Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13768248.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Adopted_Stiles_Stilinski, Older_Derek
      Hale, Dark_Derek_Hale, Mental_Health_Issues, Possessive_Behavior, Pseudo-
      Incest, Father/Son_Incest, Non-Consensual_Drug_Use, Somnophilia, Body
      Worship, Size_Difference, Oral_Sex, Come_Marking, Dubious_Consent, Daddy
      Kink, Rimming, Anal_Fingering, Anal_Sex, Top_Derek_Hale, Bottom_Stiles
      Stilinski, Impregnation
  Series:
      Part 7 of The_Kinky_Adventures_of_a_Wolf_and_His_Boy
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-22 Words: 8143
****** Staking a Claim ******
by halcyon1993
Summary
     Derek loves his adopted son, Stiles. Maybe too much. He tries to
     resist for a long time, but when Stiles gets older and starts showing
     an interest in his peers, Derek worries that they will take his son
     away from him. He'll just have to get there first.
Notes
     Don't judge me for the depravity I have written...
     I do not condone anything like this happening in real life. This is
     purely make-believe. By the time the actual smut happens in this PWP,
     Stiles is 14 years old and Derek is 39. If this offends/bothers/
     disgusts you, I suggest you don't read it.
See the end of the work for more notes
Derek Hale had always wanted kids. Even when he was one himself, he knew he
wanted to have a big family when he grew up, a husband or wife with whom he
could raise several children. This need only got stronger when he was in his
late teens and his parents and siblings died in a house fire, leaving him alone
with a gaping void in his chest that he proceeded to try to fill. But for over
a decade, it looked like his dreams would never come true.
Everyone Derek tried to have a relationship with wanted different things than
he did:
They were with him just for his looks.
They didn’t want something serious or long-term.
They didn’t want kids.
As Derek was approaching his thirtieth birthday, he contemplated just giving up
on his dream altogether. Fate seemed set on denying it to him, so what was the
point of continuing to hope? It only ended in depression and hurt feelings. It
was getting difficult to convince himself to leave the house for anything other
than work, and Derek did it less and less often. He stopped talking to the few
friends he had, and eventually all but one stopped trying to talk to him.
Of course, just when he was about to commit himself to a life of being alone,
that’s when Stiles came along. He was a toddler when Derek first met him at an
orphanage that the only person he had managed to stay friends with, Jordan
Parrish, had dragged him to. Parrish had needed to see things firsthand for an
article he was writing for their local newspaper, but he didn’t want to go
alone. Derek reluctantly agreed to help.
While Parrish was off conducting an interview, Derek was sitting in an empty
room, minding his own business, when the door opened and a tiny face peered in.
Derek was immediately enraptured by the boy’s huge Bambi eyes and cute little
nose. The boy had stared at him for a few seconds and then retreated, but Derek
needed to know more. When Parrish had acquired all the information he needed
for their article, Derek stayed behind at the orphanage and asked one of the
people who worked there about the boy he’d seen. He was told his name and a bit
about him.
The boy was called Mieczysław Stilinski, but everyone just called him Stiles
because his real name was too difficult for most people to pronounce,
especially the other kids. His parents were murdered in a break-in at their
house, a tragic backstory that made Derek feel a kinship to him. They’d both
lost their families in horrific events, and it seemed perfect, like the fates
were finally giving him someone to make up for starving him of companionship
for so long.
Because of his past, Stiles was shy and afraid of meeting new people. He didn’t
have any friends at the orphanage and mostly just played by himself, something
that had made Derek sad to learn, but also more determined. Maybe they could be
what each other needed. He looked into adoption and visited Stiles whenever he
could, seeking to build trust between them.
The first visit went about as well as he had expected, with Stiles keeping his
distance and barely saying a word. But Derek kept at it, and he’d never forget
the first time Stiles asked him if he wanted to play with him using some toy
cars that had recently been donated to the orphanage. Derek had eagerly agreed,
and from then on Stiles got progressively more talkative, eventually reaching
the point where he would hardly stop to breathe. Derek just listened and
smiled, finding it adorable. He didn’t mind, because he himself wasn’t much of
a talker and it was nice to have the silence filled. It was impossible to even
think about being annoyed with the little boy anyway.
Things continued this way until Derek’s application for adoption finally went
through and he was approved. By then, he had already begun thinking of Stiles
as his son, and when he told Stiles the good news, the boy burst into tears and
hugged his legs so tightly that, for a long time, Derek couldn’t pry him off
for anything.
For the first few months, everything went smoothly. Stiles still called Derek
by his first name, but things were new back then and Derek was patient. He
moved his new son into his two-storey house on the outskirts of Beacon Hills
and enrolled him in the local preschool, where, with Derek bolstering his
confidence, he quickly made a friend in the form of the asthmatic Scott McCall.
The pair were inseparable, and Derek saw a lot of Scott and his mother,
Melissa. Sometimes too much.
There was a tiny part of Derek that didn’t like having so much of Stiles’ time
occupied by the McCalls, didn’t like Stiles’ attention not being fixed on him.
It was just his need to not be alone rearing its ugly head again, he knew. It
was selfish, so he didn’t let it affect his son’s friendship in any way.
