Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/455829.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      BDSM, D/s_relationship, Oral, Orgasm_Delay/Denial, Dirty_Talk, squishy
      BDSM_feels
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-09 Completed: 2012-07-10 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 4648
****** Black Gut ******
by MonsterTesk
Summary
     It's like a black fire in his gut turning him to ice on the inside so
     his skin feels hot and trickles with condensation.
Notes
     I don't even know. I'm writing this directly into the damn AO3 text
     box. I regret nothing- so far. And I don't know what the flooring is
     like in Stiles' room so I went with the one I liked. Also I don't
     even fucking know what I'm doing. Help. I've gone insane. This is
     terrible. I don't even.
***** Burning in Water *****
Stiles is at his desk when he hears the window open. He doesn't turn around
because he knows who it is- doesn't have to hear his voice or the creak of his
leather jacket for Stiles to know. It's silent for long minutes as Stiles
continues to type up his essay on the Panama Canal. Stiles wants to turn
around- part of him does anyway. Part of him wants to turn around and start
this- this- whatever it is he and Derek are doing but a larger, more powerful
part, wants him to stay like this; to ignore Derek and make him sit there in
the dark, staring and waiting for Stiles to turn to him and bring him to
life. Because that's what this is, Stiles knows. As much as he's unwilling to
put real words to what's been happening or to talk about it at all he knows
that that's what they're doing: living. He loves it, he does. Part of himself
hates him for loving it and what they've been doing to each other because it's
not- it's not nice or loving or friendly or by any stretch of the imagination
healthy but then there's this burning inside of him like there's always been
ever since he was young and internally screaming for his mom in a silent
house. 
It doesn't take him long to finish the essay- not nearly long enough, really.
He wants to really make him wait, to take his time and make sure Derek knows
how little control he has over when and how he gets Stiles' attention. He dicks
around on the computer a little longer than necessary, making sure to answer
every e-mail he's gotten and checking the forums he haunts. 
Finally, when he's done doing everything he can possibly think of doing on his
computer (including backing it up and updating all of the software) he swivels
in his chair to face him. Derek's kneeling on the floor under the window,
staring intently down at where his hands lay flat on his thighs. Stiles feels
like he's getting the slowest and most persistent gut-punch in all of existence
because- wow. He doesn't think that will ever stop affecting him. 
"Here, boy," Stiles says in a quiet, slow voice. He can feel the two syllables
form on his lips and they feel loaded with a power that Stiles had never
understood that words could have. He'd always treated them as this disposable
thing used to fill the uncomfortableness of his own existence. Derek doesn't
look up as he lurches into movement. Stiles thinks he's graceful and beautiful
with the way his body rolls like syrup across his floor. Stiles' heart doesn't
race but simply seems to beat with more purpose- with some thing still unknown
to him. Derek kisses Stiles' inner ankle and sits back on his heels, still
looking down at the ground and not up at Stiles.
 
