Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11373246.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale/
      Peter_Hale, Derek_Hale/Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall, Sheriff_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      the_sheriff's_name_is_John, Polyamory_Negotiations, Polyamory, Anal_Sex,
      Threesome_-_M/M/M, Daddy_Kink, Alpha_Peter, Beta_Derek, Hickeys, Biting,
      Possessive_Behavior, Scent_Kink, Dominant_Stiles, Magical_Stiles
      Stilinski, Daddy_Stiles, Baby_Boy_Derek, submissive_derek, Endearments,
      kinkshaming, but_only_a_pinch, Body_Worship, Scott_is_a_Bad_Friend,
      Erotophonophilia, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Spark_Stiles
      Stilinski, Incest, Stiles_Stilinski_is_Seventeen_Years_Old, Werewolf
      Mates, Voyeurism, Fluff, Alpha_Mate_Stiles_Stilinski
  Series:
      Part 5 of My_Lost_Soul_(Lead_Me_to_Redemption)
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-02 Words: 3590
****** Let Us Cement Our Place in Each Others' Arms (Before the Bubble Pops)
******
by kiranightshade
Summary
     There's only so much patience in the world.
     And Stiles didn't start with much.
Notes
     I've had this mostly done for so long that I decided to make it done
     as is. This would have been finished so much sooner if I didn't get
     into a mood where any sex scene I wrote or read sounded stupid
     regardless of its quality.
     Keep in mind that this is the first threesome I've ever written.
     Missed tags are appreciated as always. Enjoy!
See the end of the work for more notes
They don’t approach Derek right away. The last thing they want to do is scare
him off. They decide to ease him into their dynamic, see if they can’t
assimilate Derek in with inconsequential gestures before explicitly stating
their intentions. Little things that only become romantic if given romantic
intent.
It’s not actually all that different from what they’ve been doing. They were
already combing their fingers through Derek’s hair and curling up together on
the couch. They were already tangling their legs together under the table
during dinner. They were already sleeping beside him every night that they
could.
But it’s not all that different from what they were already doing.
 
