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Marriage (Or Something to That Effect)

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Derek Hale kept looking at his phone. The clock kept inching closer and closer to the time of the ceremony. His mother, sisters, and uncle were crowded into the room, helping him. Laura obsessed over ensuring that every one of her little brother's hairs was in the correct place, while Cora continuously adjusted his pocket square. Peter and Talia watched proudly.

Talia had never seen her son look so handsome… so much like his father. After a while, she shooed her daughters out of the room, but permitted Peter to stay. Though she told herself she wouldn't cry while doing this, tears were already spilling past her eyelids. She thanked God for waterproof mascara. Holding his hands in hers, she led him over to a small table with two chairs next to it and asked him to sit. Peter handed her a small package which she placed in his hand. "I've been saving this for your wedding day," she said as she encouraged him to open it.

The wrapping was precise and elegant. It looked so beautiful that he didn't want to tear it. Carefully, he managed to extract the small box inside. The box contained a ring It was large and somewhat heavy for its size. An exquisitely cut and polished sapphire was set into the center. His father's name circled the setting: Steven Preston Trelles. On one side was a large wolf emblem, the other was a crest, one that Derek could only assume had been for his father's family. The leather jacket he wore was the only thing he'd ever had of his father's. There were photos of him around the house growing up, but other than that, Derek had very little memory of him. He couldn't remember the way his father's voice sounded… the way it felt to be picked up or hugged by him. Tears brimmed his eyes as he looked up from it to his mom.

"This was his class ring. His family wasn't as wealthy as ours and so much money had been used to buy this ring, that he couldn't afford to buy me an engagement ring, so he used this instead. I wore it on a chain around my neck," she said. "After he passed away, I put it aside so that you could have it as your somethings old, new, and blue."

"New?" Derek said, furrowing his brow as he looked up at his mom.

"I had your initials etched into the inside of the ring," Talia said.

Derek turned the ring so that the inside could catch the light and sure enough, DSH was inscribed directly beneath the stone.

He leaned over and hugged Talia tightly. "You have no idea how much this means to me, mom," he said. "Thank you."

"He would be so proud of you, Derek," she told him. "He always was. Cora hadn't been born yet, but you were his favorite. When you were born, he held you in his arms and wouldn't let you out of his sight. My pregnancy with you was somewhat difficult and there were several times along the way that we thought we lost you. But you were a fighter… you demanded to be born."

Derek wiped the tears from his face as he listened to his mother. He'd never heard this before.

"Steven bonded with you in a way he didn't quite bond with Laura," she admitted. "Part of it may be because he didn't know how to relate to Laura, but you were his boy. And you adored him. Your first word was 'Dada' and you followed him everywhere," she said. "He would get down on the floor with you and you'd climb all over him, laughing and cackling…" She caught herself and cleared her throat and returned to the subject of the ring. "He would have wanted you to have this and if you and Stiles ever have children, I ask that you pass it down to them. If not, give it to one of your sisters' children."

Derek nodded and placed the ring on his right hand. The left one would soon be occupied. Cora peeked her head in. "It's time!" she said. "The music is about to start."

"We'll be right there," Peter said, rising to his feet. He gave Derek as deep a kiss as he dared in front of Talia. She hadn't seen him be affectionate with Derek and didn't want to upset her.

Chris was to walk down the aisle with Cora. Peter walked with his older niece, Laura. Talia and Derek made their way down the aisle, arms linked, followed by Stiles and Noah.

As he stood face-to-face with Stiles, he couldn't believe how handsome his soon-to-be husband looked. He found himself impatient for the vows to be completed. When his time finally came, he placed the wedding band on Stiles' finger. "Our path to get here was messy and winding. Our love and the home we have built is unique and hard to define. All I know is that without you, the most important part of me is missing; with you, I feel more joy than any man ever should. I can't promise you eternal happiness, but I can promise that I will live every day to make you feel as happy and as loved as I feel as your husband. And maybe that's the same thing, but I devote my life to that cause… and to you."

