Stiles is loud when he's fucking or being fucked, throws his hands against the wall and moans and talks. “Like that like that like that,” he chants when it's good. He likes to be flipped over, held down, pressed into the sheets.
Derek's quieter, he knows, but he talks the first time Stiles puts his mouth on Derek's ass. “Holy fucking shit,” he breathes out. He's on his back, feeling vulnerable with his legs hitched up, hands under his knees, but he can't stop it, doesn't really want to. Stiles is pressing his legs back, too, lifting from under him, licking Derek's asshole with his eyes open and intent. Derek's head falls back onto the pillows and then he stops paying attention, makes a long, low noise, moves one hand to grab the back of Stiles' head and urge him on. It's terrifying and thrilling, this thing Stiles is doing. He sucks and licks and jerks Derek off until Derek comes. At the last minute, Stiles moves his head up and pulls Derek's legs down. He likes it when Derek comes on his face, across his mouth. If Stiles had more patience, he'd make Derek do it over and over again. “I wish you could come all over me,” he whispers, wet against Derek's cheek as Derek fucks him from behind. “I wish I could have your come in my ass and on my face and in my mouth...”
One morning, he tells Derek that he wants to film it. “Take a video while I push your come out of my ass,” he pleads, “please, baby, I want to see it.” Derek's horrified, bashful, and adamantly refuses. But he makes Stiles beg for it while they fuck that night.
“What do you want me to film, baby? Tell me what you want again.” He's flat on top of Stiles, stretched across the length of his body, skin stuck together as he pushes into him in tiny thrusts. “Fuck, fuck, yes,” Stiles babbles in a rush. “I want to watch, I want to see your come in my ass.” Derek presses his forehead into Stiles' neck and thrusts harder, egging him on. “I want to watch you come inside me,” Stiles begs, “I want so much come inside me.”
They don't always fuck, but one of them always wants to. Stiles is obvious about it. Derek is probably too, he admits to himself, but Stiles doesn't call him out. When Stiles wants to fuck, he's all biting lips and wide eyes, keeping his body close to Derek's, touching his hands and arms. When Derek wants to fuck, he's tight stares and muscles coiled-- distracted, moody, annoyed.
Most of the time, they both want to fuck. One night they hardly make it into the apartment, take off their clothes in the kitchen, and Stiles starts fucking Derek against the counter. It's dry and Stiles can't get low enough to thrust, really, so they hit the bedroom. Fuck and come fast. Doze. Stiles wakes to Derek's hand on his cock. It's gentle touching, at first, so soft Stiles can almost sleep. But then it's wetter and faster, and Derek's finger is in his ass, and then Stiles is on his stomach and Derek asks, barely discernible-- “yeah? Can I?” – and Stiles nods and begs until Derek's cock is in his ass, and then they fuck differently, quietly, for a while. Derek comes deep inside him, they shower, promise each other that they'll sleep, but Stiles wants it again, is still wired and wanting, sits on Derek's cock and fucks him that way for a while.
Derek can't come again, not yet, and Stiles can't while he's on top, so they give up and Stiles rims Derek, sucks his asshole for what feels like an hour, jerks Derek's cock while he licks and sucks until Derek's asshole is pink and wet and raised. Stiles can tell when he's almost there, he always can. “I want you to come on my ass,” Stiles instructs as he pulls away, already turning onto his knees and pulling his cheeks apart with both hands. Stiles puts his face on the sheets, spreads his legs wider and flutters his asshole, still gaping and open from getting fucked. It only takes Derek a minute, not even, before he's pressing the head of his cock into Stiles' ass, just the very tip, and coming on the rim. “Fuck, yes,” Stiles hisses, and he touches it with one hand, moving his fingers in and out of his hole, pushing the mess in and out. He moves his other hand to his cock and comes, finally, with a loud “Oh!” His face is still half pressed into the bed, neck awkwardly twisted.
“You're a mess again,” Derek observes as Stiles drops to the side, yawning with satisfaction.
“I like it,” says Stiles. “Leave it. I want you to do it there again in the morning.”
Derek frowns. “What if I don't want to?”
Stiles's eyes are closed. He shrugs. “I hope you do. I like it when I can push it out.” He hums like he's imagining a delicious meal. “I like it when you come just inside my ass, just a little bit inside, so I feel it drip out as you pull out.”
Derek kisses his cheek as he pulls a sheet over both of them. “Whatever,” he whispers emphatically.
