Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13546089.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Mates_Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot,
      Alpha_Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski_as_Little_Red_Riding_Hood, Sexual
      Roleplay, Dom/sub_Undertones, Feminization, Scenting, Rimming, Bondage,
      Oral_Sex, Face-Fucking, Body_Hair, Come_Marking, Come_Eating, Anal
      Fingering, Anal_Sex, Top_Derek_Hale, Bottom_Stiles_Stilinski, Biting,
      Rough_Sex
  Series:
      Part 5 of The_Kinky_Adventures_of_a_Wolf_and_His_Boy
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-01 Words: 6195
****** Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf ******
by halcyon1993
Summary
     After Erica makes a comment about Stiles being like Little Red Riding
     Hood and Derek like the Big Bad Wolf, Stiles can’t get it out of his
     head and orders a costume on impulse. Luckily for him, Derek is
     willing to indulge him in a little roleplay.
Notes
     As always with this series, don't judge me for the depravity I have
     written.
     Proofread as of March 7th, 2018.
See the end of the work for more notes
When Stiles wakes up on Saturday morning, he is immediately out of bed and
rushing downstairs to check the mail. The website said his order should arrive
today, and he isn't disappointed. Sitting on the coffee table in the living
room is a large parcel with Stiles' name printed on it, which his dad must have
taken in before Stiles woke up. Even though what is within could probably be
explained away as something innocent, just a Halloween costume he bought early
because it was on sale or something, Stiles is grateful the sheriff didn't feel
the need to open it himself.
It had all started a couple of weekends ago with a comment made by Erica. The
pack was in the preserve for one of their training sessions, and Stiles was
watching from the outskirts of the clearing while the werewolves did their
thing. He was dressed in his signature bright-red hoodie because it was a
little chilly, and in his hands he held a large plastic bag filled with bottles
of cool water to keep the wolves hydrated. Derek had eventually called a five-
minute break, and the betas dispersed after snatching some water for
themselves. Erica was standing nearby with Boyd, and when Derek walked up to
Stiles to get his own bottle, his tank top soaked with sweat, she had spoken.
"Better watch out, Little Red," she'd taunted, a sly smirk on her red-painted
lips, "or the Big Bad Wolf might gobble you up."
Stiles had opened his mouth to offer one of his famous witty retorts, but
nothing had come out. He just stood there with his mouth hanging open as a
slideshow of images played through his mind on repeat, inspired by Erica's
teasing words. When he had managed to snap himself out of it, he'd found that
training had resumed and the bag in his hand was empty.
For days, the idea never left his head, and a week ago he'd finally given into
it and blown a chunk of his savings on what he now carries up to his bedroom.
He hasn't spoken to Derek about this yet, hasn't quite felt brave enough. But,
as he takes a pair of scissors and cuts through the tape keeping the package
sealed, Stiles is sure the alpha will be on board. Dropping the scissors on his
desk, Stiles pulls open the flaps and picks up the item that is on top. The
clear plastic packaging crinkles as he searches for the opening, and then a few
seconds later Stiles has in his hands the main part of a Little Red Riding Hood
costume.
The cape is obviously red and is made of a material the website had promised
was silk satin. Stiles rubs it between his fingers and shivers all over with
anticipation. He had ordered the largest size the website had, which he hopes
will be enough to fit his broad shoulders. After double-checking that his
bedroom door is closed, he puts on the cape to check.
With the strings tied across his collarbones and the hood up over his head,
Stiles stands up and walks to inspect his reflection in the mirror that is on
the back of his closet door. The cape fits, and he stares at himself and
wonders how he is going to bring this up to Derek. Should they have a
conversation first, or should Stiles just go right over to his loft one evening
like Little Red Riding Hood went to her grandma's house?
Decisions, decisions.
Another moment's deliberation has Stiles settling on the second option. It just
sounds much more fun. He smiles to himself as he imagines the look of surprise
that will no doubt be on Derek's stupidly pretty face when he sees him.
