[fic] Swallow And Chew (Eat You Alive) (Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairings: Derek/Stiles
Rating: NC-17 (for kink and sex)
Summary: 'Tis the season for overeating and belly rubs.
Warnings: chubby!kink, belly worship, stuffing (kind of?), kinky sex in general I guess.
Notes: Here we go again. Apparently my craving for chubby!Stiles is insatiable, so here's a belated Christmas fic with plenty of belly worship, stuffing and general chubby!kink. Don't like? Don't read. Also, this can be read as a sequel to We Fit So Tight You And I, but it probably works as a stand-alone as well. It's not related to No One Loves Me (And Neither Do I), though. (The title is from The Mosquito Song by Queens of the Stone Age.)
Swallow And Chew (Eat You Alive)
Stiles groaned as he carefully lowered himself down on his bed, one hand holding his aching stomach as to keep it from being jostled in the process. He would have undone his pants at this point, had they not already been unbuttoned sometime between the main course and dessert. Stiles was infinitely glad that he had worn a belt so that he could pop the button without leaving his fly hanging open. His dad had gracefully held his comments on Stiles’ eating habits during the dinner, but there would definitely have been talk if he had noticed his son keeping his pants open in public.
For a good long moment after that, Stiles just stared at the ceiling and tried to catch his breath without inhaling too deep. His stomach felt heavy, a big heavy weight on top of him, and the painful twinges that sparked through his abdomen were a sure sign of overeating. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to undress, the mere thought of wiggling out of his clothes making him wince inwardly, so he just watched his bloated belly as it moved up and down in time with his breathing.
Stiles felt dazed and drowsy and if there ever was a time for a good ol’ belly rub, this was it.
As if magically linked to his thoughts, Stiles felt the vibrations of his cellphone start against his thigh. He let out some highly unattractive sounds as he worked his fingers into the pocket of his much too tight trousers and fished the damned thing out, but seeing the caller’s name on the screen made his face light up.
“Hey,” Stiles said, feeling slightly breathless after the spurt of action.
“Stiles,” Derek’s voice greeted him through the phone. Stiles felt himself relax a little, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “How was the dinner?”
Stiles brushed a hand over his stomach, cringing at the question. “It was, um, okay,” he started, then added in a bit more sheepish voice, “I think I overdid it a bit, though. I feel like the turkey’s stuffed me and not the other way around.”
He could hear Derek’s low chuckle on the other end and the sound of it made him feel warm all over. Stiles had been hesitant to tell Derek about the holiday tradition he and his dad had. After all, going to an all-you-can-eat buffet on Christmas Eve was not exactly the most glamorous way to celebrate the holiday, but with no relatives to cook for them and his dad’s work often keeping him for long hours even at Christmas, going out to eat had become a good way to enjoy a proper Christmas meal. The first time, they had chosen the buffet as a kind of a joke, but after a few years of doing it just for the laughs, it had become, well, a tradition.
Up until now, Stiles had been able to brush off the odd looks people gave him when he told them about it, but explaining the whole thing to Derek had made it seem... lame and really uncool.
Stiles let his hand fall to his lower belly where the edge of his shirt had crept up to reveal an inch of bare skin. His fingers felt cool against the heated skin, reminding him of the way Derek’s hands liked to circle that spot, and Stiles felt a trickle of excitement as he prodded at the bit of flesh there. Through the phone, he could hear the crunch of Derek’s boots against the cold ground and he idly wondered where the man was coming from, where he was headed, but something kept him from asking.
“I take it the food was good,” he heard Derek say.
“Oh, compared to last year’s fiasco, it was a real feast this time,” Stiles said half-heartedly. Just thinking about all the food made his stomach ache in protest, but he didn’t want to just gloss over the whole evening so he tried describing Derek parts of the dinner that didn’t involve too many plates full of rich food and desserts. “I’m sort of glad that dad got called back to work, I probably would’ve fallen asleep with my face on a plate if we’d stayed there any longer,” Stiles finished with an awkward laugh, hoping that his self-consciousness didn’t carry over the phone.
“Sounds like the perfect dinner to me,” Derek said, and maybe it was just Stiles’ imagination, but it didn’t sound like Derek was joking.
A wave of yearning passed through him, leaving Stiles flustered and, for once, speechless. Spending Christmas evening without Derek’s company was proving to be a more troublesome event than Stiles had expected. He missed Derek with an intensity that surprised him and it was more than just wishing Derek’s hands were there to rub away the pain of his overindulgent dinner. He missed Derek.
Stiles was just about to make a pathetic admission that would put all the romantic comedies he’d had the misfortune of watching to shame, when he heard the distinctly indistinct noise of someone climbing up to a roof. Before he had time to determine whether the noise was coming through the phone or through his actual roof, there was a knock on the windowpane.
The phone dropping from his ear, Stiles rolled up and off the bed and scrambled to his feet. He got halfway to the already opening window (past experiences had proved that there was just no use in keeping it locked anymore) before his body caught up with his brain. The wave of pain and nausea that followed almost knocked him off his feet and Stiles lurched forward, clutching his midsection.
Derek’s arms were around him more quickly than Stiles could even hope for. “Easy, I got you,” he heard Derek’s voice murmur as the man caught him.
Stiles tried to think of something stupid to say, to crack a joke and laugh it off, but he realized that opening his mouth now would probably lead to being sick and wouldn’t that just be a wonderful way to greet your boyfriend. So Stiles let himself be enveloped in Derek’s embrace, breathing in the crisp smell of winter air that the man had brought in with him.
“You okay?” Derek asked after a moment, his calm voice barely masking the worry that was underneath it.
“Ah, yeah, just, give me a sec,” Stiles mumbled. Now that the pain in his stomach had receded to a much more tolerable level of discomfort, Stiles was embarrassed. He could feel his face growing hot and Derek’s soothing hands wandering up and down his back were only half to blame for the sudden change in his coloring.
Derek pulled back, letting his palms brush along Stiles’ sides. If this had been any other day, Stiles would have both hoped and expected the move to be a prelude to soon feeling Derek’s touch all over himself, but now it made him freeze. He was suddenly all too aware of his stuffed gut, how it rounded out in front of him and pressed against Derek’s flat stomach. Feeling self-conscious, Stiles tried to suck it in, but all the food he had eaten made it nothing but a wasted effort.
Stiles could feel Derek’s hands still on his waist and he glanced up to Derek’s face. “I’m...” he started, but seeing the look on Derek’s face made his voice falter and fade off. Stiles watched Derek’s eyes widen as he took in the damage, his gaze gliding over the dome of Stiles’ gut that was clearly bigger, rounder, more evident than usual.
The moment seemed to stretch on for an uncomfortably long time, until Derek finally broke the silence. “You really weren’t kidding about the stuffed part,” he muttered, his voice blunt, yet oddly strained.
Stiles flushed at the words. “Um, yeah,” he mumbled, his cheeks now burning with embarrassment. Derek’s gaze seemed glued to his belly, his whole body so still that Stiles was starting to feel that familiar niggling of doubt at the back of his head. The one that was always there, that little doubt that maybe this was all just a strange phase for Derek, a weird sexual detour that was eventually going to come to an end. Maybe Stiles had really overdone it this time. “I’m just--” he tried again, stepping back to put some distance between his gut and Derek, his hands moving to cover his middle.