The priest indicated for Stiles to say his vows. "I would not be standing here today if it weren't for you. In the darkest time of my life, you were a beacon that guided me to hope. You loved me when I felt unlovable. You are the kindest, purest, most selfless man I've ever met and I don't deserve you. Somehow I have you anyway. I will never take that fact for granted and will prove not just in my words, but in my actions, that I cherish you and am incredibly proud to call you my husband."

As the priest announced them as spouses, none of their family members had dry eyes. Their first kiss as husbands was the sweetest they'd ever shared. When it broke, Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek. He couldn't believe it… they were actually married.

"Am I the only one of us who doesn't speak French?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah," Peter replied.

"How is it that all three of you speak fluent French?"

"My ancestry is French," Chris replied.

"I learned it because I fell in love with Chris," said Peter.

"Mom made me learn several different languages," Derek answered.

"We don't mind translating for you," Chris said. "But I feel the need to remind you that you are the one who chose Martinique."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles grumbled dismissively. Their four-way honeymoon was probably one of the better ideas he had. He just wish he had done more linguistic preparation.

Their first night in the suite, Peter and Chris left the younger two alone. Sex as a married couple was indescribably different. As Derek moved in and out of him, Stiles gasped at the exquisite pleasure. This was how the two Hales were different. Peter was explosive passion. Frenetic. Dominating. Derek was (usually) subtle and made Stiles' pleasure his main focus. Stiles' arms were wrapped around Derek's torso, his legs up and parted granting his husband unimpeded access to his body.

His hard cock trembled with every one of Derek's movements and Derek, like his uncle, knew exactly how to hit that sweet spot within Stiles, eliciting a cry of bliss. The entire time, as he kissed Derek's lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, and chest, he had three simple words repeating in his mind: I love you. They repeated over and over. They lasted for hours, until both men were finally spent entirely. Stiles could still feel the after-effects of what Chris had done to him the night before and loved Derek all the more for having the grace not to comment on how loose he still was from it.

Derek didn't pull out as they nestled together to fall asleep. He didn't want to. Stiles didn't want him to.

"Can you believe we're married?" Derek whispered, his fingers lightly playing with Stiles' hair. It was damp with sweat from their exertion.

"No," Stiles replied. "I almost don't want to go to sleep. What if I wake up and realize this was a dream?"

In truth, all four men considered himself married to each of the other three. Only two of those were legally recognized. Stiles and Peter had already said vows to one another in the graveyard. Derek shared his vows with Peter and Chris during a few moments in the reception when he managed to steal them away. Stiles and Chris exchanged their own shortly after checking into the resort for the honeymoon.

"I want to be selfish and keep you just for me during this trip… but I know Peter wants to fuck you on the beach," Derek laughed.

"I hate beach sex," Stiles admitted. "I always get sand in uncomfortable places."

"I kind of wanted to have sex with you on the beach a few times, too… perhaps while drinking a Sex on the Beach," Derek chuckled.

"I thought you were a gin and tonic man like your uncle?"

"Yeah… but we're on our honeymoon! I wanted to branch out."

"This four-way marriage thing… it's going to be hard work," Stiles sighed.

"It is," Derek agreed. "But I we give our relationships with them as much focus as we give ours, it should even out. We've promised ourselves to each other and to them… and they've done the same to us."

"And you're sure you're okay with them referring to me as their husband, too?" Stiles asked. The last thing he wanted was for Derek to feel jealous or left out.

"Yes… for the last time. When we planned our wedding, we planned for this. It's going to be interesting getting used to calling Peter my husband… considering I've wanted to do that since I was eight years old," Derek said.

"This really is like a dream come true for you," Stiles remarked.

"You're my dream come true," Derek corrected, placing kisses on any bit of bare skin he could reach. "Everything else is extra. Nice, but extra."

The next morning, they awoke to Peter pouncing playfully onto their bed. Chris leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed. "Which one of the blushing brides do I get to stick my dick in first?" Peter sang gleefully.

