
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/533062.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Sheriff_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Rimming, Anal, Knotting, dub-con_of_the_heat_variety, everyone's_a_wolf,
      Wolf!Stiles, Barebacking, hale_family_is_alive, somehow_derek_ends_up
      fucking_a_sneaker, Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Masturbation, bottom!Derek
  Series:
      Part 1 of Joys_of_Babysitting
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-09 Words: 8800
****** Endless Beings ******
by citrusbee_(ziusura)
Summary
     Laura wasn't answering her phone, but that didn't really surprise
     Derek since the whole reason he was even covering for her on her
     babysitting job was so she could have a night free of interruptions
     for her date. Well really it was so she wouldn't spill the beans to
     his boss about what he was really doing last saturday, but that
     wasn't important. What was important was the the guy he was
     babysitting had just hit his first heat and Derek had no idea what to
     do.
     (Stiles is 16)
Notes
     It's my birthday tomorrow so I wrote a self-indulgent porn fic for my
     own prompt in the kinkmeme. Technically this is me de-anoning.
     Hale family is alive. Everyone's a wolf. How did I write almost 9k
     for this. OTL
     I suck so hard at titles i don't even know what that is. also Derek
     is a tad bit OOC just because his family's, y'know, alive. or at
     least laura is.
“Emergency numbers are on the fridge, there’s a twenty under the freeze-pops in
the freezer for pizza but there should be enough food in the house for the
weekend, and if he gives you any trouble please don’t hesitate to call me. Any
meetings can wait.”
Derek gave an impatient roll of his eyes behind Sheriff Stilinski’s back. It
was the sixth time since Derek had gotten there that they’d gone over it. He
had covered for Laura before, and sure this kid was a bit older than the nine
year olds Derek had watched, but the logistics were still the same. Probably.
“I’m sure it will be fine.”
The Sheriff turned from where he was slipping his coat on and gave Derek a look
he didn’t know how to interpret.
“This is Stiles. I’ve kind of accepted that he will never make things easy on
anyone. I don’t think he even realizes half the trouble he gets in is actually,
y’know, trouble.”
Oh, so his name was actually Stiles. Derek hadn’t been sure he heard Laura
right when she told him he was babysitting a Stiles, because that was totally
not a name.
“He’s sixteen,” the Sheriff continues, “so he’s not into the whole babysitter
thing but he’s got two broken arms and I’m gone for the weekend. I would have
left him with his friend Scott, but you know how it is.”
Derek didn’t, but he nodded his head yes anyway.
“Anyway, I should probably get going, don’t want to be late,” the Sheriff says,
and Derek agreed.
It felt like he was totally unwilling to leave his son alone, and while Derek
hadn’t experienced those kinds of parents yet, Laura told him the horror
stories. Though those seemed to be centered more on an unwillingness to leave
their kids alone with Laura, while Sheriff Stilinski seemed more like he was
afraid to leave Derek alone with Stiles.
“Stiles! Get your butt down here!”
There’s a shuffle and a thump from upstairs before a bedroom door opens.
“I’m sorry, he isn’t usually this rude, but he’s annoyed that I wouldn’t leave
him home alone.”
Derek was hoping he was reclusive, the easy kind of kid to babysit where you’d
put them in a room with some toys and they were fine. Sure, Stiles was older
and would probably need some different toys, but Derek was nothing if not
inventive.
Feet hit the stairs and the Sheriff winced when it sounded like a herd of
elephants coming downstairs, but Derek shrugged. He had younger siblings and
they sounded just as loud.
And well, when Stiles turned the corner to head into the door entryway, Derek
thought he was going to have to rethink calling him a kid so much in his head
because considering anyone a kid when he was a little (just a little) attracted
to them opened a whole can of worms Derek wasn’t willing to look at. Ever.
It wasn’t so much that he was attractive then, because Stiles was definitely
the epitome of awkward, gawky teenager with limbs longer than he’s used to and
ears that stuck out a little farther than they should’ve, but there were things
that Derek noticed and he knew that when Stiles finally grew into them he’d be
really attractive. And it was that older Stiles that he could see in glimpses,
that he liked. Though it was hard telling his body that Stiles wasn’t grown up
yet, that was for sure.
“What’s the matter?” The Sheriff asked and Derek nearly jumped straight into
the roof because how on earth was he supposed to say that whatever face he just
made that the Sheriff noticed was because he was attracted to his underage son.
But he wasn’t speaking to Derek.
Sheriff Stilinski had a hand against Stiles’ forehead, and it was then that
Derek noticed that Stiles’ eyes were a little glossy and red rimmed. Stiles
shrugged him off, eyes glancing over at Derek before he scowled at his dad.
“If you’re getting sick I can stay home. I’m sure the folks at the other end of
the meeting will understand.”
Stiles shifted from side to side and glanced over at Derek again, who nearly
rolled his eyes. He was at that age where he apparently had to prove to the
older kids how cool he was.
“No, I’m not sick. I’ve just been really tired today. Stayed up too late and
all, so I’m fine. Go to your meeting, Dad.”
“Well, okay. If you’re sure.” The Sheriff seemed reluctant to leave, especially
now that his son looked like he did. And to be honest, as nervous and guilty as
Stiles was looking, Derek thought he’d been up to something entirely different
than sleeping because he was tired.
“Yeah, get going dad, you’ll miss your meetings,” Stiles said with a grin, but
it looked strained even to Derek’s eyes and he didn’t even know the kid.
They hugged and Derek had to avert his eyes at how awkward it looked, with
Stiles trying to avoid the whole thing and the Sheriff trying to hold on as
long as possible.
