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Laced in Pink

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                It wasn’t supposed to turn out the way it did. Not at all, and Stiles couldn’t have asked for something more perfect to come out of his fucking pitiful life. It all started with Lydia, hell, everything started with Lydia. But this…. This was different.

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                “You what?” Stiles asked, holding his phone with his shoulder. He was currently balancing dinner, groceries, and his book bag while walking through the door of the house. It was quiet, and his dad wouldn’t be home until very late that night. He’d stopped after school to go grocery shopping, stood in line forever, paid, and got himself a pizza when he left. Now, it was time to veg out on the couch. That was, until Lydia called.

                “I need you to come help me pick out an outfit for my date with Jackson tonight.”  Stiles rolled his eyes. He and Lydia (since the whole Gerard/Derek/Jackson/Peter thing happened anyway) had become really good friends. One could almost say best friends. They talked until the wee hours of the night over actually intelligent things. Lydia was a math (and everything else too) genius. She knew things that even had Stiles confused sometimes. But it was well worth it. Sure, he still liked Lydia (who didn’t like Lydia?) and found her incredibly attractive still. But, he loved her as a friend, and as a confidant. He was there when she needed to bitch about Jackson or his new found powers. She was there when he needed to cry about his mom in the middle of the night, or when the feelings of being “just the human” in the pack got to be too much.

                They needed each other now. It was a special bond, and Stiles wouldn’t give that up for anything. He knew that Lydia would never date him (although that didn’t stop his wandering hand late at night sometimes), but they were friends. And that was all that mattered.

                “Please, Stiles? You know what looks best on me! And Allison is once again off with Scott before the full moon next week. Please? Please, please, please?” Lydia had put on her best pleading voice, and Stiles could practically hear her pouting her lips over the phone. Ughhhh, it was irresistible, friends or not, to not do something Lydia said when she pulled the pout.

                “Fine! I’ll be over in a few. See you, Lydia.”

Yes! Bye, Stiles!” Lydia said, and hung up. Stiles groaned at the phone. He quickly put the groceries, as well as all but two slices of the pizza, now cold. Folding them in a napkin, he grabbed his keys, making sure the back door was locked, and headed back out to his jeep. He would have to eat on the run.

                Stiles smiled at Lydia’s mom, who always let him in with a smile of her own.  He walked up the stairs, and let himself into Lydia’s room. Lydia was at her armoire doing her makeup. She was wrapped in a towel, three separate outfits laid out on the bed. Stiles gave them a quick glance, then turned his eyes back to Lydia’s reflection in the mirror.

                “Where are you guys going?” Stiles asked, sitting on one of the chairs by the door of her room. Lydia smiled in the mirror, and applied her blush.

                “Jackson is taking me to that new Café Le Blanc, that fancy place down by the mall?” Lydia said sweetly. “And while I like that he feels as a woman I like to go to fancy places, I really feel as though he’s overcompensating for the time he’s been spending with the pack lately.”

                Stiles shook his head. Only a girl like Lydia would be upset over having someone to take her to a nice dinner. Stiles knew she liked to be independent, strong, and feminine in her own right, and not in someone else’s, so he understood. He heard Lydia huff from the armoire and he looked up. She was putting up her hair in a messy yet elegant bun with purposeful pieces left to dangle. God, she was beautiful.

                “You know, just sometimes…” Lydia trailed off, shaking her head. “I would say that guys were like girls in understanding, but, it sounds strange. Also, you understand me.” Lydia said, a smile on her face.  Stiles laughed and shook his head.

                “Yeah, well one thing I’ll never understand is how girls wear the stuff they wear.” He motioned to the clothes out on the bed, and stood up, walking over to them. He picked up a heel that she had placed on the bed and looked it over. “Like this. You’re going to break your neck! And like, thongs, and the underwear you guys wear, it’s so….it looks painful! Lace, silk? That has to be uncomfortable!” Lydia snorts from the dresser where she stands. Digging through it, she digs out two pairs of panties. One for herself, a nice dark blue, and another pair, lacey and a pink sheer.

                “Maybe you should try it sometime. See how it feels.” Lydia said, tossing the pink pair over at him. He spluttered and caught them.  Was she serious? Was she actually giving him a pair of panties? Ones that she had probably worn. Stiles begged in his mind that his blood wouldn’t decide right now would be a good time to head south for the winter.

