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Your Hand in Ours

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“Jesus, you’re loud,” Danny says, caught between appreciation and annoyance. “Cool it, Stiles, or everyone is going to hear us and know.”

“They already do,” Derek informs them from where he’s glowering in the shade of the elm trees. “Let him cry.”

“Not -- ” Stiles gasps when Danny gives him another finger, “ -- crying.”

“If I see any actual tears I’ll get limp dick. I’m not into that shit,” Danny warns, but he know he sounds breathless as he stares down at Stiles’ wide brown eyes.

“Don’t worry about that.” Derek shrugs off his jacket and picks up the open lube. “Just hurry up.”

“You people are so impatient,” Danny says, but the complaint is ruined by the way his cock juts up towards his bare stomach. He takes the lube from Derek and slicks Stiles up more, listening to Stiles’ every hitched moan and breathy pant. Stiles is better like this, too fucked out and needy to run his mouth. Danny’s never liked Stiles much, but Danny’s also never been able to just sleep around without getting immediately attached. Seeing the dumbass laid out and almost incapable of speech makes something warm start up in Danny’s stomach, right where the new sense of pack lives.

“He likes it rough,” Derek puts in from the side. He sounds hungry.

“He’ll take what I give him,” Danny immediately says, and Stiles moans at that, eyes fluttering. Danny meant that he’ll be going slow, because that’s what he likes, but whatever. They’ll both see that soon enough. “I brought a condom just in --”

“No,” Derek cuts him off at the same time Stiles grumbles unhappily. “You’re a wolf now. Stiles is ours, and part of being ours is carrying our scent.”

“Fine, chill, chill.” Despite his words, Danny gulps as he lines the head of his cock up with Stiles’ furled hole, poking at the sweet-slick give. This is going to be the first time he’s ever fucked without a condom, and it feels weird to be doing it with Stiles of all people. Not bad, though. Not bad at all. “Fuuuck,” Danny sighs out as he pops the head of his cock in.

At the penetration Stiles goes from tense and needy to slack and weak, his mouth lolling open like the pleasure’s too much. Danny easily pushes Stiles’ shaking legs down towards his chest, folding Stiles in half so he can press in deeper. The first time Danny ever fucks any guy he always goes as slow as possible, wary about hurting or overwhelming. Usually his efforts are greeted with grateful smiles, but Stiles sounds like he’s dying, like taking Danny’s dick is the hardest thing he’s ever done -- half-way in, Danny stops pressing.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks immediately, coming a few feet closer.

Danny looks up at him from the blanket he and Stiles are laying on and shakes his head, muscles trembling from holding back. “I think -- I think I’m hurting him.”

“Hey, I’m right here,” Stiles says. Then he shudders and bites his lip, whole body clenching on Danny’s dick like it’s hungry -- and fuck, Danny is going to die of blue balls while buried in Stiles Stilinski. “Only way you’re hurting me is by not fucking me, dude, so -- ”

Derek’s huff of not-laughter provides the background for Danny bottoming out in Stiles’ body with a snarl that’s completely unlike him. “That what you wanted?” Danny asks.

“Ahhh,” is Stiles’ answer, a constant wail that makes Danny feel like a sex-god. Jesus. No wonder the pack likes to fuck him. Vaguely Danny becomes aware of Derek loosening his belt and adjusting himself in his jeans, but everything between him and Stiles has at last gone hot and perfect, and Danny can’t tear himself away.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Danny says needlessly, pounding a few more times into Stiles’ ass. The fast pace can be good, but there’s no need to have this over with so quickly.

“What’re you doin’,” slurs out Stiles when Danny doesn’t stab immediately back into him. “Danny?”

“Going to fuck you slow,” Danny promises, “Just how I like it.”

“Danny,” Stiles says, half a sob half a prayer. “Please...”

“This is good for you,” Derek suddenly puts in, finally coming off the sidelines to place a hand on Stiles’ cheek.

“Can I -- ” Stiles starts to ask, his face tilted backwards to look straight at Derek’s crotch, where he’s undeniably hard. “ -- please, Derek, please?”

“Be good for Danny, and maybe later,” Derek promises, his hand uncharacteristically gentle on Stiles’ face. In different circumstances Danny would be a little wigged out, but as it is he’s too busy sliding his cock into Stiles as slowly as possible.

“Going to do you like this as long as I can,” Danny says, collapsing onto Stiles completely, pushing Stiles’ legs all the way up to his ears. “You’re more flexible than I thought.”

“We worked on it,” says Derek. Stiles’ skin goes red, and Danny laughs.

“Embarrassed?” Danny asks.

There’s no answer because he starts burying himself in again and Stiles goes shaky, threatening and begging around Danny’s cock. When Danny is finally back to being balls deep inside of him, Stiles is covered in sweat, a shocked look on his face.

“He’s likes being full,” Derek says pointlessly. Danny almost rolls his eyes at the sheer obviousness of it until he sees Stiles’ shudder at the words. Oh. Oh.

“Good,” Danny adds on, tentative. If Stiles likes to be talked about, Danny can oblige. “Do you keep him like this?”

“As much as I can.” Derek puts his hand back on Stiles’ face, slipping two fingers into Stiles’ pink lips. Stiles may be beyond speech but he’s not beyond movement, and he latches onto Derek’s fingers, sucking them to the knuckle.