The movement seemed to awaken Derek from whatever spell had landed upon him. His fingers dug into the soft flesh on Stiles’ sides, effectively stopping him from moving away and with a feral sound, he pulled Stiles firmly back into his embrace. Stiles grunted as his full stomach got squished against Derek’s hard body, but the groan that left Derek’s lips was louder. “Stiles,” was all Derek managed to say before his mouth collided with Stiles’ and he kissed Stiles greedily, with a hunger that left Stiles reeling and delirious.
Derek’s face was raw with lust when he guided Stiles back to his bed. Stiles half-expected to be thrown down on the covers (it had happened before when things got intense), but Derek just pushed him down with firm hands, his eyes flickering to the swell of Stiles’ belly like it was a some delicate thing, something to handle with care. “Lie down on your back,” Derek murmured, helping Stiles to settle down with a gentleness that would have been surprising to anyone who didn’t know Derek in the way Stiles did.
Stiles watched Derek shake off his coat before sitting down next to him. He realized he was holding his breath and tried to relax. “Thanks,” he said, mostly just to break the uneasy silence. Stiles couldn’t shake the nervous tension that had settled over him, that hung in the air between them like it was something tangible. He felt tense and tight all over, like the skin he was wearing was a size too small.
It certainly didn’t help that with every breath he took, he could feel the weight of his full belly pressing down on him, smothering him, and the dull ache inside of him seemed to only be getting worse. Stiles could feel Derek’s eyes sweeping over him and it made him feel oddly insecure. Just a moment ago, he would have given anything to have Derek’s hands rub away the pain from his gut, but now that the man was here, Stiles was hesitating. It took him a moment to gather up the courage to look up.
And when he finally did, he almost wished he hadn’t, as there was a shade of crimson bleeding through Derek’s irises, backlighting his eyes with a supernatural glow.
Stiles felt his throat dry up. He sometimes forgot that what he was dealing with was an actual werewolf, but in times like this, he was acutely aware of the threat that provoking such a being could bring on him. Hell, he’d been on the receiving end of Derek’s rough side before and while he knew that Derek was not out to hurt him, not anymore, there was a strong link between desire and control. In the case of werewolves, surrendering to one could lead to unexpected and, from Stiles’ point of view, unwanted results.
For once, Stiles didn’t dare to speak up. He could hear his heart racing like he had just run a mile and then some and he knew that Derek could hear it as well. But there were no words of comfort coming from Derek’s lips.
Even with months of practice in reading Derek, Stiles still couldn’t quite decipher the look on his face as he watched the rise and fall of Stiles’ belly. His glowing eyes were focused, almost spellbound, like he was drinking in the sight and savoring it, devouring the details like they were the finest of food for him.
Derek’s gaze glided over the round bulge that pushed up against Stiles’ shirt, making the fabric stretch thin and pull at the seams, then followed the curve of his gut to the softer sides that spilled over the waistband of Stiles’ pants and to the sliver of pale skin that showed just underneath the hem. Stiles felt like he couldn’t breath as Derek’s hand reached forward and he ran his fingers over the dome of Stiles’ gut.
And it felt strangely new, the motion. The same hands that had spent hours learning every curve of Stiles’ body were now back to being shy, like an echo of that first time when neither of them had known what they were getting themselves into. Stiles’ eyes followed Derek’s hand as the man trailed the tips of his fingers over Stiles’ stomach, pressing lightly against the bulge of it before flattening his palm firmly on the highest part of its curve.
The silence was broken by Derek’s fervent sigh. “So warm,” he said softly, his voice barely above whisper, and Stiles’ eyes flicked back up to his face. Derek’s brows were pulled down in a look of deep concentration, but it wasn’t from effort to keep his wolf-side in check. His eyes had already dulled down, the last traces of the red glow fading from them as he absorbed the sight of Stiles’ full belly.
Stiles had seen the same look on Derek’s face before, but this time, he saw through the mask of control Derek always wore. It was bare and unabashed lust that filled his eyes with wanting, his desire for Stiles stronger than even his wolf’s yearning to bite and possess. A shiver went through Stiles’ spine as he realized that, ready or not, his little dinner binge had brought them to the brink of something new.
Derek didn’t continue as he slowly started stroking his hand over Stiles’ belly, rubbing the swell of it through the fabric of the shirt. Stiles could sense his arousal in the way he caressed the round shape of his belly, kneading gently into the softness where he could and exploring the firm bulge with careful fingers, small circles growing larger as he worked through the whole of Stiles’ swollen middle. But despite his obvious lust, Derek’s moves were filled with patience and reverence.
It was the warmth of his hand, the steady pressure that was more for comfort than foreplay that made Stiles finally give in and relax. Little by little, the tightness of his gut eased, the sparks of pain getting buried under a steady hum of arousal that was starting to build low in the pit of his stomach.
“Better?” Derek asked, sliding his palm over Stiles’ belly button. His fingers skirted the edge of the shirt that was riding up just a little bit to reveal a trail of dark hair, but he kept himself from touching the exposed strip of skin. Stiles had seen his eyes trailing back to that point over and over again, but Stiles could sense that Derek was holding back, waiting for Stiles to give him permission.
“More like fricking healed by the magic hands of Derek Hale,” Stiles smirked and arched his back, knowing full well that the movement would make his shirt ride up even more. He was past the timid phase now and eager to get back into their usual endeavors, and the growl of approval from Derek only made him grin wider.
“Okay then.”
Derek kicked off his shoes and straddled Stiles faster than he could say ‘belly rub’. His hands found their place on either side of Stiles’ belly, still full enough that it felt big and hard under Derek’s fingers. His touch was more demanding now, fingers tensing and teasing against the fullness, making Stiles moan as he pushed up to meet Derek’s touch.
“Tell me about the dinner,” Derek said in a low voice, his hands framing Stiles’ gut, stilling just long enough to get Stiles’ full attention. “Tell me about the food,” he said and his eyes burned with sudden intensity.
“Huh?” Stiles blinked, his mouth gaping as he tried to catch up with the change of pace. He shifted restlessly under Derek, trying to get Derek back with the program, but Derek seemed intent on waiting for Stiles’ reply. “I, I already told you on the phone, didn’t I?” Stiles tried, his impatience bleeding into the tone of his voice. At this point, he was more interested in finding out just how happy an ending he was going to get for Derek’s belly rub than recounting the events of his family dinner. But as much as he wiggled and pushed up against Derek’s hands, the man didn’t look like he was going to relent.
Stiles heaved in a sigh, cringing at the stab of hurt that breathing in too deep caused. “It was just comfort food, you know? Lots and lots of comfort food, all the usual stuff that people love to binge on during holidays...”
Derek let his palms slide lower, his thumbs now touching the plump roll of fat exposed between the waistband of Stiles’ pants and his shirt. His teased the flesh there, glancing down as his fingers disappeared into the softness. “I meant the food you ate,” he said, the tone of his voice serious to the point that Stiles felt like he was suddenly in the middle of an interrogation scene. The mental image was only strengthened by the way Derek pinched a bit of the flab between his fingers, not too hard but just firmly enough that Stiles felt a shock of excitement pass through him and add to his growing passion.