                “Lydia…”

“What? You think it’s weird? You said you didn’t understand. So, understand. Unless you’d like to live in your little ‘man-world’ bubble and decide that it’s something only women do.” Lydia cocked her head at him, and he faltered.

                It wasn’t a bad thing, right? He did always want to know, not that it would be super different that boxers or briefs, right? They weren’t exactly cut the same, but same concept right? And Lydia did have a point. God forbid a guy tries something that a girl does. Tucking the pair into his jeans pocket, he looked once again at the outfit choices, a very satisfied looking Lydia eyeing him over, her beautiful eyes resting on the pocket he’d placed her panties.

                Unbeknownst to him, Lydia had more ideas than just turning a male into a female-loving-and-accepting kind of guy. Lydia had, in her off time with Jackson, found some very interesting things on the internet. Her newest and dirtiest obsession? Men in panties had been the strangest thing she’d ever found herself attracted to. Sure, to most people that liked it, it was probably a regular thing. She wasn’t actually disgusted before, just…had never given it a proper thought. But in those “dark days”, well, Lydia was up for anything.

                The men whose bodies usually wore them, in the pictures and videos she’d found anyway, were quite small, with slight hips, yet not completely girlish. Kind of like Stiles. And while Lydia’s relationship with Stiles was completely platonic in the romantic sense, she did sort of have a favorite video which starred a man who looked a lot like him. Whether she’d ever used it or not was a secret that only she would know. Biting her lip, she tuned in to Stile’s voice just as he made a suggestion.

                “Perfect. I’ll wear that one! Thank you, Stiles. You always know what looks best on me.” Lydia cooed, and shooed Stiles out of the room to dress. Once she’d gotten herself in her underwear and bra, she let him back in. She quickly pulled on the coral shorts, and the white flowing top that Stile’s had suggested. She knew Stiles always looked, and hell, why shouldn’t he? She owned her body, it was her temple. People should be allowed to worship it.

                “Well, sweets, I need to run now! So, go home, and I’ll text you all about my night tomorrow!” Lydia hummed, and hugged Stiles after putting her strappy heels on. Stiles tried to hold on the hug, but soon Lydia was pulling away.

                The two walked out of her house, Stiles to his jeep and Lydia to the curb, just as a Jackson’s Porsche came rolling up. Sending a wave to Stiles, Lydia got in the car. It sped off not a moment later.  Stiles got into his jeep, made sure to take a deep breath and ignore the growing burning sensation in his pocket, and headed home.

                It was quiet when he got there. His father wouldn’t be back until late, so it gave Stiles some well-deserved Stiles-time.  Making sure the doors were locked, he ran up to his room. He made sure to even lock the door behind him. For this, he didn’t want any intruders. He slipped out of his jacket and shirt, tossing them onto his computer chair. He quickly undid his jeans, slowly pulling out the lacey panties from his pocket. Pushing them the rest of the way off, Stiles held them up in front of his boxers. It was a total change. They looked so small, so skimpy compared to what he wore, to what mostly all guys wore.

                “Now or never, big guy.” Stiles mumbled, and pushed off his boxers. Abandoning them on the floor, Stiles had to balance himself more when putting his legs through the holes in the pink sheer. They would be a bit tight, Lydia’s legs a little thinner, and ass not as round. And tight they absolutely were. His dick (hardening by the second of imagining Lydia wearing these in his mind), pressed against the sheer, hot against his stomach. His balls felt constricted, pressed against his body tightly, and partially spilling out of the bottom, the patch of fabric a bit thin. The tight sheer and lace stretched across his ass, making his “bubble-butt”(as Allison had once referred to it as), look tight and plump.

                Stiles had to admit, he looked pretty damn hot in them. Chuckling, he pulled a few poses in the mirror. He was in the middle of doing the “Fire Power” when….

                “What the hell are you doing?” Stiles shrieked, turning around, and backing himself into the mirror. A shell-shocked, yet still broody, Derek Hale stood at Stiles’ bedroom window.  Stiles did his best to cover himself up with his hands, his cock completely visible through the sheer. It didn’t help much.

