
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2580332.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sheriff_Stilinski/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Sheriff_Stilinski, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Parent/Child_Incest
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-07 Words: 1897
****** Just Sleeping ******
by getreadysetnope
Summary
     Sharing a bed with Stiles had been a necessity. It was college visit
     season and the small, local hotel had run out of double bed rooms.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Sharing a bed with Stiles had been a necessity. It was college visit season and
the small, local hotel had run out of double bed rooms.
That had been fine. They were both grown (mostly in Stiles' case) and could
handle a bit of sharing just fine for one night before piling back into Stiles'
jeep to return home.
It had started out fine, Stiles passing out in a position that made John's neck
hurt until he pushed the boy fully onto the bed like a normal person. Then he'd
hit the lights and gone to sleep himself.
In the middle of the night is when things had gotten... strange. When John had
half woken up hard and straining like he hadn't done in damn near decades,
humping against a pliant, moaning warmth against him. He went still at the
noise, eyes adjusting to the dark of the room to see the back of Stiles' head
in front of him. He'd somehow managed to roll onto his side, flush against his
son's back.
"Fuck," Stiles whispered, back arching and ass pressing against John's aching
cock.
In a sort of panic, John rolled onto his back,  trying to will his hard on
away. He could heard Stiles' muffled little noise of disappointment in the
silence and quickly shut his eyes before his boy could roll over and see if he
was awake. It would be an awkward conversation that neither of them needed.
Silence continued and Stiles' breathing evened out until it was to slow, even
sound of sleep. All while John was stuck wide awake and trying to figure out
what the hell had just happened there.
Had Stiles woken up when he had? Had he--had he been awake the whole time?  Had
he enjoyed what he felt or been horrified?
It was enough to keep John hard and awake for too long before he mercifully
succumbed to sleep again.
And when he woke up this time, the faint light of dawn was just threatening to
peek in through the windows. And Stiles? Stiles was still next to him. But this
time he was on his stomach, grinding slowly against the bed. His narrow hips
working beneath the thin blanket, pink little mouth open in wordless pleasure
as he mindlessly worked to get himself off in his sleep.
God help John, the very sight made him hard. It made him reach down between his
thighs to take his cock in hand and work it in time with Stiles' jerky, little
movements. He bit his lip to keep from making any noise as he slowly worked
himself off to the sight of his son fucking the mattress.
He should have rolled onto his side, away from Stiles. Shouldn't have even
looked once he knew what was happening in bed next to him. But for the first
time in a very long while, he was too horned up to care past the need to get
off.
He worked himself slowly and in time with Stiles' own movements. Like he was
pinning his boy down and fucking him instead of the dream. Even with how turned
on he was, he wanted this to last, to remember it for when he was alone in the
dark and willing to give into these terrible urges.
It continued like that, the only noise being the soft rustle of fabric, the
quiet squeak of the mattress springs, and the choked off little whimpers from
Stiles.
When Stiles went still again, John had to stifle down a groan of
disappointment. He'd been so fucking close to cumming, just shooting his load
all over the worn out t-shirt he'd worn to bed right next to his son. What was
so wrong with him? He glanced to to make sure Stiles had just settled back to
sleep, but found his eyes open and staring down at the bulge under the blankets
where John still had his leaking cock fisted.
He watched Stiles lick his pink lips so they looked shiny and wet, making
John's cock jump. Stiles looked up at him before very slowly pulled the blanket
off himself to show where he'd worked his boxers halfway down his thighs in his
sleep. Then he very deliberately rolled his hips so the muscles in his thighs
and ass flexed.
John went still, breath caught in his throat at the sight of his son performing
for him. This wasn't some sort of reflex left over from whatever Stiles had
been dreaming about. It wasn't until Stiles did it again, humping the mattress
with a wanton little groan that John was shaken out of his daze. He gave his
dick a squeeze to keep from coming then and there like he was Stiles' age
again.
Feeling a sort of boldness in the dark silence of the room, John pulled the
blanket down to expose himself, letting Stiles see the flushed red and wet head
of his cock where his hand didn't cover.
"Fuck," Stiles groaned, chewing on his bottom lip as he stared down at it, hips
grinding frantically in a little circle for more friction on his cock. "Fuck."
John responded by rocking his own hips, fucking his own hand in slow, slick
movements.
Stiles' eyes went wide, hips stilling to just watch his daddy's cock getting
worked over. Then he glanced up, catching John's eye as he slowly pressed his
middle finger into his mouth to suck on, a little bit of saliva getting his
chin shiny before he pulled it out. He spread his thighs apart, giving himself
more room to work as he slowly worked that finger into his hole.
