
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/761503.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Lydia_Martin/Jackson_Whittemore, Stiles_Stilinski/Jackson_Whittemore_
      (Implied), Stiles_Stilinski/Scott_McCall_(Implied), Allison_Argent/Scott
      McCall, Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Vernon_Boyd/Erica_Reyes, Isaac
      Lahey/Jackson_Whittemore, Stiles_Stilinski/Other(s)
  Character:
      Scott_McCall, Derek_Hale, Jackson_Whittemore, Stiles_Stilinski, Erica
      Reyes, Isaac_Lahey, Danny_Mahealani, Lydia_Martin, Allison_Argent, Laura
      Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Dark, Sexual_Content, Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Sexual_Slavery, Video_Cameras,
      Sex_Tape, Blackmail, Dark_Stiles, Older_Stiles, BAMF_Stiles, Drunk
      Stiles, Drunk_Sex, Human_Derek_Hale, Bottom_Derek_Hale, younger_Derek
      hale, Derek_Feels, Hale_Family_Feels, Dubious_Consent, Non_Consensual,
      Awkward_Crush
  Collections:
      Teen_Wolf_AUs, sterek_AUs
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-14 Chapters: 1/? Words: 4301
****** Devil's Love Song ******
by Arubi
Summary
     “Stiles,” Kate later whispers, voice husky and seductive, but Stiles
     recognizes the threatening edge in it. “If you won’t take him, I
     will.”
     That automatically alerts him, he swallows involuntarily and hates
     himself for it, that delicate gesture is all Kate needs to know he’s
     threatened. He knows Kate’s method, knows what she does, he flinches
     at the thought of Derek being under her hands, yet he doesn’t know if
     it’s from fear or something else.
Notes
     Okay so this is masochistic, definitely and utterly masochistic. A
     fic featuring Younger teenage Derek after the Hale fire and Senior
     Jock Stiles. Derek being the awkward dork crushing on Stiles and
     Stiles being an insensitive jerk who is in a gang with Scott, Jackson
     and the most characters we know (including Kate Argent). It is mostly
     porn with plot, because I promise that I will redeem Stiles sooner or
     later. Once I'm done with the crazy sex and torturing Derek.
     Inspired by:
     http://eeames.tumblr.com/tagged/tw+hs+au
See the end of the work for more notes
 

 
===============================================================================
Stiles can see him writhing on the floor, sobbing, choking.
The boy is bare and raw, his toned back is bruised and there’s dried cum
smeared over it – where it was previously used. He’s crawled up in a foetal
position, dark hair dishevelled with sweat and rough handling, eyes sore and
red, skin dirty and shivering.
Stiles’ own skin trembles at the sight in-front of him, they are in a large
warehouse, now empty, and the boy is abandoned here like a used toy. Except
that is exactly what he is.
A used toy.
That is what Stiles turned him into.
Derek’s body is still flawlessly beautiful, even in such a state; his skin is
smooth and fair and stretched neatly over his well-toned body, abs jutting out
from years of training – probably just to please Stiles – clenching in and out
as he tries to breathe and calm down from what he had gone through. He’s still
slender, at such an age, but Stiles knows he’d fill up as years pass by, if
he’s not too broken by then.
The guests left first, and then Jackson took Isaac, the other boy, away; Scott
left last, patting him on the shoulder, offering him a ride.
He didn’t know how to tell them that he can’t do this. They usually just leave
them in the warehouse, yet Isaac fell unconscious – and Stiles, Stiles couldn’t
leave Derek lying there.
It ripped his heart out, made it heavy with guilt he hadn’t foreseen – he knew
that guilt was not part of the game. He already played others, driven them to
the brink like he is doing with Derek right now, yet this time, it is
different. Something is different. There are vines wrapping around his insides
and constricting mercilessly the more he breaks Derek, as if by some cruel
curse they are bound together and to destroy one will break the other.
“Come on, I’ll take you to my place.” He strides forward and crouches down to
level himself with Derek, who has grown still apart from the random spasms his
body involuntarily spiked through. Stiles is aware of how cold the concrete
ground is. He’s aware of how humid the whole place is, it’s already January, he
feels cold under the black jacket he’s in, yet Derek is naked, broken and on
the floor.
