Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1025293.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Stiles_Stilinski/Original_Male_Character(s), Sheriff_Stilinski_&_Stiles
      Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Sheriff_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Hurt_Stiles, Dubious_Consent, Rough_Sex, Abuse, Power_Imbalance,
      Whipping, Beating, Punishment, Oral_Sex, Abused_Stiles, but_NOT_by_his
      Dad_-_by_the_other_douche_in_the_story, Sheriff_Stilinski_is_a_Good_Dad,
      Hurt/Comfort, yes_finally_a_little_comfort_at_the_end, because_Stiles
      really_needed_it_poor_baby, Poor_Stiles, LOL_that's_an_actual_tag, NSFW
      Art, Nudity, Triggers, seriously_lots_of_potential_triggers, I'm_a
      horrible_person
  Series:
      Part 3 of Beneath_My_Skin
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-31 Words: 4345
****** Hard Lessons ******
by CranApplePye
Summary
     Stiles swallowed, long fingers twisting somewhat anxiously in his lap
     as he eyed the riding crop in the older man's hand. "You know, it
     wasn't exactly my fault," he protested despite himself, unable to
     keep his mouth from working even when he knew he should. "I can't...
     I can't stop it when that happens. I mean, you were the one shoving
     your freaking dick down my throat until I couldn't breathe. It's not
     like I wanted to wig out. It's not fair to punish someone for
     something they couldn't help."
     Deceptively gentle fingers were under his chin again, tilting his
     head up and making him look at the naked older man. "I'm not
     punishing you, Stiles." He tapped the crop in his left hand lightly
     on the boy's shoulder. "I want to help you."
     Stiles snorted and shot him an incredulous look that clearly called
     bullshit on that statement. This man only helped himself... usually
     to everything Stiles didn't want to give him. "Uh-huh, sure."
     -----
     Short ficlet and accompanying artwork. The artwork is extremely NSFW.
     Story contains a lot of potential triggers, please heed the tags.
     This is part of a small series.
Notes
     This picture and scene and the others in this series are the product
     of a story idea I can't shake, but have no time to write properly.
     You can read my explanation of the idea in the_first_part_of_this
     series. If anyone would like to take the idea as a prompt and run
     with it, feel free! :)
See the end of the work for more notes
 
 
 
Stiles swallowed, long fingers twisting somewhat anxiously in his lap as he
eyed the riding crop in the older man's hand.  "You know, it wasn't exactly my
fault," he protested despite himself, unable to keep his mouth from working
even when he knew he should.  "I can't... I can't stop it when that happens.  I
mean, you were the one shoving your freaking dick down my throat until I
couldn't breathe. It's not like I wantedto wig out.  It's not fair to punish
someone for something they couldn't help."
Deceptively gentle fingers were under his chin again, tilting his head up and
making him look at the naked older man. "I'm not punishing you, Stiles." He
tapped the crop in his left hand lightly on the boy's shoulder.  "I want to
help you."
Stiles snorted and shot him an incredulous look that clearly called bullshit on
that statement. Finn only helped himself...usually to everything Stiles didn't
want to give him. "Uh-huh, sure."
Finn's smile was amused. At least he wasn't angry, Stiles supposed. The druid
was terrifyingwhen he was angry.
"No, really, I do," the older man assured, still smiling in a most un-
reassuring manner.  "You didn't lose it because of me, we both know that.
You've used that pretty mouth of yours too often for that to set you off on its
own.  Your problem, Stiles, is a complete lack of focus." He caressed the boy's
neck and cheek lightly with the side of the crop, sending conflicted shivers
through the teen's body. "You're your own worst enemy, Stiles," he murmured.
"Your mind runs away with you and you letit."
Fisting one hand in Stiles' short hair, he dropped into a crouch in front of
the boy, sliding the other hand down between Stiles' legs, capturing his
uninterested manhood and stroking until it wasinterested. Stiles squirmed, his
cheeks and his body heating as Finn coaxed him to unwanted arousal.  It felt so
good, and that was so wrong.
