Stiles saw it in their eyes as he approached the front desk of the resort -- they knew exactly who he was despite the fact that he hadn’t showered in about a day and a half, had a week’s worth of scruff, was wearing a baseball hat, and probably looked exhausted from the flight. Scott walked ahead of him to check them in while Stiles stayed back with Kira, though he decided to check his phone instead of let the stares get to him. He should be used to them by now, being A-List famous, but he was supposed to be on vacation, away from it all in the middle of nowhere Australia.
Not only had it taken twelve hours to get to Australia from LA, but then they had to get on another flight from Sydney to Cairns, and from there they had to take a bus to the remote resort Scott booked for them; Stiles’ treat. Scott and Kira got married months prior, but Stiles couldn’t attend because he was in the middle of filming in Italy at the time. The vacation now was his wedding gift to them, only he was tagging along. Yes, it was possible to be a third wheel even when famous.
Stiles scrolled through his emails, or tried to, before he realized he barely had any service. He lifted the phone into the air hopefully, but there was no change. Stiles grunted to himself as he scratched his almost but not really beard.
“No work,” Kira chimed in beside him. Stiles narrowed his eyes at her, but there was no menace behind the look.
“Wouldn’t matter anyway,” Stiles said, sighing as he pocketed the phone. “No service.”
“Good,” Kira said, smiling as she wrapped her arm around Stiles’ middle. “We get you all to ourselves.”
“Hey,” Stiles said putting his arm around her and squeezing it affectionately. “This is your time. We have separate cabins, so you’ll have plenty of privacy.”
“We want to spend time with you,” Kira said, pouting. “We haven’t seen you in seven months.” Stiles held in another sigh, his lips pursed. “Scott and I are grateful for the gift, but what we really are looking forward to is spending time with you.”
“I’ve missed you guys, too,” Stiles said, smiling as Scott came up to them, holding out keys, real sets of keys. Stiles lifted his eyebrows.
“They said we could either hop in a golf cart, or take a tour of the grounds. Our bags will be waiting outside our bungalows by the time we get there.”
“Bungalows?” Stiles asked.
“Yep,” Scott said, grinning.
“Where have you brought me?” Stiles asked, trying to check his email again. He was waiting to hear from his agent about a Young Indiana Jones movie was up for.
“Cape Tribulation!” Scott said, clapping Stiles on the back. “Come on, let’s take the tour.”
“I want to shower,” Stiles said, resting his head against Scott’s shoulder before he started walking. Stiles followed, but not before he noticed the looks he was getting. Grumbling to himself, he put his sunglasses back on, hurrying to catch up with Scott and Kira.
They walked along a well-worn dirt path that lead towards a main lodge, all glass windows and wooden beams that looked out over the rainforest that surrounded them. Stiles looked around, his mouth hanging open at the fact that they were actually in a rainforest. Their tour guide told them about breakfast, how they served a lot of fresh fruits and granola, made coffee up until eleven.
It made Stiles want Starbucks. The thing about being in the middle of nowhere is that there was nowhere to go. There was no movie theatre, no shopping to be done, and no fucking cell phone service. Stiles popped his neck as Scott and Kira asked about lunch and dinner, which were at specific times and not complimentary. But none of that mattered; Stiles didn’t want them to worry about the bill.
“What about room service?” Stiles asked, accidentally interrupting. He cleared his throat afterwards in apology.
“We have information in your bungalows about our room service, which is available at all hours of the day for our special guests.” Stiles raised his eyebrows. He had Scott call and make the reservations because he didn’t want different treatment, he wanted this to be a normal vacation for them.
Scott sensed Stiles’ unease, asking about the night tours he read about online. They followed the guide down a path, away from the lodge towards the bungalows. Stiles watched families walk by, even nodded his head and smiled as they passed. He checked his phone again, to no avail.
He could survive without 3G, surely.
It was almost a mile to their bungalows. He doubted he would ever make it to breakfast at the lodge, with the distance, but the view was breathtaking. They were right on the beach, where the water was blue, bluer than the LA beaches ever could be.
“There are signs that lead you back to the lodge,” the tour guide said, smiling, mostly at Stiles. “Maps and the room service accommodations can be found on your beds in the bungalows. After sunset we have bonfires down this beach,” she pointed. “Feel free to come join any night.”
“Thanks,” Scott said, genuine. Stiles looked at the bungalow before him, admiring it for what it was: quaint. It was small, shared. Scott and Kira would obviously be on one side while he got the other. There were slatted windows, with a porch that had mosquito netting to keep bugs at bay, but there were no glass windows besides that.
Stiles wished he thought to bring ear plugs. He glanced at Scott at the same time Scott was probably thinking the same thing, the two of them bursting out laughing. Stiles tipped the guide while Scott tried to fight him for it, offering his cash instead that they’d converted at the airport.
“Your money’s no good here,” Stiles said, pushing at Scott. “My treat, fucker.”
“Ugh, dude,” Scott whined, limply trying to give Stiles a handful of cash. “Just take it.”
“No,” Stiles said, looking to Kira for help.
“Come on,” She said, “let’s go see our getaway cabin.”
“I think you mean ‘bungalow,’” Stiles said, giving it air quotes as he approached. Just as they were told, their luggage waited for them. Stiles picked up his single duffel bag and his pillow, holding the key in his hand as he gave Scott one more look.
“See you in a few, man,” Scott said. Stiles winked at him, then put the key into the lock, opening the door. Inside, the bungalow was just one room with a king size bed, with open, slated windows so that Stiles could hear each crash of the waves. There was a bathroom, not lavish like the ones his agent always booked for him when he went on press tours. It was normal, and a little homey.
He liked it.
Stiles pushed the pamphlets laid out on the bed to the floor so he could faceplant onto the bed itself. He rolled over onto his back, looking up at the vaulted ceiling where a fan hung down, turned off. His legs hung over the side as he stared, wondering if he should take a shower or not. Exhaustion was a thing he felt, and what he needed to do was sleep, but he also needed to stay up until a decent time so he could get acclimated to the drastic time change. The fact that he slept through most of the flight helped, but he was yawning as he sat up.
