“Scott, you don’t have to,” Derek says, but Scott is already kneeling on the floor, pushing his way between Derek’s legs and nuzzling his thigh, sending a shock of sharp heat up Derek’s spine.
“You deserve this,” Scott says, and the words land on Derek like a weight. He’s never thought he deserved anything — he’s just taken, like the flawed person he is — and he doesn’t know how to react to someone telling him otherwise.
But Scott’s lips on his cock, now that he knows how to react to… or his body knows, without him. He groans, resists the temptation to grab Scott’s hair and yank him in further, and leans back against the chair, letting sensation wash over him, allowing himself for once the luxury of being thanked.
They tumble into the restroom, laughing, kissing when they realize it’s abandoned but for the two of them, and Isaac’s smile lights up the whole room like a ray of sunshine. He drags Scott into a stall, just in case, and Scott’s still laughing as he undoes Isaac’s pants, slinks down to his knees and takes Isaac’s cock in his mouth, But Isaac’s laughter stops there; he hisses, his claws come out, and he pierces the metal of the stall in five sharp starpoints, holding on for dear life as Scott sucks him down. It’s all he can do not to yell out loud, so wet and filthy is Scott’s mouth as it takes him apart, soft lips and hot tongue that washes over him again and again. If someone enters the bathroom they don’t notice, and even if they are interrupted, the noises Isaac makes as he starts to break down would be enough to scare anyone away; he growls and snarls and roars, not in rage but in something just as primal.
It’s not that he’s afraid of them, but Stiles can’t control his trembling as he spreads out on the bed, waiting for Derek and Peter to start working him over. Not afraid, exactly — he bears proud marks from their previous lovemaking, bites and scratches that betray his lovers’ true nature and which Stiles loved getting at the time — but this is something else, the two of them taking him at once, and even as Derek works his way in, Stiles can’t help but tighten up, afraid it will all be too much.
But Peter, beneath him, covers his face with kisses and melts him, little by little, until he’s quivering no longer with fear but with honest desire. And when Peter slides in alongside Derek, cock smooth and patient, Stiles groans in the utter completeness of being so filled — and with each deliberate, in-tandem stroke, he’s filled not just physically, not just with sensation but gratitude that his lovers think of him first, before giving in to any baser instincts.
Danny’s sworn not to tell anyone a thousand times, but Jackson still makes him promise every single time they end up shirtless together on the bed and about to get less naked. Because it’s only when he’s getting together with Danny that Jackson gets to wear these, and if it got out at school it’d be the end of him, so the extra vows remind Danny he’s still dead serious that this is no laughing matter.
But as much as Danny might tease, he never teases Jackson about this, mostly because he’s usually blown away with lust himself the minute Jackson sheds his jeans and Danny can see the hard-on burning through the soft panties. “Fuck, Jackson,” he breathes, and presses his mouth to the cotton, making Jackson groan and grab his bare shoulders with one wild hand. What happens next is always amazing, whether it’s Danny sucking him off or the two of them grinding together, but it remains their secret— best friends with benefits is how Jackson likes it, especially when his panty-wearing secret is at stake.
It’s exhausting, suffocating, and he reaches out into the darkness looking for a handhold — or an ass hold or an arm hold, anything he can have that’s skin and warm and close to his. All of that energy he carried around with him has been transmuted to pure desire, and he lifts his hips high in the air, betting for help, for consummation and release.
Derek’s there most of the time, there to fuck him patiently as Stiles comes again and again on his dick, his thrusts steady as Stiles’ movements become more and more erratic and frenzied. But sometimes Derek’s not there, or sometimes he is but would prefer to stay back and watch — and that’s when Erica’s mouth locks around him warm and sucking, or Boyd powers into him with a cock as hard and big as the rest of him, or Isaac licks into his mouth and slots their cocks together, groaning and hissing with desire.
