to the side though, brown eyes shifting for just a second to look at the sharp bronze edge of the blade in the morning light before turning back to look at him, searching his face and trying to understand him in just one gaze. ]

I am a pretty quick learner.

Edited 2013-07-22 06:53 (UTC)

[ Watching Stiles, almost as searching, Derek lets out a soft, rumbling hum before he angles his head in towards him. There's scant space between them, and he can essentially breathe Stiles in-- not exactly the safest thing to do when his senses are amped up the way they are-- but he doesn't close the space.

Instead, he slides his hand down along the length of the glaive before drawing back, an easy and amused smirk turning down the corners of his mouth. It's honest and there, instead of something fabricated. ]

Guess you'll have to show me that just how quick.

[ He could have sworn Derek was going to lean in there and kiss him, and Stiles' stomach does a flip, but before he gets a chance to react to it, to close his eyes and brace for it, Derek's on the glaive instead, and his eyes are pretty much glued to his hand.

Jesus. There is literally nothing in the world that could have prepared Stiles for that.

He does take in a breath, and his hand on the glaive comes across to cover his for a second, long fingers lightning fast against the top of his palm, before he pulls them away. ] I am kind of more of a tell guy on the show and tell kind of thing. [ He does grin, though, matching Derek's honest one with one of his own. ] But bring it on, big guy.

[ It's almost instant, how Derek's hand goes still beneath Stiles'. The touch itself anchors him, quick and steadfast, despite the way his hackles rise in a quiet sort of anticipation. He takes in a steadying breath, which turns into a soft sort of laugh.

He closes his eyes as he rolls his head, cracking his neck as he takes slow, easy steps back from him. The fact it's difficult is sort of worrisome, but putting space between them makes it easier to be in Stiles' space suddenly. ]

Funny, I'm more of a show guy. [ Opening his eyes again, keeping them clear, the smirk spreads just a touch. Something warm knots in his stomach with the sudden nickname, though. ] Show me what you've got.

You'll have to show me sometime. [ Oh Derek you could show him so many things. There's an undeniable push of emotion from that, though, and he slips back a little when Derek moves, taking the glaive back in his hand. He's still not used to it, but he's done a little research, studying how to use them pretty much obsessively since he'd chosen it from the armory. The problem was putting the tactics he'd learned--keep your stance low, use it like a pool cue when you get in closer, switch between the spear end and the curved blade end depending on the distance--to practice, because Stiles isn't a fighter. He's never really been one.

Either way, he lunges forward towards him, grabs a hold of the spear, and gives a first charge, pretty much leaving himself wide open. ]

[ A quick bark of a laugh, deep and straight from his chest, manages to escape him at that. But it's not derisive, and Derek's expression shifts to something more... promising. But he shifts from that to something a little more serious, the dangerous, predatory air returning beneath what's become incredibly flirtatious between the two of them. He sort of likes it better.

But he takes in how Stiles is holding the weapon, and while he doesn't utilize polearms and the like that often... well, he can tell Stiles knows it in theory, but not in practice.

Something to remedy, even if he's not a fighter. He doesn't move right away in the charge, but when he does he shifts his weight away from Stiles while reaching a hand out to grab hold of the glaive and pull. ]

[ Stiles realizes what's happening a second or two too late--Derek pulls on the glaive, and Stiles lets out a yelp as his weight gets shifted forward, the glaive yanked right out of his hands, and he manages to windmill and fall flat on his ass, left sitting there completely blindsided.

Any hopes of looking decently cool with his weapon are pretty much shot, and he swears and shakes his head, staring at the glaive in Derek's hand. ] Ow, jesus, you've gotta be kidding me. [ One freakin move? God. ]

You've got about the right idea... [ Derek bounces the weapon in his hand, before he starts to spin it in both hands. Quick and easy, he brings it around to rest against his shoulders behind his neck, raising his eyebrows and coming over towards him. ] But not the execution yet. You can't charge like that, especially when you're fighting solo. Leaves you open.

[ He shifts the glaive down, stabbing it into the ground before he holds his hand down to offer him help back up to his feet. This is going to be quite the work in progress. ]

Showoff. [ It's certainly affectionate. ] It's a four foot long stick, everything leaves me open. [ Stiles grumbles that under his breath, but when Derek gets close, he grins a little and reaches for his hand...