That sorted, Stiles removes the cape and checks the other pieces of the costume
to see whether everything else fits properly, too. Even though it was all made
for a woman's curves, he is glad when, for the most part, every single article
somehow seems to mould itself to his body. He looks forward to getting the full
effect whenever it comes time to put his plan into action. Feeling tingly all
over, Stiles puts the costume back in the box it came in before stuffing the
whole thing in his closet for later. He can wait. He just hopes he doesn't have
to wait too long.
                                     * * *
Luckily, the opportunity for Stiles to follow through presents itself just a
few days later, on the night the pack usually gets together every week just to
hang out and keep their bonds with each other strong. Stiles doesn't know the
details, but in the middle of the afternoon he had received a text informing
him that that week's get-together had been cancelled, meaning that Derek, ever
the Sourwolf, would be all by himself.
Well, not for long, Stiles thought with a grin.
Now, when the sun has just set, he gets the package containing his costume back
out of his closet and places it on his bed. His breathing is shaky from
excitement as he strips out of his clothes without care and stands in the
middle of his bedroom in nothing at all. Arousal is already burning in his gut,
the hairs all over his body standing on end. Stiles tries to keep a hold on it,
but it's pointless and his dick is hard in no time at all, his balls drawn up
between his legs. Ignoring it for now, he picks up the first part of the Red
Riding Hood costume and pulls it over his head.
The black-and-white dress is slightly snug across his shoulders and loose over
his chest, but otherwise it fits well. The bottom is puffy and lacy and stops
halfway down his thighs. Eying it approvingly, Stiles moves on to the next
piece of the costume and, with some trouble, wraps the black corset around his
torso and begins lacing it up. He pulls it tight, secures it with a messy bow
just below his chest, puts on the signature red cape and then sits on the edge
of his bed to put a pair of knee-high black boots on his feet. It's a bit of
struggle, but after a couple of minutes he manages it and gets shakily to his
feet. He is glad that the heel is just a couple of inches high, meaning he has
less chance of falling flat on his face and breaking his nose or something.
Lastly, Stiles gets out the picnic basket he had found in the attic a few days
ago, completing the look.
Checking himself out in the mirror, Stiles isn't ashamed to admit that he looks
good.
He hopes Derek thinks so, too.
Before he can back out, Stiles leaves his bedroom and walks downstairs, knowing
that his dad is currently working the night shift and won't catch him like
this. He opens the front door a crack to peek outside and, once he is sure that
none of his neighbours will see him, he exits the house and dashes to his Jeep.
                                     * * *
Stiles parks on the edge of the preserve and composes a text to Derek, asking
him to come to the bridge that crosses the stream inside, a location he thinks
will be more appropriate for this particular sexual roleplay than the loft. He
words the message carefully, keeping it vague enough that Derek will likely be
curious and come. But, as Stiles has no desire for anyone but Derek to see him
in his current getup, he also keeps it casual enough that the alpha won't think
something is terribly wrong, panic and bring the betas with him on a rescue
mission.
When he thinks he has it right, Stiles hits Send and gets out of his Jeep.
It's pretty dark in the preserve due to the late hour, but he can still see
well enough that he doesn't have to worry about tripping over anything or
getting lost. Just to be on the safe side, he uses his phone to light the way
until he reaches the bridge, at which point he turns off the light. He puts the
device on silent and stows it in his picnic basket, where it will be safe
amongst the old blankets that are in there.
Then, he waits.
Thankfully, it doesn't take long for Derek to show, his arrival much more
sudden than Stiles was anticipating. When the bearded man appears in Stiles'
line of sight, he sees apprehension and anxiety clear on his handsome features,
which lets him know that he didn't do as good a job of keeping his message
light as he'd thought. He feels bad about inadvertently causing his mate to
worry, but the emotions on Derek's face soon change into confusion when he jogs
closer and gets a better look at what Stiles is wearing. His eyes are wide when
Stiles turns to face him properly, and his lips are parted in shock. The
teenager would think it was a very good look on him under other circumstances,
but in this situation it isn't what he had in mind.