Derek moved to unbuckle Stiles’ belt, only to notice that the button had already been undone underneath it. He released the belt and Stiles could see Derek’s throat move as he swallowed, watching as the two sides of the fly parted under the weight of Stiles’ belly as it pushed down to fill the space between the open zipper. Derek swallowed again, his thumb brushing at the red marks he had revealed.
Stiles had already forgotten Derek’s request, so he was taken by surprise when a rush of hushed words spilled from Derek’s lips.
“I want to know about all the food you ate, about everything you stuffed down your throat until your belly got so full, so, so big, so round,” Derek said, a strained urgency behind his words. He slipped his hands under Stiles’ shirt and pushed it up all the way, exposing his bloated stomach in one quick move. Derek growled low in this throat as he ran his palms over the warm skin. “You look so good like this, Stiles,” he said in a breathless voice.
Derek’s words made Stiles flush with shame and arousal. He squirmed under Derek, his uncomfortably tight pants making his erection feel almost painful, but the movement offered no release. It only made him more aware of how full he still was, how his belly jiggled and swayed when he tried to move, and he had a flash of thought of what his flailing must look from Derek’s perspective. The image made his cock throb in the confines of his clothing.
With the color on his cheeks darkening, Stiles stopped resisting. “I, ah,” his voice was thick and rough as he thought back to the meal he had eaten. It had been only a few hours ago, but with Derek’s keen eyes poring over every bulge and curve of his body, Stiles found it harder to recall the specifics of the dinner than his detail-oriented mind usually would.
“Soup, for starters,” he said after a moment that was filled with mutual anticipation.
Derek had waited for him to start before he continued his exploration and now that his hands trailed along Stiles’ firm belly once more, it made Stiles shiver with excitement. “What kind?” Derek prompted.
“Butternut squash, it was... it was good,” Stiles recounted, his eyes sliding half-shut as he spoke. “They had these fresh rolls that were like fluff in the middle, squishy and warm,” he paused to swallow, his mouth suddenly wet with saliva at the memory of those rolls, “I lost count of how many of them I had, they were so good, oh god.”
Stiles’ voice grew more breathless as Derek’s wandering hands started to knead his belly, altering between soft caresses and firmer swipes that made Stiles’ body flood with pleasure. Derek’s worshipping touch was soothingly familiar to him, but feeling it now with his belly so full and bloated made all the difference. It filled him with vivid sensations, adding a new depth to his arousal and Stiles could feel his body giving in, letting go of the last bits of reservation.
“And that was just the starters,” Derek’s voice murmured above him. He was slowly freeing up more skin from the confines of Stiles’ clothing, pushing Stiles’ trousers further down and his shirt up. He stroked his fingers along Stiles’ thighs and hips, his chest and arms, but always returned back to feel the rise of Stiles’ gut like a magnet gravitating towards it. “What did you have next?” he prompted, shifting on Stiles’ lap so that his crotch rubbed against Stiles’ erection, leading to Stiles’ reply coming out in a moan.
They went back and forth, Derek probing for the answers and Stiles trying to reply, his ability to think, to speak in more than just gasps and groans waning in time with his growing excitement. By the time Derek had stripped him off his pants and shirt, Stiles felt like he might burst and it had nothing to do with overeating this time.
Derek leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Stiles’ middle and his face stopping just an inch above the dome of Stiles’ belly. “What about dessert?” Derek asked, his breath a warm breeze against Stiles’ skin.
Stiles groaned, his fingers curling into the bed covers impatiently. He had lost track of time, but he was sure they had been going for hours and hours and he had finally reached his limit. He needed to feel Derek’s mouth on him, right now, or he would explode from all the pent up lust, so he pushed his belly up against Derek’s face, desperate and defiant.
He felt Derek’s muffled gasp against his skin and Derek’s hands as they grasped his pudgy sides, but instead of pulling away, Derek’s hands kept him in place as he rubbed his face against the smooth flesh, soft sounds of ecstasy escaping his lips. The scratch of his beard stubble was a welcome addition to the mix of pleasurable sensations as Derek kissed Stiles’ belly, licking a wet trail down the side of it to nuzzling his face on the softer, more tender curve on the underside of his belly. “Mmmh, answer me, Stiles,” he murmured between nips and kisses that made Stiles writhe under him.
Despite the painful hardness of his erection that was still left without Derek’s attention, Stiles pulled together the last shreds of his concentration. He thought back to the buffet and god, he had been so full at that point, his stomach protruding from under his ribcage in a hard sphere that pulled against the cloth of his shirt and made it hard for him to breathe. With strangely detached clarity, Stiles remembered the odd looks that his dad had given him and the frown on his face that Stiles knew well enough to mean he was due an embarrassing conversation some time in the near future. Still, his dad hadn’t stopped him when Stiles had clambered up from his chair and excused himself, staggering towards the restrooms on unsteady feet.
Sure, he had needed to relieve himself, but that had only been half of the reason why he had left the table. Leaning against the wall of a bathroom stall, Stiles had struggled to unbutton his pants, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally got the fly to open. He had felt heavy, so heavy and woozy from all the food he had inhaled. His hands had found their way to his belly to feel the round ball of his gut, the solid weight of it under his touch and he had thought--
Looking down now, Stiles could see Derek with his face buried in the supple flesh of his gut, completely lost in his own desire and oh, oh, it was such a rush.
“Apple pie and ice cream and chocolate,” he paused to moan, to breath, “c-chocolate cookies and cake, god.” As he spoke, Stiles felt Derek’s hands finally free him of his underwear and then he felt the warm, wet tongue licking up his shaft. He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered in pleasure as Derek licked and lapped at his cock, fingers tight around the base of it while his other hand traveled back to Stiles’ middle, pressing against the curve of it.
Derek’s mouth engulfed him, swallowing his cock deep inside its warmth. He pulled back to let half the length out and swirled his tongue around the head of it, sucking and licking Stiles’ cock while his hand worked up the shaft in rough strokes that felt so right, such a perfectly sweet answer to Stiles’ overstimulated state. He gasped, a moan getting stuck in his throat as he bucked his hips, wanting more, more friction and more pleasure, and when Derek pulled back, he swore out loud.
“Derek, please,” Stiles pleaded. He was beyond frustration at this point, ready to beg to get his release.
Derek jerked Stiles’ cock while his eyes roamed on Stiles’ exposed flesh. “I wish I’d been there,” he said roughly, licking up a long trail along Stiles’ cock, up and over the head of it to the rising curve of Stiles’ belly. “I wish I’d seen you eat all that food, I wish...” Derek’s voice faded as he dipped down to suck at Stiles’ straining erection, then switching back to stroking it and sucking, kissing, biting Stiles’ belly, leaving Stiles a helpless mess on the verge of an orgasm.
Stiles reached down to tangle his fingers in Derek’s hair, groaning as Derek bit into his pudge. “You might as well, I was...” he panted, feeling a hot wave flushing up his face as he finally admitted what had been on his mind all night, “thinking about, you, the whole time.” He felt Derek shift and looked down to meet his gaze. “That’s why I ate so much,” Stiles swallowed, his throat tight and voice hoarse from excitement that mixed with embarrassment, but he needed Derek to hear him say it. “I thought about you watching me eat and I couldn’t stop, and I was so turned on I almost--”
He couldn’t complete his sentence as Derek scrambled up and captured his mouth, merging their lips in a rough, possessive kiss that wiped away every last shred of thought from Stiles’ mind.
