Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1284412.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, In_Public, Grinding, handjob, cum_as
      lube, Rimming, Established_Relationship
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-08 Words: 4144
****** A Deck of Luckies ******
by troq
Summary
     Stiles blinked for a moment before realizing he had on Derek’s
     infamous leather jacket. The one he usually trotted around in with
     his hands hidden from the world in those stupid little pockets. (Hot
     Pockets. Heh. Stiles would have to write that one down later.) Well,
     he knew he had it on, but didn’t know if that made sense. And here he
     was, with one hand in a pocket and the other holding his cigarette.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
A slackened, yet short amount of time had come and gone since his father was
laid up in the hospital, but the vices of Stiles’ comfort and desolation still
held a prevalent place in his life. A habit brought upon by a period of
overwhelming sadness and contempt, the latter of which was aimed at himself.
This newly formed addiction (he abhorrently denied the use of such a word) was
his primary weapon against the feelings of emptiness he felt when he almost
lost his second parent - his father. He never thought a person could feel truly
empty, because how can you feel nothing? It was like multiplying zero by any
number and expecting something other than zero to be the result.
Smoking, of all things. He really could not be any more cliché.
And it wasn’t as if Stiles was sad anymore. No, he definitely wasn’t. Sure, his
father was shot through the chest three times by a stupid, petty thief who just
wanted a bit of cash to get by and nearly ruined the life of a teenage boy by
making him re-live the pain and suffering associated with losing (in this case,
almost losing) a loved one, especially a parent, but he wasn’t sad now. And
yet, when it was all said and done, the instrument he once used as a buffer for
that sadness was still there. He couldn’t stop.
So there he was, smoking in the middle of a park on a rickety swing set, with
not a single ounce of pain in his heart. He was fine. He was content.
He was an idiot.
The gaseous substance wafted through the boy’s mouth and spiraled back out
again into the air and he was met with angry glances from the parent’s of
children whom were playing in the public area. The little brats just wanted to
swing, but lord knows the mothers wouldn’t let them sit next to a smoking,
awkward grown boy who chose a seating arrangement that was probably more suited
for a five year old rather than himself. It was practically an ass-corset, if
he were to be honest. But oh well. Luckily the sun was already setting so
they’d be gone in no time.
He flexed his knees back and forth, kicking off the ground slightly to get a
bit of momentum. Nothing crazy, just a small bit of swinging so that his feet
dragged across the dirt filled hole beneath him. The seat itself creaked with
every motion and the chains connected to the top squealed as metal rubbed
against metal. Then, the sound multiplied as if ghosts were riding along next
to him in the other swings.
Nope. Just Derek freaking Hale, being as creepily quiet as always, swinging
next to the teen looking while highly uncomfortable and a little too pedophile-
ish in that tiny little seat that made him appear even bigger and badder than
usual.
"Jesus Christ, Derek. Would you stop that? Do I need to strap a collar on you
and put a bell on it? ‘Cause I’ll do it."
Derek looked at the younger boy with a raised eyebrow and an incriminating look
on his face.
"Why are you smoking with my jacket on?"
Stiles blinked for a moment before realizing he had on Derek’s infamous leather
jacket. The one he usually trotted around in with his hands hidden from the
world in those stupid little pockets. (Hot Pockets. Heh. Stiles would have to
write that one down later.) Well, he knew he had it on, but didn’t know if that
made sense. And here he was, with one hand in a pocket and the other holding
his cigarette.
"Hi, Derek! How was your day? You’re looking dapper as usual. My day was fine.
Woke up, ate breakfast, masturbated, masturbated again, got dressed, came here,
starting talking to this one grumpy werewolf I know. Same old, same old, you
know?"
"Stiles."
"Okay, so I didn’t masturbate twice. Only once. You caught me."
"The jacket, Stiles."
"I don’t know. It makes me look cooler? It was the first thing I grabbed? I
like wearing it because it’s yours?" he shrugged. "Not my fault you left it at
my place two nights ago. Finders, keepers - Losers, grumpy-werewolf-weepers!"
