It's not that Stiles doesn't want to do it. He does. Oh god, he wants it so bad. It's just that when Derek asks, he's not expecting it.
Maybe he should have, though. Stiles' ideas on their relationship, on sex and commitment and trust have evolved quite a lot since he was seventeen and they first started this thing. He's twenty-three now. In those six years, he's gotten his BA, traveled, helped defeat not one, not two, but three separate chupacabras, and he's rescued others and been rescued more times than he'd liked to count.
Long story short, Stiles has been around, and he and Derek's relationship has progressed from the wide-eyed naiveté of missionary position and always making Derek do all the work. They're way past that and have been for a while.
For some reason, though, he just wasn't expecting his long time boyfriend and partner and maybe-future-husband to confess in the middle of the night after round two-point-five (there'd been a hand job at the movie theater, don't ask), that he'd kind of like for Stiles to tie him up. And gag him. And oh, also, tease him a little bit?
"I didn't know that was… something you were interested in," says Stiles, careful not to sound judgy. He's not judging. No one is judging (especially after that time Derek willingly participated in Little Red Ridinghood/Big Bad Wolf roleplay, ahem… Stiles still has the outfit in the back of their closet).
Derek shrugs in that way that's meant to be casual, but Stiles knows from experience he's actually freaking out internally. "I just… it's something I've been thinking about lately. I… I've done things like that before, but not… not for a long time. I never --" Derek breaks off, huffing in obvious frustration. "I didn't think I'd ever trust someone enough again, especially not after Kate. And then I felt -- it felt wrong to want that kind of thing when she… when that's what she did."
Stiles goes very still. He knows about Kate, of course. He knows that Kate made Derek think it was true love. He knows Derek trusted her completely and then she burned his family alive. Stiles did not, however, give much thought to their sexual relationship, mostly for the sake of his sanity. It wasn't exactly healthy to have detailed murder fantasies about anyone, let alone a woman several years in the grave already.
Turning onto his side, Stiles reaches out slowly, careful to give Derek time to pull away, before he hooks his arm around Derek's middle and pulls him close. He tucks his chin over Derek's shoulder and kisses his jaw. He takes a deep breath and tries to figure out how to say the right thing. "It's okay to want it, Derek. You don't want her. You… you want to trust someone that much again, someone who really deserves it. You want to trust me, and I'm glad, okay? I'm so glad she didn't manage to destroy that part of you."
Derek lets out a shuddering breath, but Stiles can feel him nod silently. They drift to sleep without talking any more about it, but that's fine for now.
They do talk about it more. They talk about it lots. They talk about what it would mean for Derek. They talk about the terms of that kind of power exchange. They talk about what Stiles would need to avoid (Derek doesn't want Stiles to ride him while he's tied up, it would remind him too much of Kate, but getting fucked is okay). They talk about everything either of them can think of.
They talk about it until Stiles feels confident as he clicks "purchase" on the pair of wolfsbane-laced leather cuffs from a little specialty shop on Etsy of all damn places. It's not supposed to burn werewolf skin, just keep them from being able to break free. Next, he gets a well-made gag, and a nice quality cock ring.
He is the best damn boyfriend of all time.
When it comes down to it, he is still a little nervous. How can he not be? The last thing Stiles wants to do is hurt Derek, but he trusts that if Derek (after being with Stiles for six years) has finally gotten to the point where he can ask for this, then he really wants it. And Stiles is going to give it to him.
Derek's naked, lying stretched across their bed and watching as Stiles shuffles around the room in his boxers, getting everything ready.
Taking a deep breath, Stiles licks his lips as climbs onto the bed, climbs over Derek and straddles his hips. He's clutching the leather cuffs. "You're sure? We don't have to do this, okay? And we can stop whenever you want."
Derek gives him a small, steady smile. "I'm sure. I want -- I want to do this with you, Stiles."
Stiles flashes him a shaky but bright smile and nods. "Ooookay. Then, um, put your hands above your head."
Derek complies, gorgeous muscles stretching as he reaches up. Stiles leans over him and deftly fastens the butter-soft leather around each wrist and then hooks the center chain to a loop he drilled into the wall just for the occasion. In for a penny, Stiles figures.
Derek makes a small noise and Stiles looks down immediately, lifting an eyebrow. Derek shakes his head. "No, I'm fine, it's fine. Just -- I can feel the cuffs working."
There's a blush creeping up Derek's neck and into his cheeks, so that must be a good thing. "Good. Now… I'm going to put in the gag, but you remember if -- if you want out of it, all you have to do is snap your fingers. Or-- or if you forget just kick me or something. I'll be watching. I don't want… this is supposed to help, not hurt. You got it?"
"Snapping fingers, or kicking. Right, I got it, Stiles. But you're not going to hurt me. It's not going to -- it's you. I know it'll be okay," says Derek.
Stiles' heart feels like it might burst in his chest. Impulsively, he swoops down and presses his lips to Derek's, kissing him thoroughly, eagerly. "I love you," he says, feeling breathless with just how much those words are true.
