Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1393180.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sheriff_Stilinski/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Sheriff_Stilinski, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Rimming, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt_Stiles, Light_Angst, Mentions_of_Past_Dubious
      Consent, Parent/Child_Incest, POV_Sheriff_Stilinski, Sheriff_Stilinski's
      Name_is_John, Explicit_Consent
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-31 Words: 2976
****** Players Only Love You When They're Playing ******
by MoMoMomma
Summary
     John knew it would happen sooner or later. Some things you can see,
     some you can prevent and some you can’t. It’s part of being a parent,
     he supposes. You can watch your kid start the car and know they’re
     going down a dangerous road, but sometimes you just can’t get to them
     in time before the breaks fail.
     But you can pick up the pieces afterwards.
Notes
     *******Obviously this contains consensual sex between a father/child.
     If this isn't your cup of tea, please skip this one and read another
     one of the many awesome fics on here. Also, while it isn't explicitly
     mentioned, Stiles is underage here. *****
     This was written for an awesome anonymous prompt on tumblr for Stiles
     having sex with someone, them saying it was nothing more than a quick
     fuck, and Sheriff comforting him when he gets home. I really hope I
     did a good job, nonners! You certainly waited long enough for this
     one.
See the end of the work for more notes
John knew it would happen sooner or later. Some things you can see, some you
can prevent and some you can’t. It’s part of being a parent, he supposes. You
can watch your kid start the car and know they’re going down a dangerous road,
but sometimes you just can’t get to them in time before the breaks fail.
But you can pick up the pieces afterwards.
Which is exactly why he’s leaning his forehead against Stiles’ bedroom door
this late at night, hearing the muffled sobs from within, heart aching in his
chest. It takes everything in him to knock, to respect the privacy of a closed
door, despite every instinct telling him to kick the damn thing down and rip
apart whatever did this to his boy.
The sobs cut off abruptly at the sound of his knuckles against the wood,
scrambling inside telling him Stiles is trying to make himself presentable
somehow and that hurts worse. To think that whatever happened is so bad his boy
is hiding it so desperately.
He thought they were past not trusting each other.
The door finally cracks open, Stiles’ blotchy face appearing in the space. His
eyes are dry but the skin around them is red and puffy, cheeks flushed and lips
slick and wet. Stiles always did look pretty when he cried, something that tore
John apart even worse. He looked more delicate with tears streaming down his
cheeks, like some god of the wilds to be protected with bloodshed and violence
at any imagined slight.
“Hey, kiddo.” He said softly, Stiles smiling tightly at him, leaning his head
against the doorframe. “Can I come in?”
Stiles nodded, likely not wanting to give away the hoarseness of his voice,
swinging the door wide and taking a few steps back. John stepped in and
pointedly didn’t look anywhere but Stiles as he followed him to perch on the
edge of the bed, watching the way Stiles shifted around uncomfortably before
settling. He’d seen that before, the careful way of holding oneself, when bone
deep aches and pains were only a muscle shift away.
“What happened?” John asked, cutting to the chase, beating down the rage inside
him at the way Stiles’ flinched and picked at his comforter.
He hoped he didn’t have to drag it out of the boy. Stiles looked exhausted to
begin with, the remnants of a breakdown only making it look worse, and John
didn’t know if he had the heart to pick and pull until he got the whole story.
Luckily enough, whatever it was had been bad enough Stiles didn’t even try to
so much as deflect or play dumb.
“We were—“ Stiles cleared his throat like it would help with the hoarse tone
before continuing, body still save for his hands as they twisted and twined
with one another. “We were at the club, the Jungle, and I—ah—met a guy. And he
seemed interested and he was really nice, yknow? Seemed interested in me.”
Stiles let out a derisive snort and John could have swore he heard him murmur
“should’ve been my first hint” under his breath but he continued before John
could say anything.