Stiles grunted in annoyance. "Fuck me as hard as you want, just don't wake me up." He pulled the covers over his head.

"That's no fun," Peter pouted.

Derek yawned and stretched and turned over, offering himself to his uncle. Peter slapped his ass cheek playfully. "That's my boy…" He pried apart the two muscular globes and nestled his face between them. Peter ran his tongue up and down the length of the crevasse before settling on the perfect pink opening. Derek gripped his pillow as Peter teased the rim. He loved the way his nephew tasted. There was a sweetness to the flavor that could only be added by the taboo of it.

"Uncle Peter…" Derek moaned into the pillow as his uncle's tongue flitted inside him. Both of his uncles were excellent at rimming. Peter continued to tongue-fuck him. At this point, this and a little lube was all the preparation he needed to take any one of his lovers.

Peter contented himself until he could feel the boy's body begging for it. Chris tossed him a bottle of lube and he smeared some on the quivering hole and some more on his cock. He placed the tip of it right at the opening. "Do you want me?" he asked. Derek nodded and Peter slowly pushed in, breaching the tight ring. "So fucking soft and tight," he grunted. "You feel so good around your uncle's big fucking cock."

The dirty talk was enough to force Stiles to wake up… that and the steady lurch of the bed as Peter thrust into Derek. "Now I'm sleepy and horny," he complained.

"I know a way to fix both of those things," Peter said, thrusting harder and faster into Derek, who was moaning and grunting his encouragement. He loved the feeling of being inside another person. He loved knowing that this person had opened up his body to permit the ultimate pleasure. Sex with men was primal and intrusive, yet also gentle and loving. He sped up, before slamming back in. "FUCK! Yes! OH Fuck, Derek…" He painted the insides of his nephew with his emission. Derek, for his part, could hardly think of a better way to wake up on the first day of his honeymoon.

Peter then looked over at Stiles. No words needed to be shared. A simple glance followed by a simple nod. Peter moved from on top of Derek to between Stiles' legs. Unlike his nephew, he did comment on how loose Stiles still felt from his bachelor party. "Chris… what the hell did you do to him?"

Chris stopped leaning on the door frame and crawled into the bed with his husband and other lovers. Derek wasted little time in guiding his cock into Chris to begin fucking him. Chris grunted before answering, "It was just a large dildo. Give him a few days and he'll be back to normal."

Stiles glowered. "Can we not talk about this?" he asked sharply. He pushed Peter off of him and stormed from the room. Derek went to follow but Peter told him not to.

"I should be the one to talk to him," he said softly. "I was the one who pissed him off."

He looked through the large house, but Stiles wasn't in it. The house had private beach access, so he headed there, still naked. Peter hated walking through sand. He hated putting forth so much effort to receive so little reward. It was like dealing with his parents. Sure enough, the waning tide found Stiles sitting on a towel staring out to the endless blue of the ocean.

"Stiles," he began.

"I don't want to talk to you, Peter," Stiles said. His voice was heavy, like he'd been crying. His sniffle confirmed as much.

He sat down beside his young lover. "Then don't talk. I'm sorry, my love. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I'm not a whore," Stiles said pointedly.

"None of us think you are, Stiles," Peter replied softly.

"Just because I let you guys do things to me… as much as you want… as often as you want. And while I let you call me one sometimes when we're in the midst of things, it doesn't mean I'm actually a slut. It means I trust you guys not to hurt me or judge me," he said, still looking away from Peter.

"Stiles, I'm so sorry," Peter replied.

"Chris used a really large dildo on me during our session. I feel like I'm slowly getting back to normal, but you can't expect me to bounce right back. If that's going to be the expectation from now on, then I'm going to start putting my foot down about a lot of shit because I don't ever want to feel this way again… the way you made me feel in there," Stiles said. "You and Chris call me a slut and a whore all the time in the heat of the moment during sex… but you haven't ever made me feel like one before." He started to cry again. "I feel dirty right now, Peter."

