
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/775780.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Somnophilia, Seriously_Dubious_Consent, Dominance, Submission, pack_bond,
      Dirty_Talk, Anal_Sex, Blow_Jobs, Creeper_Derek
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-27 Words: 1312
****** A Time to Be So Small ******
by orbiting_saturn
Summary
     It’s drugging him, the smooth pace, the strange sensation. His body
     closes and it opens, it tightens back up then yields again. It gives
     and gives and gives.
Notes
     Despite my "dubious consent" tag, make no mistake, this is a rape
     fic. I only added that tag because there are some extenuating
     circumstances heavily implied in the story. See end notes for further
     details.
     This was inspired by the gay porn theme used on sites like
     sneakygays.com and creepygay.com, in which straight men are pretty
     much molested in their sleep by friends or roommates.
     If all of that wasn't bad enough, it's un-beta read too!
     The title of the story is from the same-named song by Interpol
See the end of the work for more notes
Stiles wakes with a cock in his ass. It’s the first thing he becomes aware of,
the thing that drags him back from his dreams, this sensation of being spread
open. It’s all very slick, slipping slowly, slowly in and out of him, so easy.
He’s been lubed up, fingered open, loosened in his sleep without even a flicker
of awareness. Then he’d been sleep-fucked.
He wonders how long it’s been, since a dick was shoved in him. How long he’s
been getting slowly, slowly nailed.
This might actually be rape.
Stiles always slept like the dead. He burned too much energy, stayed up for
long hours through manic bursts and too much Aderall. Then he crashed out of
orbit, the weight of his heavy bones dragging him down, overcoming his pulsing
blood and quick mind. It was never long, but it was always deep and hard. Deep,
hard, like the dick spearing open his asshole.
To say that Stiles has woken, may be overstating things just a bit. Mostly he’s
scrabbling his way back to consciousness, slowly, which is uncommon for him.
Usually Stile pops right out of bed after five or six hours of playing dead to
the world. Now though, now he’s drifting in that in-between state of waking
that he’s heard other people speak of, but never quite experienced for himself.
It might be the steady, long strokes working through him, all of the way inside
then almost all of the way out. It’s drugging him, the smooth pace, the strange
sensation. His body closes and it opens, it tightens back up then yields again.
It gives and gives and gives.
Stiles has never put anything in his hole before, only played around with it,
rubbed a slick finger over and over it while he was jerking himself off. He’s
not exactly surprised that it feels good, the way the hard flesh parts him so
easily, grinds into all of those untouched nerve endings. He is surprised that
it feels good enough that he isn’t panicking. Fucked without consent and Stiles
isn’t protesting, doesn’t even want to, and what the hell does that say about
him?
“I put it in your mouth first,” Derek confesses, having known the exact moment
his dick woke Stiles. “Not all the way, just the head pressed against that
smart tongue of yours.”
Derek’s hips jerk with the memory, jab at Stiles with a harsh thrust that
stings a little. It isn’t much really, just the slightest stutter before the
pace steadies again, that long slide in measured beats. That tiny bit of sting
dissipates quickly, like it was never there. If there was ever any real pain,
Stiles slept through it, like he slept through Derek’s cock in his mouth.
“Can you still taste my come?” Derek asks on a groan.
Stiles smacks his lips, because he can actually, a little musky and bitter on
his tongue and painted tackily across his lips.
Derek is so fucking heavy, even with half of his weight propped up on one arm.
Stiles blinks his eyes open and they sting from sweat, but he can see a thick-
fingered hand gripping the sheets by his face. Stiles can also feel the other
hand spreading open one of his ass cheeks, thumb notched between his rim and
Derek’s girth. Derek feeling up the space he’s made for himself in Stiles’ body
is a little sickening. It makes Stiles’ hard dick jump beneath him.
“I fingered you for half an hour and you barely even noticed, not even when I
got up to four.”