Then, about six months after Stiles came to live with him, things took an
unexpected turn. Derek was kneeling next to the bathtub, helping Stiles get
washed and ready for bed, when the boy called him ‘daddy’ for the first time.
It was such a shock that Derek didn’t immediately register his body’s reaction
to the word, how the crotch of his jeans got tighter. When he did, he was so
deeply ashamed that he also nearly missed what his lack of response did to
Stiles. The boy had looked terrified, interpreting Derek’s silence as him not
liking being called that. When he finally managed to push through his shock,
Derek plastered a reassuring smile on his face, ruffled his son’s hair and
Stiles had perked right back up again, all traces of fear forgotten.
Derek hoped it was just a one-time thing, but he quickly found out that wasn’t
the case. From that evening on, every time Stiles called him ‘daddy’, Derek
would feel the heat of arousal in his gut and he would have to work hard to
make sure no one figured it out.
He told himself that he just had a daddy kink he had never discovered before,
that the fact that it was Stiles calling him ‘daddy’ had nothing to do with it.
He went out a few times, whenever Stiles was having a sleepover at the
McCalls’, and tried to figure some things out. Looking the way he did, it
wasn’t difficult to find a younger guy to fool around with, but he couldn’t get
into it—not even when he found a twink who had no problem indulging him in his
suspected daddy kink. The word did nothing for Derek when it came from the lips
of some stranger.
It was Stiles who did it. Derek was disgusted with himself for a long time, but
his reaction to his son saying that word never went away, no matter what he
did.
Nine years after adopting Stiles, Derek’s control was finally beginning to
wane. Even at thirteen, Stiles still called him ‘daddy’ instead of switching to
‘dad’, probably because Derek did everything he could to encourage the boy to
stay young and innocent for as long as possible. Each time Derek heard that
word, his resolve crumbled a bit more. It didn’t help that his son had been
found to be a carrier during one of his checkups with the paediatrician,
meaning he was capable of becoming pregnant. Derek could get him pregnant.
Derek barely restrained himself from doing something unspeakable whenever
Stiles rambled on about how beautiful one of the girls in his year was, a
redhead named Lydia Martin, or about how amazing one of the boys was, a
Hawaiian named Danny Mahealani. Derek got terribly jealous every time, and
while he knew he shouldn’t feel that way, he couldn’t help it. Maybe something
deep inside him broke when he lost his family, or maybe he was always this
fucked up in the head and had just never realised it before, but now that he
had Stiles, Derek was honestly scared of the lengths he thought he might go to
in order to keep him.
His jealousy got so bad that Derek knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much
longer—and he was right.
On the day of Stiles’ fourteenth birthday party, Derek was in the middle of
cutting even slices of cake for all of the guests when he overheard a
conversation between Stiles and Scott. The latter was boasting about some girl
called Allison letting him cop a feel behind the school building. Stiles was
envious and wondered aloud when he would get to do something like that, and the
thought of his baby boy touching someone else that way—the thought of someone
else touching Stiles that way—was too much for Derek to handle. He couldn’t
fight it. His resolved crumbled completely, and he knew he had to claim him
that very night.
Stiles was his, and no one was going to take him away.
Now, Derek is cleaning up in the kitchen after all the guests have gone home.
He faces the sink and washes up plates and cutlery when he hears footsteps
behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees Stiles enter the room dressed
in a pair of thin black pyjama bottoms and a red hoodie unzipped all the way,
showing off a sliver of his lanky pale torso. It’s an enticing sight, but Derek
doesn’t let it show how much it affects him.
“What’s this?” Stiles asks, pointing to the slice of cake sitting out on the
kitchen table. Next to it is a glass of warm milk.
“Yours,” Derek replies, returning his eyes to the sink before he gives in to
the urge to rip Stiles’ clothes off of him then and there. He doesn’t want to
scare his son off like that.
“What? I thought I was only allowed one.”
“I changed my mind. It’s your birthday after all, so just this once won’t
hurt.”
There are a few moments of silence and then Derek is spun around, the rubber
gloves on his hands spraying soapy water everywhere, and Stiles hugs him, the
top of his head just missing Derek’s chin.
“Thank you!” the teenager says into his chest. “You’re the best daddy ever!”
“You’re welcome,” Derek chokes out.
He is grateful when Stiles pulls away a second later, because any longer and
the boy would have surely felt his traitorous cock getting hard in his jeans.
The two will be introduced very soon, but Derek doesn’t want to risk scaring
off his son before they can really begin. He turns quickly back to the sink to
finish washing up the dishes as an unsuspecting Stiles takes his cake and milk
into the living room to wind down with some television.
Patience, Derek tells himself. Another hour, if that. He can make it. He has
held out for this long, so one more measly hour will be easy as pie.
He washes the last few dishes in the sink and dries his hands on a dishtowel
that he throws carelessly on the side when he is done with it. He follows the
sounds of talking and peeks in on Stiles in the living room. His spying goes
unobserved by the boy, whose attention is focused half on the TV screen and
half on the cake he is eating with his hands.