He took another puff from his cigarette and made a lazy attempt at blowing out
the smoke into the form of a ring. Derek truly despised when he smoked. It was
probably because Stiles was just a bit off when he was inhaling all that
bullshit. Slightly darker, cockier, not one hundred percent himself. And what
Derek abhorred even more was that he was slightly into it. He could watch that
pale boy suck on those cigarettes for hours. The way his soft, beautiful lips
pressed around them and sucked. It was far too easy to think of dirty things
when he watched that. And the scent of it all was what really drove him mad. It
was the smell he came to love that was part of Stiles’ package deal, mixed with
a raunchy, sex-driven stench. He couldn’t explain it properly if he tried, but
he just knew he wanted to slam his cock into any hole he could find on the
boy’s body when he caught wind of it.
Not that he would ever tell Stiles any of that. Weakness? What’s that? So he
held his tongue. And in retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best idea.
They were just about alone in the park now that the sun had set and darkness
was everywhere, aside from the various drug peddlers and old women walking
around with their teacup chihuahuas. Stiles glanced over at his lover, if you
would call him that, and questioned what it was he even wanted. Derek Hale
never went anywhere without a reason. But he didn’t bother asking. And in
truth, he felt just a little bad for possibly ruining his definitely expensive
jacket.
With a guilty conscience and an apologetic demeanor, Stiles got off the seat
and dragged his feet over to where Derek was on the swing next to his. Not
saying anything, he turned his body so that his back was facing the werewolf’s
and slouched over so that he was sitting atop the older male’s lap now.
"Sorry. I won’t do it again, okay? Promise."
That smell. It was even stronger now that Stiles was on top of him, breathing
his air, speaking to him. He almost couldn’t stand it and his body stiffened as
a side effect. He wanted nothing more but to take his mate here and now. Reach
his hand around his waist and slip his hand into the teen’s pants. To play with
his cock out here in the open. To make him cum in such an indecent place and
hear his moans echoed throughout the empty park. His own cock twitched at the
thought. Pressed against the fabric of his jeans, yearning to be pleasured.
And it didn’t go unnoticed by Stiles.
"Uhhh … is that the Statue of Liberty in your pocket or are you just really,
really, really happy to see me?" He chuckled and was met with no reply. The
brooding werewolf simply clenched his teeth together, tightening his jaw as the
pale boy lifted the cigarette up for another inhale.
Before the nicotine-laced stick could cross his lips, the older of the two
brought his hand up and snatched the cigarette away, then threw it to the
ground. He skated downward to Stiles’ crotch before he could protest and
immediately tugged at the jeans with enough force to pop the button right off.
"Woah, Derek. Calm down there, pup. I’m sure we can settle this in a more …
appropriate setting, don’t you think?" he said, slightly exasperated with a
tinge of amusement, as the other didn’t listen. He simply dragged down the
zipper that separated himself from his mate’s cock with ease and slipped his
fingers in. "Come on, there’s people around … ish."
"I need you to stop smoking," he replied in a cold tone as he guided himself to
underneath Stiles’ underwear, where he grasped at the boy’s limp cock. "I
really need you to stop."
It half sounded like a plea, and half like an order. Stiles wasn’t sure which
to interpret it as. All he knew was that his sex god of a partner was rubbing
the head of his cock with his thumb and he didn’t really want to think about
anything else. When a droplet of pre-cum surfaced and slid under the tip of
Derek’s finger, coating the sensitive top, he couldn’t help but to moan a bit.
"D-Derek …" was all he could muster. His cock was already half-hard and he
tried to protest by putting his hand on Derek’s wrist, but did nothing more. He
just held it while the older boy’s hand moved across his length, stroking and
pulling. It didn’t take long for his cock to be visibly and fully erect, to the
point where he was worrying about bystanders walking by and calling the cops.
It would be so fun to have your father arrest you for having sex with an
escaped murder convict in the middle of a public park. Sarcasm intended. But at
least the night had fallen and no one was in the general area … for now.
Before he knew it, he was practically lying on Derek now, his head fallen back
onto his shoulder and his body sprawled out wantonly on his lap. He was fucking
Derek’s hand, right there, wide in the open. His hips swayed back and forth and
he rubbed his clothed ass against the Alpha’s hardened cock, which was still
buried under what seemed like a mountain of jeans. At this point, the rickety
old swing set was making an embarrassing amount of squeaky noises and Derek was
using his free hand to pull down the material covering Stiles’ ass. Once that
feat was accomplished, he started to work on his pants — fumbling a bit to
unbutton them with only three fingers while simultaneously working on Stiles’
cock, but he finally managed to.
