
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5417726.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Darkest_Powers_-_Kelley_Armstrong
  Relationship:
      Chloe_Saunders/Derek_Souza
  Character:
      Chloe_Saunders, Derek_Souza, Lauren_Fellows, Victoria_Enright,
      Christopher_Bae, Simon_Bae
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, wet_dreams
  Series:
      Part 1 of Chlerek_Dream
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-13 Words: 3284
****** Wanting You ******
by Leah_Hansen
Summary
     A look inside of Derek Souza's head, full of hormones, after they
     escape the Edison Group.
Wanting You
                        :-Chloe Saunders/Derek Souza-:
Derek Souza woke up in a cold sweat, cool air licking his feverish skin as the
sheets pooled around his hips.
He wasn’t quite sure what had woken him—the soft wind outside, a creak in the
age-old floorboards maybe, the scrape of nude tree branches against the siding
from billowing in the wind, or maybe it was his own disruption, a jerk from his
dreams or he hit his hand on something while he tossed about—but, as he drank
in the cool night air eagerly, his sluggish brain’s cogs turned fiercely, rust
falling away. It normally wasn't so blisteringly hot in his room, especially
not in New York, but it was nearly stifling, a heavy, wet humidity that pressed
in on all sides and made his lungs work double-time.
He kicked away his sheets, intending to go back to sleep once he cooled down,
but froze as the fabric caught on something hard between his thighs.
Why hadn’t he noticed his erection, straining blatantly against his shorts, as
though ready for a tight little blonde to sink onto it?
At the errant thought of a familiar blonde, his cock spasmed, wavering through
the air as it throbbed eagerly. Twisting his fingers into claws against the
mattress, he tried to pick out the dream that had sent him sweaty and
unbelievably hard.
Someone was kissing him, moaning into his mouth, he remembered, little hands
running up and down his chest, into his hair, tugging painfully, swollen wet
heat grinding down against his cock, so hot and undeniably soaked, slicking the
fabric, soaking through it.
“Derek,” the girl had moaned so softly, and his cock throbbed, aching to slide
into her tight cunt, to take her, to fuck her brains out and taste her pretty
pink nipples, watch her half-lidded eyes prickle with pleasurable tears.
He’d latched onto her mouth, swiping his tongue in, sucking away her moans as
he tugged on her tongue, sucking the appendage between his teeth tenderly.
Her hands drifted down, fumbling with his shorts and, finally, his cock was
free. Veins rolled up the sides, swollen with blood, the head leaking precum
down the sides, a red-purple color.
Then, carefully, she pulled away, rolled back onto her heels and wrapped her
tiny, delicate fingers around the largest part of his shaft.
The tip of his cockhead brushed her cunt, once, twice, as she tried to slip it
inside. Gently, so as not to frighten her, he held his cock up while she sank
down.
Her eyes went wide, her lips swollen and redder than rubies, her nipples
flushed and peaked on her breasts, as she inched down a bit farther. Once the
head was in with a little pop, she lifted her head and smiled shakily down at
him, dewy-eyed and biting her lip in pain.
She sat on his cock for a very long, still time, her muscles clenching
rhythmically around him, and he clenched his teeth together to keep from
thrusting furiously into her.
Moonlight spilled across her features, illuminating her familiar face.
Strawberry-blonde curls, big baby blue eyes, rosy lips, a tiny nose, and
freckles. Lots of freckles; in fact, they were everywhere on her body, not just
her face.
“Derek,” she murmured and bent her head to kiss him, wincing at the pain. His
cock rubbed against her insides. “Chloe,” he said.
In real life however, his cock was deflating, and he slumped, exhausted against
his rumpled sheets, watching the sticky cum gleam on his stomach.
He glared down, defeated, and then wiped the cum away with the edge of his
sheets, off his fingers. When he rose, kicking off his shorts and wiping away
the sweat on his thighs, he decided to sleep nude.
Better than having another “incident”, he told himself firmly. Once he was
undressed, he curled up on the bed and fell back asleep, despite the humidity
and the dry scratching of the branches against the siding of the house.
The next morning, Derek found himself sitting on the other side of the tiny
island, eating his cereal one Cheerio at a time while he avoided Chloe’s
innocent eyes.
If he looked at her, he’d think of the dream, wet eyes glazed with pleasure,
and things would surely go downhill from there. What would Lauren say if he
attacked her precious, little niece?