"Come here, babe," Peter said, pulling Stiles into his arms. The sun was hot as it beat down on them, but the ocean breeze counteracted it nicely. "I love everything about you, Stiles. And I'm so sorry if I made you feel anything less than how amazing I think you are." He kissed the top of Stiles' head. "Please forgive me."

The cold wind howled outside, making the windows rattle violently as the driving, icy rain beat against it. The university was closed due to the horrid weather and since both Stiles and Peter were going to be home, Chris decided to stay as well. Any work that had to be done could be accomplished from home, providing the power and internet didn't go out.

Peter didn't want Chris to do any work. He thought the day would be better spent naked and in bed and had already begun. Stiles' boxes remained unpacked. They had finished the move just in time for what the overly-dramatic reporters were calling "the storm of the century." Given how early into the century they were, Chris thought the appellation to be very premature.

Chris made breakfast, knowing Peter and Stiles would need their energy if they were going to get through the day. As they ate, Stiles began to speak. "So now that I live with you, I want you to know that you can have sex with me whenever you want. You don't have to ask."

"You're not our sex slave," Chris replied. "You have to be able to consent or revoke that consent."

"Okay, I give blanket consent," Stiles said.

"I don't think you understand what that means," Peter said softly. He knew far too well how miserable it was for someone to think they had blanket consent. He wouldn't do that to his new young boyfriend. He wouldn't become another Duke.

"Peter, you and I are literally always horny. I don't see why that policy is bad," Stiles replied casually, reclining in his chair.

Chris shook his head and rolled his eyes. "It's bad because 2/3 of this relationship refuse to accept it. Stiles, what you're proposing is abusive. There's too much of a power imbalance there."

"But you and I do BDSM all the time… that's a power imbalance!"

"Yes, but it's a temporary power imbalance that we've agreed on and discussed in detail both before and after. There are continual checks to make sure that you're alright. These two things aren't comparable. Point-blank, Stiles, if one of us wants to have sex with you, we're going to ask first," Chris said.

Stiles was visibly frustrated. It was his first day living in this three-way relationship and he was already being overruled by them. He had also already had a conversation with them about a sleep disorder Peter had where he would occasionally have sex with someone and not remember it. They warned him of it just the night before that this could happen. It seemed somewhat hypocritical to the boy. Peter could see the frustration on his face. "Stiles, do you trust us?"

"Of course! I wouldn't have proposed that if I didn't."

"Okay, so if you trust us, can you trust that we have a very good reason for our objection to your idea?" Peter asked. Stiles sighed. "I'm willing to compromise, Stiles. We can do small periods of forced availability as part of your Dom/sub relationship with us, but there has to be some level of negotiation. The negotiation is there to protect the Top, too."

"So what kinds of negotiations?" Stiles asked.

Peter and Chris exchanged a look. "We will never have sex with you if you aren't prepared for it," Chris said. "If, during these times of forced availability, we want to have sex, we'll initiate it as an order, not by simply approaching you and fucking you."

"Please never, even jokingly, call it rape," Peter added, his face more severe than Stiles had ever seen it. "For me, that's a hard limit. There's never a point in which I would be okay with that."

"Feel free to add in limits you'd like to set, Stiles," Chris added.

Stiles thought for a moment. "Nothing with blood or knives or guns," he said. That seemed like a given to the other two, but they both nodded in agreement. "And I'm alright with you using humiliating names when we're in the moment… but only if we're doing kink stuff."

"That sounds reasonable," Chris said. "And we can always revisit this if ever you want to add something or try something new. I just don't want you to forget that you're our boyfriend, Stiles. I love playing the whole Daddy/son thing with you, even in public… but I want you to realize that I genuinely care for you as a person and as a part of my love life."

"Ditto," Peter added. "You're sexy and adventurous and have that young libido that you know I love, but that's not the only reason I started dating you. You're intelligent, kind, thoughtful, and funny. Our relationship might be heavily sex-focused, but there's more to it than that for us both."