"You're a smart boy, and you're good at this.  You could be a prodigy, Stiles,
if you could ever just learn to focusand stop being so easily distracted."
Stiles licked his swollen lower lip, trying notto do something embarrassing
like push forward into Finn's stroking grip.  "Uh, yeah, did you totally miss
the part where I have ADHD?  Ask any of my teachers, focusing isn't really my
thing on a good day and you don't really ... ung ... help," he muttered, trying
to keep his voice steady.
Finn shook his  head. "Physical limitations are in your mind. They limit you if
you letthem. We know that better than most people, don't we, Stiles?  Reality
is what you makeit, and I don't mean in some stupid Zen kind of way. What
people call magicworks when your will is strong enough to deny the limitations
others accept and reach for the greatness that they can only imagine.  If you
can't overcome this, if you can't control yourself, how can you hope to bend
nature to your will?"
"By asking nicely?" Stiles retorted sarcastically, eyes darting around the room
because he didn't want to admit how deeply the older man's words penetrated
him.  "I can always try bribery too, I'm pretty good at that."
Finn rose back to his feet and Stiles felt  a sharp, burning sting lance across
the side of his neck. "Ow!" he cried out, hand clapping over the abused skin
and rubbing hard to try to shake off the mad tingling left behind by the crop. 
"Give a guy some warning, huh? That fucking hurts!" 
Stiles flinched instinctively when he saw the older man's hand move in his
periphery vision, but Finn just cupped his cheek this time.  Stroking the boy's
cheek with his thumb, his mentor fixed him with a look that was part dark
hunger and part exasperation.  "It's supposed to," Finn said simply, hitting
him again, this time on his upper arm. 
Stiles whimpered sharply in his throat and bit his lower lip, blinking back
unbidden tears at the sharpness of the sting. "Right, cause this is you
notpunishing me," he grit out caustically. 
"This is me helping you learn focus," Finn retorted, darkly amused again. 
Stiles was glad he apparently found this whole thing so fucking hilarious,
because he sure didn't.
Finn tugged Stiles' head back towards his crotch again. He wasn't really hard
anymore, and Stiles knew he was expected to fix that.  Leaning forward, he
resignedly started mouthing and stroking his mentor's body back to arousal. 
"Good boy," Finn approved, making Stiles' gut churn.  "If you'd been focused on
me and what you were doing, like you should have been, you wouldn't have worked
yourself up into a panic attack. But you let your mind wander, didn't you?  So,
we're going to start working on keeping your mind in the here and now.  If I
think your attention is starting to slip, I'll give you a little reminder to
re-focus you on the present..." the crop struck down hard on the top of Stiles'
right shoulder in demonstration of exactly what he meant.  The sharpness and
unexpectedness of it made the teen cry out and clamp down a little too hard
around the cock partway in his mouth.
Finn winced and grabbed his hair harshly, tilting Stiles' head back until his
jaw was forced into a more open position.  "Don'tdo that again," he warned with
an edge of real anger. 
Stiles tried to respond, but his words were being made unintelligible by the
thing in his mouth.  Finally he struggled his head backwards, shaking off
Finn's grip and pulling his mouth free so he could make himself understood. 
"Then don't hit me with a freaking whipwhen I've got your freaking dick in my
mouth, dude!  I can think of about a dozen things wrong with thatbrilliant
idea!"
Finn's eyes were dark and hard, his expression saying he was just about done
putting up with the talking part of Stiles' mouth tonight.  His hand tightened
painfully in the teen's hair.  "I'm going to do whatever I want to do," he
murmured, voice dangerous and silky.  "And if your teeth touch me again, even a
little, I will bend you over my desk and fuck your pretty red ass instead. I
will hold you down and do you dryand harduntil you're screaming," he promised. 
"You won't like that, Stiles, trust me."
Stiles swallowed convulsively, fear making him feel ill.  He was pretty sure
Finn was right.  The older man had done him rough and inadequately prepped
before, but never completely without lube.  He could only imagine how badly
that would hurt, and he knew the bastard would do it, too. He never made idle
threats.  Stiles didn't think he could make it through that.  Finn had been
steadily stretching his limits, but there were still things that could break
him, no matter how deep his resolve went.  If Finn did that to him, he would
run and this would all have been for nothing.