Stiles takes off his Jacket and wraps it around him.
“I- trus- ted you.” Derek says in between muffled sobs, sniffing and trying to
hold back more tears.
“I know.” Stiles sighs pathetically, because he doesn’t know what else to say.
Truth is, he’s the devil, and Derek is his victim.
 
===============================================================================
*Months earlier*
Derek runs a hand through his hair, and then curses and quickly re-arranges it
to stand spiked forward and jelled.
“I must stop doing that.” He says to no one in particular, turning sideways to
check himself out in the mirror. He doesn’t look bad, maybe a little too thin –
scrawny even – but he hasn’t been eating anything apart from cereal and
noodles. He frowns when he looks down on the drawer underneath the mirror,
there’s a picture of a younger Laura happily grinning with her dad in the
backyard - probably his mother took that photo. Something inside of him twists
and breaks; Laura hadn’t come in three days, the last time she was drunk and
there were guys with her, forcing Derek to sleep on the coach. The apartment
they own is stale and ugly, everything to the bare minimum – it can never be a
house, or a home – just an apartment where they… survive. He still has to get
the money from the insurance, but Laura… she changed.
Derek blinks and shakes himself, regaining composure. He learned, with ironic
horror, that as long as he constantly makes sure not to think about his life
for long enough, it’ll be bearable. To escape and drift into a land of his own
and think about a happy life with all the things he desires. Sometimes people
tell him to wake up, or to stop daydreaming – sometimes they shun him and tell
him he’s wasting his life by being so distant and cutting everything and
everyone off, maybe they’re right, but he’s just trying to survive as best as
he can, why can’t they understand that?
How he wishes, though, that Laura was strong enough to pick everything up and
take care of him. He’s lost.
Erica invited him to go to a bar downtown with her and a couple of friends she
made. Erica was the closest to a best friend he has, they were both awkward and
unpopular – always pining after the hot senior guys like Danny and Stiles, a
little sad seeing as how Stiles barely knows he exist. Stiles is one of the
school’s top jocks, the untouchable rich jerk, and son of the Sheriff – or so
people dubbed him. He did offer Derek coffee the night of the fire when he was
sitting in the police central, though.
He rarely goes to clubs, he’s a dork, but he doesn’t want to lose Erica. Erica
changed completely after undergoing a surgery to treat her seizures, she became
popular and she dressed… differently – to put it nicely. Derek knows she’ll
soon stop talk to him, the apprehension twists around him brutally, but he
accepts it. The broken things are left behind, and the fixed ones struggle on
and catch up with the crowd.
****
Going to a club turns out to be absolutely terrible, first he spent five
minutes hyperventilating about having a fake I.D, and then he realized with
absolute horror that the air seems to be poisoned with alcohol and sweat and
heat and now he’s about to spontaneously combust. People are looking at him,
with eyes; eyes who scan him bottom to top way too blankly, it makes him fidget
and uncomfortable. Erica is dancing with guys and girls alike while he is
leaning to the bar drinking this god-awful thing they call Sambuca – although
it is strangely becoming more and more easy to drink.
But the moment he realizes that burying himself underneath the ground is an
excellent idea is when he notices Stiles and his gang including Jackson, who
teased him constantly about his sister, and Scott, who caught him staring at
Stiles once. Derek fidgets a little and looks forward at the cup, frowning at
it like it personally offends him – which it does, by the way. His eyes betray
him though, they roll and loom to where Stiles and the others sit around a
small table at the back of the bar.
****
“What is the Hale kid doing here?” Jackson snorts.
Stiles’ eyes glance around before landing on a slender man leaning against the
slab, his face is flushed with alcohol but otherwise he looks gorgeous, smooth
fair skin bare under his half buttoned white shirt. Stiles never seen him in
Chequers before, and then guesses the guy was dragged when he spots Erica
grinning as she lap dances with Boyd.
“He looks like a fish out of water.” Allison remarks, grabbing a shot of
tequila and downing it along with Lydia.
“Why don’t we pick him?” Jackson says.
“Come on. The boy is as fucked up as he can get, that’d be barbaric.” Stiles
tries to protest.