And when the Sheriff officially left and they heard the cab peel out of the
driveway, there was a heavy silence in the air, Stiles kicking at the wood
floor with his socked feet and glancing up at Derek a few times before dropping
his eyes back to the floor.
“My Dad, uh, he’s a hugger,” Stiles eventually said, scratching the back of his
neck with a sheepish grin. “But not like, a treehugger or anything. Just a
people hugger. Er, well a me hugger.”
Derek snorted because he didn’t have anything else to add. If Stiles was a kid,
like a little kid, he’d have grabbed a boardgame or a toy or something and
asked if he wanted to play. But he was pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well
with a sixteen year old. It felt like he was trying to talk to one of his
younger brother’s friends, and well, he usually ignored them when they came
over to the house. He had no freaking clue what to do.
“You wanna, um, watch a movie or something?” Stiles asked, and Derek was
grateful to jump on the opportunity. And seeing as Stiles was older, he
wouldn’t have to suffer through Gumbo’s Quest for the Golden Rabbit or The
Wolfling’s Forest for the four thousandth time practically.
Stiles put in a horror movie, because apparently the genre was his favorite,
while Derek situated himself on one end of the couch.
“I’m sorry about the previews, but our DVD player refuses to skip them,” Stiles
mumbled as he sat down on the opposite side of the couch.
“It’s fine.”
Two previews passed before Stiles spoke up again. “Do you want some popcorn or
anything? It doesn’t have butter on it because my Dad needs to eat healthy
though.”
Derek looked pointedly at Stiles’ arms in their casts and said, “You going to
be able to carry it out?”
Stiles frowned. “I’m not an invalid, despite what my dad thinks. I can wipe my
own ass and everything.”
And to prove it, Stiles brought out a giant bowl of popcorn and set it on the
cushion between them. It didn’t have butter on it, but Derek tolerated it.
“Your voice doesn’t really match your body you know,” he said when the movie
finally started. Derek was the type of person who needed to have all their
focus on the movie and hated it when others talked so it was a wonder that he
didn’t threaten to bite Stiles’ head off, but he’d seen the movie before.
“Like, you have this really intense body but your voice sounds like it should
belong to a baker or a teacher or something.”
Derek’s heart picked up for a beat or two when Stiles mentioned his body, and
it was stupid and he felt stupid because it was a sixteen-year-old boy telling
him it, and it was in the midst of an insult. He should want to punch him, not
get the urge to push him against the couch and hump him into oblivion. “Yeah,
well I guess we all aren’t as lucky as you to have a voice that matches their
body.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you look like you sound, a kid.”
“Fuck you, I’m sixteen!”
Derek snorted and turned back to the TV screen. Yeah, that was what Derek kept
telling himself. “You don’t even look like you’ve hit your first heat yet.”
Stiles went weirdly quiet, and Derek’s thankful he could finally focus on the
movie again.
On some level he’s kind of glad Stiles chose a horror movie. His sister’s the
type to cling to everyone and anyone every time something jumps across the
screen and startles her, and Derek kept thinking about Stiles doing it. There
was a scary part coming up soon, and Derek imagined Stiles jumping up and
knocking over the popcorn bowl in an attempt to get close enough to cling to
Derek, his arms wrapping around his shoulders and his face pressed to Derek.
His mind quickly made the jump to something else where Stiles would need to
hold onto Derek like that, and he shut down that train of thought immediately.
He was sixteen, Derek reminded himself.
The scary portion came and passed, and Stiles did not grasp at Derek, hell he
didn’t even scream or jump or anything. He was embarrassed that he felt so
disappointed about it, but it was probably for the best.
He peered over at Stiles out of curiosity, who was pressed tight against the
opposite arm rest, mouth open and face flushed in the little light the TV gave
off. His eyes burned holes into the TV but it didn’t look like he was really
watching it, and his left hand rested in the popcorn bowl.
It was really stupid, but Derek stuck his hand in the popcorn bowl, telling
himself that he was really hungry and craving popcorn like nothing else, even
though it was cold and unappetizing at that point in the movie. He brushed
Stiles’ cast by accident, but Stiles didn’t move so Derek did it again, testing
the waters. His fingers ran up Stiles’ middle finger in almost a caressing
gesture, but it wasn’t. Derek was just getting popcorn, of course. And the
quiet shuddering breath that came out of Stiles’ parted lips wasn’t that at
all, Derek told himself.
The popcorn wasn’t even all the way in his mouth before he had his hand in the
bowl again, running his fingers across the back of Stiles’ hand right where it
met the cast. It didn’t have the same effect as last time though. This time
Stiles let out a keening whine and Derek’s hand shot back, heart hammering away
in his chest.
There was a sex scene on the TV, the blonde girl exposing her breasts to the
viewers while the protagonist plowed into her from behind. In a minute or two
after the movie fulfilled its obligatory titillating scene for the sex starved
teens watching, the blonde girl would get stabbed in the back, blade going
through until the end came out of her chest right between her bouncing breasts.
Stiles didn’t know that though, Derek realized. Stiles was sixteen and there
were boobs on the screen. That’s all it was. The noise wasn’t from Derek and
his stupidity, it was from the boobs. Derek remembered being that age, when
even the slightest glimpse of ass or boobs or pubic hair had Derek running for
his bedroom and reaching for his belt buckle.
And hell, Stiles was sixteen.
“I’m, uh, I’ve got to go pee,” Stiles said and his voice sounded so wrecked
that it sent a shudder down Derek’s spine. He refused to watch as Stiles, wide-
eyed and flushed, got up and made his way to the bathroom. He didn’t need
visual confirmation that Stiles was liking that part in the movie, it was bad
enough having the itch to jump him, a sixteen-year-old, as it was.
