pic/quote/scenario prompts meme continuations PSLs ( game-canon AUs, regular AUs, canon settings, one offs, etc. ) NSFW welcome - Cas prefers men but won't say no to the right woman Open to all
New York isn't home to Derek the way that California is, but he always wondered if it could be.
He lived here for years, alone with his sister, the smell of ash and cinders still staining his clothes. His first six years in the city were a hazy mix of helpless grief and self-inflicted isolation; when he wasn't hiding out in his room, pulling away from Laura in the scant bit of time she had left before her death, he was getting lost in the streets, sucking dick for free, picking fights with whoever was willing to break his nose, and sleeping with women who reminded him of Kate, of Paige, and of all the other people who hurt too much to think about. The fire took everything from him, but the chaos and the pain and the pleasure of New York offered him a reprieve.
Derek left soon enough, following after his sister, and half a year later, he was back, solemn and steady and alpha. Laura was dead, Peter was dead - he returned as the last living carrier of the Hale name, with nothing in him but determination that New York was gonna be his hunting grounds. Those first few months were difficult; he wanted a pack of his own, and he wanted to find it somewhere that made him feel vibrant and alive, but there were so many struggles to overcome before he could start. Nearly nobody knew him - the people who did just remembered him as that sad, angry, slutty welp he used to be - and even if he'd wanted to poach wolves from New York's major pack, nobody would have joined him.
So - he took to making his own.
He'd turned a dozen humans, all sad, overlooked teenagers that needed an escape, before the Alpha in charge here noticed him. He'd turned a dozen more, by the time he started being seen by shapeshifters that weren't wolves. He'd made a den for himself in an abandoned subway tunnel for him and his pack, tucked away out of sight, and every day, Derek heard more and more street-level murmurs about the lone wolf that's been building up power and no doubt getting ready to make his move. People are starting to know his face. His name. Derek likes that feeling.
It's late, only a day or two before the full moon, and Derek's in one of the clubs he used to haunt when he was seventeen - it's kind of classy, for somewhere delegated to weres by humans, but the dim lighting hiding all the stains probably helps foster that impression. He's peoplewatching - Caspian is new. Derek's seen a lot of men in this place, but they've never smelled like Caspian. Raw and feline, strong and present. Rare.
Derek's drawn to him the way he was drawn to other captains of other highschool basketball teams during away games - there's power here, recognition, and Derek's still, at heart, this self-conscious teenager who wants his peers to see him as their betters. When Derek stares at Caspian from across the room, it's as much from an innate flutter of attraction as it is from curiosity. Does this guy know him? Has he heard about him? Is he impressed by how quickly he's made a name for himself in New York, or - is he one of those animals who doesn't give a shit about wolves in the first place?
Derek needs to know, so he buys him a drink. Something hard, something that burns, something wastefully expensive. He collects the glass from the bartender and takes it over to Cas himself, leaning on the wall by the booth the tiger's sitting in, and when he holds out his glass with eyebrows raised, he doesn't have any of that smooth confidence or reflective insecurity he had when he was alone. He's just... stoic, angry and kind of hard to read. He doesn't say hi to Cas, he just - thrusts out his hand with the glass full of booze and waits silently for him to take it.
Caspian stretches lazily and the beast living inside him stretches, too. He's been away from New York for a little while, just a year or so, to clear his head. Now he's come back to some upheaval. It's not been hard to get details: he has friends in the rodere and rats know everyone and everything.
So he knows the name Derek Hale before the wolf approaches him in the bar, though it takes him a moment to realize that's who it has to be. Manny said he was dark and kind of edgy and Cas can feel the alpha power rolling off him, and he isn't part of Geller's pack. He knows that at the first real whiff of him when he's close enough. He has to be the young alpha that Manny was waxing poetic about.
Cas has a lot of questions, but wolf business isn't really his business, and city business sure as fuck isn't his problem any more now that he's not sitting at a vampire's right hand.