And it must have been tight going by the sounds the boy made, the bitten off
groans of both discomfort and pleasure.
"Stiles," John choked out, wishing so much that it was his finger inside his
boy. So he could see if he was as soft and tight as John had thought.
"Please," Stiles groaned, fucking himself in earnest with that long, slender
finger. "I need--"
John shook his head, shying away from the thought of what he--they both wanted
right now. He couldn't. "We can't."
Even the desperate little whimper at that couldn't break John from this. He
couldn't do that to his own son. Not even with where they'd gotten to now. It
was too wrong, too immoral.
"We did before," Stiles whined, dragging his finger out of himself and leaving
a shiny little trail across his ass cheek.
"We were asleep," John said, trying to be gentle even as he was throbbing with
need. He hadn't moved his hand once he'd spoken. Everything was too real now.
Stiles went silent, turning his head away sullenly. "Then go back to sleep," he
muttered, rolling onto his side like he'd been the first time they woke up. He
didn't pulled up the blankets, leaving himself naked and exposed save for the
boxers still around his thighs.
It took John a moment to slowly let go of his cock as he watched his son's back
for any sudden movements. When nothing came, he quietly kicked the covers down
on his half of the bed.
Without the covers, the cold of the room would force anyone to seek out
bodyheat as they slept.
Then he rolled onto his side too, every rustle of fabric was deafening in the
quiet room as he very slowly moved behind his son. He could see the goosebumps
on Stiles' skin. Whether from anticipation or from the cold, he didn't really
know. But it was enough to force him the rest of the way, spooning up against
Stiles' back.
He was rewarded by a pleased little groan from his boy and a little shift of
his hips back so that John's cock was practically wedged between his ass
cheeks, head rubbing against the small of Stiles' back. "Fuck, dad," Stiles
whispered.
"We're sleeping," John muttered, working one hand beneath Stiles so he could
have both arms wrapped around him. Stiles placed his hands over where John's
were resting on his chest and stomach, pulling one down to where his boy was
hard and dripping against his belly button.
John closed his hand around Stiles' dick, just holding it for a moment. He let
Stiles get anxious, start shifting to fuck into his father's hand before
finally starting to roll his hips against Stiles' ass and force him forward
into that waiting hand.
"Okay," Stiles gasped, trying (and mostly failing) to stay silent and smother
the little moans. "Okay."
John huffed out an amused and annoyed little laugh. "Sleeping means you're
quiet."
"I talk in my sleep," Stiles shot back, grinding back on John's dick like he
was hungry for it. Those hands over John's moved away one was working it's way
between their bodies to just cup the head of John's cock where it emerged from
between those sweet little cheeks. "I sleep walk too."
John jerked forward harder, the hand not holding Stiles' dick tightening it's
grip on Stiles' hip to almost bruising tightness as he ground forward against
his boy's ass. "That-that so?"
"I never thought," Stiles started, shifting back and forth frantically between
John's cock and his hand. "I wanted--" He cut himself off with a little groan.
He was starting to get a little slick from sweat with the heat between them and
the exertion of their movement. John couldn't help himself when he licked a
line up Stiles' back and onto his shoulder before biting down and sucking a
bruise onto him.
"Fuck, dad!"
Being called 'dad' in this situation only made John hotter, made him hunch in
as he pressed Stiles down against the mattress to hump his tight little ass. He
couldn't fuck his boy, but he could simulate it like this.
Moans were punched right out of Stiles now, both hands clawing at the sheets as
he was pushed around like a doll. John wrapped both hands around his boy's
hips, holding him in place to be rutted against. He could feel each time his
dick passed over that twitching, needy little hole, but couldn't do more than
that.
"You like that?" John groaned, feeling sweat trickle down the back of his neck
as he frantically worked to get himself off and mark Stiles up with his cum.
"Yes--yes!"
John leaned down to suck another mark onto the back of Stiles' neck, claiming
him on a primal level he couldn't quite understand. He was working his hips
desperately, groaning as each movement seemed to be catching the head of his
cock on the rim of Stiles' too tight little hole. It only took a few more
thrusts before that sweet little pucker was opening up just enough for him to
work the tip in.
Stiles shook beneath him at that, muffling a scream into his pillow as he came,
so worked up from the friction and the promise of his daddy's cock.
John held himself there, jerking off as he savored the sucking heat around the
very tip of his cock. It didn't take much more than a few strokes before he was
creaming Stiles' hole, cum oozing out onto Stiles' boxers and the sheets.
"Fuck--fuck, son."
It wasn't until he was done cumming, dick finally starting to go limp that he
heard Stiles' dazed little, "Thank you, daddy."
End Notes
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