Derek wraps his fingers around Stiles’ wrists tightly, careful not to apply too much pressure, and pries Stiles’ hands from his chest, holding the boy back.
“Stiles,” he hisses, trying to get through to him past the cloudy eyes and whatever magic he’d been doused with when the witch had attacked. “Stop.”
The corner of Stiles’ mouth twitches upward and Derek can see the flash of heat that passes over his expression as he flexes his wrists against Derek’s grasp. Immediately, Derek releases Stiles, taking a step back.
“I don’t think you want me to stop,” Stiles murmurs, sauntering closer with his whole body exuding something that Derek feels is a threat so much sleeker, more dangerous, than an animal hunting its prey. Derek has seen the bloodshed of nature, grew up in a world of hunters and wolves, and he has never been so aware of how very weak he is until this moment.
“Stiles,” he tries again, clearing his throat, knowing Stiles heard the way his voice cracked by the slick grin on his face. “Stop. This isn’t what you want.”
“You idiot.” Stiles voice is barely above a whisper as he closes the gap between them, pressing his chest fully against Derek. His lips graze Derek’s, breath hot and curling into Derek’s mouth as he says, “You got no idea what I want.”
Derek growled. Partly due to the sensation of Stiles slipping his tongue underneath his foreskin to lap at his sensitive cockhead, and partly due to the frustration of letting himself get caught by the scrawny little twink in the first place.
He should’ve known better than to spy on Stiles when the kid was showering after lacrosse, but he had waited until everyone had already filtered out before he even started undressing. It was like a cliché porno, and Derek played his part perfectly. He stood hidden behind one of the locker doors, watching Stiles through the holes as he casually walked around in a skimpy jockstrap, exposing his ass for Derek to see.
On his way to the shower, Stiles drops a can of deodorant on the ground. He bends over to pick his up and accidentally shows off his pucker to derek. Smooth. The kid shaves, huh. Derek feels his cock harden in his pants despite his mental objection to it. God, he was gross. Spying on Stiles and getting off on nit.
He continued to gaze at Stiles. Derek guesses he has a voyeur kink now. He moves to the edge of the showers when Stiles isn’t looking, continuing to gaze at the human’s naked, wet body. He’s completely naked, if he would just turn around a little…
Suddenly Stiles lobs a small vial at the ground near Derek’s feet, and a purple cloud rises up. Shit, Wolfsbane. Derek curses and accidentally breathes in the sour smelling cloud. Suddenly he feels lightheaded and collapses onto the locker room floor.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
He doesn’t now how long it was until he woke up, but Stiles hair was still damn so he assumes that he wasn’t out for long. Stiles looked very smug. Derek supposes that the Wolfsbane was made to incapacitate, not kill. Derek tried to stutter out an excuse as to why he was spying on Stiles, only to realise that he was in his underwear, and his hands were bound above him.
“Stiles… what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Derek says, trying his best to be intimidated. Stiles is still only clad in his jockstrap, and damn Derek wish he didn’t look so fuckable. The last thing he needed was to pop a boner in front of Stiles.
“Well, I could ask the same thing of you, buddy.” Stiles smirks, “I mean, that tent in your pants when you passed out was a pretty clear indicator of what your intentions were.”
“What… no… I wouldn’t–” Derek stammers. This is bad.
“Hush, I get it.” Stiles says, “You’re too broody to go out and actually fuck someone so the slightest glance at a naked guy gets you rock hard.” Stiles straddles the bench, giving Derek a clear view of his bulge. This is very bad. “You dont’ have to be ashamed about it…” Stiles puts a hand on Derek’s thigh.
And… Derek’s cock betrays him. Straight up like a flagpole. There’s even a tiny wet patch forming where the head of the werewolf’s cock is pressing against the fabric.
“Lemme help with that,” Stiles says, still looking extremely smug as he pulls Derek’s cock out through the slip in his boxers.
“Stiles, don’t!–” Derek shouts but it immediately transforms into a low moan as Stiles takes the head of Derek’s cock into his mouth, moving so that he was lying on his stomach on the bench, his ass clearly visible to Derek.
He gently fondles Derek’s fuzzy balls, moving downwards and rubbing his hand against the man’s hard taint. He even moves further south and rubs a finger against Derek’s pucker. The werewolf growls, trying to dissuade Stiles from trying to finger him. Stiles making him cum from a blowjob was embarrassing enough, he didn’t need to be moaning as the twink pounds against his prostate.