***
 
It’s Friday. Stiles is sitting on Peter’s lap in the living room’s loveseat and
Derek is on the couch. Derek is pretending to read his book but he hasn’t
turned a page in the past five minutes. Peter certainly hasn’t noticed, having
buried himself into Stiles neck the moment he saw him. Stiles wants to focus on
Peter. He wants to enjoy the truly disgusting display of playful bites and
light kisses but he really can’t.
Derek looks like he’s a second away from snatching Stiles up for himself.
Stiles has been growing more and more frustrated the longer they’ve been trying
to invite Derek in and Derek is just not taking the hint.
Stiles snaps.
He breaks away from Peter, “That’s it,” he drags a confused Derek up by the
back of his shirt and to the bedroom.
Stiles pushes Derek backwards onto the bed. He doesn’t get the chance to react
before Stiles straddles him and swoops down into a kiss. Derek freezes for a
moment, giving Stiles the opportunity to shove his tongue in. Eventually Derek
kisses back, gripping his thighs, pulling him closer.
Stiles’ fingers tangle in Derek’s hair. Derek sits up, pulling Stiles closer.
Stiles wraps his legs around Derek’s waist and the bed dips behind Derek.
Derek doesn’t even seem to notice, too busy gripping his ass and kissing him
within an inch of his life. It isn’t until Peter plasters himself to Derek’s
back that he jumps.
“Don’t stop on my account.” He chuckles into Derek’s neck.
Derek turns to face Peter, displaying his long unmarked neck.
Stiles bites.
Derek shouts. Peter takes his chance to lock Derek into a kiss of his own, his
hand cupping his jaw. Stiles can see their tongues move together and a wave of
arousal hits him and jerks his hips down. Both him and Derek groan.
Derek’s bite is fading. Stiles buries his nose into Derek’s neck and inhales as
deeply as he can. It doesn’t do anything for him, but he can feel Derek’s pulse
rise under his fingertips. Light kisses become more intense as Stiles works to
memorize Derek's taste.
Derek's hands clench and relax on his thighs. Peter's own hands start to roam,
sneaking under his shirt. Derek's belt goes along with his shirt. Stiles undoes
the button and Peter pulls Derek onto his back, his head on his thigh. Stiles
removes Derek's jeans and boxers in one move, throwing them behind him before
burying his face into the trail of hair over his ridiculous abs.
Derek's hands are on Peter's thighs. He's looking up at him, mouth open in
either shock or pleasure. Stiles figures it's a mix of both.
"Wha-" Derek begins.
"Shhh," Peter squeezes Derek's shoulder with one hand while freeing his cock
with the other, "It's all right. It's okay. We just want to take care of you."
Stiles doesn't touch Derek's cock. Instead, he licks up his abs and bites at
his hip. Derek twitches under him.
Stiles comes up to whisper into Derek's ear, covering him with his body, "Don’t
you want this? To be between us. Because we do. We want you with us always."
"In every way," Peter finishes.
Stiles hovers over Derek, waiting. They don't have to wait for long. After a
moment of Derek looking at them, searching for sincerity, he nods. Peter and
Stiles grin down at him. First happily, relieved that they've been accepted,
and then decidedly more wicked.
Stiles gets the lube. Peter turns Derek onto his stomach. When Stiles is
positioned over Derek's thighs, warming the lube on his fingers, Peter's got
Derek mouthing at his cock. Peter's fingers are carding through his hair.
Encouragements flow from Peter's lips, gently guiding Derek down onto his cock.
Stiles rubs against his hole, making him jump. It takes a moment for him to
relax, for Stiles to push in the first finger. He can feel his breath hitch
around Peter.
"Fuck baby you're doing so well. So perfect around me," Stiles says, "I'm going
to add another okay? Gonna stretch you open for me."
Stiles presses in a second finger. He gives Derek a few seconds to adjust
before scissoring him. Derek moans, rising up on his knees. Like this, Stiles'
view is downright obscene. Peter's gasping out curses as he's swallowed down
even further. Derek is fucking presenting himself to him. Ass up, face down,
and legs spread. And then Derek's thrusting back and Stiles moans.
"Look at you. So desperate. So perfect. If this is what you're like with just