The turtleneck borrowed from Tori hung loose on Chloe’s delicate frame and her
tights hugged her long, skinny legs.
He never noticed how small she was, shadows on her wrists, her rain-basin
collarbone, hipbones protruding through the tight fabric of her tights; her
tiny hands were skeletal almost, so far from his huge hands.
He choked a bit as he realized how hard he was, filling his jeans painfully. He
remembered, faintly, something Rae had told Chloe, about really tall guys
liking tiny girls, and now, as he stared at her bowed head, the heart-shaped
swell of her ass as she faced away from him, he realized that their size
difference only further turned him on.
He bit his lips hard enough to draw blood and shakily contemplated standing but
decided against it. The last thing he needed, as a teenage boy with the over-
heightened sex drive of a werewolf, was the girl of his dreams seeing him with
a hard on.
“It seems like it’ll be a nice day,” Chloe said offhandedly, breaking the
silence as she spread butter on a piece of toast, licking away the butter that
got on her fingers with the flat of her pink little tongue and he’d be damned
if it didn't make him even harder, his cock pressing against the seam of the
crotch of his jeans.
He clenched his hand around the fork, fiercely, as she finally turned to him,
licking a little piece of butter from the edge of her wrist bone.
“Derek, the fork,” she said, eyes locked on his hand in surprise, although a
tinge of pink colored her cream cheeks.
They glanced down together and found the poor utensil hanging in two pieces,
his hand slightly bloody from where the ragged ends had pinched the skin.
“You okay?” She reached across the smooth stone island and touched his forearm;
his cock strained against the confines of his jeans, truly painful now, and
precum oozed out, leaking through his underwear, making a wet spot on his
jeans.
“Sorry,” he muttered as he opened his fist and noticed the veins bulging out of
his skin. He felt feverish and sweaty, his already shower-wet hair getting even
wetter and sticking to his skin, dripping down his spine.
“You don't look okay,” she told him quietly, ripping off a hunk of her toast
and picking at the flakes of crust.
Opening his mouth, Derek debated his response.
Could he lie and say it was just really hot?
No, she wasn't even slightly pink with heat.
That time for Change? No, that had been last week, he remembered because Chloe
had been on her period and looked so embarrassed when he smelt the blood and
offered his sweatshirt when she leaked in her favorite pajama pants to wear
when he Changed.
“I'm—” he began but the breath was knocked out of him when he smelt it.
Musky, tangy, and wet, so wet.
He glanced into her eyes and her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink.
The musky scent strengthened.
When he looked down, his fingers nearly had gauged four huge cracks with the
pressure of his hand grabbing the island, and he took a breathe to calm himself
down.
“Is it that time?” Chloe asked lightly, setting down the uneaten toast.
Derek shook his head, unable to help the way his nostrils flared to inhale more
that smell. Christ, it was divine, mouthwatering, so hot and wet, sticky.
The thought froze in his brain, locked like a deer in the headlights as he
realized he was, in fact, familiar with it.
It was the same smell his room reeked of after last night’s dream, with Chloe
bouncing on his cock and gasping, shivering, her little mouth open in short
moans, choked off by every thrust into her tight pussy.
It was the smell of sex.
Or, more precisely, arousal.
He couldn't hear anything over the roar of blood in his ears, couldn't even
begin to make out the words Chloe’s mouth was forming, a panicked look all over
her face.
It wasn't until a sharp pain wove through the haze of lust that he noticed she
was scrambling out of her chair, frantically calling his name. Normally, he
would've been annoyed, maybe angry at anyone breaking his train of thought, but
her saying his name, caressing every inch of his mind like a silky tongue, only
added fuel to his raging fire, or, in this case, erection.
“Oh my god, Derek!” Chloe shrieked as she struggled to slide his chair back.
“What happened?” Lauren’s voice sounded far too close and that shook Derek
awake.
“I-I…he just…it broke off!”
Broke off what?
He squinted down at his left hand.
Nothing.
