Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1132037.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Stiles_Stilinski/Other(s), Isaac_Lahey/
      Stiles_Stilinski, Vernon_Boyd/Stiles_Stilinski, Vernon_Boyd/Erica_Reyes,
      Erica_Reyes/Stiles_Stilinski, Isaac_Lahey/Scott_McCall
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Isaac_Lahey, Vernon_Boyd, Erica_Reyes,
      Scott_McCall
  Additional Tags:
      Orgy, Multiple_Partners, Pack_Dynamics, Dirty_Talk, Sex_Toys, Hand_Jobs,
      Established_Relationship, Come_play, Werewolf_Mates, Possessive_Behavior,
      Knotting, Breeding, breeding_kink_is_blink_and_you_miss_it
  Collections:
      The_Antidiogenes_Club_Book
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-12 Completed: 2014-04-02 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 6361
****** Pack and Play ******
by badwolfbadwolf
Summary
     The full moon does things to Stiles and Derek. And the pack.
      
     “You’re my mate now. The mate of an alpha. With a pack.”
     He’s looking at Stiles sleepily but with an air ofdon’t you know
     this? that Stiles constantly finds irritating. He pulls on Derek’s
     arms but the man is not budging, exhaustion weighing his limbs down
     as he pins Stiles between his muscles and the mattress.
     “It’ll make them all want you, like some kind of blood lust. It’ll
     make you wet. Crazy. It’ll make me want to watch. Watch them use you.
     Then claim what’s mine.” Derek says the words so casually, like
     there’s nothing in the world wrong with wanting to watch your
     boyfriend get fucked by a pack of wolves.
Notes
     Inspired by this_post at the teen wolf kink meme.
     The orgy/multiple partners is in chapter two.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Derek is curled over Stiles, limbs heavy, tongue lazily tracing along the sharp
curve of Stiles’ shoulder.  His eyes have fluttered shut and they shift slowly
against each other, sweaty and sated.  Stiles likes being the little spoon,
likes Derek feeling massive and warm behind him, likes feeling wetness seep out
from between his thighs.  He likes scooching backward and rubbing it on Derek
while Derek kisses against his nape and stills his hips with huge hands.
“The full moon is tomorrow,” Derek murmurs.  His voice is rough from disuse
except for deep grunts.  He wraps one arm up over Stiles’ chest, hooking his
fingers around Stiles’ shoulder and holding the slender frame tightly to his
body.
“Yep,” Stiles says.  He feels sleep pressing in at the edges and yawns, tilting
his head sideways because his hands are too tangled up in Derek to cover his
mouth.  He shakes his head slightly, knowing he can’t fall asleep, knowing he
has to go home soon or his dad will be calling nonstop.
“It does things to us,” Derek says and Stiles twists to look at him like he’s
an idiot.
“Yeah, I know.”
Derek takes the opportunity to kiss Stiles quickly on the lips, licking briefly
against the corner of his mouth.  “No, to us.  To me and you.”
Stiles scrunches his brow in confusion.  “Explain.”
“You’re my mate now.  The mate of an alpha.  With a pack.”
He’s looking at Stiles sleepily but with an air of don’t you know this? that
Stiles constantly finds irritating.  He pulls on Derek’s arms but the man is
not budging, exhaustion weighing his limbs down as he pins Stiles between his
muscles and the mattress.
“It’ll make them all want you, like some kind of blood lust.  It’ll make you
wet.  Crazy.  It’ll make me want to watch.  Watch them use you.  Then claim
what’s mine.”  Derek says the words so casually, like there’s nothing in the
world wrong with wanting to watch your boyfriend get fucked by a pack of
wolves.  Stiles stiffens in the strong arms, a quick heat sparking in his
stomach and sliding upward along his chest.  It colors his neck and cheeks an
embarrassed pink and he turns his head so Derek won’t see.  But of course Derek
knows, can feel it in the sudden intake of breath and the way Stiles’ heart has
tripped in excitement.  
Derek falls asleep and snores while Stiles’ brain whirrs with a million
thoughts.  The death grip around his torso eventually relaxes as Derek sleeps,
and Stiles slides out and shimmies into his jeans and t-shirt silently.  Even
though they’d just had sex, he’s painfully hard again as he zips up the fly and
throws on his sneakers.  The drive home is painful and he’s so turned on he has
to jerk off in the shower to take the edge off.