                “Derek, uh. I… Listen, this has a perfectly reasonable explanation!” Stiles hissed, growing more embarrassed by the second. Derek, with his perfect fucking jaw line and eyes, was there staring at him, not saying a word. Stiles blushed. Why was he staring at him? Shouldn’t he be pulling Stile’s apart? Or, or maybe throwing clothes at him to get dressed? None of that happened though. Derek just stood perfectly still, eyes set on Stiles. Stiles thought maybe now would be a good time to get undressed.

                “I’m just gonna…” Stiles spoke, and moved quickly to the part of his room with his pants on the floor. But, he never got there. Halfway there, Stiles was tackled, or more like jumped. Either way, Derek was on him, growling. Derek was growling into his ear.

                “I asked what the fuck you were doing.” Derek then…could that be a purr? Stiles threw his head back. A damn purr out of Mr. Big-N-Scary Alpha. Then he felt it, Derek’s hand sliding up his thigh, over the fabric and hooking his thumb on it, pulling the side down slightly. If Stiles thought he’d gotten hard thinking about Lydia, well, damn. New High Score.

                Stiles always knew about Derek. Not much, just that his dad was involved in the case of the burning of the Hale House, the whole incident itself, and some small facts about the Hales, Derek in particular. There was always something about him that Stiles, well, Stiles admired. But when Derek had shown up again, older, probably wiser, and much more handsome, Stiles’ admiration had turned to late night strings of “Ohmygod” and “FuckYeahPlease”. Stiles would have thought he would freak out a little more by questioning is sexuality. But hell, everything Stiles did was messy, and it was pretty clear cut, so, this didn’t have to be the mess it could have been. Being bi or whatever Stiles was, he was pretty damn okay with.

                “Why, why do you care?” Stiles asked, breath hitching as Derek fisted the fabric in his hand. Derek growled into Stile’s neck. He gave no reply but rutted slightly into Stiles, who was now incredibly hard, panting out. Holy shit. Were panties some sort of Alpha werewolf bait? Some sort of sexual aphrodisiac to the eyes? The friction was delicious and Stiles cried out feeling Derek’s other hand squeezing his ass hard, nails digging in, to keep Stiles still as Derek utterly destroyed any last sanity that Stiles had gained in his life.

                Just as Stiles was getting so close, so very close, the feeling of the panties against his hard cock, the friction from Derek’s surprisingly soft and smooth jeans making him want to worship jeans forever, Derek stepped back. He looked somewhat utterly wrecked himself, yet on edge somehow, as if he’d finally caught one brain up to the other and realized what he was doing. His mouth was slightly open, and his face pale. His eyes went red, and he turned and left out the window, but not before growling menacingly at Stiles. Well, fuck.

                Not that Stiles had any left, but he didn’t much care about dignity as he pushed the panties down past his cock, collecting it right at his balls. He pushed them down a little past his ass, just enough to get his fingers to his tight hole. Fingers slick with spit, he fingered himself as his other hand pumped his cock, also wet with spit. The combination was absolutely obliterating. He was falling apart within moments, imagining a mix of Derek fucking him, and sweet Lydia stroking his cock. Like that would ever happen. But hell, a guy could dream. A dream Stiles did, many many times before finally falling asleep that night.

                Stiles walked in to school the next morning an utter wreck. His head had been swimming, his dreams giving him cause for a very cold shower. Between Derek’s “I-Am-The-Almighty-Alpha-Let-Me-Hump-You” act and Lydia being, well, Lydia, Stiles was on complete sexual edge. He’d woken up late, but not before realizing that he’d fallen asleep in the sheer and lace that while sexy last night, caused a painful feeling in his genitals. After showering, he’d thrown then in with a load of his laundry, thankful that his father wouldn’t be home to change the laundry, nor be home when Stiles got home to do it.

                When Scott saw him, he let out a huge sigh. Scott’s nose crinkled up. “Dude, you look like crap.”

“Geez,Scott. Tell me how you really feel.” Stiles replied, rolling his eyes and opening his locker.

                “Wow, Stiles. Did you sleep?” Allison asked as she came up behind the two boys, taking in Stile’s rumpled clothes and tired expression.  Stiles turned around to admonish them both, yet when he turned, Lydia stood right behind him.

“H-Hi Lydia.” Stiles croaked. She smirked at him, flipping her hair behind her shoulder, Jackson at her side.

