
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/690454.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall_(Teen_Wolf), Peter_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Knotting, Smut, Barebacking, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Sexy
      Times, Established_Relationship
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-19 Words: 4033
****** He's (Knot) That Into You ******
by clawstoagunfight_(orphan_account)
Summary
     It isn’t the first time; it isn’t even the second, or the third time.
     Actually, Stiles can’t remember how often it’s happened now, but he
     knows that it just keeps happening.
Notes
     This is slightly crack-y, so...you are warned. Appearance of Sassy
     Peter is solely for B, because she loves him.
     Beta'd by B.
See the end of the work for more notes
It keeps fucking happening. Stiles is getting so dammed tired of it happening,
over and over again. It isn’t the first time; it isn’t even the second, or the
third time. Actually, Stiles can’t remember how often it’s happened now, but he
knows that it just keeps happening.
Derek is fucking into Stiles with a vigor and a ferocity that is pushing
Stiles’ face against the carpet so hard his cheek is starting to chafe from the
impact, but the way Derek’s body is moving against him—inside of him—is making
up for the uncomfortable sensation tenfold. Like this, Stiles doesn’t even care
that they are fucking on the floor of his bedroom, because Derek’s hand is
around Stiles’ cock and he’s pulling and twisting and moving his thick fingers
just so and Derek’s cock is slipping in and out of his ass hole—past the clench
of muscles and sliding slickly over his prostate and the angle is perfect and
Stiles just wants to cum so badly; just wants Derek to cum inside of
him—because it’s been so fucking long since that’s happened. Stiles can feel it
starting in a rush, feel the pleasure start to settle deep inside of him. Derek
is panting behind him and Stiles can feel the drag of hard nipples across his
back and the hot press of sweat-slicked skin that adds more shivers running up
and down his spine. He’s so close—so fucking close—
And then it happens; Derek—the fucker­—pulls out of Stiles’ ass with an “Oh,
shit” and then Stiles is falling onto the carpet without Derek’s arms to hold
him steady.
His ass is still trying to adjust to the loss of the sudden pull-out, and
Stiles wants to yell or sob or something, but all he says is “What the actual
fuck?” He is glaring at Derek from where he is heaped on the floor, trying to
turn onto his side so that his over sensitized cock isn’t making drags against
the too-rough carpet. He cranes his neck to see Derek, flushed and fumbling
with pulling his dark jeans up his legs. Stiles gets a look at it right before
Derek is zipping his pants over the still-sizable bulge in the front of his
jeans.
Derek has a knot. Just like last time, and the time before that, and the time
before that. Yeah. Woopty-freaking­-doo. Too bad the bastard keeps getting
freaked out by his own body and refuses to put said knot inside of Stiles, when
all Stiles wants is to take it, to open wide and let Derek take everything he
can from him.
But Derek just tugs on his shirt and refuses to look at Stiles and then he
turns and is walking—waddling, really, by the look of it—out of Stiles room.
Stiles is left lying naked in the middle of his bedroom floor, completely livid
by Derek’s actions and so fucking horny that even after he’s jerked himself off
twice, he still doesn’t feel satisfied.
This needs to stop fucking happening.
~
Stiles is at his wits end, trapped in a world of seemingly endless sexual
frustration because of Derek’s freak outs, and he needs to fix this. He is only
seventeen; he’s too young and too horny to keep going without sexual completion
from his boyfriend. Seriously. It’s getting ridiculous. Derek needs to get the
fuck over whatever qualms he has with his own body and just chill the fuck out.
Stiles tried asking Scott about why Derek would be freaking out about his knot
and pull out mid-sexcapade, but apparentlyScott doesn’t want to know about the
‘kinky shit’ him and Derek do in the bedroom and ‘I never ever want to know
that much about Derek’s dick and your ass’ and ‘what do you mean a knot? Like a
rope? Why do you have ropes when you are having sex—oh my god I don’t want to
know’ and ‘why would he pull out? You aren’t a girl’ and really, Stiles should
be concerned for Scott’s sake that he had said the last with a questioning
look, like maybe he wasn’t sure after all.