Why the hell was Derek even acting like that? It almost felt like he’d hit his
heat, but this felt milder than that and it wasn’t supposed to hit for another
week. Apparently Derek just had a thing for teenaged boys he definitely
couldn’t touch because he was supposed to be babysitting him, not entertaining
ideas of sticking his dick in said teenager’s mouth to chase after the popcorn
he’d just stuck in there.
Holy hell. He was so going to hell. But somehow Derek couldn’t bring himself to
care.
The blonde girl got stabbed and screams replaced the wanton moaning.
He shook his head to try and dissipate the fog. Maybe Stiles really was sick
and had infected Derek. Yeah, that had to be it.
While Stiles was up Derek took the half empty popcorn bowl to the kitchen. When
he was that age the popcorn wouldn’t have had time to cool even the slightest
bit before he was done with it, but maybe Stiles didn’t have that kind of
appetite or maybe he was feeling a little too sick.
Derek stooped down and pressed his forehead to the cool surface of the counter
top. It was so warm in the sitting room, and Derek didn’t know why. Stiles was
probably feverish, that was the only reason he could think of for him, but
Derek? He was either sick with whatever Stiles had or his own heat had come
early, but both were unlikely. But Derek had control. He was in control.
Whatever was happening would blow over by the next morning and he’d be able to
look Sheriff Stilinski in the face when he came back at the end of the weekend.
It had to.
He sat back on the couch a little closer to where Stiles was sitting before,
and it wasn’t so he could feel the heat Stiles left coming off the cushion.
That was an added bonus that he chose to ignore, but it certainly wasn’t the
whole reason. Derek sat closer because Stiles was clearly feeling sick and
Derek needed to be in a place to help him if he passed out or threw up or
needed someone to cling on because the movie scared him. Obviously.
Only Stiles didn’t sit on the end of the couch when he came back. He walked
right past that spot, stiff and looking very red, and sat in an armchair on the
other side of the room, curling up in a ball so his knees came up to just under
his chin.
He couldn’t have been able to see from there, the way the chair was angled at
the TV, and Derek almost told him to come back over so he could see the movie,
but he restrained himself. Derek needed to let this blow over and space was
probably the best answer.
Stiles sat that way until the movie ended.
“I’m not feeling so well so I think I’m going to head onto bed, sorry,” Stiles
said and Derek made the mistake of looking over at him. His face was flushed
and sweaty, and his lips parted and rough, like he’d been chewing all them all
night. He looked like sex and Derek had to claw himself in the thigh to keep
from wanting out loud.
Stiles stood up on wobbling legs, and Derek was suddenly reminded that, oh
yeah, he’s supposed to be looking after this kid. If Stiles fell his two broken
arms would do nothing to catch him and that wouldn’t be good at all.
“Let me help,” Derek breathed out and was by Stiles’ side in an instance,
reaching out to steady Stiles by his shoulder.
“Don’t!” Stiles yelled and jumped about two feet to the left of where he was,
away from Derek’s hands and help. Derek didn’t know how to react, so he left
his arm hanging there, hand poised where Stiles’ shoulder would have been had
he not moved.
“I’m, uh, I don’t want to get you sick,” Stiles said quietly, his eyes turned
to the wall somewhere to the left of him.
“Maybe I should call your dad.”
“No, uh, don’t do that. He needs this business trip.”
“Yeah, okay,” Derek said, swallowing. A dull throb started up in his arm and he
remembered it was still sticking up. He let it fall down to his side,
embarrassed.
Stiles made it to the stairwell before he spoke again, back to Derek. “There’s
blankets and stuff in the closet next to the downstairs bathroom,” he said, and
he walked up to presumably his room.
Derek waited until he heard the bedroom door shut before he let out the breath
he’d been holding.
===============================================================================
There was something pressing against his bare cock, an unbearable heat and
slickness. And fuck did that make a nice dream. He thrust up long and slow,
trying to milk the sensation for as long as he could as his cock tangled in
wiry hair and soft cotton cloth on the body above him.
“Fuck, you’re so loud,” a voice whispered against his neck, and it was so wet
and sloppy that Derek couldn't help pressing up against the lips
“I thought you were checking me out y’know, when I was saying goodbye to my
dad.” Then there was a breathless laugh and fingers on Derek’s dick, maybe his
own. It distracted him enough from the words that he didn’t question them. “And
then there was that hand thing you did with the popcorn bowl, oh God that hand
thing. I couldn’t even watch the movie after that.”
The weight above him shifted and the head of his cock was being guided
somewhere, pressed against something.
“But I still wasn’t sure you wanted me, not until you came up here fucking
aching for it.”
Derek pushed his face up against a shoulder and just breathed. The scent of sex
and sweat filled his nose, and a tangy smell he can’t really place until it hit
him that it was Stiles.
Fuck. Stiles. The sixteen-year-old kid he was supposed to be babysitting.
The last thing Derek remembered was laying down on the couch, his head at the
end where he had sat during the movie because having his face against where
Stiles had been sitting, and aroused at the sex scene, sounded like the worst
idea ever. It was bad enough that his smell was already all over the house, let
alone his scent when he’s turned on.
He did not remember being in a bed with Stiles, that was for sure.
Derek jolted up, eyes open, and pushed at the body above him. “Wha…?” he
started but it cut off into a painful yelp when his movement caused Stiles’
fingers to slip against him and scrape the sensitive flesh of his dick with his
cast
“Sorry! Sorry!” Stiles said above him, eyes wide, and his fingers moving over
the scrape to try and soothe the burn.