                “Stiles. I need you to come over tonight. I need someone who actually cares about math to help me study.” Jackson looked a bit guilty at that, and Scott and Allison grimaced, as if they wanted to be far away from anything that vaguely sounded anything like “Math.”

                “Sure thing, Lydia. I’ll be there around 7.” Stiles licked his lips as he replied. Stuffing a hand in his pocket, the other on his neck, he let out a nervous chuckle before Lydia walked away, as though she were a princess walking away from peasants.

                Scott scoffed, and turned to Stiles. “Good luck with that one, dude. Lydia and math are like, well… Lydia and Math.”

                “Wow Scott. Good one there.” Stiles rolled his eyes once again, and took his books out of his locker. It was going to be a long day.

And long day it was. By the time Stiles got home at five he was exhausted. Class, read: Mr. Harris in particular, was horrible, and the time seemed to drag on forever. Lacrosse practice wasn’t much better, in fact, it was worse. Finstock made a mockery of him by partnering him up with Danny. Danny, the best damn goalie besides Scott (and Danny didn’t have freaky werewolf powers), and hell, a good looking son of a bitch. Danny ultimately blocked every one of his shots. By the end of practice, not only was Stiles tired, but he was upset. He may have caused them to win one game, but he wasn’t good. It was sheer dumb Stillinski luck.

                He dragged himself to his room, throwing his gear just inside the door before making his way down the hall to the laundry room. The clothes (and panties) had thankfully gone untouched. Throwing them in the dryer, he heaved a sigh. Maybe he could give them back to Lydia that night, thank her for the experience. That would go over well, he was sure. In reality, Lydia would probably scoff, flip her hair, and throw them in her drawer. Easy, simple.

                But it wasn’t. He knocked, palms sweaty, on Lydia’s bedroom door. The now dry panties were stuffed deep in his jacket pocket. She opened it, smiling. “Hey, Kiddo.” Opening the door wider, she let Stiles walk in, and he sat down on her bed next to her desk. Whole worksheets were spread out over the bed, and workbooks full of complicated algorithms and equations were on her desk. “Okay, so, here’s how this works. I do the equation in in the workbook. The sheets have the finished problems on them. I need you to just check my work.” Lydia said, and sat down in her desk chair, Stiles nodding.

                As she got to work on her first problem, Stiles just sat there on her bed watching. Fuck she was so pretty. And her outfit that day really hadn’t helped. Short skirt, with a nice pink tank top with matching flip flops. It was so mouthwatering, and Stiles could swear he saw just the slightest bit of lace from her bra when she had leaned over to grab her phone from the bed at one point.

                “So, how did you like them?” Lydia asked, halfway through her problem, not looking up from the page.

                “What do you mean?” Stiles asked.

“The panties? You did wear them right?”

                Stiles’ mouth went dry immediately, and he tried swallowing, yet, nothing. He could hardly find his voice.

                “Stiles, please tell me you did. Honestly, if you chickened out…” Lydia started hissing, but Stiles cut her off.

                “I did. I wore them.”

“And?”

                “Lydia, I…I don’t know if I feel comfortable talking about…”

“So you liked them?”

                “I…” Stiles huffed, and pulled them out of his pocket. “They were great. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Cause they were fantastic.” Stiles’ voice quivered. “I put them on, and I fucking loved it. Okay? So you can stop now.”

                Lydia stopped her problem, and looked over at him. Smiling, she flipped her hair, and gave him a knowing look. “Good. Now, go put them on again. I want to see.” She hummed, and turned back to her problem. Stiles looked at her horrified. Yet when she made no move to show she was joking, Stiles groaned and walked to her en suite bathroom, shutting the door.

He ripped off his shirt, and started unbuckling his jeans, a million thoughts in his head. Why did she want to see him in panties? Was she still dating Jackson? Was Jackson not enough for her? Stiles reveled in the thought of Jackson having a teeny tiny penis versus his only “mammoth” in proportion sized cock, when he heard a slam from Lydia’s bedroom, and Lydia sounding super pissed.

                “Get the hell out, Derek!” Stiles heard Lydia shout, and Stiles flung the door open. Lydia was standing there, shirt off, pants unbuttoned.  Almost as if she was going to be almost completely undressed by the time…Stiles held back a moan. Oh sweet jesus.

