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Daddies'R'Us

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It was October when John realized he did not have the money to send Stiles to University. Even if his son managed to get his full tuition paid for—and Stiles was smart, John knew that—they wouldn’t be able to cut it. But, even with how smart Stiles was, his son wasn’t focused enough—to no fault of his own, really—to earn that amount of money. John had seen his son’s grades and there were good, damn good, but they weren’t full-ride great.

So no matter how much money his son did or did not get in scholarships, there would be no way for him to attend school out of state. And that wasn’t what John wanted for his son. Stiles deserved more, so much more, than to be stuck in the ‘Hellmouth’ of a town they all lived in. It was bad enough that with everything going on John couldn't keep his little boy safe. Nearly every day he was hit with just how useless he was, how incapable he had become at protecting his son now that his boy ran with wolves.

The town had already taken so much, too much, from them. The things it had done to his son made him sick, kept John up most nights. It turned his stomach to know that there was nothing he could do about it. He was human, and worse than that, he had been blissfully unaware for too many years. This town was supposed to be his to protect, and he hadn't known half of what was going on.

So if John could get Stiles out of this godforsaken town, could get him away and have him go to school somewhere else, well, maybe Stiles would just stay away. Maybe, if John got his way, Stiles would move away and never come back, stay safe somewhere far, far away from Beacon Hills.

But, John wasn’t able to do that, because they didn’t have the money to do so. Fuck, they hardly had the money to keep paying off the Eichen House bills and John had to be thankful that Stiles had no idea how bad it all was. He knew his son would take responsibility for the ever growing pile of payments they had, and he couldn’t let that happen. Stiles harboured enough guilt for what was done to him.

It wasn’t his son's fault that they didn’t have enough money to send him to school, that one was all John.

Things had been okay before Claudia passed. They were never going to be rich, not when he was only twenty and fresh out of the Academy when Claudia fell pregnant. But they had done alright. Their wedding had been a small affair, one John still looked back on fondly, and their house had been cheap. Sure, John had nearly broken his back on more than one occasion fixing it up, but the manual labour had been worth what they paid.

As a deputy and a slightly-above-minimum-wage worker, they did just fine. Claudia was smart and she knew how to budget, could make money last in a way John never figured out after her death. She stretched money in ways that remained a mystery to him and she worked with their measly salaries so they could live without worry.

After Claudia passed, John had been left adrift. With her death came its own series of payments; hospital bills and prescriptions and funeral expenses. But John had never been able to save money like she had. At first, John had been far too drunk to think about budgeting, let alone stop himself from spending nearly his entire pay on the alcohol that felt like the only thing that could keep him going.

Every day, John is glad he got his drinking under control when he did, that he only checked out for that first month and is evermore thankful that Melissa had been around to take care of Stiles in his absence. If it hadn’t been for her, John isn’t sure what would have happened. He had been far too drunk to even take care of himself, let alone a child. He still finds himself awake at night, sometimes, stomach turning at the way he left his little boy alone.

John knows he failed Stiles, and Claudia, in those first few weeks. But the pain of her death had hurt so bad, had been so sharp and new and awful , that he hadn’t been able to bear it alone. He had no idea what it would feel like to lose her; he had kept himself busy with work during her last and worst few months because it was easier than watching the woman he loved fade away.

He had been weak, so weak, when she passed. Because of that, he hadn’t been there when his son needed him and for that, John was sure he would never forgive himself—no matter if Stiles had or not. When he had sobered up, it had been with shame that he realized just how much money he had wasted away.

But, they made it work, even if making it work meant John took more and more shifts until he was finally promoted while Stiles had to grow up too fast. John hated that as well, how much responsibility Stiles took on himself so they didn’t drown in their debt. John was the adult but far too often Stiles did things that should have been John’s to do.

But Stiles had never let John stop him. He had always been stubborn, far too much like Claudia, and he had insisted he be allowed to help. John hadn’t been able to say no, had never been able to say no to Stiles, but especially when his son had been so earnest. And things had been okay for a while. They made it work.

Then, the supernatural happened. It invaded their lives and brought with it its own set of dangers and expenses.

And John—trying to protect a town from both mundane and supernatural troubles—never noticed just how bad things had gotten. He had known, of course he had known, that less and less money went into their savings account each pay. He hadn’t been ignorant of their dissipating expenses but it—it was still a surprise when he finally checked.

Stiles had been talking more and more about graduation, talking about the schools he wanted to apply to and the programs he wanted to get into it. John shared his excitement. He adored watching Stiles light up when he talked about things he was passionate about, always had, and his future was no different. John didn’t even let the slight pang of fear at his son moving away from home get to him.

But when John had looked into pricing and tuition, he had known it would be tight. Without even checking their banking John knew it would be rough, but he had still thought it would be manageable. He was sure they could make it work like they had been for years, and that things would be fine in the end.

Things were not fine, and John found they had even less money than he ever thought.

John knew he shouldn’t let it, but it hurt. He had tried so hard to stay atop everything, had tried to raise Stiles right and be there for his son when he needed him. Of course, he had made mistakes, had done things he regretted during the years, but he had tried so, so hard. John had hardly kept his head above water and now, well now it showed.

He had no idea what he was going to do. There was no way he could tell Stiles about this—how his son didn’t already know was beyond him—and this was something John had to deal with it. He wouldn’t hold his son back, refused to. He would do whatever it took to get his son out of their town, to give him the future he deserved.

But fuck if he knew how. He wouldn’t be able to get a second job, not with the number of hours he pulled at the station. Besides that, he would never be able to live it down. What would the town think if their Sheriff had to take up a second job just to support his family of two? He would do something else, anything else as long as it meant Stiles got to be happy, got to choose his own future, away from this town.

John knew it was a bad idea even as he opened the bottle. Jack was definitely not his friend, Daniels even less so, but it was what John needed. He needed to forget, to let himself sink into nothing before it all overwhelmed. He felt too much like a failure and the loss of Claudia felt too sharp, they would have never been in this situation had she been alive.

Stiles was out for the night, though he assured John he was safe—‘pack night’, he had called it. John was alone, and poor and had no idea how the hell he was going to send his son to college. It was far too easy to reason with himself another glass, just a little more, until there was no more.

At that point, John could hardly see straight enough to pour the last drop out anyway.


John woke up sore. Not just his head—which was pounding away—but his neck hurt from where he had fallen asleep at his desk. The house was still silent, presumably empty, and John was glad Stiles hadn't come home yet. He smacked his lips together, trying to get rid of the horrid taste stuck to his mouth. His eyes felt tight and heavy and pressure sat in the front of his head, pressing down every time he even thought about opening his eyes.

John hadn’t been this hungover in years , and it was something he had never thought he would be feeling again. He stretched his neck, desperate for some sort of relief and cringed when it cracked. He was getting old, too old be doing things like this, and he took a long look at the empty bottle, his stomach twisting with shame at his own actions.

He needed to shower, to wash away the stench of liquor and shame. Maybe the warm water would help to soothe his heart, would wash down some of his regrets. At least then he could brush his teeth.

Getting drunk had solved nothing. He only hoped Stiles didn’t find out, he wouldn’t be able to take the disappointment he knew would be in his son's eyes. He still had no idea how in the hell he was going to send his son to school and felt like shit to boot. There weren’t so many ways a cop could make extra cash and still remain on the right side of the law, and John couldn’t help but worry. They didn't have family to fall back on either—he and Stiles were all they had—and John was lost.

His head and his heart both hurt. Still, he needed to get up for the day. Sitting around wasn’t going to do anyone any good, and he knew that better than most. He checked his computer first, and he began by going through his and Stiles’ shared calendar before checking his email. He had a few from the Sheriff’s station the next town over. There had been a string of murders that had carried from Beacon Hills to Beacon Flats, though John knew the Wendigo responsible had already been put into the ground.

He had a few from sites he needed to unsubscribe from, if he ever got around to doing so, and one from a mailer he did not recognize. The address came up as ’Daddies’R’U’ and dread pooled in John’s gut. He had no idea what that was but he had a horrible feeling he was going to find out and that he wasn’t going to like it.

The subject line was a happy sounding ’Thanks for signing up!’ , and John took a deep breath before clicking on the email.

Thank you for creating your account on ‘Daddies’R’Us’, the Sheriff . To complete your registering and update your profile, click here !

Imposed under the text was an image of a man's chest, broad and hairy and objectively attractive. John had no idea what the hell he was looking at and the feeling of dread only grew stronger as his stomach flipped. He waited a long moment before he clicked the link in the email, and the page it brought him to made John the regret he was already feeling triple.  

It was an account page, that much he could tell. Along the top of the screen was the websites name, ’Daddies’R’Us’ , stated in big block letters. There were only so many things a website under that title could host, and John didn’t like any of the possibilities. Still, it was the rest of the screen that had John anxious, his fingers tapping against his thigh in a way far too similar to his son.

Apparently, John’s screen name was ’the Sheriff’ and he wanted to hit himself just for that. Even worse was his profile photo, which he must have taken from his computer’s webcam. It was of his bare chest, showing skin from the tips of his collarbone to his abdomen. John had to admit it looked good —he kept in shape and had been going to the station's gym regularly since he found out about the supernatural— but this was a disaster, especially as he looked through the rest of his profile.

He had imputed his age, body type and preferred body type (pale, thin, young). He had filled out an entire checklist of kinks (fisting, come play, incest), his drunken self far more honest than he ever would have had he done this sober. Not that he would have ever done it sober. There was an about me that was still blank, thank god, but John couldn’t seem to calm his heartbeat.

He stared at the list of his interests in abject horror, because fuck, he had been sure he had buried those feelings long ago. Sure, they came up sometimes, late at night when John wasn’t able to push them away, but he had been so good at keeping them in. For so long he had pushed them down, denied himself of what he wanted even in his own thoughts.

He had thought they were gone, really. But his profile told him differently. It was also showing his filled out payment information and apparently in his drunken state he had been able to correctly fill out his banking information. It meant the site was exactly what he thought it was.

He spent a moment clicking around, going into his settings and editing things here and there. It wasn’t that he was going to use the site, but his curiosity had been peaked. It wasn’t as though updating his height and weight took any time to do, either. Mostly, he filled out his personal information without consciously doing so, his mind too full to properly focus on what he was typing.

What the fuck had John done? Well, he knew what he had done, he had signed himself up for a cam site . How John had figured a cam site would be a good way to make extra cash was beyond him. He knew he had drunk a lot, it took him a fair bit of liquor for him to black out the way he did, but he could hardly believe he had been drunk enough to do this .

It was a horrible idea, and even knowing that John didn’t immediately delete his profile. He wasn't sure he could, because even as awful as an idea it was, it was all he had. And doing nothing wasn’t something he could stomach, made him feel even worse than when he considered going through with his drunken plan to make money.

Not doing anything wasn’t an option, and John didn’t have too many options. He had to do something, had to , even if that something was this. Stiles—Stiles was his whole world. His son meant everything to him—more than he should, maybe—and John wasn’t going to let him suffer for John’s past mistakes.

If he could do something, anything, he would. It wasn’t fair that his little boy be held back because John hadn’t been able to do more for them. He spent a few more moments clicking around the site and setting up his account, and he let himself get familiarized with the workings of the website.

His headache was still strong, burning behind his eyes, and he closed them with a heavy sigh before shutting his computer off with one even heavier, his shoulders dropping with the force of his exhale. He felt sick, his gut tied up and too tight and his heart was beating faster than it had any right to. John could already tell he was going to make a mistake, but it would be for Stiles, and really, John would do anything for his boy.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

The next day, John went to work. He pushed all thoughts of Daddies’R’Us out of his mind and let himself focus on his job. He let it take over his life like he had done years ago, and he allowed himself to get lost in the repetitive day-to-day. It was easier to focus on his work than think about what he had done and the situation he was in. He worked himself hard, so he wouldn’t have to think about the decision he still needed to make. But, despite how busy he kept himself, the site stayed in the back of his mind throughout the days.

John still didn’t know what he was going to do, and he let himself wallow in his indecision for weeks. He worked longer hours just to keep himself out of the house—if only so he wouldn’t check the website. He kept going back and forth with himself, changing his own mind again and again until he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do anymore. John had no idea if—if caming was something he even could do. It wasn’t that John thought bad of those who did, he didn’t have much of an opinion on the matter, but he was sure it wasn’t for him.

He had an entire pros and cons list built up in his mind, but he couldn’t come to a decision. John was getting older—though he knew he looked good. He saw how ladies around town looked at him and how, more interestingly, Parrish looked at him, and John was secure enough in his self-image. He worked out, though he did that to keep his heart healthy and to stay efficient on the job.

John knew he had a specific body type and he knew that people thought he was attractive. Hell, he could see it himself, even if it wasn’t what he was personally attracted to. But, even knowing all that, he didn’t think people would watch him get off. And he knew that was what he would have to do if he wanted to make any real money. The thought of doing that, being so vulnerable in front of complete strangers, scared him.

John didn’t have much sexual experience. He and Claudia married young and he hadn’t been with anyone before her or after her. He had loved his wife and to him, sex was something that was better when shared between two people who cared for each other. John was sure sex was just fine without having any sort of feelings for the other person, but he had never been interested in that.

He was happy with his life and where he was in the world. But the thought of doing anything on camera was daunting, when he knew so little himself. He was no stranger to masturbation, but he had never done anything particularly exciting and this, well, this seemed like something way out of his league.

John had spent time on the site, when he couldn’t bring himself to stay away from it any longer and curiosity pushed him to look. The first time he logged back on, he only lasted a few seconds before he quickly shut his computer back off. All he could feel was his own shame and it twisted in his stomach.

His own feelings aside, he could tell the site was nice. It was very user-friendly and John felt it easy to navigate. He saw a collection of different men and he watched a handful of videos, anything from older men like himself to younger looking boys. He made sure to stay clear of the videos containing anyone young, lean, and pale—watching them would have made it too hard for John to lie to himself.

Mostly, he watched videos featuring men like himself. They all seemed so comfortable in what they were doing, sure in their movements. Even if they didn’t have the fittest bodies or largest cocks, they held a certain air of authority to them. John knew that was something he could pull off—years of being Sheriff gave him a certain presence, and he knew how to draw on that.

He figured he could do a decent job. He hadn’t seen any of the more popular men do anything too out there—some dirty talk and pretty simple masturbating seemed to be the staple—though John noted how often they referred to themselves as Daddy . Clearly, they were targeting these videos at younger men and women, and it made John wonder just who would watch him—should he go through with it.

He battled with his indecision for days.

Mostly, he was scared that he would try, that he would strip down and expose himself, and he would make no money for doing so. John knew that was a possibility but it wasn’t one he wanted to think on. He tried to tell himself that he was just as attractive as any of the men on the popular page. But, he knew that he couldn’t do something like this for free. If he was going to do this, if he was going to put himself out there in such an overwhelming way, then he needed to be doing it for something important.

