Prompt: guerra di conquista
Stiles wasn’t something he expected in life.
He was at the very top of the Greek’s army. Half-human, half-god. There were going to be songs about his Heroic deeds.
The counter effect was that people kept their distance from him. Some of them scared some of them cowed.
He was used to sitting alone even in the middle of a big banquet like the one going on in the Greeks campsite.
That’s why it took a while for him to realize that someone was speaking to him. He lifted his eyes from his jug to met two big almond eyes.
“I said thank you.” Said the boy, he looked very young. “You saved my ass today while those Troyan dickheads charged us. Man! Everyone was running around and you just stood there, it was like they crashed on a wall. I got your beer.” This was new. No one ever dared come close enough to pour him a drink. He just finished the one he had so he found himself pushing his pint forward.
The guy started talking again. Jumping from one topic to another not bothering to wait for Derek’s reply.
The hero had to admit he had fun while he was walking back to his tent that night, Stiles had opinions about everything and a wicked sense of humour. He didn’t seem to be bothered by Derek’s lineage or by the void between him and other mortals.
–Not that I make it easy- he thought looking at his tent, outside the camp toward the shore. He put a physical distance between himself and the rest of the world.
How it turned out it wasn’t a one-time thing. Stiles sat with him the day after and the day after that. He made up for both of them in conversations and Derek realised he kind of enjoyed the company.
Stiles sarcastic comebacks must have caused him problems in the years but now that he walked with Derek no one dared to fight with him.
Not that Stiles needed his protection.
Derek almost got the worried first time he saw the guy run toward the enemy, sword in hand and the short robe flapping in the wind.
Derek was sure that countless enemies perished under his attack too busy checking out those legs.
The hero himself could relate. He had felt no shame in recognising his attraction for the boy, he was a fully grown adult, it was natural. It wasn’t necessarily meant to turn in something practical.
But it did.
Going from friend to lovers went surprisingly easily as if was meant to be.
They were chilling out on the shore looking at the night sky. The city and the camp forgot behind them.
Stiles was making stones jump on the water. He was pretty bad at it.
Thinking back, Derek couldn’t point what started.
They were making small conversation. As the days pasted by Derek monosyllabic answers turned into full sentences with and without his consent.
It couldn’t be helped.
At some point, Stiles turned toward him laughing about something stupid he just said.
He looked so young and beautiful under the moonlight.
The moment after they were kissing. Derek was holding his face between his hands exploring the sinful mouth of his companion. Suddenly it wasn’t enough. He pulled Stiles closer, his hand finding their way under the short vestment to grab a handful of his plump ass.
Stiles moaned hard in the kiss, grabbing his biceps when Derek lifted him from the ground. His legs found their place around his hips and they were lost in each other just like that.
Derek was far from new to pleasure. Countless man and woman warmed his furs, but nothing compared to this.
He would never forget the way Stiles blushed everywhere under him, arching his back in pleasure while Derek prepared him; or his sweet moan when he entered his body.
He felt an unknown urge to mark him, soon enough the white skin was covered in marks. Stiles didn’t spare him either planting his nails in his back as he came hard between them.
Derek snuggled him closed afterwards not taking chances in Stiles to leaving.
Their bodies fitted together perfectly and Stiles let out a satisfied sigh and Derek smiled against his neck.
Slowly people start coming into Derek’s life. It was all Stiles fault. His presence ruined his reputation of untouchable demigod.
First, it was this guy named Scott, Stiles best friend. He was a brave and strong warrior as much as he was a sweet kind the rest of the time.
Allison was a package deal with him, the strong woman was a mercenary on the paper but her heart was big and her smile gentle.
Jackson had a rough start with him, making a sarcastic comment over Stiles marks. Something about finally finding his right occupation.
Derek was holding him in the hair by his neck before he could end the sentence.
He didn’t kill him, but only because Stiles start showing his leg asking advice for his pricelist to passing by people.
Derek already knew the last additions to their small group. Malia was his cousin, a wild warrior feared by everyone. Boys and Erika used to be slaves, but they gained their freedom by joining the Greek’s army years before the war started; they were a powerful couple and no one thought less of them for their previous status.