Derek isn’t surprised to see frosting around Stiles’ mouth. His son has never
been the neatest eater, and he wonders if that will ever change. It reminds him
of the hundreds of times after he had first adopted Stiles, when they were
eating together and he’d always had to have a napkin handy for when they
finished and Stiles’ face was invariably a mess. Something about the teenager
still eating sloppily feels so innocent, like his son is staying young and
dependent on him and always will. It’s a wonderful thought, that Stiles will
never leave him, and it helps to calm the possessiveness that roars through his
veins.
Derek stays in the doorway for quite a while, just watching his son. He is far
more beautiful than he has any right to be. Honestly, how was Derek supposed to
keep resisting? It’s a miracle he lasted as long as he did, really.
He keeps leaning against the doorjamb until Stiles finishes eating and moves on
to his milk, which has Derek holding his breath. He waits for Stiles to notice
that something is different about the drink, to make a confused or disgusted
face and stop drinking it, but he doesn’t. Only when the last drop has gone
down Stiles’ throat and several minutes have passed does Derek breathe again
and make his presence known. By then, Stiles’ eyes are drooping and Derek knows
he has to get him to bed before the sedatives he had mixed into the milk really
kick in. He feels bad for doing this to his son, but he is sure that Stiles
will understand once it’s all over.
“Hey, baby, you look tired,” Derek comments, coming to stand in front of him.
“Yeah…” Stiles groans, pouting cutely. “I guess today wore me out more than I
thought.”
“Okay, let’s get you to bed, huh?”
Derek switches off the television and scoops Stiles up into his arms. The boy
doesn’t protest at all, just tucks his face into his neck, nearly causing Derek
to stumble. Maybe his son is already too sleepy to complain, but Derek chooses
to believe that Stiles doesn’t mind being carried to bed like a small child.
He manages Stiles’ weight with no problem. He has always prided himself of
staying in shape, even now that he is thirty-nine years old, and Stiles has
always been on the skinny side anyway. The muscles of Derek’s arms aren’t
aching at all by the time he has kicked open Stiles’ bedroom door and carried
him over to the double bed. He is gentle as he lays his baby boy down atop the
mattress and cleans off his face with a hand towel he gets from the bathroom
down the hall.
When that is done, Stiles can barely keep his eyes open, so Derek pulls the
covers up from where they have been flung to the foot of the bed since that
morning. He tucks Stiles in and brushes back the hair from his forehead, a
tender smile on his lips. He usually enjoys taking care of his son, and in that
way, tonight is no different. But in another way, it is.
It’s an act he is putting on so that Stiles doesn’t get suspicious too early,
because Derek knows that as soon as his son succumbs to the sedatives, it will
be time for him to make it known to Stiles that he is his and will never be
anyone else’s. He strokes his fingers through Stiles’ hair and watches as his
eyes flutter and he turns slightly toward him, seeking more of his touch.
“Goodnight, baby,” Derek whispers, his hand drifting from Stiles’ hair to
stroke across his cheek.
“Mmm…’night,” the boy mumbles, the words slurred.
It only takes a few more moments for Stiles to go under, and when he does,
Derek retracts his hand, steps away from the bed and leaves the room to get
ready. He pads back to the bathroom, drops the damp hand towel in the laundry
hamper and stares at himself in the mirror above the sink.
This is his last chance to back out. It’s not too late yet. He can go to his
own bed right now, go to sleep, and they will both wake up tomorrow as normal.
Stiles will be none the wiser. It’s not right to do this, especially not to
knock up his fourteen-year-old son like he plans on doing. His young body would
struggle to accommodate a pregnancy.
Derek should just go to his own bed. The tiny part of his brain that is still
thinking rationally knows this, but Derek doesn’t—can’t—listen to it. He
reminds himself of what Stiles had said to Scott a couple of hours ago and how
he can’t allow someone else to get their hands on his son. Stiles belongs to
him. No one else will treat him how he deserves, so Derek must be doing the
right thing.
He tears his eyes away from his own reflection and pops the button of his
jeans. He kicks them off, not caring where they land, and does the same thing
with his boxer-briefs and henley. Totally naked, Derek relieves himself in the
toilet before exiting the bathroom and entering the master bedroom for some
supplies. He raids the top drawer of his nightstand and pulls out the half-used
tube of lubricant he keeps there for when he jerks off late at night—usually to
thoughts of Stiles moaning beneath him. He stares down at the lube and realises
that he can’t count the times he has done that. Maybe thousands by this point.
Maybe this was always an inevitability.
Either way, it’s happening, and Derek carries the lube with him on his way back
to Stiles’ bedroom.
The boy is right where he’d left him, half turned on his side to face the side
of the bed where Derek had been stood. He seems even younger than fourteen
somehow, is the picture of innocence, and Derek is about to take that innocence
for himself before someone else can.
He approaches the bed and slowly pulls down the sheets with his free hand. Once
they are clear of Stiles’ body, he rips them the rest of the way off the bed
and throws them into the corner of the room. Derek doesn’t need them for what
he has planned. He kneels next to his son on the mattress, turns him fully onto
his back and pauses briefly to gauge the boy’s reaction, but there isn’t one.