That was one of the main reasons why, after nearly a month, John had yet to make a decision. He needed the money, lord knew, but he couldn’t compromise his morals. And that was what selling his body felt like. He spent less time than ever at of the house, working longer and longer hours until Stiles sat him down to ask if something was wrong, telling John that he was worried.

If there was anything that could get John to compromise his morals, it was his son. Hell, the boy had already been doing it for years—filling John’s head with thoughts he only hoped nobody would ever know. Of course, it wasn’t Stiles fault he thought of his son in such a way, and John blamed no one but himself.

Still, he listened when his son asked him to work less. He had never been able to say no to Stiles, not easily, and that hadn’t changed. All Stiles had to do was bat his eyes and whatever he wanted was his. It was why John was sitting at their kitchen table with Stiles sat across from him as they ate the dinner they had made together.

It had been fun to cook together—John couldn’t deny that he had missed spending time with Stiles. For years, they had been so close, too close, maybe, until the supernatural came into his son’s life. The few months Stiles spent lying to him were hard on them both and John could only be thankful they were over with.

“I need, like, a hundred and fifty bucks,” Stiles said at dinner, and John watched as he picked at his nail when he asked. It was closer to November than it was October and John felt like time was running out—like his list of options had grown even smaller.

Stiles may not know how tight things were for them, but he knew they weren’t rich. His son had always had new clothes and enough food, but new clothes came once a year at the beginning of school, new toys were for birthdays. They didn’t splurge, even going out to eat on special occasions had been hard when Stiles was growing up and his son had never asked for much.

So Stiles asked for money meant he needed it, and John had tried to stay positive. He had told himself that he’d find a way, that he would be able to make the money they needed honestly and in a way that didn’t compromise who he was. But he—he had to be honest with himself.

“Sure, did you need cash?” John asked, though how the hell he was going to shed out over a hundred dollars was beyond him. They hardly had enough for groceries, this week.

“Not even going to ask me what it’s for?” Stiles teased and John took a moment to watch Stiles’ lips twist into a smile.

“Well, seeing as you’re the Sheriff’s son, I doubt you’re going to be using the money on drugs or booze?” John said, and he smiled when Stiles snorted at his use of the word ‘booze’ .

“Can you transfer it to me?” Stiles asked, answering John’s earlier question, and the smile on John’s face didn’t change even as his stomach knotted with nerves.

He already knew what he was going to do.


John waited until he had the house to himself overnight to do anything. He had considered the idea of—well, of holding a show—when Stiles was at school, but John wasn’t confident it would get much viewership during midday. He knew from looking around the site that most shows went live later in the evening, though there wasn't a set time and there were a few people who ran shows during the day.

But the thought of Stiles coming home and walking in on him—well, that made John feel sicker than hosting the show itself. So he waited until the next time Stiles told him he was going to pack night and wouldn’t be back until the next morning. Once again John found himself glad that he now knew about the supernatural—if only because Stiles was once again being honest with him.

John saw Stiles off and if he hugged Stiles for a moment longer than he normally would, well, he felt uneasy about the plans he had. He knew there wasn’t another choice, especially after he had given Stiles the money his son needed—to apply for University, he found out. John had hardly been able to buy enough food to last the week and he had gone without lunch twice so that Stiles wouldn’t notice anything was amiss.

His stomach was tight with nerves, something he hadn’t felt in years, and he hated the feeling. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm his racing heart, but it didn’t seem like he was going to relax anytime soon. Not for the first time he felt like a fool. There was no way this was something he could do. What the hell was John doing? Was—was this something he was seriously going to go through with?

All he had to do was think of Stiles and know his answer would always be yes.

He sat heavily on the couch and let himself sink into the worn cushions. His mind was moving nearly too fast for him to keep up with. His fingers were twitching against his thigh and he knew he had to calm down. He felt far too much like his son and he needed a moment of settle himself before he drove himself crazy. He tried to focus on the television but nothing could hold his attention long enough.

John knew putting it off wasn’t going to make anything better and it was already pressing closer to nine. He walked up the stairs and he tried to pull himself together, to get his thoughts in some sort of order. He stopped at the top of the stairs, looking back and forth between his office and his bedroom for a long moment until he vetoed his bedroom. It—it was far too intimate and John already felt like he was exposing too much of himself.

His computer had a webcam connected to it, one Stiles had bought him a couple years ago and installed, so that was covered. It was nice enough, and he didn’t plan to speak, so the quality of its microphone wouldn’t matter. With the way his desk sat, all that was behind him was a blank wall and John figured it would more than do as a backdrop. There was nothing behind him that could be used to identify him.

He turned on his computer with a deep breath. It all felt so real now, when he was pulling up the site's homepage. Until now, John had been thinking in abstract terms. He hadn’t let the thought of what he was going to do become real yet, because he wouldn’t have been able to think through it if he had. Now—now he felt overwhelmed with the decision he had finally made.

John tried to still his shaking fingers as he logged into the website. It was the same as it had been the last time he’d been on, and that helped to calm him a little. His username was stated in the top left, right under the site logo. The main screen was split into two columns, one to show his ‘subscriptions’ and one with ‘users you may like’ . He didn’t have any subscriptions but his suggested column was filled with profiles of older, burly men.

The top right corner had ‘go live!’ printed in white on black, an opposite to the rest of the screen and it expanded when he hovered his mouse over it. A little drop-down appeared and John clicked on ‘set up your show’ . The screen it brought him too reminded him a little of YouTube, though instead of suggested videos along the right side there was a long chat box. The majority of the screen was taken up with a blank screen and he knew from using the site that there would be a video of himself there.

He clicked ‘ Allow’ when chrome asked him if he gave the site permission to access his webcam when he turned the thing on, making sure it was plugged into the back of his computer. He took a deep breath as the screen flickered to light and John found himself staring back at—well, it was himself, though he looked completely horrified.

He moved the webcam so it wasn’t showing his face. He kept the camera focused below his jaw—he wasn’t going to risk being recognized—and pushed the camera back a little until it showed a bit of his thighs as well. He figured that would be more than enough of a view for people watching, as it wouldn’t leave anything out of the shot.

He decided to take his jeans off now, though he left his underwear and t-shirt on. John wasn’t sure how comfortable he felt starting the show naked.

It took him several minutes to click on ‘Go live!’ . His heart was beating heavily in his chest and his palms were so damp it took him a second try to get a decent grip on the mouse.

It took a long while for people to start gathering in the chat and John breathed a little heavier at every new name that popped up. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t nervous, but he hoped the shaking of his fingers couldn’t be seen through the video feed. He closed his eyes and ignored the ping every time someone entered the room.

He didn’t dare read the chat. He was nervous enough already and the last thing he needed was others commentary.

John was doing this, though, and he had to get going if he ever wanted it to be over. Hell, people were already watching—he couldn’t back out now. Taking his clothes off or not, he had already stepped over the ledge. He took a deep breath, then another to try to calm himself down. His heart was beating loud in his own ears and his palms felt sweatier than they had a moment ago.

He took off his shirt. The ping for getting coins—the payment system the website used—was different from the one for new people joining the chat, and a few went off in a row. Against his will, John smiled. He dropped his shirt to the ground and brought his arms up to lay on the chair rests. He flexed both his biceps and his chest and he smiled a little more when the pinging continued.

John tried to remember what he normally did when he was alone and go from there. After all, these people were paying for him to get off. Well, they were paying to watch him, but John didn’t know the first thing about putting on a show. He let one of his hands run down to rest on his belly while the other played with one of his nipples.

They had always been sensitive, though he hadn’t found that out until he was well into his marriage with Claudia. It had been a pleasant discovery and one he was glad for. Rolling the nub between his fingers was getting him hard, just like it always did, and it was helping John to forget about his digital audience.

The pinging didn’t stop, and he recognized the tone of new messages, but he didn’t open his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he would have the courage to continue if he looked—if that would make this whole thing too real. He played with both nipples until they, and his cock, were hard. He let himself take another deep breath before he reached into his boxers and grabbed his cock.

His computer blew up with tones when he pulled his briefs over the head and tucked them under his balls, leaving them out as well. He wanted everything to be on display, and he leaned back a little, thighs spreading to allow a better view. He stroked his hand up slowly and pressed his thumb hard against the head, swiping through the little bead of precome there and spreading it around.

John jacked himself slowly, his other hand going between both nipples and keeping them hard, or moving down to cup and play with his balls. He spit into his hand to ease the way, though his cock was leaking enough that he didn’t need much more. He let himself take his time, build to his orgasm in slow, lazy strokes. He lost himself in the sounds from his computer, lost himself in the pleasure rolling through his belly. He felt good, and he—he felt good that people were watching him, were enjoying what he was giving them.

John sped up his hand, just a little, and focused on the head of his cock. It was dry and he was glad he wasn’t cut. He was leaking now, precome dribbling out of his slit in a way it hadn’t in years. John was aroused, very aroused, and he let his mind drift in the sensation.

He could feel his orgasm building, but he continued to take his time. He brought a second hand to his cock when he felt his balls draw up and he humped into his fists. John grunted as he came, shooting thick and warm against his belly. He rutted up into his own fists as his orgasm slowed and he gave himself a few slow, milking strokes before he let his cock go.

John blinked his eyes open, his afterglow still a soft thing, and he settled heavier back in his chair. He wiped his hands off on his chest, dragging his soiled fingers through the hair there, and he chuckled at the sudden increase in pings.

He took a second to stare at the picture he made in his camera—cock softening against his thigh, chest and tummy hair matted with his own come. Both of his nipples were still hard and John could see how red they had gotten even in the camera. He took a deep breath and let a smug grin take over his face. He looked good. His eyes strayed over to the chat, though he didn't focus more than to note all the comments were positive—and quite suggestive.

John looked at the counter and sat up straight in surprise. He looked away just to look back a moment later, hardly able to believe his eyes. The ‘74 watching’ was hard enough to believe but John was stuck on the coins tally. ‘239’ was blinking back at him and John bit his lip hard to keep in what would have been an embarrassing noise. He watched as the number climbed to ‘240’ before his eyes.

He couldn’t keep in all in, and he let out a gruff, “Thanks, everyone.”

John didn’t even think about someone recognizing his voice. He clicked the ‘end show’ button and fell back in his chair as shock settled over him. He breathed hard, still out of breath from his orgasm and the shock of the number staring back at him. He hovered his mouse over the tally until ‘deposit to account’ popped up and John clicked it.

He logged into his PayPal, cautiously hopeful. He—he couldn't believe it. There could be no way, no way , that he had made that much money from one … half hour show. Could he have really done that? Could so many people have been into him enough to pay ? John stared at his account balance, aware that his mouth had dropped open in surprise. ‘$246. 00 was staring back at him and John had to work to close his gaping mouth.

He—he had made over two hundred dollars. He had made over two hundred dollars in no more than half an hour. He slumped back in his chair again, arms hanging limply at his side as he tried to process that as fact. He waited for the shame to come, for regret to curl in his gut but all John felt was satisfied—whether that was due to his orgasm or not was something he would find out. His mind stuck on one thought, and he could hardly think of anything other than how happy he felt.

He could send Stiles to school like this. He was sure of it

Chapter Text

It took several days for what John had done to really hit him. For a while, he had let himself float in his denial. If he didn’t admit to it, he didn’t have to deal with it.

When it finally hit him, he had been sitting in his office, staring at the file open in front of him. He had no idea what the case was about, far too distracted by the panic he was slowly sliding into. He took a deep breath to centre himself before the anxious feeling climbing in his stomach became more than he could push down.

John glanced at the clock, shocked when it told him he’d been sitting there, blankly staring at the case on his desk, for nearly an hour. John sighed as he ran a hand down his face, taking a moment to scrub at his eyes. He could feel stubble growing in along his jaw, and he couldn’t remember the last time he shaved.

His first show had been nearly a week ago, and since then, he had barely slept. During the day, he was able to push the whole experience out of his mind. He could lose himself in his work, focus instead on getting through his days. For a small town, Beacon Hills was busy enough to provide an ample distraction. He hadn’t upped his hours though, not since Stiles asked him to stop, and he found himself with too much free time.

John tried to spend most of that time with Stiles but that—that created its own series of thoughts John had to then push away. He had spent so many years trying to suppress the inappropriate feelings he held for his son that he figured, by now, it should come easier. He hadn’t gotten any better, though, and he still found his thoughts consumed by his son.

For a while, he hadn't even let himself entertain them in the dead of night—but as time went on, his resolve weakened. He was only so strong-willed, and the darkness of his room had felt like security. He had only been able to hold out for so long.

Too many nights he had wrapped a hand around his cock and thought of his son. Stiles was beautiful, he had known that since the boy was young, but it had changed as he grew. It had hit John, a few years ago, how gorgeous his son was, and since then he hadn’t been able to unsee it—hadn’t wanted to, if he was honest.

He had found his release too many times by the thought of Stiles’ lips, always spit-slick and bitten red, or imaging the slope of his son’s cheekbone and how well it would fit in his hand as he guided Stiles down his cock. The picture of Stiles’ tight, round ass and how his long, long legs would feel wrapped around John’s waist had gotten him off more times than he could count.

After the nights when he used thoughts of his son to get off, John was left feeling sick. Shame would sit heavy in his belly but John—John couldn’t change what he wanted. He had tried, God had he tried, but he loved his son and that wasn’t going to change.

Stiles meant the world to him, was everything , and John loved him more than he had ever loved anyone else. The fact that he was in love with Stiles was more of a shock than the attraction he felt, and the realization had been hard to accept. If it was just the attraction, nothing more than something physical, John figured maybe, maybe , he could have gotten over it.

But he wasn’t sure he would ever get over being in love with Stiles.

It made spending time at home difficult, but Stiles had asked him to, and John tried his damn best. He had never been able to say no to Stiles and John knew he never would. It was nice, to be around more, but Stiles was constantly testing John’s resolve. Whether Stiles was walking around in too-short shorts or snuggling into John’s side on the couch, he always seemed to find a new way to push at John’s limits.

He had to watch the amount of time he spent around Stiles, else he do something he would regret. He had been good for so long. That meant retiring to his bedroom, or to his office, just to escape shared spaces. It was too easy to lose himself in thoughts of Stiles when he was alone in his room—for years it has been the only place he had let himself think of his son in such a way—so he found himself spending more and more time in his office.

He had tried not to think about what he had done, had pushed it to the back of his mind, but he could only ignore it for so long.  John still wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole situation, either. He wasn’t—he wasn’t ashamed, not really, but he wasn’t proud of himself.

It felt like giving up, a little. John had tried so hard to believe that he wouldn’t have to resort to using the website, but in the end, he had no other choice. But, it had worked. John was surprised, more than anything, with how well the show went. Of course, he had hoped to make some money—that was the whole point, the only way he had been able to rationalize what he had done—but he never could have expected the response he got, that he would have made over two hundred dollars.

He still had trouble believing it. Believing that so many people had liked the show so much that they had spent money as they watched him get off. But they had , and John found himself more than a little disbelieving. He had known it was a possibility, but the chance of being paid, of making any real amount of money, had seemed too far-fetched.