Derek smirks, looking suddenly a million times more relaxed. "I know."
Stiles barks out a sharp, startled laugh. "Alright Han Solo, open up."
Derek obeys instantly, though Stiles can still see the happy amusement in his eyes. The ball gag is a heavy rubber, but for werewolf teeth, it'd be easy enough to shred if necessary. It's the only reason Stiles has agreed to it. It's more symbolic than anything, but Stiles has to admit once he gets it buckled in place that Derek makes a pretty picture with his lips stretched around it.
Stiles' stomach flutters and he can feel his own cock stirring with interest. He bends down and presses another quick kiss to the corner of Derek's mouth before he shifts off of him and turns to add the final piece. He needs to get the cock ring on before Derek gets too hard. He's already starting to plump up.
Derek squirms and Stiles looks up to see that he is no longer amused. Rather, he's watching intently, eyebrows furrowed in an obvious silent request for Stiles to keep touching his dick even after he gets the cock ring in place. Stiles hesitates for a moment, and then he drops down with a wicked smile on his face. He opens his mouth slowly, watching Derek the whole time as he licks him from base to tip.
Derek groans, and it's muffled by the gag. It sounds so much nicer than Stiles was expecting. Stiles puckers his lips and blows a cool stream of air right over the head of Derek's cock, flushed red as he rapidly hardens.
Hips lifting in obvious impatience, Derek grunts.
"Already making demands?" Stiles clucks his tongue. "What am I going to do with you?"
Huffing out a breath through his nose, Derek lifts his hips again, jostling Stiles. Stiles laughs. "This is kind of nice, actually. Maybe I'll actually teach you some patience for once."
Derek glares and in retaliation, Stiles bends down again and takes just the tip of Derek's cock into his mouth, sucking hard. The reaction is instantaneous, Derek shouts behind his gag, his hips lifting off the bed until Stiles' firm hands push them back down.
Stiles hums, sinking down farther on Derek's cock, taking him deep, letting himself drool over the length, getting it sloppy and slick. It's an enthusiastic blowjob, eager and wet, and Stiles does every dirty trick he knows Derek loves. Derek's achingly hard in his mouth within seconds, and Stiles feels a surge of accomplishment, warmth unfurling in his stomach that surges with every sharp noise smothered by Derek's gag.
Stiles keeps it up for a while, long enough that his jaw starts aching, that Derek's sounds becoming increasingly desperate. He keeps it up until he knows Derek would be coming if not for the cock ring holding him back. When he finally pulls back, they're both panting, and Derek's eyes are wide and glassy looking. As needy as Derek looks right now, he still whines when he realizes Stiles isn't continuing.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand (Stiles has never been one for subtle), he crawls back over Derek, straddling his stomach again. Derek's chest is heaving under his palms, still trying to catch his breath, and he's shifting restlessly. He grunts at Stiles, obviously trying to convey his disappointment that Stiles has stopped.
Stiles' own cock is hard now too, straining against his black boxers, and Stiles isn't inclined to ignore it anymore. He grins down at Derek. "You look good like this, you know? Well, you always look good, but I could get use to this view."
Derek bucks under him, scowling in a way that would be much more convincing if he wasn't bound and gagged. Stiles lifts an eyebrow. "Are you still happy? Or do you want me to stop, hmm? Nod if you want me to keep going, Derek."
There's no hesitation. Derek nods instantly.
"Well, then, you're just going to have to wait, because I've decided I'd like to see if having my come streaked across your skin will add as much to the aesthetic as I think it will." Stiles licks his stinging, puffy lips and pushes the elastic of his boxers down over his cock.
Wrapping his hand around it, Stiles lets his head fall back, a throaty moan spilling from his mouth. Fuck, he'd been so focused on Derek, he hadn't realized exactly how desperate he was getting himself. "God, I think next time I won't gag you. Next time, I'm going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours. Would you like that? Lying there helplessly while I came down your throat?"
If the muffled moan Derek gives is any indication, he's very much into that idea. Stiles shivers, giving into the mental image, tightening his grip as he strokes himself.
"I'm going to fuck you after this, you know? I'm going to finger you until you're going insane. I'm going to play with your nipples, I know you like that. I'm going to keep you on edge until I'm damn well ready to use you again."
Derek whimpers and Stiles looks down quickly, feelings dazed as he takes in the sight of Derek with the uncharacteristic blush, messy trail of spit leaking from his mouth, wrists straining uselessly against the cuffs. He's gorgeous and it only takes a few more rapid, harsh tugs before Stiles is coming, striping Derek's chest and neck, all the way up to his chin.
Stiles collapses with a groan and rolls off of Derek, panting as he stares up at the ceiling, Derek's own harsh breath syncing up with Stiles' and making Stiles shake with aftershocks.
It takes a moment before he's able to recuperate enough to shimmy the rest of the way out of his boxers. He kicks them away and then rolls again onto his knees, grabbing the lube and shuffling back to Derek whose cock is still red and hard and straining against his stomach. Stiles sighs and then maneuvers Derek's legs around until he's kneeling between them.
