Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/542818.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Kate_Argent/Derek_Hale
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Laura_Hale, Kate_Argent
  Additional Tags:
      Sex_Toys, Oral_Sex, Masturbation, Body_Hatred, Mutual_Masturbation,
      Unrequited_Love, Happy_Ending, Emotional_Trauma, bottom!Derek
  Collections:
      Kink_Bingo_2012_(Round_Five)
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-21 Words: 4864
****** Trouble ******
by pterawaters
Summary
     There's a part of Derek that he hates most of all - it's only caused
     him trouble. He pushes people away and finds a workaround and it's
     fine, until the day Stiles goes searching through his things.
Notes
     Written for the "Object Penetration" square on my Kink Bingo card.
     This is Derek's POV, so his rationalizations are completely his own
     and do not reflect anyone else's experiences with emotional or sexual
     trauma.
Derek Hale hated a lot of things – hunters, pollution, 99-cent stores – but the
thing he hated most was his dick. Not because he thought he was a woman born in
the wrong body or anything like that, but for other various reasons.
When Derek was twelve, he first started noticing his dick as something other
than the appendage that meant he could pee standing up. He also noticed the
effects other people's presences had on his dick. Well, mostly he just noticed
the effect one person had. His name was Charlie and he was new to the pack – an
import from one of the neighboring packs. He was probably there to get to know
Derek's cousin, Jenny, who was nineteen and dating far too many human boys for
the alpha's liking. Derek didn't care about all that. All he cared about was
the fact that Charlie had sandy blonde hair and a nice smile and spent time on
the weekends teaching Derek how to build a go cart.
Derek knew that he felt funny when Charlie was around and by the time Derek was
thirteen, he'd figured out what the feeling was and why thinking about Charlie
while he touched himself in the shower made things happen so much more quickly.
Except Charlie was eight years older than him and practically engaged to Jenny.
The morning they both came to breakfast smelling like each other made Derek's
stomach turn and he fled the table without asking to be excused.
A few minutes later, Derek's mom let herself into his room and he'd heard her
coming just in time to wipe his tears away on one of his sleeves. Bonnie gave a
soft tut and sat down beside Derek on the bed, wrapping her arm around him.
"Something you want to talk about, sweetheart?" she asked, brushing his chin
with her thumb.
Derek shook his head, but opened his mouth anyway. "She didn't even like him a
month ago."
"And you did," Bonnie replied with a sigh.
Derek nodded. It wasn't like he could lie. His mother was his alpha. She'd feel
it.
Squeezing him closer, Bonnie said, "Listen to me, Derek. In a few years, when
you're old enough, we'll ask around for a boy who might be compatible with you,
alright? Someone your own age. Someone who doesn't belong to your cousin."
"Who says I'll even like him? I mean, you can't get more perfect than Charlie!"
Bonnie laughed and ruffled Derek's hair. "I think Charlie would be the first
one to tell you he's anything but perfect. I mean, there's a reason I make him
leave his shoes outside."
Derek laughed and nodded, which made his mom smile and make her excuses to go
back to breakfast. As Derek sat in his room, debating whether to go back now,
or to wait until everyone had cleared out of the kitchen to save himself some
embarrassment, he thought that life was so much simpler before he fell in love
with his cousin's mate.
                                    ~~**~~
Derek figured girls just weren't his thing and that he and his stupid boy-
wanting dick were going to be alone until after high school up until Kate
Argent smiled at him from across the pool. She slid down into the water, her
boobs floating for a fraction of a second before they plunged under the surface
as well and oh. Derek turned to face the side of the pool, resting his arms on
the scratchy cement and hiding his erection against the wall, hoping Kate would
just go away. She didn't. She came right up next to him, smiled again, and
purred into his ear, "Hey, you're Derek, right?"
"Uh-huh."
She smiled and said, "I like your hair," right before she ran her fingers back
through it, her nails scratching along his scalp and making him shiver. She
wasn't a wolf, but she still felt dangerous and that made Derek (well, mostly
his dick) want to know everything about her.