The fire that inhabits Stiles' stomach clenches tightly and races through all
of his veins like some ice dragon, bent on burning out anything civil from
within Stiles. He stares at the plush of Derek's hair and feels that fire seer
away any chance at being the harmless, normal, well-balanced teenage boy that
Stiles is mostly convinced he is. Stiles lightly brushes his fingers over the
tips of Derek's hair, wanting more than anything to do a laundry list of
cardinal red and black and blue things to this body that's his. 
"You're going to be naked at my feet now and I mean now, boy." Derek's head
bows down even further briefly and he starts to rise back to his hands and
knees- the only way Stiles lets him move about in his room because dogs walk on
all fours and Stiles expects his bitch to do the same- before Stiles grabs a
handful of Derek's hair and forces his head to the side, twisting it so his ear
was facing up. 
"I expect you to speak and you know it. This is your only warning, boy, so you
better fucking open up that mouth and bark for me." Derek lets out a short
whine and Stiles feels like someone has taken a surge of glorious power and
threaded it through his spin before sewing buttons of the shit onto his hip
bones. 
"Yes, Master." 
"Yes, what, boy?"
"Yes, Master, I'll strip myself for you and heel where you want me to. Thank
you, Master."
Stiles felt a thrill shoot through him along that stitching of power in his
spine and hips. He didn't think he'd ever tire of that- ever. He watches Derek
crawl back over to the window and sit on the floor to begin removing his
clothes as fast as he could. Stiles never stops getting over it. He couldn't
believe it the first time it happened and he doesn't believe it now. He doesn't
understand how they could have gone from arguing about wolfsbain to Derek
kneeling on Stiles' bed, begging him to please fuck him, please own him. Stiles
is sure that no matter how many times he gets Derek like that that he'll always
be surprised because- really? Is this even how life is supposed to work?
Derek is back to kneeling in front of Stiles and Stiles can feel the want that
before had been hazy all over begin to build from his feet up. So he stands and
makes his way over to his dresser where he's hidden a few... things he's
collected since this whole... thing started.
"Put on that pretty leather coat of yours, boy."
"Yes, Master, I'd love to wear my coat for you. Thank you, Master." And Stiles
really wonders why that's what Derek chose to call him. He wonders why he
always words his sentences like that and wonders why Derek decided to choose
him to do this with. He had only ordered that Derek talk- because he can't
stand silence or silent people and he has hated silence ever since those three
weeks in which neither he nor his father spoke at all after mom's silence
became- after mom... 
Stiles hears the creak of leather again and smiles, wrapping his hands around
his latest acquisition. 
"I hope you were a good boy and prepared yourself for me, boy. Made your hole
wet and waiting for me to fuck."
"Yes, Master, I did. Thank you, Master." 
Stiles turns, letting his hands hang casually at his sides. 
"Hands behind your back. Spread your legs, boy." 
Derek does what Stiles asked, kneeling there in the middle of Stiles' room like
it wasn't completely out of context for this dark haired god to be submitting
himself to some young punk of a kid. 
"Yes, Master, I love to spread my legs for you. Thank you, Master." 
Stiles has to smile because it's adorable, really. The way Derek laces his
voice with all of this aggression and faux-hate even like this. 
"Pout your chest to your knees. Don't let go of your elbows. Stay." 
"Yes, Master, I'll stay just like this for you. Thank you, Master."
"Good boy."
Stiles goes to one knee behind Derek and licks his lips at the curve of Derek's
back, the tight grip he has on his own arms, the obvious strain in his sides
and legs from keeping himself like this. Stiles is so hard and it's glorious
because he can see Derek's dark and purpled cock and balls hanging there
between his legs. He grabs both of them in one hand and bends them
back, marveling inwardly at the colors Derek's dick has turned since the last
time Stiles has let him come. He rubs the leaking tip of Derek's dick against
the round suctiony bottom of the huge fucking dong that Stiles had bought with
this in mind. Derek wimpers and shakes, his fingers digging into his arms.
Stiles lets go quickly and -just because he can and he likes the sounds that it
causes- smacks Derek's flank- hard. Derek makes a soft and vulnerable 'ah'
sound, pushing his ass closer to Stiles. He smacks his flank again, enjoying
the sound of flesh slaping flesh and that soft 'ah' sound Derek makes every
time. 
He sticks the dong to his floor- thankful for fake wood and smooth surfaces.
Stiles grabs Derek's hips and steers him back onto the tip of it, digging his
fingernails into Derek's thin hips at the breathy noise that escaped Derek when
he felt the cold, rubbery feeling of the toy pressed against his ass. Stiles
pulled on Derek's hips until the tip of the toy was buried inside of Derek, his
body forced into a sharp arch to keep in the position Stiles had ordered him in
to. Stiles slaps both of his ass cheeks as hard as he can casually do, biting
his lip in satisfaction at the pink handprints he leaves and the slightly
higher pitched breathy noise that Derek let out. 
 
