Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/700102.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Laura_Hale, Peter_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Oral_Fixation, Dirty_Talk, potty_mouth, evil
      microwaves_hellbent_on_world_domination, Greenberg_-_Freeform, talk_about
      cross_dressing, PWP
  Series:
      Part 2 of Lost_Boys
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-26 Words: 3668
****** Microwave ******
by DarkAthena_(seraphim_grace)
Summary
     Stiles is an incubus and is hungry, Derek is happy to feed him.
     PWP!
     Or the one in which there is porn and a microwave who is intent on
     world domination
     Now with cover by the awesome Alpha Feels
Notes
     AU - fusion with Lost Girl, Stiles is an underage incubus, Laura
     volunteered her brother to keep him fed.
     PWP to fool around in the idea without overwhelming it (and hopefully
     to get my muse off my back)
     There is going to be a long plotty AU in this verse co-written with
     the beautiful Keire-Ke
     In this Laura is alive and the Alpha, the Fae world exists and Beacon
     Hills is her territory, Peter is also sane, still a creeper but not
     dangerous, well, not very dangerous, well- not to the pack. The
     Sheriff knows everything, even if he does pretend a lot that he
     doesn't, and he lives at the Hale House too, the sheriff is human
     btw. Derek is his deputy.
     Despite the premise there are NO consent issues in this, Derek is
     happy to feed Stiles and BOTH can, and sometimes in this verse do,
     say no.
     There is one reference to a accidental non-consensual situation.
See the end of the work for more notes
[ photo lost_boys_by_squidpancakes-d5wi7b8_zps344f42a6.jpg]
cover by the lovely Alpha_Feels so make sure to hit up her page and tell her
she is awesome!
 
 
 
 
 
                                   Microwave
It always started the same way, the way Stiles reacted to his hunger, he licked
his lips over and over as if he was chasing a phantom taste left there, and
then, he started gnawing on the pen in his hand. Laura always gave him cheap
clear ballpoints, the one with the plastic plugs and pointed lids, she bought
them by the box because Stiles always left a trail of half chewed plastic pens
wherever he'd been, he curled his tongue around the shaft of it, bouncing it
against his lips completely unaware of what he was doing, and Peter, who was
stood at the microwave stirring tea let the spoon fall against the edge of the
cup with a heavy clink.
They had learned in the past couple of months to recognise the signs, because
the whole house stunk of teenage arousal and incubus pheromones and the scent
hadn't been a give away for a while now. Peter sighed and says it's normal,
that boys that age are obsessed with sex, whether they're incubii or not, as he
set up more and more potted plants to try and mask the smell. Laura flicked her
eyes up from her laptop, where she was working on her newest novel, a feat that
involved hours spent on tumblr and facebook and not much writing actually done,
and flicked her eyes to Peter, then to Stiles. Then she shouted "DEREK!"
It was early in the afternoon, and Derek was sleeping, because that's what
Derek did between his shifts at the station, where he was the world's surliest
deputy, so he was still wearing his khaki uniform pants and pink crocs with the
race cars on, because they were by the bed when he flopped unto it and Peter
wouldn't let shoes in the house, when he stumbled into the kitchen, all scruff
and sleep and then his nostrils flared. "Stiles, why did you let it get this
bad?" He asked, pulling out Stiles' chair with very little preamble and a loud
squeak on the tiles.
"Hey, I've got homework," Stiles protested but Derek clearly wasn't listening,
he just slipped one arm under his legs and lifted him in a bridal carry,
"Laura, make him wait, I'm almost done."
Laura dropped her head in front of her laptop and waved her hand as if
suggesting that Derek get on with it, Peter turned around to find something
incredibly fascinating about the microwave. In fact, judging by Peter's
expression, he'd never realised just what amazing conversationalists microwaves
could be. "If I fail chemistry it's all your fault." He told them but by that
point Derek had reached the back stairs.
"I'm not taking the blame when you eat your chemistry teacher." Laura shouted
up the stairs.
"My chemistry teacher is an ass," she heard hollered back, then a light moan,
"I'd be doing the world a favour." Then the door slammed and Laura turned to
Peter. "Cinema?" she offered, powering down the laptop. The two of them were
very loud and some things you didn't need to hear about your brother.
"I was thinking tacos." Peter said, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

---
Derek threw Stiles on the bed with the same ease as if he was a rag doll,
licking his lips a little as the boy bounced on the memory foam, putting his
hands down to catch himself and prevent him braining himself on the headboard
again. Stiles' abilities meant that he healed whenever he had sex and could
heal of anything short of death, and even then necrophilia might bring him
back, but at the same time, it still hurt when he did it. "An hour," Stiles
said, pulling his shirt over his head, "you couldn't wait an hour."