“I need to fucking shower,” Stiles said to no one but himself. He sniffed his armpit as he stood up, grimacing as he caught a whiff of himself. “Jesus,” he muttered, opening his duffel, grabbing his toiletries bag before heading into the bathroom and turning the shower on. He stripped down, tossing his clothes into a pile. The shower had good water pressure, the spray not at all harsh as he stood under it, looking down at the drain, pretending that he was washing his worries away.
He didn’t need to think about the script he packed in his bag that he had to learn the lines for; how he had two auditions to prepare for; how he was supposed to hear back about that part, or the fact that as soon as he touched down in LA after the vacation he was heading on a worldwide press tour before the opening of his next film.
Stiles closed his eyes, leaning his head against the glass shower. There were windows above him, with the same wooden slats that could be closed, but were currently open to the elements. Stiles felt calmer already, knowing that there wasn’t even any WiFi to connect to. He was separated from that life here, despite the fact that some of the employees already recognized him.
After getting out of the shower he shaved, walking around his room naked as he dried off, putting his clothes in the small set of drawers that also acted as a bedside table. Out of habit, Stiles checked his phone again. When he saw there still wasn’t any service, he turned the phone off. No use in draining the battery if he wouldn’t be getting any emails.
A knock at the door brought him back to reality. He grabbed the towel he’d discarded quickly, wrapping it around his waist as he opened the door to find Scott and Kira, also freshly showered and dressed.
“We were going to head to the lodge to eat,” Scott said, giving Stiles a look.
“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” Stiles said, smiling.
“You’re coming with us,” Kira said. It wasn’t a question, but a command. Stiles got dressed, throwing on clean clothes so he could at least feel better about the amount of time he spent in an airplane, throwing on a hoodie while he was at it.
“Hold on,” Stiles said, grabbing his glasses from their case before heading out. The sun will be going down soon, and I can’t see for shit at night.”
“You’re getting so old,” Scott laughed. Stiles shoved him as they walked out of the bungalow, down onto the sand. “Come on let’s see if we can’t get lost going back.”
They didn’t get lost, but by the time they got to the lodge, Stiles was starving.
“There’s an hour wait,” the host said, giving them a look. “If you wish, I could put your name down tomorrow for the time you wish to be seated?” Stiles glared at him, but said nothing as Scott dealt with it.
“Is there a bar we can sit at? We didn’t realize it would be this busy.”
“I can’t believe this many people are even at this resort,” Stiles whispered under his breath. Kira pushed him, holding back a snort as she covered her mouth to hide it. Stiles smirked, catching the eye of one of the waitresses, who almost poured water all over the table, her eyes wide.
Well, so much for not being recognized.
Moments later, their name was called to be seated.
“We’re so sorry, Mr. Stilinski,” the host said, floundering. “We had no idea you were here.”
“I’m here with friends,” Stiles said as they were brought to a table overlooking the rainforest as the sun set. “You didn’t need to go to the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” he said quickly. “We’ll bring a bottle of champagne, on the house, as an apology for the wait.”
“Stiles,” Scott hissed, eyes wide. “Let the man bring the champagne if he wants.” Stiles shut his mouth, moving his place setting slightly as he pursed his lips, hiding a smile. If Scott wanted champagne, he could have it.
Of course, the special treatment didn’t stop there. Not only did they get champagne, but had a waitress all to themselves (not the one that almost spilled water everywhere) at their beck and call. They finished the bottle off, along with having four courses to eat. Stiles tried kangaroo, which was rather like steak only redder and a little bit tougher, along with sampling desserts that were served in little mini personal pie tins.
Too stuffed afterwards, where the meal was billed to their bungalow, they were driven back to their beach in a golf cart. Stiles was buzzed, happily so, as they walked down the beach, their feet barely touching the water.
“You know,” Stiles said as he walked beside Scott and Kira, who were attached at the hip. “Jellyfish here are deadly.”
“Duh,” Scott said. “No surfing.”
“Are you kidding me?” Stiles said, loudly, but he didn’t care because they were in the middle of nowhere. “My agent would kill me if I surfed, or attempted to surf. One time, I sprained my ankle going on a run, and now I can only run on fucking treadmills when my trainer is there.”
“That’s such bs,” Scott said, sighing. “Your life is hard.”
Stiles flipped Scott off, who then burst out laughing. Ahead, Stiles saw the glow of a fire. He could smell the smoke as well as it traveled down the beach.
“Come on,” Stiles said. “I’ll race you.”
In the end, Kira beat them both to the bonfire. There were a lot of people there; it seemed to be a nightly meeting ground. There was a bar, with hanging twinkle lights that overlooked an alcove of the beach, the view with the waning moon to die for as the wind blew slightly, leaving a chill. Stiles was glad he wore his hoodie.
“I’ll get us some drinks,” Stiles offered as Scott and Kira found a place to stand, mingling with a couple. Stiles was fine weaving through the people in the dark; he could barely see anyone’s face, so he doubted they could see his. He finally let his guard down as he approached the bar, where there were two men, built, serving drinks shirtless. Stiles lifted his eyebrows, biting his lip as he waited his turn. As soon as he locked eyes with the bartender, Stiles leaned forward, ordering three drinks.
“Tequila,” Stiles said. The bartender lifted one eyebrow slightly, the corner of his mouth turning upwards, hinting at a smirk. Stiles drummed his fingers against the bar top, looking out across the beach. “Is it always this busy?” Stiles asked.
“Most nights,” he said, sounding surprisingly American.
“Are you from the US?” Stiles asked. He’d assumed, being in Australia, everyone would be Australian.
“Yeah, from California, yourself?”
“Same,” Stiles said, wondering if it was the twinkle lights or the fact that he’d shared a third of a bottle of champagne, but he was almost positive that the bartender had no idea who he was. Stiles leaned forward on the counter top, intrigued by him. With a tanned body, probably from working on the beach, and hair long enough to be pulled into a small bun on the top of his head, the bartender seemed down to earth as he grinned at Stiles.
“You just get in?” They asked Stiles. Stiles nodded his head as he watched them mix his drinks: margaritas.
“This afternoon; that flight is a killer.”
“Tell me about it, I try to only go stateside once a year.”