"You're one overriding objective for tonight is to keep this cock in your ass.
If it leaves- even for a second- you won't be allowed to come for a month and
I'll cane your ass until my rod is bloody."
"Yes, Master. Thank you for this cock, Master." 
"You are to talk whenever I'm not talking and your mouth isn't otherwise
busied. I expect you to make noises even then. Understood?"
"Yes, Master, I'll be a good boy. Nice and loud and willing for you. Thank you,
Master." 
Stiles smacks Derek's ass one more time and stands up- the floor is hard and
his knees aren't made of padding. 
"I don't care if you fuck yourself on that or not so long as it doesn't leave
your ass and you obey."
"Yes, Master, I'll obey and fuck myself for you. Thank you, Master." 
Stiles grabs his desk chair and rolls it so he's sort of positioned to Derek's
side, angled so he can see the dong in his ass and the slack look of
(contradictorily) tension on his face. 
"Now go fuck yourself, boy." 
"Yes," Derek's voice is breathy and strained, Stiles can tell it's taking a lot
of effort to speak. "Master. Thank you, Master." 
Derek strains and writhes, his hands leaving purpling marks on his arms before
they disappear before Stiles' eyes. Derek raises his hips as much as he can
before falling back down on the dick Stiles had given him. It's awkward and
looks painfully uncomfortable and somehow Stiles can't help but think about how
beautiful and gracious Derek is like this- moaning and pushing out word after
word just for Stiles as he fucks himself in such an uncomfortable way. Stiles
pulls out his dick and strokes himself, overcome with how gorgeously erotic and
powerful the site before him is. Derek is talking and Stiles sits silently a
few feet way, biting his lip.
"Yes, oh fuck. Yes, Master. Oh. I love this cock you've got for me. It feels so
big and good inside of my slicked up insides." 
Derek moans and Stiles' feet curl up, his hand gripping tighter. When Derek has
his face against the floor, his mouth smearing slickness along it, his body
shaking, his arms clinging on to each other for dear life, the dong buried in
his ass (which Stiles can see from here is spasming uncontrollably around it),
Stiles rolls his chair over and in front of Derek. 
 
"You're going to climb up onto my bed, keeping my present inside of you. You're
going to lay flat on your back on my bed and wait with your hands at your
sides."
Derek moans long, piteously, exhaustedly, and reaches behind him to tug the
dong off the floor. Stiles smiles and watches, listening to the distressed
noises Derek makes trying to pull the cock off the floor without losing it from
inside of him. Stiles squeezes some lube onto his hand and pulls his pants down
far enough that he can reach behind his balls and slip fingers inside of
himself. He watches Derek climb resolutely up onto Stiles' bed, slowly and
painfully, with one hand holding onto the base of the dong and prepares his
hole. 
He lets Derek sit like that, having to listen to and smell and hear what Stiles
is doing to himself without being able to look or touch himself. Finally, when
Stiles decides he's loosened himself up enough and made Derek wait long enough
he climbs on to the bed but doesn't touch Derek just yet. 
 
"Bend your knees and put them together." 
"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master." 
Stiles runs a slicked hand over Derek's cock and watches the man jerk and cry
out, his body convulsing with the need to come and its denial. He waits until
Derek's breath has evened out before straddling Derek, his ass pressing down on
Derek's poor purpled cock. 
 