“So we had a few drinks and he invited me to come home with him. I figured,
what the hell right? Can’t be a virgin forever, why not go for it. So we got
there and, I mean it was all consensual, but he was kinda rough and didn’t
really wanna take it slow. Which, hey, neither did I. But it hurt, more than I
thought it should have, and I didn’t even—he did, but I didn’t. And he didn’t
really seem to care afterwards. Just kinda got up and walked towards the
bathroom and told me to close the door behind myself when I left.”
John swallowed back the rage that burst within him, fire racing through his
blood and making his hands shake as he reached out to lay a firm hand on the
back of Stiles’ neck. His boy—his gorgeous, beautiful, smart boy—had been taken
advantage of. Whether he saw it that way or not. But as much as John wanted to
demand details, to go knock the bastard’s door down and teach him respect, he
had more important things to worry about.
Like making sure his baby boy was alright.
“Are you okay? Bleeding? Anything like that?”
Stiles flushed bright red at his questions, shifting with a wince and curling
closer to John, speaking into the fabric of the old tee he wore.
“I don’t—um—I don’t think so? But I dunno. I just kinda yanked my clothes on
and booked it outta there.”
John shook his head and shifted, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and
pulling the boy in tight for a moment before releasing him.
“We gotta check, okay? Just to make sure you’re alright. Go ahead and strip and
I’ll grab some stuff from the bathroom.”
Stiles nodded, sighing into him once more before straightening. John took a
moment to look him over before nodding himself and pushing to his feet,
striding from the room. He took a few seconds to compose himself in the
bathroom, breathing heavily through his nose, gripping onto the sink so hard he
thought he could yank it from the wall if he tried. Someone had laid
hands—rough, uncaring hands—on his perfect boy. Stiles deserved better. Stiles
deserved someone who would worship him like the gift he was.
Someone like you, a vicious voice hissed in the back of his mind, making John’s
hands shake and fumble as he wet a washcloth.
Goddamnit. He had kept those feelings buried, thought they had disappeared
completely by now. But with Stiles filling out, becoming more man than boy
every day, it wasn’t shocking they were back. John shoved the thoughts away
once more, picking up the washcloth and ringing it out before starting back to
Stiles’ room.
Once he stepped through the door he had to grit his teeth to avoid letting
loose a moan. Fuck. His wonderful boy was laying on his stomach on the bed,
stripped down to just his tee shirt, red marks from rough hands fading on his
hips and cheeks. John inhaled slowly once, twice, before going over, sitting on
the edge of the bed and rubbing a hand against Stiles’ calf, smiling at the way
the boy didn’t even jump, just lazily turned his head to smile at him. His face
was quickly clearing up, the skin fading back to its normal color, though a
flush still ran high on his cheekbones.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Stiles sighed, cuddling closer to the pillow he had his arms wrapped
around, hair mussing as he rubbed into it. “I know you’ll take care of me, Dad.
You’ll fix it like you do everything.”
“Yeah, baby. I’ll fix it.” John sent him a soft smile that Stiles returned,
spreading his legs wider and letting John settle between them at the end of the
bed.
He had to take a moment to breathe slowly in and out at the sight of Stiles’
soft balls sitting there so innocently, one of his most intimate parts exposed
to John without even the slightest thought he could be a threat. A part of him
wanted to reach out and touch them, softly stroke them until Stiles was
grinding into the bed, but John firmly slammed that part away alongside all the
other thoughts.
It wouldn’t do to get any harder than the slight stiffness he was already
sporting; Stiles might notice.
“I’m gonna take a look and see if you’re bleeding or anything, alright?” John
asked, Stiles making a soft noise of assent and cuddling further into his
pillow.
Lying the washcloth over one of Stiles’ thighs, John reached up and swallowed
tightly before laying one hand on each of Stiles’ cheeks, pulling them apart.
The sight of Stiles’ tight hole, red and raw-looking, had John’s breath
catching in his throat, a soft sound escaping as it clenched and relaxed under
his gaze.
“Is there any blood?” Stiles’ shaky voice broke John from his reverie, the
boy’s lower back flexing as he pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked
over his shoulder.
John shook his head no, not trusting himself to speak yet, reaching for the
wash cloth and running it gently over the sore muscle. Stiles let out a soft
gasp at the pressure, until John shushed him and squeezed the flesh still in
his hand.