With a whine from his mate, he stopped jerking the aching length for a moment
to move Stiles over a bit so that he could slip his own cock out so that it
could rest somewhere between those pale ass cheeks.
"Aw. C’mon. Don’t stop. Alllllllllmost there. Keeeeeep going," Stiles managed
to breathe out, wrapping his hand around Derek’s to guide him back to his
leaking dick. Stroke after stroke and his breath was becoming short. "I- …
Derek … I’m-…" With every pass of his ass on Derek’s cock, he could feel the
pre-cum rub around, making it that much easier to grind against him. His toes
began to curl and his eyes closed tightly when the pleasure shot through him
and he started to cum.
The hot, white seed poured out of his cock and into Derek’s hand, one spurt
after the other. His breathing was now playing partner in crime to his moans
and his legs were becoming weak like jelly. Even his mind felt like it was
being shot up with a special dose of morphine by the time he was done.
When he finally opened his eyes, thanks to Derek shifting around, he saw the
older man’s hand go behind him, still covered in his cum. With an ounce of
wonder floating around in his brain but not an ounce of willpower to move, he
waited for Derek to reveal his secret, evil, maniacal master plan to him. And
then, the answer was clear. Derek slicked up his cock with his lover’s cum,
using it as a form of lube. With that, he moved Stiles forward a bit, who had
no ability to disagree at the moment, before he pressed the head of his cock
against the pale boy’s hole.
"Derek. Don’t you think public masturbation on a surface where 50 plus children
swing every day is already gonna land us in a deep enough pit of Hell?"
Silent as ever, Derek did not reply. Slowly, he started to make shallow, upward
thrusts into the boy and was met with a slight whimper.
"Yes? No? Maybe so? I didn’t know I was dating a mute here. Kinda ruins the
whole howling werewolf thing."
Again, no reply, and by this time he was balls deep in his lover. He looked
down to see his ass slapping up and down against his thighs, his cock
disappearing with each hard thrust and the cum turning a brighter shade of
white as he went. He couldn’t help himself. His thrusts were faster, harder,
and deeper than ever before and it showed in Stiles’ voice.
"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God."
As Derek reached his breaking point, which didn’t take very long at all thanks
to the heavy petting session moments ago, the swing set started to whine in the
dead silence surrounding them. He practically jack-hammered his way into his
mate, who was trying to maintain what little composure he could scrape up.
Through the near-violent thrusts and that intoxicating smell that was still
trapped in his nostrils, Derek came inside of Stiles. The cum pumped in as he
halted his motions and his vision became blurry from the force of it. Even his
breathing trembled a little when the last pump came and he could feel Stiles’
ass clench around him in arousal.
"Stop. Smoking. Stiles."
———————————————————————————————————————-
It had only been a week since that two person party happened in the park and
Stiles was just about pushing his luck now. It had seemed he found the secret,
or Scott did anyway, to Derek Hale’s penis.
”… and man, it was F-A-N-T-A-S-T-I-C.”
"Dude, I really didn’t need to know any of that. And what is wrong with you?! A
children’s park?!"
"Don’t be such a fun sucker, Scott. Nothing worse than what you used to do with
Allison. Sad that I know that."
"Heh … yeah," he said with an incredibly dopey grin.
"Stop thinking about it."
"Fine. And anyway, why’d he keep telling you not to smoke? I mean, I don’t like
it either. But it’s kinda weird he didn’t say anything to you but not to
smoke."
"… Scott, I think you just stumbled upon the gold mine. I could kiss you. I
could literally stick my tongue down your throat. Like, right now. In front of
everyone, you beautiful man you."
And that was sort of it. Ever since that conversation with Scott, he had been
spending an ample amount of time with Derek. Testing him, so to speak. And the
tests all came back positive. The secret, you ask?
Stiles smoking is to Derek Hale as Viagra is to old men.
———————————————————————————————————————-
Monday
Stiles calls Derek for a ride home after his jeep gets sent to the auto shop.
Stiles pulls out a cigarette in the passenger seat, rolls down the window, and
starts to smoke. Derek broods for a bit before finally driving off onto the
side of the road, then plucks the stick from Stiles’ hand and throws it out the
window. Derek proceeds to unbutton his pants and drags Stiles’ head down, then
face fucks him until he cums down his throat.
