Teen Wolf, Stiles(/Derek), NC-17
Title: Happy Ending Yoga
Pairing: Stiles(/Derek)
Summary: To be fair, he’s sure most sixteen-year-old guys try to suck their own dicks at least once. It’s a rite of passage into puberty. The thing is that Stiles finds out he’s flexible. Really flexible.
Warnings: Fantasised voyeurism, Stiles is 16, explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 1,313
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the author's choice square of THIS kink bingo card. Also posted at AO3. Please feel free to point out any mistakes/offer concrit.
Disclaimer: I am not associated with the Teen Wolf or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
As with most things in Stiles’ life, his curiosity gets the better of him. The first video, he finds when he’s fifteen and scrolling through RedTube. He watches for a few minutes out of sheer interest, but then he laughs, closes it out, and thinks no more of it. When he’s sixteen, he’s moved onto bigger and better porn sites, but it’s three AM on a Saturday and he’s scrolling through his choices when he finds another. This time he watches it through to the end and he’s only a little ashamed to say it turns him on.
To be fair, he’s sure most sixteen-year-old guys try to suck their own dicks at least once. It’s a rite of passage into puberty. The thing is that Stiles finds out he’s flexible. Really flexible. Where others have tried and failed, Stiles tries and succeeds. He gets a whole mouthful of it, actually, and it’s not quite as gross as he imagined it would be.
When he’s seventeen, he has to start stretching beforehand, and by halfway through the year, he can swallow down a whole four inches. It’s the one party trick he’ll never be able to share in public, even though part of him wants to put it under the Skills heading on his resume. It’s something of which to be proud.
It’s got the point where warming up makes him hard, knowing what’s to come, mouth already wet solely for him. He saves it for special occasions, like when he gets an A on a test, or finishes an essay a week before it’s due. It’s the motivation that he’s always needed and he’s never done so well in school.
Right now, his excuse is just that he’s thankful to have a night off from werewolf business because the past few days have been hectic and Stiles is ready for some self-love and a long sleep. He’s on his knees, folded with his arms in front of him, stretching out his back and letting his eyes fall shut as he relaxes. It’s a lot like yoga, but with a happier ending.
When he finally stands and strips out of his clothes, he’s half-hard and it’s easy to stroke himself gently just to tease. He lies on his back in the middle of his bed and brings his legs up until they’re parallel with the walls, his hips lifting off the mattress as he begins to fold in half, his knees sliding beside his ears. It aches until Stiles’ muscles get used to the position, his breathing turning shallower as it gets harder to breathe. He’s got it down to a fine art now and when he lets out a long, slow breath, it blows warmly over his cock, which twitches in response. When he slides his arms behind his knees to keep them steady, the head of his erection brushes across his mouth and he places his hands on his ass to pull himself closer.
Darting his tongue out, he licks a strip across the tip of his cock, tasting skin and precome, his body already wanting more. He’s grown used to the musky tang over the years, but where he was once unsure, he now swallows without reserve. The best part about being able to blow himself is that he can do whatever feels best without resorting to half mumbled instructions. He’s still not good at teasing himself; he doesn’t have the resolve for it. He needs someone to tell him to stop, to grab him by the hair and forcibly pull his mouth away and leave him gasping and aching for more. He needs someone strong and unflinching, perhaps someone with dark hair and stubble, who’s the alpha to the local werewolf pack. Possibly.
He thinks about Derek looming beside him, a hand on the back of his thigh, holding him in place and watching him suck his own cock. He wonders if Derek would finger him and wreck his resolve in less than ten minutes. He wants to kiss him while the come still lingers in his mouth to leave Derek with the tang of him on his tongue.
He moans around the head of his cock because he knows he’d never have the strength to make a move, but the thoughts are good enough for him in the meantime. He lifts up a little further, letting another inch or so slide into his mouth and there’s a low burn along his back that he’s more than used to, but it’s easy to ignore as he grazes his fingertips over his balls and then pushes down lightly on the skin behind them. It’s the perfect teasing touch that makes his cock jerk between his lips.
When he rubs the pad of his thumb across his hole and gets a dribble of precome across his tongue for his effort, he knows he isn’t going to last long. He’s too tightly wound to draw it out as he does some nights, where he waits until he’s leaking freely, mouth wet and jaw aching, before he lets himself come. Now, he just wants to get off.