"Stiles…" Derek gapes, seemingly struggling to find the words. "What the hell
are you wearing?"
Stiles takes a breath, his hands tightening on the handle of his picnic basket
as he dives right into his role. "My, what big eyes you have," he says, tilting
his head down slightly and looking up at Derek through his lashes, trying to
look as coy as possible.
Derek's mouth drops open even further. "W-what?"
"You're supposed to say 'all the better to eat you with', Der," Stiles prompts.
A few more seconds pass and then realisation sweeps across Derek's face. His
voice is a whisper. "Oh."
"You finally caught up?"
"Uh, yeah, I think so," Derek replies, gaze travelling up Stiles' outfit again,
more purposefully this time. "What brought this on?"
Stiles wags a finger at the werewolf and smirks. "Nope, sexy-times first,
talking after. Now, let's try this again, shall we?" He returns his hand to the
handle of his picnic basket and flutters his eyelashes at Derek, playing his
role perfectly like he had rehearsed an embarrassing number of times in his
head. "My, what big eyes you have."
"All the better to see you with," Derek murmurs. He sounds a little unsure of
himself, so Stiles shoots him an encouraging grin before uttering his next
line.
"What big hands you have," he says, tilting his head to the side to expose his
neck beneath the hood of the cape. He notes the way Derek's eyes immediately
zero in on the expanse of pale skin and is satisfied when they flash red and
his nostrils flare, the first hints of the hidden wolf that Stiles wants to
coax out. It's clear that the alpha is beginning to get into the roleplay as
well, and Stiles plans on getting his money's worth.
"All the better to grab you with," Derek growls, baring his fangs. His hands
clench into fists, but before they close completely Stiles sees that Derek's
claws are already out.
"What big teeth you have…"
Derek stalks forward with his next line, every bit the predator Stiles knew he
could be. "All the better to eat you with."
Stiles takes a step backward and drops his picnic basket purposefully right in
the middle of the bridge, where it will be safe and easy to retrieve whenever
they have finished this game. He contorts his face into something fearful, even
though every cell of his body is thrilled with excitement. Derek keeps moving
toward him and Stiles keeps moving backward until, giving up all pretences of
fear with a bright laugh, he spins and runs as fast as he can. "You'll have to
catch me first!" he yells back over his shoulder.
His cape billowing out behind him, Stiles' feet pound on the dirt as he leaves
the bridge and dashes through the trees. A few seconds pass, which Stiles
presumes is to give him a decent head start, and then he hears a howl behind
him, a sign that Derek is about to give chase. He tries to go even faster, not
wanting the game to end too quickly. He holds his arms out at his sides as he
reaches the top of a hill and slides down it, just managing to keep his balance
and not fall on his ass.
A minute later, Stiles enters a clearing and skids to a halt to listen, his
body held tense and ready to shoot off again in any direction. He can't hear
anything but his own laboured breathing, no sign that Derek is anywhere around
him, not until there comes a snapping of a twig from the side of the clearing
at Stiles' back. He spins around and peers into the darkness between the tree
trunks, knowing that Derek is somewhere in there, waiting for the perfect time
to strike.
Stiles doesn't give him the chance, just takes off again in the opposite
direction of the sound. He knows what this must be doing to his mate, how this
game of cat and mouse will tap into Derek's instincts to capture his prey and
devour it. Devour him.
Stiles looks forward to it.
He runs until his legs begin to protest, switching directions every time he
sees or hears a glimpse of Derek. After the third time, it dawns on him that he
should have been caught already and that the roles aren't quite what he'd
thought they were. In this game, he is the prey and Derek is the predator, that
much was obvious from the start. But what Stiles had thought was him teasing
his mate by continuously evading him is really Derek playing with his food, so
to speak.