“What brings you out here?” Stiles asked as he was handed the drinks. He immediately sipped one of them, humming with contentedness as the taste hit his tongue.
“I like a certain degree of separation from everything back home,” he said, thinly veiled plea to drop the subject despite the fact that he was still smiling. “Enjoy your night.” Stiles paid him in cash, then found Scott and Kira by the bonfire.
“What took you so long?” Scott asked as Stiles handed him one of the drinks.
“The bartender was cute,” Stiles admitted easily, taking a long drink of his margarita. “And can make a damned good drink.”
“This is delicious,” Kira said, licking some of the salt off of the ring of her drink before taking a large sip.
Stiles woke up early to the sound of two monkeys, or some sort of animal, going at it nearby. He groaned as he turned over in bed, grimacing at his hangover. He hadn’t had enough water before he passed out, that was for sure. Groaning, he made his way to the bathroom where he used the toilet, splashed water on his face, and brushed his teeth so his mouth didn’t taste so disgusting anymore.
The monkeys were still fucking.
Pulling on a pair of shorts and a hoodie, Stiles slipped his flip flops on and headed outside, walking down the beach in hopes of his headache wearing off. He didn’t remember making it back to his bungalow the night before, but that was par for the course with him and drinking. He wasn’t a lightweight, but after a few drinks he tended to black out. Nothing usually happened, except the time he decided to strip at a party after he saw the first Magic Mike. There had been vines; it was a mess.
Stiles laughed to himself as he walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Inside was his phone. Taking a chance, Stiles took it out and turned it on, checking for service. Of course, there wasn’t any. He held the phone up and walked a few more steps before he heard laughter. Turning his head, Stiles saw the bartender sitting on the sand, legs crossed, alone.
“You won’t get that to work out here,” they said.
“Obviously,” Stiles said, walking over, his eyes squinting in the bright morning light. In the daylight, he was even more beautiful, with eyes that seemingly changed colors, hair pulled back, with scruff for days. “My name’s Stiles,” he found himself saying, not even attempting to give a fake name.
“Derek,” Derek said, offering Stiles a hand to shake. He had a firm grip, but not in a macho alpha male way that Stiles hated about some people.
“So, there’s no way to cell service at all out here, not even for you guys?”
“Not really,” Derek said with a shrug. “We have landlines, there’s a resort computer you can use to check your email on in the main lodge.”
“Ah,” Stiles said, looking out towards the rainforest, away from the beach.
“I’m surprised you’re up,” Derek said as he stood up, brushing his ass off. He didn’t have shoes with him, or seemingly anything really.
“Monkey sex woke me up,” Stiles said with a sigh, which got him a laugh.
“That happens,” Derek said, winking at Stiles then giving him a once over. “Do you want to see something cool?”
“Definitely,” Stiles said, not wanting to pass up an opportunity. Derek lead him further down the beach, the sun beginning to beat down enough that Stiles took off his hoodie. He hadn’t put on a regular shirt, but he hadn’t thought he’d needed to. He wasn’t embarrassed of his body, not in the slightest. He was lean, with enough muscles from filming and working out with his trainer, but he wasn’t a bodybuilder. Derek had muscle mass, made Stiles look petite next to him. If anything, Stiles was pale comparatively, the contrast between them stark.
Derek put his hand out across Stiles’ chest, stopping him. Stiles looked up to find Derek pointing out ahead of them: there was a crocodile. Stiles’ eyes widened.
“Is that a--?”
“Yep,” Derek said.
“Will it attack?” Stiles asked in a whisper.
“Not if we stay back,” Derek said, smirking. “She’s territorial.” Though it was dangerous, Stiles was fascinated by it. They watched it for a while, but mostly it just laid there, until it wandered off. “I was hoping she’d be hungry, she usually is around this time, but no luck.”
“I say we’re lucky she’s not hungry,” Stiles said honestly. He was hovering close to Derek for safety, which was relative. Derek wouldn’t really be able to save him in case the crocodile attacked, but still. It made him feel better. Derek bumped his shoulder, indicating with a tilt of his head for Stiles to follow him away from the beach. There was a dirt path that led into the rainforest that they trekked through. As soon as they were under the cover of the canopy, Stiles put his hoodie back on. When the lodge came into view a few minutes later, Stiles was surprised. He had no idea where he was on the resort, or how they ended up there.
“Want to get breakfast?” Derek asked him.
“Sure,” Stiles said, surprised.
“I promise to show you the computer room after,” Derek said with a warm smile as they walked up to the hostess.
“Morning Erica,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. Stiles’ gut clenched; he should have realized Derek wouldn’t be single, or into men, but still. Erica grinned, kissing his cheek back, until her eyes fell on Stiles.
For a moment, Stiles forgot he would be recognized. He hadn’t shaved, hadn’t even ran his fingers through his hair. If someone snapped a picture of him, they’d probably end up on the back page of a gossip rag where they’d call him a hobo.
“Table for two,” Derek said, showing her a peace sign. Erica blinked, double-taking as she looked at Stiles.
“Follow me,” she said, grabbing two menus, then lead them to a table nearer to the outskirts of the open faced restaurant. Stiles looked out at the rainforest around them, then gave Erica a small smile as she handed him the menu.
“Your waiter will be right out,” Erica said. As soon as she was gone, Derek leaned forward.
“The waffles here are amazing.”
“Duly noted,” Stiles said, grinning as he looked over the menu. Their waiter brought out waters, along with a pitcher so they could refill it. Half of the tables were full in the restaurant, so it wasn’t too crowded.
Stiles ended up ordering the waffles, while Derek got yogurt, granola, and fresh fruit.
“I feel like you went the healthy route while I’m left eating waffles,” Stiles said when their food was brought out. He was starving after having barely anything to eat the day before except for dinner because airplane food made him sick so all he’d eaten were packages of peanuts.
“You’re on vacation,” Derek pointed out. “Here,” he said, giving Stiles a strawberry. “Now it’s healthy.” Stiles laughed as he popped the strawberry into his mouth, eating it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erica watching them. He looked down at his plate, trying to not let it get to him. Derek looked up, giving her an odd look, cementing the fact that he had no idea who Stiles was.