Stiles nodded. Hearing it put like that made sense. He felt the same way about both of them. The sex was phenomenal and wonderfully frequent. But he enjoyed their company with clothes on just as much as when they were off. He knew as much, but still liked hearing that he was more than just a lithe young body with a tight warm hole for them to fuck. He would be lying if he said he didn't expect there to be an aspect of sexual servitude. After all, how many sexy men in their 40s invite a guy half their age whom they've already fucked six ways to Sunday to live with them? This was yet another of many instances in which his two older boyfriends surprised him.

10 Years Later

"Steven, hurry up!" Stiles called. "You're going to be late for school!" He was putting the finishing touches on his son's lunch. Peter walked up behind him in just his boxers, placing a kiss in the crook of his neck while rapping his arms around Stiles' waist, slowly lifting up his shirt. In his 50s, he still looked amazing. His thick, dark hair was now speckled with grays and whites that, as he had once predicted, had flawlessly transitioned him into Daddy-status. Chris, Stiles, and Derek were all in agreement: Peter Anthony Hale had never looked sexier.

"You should play hooky and stay home with me," Peter purred into his ear. "You and I haven't had sex in like four days. That's a record for us."

Stiles smiled. "If only I could. The District Attorney's office does not run itself," he replied. "But I've already made it clear to Derek and Chris… tonight is our date night. As soon as I get off work, I'll be coming home to make sure you get off."

Peter nibbled on Stiles' earlobe. "That's all I ask, my love!" he said as he stepped away.

Chris came down the stairwell with Steven on his shoulders. "I apologize Stiles… I was the one who was delaying him."

"Papa Chris helped me shave!" Steven announced proudly, jutting out his jaw as if the eight-year-old could have possibly needed a reason to shave.

"Looks like he missed a spot," Peter teased.

"Where?" Steven asked, clearly upset by this.

Peter took the boy in his arms and placed an affectionate kiss on his shoulder as he tickled him. "Right there!"

Steven erupted into a fit of giggles as he struggled to free himself from Peter's grip.

"You be good at school today," Peter said. "Learn lots of stuff so you can come home and teach your Papa Peter a thing or two!"

Stiles smiled as he watched his son beam at them. Four-way parenting wasn't easy, but it worked for them. Stiles and Derek had adopted the boy as an infant. Derek asked to name him after his father. Stiles took his own father's name to be the boy's middle name, thus giving them Steven Noah Stilinski-Hale, the most adorable child to ever walk the earth… but then again, they might be a little biased. So far Steven hadn't figured out the relation between Derek and Peter, but they had prepared for the chance that one day he might. Their family structure was unique, but it was solid.

Talia, who was thrilled that her grandson carried the name of her late husband, was in the process of scouting real estate in New York so she could move closer to them. Stiles had been trying to convince his father to do the same, and was close to cracking him.

Chris and Peter both kissed Stiles goodbye as he loaded his son, the boy's backpack, and lunchbox into his car. "What do you want to be for Halloween?" Stiles asked as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Wonder Woman," the boy said without hesitation.

The answer surprised Stiles, but he nodded. "And what should the rest of us be?"

"You should be the Flash, Daddy should be Superman, Papa Peter should be Aquaman, and Papa Chris should be the Green Lantern," Steven said.

"So you've pretty much planned this all out?"

"Mm-hmm!" Steven said brightly. "We can be the Justice League and it kinda makes sense."

"How so?"

"You put bad guys in jail and Papa Chris is justice!"

Stiles chuckled. "Papa Chris is a Justice of the New York State Supreme Court."

"Oh," Steven said. "Is that different?"

"Just a bit," Stiles said.

Stiles dropped Steven off at school. "I love you!" he called. Steven blushed. He hated when any of them showed affection to him in front of his friends.

