Stiles stared at the cock before him. Gazed, really, with heady admiration. Now this was a cock. A cock it was. Indeed, a cock was before him.
"Are you going to suck me anytime soon?" asked a voice from the other side of the stall, which Stiles was assuming was the owner of said cock.
"Well if you feel the need to rush me about it," Stiles mumbled back, "maybe not." He was, after all, the one who was about to perform a service. On his knees in a filthy club bathroom stall to do so, in fact.
An exasperated sigh from the other side. “Look, it’s fine if you want to back out now,” said the man. “Just because we agreed to do this online doesn’t mean jack shit, you know?”
Stiles glared up at the dick who dared to question his moxy, and with a stubborn huff he licked a long stripe along the bottom of a werewolf’s cock.
Because Stiles liked to live dangerously, but not stupidly (most of the time), the only way he had agreed to sucking off some stranger from the internet was because the man was a certified werewolf, proven just moments ago when the guy had offered a finger through the lovely duct taped hole that had slowly shifted into a claw.
The man in question (his username had been Triskelion on the website, but beyond that Stiles knew nothing of the man) took the action in with a tight hiss. The nice thing, Stiles mused as he began to bob his head back and forth, was that he had completely control of the situation. The man wasn’t able to thrust his hips any further than the stall allowed him, so Stiles didn’t have to fear suffocating.
"Oh, fuck, just like that," said the voice from the next stall, his words caressing Stiles the way the man’s hands could not. His voice was heady with lust, the way Stiles liked to imagine the man's eyes were. "Fuck, you have a sweet mouth."
Stiles had never been told that, given that his fellatio practice had only extended to pieces of fruit and popsicles. Still, he had watched enough porn to know how to not use his teeth as he bobbed back and forth, how to tongue the slit, and soon he could taste the saltiness of precum on his tongue.
"Do you still want to go all the way?" the voice gritted out.
Suddenly Stiles had the urge to see this man. They hadn’t exchanged pictures, preferring it that way. A virgin who wanted to fuck a wolf, and a wolf who got off on fucking a virgin. No names, no faces, just a convenient stall at the back of a night club. They had both wanted it that way; only now Stiles felt the whole process lacking in anything he had really wanted out of his first time.
"Okay," Stiles agreed, his cheeks pink and his mouth still wet. "Did you bring the lube?"
"Yeah." The sound of the substance being squirted into fingers resounded in the stall. "Move your ass close to the hole."
Stiles unbuckled his belt with only a little hesitation. He was in New York, in college, and only freaky perverts on internet sites got off on virgins. If he wanted to explore this side of his sexuality, well, he was going to have to bite the bullet on this one. And it wasn’t like it didn’t thrill him, to be fucking an anonymous man, but it just wasn’t how he had thought his first time was going to go down.
The fingers that gently entered him were confident, sure of themselves as they pushed inwards. Stiles bit his lip to stifle a moan. It wasn’t like this was the first time he had fingers in his ass, he had obviously experimented with masturbation, but it was a whole different feeling to have someone else doing it to him. The fingers were thicker, surer, they could go in deeper, and they obviously knew what they were doing because soon-
"Ah, fuck," Stiles moaned, his back arching at the feel of fingers brushing against his prostate- only to bang his head straight into the stall.
"You okay?" asked the voice with barely constrained laughter.
"Fine," Stiles grounded out, biting back curses as he nursed his head. Obviously pornos romanticized the entire glory hole experience. "Can you just get on with it?"
The voice gave a huff before the fingers retreated back. “Press yourself against the stall, then.”
Stiles did as directed with a sullen pout. “You better be good, dude. I don’t need my first time half aHHHHH-“
The man had effectively cut him off, which was quite the feat, by sliding his dick forward, straight into Stiles. Another dry chuckle. “Just try not to move too much, okay?”
Stiles retort was once more blocked by a quick snap of hips. Just a few thrusts had him bending forward, one hand planted on the toilet lid in front of him and the other grabbing his own cock. God, the toys he’d gotten online couldn’t even compare to the hot, thick length currently ravishing him.
It felt amazing, this hot rush within him. He felt himself beginning to rock with the feeling, meeting the man’s thrusts with a swing of his hips. It elicited a spark within him, a slow heat running like tendrils under his skin. His cock was heavy and leaking against his palm, and as his hand moved in time with the man’s thrusts he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.
He would later blame what he said next to how his head was in a daze, his veins swimming in endorphins, his body singing out with lust. But before he was even aware of doing so, the words spilled from his lips, breathy and rasping. “What’s your name?”
The man stopped, and Stiles whined at the loss of that feeling, pressed his own hips back to encourage him on. “I thought you didn’t want to know,” said the voice.
"Wanna-" Stiles licked his dry lips and closed his eyes in mortification. But he was a stranger here, without a face, without even a name. He could say what he pleased. "Wanna call it out when I cum."
The man was silent for a few moments, before muttering, “Derek.” A few more seconds of stillness before he thrust forward once more, forcing a high cry from Stiles. “What’s yours?”
"Stiles," he answered without thought. He wanted to hear the man say it, needed to hear it. To feel loved and wanted, to feel like this man wanted him and not some hole to fuck into. Even if that was a lie.
"Stiles," the man breathed as he fucked forward, and it sounded amazed enough for Stiles to believe it was said with reverence, with affection. "Stiles, I want you to say my name."
"Derek," Stiles whispered, his face heating once more. For some reason the act was more embarrassing than anything he had done tonight, more than licking the man’s cock, more than pressing himself back against the man’s hard thrusts.
"Louder," the man ground out, his thrusts furious as Stiles began to moan.
"Derek!" Stiles shouted, his hand slick against his wet cock. "Derek, fuck me, fuck me!"
"God, I wanna touch you," Derek hissed. "I wanna grab your hips so hard you’ll bruise.”
"Yeah," Stiles cried out. "Oh god, I want you touch me."
"Lick you, bite you, make you mine,” the man growled out, the words said carefully, as if slipping between fangs.
"Oh fuck, I’m cumming!" Stiles shouted, and his orgasm hit him hard, his cum flying high enough to his his chin, his ass clenching at the feeling.
With a groan Derek came too, his cock pulsing forward as his hips shuddered. What a sweet sound, that groan, like a man dying only to be born anew.
Stiles panted against the toilet lid, but after a moment of ecstasy he simply felt used. Dirty and broken, like a toy no one wanted anymore as Derek pulled out of him softly. He felt tears welling in his eyes. This was it. He had got what he wanted, right? So why was he feeling so miserable?
"Stiles," came Derek’s voice, soft, almost comforting. "Stiles, I’m going to come into your stall. I’m going to kiss you, and then after that I’m going to take you home. And then I’ll give you a second fuck worthy of your first." A small pause, where nothing was heard but Stiles’ loud pants. "Is that okay?"
"You don’t even know me," Stiles couldn’t help but whimper. "You don’t even know what I look like."
Another pause, then- “You smell like mine. Even in this god forsaken bathroom stall, you smell like something I want to carry back home. Stiles, say yes. Say yes.”
Stiles closed his eyes. He couldn’t imagine what Derek looked like. It had been his words that had intrigued Stiles, not any pictures. But still he felt comfort in that voice, comfort in those words. So, with only a moment’s more hesitation, he agreed with a quiet, “Okay, Derek.”