He found out later that most of what she'd told him was untrue. Even stupid
little things, like her favorite color being blue and not yellow. It felt like
she'd enjoyed playing with him, enjoyed lying and getting away with it. Enjoyed
pulling the wool over Derek's eyes and fucking him over and ruining his entire
life, all because his dick really, really liked the things she'd done with it.
It had even liked the humiliating way she took it in her hand and said, "Oh,
you're not cut! That's so weird. Oh, my god! I've never seen an uncut one up
close before. Do they all look like this? Oh, sweetie. Don't pout. I'm sure
we'll make it work." Then Kate put her mouth on him and all her taunting felt
so worth it.
When Bonnie stopped him on the way up to his and his cousin Jake's room, she
asked whose scent was all over him. Derek proudly announced that he had a
girlfriend and couldn't help but notice the worried creases at the corner of
his mother's eyes, even as she beamed and congratulated him.
At the time he'd thought maybe she was concerned that he was confused about
liking a girl when before he'd only liked guys. Later he realized that she
probably knew trouble was coming, but didn't want to think the worst of her
son.
                                    ~~**~~
After the fire, it was almost six months before Derek had an erection that
didn't happen while he was asleep. Being seventeen years old, it probably
should have concerned him, but Derek knew that his dick was the reason he'd got
his family killed, so it could just wither away and die as far as he was
concerned. Not that it would. Even if he'd tried to cut it off, it would have
grown back and he was sure he couldn't hide the healing process from Laura. Not
now that she was his alpha.
It happened at the laundromat when a handsome college boy reached past him for
a forgotten box of soap, setting one hand on Derek's shoulder with a quiet,
"Excuse me," against Derek's ear. He left his scent – sandalwood and motor oil
– behind, making Derek flush and have to readjust himself to accommodate the
rush of blood into his dick.
Derek was relieved when the boy busied himself with a hand-held game and made
no further move to talk to him. His cock calmed down after a few minutes and
Derek finished up the chore Laura had set to him and took their clothes back up
to the apartment slightly damp, just to get away sooner.
That night he woke up, dick aching and rubbing himself against the mattress, an
indulgence he stopped himself from as soon as he was conscious. Derek didn't
deserve this. He didn't deserve any satisfaction, not from his dick, the
traitorous thing. He rolled onto his back, fisted his hands in his sheets and
concentrated on breathing until it went away. It took almost an hour and Derek
woke up in the morning feeling how he imagined humans did when they were hung
over. Laura gave him a look, but said nothing.
It happened more and more often over the next few weeks, set off by random
smells, random sights, and Derek got less and less sleep until Laura grabbed
him by the back of the neck and said, "I'm not sure what's going on with you,
Derek, but you feel like you're about to snap. You need to take care of
whatever this is before the next full moon comes around and you go crazy. Is
there anything I–"
"No!" Derek cried, his face hot with shame. "No, definitely nothing you can
help me with."
That night, after locking himself in his room, Derek tried to touch his cock.
He tried to just reach down and tug until he came and could just forget about
it for another six months. He got close, his hand hovering just above the skin
of his dick, but he couldn't make himself do it. Despite everything on the line
– his and Laura's new identities in their new home, possibly even human lives –
he still couldn't do it.
And then Derek remembered some stupid movie that Laura had watched and he'd sat
through because he didn't want to be alone. It was a gross-out comedy and one
of the main characters needed "help" donating sperm. The nurse had stuck a
finger up his ass and that was it. Derek wondered if it actually worked that
way, or if the movie had been lying for the sake of laughs. Well, it couldn't
hurt to try, right? Or maybe it could, but Derek was a werewolf. He'd heal.
So he did try it. He bought some lotion under the guise of dry hands and waited
until Laura was out of the house so she wouldn't hear him or pick up on his
emotions. He locked himself in the bathroom anyway and took a shower. As he
rubbed himself down with the bar of soap, paying particular attention to his
ass to make sure it was squeaky clean, Derek started to think about the dreams
he'd been having.
Images of handsome boys his age flitted through his mind, touching him, kissing
him, and Derek felt his dick get hard and bob up, straining toward his belly.