It only took a moment for Derek to strip away his clothes and then he was back to straddling Stiles. The head of Derek’s cock was already glistening with precome, but he gave it a few strokes before letting it rest on Stiles’ belly. He leaned forward, effectively trapping both their erections between his body and Stiles’.
With his hands just above Stiles’ shoulders, Derek rocked his hips against Stiles, his cock sliding on the saliva-slicked skin of Stiles’ gut. Derek’s jaw fell slack as he let out a sound that could only be described as orgasmic, his mouth hanging open and his breathing coming out in harsh choking gasps as he rubbed his cock against the round curve of Stiles’ belly.
It was both hot and uncomfortable to have his stuffed belly fucked in such a way. His skin was almost hypersensitive and sore from all the attention and his stomach still way too full to be jostled around, but Stiles didn’t interrupt Derek and didn’t complain because fuck, despite the discomfort and pressure it was just so good. His breath catching in his throat, Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on just the feel of Derek’s body working against his, grinding, rocking, fucking his bloated gut with increasing pace. He wormed his hand under Derek’s thigh, catching his own cock and pressing it against his belly, and somehow that contrast between his aching erection and the soft pudgy flesh of his belly just made it all feel so much better.
After all the stimulation, all the foreplay, it was still Derek who came first, his mouth open in a silent cry as he spilled his seed over the dome of Stiles’ gut. Derek glanced down at the mess of spit and semen between them and when he looked back up, his eyes were shining. Not with red, but with greed and satisfaction that bore only one meaning:
You are mine.
But Derek didn’t say a word as he slid down to finish what he had started. His strong fingers curled around Stiles’ cock as his mouth went straight to Stiles’ balls and Stiles whimpered, writhed and gasped breathlessly on the bed as Derek’s fist pumped his erection until finally, finally, he reached his climax. His cock jerked, throbbing as it pulsed his release out and over Derek’s hand in streams of glistening white.
Stiles stared down at his come-streaked belly as it heaved in time with his breathing. He could feel Derek’s gaze like a silent caress on his bare skin, but he was too spent to even think of another round. There was just one thing on his mind.
“The one who makes the mess, cleans the mess, right?” he said, an utterly exhausted grin spreading on his lips.
“As if half of this wasn’t yours,” Derek retorted as he released Stiles’ cock and gingerly lifted his dripping hand up. From the look of possession in his eyes, Stiles was half-expecting Derek to clean up the mess the same way he had made most of it - with his mouth. But instead of licking Stiles clean, Derek just pressed a last longing kiss on an un-soiled spot on the side of his belly before reaching for the box of tissues on Stiles’ nightstand.
When he was done, Derek settled on his side next to Stiles, wrapping a hand over Stiles’ middle and pulling him close to himself. Derek’s body was radiating after-sex warmth and Stiles loved sharing his heat. No need for blankets when you got your werewolf to warm you up.
The silence between them was pleasant and relaxed, but despite enjoying the postcoital bliss, Stiles’ mind was wandering on uncharted waters. Knowing that Derek wasn’t much of a pillow talker, Stiles knew that it was up to him to start the conversation. He just wasn’t sure where to begin. He could feel the tension starting to creep back into his muscles as he thought about what he’d admitted and...
Stiles cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound like he wasn’t avoiding the subject. Like he totally was.
“So, am I guessing right that you didn’t get me a Christmas gift?”
He felt Derek shift slightly when he heard the question. “You’re not enjoying it?” Derek replied with a question, making Stiles glance sideways at him. A self-satisfied smirk was beginning to form on his lips, his half-lidded eyes glinting.
Stiles frowned, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You... I’m sorry, are you actually implying that you gave me, uh, sex as a present?” Derek’s grin was getting wider, leading Stiles to believe he had guessed correctly. He scoffed, feeling just a tiny bit cheated. “Don’t get me wrong, that was great, fantastic, best ever and all that, but really? Sex?”
Derek lifted his brow at Stiles’ words, but his smile didn’t waver. “Sex was definitely part of it, but no, that’s not what I got you.”
“Well?” Stiles looked around. It was mostly for the dramatic effect, but he was also checking to make sure he hadn’t actually missed a wrapped parcel on his desk or anything else equally obvious. “Unless your gift has the ability turn invisible, which would be awesome, of course, I don’t see anything.” He turned back to face Derek, who was watching Stiles with badly concealed mirth sparkling in his eyes.
“A bit of breaking and entering, some minor vandalism, and a whole lot of false alarms.”
Stiles stared, too baffled to reply.
Derek’s definitely-way-too-pleased-with-himself grin got even wider. “A series of minor incidents that by themselves wouldn’t cause an alarm, but timed just right, would lead to--” he let his voice trail off, waiting for Stiles to make the connection.
“The sheriff of Beacon Hills to be called in to work on a Christmas Eve,” Stiles concluded, finally catching up with Derek’s train of thought. He gaped at the man who was now laughing silently at Stiles’ wide-eyed look. “Let me get this straight. You started a fricking crime wave to get them to call my dad back to work?”
“So I could spend the Christmas evening with you, yes,” Derek said, his smile now softening as he leaned over to kiss Stiles’ cheek.
Stiles’ mind was still processing Derek’s words, but he felt himself warming up as Derek’s lips brushed his cheek. Despite the obvious faults in Derek’s gift (and really, could you call a crime wave a gift?), Stiles couldn’t deny that he was kind of touched. He punched Derek’s shoulder, but there was no force behind the blow. “You’re either the worst or the best boyfriend ever,” he muttered.
Derek laughed off his words, landing another kiss on Stiles’ jawline and continuing down to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. Stiles felt the hand around his middle tighten its hold, giving his belly a little squeeze, and Stiles felt a spark of pleasure as Derek’s hand pressed against him possessively. He started to turn, wanting to feel Derek’s mouth on his, but Derek’s words stopped him.
“Next year, I’ll be there,” he murmured against Stiles’ skin. His voice was so silent that if he hadn’t been speaking right next to Stiles’ ear, his words would’ve been lost.
Stiles swallowed, his lips parting to ask where, but of course, he knew what Derek had meant.
“I want to watch you, want to...” Derek’s voice trailed off and he bit into Stiles’ neck, but Stiles didn’t need him to continue. He could imagine exactly what Derek wanted: him, with his belly filled to the brim with Christmas food and Derek’s hands all over him, feeling him, feeding him... The image filled Stiles with warmth that quickly grew hotter, the flames of heat leaving him smoldering with excitement.
Stiles was surprised his voice didn’t crackle from anticipation when he spoke.
“Any plans for Valentine’s Day?”
Stiles held his breath as he waited for Derek to reply, but he got his answer almost immediately. The low rumble of Derek’s growl sounded against his neck, making the hairs on Stiles’ arms rise and as Derek bit into his flesh, this time harder, sucking at the side of his neck so hard that Stiles gasped, he had to wonder if either of them would have the patience to wait until then.