Derek rolled over, trapping Stiles with his hips (and shit, their pants were
shoved down to mid-thigh, cocks mingling in the space between) and his arms
framing his face (and Stiles looked so thoroughly fucked between his arms with
his flushed cheeks and blown pupils that Derek nearly lost himself and dove
in).
“What the hell are you doing, Stiles,” he managed to force out, and he’s proud
that it didn’t sound as turned on as he felt.
“Me? I wasn’t the one who climbed into my bed and started humping my ass in
some sort of stupor.” Stiles hit him in the chest lightly with his cast.
“Because that was all you, buddy.”
“I didn’t—“ Derek started but Stiles broke it off with a startled moan, and
it’s at that point that Derek realized he was pressing his dick into Stiles’
again. And it felt so fucking good that he couldn’t help thrusting down once,
twice, against Stiles, who grappled onto Derek’s ass and pushed his hips up,
the beginnings of claws pressing into the muscular flesh.
“No,” Derek panted, and suddenly he found enough willpower to move, throwing
himself across the room and into Stiles’ desk. Stiles tried to follow, but his
limbs flopped over and he landed stomach first against his bed.
Stiles was sixteen and Derek was being paid to watch him, not fuck him.
But he could watch him with his pants around his ankles, his body writhing
across the bed while Derek fucked him onto his cock.
“I can’t…we can’t do this, Stiles,” he said, and Stiles nodded his head, but it
was too enthusiastic for Derek to believe he was listening.
“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles groaned out, and the mattress started squeaking with the
force of Stiles’ hips undulating against the bed. It’s wild and uncontrolled,
like he couldn’t help himself, and Derek’s practically shaking at the sight of
it.
“It’s not a good idea,” Derek continued, but it sounded so weak even to his own
ears.
“Yeah,” Stiles said again and Derek knew he wasn’t agreeing with him. His hips
stuttered and his eyelids fluttered and Derek knew exactly what was happening.
“Stiles,” he whispered weakly and it sounded so thick and turned on. And Stiles
fucking lost it, head thrown back with his mouth open and eyes pinched and his
hips doing one languid sweep against the comforter. The soundless scream he let
out nearly punched Derek in the guts, it left him so breathless and wanting for
more.
His hand found it’s way to his cock, and he started up a quick pace because
fuck, he couldn’t get that image out of his head. It wouldn’t hurt if he jerked
off to that. Derek needed it. Besides, he wasn’t touching. He was watching,
just like he was supposed to be doing.
Stiles’ eyes opened up just enough that he could zero in on Derek’s hand
working his dick and he let out another moan. His hips started up again, like
he was imagining he was on that, that Derek was inside him, and Derek nearly
lost it.
Stiles’ face started twisting in pleasure and that was when it hit him. Stiles
was still going. Derek’s hand slowed to a stop and Stiles whined at the loss in
visual. Stiles was still humping the bed. He’d just come and he was still
trying to get off. It clicked then, the whole reason Stiles had been acting so
sick.
“Stiles,” Derek said, but Stiles didn’t stop moving. “Stiles,” he tried again.
The third Stiles, the loudest, got his attention.
“Yeah?” Stiles said, and it was breathless but it had enough of a questioning
tone that Derek figured he was listening.
“Are you in heat?”
Stiles’ hips stopped moving, and his face twisted in confusion. Derek tried to
push out the image of Stiles coming, because his confusion face was only an
open mouth and a slight tilt to an eyebrow off from his orgasm face.
“I, um, I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I’ve, uh,” Stiles started, his eyes turned away from Derek’s form. “I’ve never
had one before.”
“What?” Derek asked before he was able to stop it from spilling out of his
mouth.
Stiles shifted against his bed, like he was embarrassed, and he refused to look
Derek in the face. “Shut up. I’m a late-bloomer.”
Yeah, by about three years. Derek had his at fourteen, and Laura at twelve
since she was an alpha. But a first time at sixteen? Never even heard of it.
Derek became increasingly aware that he was totally and thoroughly out of his
element, and hell if he wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he was going to run to
his big sister to help fix it.
It was probably on par on the stupidity level with his deliberate hand touching
in the popcorn bowl, but Derek ran out of Stiles’ bedroom like the devil
himself had lit a fire underneath his ass, pulling his pj pants up with each
step.
He found himself in the kitchen, standing in front of the freezer with a
handful of freeze-pops in one hand, pressed against his neck to try and ward
off the heat, and his cell phone in the other. It was shitty of him to leave a
kid lost and confused about what his body was doing alone up in his room, but
God he had no idea what to do. He felt even worse about wanting him so bad too,
but that didn’t dissipate with his run downstairs. He wanted Stiles just as
fucking bad, and that was the worst thing.
Okay, so it was two am and Derek hadn’t really thought the whole calling his
sister thing through. Her phone was off and he kept getting her voicemail, but
that didn’t keep him from redialing her number and leaving increasingly frantic
messages.
It was after either the thirty-third or the thirty-seventh time (he’d lost
track when he heard some shuffling and moaning from upstairs) Derek tried
calling her that Laura called him back.
“Derek, it’s two am and I’m trying to get some alone time with my date, this
better be important.”
“He’s in heat.”
“What?”
“Laura, he’s in heat.”
Laura let out an exasperated sigh and Derek didn’t understand how she could be
so annoyed at something that was obviously a big deal.
“So cart him off to his heat room. It’s seriously that easy.”
“Laura, it’s his first heat.”
“Then you call his dad, ask where the heat room is, and then lock him up in
there. It is seriously that easy.”
There was some thumping upstairs and a noise Derek recognized as the bed
creaking under Stiles’ weight, not to mention the sounds Stiles was producing
himself. Sheer want settled low in Derek’s gut and it took so much will power
(and maybe a little bit of thinking about his sister) not to drop his phone,
run upstairs, and show Stiles how to handle a heat.