Then he looked at his right hand and something in his brain went wild with
surprise and panic. How could he have not felt the huge chunk of stone now
sitting, crumbled, in his hand? His hand was bright red, skin flushed with
blood zooming beneath the surface like the site of a slap; his fingers throbbed
as he took in the torn skin on his fingertips, like little callouses after
working outside for so long. In fact, it looked like popped callouses, pieces
of transparent white skin hanging around the wounds. “Damn,” he said once he
found his voice, albeit raspier and huskier than he would have liked and he saw
Chloe’s cheeks turn cherry-red, setting off the creamy color of her heaving
chest, her eyes glittering sapphires.
The smell of her arousal was overpowering and he took a huge whiff, disguising
it as a breath, and fought back the shudder that threatened to tiptoe down his
spine.
He met Chloe’s wide eyes and gave her a little smile. Her face went even
redder. 'Yeah,’he thought, managing that little crooked smile that Chloe loved
behind Lauren’s back, ‘I know.’
Kit told him he was lucky. Derek couldn't disagree, if he had to be completely
honest because 1) he didn't break any bones in his hand, 2) he found out Chloe
was, at the least, lusting for him and 3) he was finally left alone. Lauren had
decided to go grocery shopping and dragged Chloe along, which left him alone in
the big, lonely house. Since Lauren didn't like driving, Kit had to take them.
Tori and Simon were off with their significant others on dates in town, so it
was just Derek in the house. Alone.
He decided to do some laundry and started for his room. Laundry had him
thinking about Chloe, and reminded him of the smell of her arousal. His dick
sprang to life and, quickly stealing a glance around, saw no one around. No
Tori to mock him about getting a hard on, no Lauren breathing down his neck,
and, most importantly, no Chloe to make his situation even worse. He began to
tiptoe upstairs before he remembered that everyone was gone and jogged up the
stairs, cock huge and swollen and sensitive in his jeans. He’d never been
inside Chloe’s room, and now he was sneaking inside…to steal a pair of panties.
Pathetic, he knew, but he couldn’t get the image of her cunt dripping in them,
soaking them, maybe she even rubbed her clit in them, thrumming with energy as
she mewled and gasped.
Scowling at his hard cock, he opened the door to her room, assaulted with her
sweet, sweet smell. Her room was a chaotic mess of strewn clothes—bras, t-
shirts, skirts, pajama pants—and he crouched down, scooping up a bra. She was a
sweet, succulent handful at 32 B. He growled softly to himself and stepped
around the mounds of crumpled clothing, drawing closer and closer to the
thickest smell of her arousal: the closet. He licked his dry lips, parched, and
pulled open the doors. Her smell assaulted him, thick and over powering. The
white laundry hamper stood next to her shoes and right on top of the mounds of
dirty clothes, jeans and t-shirts and sweatshirts and socks and panties, was a
pair of still wet panties, with little hearts all over them. He had to admit,
it was cute, the innocent designs all over her bikini-cut underwear but he
thought of her cunt all over and suddenly, it wasn’t innocent anymore.
His hand was shaking as he picked it up, his thumb on the crotch of the
panties. Slick, wet juices gleamed.
He turned tail and snuck out, his heart pounding loud in his ears. So sure he’d
be caught, he stuffed the panties into his pocket, and high-tailed it to his
room. The soft purr of the van’s engine sent his heart pounding double time,
making a cold sweat break out across his back. The car doors slammed; footsteps
puttered; and then there was conversation.
“I’ll call Simon,” Kit told them, already whipping out his phone.
The smell of pizza assault Derek’s sensitive nose. He opened the door to his
bedroom, withdrew the panties, and held them to his nose. After a huge whiff,
he stuck them into the gap between the wall and his bed and then headed
downstairs, head swimming with Chloe’s scent, his jeans almost painfully tight.
“Hey, come help us,” Chloe said, and the sound of her voice made his cock even
harder.
‘Shit,’ he thought dimly as he walked closer, barefoot. Belatedly, he realized
smelling her panties before heading out probably wasn't the best idea, but he
shrugged it off. His sweatshirt covered his bulging cock, so he was good until
he could cum all over his hand, smelling Chloe’s wet panties.
He gritted his teeth against the new surge of heat in his crotch and gave the
little dewy-eyed blonde a little smile (her favorite, she’d told him), the
crooked one. She relaxed against the car door and held it open while he
squeezed into the backseat and maneuvered the hot cardboard boxes into his
arms. The heat reminded him of last night, and the dream, and he nearly dropped
the boxes all over his bare feet and the gravel.