 
 
The morning comes and as Stiles lies like a sprawled out starfish on top of his
sheets, he is relieved that he feels exactly the same.  A little sore and
horny, but nothing magical has happened to his limbs or dick overnight due to
some full moon mojo.  He feels perfectly normal.  Well, aside from the tight
ball of nerves bouncing through his body.  He is somewhat unsurprised to hear
the squeaking of his window and a soft noise as Derek’s feet hit the carpet.
Stiles turns and squints sleepily at the brooding figure that is obscured by
the bright light shining around his bulky corners.  “Muh,” Stiles says, though
what he meant to say was ‘morning’.
Derek climbs onto the bed silently and tugs at the legs of Stiles’ pajama
pants.  Stiles is hard already, his dick tenting his Batman boxers.  Derek
shoots him a smug look and crawls forward on hands and knees, pushing his sharp
nose into the fabric and breathing in deeply.
“Don’t say hello or anything,” Stiles mumbles as he pushes up onto his elbows
to look down at Derek’s muscular back bent over him, hidden only by a thin
black t-shirt.
“Hello,” Derek says into the side of Stiles’ dick.  Stiles pushes his hips
upward to get Derek’s lips to make more contact but Derek pulls just out of
reach. Stiles frowns and stifles a yawn with the back of his hand before
flopping down flat.
“It’s morning wood, anyways.  Nothing to do with you.”
Derek looks irritated.  “I thought you wanted me to touch you.  Better watch
your pretty little mouth, baby.”
Stiles shuts up then and spreads his legs.  “No, no, please go on.”
Derek pulls down the waistband of the boxers, catching on Stiles' dick and
watching it spring upward when the material is finally pulled down far enough.
 Stiles is ready, always ready, always hard and wet whenever Derek wants it
which is all the fucking time.  Derek’s eyes scrape over Stiles’ form, half-
naked from the waist down.  His lean legs are splayed open, cock red and flat
against his tummy, the precome leaking down the head and wetting his happy-
trail.  Stiles’ gray pajama t-shirt is rucked up to the base of his ribs and
he’s smiling upward at Derek with sleepy eyes and long lashes.  
“We’re gonna make a mess of you tonight.”
Stiles shuts his eyes and groans, bringing his hands upward to push against the
wall above his head, sliding his body down the sheets and arching forward.
 Derek remains infuriatingly out of reach.
“Pull your legs back.”  Derek’s a man of few words, but the words he has are
always good ones.  And direct.  And really hot.  Stiles pulls them back and
plants his feet on the bed, feeling exposed with his hands still up.  He cracks
an eye and sees Derek shuffling around and pulling something from his jacket
pocket he had dropped on the floor.  He turns around and Stiles sees what he
has: a smoky-gray colored plug.  It’s tear-drop shaped and looks like it’s made
of glass and quite heavy.  He settles on the bed and Stiles swallows thickly,
feeling his dick get just a little bit harder.
“That’s a big one, there,” Stiles says, because he can’t think of anything else
to say.  Derek fishes in Stiles’ nightstand for the lube the boy keeps hidden
behind the notebooks, and squirts it out into his hand.  Stiles watches Derek
coat his huge fingers and throws his head back onto the pillow, wondering not
for the first time what he’s gotten himself into.  
“It’s to get you ready for tonight,” Derek says, and his voice is all deep and
honey-coated.  Stiles feels fingers wet and teasing at his hole, swirling
around the edge before nudging inward.  The first finger is easy, and Stiles is
still a bit relaxed from last night’s sex olympics.  The second makes him mewl,
the third a quiet howl.  Derek works them in slowly, always careful with his
little plaything.  He’s kissing Stiles’ knee now, thrusting his fingers
shallowly, stubble roughing up Stiles’ skin with red marks.
A slammed door makes them both jump and then freeze.  They share a panicked
look as they listen intently to the commotion downstairs.  The Sheriff bangs
around the kitchen a little longer before yelling up the stairs, “I’m going to
work now, Stiles.”
“Okay,” Stiles yells back, completely red in the face.  Yeah, they’d done it in
his room a number of times when his dad was downstairs or sleeping.  But
talking mid-sex was a little more than mortifying.  Not to mention what would
happen if the Sheriff came upstairs.  And that thought makes Stiles shudder
slightly in fear.  Stiles remains stiff as a board, listening for the sounds of
keys being jangled and the front door slammed to come.  Derek keeps his head
cocked but begins to shift his fingers inside, twisting inward and stroking
with a little curl that has Stiles buck his hips straight upward and throw a
hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp.