In the morning, they're spooning peacefully, Derek behind Stiles. Until they're rocking a tiny bit, just micro-movements and the very beginnings of Stiles' breathy moans. Until there's pre-cum between Stiles' ass cheeks and thighs. Until Derek is thrusting against him and pressing the blunt head of his cock against Stiles' hole, and they haven't even spoken or exchanged full words when Stiles scrambles his hands down between them and says, “Wait, wait, baby, let me,” and shoves the tip of Derek's dick into his ass. “Okay, okay, come inside me, like that, like that,” he gasps, holding Derek's cock just barely inside him. Derek can feel him pushing open his ass, bearing down as much as he can. “Like that, like that, like that,” Stiles chants. Derek thrusts inside him more completely as he begins to come. “Fuck yes,” Stiles practically yells, and Derek can tell from the spasms of his body that he's coming, too.
Derek goes on a business trip and doesn't touch himself for four days. He tells Stiles about it on the way home, sends a text and doesn't let himself read the response. He's too horny, too keyed up, doesn't want to make it worse.
He goes straight to Stiles' apartment from the airport. Lets himself call when he's only 5 minutes away.
“Hi baby,” Stiles answers, voice seductive. “Are you on your way over?”
“You sound like you're hard,” Derek teases, “are you hard?”
“Maybe,” Stiles responds. “Do you want to come on my face or in my ass?”
Derek hangs up and walks faster, doesn't even let himself answer the question. He did it for Stiles, really.
He walks in to find Stiles hard but clothed. They make out for a long time, savoring the tension, until Derek pushes Stiles into the bedroom and sucks his cock for a minute, wet and messy, spit running out of his mouth as he gags just a little. He's on his knees and Stiles is standing, pants still on, eyes closed in ecstasy. Derek slips a finger back to feel Stiles' ass, and it's open and lubricated. He lets Stiles' cock slip out of his mouth as he moves his hands to his fly, unzips and takes his cock out and grips it roughly.
“Get on your knees,” Derek commands, pushing Stiles towards the bed. “Pants off.”
Stiles does as he's told and puts his weight on his elbows, hands clasped above his head, head bowed. He's trying to be good.
Derek's about to burst but he puts one hand on Stiles' ass, one hand on his cock. He's shaking as he puts the head of his cock just inside the rim of Stiles' asshole, moving slowly until he's firmly inside. He wants to push forward, push his cock deep inside of Stiles, but he forces himself to use his hand, moving frantically up and down his cock, gripping himself outside of Stiles' body until he's coming and moaning Stiles' name, coming for a good ten seconds, days of pressure released. He can't see it, but he knows it's a huge load, can feel himself coming harder and longer than he usually does. He's still shivering when he squeezes the last out and slowly pulls the head out of Stiles with a slick, squelching sound.
The head of his cock is covered in come and he pulls out his phone to film as he wipes the come on Stiles' right ass cheek. “Baby, I'm recording, you can do it,” Derek swallows breathlessly. “Push my come out of your ass, you can do it. Push that big load out of your ass.”
Stiles moans and bears down. His legs are trembling, too, and Derek can see his cock hanging down, hard and wet. Come is dripping out of his asshole in a tiny stream and the rim of his ass is stretching into a gaping hole. His hole contracts and then expands as he pushes, bigger, and a rush of thick white come streams out, dripping onto the bed and down his balls. “Come on, baby,” Derek urges, “let me see how much come you can take.” There's another wet sound as Stiles pushes out a a final, shining globule of come, thick and opaque. It sticks for a moment before dripping down onto his balls.
There's more after that, still dripping out slowly, and Derek is watching the screen of his phone, fascinated, thinking of Stiles watching later. He feels a rush of affection as Stiles spreads his legs wider, moves his hands back to spread himself open. “That's it, let me see that load,” he whispers. He films with one hand and gives Stiles a little spank with the other.
Stiles' hole is wet all around, lube all up and down his ass crack.
“Tell me what you love, baby.”
Stiles' voice is muffled by the pillow.
“I love when you come in my asshole,” he murmurs. “Fuck I love that so much.”
Derek's not-- well, he's amenable. But he's not as interested, as first. He doesn't love it like Stiles does.
But he's turned on by turning Stiles on, and soon he's just as fixated. They start watching porn together, sharing videos and planning. It filters into all of their dirty talk and texting. They end up at a sex club one night, and that's the beginning of the rabbit hole.
It takes six months of regular attendance at the club, not to mention dinner and coffee dates outside, to find the right guys. They don't have a specific number, at first, just-- a few, they decide. If they're going to do this, they're going to do it all the way.
So they end up with four other guys, plan to do it on a Saturday night. They talk about the scene in thorough and thoughtful terms, meeting with each man individually, discussing boundaries and hard and soft lines. Derek brings up the idea of an actual written contract, but Stiles scoffs. “What are you going to do, D, sue one of them?” He taps Derek on the side of the head. “You're a lawyer, you beautiful idiot. For your job. You know every judge in the county.”