The thought distracts Stiles enough for him to stop paying such close attention
to his surroundings, and the next thing he knows he is being tackled from
behind. He expects to feel pain as he collides with the ground, but Derek
twists them in such a way that Stiles lands on top of him and Derek takes the
brunt of the impact instead. And, given that he is a werewolf, Derek barely
seems to feel it, his arms constricting around Stiles and his chest vibrating
with the constant low growl of pleasure at finally having what is his.
Stiles stares down at Derek's shifted face and feels himself growing hard
beneath the material of his skirt. And, because they are pressed together,
Derek feels it too, a feral grin stretching his lips.
"Gotcha," he rumbles, his voice gravelly.
He wouldn't want to break free anyway, but Stiles is powerless to do anything
as Derek gets to his feet and manhandles him over his shoulder, an arm around
the backs of his knees and his ass sticking right up in the air. The alpha
carries Stiles through the woods at a brisk pace while Stiles imagines that he
is being taken back to Derek's lair, an idea that makes his blood pump faster.
He contents himself by staring at Derek's ass as it moves in the tight confines
of his jeans, firm, muscular globes that Stiles has made it a point in the past
to get well-acquainted with.
It helps to pass the time, and the next thing he knows he is being dumped onto
a mattress somewhere old and musty-smelling. Stiles' vision blurs momentarily,
and then he discerns the burned interior of the old Hale house and deduces that
Derek has taken him where he used to sleep back when he first returned to
Beacon Hills.
Speaking of Derek, the werewolf looms in the dim light a few feet away, already
naked, his cock flaccid but still very impressive between his thighs. Derek was
apparently waiting for Stiles' attention to be on him again, because as soon as
Stiles' eyes find him he starts approaching the mattress, his cock swinging
less and less with every step as blood fills it. By the time Derek is right
above the human, he is fully hard and pre-come has already begun to drip from
the slit. It would very quickly form a puddle, Stiles is sure, but Derek keeps
moving before it can, lowering himself down to his hands and knees and crawling
across the remaining distance to cover his prey with his body.
"Well, well, well…did someone get lost on her way to grandma's house?"
He plants his hands on either side of Stiles' head and looks down at him,
letting the tension build until the teenager squirms impatiently beneath him.
Stiles is about to speak, to beg Derek to hurry it up, but he doesn't manage to
get the words out.
As soon as he opens his mouth, Derek moves too fast to see and then more of
Stiles' skin meets with cold air as fabric is ripped from his body. He spares a
second to think about how expensive the dress and corset was before Derek's
face is pressing into his neck around the tie of his red cape and he completely
loses the ability to think. The coarse hairs on the sides of Derek's face
tickle as he takes in Stiles' scent with a series of audible inhales. Sharp
fangs nip at the pale flesh, a very real threat that has Stiles keeping as
still as possible so they don't accidentally nick him.
Eventually, Derek has his fill of that part but keeps his nose held against
Stiles' skin as he travels lower. He grabs Stiles' arm and throws it up above
his head so that he can nose into his armpit, breathing him in there. Stiles
holds back a giggle at the tickling sensation and then jolts when Derek swipes
his tongue across the fine hairs. The alpha does this for a few seconds before
he has enough of that, too, and journeys even lower, heading where Stiles is
aching and wants him most. His constant growling buzzes through Stiles' skin,
making him quiver with need.
Much to Stiles' frustration, instead of stopping at his cock and taking him in
his mouth, Derek bypasses it entirely, nuzzling at his balls and pushing his
legs up and out of the way so that he can get to his hole. Stiles ends up bent
in half, only his upper back and head still touching the mattress. He asked for
this, to be controlled and made to take whatever Derek sees fit to give him,
but if he doesn't get to come within the next minute he thinks he might scream.
His frustration only gets worse when Derek begins lapping at his entrance, tiny
kitten-like licks that Stiles can barely feel. He groans and attempts to shove
himself down onto Derek's face, but it's useless. Derek has such a strong grip
on him that he can't move his hips at all. All he can do is groan again, hoping
that the noise will be enough to spur Derek on.