Tuesday
Stiles drives out to Derek’s place, aka the rundown subway station themed hell-
hole, and meets up with him. Stiles then lights up a cigarette in front of
Derek and the rest of the pack, which elicits Derek to order them away. Derek
then fucks Stiles doggy style (no pun intended) on one of the dirty subway
seats.
Wednesday
Stiles stays out school, off hours, and practices a bit of his lacrosse skills
alone in the field at night. Stiles calls Derek and asks if he wants to help
out, and Derek obliges. When Derek arrives, Stiles quickly lights up a
cigarette and Derek, just as quickly, pile drives his ass into the ground near
the goal post.
Thursday
Stiles gets a little adventurous (some might use the word blasphemous) and
calls Derek, inviting him over at his place since his father will be gone for
many hours. Stiles then goes into his father’s room and lies on the bed, naked,
and smoking. (He was sure to rid the room of the smell later.) Once Derek
arrives, he calls him into the room, and Derek locks the door behind him before
pouncing onto the bed and makes Stiles scream his name into the pillows for two
hours.
Friday
Derek catches onto Stiles’ plan and ignores each and every text or phone call.
Whoops.
———————————————————————————————————————-
Then there’s Saturday, the present, and Stiles wishes he wasn’t so insistent on
fucking Derek throughout the week, because maybe then he never would’ve caught
onto his plan. He hadn’t spoken to his lover since Thursday night, but he
received a text the night before reading: ”Stop smoking.”
And that’s how Stiles remained sober for a whole 12 hours.
Text: Okay. I’m sorry for maybe, possibly, totally using you like that. Come
see me?
No reply.
Text: You can’t see it, but I’m frowning like a big puppy dog right now.
Please, Derek?
No reply.
Text: I’m throwing the cigarettes in the trash right now. Come
onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.
No reply.
Text: Fine. Maybe I’ll just go have a nice mutual masturbation session with
Isaac. He’d be totally into that, right? You’d know. You’re his Alpha. Do I
have a chance?
Derek: I will literally grind your bones into dust, Stiles.
Before he can even answer the text with a witty remark, his window opens up and
Derek is standing there, looking annoyed amongst other things. Stiles’ eyes
shift around to his desk and he picks up the pack of cigarettes he said he was
throwing away and tosses them into the trash, missing the basket completely as
he gave a grin that said you totally didn’t see that.
"I sent that text … from the future? Yeah that’s probably what happened. You
know Future Stiles … he’s so wacky."
Derek was clearly unamused and it was told through his actions. He simply
walked to the edge of the bed and flopped down on top of it, staring up at the
ceiling as he settled in. Instinctively, Stiles went to his side and laid next
to him in the exact position he was in.
"So …" he whispered to break the awkward silence.
"When’s the last time you kissed me?"
The paler boy was a little taken aback by the sudden question and didn’t know
how to respond without seeming like a complete jerk. So he took the Stilinski
way out of it by leaning over and pecking Derek on the lips quickly, then
proceeded to smile stupidly.
"Bam. Two seconds ago."
He could literally feel the fumes wafting off of Derek’s body when he inhaled
and exhaled loudly, his chest heaving. Rolling his eyes and sighing loudly, the
younger boy gave in.
"Okay, okay, okay. Don’t have a radioactive meltdown. So maybe I found a mind-
blowing, secret way to seduce my boyfriend into having sex with me. And maybe I
abused that privilege a tiny bit. And maybe … Well I don’t know what else there
is but when I think about it I’ll let you know."
"Stiles, you don’t get it."
"Enlighten me, wolf boy."
"You ever think that maybe I want to have sex with you without being taken over
by some kind of a primal instinct to slam you into the ground with my dick?" he
explained, through gritted teeth.
Oh. That.
"Okay look, I’m sorry," he apologized half-heartedly. "I threw the cigarettes
away. It’s done. It’s over. Can we move on from this, please?"
Derek huffed and dismissed it, choosing not to argue with him on this. He
intended on securing the deal to quit smoking on his own terms, so it wasn’t
vastly important that he do it with words. That didn’t stop him from
questioning the younger male, though.