No contract, then. But explicit, specific instruction: everyone brings test results. Derek fucks Stiles first. The others just come inside him. Everyone listens to Stiles, and stop means stop. No degrading speech.
The day comes and Stiles is hard for half an hour before anyone even arrives. By the time they're set up and everyone's had a couple drinks, he looks like he might come if someone breathes on him. Which he does, almost immediately, as soon as Derek starts to fuck him.
Derek's nervous and aroused, body mildly confused about how to feel. The other guys are lounging around the room, naked and jerking off mildly, and he can't decide if looking at them makes this easier or harder. They're nice, sure-- hot. Big dicks, because both Stiles and Derek like that. Respectful. He and Stiles invited them because they seemed sane and also specifically disinterested in a real intimate relationship, which suits them fine. It's not about them, exactly.
That thought brings him back to Stiles, who's moaning beneath him and clasping his own hands together. Yes, Stiles. Stiles on his elbows and knees on a come-soaked towel in the middle of the room. Dirty, slutty, desperate Stiles. His ass jiggles each time Derek slams against it and Derek spanks him, just once, to hear him make noise. Stiles is still his, just his, his mystery and his kinky slut and even his doting boyfriend, sometimes, when they've done enough fucking to wear themselves out. Stiles is gagging for it, shaking with adrenaline and lust and flushed with expectation. Derek wants to give him what he needs, what he's dying for. “Please, please, please,” Stiles is whimpering quietly. They have music on, and Derek doesn't think anyone else can hear. “Please, baby, I want your come so bad,” he whispers, head turned to the side.
Derek comes inside him, thrusts hard and hot one last time, and then pulls out. Sam, the next guy, is already standing up from the couch, cock a deep pink standing up against his stomach. Derek steps back and collapses onto the arm chair closest to Stiles, in front of him.
He doesn't look at Sam, who's positioning himself behind Stiles without penetrating him, just watches Stiles' face. Reaches down to touch his cheek, touch his mouth. Smooths his eyebrows. “Are you getting hard again, Stiles?” he asks after a moment. Stiles looks up and gives him a glare, but doesn't answer.
Sam's jerking himself fast, now, about to come, and he puts one hand on Stiles' ass as he starts to babble, “OK, OK, I have- I have to-- I'm gonna come inside you.” He's flushed just like Stiles, Derek thinks, pink and sweaty, and there's something about that that makes him feel good. He decides to watch as Sam pushes into Stiles, just a couple inches, and grasps his ass cheeks with both hands. His fingers leave white indents where they grip. “Fuck-- OH, fuck,” he yells. Another guy, Nick, grunts loudly over the music. He's gripping the base of his dick and looking at the ceiling-- he's trying hard not to come. Derek is hard again. It's-- a lot to watch.
He tunes back in and Sam is pulling out, strings of white come stretching between his softening cock and Stiles' pink asshole. Stiles has his eyes squeezed shut, enraptured, and he bites his lower lip before his mouth falls open. “Fuck, I felt that,” he says, not opening his eyes. “I'm-- I'm trying to keep it inside. I need another, put another cock in me.”
Nick's up. It's not his turn, but he's about to blow, and says says as much. He positions himself behind Stiles and pushes inside him immediately, one hand holding his dick as he guides it in, trying not to rush. “Like that, yes, put that come in me,” Stiles is practically yelling.
The other two guys start making out in the background, while Sam wanders to the bathroom. Derek's-- he feels proud. He's so proud of Stiles, who's turned a room full of men into wholly different creatures, flushed and moaning. Derek slips forward and kneels down, gives Stiles a wet kiss as he listens to Nick unload in Stiles' ass. He wants to show him how proud he is, how happy he is.
Stiles breaks away to moan. “Fuck, Derek, baby,” he gasps. His eyes fly open, suddenly, and he's looking at Derek with more urgency than he ever has. “Fuck, I love you so much for this,” he says. Derek holds his face with both hands, kisses him again. “D, baby, I love you so much. Put your cock in my mouth, I wanna suck your cock while they come in my ass.”
So Derek's fucking Stiles' face as the last two men come inside him. He can't see, but he knows what Stiles' ass looks like: red, raw, dripping come and lube already. The last guy, Pedro, paints a picture. “Babe, you're so full I can barely fit inside you,” he says, rubbing a hand up Stiles' back. The squelching sound when he pushes in is loud and wet and distracting.
This wasn't planned, Stiles sucking Derek's dick, but they both know what they're hoping for: Derek will come again, one last time on top of the five loads already in Stiles' ass. First in, last out. There's something possessive about it, albeit a little irrational. But Stiles is staring up at Derek intently, cheeks hollowed even as tears run down his face, and Derek knows. “You want my come again, don't you?” Stiles just closes his eyes and moans. Derek pulls out of Stiles' mouth and grips himself as he gets up and walks behind Pedro.