Caspian takes Derek in as he holds the drink out; his irises are permanently a feline shade of gold - a sign that he's spent a lot of time in his fur and a sign that he can change at will.
"I didn' think I was your type," he says in a drawl as he accepts the glass. He sniffs it, not because he's all that concerned but he's curious as to what exactly is in it. "Expensive taste, loup. You gonna sit or just stand there and watch me drink it?"
Derek had been prepping himself for a few reactions, here. An eager smile, a hungry interest. A rejection, an eye roll, something derisive or kind of mean. Complete and total unawareness of who he is. What he hadn't prepared himself for was... whatever it is this is. Caspian clearly knows who he is, but that seems to be as far as this goes. Doesn't seem like he gives a shit about him one way or another.
"I'm fine with standing."
He says this like he's being weirdly combative, like - it's a matter of pride that he doesn't take Caspian's polite offer at face value. It's very werewolf, and Derek realizes pretty quickly that his game's been sort of thrown, so. He recalibrates. Derek moves closer and leans against Caspian's booth, looking down at him, his eyes drifting from gold eyes to the whiskey in his hand, then back up.
He huffs a laugh and seems pleased with himself to have thrown his suitor off balance. He adjusts himself in the booth so that he can look at Derek without twisting. Caspian is steady as Derek leans against the booth and he can't help the grin that creeps across his face. He can smell the wolf under soap and cologne and he isn't sure how he feels about it. Not threatened - he's too big, too strong to feel particularly threatened by a wolf alone - but--
He's never had luck with wolves.
"For now. You wanna change that?"
Fuck, he's curious. It would be no skin off his nose if Geller were overthrown, especially if it's a death sentence, but who the hell is this-- kid?
This... is a little easier to deal with. The lowkey flirting, the slightly condescending laughter. Sure, being the new Alpha in town has gone to Derek's head pretty fast, so there's still a second or two where that ingrained, cocky bullshit rears its head and wonders why Caspian isn't immediately begging to suck his dick, but. If this guy just enjoys holding his cards to his chest, well - that's fine, Derek supposes, because in many ways, he's the same.
"I mean, do you want me to change that?"
Again - combative. Defensive, almost. Derek moves away from one side of the booth to the other, just to make Caspian twist in his seat again to get a better look at him. He's grinning, now, because if there's a chance that Caspian's secretly pretty impressed with him and just... doesn't want to say so? Unravelling that could make for a decent challenge. He's just gotta figure out how to get it out of him.
So. Flirting. Flirting seems to work. Derek leans on the side of the other seat.
"I don't see a lot of guys in here like you," he says, eyebrows up. "Certainly not anyone half as handsome."
"Ain't gonna see any guys like me here, cher. I'm one of a kind in this fuckin' city."
Caspian sips his drink as Derek moves; he doesn't twist or turn to keep is eye on him. The whiskey is good, definitely expensive, and he wonders absently where the money comes from. If Derek had a patron, he'd know about it. Manny couldn't keep a secret like that to save his life.
Derek looks good when he's pleased, though, Cas will concede to that. And he likes getting compliments, it plays to the vanity he's got left.
"Sit, loup," he says with a smirk as he meets Derek's gaze again. "Stay. Tell me why you walked over here."
He can't, actually. Derek's years in New York are all blurred together, and California was wolf territory and wolf territory alone. Tigers might be these rare, unheard of orange-and-black unicorns, sure, and Derek's probably aware of that, on some level, but the gravity of who he's talking to hasn't really sunk in. All Derek knows is that Caspian seems important, and Derek feels like he's important, too, so...
He wants to know Caspian. That's all. He doesn't want to know people very often. Maybe having a pack is making him sociable. Gross.
Derek is mildly annoyed by being told to sit, but if stomaching some vague condescension means he can keep hitting on Caspian and trying to pull whatever it is he wants from him out into the open, then... fine. Derek slides into the booth, kicking his feet up beneath the table to rest on Cas's seat, staying awfully close.
