
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11547111.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      vaguely_canon_compliant, Watersports, Piss_kink, mild_desperation, piss
      drinking, Embarassment, piss_sharing, sexting_(kind_of), did_I_mention
      piss_drinking, a_lot_of_it, Dubious_Consent, Rimming, Anal_Fingering,
      Anal_Sex, piss_fucking, pissing_inside, Felching, piss_felching, Come
      Sharing, affectionate_pissplay
  Series:
      Part 1 of Dirty_Knots_Tumblr_Prompts
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-19 Words: 2709
****** Awash in Affection ******
by DirtyKnots
Summary
     Anon Prompt:
     stiles + watersports?
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Stiles has always known that his interests were a little more…non-standard is
how he’d put it. Puberty was pretty great to him, except for how he grew too
fast and pretty much flailed everywhere. But as far as the whole discovering
his dick and all the joys it could bring him? Pretty fucking great if you asked
him. And it was one of many areas that his insatiable curiosity had free reign.
There was a lot of alone time at his house, plenty of opportunity to
experiment, figure out what he liked, what he didn’t - at least as far as solo
endeavors were concerned. He sadly didn’t have much opportunity to figure out
what he liked in a less alone setting, mostly because he’d spent too many years
hung up on someone who was never going to see him that way. And that was his
bad really, he figured later. He understands now at least, on the edge of
adulthood. He understands a lot of things really. When he stopped hyper-
focusing on one person, he discovered that the world pretty much opened to him,
that he was more than equal opportunity when it came to sexual preferences.
Which opened up more porn options and experimenting. 
The first time he ventured into gay porn, it was pretty mellow, but he got
bored quickly, started delving deeper. And it’s a good thing he did. It gave
him a little validation that he wasn’t alone in his urges and desires, that
there were a lot of men who shared them. Which was great. The downside, because
it’s his life and there’s always a downside, is that this discovery pretty much
ruined his chances of keeping his secrets under wraps. It would be fine
normally, but Stiles didn’t live in any version of the world where normal was
realistic anymore. Mostly because half his friends were blessed (or cursed,
depending on the day) with super senses. Including chemosignal identifying
noses. Which, again, would’ve been fine if their goddamn alpha didn’t insist on
actually teaching them to pick out the different scents and what they meant.
And not just for chemosignals, for all scents. It wouldn’t bother Stiles as
much if any of them had expressed any desires that didn’t hold to basically
entirely vanilla. He still didn’t think he was wrong for wanting what he
wanted, but he also wasn’t sure he could be open about this and still be able
to look everyone in the eye. He was pretty happy when he found out he was
wrong.
***
As much as werewolves are not actual wolves, they still have some pretty
similar urges. They’re territorial, they run the boundary lines to make sure
there scents are everywhere, they rub and cuddle and snuggle with one another
to make sure they all smell like pack. It’s all very dog-like and Stiles does
what he can to needle the hell out of them for it because he can’t help but
take joy in the clench of Derek’s jaw. When a rogue omega passes through the
territory, he’s not at all surprised to get a group text demanding that the
pack get out there and walk the boundary lines. He takes his designated route,
draining his morning coffee as he goes. He’s almost done when his bladder
starts to protest and he knows he’s definitely not making it back into town.
He’s fine until the first jet of hot piss arcs out of him, the bitter scent
made more pungent by the coffee. He can feel his mouth water, his dick trying
to chub up in his hand while still emptying his bladder. He glances around,
doesn’t see anyone else - and really he shouldn’t, they should all be running
their own lines - and dips his free hand down, cupping it over the head of his
dick, letting the warm liquid pool in his hand a bit before bringing it up to
his mouth, dripping it over his tongue. He loves the flavor, rolls it around a
bit before swallowing, eyes fluttering closed as he feels it slide down his
throat.
This right here is why he works hard not to hydrate too much when he’s got to
be around the pack - he can’t hide any of this when he pees anymore. Is
resigned to making it through the day as best he can before rushing home,
reveling in the release, usually sprawled out in the bottom of his tub, piss
arcing up and filling his mouth, bathing his face and chest, soaking his hair.
He’s lost in the memories, in the consistent refilling of the hand not holding
his dick, slurping up as much of his piss as he can gather, fighting off his
hard-on so he can finish, when he hears the sharp inhalation from off to the
side. He’s scrambling to cut off the flow and tuck himself away, trying to
brush his soaked hand off on his pants like that will help him, sputtering out
the cliched ‘it’s not what it looks like’. It’s too much at once, his brain
flying too many directions, and he trips over his own feet, lands face down in
the puddle he’d created. He doesn’t even have time to groan before a hand wraps
around his bicep and drags him back up, steadying him when he wobbles. He can
feel the fire of blush on his face, squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for the
mocking, is surprised when it doesn’t come. Instead a finger pushes insistently
at the bottom of his chin, forcing his head up. He refuses still to open his
eyes, afraid of the judgement. He’s unprepared for what comes next.