"Why would you even want me to be that way all the time, anyway? I was using
you as a giant fleshlight, basically." Stiles snorted childishly at the mention
of a sex toy that was was nearly positive someone like Derek Hale would have
never heard of, to which Derek rolled his eyes. "I can do much better when I’m
clear minded, idiot." Then Stiles’ goofy grin disappeared and was replaced with
the much better emotion of oh-that’s-fucking-hot-please-tell-me-more-sir.
"Oh?" With a curious mind and a twisted smile, Stiles threw his body forward
and quickly took off his shirt, throwing it to the floor below. Then, he
started to wriggle around like a turtle on its back before slipping his
sweatpants off, while Derek watched with a raised eyebrow. Next was his
underwear and soon he was lying next to the werewolf. Naked. "Bombs away, Alpha
Hale! Show me what ya got then."
With a loud sigh, Derek sat up a bit and removed his jacket, placing it gently
on the floor. Then, the shirt came off and he laid back down, not bothering to
take off his pants for reasons Stiles would soon decipher. Not that he minded,
because Derek’s chest was sculpted by the Greek gods.
"Put your knees on either side of my head."
He didn’t really need to do much explaining about what position that was,
because over the time they had spent together in previous months, he knew what
it is Derek wanted. Or so he thought.
Diligently, he shifted his body around so that both of his knees were planted
firmly on both sides of Derek’s head and his already half-hard cock was
practically resting on the older man’s mouth. Blowjobs: his favourite.
"The other way around, Stiles."
It took a moment register what Derek wanted. For a split second he was confused
and a little disappointed, because hey, he really wanted his dick in that
mouth. But for the next second, it clicked, and he almost yelped out a laugh.
"N-No way. You’re joking." Derek shifted his head from side to side to say no.
"Derek. C’mon. Stop messing around. Are you serious?"
"Stiles."
"Oh my God you’re completely and one hundred percent serious and wow, I love
you and you’re great and you should marry me," he began muttering on and on as
he turned his body around completely, but still in the same position. It wasn’t
every day Derek Hale wanted to enter you with his tongue via your ass, so he
was sure to savour every damned last moment.
And suddenly, it was happening, and Stiles was on Cloud Nine. His ass cheeks
were being spread apart and a hot, wet tongue was being dragged across his
tight hole. The tip of it flickered across the sensitive nerve endings and left
streaks of wet pleasure. He thought he might pass out, and almost did, but
stopped himself by planting his hands onto the bed. This was like the same
Derek Hale he had come to know in the past week, devouring his ass like some
kind of animal. Sucking and licking violently, only being egged on by Stiles’
loud, wanton moans.
Then, he moved a free hand up to tug at the younger boy’s cock and the pleasure
just about tripled. He stroked at it aimlessly as he dipped his tongue into
Stiles’ hole, making makeshift, shallow thrusts into the tight ring of muscles.
If Stiles’ head was in his dick, it would have been blown already. Cumming
would have to be the next best substitute, and he was already close to doing
that.
"Oh my God, Derek. I think my dick is literally about to explode."
Stroke after stroke and lick after lick, Stiles’ body began to shudder from the
excitement and pleasure. His mind was becoming hazy as the rush of orgasm came
to him and his hole tightened around Derek’s tongue. The cum shot out from the
head of his dick and landed sloppily onto the Alpha’s stomach and chest, which
made the paler boy groan in sexual frustration. He was just about riding
Derek’s mouth like his cock at this point and didn’t care much for formalities.
The leftover sensation of ejaculation made his body heighten in sensitivity,
and that included his ass.
"D-Derek … as great as this is … y-you can stop now … I think I’m about to
collapse," he chuckled out breathlessly, and Derek obliged. With a sigh of
defeat, Stiles rolled over onto his back so that he was lying in the opposite
direction as his mate. Feet by his lover's head, and his head by his crotch.
"Okay. Point made. I’ll probably stop smoking now. Might need a little bit more
convincing in about five minutes or so, but I’m good for now. Yeah, totally.
All good. Perfecto."
"Who said anything about giving you five minutes?" he replied immediately.
Gulp.
End Notes
     Just a random fic I threw together in a day or two, way back when in
     the beginning of Season 2. Dug this hilarious mess of a oneshot up
     from ye old vault to inspire me to write some more! Also, if you have
     any fic requests, please please please comment with them! I work best
     when prompts are given to me.
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