Mercifully, it is.
Derek licks across Stiles' hole with more force, pressing harder at the tight
ring with each pass, demanding to be let inside. Stiles relaxes himself as best
he can to permit it and bites into his bottom lip when the slick muscle inches
past his rim and starts licking at his inner walls.
He is happy to finally have some stimulation, but his cock still aches where it
lies across his stomach. He untangles one of his hands from where he hadn't
realised it had got caught in a torn piece of the mattress and reaches for
himself, but a sharp noise of disapproval from Derek has him freezing halfway
there. The rimming stops abruptly and Derek drops Stiles' legs to look up at
him, his wolfed-out face angry.
"Aww, c'mon! No fair!" Stiles whines, understanding what his mate means.
"No touching what's mine," Derek hisses. He grabs his own T-shirt from the
floor and tears a strip off from the bottom. With that in hand, he flips Stiles
over onto his front without warning, eliciting a high-pitched squeak from the
boy.
At first, Stiles is glad because he can now rut against the mattress, getting
some blessed friction, but he quickly finds out that Derek will do anything to
stop the possibility of him coming when he feels a sudden pressure at the small
of his back. He can't figure out what it is at first, but by craning his neck
around he sees that Derek is keeping him down with one of his knees, the
bastard. Stiles curses him out loud, even though he is sure it won't achieve
anything, and he is right.
Derek doesn't respond verbally, just flings the cape up and over Stiles' head,
manoeuvres his wrists behind his back and ties the torn strip of T-shirt just
shy of too tight around his wrists, effectively preventing him from pleasuring
himself at all. That done, Derek grabs the cape again and returns it to drape
down Stiles' back, covering his bound arms.
Stiles pouts and then squawks when one of Derek's hands wraps around his neck
and pulls him up to his knees. He feels the weight shift on the mattress behind
him and then Derek is coming around to stand in front of him, his cock right in
Stiles' face. Stiles stares at it longingly before raising his eyes to meet
Derek's and taking in his snarling face.
"Gonna shut you up," the alpha says darkly, fisting his hand in Stiles' hair
and tugging him forward. "Gag you on me."
Although he still wants to come, Stiles' need is swiftly lessened when he is
given something to do, something else to focus on. Derek forces his mouth open
with his fingers and then—after sharing a look with him as if checking that
this is alright and getting a nod of approval—he shoves his cock past Stiles'
lips, not stopping until he is deep in his throat and Stiles' nose is buried in
the dark, untamed hairs at the root of his sex. The scent embedded there is
intoxicating. It's musky, masculine and slightly sweaty from their time spent
chasing each other through the preserve, just the right side of unwashed to be
indescribably hot. With the small part of his brain that is still functioning
well enough to form thoughts, Stiles wonders if he has this effect on Derek.
The werewolf keeps him there just long enough for his eyes to begin watering,
and then he withdraws so that Stiles can suck some new air into his lungs. "I'm
gonna show you where your place is…" Derek says, the hand not still in Stiles'
hair caressing the side of his jaw in a gesture that is both affectionate and
possessive.
Stiles feels every bit of that possessiveness as he gasps against the head of
Derek's cock. He blinks the tears from his eyes just in time for the process to
happen all over again.
Derek adjusts his hands so that his palms are cupped around the sides of
Stiles' head, holding him in place as he thrusts in all the way again. Only he
doesn't stay there this time. Instead, he snaps his hips forward repeatedly,
fucking Stiles' throat with enough force to make his weighty balls smack
against the underside of Stiles' chin. With his hands tied behind his back and
Derek keeping him immobile, all Stiles can do is take it.
Derek fucks Stiles' mouth for a long time, spit dribbling out of the corners of
the teenager's mouth and down his bare chest. Stiles' jaw aches from being held
open for so long, but he doesn't try to get Derek to stop. He continues to
kneel there and allows the werewolf to use him until his cheeks are wet from
the tears streaming unbidden from his eyes and Derek's thrusts become jerky, a
sure sign that he is close to losing it.