However, the hardest thing for John to believe was how much he had enjoyed it. Even though he had given in, he had expected to feel uncomfortable—wrong-footed. But he hadn’t, rather, he had loved it. Loved knowing people had been watching, that they were getting themselves off on watching him .

John wasn’t sure what that said about him, if anything, but like everything else, he had tried not to think about it. He pushed away the memory of coming harder than he had come in years and tried his best to push the thoughts away. It was easier to ignore them than have to face what he did.

But, he knew he couldn't keep avoiding it, especially not when it had gone so well the first time. He knew he still needed money, so much, to send Stiles to school and this seemed the only way. Of course, John knew that there were worse things that he could have done—ways that he could have abused his position as Sheriff and this was one of the better routes he could have taken.

Being in his office more presented its own temptations and John found himself weak. He could only spend so many days in a row locking himself away without checking on the site. John had no idea what he would find, if anything, but the possibility of something was too much for him to stay away from.

He turned on his computer and waited nervously as it booted up. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to see when he checked or why he couldn’t rid himself of the—the itch under his skin, but he had to check. John pulled up his email and steeled himself for whatever it was he would find.

John was… overwhelmed. His inbox was flooded with emails, and he had to scroll to get the beginning. The first one was an automated response and it congratulated him on his first show. The rest was a mix of ‘you’ve received a new private message …’ and, ‘view your coin balance here!’ . John stared for a moment in confusion as he read that subject line over again. He had emptied his coin balance after the show, had he not?

Clicking into the email, he used to link there to get to ‘Daddies’R’Us’ . After he signed in, it brought him straight to the ‘Coins’ page, and he was more than a little surprised when he had an available coin balance of fifty-seven. He hadn’t expected anyone to send him money after his show, but that was the only way he would have been showing coins after emptying his balance.

John clicked through the site a bit more until he got to his private messages. There were nine new messages waiting for him, from a total of seven different users. John ignored the first three—he wasn’t sure what he would get if he clicked into a message including nothing but a photo attachment, but he didn’t want to find out. He looked through the others, a smile pulling at his lips even as he felt himself blush.

They were nice, if very forward, and John appreciated the compliments he received. It made him feel a little better to know that if he was going to do this again, people would probably watch, that he had people who enjoyed his first show enough to message him. It helped something settle in his chest, and he was able to take a deep breath.

It was as though the confirmation that people had enjoyed his show had given John permission to enjoy it. How bad could it really be, if so many people had enjoyed what he had done? Was it—was it really so wrong ? John had enjoyed the show, and he didn’t want to feel guilty for that anymore.

And, if it was for Stiles, for his son, was it really wrong at all?

The last message was from someone asking why John didn’t have any photos or videos available for purchase and John stared at the message with a frown before he went to the rules page. He wasn’t sure how he missed it the first time, but John learned he could post locked photos and videos for purchase.

You could sell them for however much he wanted—though there was a suggested pricing guide for new users—and John took a moment to consider it. He wasn’t sure if people would buy photos, but he also hadn’t thought people would watch his show.

He knew, really, that he would do it. This wasn’t something he could continue to ignore, not when he had made nearly three-hundred dollars from one single show. University cost a hell of a lot more than that, and John would make sure Stiles got to do everything he wanted.

John had to be honest with himself about this. He knew he was going to do another show.


John didn't have to wait long for Stiles to be out of the house for a night. It seemed the pack was spending more and more time together, and Stiles and Scott’s friendship was once again as strong as it had ever been. While John got Stiles all to himself during the week, it seemed the weekends were quickly becoming devoted to ‘pack bonding’.

John wasn’t nearly as nervous this time. The same anxiety and fear that had weighed him down before wasn’t present. He found it easy to walk up the stairs, and he settled into his desk chair feeling calm. If anything, he was a bit excited. He had posted photos during the week—taking them had been quite the experience and it took John hours to get some he was happy with—and he had gotten a good response.

He made another ninety dollars off the pictures alone and got even more messages praising him and inquiring about his next show. John hadn’t been expecting how good the whole thing would make him feel, but he felt better about himself throughout the week. He felt more settled in his skin, confident in himself in a way he hadn’t been before. He was sure it was translating into the rest of his life, knew he was carrying himself with more confidence than he had in years.

So the fear of hosting a show wasn’t there this time and John was excited. Nervous, yes, but it wasn’t tinged with anxiety this time. He logged into his account with steady fingers and almost couldn’t believe how much had changed since the first time he had sat down to do this.

He stripped completely before sitting in front of the camera this time. John sat back in his chair and let himself breath for a moment before he turned the camera on. He sat there for a few moments, waiting as people began to enter the chat. He wasn’t too scared to read what people were saying, this time, and John recognized a handful of names from messages he had received over the week.

There was some excitement in the chat as John rubbed a hand over his chest, lazily playing with his nipple. The messages got crasser, and John noticed more people were joining the show. His stomach went tight, and he closed his eyes like he had the first time and tried to focus on the feel of his own body.

If he focused too much on the chat, he knew he would overwhelm himself.

He brought his other hand up to play with his chest and tugged at his nipple hard, moaning softly at the shock of pleasure-pain. There was an uptick of coin pings and John moaned again, smirking a little. He opened his eyes just long enough to read a few messages—as he thought, the noises were appreciated.

John took his time trailing his hands down his body, stroking fingers through his chest hair with his left hand. He let his right trail down to his balls, gently rolling them between his fingers as he let his thoughts wander. He wasn’t surprised when he started to think about Stiles. For years his son had been his go-to for getting himself off, and that wasn’t any different when there were people watching him.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” John said, letting himself get lost in the picture playing out in his mind.

It was easy to imagine Stiles spread out under him, pretty and pale and on display for his daddy. Stiles walked around shirtless enough that John didn’t have to make anything up. Stiles had always been thin—skinnier than he should have been, really—but ever since he got involved with the supernatural, he had filled out. He was still thin, but now his body was all lean, compact muscle.

John found it harder and harder to look away when Stiles would walk downstairs in nothing but low-hung sweatpants. The best (or worst, really), were the mornings when Stiles wore John’s old police academy sweats. John’s cock twitched at the thought of slipping to his knees, swallowing his son down until the boy was crying above him—the same thought he had every time he saw Stiles dressed like that.

John brought the hand fondling his balls higher until he could wrap a loose fist around his cock. He stroked himself slowly, eyes still closed as he continued to think of Stiles. John liked to imagine what Stiles’ cock would look like. He hadn’t seen it since his son was a boy, but John figured it would look similar to his.

John’s own cock was thick, filled his fist when he got himself off. He liked to think that Stiles’ would be thinner, maybe, that the head would flush red where it would peak out of his foreskin. It would curve upward, or stand straight out, but either way John imaged it would lay flush against Stiles’ belly.

He reached forward and grabbed the bottle of lube he had through to bring, pouring some into his palm. The slick slide was better, and he moaned again as he continued to slowly stroke himself.

“You like that, baby? You like watching Daddy stroke his cock?” John said, more of a moan than anything else.

He would sit atop Stiles, once the boy was laid out on his bed, straddle his son’s thighs and take both their cocks in hand. Stiles would arch his back, wanting more and John would give it to him—would give him everything, if he asked—would lean down and swallow his son’s moans. He pulled at his cock faster, swiped his thumb over the head on each upstroke as he felt pressure build.

“Such a good boy for me,” John said and in his mind Stiles flushed a pretty pink at the praise. The sight—well the imagined sight—was enough to have John’s balls draw up. He was close, closer than he had thought he would be but thoughts of Stiles always got him off fast.

“Fuck, fuck baby, that’s it,” John growled as he came, shooting heavy over his stomach and chest, covering his torso in come. He hadn’t come since the last show and his orgasm hit him hard.

He let himself be loud, moaning deep with his orgasm, and he milked his cock. His hips bucked up as his thighs twitched and he sighed as his orgasm washed over him. He slumped back in his chair and his balls twitched one last time, his cock pushing out a final spurt of come. John laughed a little, chuckling softly at the sudden explosion of pings from his computer's speakers.

John settled back in his chair and finally opened his eyes, reading over the new messages as they came in. There was a lot of positive feedback and he nearly lost his breath when the token count was over three hundred. He watched as it steadily grew, climbing closer and closer to four hundred and he laughed again, utterly floored.

He waved as he bid everyone a goodnight, clicking off the video with a deep breath. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Chapter Text

John couldn’t say that he was upset with the response he had gotten from his second show. Rather, he was a surprised sort of pleased. He’d had much more fun than he had anticipated—even after his first show had gone so well. He wouldn’t say that he had been walking around in a daze, but he was definitely more distracted than he usually allowed himself to be.

His job was important. It was his duty to keep people safe, both when he was on patrol and when he was going through casework from the confines of his office. He took his job seriously, he always had—it was how he ended up being elected Sheriff, after all—and his work ethic hadn’t changed one bit over the years.

Which was why it was so concerning that it now was.

The site continued to send him notification emails: notifications about new messages sent to him, notifications about coins he was being paid, notifications of his increasing gallery of private photos being sold. They seemed near constant, and while John had never before had the urge to check his personal email account during work hours, he was now finding it harder and harder not to.

Logging into the site was something he had to force himself to stop doing so regularly. He was getting obsessive, a little, with the way he was constantly checking back in. That wasn’t all, though. If he wasn’t logging into the site, he was checking his bank account. He watched it grow with bated breath, hardly believing what he saw. Since his first show, John had made more than six hundred dollars.

It was completely unbelievable, and part of the reason he was checking his bank account so frequently was because he just—didn’t believe it. He almost didn’t want to, nearly convinced that it was all some sort of wonderful fever dream and when he woke up he would be right back to scrambling for a way to make some extra money.

John knew his distraction was becoming a problem when he wrote the same sentence three times on an accident report, too busy thinking about his next show. He had no idea what he was going to do for it yet, but John wanted to make it special for his viewers. He could probably keep sitting in his desk chair masturbating, but he figured if he could…spice things up, it would make it more worthwhile for his watchers.

John let out a loud, deep sigh, filled with frustration. He scrubbed a hand down his face, annoyed with his own wandering mind. He must have sighed too loud, since Jordan stepped up to his doorway, still in his jeans and a tight fitting t-shirt.

“You alright, John?” Parrish asked, his brows pulled down in concern.

The boy was cute, more than cute, and John had never been blind to the appreciative looks the deputy sent his way. He had even thought about it, more than a few times, but he would never do anything. Jordan was a great deputy, and John was already thinking of taking him under his wing, getting him ready for when John retired. He couldn’t be in a relationship with Jordan if John wanted him to be the next Sheriff.

Besides, there was the pesky attraction, and feelings, that he had for his son.

“Yeah. Yeah, just tired,” he told the younger man, sending Jordan an appreciative look. Just because he would never do anything about it, didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy how the man looked in street clothes.

“Are you working tonight?”

“No, I’m only here till five tonight. Though, I might duck out early and surprise Stiles,”

“Well, I’m sure we’d be able to pick up some of your slack,” Jordan teased, his cheeks tinting pink as he leaned against the door frame.

“Well, as long as it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you,”

“I’m sure Stiles would like to spend some time with you,” Jordan said and John grinned at him as he stepped out of the doorway.

----

“Hey, Dad!” Stiles said, stepping close for a hug.

The two of them had always been affectionate, and Stiles had never seemed ashamed of it. They had clung to each other in the wake of Claudia’s death—well, after John had managed to crawl out of his own grief long enough to recognize that his son was grieving too—and they had never quite moved past their closeness.

So it wasn’t strange for John to wrap his son in his arms in the school parking lot, the rest of the lacrosse team filtering out of the front doors. His son had never once protested how tactile they were, and rather initiated a fair number of cuddling sessions himself. John could never bring himself to push Stiles away, even when he had been getting older and their closeness would have looked strange to others.

“Hey kiddo,” John said, never managing to keep the affection out of his voice. He was sure his smile was far too soft when he greeted his son, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked with a bright smile, pushing his damp bangs away from his forehead.

“I like this on you,” John said, raising a hand to tug at Stiles’ hair. It hadn’t been long enough for John to do so in years, and he lost himself for a moment, curling a longer piece back behind Stiles’ ear.

He took a hasty step back when he realized what he was doing, and did his best to ignore the pretty blush on his son’s face. It was much easier said than done, though, and John had a hard time looking away from Stiles’ ruddy cheeks and his shiny lips.

“I thought we could go for dinner. Spend the whole night together?” John asked, after he cleared his throat, and he got even more excited when Stiles’ face lit up.

His boy was gorgeous .

“I’d really like that, daddy,” Stiles said, looking up at John through his eyelashes.

There was no way Stiles could know that the name made his cock twitch in his jeans, had his heartbeat speeding up as arousal slammed into him. But fuck , if it wasn’t the sexiest damn thing. He knew he’d be coming to the memory of Stiles’ mouth saying that word for months , replaying how his lips had breathed it out. He tried to feel guilty, really, but he could hardly pull his mind of out the gutter with how his son was still staring at him.

“Let’s go get dinner,” John said, voice rough, but he still tucked Stiles under his arm and pulled him into his side as they walked back to the cruiser.

----

Despite their wonderful night together, John couldn’t get over the feeling that his son was pulling away. He had no idea what to do about it or what he had done to cause it, but it seemed that no matter what he tried, Stiles did his best to avoid him. Stiles made excuses to leave the house, and he didn’t visit John at work nearly as often.

They had always been so close and so affectionate, and John felt like he would never quite get that back.

The most obvious was when they were alone together. As much as John knew he should start to put distance between him and Stiles, he could never bring himself to go through with his plans and actually do it. After getting back from dinner, they had curled up together to watch TV. John knew pulling Stiles close to his side would be nothing but torture, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.

Unlike countless times before, Stiles didn’t melt into his side, getting so close it was like he was trying to crawl into John’s lap. He didn’t pull away, exactly, but he held back in a way that he never had before, and even though John tried not to be upset by it, he couldn’t quite manage to keep the frown off of his face.

Stiles had noticed the change in his mood and had asked him if anything was wrong, trying to pull away from him, but John had none of it. He pulled Stiles tighter into his side and buried his face in his son's hair, letting himself indulge for a while.

He had gone to bed that night hard, not even able to fight down his arousal for longer than a few moments. John came to the memory of what Stiles’ body felt like against him, of his son calling him ‘daddy’ and staring up at him with wide eyes and wet lips. The shame felt heavy in his stomach, weighed him down as he sunk into the bed with his afterglow.

John always tried so hard not to think of Stiles like that, but it seemed his efforts were for naught. No matter what, he was going to lust after his son, would always want him. The thought made him sick but didn’t do anything to diminish his feelings. He tried his best to push it out of his mind, but after a day of ignoring it, of pushing it down, the thoughts were back.

He had no idea how to distract himself. He couldn't throw himself into work like he had before, not when he promised Stiles he would be home more. So instead he found himself obsessing over Daddies’R’Us , taking more and more pictures to add to his profile and watching as the money came in. On top of that, he stressed over his next show.