The drugs are doing their job, so Derek feels a bit braver and pulls open the
sides of Stiles’ hoodie to reveal the entirety of his torso.
He doesn’t stop to look just yet, not wanting to spoil the full effect.
Instead, he concentrates on working the long sleeves down Stiles’ arms and then
easing the hoodie out from beneath him. It joins the bedsheet in the corner
and, now that Stiles is topless, Derek allows himself to look.
The boy is a thing of beauty, just like Derek always knew he was. He can’t
resist getting his hands on that body. He manoeuvres himself between Stiles’
legs and runs his hands over every inch of bare, pale skin he can touch. It’s
so silky-smooth, all apart from the fine hairs that grow in a trail down from
Stiles’ bellybutton to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.
Derek looks down at himself and thinks their bodies contrast well with each
other. Where Stiles is nearly hairless, small and delicate, with barely any
muscle on him, Derek is hairy and strong, with muscles that nearly everyone
lusts after when he walks down the street. He hopes that Stiles’ body will
always be as smooth as it is now.
He cups his son’s barely developed chest and plays with his small, dusky
nipples, pinching and rolling them between his index fingers and thumbs. Stiles
doesn’t so much as twitch, so Derek continues his ministrations until his son’s
nipples are red, swollen and raw-looking. He leans over him and sucks on them,
biting them softly between his teeth and then soothing them again with small
swipes of his tongue.
Stiles’ skin tastes so good, better than Derek had ever allowed himself to
imagine. He has to have more, has to taste the boy everywhere.
He draws away, curls his fingers around the waistband of Stiles’ pyjama bottoms
and prepares himself for what he is about to see. When he believes himself
ready, he gradually pulls the garment down and off and then, starting with his
feet, he drinks in the sight of his baby boy bared to him completely.
Stiles’ feet are large for his size, nearly the same size as Derek’s, which he
knows from the last time they went shoe shopping together. Feet have never done
anything for him before, but because they belong to his son, Derek finds them
hot.
Next are Stiles’ legs. They are just as skinny and pale as the rest of him and
are dusted with brown hairs finer than those on Derek’s legs. The man picks the
right one up and runs his mouth up the calf, enjoying the way the hairs tickle
his lips. He keeps going up the boy’s inner thigh, where there is basically
nothing but soft skin, and then he goes further still, until he reaches the
crease where Stiles’ leg meets his groin.
Derek nuzzles into the boy’s hip before moving to the right so that his nose
ends up right in the small thatch of curls that surrounds the base of Stiles’
flaccid cock. He lingers there for a long time, his eyes closed as he just
breathes. The scent of his son’s sex has his own cock throbbing between his
hairy thighs, rock-hard and leaking with impatience, but he doesn’t move to
touch himself. It’s not quite time for that yet.
Because of the sedatives Derek gave him, Stiles didn’t get a chance to wash
himself before bed and so his scent is musky from a day filled with excitement.
Derek can’t wait to experience how pungent it gets when they are both finished,
when Stiles is covered in their combined come and sweat. He just knows it’s
going to be fucking amazing.
When he finally has his fill, Derek removes his nose from Stiles’ pubes but
keeps his face close to the boy’s crotch. He thinks that Stiles’ little cock is
cute where it rests over his hairless balls. It’s circumcised, yet another
difference between them, and Derek wouldn’t change a thing about it. He cradles
it in his palm and laps at the slit a couple of times before taking it wholly
in his mouth.
It fits easily. Derek sucks him while fondling Stiles’ balls and is pleased
when, after a minute, he feels his baby’s body begin to respond to the
stimulation. The cock in his mouth gradually gets bigger and firmer, until it’s
fully hard and just touches the back of Derek’s throat when he takes it all the
way, pubic hair scratching at his barely stretched lips.
Excited by this new development, Derek pulls off and shuffles forward on his
knees so that he can line their cocks up, the undersides touching from root to
tip and his heavy balls sitting atop Stiles’. Stiles is still growing, but even
now Derek can tell that he will always dwarf his son. At eight inches himself,
he is thicker and approximately two and a half inches longer. He wraps his hand
around them both and uses his own pre-come to slick the way, making it easier
to stroke over Stiles’ cut head.
Once again, the contrasts makes for a marvellous sight, something Derek just
can’t get over. There is the fact that he is hairier than his son there, too,
his pubic hair dark and untamed, whereas Stiles’ is a bit lighter, finer and
sparser. There is the size difference between them, of course, and then there
is the image of his son’s perpetually bare cock head next to Derek’s covered
one, his foreskin hiding the head of his own cock on every upstroke and then
pulling back to reveal it every time Derek slides his hand down to the base,
bringing the excess skin with it.
It’s hypnotic in a way, and he muses that he could probably spend a long time
just watching their cocks in his hand without getting bored. He indulges in
just that for a few moments, but then he moves on, knowing he has to hurry up
if he doesn’t want the sedatives to wear off too early.
Derek releases Stiles’ cock and moves further up his body so that he straddles
his chest without putting any weight on it. His low balls just graze Stiles’
collarbones as he positions the tip of his cock over the boy’s lips. Holding
himself at the base, fingers tangling in his pubes, he wipes his cock head over
Stiles’ closed mouth, back and forth, back and forth, coating it with his pre-
come.