my fingers, I can't imagine how pretty you'll be on my cock," Stiles adds a
third finger.
Peter groans with Derek, thrusting up into his throat before coming. Derek
swallows it all before rising up onto all fours. Peter cups Derek's face. He
brings them up onto their knees, pushing Derek further onto Stiles' fingers.
Stiles removes his fingers as Peter hones in on Derek's neck. Peter's fingers
curl into Derek's hair and around his shoulder. Derek is forced to look up as
Peter licks, nips, and sucks bruises into his unmarked skin. Derek makes a
sound between a whine and a moan that ends up more of a gasping noise that goes
straight to Stiles' cock.
Stiles shoves his pants down low enough to slick up his cock. Taking hold of
Derek's hips, he positions his cock so that he can thrust in.
Derek jerks in Peter's grasp. There are bruises high on his neck that aren't
fading. He's clenched tight around Stiles and it's torture to stay still.
Stiles takes a deep breath and rubs his hands up and down his sides, "Relax
baby. You're doing so well. Gods, you're even more pretty than I thought you'd
be, so perfect. Perfect for us."
Stiles and Peter meet eyes. Peter smiles and continues where Stiles left off
while Stiles closes his eyes and focuses on not moving. Stiles lets Peter's
words and Derek's labored breaths wash over him, lulling him into a sense of
completion. No wonder people enjoy having their cocks warmed. With Peter and
Derek here with him. With Derek surrounding him like this, he feels... safe.
Secure in the knowledge that this will not be taken from him. That he is
trusted and protected and loved.
That doesn't stop him from thrusting into him the moment Derek relaxes.
From there they are far less gentle. Gasps and moans and broken sentences get
passed around, not all are clear who they come from. At some point, Derek falls
to all fours again and Peter's the one getting hickies sucked into his flesh.
Curses are passed around. A mix of darling, baby, and the occasional alpha are
thrown into the air and fuel the race to orgasm.
Stiles' hands slide up from Derek's hips to his shoulders, changing the angle
and nailing what must be Derek's prostate if the sudden shout is anything to go
by. Stiles speeds up. Derek is losing his coherency. Peter is simply enjoying
the show, rubbing up and down Derek's arms.
Stiles is so close. His orgasm is just out of reach and then Derek cries out,
"Fuck daddy please." And Stiles loses it. He speeds into harsher, less
coordinated thrusts, "I'm here baby," he rasps. "Come for me baby. Come for
daddy."
The result is instantaneous. Derek comes, clenching around Stiles. Stiles
comes. They both slump, gasping for air, onto Peter. Peter grunts under their
combined weight, pushing them off him with ease. He sits up, looking down at
where Derek is laying half on top of Stiles, gasping with them. They don't say
anything for a while, too busy coming down from the high.
Peter recovers first. Whether because he's alpha or the fact that he came first
is anyone's guess.
"That was unexpected."
It's aimed at Derek, who looks away.
"Hey," Peter turns Derek's face towards him again, "It was good. This is
exactly what we wanted."
"A baby boy?" Derek spits out, disgusted but not with them. Peter seems to be
able to tell as well because his face only softens, his fingers gentle as they
glide over stubble.
"You," Stiles interrupts, "We want you. Relaxed and open and I'm not just
talking about the sex."
They all chuckle and Derek relaxes in Stiles' hold.
"How would this even work? The sex I get, but a relationship?"
"We'll figure it out," Peter says.
"Not much really has to change," Stiles says, "Only now I'm just as likely to
fuck you on the couch as Peter is to fuck me."
Derek is about to continue but Peter cuts him off with a gentle kiss, "We'll
talk about it tomorrow. For now, let's rest."
They don't bother to clean up before curling up together in a mess of knees and
elbows. Derek is the first to fall asleep and Peter looks down at him with the
same reverence Stiles sees directed at him every day. It makes something warm
pass through him. Stiles kisses the palm of Peter's hand before resting his
forehead against the nape of Derek's neck and succumbing to sleep himself.
 
