
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1249993.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Cora_Hale/Derek_Hale/Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Cora_Hale, Derek_Hale, Peter_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      HaleCest, Incest, Comeplay, Humiliation, Group_Sex, Dirty_Talk, Anal_Sex,
      Oral_Sex, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Series:
      Part 1 of Teen_Woof_Tumblr_Fics
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-02-28 Words: 1579
****** Lick It Off ******
by badwolfbadwolf
Summary
     The Hales use Stiles as their little toy.
Notes
     Written from a tumblr prompt from the lovely eeyore9990:
     Okay. I want… The pack marking Stiles. Come all over him, so he’s the
     soggy biscuit. And he just loves it. Writhes in all their buckets
     o’come, holds his hands out for more. I just want come whore Stiles,
     the pack toy.
It must be a Hale thing, Stiles decides.  Expressive eyebrows paired with
grumpy expressions that shouldn’t look so damn attractive.  Plus the fact that
they are all incredibly built and sleek, tanned and gorgeous.  And naked.
 Very, very naked.  There’s that, too.
He’s not quite sure how he’s ended up like this, pinned down on Derek’s bed by
two large sets of hands while Cora brushes over him with long hair and wet
lips.  She teases down his body, pausing to suck over one nipple until it
tightens up beneath her teeth and causes him to moan out with a thrown back
head.  His eyes want to squeeze shut but he forces them open so he can see
Peter and Derek’s darkened features staring down at him, exciting him.  Cora
slides wetly to the other side, her tongue lapping as Stiles drags in ragged
breaths.  The air is cool on his nipple and he draws his legs up so he can hump
his hips along the bed.
“Such a good boy, Stiles,” Peter whispers, his voice a wet lick along Stiles’
ear.  Stiles feels his hands being moved and stretched above his head, Derek
transferring his hold over to Peter.  The bed dips and the Hales shift around
him.  Cora is straddling him now, her long legs pressed against his sides, her
wet folds sliding along his stomach.  Stiles’ body is drawing tighter as Derek
pulls on his thighs and Peter pins his hands above his head.  He feels taut as
a string on a violin, their expert hands drawing mewls and tiny whines from his
throat effortlessly.
Derek folds Stiles’ legs up, bending him at the knees, drawing his ankles
apart, opening him up to his gaze.  Stiles’ cock bobs against his stomach, the
precome smearing thickly through the line of coarse hair there, the scent of it
thick in the air even to Stiles.  He watches all three of their noses flare,
knowing how he must smell to them.  He feels like his heart is beating ten
thousand times in a millisecond and when Derek nudges forward with his nose and
licks right along Stiles’ dick, Stiles nearly leaps off the bed.
Peter’s dark chuckle is right along his neck, the breath ghosting against his
sweaty skin and making him shudder with the close sensation.  “You’re so pretty
when you’re desperate,” Peter murmurs, and the voice is a dull drug that slides
over his neck and travels down to the pit of his stomach.  “Such a good little
whore.  So flushed and red and wet.”
Derek’s kneeling up now, stroking Stiles with one hand while rubbing his own
cock right in the join of Stiles’ thigh and hip.  Stiles feels its thickness
against him, how hard Derek is, how tight his hand is as he’s stroking Stiles
with quick, twisting jerks of his wrist.
“What do you want, Stiles?” Derek asks, voice husky and raw, his stubble
rubbing along Stiles’ knee momentarily as he draws a quick kiss there before
biting down hard.  Stiles keens and cants forward, pressing into Cora’s
wetness, straining against Peter’s hands holding him down.  
“I want…” Stiles trails off, sounding completely lost.  Cora travels up his
body until she’s straddling his face, pushing down against him and creating a
messy trail of wet all along his chin and lips.  Stiles opens up and laps
against her obediently, struggling to push his tongue up into her body as she
grinds down against him.
“I’m not sure I caught that, Stiles,” Peter says as he roughly tugs at Stiles’
wrists again, pulling him taut.  Stiles arches into their touch, feeling
completely overwhelmed.  Derek’s fingers are prying him apart now, one rubbing
just inward, the dry feeling making his eyes fly open.  He looks up into
Peter’s gaze, Cora’s lithe body writhing above him at the edge of his vision.
Stiles can’t say anything more but struggles forward, trying to get his tongue
to wrap around Cora but she’s not sitting still and he can hardly move from how
he’s pinned down.  Derek’s fingers are slick now, one inching inward to just
the knuckle and it’s pure torture to be able to move so little when he wants so
much more.