“Can’t you wait two minutes?” Stiles whispers, voice muffled from under his
palm.
“Nope,” Derek says with a mean grin, pushing upward expertly once more.  Stiles
writhes on Derek’s fingers with silent grunts, his cock jumping angrily and
desperate for touch.
“Bye, Stiles,” the Sheriff yells again as Derek keeps twisting his fingers, now
in all the way to the webbing.
“Bye, Dad,” Stiles yells back with a valiant attempt to keep his voice normal
and non-strangled.  He thinks he was pretty successful.  The front door shuts
and Stiles flops his arms down on the bed in relief, letting out a deep-
throated groan as Derek rubs in a circle against his prostate.
“God, you’re evil,” Stiles says, but he’s grinning and pushing his hips
forward.  “Need you.  Your mouth, your dick.  Please?”  He knows Derek likes it
when he’s vocal, when he asks, when he talks dirty.  So he’s surprised when
Derek shakes his head and pulls out his fingers.  
“Nope.”
Stiles makes an indignant huff and humps his hips forward.  “What?  Why not?”
Derek’s slicking up the plug now, and that cheers Stiles up a little.  Derek
grabs under Stiles’ knee with one hand and slides his forearm under the other,
leaning forward.  The move pushes Stiles’ legs backward and makes him
completely open and exposed.
“Need to save it for tonight,” Derek says as he eases the tip of the plug
inside.  His thick brows dip inward slightly as he watches Stiles open up
around the broad girth of the glass.  Derek pushes slowly and Stiles lets out
little mewling hurt noises as the plug stretches him incredibly wide at the
thickest part.  Then it’s in all the way, the base snug against his skin, his
ass clenching down on the neck and holding it in tightly.
“Good boy,” Derek says as his fingers play along Stiles’ rim, petting him.
 Stiles glows with the praise, filled up with the heavy weight and achingly
hard.
“Can I…”  Stiles swallows and opens his eyes, looking at Derek’s pleased and
possessive features.  Damn is he sexy.  “Can I come?  Before tonight?”
Derek’s smile is kinder now.  “Yes.  But smelling of sex will make it worse for
everyone.”
Stiles shifts against the sheets, fingers drifting down his stomach to fist his
own cock.  “It’s okay.”
Derek releases Stiles’ legs and crawls up him to fit his mouth against Stiles’,
his tongue lingering and soft.  He reaches down to wrap his hand over Stiles
and begin a slow rhythm of tugs.  “You sure, baby?” he asks against Stiles’
lips.
Stiles nods enthusiastically.  “Yeah I-”  Stiles pauses to swallow.  “I want
it.”
Derek changes his grip so he’s at the base of Stiles’ cock and Stiles is at the
top, sweeping over the head with each stroke.  “You want them on you while I
watch?  Want them to hold you down?  One to fuck your tight ass and one to fuck
your smart little mouth?”
Stiles has his forehead pressed to Derek’s and he feels his body growing taut,
straining.  Derek is still fully clothed and Stiles grasps onto the short
sleeves of his t-shirt with desperate fingers.
“And then when they’re finished using you, their come will be seeping out, onto
your thighs.  And I’ll kneel down, put your legs over my shoulders, suck it all
out of you.  Fuck you with my tongue until you’re coming again.  Fuck you with
my big dick until you’re crying.  While they all watch me mark you up, claim
you.  Make you mine.  Is that what you want, baby boy?”
“Derek,” is all Stiles can say, and his high whine is cut off by a choked sob
as they tighten their hands around his dick.  Stiles bucks upward one final
time and then goes absolutely rigid as he comes hard, muscles clenching on the
plug inside of him.  His come splashes onto his stomach and soaks up into the
bottom of his t-shirt as Derek strokes him gently through the waves.  Stiles
sinks down into the mattress, jelly-like and mute, and Derek kisses him on the
eyebrows and eyelids and down to the tip of his nose.
“You’re so beautiful.  And you’re mine.  We’ll show them all tonight.”
Stiles dick makes one more valiant twitch at Derek’s words and he works his jaw
open and closed in an attempt to talk.  
“Oh my god,” Stiles finally says.  Derek wipes his hand off on Stiles’ thigh,
effectively ruining the moment.  But then he leans down and licks up a line of
thick come from Stiles’ belly.  He laps at the quivering muscles while Stiles
wriggles beneath him, one hand moving to grip at Derek’s dark hair.  Derek
moves back up to kiss Stiles, the salt-sweet flavor of his own come hot against
their tongues.