Stiles is jealous.
"Almost! There!" Derek grunts between thrusts, eyes locked to Stiles' face.
The human expects Derek to come down his throat, but he is proven wrong when,
just before his orgasm hits, Derek pulls out completely and finishes himself
off with his right hand. The thick fingers of his left tangle once more in
Stiles' hair to keep him where he is, and Stiles has just enough wherewithal to
shut his eyes before Derek is yelling and he is painted with an unfathomable
amount of hot, sticky seed. It splatters all over his face, starting with his
forehead, some of it even getting up in his hair, before less powerful spurts
hit his nose and eyes and drip down to his lips and chin.
By the time it's over, Stiles feels covered in the stuff, an obvious act of
claiming that he doesn't have a single problem with. He is cautious as he opens
his eyes, ready to snap them closed again if it seems like any of Derek's come
will get inside them, but he is safe. He looks up Derek and waits patiently for
the man to come down from his orgasm, which doesn't take long.
His breathing still heavier than usual, Derek releases his softening cock and
grins down at his mate, who must make quite the sight. He swipes a clawed
finger through the come on Stiles' cheek and holds it in front of his lips for
him to lick off, which he obediently does. Stiles is careful not to cut his
tongue on Derek's sharp claw, and then the bitter taste of the alpha's jizz
bursts across his taste buds and he moans. It's an addictive thing. He swallows
it after a few moments spent savouring it and then Derek's finger is back with
more, the alpha cleaning off random parts of Stiles' face and making him eat
every drop he presents to him.
He doesn't do that with all of it, though. When what Stiles estimates to be
half of Derek's load is sitting in his stomach, Derek switches tactics and just
starts smearing the viscous fluid into his skin instead, even going so far as
to transfer some of it down to Stiles' chest and rub it around his sensitive
nipples. Stiles thrusts his chest out and his eyes flutter when Derek starts
rolling the pebbled nubs between his thumbs and index fingers. The painful
pleasure shoots right down to his cock and he is reminded of his own need to
come.
"Please…" he gasps, looking imploringly up at Derek.
"Be patient, pet," the alpha tells him, giving Stiles' nipples one last brutal
twist that has him whimpering.
Without care, Derek pushes Stiles so that he falls on his back, his arms
trapped beneath him. He kicks apart his legs to make space for himself and then
kneels between them, almost returning to the position in which they'd started
things. When Derek gathers up all the come that hasn't dried yet and uses it to
slick the de-clawed fingers of one of his hands, Stiles knows what is going to
happen next.
He gasps when those fingers disappear from sight and he feels them prodding at
his entrance. Derek pushes two in straight away, a sudden intrusion that has
Stiles crying out and throwing his head back. Even then, Derek doesn't stop. He
thrusts the thick digits in and out a couple of times before roughly scissoring
them apart, hurriedly stretching Stiles to take him.
"Your pussy's so tight," the alpha says almost conversationally. "Think I
caught myself a little virgin. This Big Bad Wolf's the first one to get inside
you, isn't he?"
Even though in truth this is far from their first time, Stiles gets sucked into
the fantasy Derek is creating and nods.
Derek smirks and adds a third finger. "I thought so. Just you wait…I'm gonna
split you apart on my cock, make you into my little bitch to fuck whenever I
want. I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, not that they'll ever have you.
You're mine now. Maybe I'll even keep you chained up so you can't go anywhere
without my say so, so you're always here, ready for me."
Every word Derek rasps goes straight to Stiles' untouched dick, making him leak
over his own stomach. He buys into it all, the depravity and sheer wrongness of
it making him hornier than he ever remembers being. He pushes back onto Derek's
fingers, trying to suck them in deeper, but Derek was apparently anticipating
this because the fingers leave him entirely and he just feels disappointingly
empty.