“Holy fuck,” whispers Danny at the sight, his tight grip on his self-control slipping a little. “Does he suck you off?”

“Whenever I want,” Derek says, offhandedly. “It took him a few weeks to tame his gag reflex; he used to cry a lot. He still does, when me or Boyd fucks his mouth.”

“Oh,” Danny pants out. He can feel the flush on his cheeks just imagining Stiles getting his face fucked, that stupid-smart mouth that can be so cruel and funny.

“You can fuck his face this weekend,” offers Derek, as if Stiles is something he can just give to anyone -- which, Danny guesses, Stiles kind of is.

That’s when Danny feels it: Stiles coming around him, his hole fluttering and his whole body tensing as waves go through it. Derek slips his fingers from Stiles’ mouth and immediately a low moan fills the air. Shocked, Danny glances between them at Stiles’ dick. No one even touched it.

“Like I said,” Derek says, voice full of an amusement. “He likes to be filled up.”

“Shit,” Danny eloquently says. He pulls back to stare down Stiles’ blown, half-closed eyes. “Can I -- Stiles, are you too -- “

“Get him on his hands and knees,” commands Derek suddenly. Unable to resist the alpha-tone, Danny gently pulls away from Stiles’ over-sensitive body. He pops out and Stiles frowns, grabbing for him, but Derek stops it by holding Stiles’ wrists. “Hands and knees,” he repeats down to Stiles, “Then you’ll get him back.”

Stiles nods and sighs at that, reassured, and gets into the position. As soon as he’s there he falls forward, burying his head between Derek’s thighs. Derek pets him slowly, hand gentle on Stiles’ head.

“Stiles?” Danny asks, running his own hand up Stiles’ back.

The only thing he gets is a nod and a moan, but it’s enough. Danny spreads Stiles’ cheeks and stares at the tiny little hole he’s been fucking. In the muted light of the woods it’s wet and a dark, dark red, like it’s been punished. Under his breath Danny swears, a pulse of want shooting through him, and he fucks back in. He doesn’t bother going slow this time, just takes what he wants, watching Stiles rock into Derek’s lap.

After all the build up, Danny loses it in a few minutes. When he comes deep inside Stiles with no condom between them, soft intimacy floods through him. It’s completely surprising but not, Danny is surprised to find, unwelcome. He bends and kisses Stiles’ back, almost worshipful.

Then comes the scary part. Derek told him what to expect, but still -- his dick is growing at the base. Careful, Danny keeps his hips as close to Stiles as he can. He thinks he’s still coming, the constant background pleasure amazing, but he’s too worried about hurting Stiles to fully enjoy it.

“Calm down,” Derek tells Danny. “Don’t move and he’ll be fine.”

To signal that he’s heard, Danny nods. Together he and Derek pet Stiles all over, head and neck and back, soothing his shakes.

“Fuck,” Stiles eventually says, twisting his head in Derek’s lap. “Fuck, Danny, fuck.”

“What?” Danny asks, worried. “Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

“Just --” Danny can hear Stiles gulp. “Full, is all. Oh my God. Derek?” Derek grunts, hand cradling the back of Stiles’ head. “Can I please...”


“Don’t be an ass,” Stiles says, begging.

“Ask me,” commands Derek, and even though Danny know the alpha-tone only works on wolves, he feels the shiver that Derek’s gravelly tone puts in Stiles.

“Please lemme suck you,” Stiles says, nuzzling at Derek’s jeans, mouth opening on the material.

“Fine.” Derek levers back and pulls down his jeans, freeing his cock. It’s the first time Danny’s seen it; now he understands why Stiles cries when Derek face-fucks him.

There’s no crying happening now, though, only Stiles lapping and licking at Derek, making happy hmmming noises that Danny can feel in his own cock. If Danny weren’t already coming his brains out, just watching Stiles sweetly suck on Derek’s cock would be enough to have him nutting again.

“Stiles,” Derek says shortly, putting a hand on Stiles’ head. Because Stiles’ arms are busy holding his body up, he’s helpless when Derek urges him to take more. “Show Danny how far down you can go.”

Breathless like he’s the one getting the blowjob, Danny refuses to blink lest he miss something. There’s a gurgling noise a few seconds later when the back of Stiles’ throat meets the head of Derek’s cock, and Danny can see the moment it all gets to be too much for Stiles. Stiles levers quickly off and a line of precome follows, connecting him to Derek’s cock. Stiles darts his tongue out and licks it up.

“Enough?” Derek asks Stiles, one hand on his own dick and one on Stiles’ head as if he’ll feed it to Stiles again if Stiles asks.

“‘m good,” Stiles gets out, voice rough.

Danny moans and unthinkingly thrusts. He realizes that they’re finally parted, his knot having gone down sometime in the past minutes. Instead of feeling freed, Danny’s vaguely disappointed.

“Hold on,” he says as he withdraws from Stiles’ body gingerly. As soon as he’s out, Stiles collapses completely into Derek’s lap, legs spread wide on the dark blanket. His skinny legs are coated in Danny’s seed, and more leaks out of his hole, white on abused red. It’s the hottest thing Danny’s ever seen, but he knows it isn’t for him, at least for now. He grabs his clothes and shrugs them on.

“Good job,” Derek tells Danny, offering him a hand to shake. Dizzy, Danny laughs but takes it, pumping twice. “And welcome to the pack.”