As his days were filled by his newly found company the war became something distant and meaningless.
Why were they fighting again?
Some guy stole someone else’s girlfriend?
Real people were dying for that?
Leaving the warm of his furs every morning became difficult. Stiles never really left after that first night, his stuff started popping out in Derek’s big tent and the hero couldn’t find himself to regret anything. The boy was loud and clumsy with a weird obsession for eating healthy, whatever may that meant. Derek seriously doubts that his demigod body would suffer from an unbalanced diet, but it was important for Stiles and he complied.
Stiles didn’t mean to thank him thoroughly for that. The warrior was haunted by the sight of those red lips around his dick for days.
His newly found indifference for the war was soon noticed by the rest of the army. Deaton, the mind behind the power, try to speak with him but if it’s possible it only made Derek warier of the situation.
The day he walked into the tent just to met Stiles collecting his armour he knew something was up.
“What are you doing?” he asked roughly than he intended.
“I’ll bring your armour to the blacksmith for a check-up and a cleaning round. No one will follow a sloppy hero.” He said his voice filled with forced glee.
“I’m not going back to the battlefield.” He said firmly.
“Sure, nice one. I bet I can wear this and no one would notice.” He answered keep up the pretence but Derek was fed up.”
“I’m not joking. I am done with meaningless fighting. I went from one war to another since I was old enough to hold a sword.”
“But you are a demigod…”
“Exactly! Since I’m a damned demigod so I need to fight until finally one day someone figures out a way to kill me? Is really what you think? I’m not just any mortal that the story will forget…” too late he realized what he said.
That was it.
Stiles was going to walk away from him.
He. The mighty Derek, the hero of the greek’s army, which never retreat in front of an enemy: was afraid to lift his gaze and look at the men in front of him.
But Stiles was never going to do something he could predict.
Two arms hugged him tightly.
“It’s okay.” He said gently. “You are not alone.” He whispered before leaning in.
Derek met him halfway. The kiss was desperate. He pulled Stiles closed as he could. In beginning, he was always worried about his superhuman strength around Stiles but it turned out the boy loved being manhandled by him.
Derek flipped him on the bed and Stiles gave him his secret smile as Derek called it. He spent hours studying his countless expressions and that was his favourite by far.
It only appeared when they were alone at night, Derek loved it because it made the rest of the world fade away.
Derek was usually very fond of the foreplay. But not that night. His desire for Stiles was wild. He had him ready in no time, turned on his belly he was a vision. Flustered and panting, glancing at him with lust. Derek didn’t leave him hanging thrusting in him with a grunt.
Stiles answered with a strong moan that could probably be heard from outside even though Derek’s tent was far away from the rest of the camp.
Derek kind of hoped so.
He grabbed Stiles harder leaving finger marks as they moved together in sync.
Later, Stiles curled tight to him; Their bodies fitted together perfectly. The sleep claimed his companion soon enough, but Derek spent some time looking at him. He looked so beautiful and so fragile, yet he was so strong and so smart.
“I love you.” He said quietly, only the night his withness. He did, he realized, he couldn’t even believe it was possible to care so much about someone.
Stiles gave him peace in a world of war. And most important: he made him feel demihuman as much as everyone else only saw the demigod.
He kissed him on the forehead. He couldn’t wait to tell him in person the morning after.
Happy as never before he fell into Hypnos domain.
When he comes awake the sunlight was so strong that it had to be almost noon. He never slept so deeply and so long. Years of wars keeping his senses on edge.
A bubbly sensation he recognized as happiness was purring inside his chest. With a smile, he reached for Stiles.
Just to find the furs empty.
With a grunt, he arose. He was a little disappointed. He just wanted to buckle inside his tent for the whole day with the man he loved.
Stiles probably went in search of food, he was starving as well.
He walked toward the exit but he stopped abruptly froze in place.
It can’t be. He thought turning slowly.
But he saw it right.
His armour was missing.
“I bet I can wear this and no one would notice.” Said Stiles.
He bolted out of the tent.
War noises were coming from the city but he changed his route as he spotted Scott near the hospital tent.