John had no idea what to do to amp up his next video session. He couldn’t help but worry that if he continued to do the same thing over and over, masturbating in front of the camera, eventually people would get bored and just stop watching. John tried to tell himself that he only cared because he needed the money to send Stiles to school but that…wasn’t it.

He liked people watching him. He enjoyed knowing that people got off to the sight of him. And, it turned him on knowing that there were people willing to pay to see that. He wasn’t sure what that said about him, but he tried not to think too much about it.

John had tried watching a few guys who looked similar to him, daddy types, but he didn’t gather much. It seemed that they didn’t do anything too extravagant, though they did talk a lot. John wasn’t entirely sure he was comfortable talking as filthy as they all did, but he figured he could give it a go.

If he didn’t like it, he could stop.

With that settled, he waited until a night he would be alone, again. With Stiles itching to get out of the house, it didn’t take long to have a free night, and John tried not to let that sting. He was busy trying to get himself prepared for what he planned to do, and he focused on that as he pushed the hurt down.

He settled himself in his office, sitting heavily on his desk chair. He logged on to his account at Daddies’R’Us , focusing on the present and pulling himself from his reflections. He didn’t bother with reading through his new messages, and rather he went straight to the video player. He wasn’t nearly as nervous as the first time, but he was more nervous than the second time. He had no idea if talking was going to be something he would be able to do

John stripped down, leaving his clothes in a pile around his chair. John started the feed without waiting, now naked, not wanting to overthink anything. He was going to do whatever felt right. He was sure if he pushed himself into talking it would end badly. He let the sound of message pings wash over him, and he leaned further back in his chair to get comfortable.

There was a bottle of lube on his desk, should he need it again, but he didn’t bother with it for now. Like before he started by playing with his nipples, letting himself get lost in the sensations, focusing more on the feel of his own hands than anything else. It wasn’t hard this time, and he found himself chubbing up rather quickly.

“Do you like that, baby?” John asked, letting out a shaky, nervous breath.

He did his best to deepen his voice. He wasn’t sure if it would do any good, but he could hope that the shitty microphone attached to his webcam would be enough to distort his voice. He still had no idea what he was going to say, or if he would even be able to go through some of the things he had planned, but he did his best to steal his nerves.

He was still only playing with his nipples, but something about speaking was exciting him.

“Are you going to be a good boy for your daddy?” John asked, the words rumbling out of his chest. He had no idea where that came from, but he knew it was helping him get hard. He tried not to think about Stiles, not to think about anything, but it was too hard to resist.

He kept one hand squeezing his peck and let the other trail down his body. He scratched through the course hair along his abdomen and around the base of his cock. He didn’t shave or trim, so the hair there was long enough for him to grip and tug at. The bite of pain when he pulled at his pubes only had his dick swelling more.

He gripped his cock loosely, pumping it slowly as he once again built up a scene in his mind. John had never been one for porn—his imagination had always worked just fine—and that hadn’t changed as he got older. Picturing Stiles laid out, stroking his own cock was hotter than any video he could find.

“I want you to go slow, baby. Want you to take your time,” he wouldn’t rush, he’d tease John, make it into a show.

John wouldn’t be able to look away, and Stiles would know that, would know just how much power he held over John and love it all. Stiles, if he wanted, would have John wrapped even further around his finger than he already did. The thought made John groan loudly, and he knew the sound was appreciated if the increase of pings was anything to go by.

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart. So gorgeous and all for me. Are you Daddy’s pretty, pretty baby?” John could picture Stiles nodding, how his son’s mouth would drop open, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

John moaned even as he fucked up into his fist at the image in his mind. He loved Stiles’ mouth, found it far too easy to stare at, to get lost in. He could only image how it would feel, how it would taste , and fuck, did he ever want to find out. His grip was dry, chafed where he tugged at his cock, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop even for a moment, not when he was picturing himself fucking into Stiles’ pretty mouth.

God, he wasn’t going to last long.

“Does your fist feel good around your pretty cock? Do you want to fuck me with it, or would you rather I fuck you?” John liked the idea of both, honestly. He was sure Stiles would be good with his fingers, lord knew how long John spent staring at them.

He couldn’t tell how much of what he was saying was true and how much was for the video. He knew there was a collection of different people who had tuned into his first two shows, older men and younger boys, and he hoped to appeal to both. Most of what he was saying though, was because he was caught up in the scene playing out in his mind.

John had thought of Stiles’ fingers before, of course he had. They had always been long and thin, more delicate than anything else, but John really took notice of them when Stiles was fifteen and had to constantly fiddle with something. His fingers had widened, though they were still long, and John knew they’d be able to reach deep.

“How about you get yourself ready for me, huh baby? Finger that sweet ass open, get yourself all wet?” John sped up his own hand, just the thought of Stiles fingering himself, for John to watch, had him ready to blow.

“Such a good boy for me,” John said, and he meant it, he really did.

He knew Stiles would be good for him, would do whatever John asked him to do. When Stiles was younger he was always fast to please, always doing exactly as he or Claudia asked, and while he got older that had never gone away. John could just imagine how Stiles would submit to him.

“I love you so much, baby,” he said as he came, shooting spurts of come onto his belly as he breathed deeply, the thought of Stiles coming all over himself, fingers up his own ass, pushing John over the edge.

He breathed heavily during his afterglow, and he tried his best not to be embarrassed at how fast he finished. Thoughts of Stiles always had him bursting far sooner than he usually did. Hell, he hadn’t even grabbed the lube, though by the plethora of pings he figured no one cared. He would have to try to draw it out next time, though.

“Thanks for watching, and for tipping. I really appreciate it, guys,” John said, sitting up a little in his seat, rubbing a hand over his sticky abdomen.

He said another goodbye before he clicked off the video, smiling at the total coins he had earned, that he was still earning. He could only guess that they had liked his voice, if the lewd messages he had gotten were anything to go by. And, it had gotten him off faster too, imagining Stiles’ reactions to his words.

He’d have to do it again.

Chapter Text

The first time Stiles had ever been to one of those sites, the sites he never wanted anyone to know about, it had been an accident. It wasn’t what he had been looking for, Scout’s Honour, but when he stumbled onto it...he certainly hadn’t rushed to click away. He hadn’t even known that such porn existed, but that didn’t stop Stiles from scrolling through the rows and rows of videos.

Instead, he had clicked on the first video that caught his eye. It had been an older and younger man, more specifically a father-son role play video, and Stiles had clicked on the icon while holding his breath, sitting through the awkward intro that wasn’t so awkward when the “Dad” told his “Son” that he was going to be punished for misbehaving. The acting was bad and the dialogue was awkward, but the premise had Stiles’ cock chubbing up in his briefs.

The foreplay had been great, the dad equal parts domineering and caring as he guided the son through giving head for the ‘first’ time. Stiles had his hand around his cock from the first moment the older man took off his shirt, but the first time the son said “ daddy” —his eyes shining as he looked up at the camera, his dad’s dick resting against his swollen bottom lip—had Stiles coming unexpectedly, cock jerking as he bowed forward, his orgasm being ripped out of him.

Stiles had slumped back onto his bed, wet with his own release, covered in more come then he had ever shot before. He continued to watch as the video continued played out, his dick too spent to even twitch when the dad started to rim his son . His eyes were heavy, his afterglow settling over him as he yawned, and half asleep he had a life-changing epiphany.

He was attracted to his dad.


After finding it, Stiles frequented that video and the website he had found it on. Eventually, he was able to last longer than the first uttered “daddy”, making it to the very end of the video after rewatching it for three months. He looked through other videos, trying to find something that had the same effect as that first video had.

He would watch videos with older and younger men more than anything else. It helped if they acted like they were father and son, but sometimes just the difference in their bodies would be enough and Stiles could build up a fantasy in his mind. He really tried not to think about it too much, because he didn’t like the squirmy feeling that would settle in his stomach when he did.

Clearly, he had a type, and that type was “men who looked like my dad” . Stiles knew that it was fucked up, that it was a million different types of wrong, but that didn’t change how he felt. He was attracted to his dad and he was attracted to men who looked like his dad, and that was that. He dealt with it, even if dealing with it meant completely ignoring his own feelings and jacking off to incestuous videos online.

When his life went to shit and he was thrust into a world that he was absolutely not ready for, his attraction to his dad felt like the one thing that had stayed the same, the one thing he could count on. Even though his world was being turned upside down, his eyes still followed his father wherever he went and he still woke up with wet boxers and fleeting thoughts of his dad’s hands and his weight and his scent.

His attraction was part of the reason he had been so adamant about keeping the supernatural away from his father. Sure, he really had wanted to keep his dad safe—lord only knew how many risks the man already took to keep Beacon Hills safe—but more than that, Stiles hadn’t needed any werewolves sniffing around him when his dad was present.

It felt easier to spin lies than it did to tell his dad the truth. Stiles tried to reason with himself and tell himself that it wasn’t his secret to tell, but he knew that was a weak excuse. He knew what the wolves would smell on him if they were around him with his dad there, and Stiles was terrified of that, of someone finding out. He had no idea what he would do if someone knew , and the thought of Dad finding out was enough to send him into a panic attack.

So Stiles lied to his dad about the supernatural, and he lied to everyone about being in love with Lydia, and he continued masturbating to videos of older men fucking younger boys online.


The first time that it happened, it was mostly an accident. Really, it was more like instinct, so it could be said that it was really his dad’s fault, anyway. Stiles and his dad had been watching a movie together, something Stiles had missed doing since all the insanity of sophomore year had pushed them apart.

They were sitting on the same cough, a bowl of non-buttered popcorn sitting between them, and at some point during the movie Stiles had found himself curled into his dad’s side, tucked underneath his arm like he belonged there.

It had been...it had been everything Stiles had ever wanted. Being so close to his dad, being wrapped up in his scent and his touch, was like a dream come true. They had always been close to each other, closer than they maybe should have been, but Stiles’ secrecy had forced distance between them that Stiles hated .

Stiles had still been able to feel it then, even as they were pressed together from knee to shoulder, but it hadn’t mattered. There had been none of the tension that had begun colouring their every interaction, no trace of white lies or suppressed anger. It was just them , snuggled together in a way that was intimately familiar.

His dad hadn’t said anything and Stiles hadn’t said anything, and they had finished the movie cuddled closer than they really should have been. Neither of them had said anything when they went up to bed, and Stiles was thankful that his dad didn’t question the long goodnight hug he gave him at the top of the stairs. It just felt so good, pressed into his dad’s side, and Stiles knew he would be dreaming about that for days.

After that first night on the couch, Stiles had cuddled close at every opportunity. Every time he saw his dad he pulled the man in for a long, lingering hug. If they were watching something together Stiles would always curl up against him, sometimes being so close that he was practically in his dad’s lap.

Stiles wanted more, Stiles wanted so much more , but he only allowed himself this. He watched from afar, fantasizing about his dad when he was alone at night, but never allowing himself to do so during the day. He kept his feelings locked down, even if he was more affectionate than he had ever been before.

Dad never said anything, and even though things were still sometimes strained between them—the weight of Stiles’ lies only growing heavier—they didn’t let that stop them from being affectionate.

Things carried on like that for a while. When the Darach took his dad, Stiles had been so terrified that he had let himself slip, show more than he normally would. He wasn’t as careful when watching Dad, not nearly as cautious as he had been before. After almost losing him, it didn’t seem to matter as much, and he didn’t shy away from his own feelings the way he used to.

Dad didn’t say anything about the change. He didn’t protest Stiles’ insistence for hugs and he never pushed Stiles away when he cuddled close in the evenings. In fact, he always seemed to welcome it, like they both realized just how close they had come to losing one another, and they weren’t going to be shy with their affection just because it may be strange to others.

After...after the possession, things changed again. They became desperate, both of them, and there was something there that neither of them spoke about. Stiles tried not to dare hope that it might be a mutual attraction, but sometimes Stiles let himself wonder. Let himself hope. Sometimes he would catch Dad watching him, something heavy and unnamed in his eyes that Stiles wondered at.

Stiles never mentioned it, and neither did his dad, even though Stiles knew he’d caught Stiles watching him more than once. He just didn’t see the point in being subtle anymore, not after everything the Nogitsune had left behind in his mind. He wanted his dad, and sure, it was sick and it was wrong, but it felt right , and Stiles had been through too much to continue denying what he really wanted.


The first time Stiles had found Daddies’R’Us , he had been looking for more content with older, work-roughened men. While he always got off to the older men in the videos he watched, the younger boy often turned him off. Stiles just couldn’t get into it if the boy didn’t look a certain way—pale skinned and long-limbed, a copy of himself—and he would end up having to find something else to help him get off.

After a few years of watching the same type of porn, Stiles knew what he was and wasn’t into, and he was into men . Daddies’R’Us was a cam site filled with the type of men that Stiles liked and once Stiles had found it, he hadn’t looked back. Soon enough, it was the only website he went to when he was horny.

The first time he found “Sheriff” had been on a Saturday afternoon. Stiles had spent the previous evening with the pack, camped out in Derek’s loft for a night of “pack bonding”, as Scott liked to put it. While it had been fun, Stiles had had a long week, and he had been looking forward to some alone time that he didn’t get the night before.

Stiles knew he probably masturbated a lot to some peoples standards, but he was a teenage boy with a healthy libido and Stiles figured that getting off daily was pretty average. Things had calmed down a lot after the Nogitsune, thankfully, but Stiles still felt the pressure of knowing too much, of being involved in a world that he never should have known about.

Getting off helped to take the edge off, and sometimes he needed it. His dad was at work, pulling a half day since the station had been a little busier than normal, and Stiles didn't mind having the house to himself. He pulled up Daddies’R’Us , settling comfortably in his bed, making sure the door was closed out of habit.

While Stiles had never posted any content of himself, he’d been on the site for long enough to know how it worked. You could choose for your videos to remain free for twenty-four hours after streaming them, and anyone with an account could watch them for that time period. Since Stiles didn’t have a credit card or the funds to throw at a porn site, he just had a free account that notified him when the accounts he followed were streaming, or when new content was posted.

He went through his notifications first, watching what he could and sighing dreamily over all the paid content he couldn't see, before heading over to the ‘Explore’ page. There was a mix of older men and younger boys, considering the site catered to two very specific audiences, but Stiles scrolled down until a name caught his eye.

Stiles was intrigued by the username. He told himself it wasn’t because of his dad but...alright, it was totally because of his dad. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest as he clicked the feed icon to “Sheriff’s” video and the video popped up. Stiles watched with wide, appreciative eyes as the man dropped a shirt to the ground, and a whimper fought its way out of his throat as the guy flexed.

He was...yep, he was hot. Broad shouldered and thick-chested. He was hairy, his chest covered with dark fur leading down to his softer belly. Stiles found himself copying the man’s movements, toying with his own nipple as he watched Sheriff do it on screen. When the man pulled his cock out of his boxers, Stiles’ breath got caught up in his throat and he choked on his own saliva.

Jesus Christ, Stiles’ eyes went even wider. The cock was thick , nice and uncut and jutting out from a thick patch of hair. Stiles had a hand on his cock before he could even blink, and he stared intently at the screen as the man slowly began to stroke himself, toying with the head of his dick.