And sometimes Stiles is so far in heat that he doesn’t even know who it is, he just knows he wants, and has to have more, and he’s coming to the edge of himself as though balanced on a pinpoint and about to tumble down into the abyss — and when he does it envelops him in warm waves of sensation that go on and on.
“Jesus, fuck!” Stiles cries out as climax slams through him again, and he’s shaking, but still reaching back, curling his hand around the back of Derek’s neck to pull him in for a hard kiss, and that means he’s still got energy to burn. “Jesus, fuck, Derek, that one was so good, I can’t even fucking think—”
“You can still talk,” Derek says, and shoves him down again, one hand between his shoulder blades, “and that means we keep going.” He’s straining now, holding back his own orgasm with every inch of his self-control, but Stiles is starting to writhe again, and when Derek reaches around to feel his cock it’s twitching and responding as though it hadn’t just spurted all over the bed a few minutes back. Eventually, when they’re done here, and Stiles is speechless and boneless on the bed, Derek will get a chance to let loose and come hard into Stiles’ ass, but for now, while the Energizer Bunny is still going and going, he’s got — to his unending frustration — to keep a lid on it.
Derek lays a line of sucking kisses down Stiles’ chest, from collarbone to sternum, and though Stiles wants nothing more than to cry out, though his body twitches without his say-so, he stays silent. Derek growls and thrusts into him again, straightening up to arch and groan at the impossible heat and tightness of Stiles’ body. At the same time he fists Stiles’ cock roughly, trying to draw just a gasp, a bare moan, but Stiles remains frustratingly silent. And the bastard is smiling, proving his own point, and if it weren’t for his determination to break the quiet, Derek would just up and go, jerk off on Stiles’ annoyingly perfect, lithe body and take off into the night again.
And that’s when it occurs to him what to do: he stills, entirely, waits, buried deep with his fist still on Stiles’ cock, until finally — finally! — Stiles lets out a small groan and then an explosion of “God damn it, Derek, don’t fucking stop, keep going!”
Well, this is unexpected, Stiles keeps thinking as Jackson kisses him, uncharacteristically tender and wet and good. But it isn’t, not really — Jackson knows he’s everyone’s type, and Stiles staring at him in the locker room has to have fed that perception, but the more Stiles looks at Jackson the longer he sees a guy who just wants people to tell him he’s worth it, and if anyone can understand that, Stiles does. So as they kiss, as they lie down together on the bed, Stiles murmurs “Wanted this so long,” and he’s not the least bit surprised that Jackson mumbles “Yeah, me too.”
Jackson fucks him with the slow intensity of someone who wants to make sure nothing goes wrong — a perfectionist, even in the sack — and Stiles keeps catching their lips together (God bless being limber enough to be facing up) and encouraging him: “You feel good, Jackson, you feel really fantastic.”
“Of course I do,” Jackson says, but there’s vulnerability in his eyes that tell Stiles he’s glad to hear it; after a while they’re not talking at all, just clinging close together, rocking on the bed, letting the sensations of sex and belonging rise up to overwhelm them.
“I’m gonna be embarrassing,” Stiles whimpers, and Derek draws a finger across the lips of his pussy, pulling a quavering note from Stiles’ lips; he throws his head back, too turned on to protest any longer.
And when Derek’s lips lower to his pussy and suck briefly, Stiles screams, just up and shrieks as his hips jerk upward into Derek’s mouth.
“Oh god oh god oh god oh god,” he groans as he tries to force him down, “whatever you do, Derek, don’t tongue my cunt, don’t, I’ll—” and of course that’s what Derek does.
“Fuck fuck fuck please holy shit I can’t,” and he tugs Derek’s hair and tries to pull him in, and Derek tongue-fucks his cunt faster, growling with excitement, his hard-on throbbing with each incredible noise that comes from Stiles’ mouth.
After Stiles screams his head off through his first orgasm, Derek climbs on top of him and grins; “that was so embarrassing,” Stiles offers helplessly, and Derek replies, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” before pumping down into that slick, pulsing cunt.