He doesn’t stop until those perfect cock-sucking lips are slick and shiny,
glistening in the warm glow from the overhead light. This is something he has
fantasised about for years, his cock in front of his son’s pretty face. And
it’s about to get even better.
Releasing himself, with both hands Derek picks Stiles’ head up off of the
pillows and then cups the back of it with just his left, freeing his right. He
repeats what he had just done with his cock with his right index finger,
skating it across his baby’s lips before pressing it down against the bottom
one to part them. He opens Stiles’ mouth so that his jaw is slack and it’s
shaped like a perfect O.
Derek’s cock throbs again as he moves his hips forward and slips the tip
through this O, keeping Stiles’ head steady with both hands again. He thrusts
shallowly a few times, enjoying the heat and warmth of the inside of Stiles’
mouth before daring to venture deeper. He feels the tip of his cock hit the
back of the teenager’s throat when he is only halfway inside, and he considers
easing off. But only briefly. The temptation of his son’s throat constricting
around him as he struggles not to choke is too much to ignore, getting Derek
moving as if his body is on autopilot.
The position isn’t the best, bending his cock downward as he forces himself
where he wants, but it will do. It still feels amazing, especially when he
manages to get the entirety of his cock head into Stiles’ throat before the boy
convulses. He enjoys the sensation before pulling back and allowing Stiles’
body to take a few breaths. Once he has, Derek repeats the whole process, over
and over again until he can fit nearly the entirety of himself in Stiles’
mouth. He is shy just an inch, but he knows he’ll have the rest of their lives
to train his son to take him all the way.
Derek continues to thrust into Stiles’ mouth and throat, enjoying each
convulsion every time he is almost all the way in. He slowly speeds up but
never attempts to fit that one last inch inside. His weighty balls swinging
between his thighs, occasionally glancing off of Stiles’ chin, he keeps going
until he feels the familiar heat in his gut that tells him he is close to
coming.
Just before he reaches his climax, Derek withdraws all the way from Stiles’
mouth, lets the boy’s head fall back against the pillows and strips his cock
quickly to bring himself the rest of the way there. It takes just a few
seconds, and then he is spurting hot and sticky all over his son’s face. He
nearly tips his head back and closes his eyes in bliss, but he manages to push
through his natural reaction to this particular pleasure and instead stares
down at the mess he is making.
The visual seems to prolong Derek’s orgasm, but eventually it ends and he
breathes heavily as he comes down and admires his handiwork. Stiles’ face is
dripping, coated in his daddy’s huge load. It’s up in his hair, a couple of
pulses across his forehead and over his closed eyes. There are viscous stripes
right across the bridge of his nose, over his fair cheeks, and then several
more over his lips. They are still parted from Derek fucking his mouth, so some
of the seed gets inside, drips down onto his tongue.
Derek almost wishes that his son was awake so that he could witness him
enjoying this special treat, but, again, he tells himself there is always
later.
Derek thinks that covering his son’s face in his come is almost like a claiming
act, like he is marking him as his property. Stiles is his property, and even
though the act is already done, this thought has his possessiveness flaring up
again and he has to go one step further.
He shifts backward to straddle Stiles’ waist instead of his chest and then,
using the index and middle fingers of his right hand, he scoops up a glob of
come from Stiles’ face and transfers it to his chest. It’s almost like he is
finger-painting. His come is the paint and Stiles’ body is the canvas; the most
gorgeous canvas in the world. He does this several times, taking the come from
his son’s face and putting it on his chest instead, until he has enough to rub
it into his skin like massage oil.
When the last trace of it is gone, friction making their skin dry again, Derek
puts his nose against the centre of Stiles’ chest and inhales. He grins,
satisfied, when he finds that he can clearly smell himself all over his baby.
With this success, Derek switches back to the come still on Stiles face and
does the same thing there, moving it around until it resembles a sick face
mask.
When this, too, is dry, Derek knows it’s time to start preparations for the
main event. If his admittedly shoddy knowledge of the sedative he has used is
true, then Stiles should wake up within the next half hour or so, so Derek
doesn’t have much time to spare.
Keeping this in mind, he moves wholly off of his son and pulls him down the
mattress until his head comes off of the pillows. He turns Stiles over, hikes
his hips up and holds them in the air while he grabs the pillows to shove
beneath them. When they are in place, Derek lets Stiles go and is pleased when
his hips stay up at just the right height. Wanting to get the full picture, he
grabs the lube that has been lying unused this whole time, knees Stiles’ legs
apart and positions himself between them.
Stiles’ ass is hairless, entrancing globes that invite all manner of depravity.
Derek intends to deliver that. He fits his hands over that delectable ass and
squeezes each cheek, testing the firmness of their musculature. There are
muscles there, but since Stiles doesn’t work out apart from playing the
occasional sport, there is also some give, the perfect amount to make them
jiggle.
Derek just has to mark these, too, and so—his trust still placed in the
drugs—he brings his hands down hard on Stiles’ ass, one cheek after the other.