So that conversation obviously went nowhere. And it wasn’t like he would be
comfortable asking Boyd or Isaac about the state of their penises mid sex. For
one, just no, and two, he wasn’t actually sure either of them had ever even had
real sex before and he really, really, doesn’t want to know.
After a while, enough is just fucking enough. So he goes to the only other
person he can think of to ask—and maybe it shows just how much of a state of
desperation Stiles is in to cum, to finally be able to finish having sex with
his own god dammed boyfriend, that he goes to Peter of all the fucking people
in the world.
This is Stiles’ life, that he is turning to the creepiest person he knows in
order to get advice on how to sex up his boyfriend—Peter’s nephew
nonetheless—who can’t seem to finish because of the giant, hard swell that
grows on the base of his dick when he’s about to cum.
Seriously. What the fuck is his fucking life?
He finds Peter at Derek’s apartment, where he creepily lurks during the day
while Derek is out lurking elsewhere—yeah, can’t see the relation there at all.
Family resemblance be dammed.
“Peter,” Stiles says grudgingly, knowing that once he asks, Peter will make him
explain the whole situation and later hold it over both Stiles’ and Derek’s
head and make their lives a living hell of embarrassment and awful jokes that
will make him want to die.
But Stiles asks anyway, grits his teeth against the endless amounts of
questions Peter asks back and then silently seethes when Peter throws his head
back and barks out laugh after laugh. He is fucking laughing at Stiles right
now, the bastard. Then there are actual motherfucking tears on his face because
he is laughing so hard and Stiles wants to kick him. “So wait,” Peter says once
he’s caught his breath, “you want me to help you find out why my nephew’s knot
is freaking him out so that you can go on fornicating with him and make him put
his knot to good use instead of just pulling out and running away? I’m
understanding that correctly?” Peter doesn’t say it as a question and really
Stiles doesn’t have any response to that assessment, because yeah that pretty
much sums everything up.
Stiles cheeks are flaming and he crosses his arms over his chest, giving Peter
an expectant look that he learned from Derek, but it seems to have no effect
when the older man just goes back to laughing and doubles over with his hands
on his knees, “I can’t believe you asked Scott. Scott!” He can stop mocking
Stiles anytime now. Really.
Eventually his laughter fizzles out to some creepy giggles that make Stiles
very uncomfortable to be alone with him and his giggling, but then he is
speaking. “First of all, knotting is something only born werewolves can do. So
you gave Scott a lifetime of nightmares for nothing.” Stiles can physically see
the glee Peter gets from that, “Second, have you tried asking Derek about it?”
Stiles just huffs, “Derek is allergic to words,” is all he says, but Peter
seems to get it and is nodding in Stiles’ direction.
“True.” He seems to mull everything over for a moment before he turns around
and starts to walk toward the door of the apartment. “If I were a different
kind of man I might say that Derek won’t give you his knot because he doesn’t
want to hurt you. And that maybe he thinks it will freak you out, because the
last time it popped up mid copulation…well, let’s just say it was how Kate
Argent made her ‘big discovery’.”
Stiles is gapping at Peter, but he turns back with his hand on the doorknob and
says, “but I’m not that sort of man,” before he walks out of the apartment and
slams the door behind him.
Well, fuck.
~
Derek is waiting in Stiles room when he finally makes it back to his house.
Thank god his father is still at work, will be at work for most of the night,
because Stiles fully—fully­—intends on getting good and laid by his boyfriend,
so help him or there will be bloodshed and hell to pay. One way or the other,
bodily fluids will be spilled. Yes.
Derek greets him in his normal way—by pushing Stiles up against his bedroom
door and attacking his mouth with dirty, openmouthed kisses that go right to
Stiles’ dick. “Missed you,” is all he says and then Derek’s hands are sliding
under the layers of Stiles’ clothes and finding warm skin, pressing and rubbing
against it until heat is flooding Stiles’ body. He’s gasping, pulling at
Derek’s hands so he can help him get out of his clothes. Derek growls for a
moment but then seems to catch on when Stiles removes his flannel shirt in a
flurry of movement and then Derek is there, pulling Stiles’ t-shirt over his
head before his mouth is latching back onto Stiles’ and the kiss is turning
into all teeth and deep probing tongues and it’s heady and amazing—and then
Stiles is moaning when Derek nibbles on his bottom lip and he is canting his
hips forward and moving his hands to grip Derek’s ass so he can pull him closer
and rub his hardening cock against Derek’s.