He moves his hand so he can grip the base of his cock, which he can’t reach with his mouth, jerking himself off lazily as he sucks at the tip. It’s the perfect combination. He shuts his eyes and pictures Derek outside his window, staring through the glass, observing him with a curious gaze. He’ll never admit it aloud, but Stiles may have taken to leaving his blinds partially open. The thrill of being caught, of having someone watch him in his most vulnerable moments, only serves to make him come harder.
He pulls himself further into his own mouth, the thoughts driving him closer to the edge. He wonders if Derek would palm himself through his pants right there on the roof. If he’d slide into the shadows, one hand pressed to the cool glass of the window, the other shoved down into his briefs, jerking fast and rough with only one goal in mind. He moans around his cock, tight fingers tugging harder because there’s a generous amount of precome building up now and it’s barely been ten minutes, but his body knows what it wants.
There’s a squeak of something nudging against Stiles’ window and he wants it to be Derek’s sweaty fingerprints smudging against the glass, but it’s more likely to be a branch from the tree in the front yard. It doesn’t matter though because that’s what sends him over the edge; the possibility of what could be. He bucks his hips, chin tilting at an awkward angle, which makes it hard to breathe, but his whole body tenses and then warm come floods his mouth and nothing else matters. He swallows because otherwise he’ll choke, but he licks himself through the tremors, until his cock stops jerking between his lips and he slowly unfolds himself, legs untangling from around his head.
When his cock slips free, a warm string of come and saliva drips down his chin, but he doesn’t care because he feels pleasantly exhausted as his feet drop back to the mattress with soft thumps. He rubs a gentle palm over his stomach, the muscles aching just beneath his skin, and slows his breathing back down. When he tugs the sheet up over his body and rolls onto his side, his eyes wander to the window, staring through the slats of the blinds into the darkness outside.
He can’t see much, but if he imagines hard enough, he can picture a shadow lurking just beyond the glass. He thinks about a calloused palm wiping wetness onto denim that’s cold from the night air; thinks about eyes that glow as a car rumbles past with its headlights on full beam. He grins against his pillow and tries to sleep.
Pairing: Stiles(/Derek)
Summary: To be fair, he’s sure most sixteen-year-old guys try to suck their own dicks at least once. It’s a rite of passage into puberty. The thing is that Stiles finds out he’s flexible. Really flexible.
Warnings: Fantasised voyeurism, Stiles is 16, explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 1,313
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the author's choice square of THIS kink bingo card. Also posted at AO3. Please feel free to point out any mistakes/offer concrit.
Disclaimer: I am not associated with the Teen Wolf or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
As with most things in Stiles’ life, his curiosity gets the better of him. The first video, he finds when he’s fifteen and scrolling through RedTube. He watches for a few minutes out of sheer interest, but then he laughs, closes it out, and thinks no more of it. When he’s sixteen, he’s moved onto bigger and better porn sites, but it’s three AM on a Saturday and he’s scrolling through his choices when he finds another. This time he watches it through to the end and he’s only a little ashamed to say it turns him on.
To be fair, he’s sure most sixteen-year-old guys try to suck their own dicks at least once. It’s a rite of passage into puberty. The thing is that Stiles finds out he’s flexible. Really flexible. Where others have tried and failed, Stiles tries and succeeds. He gets a whole mouthful of it, actually, and it’s not quite as gross as he imagined it would be.
When he’s seventeen, he has to start stretching beforehand, and by halfway through the year, he can swallow down a whole four inches. It’s the one party trick he’ll never be able to share in public, even though part of him wants to put it under the Skills heading on his resume. It’s something of which to be proud.
It’s got the point where warming up makes him hard, knowing what’s to come, mouth already wet solely for him. He saves it for special occasions, like when he gets an A on a test, or finishes an essay a week before it’s due. It’s the motivation that he’s always needed and he’s never done so well in school.
Right now, his excuse is just that he’s thankful to have a night off from werewolf business because the past few days have been hectic and Stiles is ready for some self-love and a long sleep. He’s on his knees, folded with his arms in front of him, stretching out his back and letting his eyes fall shut as he relaxes. It’s a lot like yoga, but with a happier ending.