He waits a second to watch for a reaction, a twitch, from Stiles, but there is
nothing. Empowered to do as he pleases, Derek spanks Stiles’ ass relentlessly,
showing no sign of stopping until both cheeks sport a flaming-red handprint,
proclaiming them as his. There isn’t much point in doing this, Derek is aware,
as no one but him will ever see his baby boy’s bare ass, but, even so, to see
his handprints fills him with savage pride.
When he is happy with the results of the impromptu spanking, Derek smooths his
palms over the flaming globes of flesh to soothe them and then parts them,
giving himself the first glimpse he has ever had of Stiles’ little asshole.
It clenches instinctively as it is exposed to the cooler air of the bedroom, a
reaction Derek wants to witness again. Momentarily letting go of Stiles’ ass
cheeks, he slides himself down the bed so that his shins and feet hang off of
the end and he can lie somewhat comfortably on his front. Then he grabs his
son’s ass again, puckers his lips and blows gently on the most intimate part of
Stiles’ body. He does this several times, just so he can enjoy the mesmerising
sight of Stiles’ virgin asshole clenching and relaxing almost rhythmically.
Eventually, when he has had his fill, Derek stops blowing air and moves his
face closer to rub it up and down the crack of the teenager’s ass, getting the
musky scent of it all over himself. It’s divine, and it’s all the incentive
Derek needs to bring his tongue into play. He swirls it around the furled
muscle to taste it, too, and wonders how it is that every part of his son is
exactly what he wants. What he needs. Stiles really was made just for him, his
soulmate, and even though it was innocent then, Derek knew it from the very
moment he laid eyes on him.
And now that he has accepted it, accepted that no one else would approve and
that he doesn’t care, he revels in it.
Derek works his tongue over Stiles’ asshole with more enthusiasm. He points it
and wiggles it right over the opening, impatiently trying to get inside, to
taste him there as well. It takes longer than Derek would like, but then he is
in and his tongue is gripped tightly by burning heat. God, he can’t wait any
longer. If it’s like this for his tongue, what will Stiles’ ass feel like
around his cock?
Derek never lost his arousal completely, his erection softening to a half-hard
state between his thighs. But now, as he ruts against the mattress and eats his
son out, his blood surges south and his cock reaches full hardness again, ready
to be sheathed to the hilt in place of his tongue, to sink home.
Derek withdraws from Stiles’ hole, gives it one last lick and then pops the cap
on the lube. He slicks his fingers, allows the lube to warm up a bit and then
positions his index finger against his son’s entrance. He circles it around the
muscle to slick it up and then slowly sinks it in, biting roughly into his
bottom lip to hold in the moan that wants to slip out.
He thrusts his finger in and out a few times before easing another in beside
it. It feels even tighter now, like his massive cock will never fit in a
million years, but Derek knows he just has to be patient, has to stretch
Stiles’ hole so that it can take him.
Watching constantly for any sign of his son is waking up, Derek scissors his
fingers apart and twists them around, making more and more room for himself.
When he is able to fit a third finger inside, and then his pinky, he knows
Stiles is ready.
With the last one, he spotted his baby’s hands twitching where they lie palms-
up on either side of his hips, so he doesn’t have much longer. He doesn’t want
Stiles to wake up until he is already inside of him, but he wants to do this
face-to-face. It will be more intimate that way, and he knows that Stiles being
able to see his face will make it easier for him to reassure the boy that what
is happening is meant to be.
Derek wipes his fingers off on the bedspread and turns Stiles onto his back
again. The boy makes a noise, a quiet whine of confusion like he is wordlessly
asking why he is being disturbed, but this noise is ignored. Derek wraps
Stiles’ legs around his waist, slicks his cock up with some more lube and then
points it at Stiles’ hole.
He struggles to decide where he wants to look. Should he watch himself entering
his son’s body, or should he watch Stiles’ face so that he isn’t caught
unprepared when he inevitably wakes up? There is no question that he will. The
sedatives won’t last much longer, and even with prep, being filled up for the
first time is bound to be painful enough to finally rouse Stiles.
In the end, Derek chooses to watch his cock.
He stares down his torso as he begins pushing forward, the fat head gradually
being swallowed up. Already Derek can see that the thin skin of Stiles’ asshole
is stretched nearly to its limit, but he keeps going, not stopping until the
widest part of his shaft is inside. Stiles makes more noises as Derek enters
him, more whines and quiet groans of pain, but nothing else happens until Derek
forces the last few inches inside and he is buried all the way.
Then, Stiles groans one last time, drawing Derek’s gaze to his face. His brow
scrunches up and his fingers tangle in the sheets, his knuckles going white.
“Mmm…what?” he mumbles, his voice hoarse as he cracks open his eyes.
Derek holds himself still and waits for Stiles’ bleary eyes to clear and alight
on him. The boy appears bewildered at first, but then he looks lower and sees
that they are both naked. This seems to wake him up to the fact that his ass is
stretched beyond belief and he looks back up at Derek’s face, his eyes filled
with bewilderment and a bit of fear.
“Daddy, it hurts! W-what’s going on?” he asks timorously.
“What does it feel like?” Derek responds.