"I could have waited all week." Derek said, fumbling with the button of his
khakis, "you're the one giving out enough pheromones that Peter befriended the
microwave." He stepped out of his pants and stood there in his grey jockeys,
the ones with the button front, and Stiles licked his lips. He didn't have to
be starving, although he was, to want this.
"That is a very loquacious microwave, it has plans to take over the world,"
Stiles cast his head back as Derek crawled up the bed beside him, still wearing
his jockeys because he knew how much Stiles liked to pull them down, how much
Stiles liked it when he lifted his hips on the bed and pushed his shoulders
down to pull them off. "It and Peter share notes all the time." Stiles grinned
as Derek licked his neck, the edge of his teeth scraping the skin, "and
cleaning," he grunted as Derek popped the button to his jeans, "tips."
"You want to continue talking about Peter?" Derek said lazily slipping his hand
about Stiles' cock, teasing it with his palm to full hardness.
"Microwave." Stiles managed.
Derek laughed, still jacking Stiles' cock through his jeans. "That might just
be our new safe-word." He said and bit down on the stretched taut skin of
Stiles' neck. Stiles made an encouraging hmmm trying to angle his neck so Derek
kissed him, he could feed through touch but kisses were better, richer, it was
like drinking from the source, a source that tasted of sheriff station coffee
and mint gum and a hint of salt and felt so fucking good that even if he wasn't
an incubus Stiles could have lived on those kisses alone.
Derek however had a thing about his neck, scraping his blunt human teeth, and
sometimes the sharper wolf ones, along it, like he might at any moment just rip
it out, and it said a lot about how often they did this that Derek just looked
at his neck and Stiles started to get a little peckish. Who wouldn't, right,
Stiles thought, digging his fingertips into Derek's scalp, not quite enough to
pull him up, even as he lifted his hips into the hand that had wrapped itself
around him now, pulling from the base to just below the head, slowly jacking
him off, because Derek knew when he was this hungry refraction wasn't an issue.
Stiles was an incubus, he was genetically evolved to have sex to feed so when
he did he could go for days. Humans couldn't survive a hungry incubus, Derek
was just tired after a particularly bad hunger or healing. He'd even had to beg
off once or twice and then Lydia, who like most fae looked at sex as a pleasant
way to spend and afternoon and had no intention of having any kind of emotional
attachment, was more than happy to fill in. Because sex with Stiles was always
good. There were pheromones and chemicals and all sorts of things to make it
better, but Stiles enjoyed sex and so he made it fun.
Derek raised his head and kissed Stiles quickly, briefly, on the lips, just a
peck, "wanna stop?" he asked, then had a quick swipe of his lips along Stiles'
own, pulling his hand from Stiles' pants and resting it on his chest, idly
playing with a nipple, "discuss the microwave some more, finish your chem
homework?"
"Oh, hell no," Stiles said and flipped them over so he was astride Derek's
hips, grinding down with his ass, his jeans were still open and he had socks
on, but he didn't want to let go long enough to shimmy out of them. It wouldn't
be the first time Derek had just put them around his knees but Stiles was
hungry. He wanted more than a quick fuck, he wanted all of it, several times -
he'd just wanted to finish his chem homework first. He wasn't sure he could get
them off and not strike Derek in the face with his knee, that was a skill one
didn't learn with practise.
Derek wasn't pinned, unless he wanted to be, so Stiles took the opportunity to
lean down and kiss him, to find that part of him, his chi and breathe it in. It
was like fireworks and elderflower candy floss and sunlight and the moment you
bit into a skittle and he was hard pressed not to just breathe him all in, to
fill himself with it. It felt like one of those chemical experiments where they
put two drops together and together they swelled and formed into a mountain of
foam. It was impossible and epic and just fucking awesome. Stiles rolled his
hips as Derek's fingers found the buttons of his fly, all of his jeans were
button fly for easier access, and pushed them down as far as they could go,
hard rough palms curling around the flesh of his ass and squeezing.
"Want these off," Stiles grumbled pulling his mouth away, and fussing with the
waistband of Derek's jockeys.
"You don't want to finish your chem homework first this time?"
"Peter will do it." Stiles said and let Derek roll him over again, that had
been a skill that they had learned, Stiles always rolled to the left and Derek
to the right, after a disastrous collapse from the edge of the kingsize bed,
with Derek cupping his head in his hand to prevent him braining himself on the
nightstand and Stiles laughing with the sheer exhilaration of it. "I want you
to fuck me."
