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Derek didn’t know why he kept the cabinets stocked with snacks Stiles liked—most of them things he’d never touch himself.
Or maybe he did know. Maybe it was the way Stiles lit up every time he found something sugary tucked between Derek’s neatly organized shelves.
It all started that night…
The night Stiles burst into the bathroom, phone clenched in one hand, hair wild and cheeks flushed from racing up the stairs. He practically bounced on his toes, eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Look, Sourwolf! I can get four bags of Watermelon Sour Patch Kids for fifty bucks. What a freaking steal!”
Derek yanked the shower curtain tight against the wall, eyes wide behind the narrow gap. “Stiles, what the hell are you doing? I’m in the shower!” His voice was a mix of surprise and mild irritation, breath catching slightly from being caught off guard.
The human rolled his eyes and shoved the phone closer to Derek’s face with an exaggerated huff. “Take a chill pill, man. I’m not climbing in there to show you.”
Then he gave a wink. An incredibly unattractive one, like he had dust in his eye. “Or maybe I will if you don’t look at how good this deal is!”
Derek stared, stunned, water running down his face. His hand went up to cover the twitch at the corner of his mouth, though it did little good. He wasn’t sure whether it was the warmth of the shower or the look Stiles gave him, but his ears burned.
Shifting his attention quickly to the screen, he tried to ignore that he was completely naked and Stiles was smirking like he owned the place.
The deal was fine, but Derek was pretty sure one bag could last a few months, so four felt like overkill.
Still, Stiles pressed the screen even closer, voice buzzing with enthusiasm. “I’ll pay you back,” he promised, trying to sound serious but failing miserably.
Derek raised a skeptical brow. “With what job?” he asked, deadpan.
If Stiles was offended, he didn’t show it. He tilted his head, eyes wide and shining with that impossible puppy look. His lower lip trembled softly, vulnerable but with a daring edge that drew Derek in closer. The flush spreading up his neck and the faint bite of his lip sent a jolt through Derek’s pulse.
And wow, suddenly it was really damn hot in here.
Derek sighed, long and slow, like it might drain the heat from the room. It didn’t. “Fine. Just add it to your cart. I’ll get my card when I’m done,” he muttered.
Apparently, he was the kind of person who had a credit card now. Someone who checked interest rates. Someone who cared about his credit score.
Stiles’s face broke into a huge grin. “Hell yes! You won’t regret this.” Then he spun on his heel and bounced out like he hadn’t just barged in, flirted without thinking, and steamrolled Derek into funding his sugar addiction.
Derek stared after him, still dripping, slightly aroused, and completely unsure what had just happened.
The Watermelon Sour Patch Kids arrived within a day, because Stiles had somehow convinced Derek to get an Amazon membership. Derek wasn’t sure it was for himself; honestly, it felt more like a favor to the relentless little pest.
And just like that, it became a routine. Every week, Stiles found something new to obsess over and insisted he needed it immediately.
“Look, Derek, it’s a gummy squirrel. I’ve only ever had the worms before!” Stiles exclaimed, waving the oddly shaped candy like a rare artifact.
Derek just shook his head and bought the damn thing.
He didn’t realize a problem had really started until he caught Stiles skipping into the kitchen most days, opening the cabinet like it was Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory—twirling around, humming show tunes, and dramatically pulling out snacks like he was performing a one-man candy-themed Broadway show.
Stiles ran on sugar and caffeine like it was a survival strategy. Derek didn’t understand it, but he didn’t need to. Watching him light up over the smallest thing made it worth it.
One day, with a cheeky grin and a twinkle in his eye, Stiles looked up and said, “You know, Derek, you’re officially the best sugar daddy I’ve ever had.”
Heat rushed up Derek’s face, burning behind his eyes and crashing low in his gut. It took all of three seconds—and zero self-control—before he was on top of Stiles, giving him something a lot less sugary to taste.