Peter chuckles darkly, apparently enjoying watching Stiles working so hard to
get anything, and his fingers dig into Stiles.  He doesn’t have his claws out
but his nails are sharp enough to sting, and Stiles feels tears beginning to
prick at the corner of his eyes.
“Please,” he whispers right against Cora, looking up through his wet lashes at
Peter who grins at him with sharp teeth.
Derek chooses that moment to clamp down with his fingers right at the base of
Stiles’ dick and Stiles feels insurmountable pressure building up from his
belly, the sensations making his hips buck up as one fat tear slides down his
cheek.  There’s no warning as he feels a hot spill of come on his stomach,
Derek’s grip torturously tight, his grunts incredibly hot as he spurts all over
Stiles’ stomach.  Stiles doubles his efforts, wrapping his tongue around Cora’s
clit and sucking hard until she’s trembling and grinding down into his face,
her body shuddering and tight little moans pouring from her throat.  Stiles
watches as she grips onto Peter’s shoulders as she shudders and comes, his own
cock throbbing in sympathy in Derek’s grip.  He feels wet all over, used, his
skin too-tight, his mind reeling.
When Cora moves off of him, Derek’s hands turn him over quickly and he feels
his wrists rotate in Peter’s grip.  He can taste Cora on his lips, sharp and
slippery, and Derek’s come is smearing between him and the sheets.  He feels
his cock pulsing again, finally getting some friction against the mattress but
then Derek tsks and pulls his hips up off the bed until he’s got his ass up and
face pressed down.  He’s somewhat grateful that he doesn’t have to look at them
because he knows how flushed and come spattered he looks at the moment.
Derek slides a hand underneath Stiles and pushes his fingers through the mess
of come that is dripping down with gravity.  He gathers it up between his
fingertips and reaches back around to push it inward with no finesse.  Stiles
mewls out like a strung-out whore, and really, that’s what he is.  He pushes
back into it, his shame gone, just wanting it badly enough to tremble in their
hands.
“Look at your eager little hole, swallowing up my come,” Derek says and Stiles
groans and pushes backward right onto his fingers.  He’s beginning to grow
desperate now, the stretch in his arms aching from the prolonged position, his
cock throbbing wildly.
There’s more shifting on the bed and Stiles feels Derek’s fingers on his wrists
again as Peter releases him.  More shuffling and then Stiles’ face is in
Derek’s lap and Peter is pulling him apart, pushing the head of his dick right
against him.  Stiles is wet, so wet, Derek’s come all over him, and Peter just
keeps pushing and pushing until Stiles is opening up around him, burning,
stretching.
“Lick it off,” Peter orders, and Stiles opens his mouth and obeys.  Derek’s
still half-hard, the taste of his come mingling on his tongue, sharper than
Cora, the tang of soap and sweat and salt sweet in his nose.  Each thrust from
Peter has him tipping into Derek until he’s mashing against his hipbones each
time and just opening his mouth and panting.  He half wishes that Derek was
still hard so he can be filled up by them both, both ends, gasping and aching,
until he’s marked and covered with their come.
Derek’s eyes are dark and he holds Stiles’ face, making him look him in the eye
as Peter continues to push into him with increasingly rough thrusts.
“Do you want his come, Stiles?  Do you want it in that tight ass?”
Stiles nods and Derek growls, his fingers tightening.  “Tell me.”
The pressure on his body from all directions is difficult and Stiles tries to
swallow but it’s hard at the angle Derek is holding his head.  He can see Cora
from the corner of his eyes, her hands running over her body lightly as she
just watches.  “I want it, want his come.  Want all of your come.  Please.
 Please.”
Derek smiles tightly then and Peter tenses up, his body growing rigid as he
pumps once, twice more and then is coming with a groan and filling Stiles up to
the brim.  Cora reaches beneath him to give him a quick squeeze and twist and
then Stiles is crying out and burying his face into Derek’s thigh as he rides
out his orgasm with Peter thrusting shallowly inside.
When Peter finally pulls out, Stiles can feel the warm sticky mess of come
trickle outward.  It slides over his balls and along his inner thighs and he
trembles there on hands and knees, waiting to be told what to do.
He can feel Peter’s grin and a pointed tongue snake against him, causing him to
moan out in an over-sensitive howl.
“You look so good with our come on you, little pet,” Peter says, and Stiles has
to flop down against the sheets as his body begins to shake.  Three sets of
hands skim along his skin, the sweat and come mingling, spreading, drying, and
Stiles closes his eyes and smiles, enjoying the petting.
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