//end.
Pairings: Derek/Stiles
Rating: NC-17 (for kink and sex)
Summary: 'Tis the season for overeating and belly rubs.
Warnings: chubby!kink, belly worship, stuffing (kind of?), kinky sex in general I guess.
Notes: Here we go again. Apparently my craving for chubby!Stiles is insatiable, so here's a belated Christmas fic with plenty of belly worship, stuffing and general chubby!kink. Don't like? Don't read. Also, this can be read as a sequel to We Fit So Tight You And I, but it probably works as a stand-alone as well. It's not related to No One Loves Me (And Neither Do I), though. (The title is from The Mosquito Song by Queens of the Stone Age.)
Swallow And Chew (Eat You Alive)
Stiles groaned as he carefully lowered himself down on his bed, one hand holding his aching stomach as to keep it from being jostled in the process. He would have undone his pants at this point, had they not already been unbuttoned sometime between the main course and dessert. Stiles was infinitely glad that he had worn a belt so that he could pop the button without leaving his fly hanging open. His dad had gracefully held his comments on Stiles’ eating habits during the dinner, but there would definitely have been talk if he had noticed his son keeping his pants open in public.
For a good long moment after that, Stiles just stared at the ceiling and tried to catch his breath without inhaling too deep. His stomach felt heavy, a big heavy weight on top of him, and the painful twinges that sparked through his abdomen were a sure sign of overeating. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to undress, the mere thought of wiggling out of his clothes making him wince inwardly, so he just watched his bloated belly as it moved up and down in time with his breathing.
Stiles felt dazed and drowsy and if there ever was a time for a good ol’ belly rub, this was it.
As if magically linked to his thoughts, Stiles felt the vibrations of his cellphone start against his thigh. He let out some highly unattractive sounds as he worked his fingers into the pocket of his much too tight trousers and fished the damned thing out, but seeing the caller’s name on the screen made his face light up.
“Hey,” Stiles said, feeling slightly breathless after the spurt of action.
“Stiles,” Derek’s voice greeted him through the phone. Stiles felt himself relax a little, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “How was the dinner?”
Stiles brushed a hand over his stomach, cringing at the question. “It was, um, okay,” he started, then added in a bit more sheepish voice, “I think I overdid it a bit, though. I feel like the turkey’s stuffed me and not the other way around.”
He could hear Derek’s low chuckle on the other end and the sound of it made him feel warm all over. Stiles had been hesitant to tell Derek about the holiday tradition he and his dad had. After all, going to an all-you-can-eat buffet on Christmas Eve was not exactly the most glamorous way to celebrate the holiday, but with no relatives to cook for them and his dad’s work often keeping him for long hours even at Christmas, going out to eat had become a good way to enjoy a proper Christmas meal. The first time, they had chosen the buffet as a kind of a joke, but after a few years of doing it just for the laughs, it had become, well, a tradition.
Up until now, Stiles had been able to brush off the odd looks people gave him when he told them about it, but explaining the whole thing to Derek had made it seem... lame and really uncool.
Stiles let his hand fall to his lower belly where the edge of his shirt had crept up to reveal an inch of bare skin. His fingers felt cool against the heated skin, reminding him of the way Derek’s hands liked to circle that spot, and Stiles felt a trickle of excitement as he prodded at the bit of flesh there. Through the phone, he could hear the crunch of Derek’s boots against the cold ground and he idly wondered where the man was coming from, where he was headed, but something kept him from asking.
“I take it the food was good,” he heard Derek say.
“Oh, compared to last year’s fiasco, it was a real feast this time,” Stiles said half-heartedly. Just thinking about all the food made his stomach ache in protest, but he didn’t want to just gloss over the whole evening so he tried describing Derek parts of the dinner that didn’t involve too many plates full of rich food and desserts. “I’m sort of glad that dad got called back to work, I probably would’ve fallen asleep with my face on a plate if we’d stayed there any longer,” Stiles finished with an awkward laugh, hoping that his self-consciousness didn’t carry over the phone.
“Sounds like the perfect dinner to me,” Derek said, and maybe it was just Stiles’ imagination, but it didn’t sound like Derek was joking.
A wave of yearning passed through him, leaving Stiles flustered and, for once, speechless. Spending Christmas evening without Derek’s company was proving to be a more troublesome event than Stiles had expected. He missed Derek with an intensity that surprised him and it was more than just wishing Derek’s hands were there to rub away the pain of his overindulgent dinner. He missed Derek.
Stiles was just about to make a pathetic admission that would put all the romantic comedies he’d had the misfortune of watching to shame, when he heard the distinctly indistinct noise of someone climbing up to a roof. Before he had time to determine whether the noise was coming through the phone or through his actual roof, there was a knock on the windowpane.
The phone dropping from his ear, Stiles rolled up and off the bed and scrambled to his feet. He got halfway to the already opening window (past experiences had proved that there was just no use in keeping it locked anymore) before his body caught up with his brain. The wave of pain and nausea that followed almost knocked him off his feet and Stiles lurched forward, clutching his midsection.
Derek’s arms were around him more quickly than Stiles could even hope for. “Easy, I got you,” he heard Derek’s voice murmur as the man caught him.
Stiles tried to think of something stupid to say, to crack a joke and laugh it off, but he realized that opening his mouth now would probably lead to being sick and wouldn’t that just be a wonderful way to greet your boyfriend. So Stiles let himself be enveloped in Derek’s embrace, breathing in the crisp smell of winter air that the man had brought in with him.
“You okay?” Derek asked after a moment, his calm voice barely masking the worry that was underneath it.
“Ah, yeah, just, give me a sec,” Stiles mumbled. Now that the pain in his stomach had receded to a much more tolerable level of discomfort, Stiles was embarrassed. He could feel his face growing hot and Derek’s soothing hands wandering up and down his back were only half to blame for the sudden change in his coloring.
Derek pulled back, letting his palms brush along Stiles’ sides. If this had been any other day, Stiles would have both hoped and expected the move to be a prelude to soon feeling Derek’s touch all over himself, but now it made him freeze. He was suddenly all too aware of his stuffed gut, how it rounded out in front of him and pressed against Derek’s flat stomach. Feeling self-conscious, Stiles tried to suck it in, but all the food he had eaten made it nothing but a wasted effort.
Stiles could feel Derek’s hands still on his waist and he glanced up to Derek’s face. “I’m...” he started, but seeing the look on Derek’s face made his voice falter and fade off. Stiles watched Derek’s eyes widen as he took in the damage, his gaze gliding over the dome of Stiles’ gut that was clearly bigger, rounder, more evident than usual.
The moment seemed to stretch on for an uncomfortably long time, until Derek finally broke the silence. “You really weren’t kidding about the stuffed part,” he muttered, his voice blunt, yet oddly strained.
Stiles flushed at the words. “Um, yeah,” he mumbled, his cheeks now burning with embarrassment. Derek’s gaze seemed glued to his belly, his whole body so still that Stiles was starting to feel that familiar niggling of doubt at the back of his head. The one that was always there, that little doubt that maybe this was all just a strange phase for Derek, a weird sexual detour that was eventually going to come to an end. Maybe Stiles had really overdone it this time. “I’m just--” he tried again, stepping back to put some distance between his gut and Derek, his hands moving to cover his middle.