“S’okay, sweetheart. I’m just trying to soothe it. You’re so red here.”
“He wasn’t even that big.” Stiles grouched, his bratty boy coming out in full
force now that his Dad was near. “I didn’t think it was gonna hurt that bad.”
“Shouldn’t have hurt much at all.” John snapped, gently rubbing the damp cloth
over his hole a few more times before tossing it aside, looking up to meet
Stiles’ wide gaze. “With proper prep and patience, it doesn’t hurt. It feels
good from the get go.”
Stiles was quiet for long moments, long enough that John shuffled back a bit
and prepared to push himself off the bed. He could say his goodnights, go back
to his room, and bite back moans and gasps as he jerked off to the thought of
his baby coming to him instead of faceless strangers like he had for many
nights now. Before he could, though, Stiles spoke again, the words freezing him
in place.
“Show me?”
“What?” John blinked as he swung his gaze up only to find Stiles was staring
down at the pillow, cheeks that same red once again as he chewed on his lower
lip.
“S-show me? Show me how…um…good it can be?”
“I—“ The protests died in John’s throat at the way Stiles spread his legs and
arched, looking alluringly innocent as he met John’s eyes for the first time.
“Daddy….please?”
All thoughts of how wrong it was, of how Stiles didn’t know—couldn’t know—what
he was asking for, how John was damning them both flew out of his head at the
whine in his boy’s voice and he nodded, swallowing with a suddenly dry throat.
“I can’t—can’t fuck you, sweetheart. You’re too sensitive.” John said, slowly
sliding his hands up and down Stiles’ thighs as they parted further around him,
Stiles sighing into the pillow, lips curling into a smile.
“But?” He prompted, wriggling his ass into John’s hand and bringing forth a
smile from the older man as well before he playfully pinched at the white
flesh, leaving a mark of his own that had Stiles yelping with a laugh.
“But I can show you how it’s supposed to be. How the person you’re with is
supposed to be focused on you, wanting you to come, wanting to see you in
pleasure before taking their own.”
“And when I’m all better, you will take your own, right, Daddy?” Stiles asked,
twisting to meet his eyes once more as John grinned and nodded, leaning down to
press a kiss to the soft skin where Stiles’ thighs met the curve of his ass,
nipping lightly.
“Oh yeah. If you still want it, of course.”
“Want it always.” Stiles said, John trailing kisses over his skin, up one cheek
and across his lower back and down the other, trying to hide his surprise at
the words. “Wanted you forever. Just didn’t know…didn’t know if you wanted me
too.”
“You should’ve told me.” John reprimanded him softly, spreading his cheeks open
once more, Stiles shivering and pressing up into his hands.
God, if what was Stiles was saying was true, all the opportunities and time
they had wasted….
“Why?” Stiles’ voice had changed, something playful slipping into his tone as
John rubbed his thumbs in slow circles against soft flesh.
“Because then you wouldn’t have had to go to some rough boy.” John murmured,
leaning in to lick a slow stripe over Stiles’ red hole, whatever the boy’s
response was going to be falling away in a gasp.
He hadn’t done this in a while, not since college, but the memories came back
quickly enough, reminding John just how to flatten his tongue, how to tease and
nip with the right amount of pressure, how to alternate between flat licks and
pointed thrusts until Stiles was whining and shoving halfway up onto his knees.
He could still taste the chemical sting of a condom, thanking everything out
there that the boy had had enough sense to use one, and went to work stripping
it from the boy’s skin with lazy strokes of his tongue.
Stiles was half-mindless, pushing back into his mouth, fully up onto his knees
now, and John took a moment to lean back, shifting a hand over to rub his thumb
against the slick hole as his boy shook and shivered. His cock was hanging down
hard between his legs, red and sensitive looking, balls drawn up tight against
his body already. It made sense, John mused, leaning down to suck one into his
mouth and roll it against his tongue, hearing Stiles shout at the unexpected
move. If the idiot who’d taken him hadn’t cared about whether or not Stiles got
off then the boy was long overdue for a good orgasm.