His mind was still spinning in a jumbled mass of panic when his asshole of a
mentor pushed into his mouth again.  Stiles saw the crop move out of the corner
of periphery vision and had just enough time to desperately suck his lips over
his teeth before it landed on the top of his shoulder again with a flare of
biting pain.  Finn hit him a couple more times as if testing him or tryingto
get him to screw up, but Stiles wasn't going to fall into that hole.  He cried
out and sobbed around the older man's hardening dick, but he kept his jaw open
and his teeth covered, refusing to give him an excuse.  
"Good..." the older man praised with a dark smile, wiping the tears from under
Stiles' eyes with his thumb.  "See?  You can do it.  All you need, Stiles, is
the right motivation."
Stiles glared up at him, and if looks could kill Finn would be a smoldering
pile of ash. 
Unperturbed, Fin just curled his hand in the hair at the back of Stiles' head,
gripping on, but letting the teen set the pace.  He let the crop in his other
hand rest lightly on Stiles' naked, stinging shoulder - a reminder to keep his
pupil focused.  It kind of worked.  Stiles kept his wary gaze pinned to his
mentor's whip hand as he bobbed his head and hollowed his cheeks, wishing it
didn't take so damn long to get the older man off.  He had to stay alert for
any movement, because if Finn caught him with a blow unawares he risked
accidentally clamping down again and he was notgoing to let the other man win
this particular game. 
"Mmm," Finn gave an appreciative little moan, rolling his hips into the hot,
wet heat of his student's trembling mouth.  The boy was so damn pretty like
this, covered in Finn's marks, his dark eyes promising death while his
submissive body provided pleasure.  He knew better than to underestimate the
hatred he was inspiring in his protégé.  Stiles' slender body and childish
motor mouth didn't fool him.  This was a dangerous young man who did what it
took to get what he wanted, and one day, what he wanted was almost surely going
to be Finn's head.   But that was part of why this was so much fun.  He liked
the danger. He liked fucking the boy into submission, but knowing that he was
never totallysubmitting.  Stiles was young, impressionable.  He could break him
if he tried, but he didn't wantto break him, just... bend him, shape him, and
yes, definitely fuck him.  This volatile arrangement of theirs wouldn't last
forever, but he was going to enjoy every bit of it while he could.
 "Yes, that's good.  Go ahead and touch yourself, Stiles.  You can enjoy this
too," he purred.  He felt the boy's mouth stutter a little, his body tensing in
resistance, hands gripping on tighter to the older man's thighs.  "Not a
suggestion," he added, stroking the crop suggestively across the already
darkening lines he'd left on Stiles' pale, freckled shoulder.  "I want you to
get off, before you get me off."
It was kind of endearing, really, that the boy's pale cheeks were still capable
of flushing like that, his dark eyelashes fluttering in a jitter of discomfort
as he slowly slid one hand from Finn's thigh and let it fall down into his own
lap. 
Stiles swallowed uncomfortably around his teacher's thick cock as his fingers
tentatively slid down to curl around his own.  He was a tiny bit aroused
already, because, well, teenage hormones and nakedness and dick-sucking.  It
wasn't his fault he reacted, no matter how much he didn't like what he was
doing. It wasn't.  Just like it wasn't his fault that he didn't entirely hate
it when Finn made him enjoy this stuff.  Did he likehaving to jack off for
someone else's amusement because this asswipe told him to?  No.  Did it make it
easier for him to get through the whole cock sucking thing and give it the kind
of effort Finn wanted from him?  Yes. 
Stiles' breath started to get a little heavier and his bobbing head a little
more enthusiastic as he stroked himself to life, twisting and squeezing until
he was erect and weeping.  It was kind of magic how as soon as he started
getting aroused, things that were just disgusting or painful before started
becoming kind of kinky and interesting instead.  "Go biology, helping human
kind get past the 'ew, that goes where?!' factor for generations," he thought
darkly.