He couldn’t look away. Stiles’ eyes were glued to the screen, staring intently as the man worked himself over. Sheriff was everything that Stiles was into—thick, hairy, obviously work-strong. His hands were large, wrapping around the handful of his cock and Stiles was basically drooling, panting over the image on his screen.

He watched as the man’s other hand alternated on his nipples, playing with his balls, before he took his dick into both hands. Stiles sped up his own hand, stroking faster and faster as his body began to tense as his orgasm built, his balls drawing up. He made sure to keep his eyes open even as he came hard, spurting onto his belly as he watched the screen raptly.

When Sheriff came, Stiles’ cock gave a twitch, pushing out another bead of come and Stiles groaned loudly, sinking into his mattress and reaching for his computer. The man’s voice was a deep, soft rumble that made Stiles shiver and Stiles sighed happily, body feeling loose and pleasantly sated.

He made sure to subscribe, already yearning for the next show.

Chapter Text

Stiles was tired as he shuffled into the kitchen. He had been up far too late the night before, getting back late from a pack outing and then spending ample time getting himself off to videos of Sheriff . In the few weeks since he had found the man’s page, he had watched his videos time and time again.

Every time the man released a new one Stiles watched it on repeat, replaying it as much as he could before it became locked by purchase. Stiles had gotten home for hanging out with the pack to a new video and he had watched it six times—coming once during each re-watch and only lasting to the very end on his last watch through.

He had been up until nearly two in the morning getting himself off and he was tired down to his bones. But, despite his exhaustion he had gotten himself out of bed and thrown on one of his dad’s old t-shirts, stumbling down the stairs in search of coffee. Saturday morning breakfast was something that they had been doing together for a while and Stiles wasn’t going to miss it just because he had come too hard and too many times the night before.

Stiles stepped into the kitchen to find his dad was standing at the stove in nothing but a pair of flannel pyjama pants that hugged his ass. He tripped over his own feet at the way the muscles in Dad’s back were flexing as he flipped something on the stove. He bit into his bottom lip to keep in a weak noise of want, straightening himself before his dad looked back, a fond smile already pulling at his lips.

“Morning, kiddo,” Dad said, his voice soft and his smile softer. Stiles did his best to smile back, sending his dad a salute as he walked blindly to the coffee maker.

His dad was doing something beside him but Stiles focused on his own task, doing his best to keep his eyes away from his dad’s shirtless torso. It was hard, especially because Dad wasn’t one to walk around shirtless, but Stiles did his best to keep his eyes to himself. He was not anywhere near awake enough to handle how that would make him feel.

“Late night?” Dad asked on a laugh, and Stiles made a confirmative noise as he sipped at his coffee with his eyes closed.

It was far too early, and he stood at the counter as he emptied his cup. Dad was frying eggs next to him, and Stiles could hear them sizzling away. The air smelt deliciously salty, most likely from the turkey bacon Dad must have already made. When his dad had proposed this weekly tradition, Stiles had been quick to shoot down bacon, but his dad hadn’t protested.

Now, months in, Stiles was used to waking up each weekend and spending hours with his dad. They had drifted apart for so long, an entire sea of secrets stuck between them, that being as close as they were now was something Stiles would never again take for granted . Stiles loved the time they spent together, even when it was nothing more than quiet moments like these.

“Breakfast is ready, kiddo,” Dad told him, and Stiles blinked his eyes open, coming back to the present.

His brain was still working to wake up so he topped off his coffee, turning around even as he blinked sleep out of his eyes. Dad was standing at the island, frying pan in hand as he plated the eggs, and Stiles let himself stare, watching the flex of his bicep and the play of muscles in his back. He turned towards him, telling Stiles something that he was too busy ogling to hear, his eyes tracking down his dad’s torso until—

Stiles stopped, stumbling a half step forward as his eyes caught on the scar on his dad’s abdomen, recognition striking. His heart sped up, his breath caught up in his throat as he stared. His brain felt like it was melting, like it couldn't keep up with what was happening. Dad turned the other way and stepped forward without looking, bumping into Stiles who hadn’t even thought to step back—his brain too full and too empty at the same time—and his coffee cup upended, spilling all over his own chest.

He yelped, jumping back on instinct as the coffee burned at his skin. Dad took the cup from his hand as Stiles pulled his shirt away from his chest, wincing as the wet fabric seemed to pull against his skin.

“Get that off,” Dad said quickly, stepping away and stepping back in what only seemed like a moment. Stiles followed the order dumbly, lifting his shirt over his head and letting it drop to the floor even as his eyes stayed glued the patch of white, scarred skin on his dad’s stomach.

Dad stepped closer, right into Stiles’ personal space, and he held a cool, damp washcloth against Stiles’ now-red chest. Stiles was breathless, his brain kicking into overdrive as thousands of possibilities rushed through his head in seconds. There was no way that this was what Stiles thought, no way that his dad could possibly be who it seemed, no way that—

“Holy shit, Sheriff?” Stiles said, the words tearing out of his throat as his heart kicked off and begun beating so fast inside of his chest that he was convinced it was just going to stop .

It couldn't be, but...but it wasn’t just the scar. This was something he never would have even guessed at, but staring at his dad’s bare chest, it seemed so obvious that Sheriff was his dad. Stiles was breathless, something rushing up from his stomach and into his throat, making it almost impossible to breathe.

“What?” Dad asked distractedly, a small burrow in his brow as he continued wiping Stiles down.

“You’re.. . you’re the Sheriff?” he repeated, staring dumbly at where his dad’s hands were brushing over his skin.

“Yeah?”

“Dad...” Stiles trailed off weakly, reaching forward to gently run a thumb over the scar he had never seen before, fingers curling around his dad’s side. Dad faltered in what he was doing, his hands dropping from Stiles’ chest to hang limply by his sides. Stiles looked up to find his dad staring down at where Stiles was touching him, mouth dropped open as he breathed heavily. “You’re the Sheriff .”

Dad startled, taking a step back that Stiles followed, digging his thumb into the raised flesh as his brain tried to work out what he had just realized. Stiles made a helpless noise, brain flashing with snippets of the video he had watched so many times last night, the way Sheriff had worked himself over, fingering himself open as he spewed filth in a deep, rumbling voice that Stiles only now recognized .

“Daddy,” Stiles said, completely breathless and he watched as Dad’s eyes went dark. Stiles had no idea what he was doing or what was going on, but he knew that he didn’t want it to stop, didn’t want it to ever stop .

“How—how do you know ?” Dad asked, sounding helpless and afraid and Stiles hated it. He stepped forward again, so close that their toes were nearly touching. Stiles did his best to ignore the fact that he was in nothing but a pair of briefs, feeling exposed as his dad tracked his eyes up and down Stiles’ body.

Stiles let out a stupid little laugh, curling his other hand around Dad’s hip to hold him with both hands. “What do you think I was up so late doing? You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen .”

Fuck ,” Dad moaned, dropping his head back as he brought his hands up to hold onto Stiles’ wrist—not pulling or pushing, thank god, but holding on. “Kiddo—”

Stiles pulled his hands away from Dad’s waist so he could cup his face, day old stubble scratching across his palms. Stiles stepped even closer, the darkness in his dad’s eyes and the familiarity of his voice giving him a burst of confidence as he stroked his thumbs over Dad’s cheekbones.

“Were.. . were you talking about me?” Stiles asked, though he didn’t dare hope. His heart was beating out of his chest, running through every time he had heard Sheriff talk about his ‘boy’ during his shows, all the praise he has spewed as he got himself off—all the praise that had gotten Stiles off.

“Always,” Dad admitted, his own hands big and warm around Stiles’ waist. “Always you.”

Stiles pressed in for a kiss and Dad made a hurt noise in the back of his throat even as his hands slid around Stiles’ waist to pull him closer. The dry press of their lips was achingly gentle and Stiles lost himself in the way their mouths moved together. Dad was warm where Stiles was pressed into his chest, his arms keeping them pressed together.

“Stiles we shouldn’t—”

“Nope. I don’t think so. I have spent way too long pining after you for you to turn me down now that I’ve finally kissed you,” Stiles told him, sweeping his thumbs over Dad’s jaw, his fingers catching on his stubble. Dad laughed, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together as his eyes fell shut.

“Alright, baby,” Dad said, and the endearment made him shiver. He pressed closer, looping his arms around his dad’s neck to hold him. The press of their bare chests made heat spark in his stomach as his cheeks got warmer, and he let out a small, helpless sounding noise. Dad groaned, mumbling out a weak, “Fuck, Stiles.”

He laughed breathlessly, tangling his fingers in the short hairs along his dad’s nape. It felt so good to stand there, their bodies pressed together. Stiles figured he should be cold in what little he was wearing but heat was radiating from his dad’s chest and all through his body. With them pressed together like that he didn’t have to think about what he looked like.

“So...so you want me? Really?” Stiles’ voice was weak, filled with teenage insecurity that he couldn't help but feel. Dad was...Dad was gorgeous , definitely a DILF, but he was also such a kind, gentle man. Anyone would be lucky to have him, and Stiles found it hard to believe that the man he had been wanting in secret for years would want him back.

“Stiles, I’ve never wanted anyone else as much as I want you,” Dad told him, his voice heavier than Stiles knew what to do with. He blinked away the stinging in his eyes even as Dad kept going. “I love you, kiddo. I don’t...I don’t know how long it’s been like this, but it’s been. Fuck, it’s been longer than it should be. You’re all I want but I would never, never hurt you.”

“I know,” Stiles told him, bringing their lips together in a soft whisper of a kiss, “I love you too, Daddy. Been wanting you for so long, too.”

Dad dropped his head forward so their foreheads were once again pressed together, hugging Stiles against his chest. He hummed quietly, letting his mind wrap around all that had happened that morning. He felt like he was going to fly out of his skin with how happy he was, and it felt like he was living in the best dream he had ever dreamed up.

It...it was surprisingly easy, being here like this with Dad, and he never wanted to leave the circle of his arms.

“Why.. . why do you do it?” Stiles asked quietly, not sure if he wanted to know the answer but feeling like he had to ask.

John was quiet for a long moment, his hand running up and down Stiles’ back in long, warm strokes. “You needed money for college. There was no way I was going to let something as mundane as our finances hold you back, not after everything you went through and how hard you worked. You’re—you’re a genius, kiddo, and I wanted you to be able to go anywhere you wanted.”

Stiles moved back from where his head was still resting on Dad’s shoulders, staring up at him in shock. “You didn’t have to do that!” Stiles told him, pulling his hands down so he could grab Dad’s biceps. “I would have been fine staying here, or...or I don’t know! Getting a job! A bunch of my classmates have jobs and are saving up for college, Dad.”

Dad shrugged, resting his hands on the small of Stiles’ back as he smiled down at him. “Yeah, and most kids at your school aren’t dealing with the existence of the supernatural, either. I wasn’t sure about it at first, but...” Dad cut himself off, pulling one of his hands away to rub the back of his neck as he dropped his head. Stiles could see the way his cheeks turned pink, and he watched avidly as his dad sucked on his bottom lip in thought. “It’s more than that now. I, uh, like doing the shows, actually.”

Familiar heat stirred in his belly, and he once again pressed closer, running his hands from Dad’s arms to his chest. “Yeah?”

Dad swallowed hard, loud enough that Stiles heard his throat work. He lifted his eyes and they were dark, iris being swallowed up by pupil. “Yeah, I do. I like...fuck, I like being watched, like knowing that people are getting off watching me.”

Stiles made a noise before he was pressing closer again, licking into his dad’s mouth. He moaned loudly at the first swipe of their tongues, feeling completely overwhelmed by his dad’s smell and his warmth and his taste. All he could feel was Dad , and he let himself get lost in the kiss, his hands wandering over Dad’s torso and up and down his sides.

The kiss continued until Stiles couldn’t breathe, until he was pulling off because he had to catch his breath. He felt like he was flying, his heart soaring in his chest as he breathed deeply. Dad’s nose brushed his, the arms that were still around his waist tightening their hold. He could feel the hard line of his dad’s cock against his stomach and he moaned again, dropping his head down to his dad’s neck.

“Breakfast is going to get cold,” Dad croaked, his voice a deep, husky rumble that had Stiles nearly coming in his own pants. He whined, nosing at the skin in front of his face as he breathed his Dad in, all the same, familial comfort his scent had always given him but now laced with something more .

“Don’t want breakfast, want you, Daddy,” Stiles mumbled against his lips. He tilted his hips forward so they were pressed together, the hard lengths of their erections pressing together in a way that had Stiles moaning.

“Jesus Christ,” Dad swore, his hand running up Stiles’ back to tangle into the back of his hair.

He tugged, pulling a whine from Stiles’ throat that he swallowed up, licking harshly into Stiles’ mouth and fucking in with his tongue. Stiles lost himself in the kiss, letting it wash over him. His cock got harder in his pants, flexing every time their tongues met. Stiles was moaning, his hips thrusting helplessly against his dad.

“I’m not gonna last,” Stiles told him, his cheeks getting even warmer. He could feel the way his blush was travelling down his chest, warmth spreading until it felt like his entire body was on fire.

“Come for Daddy, baby, c’mon,” Dad said, his voice quiet as he spoke directly into his ear. The way his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of his lobe sent Stiles off and he was shaking apart in Dad’s arms, coming and coming and coming. He soaked through his underwear, his release thick and white as it pushed through the fabric and smeared over his dad’s pyjama pants.

Stiles panted at the view, his cock giving another kick as more come beaded out of his briefs. Dad was still hard, his dick straining against his pants. Stiles’ hands were lazy as he trailed down his dad’s torso, his fingers slipping under the waistline so he could pull them down. His dad’s cock sprung up and hit him in the stomach, foreskin pulled down over the flushed head, precome beading the tip.

Stiles wanted to drop to his knees and taste but instead he just stared, caught up in the moment. Dad’s voice was gentle when he said, “Baby?”

Stiles made some sort of choked off noise before he finally got his arms to work. Dad was warm when Stiles wrapped his hand around him, the hard length of flesh nearly pulsing under his hold. Stiles had no idea what he was doing but he didn’t care, and the way Dad’s breath hitched made him think that he didn’t care either.

He thumbed over the head, collecting the bead of wetness and sucking it into his mouth. Dad swore and he darted his eyes up to find the man watching him, mouth dropping open as he breathed heavily. Stiles leaned forward for a kiss, pumping his hand and twisting his wrist at the head.

Focusing on the task at hand—literally—Stiles tried to remember everything that he had seen in his dad’s videos. He had watched them so many times, had watched his dad get himself off with his own hands, and he did his best to imitate what the man liked. Stiles played with his balls, moaning when he found that they were already drawn up tight. He dug his thumb into the slit, harder than he had ever done himself, and was rewarded with the hottest noise he had ever heard.

“Fuck, you have watched my videos,” Dad breathed out, his hips starting to thrust up into Stiles’ hand.