Stiles nearly sobs with his need.
"Shh, bitch…" Derek soothes, laying himself over Stiles and licking a broad
stripe up the side of his face, tasting his tears. "Gonna fuck you now."
True to his word, Derek's cock, which Stiles hadn't even realised was hard
again, is pressing at his loosened hole. It's dry but he still wants it,
doesn't care, and he wraps his legs around Derek's body and pulls him in to get
this across. He gets a dark chuckle in response and then all nine thick inches
of Derek are inside of him, the scratch of his pubes against the bottom of
Stiles' ass cheeks and his still-heavy balls resting against the top.
Stiles screams and really does sob this time, part of him so grateful because
he is finally getting what he has wanted since he started this scene. The other
part is taken by surprise at how painful it is. They've never gone dry like
this before. It feels like their first time together, when Derek took his
virginity, which makes it all the easier to play his character of the virginal
Red Riding Hood.
The pain is slow to pass, but Derek doesn't give Stiles time to get used to it.
Also perfectly playing his role of the uncaring and predatory Big Bad Wolf,
Derek starts moving straight away. He thrusts slowly for a couple of seconds
before gradually building up the pace until he is grunting with exertion and
his balls slap against Stiles every time he buries himself to the hilt.
Sweat soon drips off of him and onto Stiles, but the human isn't aware. He is
too lost in the sensations Derek is making him feel.
That amazing, massive cock filling him to the brim over and over again.
The heat of him above, keeping him warm.
The musky scent of him.
He feels Derek inside of and all around him, overtaking him completely until
it's like there's nothing of himself left, like all he is is Derek's
possession, Derek's toy. It's far hotter than it should be, but as it's just
the two of them and he trusts Derek with everything he is, Stiles has no
problem with it.
"Good pet," Derek grits out between thrusts. "So tight. Mine. All mine!"
Stiles' only response is another broken sob.
"This pussy's mine…and you like it being mine, too. Just look at your little
clit, bitch. Look at it!" Derek orders, grabbing Stiles' hair and forcing his
head up to look between their bodies, where he is still hard, has been
throughout all of this madness, will continue to be until Derek finally allows
him to come. He wishes he had his hands free so he could get himself off, but
luckily he doesn't need to. Not when he hears what Derek has to say next.
"Should I play with it?" the werewolf asks rhetorically, dropping Stiles' head
again. "Think you've been good enough for me? Y'know, I actually think you
have. After all, you did wander into my den and offer yourself up so sweetly
for me to eat, didn't you, pet? I think that deserves a reward."
Keeping one hand on the mattress next to Stiles' head, Derek wraps the other
around Stiles' cock. He strokes a couple of times up the full length of it
before focusing his ministrations on the tip, rubbing his thumb in maddening
circles over the glans.
"It's very pretty," Derek says, his gaze on Stiles' face to watch his every
reaction, the furrow of his brow and the bitten-bloody state of his lips. "I'm
surprised no one's ever wanted to touch you here before, but then again, maybe
they have and you were a good girl and saved yourself for me. You already knew
you belonged to me, was that it? I bet it was. That's why you came here
tonight, so I could lay claim to what was mine."
"Yes! God, yes, please!" Stiles gasps through his tears.
"You wanna come?"
Stiles hiccups out a, "Y-yes!" and whines when Derek instantly stops touching
him.
"You can," the alpha promises, "but you'll do it on my cock like the good
little cockslut you are. Think you can do that for me?"
Stiles honestly isn't sure. He has never come untouched before, hasn't even
considered trying, but with how pent up and turned on he is, with how fucking
amazing Derek feels inside of him, he believes he might just be able to manage
it.
He gives his assent and concentrates on the overwhelming pleasure spreading
from his ass to the rest of his body. His shoulders and arms ache from so long
spent trapped beneath his back, but it's barely a blip on the radar at this
point, largely thanks to Derek's expert knowledge of how to play him like an
instrument. Every one of the werewolf's fast thrusts is unerringly precise, all
of them stimulating Stiles' prostate. When that is combined with Derek bending
down over him and nibbling and biting at his neck, a spot that never fails to
get both of them going, it doesn't take Stiles long.