“You sure, baby?” Derek asks, and Stiles knows he’s asking about tonight, about
everything.
Stiles doesn’t hesitate.  “Yeah.”
There’s a moment where Derek looks almost sweet and shy, but then he’s kissing
Stiles with his dirty mouth and bounding up off the bed.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“To do stuff,” Derek says unhelpfully, throwing on his jacket and looking
entirely too smug.  And also really turned on, judging from the tightness of
his jeans in the front.
“Oh.  Thanks for explaining that, then.”  Stiles pulls on his Batman boxers
once more, making a face as the plug shifts inside of him with each quick
movement.
“Stay inside.  You’ll smell too good to resist, otherwise.  Me or the others.”
Stiles pouts, putting on his pajama pants again.  “You’re going to make me wait
all alone?”  His voice has a little whine in it that he’s not very proud of.
“I’ll come back and get you.  You should be in my loft before it gets dark.
 Once the moon comes out it will get a little… difficult.  I haven’t seen it
before but I’ve been told.”  Derek’s eyes go dark and he moves forward to draw
Stiles up and into a fiercely possessive kiss, his hand sliding down into the
boxers to push on the base of the plug and make Stiles groan into his lips.
 “Be a good boy while I’m gone.”  Then he’s gone and out the window, and Stiles
feels tingly all over.
“Okay, bye then,” Stiles says to the empty room before flopping down on his bed
with nothing to do but wait for Derek to return.  So he runs his hands over his
body, feeling the sweat cool and the plug heavy inside.  And he waits.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which the full moon does things to Derek and Stiles, and Derek
     must assert his dominance over the pack and his mate. And it involves
     a lot of sex.
Chapter Notes
     Thank you to the lovely thatworldinverted for being an awesome beta
     and an awesome person. <3
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Derek pulls up in his Camaro hours later, just as the sun is dipping low.  He
rails on the horn and Stiles gets up from his bed, irritated that the stupid
oaf doesn’t even have the decency to knock on his door like an ordinary person.
 He swings his legs over the side of the bed and feels the immediate shifting
of the plug inside of him, coupled with a lightheadedness he was sure wasn’t
there when he was horizontal.  He closes his eyes and the world swims
momentarily.  The darkness makes him hyper-aware of his skin and the slow itch
that is traveling upward from his toes.  The sensation tingles strangely before
turning into a sudden rash of heat that spreads along his thighs and curls
hotly into his belly.  Stiles parts his legs and feels his hips push forward
without any conscious thought.  He’s hard, so hard, from nothing but the
thought of Derek waiting for him.
He counts to five— breathe in, breathe out— and stands up with effort.  His
feet feel heavy as he crosses his room and walks down the stairs, then out the
front door.  What had he even done in the hours since Derek had left?  Stiles’
mind feels hazy, like he’s drunk, like that one time he had so much of Scott’s
moonshine that he had giggled and bit Scott right on the stomach, telling him
he was infected with ‘the bite.’  When he finally makes it to the car door he
yanks it open and flings his body into the seat haphazardly.  Only then does he
see Derek’s white-knuckled grasp on the steering wheel, and the tightness in
his jaw as he stares straight forward at the dash.
“Hey, Derek,” Stiles says, reaching for the seat-belt.  He’s used to Derek’s
moods by now, and knows the best way to deal with them is to just ignore them
until he turns it around.
“I could smell you.  All the way down the street.”  Derek’s still not looking
at him, his fingers running along the leather of the steering wheel now,
tracing patterns with his fingertips.  Like he can’t keep his hands still.
“Yeah?” Stiles replies, because he can’t be bothered to come up with any more
words.  Besides, his brain’s not quite lost the haze yet.  In fact, Derek being
closer is ramping it up and making his skin hot all over.
They drive in silence to Derek’s loft, Stiles playing idly with the seatbelt
the entire time.  He shifts and rubs his ass on the leather seat, making a
slight grunt that causes Derek to look over with a razor-sharp glare and a taut
neck.
They stumble up the stairs, Derek giving in finally and shoving him bodily
against the big sliding door of the loft.  He brushes his nose along the hood
of Stiles’ sweatshirt, pushing up against Stiles’ back.
“You’re mine, Stiles,” Derek whispers hotly.  The words tickle against Stiles’
skin, worm down into his stomach and settle there, hot and weighty.  “They can
touch you because I say so.  Because I want to watch.  Because I want to have
you in front of everyone.”
“Yeah, yes.  Please, Derek.”  Stiles is panting shallowly, his leaking dick
already making a mess in his pants.