                “Not until you fess up! Why did you give him those!” Derek said, catching Stiles at the door. Derek pointed at him, gesturing to him for Lydia.

                “I…”

Stiles was stunned that Lydia was speechless. Derek growled, and grabbed her by the arms. She scoffed, and tried to push against him. “Listen, you animal. I am allowed to appreciate him in a pair of women’s underwear if I like! Besides, you can tell your little Beta Jackson that I’m getting tired of his antics. I’m no ones second choice.” Lydia scoffed. Derek let her go, and looked over at Stiles. “Which is exactly why I gave those to Stiles. He would not only appreciate it, opening his sexual horizons from the very vanilla porn I’m sure he watches,” Lydia gave Derek a smirk, and he raised his eye brows at her. “And so that he could explore it with someone who knew was he was doing.”

                “And you could do that?” Derek hissed, almost teasingly, as if he didn’t believe her.

“He’s pined after me for years. Who better?” Lydia smirked at Derek, but something Stiles didn’t see himself must have gave Lydia an idea.

                “You don’t honestly think you could, do you? Oh, that’s hilarious!” Lydia giggled, shaking her head at Derek as if he were a child. “You, emotionally constipated who’s last sexual encounter was with a psychotic crazy woman.” Derek growled. “No, I think I will do just fine for him.”

                Derek’s eyes turned red, and he pushed Lydia onto the bed a bit roughly, too rough for Stiles’ taste. Stiles rushed out, barking a ‘Hey!’, but then Derek ripped Lydia’s jeans off, and it made Stile’s stop dead in his tracks. He watched as Derek then lowered himself to Lydia’s legs, spreading them slowly, almost teasingly. Lydia was wearing a sexy black lace pair boy shorts, almost like a sexy version of a boxer brief, and a black lace bra (almost see through) to match.

                Derek sunk his head by Lydia’s pussy, sniffing around before attaching his mouth to her slit against the lace. She moaned out, breathy and whining. Stiles’s cock was hard, almost painfully. The panties he was wearing wasn’t exactly helping.

                “Stiles!” Lydia moaned, and Stiles blushed.

“Y-Yeah?”

                “I believe I said I would teach you. Come here!” Lydia demanded, and Derek laid waste to Lydia’s drenched, hot heat. Stiles could hear the licking and sucking of the fabric, just enough to tease but not enough to go anywhere quickly. Stiles walked over to the bed, kneeling one knee on it.

                “Come, straddle me. Push the panties down slightly and…” Lydia stuck out her tongue. “Give me your cock.”

                Stile’s didn’t need to be told twice. Rushing up, Stiles pulled down the panties (much like he had the night before), only down a bit past his ass so his cock and balls were free. He steadied himself, holding himself at the base and pushed himself into Lydia’s waiting mouth. He choked back a strangled cry. Her mouth was hot and wet and slick, everything Stiles imagined it would be. She was humming around it as she moved her head up and down, moaning slightly from Derek’s administrations. Which made Stiles think (pretty hard to do with Lydia Martin sucking his cock.)

                “Derek? Why are you here?” He asked, moaning out a bit. “Not that I mind your sexy werewolf ass, but, seriously.”

                Derek brought his mouth up from Lydia’s pussy, his chin a bit wet from Lydia’s juices. He leaned in close to Stiles, and he could smell Lydia on Derek. “If I can please her, I can please you. And the sight of you in those panties last night drove me off the edge. It made me wild. I was coming to warn her to stop. But I think I like this better.” He smirked, and gave Stiles and rough and bruising kiss before diving back down to Lydia. He pulled the panties off, and spread her legs wider, causing her to moan on Stile’s cock again. He was not going to last long. This time, Derek inched a finger in there as well.

                Lydia sucked now with purpose, like she wanted to get Stiles off. She sucked hard, swirled her tongue on his tip and the slit, the underside. It was glorious. Stiles hummed a soft cry out loud, and he felt Lydia’s hips buck up. Looking back, he watched as Derek plunged two fingers now into Lydia, making her squirm. Thinking it might hurt, Stiles pulled out of her mouth, but she chased it. “Don’t you dare stop!” She breathed out.  But Derek had other plans.  He pulled Stiles right off Lydia, ripping the panties down around Stiles’ legs. His hard wet cock was leaking against his stomach, and Derek pulled him off the bed, bending him over so that his face was right in Lydia’s pussy. Stiles’ eyes rolled. Devine.