"Maybe I just wanted to buy you a drink." He arches his eyebrows. "Doesn't have to be anything more than that."
"Most men that buy me a drink want something," he answers, looking pleased as Derek sits and kicks his feet up. They're close. If Caspian drops his hand, he could touch him. He doesn't yet but he does make it a point to let his thigh touch Derek's leg. "Usually sex."
Blunt but true.
"Must be the animal magnetism."
Caspian takes a slow drink and keeps his eyes on Derek. He lets the whiskey sit on his tongue before he swallows, enjoying the warm burn. This place always laces its drinks to serve this particular clientele. If lycan tried hard enough, they could absolutely get drunk here.
"Must be awkward, though, seein' as how I know who you are and you don't know me."
Derek manages to keep his expression neutral and almost... bored, maybe, as Caspian talks. He feels the brush of Caspian's thigh against his calf, he feels the air change between them with the word sex. The thing is, though - he's not talking to a human. Derek might look bored, but Caspian can probably smell the slow burning arousal stirring to life in him.
"You can tell me your name, if you want me to know you."
He watches Caspian drink, sighing through his nose and leaning back into his seat. He folds his arms over his stomach, like he's settling in here for the night. Like he's let his guard down, even though he hasn't.
"Or - I mean -" Derek darts his tongue between his lips, tilting his head and smiling lightly enough to barely be there. "You can just tell me if you wanna fuck."
"Caspian," he says, knowing it's a little unusual but so is the rest of him. It fits. That smile never fades as the wolf across from him gets a little more bold. Caspian swirls the whiskey in the glass like he's actually thinking about his answer. There's some posturing happening across the table and he can't decide if it's genuine or if Derek is just trying to make a point. Project an image.
Derek might be a wolf, but he's attractive, and the full moon is coming, and a lot of filters and standards start fading as the moon gets round in the sky. He thinks, briefly, of Christian and of Geller: two wolves that have left a sour taste in his mouth for one reason or another. But Derek isn't them, doesn't even smell or feel like he's in their pack, so why not?
He finishes his drink and sets the glass down between them.
"I think we got a lot more to talk about," he says, measured and even as he considers the man sitting across from him. "But if we do that talkin' naked, I won't be disappointed. Your place? Mine? Or are we gonna scare the locals?"
Caspian's probably more of an appropriate name for a were-animal than fucking Derek, at least. Caspian offers him his name, and Derek takes that as a small but significant victory. He swipes his thumb over his lip and tilts his leg a little closer to Caspian while he talks, tapping the side of his upper thigh with his foot, eyebrows raised. This is starting to get fun for him. Derek's been having a lot more fun since his uncle died.
It's all gonna come crashing down when he realizes he's just running from his problems, but. For now? He's having fun.
"I like scaring the locals," Derek says, and for a second, he just - leaves it at that. He keeps his eyes open, staring at Cas, like he's seconds away from pulling him into a dark shadow of the club and shoving the dude's hand down his pants, but - he sits up before long, running his hand back through his hair and giving Cas an out.
"But if I've gotta choose between yours and mine - it's gonna be yours."
Last thing he's gonna do is invite a stranger back to the den.
He laughs and the temptation to make questionable life choices in Central Park spikes. They wouldn't be the first, Cas knows that for a fact. Still, the moon is running high and he doesn't need to risk the temptation to slip into his fur just because he's got some dirt beneath his paws.
"My place," he agrees. Caspian drops his hand to squeeze Derek's lg before he drops his feet to the floor. The tiger gets up slowly as he slides out of the booth and he pauses by Derek's side as he does. He can hear Anson's voice in his head, giving him shit about taking a dog him. But the lion isn't here to pass judgment and Caspian isn't sure he gives a shit all the same.