***
 
Peter is gone when Stiles wakes. Derek, however, is starfished over top of him.
Warm breaths press against his neck. Strong arms are sprawled on either side of
him. Old semen sticks them together.
That last one isn't nearly so pleasant.
Stiles hears movement in the kitchen so he doesn’t have to wonder where Peter's
disappeared to. Derek snuffles and shifts. His leg now pressing against his
dick. Lazy arousal simmers through him and he rubs against Derek with no real
intent to get off. It wakes Derek up at least. Stiles looks down to see one eye
squinting up at him. He smiles, rubbing a thumb across Derek's stubble, and
kisses him.
The kiss is light, sweet, and Derek melts into it. It's intoxicating to have
someone so powerful in his arms like this. Derek barely needs any prompting
before he opens up to Stiles' probing tongue. He's been dominate with Peter
before but it's always been a game, a tug-of-war between alphas. This is
different. Derek submits so willingly and it's beautiful. The trust he's being
given. The power. It's no wonder why Peter loves this so much.
They break apart reluctantly. A line of saliva hangs between them before
breaking. Stiles sits up. Derek follows, not once losing eye contact.
"I don't know about you, but I am going to take a shower. Care to join me?"
Stiles doesn't give Derek the time to answer. Taking his hand, he leads them
backwards to the master bath. Derek watches Stiles undress, hands twitching
like he wants to reach out but doesn't know if he's welcome. Stiles rolls his
eyes and pulls them flush together by Derek's wrist, placing Derek's hands on
his hips. They're practically the same height, unlike him and Peter. Stiles
isn't looking down but straight forward into Derek's eyes. He trails his hands
lightly up his arms, letting them rest flat in the juncture of his shoulder and
chest.
Stiles lets loose his brightest smile, a bit comical but sincere, "You're
allowed to touch. And that goes for either of us."
Stiles walks backwards out of Derek's loose hold. He turns and sets the shower.
Derek follows him in quietly, hesitantly, but he follows.
And then they're standing under the spray. The majority of the semen washes
down the drain. Derek remains silent. Stiles waits.
He doesn't have to wait long. Derek stares, takes in every mole and
imperfection with a sense of awe that squashes any insecurity Stiles could
have. Then he reaches out. A hand on his hip, exactly where he placed them
earlier, a hand around his wrist. The hold is light, so light, Stiles can
barely feel it and yet it makes him hyperaware of his presence all the same.
Fingers trail up the inside of his arm, jump to his collarbone, and trace the
line down to the hollow of his throat. Derek's thumb rubs circles into his
hipbone. His fingers continue they're gentle path down his sternum, stopping at
his happy trail, and continuing back up. He continues to his jaw and down to
his chin. A thumb presses lightly on his bottom lip, swiping to the corner and
back to his upper lip.
A part of Stiles wants to escalate. He wants to take that thumb into his mouth
and suck, but he doesn't. He allows Derek to set the pace and that pace is near
hypnotic. The water beating down on them is only background to the feel of
Derek's caress.
His thumb swipes back to the corner of his lip and then off of him entirely. It
is quickly replaced by fingers trailing over his cheekbone, following the curve
under his eye. The hand on his hip moves, sliding back to lie flat at the base
of his spine. It moves up to his shoulder blades and stops at the nape of his
neck. Fingers tease at the edge of his hair. He plays with the strands, rubbing
them between thumb and forefinger.
The hand on his cheek drops to the side of his neck and then there are no hands
on him at all.
Stiles blinks his eyes open, not even realizing he had closed them, and catches
his balance. When he refocuses, he sees that Derek is now kneeling at his feet.
There's a loofah in his hands and he's delicately scrubbing at his feet. He
doesn't linger, washing away the mess up his leg and then down the other. The
light touch tickles around his knees but he doesn’t move.
The simmer of arousal passes through him again as Derek washes his cock and
balls but the touch is too light for it to so much as twitch.
It tickles again as the loofah passes over his hips and then under his arms.
The small of his back, the inside of his arms, the sides of his neck. Derek
uses his soapy fingers to wipe away any dirt on Stiles' face. Stiles barely
feels Derek's fingers passing over his eyelids.
Stiles doesn’t open his eyes until Derek leads him face up into the spray. His
whole body is tingling, loose in a way that he hasn't felt in a long time. By
the time he clears the water from his eyes, Derek has started to clean himself.
Stiles takes the loofah from him and starts at his shoulders.
"You're so silly, baby. It's my turn to take care of you now."
 
***
 
Werewolves are possessive. That might be stereotyping, but there is definitely
a grain of truth in it. Stiles is sure that if he were to travel the world he
would find wolves that weren't very possessive at all. But his wolves? Yeah,
they're possessive as fuck. Then again, so is Stiles.
Peter's hickey is still bright and bold on Derek's neck. Stiles only wishes he
could have left one too.
Despite their shower, Stiles knows he reeks of his wolves. He knows that they
reek of him. He loves it even if he can't smell it.
Of course, the big question is if that possession is going to become a problem
in a polyamorous relationship. Stiles doesn't think so. He likes seeing his
wolves together. Or... his alpha and his boy, Stiles thinks. He never gave the
daddy kink much thought before but he could be that for Derek. He can see
himself wanting to be that for Derek.
If Peter ever had to come to terms with sharing, he's settled it. He was the
one thinking of this before either him or Derek. He's the one who set this in
motion.
Derek isn't as possessive as him and Peter. He really just needs to be assured
that there wouldn't be any problems. They are each others. Stiles has Peter and
Derek. Peter has Stiles and Derek. Derek has Stiles and Peter. Nobody gets to
touch them. Nobody gets to look at them. Nobody gets to hurt them.
Them going out one-on-one isn't a problem because they belong to each other.
Them having sex one-on-one isn't a problem for the same reason. Lying about it
is a problem.
Them feeling left out and not saying anything is a big problem. Do not do it.
End of story.
Making big decisions that affect all of them one-on-one is a problem. No, that
does not include surprise gifts for the third.
Have they covered all the bases? Probably not, but they covered the big ones
and anything else will be decided as they go.
They all feel better once they're done. Boundaries set in stone. Breakfast
eaten. Snuggles activated.
They're going to need a bigger couch.
 