“How much do I owe you for breakfast,” Stiles asked him. Derek waved his hand as he wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“Don’t worry about it,” Derek said. “My treat.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Stiles said as they stood up. Derek glanced at him, lifting an eyebrow.
“I wanted to take you out, so I took the chance when I could.” Stiles’ face flushed as he scratched at the back of his neck.
“Smooth,” Stiles said, amused and in awe. “Kinda turned me on there,” he laughed.
“Good,” Derek said. “I’m glad my breakfast date worked.”
“Planned it that way?” Stiles asked, licking his lips. “With romantic beach walk to see a crocodile.”
“That depends,” Derek said as they walked down a hallway, past bathrooms to a small room that had three computers in it. “Did it work?” Stiles found it hard to take his eyes away from Derek to look at the room as he nodded his head.
“I would say so, yeah,” Stiles whispered as Derek leaned forwards, kissing Stiles on the lips. It was short, chaste as Derek ended it almost as quickly as it began.
“Good,” Derek said. He looked Stiles in the eye, searching for something. “See you tonight at the bonfire?” He asked. Stiles nodded, unable to think of anything to say. Derek disappeared, leaving Stiles in the computer room, his lips lingering with the feeling of Derek’s on his.
Stiles had thirty emails waiting for him, and he had to pay for the internet he used. There was no news of his new role yet, but his agent had sent him at least three more scripts to look over and a list of new auditions to prepare for. Stiles tugged at his hair as he went through each email, replying until there were none left.
He’d spent an hour on the internet, and subsequently wasted sixty dollars because it cost a dollar a minute. With the conversion into US dollars, well… he didn’t want to think about it.
By the time Stiles made it back to the bungalow, Scott and Kira had emerged. They were laying out on the beach, relaxing.
“Holy shit dude,” Scott said, sitting up as Stiles walked over to them. “We thought you were still passed out.”
“Nope,” Stiles said, tossing his hoodie to the ground as he joined them on a towel. “I just came from a date.”
“What?” Kira said, lifting her sunglasses to look at him. “A date?”
“I had a breakfast date,” Stiles said, grinning.
“With who?” Scott asked, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.
“That hot bartender; his name is Derek.”
“You didn’t sleep with him last night did you?” Scott asked.
“No,” Stiles laughed. “I ran into him this morning on the beach. Did you two not wake up to the monkey sex?”
“No....” Kira said, not believing Stiles.
“I guess it’s weird if you say it like that,” Stiles said, looking out at the ocean. “But he showed me where this crocodile chills, then we had breakfast, and he showed me where the computer was. It was romantic in a way, I guess,” Stiles said, shrugging.
“Did you guys hook up?” Scott asked.
“We kissed,” Stiles said, shoving at Scott so he knocked over. “He asked if I was going to the bonfire tonight.”
“Well now we definitely have to go!” Kira said. “It was a lot of fun last night.”
“Yeah, from what I remember....”
“You’re the worst, Stiles,” Scott said. “We had to drag your ass back here.”
“Sounds about right,” Stiles said, digging his feet into the sand. “I’m going to go nap,” he said, standing up. “Maybe in that hammock on the deck.”
“That did look comfy,” Scott said. “Want us to wake you when we get lunch?”
“How about we order it in?” Stiles asked. “Just have them bill it to the room,” he said with a yawn. “I don’t want to walk back over there until tonight.”
“We were thinking about going on a day tour of the rainforest,” Scott said. “Want to come?”
“Yeah,” Stiles said, scratching his stomach. “As long as it’s after lunch.”
“Done,” Scott said, giving Stiles a smile before he walked towards the hammock, where his nap awaited.
Stiles napped, he went on a daytime rainforest tour where he learned about how poisonous everything in Australia was, from the wildlife to the plants and flowers. The trek took them through the rainforest during the better part of the afternoon, dropping them off at the main lodge when it was through.
“I need a shower,” Kira said. Stiles nodded in agreement; he could smell himself and that was never a good sign. The hike itself had been five miles, over a few hours, but still.
“Same,” Stiles said, looking towards the computer room.
“You want to check your email, don’t you?” Scott asked. It wasn’t accusatory, but rather it was an honest question. Stiles shook his head; he didn’t need to.
“Maybe later, come on,” Stiles said, putting an arm around Scott and leading him towards the door. On their way out, Stiles saw Erica still working as the hostess at the restaurant. Normally he’d pass by without so much as a smile, but he winked at her as they walked by. Her face lit up, making Stiles smile as they headed back to their bungalow.
Stiles showered, then napped again. Scott called in for dinner, ordering them a gourmet flatbread pizza along with local beer. It reminded Stiles of college, of when they had time to be around each other.
They were on the porch, enjoying the sound of the ocean and wildlife around them, with no monkey sex to be heard, when Stiles smelled the bonfire that was surely down the beach. He grinned to himself as he took a drink from his beer.
“Want to take a late night beach walk?” Kira asked Scott, putting her chin on his shoulder. “So Stiles can go get some.”
Stiles snorted, it was a thing that happened, which turned into laughter as he covered his mouth. He appreciated Kira giving him the opportunity, but he didn’t see the point in it.
“Thanks, Kira,” he said, finishing the bottle and putting it aside with the others that the three of them had consumed. All of Stiles’ had the labels peeled off as he fidgeted. “But I don’t think I’m going.”
“What, why?” Scott asked. “Don’t feel bad for sexiling us, dude-”
“Oh, I won’t feel bad about that,” Stiles said, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m just not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Why?” Scott asked.
“I can’t be sleeping with random people, you know? If it gets out that--”
“That you have fun?” Scott asked.
“Well, the press won’t see it that way. You know how much shit I get in depending on who I’m seen with? One week I have a girlfriend and hollywood calls me straight and that was fine for a while, you know? But I’m not. I’m not straight, and if I hook up with a guy then it’s like ‘he’s in the closet, she was a beard!’ Which also isn’t fucking true, you know? It’s my sexuality and if I want to sleep with a guy, I should be able to but I can’t without the front page plastering my face everywhere for being indecisive--”
“Dude,” Scott said, putting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder to calm him down. “You are on vacation, there are no paps here.”
