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Scott passed out before they were even halfway done with the tattoo, which was probably for the best. Derek made Stiles hold up Scott’s arm so that he could reach the back of it with the blow torch. After he finished the flesh on Scott’s arm was still blistered, taking its time to heal, but the dark bands still showed through. Derek went to put the blow torch back in its hidey hole, along with the array of weapons and herbs he kept here just in case. He could feel Stiles’ eyes as they traced the lines of the tattoo on his own back.
“So,” said Stiles. “I’m guessing your tattoo has a deep meaning to you to go through all that pain. It’s kind of… uh… masochistic otherwise.”
“Yes Stiles,” said Derek. He was rapidly realising it was better to humour Stiles, just let him run on until he got to his point.
“You know what it stands for I guess?” said Stiles. “The Triskele?”
Derek ran his fingers over the floor boards tracing the pattern in the dust.
“It means a trinity. To some people it’s the holy trinity. Or past, present and future. To me, it means Alpha, Beta, Omega. Anyone can go from one to the other. It’s fluid. Changing. That answer your question?”
“Yeah,” said Stiles biting down on his lip. “That’s what it means. Sure. Totally.”
Derek could hear the skip of Stiles’ heart. He was lying. Whatever thought was in Stiles head, it was killing him not to say.
“Go on,” he said simply.
Stiles bit down on his lip, arms firmly crossed, trying to hold back what he wanted to say but he caved, letting it out in a burst.
“To be honest, it kind of makes sense,” he began cryptically. “You have all the chains already. Isaac showed me what you guys wear on the full moon, you know, if you’re going to go all homicidal without an anchor. That would definitely fit in with the… scene. I just didn’t think it would be your kind of thing, the whole submission thing. Too many flash backs to being tied up in basements and tortured…. Unless you’re a dom. I can totally see you being a dom actually. ‘Oh yeah! I’m the alpha! Lick my shoes and suck my dick!’”
Stiles was grinning gleefully. Derek stood up, suddenly feeling like he didn’t want to be crouching on the floor besides Stiles whilst the boy talked about licking dicks and sucking shoes or whatever.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Though, actually, I can see it now,” said Stiles. “The whole thing with the blowtorch, all that pain, kind of fitting. Not my thing personally, I prefer to avoid pain in whatever form, but each to their own.”
“Stiles! Tell me what you are talking about or I swear to god-”
“The triskele is the sign of the BDSM community,” Stiles blurted out, biting down on his lips before he could say anymore.
Derek stared at him, right into those deceptively innocent brown eyes.
“What did you say?”
“Admittedly the one they use is a bit different. It’s in a circle and has these dots on it but I’m not lying,” said Stiles. “Listen to that heartbeat. Steady as a rock.”
Derek listened. The trill of Stiles heart beat was rapid and hard but it was steady as he spoke. He wasn’t lying. What the actual fuck! He’d had this thing for years and no one had told him! Admittedly there were now a couple of incidents from back in New York that made more sense but…
“How do you even know that?” Derek asked reflexively.
“I do all my research thoroughly.”
“How do you even know that?” Derek asked before realising he didn’t want to know the answer. In a hundred different ways, he did not want to know the answer because Stiles would give it to him in glorious, graphic, Technicolor detail.
“That… is not the issue here,” Stiles said thankfully, his heart rate spiking again. “You’re the one with the ‘I like whips and chains’ sign on your back.”
Derek gaped at him, trying to think of some smart-alec come back but all he could think about was Stiles browsing same bondage practice at three in the morning which was not a mental image he wanted right now!
Luckily they were both saved as Scott chose that moment to wake up.