But instead of taking it in his hand like he would have before Kate, Derek
squeezed some lotion onto his fingers and reached back, running one finger
down, down, until it brushed against his asshole, setting off sparks behind his
eyes. Panting already with the need to get off, Derek leaned his forehead
agains the shower wall and pressed his middle finger in.
It didn't feel as good as he was expecting, but it didn't feel bad either. Just
sort of there. The drag of his finger and palm against the rim of his asshole
felt really good, though, so Derek played around with that for a long time,
stroking, adding more lotion, and finally pushing two fingers in. The stretch
felt nice and then Derek changed the angle and pressed in a little deeper and,
"Ohhhh!" That must have been his prostate. Needing to get off, to come, Derek
pressed at it again and again, mercilessly until he pictured one of his
baseball teammates – Paul, the one with the pretty eyes – fucking him hard
against the locker room shower wall. Derek came so hard that he almost lost his
footing and had to drop down onto all fours in the slick tub, panting while he
recovered.
                                    ~~**~~
Derek never acted on the little fantasies he played out when he fingered
himself, and he kept that to a minimum, which if he didn't want Laura to get
concerned about him, meant doing it once or twice a week. When he turned
eighteen, Derek bought himself a dildo and some real lube and hid them with his
baseball stuff during the off season and under his unused football gear during
the summer. Laura never said anything, so it was fine. It worked. Derek didn't
have to touch his dick, he didn't have to date or hook up with anyone, and he
didn't go crazy.
And then Laura went missing.
While Derek packed up the Camero (which had belonged to their Uncle Steve and
still had California plates), he debated leaving his dildo at home. If he found
Laura, she'd probably be able to smell the silicone with his stuff. But what if
it took weeks to find her? He packed it.
Derek didn't use it again for almost two months, anyway. He was too busy
finding Laura's murderer and running for his life and training a dumbass new
werewolf that someone just had to go and make. The dildo sat in one of his bags
in the trunk of his car, cold and forgotten.
Until suddenly Derek was the Alpha. He knew the change had been hard on Laura,
but somehow Derek didn't think his new instincts would be as overwhelming as
they were. Fight. Kill. Bite. Fuck.
He blacked out a few times the first week, waking up elsewhere and without
memory of what he'd been doing. Once he woke up with a tongue in his mouth and
a hard body pressed against his own, a brick wall at his back. A quick look
around told Derek he was outside that gay club in the warehouse district. When
he realized what he was doing, he pushed the guy away and ran, ending up in an
abandoned train repair building, sitting on a seat in an old subway car. He
could still smell the guy all over his clothes and skin and it made Derek want
to take his cock in hand and jerk until he came.
But Derek was only Alpha because his dick had liked Kate Argent and she'd
either killed or caused the death of everyone Derek loved. His dick didn't
deserve any attention, Alpha or not.
Derek took deep breaths and thought about anything and everything that had
helped him calm down in the past until he could make it back to his car. He had
to sniff the thing out, because he'd driven it while under the wolf's influence
and he couldn't remember where he'd parked.
That night, holed up in his car and parked in a hard-to-find alcove in the
woods, Derek dug his dildo and lube out of the trunk of his car and fucked
himself raw. Afterward, he stopped losing time and his head was clear enough
that he could track the omega that had wandered into his territory and through
him find the first candidate for Derek's new pack.
                                    ~~**~~
Eventually Derek rented an apartment in town from a landlord who didn't mind
that he'd been arrested for murder once before being cleared of charges. It had
a living room big enough for the pack, a kitchen with enough room that Derek
wouldn't hit his elbows on things while he was cooking, and a bedroom small
enough to feel cozy.
Pack members stopped by to see him pretty regularly, but one day, Stiles showed
up and pushed his way inside, saying, "Where is it?"
"Where is what?" Derek asked with a frown, before his phone started ringing and
he had to answer it. When he was done assuring Isaac that it was okay he was
still at his aunt's house in Montana for the rest of the week and nothing was
going on, Derek found Stiles in his bedroom, going through the drawer where he
kept his very personal things. "Don't –"
Stiles' mouth fell open and he asked as he stared down into the drawer, "What
the hell is that?"