                Lydia looked up, and smirked. Stiles could hear Derek’s belt being ripped off, and a zipper being undone.  Stiles scrambled towards the bed, but Derek pulled him back, just out of Lydia’s reach. Stiles groaned out loud, and whimpered. When he heard Derek smack his lips, he bit his own lips in worry. But then he felt Derek’s fingers at his hole, spreading his cheeks. “D-Derek!” He cried. The werewolf in question licked and sucked at Stiles’ puckered hole.  It was glorious, and a bit embarrassing at the same time. Lydia watched as Derek went down on Stiles, playing with her own slick pussy  as her eyes fluttered over the sight of the two of them. She pushed herself to the end of the bed, her feet just hanging off slightly, knees up, playing with herself slowly and teasingly.

                Derek pulled back, and Stiles heard a slight pop behind him. It had to be a bottle of lube. Stiles winced and whimpered. He was hard as a rock, and it didn’t help that he was on sexual stimulation overload. Between Derek and Lydia he felt like he was going to combust at any moment. He felt a finger at his hole, and Stiles’ eyes rolled back.

                “Sweet…fuck, Derek.” He whimpered, and he heard Lydia giggle from the bed. Opening his eyes, he watched as she abandoned her pussy to take off her bra, exposing her perky, and good god, fucking perfect boobs. Stiles longed to touch them, and Lydia moved forward, standing up so he could. He got a hand on them, and pulled Lydia closer, sucking on her nipples. She cried out, grabbing Stiles’ head to bring him closer, her wetness dripping down her thighs. Stiles slipped his hand between them, rubbing her slightly, fingering her teasingly. She was so wet, so soaked. He could feel Derek slowly fucking him with one large finger, which soon became two, stretching him out.

                “God, Derek, hurry up!” Lydia snapped, and Derek leaned over to look at her.

“He needs to be properly prepared to take me, Lydia. Do you want him to be in pain?”

                “Ugh! Just hurry up!”

Derek growled, and moved his fingers into Stiles particularly rough. Stiles couldn’t help himself, and he cried out in pleasured pain. It hurt, but in the best way possible. Lydia pulled away from Stiles, smirking, and went to the bedside table. She opened the drawer and pulled out a condom. Walking back over, she grabbed the lube from where it lay on the floor when Derek opened it, and set it on the bed. She motioned to Stiles to come forward, and he moved only thanks to Derek who pushed him forward, fingers still fucking into him, all three of them now.  She opened the condom, and rolled it slowly onto Stiles’ cock. “Better safe than sorry!” she chimed, and then slicked him with lube.  He heard Derek behind him growl, and out of the corner of his eye, jeans being thrown across the room. A pair of tight sleek boxer briefs followed.

                The panties Stiles were wearing were around his knees, and he felt them come clean off as Derek ripped them. Lydia gave him a stern look, and he growled at her. Grabbing the panties Lydia wore, Derek shoved them into Stiles’ mouth, the scent and taste of Lydia’s juices invading his mouth. Stiles, allowed himself to be pushed forward between her open legs, his cock close to her wet tightness. Then he heard a growling in his ear. “Fuck her, Stiles. Fuck her nice and hard like she wants you to. Like a little whore.” Derek hissed, and pushed him closer. Lydia, the smirking sexy devil, guided his cock into her waiting pussy, and Stiles cried out against the wet panties in his mouth. She was tight, not as tight as he would have imagined, but then again, she wasn’t exactly a virgin. Stiles knew that. But Lydia had to steady him, he was shaking, and if he didn’t calm down now, he would come before it even started.

                “Better start moving. You’re going to want to be distracted.” Growled Derek, and Lydia rolled her eyes and scoffed. Stiles pulled out, and pushed back in slowly. Oh, sweet god. He moaned out again, and repeated the motion, quicker and a bit rougher this time. This got Lydia to moan, and Stiles developed a slow, yet teasing motion. Lydia’s breasts bounced, and he grabbed a hold of them while he fucked her slowly. He started to pick up the pace when he felt something warm pressing at his hole. He bit his lip, and felt a push, Derek’s cock making its way inside him. He continued to fuck into Lydia, as Derek pressed inside him. It hurt, and it burned, but the squeeze of Lydia’s pussy lessoned the pain a bit.