Some nights, a body is a body. Besides, he can smell Derek's arousal, swears he can feel it thrumming in his blood and whether he likes it or not, he's interested. He's curious.
"Ain't getting my ass arrested for fooling around in a parking lot this close to the moon."
He's joking, but it's probably hard to tell, given the shitty attitude and general wolfish aggression. He's smiling, but again, he's a werewolf - there's a sharpness that extends beyond the points of his canines, a predatory air he just can't escape. It's the kind of smile that scares most humans - but hey, Caspian isn't human.
For all his bullshit jock posturing, it's actually been a while since Derek's gotten laid. Since coming back to New York, he's kept his head down, he's focused on building a pack. Training teenagers not to kill each other and building a name for himself probably doesn't count as a social life, but it's all he's had, and... his heartbeat's actually starting to pick up. It'll be... good, forgetting himself for a night. Ignoring the anxious twist in his stomach that Derek always feels before something like this, he draws his legs back, standing up.
"C'mon, then."
And that's - all he'll offer, before he starts walking out of the club, expecting Caspian to follow behind him and lead him back home.
Caspian snorts a laugh but he doesn't rise to the bait. Too confident, too relaxed, to be troubled by a word like that.
He heads out of the club, letting Derek get to the door first but then he slips past him, out into the night. Cas doesn't actually live that far and that's by design - this is a fairly neutral neighborhood, not controlled by any one majority, and he prefers not to be in the middle of a bunch of pissing contests.
"You really runnin' around infecting people?" he asks as they walk, casual as a conversation about the weather.
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bonstempsrouler) wrote2019-07-02 01:12 am
no subject
He lived here for years, alone with his sister, the smell of ash and cinders still staining his clothes. His first six years in the city were a hazy mix of helpless grief and self-inflicted isolation; when he wasn't hiding out in his room, pulling away from Laura in the scant bit of time she had left before her death, he was getting lost in the streets, sucking dick for free, picking fights with whoever was willing to break his nose, and sleeping with women who reminded him of Kate, of Paige, and of all the other people who hurt too much to think about. The fire took everything from him, but the chaos and the pain and the pleasure of New York offered him a reprieve.
Derek left soon enough, following after his sister, and half a year later, he was back, solemn and steady and alpha. Laura was dead, Peter was dead - he returned as the last living carrier of the Hale name, with nothing in him but determination that New York was gonna be his hunting grounds. Those first few months were difficult; he wanted a pack of his own, and he wanted to find it somewhere that made him feel vibrant and alive, but there were so many struggles to overcome before he could start. Nearly nobody knew him - the people who did just remembered him as that sad, angry, slutty welp he used to be - and even if he'd wanted to poach wolves from New York's major pack, nobody would have joined him.
So - he took to making his own.
He'd turned a dozen humans, all sad, overlooked teenagers that needed an escape, before the Alpha in charge here noticed him. He'd turned a dozen more, by the time he started being seen by shapeshifters that weren't wolves. He'd made a den for himself in an abandoned subway tunnel for him and his pack, tucked away out of sight, and every day, Derek heard more and more street-level murmurs about the lone wolf that's been building up power and no doubt getting ready to make his move. People are starting to know his face. His name. Derek likes that feeling.
It's late, only a day or two before the full moon, and Derek's in one of the clubs he used to haunt when he was seventeen - it's kind of classy, for somewhere delegated to weres by humans, but the dim lighting hiding all the stains probably helps foster that impression. He's peoplewatching - Caspian is new. Derek's seen a lot of men in this place, but they've never smelled like Caspian. Raw and feline, strong and present. Rare.
Derek's drawn to him the way he was drawn to other captains of other highschool basketball teams during away games - there's power here, recognition, and Derek's still, at heart, this self-conscious teenager who wants his peers to see him as their betters. When Derek stares at Caspian from across the room, it's as much from an innate flutter of attraction as it is from curiosity. Does this guy know him? Has he heard about him? Is he impressed by how quickly he's made a name for himself in New York, or - is he one of those animals who doesn't give a shit about wolves in the first place?