Stiles smiled into the kiss, bringing his other hand up to play with his dad’s nipples, tugging sharply until his dad was coming, his mouth dropping open as they shared breath. Dad’s cock spurted over them both, hitting Stiles’ belly and spilling over his hand. Stiles worked him through it, not gentling his grip until his dad was dried out and starting to soften in his grip.

He wiped his hand off on his dad’s pants, tilting his head up so he could get another kiss. They breathed together slowly, Dad’s arms still around Stiles’ waist. Stiles slumped into him, the rush of his orgasms finally catching up to him and he let his dad hold them both up as he leaned against the island.

Stiles yawned widely, blushing as he pulled back from the lazy kiss they were sharing. John chuckled warmly, the sound making Stiles’ heart race. “Tired?”

“I was up really late,” Stiles said, brushing their noses together. “And I just came, like, really hard.”

Dad chuckled, but then he asked, “How about we clean up, go take a nap, and when we wake up we can reheat breakfast, yeah?”

“That sounds really, really nice,” Stiles told him, his heart fluttering as his dad’s smile went impossibly soft, and when Stiles kissed him, it felt impossibly soft as well.

Chapter Text

Hours later, after they had showered and taken a nap, they were curled up on the couch, the TV playing quietly in front of them. Stiles was practically in his dad’s lap, and while it wasn’t a new position for either of them, it felt more charged than it ever had before. It felt like neither of them were holding themselves back, and only now that they were letting themselves have what they wanted, could Stiles see how long they had both been denying themselves.

Dad’s hand was in his hair, running through the longer strands on the top as Stiles curled deeper into his side. They had shared a shower after getting upstairs, washing each other off as they stood under the spray together. Stiles hadn’t wanted to stop touching, now that he finally could, and it seemed like Dad was feeling the same way.

The nap they had taken had been amazing. Stiles had drifted to sleep almost as soon as Dad curled up against his back, holding him tightly with an arm thrown over his side. Stiles had never known that something as simple as cuddling could feel so amazing, but he woke up with the same smile he fell asleep with.

He had rolled over onto his side so he could watch Dad while he slept, his heart growing and growing inside of his chest until it felt so big he couldn't breathe. Dad had woken up slowly, pressing forward for a kiss before he was fully awake. Stiles felt like he had been on cloud nine, and that feeling hadn’t gone away when he’d slipped on another of his dad’s shirts and followed the man downstairs.

True to his word, Dad had heated up their breakfast. They had eaten it at the island, standing with their shoulders pressed together. After, Stiles had dragged Dad to the couch, which was where they still were. Stiles had no idea how many movie nights he had spent curled into his dad’s side, relishing in the scraps of contact that he allowed himself.

It was so much different now, with everything that they felt out in the open. Stiles still felt like he was dreaming, even as he curled closer to his dad’s warmth. He had no idea how he could be so lucky, had no idea what he had done to deserve to get...well, everything he had ever wanted, really. He had been in love with his dad for so long that it was all he knew, and now—now he got to have his dad.

Well, he was pretty sure he got to have his dad. A seed of insecurity planted itself in Stiles’ stomach, twisting up his throat the more that he thought about everything he didn’t know. His mind worked too fast, coming up with all the reasons they could never be together, all the reasons why Dad would never want to be with him. There was so much, maybe even too much between them, and suddenly it was all Stiles could think about.

“Something wrong, kiddo?” Dad asked, his voice quiet in the stillness of the room. Stiles shivered at the way his dad’s lips brushed over his forehead as he spoke, and he closed his eyes against the rush of insecurity.

“I...” Stiles took a deep breath, trying to parse through how he was suddenly feeling. “I don’t know what’s next.”

Dad hummed, but he didn’t say anything right away. His hand dropped from Stiles’ hair to wrap around his shoulder and pull him impossibly closer. “What do you mean?”

Stiles honestly wasn’t sure. He only knew that right now, he had no idea what was going on. So much had happened and it all happened so fast that Stiles felt like he was only now processing it all, and it felt like his brain was lagging somewhere far behind him. Only hours ago Stiles had done so many things that he had never done before—made out with someone, given a hand job, gotten off with the help of another person—and he had done it all with his dad .

Really, Stiles had no idea how he was feeling, other than lost and confused and insecure. He wanted so much and he was terrified that he wanted too much, wanted more than Dad would be willing to give him.

“What’s next for us ?” Stiles clarified, turning his face so he could hide in his dad’s shoulder. He felt foolish as soon as he asked. He sounded so young, so scared, and he just wanted the couch to swallow him up.

“Well,” Dad began, his voice serious as he rubbed small circles into Stiles’ arm with his thumb. “That is up to you.”

“Why me?” Stiles asked, his forehead creasing with a frown.

“There are a lot of reasons for that,” Dad told him, holding Stiles even tighter. He sunk into the couch a little, pulling Stiles firmer against his side until Stiles wasn’t sure where Dad ended and where he began. “Stiles, you’re my son . I love you, lord knows how much I love you, but it’s wrong. It’s not done. I...I’m supposed to take care of you and—” Dad stopped, his voice breaking as he took a deep breath, nose pressed into Stiles’ hair. “I want you so bad, baby. I’ve wanted you so bad for so long, and it’s so wrong , but I’m not going to stop.”

Daddy ,” Stiles said, his eyes burning as his heart hurt . He turned so he could hold Dad as well, wrapping an arm around his waist in the best hug he could manage.

“I know, baby, I know. But that’s why you have to decide, why you have to choose. I swore to myself that I would never hurt you, and for so long that meant that I would never get to be with you. But now...now you’re saying you want that too, that you want me , too, and that’s. That’s like every dream I’ve had coming true, kiddo.” Stiles hugged him tighter, climbing into Dad’s laps and straddling his thighs so he could get closer. Dad wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist to hold him tightly, resting their foreheads together. “I love you. So much, baby, and I want you to be happy. All I want is for you to be happy.”

Stiles pressed forward for a kiss, their lips brushing together so softly that Stiles let out a sob. His eyes burned with tears as he wrapped his arms around his dad’s shoulders to hold him, their lips moving together slowly. His heart was beating quickly, feeling so full that it felt like his chest was going to break open.

It took him a few minutes to find his voice, but when he did he said, “You make me happy.”

Dad let out a wet laugh and he held Stiles tighter. They traded soft kisses until they naturally trailed off, and Stiles tucked himself under his dad’s chin, moving so he was sitting sideways in his lap. The smile on his face was so wide it hurt, and he held one of his dad’s hands in his lap, running his thumb softly over the knuckles.

The TV was playing a game show that Stiles was sure neither of them was paying attention to. Stiles was too busy revelling in the feeling of not only being in his dad’s arms, but knowing how much he was wanted. It was something that Stiles never could have imagined, and the things his dad had said were running over and over in his mind.

Every now and again Dad would squeeze him a bit tighter or press a kiss to his forehead, and Stiles was floating on the gentle affection, feeling dizzy with how happy he was. Even though they had napped earlier Stiles felt like he could fall asleep again. It was still too early for dinner, but he felt his eyes getting heavier as Dad ran a hand up and down his back.

Stiles made a little noise, a thought running through his head that woke him up and made his cheeks flush as he ducked lower into Dad’s chest, embarrassment rushing through him. Sure he had spent years dreaming of fucking his dad, but he had spent just as many years dreaming about loving him, and he wanted...well, he wanted everything with him. Quietly, he asked, “So...if I wanted to date you? Like, take you out to the movies and buy you flowers, I could?”

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?” Dad asked, but there was no heat to his words, only honest curiosity.

Stiles frowned, humming under his breath. “Not boyfriend...that, that doesn’t sound like enough? But like...”

“How about partner?” Dad suggested, lifting their joined hands so he could press a kiss to Stiles’ palm.

“Oh, I like that,” Stiles told him happily. Partner sounded...well, more than anything it sounded serious. Permanent. Which really, was exactly what Stiles had been looking for. “So we’re dating now?”

“Sounds like it,” Dad said happily and Stiles tilted his head back for a kiss which he was given easily.

“Okay,” Stiles said happily, getting ready to snuggle back into Dad’s chest until he had a thought. “Uhm. What’s going to happen when I go to college?”

Dad ran a hand through Stiles’ hair and the action caused the tension that had started to build up in his shoulders to leak away. “Well, that’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, long before anything that happened today,” Dad took a breath, blowing it out in a long sigh before he continued. “I’ve been seriously considering retiring for a while, but that...that wasn’t feasible, financially. I’m not going to lie, we’re doing a lot better than we were. Not great, but well enough that it could be an option in a few years.”

“Wait,” Stiles asked, sitting up so he could look at his dad’s face on. “How much do you make doing the shows?”

Dad let out a nervous sounding laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he blushed. Stiles leaned in to kiss his cheek, just to feel the warmth of it against his lips.

“I usually make around three hundred a show? But it depends on how long the show is and what happens during it,” Dad explained, a little furrow between his brows that Stiles thought was adorable.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, straddling his dad’s thighs again so he could look at him properly as they talked.

“Well. Alright, so longer shows always make more,” Dad said, and Stiles nodded along. “And if I talk, I usually get more. And then...well, uh, yesterday I made about six hundred during the stream. Since people really seemed to enjoy the fingering.”

Stiles moaned softly at his dad’s words, able to picture exactly what he was talking about. The video was still fresh in his memory, especially after he had watched it so many times the night before. His eyes dropped closed, mentally replaying that specific part of the video as heat built in his stomach.

“And—you also sell photos, right?” Stiles asked, letting out a soft moan when Dad’s hands settled warm and wide on his bare thighs. He grabbed the man’s wrists to steady himself, wrapping his fingers around his forearms to help ground himself.

“I do,” Dad said, a smile twisting onto his lips. “Would you like me to show you them later?”

Fuck yes ,” Stiles moaned, rolling his hips forward as his cock began to harden.

“Mm, do you like that, baby?” Dad asked, his voice dropping into the deep rumble that Stiles was used to hearing over his speakers or through his headphones. Even earlier his dad hadn’t sounded quite like this, and Stiles’ cock filled faster than it ever had before.

They leaned in for a kiss at the same time and Stiles nipped at his dad’s bottom lip even as he pressed closer. A plan formed as he licked into his dad’s mouth, and he left one final kiss on his lips before he stood. “Up,” Stiles said, waiting for his dad to lift himself off the couch so he could pull his sweats down, watching as his cock flopped onto his thigh, not as hard as he had been before but steadily getting fatter.

Stiles slipped out of his own shorts, settling himself back onto his dad’s lap and diving back into the kiss. His hands travelled, spending time playing with Dad’s nipples just to hear him moan. When he pulled back Dad’s cock was hard, standing thick against his stomach, and Stiles shuffled forward until their dicks pressed together.

He took them both in hand, staring down at them. Stiles’ cock was longer and thinner, his head much more exposed than his dad’s. He moaned when he squeezed his hand, the feeling of pressing their erections together enough to make Stiles breathless. Dad brought a hand up to join his, linking their fingers together, creating a tighter grip on them both.

Stiles had watched porn like this before, but he never could have imaged that it would feel so good to have his dick pressed up against someone else's. He wasn’t sure if it felt so good because it was his dad but he didn’t think about it for too long, breathless as he rocked forward.

Dad leaned up for another kiss that Stiles happily fell into, this one sloppy with too much tongue. Stiles didn’t care, he just wanted to be closer. Their hands were dry but it still felt good, his foreskin sliding wetly over the head. He was leaking, steadily dripping precome as he and his dad stroked them as one, his dad’s hand wrapped around him and his dad’s cock pressed tightly against his own.

“I want to watch you,” Stiles panted, his mouth running ahead of his brain as he tightened his grip, “I want to watch you during a show. I want—want to be in the room with you.”

“Fuck, baby, yes. Of course, of course you can watch,” Dad said, his free hand trailing around Stiles’ side to settle over his ass, squeezing and kneading the fat of a cheek. “Always want you there. Always thinking about you.”

“Really?” Stiles gasped, rolling his hips into their twined hands. He was getting close, his balls getting tighter and tighter as pressure built down his spine.

“Really, baby. Always thinking of you, my pretty boy,” Stiles came with a soft cry of “Daddy”, spilling over both of their hands and all over Dad’s stomach, coming more than he had thought he’d be able to after his earlier orgasm. Dad followed him soon after, only a handful of wet strokes before he was shuddering through an orgasm of his own.

They caught their breath slowly, foreheads pressed together. Stiles kept his hand against Dad’s belly, their fingers still twined together despite the cooling mess that they were covered in.

“Jesus,” Stiles said, flopping to the side tiredly, “having orgasms with someone else is so much better than having them alone.”

Dad laughed, reaching out to lay a hand on Stiles’ thigh. He liked the contact, no matter how small it was, and he liked that Dad seemed to crave it just as much as Stiles did.

“How’d I do?” Stiles asked, rolling till he was lying on his back and his legs were thrown over his dad’s.

“God, that should not make it hotter,” Dad said, running his clean hand over his face. Stiles laughed, managing to sit himself up and move until he was once again curled under Dad’s shoulder. “Thank you, baby.”

“What for, Daddy?” Stiles asked, once again hugging him around the waist.

Dad shrugged, kissing Stiles’ forehead and pulling him close. “Just for being you, kiddo.”

Chapter Text

Stiles woke up hard, laying on his stomach with his dad laid out over him, heavy and warm where he was pressing Stiles into the bed. His erection was digging into the mattress and he breathed in, Dad’s scent heavy in his nose. He groaned rolling his hips forward and dragging his cock against the bed, the stimulation making him light up.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Dad mumbled, the words pressed into the skin of Stiles’ neck. Stiles felt him shift like he was going to roll away, and Stiles whined, rolling his hips backwards as he scrambled to grab his dad’s hand where it was on the bed beside him.

Daddy ,” Stiles moaned, dragging his erection over the sheets. His underwear was damp with precome and sweat was beading along the back of his neck. Dad laughed, the sound a low, warm chuckle that held more than Stiles had ever heard before.

“Good morning indeed,” Dad said, humour in his voice, and Stiles let out a breathless little laugh when Dad stuck his hand between Stiles’ body and the bed, dragging rough fingertips down his belly until he was palming over his dick. Stiles’ entire body went tight before he groaned loudly, tension seeping out of him as he sunk into the bed and the feeling of his dad’s hands on him.

Dad pressed kisses into his neck, sucking on the skin. Stiles had no idea why the pressure felt so good, but he moaned again. Rolling his hips, he ground his ass back into his dad’s erection, his own rubbing this-side of painful against the fabric of his briefs. Dad’s hand only added to the pressure, gave something more for Stiles to rut into.

Stiles made a helpless little noise when Dad bit into his neck, the pain shooting through him and settling warmly in his stomach, tension building and building in his lower back. His balls were drawing up and Stiles knew that it would be over embarrassingly quickly, that he was going to come rutting against his dad’s hand and nothing else, but it felt so good, too good for him to care.

“C’mon, baby,” Dad said, his voice just as low and deep as it had been yesterday. Stiles felt it through his entire body, lighting him up and making his cock twitch. He took in a shuddering breath, doing his best to hold off.