Derek thought he was going to be sick. "Noth –"
"It glows in the dark!"
Now that Derek knew Stiles had found exactly what he didn't want to be found,
Derek darted forward and grabbed Stiles by the back of his shirt. "Get ... the
fuck out ... now." He dragged the guy away toward his apartment door, but
Stiles managed to grab a door jamb along the way and Derek didn't want to
dislocate his arms or something so he stopped pulling. "Stiles!"
"Derek!" Stiles replied, righting himself and staring at Derek like he was
trying to find gold in his face. It made Derek deeply uncomfortable. "Was that
what I think it was?"
"I'm not a mind reader," Derek said flatly.
Stiles smirked, "It was! Why would you– I mean, it's not like you've got a girl
stashed in here who would– And this is a new place for you. I helped you move
in, which means..." Stiles stopped flailing around and gasped loudly, "It's
yours!"
Derek looked down, but he didn't deny it. What was the point? Trying to deny it
would just make everything worse. The only thing to do now was to appeal to
Stiles' sense of pity or loyalty or something. In a quiet voice, he said,
"Please, just don't tell anyone, Stiles."
"I won't," Stiles answered quickly. "I wouldn't, dude. Besides, who would
believe me? Big bad alpha werewolf likes to ... yeah." Derek made himself look
up at Stiles, even though all he wanted to do was push the guy out of his
apartment and never, ever speak to him again. "But it's cool! It's totally cool
if that's what you're into or whatever. I mean, glass houses, am I right?"
The reference confused Derek and it must have shown on his face, because Stiles
licked his lips and said, "I've totally got some intense mental images here.
I'm really not judging and wow, that's just like, I think I might have to sit
down or something." Derek glared at him. "Or not."
"Go away."
"Just answer me one question," Stiles all but begged as Derek pushed him toward
the door again.
Derek knew no good would come of answering any of Stiles' questions, but he
said, "What?" anyway.
"Why glow in the dark?"
Of all the questions, that was the one Derek least expected. He couldn't do
much besides stare at Stiles and wonder at the profound absurdness that was his
brain.
"You'd better say something," Stiles prodded, "because I'm coming up with some
strange theories, the craziest of which is ghost fetish, so..."
Rolling his eyes, Derek said, "I didn't exactly read the packaging before I
bought it. Satisfied?"
Stiles laughed and held a fist up to his mouth. "Not even close! Oh, my god,
dude, what I wouldn't give to–" He cut himself off and cleared his throat, but
the scent of arousal flooded the room. It made Derek dizzy and made it so much
more difficult not to notice how much Stiles reminded Derek of Charlie and of
the guy at the Laundromat and every boy he'd found himself attracted to in his
whole life.
But that was just his stupid dick talking and Derek didn't listen to his dick
anymore.
"Well," Stiles said, cutting into Derek's thoughts. He swung his arms at his
sides for a few seconds before pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "I should
probably go..."
"Why were you here?" Derek asked suddenly, wanting to kick himself for the
knee-jerk instinct to keep Stiles here, to keep him from walking away and
taking that spicy-musky scent of arousal with him. Stiles froze, so Derek
explained, "Why did you barge in here in the first place? You were looking for
something."
Taking a quick breath, Stiles answered, "Right! Right, I totally was! But, um,
I'm, uh, kind of having a hard time remembering what it was. Certainly wasn't a
giant, glow in the dark dildo, that's for sure. Aanndd I totally said that out
loud, didn't I?" Stiles grimaced. "You can kill me now. Just go ahead and do
it, dude. I deserve it."
God help him, but Stiles' embarrassment almost amused Derek. It made him, well
not quite smile, but get close anyway. It was just such a ridiculous situation,
especially with Derek's body starting to respond to the scent of Stiles'
arousal. For the second time in as many minutes, Derek's mouth ran forward
without him. "Did you want to see?"
Stiles' jaw dropped, "Uhhh...." The scent of arousal grew chokingly thick.
Derek's nerve wavered, but he didn't take back the offer. He couldn't. Now that
it was out there, Derek felt more free than he had in a long time. He hadn't
admitted what he wanted to anyone in so long and here was Stiles, with his keen
eyes and his sharp tongue, his hips narrow and perfect for wrapping legs
around, and his scent, his fucking scent!