"I'm going to ride you're pretty cock and come all over your body. Aren't you a
lucky boy?"
Derek shudders again, his hands clutching uselessly beside Stiles' calves. 
"Yes, Master. I am a lucky boy. Thank you, Master." 
Stiles raises up, grabs Derek's cock and slides down on it, biting his lip at
the sensation. 
"Tell me how lucky you are."
"Yes, Master. I'm so lucky, Master. Ohhh fuck with your cock inside of me and
your ass taking me in I am the luckiest pet in the world, Master. Thank you,
Master. I love this so much."
Stiles roles his hips.
"Beg me, pet."
Derek moans in jerking breathes. 
"Yes, Master. Please, please, ride me, Master. Use me however you want, Master.
Please, I want it so bad, Master. I want you to use me up however you want and
leave me dirty and wrecked. Please, please, please, Master. Thank you, Master."
Stiles raises his narrow hips and slaps them back down. He fucks himself on
Derek's dick hard and fast and makes himself breathless with it. He bends
forward and bites into Derek's shoulder hard. Leaves a trail of bites
that disappear almost as quickly as Stiles can make them. He scratches down
Derek's chest, making the man gasp when his nails catch nipples and jerk and
strain to not move when he tears across the soft(ish- Come one, Derek is like
made of bronze so it's not like he really hassoft spots anyway) flesh of his
stomach.  
When he knows he's about to come he scratches Derek's chest as hard as he can
and bites his lip until Stiles is sure that if he were human he'd have been
ruined for weeks.
"Beg me to come on you."
"Yes, Master, please come on me. Please, I want your come on my skin. I need
your come on me, in me, anywhere you want it, Master. Please come, Master.
Please. Please."
He aims for the healing scratches and Derek hisses at the sting of come in the
scratches that didn't quite heal in time. Stiles sits there, Derek's hard cock
inside of him, his arms barely bracing him upright on Derek's chest and
breathes heavily. 
Because he always comes the hardest when Derek is speaking- begging him to. 
"Thank you, Master." 
Derek is panting harder than Stiles. He looks wrecked even with his quick
healing time. Stiles slides off of him and props himself next to Derek. His
hand wanders proprietary over Derek's body. He lays pliant and taut under
Stiles' touch. He reaches down and twists the dong inside of Derek. He hisses
and arches off the bed, his body shaking, his cock jumping and turning an even
darker shade. Stiles leans down and gives a quick lick and suck to that
precious cock. His hand is pulling and pushing- moving the dong inside of
Derek. He grazes his teeth against Derek's ear and grips the back of his neck
(awkwardly, he'll admit since he's using that arm to hold himself up as well)
and fucks him slowly with the toy. 
 
"You're getting a treat tonight, boy. I'm going to let you come in my mouth." 
Derek groans and his hips stutter. Stiles crawls dow the bed and kneels between
Derek's spread legs, feeling more the one in the power of another than anything
else. He's enthralled by the sight. Derek's legs are spread open, knees bent,
his body is covered in sweat, Stiles' come cooling on his belly and chest, his
mouth fighting between making noises (as he's been told to do) and staying
quiet (as is natural to him). 
Stiles swallows the head of Derek's cock into his mouth and pulls the dong
almost all the way out of his body. Derek shouts in surprise, his ass clenching
around the toy, attempting to keep it in. Stiles smiles and rams it back in,
angling it to pound into Derek's prostate. Stiles sucks hard and twists his
wrist and that's it. 
Derek comes, his body bowing tightly, the cords in his neck standing out beyond
belief, his mouth open in a soundless scream. Stiles can see his eyes go red
and his teeth go fangy. He grazes his teeth right behind the head of Derek's
cock and the man's body convulses, shooting even more into Stiles' mouth, his
body convulsing, cock twitching in Stiles' mouth. Stiles sucks it all into his
mouth but doesn't swallow. He crawls back up Derek's body, loving the feel of
the man's limp thighs pressing against his hips. He kisses Derek slowly,
patiently pushing his come into his mouth. Derek grunts lapping it up and
swallowing until there's none left and Stiles and Derek are sharing their first
kiss of the evening. 
Stiles breaks the silence and the kiss. 
"You're such a good boy. Such a lovely pet. So beautiful." 
Derek's breath rattles out, his eyes opening slowly, tiredly. 
"Mm'I love you, Master." 
Stiles kisses Derek again, ignoring the words. It's not the first time Derek
has said them and it won't be the last time Stiles doesn't believe him. 
Derek falls asleep in Stiles' arms. 
When he wakes Derek is gone (as usual). His room is orderly and neat. He
assumes that Derek cleaned up (like he always does) before leaving. Except...
Except Derek left his shirt. Folded neatly under the window. Stiles picks it
up. It smells just like Derek. Stiles pulls it on and spends the rest of the
day watching TV and not doing too much, thankful for it being a Saturday. 
At six he recieves a text message. He assumes Scott has gotten into something
or wants to hang up so he picks it up, expecting that. What he gets instead
makes him drop the phone. He has to scrabbled to pick it back up. 
It's a picture of an obviously recognizable mouth, fangs framing a wide, pink
tongue. The text says: Thinking about you, Master. Stiles' heart pounds in his
chest and he swears under his breath because wow- is that a first. 
Usually they don't talk about it, don't look at each other, don't act like
anything but snark and annoyance is between the two of them. This... this is a
first. Stiles' hands are sweaty when he replies, still not over the shock
because this could mean- this could mean that Stiles might not just be Derek's
dirty little dommy secrety. 
[I'm wearing your shirt.]
[I'd hoped you would.]
[I'm not returning this.]
He gets another picture. This time it's a thick, dark cock, nestled beautifully
against a thigh and below that Stiles can see Derek's slicked up hole,
stretched around the dong that Stiles had made him fuck last night. 
[Neither am I.] 
 