“I’ll get the door,” she said, light as a breeze, and darted down the walkway,
flip flops clapping with every step; he followed closely behind. From this
distance, he could see the swing of her hips and the pantyline on her yoga
pants as he walked along briskly, his arms full of cardboard.‘Concentrate,’ he
told himself, grinding his teeth against the sight of her backside,
‘concentrate on the pizza. Jesus, could they have cooled it down a little? It
feels like my arms around being burnt extra crispy.’
Chloe leaned against the door, holding it open with her hip and the screen door
with her elbow. The angle was delicious but he forced himself to keep his eyes
in front, so his cock wouldn’t explode through his jeans, and marched straight
to the kitchen, the little blonde on his heels. The door banged shut behind
them. Grateful to be unloaded from the pizzas, he inspected his arms for burns
but only saw a slight red tinge. Nothing major. He sighed and unclenched his
jaw, relaxing.
“So,” she said, touching his shoulder blade gently, shyly, as though she were
afraid he’d break. Maybe his dick would.
He shifted, his cock aching now, rubbing against the seam of his jeans. His
pulse drummed in his ears as she bumped him with her hip on the way to grab
some paper plates.
“We have cheese, pepperoni, and supreme. Which one do you want?” She was too
short so she stood on her tiptoes and peered at the boxes.
He slid in behind her and, holding his breath, tentatively placed his hands on
her hips.
In an instant, she froze, an Chloe-sized block of ice, but her cheeks flushed
and the smell of arousal rushed at him. Derek gritted his teeth against the
urge to rut against her like an animal.
“What do I want?” he murmured, pressing his chin against the top of her head;
she rocked slightly, shifting her weight, and he hissed in surprise when she
rubbed up against his hard on. For a long minute, neither of them breathed.
“D-Der—”she mewled, pressing her ass against him and he squeezed her breasts
through her shirt; her nipples poked out against the flimsy material of her
bra. Christ, he was so hard.
Abruptly, the front door crashed open and he shuffled away. Shame washed over
him at taking advantage of such an innocent girl and he leaned against the
counter for support. “Shit,” he gasped out, his voice strained, “I’m so…fucking
hell, Chlo. I’m so—sorry. I know—I’ just gonna go. Fuck.” She had this wide-
eyed look as he backed away.‘You stupid piece of shit. How could you do that to
her? Force yourself on her like that? I thought you were a-a gentleman, at
least in that sense!’Managing to scramble up the stairs without falling, he
nearly sprinted to his room. He eased into it and closed the door firmly behind
him. Satisfied with his isolation, he made a beeline to the bathroom, his cock
straining; his fingers shook as he struggled to get the zipper down, his cock
huge and hot. Once he managed to get his jeans off, he found he was tense,
coiled tight.
The water ran, making the bathroom muggy, while he fished out the panties. A
wet spot soiled the front of his shorts, and his stomach clenched as he lifted
the panties to his nose and inhaled, wrapping his fingers around his erection.
The low groan that bubbled out of his throat was low, but loud enough that it
reverberated around the room. His cock spasmed. Her smell was musky and hot,
making his cock ache and throb. Experimentally, he licked the crotch. His hand
was fast, jerking his cock off at a pace so fast it was a blur, clenching his
teeth to keep quiet, but as he got closer and closer, he found himself grunting
her name. “Fuck,” he moaned, dropping the panties onto the floor, and stroked
with abandon, head thrown back in pleasure. His muscles clenched and
unclenched, frantically as he thought of Chloe, sliding her yoga pants down her
legs, her little mewls music to his ears, revealing that heart-shaped ass and
cute little panties with rainbows or cats or hearts, anything innocent. He was
so close, he could taste blood on his tongue.
He grabbed the panties and pressed them into his mouth, muffling his loud
scream as he came, his cock pulsing and bobbing, thick white ropes of cum all
over his chest, his face, sticky and musky and hot, his eyes rolling back in
his skull, hips arched off the cool lid of the toilet. His orgasm rolled
through him in harsh waves, cutting off his breath and making his cock spasm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he choked out when he had enough oxygen to speak. Another
string of cum hit him in the face. “Chloe,” he whimpered, letting go of his
cock as the strings slowed to a steady bubble, a trickle really.
Sighing to himself, he sat upright and slid into the shower, completely unaware
of the slightly ajar bathroom door behind him and the stunned blonde beyond it.
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