“There’s no pressure,” Kira said, frowning. “We just want you to have fun.”
“I’m having fun,” Stiles assured them. “I had a good day, amazing even, I had a surprise date-- how many times does that happen?”
“And what will he think if you back off after that date?” Scott asked.
“I don’t know-- he might sleep with a lot of guests, what if I’m dodging a bullet here, a chlamydia bullet if you will.”
It was Scott’s turn to snort.
“I don’t know, maybe I’ll go to the bonfire and see what happens.”
“Just see where the night goes,” Kira said with a shrug, but smiled at Stiles as he got up. “We won’t wait up for you.” Stiles gave them a thumbs up before he went into his room, checking himself over before heading down the beach, alone, to see if he was going to get some or not.
Being bisexual and a celebrity was a constant battle that Stiles tried to keep in the back of his mind. It shouldn’t matter who he sleeps with, but media seemed so into who he wanted between his legs or who he put his dick in that he’d become a sort of recluse. Dating was put on hold, besides a random hook-up or two in his trailer during filming, so he could stay out of the public eye for who he dated and more so for his roles. Extras tended not to go to the media about their sexual conquests, and they didn’t ask to go on dates, either.
Stiles prefered it that way.
Maybe Derek would be the same way, with the transient state of the resort, surely Derek wasn’t looking for a relationship. He knew Stiles’ time was finite, that there was a timer for when Stiles was leaving. He might as well have fun and get laid.
The bonfire was bigger than the night before, it being a weekend. Stiles made his way over to the bar, which was Derek-less. Confused, Stiles stepped forward, trying to not let disappointment sink in. He ordered the same beer he got brought to his room, since he didn’t mind the taste.
He looked around the bonfire, suddenly feeling exposed. He could be recognized by anyone here, and he had no buffer with him. He’d finish the drink, then head back and cut his losses, spend more time with Scott and Kira if they hadn’t sexiled him. He didn’t mind being the third wheel, but he wanted to get laid, too.
“There you are,” Derek said into Stiles’ ear. Stiles turned around, a grin plastered across his face when he saw that Derek had a drink in his hand. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up.”
“Same here,” Stiles said. He didn’t want to sound too desperate. “You could have mentioned you had the night off.”
“I took it off,” Derek said, shrugging nonchalantly, but his eyes betrayed his feelings as he looked Stiles over. “I had good reason.” Stiles’ cheeks flushed as his eyebrow lifted. He liked how Derek flirted. Stiles stepped closer, his head tilting to one side as his lip caught between his teeth.
“Want to take a walk?” Stiles asked. He had no intention of acting coy, or beating around the bush. He wanted this, wanted Derek. Derek leaned even closer nodding his head before finishing his drink. Stiles mimicked him, their eyes locked as they drank. After throwing their bottles into a bin, Derek took Stiles’ hand, leading him away from the fire, the conversations getting farther and farther away as they walked down the beach, away from Stiles’ bungalow.
Stiles thought that as soon as they stepped away, Derek would drop his hand. He was wrong. Derek lead Stiles closer to the shore, so that their feet got wet as waves came in. They were silent, but it wasn’t awkward. Derek looked up at the stars, seemingly searching for something.
“What are you looking for?” Stiles asked.
“Sometimes, only sometimes, you can see the Milky Way out here,” Derek said, looking at Stiles. They walked by the light of the moon and nothing else. Never in his life had Stiles been wooed by moonlight and breakfast. He found Derek fascinating. “But it looks like the light pollution is too great tonight.”
“Pity,” Stiles said, meaning it. Derek leaned in, his nose brushing against Stiles’ before their lips met in a slow kiss. Stiles breathed in as Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, the kiss deepening as Stiles opened his mouth, their tongues meeting. Derek’s hands were in Stiles’ hair, on his lower back, and everywhere in between as they continued kissing languidly. Stiles bunched Derek’s shirt up in his fist, pulling him closer so that they were pressed together, his lips sliding against Derek’s while his eyes were closed. Derek’s stubble scratched against Stiles’ chin, making him moan.
When they broke the kiss, both of them were breathing hard. Stiles smiled, licking his lips as Derek stared at his mouth. Stiles tugged Derek back towards him, this time his hand on Derek’s ass. Derek moaned, reaching for Stiles’, groping him as he kissed him again, this time with more heat and desperation. Stiles gasped as Derek’s hand teased at the hem of his shorts, fingers slipping beneath the fabric only fractionally.
Stiles could feel his lips swelling, the distinct rawness that only came from kissing for a long time. He had no idea how long they were standing there, but by the feel of his lips he had to guess it was a long time. He was half hard, low key as Derek mouthed at his neck. Stiles let out a loud moan, his head tilting back to give Derek more access. He usually didn’t let people give him hickeys, because of filming, but he didn’t care; it felt amazing.
“Please tell me you have a place,” Stiles managed to say eventually as Derek rubbed his cheek across Stiles’ neck. Stiles’s hands slid from Derek’s lower back to cup him between his legs. “I don’t want to have sex in the sand but if I have to--”
Derek laughed, kissing him again as he moved Stiles’ hands, wrapping them around his waist. Derek held onto Stiles’ wrists, keeping them in place as they walked slowly backwards, towards the treeline. Stiles laughed against Derek’s neck, kissing him again which lead to them halting, unable to stop once they started again. Stiles moaned, rolling his hips against Derek’s as he got harder, his brow furrowing as he tugged at Derek’s hair, desperation sinking in.
“I want you,” Stiles whispered as Derek’s hands rested on Stiles’ bare stomach, his shirt lifted out of the way.
“We’re almost there,” Derek promised, hooking his fingers in Stiles’ belt loops, pressing them together. He was hard, too, making Stiles groan as he stepped away from him. Derek took his hand in Stiles’ once more, leading him to the treeline, where a bungalow was set. It looked different than the one Stiles stayed in, less posh and more homey. The door was unlocked as Derek opened the door, revealing an open floor plan. There was a small kitchen with a breakfast nook, along with a bed. On the wall was a TV, but as far as furniture that was it.
