Derek's throat goes a little dry at lick it off of you, eyes flashing a quick red as he turns to look at Stiles. His hands on his stomach make him ache, make him hot all over, even in this condition.
"I am healing, see?" He takes Stiles' hand and moves up to his chest, just above his left nipple. The scratch marks are knitting together, edges pink and shiny. "I think it's like alpha wounds; they just take longer to heal because they came from something pretty powerful."
He presses Stiles' hand down until his palm is pressed against the healing scratches. "It's like that night outside the school, with Peter. That took almost a week to heal once I dragged myself home."
That was a horrible night, and it hurts to think about. It hurts that they just left him there, face down in the dirt. But it's not like he had given them any reason to do otherwise. He swallows hard and looks down, trying to shake the memory.
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"I am healing, see?" He takes Stiles' hand and moves up to his chest, just above his left nipple. The scratch marks are knitting together, edges pink and shiny. "I think it's like alpha wounds; they just take longer to heal because they came from something pretty powerful."
He presses Stiles' hand down until his palm is pressed against the healing scratches. "It's like that night outside the school, with Peter. That took almost a week to heal once I dragged myself home."
That was a horrible night, and it hurts to think about. It hurts that they just left him there, face down in the dirt. But it's not like he had given them any reason to do otherwise. He swallows hard and looks down, trying to shake the memory.