It wasn't rocket science, it was easier to do a thing when it felt good.  He
didn't necessarily like the kinds of things he was starting to enjoy.  He knew
he should feel more ashamed about it, should feel more disgusted with himself
or something, and he did...but his fairly strong survival instincts also
brought out the pragmatist in him.  He wasn't a victim, here.  He refused to be
one.  This was his choice.  This was quid-pro-quo and someday he'd give this
bastard what he really had coming, but for now, if something could make this
all a little lessterrible for him, then why the hell not? 
A relatively light, but meaningful tap with the crop jerked Stiles' wandering
attention quickly back to Finn.  Heat was pooling in his gut and his hurting
body felt both tense and loose at the same time, but he couldn't afford
distraction and he struggled to stay attentive to his mentor's movements and
mood.  Every so often the older man tested him, flicking him with the crop and
keeping him on his toes.  Once Stiles was significantly aroused enough, even
that was capable of being kind of hot in a really, really twisted sort of way. 
It was probably one of the better blow jobs he'd given, and by the time Stiles
was leaning against Finn's thighs and gasping through his orgasm, the older man
was just about there as well. 
The older man dropped the crop and cupped Stiles' head between his hands,
driving hard into his slack, swollen mouth a few more times as the boy leaned
bonelessly against him.  Then he too found his release, pushing deep and
forcing his partner to take it. 
Loose and uncoordinated, shivering with post-orgasm tremors, Stiles sloppily
attempted to swallow what he could, dazedly licking the older man clean
afterwards.  He really didn't want to think about how well Finn had trained him
that the action was this instinctual.  Thinking was highly overrated and he
just wasn't going to do it anymore tonight. 
Wiping his sore mouth, Stiles rose stiffly to his feet and headed for the
shower without a word.  Finn didn't stop him.  By the time Stiles emerged,
scrubbed clean and re-dressed in the soft, loose-fitting set of spare clothes
he'd learned to always bring with him, Finn was back in his robe and already
working at his desk again.
Not bothering to say goodbye, Stiles grabbed his backpack - which was going
nowhere nearhis back for a while, thank-you-very-much - and headed for the
door. Finn's voice made him pause with his hand on the knob. 
"Same time next week, and Stiles? I expect you to do better next time."
Stiles snorted, not sure if he was talking about the lessons or the sex.  Was
there really a distinction anymore?  It didn't matter. "Yeah, whatever," he
muttered, sliding outside and shutting the door behind him with a little too
much force.
The air outside was cold and it felt good on his hot, aching body.  The cold
recent snap was a boon for him. It made sense of the long-sleeved turtleneck he
was wearing to hide his bruises, even if that wasn't his normal style.  He
didn't remember much about the drive home.  His brain seemed to have sort of
turned off until he was sitting in the driveway in his jeep, parked next to his
Dad's cruiser.  It was pretty late.  He tried to just sneak up to his room as
soon as he got in, but apparently he wasn't going to get that luxury tonight
either.
"Stiles?  Stiles come back down here please," his father's voice arrested his
progress at the top of the stairs.
With a sigh, Stiles tossed his backpack into his room and slumped back down the
stairs, glad at least that Finn hadn't fucked anything besides his mouth this
time, it would have been hard to hide the resulting limp. 
"Yeah?" he asked, loitering in the kitchen doorway and raising his eyebrows
questioningly at his father. 
The sheriff nodded towards a pizza box on the counter.  "I saved you some
dinner.  It's veggie, so don't blow a gasket," he added with an amused twitch
of his lips.  He was acting casual, but his eyes were worried.
 Stiles actually mustered up a smile for that.  "Thanks, Dad.  I, uh, I'm not
really hungry.  I think I'm coming down with something," he added, coughing
into his fist on cue because he knew he had to do somethingto explain his
hoarse voice and chapped, reddened mouth. 
The Sheriff crossed over and pressed the back of his hand against Stiles'
forehead, checking his temperature.  It took everything Stiles had not to
flinch when the hand moved towards him.  He could hide many things from his
father, but that,dad would notice.  That was one of those cop things he was
trained to watch for.  A classic sign of abuse.  It helped that he knew his dad
would never hurt him.  Not like Finn did.