“It’s, uh, not that easy,” Derek said, his voice gravely and rough.
“And why isn’t it?”
Derek blushed and kicked absentmindedly at the fridge door with his toe. He did
not want to talk about his sex drive with his sister.
“He, um—“
“Derek just get on with it.”
“—Fine. He made my heat set in early.”
“So restrain yourself, put him in the heat room, and then you continue to
restrain yourself until his dad gets back from his business trip or I come
cover for you.”
Laura sounded so steady, so nonplussed, and Derek just couldn’t understand how.
He was seriously seconds away from his control slipping and running upstairs to
join Stiles in his frantic humping. And she’s telling him to restrain himself.
“Laura, I’m not an alpha. I can’t just turn if off or keep it under lock and
key.”
Laura sighed before answering, “He’s a sixteen year old boy, I’d have thought
you would have better control than that.”
Yeah, Derek thought so too. But his hand was in his pants and it was only his
sister’s voice keeping him from jerking it to the muffled noises Stiles was
making upstairs. He’d never been around someone else in heat while he himself
was in heat, and sure it wasn’t as bad as the heats in his teenaged years, but
Derek was almost in pain with how much it took to hold back from touching
Stiles.
“And what,” Derek started, but stops when it comes out on the tail end of a
moan. “What if I can’t?”
“Lock yourself in a closet or something, I don’t know, Derek. I’ve told you
what you need to do and I can’t do anything more. Just call his dad and don’t
be a dumbass.”
Derek had been nothing but a dumbass all night, but he’d try.
“Okay,” he breathed out and Laura made an affirmative noise.
“Good. Bye, I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Laura hung up and Derek slowly set his cell phone on the countertop next to the
fridge. God, he couldn’t do this. His face felt so hot and it was taking
everything in him just to form coherent thoughts through the fog of lust that
took precedent in his head. Everything smelled like Stiles, and his body was
telling him to just go upstairs and take and take until they were both
satisfied. There wouldn’t be any future babies coming out of the exchange, but
God would Derek try. Or hell, Stiles would try.
Derek let out a steady exhale and focused on grabbing his cell phone again, not
his dick like he wanted to. He needed to call Stiles’ dad.
He stood in front of a closet, poised to leap in if the urge to mate got a
little too strong. Locking himself in sounded like a pretty dumb idea, if it
was even possible, but his sister probably had more of her brain on her than
Derek did at the moment so he decided he’d at least try it out.
Swallowing, he pressed the call button on his phone and let the number Derek
had been staring at for the last few minutes or longer connect.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“This is Derek. I’m your son’s babysit—“
“Yeah, I know who you are, but Jesus, Derek, when I said anytime I didn’t
mean,” there was some shuffling noises before the Sheriff continued, “two am.”
“Um, yeah sorry about that.”
Stiles’ moan filtered in from the stairwell and Derek barely kept from letting
out an answering moan of his own, turning it into a breathy exhale instead. The
Sheriff could probably hear both and all Derek wanted to do was crawl into a
hole and die. Or bring Stiles with him into said hole and try to make all those
babies his body was promising him.
“What is going on?” Sheriff Stilinski asked and his voice was so stern that
Derek had both no clue and all the clues about the unspoken words underlying
what he said.
“Congrats, your son is a man now,” Derek said and he didn’t mean for it to come
out as sarcastic as it did.
“What?”
“I mean,” Derek started, running a palm across his face. Talking was so damn
hard when he was fighting his body for control. “Your son started his heat.”
“Shit,” the Sheriff said and Derek was in complete agreement with the
sentiment.
“Where’s your heat room?” he asked, voice blank because remembering to ask what
Laura told him to was already hard enough.
“We don’t have one,” the Sheriff admitted and Derek nearly died. “I’m a little
too old for those things and Stiles’ doctor told us he wouldn’t ever go through
one.”
“Shit.”
That meant Derek would actually have to watch him to keep him from going
outside and embarrassing himself or impregnating, or attempting to impregnate,
some poor person. He wasn’t going to last. Derek was going to end up being a
dumbass, exactly what Laura told him not to be.
“Are you an alpha?” the Sheriff asked and he sounded so hopeful that Derek very
nearly said yes just to keep him happy, but he didn’t.
“No, a beta.”
It could be worse though. If Derek was an omega, or hell, still a teenager, the
pheromones Stiles was giving off would have set him off immediately and there
would have been absolutely no hope for any semblance of control on Derek’s
part.
“Are you attracted to girls?” the Sheriff continued, and Derek knew he was
testing the waters. Werewolves in heat didn’t care much who they were taking it
from or giving it to, but they could have a little bit of control around others
in heat that they weren’t attracted to. It was just too bad for the Sheriff
that the answer he was fishing for wasn’t going to be one he liked because
Derek was definitely attracted to his son.
“Yes,” Derek began, and Sheriff Stilinski let out a sigh of relief on the other
end of the line. “But I’m also attracted to men,” Derek finished, and the noise
the Sheriff made in response wasn’t nearly as happy.
“I can move all my meetings to tomorrow, probably, and be back by tomorrow
night or early Sunday morning. Is your sister going to be able to come back and
take over for you?”
“Not ‘til tomorrow afternoon.”
That was twelve hours away at least, and Derek really didn’t think he was going
to make it.
It was quiet on the other end of the line and Derek tried to pick up on the
Sheriff’s heart or breathing or literally anything so he could take his focus
off of Stiles’ harsh pants and his pleasured noises from upstairs.
“Okay. I’ll call you if I’m able to come back earlier.”