Suddenly Dad slipped his hand under the waistband of Stiles’ briefs, the rough skin of his palm brushing over the head of Stiles’ cock and that was it. He shook apart, his orgasm crashing through him so hard that it hurt, his entire body shaking as his dick spurted into his briefs and made a mess of Dad’s hand.

Eventually he was spent, his cock softly twitching as Dad flexed his hand around it. Stiles was still trapped under his dad’s bulk but he didn’t mind, not with how warm he was above Stiles and how good he still felt, loose and easy from his orgasm. Dad rolled onto his side and Stiles let him, turning to curl up onto his chest.

He was still hard, obviously tenting his boxers since the blanket had fallen down. Stiles stared at the thick, hard bulge but Dad said nothing, asked for nothing. It made Stiles’ heart swell, knowing that all the things Dad said yesterday were true—he really would let Stiles decide, and not just about their relationship status.

“Can I...can I suck your dick?” Stiles asked, breath getting caught up in his throat at just the thought of doing so.

Dad coughed, pounding his chest for a few minutes before he tilted his head to stare at Stiles with wide eyes. “Uh, what ?”

Stiles flushed, his entire face going red as dropped his eyes. “I was hoping I could give you a blow job?”

“Fuck, kiddo,” Dad said deeply, the words sounding like they were being pulled out of him. He nodded, eyes still closed. “Yeah, baby, of course. You can do whatever you want.”

Stiles made a happy little noise, breathless and excited, and he pressed forward to catch his dad’s lips in a kiss. It was messy, too much tongue, but Stiles didn’t care. He was excited, fuck. His oral fixation wasn’t for nothing, after all, and Stiles had always fantasized about sucking dick.

They continued to make out, Stiles leaning more onto his dad, bringing a hand up to rub at his crotch over his briefs. Dad could clearly last longer than Stiles, though it didn’t seem like it was by too much. Still, Stiles didn’t want to risk it, and he pulled back with a breathless gasp.

“You’re sure?” Stiles asked against his lips, words getting lost in the space between them.

Dad laughed before he said, “Gee, kiddo, am I sure about getting a blow job?”

Stiles blushed, pressing a few more kisses to his dad’s mouth before he moved down the bed. His briefs were tight and uncomfortable where they were clinging to him, fabric damp with his own release. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not when he settled on his stomach between his dad’s spread legs.

Dad’s dick was big. Of course, Stiles knew that—both from watching him online and holding it in his hand—but it was different when he was up this close. When Dad wiggled out of his underwear and it was suddenly right there , it seemed so much thicker than when it had just been filling his hand.  

He stared. Stiles wasn’t sure what else to do, so he stared. Dad was looking at him, a soft smile on his face, and Stiles knew he’d happily wait for Stiles to start. It helped him feel better, knowing that this was Dad , and while that maybe shouldn’t comfort him—it did.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the length, slowly stroking from root to tip. It was familiar, the weight of it in his hand. He’d only done this twice but Stiles was getting used to how it felt to hold someone else’s dick in his hand, the soft give of hardened flesh that wasn’t his own.

He took a deep breath before slowly bringing his head closer. His eyes dropped as soon as his lips touched skin, and he trailed his mouth down, letting his lip drag across the warm flesh. Stiles moaned, breathing in the muskiest part of his dad and loving it. His heart sped up, pounding away in his ears as his tongue flicked out.

His dick tasted salty, almost exactly the same as when Stiles choked himself on his fingers after he’d been jacking off. He licked up the side, following his tongue with his hand and digging under the foreskin, wanting more . He opened his mouth wider and let the head fall inside, closing his lips as he breathed through his nose.

It was weird, the salty taste of skin and the weight of it on his tongue, but Stiles liked it. He stretched his jaw as wide as he could, careful to keep his teeth out of the way. Stiles swirled his tongue around the head, focusing intently on what he was doing and forgetting to use his hand on the skin he couldn’t fit into his mouth.

It was all so much. Stiles’ head felt heavy, too full, and he worked more of dad’s dick into his mouth. He bobbed his head, trying to do things he’d seen in porn and hoping it felt good.

“Fuck, baby,” Dad groaned, and Stiles looked up to find him with his head thrown back, fingers twisted into the sheets and knuckles white. “That feels so good.”

Stiles pulled off with a gasp, asking, “Really?” He knew that he sounded uncertain, even as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, wiggling his jaw a little.

Dad opened his eyes, and told him, “Yeah, kiddo, you’re doing great.”

Stiles smiled, and despite how silly it was his chest puffed out with pride. He returned to his task with new-found enthusiasm, sucking his dad down as far as he could take him, gagging a little before pulling off. He used his hand, stroking up and down all the parts he couldn't reach, messy and slick with his spit.

Doing his best, Stiles tried to remember to lick over the head every time he pulled up. He may have focused too hard but he didn’t care, he just wanted to make his dad feel good. When a hand settled in his hair Stiles moaned, slowing a little until Dad started to push him back down, pulling him up when his fingers tangled into Stiles’ hair.

Stiles gagged on one of the down strokes, a flood of saliva spilling out of his lips as he did his best to take as much of his dad as he could.

“Baby, I—I’m gonna come,” Dad warned but Stiles didn’t pull off, instead he went faster and sucked harder, and when dad groaned through his orgasm Stiles swallowed as much down as he could.

Come spilled out of the corner’s or his mouth as he pulled off, but Dad used his thumb to feed it back to him and Stiles sucked it up greedily, swirling his tongue around each thumb he was given until he was finally able to catch his breath again.

They were both quiet for several minutes, panting heavily. Dad had his eyes closed again, one hand lazily petting through Stiles’ hair and Stiles was resting, breathing slowly as he floated in the knowledge that his dad had just come down his throat. His lips were twisted up into a small smile, and he felt giddy with excitement.

“Can we do it today?” Stiles asked, still riding the high of his orgasm and breathless, grinning up at his dad from where his forehead was pressed into the man’s thigh.

“Huh?” Dad asked, blinking slowly at Stiles. His lips twisted up into a small smile that Stiles couldn’t help but crawl up and kiss, snuggling in closer when Dad wrapped an arm around his waist.

“The video,” Stiles explained, pressing a kiss into his dad’s jaw just to feel the stubble catch on his lips. “Can we do the video today?”

Dad laughed loudly, belly shaking, and Stiles frowned until he explained, “Kiddo, you’re going to kill me. It’ll be death by orgasm, but I’m not sure if I’ll survive your libido.”


Stiles brought his desk chair into the office, wheeling it through the hallway. His fingers were shaking and he had to grip down tightly onto the back of the chair. Nervous excitement was tight in his belly, bubbling up his spine and making his breath come fast. He couldn’t wait .

He made his way into Dad’s office, stopping just in the doorway. The room seemed different, even though Stiles knew that nothing had changed. The only thing different was that now he knew . Now he could look at the walls and recognize the paint colour from the background of videos he got himself off too. It was crazy, the way that knowledge was making him look at the room as though it were a completely different place.

Dad came up behind him, footsteps soft, and he wrapped himself around Stiles’ back, chin sitting comfortably in the dip of Stiles’ shoulder. Dad’s face was rough against his cheek and Stiles smiled, enjoying the way the scruff caught on his skin.

“I like that you’re not shaving,” Stiles murmured, sighing happily when Dad held him even tighter, arms wrapped firmly around Stiles’ waist.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Stiles assured, tilting his head back so he could rest it on Dad’s shoulder, covering his hands with his own and linking their fingers together against his stomach. “I like how it looks, and I really like how it feels.”

“Is that right?” Dad mumbled, voice dropping just a little as he turned his head so he could rub his chin into the sensitive skin of Stiles’ neck with intent, lips following the burn as the short hairs scratched over his skin.

Stiles laughed, a breathless little thing, and he turned so he could get a kiss. That was something they’d been doing nearly nonstop all weekend. One of them or both of them would reach out, touch whatever they could reach or press kisses to whatever part of the other’s body that was close enough. It made Stiles feel like he was high on affection, floating along in a pleasant cloud that he never wanted to fall from.

He hummed against his dad’s lips, opening his mouth when his bottom lip was caught between teeth. A breath was pulled out of him, Dad’s hands tightening on his lower back as he pulled Stiles closer. Their bodies fit together so well, better than Stiles could have ever fantasized about.

The kiss didn’t get too far before Stiles was pulling back, too excited over what was about to happen to let himself get caught up in the kissing.

“What about the show?” Stiles asked, already breathless as he stared up into Dad’s dark eyes.

Dad laughed, a throaty sound, but he pulled back with a soft smile. “Well...uh, I normally just sit there?” Dad told him, his voice rising at the end as he pointed to his desk chair.

Jesus fuck , Stiles thought, knowing full well that he had sat in that very chair at least once since Dad had started filming shows. He still had no idea how he felt about it, about his Dad being the same man he regularly jacked off too. Stiles had been too caught up in the fact that his dad wanted him to focus on pretty much anything other than that, and he hadn’t spared much thought to the fact that Dad was Sheriff —at least not after his initial realization.

But now that he was thinking about it...well, his briefs were suddenly far too tight, his erection straining against the thin fabric. After they had fooled around that morning they had showered, but Stiles hadn’t bothered getting dressed. Dad was only in sweats and a t-shirt, so Stiles figured he could keep in the outfit he’d been all yesterday—briefs and his dad’s shirt. It was comfortable, and he liked how Dad’s eyes tracked over his legs.

“Why don’t you set your chair up right behind the desk?” Dad recommended, startling Stiles out of his thoughts. He nodded excitedly, his head bobbing quickly. He did as told, wheeling his chair to the centre of the room as he bounced on his toes. “Excited, kiddo?”

“I am so excited, oh my god,” Stiles breathed out, his words rushing out of him quickly. “Do you have any idea how many times I watched your videos, fantasizing about it being you when it really was you this whole time? Daddy, you literally broke my brain , I don’t even know how to handle—”

Stiles was caught off by his dad grabbing his face and licking into his mouth, tongue hot as it pushed inside. Stiles moaned loudly, enjoying the rougher treatment, especially as a hand slid into his hair and tugged. He pressed closer, grinding his already hard dick into the meat of his dad’s thigh and riding the sensation.

Fucking hell, kiddo ,” Dad moaned, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked, and Stiles felt a thrill of glee run through him knowing that he could reduce his dad to that.

He smiled into the kiss, doing his best to gentle it, lest they get too carried away. Stiles swept his thumbs over Dad’s cheekbones, holding his face in his hands. His heart felt too full as he gazed into his dad’s eyes, everything he felt and more reflected there. He pressed a few last kisses to his dad’s lips before stepping away.

“So, are we gonna do this?” Stiles asked, doing his best to get them back on track.

“How ‘bout you get naked, then we’ll talk?”

Stiles laughed brightly, turning away even as he snarked, “You just wanna see me naked.”

“Damn right, kiddo, damn fucking right,” Dad mumbled, voice once again dropping, and he slapped Stiles’ ass sharply. Stiles turned to glare, but he still made his way to the chair and stripped off the little clothing he was wearing.

Dad made his way to his desk, a bit of tension building along his shoulders. Stiles had to wonder how long he’d been watching his dad to notice something like that, but then told himself it didn’t matter. They were together now, and Stiles didn’t have to content himself with watching from afar anymore. Now he got to touch and taste and have .

He watched as Dad typed away, doing whatever it was he did to get ready for a show. Stiles made a note to ask him about his photos later, wondering just what he was selling. He was sure they would be good, and Stiles wondered if he’d be able to convince his dad to send him some...a nice thought indeed.

Stiles sat in his chair, the cushion comfortable under his bare ass. Dad sat after having taken off his sweats, just in his boxers and a t-shirt. Even as he watched his dad do nothing, Stiles’ dick filled, remembering the times they had been together in the last day and how everything had felt.

He smiled even as his cock got hard, thoughts flashing through his head until he was standing at full length, dick pressed up against his belly. He knew he was young and his libido was strong, but it felt like he’d been hard since yesterday morning. Hell, he had already come twice today and already he was hard again. He certainly wasn’t complaining, especially after his dad had returned the oral favour in the shower and gotten Stiles off under the warm water.

“I see someone’s ready,” Dad teased, and Stiles was amazed at how comfortable he felt under his dad’s gaze.

“Yep, I’m just waiting on you, old man,” Stiles teased right back, raising a brow as his dad scoffed.

“You weren’t calling me an old man when you were chocking on my dick, kid.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped, his cheeks flushing pink even as the words rushed over him. “ Holy shit .”

“You got your attitude somewhere, kid,” Dad told him, pressing a few more buttons before he sat back a little. “Alright, you ready to go?”

Stiles nodded, doing his best to focus back on the present. It wasn’t that hard, seeing as his dad sitting behind that desk was an image he had gotten himself off to countless times. Dad gave him a smile that was easy to return, and he settled back into his seat.

“Hey, guys. I know I don’t normally stream Sunday, but I hope you’re not too upset,” Dad’s voice was wry, the twist of his lips audible. Stiles knew that nothing above the shoulders would be shown on camera, and he found himself watching Dad’s face as he spoke.

Dad was gorgeous. It was a fact that Stiles had accepted when he was twelve and a thought that had never gone away. Even as Dad got older, he just got more attractive, his smouldering good looks turning soft with age. He had grey dusting his temples, mixed in with his sandy blond, and Stiles found him all the more attractive for it.

When Dad pulled off his shirt, Stiles nearly moaned. He only just managed to bite down on bottom lip to keep the noise in, not sure if it would be picked up by the camera. Stiles watched the flex of Dad’s torso as he raised his arms, his entire body rolling with the movement. His tongue fell out to wet his lips, staring at his dad who sat there in nothing but his boxers.

Stiles watched avidly as Dad sat there, and Stiles could guess he was reading some of the comments. He had noticed, in the weeks he’d been watching, Sheriff get more and more comfortable. Sometimes he would reply to things people sent in, though Stiles never got to see the thread as it was happening—not when he watched all the videos after they’d been uploaded.

Dad chuckled, and Stiles’ eyes shot back up to his face. His eyes were crinkled, a genuine smile stretching at his lips. “Thank you very much. Yes, I’ll be taking my underwear off, I was just reading the messages.”

With that, Dad pushed himself up and pulled down his boxers. He didn’t make a show out of it, but the way his cock slapped up against his belly stole Stiles’ breath away. Stiles gasped, his mouth dropping open. It wasn’t like he had never seen his dad naked before— hell , it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this exact fucking scene before—but it was different, watching him like this.

Slowly, so slowly, Dad started to touch himself, starting by slowly trailing his fingers up his thighs. When Stiles’ eyes darted up to his face, he was nearly surprised to find his dad intently focused. His eyes had fallen closed, lashes fanning his cheekbone, and Stiles couldn’t look away.

Dad wasn’t focused on him, or on the computer in front of him, and it was memorizing to watch Dad touch himself. He was completely focused on his own body, running his hands slowly up and down his sides, teasing along his chest with his own fingers. Stiles knew what that skin felt like, knew what those fingers felt on his skin, and it made everything so much better.