Stiles didn’t have time to ask about anything before Derek’s lips were on his once more. Stiles was lead over to the bed, where Derek sat down first, pulling Stiles on top of him so that he straddled Derek. They continued kissing, tasting each other, slowly removing clothing as they went. Stiles was shirtless, as was Derek, when he started unbuttoning Derek’s jeans. Derek shifted, then, rolling Stiles over onto his back so that they were both laying side by side. Stiles scrambled, pushing his own shorts out of the way before they kissed again. He wanted his hand on Derek’s cock, he wanted to blow him, but he didn’t want to break whatever silence they had going where they just touched and kissed.
“Condoms?” Derek asked between kisses. Stiles nodded his head. It was smart, and Stiles was glad at least one of them had the mental capacity to be articulate. Stiles watched as Derek got out of the bed, cock hard hanging down between his legs as he stepped fully out of his jeans. Stiles did the same, kicking his out of the way as he started to jack off. Derek grabbed condoms and lube from the bathroom, tossing them on the bed beside Stiles. He stood by the bed, looking down at Stiles expectantly.
“I want to blow you,” Stiles said, looking up at him. Derek ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair as Stiles reached for one of the condoms, non-lubricated, opening it then rolling it on him. He jacked Derek off a few times before teasing his head with his tongue, looking up at him as he sunk down. He could feel Derek’s muscles tensing as he worked him with his mouth. Derek’s moans filled the bungalow. Eventually, Derek pulled away, pushing Stiles down onto the bed.
“My turn,” Derek said, kissing Stiles as he reached for a condom. Derek’s mouth on him was eager, wet, and his tongue expert. Derek licked up the underside of Stiles’ cock before taking him into his mouth, sucking as his hand twisted and stroked. Stiles held onto Derek’s shoulder, his toes curling as he let sound after sound escape his lips. Derek’s mouth popped off, then he kissed his way up Stiles’ body, sucking on a nipple before finding Stiles’ mouth once more. Their bodies slid together, legs tangling as they both rolled their hips, seeking friction. It wasn’t pretty; it was desperate as they moved against each other, kissing messily. Stiles breathed heavily, moaning as Derek gripped his ass, burying his face against Stiles’ shoulder as they slowed down. Stiles’s hands caressed Derek’s bare back, his fingers tracing a tattoo that lay between Derek’s shoulder blades as Derek sucked on Stiles’ neck. When they kissed again, Stiles whimpered. Derek took their cocks in his hand, stroking them both at the same time.
Stiles came in Derek’s hand, the condom catching his mess. The high afterward had Stiles limp in Derek’s arms as they kissed lazily, unable to stop.
“Wait here,” Derek said eventually, pushing himself away from Stiles. He got out of bed, pulling off his condom and disposing of it before heading into the bathroom. Stiles sat up, doing the same, tying it off and tossing it towards the bin nearby. Derek emerged with a warm wash cloth, handing it to Stiles. When he was done cleaning up, Derek pressed him back into the mattress, his hands trailing over Stiles’ body, lips pressing against the moles on his face, making his way down Stiles’ neck and chest.
Stiles laughed, spreading his legs as Derek licked at his nipple.
“Round two?” Stiles smirked.
“Definitely,” Derek hummed, his hands sliding up and down Stiles’ thighs. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Stiles bit his lip, tilting his head back as Derek bit down on his nipple, then soothed the pain with his tongue. He hooked his feet around Derek’s thighs, pressing him against the mattress as he lay on top of him.
“I think we need more condoms,” Stiles said.
“I think you’re right,” Derek groaned, sliding up Stiles’ body to kiss him once more. They stayed there for a while, doing nothing but exploring each other’s mouths before Derek got up, getting the condoms. This time, he threw the box onto the bed. Stiles laughed, amused at the fact that Derek didn’t want to get up again. He took the box, getting out a condom for himself and one for Derek, tossing it towards him.
Stiles bit the corner of the wrapper, thinking as he looked over Derek’s form. Many things ran through his mind, multiple positions, and all of them sounded appealing to him. He didn’t have much opportunity to sleep with men, though he enjoyed it. Usually, his anxiety about the media kept him from giving in, but with Derek there in front of him, it was barely a thought in his mind.
“What are you thinking about?” Derek asked as he stroked himself, getting harder by the moment. That caught Stiles’ attention, his eyebrow lifting.
“I was thinking about what I wanted to do, you’re body is distracting,” Stiles said honestly. “Too many ways I want to debauch, ravage,” he said, kissing Derek. “Take.”
“Hmm,” Derek said, smiling against Stiles’ kiss. “I can think of a few things myself,” he teased as he cupped Stiles’ face with his hand. “One of which is seeing what kind of noises you can make.”
“Oh, I can be vocal,” Stiles assured him. “Is that what you like? Hearing people come undone?”
“You could say that,” Derek shrugged, his hand resting against the back of Stiles’ neck so that they looked each other in the eyes. “Anything you don’t like?”
“Safe is best,” Stiles said, holding Derek’s gaze. “Protection, nothing too out there. Sex, I just want sex,” Stiles said, rambling as his hands reached out for Derek, craving touch.
“I think I can handle that,” Derek whispered, kissing Stiles once more. Stiles felt himself getting hard once more as Derek pulled him into his lap. They were sitting up, facing each other, and Stiles had his legs wrapped around Derek’s waist as they kissed, moving against each other as Stiles clutched the condom in his hand, forgotten for a moment as their cocks slid against each other. Panting, Stiles stopped moving long enough to roll his condom on, his hands shaking slightly. He wanted to be fucked, bad. He ached with need, and something told him that Derek wouldn’t have a problem obliging him.
“I want you to fuck me,” Stiles said as Derek rolled on his condom as well, grasping at Stiles’ ass as he said the words, a finger slipping between his cheeks. Stiles moaned, scooting ever so much closer to him so that they were practically chest to chest.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Derek said, kissing along Stiles’ jaw as he reached for the discarded lube, uncapping it. Stiles gasped at the feel of Derek’s slicked up fingers rubbing at his entrance without actually sinking inwards. He pressed his forehead against Derek’s shoulder mouth hanging open as Derek made circular motions with his fingers before finally sinking one finger inwards to his knuckle.
Stiles bit his lip to keep from moaning, but Derek gave a light smack to his ass, making him groan.