They said their goodbyes and Derek immediately shoved himself in the coat
closet because he couldn’t risk hearing or smelling Stiles while he had no
other tasks to do, nothing else to worry about except to keep himself away from
Stiles. While somehow still watching him and keeping him out of trouble.
Derek pressed his forehead to the wooden door, closing his eyes even though the
closet was in complete darkness. This was going to suck
===============================================================================
A coat closet may have worked as a suitable container if the whole thing didn’t
reek of Stiles. Shoes, jackets, old forgotten Halloween costumes, and some
random knickknacks Derek couldn’t place in the tiny bit of light streaming in
from underneath the door, lined the inside of the small space. It was both
heaven and hell for Derek trapping himself in that space.
He pressed his face into a sweatshirt and just let himself relax into the
scent. Stiles let out a guttural cry from upstairs, probably hitting his peak
again, and Derek panted out a response of his own into the worn material
against his lips. His tongue poked out of his mouth and started licking the
sweatshirt, as if he could taste the sweat and heat right off of Stiles’ skin
through the material.
Derek’s hand snaked down to his pajama pants and pressed down on his hard cock.
Just a little touching wouldn’t hurt anything. And sure he’d be thinking about
Stiles while he did it but if anything the Sheriff should be thankful that he
wasn’t really fucking his underage son. And hell, Derek could really use an
orgasm to take the edge off.
He fell to the floor, knees pressed against various shoes, with the sweatshirt
in hand. Derek wasted no time slipping his hand into his pants and pulling his
cock out, taking the time to give it a few tugs in his pants while he mouthed
at Stiles’ sweatshirt, the scent and taste of Stiles mingling on his tongue.
One of the sleeves brushed against his chest, and Derek moaned into the
material, into Stiles. He couldn’t help wishing he had an extra hand to press
and rub the sleeve into his nipple while he fucked his hand with his cock and
held the sweatshirt up to his face to just breathe in Stiles.
Fuck it.
His forehead hit the back of the closet wall, lips pressed tight against the
drywall, and he ran the sweatshirt down his chest. He brushed by a nipple and
barely stifled a moan, but he didn’t stop moving the sweatshirt downward until
his cock was nestled inside. A spot against his dick was wet with his spit and
he could help but imagine Stiles on his knees, lip darting out of his mouth to
slurp Derek into that ridiculous open mouth.
“Jesus,” he groaned, and he swore he heard Stiles moan his name from a floor
up.
The sweatshirt was worn and rough against his sensitized flesh, but that didn’t
stop him from clenching it tight around himself and thrusting in. His dick was
going to smell like Stiles, and the thought nearly set him off, it was so hot.
After a few (twenties of) thrusts, the closet smelled more like Derek and his
arousal than Stiles, and well, Derek couldn’t have that. He brought the
sweatshirt back up to his face and breathed in deeply, the scent of Stiles’
sweat and Derek’s arousal mixing deliciously. The sweatshirt was wet with his
own pre-cum but he pretended it was Stiles’, salty and bitter against Derek’s
tongue when he sucked it out of the fabric.
Derek shifted against the shoes on the floor, knocking one over directly under
Derek’s cock so that the opening brushed against Derek’s balls. Fuck. Stiles’
essence wafted up from the sneaker and Derek’s eyes rolled back into his head
at the strong smell of it. His need for Stiles in that instance overwhelmed his
common sense and he shoved his dick in the shoe.
It was loose and had a strange texture against his cock, but Stiles was getting
all over his dick. He nearly came knowing that when he was done his dick was
going to carry the tangy scent of Stiles. Derek pressed the heel of his palm
against the laces, and oh did that feel great.
Next time Stiles put his sneaker on his toes were going to smell of Derek and
his fucking need for Stiles. He imagined his cum, still warm and wet, coating
Stiles’ foot and mixing their scents together, telling everyone that Stiles was
his, and Derek Stiles’.
“Fuck, Stiles,” he grunted, and he gave into oblivion, rolling his hips deep
into the shoe and shooting his load in Stiles’ sneaker.
Derek’s head cleared a little with his release, and he fell back against the
closet door, panting and spent. Jesus he felt stupid, a balled up sweatshirt
covered in his own juices and Stiles’ basic wear and tear against his face and
in his mouth, and a sneaker hanging loosely from his softening cock, covered in
lukewarm and cooling cum.
The sneaker fell onto the floor when Derek’s penis was no longer rigid enough
to support its weight, and Derek just left it where it fell because he just
fucked a sneaker, and it was still one of the hottest experiences he’d had
despite its ridiculousness. He dropped the sweatshirt between his legs and
shifted so he could pull up his pants.
He didn’t have the overwhelming urge to fuck everything anymore, but a rolling
wave of emptiness had crashed onto Derek Island in its place. In thirty minutes
he’d probably feel like running upstairs and joining Stiles again, and hell,
maybe he’d end up fucking the other shoe and make a matching pair. It was going
to be a long twelve hours of blind humping and shame at wanting to hump an
underage kid in his first heat after he’d come.
It was eerily quiet upstairs, and Derek was worried that Stiles had slipped out
while he was, erm, busy, but his heartbeat was coming in loud and steady, if
not a little fast.
It was time to face his fears and confront Stiles, who was hopefully recent
enough from an orgasm to be coherent. But Derek remembered his teenage days and
knew that the clarity from coming only really lasted a few minutes before the
short refractory period made everything hell again.
Well, he would’ve, had the door opened when he turned the knob. Huh. Apparently
he had somehow locked himself in. In hindsight Laura would probably think it
was funny, but Derek was going to do a ridiculously bad job keeping Stiles in
check if he was locked inside a closet for the next twelve or so hours.
He tried the doorknob again. Still stuck.