“A broken guy is either the most dangerous person… or the most useful.” Kate
grins and winks at him, devilish smile on her face.
“He’d be good.” Scott looks at Derek with interest, clearly intrigued.
“No.”
“Why not? I’d bet you can dig up some stuff about his sister…”
Stiles knows where this is going, he knows they are right… Derek would be
perfect. Yet he feels somewhat hesitant, the boy looks so innocent – not that
innocence ever stopped him before – and vulnerable… it makes him feel weird.
Instinct tells him that he shouldn’t do it with him. He doesn’t know much about
the Hales, but since the tragic event that involved the majority of them dying
it was difficult not to know who they were. He vaguely remembers Derek in the
police station, a sheet wrapped around him with his knees to his chest, sitting
cocooned on a chair, shivering in jerks and spasms like he’s being constantly
electrocuted. Maybe that was the reason he is so hesitant, that image of the
boy.
It feels like he lives with a red narrow line, the way he deals with things
isn’t made up of different shades; it is just one line which separates those
who he would ruin without a second glance, and those who he’d give his life for
– it was such a strange interjection, yet it was something beyond his control.
He wore his insensitivity and impassiveness like a tight blanket offering
warmth and protection, and only allowed a selected few to intrude inside his
space and bask in his repressed compassion.
Derek was not one of them.
“I don’t want to do it.” Stiles states, and he hopes it’s final.
He vehemently wishes that Derek leaves as fast as possible, he’s a sitting duck
and as Stiles downs more and more liquor his hesitance starts fading away and
turns into intrigue and lust.
“Stiles,” Kate later whispers, voice husky and seductive, but Stiles recognizes
the threatening edge in it. “If you won’t take him, I will.”
That automatically alerts him, he swallows involuntarily and hates himself for
it, that delicate gesture is all Kate needs to know he’s threatened. He knows
Kate’s method, knows what she does, he flinches at the thought of Derek being
under her hands, yet he doesn’t know if it’s from fear or something else.
He downs the vodka, which is pink – Jackson said something about being mixed
with strawberry – and stands up. He can smell the stench of alcohol on himself,
and he feels a little tipsy, the sudden motion disorienting him a little.
Jackson, Scott and the others stare at him, and Allison looks sad, her eyes
glancing from Kate to him. In little subtle ways, Allison managed to perceive
everything better than anyone.
If he chants leave, leave, leave all the way – well, Kate can’t hear him.
A small sadistic part of him, sometimes maybe louder, chants stay, and it feels
like there’s a devil’s song playing in his head.
*
Derek is about to leave when he feels an arm on his shoulder. He jerks around
to see Stiles with a thin sweet smile on his lips.
“Is it free here?” Stiles asks, and Derek briefly wonders just how drunk he
must be to be seeing Stiles.
“Urm… Yes.” He nods, hands everywhere.
“Two vodka.” Stiles instructs to the barmaid, who nods with a knowing look.
Derek feels his skin tingle.
“You’ve been here long?”
He wonders if he should tell Stiles that he was about to leave, but then
doesn’t, fearing that would send the wrong message. “A while. I came with… urm
Erica… and the others.” Even if he has no idea where they went.
“Erica is probably wasted,” Stiles laughs. “Don’t worry, so are my mates,
Jackson is dead on his feet.”
Derek grins and giggles a little.
“Do you want to come at mine?” Stiles’ gaze falls on his, all intent clear, yet
expression unreadable. Derek gulps.
He hyperventilates for a couple of seconds and opens his mouth and closes it
again. “O-Okay.” He stammers. This is not happening. This is not happening. Oh
God.
The Vodka arrives and Derek immediately downs in it in one go.
“Wow. Didn’t know you’re a heavy drinker.” Stiles huffs cheekily before
drinking some of his own vodka.
“I’m not.” Derek admits, shit eating grin still stupidly plastered on his face.
*
Stiles’ tongue is sucking on Derek’s neck, slurping the skin beneath his ear
and making him moan helplessly. He’s pinned to the wall and he slowly
registers, in between pauses when his mind actually works, that he is in
Stiles’ house, and they’re making their way upstairs – possibly to his bedroom.