Derek moans against Stiles mouth and breaks the kiss to trail kisses over his
jaw, down his neck, to lick at his collarbone and shoulders, down, to flick his
tongue over Stiles’ nipples, before he is scraping his teeth back up and into
the crook of Stiles’ neck, then up, nibbling on his earlobe. Stiles moans and
rocks his hips, squeezing and kneading at Derek’s ass with his long fingers
until Derek groans and pulls his body away only to shove a hand down to undo
Stiles’ pants. Stiles shivers and lets his head fall back with a thud against
the door when he feels Derek’s thick, hot fingers wrap around his erection.
Derek moves and the squeeze of his fingers over the sensitive skin of Stiles’
cock is so good, so nice, and then Derek’s thumb is dragging across his slit
and rubbing just under it and Stiles is saying ‘fuck fuck fuck’ and he can see
the smirk on Derek’s face—the fucker.
But then just like that Derek’s hand is gone and his mouth is nowhere to be
seen or felt and Stiles may or may not be a little disoriented from arousal,
because when he feels the soft puff of breath over his cock, he whimpers. He
fucking whimpers because all he wants is this, for Derek to take him, for him
to swallow him down and open him up and touch him everywhere and fuck him until
he can’t think, can’t do anything but say—scream—Derek’s name over and over
again like a mantra. He wants it so bad he can feel his dick twitch and
whimpers again when Derek leans forward to pull his dick and balls out of his
jeans and boxers before he lightly licks at the precum settled on the tip and
Stiles shudders against the door. Derek nuzzles into his thigh, nips at the v
of his hipbones, licks at the trail of dark hair that leads to where his cock
is standing at attention. And then all at once Derek is on him, sucking him
into the wet heat of his mouth with a twist of his lips and an angling of his
head that makes everything feel so fucking good and Stiles never wants it to
stop. One of Derek’s hands is pulling down Stiles’ pants while the other
alternates between caressing his balls and twisting on the base of his cock.
Derek is sucking Stiles down and he gasps when the head of his cock rubs up
against the back of Derek’s throat. Stiles can feel the muscles of his throat
constrict around him, but then Derek’s kaleidoscope eyes are staring up at him
as he takes him all in, moving his hands off of Stiles body so the only place
they are touching is where Derek’s lips are spread and sealed tight with
Stiles’ aching erection. And then Derek is fucking swallowing around him and it
takes everything inside of Stiles to not cum right then and there, because,
dammit, he has plans.
Stiles only regrets it a little bit when he pushes Derek off of him and he
falls back onto his ass on the floor with an ‘oof’ that would be funny if it
weren’t for the fact that Derek is glaring up at him with reddening eyes and a
mouth that is pink and still spit-slicked from sucking down Stiles’ cock. Yeah,
mild regret. But then Stiles is dropping down on top of him and straddling his
thighs. He finds the hem of Derek’s shirt and pulls it up and over his head
before Derek can so much as protest and then Stiles’ mouth is fastening itself
back onto Derek’s and he can taste a hint of himself there and he moans against
his lips. Stiles is reaching for the fly of Derek’s jeans with one hand while
the other pushes at his chest until Derek’s lying back on the carpet with a
surprised look on his face that makes something inside of him flutter, but then
he is pulling Derek’s ridiculously tight jeans down his hips and legs and
leaves them discarded by his own pile of clothes in front of the door.
Stiles settles himself further up—on Derek’s hips—and their erections drag
together in a way that makes both of them throw their heads back and Derek
reaches out to hold Stiles’ hips in a vice-like grip and then they are moving
together, against each other and the friction is just wet enough to be
delicious. It isn’t enough though, isn’t nearly enough and Stiles wants more,
so much more—he wants everything.