Derek needs to know, so he buys him a drink. Something hard, something that burns, something wastefully expensive. He collects the glass from the bartender and takes it over to Cas himself, leaning on the wall by the booth the tiger's sitting in, and when he holds out his glass with eyebrows raised, he doesn't have any of that smooth confidence or reflective insecurity he had when he was alone. He's just... stoic, angry and kind of hard to read. He doesn't say hi to Cas, he just - thrusts out his hand with the glass full of booze and waits silently for him to take it.
"Here."
no subject
So he knows the name Derek Hale before the wolf approaches him in the bar, though it takes him a moment to realize that's who it has to be. Manny said he was dark and kind of edgy and Cas can feel the alpha power rolling off him, and he isn't part of Geller's pack. He knows that at the first real whiff of him when he's close enough. He has to be the young alpha that Manny was waxing poetic about.
Cas has a lot of questions, but wolf business isn't really his business, and city business sure as fuck isn't his problem any more now that he's not sitting at a vampire's right hand.
Caspian takes Derek in as he holds the drink out; his irises are permanently a feline shade of gold - a sign that he's spent a lot of time in his fur and a sign that he can change at will.
"I didn' think I was your type," he says in a drawl as he accepts the glass. He sniffs it, not because he's all that concerned but he's curious as to what exactly is in it. "Expensive taste, loup. You gonna sit or just stand there and watch me drink it?"
no subject
"I'm fine with standing."
He says this like he's being weirdly combative, like - it's a matter of pride that he doesn't take Caspian's polite offer at face value. It's very werewolf, and Derek realizes pretty quickly that his game's been sort of thrown, so. He recalibrates. Derek moves closer and leans against Caspian's booth, looking down at him, his eyes drifting from gold eyes to the whiskey in his hand, then back up.
"You here by yourself?"
no subject
He's never had luck with wolves.
"For now. You wanna change that?"
Fuck, he's curious. It would be no skin off his nose if Geller were overthrown, especially if it's a death sentence, but who the hell is this-- kid?
no subject
"I mean, do you want me to change that?"
Again - combative. Defensive, almost. Derek moves away from one side of the booth to the other, just to make Caspian twist in his seat again to get a better look at him. He's grinning, now, because if there's a chance that Caspian's secretly pretty impressed with him and just... doesn't want to say so? Unravelling that could make for a decent challenge. He's just gotta figure out how to get it out of him.
So. Flirting. Flirting seems to work. Derek leans on the side of the other seat.
"I don't see a lot of guys in here like you," he says, eyebrows up. "Certainly not anyone half as handsome."
no subject
Caspian sips his drink as Derek moves; he doesn't twist or turn to keep is eye on him. The whiskey is good, definitely expensive, and he wonders absently where the money comes from. If Derek had a patron, he'd know about it. Manny couldn't keep a secret like that to save his life.
Derek looks good when he's pleased, though, Cas will concede to that. And he likes getting compliments, it plays to the vanity he's got left.
"Sit, loup," he says with a smirk as he meets Derek's gaze again. "Stay. Tell me why you walked over here."
no subject
He can't, actually. Derek's years in New York are all blurred together, and California was wolf territory and wolf territory alone. Tigers might be these rare, unheard of orange-and-black unicorns, sure, and Derek's probably aware of that, on some level, but the gravity of who he's talking to hasn't really sunk in. All Derek knows is that Caspian seems important, and Derek feels like he's important, too, so...
He wants to know Caspian. That's all. He doesn't want to know people very often. Maybe having a pack is making him sociable. Gross.
Derek is mildly annoyed by being told to sit, but if stomaching some vague condescension means he can keep hitting on Caspian and trying to pull whatever it is he wants from him out into the open, then... fine. Derek slides into the booth, kicking his feet up beneath the table to rest on Cas's seat, staying awfully close.