But Stiles is a crafty little shit, and that's where he excels. Instead of getting up, he sticks a leg out to Derek's ankles and tugs, aiming to use his weight as a counter and pull him down with. He's not going without a fight. ]

That's why you need to keep people at a distance, use that to your advantage. [ Derek can hear you loud and clear, and that would be something to file away for later when you're not pulling him off his feet. He lets out a startled sound, something of a sharp grunt as he gets his feet brought out from under him. It's something he should have expected, something he should've thought of, but Stiles still gets him.

He's not quite himself right now.

But in retribution, he lands heavily on the younger teen, careful not to drop his full weight but making sure it's enough to wind him. ]

Hrk-- [ Stiles makes a choked off noise when Derek totally falls right on him, as heavily as possible (probably ), and he grunts and pushes at his shoulder, half overwhelmed with the "holy shit Derek's on top of me why didn't I think this through" and half being squished to death. It's probably time to put the things his dad's taught him to use, but his brain is so fuzzed from the still oh so present fact that Derek just landed on him that he struggles under him instead, until finally, the hand on his shoulder gets a strong enough bearing that he can push--

And the next thing he knows, they're rolling, and Stiles is suddenly on top. He scrabbles down and grabs Derek's wrists before they come up, and Stiles can't help the grin that suddenly spreads across his cheek, before, triumphantly, he wiggles his eyebrows and says, ] Gotcha.

[ Derek could very easily roll off of Stiles, retribution enacted, but something in him outright locks up that keeps him from pushing away from him. The squirming registers to him, but it's only when Stiles gets enough purchase to actually push him over that he snaps out of it, startled as his back hits the ground and he's suddenly looking up at Stiles instead of down at him.

The surprise actually causes his eyes to flash red, but any other reaction based on instinct and impulse is swallowed down. It keeps him from actually shifting, and his eyes are back to a sugarglass green but a moment later as he feels the warm pressure of long fingers around his wrists, not quite completely encircling them but enough to keep him still.

Only for a moment. He might not have his hands-- could have them in a flick of his wrists against where Stiles' hold is weakest-- but he tips his weight in something resembling a sit-up, rolling them over and bowing his body over Stiles', angling his head towards him. ]

Do you?

[ Whoa. Did Stiles just see that? His eyes almost looked red for a second there. But he doesn't get time to ponder that, because his world is upending - ] Oh my god--

[ And just as quick as he'd gotten free, Stiles is pinned again, back in the dirt. His eyes shut when he makes contact, and the moment he flutters them open, Derek is right there again, in his space, so ridiculously close it makes his cheeks flush. He's not going to resist saying anything, either, because he's Stiles, and he manages to choke out. ]

Is this supposed to be "showing, not telling?"

[ Satisfied and able to get control of himself before he does something he'll regret, Derek looks down at Stiles intently, red gone from his eyes but a heat spreading under his skin. There's something drastically different about the amber brown eyes he's looking into, almost scanning them as he remembers the Bambi-eyed stare he got in the police station less than five years ago. ]

I'm all for showing.

[ If that comes out in a low rumble, pushing on an easy growl, well. He's not quite got himself reigned in completely, his constantly burning anger replaced by a love potion that has him leaning in the rest of the way, pressing his lips to Stiles'. ]

[ Was Stiles expecting that to happen? No. Was Stiles hoping that would happen? Absolutely.

He makes a little noise, startled but obviously receptive, and there's a dull realization somewhere in the back of his head that this is his first kiss, actually, and he's not complaining about it all. Instead, he lets his eyes flutter shut again and kisses him back, still pinned down, but wriggling his arms free and letting one fall across his shoulders and back, then the other.

Thank you, Aphrodite. Sort of. ]

[ Remaining curled over Stiles, Derek brings up both hands as Stiles wriggles his arms free and almost cradles his face in them as he kisses him. It's definitely not his first kiss (a thing he pointedly does not think about) and it's a little obvious, but he uses that to his advantage here.

Even without the knowledge that it's Stiles' first, it's their first kiss, and with Aphrodite's help he's rather intent to make it a damn good one.

The thought that this is his first kiss in nearly four years does come to the forefront of his mind, but he pushes it aside to instead focus on the arms over his shoulders, the hands unknowingly over the triskele burnt between his shoulder blades. ]

SITUATION POST: JULY 21, 2013 (APHRODISIA)

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