“I want to hear you,” Derek said, scratching his stubble across Stiles’ cheek. Stiles nodded his head, pushing his hips back against Derek’s finger, moaning as Derek opened him up, fucking him with one finger and then two. With each breath, Stiles found himself whimpering, moaning. Derek crooked his fingers, and Stiles shouted out, biting down on the meat of Derek’s shoulder as his nails dug into his waist. Derek pulled back, holding onto Stiles’ waist with one hand as he lined himself up with the other. Stiles lifted himself enough so that Derek’s cock lined up with his ass, the angle odd, but workable. Stiles reached behind him as he sunk down, throwing his head back as he sat down on Derek’s cock, keeping it in place as he started to move, controlling the pace.
“Fuck,” Stiles gasped as Derek mouthed at his neck, gripping his ass as he thrust upwards as Stiles came down on his cock. “Fuck, yes, Derek.”
“You feel so good,” Derek said, his mouth hovering over Stiles’ as they moved desperately, seeking friction, release once more. Stiles reached between them, stroking himself as he held onto Derek’s neck with the other hand for leverage. Using his strength, Derek practically lifted them off the bed so he could fuck up into Stiles, going deeper. Stiles couldn’t stop moving, enjoying the feel of Derek inside him.
“Fuck,” Stiles said again, his brain no longer working as he felt his climax grow closer. He thought they were almost done, until Derek rolled them over, holding onto Stiles and maneuvering him easily so that Stiles was on his side, his leg draped over Derek’s thigh. His back arched as Derek fucked him harder, kissing him, biting his lip.
Stiles let out short bursting moans with each thrust, unable to stop himself. Derek came, his movements staggering, slowing down before riding it out. Stiles finished off moments later, when Derek slipped a finger in beside his softening cock, crooking a finger and massaging Stiles’ prostate until he came, shaking as he clutched onto Derek.
It had to be the best hookup sex Stiles had ever had, and as he lay limp on the bed, recovering afterwards, he found that he didn’t want to leave, but that he didn’t really have the right to stay. They cleaned up, kissing as they dressed.
“I’ll walk you back,” Derek said, his fingers carding through Stiles’ hair.
“Good, I’m afraid I’d get lost,” Stiles laughed, though his legs were already sore.
On the beach, it was quiet and dark; secluded. They were alone, and Stiles felt free when Derek held his hand out in the open, their fingers linking casually. Stiles ached that this could be his life, his actual life. He looked down at their hands, his face set in a frown. Life wasn’t so simple.
“Do you want me to stop?” Derek asked.
“No,” Stiles said, looking up. “I like it,” Stiles confessed. “Please don’t stop.”
Derek pulled him closer, putting an arm around him as they walked, his lips pressing against Stiles’ messy hair. “Even if this is just for now: it’s perfect.”
“Most good things are fleeting,” Derek murmured. “And you are a very, very good thing.” Stiles couldn’t help but smile, glad that Derek felt the same way he did. “Let’s make the most of it.”
“I completely agree,” Stiles said, finding Derek’s lips. They stopped on the beach, kissing for awhile, getting lost in each other’s mouths, their hands roaming once more before continuing on. Once the bungalow came into sight, Stiles’ heart clenched.
“Stay the night,” Stiles whispered. “If we’re to make the most of it, then don’t leave.” Derek searched his eyes, his hands sliding up and down Stiles’ arms in the cool night air.
“I don’t have to go in until noon.”
They fucked again in Stiles’ bed, this time with Stiles’ face pressed into a pillow to muffle his noises. Derek left a trail of hickeys down Stiles’ spine, along with fingertip shaped bruises on his hips. Stiles could barely move afterwards, but it didn’t matter because he fell asleep in Derek’s arms.
In the morning, he blew Derek, waking him up mid blow job, his own stock of condoms quickly diminishing. Derek came, his fingers in Stiles’ hair, his tongue playing with the tip of the condom, moving around the come that settled there, tugging at it delicately and sucking at it until Derek pushed him back, his cock too sensitive after coming.
When Derek blew Stiles in return, he fingered him as well, three fingers deep, making him come on them. Stiles couldn’t remember coming so many times in a twenty four hour period, or feeling so damn good and satiated afterwards.
“Breakfast?” Derek asked, yawning as he stretched.
“Shower,” Stiles said with a whine, laying in bed, not wanting to move. “Then breakfast.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” Derek said, pulling Stiles out of bed. The shower itself felt amazing, but having his fingers deep in Derek’s ass felt even better. Fucking Derek in the shower, in the middle of a rainforest in Australia was the best thing that had ever happened to Stiles. Derek took him so well, turning his head and kissing Stiles as he held onto the tiled wall in front of him.
The walk to breakfast was full of kisses, hand holding, and laughter. Derek had his hair tied up once more, with Stiles’ a complete mess. He didn’t even attempt to look presentable. Derek wore the same clothes he had the night before, while Stiles sported a hoodie and a pair of basketball shorts. Derek had a hickey in plain sight, and Stiles’ were barely hidden by his hoodie, along with his stubble burn. They both looked completely fucked out.
They were seated immediately, which wasn’t a surprise.
“Mimosas,” Derek said to the waiter. “A pitcher, along with a fruit tray.”
“Perfect,” Stiles said, grinning. He didn’t want to order, didn’t want to think about anything except the marathon sex they’d just had.
Alcohol paired with fresh fruit had him buzzing. He wished Derek didn’t have to work so they could go back to the bungalow, but he knew that their date was almost over. He grew quiet, though Derek’s hand sliding across the table until it covered his snapped him back to reality.
“Your friends, do you have plans to go out onto the reef?” Derek asked.
“I’m not sure what they have planned,” Stiles admitted. “We did a rainforest tour, but honestly, I’m here to relax.”
“If you have a chance, you should go. They take day trips out there.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” Stiles teased.
“No,” Derek said with a smile. “But I don’t get off until midnight.”
“That is a travesty,” Stiles said, sighing dramatically before taking another sip of his mimosa as someone approached their table timidly. Stiles pulled his hand away from Derek, sitting up straighter. They had something in their hands, along with a pen. Stiles’ stomach sank as he forced a smile onto his face, trying to look happy that he was about to be interrupted.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” they said, their voice shaking. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was just-- can I have an autograph?”