The movement seemed to awaken Derek from whatever spell had landed upon him. His fingers dug into the soft flesh on Stiles’ sides, effectively stopping him from moving away and with a feral sound, he pulled Stiles firmly back into his embrace. Stiles grunted as his full stomach got squished against Derek’s hard body, but the groan that left Derek’s lips was louder. “Stiles,” was all Derek managed to say before his mouth collided with Stiles’ and he kissed Stiles greedily, with a hunger that left Stiles reeling and delirious.
Derek’s face was raw with lust when he guided Stiles back to his bed. Stiles half-expected to be thrown down on the covers (it had happened before when things got intense), but Derek just pushed him down with firm hands, his eyes flickering to the swell of Stiles’ belly like it was a some delicate thing, something to handle with care. “Lie down on your back,” Derek murmured, helping Stiles to settle down with a gentleness that would have been surprising to anyone who didn’t know Derek in the way Stiles did.
Stiles watched Derek shake off his coat before sitting down next to him. He realized he was holding his breath and tried to relax. “Thanks,” he said, mostly just to break the uneasy silence. Stiles couldn’t shake the nervous tension that had settled over him, that hung in the air between them like it was something tangible. He felt tense and tight all over, like the skin he was wearing was a size too small.
It certainly didn’t help that with every breath he took, he could feel the weight of his full belly pressing down on him, smothering him, and the dull ache inside of him seemed to only be getting worse. Stiles could feel Derek’s eyes sweeping over him and it made him feel oddly insecure. Just a moment ago, he would have given anything to have Derek’s hands rub away the pain from his gut, but now that the man was here, Stiles was hesitating. It took him a moment to gather up the courage to look up.
And when he finally did, he almost wished he hadn’t, as there was a shade of crimson bleeding through Derek’s irises, backlighting his eyes with a supernatural glow.
Stiles felt his throat dry up. He sometimes forgot that what he was dealing with was an actual werewolf, but in times like this, he was acutely aware of the threat that provoking such a being could bring on him. Hell, he’d been on the receiving end of Derek’s rough side before and while he knew that Derek was not out to hurt him, not anymore, there was a strong link between desire and control. In the case of werewolves, surrendering to one could lead to unexpected and, from Stiles’ point of view, unwanted results.
For once, Stiles didn’t dare to speak up. He could hear his heart racing like he had just run a mile and then some and he knew that Derek could hear it as well. But there were no words of comfort coming from Derek’s lips.
Even with months of practice in reading Derek, Stiles still couldn’t quite decipher the look on his face as he watched the rise and fall of Stiles’ belly. His glowing eyes were focused, almost spellbound, like he was drinking in the sight and savoring it, devouring the details like they were the finest of food for him.
Derek’s gaze glided over the round bulge that pushed up against Stiles’ shirt, making the fabric stretch thin and pull at the seams, then followed the curve of his gut to the softer sides that spilled over the waistband of Stiles’ pants and to the sliver of pale skin that showed just underneath the hem. Stiles felt like he couldn’t breath as Derek’s hand reached forward and he ran his fingers over the dome of Stiles’ gut.
And it felt strangely new, the motion. The same hands that had spent hours learning every curve of Stiles’ body were now back to being shy, like an echo of that first time when neither of them had known what they were getting themselves into. Stiles’ eyes followed Derek’s hand as the man trailed the tips of his fingers over Stiles’ stomach, pressing lightly against the bulge of it before flattening his palm firmly on the highest part of its curve.
The silence was broken by Derek’s fervent sigh. “So warm,” he said softly, his voice barely above whisper, and Stiles’ eyes flicked back up to his face. Derek’s brows were pulled down in a look of deep concentration, but it wasn’t from effort to keep his wolf-side in check. His eyes had already dulled down, the last traces of the red glow fading from them as he absorbed the sight of Stiles’ full belly.
Stiles had seen the same look on Derek’s face before, but this time, he saw through the mask of control Derek always wore. It was bare and unabashed lust that filled his eyes with wanting, his desire for Stiles stronger than even his wolf’s yearning to bite and possess. A shiver went through Stiles’ spine as he realized that, ready or not, his little dinner binge had brought them to the brink of something new.
Derek didn’t continue as he slowly started stroking his hand over Stiles’ belly, rubbing the swell of it through the fabric of the shirt. Stiles could sense his arousal in the way he caressed the round shape of his belly, kneading gently into the softness where he could and exploring the firm bulge with careful fingers, small circles growing larger as he worked through the whole of Stiles’ swollen middle. But despite his obvious lust, Derek’s moves were filled with patience and reverence.
It was the warmth of his hand, the steady pressure that was more for comfort than foreplay that made Stiles finally give in and relax. Little by little, the tightness of his gut eased, the sparks of pain getting buried under a steady hum of arousal that was starting to build low in the pit of his stomach.
“Better?” Derek asked, sliding his palm over Stiles’ belly button. His fingers skirted the edge of the shirt that was riding up just a little bit to reveal a trail of dark hair, but he kept himself from touching the exposed strip of skin. Stiles had seen his eyes trailing back to that point over and over again, but Stiles could sense that Derek was holding back, waiting for Stiles to give him permission.
“More like fricking healed by the magic hands of Derek Hale,” Stiles smirked and arched his back, knowing full well that the movement would make his shirt ride up even more. He was past the timid phase now and eager to get back into their usual endeavors, and the growl of approval from Derek only made him grin wider.
“Okay then.”
Derek kicked off his shoes and straddled Stiles faster than he could say ‘belly rub’. His hands found their place on either side of Stiles’ belly, still full enough that it felt big and hard under Derek’s fingers. His touch was more demanding now, fingers tensing and teasing against the fullness, making Stiles moan as he pushed up to meet Derek’s touch.
“Tell me about the dinner,” Derek said in a low voice, his hands framing Stiles’ gut, stilling just long enough to get Stiles’ full attention. “Tell me about the food,” he said and his eyes burned with sudden intensity.
“Huh?” Stiles blinked, his mouth gaping as he tried to catch up with the change of pace. He shifted restlessly under Derek, trying to get Derek back with the program, but Derek seemed intent on waiting for Stiles’ reply. “I, I already told you on the phone, didn’t I?” Stiles tried, his impatience bleeding into the tone of his voice. At this point, he was more interested in finding out just how happy an ending he was going to get for Derek’s belly rub than recounting the events of his family dinner. But as much as he wiggled and pushed up against Derek’s hands, the man didn’t look like he was going to relent.
Stiles heaved in a sigh, cringing at the stab of hurt that breathing in too deep caused. “It was just comfort food, you know? Lots and lots of comfort food, all the usual stuff that people love to binge on during holidays...”
Derek let his palms slide lower, his thumbs now touching the plump roll of fat exposed between the waistband of Stiles’ pants and his shirt. His teased the flesh there, glancing down as his fingers disappeared into the softness. “I meant the food you ate,” he said, the tone of his voice serious to the point that Stiles felt like he was suddenly in the middle of an interrogation scene. The mental image was only strengthened by the way Derek pinched a bit of the flab between his fingers, not too hard but just firmly enough that Stiles felt a shock of excitement pass through him and add to his growing passion.