He can feel the heat of a body moving closer to his, gasps in air when he feels
a broad tongue sweep across his cheek, catching the wetness there. He can hear
a quiet rumbling of pleasure as the tongue continues to bathe his face, until
all evidence of where he landed is gone. His eyes fly open when his wet hand is
raised, fingers sucked into a warm mouth. He’s less surprised than he expected
to be, to see Derek standing in front of him, eyes slitted in what looks a lot
like pleasure as he sucks the last of Stiles’ piss off of his hand.
“You’re more wolf than any of them,” is the only explanation Derek offers when
he finally lets Stiles’ fingers slip out of his mouth, eyes assessing the
human. He drops down to his knees, an eyebrow lifting to ask permission which
Stiles shakily grants before Derek undoes his fly, dragging his still-wet dick
back out, popping the tip into his mouth and pushing at Stiles’ stomach,
encouraging his bladder to finish what it was doing before. Stiles sighs in
relief when he lets go again, then moans in pleasure when Derek starts sucking
like he can’t get that piss inside him fast enough. His knees start to buckle
before Derek braces him, green eyes tinging with red when he looks up at Stiles
through his lashes. Stiles whimpers a little when the stream dies off and Derek
removes his mouth, licking all around the head to be sure he’s gotten every
last drop before tucking Stiles back away. He’s on his feet quickly, hand
grasping the back of Stiles’ neck and dragging him into a kiss, tongue pushing
warm liquid into Stiles’ mouth as soon as he opens it. He can’t help the low
groan when his piss hits his tongue, swallows it down greedily, feels Derek’s
mouth smiling against his. 
“Finish your line, come to the loft after,” Derek eventually pulls away, heads
back in the direction of town. Stiles nods at the instruction, hand pressing
down on his now hard cock as Derek walks away. He gets a group text half an
hour later, as he’s heading back to the jeep after finishing his line,
instructing the pack to have fun and leave the alpha alone tonight, it’s
followed by another text sent just to him, a reminder that he’s excluded from
that request, and is accompanied by a picture of what he assumes must be
Derek’s dick, half hard and thick in his hand, uncut tip angled and shooting
piss into a glass already half-full with the amber liquid. He practically races
the rest of the way to the car, is parking below the loft in about half the
time it should’ve taken him to get there. He’s anxious the entire short trip up
in the elevator, hesitates briefly outside the steel doors before remembering
werewolf hearing and sliding the door open, taking care to turn and lock it
behind him. Derek’s not in the main room, but he can hear faint shuffling from
the kitchen so he heads that way.
He finds Derek leaning against the counter, the glass from the photo now full
next to his elbow, and Stiles is suddenly a lot more nervous. Not because he
doesn’t want this, but because he wants it too much. He’s not even sure he
believes that what just happened actually happened, and he’s never shared this
with anyone. He swallows audibly, his mouth watering too much at the sight,
despite his nerves. Derek smiles, seems to catch on to his nervousness, and
picks up the glass, taking a drink before setting it back down, hand reaching
out for Stiles. He goes willingly, heart thrumming in his chest. Derek’s lips
press against his, and Stiles darts his tongue out to taste the lingering
wetness on them, sighs through his nose when Derek opens his mouth in response
and lets the hot piss pass back and forth between them, running down their
chins as the kiss grows sloppy. When they pull apart to catch their breath,
Stiles can see Derek’s hardness echoing his own. He can see the hungry way
Derek is staring at the drips that hit his shirt, feels a thousand times more
confident now that he knows he’s not alone in this at all. He picks up the
glass, throat working as he guzzles it down carelessly, letting it run down the
sides of his mouth, soak into his shirt. He’s barely set the empty glass on the
counter before Derek is on him, mouth diving down to lick and suck at the piss
dripping down his face, hoisting Stiles up and carting him over to the bed.