He leaves Stiles’ legs where they are and leans down to cover Stiles’ smaller
body with his larger one like a blanket, his hands planted either side of
Stiles’ head. Even though their waists aren’t aligned, Derek has enough height
over his son for his face to hover right above Stiles’, blocking out the rest
of the world so that he is all that exists to his son. That’s how it should
always be.
“I don’t…why?”
“You’re mine, Stiles,” Derek says sternly, his tone brooking no argument. “I
heard you and Scott earlier. No one can touch you but me.”
“B-but you’re my daddy!” Stiles warbles, tears forming in his eyes because his
body hasn’t properly adjusted to accommodate Derek’s size just yet. “You can’t.
This isn’t right…”
“It doesn’t matter. This is no one’s business but ours.”
“I don’t think I want this. Please…” Despite his protestations, he doesn’t try
to get out from beneath Derek, and Derek chooses to interpret this as him not
really meaning his words.
“You will. You’ll learn,” he says. If he were a better man, he would be
convinced by Stiles’ pleas and tears. But he isn’t a better man and he can’t
let go, not now that he has him. “Do you love me?”
Stiles sniffles. “Of course I do.”
“Then that’s all that matters. I love you, too, so much that I can’t let anyone
else have you. Now, tell me who I am.”
“W-what?”
“Tell me I’m your daddy.”
Stiles still looks so unsure, but he obeys nevertheless, his trust for Derek
winning out over his fear. “You’re my…you're my daddy.”
Derek grins down at him. “Again.”
“You’re my daddy.”
“Yes…that’s perfect,” Derek says heatedly. He finally gives into his body’s
desires and begins to separate them where they are joined. The sensation of his
long, thick cock leaving him causes Stiles to choke on his breath, his arms
coming up off of the bedding to grasp at Derek, seeking something to anchor
him. Derek pulls out until the head of his cock is all that remains inside, and
then he pushes back inside slow as molasses. Even this gentleness isn’t enough
to stave off the inevitable pain that has Stiles’ tears finally falling with a
whimper.
“Shh…I’ve got you,” Derek comforts, kissing away the wetness on his son’s
cheeks as he continues to move inside of him. “It’ll get easier.”
Now that he is fucking his beautiful boy—no, now that he is making love to
him—he is in no hurry. He feels none of his previous urgency because, after
years and years of denying himself, he finally has what he wants—Stiles, all to
himself. Forever.
He looks down at Stiles’ face and uses that as his guide as he switches up the
angle of his thrusts, searching for that special spot that will eclipse the
pain and have the boy on board with what is happening in no time. It takes
Derek a few tries to get it right, but when he does, Stiles’ short nails dig
into the muscles of his back and he moans loudly, a sound of pleasure instead
of pain. His eyes go wide immediately afterward, almost like he has startled
himself with his own reaction.
Derek finds this so cute that he just has to kiss him properly, their mouths
clashing together. Stiles is shocked into stillness at first, but then he
starts reciprocating. He moves his lips inexpertly against Derek’s, which makes
it clear to the man that his son doesn’t have any experience. This revelation
excites him, knowing that he is his son’s first in every way, and like a reward
for waiting for him he aims for Stiles’ prostate as often as he can, providing
his new lover with as much pleasure as possible.
After a few minutes of this, Stiles’ nails don’t dig so deeply into Derek’s
back, his little hole accustomed to his daddy’s cock making itself at home
inside of it. “D-daddy!” he moans, ripping his mouth from Derek’s. His eyes
roll back in his head when the man gives a particularly well-aimed thrust.
“You like that, baby?” Derek pants, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his
skin.
“Yes. Please! Do it again,” Stiles implores, spreading his legs wider. “Feels
so good.”
With a smug smirk, Derek complies. “I told you it would.”
He picks up the speed of his thrusts—just slightly, just enough to make it so
Stiles struggles to form words under the onslaught on his prostate. He brings
their faces close together again so that he can whisper right in Stiles’ ear.
“Relax, baby boy. Just lie back and let me take care of you,” he instructs.
“I’ll always take good care of you. Gonna make you feel so good. Pump you full
of my come. Put my kid in you, yeah… Make you swell.”
Stiles doesn’t seem to hear him. He just keeps moaning and crying out, “Daddy!”
beneath him, his nails leaving red scratches down the length of Derek’s back.
Derek doesn’t know how much longer he can last. He hasn’t gotten laid in a long
time, ever since he’d realised that no one else could do it for him like his
son, and so he discovers he doesn’t possess the stamina he used to. In spite of
already coming once a short while ago, he fast feels a second orgasm
approaching.
He speeds up his thrusts to the point where they’re brutal, fucking Stiles so
hard that the headboard slams into the wall and Stiles wails from a mixture of
pleasure and pain. Derek connects their mouths again and swallows these amazing
noises. He moans as well when he realises he can taste himself, the remnants of
come that he’d let dry on Stiles’ face tinging their kiss with a salty
bitterness.
He manages to last a few more minutes before he is done in by Stiles convulsing
suddenly beneath him. His ass tightens around Derek’s cock to the point where
it’s difficult to move, and then wetness spurts between them, his release
slicking their stomachs.
