Chapter Text
Stiles fidgeted in his chair, alternating between looking around the waiting room and glancing at his phone. He kept debating with himself, as he’d done for the past week since he’d made the appointment, about whether he should just leave and forget about the whole thing. But every time he was about to get up and bolt towards the entrance, he reminded himself that it had taken him months to gather the courage to make the appointment in the first place, and if he left now without at least giving it a chance, he would be too much of a coward to try again.
Besides, as pathetic as he felt, he knew this was something he wanted, needed to try. He was aware that most people hired werewolf escorts for sex or to show them off, but he had read the website thoroughly, and there was nothing that went against what he was looking for. In spite of that, a part of him still worried, and wondered if the guy assigned to him wouldn’t just laugh in his face when he told him what he was after.
Shit, maybe it wasn’t too late to run away, the receptionist had been gone for a while—
“Stilinski?” Stiles almost jumped out of his skin when the receptionist-slash-owner —Erica, his mind supplied— appeared in front of him. “Sorry about the wait. He’s ready to meet you now, just follow the corridor over there,” she said, pointing beside her, “and go to the third door on the right. I hope you’ll decide to do business with us,” and with a smile and wink, she went back to her desk.
Stiles blushed, mumbling a thanks, and took a deep breath as he made his way to the room. He hesitated one last time before knocking on the door, but a voice inside was already telling him to enter.
Right. Werewolf senses. That was a thing.
He opened the door, and was pleasantly surprised by the man sitting on the couch. He was… well, gorgeous, to be honest. He didn’t need to be attracted to him to see that. Between the beard, the menacing eyebrows, and the leather jacket, he could appear a bit intimidating, but his eyes were soft, and Stiles took comfort on that.
“Hello. You must be Stiles, right?” the man asked, holding out his hand.
“Um, yeah. It’s not my real name, cause it’s kinda hard to pronounce, but everyone calls me that, so,” Stiles said, shaking his hand. One minute in and he was already rambling. Awesome start.
The man chuckled. “You’d be surprised how many people use fake names here. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I’m Derek, by the way, it’s nice to meet you.” Derek gestured to the couch behind him, and they sat down. “So, what can I do for you? What are you looking for, exactly? I’m assuming you checked the website to get an idea of what services we provide.”
“Yeah, I— it said you did a bit of everything. Like, you don’t just focus on sexual encounters.”
“That is what most people request, but yes, we offer a variety of things. Some people come looking for sex, some just want a piece of arm candy to show off, and some want a mixture of both. I’m assuming you’re on the second group?”
“Not… exactly.” Stiles bit his lip, unsure whether to continue, but when Derek raised a questioning eyebrow, he soldiered on. “I’m looking for a… companion. Kinda.”
“… A companion.”
“Yeah, like,” he blushed. “Someone to talk to. Share some meals with. Um, with some touching thrown in, but nothing, like, sexual or anything. Stuff like that.”
Derek was looking at him as if he’d grown two heads. The urge to run was increasing. “How desperate are you to come to an escort service for something like that?” Derek blurted out.
Stiles flinched, curling in on himself. He knew he should have left when he had the chance, this had been a terrible idea. He was about to get up and flee, when Derek reached out to touch his forearm, looking contrite.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t… that was out of line. It’s not my place to judge why you’re here.” Derek must have seen that he still looked uncertain, because he squeezed his arm and said softly, “Please, stay.”
Stiles’ shoulders relaxed a fraction, but he was still wary. Derek did seem genuinely apologetic, though, so he decided he might as well follow things through. Maybe the guy was new or something, and still hadn’t learnt how to hide his reactions. Besides, he could barely blame him for judging him. It’s not as if he wasn’t judging himself, too.
“All right. So, is that something you guys offer, or...?”
“Technically, yes,” Derek said slowly, letting go of his arm now that Stiles seemed willing to stay. “Contracts are tailored specifically for each person, so we can design one with whatever parameters you set.” He grabbed the laptop that was sitting on the coffee table, and started to type. “I’m assuming you want this to be long-term?” Stiles nodded. “All right. Let’s start by creating a schedule, then.”
They agreed to meet up at Stiles’ place on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Derek would go around lunch-time on Tuesdays, and spend the whole afternoon there, and go after lunch on Saturdays and stay for dinner, since Derek had Sundays off and Stiles felt more comfortable making him stay late when he knew he didn’t have to work the next day (even though Derek reminded him that he usually worked mostly at night anyway, but he seemed to appreciate the sentiment).
Then, Derek proceeded to talk about the base price for each of their appointments, making it clear there could be extra fees if Stiles decided he wanted him to be available on the phone outside of their scheduled time together (unless it was to cancel a session or something of the sort), or if he wanted to make any modifications to the contract. Derek also suggested he should download their app, so he could have the contract on hand at all times, along with their schedule, and so he could link up his credit card to pay him more easily after each session.
“Read the contract carefully before we meet up on Saturday, so we can go over it when I get there,” Derek said. “Do you want me to dress in a certain way? Bring anything in particular?”
“I don’t think so. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I guess,” Stiles shrugged.
“Very well. See you on Saturday, then,” Derek said, with the hint of a smile. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
“So? How did the meeting go?” Erica asked, entering Derek’s room and sitting down on the other end of the couch, passing him a cup of coffee.
Derek groaned. “I almost run him off two minutes in.”
“That’s a record, even for you. What the hell did you say to him?”
“He wanted— He said he wasn’t looking for sex. Just someone to talk to and spend time with.” Derek grimaced. “I… might have told him he had to be desperate to come to us for something like that.”
Erica smacked him on the back of the head. “You’re an ass. Rule number one is no judgement, Hale. Don’t make me fire you.”
“I know,” Derek sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I just— It caught me by surprise. Everyone that comes here does so for the novelty of banging a werewolf, or to parade us around like we’re an exotic pet,” he huffed. “No one’s ever wanted to share a chat and a meal before.”
“Well, maybe he’s a romantic. Wants to wine and dine you first, before sexing you up,” Erica shrugged. “Or maybe he’s just lonely. It’s none of your business, anyway.”
Derek rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“He was pretty, though, wasn’t he? That should be a plus.”
“He was,” Derek admitted. “And he actually managed to go an entire conversation without looking at my dick, or asking if I really have a knot. It was refreshing, to say the least.”
“Nice. Keep your guard up, though. You know appearances can be deceiving.”
“I know. But he doesn’t— I don’t know, he doesn’t seem like the type.”
“Neither did Kate,” Erica whispered, finding his hand and giving it a small squeeze. “Just be safe, okay? And let me know if anything weird happens.”
“I will,” Derek murmured, squeezing back. “Thanks.”