"You are a little warm," his father agreed, gaze caring and concerned as it
gently searched his son's face.  "Think it's just a cold, or should we get you
a checkup?"
His father's eyes were too tender, his look too concerned and normal.  It
nearly broke something in Stiles' chest that he hadn't even realized was
there.  Blinking rapidly to fight the unexpected burn in his eyes, Stiles faked
another coughing fit into his hand, giving him a reason to pull back and turn
away.  Giving his eyes a reason to be watering.  I'm so sorry, Dad. I thought I
could stop with all the lies now, but it will never stop, will it? 
"Nah, just a cold I think.  I'll be fine," he said lightly, starting to back
away.  "I should probably get to bed early..."
"It's not exactly earlyanymore," the Sheriff pointed out.  "Where have you
been?" The question still held that overall edge of concern that his dad had
going on, but it wasn't accusatory.  Despite being in law enforcement, his
father never really had been one to grill him on his movements and whereabouts.
"Um, out," Stiles said lamely, not sure how it was that after all these years
he still sucked so badly at lying to his father.  "Pack stuff," he added with a
shrug, turning to flee for his room as casually as possible. 
"Stiles, wait..." The Sheriff caught his arm, stopping him and Stiles couldn't
stop the wince that time.  His father pounced on it just as fast as he'd
feared, the concern in his eyes going from 0 to 60 in milliseconds as he shoved
Stiles' sleeve up his arm and got a look at the dark circle of bruising that
ringed his wrist. 
"Stiles, what the hell?  What happened?" he demanded.
Stiles felt panic ice through him.  He yanked his arm away and shoved his
sleeve back down. He wanted to run, but he knew he wasn't getting away from
this conversation now, and if he didn't talk his way out of this fasthe risked
his father finding out about his other, less easily explainable injuries. 
"It's cool, okay?  It's cool, I'm fine. I know it looks bad but it's not, just
embarrassing," he babbled quickly.  "I was trying out this, um, spell thing,
trying to get out of this pair of handcuffs and I kind of messed it up.  I'm
fine!" he promised.  "Just stupid," he added in a mutter under his breath.
His father seemed somewhere between relieved and suspicious. He wanted to
believe Stiles, he always wanted to believe him, but given recent events there
was a part of him that found it hard to trust.  That hurt, even as Stiles knew
it was completely justified. At least this was actually the truth... just not
all of it.
"You were working on that Emissary thing again tonight, weren't you?" his
father asked quietly.  Stiles had told his dad about that, although definitely
not about Finn. 
Stiles nodded. It was weird talking with his father about working spells and
shit, it had made him uncomfortable even before Finn was in the picture. 
"Yeah. There's... there's so much I just don't know yet, so much I can't do." 
As usual, Stiles found himself blurting out a lot more than he intended. 
"You don't have to learn it all in a week, Stiles, you're pushing too hard. 
That's probably why you're getting sick," his father pointed out firmly. 
"But I do!"Stiles exploded with more frustration than the simple conversation
warranted.  "I do, Dad!  Because nobody else can and if I don't get my shit
together, more people are going to die. I can't afford anymore screw-ups, not
like last time..." his voice trailed off and he looked away quickly, not even
able to hide the glistening in his eyes this time.  He wiped his face quickly
on his sleeve, wishing he knew how to shut up.
Unexpectedly, Stiles found himself enfolded in a warm, tight embrace.  Stiles
went tense for a moment, but didn't stay that way. His back was sore, but the
inviting comfort of hiding his face against his father's shoulder and just
enjoying the physical sensation of someone caringabout him was too great to
resist. He let himself relax into his dad's hug in a way he hadn't done since
he was a lot younger. 
"Stiles, that wasn'tyour fault," his father said softly, his voice now a little
hoarse.  "You have to stop beating yourself up about it. You did the best you
could.  You saved Scott's life.  That was pretty damn impressive you know."
"After I nearly killedhim," Stiles croaked and oh, okay, just when he thought
the night couldn't get any worse, now he was crying. In his dad's arms. Like a
freaking baby. Fantastic. 