“Derek,” Stiles is panting as he tries to slow Derek’s movements, tries to
loosen the other man’s grip on his hips. “Derek, fuck me.” Derek’s fingernails
rake over his ass and it makes Stiles moans, “Fuck! I want—I want you, so bad.
I want you inside me. I want to feel you,” Stiles is reaching down and wrapping
a hand around Derek’s cock, “want this, want your fingers, then your cock—want
you to make me scream your name.” Stiles feels Derek’s cock twitch into his
palm, watches as he closes his eyes, watches as his throat works in a swallow
and Stiles licks his lips before he’s bending down to lick over his bobbing
Adams apple.
“Stiles!” Derek moans his name when he twists his hand just-so and Derek is
jerking his hips up and it is almost enough to make Stiles lose his balance but
then Derek is shoving two fingers into Stiles’ mouth and Stiles is sucking on
them for all he’s worth, getting them covered with his own spit before Derek
pulls them out and reaches around to graze them down over Stiles’ ass crack,
leaving a wet trail in their wake before one roughly padded fingertip is
pressing against his hole and the other is rubbing around it and then Derek is
working one of those thick, hot fingers inside of him and Stiles lets out a
‘yes!’ that makes Derek growl a little, but then he is working the finger,
moving it in and out and rubbing at all the right places inside of him.
But Stiles still needs more, needs more fingers and lube and Derek. He must say
as much out loud because the next thing Stiles knows Derek is trying to reach
for his discarded pants, but Stiles beats him to it, fishing inside of the
pockets to find the small bottle of lube. Derek reaches for it but Stiles pours
a little into his own hand before he hands the rest to Derek. Derek makes quick
practice of lubing up his fingers before he’s back inside of Stiles’ hole with
two fingers this time, twisting and spreading them inside of him. Stiles is
panting a little, but then he’s reaching down to spread the lube in his hand
over Derek’s neglected erection. It’s hot and pulsing and hard and all Stiles
can think is that he can’t wait to have that inside of him. Derek adds a third
finger and Stiles winces a little at the ever present moment of discomfort, but
then Derek finds his prostate like it’s buried treasure and pleasure zings down
Stiles spine.
“Please,” Stiles gasps, “Please, Derek, fuck me. I need it, need it so badly.
Need to cum. Need you inside of me. Please, please.” He’s aware that he’s
begging in earnest now, and he hates—loves—that Derek can reduce him to this,
but he wants him so badly.
Derek just makes a noncommittal sound and then his fingers are gone and he is
gripping Stiles’ hips and guiding him over his cock. Stiles readjusts himself
until his feet are on either side of Derek’s thighs and he is squatting down
above him. He reaches back and aligns Derek with his opening before he slowly
sinks down. He takes him in slowly, feeling the head of Derek’s cock open him
up and pave the way for the rest of his erection to follow into the slick,
tight heat. Stiles arches his back and places his hands behind him on Derek’s
thighs so he can gain leverage. Once he’s balanced, he moves, taking Derek
further in, moving up and down over his shaft, letting the rise and fall of his
hips fall into a rhythm that leaves both of them moaning and panting.
Stiles circles his hips on the down motion, feels Derek slam against his
prostate and Stiles is seeing stars. He yells Derek’s name and Derek is
whimpering—fucking whimpering—and it makes Stiles move faster, up and down,
taking him deeper and deeper inside until he starts to feel the slow ache and
strain of the muscles in his thighs and it’s all he can do to keep moving. He’s
close, getting closer. He’s been wanting this so badly, wanting Derek, and now
he finally has him. He can feel it, feel his balls start to tighten, feel the
pleasure race over his body with every passing stroke of Derek’s hard cock over
that spot inside of him. He’s ready to come, just from this, without Derek even
touching his cock. He needs it. He’s so close—
And then Derek stops. He fucking stops and goes still and tenses every single
muscle in his body under Stiles. Stiles knows what he’s about to do, but not
this fucking time. Stiles moves in a flash, lowering his knees down to cradle
Derek’s thighs and reaching out to pin him, chest to chest, so he can look into
his eyes. “No, don’t you fucking dare even think about it.” Stiles’ voice is
low and threatening and he has a fleeting thought that this might actually be
the most dangerous he’s ever sounded “You are staying in me and you are going
to put your motherfucking knot inside of me and then we are going to finish
fucking and it will be amazing and I am not letting you pull out until you cum
in my ass, are we fucking clear?”