He would scream a little if he wasn’t groaning and making embarrassing noises
from the back of his throat. Stiles is pressed up against him, hot skin and
muscles and fingers going everywhere. The smell of cinnamon and alcohol heavy
on him stuns Derek. Stiles is all finesse and thorough, exploring Derek on his
own, interrupted and doing his thing. Stiles moves up to his mouth, presses
their lips together in a hot open mouthed peck and dives his tongue inside
Derek’s mouth, tastes every corner of him before their tongues dance around
each other, lithe and tactile. Derek momentarily feels embarrassed at his own
inexperience with this compared to Stiles, it is obvious that he isn’t the only
one to know what Stiles’ lips feel like – probably, if the rumours were true,
many do.
It isn’t a pleasing thought, but it immediately drifts away and gets replaced
by lust and haze the second he lets himself reciprocate and lets himself go.
Stiles’ fingers of one hand intertwine with Derek’s, the coldness of the wall
contrasting the sweaty heat of Stiles’ flesh. The other hand is around his
middle, pressing him close and tight. Stiles tears Derek’s shirt buttons open
and begins lapping at his neck and licking at his pale neck, and then moves
down to his collarbones. Derek moans hopelessly, cursing under his breath and
feeling the rush of adrenaline through his body. He feels this light feathery
feeling inside of him erasing the black bile that for so long settled inside of
him and that only grew with his family’s absence; with Stiles every single
nerve of his body is buzzing with delight and desire and it is almost too much.
Stiles pulled away, panting heavily. “Let’s go upstairs.” He takes off his own
shirt, revealing sharp abs and a slender waist which make Derek drool a little,
and stare at the naked flesh for too long and blush.
He knew Stiles was well toned, his baggy shirts didn’t do him justice, he
remembers how sometimes Stiles would lift his shirt up during games or while
chatting with his friends obliviously and Derek would take a peak, this, he
concludes, is infinitely better.
The moment he steps inside Stiles’ room he feels a rush of awareness course
through him, alertness regarding where exactly he is and what’s going to
happen. He can feel his pulse raising, tension settling inside of him making
him jittery and tense.
“Shh.” Stiles puts his arms around his middle, pulling him close and kissing
his agitation away. He feels legless, his body turning to jelly as his breath
is taken away by peck after peck. Derek puts his own hands around Stiles’ neck,
who’s an inch or two taller, and allows himself to enjoy the soft velvety
feeling of Stiles’ lips.
Stiles guides him onto the bed and strips him down completely, smirking
mischievously before giving his hard throbbing cock a swift lick, making it
bounce up and down onto his belly. He sinks down on it, swallows almost all as
if he has no gag reflex. Derek isn’t small, a good seven inches and a half,
when he feels Stiles lapping on his dick head with his tongue in rolls and
swipes he loses it, seeing everything white.
Stiles swallows his climax completely, and when he moves to return the act,
Stiles just gestures him to turn around.
The angle is perfect from here, Derek is on all fours on the bed. Smooth skin
with shades of silver casted on it by the moon, the window is open bare and the
air that breezes is cold against his skin, making him tremble slightly. The
boy’s skin is fair, beautifully stretched out over solid muscles, slender and
beautiful. He’s a little on the thin side, but perfect nonetheless. Stiles is
rimming him from behind, tongue lapping at his hole and finger brushing just
the outer layer, sometimes pushing in a little before pulling back out with
loud pops. Stiles has a hand splayed out on Derek’s back, rubbing on a joint in
his spine and making sweet smooth circles, the other jerking his cock in slow
long strokes.
Derek is moaning and gritting his teeth helplessly.
“Fuck Stiles.”
“Moan for me Baby” Stiles says, a little lost in his own world as he pushes in
the second finger and scissors Derek’s asshole open.
“Oh god. Ahh” Derek can’t stop, sinking back into Stiles’ finger erratically,
loud groans coming out of his mouth on their own.
When Stiles enters the third finger, Derek lets out a loud gasp, stills for a
little why until he can settle against the intrusion. It doesn’t take long
before he can feel Stiles’ cock rubbing against between his cheeks, his ass is
slick and heavy with lube and saliva and he feels his lower half hot and
sweaty.