"He doesn't blame you for that..."
Stiles snorted against his father's shoulder, cutting him off. "Of course he
doesn't!  He's Scott. Scott forgives everybody.I mean, hello, Isaac and
Allison? Seriously."
"...no one, blames you," the Sheriff finished as if he hadn't been
interrupted.  "You're just a kid, Stiles.  You're mykid and you take way too
much on yourself."  The sheriff stroked his back gently and Stiles didn't care
if that kind of hurt.  He needed this.  He needed this gentle, innocent touch
so much it ached. He hadn't even realized this was a thing that could be
needed until it was suddenly just there. The realization didn't help with the
crying thing. 
"I can do this, Dad," he croaked. "I know I can, I just... I have to be willing
to commit to it, you know?  I have to focus." 
The Sheriff pulled back enough to stroke his son's tousled hair with both hands
and fix him with a look that was equal parts heartbreak and pride.  "I know you
can too," he whispered, absolute certainty and faith in his eyes. "I just wish
you didn't have to.  You don't, you know," he added even more softly.  "You
don't,Stiles.  I get that you can't stay out of it as long as we're here,
but... God, Stiles, we can leave.  If I was any kind of father... I should take
you away from here."
"What?!" Stiles asked incredulously, goggling at his father in shock. "We can't
leave!  I'm not gonna just run away and you can't seriously expect me to think
for a minute that you would either.  You would sonot be okay with running out
on everybody and everything.  I thought you wanted to protect the town?"
"I do, but I want to protect you more," the older man admitted. It was simple,
and honest, and hit Stiles kind of like a punch in the gut, but not a bad
one... if that made any sense at all.  "Now that I know what's going on...
Stiles, do you have anyidea how hard it is for me to know the danger you're in,
all the time?  I just... it's not right.  I should do something, I should
protect you better and I don't know how." 
Stiles realized he recognized the hopeless, frustrated pain in his father's
eyes.  They had so much more in common than he had ever supposed.  He actually
laughed, giving his dad a tight, reassuring squeeze and wiping his leaking eyes
on his sleeve.  "We're so fucked, Dad.  Seriously.  Both of us.  All of us.  We
all want to turn back the clock and go back to normal, but normal never
actually existed.  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry you have to deal with this crap too."
"I'm not," the Sheriff countered, releasing Stiles when the boy finally pulled
away.  "It's better to know.  When you know, you can fight."
"Yeah," Stiles agreed with a weary smile.  "Yeah.  Dad... I'm really tired. Are
we done with our bonding moment, or do I need to cry some more?  'Cause it's
cathartic and all, but not really doing a lot for my ego."
His father smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder - his leftone, thankfully. 
"Okay, kiddo, okay.  But you're not escaping so easy. You've been pushing way
too hard, you need to relax and you need to eat.Come on..."
Not taking no for an answer, Stiles' father dragged him into the living room,
deposited him on the couch, turned on the TV and returned with a plate full of
re-heated pizza a few moments later.  They found some insipidly retarded action
movie with great special effects and after taking a few bites to appease his
father, Stiles realized that he was, in fact, starvingand proceeded to wolf
down the rest of the pizza and go back for seconds. 
Injuries or no, curled up on the couch with his dad, eating pizza and making
smart remarks about plot holes big enough to drive trucks through was its own
kind of happy for him. His father was right, he had needed this.  You needed to
remember what you were fighting for sometimes.  Watching his father laugh and
roll his eyes and try to sneak pieces of pizza off his plate... it was like
warmth seeping back into cold bones.  This was what he was fighting for.  This
was part of what he would give anything to protect... and it was worthit.    
End Notes
     Unless I suddenly get inspired and miraculously acquire more time,
     this is probably the end of the series. Sorry it doesn't really
     resolve everything. Like I said, I don't have time to actually write
     the whole idea I had, but I at least tried to give Stiles a little
     respite at the end and close on a slightly nicer note.
     How would you play things out? Feel free to adopt the idea and give
     it a go, if you want to. :)
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