***
 
It's a Saturday, but Stiles is still surprised when Scott calls around noon.
Stiles is sitting on Derek's lap when he answers, watching Peter prepare lunch
over Derek's shoulder. Derek is running his hand over Stiles' thigh and basking
in their closeness.
Stiles continues to play with Derek's hair, "What's up?"
"Allison had to go to some funeral. Wanna do something?"
Derek's hand stills.
"Yeah sure. Your place in an hour?"
"Awesome," Scott hangs up.
Not a word, Stiles' glare says to Derek.
Out loud he says, "Guess that's my queue. I'll see you guys tomorrow."
Derek doesn't let Stiles get up until he's kissed him long and thorough.
Stiles dresses in the spare clothes he keeps here and when he returns to the
living room Peter is shoving a tupperware into his hands before kissing him
stupid as well. By the time he lets him go, Stiles' dick really doesn't want to
leave.
"You both are menaces and I love you," Stiles points to both of them before
picking up his backpack and walking backwards out the door.
 
***
 
Stiles doesn't spend Sunday at Scott's house, but it's a close thing. He
doesn't even have to try and get information on the Argents out of him, what
with how that's all Scott wants to talk about. Stiles is both annoyed and
grateful.
Allison is being trained into the family business. Which is worrying but hardly
unexpected. Besides, if Gerard is out of the picture and Chris is the one doing
the training, it could be a lot worse.
And, ah yes, did Peter light up at the news of Gerard. In fact, Stiles hasn't
seen him so gleeful since they killed Kate. Needless to say, he was limping by
the end of the night.
"Is it just me or are you worryingly aroused by murder?" Stiles grins cheekily
up at Peter.
Peter grins, "I don't see you complaining."
Stiles laughs, "How can I? It's certainly working out for me."
"Exactly."
Stiles drifts soon after that, leaving Peter to finish Derek off from where
he'd been watching. He's asleep before they finish.
 
***
 
Someone called the cops on the neighbors that morning.
That would have been great to know before Stiles stumbled out the front door,
trying to pry a handsy Derek off him so that he can go to school. Not that he's
trying very hard but it still would have been nice.
"Ahem."
Stiles freezes.
Derek pulls back, sees the fear on Stiles' face, and is about to speak when...
"So this is where my son has been disappearing to."
Derek cringes. They both look to the Sheriff.
The Sheriff is not happy. In fact, Stiles would go as far to say he looks
downright murderous and it's all directed at Derek.
Nobody has seen them yet. Maybe Stiles can salvage this.
"Please don't arrest him."
That only makes the Sheriff angrier but at least it's directed at him this time
and not the twenty-three year old man Stiles has been fucking.
"And why the hell shouldn't I?" The Sheriff practically seethes.
"Because he hasn't done anything wrong. Please, let us talk about this. He not
a... he's not what you're thinking. I swear."
Stiles pleads with him silently. They don't break eye contact until a deputy
enters the hall and the Sheriff sighs.
"I want the truth. The whole truth. So help me god, if I find out you've left
anything out of what's been going on for the past months your... boyfriend,
will be buried under anything and everything I can find on him. Starting with
statutory rape. Do you understand me?"
Stiles gulps.
"Yes sir," Derek answers.
The Sheriff glares at him but goes back to his job in the end. Stiles and Derek
look at each other, both bracing themselves. Derek goes back inside for Peter.
Stiles doesn't bother going to school when he gets a text from his father
ordering him straight home.
Stiles has the jeep running by the time Peter and Derek climb in.
The drive home feels like the march to a hangman's noose.
End Notes
     MWaHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA
     I ended it here because I effectively blocked myself with that. If I
     didn't, who knows when this would've been updated.
     I'm hoping to end this within the next two updates but I don't really
     have a plan so who knows if that'll happen or not.
     Derek having a feminization kink. Thoughts?
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!