His work day was somewhat slow, punctuated every couple of hours by sexy photos from Peter, who had the day off. Towards the afternoon, he received a text from Derek, letting him know that their son had been picked up from school, along with a photo of the finger painting project from that day's lessons that showed their unconventional family as the Justice League with Steven in the center, dressed as Wonder Woman. He let out an audible laugh. Until Steven had arrived, he couldn't imagine loving a human being more than he loved Derek, Chris, and Peter. As soon as the boy was placed, swaddled in a light blue blanket, into his arms, the center of his entire universe shifted.

Stiles' father told him that would happen. He hadn't understood—there was no way to possibly understand until that moment happened. He felt so protective over the helpless little human burrito that slept peacefully against him. For the first year, Stiles hated having Steven out of his sight and would get a rush of anxiety if he didn't know exactly where Steven was, or who was with him at that moment. Talia called it "new parent jitters" and told him that Derek's father, Steven's namesake, had been the same way with their children.

Keeping the spark alive between the four of them became a juggling act. No more were the all-night orgies. They nearly always coupled off in various combinations, never spending two nights in a row sleeping beside the same man. There were several instances when he fell asleep during sex simply due to exhaustion. None of them blamed him, though. The campaign to become District Attorney had been grueling. It certainly helped that he was notably part of the group that uncovered the corruption of previous District Attorney, Araya Calavera, but his opponent used his lack of experience as a lawyer to ensure that the race ran neck-and-neck. Ultimately, though, he won.

When it was time to head home, he texted Peter to let him know he was on his way. Once at home, Derek was on the front porch to meet him. As he always did, he greeted his husband with a kiss that was, even a decade later, just as passionate as the one they shared on their wedding day. "I talked it over with Chris and Peter," Derek said. "Mom's going to be coming in tomorrow to look at some property, and we all agree that you three need a weekend together. I've called the hotel and updated your reservation. Everything's taken care of."

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked, sounding uneasy. He didn't want Derek to be left all alone.

"Yes. Steven and I will have a guys' night tonight. I'll take him to a movie, we'll get dinner, and I'll teach him some of the Saints. And tomorrow, he'll hang out with me and mom," Derek said. He had insisted on raising Steven as a Catholic, like himself. He saw the look of hesitation on his husband's face. "You three really haven't had time alone since before our wedding. You're long overdue!"

Stiles ached for them. His attraction to them had only gotten stronger with time and he made sure he showed his appreciation for their aging bodies as often as possible. "I have the best husband in the world," he said. He pulled Derek's head closer to kiss him again. His thick, black hair and neatly-kept beard were both flecked with a bit of gray, too, but Derek kept dying his hair to cover it. "Thank you so much, Derek. I'll make it up to you."

"I'll take payment in the form of a blowjob when you guys get back," Derek chuckled.

They stood on the porch kissing each other for several more minutes until Peter and Chris, luggage in-hand, finally joined them.

Chris loaded the luggage into the car. Stiles broke away from Derek long enough to go in and hug his son. When he came back onto the porch, he saw Peter dipping Derek back as he explored his nephew's mouth with his tongue. Stiles cleared his throat. "We should probably get going."

Derek's hair looked slightly tousled and his face was flushed as he straightened out his shirt, grinning sheepishly. They had been together for so long, yet somewhere inside, Derek would always be the little boy who loved his uncle so passionately it hurt.

"Give Steven lots of coffee and chocolate. It's what I always do when it's my turn to watch him," Peter said.

"What scares me is that I can't tell whether or not you're kidding," Derek replied. Steven always seemed a little wound up when Peter watched him. Maybe it was coincidence… maybe it was caffeine. Knowing his uncle, however, it was probably caffeine… no, definitely caffeiene.

"I only met you for the first time when you were eight. I didn't really get to spoil you your whole life like I wanted to. I'm making up for lost time with your son," Peter said. "It's my right as his great-uncle and his godfather."

Derek shook his head and crossed himself, saying a little prayer that the men he loved stay safe as they headed for a hotel for the night.

Chris drove as Stiles and Peter made out in the back seat. Both were instantly rock-hard at each other's touch and couldn't wait to be naked together. Stiles tried to push his anxiety over being away from Steven from his head.