"Maybe I just wanted to buy you a drink." He arches his eyebrows. "Doesn't have to be anything more than that."
no subject
Blunt but true.
"Must be the animal magnetism."
Caspian takes a slow drink and keeps his eyes on Derek. He lets the whiskey sit on his tongue before he swallows, enjoying the warm burn. This place always laces its drinks to serve this particular clientele. If lycan tried hard enough, they could absolutely get drunk here.
"Must be awkward, though, seein' as how I know who you are and you don't know me."
no subject
"You can tell me your name, if you want me to know you."
He watches Caspian drink, sighing through his nose and leaning back into his seat. He folds his arms over his stomach, like he's settling in here for the night. Like he's let his guard down, even though he hasn't.
"Or - I mean -" Derek darts his tongue between his lips, tilting his head and smiling lightly enough to barely be there. "You can just tell me if you wanna fuck."
no subject
Derek might be a wolf, but he's attractive, and the full moon is coming, and a lot of filters and standards start fading as the moon gets round in the sky. He thinks, briefly, of Christian and of Geller: two wolves that have left a sour taste in his mouth for one reason or another. But Derek isn't them, doesn't even smell or feel like he's in their pack, so why not?
He finishes his drink and sets the glass down between them.
"I think we got a lot more to talk about," he says, measured and even as he considers the man sitting across from him. "But if we do that talkin' naked, I won't be disappointed. Your place? Mine? Or are we gonna scare the locals?"
no subject
It's all gonna come crashing down when he realizes he's just running from his problems, but. For now? He's having fun.
"I like scaring the locals," Derek says, and for a second, he just - leaves it at that. He keeps his eyes open, staring at Cas, like he's seconds away from pulling him into a dark shadow of the club and shoving the dude's hand down his pants, but - he sits up before long, running his hand back through his hair and giving Cas an out.
"But if I've gotta choose between yours and mine - it's gonna be yours."
Last thing he's gonna do is invite a stranger back to the den.
no subject
"My place," he agrees. Caspian drops his hand to squeeze Derek's lg before he drops his feet to the floor. The tiger gets up slowly as he slides out of the booth and he pauses by Derek's side as he does. He can hear Anson's voice in his head, giving him shit about taking a dog him. But the lion isn't here to pass judgment and Caspian isn't sure he gives a shit all the same.
Some nights, a body is a body. Besides, he can smell Derek's arousal, swears he can feel it thrumming in his blood and whether he likes it or not, he's interested. He's curious.
"Ain't getting my ass arrested for fooling around in a parking lot this close to the moon."
no subject
He's joking, but it's probably hard to tell, given the shitty attitude and general wolfish aggression. He's smiling, but again, he's a werewolf - there's a sharpness that extends beyond the points of his canines, a predatory air he just can't escape. It's the kind of smile that scares most humans - but hey, Caspian isn't human.
For all his bullshit jock posturing, it's actually been a while since Derek's gotten laid. Since coming back to New York, he's kept his head down, he's focused on building a pack. Training teenagers not to kill each other and building a name for himself probably doesn't count as a social life, but it's all he's had, and... his heartbeat's actually starting to pick up. It'll be... good, forgetting himself for a night. Ignoring the anxious twist in his stomach that Derek always feels before something like this, he draws his legs back, standing up.
"C'mon, then."
And that's - all he'll offer, before he starts walking out of the club, expecting Caspian to follow behind him and lead him back home.
no subject
He heads out of the club, letting Derek get to the door first but then he slips past him, out into the night. Cas doesn't actually live that far and that's by design - this is a fairly neutral neighborhood, not controlled by any one majority, and he prefers not to be in the middle of a bunch of pissing contests.
"You really runnin' around infecting people?" he asks as they walk, casual as a conversation about the weather.