Derek might have started panicking a little, had the door not opened maybe
thirty seconds later, light pouring in and revealing a flushed and shy looking
Stiles.
“You’ve, uh, got to give it a little extra grease to the right to open it from
that side,” he said, sheepishly scratching at the back of his neck, and Derek
nearly swallowed his tongue. His shirt was rumbled and wet in spots, from
Stiles chewing on it to keep quiet or from cum, Derek didn’t know, and the
basketball shorts he was wearing were doing nothing to keep his erection
hidden. Hell, if anything they emphasized it.
“Oh,” Derek choked out, and Stiles zeroed in on Derek’s throat, licking his
lips. Fuck those thirty minutes of down time sure did go by quickly, because
Derek could already start to feel his hardening cock pull against the material
on the front of his pajama pants.
He didn’t know who moved first, but before he knew it Stiles had pressed him
back into the coats in the back of closet, attached at the lips. It wasn’t a
kiss Derek wanted a repeat of, it was a little too sloppy and had a bit too
much tongue on Stiles’ part for it to be memorable in a good way, but Stiles
certainly made up for it in enthusiasm. And, well, the way their dicks were
having their own little jousting competition between their hips in a way where
everyone won didn’t hurt at all either.
They broke apart to pull Stiles’ shirt off and Derek dropped his head to nuzzle
at Stiles’ neck, reveling in the overwhelming Stiles-ness that took residence
there.
“Yeah,” Stiles moaned against the back of his head, fingers carding through the
short hairs there.
Derek bit lightly at Stiles’ neck, not hard enough to break the skin or leave a
mark, but just enough to scrape at the layer of sweat and Derek wanted that
taste in his mouth forever. Stiles’ right hand trailed down Derek’s shoulders,
fingers slick from his time alone upstairs and leaving hot trails in their
wake. He pinched lightly at a nipple and yanked at the short hairs there, and
Derek moaned wetly against Stiles’ neck, hips thrusting forward with every tug
of his chest hair. Fuck yeah.
“Oh shit, do my nipples do that?” Stiles said breathlessly, and palmed the nub
harshly with the rough planes of his cast, sending Derek’s hips hard into
Stiles’.
Derek grunted, meaning to say “Let’s find out,” but the words never formed in
his throat. It was so freaking hot and stifling in the closet, Derek’s ass
pressed against the wall and Stiles, flushed and nervous, holding him there
while the jackets formed a restrictive sheet around them.
He licked a path towards Stiles’ nipple, circling the areola and gently pulling
at the nub with his teeth. Stiles pushed his chest closer to Derek’s head,
forcing him back farther into the jackets, and sighed wetly. His body went so
still and Derek was worried he set him off again.
The smell of Stiles’ arousal increased, assaulting Derek’s nose and sending
shocks of pleasure down to meet his cock, but he didn’t come.
“Wow,” Stiles breathed out, grinning. And fuck did Derek need to mount that,
watch that grin open up in a breathless scream and see his eyebrows pinch
together while Derek sent him to heaven on his own personal rocket.
“Let me,” Derek said, unsure of where he was going with the statement, and let
his hands run down Stiles’ back to slip underneath his shorts, squeezing his
ass when he got there. No underwear.
Stiles took a step back, forcing Derek’s hands to come out of the back of his
pants and rest on his lower back instead.
“No, I,” he began and kicked at the shoe Derek fucked. He wondered
absentmindedly if Stiles knew what he had done or if he’d get a nice surprise
next time he put the shoe on; if it was a shoe Stiles loved and wore often and
now it had a part of Derek he carried with him wherever he wore the shoe. He
wanted Stiles to love and worship the shoe, love and worship the cum he’d left
for him in it.
“I was gonna, upstairs I mean. But I want to—“ he reached over and grabbed
Derek’s ass cheeks, squishing them together and pulling them apart as he wanted
“—I need to so bad.”
He slid a finger down Derek’s crack and Derek let out a shuddery breath.
“Okay, yeah,” Derek said, angling his hips so Stiles’ finger rubbed where he
wanted it. “But next time…”
Stiles smiled, wide and big, like he couldn’t believe Derek would want to go
more than once with him. Fuck, Derek didn’t even have to be in his heat to want
the kid. The no inhibitions part of it was nice, but fuck Derek wanted him.
They shifted positions and in all their fumblings Derek ended up with his
stomach against the wall, Stiles sucking hickies onto the back of his neck.
Stiles was rutting shamelessly against Derek’s bare ass cheeks, the slick
material of Stiles’ athletic shorts sliding and pulling against his flesh, and
every rock would rustle the jackets on the hangers around them and send Derek’s
cock against the jacket pinned between his hips and the wall. He wasn’t even
sure whose jacket it was, but hell if he cared. He was finally about to get off
with Stiles.
“I wanna do something weird,” Stiles said on the tail end of a moan, and Derek
nearly returned the moan when his cloth-covered dick, slick and wet with
Stiles’ pre-cum, caught the edge of his asshole.
“What?” Derek panted and he was scared to realize that as long as he or Stiles
got fucked in the end, he didn’t really care what it was.
Stiles slid down to his knees behind Derek, pebbled nipples grazing Derek’s
back. He set his palm down on one of Derek’s cheeks, squeezing, and Derek
pushed up against it.
“I want,” Stiles said, and his breath brushed against Derek’s asshole, warm and
wet.
Derek wished he could see him, on his knees and shifting nervously behind Derek
with only his hand on Derek’s ass to keep him grounded. He’d chew his lips
nervously, licking them when he bit a little too hard. And then he’d just peer
up at Derek, eyes wide and nervous, and ask, “Will you let me do this?” And
Derek would tease him a little, wait a second or two to keep him on his toes
even though Derek wanted it just as bad. The grin Stiles would have when Derek
said yes though? That would make it all worth it. Well that and the tongue in
his ass.