Derek made that groan he always did when Stiles said that, like it didn't
happen at least twice a week, if not more. There had been a day when Derek had
had to call into work sick because Stiles had been fallen down the front stairs
and needed the healing and it had gone on and on and Stiles had never wanted it
to end. There were also days when Stiles wasn't particularly hungry or in need
of healing but still found an excuse, simple things like a blood blister from
catching his hand in the car door, or a scraped knee from lacrosse. Derek
didn't really need a lot of convincing. "Right now," Stiles said, pulling his
jeans down and toeing them off, socks and all because although it wouldn't be
the first time he'd let himself be ravished whilst wearing nothing but socks he
didn't want to start a trend, it was the sort of thing that Laura never let
slide, "all I want is to ride you like a bucking bronco."
And Derek laughed, because Derek almost always laughed in bed, except when
Stiles did something like try to decapitate himself on the bedside cabinet,
because Derek felt safe in this bed, because this was their bed, because Stiles
got hungry in the night, and it was so much easier than doing the walk of shame
down the corridor in the middle of the night, past his dad's door, past Laura's
snickering, which was really loud on a school night, so this was their bed,
well this was Derek's bed and he was squatting with permission.
Derek started to pull off his jockeys, the jersey leaving the skin sweat hot
and almost pungent, but it was a good smell, musky and low and like hunger, and
Derek was only just starting to get hard, because everything in this room was
saturated with Stiles' pheromones so they didn't affect Derek the way that they
should, so it didn't matter if Stiles made mistakes because Derek was on board
with it. "I was thinking I'd suck you instead." He said in that low calm way of
his.
Stiles answered what he considered eloquently. "Ngyerh." So Derek just brought
his head, hands still on his ass and kneading, down to Stiles' cock which was
more than eager for play. In fact it was straining against where Derek's head
was almost close enough to touch, so that his breath was washing over the head.
Stiles wanted to buck up but he Derek was holding his ass and that felt good
too, and it was times like this that he really hated Derek. So he said so.
Derek chuckled and that was a little more stimulation, not enough, but more.
"Oh god, I hate you so much right now, I'm so fucking hungry." And with that he
thrust up, butting the head of his cock against Derek's laughing mouth, before
Derek's tongue curled out to take him in.
Everyone, Stiles thought, should have a werewolf at some point in their life
because damn they gave good head. Derek bathed Stiles' cock with his tongue,
long slow wet licks with lots of spit and grunts and damn it felt good, sucking
came later, first there was licking and appreciative noises and soft wet lips
and, god, Stiles was hungry. He flapped around with his left hand looking for
the pillow and one of the many tubes of lube that lived under it. There were
single use packets in the nightstand amidst the toys but there was always at
least five tubes under the pillows. He grabbed the first one, brought it around
to his face so that he could make sure that it wasn't that scented one, which
was saved for emergencies because neither of them liked it but Peter had
thought it funny at the grocery store, and like a bad penny always seemed to be
first at hand, uncapped it, and slicked up his fingers.
The way that Derek had lifted Stiles hips it was easy enough to reach under and
start to prepare himself. It wasn't difficult when Derek gave head he lifted
Stiles up so that he was almost bent double, and it was easier for Stiles to
just hook his legs over Derek's shoulders and let the werewolf support his
weight, it wasn't difficult for Derek and well it just made the reach around
easier. And Stiles sighed as he pushed two fingers inside himself up to the
first bend, because sometimes a little bit of pain made it sweeter as the head
of his cock butted up against the soft flesh of the inside of Derek's cheek.
Derek groaned and his fangs showed, it was a matter of trust Stiles knew,
letting Derek suck him with his fangs out. He couldn't help but feel it was a
bit hot, Derek would lose a little bit of control, just enough to make his eyes
flash and his fangs and claws to show and Stiles liked knowing that Derek was
losing control, and it wasn't just pheromones because Derek was so exposed that
it didn't affect him like that. Stiles had accidentally touched Greenberg at
school and the poor kid had jizzed all over his lacrosse shorts, but he was
getting better at control. Derek wolfed out because he liked it, because he
liked what he saw and smelled and felt, not because Stiles made him, well, sort
of, he grinned as he pushed back onto his fingers with a groan.
Derek was butting the head of Stiles' cock, carefully through his fangs,
against the soft wet heat of the inside of his cheek, because he was teasing
and Stiles knew he was teasing and was grunting through it as he fingered
himself open, and Derek knew he was fingering himself open which just made him
tease more. Derek was a bastarding bastard and Stiles was telling him that. In
fact that was some of the nicer language he was using and Derek, damn him, was
chuckling with a mouthful of fangs and cock. And then, damn the bastard to the
seventh of all fae hells, he slapped his ass, which shifted the angle of his
cock right against the back of Derek's throat. It was enough of a stimulation,
that, the quick flash of pain from the slap of Derek's hard hot hands, the
pressure of the fingers, his own fingers, working inside him, and the hunger,
that the kiss had barely taken the edge off, and he was coming, down Derek's
throat and Derek just let him.
