Stiles stilinski (AU Vampire)

After a week of nonstop supernatural werewolf on vampire sex, something began to change between them. It became harder and harder for Stiles to control Derek. It seemed like his control over werewolves was a double edged sword. The closer and more intimate he became with Derek, the less he could control him. Deaton had advised they stop sharing blood to see if the effects would wear off. He hadn't bothered telling them to stop fucking like rabbits though.

Not being able to bite and feed off of Derek was taking it's toll on Stiles. He'd shredded ten different pillows in an attempt to stop himself from sinking his teeth into the alpha during sex. The impulse to bite was strongest just before he climaxed. Without the spike of alpha blood in his system he relied heavily on bagged blood which was bland and utterly tasteless in comparison. Like a predator trying to survive on tofu. It could sustain him, but his blood lust grew stronger without a more stable feeding source.

He was tired. Derek had taken to including him in the training sessions with the betas to help work on his fighting skills. He didn't take to it too well. Hell, he was practically their chew toy for two hours since Derek had banned him from using his power to control the betas during training.

He fell onto his bed with a grunt, eyes shut tight as he fought an urge to curl into a ball. He was hungry from suffering so much physical damage earlier that day during training. Healing fast took it's toll on his control over his blood lust.

Stiles felt good. He felt very good. Like incredibly supercharged and energized. Which was pretty damn impossible considering he'd been on his death bed the past couple of days since he'd been found drained of blood and sporting a nasty bite mark on his neck not too long ago. Everyone had assumed he'd been bitten by one of the alphas encroaching on Beacon Hills.

Oh yeah, he'd been pale and sweaty, mumbling weirder things then usual -- and now he was up and moving around. Not to mention he was scarfing down every bit of food he could find. He'd already cleared out the fridge and had sent Scott out to gather some curly fries and other snacks. Scott, seeing how lively his friend had become, had been only too happy to do so.

Which left him alone in the company of Derek, his pack, and that uber creeper Peter Hale. Seriously, the company was a bit lacking here.

The only odd thing was how pale and underfed he looked, which could have been left to the fact that he'd been borderline death bed the past few days. Add to that the fact that no matter how much he consumed, his hunger was never satisfied.

Oh and Derek had been watching him like a hawk the entire time.

"Dude, what is your problem? You're staring at me like I'm gonna sprout wings or something! It's kinda creeping me out."