“Yeah,” Derek grunted and pushed his ass closer to where he thought Stiles’
face was. Okay, so he failed at the teasing portion of his fantasy, but when he
felt Stiles’ lips curl into a smile against his ass cheek, like he couldn’t
contain it, he knew that second or two of waiting wouldn’t have done a thing
anyway.
Stiles carefully pulled Derek’s cheeks apart, and Derek clenched them once or
twice under Stiles’ hands just to feel his breathy moan against his asshole.
Stiles simply breathed on Derek’s hole for a few. It was making him squirm, but
Derek didn’t think he was doing it on purpose. He was just trying to figure out
the best way to make Derek feel good.
“Don’t know what I’m doing,” Stiles said quietly, and before Derek had the
chance to answer Stiles had shoved his face in and started licking at Derek’s
hole.
“Fuck,” Derek grunted and Stiles moaned in his ass, the reverberations rocking
up Stiles’ tongue and along his insides sending him into a panting mess.
He rocked into Stiles, angling his hips so Stiles’ little bit of soft teenage
stubble rubbed deliciously against his flesh, and if he moved fast enough, his
balls.
Stiles twisted his tongue in a way that sent shivers up Derek’s spine, probably
on accident considering the jilted movements before that, and Derek gasped out
Stiles’ name.
“I’m gonna…if you don’t stop,” he moaned into the wall and Stiles pulled his
tongue out immediately, like he was scared he’d mess up if he didn’t do it
right then. Derek sighed softly at the loss.
Stiles shifted behind him, pulling himself up.
“It was, uh, hairier than I thought,” he said, and the hand was back on Derek’s
ass, steadying.
“Stiles, just fuck me,” Derek said, exasperated, and Stiles made a noise
reminiscent of the one he made when Derek touched his hand in the popcorn bowl.
The high pitched whine. And Derek looked over he shoulder, desperate to see
Stiles’ face.
He was hunched over and grasping his middle, like someone had punched him in
the stomach. His mouth was open and wet, lips forming the first syllable of
Derek’s name. And fuck that mouth had just been on his ass, that tongue in his
ass.
“Yeah,” Stiles said breathless, like someone had stolen all the air in the room
and given it to Derek. “Okay.”
===============================================================================
It was quiet in the closet, the air so still and thick he probably couldn’t cut
it with a diamond. Stiles had a hand on his dick, spreading his pre-cum and
some spit along the length, and while Derek couldn’t see it from his angle, he
could hear the slick sound of skin on skin and the breathless moans Stiles let
out with each slide.
Derek had a few fingers in his ass, trying to get the precursory stretching
over as fast as possible. It was already hard enough not fucking himself on the
fingers to the sound of Stiles fucking his hand.
“You ready?” Stiles asked, and Derek pulled his fingers out in answer.
“Oh..kay.”
The warmth of Stiles’ dick replaced Derek’s fingers almost immediately, and
suddenly it was all the way in and Stiles was letting out the most sinful sound
Derek had ever heard.
Finally. His body had wanted this all night, wanted to fuck Stiles, and finally
it was happening. It was no longer his and Stiles’ individual smells of
arousal, it was theirs.
Stiles gave a few shallow thrusts that Derek returned enthusiastically, Stiles’
weight at his back a heavy warmth.
“I’m not gonna last long,” Stiles said, pressing open mouthed and sloppy kisses
against Derek’s neck. He was afraid of that, but he didn’t really expect much
else. Stiles was a virginal teen in his first heat, and hell, Derek had just
taken that. And he had plans to be take every bit of innocence Stiles had left
before his sister came to replace him as Stiles’ babysitter.
Derek forced Stiles’ hand on his dick and it was Stiles who moaned in response.
He angled his hips, trying his best to get Stiles to hit his prostate when
Stiles probably only vaguely knew it was there. And when it hit? Derek nearly
spilled over Stiles’ fingers.
“I’m—“
And Stiles grew rigid behind Derek, groaning hard into Derek’s neck and
thrusting as far as he could into Derek’s ass.
Derek wasn’t ready to come, not nearly close enough at all, but when he felt
the base of Stiles’ cock start swelling inside him, stretching him wide and
pressing against his prostate, Derek shot into the jacket his hips were pressed
against. Stiles was tying him. He felt strong enough about Derek to consider
him worthy enough to carry his babies. And hell, while he definitely couldn’t
carry them, Derek was all for Stiles trying.
Stiles slumped against Derek’s back and Derek wasn’t nearly strong enough when
he was being wracked with the aftershocks of his orgasm to keep them both
upright so they fell to the floor, knees hitting the shoes and the jackets
they’d knocked off their hangers during sex falling down with them.
“Holy God,” Stiles groaned and Derek echoed the sentiments.
“Um, I didn’t think that would happen, but, when can I move?” Stiles asked
after a few seconds they spent catching their breath. He pressed his face into
the crook of Derek’s neck, like he was embarrassed that he didn’t know the
answer.
God. Derek had just fucked a sixteen year old and he was stuck connected with
the awkwardness. Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Ten or thirty minutes.,” Derek answered, shifting to get comfortable.
“Oh. Um. Hey,” Stiles panted against his neck. “I know this is ass backwards
and all, but after this do you wanna go out some time?”
Derek was going to hell already as it was; he might as well live a little
before then.
“Yeah, that’d be cool,” he answered, and he felt Stiles’ lips spread into a
grin.
He’d been nothing but a dumbass all night, but that grin was worth it. Stiles
was worth it.
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