Derek is looking at Stiles like he’s never seen him before. His eyes are a
little too wide and he’s swallowing hard and blushing just a little—a slightly
pink tinge to his pale, darkly stubbled cheek—and he looks like he is thinking
about arguing, thinking about finally voicing all of his concerns about why
they shouldn’t do this, but Stiles won’t have that, won’t have any of protest
or argument, because he just fucking wants Derek. Stiles leans down and kisses
Derek with a fervor that makes him breathless, that can leave Derek with no
question as to just how much Stiles wants Derek’s knot, and just how much the
idea appeals to him. “C’mon,” he’s whispering as his teeth scrape along Derek’s
jaw, “you won’t hurt me.” He nips at the skin under Derek’s ear, before he is
saying in his most husky and rough voice, “I’m a big boy, Derek.”
Suddenly, it’s like a switch goes off for Derek at Stiles’ words, like a switch
goes off where he is intimately arranged inside of him. Stiles can feel it
start; feel the base of Derek’s cock start to swell inside of him, feel it push
and press up against the walls of his ass, feel the swell of it pull at the rim
of his asshole as Derek slowly pulls the knot out, leaving only the head of his
cock in Stiles’ ass. He isn’t out for long, though, before Derek is pulling
Stiles’ ass cheeks apart with his fingers and he’s pushing back in, slowly, so
fucking slowly. He shivers at how good it is, at the blunt pressure of
something so large penetrating him, dragging at the ring of muscles and opening
him up impossibly wide until he is gaping around the girth, stretching to allow
it back inside of his body. It’s getting bigger, unbelievable bigger and wider
and it feels so fucking good that Stiles is actually—totally and one-hundred
percent—speechless.
Derek is circling his hips against Stiles, grinding his knot around inside of
him and it makes goose bumps break out over his skin. He feels one of Derek’s
hands snake from his ass, over the curve of his hip, before he’s wrapping his
fingers around Stiles’ neglected erection and pulling him just right and
pressing his thumb exactly where he knows Stiles likes it best and then he’s
moving, grinding back against the knot in his ass, feeling it pull and press
deliciously inside of him, the small ache of being stretched so much fading
into pleasure. Derek’s other hand is moving on his ass, kneading his cheek
before a finger is snaking down and tracing around his swollen and stretched
rim. When Derek pushes a finger in alongside his knot, Stiles loses it.
“Derek!” He’s yelling—screaming—his name again and again as the pleasure
crashes over him in a wave that makes him shudder and tense and then he is
cumming in long spurts onto Derek’s smooth chest. He can only faintly hear
Derek’s muttered curse through the buzzing in his ears, but then Derek is
gyrating his hips and hitting everywhere inside of Stiles at once and then
Derek throws his head back against the carpet and his hands are a vice on
Stiles’ hips and he is following Stiles over the edge.
Stiles falls down onto Derek’s chest, panting, trying to catch his breath as
the sweat cools against his skin. Derek is in much the same state. A few
minutes and aftershocks later, Stiles feels Derek’s hands running up and down
his back, tracing the line of his spine. He can feel his cum drying in sticky
patches on their skin where their chests are pressed together.
When Stiles can move, he lifts his head up and gives Derek a dark look, “You
mean all those times you pulled out, we could’ve been having amazing sex like
this instead?” Stiles smacks Derek’s shoulder—because it’s the closest thing he
can reach—and says, “I hate you,” but the words some come out soft and without
heat.
“Well, that sucks,” Derek says and shifts his hips so it pulls at where he is
still firmly settled inside of Stiles, “You’re stuck with me now.”
Stiles groans, but then he’s pulling Derek closer and kissing him—and he swears
that there’s a smile on Derek’s lips when he pulls away.
End Notes
     Any and all comments and/or criticisms are accepted and appreciated!
     Thanks for reading!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