“Of course,” Stiles said, reaching out for the piece of paper, actually a napkin, and one of the hotel pens. He scribbled his name, his signature never really looking the same, handing it back to them.
“I love you so much,” they said. They had their phone in their hand; Stiles knew what they wanted next, his eyes darting towards Derek. “I’m sorry, I just--”
“Here,” Derek said, offering, holding his hand out to take her phone. “I’ll take a picture.”
They rushed, thrusting their phone at Derek as Stiles stood up, putting his arm around them. They clutched him, obviously delighted. He smiled into the camera, his face falling as he caught Derek’s face, his stomach sinking. His ease, delight at the last two days was diminishing as the seconds passed.
The fan left them to silence. Stiles couldn’t even look Derek in the face, his hands in his lap, his shoulders sunk in.
“Erica’s reaction to you makes sense,” Derek said eventually. Stiles swallowed, nodding his head. “Stiles, look at me.” Stiles looked up, expecting anger, a sign of betrayal, but what he found was sincerity in Derek’s eyes. “I know why you didn’t tell me you were famous, but that doesn’t really change anything.”
“It doesn’t?” Stiles asked in a whisper.
“No,” Derek said. “Honestly, it doesn’t surprise me. The way you hold yourself, how touch starved you were; you probably can’t let go often like you did with me.”
“I can’t,” Stiles said, his emotions surfacing. He cleared his throat, looking around the restaurant. “I feel really exposed right now.”
“Come on,” Derek said, tossing his napkin onto his plate. “Let’s go someplace private.”
Derek commandeered a golfcart to take them back to the bungalow. There was still time before Derek had to go into work. As they walked up to the bungalow, Scott and Kira greeted them as they relaxed on the hammocks.
“Derek, this is Scott and Kira.”
“Hey,” Derek said, standing close to Stiles, their shoulders brushing together as he waved. Scott and Kira waved back, giving him a once over.
“You guys should sign us up for a reef tour,” Stiles said, glancing at Derek. “Apparently it shouldn’t be missed.”
“That sounds amazing,” Kira said, perking up. “I’ll call in soon.” Stiles took Derek’s hand, leading him towards his side of the bungalow, shutting the door behind him. He expected them to sit, to discuss what happened, but instead Derek pinned him against the door, kissing him. Stiles lost himself in the kiss.
“God, Derek,” Stiles said, clutching at Derek’s shirt. “I don’t want you to go to work, I want to fuck, I want to stay, I want you so bad,” Stiles confessed as Derek’s hands grabbed at his ass. Derek groaned, his head burying itself against Stiles’ neck, breathing him in.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you, either,” Derek said, his nose trailing up Stiles’ neck so that he could kiss Stiles’ earlobe, sucking on it for a moment before kissing him on the lips. “I can call out,” Derek said. “I can keep you in bed all damn day, I can-”
Derek moaned as Stiles tugged on his hair, controlling his breathing enough to look Derek in the eye.
“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, panting. He was hard, so hard, and Derek wasn’t making any sense.
“I own the resort,” Derek said. “It’s my family’s-- I can-- do you realize how intoxicating you are?” Derek asked seriously, lifting Stiles enough, his back sliding up the door. He wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist, groaning as their cocks pressed together through the fabric of their shorts. “I’ll take off however many days, I don’t care, Stiles, I don’t fucking care right now. I want to have you again, right now. Five minutes from now.”
“Fuck,” Stiles said, kissing Derek, cupping his face with his hands. “You own it,” Stiles gasped. “You’re a Hale.”
“Yes,” Derek said. The Hales, who were much like the Hilton’s, but had getaway resorts all across the globe.
“But you’re a bartender,” Stiles groused as Derek lead him over to the bed. “You make drinks.”
“And you’re a partying vacationer who wanted to get laid,” Derek teased. “I just like being the let down of a son,” Derek laughed.
“Are you telling me,” Stiles said as Derek stripped him of his clothes. “That we could fuck our way across your family’s resorts?” Stiles asked. Derek laughed, kissing him again as they rolled over on the bed until Stiles sat straddling him.
“If you want,” Derek said. Stiles leaned over, kissing him. “I’ll do what you want as long as I can keep touching you.”
“I have four more days for you to touch me,” Stiles confessed. “I’m filming a movie in Italy, soon.” Derek tilted his head, looking up at Stiles reverently, his hands resting on Stiles’ thighs.
“I’m debating the merits of our resort in Sicily.”
Stiles bit his lip, blushing at the mere idea of Derek following him across the world.
“Don’t you need to stay?” Stiles asked. Derek rolled his eyes.
“I don’t run the place, Stiles,” Derek said. “I’m the reclusive son who rebelled by merely serving drinks and living on the property, away from the limelight and away from my family.”
“Italy means paparazzi,” Stiles whispered.
“Italy means you,” Derek countered. “I’ve known you three days, Stiles, and I already know that I’d follow you across the world and back. If you’ll have me.”
“It sounds too good to be true,” Stiles said, his hands on Derek’s chest as he thought about it. “I’ve got to tell them I don’t want to go out,” Stiles said, rushing off the bed, opening the door enough to pop his head out the door.
“Go on without me!” Stiles said, then shut the door. When he turned around and looked at Derek, he found that he didn’t want it to end. They had four more days together, but could have longer, could go anywhere between films.
“I want to get to know you,” Stiles admitted. “I want to know what you read, how you take your coffee, what makes you tick,” he said. “I’m a mess, my life is a total mess, but I’d love if you were in it-- any part of you.”
“I’ll take you anywhere,” Derek said, ushering Stiles back to the bed. “We can go anywhere,” Derek mused as Stiles fell back into his arms. “Sicily, come back here, Hawaii, Cabo, Ibiza--”
“Tempting,” Stiles said. “But first, let’s fuck on my bed, and then maybe on the hammock outside while they are gone,” Stiles said, grinning. Derek kissed him, then, his eyes closing. It was a kiss of promise, filled with the future, of them together. Stiles couldn’t wait for it to happen.