Thankfully, Stiles chuckled and withdrew his hand, going back to throating his cock. Derek was going to cum. This was terrifying in Derek’s mind. Stiles hadn’t even been sucking his cock for 30 seconds yet, and Derek felt the indescribable need to blow his load down Stiles’ throat. He clenches his teeth and growled low, flexing his toes against the locker room tiles as he desperately tried not to cum.
Stiles didn’t slow down, in fact, he seemed to pick up speed sensing that Derek was about to blow his wad. He throated deeper and moaned louder. Derek’s eyes crossed over and he began making desperate threats at Stiles in order to try and get him to stop. Stiles just kept pumping his lips up and down.
And then he did the worst thing Derek could imagine. He angled his ass up so Derek could barely see his tight, pink hole. His tight, pink hole which was now stretched around a dark plug. All Derek could think about was how he wanted that to be his cock inside Stiles.
And he came. Holy fuck, did he come. He let out a roar as he balls drew up and he began pumping jets of cum into Stiles’ throat. Stiles pulled up and eventually began to just suckle at the head of Derek’s cock, drawing out the last few trickles of werewolf jizz as Derek spasmed and shuddered.
“Okay… you’ve had your fun…” Derek gasps, “Let me go.”
Stiles just laughs, “Oh no, Derek.” He reaches down and pulls the plug from his ass, Derek’s cock takes attention instantly. Stupid sexy Stiles.
“Fun’s just starting, stud.” Stiles reattaches his lips tot he head of Derek’s cock.
So @gobsmackapplejack is the sweetest and I can’t believe I somehow manged to make friends with such a generous and awesomesauce person. So therefore, I shall give to her this porn. And the rest of my pals from the bar will probably appreciate it too. 😉
* * *
”Okay… fuck, okay…
could you just… fuck,” Stiles pants stupidly as he tries to
squirm a hand into his jeans to adjust himself. It’s not an easy
task, because Derek doesn’t seem to want to move away at all, too
busy grinding his own significant boner against Stiles’. But by some
stroke (heh) of luck, Derek’s dick didn’t end up chafing
uncomfortably against his fly, and he’s spectacularly uncaring
of Stiles’ problem.
”You need to… move,
fuck,” Stiles hisses, because Derek gets it completely backwards
and ruts harder against Stiles’ pained dick. ”Ow, dude, stop for a
sec.” Those are the magic words, and Derek finally pauses long
enough for Stiles to accomplish his goal. ”Shit, yes, there we go,”
he sighs, and immediately hauls Derek in again, because it’s not like
he wants to stop stop. Just… not chafe his cock head to
hell, please.
(Oh my gosh anon, you made my day telling me that thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this.)
Newt loves a lot of things that they do together but Credence has it on good authority that newt does have a favourite of their activities.
He loves when Credence uses his mouth and fingers on his arse, works him open and sloppy, prime and ready to be fucked, already orgasm dumb and loose.
He loved the little bites to those firm, round cheeks, leaving peppered little bruises behind on freckled skin. He loved when Credence ran his tongue the length of his crack, over his tight, furled little hole. The hot, wet touch of it making Newt jerk and moan loudly.
Newt went utterly mad, however, when Credence pushed his tongue in deep to his hole, flicking his tongue against Newt’s rim as he pulled out, making a filthy slurping sound that left a red warmth to his own cheeks. breathing in sharply when Newt began babbling, arching up off the sheets and whimpering completely debauched things.
“Oh, oh, Credence, I love the way your tongue feels stretching me open, leaving me so wet and gaping, I can still feel you inside me, Merlin, don’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me, Credence-”
He swallows hard, grabbing fistfulls of Newt’s cheeks and pulling them apart, circling his tongue around Newt’s loose rim, before he presses his thumbs to Newt’s hole, pulling it open so that he can push his tongue deeper, licking the sounds out of Newt’s body, groaning low in his throat when Newt pushes up onto his knees and starts pushing his arse back, riding Credence’s face with desperate little sobs, fisting at the sheets.
Newt can cum from his mouth alone, shaking his way through his first orgasm of the night, gasping Credence’s name like it’s something sacred, something special, like he treasures the way the syllables roll of his tongue.
Credence will run a soothing hand up his thigh and roll him over so that he can see the pretty flush running up Newt’s chest, to his cheeks and the tips of his ears, highlighting his freckles which Credence kisses the paths of, reaching for the oil.
He’s no where near done with the older man, not yet, He’ll finger him open until Newt cums again on just his fingers pumping in and out of his hole and a and wrapped round his cock, then when Newt is whimpering and slurring his name, only then will he finally bury himself in Newt’s body and kiss him breathless and senseless.
shealwaysreads 