When they reached the hotel and checked in, they raced to the room they'd be staying in. It was a nice hotel overlooking the Atlantic. Their room faced the ocean, which meant it was nearly double the price, but there was enough privacy on the balcony that Stiles knew instantly they'd be having sex out there at least a few times.

Peter wasted no time in stripping naked and flopping down on the bed. His right hand rested on his belly, where the pink lines that remained as evidence to his miraculous survival of the attempt on his life. Having not eaten, he was incredibly hungry and wanted to order room service… but he wanted Peter more. He climbed on top of Peter and slowly stripped for him, grinding his body against his older lover's. Chris licked his lips as he watched the performance from across the room. He'd certainly join in eventually, but this show would be too good.

Peter and Stiles had perfected sex with one another to an art form. They had instinctive knowledge of how the other moved and reacted. They could draw out each other's orgasms for as long as they wanted… or make them come in rapid succession. They never had to speak. They always knew what the other wanted and delivered exactly that at exactly the right moment. It was poetry.

Chris watched as Stiles, finally naked, slowly stroked Peter. He gazed at the huge member in his hand with loving respect and adoration in much the same way he'd done the first time Chris watched them together.

Stiles slowly worked Peter's cock deep into his throat. Giving Peter blowjobs was second-nature to him. He remembered the two years he did it every single day before going to classes. He loved the way Peter tasted… the way he smelled. He lovingly milked Peter's cock, putting even more effort into it for their audience. Peter's hands gripped his hair, pulling him up and down as he desired. He pulled Stiles up off of him and asked him to get on his back. He maneuvered Stiles so that his head was hanging slightly off the bed. Stiles knew immediately what was about to happen.

He stretched his mouth wide so that Peter could fuck his throat. He had enough training in this that he could easily time his breaths to Peter's pace, even as it got more erratic the closer Peter came to his climax. He pulled out enough so that only the head was left in Stiles' mouth as he flooded it with the first of the many, many orgasms he was going to have that weekend.

He loved the flavor of Peter's emissions—even more than that of the other two. It was the first come he'd ever tasted besides his own and in terms of volume over the years, he'd swallowed more of Peter's seed than the other two combined. He remembered entire days during his early 20s that were spent with his face buried in Peter's lap, worshiping the cock that took his virginity and greedily swallowing everything he worked to get out of it. He didn't know it, but he had performed more oral sex on Peter in the time they'd been together than Chris had throughout the duration of their courtship and marriage. It was the younger man's favorite pastime.

He let the seed sit on his tongue for several minutes, swirling it in his mouth like a wine, before finally swallowing it. "Come on, Chris… join the party," Peter said as he moved from Stiles' face to between his legs. He squirted a little lube onto his lover's hole and pushed in just as Chris' cock entered the back of Stiles' throat. It had been far too long since they had him spit-roasted. Peter fucked him fast and hard, the way he always did. He wanted to tell him to go faster and harder, but Chris was using the same speed on his throat.

Chris came first and pulled his cock out of Stiles' mouth and stood so that Stiles' head was between his legs. Stiles knew immediately what he wanted. He craned his neck up and pulled apart Chris' muscular ass cheeks and immediately set to task eating out his other boyfriend.

Recognizing that there was a way for them to continue that was far more comfortable, Peter pulled Stiles closer to him and flipped him over, never once pulling out of the younger man. Chris laid face-down on the bed with his legs spread invitingly. Peter then moved Stiles so that his head face was pressed right against Chris' ass and he picked up where he'd left off.

Chris moaned loudly. "Oh fuck yeah, Stiles…" he grunted. "Eat your Daddy's hole. Come on, baby boy… I want to feel your tongue in me… that's it. Keep going… ah FUCK!"

Just like that, Stiles was in his early 20s again, with a desperate burning need to selflessly pleasure them… to give them access to every part of him they could possibly use for that purpose and to make sure, above all, that they came as many times as they could.

It was far too sinful to be a match made in heaven; it was far too heavenly to be a match made in Hell.