When he finally stands and strips out of his clothes, he’s half-hard and it’s easy to stroke himself gently just to tease. He lies on his back in the middle of his bed and brings his legs up until they’re parallel with the walls, his hips lifting off the mattress as he begins to fold in half, his knees sliding beside his ears. It aches until Stiles’ muscles get used to the position, his breathing turning shallower as it gets harder to breathe. He’s got it down to a fine art now and when he lets out a long, slow breath, it blows warmly over his cock, which twitches in response. When he slides his arms behind his knees to keep them steady, the head of his erection brushes across his mouth and he places his hands on his ass to pull himself closer.
Darting his tongue out, he licks a strip across the tip of his cock, tasting skin and precome, his body already wanting more. He’s grown used to the musky tang over the years, but where he was once unsure, he now swallows without reserve. The best part about being able to blow himself is that he can do whatever feels best without resorting to half mumbled instructions. He’s still not good at teasing himself; he doesn’t have the resolve for it. He needs someone to tell him to stop, to grab him by the hair and forcibly pull his mouth away and leave him gasping and aching for more. He needs someone strong and unflinching, perhaps someone with dark hair and stubble, who’s the alpha to the local werewolf pack. Possibly.
He thinks about Derek looming beside him, a hand on the back of his thigh, holding him in place and watching him suck his own cock. He wonders if Derek would finger him and wreck his resolve in less than ten minutes. He wants to kiss him while the come still lingers in his mouth to leave Derek with the tang of him on his tongue.
He moans around the head of his cock because he knows he’d never have the strength to make a move, but the thoughts are good enough for him in the meantime. He lifts up a little further, letting another inch or so slide into his mouth and there’s a low burn along his back that he’s more than used to, but it’s easy to ignore as he grazes his fingertips over his balls and then pushes down lightly on the skin behind them. It’s the perfect teasing touch that makes his cock jerk between his lips.
When he rubs the pad of his thumb across his hole and gets a dribble of precome across his tongue for his effort, he knows he isn’t going to last long. He’s too tightly wound to draw it out as he does some nights, where he waits until he’s leaking freely, mouth wet and jaw aching, before he lets himself come. Now, he just wants to get off.
He moves his hand so he can grip the base of his cock, which he can’t reach with his mouth, jerking himself off lazily as he sucks at the tip. It’s the perfect combination. He shuts his eyes and pictures Derek outside his window, staring through the glass, observing him with a curious gaze. He’ll never admit it aloud, but Stiles may have taken to leaving his blinds partially open. The thrill of being caught, of having someone watch him in his most vulnerable moments, only serves to make him come harder.
He pulls himself further into his own mouth, the thoughts driving him closer to the edge. He wonders if Derek would palm himself through his pants right there on the roof. If he’d slide into the shadows, one hand pressed to the cool glass of the window, the other shoved down into his briefs, jerking fast and rough with only one goal in mind. He moans around his cock, tight fingers tugging harder because there’s a generous amount of precome building up now and it’s barely been ten minutes, but his body knows what it wants.
There’s a squeak of something nudging against Stiles’ window and he wants it to be Derek’s sweaty fingerprints smudging against the glass, but it’s more likely to be a branch from the tree in the front yard. It doesn’t matter though because that’s what sends him over the edge; the possibility of what could be. He bucks his hips, chin tilting at an awkward angle, which makes it hard to breathe, but his whole body tenses and then warm come floods his mouth and nothing else matters. He swallows because otherwise he’ll choke, but he licks himself through the tremors, until his cock stops jerking between his lips and he slowly unfolds himself, legs untangling from around his head.
When his cock slips free, a warm string of come and saliva drips down his chin, but he doesn’t care because he feels pleasantly exhausted as his feet drop back to the mattress with soft thumps. He rubs a gentle palm over his stomach, the muscles aching just beneath his skin, and slows his breathing back down. When he tugs the sheet up over his body and rolls onto his side, his eyes wander to the window, staring through the slats of the blinds into the darkness outside.
He can’t see much, but if he imagines hard enough, he can picture a shadow lurking just beyond the glass. He thinks about a calloused palm wiping wetness onto denim that’s cold from the night air; thinks about eyes that glow as a car rumbles past with its headlights on full beam. He grins against his pillow and tries to sleep.