Stiles’ cock isn’t as wide as his own but longer and it feels like a spear as
it penetrates him little by little, he feels his insides spread against the
invasion. It’s a little painful, he has no control in this position, hands busy
grasping the sheets to ground himself as Stiles controls the rhythm. Stiles
stops midway, waits for Derek to settle down and once the pain subsides Derek
nods. Stiles bottoms out in one swift thrust and Derek yells loudly, gasps
breathlessly as his lungs contort, then Stiles settles down onto him, abs
brushing against his back and the member inside him lowers down, putting heavy
pressure on his prostate and blinding him into a delirious constant euphoria.
Stiles picks up the rhythm rapidly, and soon he’s ramming into Derek’s back and
forcing open mouthed groans every time he bottoms out and brushes his prostate
at a perfect angle. Stiles isn’t new to this, he knows all the exact movements
and slants he needs to thrust in to hit the right nerves, to hit the prostate
at its most sensitive spot. He has enough experience after-all.
*
Derek wakes up to a blinding light and an incredible soreness in his thighs and
insides, even moving slightly makes his whole body ache. He wonders where
Stiles is before he hears the shower running, he feels… strange. Like seeing
everything from a completely new perspective, he feels dirty and a little
disgusting, a sudden lump in his throat saddens him. He shrugs it off and
glances around the room, there is a wardrobe on one side and a computer desk
and cabinet on the other adjacent to a still bared window, there are books
positioned around the room and photos of Stiles and Scott on the nightstand
beside the bed, along with a photo of his father and a woman who must have been
his mother. (He knows she died long ago, and the circumstances remained unclear
even now.) There’s a camera, a laptop and a couple of files on the table desk,
it feels like home, imprinted by Stiles’ mark, even the smell of pine and wood
scent and cinnamon is as familiar as it can get.
He assumes this is the part where he should dress up, once he realizes where
his clothes are, and talk to Stiles… he doesn’t know what it is, the idea that
it was just a one night stands makes his insides coil, but he knows that’s what
it probably is. There’s this fluttery hope inside of him that he fails to
eliminate. Well… Maybe Stiles will offer him a shower, and maybe a ride,
because he has no idea how he’s going to walk all the way without collapsing or
taking the entire day.
Stiles walks out of the shower with a towel wrapped low around his hips, he’s
agitated. A sudden sense of irritation and anger twisting inside of him at just
everything. Particularly at Kate. Usually he’d kick anyone out of bed five
seconds after he cums inside of them, but with Derek…. Fuck. Derek was amazing
last night, pure bliss. It felt spectacular, and guilt wrecking… Stiles doesn’t
want to think about the idea of others having their hands on him, he feels
possessive… almost territorial, it’s weird, and he knows it has to stop.
“The clothes are in the wardrobe’s floor, and I called you a taxi, don’t worry
I’m paying.” Something inside Stiles clenches at how Derek’s face suddenly
falls, dejected. “O- Okay” Derek plasters a smile, but its edges are dismayed,
forced.
“I’ll make a toast and some coffee, let’s go downstairs.”
*
School life is normal the next day. Derek feels like there are eyes onto him,
little whispers – but it is all his imagination. He feels weird, as if
inhabiting his own body for the first time, as if there’s a label on him
everyone can see. He’s afraid. Not that he spent the last night in tears… he
won’t think about that.
Well, he had his fun. It was mesmerising and amazing and a million other
things. He wishes that it went better, that he was an exception for Stiles, but
he settles down for the brute reality, at-least his dream land got just a
little more real. In a destructively ironic way.
Erica questions him where he went, and he tries to dodge it until she deadpans
that she saw him leaving with Stiles.
“Wait… You spent the whole night at him?!” She exclaims loudly, he shushes her
up, hands everywhere and face flushed.
“…Yes…shh! So?” He mutters.
“Dude, no one sleeps at Stiles’, it must have been really good.” She says
cheekily, grin wide.
He splutters and fidgets a little before admitting it. “It was urm… yeah.” He
manages.