Stiles' entire ass is a mess, as per usual. There's lube and come running down his balls and the towel underneath him is soaked. Pedro comes long and hard, thrusting deeper than Derek expects, and when he pulls out, the head of his dick looks white and creamy.
Pedro stays kneeling behind Stiles for a moment, breathing hard. He puts his hands on Stiles' ass and spreads him wide, although Stiles' knees are already feet apart. “Don't push it out, just gape your ass for me, babe,” Pedro breathes. Stiles does, and all Derek can see is tablespoons of wet, creamy come. “Damn,” he hears, and then Pedro's wiping the come off of his dick and onto Stiles' rim with two fingers. “Derek, he's all yours.”
Derek takes his place, puts his hands where Pedro's were and spreads Stiles wide. He gives him a little kiss on one cheek, lips coming up tacky with lube. “Can you take another, Stiles? Can you take another load?”
Stiles nods. “Fuck, yes, fuck me and then make me come,” he grits out.
Derek's feeling fine, more patient than Stiles. He stalls. “Tell me what you like. Tell me why we're here, baby-- what do you love?”
“I love come,” Stiles says, louder than before. “I love come in my asshole and on my face and down my throat, fuck, I want it all over me,” he moans in a rush. Pedro's soft and exhausted on a sofa, but the other guys are hard again and touching themselves. “Fuck, I want your come so bad,” Stiles spits out.
“How do you like your ass to feel, hmm?” Derek's drunk on how bold he feels, talking like this in front of other people. This is-- this is the talk of lights off, late night, alone in bed with Stiles. This is private. Was. Used to be.
“I want my ass full of come, I want it dripping out of me. Please! Derek, please give me one more load, I want it so bad.” Stiles is begging outright, now. The room is full of slick sounds and soft moans.
“Do you want me to come on your face, Stiles?” Derek means it as a tease, but Stiles starts to say “yes,” just for a split second, before he realizes. They both do, at the same moment, and Stiles pushes his ass back towards Derek with a greedy hum.
“Do you want Nick to come on your face, baby?” Derek's lowered his voice to a gentle whisper, not wanting to sound forceful, but he knows everyone can hear. He looks up to see Nick biting his lip, eager. He's reading the signs right, he knows-- he knows Stiles. Stiles wants it. Stiles wants to drown in come. Stiles wants it all over him.
“Yes!” he shouts, and then the teasing stops.
Derek moves into a squat and rocks forward, hands on Stiles' hips, pushing into the wet of his asshole. His hole is loose and fluttering, and Derek's dick is soaked with the tacky come that's been accumulating inside. The sensation isn't the best, from a purely physical standpoint, but Derek's so turned on by the meaning that he can hardly breathe. Stiles is full of come-- five loads from five men. He's been used, just a slutty hole. He's been on his knees for the better part of an hour, just letting men unload into him. Derek loves what it means to push his cock into the wetness, feel how much come Stiles has taken without complaint.
Meanwhile Nick moves quietly, stands in front of Stiles and feeds his cock into Stiles' mouth. He fucks his face, hand on the back of Stiles' head, and soon he and Stiles are moaning loudly. “He's so good,” Nick says, and Derek realizes that he's talking to him, not Stiles. It's like a compliment about one of Derek's belongings. His car, maybe, or a work of art. “He's going to take that load like a good slut, look at him.”
It's too much. Derek's body is electric with shame and heat and he comes, pulling out slightly, pushing ropes of white into Stiles' hole and onto his rim. He holds his ass open as best he can with one hand and comes across Stiles' red hole from an inch away, painting his ass with a final load. Nick swears across from him and Derek can make out the slick sound of his cock coming out of Stiles' mouth. Stiles is coughing as Nick comes, yelping, across his face. “Good boy,” Pedro murmurs from across the room.
And then-- the camera. Stiles didn't want to build up the moment, didn't mention it to the other guys in detail. But Derek knows what he's after, and so he takes the camera off the stand where it's been recording the whole time and holds it behind Stiles, who's collapsed onto his forearms and chest. He came again, reached down and touched himself somewhere during the finale, and Derek wants to scoop him up and into bed. Soon.
“Baby, show me,” Derek says, voice calm and firm.
And Stiles pushes all six loads out of his ass. He moves to a chair, first, props his feet up on the arms and lays back. The white drips endlessly and loudly out of his fluttering hole as Stiles pushes again and again, hands underneath his knees, eyes blinking wildly.
“Did I take a lot?” Stiles asks when it stops flowing. His face is still shiny with Nick's come, spots of it drying on his cheeks and chin.
Derek looks at the pool of milky come soaking into the towel on the floor.
“Good boy,” Pedro says again. “You took it all, didn't you?”