They separate enough just to get the door open, and then Derek is pushing
Stiles forward by the shoulders and shepherding him into the center of the
room.  Stiles can barely think as he puts one foot in front of the other,
concentrating on not tripping, Derek still burning against him right at his
back.
“What do you think, baby?  Bed or couch?”
Stiles looks between the two, at the hard concrete covered by a thin rug, and
Derek’s bed, rumpled with gray sheets thrown haphazardly over the top.
“Bed.”
“Alright, then.  Go lie down.  Take your clothes off.  No touching.”
Derek turns and leaves Stiles there, confident that Stiles will obey.  Stiles
shucks off his hoodie and t-shirt, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them off
his slim hips.  He debates leaving on the boxers for a split-second before
sliding them down as well and kicking everything into a small pile near the
foot of the bed.  The mattress is firm beneath his hands and knees and he
shuffles to the center, dropping a shoulder to plop down into a heap of limbs.
 He squirms backwards until his head is hitting the headboard and he reaches up
to grasp against the leather to ground himself temporarily.  The waiting is
terrible.
Stiles hears the loft’s large door slide open, and Derek talking quietly.  He
closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see, doesn’t have to think about what is
forthcoming.  He hears the wolves move closer, the click of heels on concrete
and the softer shuffle of sneakers, the slightest whisper of cotton on skin and
hot breath being exhaled.  The bed dips and Stiles breathes in sharply,
smelling the perfume mixed with sweat and heat.  He feels hands wrapping around
his shoulders, picking him up to a seated position then leaning him back down
between two thick, clothed legs.  His back is pressed up against a very hard
dick, and stubble burns pleasantly at the side of his cheek.  Derek.
Stiles peeks open an eye, and the wolves spread out in front of him make
everything ten million times more real.  Isaac and Boyd and Erica all looking
smug and hungry, with Scott lingering behind them. Stiles tenses up slightly
and feels Derek rubbing his cheek against him, whispering sweetly into his ear,
stroking along his sides.  The movements are meant to soothe him, placate him,
and they work.  Stiles opens his eyes all the way, nerves and excitement
fluttering around in his stomach, curling over Derek’s declarations of love and
possession.
“You’re being so good for me.  Spread your legs, baby.  Love you.”
Stiles is good, he’s always a good boy for Derek.  He parts his thighs and
draws his legs backward, pushing on the bed with his heels so he’s more firmly
in Derek’s grasp.
Isaac moves forward first, his smile tentative and sweet on his boyish face.
 His dirty blond curls are falling messily over his forehead and he leans down
to nuzzle against Stiles’ face.  His skin is so smooth along his cheek, so
different from Derek’s that it’s a little bit shocking.  Stiles feels himself
tilt his head back in an unconscious display of submission.  Derek is solid
behind him, his chest moving evenly with his breath, grounding Stiles.  Isaac
noses at his jaw, his lips drawing delicately down the length of his neck
before peppering him with light kisses along the collarbone.  Stiles is
sweating everywhere, eyes half-shut with lust.  Isaac’s kisses are tentative,
his long fingers moving to grasp Stiles gently by the base of his skull,
tipping him upward into a deep and needy kiss.  
Stiles is again struck by the difference, the baby-soft skin, the crinkle
around Isaac’s eyes as he smiles almost shyly, the way his fingertips are
smooth and warm and uncalloused.  Isaac kisses like he means it, though, the
softness edged with a bit of steel.  He becomes firmer, pulling Stiles’ hands
where he wants them, and this is something Stiles is familiar with.  Their
bodies melt against each other and Isaac is so tall that they don’t quite line
up correctly.  They mash together anyway, kissing and licking and groping, and
Isaac tilts his head to get better access to Stiles’ kiss-swollen lips.  The
position is awkward, though, and Isaac seems to grow impatient, pulling Stiles
up and off of Derek.  Derek growls ever so slightly in his throat, and the
sound thrills Stiles just a little.  He knows he’s Derek’s; he knows that
through and through in the very way his body aches to be back in contact with
his mate.  But he also knows that he’s right there, hovering, watching.  And
that in itself is a bit thrilling as well.
Stiles lets Isaac pull him up onto his lap, and Isaac is naked, and when did
that happen?  Their dicks brush against each other more satisfyingly in this
position and Stiles is soon bouncing on Isaac’s thighs in a grinding motion,
pushing their bodies together with a sloppy, quick-paced rhythm.  Isaac’s hand
sneaks around Stiles waist slowly, almost like he’s not sure he’s allowed.  And
then he stops kissing Stiles and is looking over his shoulder, and Stiles
realizes that that’s exactly it.  He’s asking Derek for permission.