“I want you to work your cock for me, baby boy.” John said, Stiles sobbing at
the command, one hand disappearing from John’s view only to reappear lower,
long fingers wrapping gingerly around his cock.
He watched for a few moments, eyes trailing over the way Stiles jacked himself,
committing to memory the pace he liked, how his thighs shook and jerked when he
twisted his wrist on the upstroke. John murmured out a soft “good boy” before
leaning in and pressing his mouth back to the quickly relaxing hole.
God, Stiles opened so beautifully under his gentle touches. The muscle that had
once been clenched so tightly, red and hurt, was relaxing under his
ministrations, going pliant and soft as John’s tongue soothed all the pain
away. He could tell how easily the boy would open for his cock—a thought that
made him even more mad that they had both kept such a secret from one another
for so long—and it made him groan, imagining how it would feel to sink inside
Stiles for the first time.
His thoughts were interrupted by Stiles’ shaky voice, words falling from his
mouth alongside all the moans and whines.
“D-Daddy, I’m gonna…I’m so close, your mouth feels so good and I can’t—“
“Come, baby boy. Come for me. It’s all right.” John shushed him, stroking one
hand down his flank reassuringly even as he opened Stiles up with his tongue,
thrusting it inside.
He could feel the second it happened, Stiles clenching down around his tongue,
thigh muscles bunching under John’s hand as he screamed, half-formed words of
thanks intermixed with John’s name and ‘Daddy’ filling the room. He licked him
through it, gentling the strokes of his tongue towards the end, until Stiles
was flopping back onto the mattress, boneless and shivering in the aftermath.
It wasn’t until John shifted up to lay a soft kiss against Stiles’ shoulder
that it occurred to him he was still hard in his jeans, cock pressing up
against his zipper in the most uncomfortable way. The thought was fleeting
though, his own pleasure taking a backseat to ensuring Stiles was alright.
“You okay, baby boy? Feel a little better?”
“Feel perfect, Daddy.” Stiles answered with a soft groan, stretching under him
and turning over onto his side, twisting his neck to grin up at him with all
the lazy contentment a good orgasm brought. “Are you okay? You didn’t…um…”
“I will.” John said with a laugh, shaking his head at Stiles’ flush and
swatting at his hip when Stiles cocked it up to press it against where his cock
tented the front of his pants. “But not now. Right now I’m going to go brush my
teeth and we’re gonna strip the bed and then you’re gonna come to Daddy’s room
and sleep, alright? You’ve had a hell of a night.”
“But tomorrow?” Stiles protested, sitting up alongside John as the older man
climbed from the bed, groaning at the way his knees ached and back cramped from
being curled over for so long.
God, he hoped Stiles didn’t wind up wanting to try anything too adventurous.
John wasn’t sure he was up for explaining that one to Melissa when he
inevitably had to drive to the ER because of a pulled muscle.
“When you’re feeling better,” John answered, stretching where he stood and
smacking at the way Stiles’ hand came out instantly to poke at his stomach, a
long standing tradition in their house that had become more routine that
anything else. “Then we’ll take care of me, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.” Stiles agreed, bouncing up to pull him into a hug, nuzzling into
his shoulder, still moving with the gangly awkwardness satisfaction brought.
John held him close for long moments, wrapping arms tight around him and
hugging him close. Some accidents were preventable, others you had to watch
happen right in front of your eyes. Like a snapshot of motion froze in place,
kids were a constant danger, to themselves, to others, and rarely did they stop
long enough for a parent to catch up. But the damn good part about being a
parent was that you could always be there to pick up the pieces, no matter how
tiny they were, and put them back together again.
And in some cases, and definitely in theirs, the picture looked even more
beautiful with the cracks and jagged edges of past mistakes than it ever had
whole.
End Notes
     Wanna talk about Stilinskicest? Wanna drop a prompt in my ask box?
     Wanna come scream with me about fandoms and watch me flail over
     writing? Come visit me at my tumblr!
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