Stiles mentally curses Erica, because in all of her warnings about how brusque this guy could be, she forgot mention that he’s also hotter than the fucking sun. If Stiles had any lingering questions about his sexuality, they’d be completely settled by what this guy is doing to him. In fact, he might not even be gay anymore. He might be in the midst of crossing into some yet-to-be-named sexuality that’s all about a scruffy black beard and alarming green eyes and muscles and tattoos and this guy’s everything ever.
The guy’s name is Derek, his lust-addled brain supplies distantly.
Well that settles it, then. Stiles is Dereksexual.
I can’t just turn this on. I’m not like you guys. I don’t have claws, or glowing eyes or super senses.