***** Drowning in Flame *****
Chapter Notes
     Ugh. Please ignore my obvious Bukowski reference pretty please?
Everything had been fine until Derek had been caught with Perth in the woods
when he was sixteen. That's when the submissive jokes had started. That's when
they stopped considering him for leadership roles, believing that his bedroom
desires were just an extension of his hidden yellow and maleable underbelly.
That's when he'd learned that words don't help at all; that words don't ever do
anything worthwhile.
"Fuck me, please Stiles, I want you to. Please." It wasn't that as soon as his
dick got hard his shame went away. That wasn't it at all.
"I don't- Derek you don't even like me. Why are you even- ooohhhh" He knew that
on several- several- levels that begging an underage kid was a bad idea but
fucking damnit laws were made up of words and Derek already knew how much power
those had so he pressed his face into Stiles' thigh and inhaled deeply.
"Is this some type of wolf thing? Cause I-I read about some stuff like this but
I thought it was just some baloney gay porn thing." Derek growled and surged
up, crushing his lips to Stiles. Why did the kid have to be so damned difficult
all the time? Why couldn't he just accept it and move on.
"No. It's not some wolf thing."
"Then what? Cause, really, Derek, this isn't exactly one of those things that
had hints or clues or was led up to. I mean, come on. You're not really
interested in me, right?" Derek had dated a lot, slept around a lot, but no one
had ever seemed to be able to keep separate the bedroom from the rest of life.
Kate had been the fourth woman to Dom him and it had not ben very healthy or
nice at all but she was beautiful and fun and laughed at his stupid
monosyllabic responses. So when she first suggested tying him up and attaching
something electric to various body parts he had been wary but willing. She'd
attached some sort of clip or clamp or something- he honestly couldn't remember
anything beyond the overwhelming feeling of wrong that currents of electricity
rushing through his body caused- to his thighs and he had never come so hard
before without being touched in a kind way. 
 
"I just- want you to own me, Stiles. Have me. Do with me whatever you will." 
"Wai-wait. Are you talking abou- about BDSM? Like are you fixating on me or
something? Cause- flattered, first of all- but secondly, I don't know if this
has crossed your mind yet but we kind of hate each other most days!" Stiles
spazzed away from Derek and really, that was really, really far too adorable
for the person Derek has been fantasizing about. 
A snerk of a laugh escaped his mouth and he covered his face, hiding his smile
because it was ridiculous to laugh over this. Stiles crossed his arms and
twitched in the corner of his room. 
"I like you, Stiles." Stiles stood there, his arms crooked awkwardly across his
torso, mouth flapping as if all the words had fled him. Derek slid to the floor
and crawled towards Stiles. He bows down and kisses the top of Stiles' foot. He
wants to worship Stiles. Wants to bend and open his body to the young man.
Wants to listen to him talk about old lore and plants types and wants to listen
to him freak out about things. He loves him. Somehow. Loves the way Stiles
spazzes out and loves how he seems to know the most incredibly random bits of
information and loves how he somehow always manages to live and loves to watch
him when he thinks no one is around because that's when he's so serious and
sure of himself.
"O-Ok." Derek doesn't smile, doesn't let the thrill of triumph and joy fill his
face because he's still afraid, still waiting for things to mess up like they
have before. 
 