Derek must have nodded or given some type of silent wolfy communication,
because Isaac’s fingers are probing against him and grasping onto the edge of
the plug, rocking it inside of him.  It makes Stiles stiffen completely, the
plug feeling so huge, his body achingly desperate already.  
“Roll over.  Hands and knees,” Derek says, but it’s Isaac’s hands that move
him, push him off and manhandle him into position.  Stiles hangs his head,
flushed red all over, partly from embarrassment and partly from ridiculous
arousal.  He sees Derek’s calves and toes beneath him, looks over the dark hair
covering the muscles as Isaac moves behind him, gripping the plug and beginning
to work it out slowly.  Stiles mewls and closes his eyes, and when the plug
pops out with a squelch he clenches downward, feeling incredibly odd, the need
to be full painful in his dick.  He can smell the come that Derek has plugged
up in there from last night and listens to the chorus of growls from the wolves
as the scent reaches their noses as well.  Stiles knows this is all some kind
of weird scent-marking ritual which he doesn’t understand but really, he’s too
far gone to care.  Especially when Isaac grabs his hips and plunges a wet
finger right inside, getting him slicked up as quick as possible.
Isaac wastes no time lining up and pushing in quickly, Stiles so open already
from the plug that the flared head just slips inside and rests there while
Stiles sobs with need.  And then he’s thrusting inward and it feel so
absolutely fantastic, Stiles’ sobs turning into full-throated moans.  He feels
himself pushed forward with each thrust until he’s shoved down onto the bed,
face in Derek’s lap and ass being pulled up by Isaac’s strong, careful fingers.
 He turns his head, trying to get close enough to Derek’s cock but the wolf
moves away slightly, just out of reach.  It makes Stiles whine, high and needy,
something inside him welling up and making him beg for contact with his mate.
 For come from his mate.  To be marked by his mate.  He knows this is part of
the game, though, and grits his teeth against his baser instincts.  Derek
reaches forward and grasps Stiles by the wrists, pinning them down near his
head while Isaac pounds into his ass with a hard, punishing rhythm, chasing
after his own pleasure.
“Fuck him hard.  Use him.”  Derek pushes Stiles’ wrists down further into the
bed, squeezing hard enough to be uncomfortable.  Stiles pushes his head down
against Derek’s calf, licking and biting what he can before letting out a howl
as Isaac grasps his hips and plows into him with deep, merciless strokes before
stiffening and coming, keeping up his brutal rhythm all the while.  He slows
gradually, his panting raspy above Stiles, his fingernails digging in deep
enough to hurt.  Stiles moans, unable to move from where he’s pinned between
the two wolves.  His cock feels like it’s about to fall off, and he’s actually
surprised he didn’t come from the pounding, even though no one’s even so much
as touched his dick.
Isaac pulls out quickly, replacing his cock with a long finger, the slide
absurdly easy from all of the come and lube that is stuffed up inside Stiles.
 He pushes down firmly, and Stiles comes with a surprised shout, shooting onto
the sheets hard enough to reach Derek’s toes.  The orgasm shudders out of him
painfully, his body desperate to be held tightly but instead all he has is
Isaac’s lone finger and Derek’s hands on his wrists and muscle in his mouth.
 He feels so used, Isaac’s come dripping out of him while Derek watches with
glowing eyes, and he twitches out one last spurt of come before dropping
heavily into a heap.
He barely has a second of rest before he’s being turned over, Boyd hovering
above him looking huge and powerful, his muscles sleek and controlled.  Stiles
has literally just come but he feels his body struggling to ramp up again, the
dull throb in his dick growing more and more painful by the second.  He’s still
soft as Boyd pulls him onto his lap and spreads his legs, sliding in with one
smooth thrust that makes Stiles’ eyes roll into the back of his head.  It feels
so good to be full, though, good to have so many hands on him.  Derek  has
Stiles’ wrists pinned high above his head now, his arms stretched out,
elongating his body until he feels like he’s taut as a bowstring.