They don’t talk much as they strip, mouths seeking out one another, loathe to
stop kissing. Derek seems sad when he strips off Stiles’ wet shirt, but he does
it anyhow, drops it on the bed next to them as he urges Stiles onto his
stomach. He drags Stiles’ pants and boxer-briefs off quickly, hands massaging
the globes of his ass before spreading them and dropping his face down, tongue
flat against his rim. Stiles moans at the feeling, arches his ass up to get
more, and Derek rumbles happily and complies, alternating between broad strokes
of his tongue against the heated flesh and pushing against the rim, sloppily
opening him up on his mouth. Stiles’ cock is dripping copiously by the time
Derek pulls his mouth away and digs around for lube, slicking up his fingers
and stretching Stiles open. He settles his weight against Stiles’ back while he
does it, warm breath teasing his ear when he asks about condoms. Stiles
declines, reminds him he’s a virgin and that he knows Derek can’t transmit. It
gets another happy rumble and a twist of his fingers, nailing Stiles’ prostate.
He pushes against it a few more times, seeming to enjoy the way it makes Stiles
writhe and shift beneath him before easing back so he’s standing, knees flush
to the bed, dragging Stiles backwards with him until his ass is at the right
angle. Stiles watches over his shoulder as Derek slicks his cock up, peeling
back his foreskin before starting the slow push inside. Stiles does his best to
relax, listening to Derek’s instruction to bear down, easing the slide of
Derek’s cock inside him. There’s no burn, no pain, and Stiles is grateful for
how well Derek stretched him. Derek goes still when he bottoms out and Stiles
tries to wait him out, he does, but he can’t take it and he shifts forward and
back, sliding himself along Derek’s cock, enjoying the full stretch. 
Derek groans behind him, braces his hands on Stiles’ hips and then starts to
work with him, timing his thrusts to Stiles’ thighs slapping together, his
balls swinging between Stiles’ legs on each inward thrust, smacking into the
underside of his dick. He gets a hand around himself, strokes in time with the
movement, and it’s not long before he can feel the pleasure building, the urge
to come growing strong. Derek shifts his hips slightly, nails Stiles’ prostate,
and it’s game over, he’s coming, ass clenching down where Derek is buried
inside of him, spurring the man into coming too. Derek collapses down a bit,
body draped over Stiles’, arms wrapped underneath him, stroking his chest and
stomach. He hasn’t pulled out yet, but Stiles can feel the come dripping out
around Derek’s softening cock, discovers he likes that feeling too.
“Can I try something? You can tell me to stop any time if you don’t like it.”
Stiles is a little comedrunk but he nods, figuring he’s enjoyed everything
they’ve done so far, curious what Derek’s plans are. He’s watched a lot of
porn, assumes Derek wants to play with the come dripping out of his ass maybe,
finger him or something, so he’s surprised when Derek only shifts up, hand
coming between them to hold  his cock steady, keep the head inside of Stiles.
He looks over his shoulder, gaze questioning, to see Derek standing there, eyes
shut with a look of concentration. He’s about to ask when he feels it, a new
warmth flooding inside of him, a slight sting on his now-sensitive insides, and
he realizes Derek is pissing inside of him. He exhales shakily, his own soft
cock twitching, wanting to be hard again even though it’s too soon. He can feel
when Derek stops, whines out for him to keep going, and is pleased when the
other man follows through, letting out a sigh as he finishes pissing inside of
Stiles.
 

[image]
 
He’s not even a little surprised when Derek drops to his knees after he’s done,
mouth latching on to Stiles’ hole, catching the piss and cum running out of him
on his tongue, lapping and sucking until Stiles is twitching too hard to take
it anymore. Derek rolls Stiles onto his back, settles his body firmly over him,
smiling through tight lips when Stiles opens his mouth hungrily, draws him into
a kiss, sucking down the mouthful Derek kept for him. They make out lazily,
piss and cum making a mess of their faces. Derek massages Stiles stomach,
encourages him to let go, his soft cock spurting out more piss over both of
them, making the slide of their bodies against one another easier. They only
give in when it gets tacky between them, Derek getting up to retrieve a damp
washcloth, wiping them both down with a bit of a sad expression. Stiles is
starting to wonder if he should get up and get dressed, head home, but Derek is
tossing the washcloth towards the bathroom and climbing into the bed, dragging
Stiles to him and settling him on his chest. He kisses Stiles’ temple, rubs his
face along the juncture of his shoulder and throat, scent-marking, and Stiles
can’t help but laugh.
“What?” It’s a little gruff, Derek stiffening in his arms, and Stiles can’t
have that.
“I’m pretty sure I smell a lot like you right now, you were pretty thorough
earlier. Not sure the extra is necessary, but help yourself.” Derek relaxes at
the words, Stiles can see smile form in the edge of his vision as he scoots
down more, rubbing his own chin across Derek’s collarbone. He can hear Derek
take a whiff of him, feels the chuckle before there’s sound to go with it.
“Fair enough.” Derek presses another kiss to Stiles’ head before they both
drift off to sleep.
End Notes
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