 
Months later and he's still waiting for it. Waiting for it like he's been
waiting for Stiles to stop treating him like the Alpha he is. It doesn't happen
and his heart is ragged with hope. Stiles is new at this but it doesn't seem to
change him the way it did others- Like Kate-. 
 
"You know, I actually did research this when you- when you asked."
"You researched it before I asked you."
Stiles' heart stutters but he doesn't stop petting Derek's hair with one hand,
the other lightly gripping the arm Derek has draped over Stiles. Derek should
(and does a little bit) feel ridiculous for cuddling up into the arms of some
teenage boy but he doesn't care enough- just buries his face farther against
Stiles' neck. 
"The point is that I know what's supposed to happen afterwards."
Derek doesn't say anything. 
"Why won't you let me take care of you after? I'd like to believe you're just
not the cuddly type but I've come back from lacrosse tournaments to find you
attempting to cuddle the stuffing out of my pillow. Which, by the way, aside
from being moderately cute is also a bit creepy because dude, I didn't even
invite you in- does my dad know that you sneak into my room and fondle my
things?"
"I don't fondle your things."
"And why, exactly, was that pillow wearing my shirt?"
Derek bites Stiles because actions, yet again, are far more powerful than
words. Stiles squeals and Derek laughs until the teen (who is surprisingly
stronger than Derek had anticipated) has him bent over his knee and spanks him
for so long that Derek's ass aches and his face is all wet with tears and snot
and he feels exhausted all over again and wants nothing more than to curl up in
Stiles arms and let him take care of him. Instead he pulls on his clothes and
leaves. 
 
Pathetically, Derek almost texts or calls or stalkerishly drops by wherever
Stiles is so often he's beginning to feel like that loser he used to be all
over again. He's not a stalker and he's not that type of a creep but he can't
stop thinking about Stiles and it's not like his days are full of things that
test his brain's full capacity. Usually he's just following scent trails and
trying to slog through all of the werewolf and other monster lore to see if he
can't find something- anything useful. 
Stiles is so much better at this than him. He wants to go to him. He wants to
sit down in a room with Stiles and for them to have more conversations more
often than when whatever big bad monster has come to take over the town has
their lives threatened. 
 
He texts Stiles and Stiles probably knows how difficult it is for him but... in
a way it's easier to talk when Derek doesn't have to puff himself up so that he
can seem big and scary. He's still unsure so his fangs are out in the picture
he takes (he spent all damn day deciding how best to start this.) When Stiles
responds it seems as if he's learnt Derek's language: he's said what he's done
and that's that- Derek understands, Stiles understands, and Derek is terrified.
He knows this can only go one of two ways: Stiles dies or Stiles betrays him.
That's basically the only ways his D/s heavy relationships end.
So when Derek meets Stiles a week later at the location and time that Stiles
had given him he mostly expects hunters to be waiting or even another wolf or
maybe a dead body. He isn't expecting a hole in the wall ice cream parlor where
there is no inside, only benches and parking spaces. He isn't expecting for
Stiles to feed him spoon after spoon of some delicious desert, rambling on
about whatever pops into his mind. He isn't expecting the cold kiss or the
cherry Stiles pushes into his mouth. 
He isn't expecting his heart to melt faster than the ice cream when Stiles
smiles and calls him his cherry pet. He isn't expecting the smile that
overtakes his face and wow- he could really get used to the way Stiles makes
him feel. 
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