The knowledge that his baby boy has come tips Derek over the edge as well. He
ends their kiss, presses his face into Stiles’ neck and gives a couple more
jerky thrusts before staying buried to the hilt. He spills as deep inside
Stiles as he can, doing everything he can to ensure that his son ends up
knocked up by the end of the night. If it doesn’t happen, they’ll just have to
do it again and again and again, as many times as it takes.
When he comes down from his high, Derek breathes heavily and picks himself up
off of his son, who was being crushed beneath the full weight of him. He pulls
out of Stiles and lies down beside him, regaining his breath while staring at
cheap glow-in-the-dark stars that are stuck to the ceiling. When his lungs no
longer burn, Derek breathes through his nose and realises that the whole room
reeks of their coupling, something that he feels insanely glad about. He turns
his head to look at Stiles next to him and frowns when he sees the boy’s
worried expression. He pushes himself up to lean on his elbow, giving himself a
better view of Stiles’ face.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks.
“Did you really mean all that stuff you said?” the teenager asks.
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“About…about getting me pregnant.”
Derek blinks a couple of times. “Oh, that. Yeah, I meant it,” he says, reaching
out with his other hand to rub over Stiles’ flat stomach. “You’re gonna look so
good carrying my kid.”
“But I’m your kid.”
Ah. Derek gets the worry now. He coos at his boy and pulls him over so that he
is lying atop him, his cheek against the centre of Derek’s chest. He strokes
his fingers through Stiles’ hair and smiles when he feels the teenager’s arms
hugging him fiercely around his middle.
“You are my kid, baby,” Derek soothes, running his other hand down the dip of
Stiles’ spine, making him shudder. “You’ll always be my kid and I’ll always
love you more than anyone else in this world. You’ll always come first with me.
This is just gonna make me love you even more.”
“You promise?” Stiles whispers, sounding a lot younger than fourteen years old.
He nuzzles into Derek’s chest hair, apparently perfectly comfortable despite
his concerns.
Derek kisses the top of Stiles’ head. “I promise.”
“But how is this going to work? People are gonna ask questions if I suddenly
turn up pregnant and stuff.”
“We’ll lie. We’ll have to keep us a secret for now, obviously, but…maybe in
four years, when you’re eighteen, we can move somewhere far away where nobody
knows us. Then we can live openly as a couple. I haven’t figured out the ins
and outs yet, but I’ll make it work. I’m not giving you up for anything.”
Stiles is silent for a long time. Derek suspects he is trying to make sense of
the unexpected turn his life has taken, trying to come to terms with Derek
being both his daddy and his lover. He understands that it’s a lot to process,
so he gives Stiles all the time he needs while continuing to run his hands
through his hair and up and down his back.
Eventually, Stiles speaks. “Alright. I want this.”
Derek’s heart soars. “I told you that you would. We were meant for each other,
I know it.”
“Still kinda creepy, though,” Stiles points out, picking up his head to look at
him. He rests his chin on Derek’s chest instead.
“I don’t care,” the man says vehemently. “You’re mine.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Stiles scoffs amusedly, but then he looks up at Derek with
his eyes filled with vulnerability. “And you’re mine, too, right?”
“Of course,” Derek confirms. “I’m your daddy, remember?” His cock twitches
valiantly between them, but he doesn’t get hard again.
Still, Stiles doesn’t miss the twitch. He raises an eyebrow at Derek. “You’re
really kinky, aren’t you?”
“Oh, you’ll experience all of my kinks firsthand very soon.”
After shaking his head exasperatedly, Stiles lowers it again so that his cheek
is once more against Derek’s chest. “Whatever. Now shh, I’m sleepy,” he
mumbles, his eyelids drooping. “Love you, daddy…”
“I love you, too, baby. We can talk more in the morning,” Derek accepts,
settling in to go to sleep himself.
They do have a lot more to figure out—the acting skills that will be required
from both of them to make sure no one else figures out the new part of their
relationship; the invasive questions that are sure to come about Stiles’
potential pregnancy; the legal things that will have to be sorted if they
follow Derek’s plan and move away so they can live freely as a couple when
Stiles is eighteen. It’s all daunting, but just before Derek drifts off, he
makes a promise to himself:
Stiles is his now, and he will do everything in his power to make sure he stays
that way.
End Notes
     This is probably the most wrong thing I have ever written...and yet I
     enjoyed every moment of it, even as I was questioning my own sanity.
     Once again this turned out longer than I anticipated it would, but I
     got carried away with Derek admiring Stiles' body and didn't want to
     trim it down. After all, Stiles' body deserves some admiration, no?
     Maybe not when he is fourteen, and I'd like to reiterate here that I
     don't condone this type of thing in real life. But as all of this was
     fictional, I got down with my bad self, and so did Derek. >:) I admit
     I kind of fluffed the details at the end, but the smut was the
     important part anyway, right? :P
     A big thank you to clavius for this prompt. I hope it was everything
     you wanted. If anyone else has suggestions for other PWPs they would
     like to see me tackle, feel free leave them in a comment down below
     and I'll try to make them 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.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!