“Oh god, now I’m jealous of you. I ended up with a random guy – okay he was
hot, really hot, and huge.” She offers the information shamelessly. “And you
ended up with our dream guy. Asshole.”
“Who was your guy?”
“Boyd.” She says dreamily.
“Okay give me the details? Is he big? Does he have good tricks? Does he last
for-“ Erica is about to continue asking unhelpfully before Derek puts a hand
up.
“Shut up! I’ll kill you!” He threatens uselessly.
“Please.” She rolls her eyes, and then lets them land on Derek again, wide and
hungry. “Details.”
“He’s urr… The-rumours-are-true.” He says as quickly as possible.
“Oh my god. Oh God.” Erica squeaks in delight.
“Well… it didn’t mean anything…” He stabs his vegetables she bought him with
the fork absently. “…Morning came and I was swept off.” He smiles grimly.
“But, he made you toast. And coffee, that clearly is a romantic notion.”
*
Three days pass, and things have been… strange.
Stiles’ friends are looking at him differently, at first he thought it was just
because they knew; he even felt slightly happy Stiles wasn’t ashamed of telling
them.
During class he tries to look at Stiles, sometimes, even if he feels like a
total creep; however Stiles fidgets and turns around the moment their eyes
meet. He thought that at-least Stiles would talk to him, at-least acknowledge
him. Whatever.
When school finishes he bumps into Jackson.
“You moan like a bitch, Hale.” Jackson’s mocking grin slams his insides with a
hammer when he says it, how does Jackson know what –
He ignores Jackson and continuous walking out of the hallway and runs to his
bike, shocked. Stiles couldn’t have told his friends such things… He hopes not,
a sense of trepidation and utter humiliation settles inside him and it doesn’t
leave.
*
Friday morning he’s pulling out his files from the locker when he catches Danny
staring at him, his expression is unreadable, but he looks as if he is… pitying
Derek.
It’s after lunch break that it happens. Derek is surrounded by Jackson, Isaac
and Kate, he stops in his way and looks at them with a raised eyebrow. He tries
to be nonchalant, but he fails to repress a swallow.
“Derek, why don’t you come with us?” Kate says first, she’s standing between
the two guys, a navy blue shirt, tight pants and high heels; she had to repeat
the senior year for having trouble with the law, over what, Derek doesn’t know,
all he knows is that her parents paid a shitload of money.
“Why?” He asks.
“Oh for the god’s sake, just come with us Hale.” Jackson rolls his eyes and he
motions towards the living room, waiting for Derek to start moving before
strolling ahead towards the locker room.
The area is empty, and when Isaac locks the door his insides clench.
Kate grabs a camera from her bag, and it looks vaguely familiar, Derek frowns.
“Just look at this.”
He is aghast and he trembles when it starts playing, he glances up to Kate and
Jackson, and then down to the video again. He suddenly feels cold and sick, yet
he cannot move, paralyzed completely.
Derek hears Jackson grinning and it brutally snaps his attention.
“H-how?” He asks dumbly. There’s him in the clip, naked, on his knees and hands
as he moans, filled with lust, it is obvious there’s someone behind him, yet
Stiles isn’t visible in the frame.
“Ohh, honey, the good part still has to come.”  Kate grabs the camera and
forwards it to the point where Derek is being fucked from behind by Stiles, who
is still out of frame except from his hips ramming into him, causing Derek to
gasp loudly and groan. He knows what it looks like, he looks like a complete
whore, being mounted by another man… Kate forwards it again to where Derek
rides Stiles and cums for the second time, undone.
He heaves, struck completely dumb, just shivering in place as Kate takes the
camera back.
“So here’s what’s going to happen if you want these videos to remain between
us.”
End Notes
     It is unbeta'ed, hence all mistakes are mine, feel free to point out
     any you find.
     Suggestions & Tips are more than welcome. Feed-back of any kind makes
     me squee and feel sappy with mushy feelings. Ideas of what should
     happen next are more than welcome (I have a plan in mind... Doesn't
     mean there shouldn't be occasions for meaningless sex.)
     Pictures:
     http://flutteringdominion.tumblr.com/post/47986912501/devils-love-
     song-a-teen-wolf-fanfic-dork
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