The fucking keeps going and going, staying too smooth and unhurried. It’s
maddening, but not in the way it should be. Stiles is pretty sure he’s supposed
to cry or shout, kick out and struggle. That’s what people do when someone
takes like this. Stiles doesn’t do anything, he just lies belly down and lets
Derek use him.
Derek tells Stiles about all of the things he did while he was passed out.
“I just touched you for a while, got my hands all over you.”
“I kissed you and sucked those pretty fucking lips ‘til they were red and
shiny.”
“I sucked your dick until it was hard. Fuck, I bet you wish you’d been awake
for that.”
There are long pauses between each confession, but every word is gutting
Stiles, going straight to his dick until he’s aching to come.
“When I finally put my dick in you, I went so slow, Stiles. Listened to every
slow beat of your heart while I stretched you open. You didn’t wake up until I
wanted you to.”
After that, Derek stops talking, finally speeds his thrusts into Stiles.
They’re making these slick, slurping noises now, Derek fucking through the mess
of lube he filled Stiles with, painted over the dried spit he left behind
because, oh yeah, Derek confessed that he’d eaten Stiles out before he fingered
him.
Stiles wants to beg Derek to let him come, but he can’t break his vow of
silence. This has all been about what Derek wants, so Stiles isn’t even sure
that the alpha cares one way or the other if he gets off on it.
Derek dicks him hard and fast, slaps his hips against Stiles’ ass with enough
force to jar him up the mattress. He’s panting and moaning his way through it,
biting off curses and growls and Stiles just takes it, the long gouging
strokes.
Any second now, Stiles is going to get the come fucked right out of him, so he
bites his lips and squeezes down on Derek. He holds back until he’s sure he
won’t make it, then Derek rips his dick out of him with a snarl. Stiles finally
makes a noise, a low whine of protest and sudden hurt, but Derek is flipping
him onto his back, kneeling over Stiles while he strips his angry, red, uncut
dick.
Come splatters over Stiles’ cock and balls, dripping hot and sticky into his
pubes. He can’t help how his hips judder and hitch up for it, arch into the
mark of his alpha.
Derek hasn’t even stopped coming before he’s leaning down, sucking Stiles’
entire dick into his hungry mouth. Stiles doesn’t even have time to savor it,
his first waking blowjob, because he shoots immediately, drunk down in
contracting swallows that have Stiles’ eyes rolling in a bliss so jarring it
almost hurts.
Stiles falls back into that in-between state, half sleeping, half aware. It
lasts for a few minutes, but by the time he pries his eyes back open, Derek has
licked him completely clean and curled a possessive arm around Stiles.
They’re lying together, Derek half propped on a pile of pillows and Stiles’
back curved into his side.
“Why?” Stiles finally asks, voice small and croaky. He’s so very confused,
scared and a little bit elated at the same time. Maybe he’s drunk on
endorphins, but this doesn’t feel as ugly as it should and that’s more alarming
than anything else right now.
Derek hums sleepily, tugs Stiles in closer. “You declared yourself pack. It’s
an alpha’s right.”
It takes a minute for that to make any sense to Stiles, but when it does, the
implications make him shudder and shake.
“You fuck all of your pack mates?”
Derek’s fingertips sift up and down through the trail of hair on Stiles’ belly.
“I could,” Derek answers. “But why would I want to fuck them when I can fuck
you instead?”
It doesn’t make sense, with the way his other pack mates look, but Stiles is
too shocky still to question it. Instead he drifts back to sleep, lulled under
by the heat of Derek and his steady breathing.
When Stiles wakes again, hours later, he’s not being fucked, but he’s well on
his way to it.
*
End Notes
     Derek initiates sex with Stiles while he's sleeping. Throughout the
     story, Stiles is confused by why he's not objecting. It's revealed
     that Derek feels that his Alpha status gives him the right to take
     any pack members he wants. I tried to imply that the pack bond is
     what made Derek's actions acceptable to Stiles. I'm not sure if that
     makes it better or worse, since it's almost a mind-control/group
     hysteria sort of situation.
     It's not mentioned, but Stiles IS underage during this story. If you
     think I have missed any important tags, please let me know.
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