He guides Derek's legs around his hips, and then he leans over so that he can look in Derek's eyes as he reaches up and rubs his mess into Derek's skin. Derek's eyes flutter and he fucking whimpers, spine bowing like having Stiles' come smeared into his skin is the sweetest thing he could ever ask for.
"So good, you're so perfect, Derek. I don't -- fuck, I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you," says Stiles, moved to more heartfelt honesty than they typically indulge in. He doesn't care, and he can tell it hits just right for Derek. "Thank you for trusting me to give you this."
Derek turns his face away, blushing again, but he nods. It's all Stiles needs to continue. He opens the cap on the lube and pours some onto his fingers, reaching down and sliding them behind Derek's balls, pressing briefly at his perineum before moving back and rubbing at Derek's hole.
"You're gonna feel so good, aren't you? Can't wait. Still trying to decide if I should let you come while I'm fucking you, though…" Stiles trails off and smirks when Derek makes an outraged noise.
He chooses that moment to push two fingers inside of Derek, enjoying his shocked expression, the way his eyes roll back for a moment as he sucks in a quick breath. Stiles' now soft cock gives a twitch and he swallow back his own groan. Even when Derek is tied up he throws a wrench in the normal laws of refractory periods, the bastard.
Stiles has every intention of letting Derek come while he's inside him. He can't stand to drag this out much longer. Derek's pretty as fuck all strung out, but he's even prettier when he's falling apart with Stiles inside of him.
That doesn't mean he doesn't take his time. He draws out the process of fingering Derek open, sliding in and out of him in slow, long pumps that make Derek shiver and shake. It's ages before he even ups it to three and by then Derek's shiny with sweat and emitting moans of ever increasing volume and frequency.
Derek's clenching around his fingers, thighs trembling, and he keeps half lifting his hips and then aborting the movement. His wrists are twisting in the cuffs, fingers curled into fists, and every line of his body is taut with desperate need.
Stiles' cock is throbbing now, hard and ready to be inside Derek already. He curses under his breath as he fumbles for the lube again, pulling his fingers out of Derek. Stiles has himself slicked and pressed to Derek's ass before he glances up again and his breath freezes in his lungs.
There's a glimmer of tears, streaking down Derek's cheeks.
Stiles immediately starts to reach for Derek's gag. "Fuck, I'm sorry, do you need to stop? Do you --"
Derek's eyes go wide and he shakes his head frantically, making an urgent noise that sounds an awful lot like no. Stiles pauses, fingers hovering at the buckle of Derek's gag. "Are you sure?"
Derek nods now, eyes bright and guileless, dark eyelashes clumped with moisture. He's not lying though, Stiles can see it. Biting his lip, Stiles makes himself breathe and shift back into place. He nods, too. "Okay, okay."
He fists himself, stroking his cock a couple of times to get back in the right mindset, the panic that he might have been hurting Derek abating slowly. Taking another deep breath, Stiles presses the head of his cock to Derek's hole again and this time he follows through, pushing deep with a hard thrust.
Derek moans, head tipping back and exposing his throat. Stiles' brain shorts out for a time, nothing but the sight and feel of Derek filtering in. He feels high, he feels euphoric as he pulls back and then pushes in the rest of the way, hips slapping against Derek as he bottoms out.
Despite the fact that Stiles has already come once, he doesn't think he's going to last very long. It's too sweet, too perfect. Derek is clenching around him, making the most debauched, smothered whimpers, tears shining in his eyes, and he's trying to meet every roll of Stiles' hips urgently.
Stiles can't take any more. He reaches out and unsnaps Derek's cock ring before he falls over him, trapping Derek's cock between them and sucking marks that won't stay across Derek's chest. He knows he's not doing a very good job of hitting Derek's prostate, not at this angle, and he knows his strokes are clumsy and frenzied, but it doesn't seem to matter. Derek cries out, almost bucking Stiles off, and he comes hard and messy, painting their skin and mixing with their sweat. Stiles follows not two minutes later, biting down on one of Derek's nipples and earning an exhausted whine in return.
He doesn't even bother rolling away this time, just goes limp on top of Derek, panting against his chest.
Stiles loses track of time, but eventually his mind stops spinning and sanity prevails. He picks himself up off Derek and makes quick work of freeing him from the leather cuffs and taking out the gag. Stiles can't stop touching Derek either. He pets him all over, kisses him, murmurs thanks and praise and love while Derek curls into him and shivers in Stiles' arms. Stiles keeps them tucked together for a long time, their sticky, disgusting state be damned.
It's Derek who eventually groans and says, "Ugh, shower. We need a shower. And to change the sheets."
Stiles sighs. "Alright, but then food and then we should maybe take a nap and then… talk?"
There's a pause and then Derek nods. "Yeah, that sounds good."
Derek tips his head up and seeks Stiles out for a kiss, which Stiles gladly grants.
"I love you," says Derek.
Stiles smiles. "I know."