He blacked out as he saw the demigod approach.
“WHERE IS HIM?”
“Wait, is not a good idea…wait, Derek!” He pushed him aside, deaf to his pleading but then he stopped.
More people were inside. Gathered around a bed. Allison was crying kneeling on the floor. Erika was crying too probably, her shoulder shaking, her face hid in Boyd’s chest. The man was still, too still for a natural stance, as is brain couldn’t compile. Even Jackson looked wrecked, hanging boneless on a chair, his stare fixed in the void. Malia was the only one lifting her gaze at his arrival.
“Derek…” Her voice broke the spell and everyone looked at him
But he didn’t even notice.
What had his attention was his armour.
On the floor.
Covered in blood.
He knew who was under the shroud.
He just couldn’t accept it.
“Who?” He said in a low voice.
“Ennis.” Said Scott behind him.
Someone had his armour cleaned by the time he recoverer his sword. He pushed any thought out of his mind marching toward the city. He vaguely noticed Scott and the other followed him without any hesitation but it didn’t matter, that was going to be a solo fight.
Turned out that fight wasn’t the right word.
Something possessed Derek. When the fury dissipated Ennis body wasn’t recognisable.
Now that he was death Derek felt empty. Around him, the greeks army flooded with new rage following his example and the Troyan counterpart didn’t take long to answer.
But no one dared to come closer to him as he wandered around lost in his thoughts.
He couldn’t go back.
His tent was going to be empty.
At some point, he had to acknowledge what happened.
He just couldn’t.
That’s why he didn’t move.
He saw the arrow coming. The boy, Theo maybe, was Ennis attendant. He was trembling so much that it was a lucky shot, but he could still avoid it; problem was that he didn’t want to.
What was there for him?
An empty life and an endless series of wars.
So he waited.
It ended in an instant; a flash of pain which he felt for the first time in his life and it was over.
He opened his eyes to a dark ceiling.
“The brave Derek. You are welcome I guess.” Said a man in a shadow robe. “I usually never met our guests but I guess for the family we can make an exception.”
“Yeah. About that. I spoke with my social media manager about renewing my public image. Just call me Peter.”
“Where is him?”
“What? Wait! You can speak like that to me.”
“Where is him?” Asked again Derek grabbing him by the shadow robe dragging him down.
“I’ll show you.” Said a new voice. A beautiful woman walked into the room unnoticed. Her long, red hair where intertwined with countless flowers and her deep green dress frushed as she walked over the window.
Derek let go of Peter walking away from him as nothing happened.
“Oh, sure, is not like I’m the king of the Underworld. Make yourself home.” He mumbled.
“Those are the isles of the blessed.” She said pointing out the islands far away, over a dark sea.
“He decided to reincarnate.” Said Derek emotionless, hit by understanding.
“If he manages to reincarnate three times and live a virtuous life every single one of them he will live in the Elysium for eternity.”
“The time here is irrelevant. You just need to wait. And he will be back.” Said Peter coming closer and wrapping an arm around his wife.
“Send me back.” Said Derek.
“You think you deserve it? You killed thousand of man, songs about your rage will be sung for eternity.” Said Peter coldly.
“It’s not rage who is moving him.” Said the queen pressing a hand over her husband chest. “I’m sure you recognize his feelings.”
“Lydia, dear, this is not how does it work…”
“Peter, dear, do you think that crossing to another world for love is that inappropriate?” She said, her eyebrows raising.
Peter had to comply with that, he was guilty as charged.
“You may never meet him again.” Said Lydia to Derek. “He may never complete the quest, same it goes for you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Very well.” Ruled Peter. “So it be.”
“You have no intention to leave these two alone, have you?” Said Peter bringing his wife in front of him, his hands on her hips.”
“Afrodites still owns me a favour.” She replied with a smile before kissing him.
“Dude, that was Derek Hale.” Said Stiles.
“How do you know?” Said Scott.
“I…don’t know…” Stiles’ mind was running circles. He felt like a pulling toward the mysterious guy, maybe his spider senses were finally showing.
“Maybe you saw him on television.”