When he pulled back Derek's erection was a hot weight against the crack of his
ass, rubbing against the slick there, as Derek licked his lips, still on his
hands and knees with Stiles' knees on the bend of his shoulders and his ass
bowed. "Liked that didn't you," and damn but he sounded smug and it suited him.
Derek liked giving head, and well, Stiles liked getting it.
"Hungry," Stiles said, grinding back at the same time he leaned in for a kiss,
it wasn't what he intended to say but it was what came out. Stiles was not one
of those people who went mindless during sex, he didn't need a lot of foreplay
but some was nice but he loved it when Derek talked dirty, and sometimes he
wanted to goad him into it. "Want you to fuck me, to fuck me hard, to fill me
up, to take this hunger and use it." At that Derek reached around, grabbed his
own cock and lined it up. "Want you," Stiles whined trying to push back. "Want
you to use me, to push that big cock of yours inside me hard, to make it rough,
to make me like it."
Derek rolled his hips, just enough that the head was inside and raised his head
to meet Stiles, mouthing soft biting kisses against his jaw, "maybe I don't
want to," he said in that sex rough voice, "maybe I want to go into the bottom
drawer," he said, "maybe I want to pull out those little blue panties, maybe I
want to pull out the white stockings, maybe I want to dress you up and."
Stiles cut him off with a whine. "Ngyerh" he managed and then grabbed Derek's
head for a proper kiss, sucking him in, his eyes flashing blue, the same colour
as Derek's eyes when he was lost and if he could think like this, if Derek
hadn't lost himself then Stiles wanted more, he wanted everything. He wanted to
suck him in, to breathe him in and hold him there as Derek pulled his hips down
and thrust in all the way. "Ngyerh," Stiles repeated because words didn't exist
for how good this felt. He was designed for fucking but there was something
about how good it felt, how much better it felt, when Derek was fucking him,
rutting into him like he was in oestrous. Derek's hips were snapping back and
forth because Stiles could come over and over but Derek couldn't, Derek needed
time to recover, time to sleep. So if Derek went too fast, but damn it felt
good.
"Wear a skirt for you," Stiles groaned into his mouth, "a lacy frilly thing,
would you like that, all bounce and ribbons and you could pull it back to show
my ass, so you could fuck into me with the skirt pulled back and me on my hands
and knees in stockings and shoes, I know you," Derek's hips stuttered, "love
the shoes, I'll even wear the panties, you can pull them aside and just push
inside me, as soft and easy as if I was a girl, but with this hard cock in your
hand, through the silk and lace and the frills all around your waist and oh
god, Derek, I'm so fucking close, it's so fucking good, we can do it in the
woods, we can, at night, in the woods, with my skirt hitched up and my
stockings, god, please, Derek,"
"Can you hold it?" Derek was breathing in his ear, his breath hot and his sharp
little teeth pulling at the lobe of his ear. "Can you hold back and not come,"
Derek was slapping his hips up hard and Stiles was juddering across the sheet
and the headboard would have been banging against the wall if Peter hadn't
already screwed it down. "Just a little longer, love, just hold it for me, can
you, I'll make it so good."
"Always so good," Stiles said and his eyes were watering and Derek was forcing
his cock up so damn hard and he tasted like skittles and sunlight and fucking
life and he was going to, but then Derek's hand was around his cock, squeezing
the base, "always so fucking good, just let me, please."
"Wait," Derek said and bit down and Stiles knew there was blood but it didn't
matter because it healed straight away because it always did. "Just a little
more, just a little."
"Please," Stiles whined, "please, oh god, please."
Derek flipped them so Stiles was on top, a move so practised he did it on the
upthrust and didn't fall out, and Stiles' back was arched and he was so close,
so damn close, as Derek threaded his hands through Stiles, letting him use his
hands as leverage for Stiles to ride him. "Please, please, oh fuck, god,
please."
"Going to come for me?" Derek groaned, "going to show me how good it is?"
Stiles' head snapped back showing that long curve of throat that drove Derek
wild as he slammed his hips down as hard as he could, the wet slap of flesh
meeting flesh obscenely loud in the room, and on command, Stiles came, his ass
clenching hard in waves around Derek's cock, milking him for as much as he
could before he collapsed forward, his neck within reach of Derek's mouth, so
he could nuzzle and scrape it with his teeth.
"Oh fuck," Stiles said, trying to catch his breath although sex always
energised him it still took a moment for his lungs to catch up. And he just lay
there, Derek softening in his ass, letting the world catch up with him. "I
still have my chem homework to do."
"We could go again." Derek offered.
Stiles grinned at him, a brilliant warm smile that was full of puckish
mischief. "Want me to get the panties?"
End Notes
     It has been a long time since I wrote PWP porn, seriously, it took me
     ages to get back in the swing of it, and Stiles is one of those
     characters whose brain meanders so it was even harder to get to the
     good bit, as it were.
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