Stiles is tight from his orgasm and he has to bear down to make the slide
easier, his insides still spasming and clamping down, making it hard for Boyd
to thrust initially.  Boyd is so big it’s ridiculous, makes Stiles keen with
the big cock stretching him, so different from Isaac— thicker than Derek but
not longer.  It’s not really what Stiles craves, not his mate, not who he
belongs to.  But he doesn’t care, he just wants cock, wants to be fucked good
and hard, wants come shoved up inside of him until he’s wailing, and he doesn’t
know where all of these thoughts are coming from but he needs it right now,
please and thank you and fuck yes.  He spares a glance sideways, somewhat
surprised to see Isaac on his knees with Scott thrusting in deeply to his mouth
but is quickly distracted by Boyd’s cock suddenly bottoming out deep inside of
him.
Boyd makes little grunting noises as he starts to push his hips into Stiles
with slow strokes, turning to smile as Erica kisses him fully and then moves to
straddle Stiles’ chest.  She is naked and gorgeous, her blond hair falling down
to tickle Stiles’ nose and cheek, her breasts hanging down attractively.
“Hello, Stiles,” she says with a grin, bending down so they are swaying against
his lips.  “Are you going to open that sweet mouth to me?  Do you want us to
use every part of you?”  Stiles parts his lips obediently, flicking his tongue
up to catch against her nipple.  He tries to latch on but is unable to move
forward much due to the expert pinning of his limbs and body in all directions.
 Boyd picks up his thrusting and Erica quits the teasing and bends down
further, pushing her breast right against Stiles’ mouth and rubbing her pussy
along Stiles’ stomach and chest.  Stiles sucks inward, curling his tongue
around the tightening nipple, eager to please and thrilled when he feels both
Derek’s hands tensing on his wrists and Erica groaning above him.  She pulls
herself up and turns around swiftly, sitting down right on top of Stiles’ face
and sliding her wet folds over his nose before angling down enough that he can
suck her clit into his mouth.  She grinds into him, seeming to match pace with
Boyd’s powerful thrusting, both of them working him into a frenzy.
He’s come too soon to be hard again, but he feels the sensations building up
like a slow burn, like he’s spitted and turning, his flesh heating with the
flames.  Boyd picks up Stiles’ hips and fucks in quicker now, the strokes quick
and shallow, while Erica writhes on top of him.  Stiles can smell her sharp
scent as she grinds into his face, his tongue lapping messily.  He’s caught
between the two bodies, his blood singing, his desire to please and be pleased,
to have their mark on him rising up like a flood.  Erica slides forward so
Stiles can briefly fuck his tongue inside of her before moving back again and
dropping down on him.  Stiles wraps his tongue around her clit and feels her
start to tremble above him, the first signs of her impending orgasm as her
thighs tighten around his ears.  She leans forward and scratches along his
stomach, Boyd mimicking her forward movement, the angle of his dick changing
with the new position.  Stiles finally realizes that the wet noises he hears
are the two of them kissing, and he laps at Erica gently as she shakes on top
of him, her pussy clenching rhythmically on his sloppy tongue.  Boyd shudders
and groans as well, and Stiles feels a wet fullness seep through his innards as
Boyd pumps him ‘til he’s glutted.  Stiles’ lips are coated with Erica’s
wetness, the fluid sticky and a little thick.  He’s covered in come, rolling in
it, the smell almost pungent in the air.  
Erica falls off of him and curls in on herself, and Stiles closes his eyes as
Boyd eases out.  Stiles can feel the streaks of his come oozing out between
them, wetting the sheets.  The scent of sex intensifies, Stiles’ dick fattening
up fully along his stomach as he feels Derek’s gaze on him with hawk-eyed
sharpness.  The air grows thicker, and Stiles sucks in hot breaths in
anticipation.  He glances around, sees the wolf pack circling around him,
around him and Derek, Derek pulling him in tight against his chest and
spreading his legs.
He pushes two large fingers inside Stiles, starting to fuck him with just the
tips.  Stiles feels so full, like he might burst, like he’s a glass filled to
the brim and spilling over.  He startles when he feels Derek’s fangs against
his neck, his mate’s wolfish side coming out to snarl as he starts to make a
show of his dominance over Stiles and the pack.  Derek’s still very much in
control though, his nails remaining human, fingers shoved inside Stiles’ tight
hole and curving in a tiny circle while Stiles blinks back tears from the
overstimulation.  Mine, Derek’s everything says, from the way he manhandles
Stiles backwards, and the way his hand comes up to wrap around Stiles’ throat.
 Stiles lets his body go slack, pliant, leaning his head against Derek’s
shoulder and sighing with the pleasure of having his mate’s body against his.