Derek moved to unbuckle Stiles’ belt, only to notice that the button had already been undone underneath it. He released the belt and Stiles could see Derek’s throat move as he swallowed, watching as the two sides of the fly parted under the weight of Stiles’ belly as it pushed down to fill the space between the open zipper. Derek swallowed again, his thumb brushing at the red marks he had revealed.
Stiles had already forgotten Derek’s request, so he was taken by surprise when a rush of hushed words spilled from Derek’s lips.
“I want to know about all the food you ate, about everything you stuffed down your throat until your belly got so full, so, so big, so round,” Derek said, a strained urgency behind his words. He slipped his hands under Stiles’ shirt and pushed it up all the way, exposing his bloated stomach in one quick move. Derek growled low in this throat as he ran his palms over the warm skin. “You look so good like this, Stiles,” he said in a breathless voice.
Derek’s words made Stiles flush with shame and arousal. He squirmed under Derek, his uncomfortably tight pants making his erection feel almost painful, but the movement offered no release. It only made him more aware of how full he still was, how his belly jiggled and swayed when he tried to move, and he had a flash of thought of what his flailing must look from Derek’s perspective. The image made his cock throb in the confines of his clothing.
With the color on his cheeks darkening, Stiles stopped resisting. “I, ah,” his voice was thick and rough as he thought back to the meal he had eaten. It had been only a few hours ago, but with Derek’s keen eyes poring over every bulge and curve of his body, Stiles found it harder to recall the specifics of the dinner than his detail-oriented mind usually would.
“Soup, for starters,” he said after a moment that was filled with mutual anticipation.
Derek had waited for him to start before he continued his exploration and now that his hands trailed along Stiles’ firm belly once more, it made Stiles shiver with excitement. “What kind?” Derek prompted.
“Butternut squash, it was... it was good,” Stiles recounted, his eyes sliding half-shut as he spoke. “They had these fresh rolls that were like fluff in the middle, squishy and warm,” he paused to swallow, his mouth suddenly wet with saliva at the memory of those rolls, “I lost count of how many of them I had, they were so good, oh god.”
Stiles’ voice grew more breathless as Derek’s wandering hands started to knead his belly, altering between soft caresses and firmer swipes that made Stiles’ body flood with pleasure. Derek’s worshipping touch was soothingly familiar to him, but feeling it now with his belly so full and bloated made all the difference. It filled him with vivid sensations, adding a new depth to his arousal and Stiles could feel his body giving in, letting go of the last bits of reservation.
“And that was just the starters,” Derek’s voice murmured above him. He was slowly freeing up more skin from the confines of Stiles’ clothing, pushing Stiles’ trousers further down and his shirt up. He stroked his fingers along Stiles’ thighs and hips, his chest and arms, but always returned back to feel the rise of Stiles’ gut like a magnet gravitating towards it. “What did you have next?” he prompted, shifting on Stiles’ lap so that his crotch rubbed against Stiles’ erection, leading to Stiles’ reply coming out in a moan.
They went back and forth, Derek probing for the answers and Stiles trying to reply, his ability to think, to speak in more than just gasps and groans waning in time with his growing excitement. By the time Derek had stripped him off his pants and shirt, Stiles felt like he might burst and it had nothing to do with overeating this time.
Derek leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Stiles’ middle and his face stopping just an inch above the dome of Stiles’ belly. “What about dessert?” Derek asked, his breath a warm breeze against Stiles’ skin.
Stiles groaned, his fingers curling into the bed covers impatiently. He had lost track of time, but he was sure they had been going for hours and hours and he had finally reached his limit. He needed to feel Derek’s mouth on him, right now, or he would explode from all the pent up lust, so he pushed his belly up against Derek’s face, desperate and defiant.
He felt Derek’s muffled gasp against his skin and Derek’s hands as they grasped his pudgy sides, but instead of pulling away, Derek’s hands kept him in place as he rubbed his face against the smooth flesh, soft sounds of ecstasy escaping his lips. The scratch of his beard stubble was a welcome addition to the mix of pleasurable sensations as Derek kissed Stiles’ belly, licking a wet trail down the side of it to nuzzling his face on the softer, more tender curve on the underside of his belly. “Mmmh, answer me, Stiles,” he murmured between nips and kisses that made Stiles writhe under him.
Despite the painful hardness of his erection that was still left without Derek’s attention, Stiles pulled together the last shreds of his concentration. He thought back to the buffet and god, he had been so full at that point, his stomach protruding from under his ribcage in a hard sphere that pulled against the cloth of his shirt and made it hard for him to breathe. With strangely detached clarity, Stiles remembered the odd looks that his dad had given him and the frown on his face that Stiles knew well enough to mean he was due an embarrassing conversation some time in the near future. Still, his dad hadn’t stopped him when Stiles had clambered up from his chair and excused himself, staggering towards the restrooms on unsteady feet.
Sure, he had needed to relieve himself, but that had only been half of the reason why he had left the table. Leaning against the wall of a bathroom stall, Stiles had struggled to unbutton his pants, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally got the fly to open. He had felt heavy, so heavy and woozy from all the food he had inhaled. His hands had found their way to his belly to feel the round ball of his gut, the solid weight of it under his touch and he had thought--
Looking down now, Stiles could see Derek with his face buried in the supple flesh of his gut, completely lost in his own desire and oh, oh, it was such a rush.
“Apple pie and ice cream and chocolate,” he paused to moan, to breath, “c-chocolate cookies and cake, god.” As he spoke, Stiles felt Derek’s hands finally free him of his underwear and then he felt the warm, wet tongue licking up his shaft. He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered in pleasure as Derek licked and lapped at his cock, fingers tight around the base of it while his other hand traveled back to Stiles’ middle, pressing against the curve of it.
Derek’s mouth engulfed him, swallowing his cock deep inside its warmth. He pulled back to let half the length out and swirled his tongue around the head of it, sucking and licking Stiles’ cock while his hand worked up the shaft in rough strokes that felt so right, such a perfectly sweet answer to Stiles’ overstimulated state. He gasped, a moan getting stuck in his throat as he bucked his hips, wanting more, more friction and more pleasure, and when Derek pulled back, he swore out loud.
“Derek, please,” Stiles pleaded. He was beyond frustration at this point, ready to beg to get his release.
Derek jerked Stiles’ cock while his eyes roamed on Stiles’ exposed flesh. “I wish I’d been there,” he said roughly, licking up a long trail along Stiles’ cock, up and over the head of it to the rising curve of Stiles’ belly. “I wish I’d seen you eat all that food, I wish...” Derek’s voice faded as he dipped down to suck at Stiles’ straining erection, then switching back to stroking it and sucking, kissing, biting Stiles’ belly, leaving Stiles a helpless mess on the verge of an orgasm.
Stiles reached down to tangle his fingers in Derek’s hair, groaning as Derek bit into his pudge. “You might as well, I was...” he panted, feeling a hot wave flushing up his face as he finally admitted what had been on his mind all night, “thinking about, you, the whole time.” He felt Derek shift and looked down to meet his gaze. “That’s why I ate so much,” Stiles swallowed, his throat tight and voice hoarse from excitement that mixed with embarrassment, but he needed Derek to hear him say it. “I thought about you watching me eat and I couldn’t stop, and I was so turned on I almost--”
He couldn’t complete his sentence as Derek scrambled up and captured his mouth, merging their lips in a rough, possessive kiss that wiped away every last shred of thought from Stiles’ mind.
