Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/551894.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Ficlet, Porn, Introspection, Quiet_Sex, Quiet, Oral_Sex, Teeth, Painplay,
      Post-Coital, Blowjobs, Psychology, Internal_Monologue, Romance, Sexual
      Content, Werewolves, Drabble, Smut, Consensual_Kink, Established
      Relationship, Sensuality, Sensual_Play, Slow_Sex, But_Hard_Sex, Kissing,
      Come-Sharing, Hot, Marking, Bruises, Super-Healing
  Series:
      Part 5 of The_Sterek_Porn_Collection
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-11-01 Words: 261
****** The Edge (Of Glory) ******
by Saucery
Summary
     Stiles uses his teeth. Derek likes it. That's... pretty much all
     there is, to this.
Notes
     For Lola, who said that Stiles's mouth hurts her. And I thought, why
     not write about Stiles's mouth hurting Derek? In all the good ways?
     So here we are. FINALLY, AN EXCUSE TO NAME A STORY AFTER A LADY GAGA
     SONG.
      
     You can now enjoy a_podfic of this story by the wonderful Reena
     Jenkins!
===============================================================================
 
Derek likes it when it hurts, that soft, soft mouth with its sharp, sharp
teeth, and the sharpness of Stiles's eyes, of his smile, as he smudges his lips
along Derek's cock, right along where his teeth had brushed it, leaving faint
lines of fire in their wake. And he does it all so lightly, so cruelly, that it
hits Derek's system like a shot of morphine, the comfort of that mouth after
that flicker of hurt, that wet-smooth tongue after the threat of injury.
"You're a sick bastard, Derek," slurs Stiles afterward, almost lazily, still
rubbing his downy cheek against Derek's dick, cleaning it with slow, tingling
licks, his eyes dark and at half-mast. He'd come, as well, and one of his hands
is still cupping himself, stroking the slick mess down there in time with the
same dreamy rhythm he's using on Derek.
"Speak for yourself," Derek rasps eventually, his hand still clenched hard on
the back of Stiles's neck, possibly bruising it, but Stiles likes that, too.
That edge of -
Not outright pain, but something gentler, deeper, more insidious, an ink-stain
spreading beneath the skin.
They mark each other like this. Although Derek's marks are too quick to fade.
Perhaps that is why Stiles enjoys hurting him, a little, giving him this gift,
this moment, this illusion of vulnerability.
When he tugs Stiles up to kiss him, it's only when Stiles is done cleaning
Derek to his satisfaction, sleepy as a cat, and the kiss they share is sleepy,
too, gamey with come, salt-sticky and strangely sweet.
 
===============================================================================
                                     fin.
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