His vision whites out when his orgasm hits. He shoots between them, covering
both of their torsos with come. His mouth is open wide in a soundless scream as
it just seems to go on and on and on, until finally it ends and he is left
boneless beneath Derek. He is glad breathing is an automatic thing, otherwise
he would probably suffocate.
Derek pushes himself up, grabs Stiles' knees and looks at the mess between them
with a pleased smile. "Good girl," he coos. "Now it's my turn."
With Stiles taken care of, Derek thrusts into him with abandon, no longer
caring whether he hits the teenager's prostate or not. As a result, whenever
Derek does hit it, Stiles' whole body jerks because he can never predict it. He
is strung out and overstimulated, but all he has the energy to do is make quiet
little whining sounds every time it happens. He looks blearily up at Derek as
the man keeps fucking him, marvelling at the fierce beauty of him.
Derek is still wolfed out in his beta form, his fangs bared and his hairless
brow drawn together so that it looks even heavier. His eyes are shadowed by it,
but the brightness of his red irises still shines prominently, looking right
down into Stiles'. Every inch of him is slick with sweat, his muscular, hairy
chest glistening with it.
He brutally fucks Stiles for an unknowable amount of time, until finally his
movements become uncontrolled and he sinks all the way into Stiles' ass one
last time. He holds himself there and howls at the ceiling as he fills his mate
with come, his chest heaving as the sound echoes throughout the barren house.
All Stiles can feel is Derek twitching inside of him, but like always he
imagines that he can actually feel himself being pumped full.
When Derek's orgasm ends, his beta form recedes and he pulls out of Stiles'
sore hole, which is so stretched and used that come leaks out right away,
dribbling onto the mattress as he legs fall flat. All traces of the Big Bad
Wolf apparently having vanished with his beta form, Derek is gentle as he helps
Stiles sit up and cuts through the torn strip of fabric keeping his hands
bound. When he is free, Stiles rubs at his wrists, rolls his shoulders to ease
the ache and then just wants to sleep.
"Is your dad expecting you?" Derek asks him softly, letting him lie down again.
"Nuh-uh," Stiles answers. "Knew I wouldn't wanna move after, so I got Scott to
cover for me…"
"Smart."
Stiles smiles tiredly. "That's me."
After returning the smile, Derek is gone from sight and then comes back with a
couple of old blankets, which he throws over Stiles and uses to tuck him in.
"Get some rest," he instructs, brushing Stiles' hair back from his forehead.
"I'm just gonna get your picnic basket and then I'll be back."
Already half asleep, Stiles mumbles, "Sure."
He drifts in and out for a while, never really going under entirely until the
mattress dips beside him and he is held in a pair of strong arms. Now that he
is no longer missing Derek pressed up against his back, Stiles snuggles deeper
into his mate's welcome warmth and is out like a light.
End Notes
     Well, this was a fun little adventure, wasn't it? It seems I'm simply
     incapable of writing a PWP that is short and sweet, so here you have
     another 6,000 words of pure filth... Somehow I don't think any of you
     will be complaining about that, will you? XD I hope you all enjoyed
     this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have several other ideas
     for this PWP series—and that's not counting any prompts you guys may
     want to give me, hint-hint—so definitely stay tuned for more. ;)
     A big thank you to Poke360 for this prompt. As I said above, if
     anyone else has any other suggestions for PWPs they would like to see
     from me in the future, feel free leave them in a comment down below
     and I'll try to make it happen. Seriously, all suggestions are
     welcome, as long as they're Sterek M/M. :)
     P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future
     fics go live, which will all be Sterek. I've got some good stuff
     planned. And feel free to check out my past fics if you haven't
     already. They're good, too.
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