He was enraptured. Thank everything holy that Stiles was already naked, because there was no way he would have been able to get his pants off—not with how focused he was watching his dad. The man’s hands skimmed over his body slowly, dragging it out. Stiles could hear the ding of tokens from here, and his mouth fell open again at how many were coming through.

When Dad twisted both of his nipples between his fingers, Stiles echoed his moan. His cock jumped, spurting out a bead of precome. He had seen this before, more times than he could ever hope to count, but this—this was nothing like watching it through his computer screen.

Dad’s eyes shot open, meeting Stiles’ own before his eyes travelled down Stiles’ body for the first time. A moan erupted out of him, a deep growl that rumbled out of him on an exhale, and he twisted his nipples hard enough that it looked painful. Stiles’ fingers flexed where they were squeezing his thighs, stopping him from touching himself else he come.

“Touch yourself for Daddy,” Stiles’ eyes snapped up to his dad’s face when the man spoke, his mouth falling wide open. He bit into his lip so hard it hurt, desperately trying to hold off a helpless noise at his dad using that tone.

Stiles obeyed, because how could he not, and he trailed his hands over his chest. He played with his own nipples, mostly because Dad was still doing it to himself, and he let out a harsh breath. Normally his chest wasn’t an area he focused on, much preferring to give all of his attention to his dick, but it felt good.

“That’s right, baby,” Dad crooned, “do exactly what I’m doing.”

When Dad trailed his hands lower, so did Stiles. He copied the man’s movements, following him as a guide. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining that they were his dad’s hands on him, and following what he was doing helped with the illusion. Dad seemed to be in no rush, and Stiles followed his every action, slowly trailing his hands down his body.

Dad grabbed his cock, a groan slipping from his mouth and Stiles was soon to follow, though he squeezed the base tightly when even a light touch almost had him coming. He was too keyed up, getting off on all the memories of watching this same thing even as it played out in front of him. Stiles felt drunk on it, drunk on the pleasure that was singing under his skin.

He laughed, but there wasn’t much humour in it. “Fuck, baby,” Dad told him, staring where Stiles was desperately trying not to come. “You look so good like that, so fucking gorgeous.”

Stiles’ breath sped up, his heart rate spiking. His eyes fluttered shut at his dad’s words, the praise washing over him softly. It made his dick twitch, made everything feel so much more , knowing that the words were being said directly to him. He opened his eyes when his dad moaned, heart slamming inside his chest.

Watching, Stiles did nothing but hold his own dick as his dad stroked himself. Thankfully he could see down to the tops of his dad’s thighs, and nothing was hidden from view by the desk in front of him. He watched, just was turned on as he’d been every time he had seen this on his computer screen—hell, even more turned on now, so turned on it nearly hurt.

Stiles felt so good, too good, and watching Dad masturbate on camera in front of was too much. His dick felt harder than it had ever been before, so hard that it hurt, and Stiles could hardly breathe through the tension in his belly. He wasn’t going to last, he knew that, trailing fingers up his dick as slowly as he could even as pressure continued to build and build and build.

He wasn’t even touching himself, not really, just squeezing his fingers around the base of his dick as he watched his dad stroke himself with both hands. Stiles kept getting more worked up, going faster until he was thrusting into his own fists, his breath heavy.

“You can get off, baby. C’mon, kiddo, get off for Daddy,” Dad panted, and when Stiles glanced up it was to find Dad staring at him, eyes dark and gaze heavy.

Stiles’ back bowed as he came, unable to keep in his cry of pleasure as his cock shot off, spilling come all over his chest and fingers, hitting himself in the chin. He slumped back into the chair, body slumping as he dragged in air. He looked up at his dad in time to see him come, groaning low and deep as he too came hard.

“Holy fuck,” Dad groaned and Stiles made an agreeing noise, too come drunk to think about being heard. His head fell back, eyes half-lidded as he stared at the pile of come on his dad’s body, watching the way it darkened the hair.

“Yeah guys, that was my boy. He wanted a front row seat to one of my shows, and I couldn't say no,” Dad said, eyes focused back on the computer screen. Stiles flushed, both from making noise and hearing Dad talk about him. Dad looked up suddenly, gaze accessing, before he made a noise. “Well, I certainly don’t see why not. Baby,” that was directed at him, his gaze softening and voice a touch more private, “would you want to join me sometime?”

Stiles dick made a very valiant effort to get hard even when all he could get out was a helpless moan. Dad laughed, a warm chuckle that made Stiles feel safe. “I think that means he’d be into it. Alright, see you guys in a few days, I’ve got a boy I have to go clean up.”

Dad leaned forward, clicking his mouse a few times before he slumped back into his chair. Stiles stared, brain running even as his post-orgasm haze slowed it down. What his dad had said kept echoing around his head. Joining his dad on camera was...was something that Stiles had never thought about, would have never thought about, but he couldn’t say he didn’t see the appeal.

Watching his dad was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him—shower blow job included—and he knew he wanted to at least do that again. Doing it with him could be interesting, but Stiles wasn’t sure that would be something he would be okay with. Sure, he couldn't deny that it would be fun, and a small, vicious part of him wanted to show everyone who was watching that Dad was claimed , that he belonged to someone and no one else could have him.

“Did you mean it?” Stiles asked, his voice small and hesitant but not unsure.

Dad stood up, making his way around the desk, heedless of the come slipping down his body. Stiles watched him approach, his heart falling into his throat as Dad said nothing.

Eventually, he said, “Yeah, kiddo, but only if you’re really sure and you really want to.” Dad knelt in front of him, taking Stiles hands in both of his own, come smearing between their palms. “You have to be sure, and you have to want to. Just because I do this and I like doing this, does not mean you have to.”

Stiles gave it another moment of thought, if only because he knew it would make his dad feel better, before he nodded. “Yeah, I think that would be really fun.”

Dad smiled, getting to his feet with a groan. Stiles laughed when the man’s knees popped, and his dad gave him a look. “Yeah, yeah, laugh at the old man. See if I ever get on my knees for you again.”

Stiles laughed, the noise bright and happy. His heart felt fit to burst, too large to fit inside his chest. He stood, pressing into Dad’s personal space and letting his warmth soak into his skin. He leaned up for a kiss, so soft that it ached, and his next words were heavy as they fell from his mouth.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, kiddo. So goddamn much.”

Chapter Text

On his way home from the station, Jordan stopped to grab himself dinner. It wasn’t something he often did, at least it never used to be, but Friday was beginning to become a day of gluttonous to him. He hardly ever worked Friday evenings, now, something that had been happening for the last couple of weeks.

It hadn’t escaped Jordan’s notice that John never worked Friday's either, but he had noticed the way their schedules matched up months ago. Sometimes there would be a few hours here or there when only one of them were working, but the majority of their shifts were spent working together.

For so long he had been hopeful, hopeful that maybe John was scheduling them together for a reason, but not so much anymore. He knew his crush on the Sheriff must have been glaringly obvious, but the older man had never said anything about it. Jordan had long since gotten used to his attraction, and he no longer blushed or stuttered if John caught him off guard.

Jordan knew he would have to stamp down on his feelings soon enough, especially as he was sure John had started seeing someone. The man had shown up to his six a.m shift with a smile , one definitely too wide for that time of morning. The smile had lasted during his entire shift, only growing the sooner it got to three.

(Not to mention the bruise that had stood stark against the back of his neck, the edges of it just peeking up above the collar of his uniform.)

So John was seeing someone, probably, and Jordan needed to get over his silly crush. There was the other silly crush, but that wasn’t something he often let himself think about. His hopeless crushed were part of the reason he was letting his diet slack—after all, there was nothing more comforting than greasy food. He should be able to indulge if he needed to, and he had definitely needed to, recently.

Burger bag in hand, Jordan made his way into his apartment. He stripped out of his uniform at the front door, leaving it in a pile on the floor for him to deal with later. Not having to work until Sunday meant laundry could wait. He settled himself onto his couch in nothing but a pair of boxers, reaching for his laptop as he dug around for a handful of fries.

There was a single moment in which he debated what he wanted to do, before the pull became too strong and he typed a familiar domain into his search bar. The website was simple enough and Jordan wasted no time signing in to his account, heat already beginning to build in his stomach as he navigated through Daddies’R’Us .

Sheriff was his favourite Daddy on the entire site. The site wasn’t one that he had been using for very long, and even though he stumbled upon is by accident, it was one he check regularly. He was only following one account though he still managed to nearly empty his bank every time he signed on.

When he got to the man’s page, he was excited to find that he was live. Jordan clicked onto the stream immediately, instantly grateful to see that he had only missed the first few minutes. His eyes flicked over to the clock, noting that it was a little past six. Damn, he must have taken longer than he realized.

For the last three weeks, Sheriff had done a show on Friday at exactly six o’clock, and Jordan was glad tonight wasn't any different. He enlarged the screen as he turned up his volume, the Sheriff’s bare chest on display as his deep voice echoed out of Jordan’s speakers. The combination made him shiver, just like it always did, and he palmed his growing erection through the fabric of his briefs.

“Tonight, we’re going to be doing something a little different,” he rumbled, his chin moving as he spoke. It was the only part of his face that Jordan could see, but he definitely didn’t mind. “My baby is going to be joining us, and I hope none of you mind.”

Jordan raised a brow, watching intently when the Sheriff peeled his underwear off. He would never tire of just looking, and Jordan had paid for a handful of videos and photos so that he could look whenever he wanted. When someone else stepped into the frame Jordan’s heart stopped, his heartbeat kicking up as his cock twitched so hard that it hurt.

Someone else walked onto the screen, and at first all Jordan could see was a pale, pert ass attached to nice legs. The boy walked towards John, stopping between his thighs and leaning forward. Jordan was sure they were kissing just off-screen, and a groan slipped out of his mouth when Sheriff ran wide hands up his thighs, pulling the skin, before continuing upwards. His palms spanned each ass cheek, squeezing and kneading, and Jordan couldn’t pull his eyes away.

The boy was turned around by the man’s big hands, and Jordan’s cock twitched when he saw the front of the boy’s body. His stomach was just as pale as his ass had been, lean lines of soft, barely there muscle. A dark trail of hair filled out into a decent patch of pubic hair, a hard cock jutting up in front of him.

He pushed his boxers down. He was hard enough that his cock slapped up against his stomach, leaving a sticky bead of precome against his skin. The boy sat back on Sheriff’s lap, his legs on either side of the older man’s, leaving him spread open. His balls were tight, already pulled up, and Jordan could just make out the wet, flushed head of his dick.

Jordan’s mind started whirling, fantasies growing as he thought of the two people these two men reminded him of.

When the man brought his hands around and placed them on the boy’s chest, Jordan grabbed his dick firmly. The contrast between them was amazing, the smooth, pale skin of the boy’s chest against the man’s hairy hands. He began to stroke himself, slowly, enjoying the way Sheriff was caressing the boy’s body.

Fuck. It was so easy for him to imagine them as John and Stiles, and his cock twitched painfully. The fantasy only made the show better, picturing these two faceless men as the two men he was hopelessly crushing on. Fuck , he couldn’t keep denying it, not when he was squeezing his dick to keep from coming at just the thought of John and Stiles together. He was totally gone on them both.

A moan filtered through his speakers and he leaned forward to turn his sound up. Sheriff made a pleased noise before his fingers ghosted over the boy’s nipples. The boy arched his back, and Jordan’s hand sped up over his dick. He was gorgeous, the way he was arching his body into the hands that were touching him, thighs spread wide and body openly on display.

Jordan reached for the bottle of lube, not taking his eyes away from the screen as his dick chafed. His next stroke hurt, his hand entirely too dry for how fast he was stripping his dick. Jordan fumbled, getting the bottle between his fingers and then nearly dropping it when John’s—fuck, he was really thinking of them as John and Stiles now—hand trailed down Stiles’ body, fingers framing his cock but not touching.

He squeezed a liberal amount over his dick, moaning at the first wet swipe of his fist. John’s hand were trailing up and down Stiles’ body, long sweeping strokes that Jordan was jealous of. He wanted to be the boy as much as he wanted to be Sheriff , aching to touch them both. Thinking of them as John and Stiles made everything so much better, and he didn’t slow his hand down.

John started stroking Stiles’ dick, slowly, stroking him from the root all the way to the tip. The boy’s cock was beautiful, long and curved and flushed red in a way that made Jordan’s mouth water with the want to taste . He had never been that into sucking dick, but this one was gorgeous, and Jordan would happily get on his knees for the boy.

John’s other hand cupped Stiles’ balls, rolling them in his hand. Stiles bucked up, his thighs shaking as John’s hand travelled even lower. It pulled a moan from the boy, shockingly loud, and Jordan answered it with one of his own. He was getting close, faster than he would have thought, but the boy on the screen was gorgeously responsive.

Jordan didn’t even care that he couldn’t see John’s dick, not when it was covered by such a pretty thing. The boy was withering, moaning away. He grabbed the man’s forearms, holding on as he shook. John was jerking him off slowly, so slowly that it must have felt like torture, hand sliding up and down his cock at a lazy pace.

Jordan could hear the praise that the man was spewing, and it washed over him. He sped up his own hand, getting closer and not caring to hold himself off. The boy was gorgeous, everything about him reminding him of Stiles. He could hear quiet little noises, all sounding like they were torn from the boy's throat as John kept slowly working his dick.

Stiles’ thighs were shaking where they were spread of John’s lap, and Jordan sucked in a sharp breath when John pushed a finger into his ass. Stiles cried out, fingers scratching up his own thighs and leaving behind red tracks. Jordan groaned, rolling his balls around in his free hand.

“C’mon, kiddo, come for Daddy,” the man’s deep voice rumbled, and the endearment pushed Jordan over the edge.

He came, arching his back as he shot over his stomach. He slumped back into the couch with an exhausted exhale, going completely boneless as he sunk into the cushion. The boy was coming too, falling apart in the Sheriff’s hand and spilling all over his own chest. Jordan watched, his dick twitching at the sight.

He didn’t even bother grabbing for his laptop, knowing that he could always tip later when he bought full access to the video. He watched as wide hands rubbed the boy’s come into his own skin, up his chest and lower, over his hole. Jordan was spent and relaxed, smiling in his afterglow.

“Thanks for watching, guys,” Sheriff said, his voice softer than it normally was. Familiarity prickled at the corner of his brain, and he was struck with a thought.

Jordan’s heart sped up as kiddo repeated over and over in his head. It had only been three weeks that Jordan had his Friday’s off, but if he thought back, that was when he started thinking that John might have started seeing someone. Not to mention the six o’clock shows, a time that they had never been at before—considering that John had been working every Friday at six for the past few months.

It couldn't be. Jordan told himself that there was no way . But the thought wouldn’t go away, circling over and over in his brain. The username. The timing. John’s better mood. Fuck, it made sense. It made sense . Jordan flung his head back against the couch, wrapping his hand back around his dick as he got hard again.

It was going to be a long night.