It only took a moment for Derek to strip away his clothes and then he was back to straddling Stiles. The head of Derek’s cock was already glistening with precome, but he gave it a few strokes before letting it rest on Stiles’ belly. He leaned forward, effectively trapping both their erections between his body and Stiles’.
With his hands just above Stiles’ shoulders, Derek rocked his hips against Stiles, his cock sliding on the saliva-slicked skin of Stiles’ gut. Derek’s jaw fell slack as he let out a sound that could only be described as orgasmic, his mouth hanging open and his breathing coming out in harsh choking gasps as he rubbed his cock against the round curve of Stiles’ belly.
It was both hot and uncomfortable to have his stuffed belly fucked in such a way. His skin was almost hypersensitive and sore from all the attention and his stomach still way too full to be jostled around, but Stiles didn’t interrupt Derek and didn’t complain because fuck, despite the discomfort and pressure it was just so good. His breath catching in his throat, Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on just the feel of Derek’s body working against his, grinding, rocking, fucking his bloated gut with increasing pace. He wormed his hand under Derek’s thigh, catching his own cock and pressing it against his belly, and somehow that contrast between his aching erection and the soft pudgy flesh of his belly just made it all feel so much better.
After all the stimulation, all the foreplay, it was still Derek who came first, his mouth open in a silent cry as he spilled his seed over the dome of Stiles’ gut. Derek glanced down at the mess of spit and semen between them and when he looked back up, his eyes were shining. Not with red, but with greed and satisfaction that bore only one meaning:
You are mine.
But Derek didn’t say a word as he slid down to finish what he had started. His strong fingers curled around Stiles’ cock as his mouth went straight to Stiles’ balls and Stiles whimpered, writhed and gasped breathlessly on the bed as Derek’s fist pumped his erection until finally, finally, he reached his climax. His cock jerked, throbbing as it pulsed his release out and over Derek’s hand in streams of glistening white.
Stiles stared down at his come-streaked belly as it heaved in time with his breathing. He could feel Derek’s gaze like a silent caress on his bare skin, but he was too spent to even think of another round. There was just one thing on his mind.
“The one who makes the mess, cleans the mess, right?” he said, an utterly exhausted grin spreading on his lips.
“As if half of this wasn’t yours,” Derek retorted as he released Stiles’ cock and gingerly lifted his dripping hand up. From the look of possession in his eyes, Stiles was half-expecting Derek to clean up the mess the same way he had made most of it - with his mouth. But instead of licking Stiles clean, Derek just pressed a last longing kiss on an un-soiled spot on the side of his belly before reaching for the box of tissues on Stiles’ nightstand.
When he was done, Derek settled on his side next to Stiles, wrapping a hand over Stiles’ middle and pulling him close to himself. Derek’s body was radiating after-sex warmth and Stiles loved sharing his heat. No need for blankets when you got your werewolf to warm you up.
The silence between them was pleasant and relaxed, but despite enjoying the postcoital bliss, Stiles’ mind was wandering on uncharted waters. Knowing that Derek wasn’t much of a pillow talker, Stiles knew that it was up to him to start the conversation. He just wasn’t sure where to begin. He could feel the tension starting to creep back into his muscles as he thought about what he’d admitted and...
Stiles cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound like he wasn’t avoiding the subject. Like he totally was.
“So, am I guessing right that you didn’t get me a Christmas gift?”
He felt Derek shift slightly when he heard the question. “You’re not enjoying it?” Derek replied with a question, making Stiles glance sideways at him. A self-satisfied smirk was beginning to form on his lips, his half-lidded eyes glinting.
Stiles frowned, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You... I’m sorry, are you actually implying that you gave me, uh, sex as a present?” Derek’s grin was getting wider, leading Stiles to believe he had guessed correctly. He scoffed, feeling just a tiny bit cheated. “Don’t get me wrong, that was great, fantastic, best ever and all that, but really? Sex?”
Derek lifted his brow at Stiles’ words, but his smile didn’t waver. “Sex was definitely part of it, but no, that’s not what I got you.”
“Well?” Stiles looked around. It was mostly for the dramatic effect, but he was also checking to make sure he hadn’t actually missed a wrapped parcel on his desk or anything else equally obvious. “Unless your gift has the ability turn invisible, which would be awesome, of course, I don’t see anything.” He turned back to face Derek, who was watching Stiles with badly concealed mirth sparkling in his eyes.
“A bit of breaking and entering, some minor vandalism, and a whole lot of false alarms.”
Stiles stared, too baffled to reply.
Derek’s definitely-way-too-pleased-with-himself grin got even wider. “A series of minor incidents that by themselves wouldn’t cause an alarm, but timed just right, would lead to--” he let his voice trail off, waiting for Stiles to make the connection.
“The sheriff of Beacon Hills to be called in to work on a Christmas Eve,” Stiles concluded, finally catching up with Derek’s train of thought. He gaped at the man who was now laughing silently at Stiles’ wide-eyed look. “Let me get this straight. You started a fricking crime wave to get them to call my dad back to work?”
“So I could spend the Christmas evening with you, yes,” Derek said, his smile now softening as he leaned over to kiss Stiles’ cheek.
Stiles’ mind was still processing Derek’s words, but he felt himself warming up as Derek’s lips brushed his cheek. Despite the obvious faults in Derek’s gift (and really, could you call a crime wave a gift?), Stiles couldn’t deny that he was kind of touched. He punched Derek’s shoulder, but there was no force behind the blow. “You’re either the worst or the best boyfriend ever,” he muttered.
Derek laughed off his words, landing another kiss on Stiles’ jawline and continuing down to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. Stiles felt the hand around his middle tighten its hold, giving his belly a little squeeze, and Stiles felt a spark of pleasure as Derek’s hand pressed against him possessively. He started to turn, wanting to feel Derek’s mouth on his, but Derek’s words stopped him.
“Next year, I’ll be there,” he murmured against Stiles’ skin. His voice was so silent that if he hadn’t been speaking right next to Stiles’ ear, his words would’ve been lost.
Stiles swallowed, his lips parting to ask where, but of course, he knew what Derek had meant.
“I want to watch you, want to...” Derek’s voice trailed off and he bit into Stiles’ neck, but Stiles didn’t need him to continue. He could imagine exactly what Derek wanted: him, with his belly filled to the brim with Christmas food and Derek’s hands all over him, feeling him, feeding him... The image filled Stiles with warmth that quickly grew hotter, the flames of heat leaving him smoldering with excitement.
Stiles was surprised his voice didn’t crackle from anticipation when he spoke.
“Any plans for Valentine’s Day?”
Stiles held his breath as he waited for Derek to reply, but he got his answer almost immediately. The low rumble of Derek’s growl sounded against his neck, making the hairs on Stiles’ arms rise and as Derek bit into his flesh, this time harder, sucking at the side of his neck so hard that Stiles gasped, he had to wonder if either of them would have the patience to wait until then.
//end.