Sluggish like he was moving in a dream, Derek stepped forward into Stiles'
space and asked in a low voice, "Do. You want. To see?"
"Oh, my fucking God," Stiles replied, losing his balance and falling back
against the wall a little before he righted himself.
Derek wondered if Stiles had ever fucked anyone before. He was only just
eighteen. He might not have. And Derek could trust him, had trusted him, many,
many times before. Once he saw what Derek liked, maybe he'd be able to recreate
it. The thought made Derek's cock jump and his mouth water.
That need, to be filled up, to get off and clear his head and restart his
systems, grew so overwhelming that Derek had trouble not digging his claws into
his arms to stave it off just a few seconds more. Panting now, Derek said,
"Either stay or go, Stiles," giving him that choice because it had to be his
choice. It had to be.
Derek didn't stop himself from stripping his shirt off while he left the room,
though. The upturn in Stiles' heartbeat at the sight was completely worth it.
Derek finished stripping on his way to the bedside table and pulled out his
supplies. He usually did this face down, ass in the air, because it was the
most comfortable and gave him the best leverage, so Derek laid down that way
and covered his fingers with lube.
The last time he'd done this had been almost a week ago and Derek could barely
smell it on his sheets. Definitely time, then, and the thought of having an
audience now made Derek shiver in anticipation. He slipped his arm underneath
himself, weight mostly on that shoulder, and concentrated on the feeling of his
fingers rubbing over the skin around his asshole, tickling the hairs and
pressing just hard enough to make it feel good, without pressing in. Derek
ignored the way Stiles stood in the other room, having a not-quite-silent
conversation with himself about whether or not he was going to do this.
The quiet moan Derek let slip past his lips when he pushed two fingers in right
away, relishing the stretch, the almost-burn, must have helped Stiles make up
his mind, because he scrambled into the room and gasped. "Oh, god! Oh, my god,
Derek!"
Derek found his prostate and skimmed over it, just enough to make his body
shudder and he groaned, "Fuck."
Stiles fell to his knees next to the bed and murmured, "Jesus Christ! You look
so..."
Derek accidentally brushed his cock with his arm, so he rebalanced himself to
make sure it hanged without touching anything. He pushed his fingers in and
out, shocks of pleasure heightened by the eyes on him and the sharp, panting
breaths of air skimming against his side.
"Holy shit," Stiles murmured and Derek opened his eyes to watch Stiles' flushed
face as he took everything in. His hand made an abortive movement and then he
met Derek's eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, he said, "I want to touch. Can
I touch?"
Derek nodded and groaned when Stiles' fingertips stroked over his back, his
flank, the course hair on his leg. It felt so good to have someone else's hands
on him after all these years, someone he could trust, someone he wanted. But
then Stiles' hand traced up the front of Derek's thigh and toward his cock.
Derek shied away and growled, "Anywhere but there."
Stiles froze for a second before asking, "You want me to touch you, except for
your dick?"
The wrecked tone of Stiles' voice had Derek clenching around his fingers and
grinding back into them, but he managed to reply, "Yes."
"Okay," Stiles replied with a dubious tilt of his eyebrows. But then his
fingers skimmed back over Derek's ass, squeezing it and playing near where
Derek was working a third finger into himself. Stiles' other hand rubbed up
Derek's back, scratched at the nape of his neck, played through his hair. Then
Stiles climbed up onto the bed and nudged at Derek's fingers insistently,
whispering, "Let me? God, please, Derek. Let me?"
Derek wanted nothing more than to let Stiles in, to get those long, perfect
fingers inside him where they were meant to be. Derek wanted Stiles' cock so
much too, wanted it filling him up, pounding into him until it was the only
thing Derek could possibly feel. Derek whined and nodded, slipping his fingers
away and scrambling to locate the bottle of thick, greasy lube that Derek
preferred. He shoved it back at Stiles and groaned, "Yes. Whatever you want,
just now!"