 His lust is ramping up again, his dick painfully hard, his insides burning
from the thorough fucking he’s received not once but twice, and aching from
being held open by the plug the entire day.
“Mine,” Derek verbalizes, pushing his fingers deeper into Stiles and making him
squirm.  He picks Stiles up easily by the hips and lowers him down right on his
dick, pushing in so easily that Stiles thinks he should be embarrassed.  But
he’s not.  His hole has been stretched so much, his body used in every way,
stinking with come and other’s sweat.  Derek seems to want to touch him
everywhere, to erase the other hands and scents, to mark him up.  He puts
Stiles on his spread knees, the boy’s back pressed to his front, and thrusts up
shallowly.  It’s not the deepest position, but it puts Stiles on full display
and lets them both watch as the other wolves drink their fill of his body and
the primal way Derek is staking his claim.
The wolf bites at Stiles’ neck, turning him sideways so he can press his teeth
over Stiles’ bobbing adam’s apple, licking and tasting the boy’s flow of life
beneath his hold.
“Please, Der.  Please, I’m yours,” Stiles begins to moan out as he just sits on
Derek’s cock, unable to get much leverage to move due to the position and the
way Derek has his hands clamped down on him.
The words seem to light a fire in Derek, and he quickly snaps his hips upward,
burying himself into the tightness and making Stiles wail.
“Yes, fuck yes,” Derek grunts as he pushes Stiles forward onto his hands and
knees.  They fumble and grope for a minute to get stabilized, and then Derek is
fucking forward with absolutely brutal strength.  Stiles snaps his teeth
together and clenches them tight, feeling each thrust spark through his body as
his thighs shake with the strain.  His muscles are over-stressed, his wrists
hurt, his ass is fucking killing him, but those thoughts all flit to the back
of his mind as he thinks mate mate mate with each pound of Derek’s hips.
“Who do you belong to?” Derek bellows, his knot growing thick, rubbing against
Stiles’ rim.  Stiles begins to cry, tears welling at the corners of his eyes,
his lashes clinging together with the wetness.
“I’m yours, Derek.  Yours.  Please.”
Stiles hangs his head and can hear Derek growling above him.  He starts to
panic suddenly, wonders if this is punishment because he let the other wolves
take him and mark him.  Maybe this was all some kind of game to see if Stiles
would refuse, and Derek was going to fuck him hard, slap him across the face,
and then leave.  Fear claws it’s way upward and Stiles begins to cry in
earnest.
“Please, Derek.  Only you.  Please, please.  I only want you.”
Derek pauses and when the silence stretches, Stiles thrusts his hips back in
desperation.  
“Please.  I want your knot.  I want you to come inside me, knot me, breed me.
 Please, Derek.”  Stiles is beyond the point of caring that there are four
other people in the room, three of which have come on or in him recently.  He
pushes his wet face into the sheets and tries to shove his ass as high into the
air as he can, just like he knows Derek likes, his mate’s silence making him
fearful.
Then he hears a deep grunt and Derek’s knot is swelling and huge, his come
pumping inside of Stiles.  It’s way too much, so far beyond overstimulation
that Stiles sobs in pain with it, and sobs with the pleasure of being filled up
by his mate.
“Only you,” Derek echos, falling on top of Stiles and sinking his teeth down
into the boy’s shoulder.  Stiles comes in a wet shudder, pressed fully into the
sheets, throat too dry to even rasp out Derek’s name.  The weight of Derek on
top of him is heavy, the knot sealing them together, and Stiles draws in
shallow breaths as his body calms beneath his mate’s feathery touches.  He
feels light-headed and weak, like he’s been wrung out one too many times, and
he sinks into the wet mess, boneless and content.  
Stiles thinks he falls asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s on his side
with Derek pressed up against him, kissing his shoulder lazily and murmuring
with warm breath that tickles gently.  In the light of the morning Stiles
doesn’t feel the hot flash of lust, the stirring in his blood.  It’s a much
duller ache now, and he tugs Derek’s arm tight around his waist and yawns
loudly.
“Where’d everyone go?” Stiles slurs, but Derek says nothing, just keeps up the
tender press of lips on skin.  Stiles pushes back against the larger body, his
muscles protesting at the slight movement.  He knows he’ll be feeling it for
days and will have Derek’s marks on his skin for longer, but the thought warms
him.  He wants everyone to know, wants everyone to see, plain as the red-ringed
wrists and carefully sucked bruises.  He belongs to Derek.  And Derek— Derek
belongs to him.
 
Chapter End Notes
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