                He stilled when Derek pushed all the way inside him, his eyes tearing up. It hurt so badly, but when Derek began to move, the pain slowly ebbed away. The stimulation was now completely destroying him. Derek fucking into him, hitting every now and then this place that drove him almost completely off the edge, Lydia with her sweet pussy, slick and hot and tight, pulling at his cock.  He moaned and cried against the panties in his mouth, tonguing them. Lydia was making these breathy and sweet moans and cries, contrasting with Derek’s rough growls and utterly wrecked moans that sounded almost like a sob.

                After a few moments, it seemed like endless hours to Stiles, Derek pulled the panties out of his mouth, and snarled, “I want to hear you moan. You like that? You like being fucked while you fuck her?”

                “G-God, Derek! F-Fuck, yes! Yes, I like i-it.” Stiles moaned out, and Derek thrust into him even harder. Lydia grabbed onto Stiles’ arms, fucking herself onto his cock now.

                “G-Gonna c-come. Yeah, Stiles, fuck me. G-Gonna…Oh Fuck!” Lydia cried out. She twisted and writhed below Stiles, but he didn’t stop. Derek didn’t allow him to. Muttering a quick “Make her come again”, Derek dug bruising fingers into Stiles’ hips. Stiles grabbed a better hold on Lydia’s hips and pounded into her with wild abandon. She was grabbing at Stiles now, crying out, her pussy overstimulated and sensitive. Behind him, Derek was being rough, biting and sucking at his neck almost painfully. Yet the pain spurred him on, turned him on that much more. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

                Stiles bit his lip, and tried hard to breathe now. He was getting close to the edge. Lydia was crying again, scratching at Stiles, anything she could get, his shoulders, neck, chest, stomach. She was going to come again, this time too blissed out for words. She craned her back off the bed, and Stiles felt her tighten around him. When she collapsed back down on the bed, her whole body limp, Stiles pulled out of her, Derek still fucking into him.

                “You’re mine. You hear me?” Derek hissed, and Lydia slowly looked at them. “You’re mine. She’s lucky she got a taste.”

                “Derek…” Stiles drew out the k, biting his lip as he was fully bent over. Derek changed his position slightly, and when he thrust in, Stiles saw stars. And then he kept hitting that same spot over and over again. Stiles was so close, so close. He tried to reach for his own cock, yet Derek didn’t allow him that either. Grabbing both his hands, Derek pulled them back, using them now as the only leverage to hold Stiles up to fuck him. This caused him to bounce on Derek’s cock, quick and fast paced.

                “S-So close, Derek. Fuck, yes!” Stiles moaned, and Derek thrust into him particularly hard. Stiles’ vision went black, coming too only a half a second later. He’d come without touching himself, and his body went slack. He would have dropped to his knees without Derek there to hold him up. Derek only lasts a few more thrusts before Stiles feels Derek’s come shoot inside him. That feeling alone makes Stiles want to die of bliss. Behind him, Derek is making all sorts of noises, moans, cries, huffs, and even a sigh or two.  When Derek pulls out, Stiles surveys the scene around him. Lydia, having come twice, was now passed out on the bed, her naked body spread out. Derek straightens Stiles up, and pushes him up onto the bed. Stiles curled up next to Lydia, moving her slightly, and kicking the covers down enough so that he can place them on top of them. Derek helped, and pulled the covers over Stiles and Lydia, but cleaned himself off, and got dressed again.

                “Where are you going?” Stiles asked.

“Someone has to explain this to Jackson.”

                Stiles’ jaw went slack. Oh. My. God. Jackson. Stiles was so dead.

“Oh, shit! I am so dead, so dead.” Stiles mumbled, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

                “No, you’re not. I happen to know Jackson did something similar with Allison and Scott just last week. Didn’t Lydia tell you?” Derek huffed, raising an eyebrow at Stiles.

                “What?” Stiles asked, shocked.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Pack shares with pack, Stiles. It’s a thing.” Derek murmured. He walked over to Stiles and kissed him softly on the mouth. “Except you. Only I get you.”

******************************************************************************

 

                Stiles didn’t expect it to go like this. But, hell, he was happy it did. And some nights, he thanked anything and everything that would listen for Lydia. Everything started with Lydia. And this? This was no different.