Stiles started and whispered, "Your eyes," before getting with the program and
greasing up his fingers. Derek fought to keep his wolf contained, but he still
almost howled in relief when Stiles pressed two fingers into him and asked,
"Like this?"
Stiles hit Derek's prostate on the first stroke, making his balls clench up and
his dick bob. "Fuck, yess," Derek hissed, letting his arms slump down out of
the way. Stiles did the same motion a few more times, too hesitantly and it
lost the sharp edge of pleasure, so Derek groaned, "More!"
"More faster or more fingers?" Stiles asked.
Derek was quickly approaching too fucked to think properly, so he just groaned
in response. Stiles had to be able to understand that, right?
It must have worked because Stiles squeezed a third finger into Derek and
slowly increased his pace, hitting Derek's prostate often enough that he
couldn't stop grunting in pleasure. This was so much better than doing this
himself. Derek's while mind went blank except for the feeling of Stiles' hands
on him and the way Stiles' heart was beating so fast it sounded almost painful.
Then Stiles said, "You still want more. Don't you?"
The heavy, familiar weight of the dildo thudded against Derek's flank and he
moaned loudly in anticipation. He'd expected this was leading toward sex, but
his thoughts on the matter had been colored with a fear he would barely admit
to himself, let alone Stiles. The thought of letting Stiles fuck him the same
way he fucked himself all the time made Derek so much more comfortable and so
fucking turned on that he said, "Yes! Fuck, yes. Stiles!"
"Shit," Stiles groaned, grabbing the bottle of lube again and popping it open.
"Oh, fuck, Derek. Oh, my god. Just … push it in?"
Derek nodded, his cheek making the sheets beneath him rustle loudly in his ear.
Maybe he should have told Stiles to go slowly, but to be honest, Stiles had
been too careful with him so far. Derek was looking forward to a little pain. I
always made him feel a little less guilty about this, like if he didn't enjoy
every second of it, it wasn't so bad to do, to get away with.
Except Stiles was careful. He eased the blunt head of the dildo in, pausing
when he met resistance and easing out a little before pushing in again. The
sensations made Derek worry that his body was going to explode before Stiles
even got the thing halfway in.
"Oh, my god," Stiles murmured over Derek's low whine. "God, look at you just
taking this! Oh, fuck, it's almost all the way in. Derek!"
"Unhhh," Derek groaned as Stiles' hand gripping the dildo ran into his ass
cheeks, signaling that the dildo was all the way in. When he did this to
himself, the angle was never this perfect, the strain in his back and arms and
legs never just right. "So..." he tried to say, but none of the words his brain
could come up with seemed to fit. As Stiles pulled back most of the way and
then pushed forward again, too careful, Derek growled and cried, "More, damn
it! Faster!"
"Alright, alright," Stiles replied, but his voice was more breathless and
tender than annoyed. "So greedy! So fucking hot for it, Jesus! I'm gonna cream
my pants just watching this. Fuck!"
That was something Derek didn't want to miss seeing, so he rolled over, keeping
his legs splayed wide in the hopes that the toy wouldn't fall out. It only got
halfway out before Stiles cried, "Whoa, what?" and shoved it back in, making
Derek groan again. Before he could reach for Stiles' zipper, the guy leaned
over and kissed Derek desperately, sucking on his tongue when Derek shoved it
at him. Derek managed to stroke Stiles through the fabric of his jeans twice
before the scent of his come (a thousand times more intense than the scent of
his arousal) filled the room. It shoved Derek close enough to that precipace
that when he grinded his hips down into the dildo Stiles was still holding, he
saw stars and came harder than he ever had in his life.
Stiles dropped to the mattress bonelessly beside him, leaving Derek the task of
pulling the dildo slowly free when his ass muscles stopped clenching around it,
and tossing it aside.
Stiles licked his lips and whispered, "Whoa!"
Derek said nothing, but he made a noise in agreement. He felt loose and sated
in the best way and consciousness began slipping away from him.
He didn't even complain when Stiles heaved Derek into his arms and told the
back of his neck, "We're so doing that again."
Derek didn't say yes, but he figured the way his body shuddered and his
traitorous dick jumped was response enough.
                                    ~~**~~
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