Work Header

Take It All

Work Text:

 Stiles doesn’t know if walking through the door after a long, grueling day of work and seeing a line of dildos strapped to a wooden bench in the middle of the living room is a glimpse at hell or an undiscovered fantasy come to life. He thinks it might be closer to the latter, especially when Derek walks in from the hallway clad in only a pair of tight dark briefs.

“Holy shit, did I walk into a porno? Are you filming this right now?” Stiles can’t help the words; he’s confused as hell. It isn’t until Derek walks—no, saunters—up to him and starts to unbutton his dress shirt that Stiles notices the bulge in the front of Derek’s underwear. He sees just the tip of Derek’s erection, all pink and glistening, trapped under the elastic waist and gasps in a quiet breath, body suddenly alight with need. It’s like a switch is flippeded and suddenly he’s too warm, too constricted in his stiff work clothes and he’s moving his hands with Derek’s, both of them working together to rid Stiles of his clothes so that Derek can get at his skin.

Derek moves his hands over Stiles’ body like he can mold his skin to the shape he most craves, like Stiles is a missing piece and he needs to fit their bodies together. Their mouths meet for a moment before Stiles is kissing over Derek’s jaw, down his neck, sucking at his collarbone. Derek’s hands slip down Stiles’ back, under the waist of his boxer-briefs, and knead at his ass cheeks. Stiles moans a little into Derek’s skin before he moves his head down to suck a hardened nipple into his mouth. Derek’s fingers squeeze harder at his ass and Stiles bites down, worrying at the nipple in his mouth. He hears Derek let out a soft sound and smirks, moving his mouth down over the defined abdomen to lick at the other man’s belly button. The other man’s hands are gliding up his back and he settles them in Stiles’ hair, grabbing fistfuls as Stiles moves further down. Stiles brings his hands up to settle on Derek’s hips and he hooks a thumb under the waist of his boxers, slowly dragging the material down until Stiles can see more of Derek’s cockhead. The slit is slick with precum already and Stiles wants—needs—to taste. He takes it into his mouth, sucking hard and fast, working his tongue over the slit, digging it in just the way he knows Derek likes and he’s rewarded with a loud gasp and an almost painful tug at his head. He doesn’t back off, though, just sucks harder, hollowing out his cheeks.

Derek moves faster than Stiles can react, pulling his hair with a ferocity that makes Stiles whimper. He uses the grip on his hair to twist Stiles until he’s falling to his hands and knees on the carpet. Stiles lets out a huff and opens his mouth to say something—he knows Derek secretly loves when Stiles can make him cum faster than a teenager—but then Derek is putting pressure at the small of his back and his arms buckle before he falls onto his elbows. Before he can catch his balance he feels cool air ghost over his ass where Derek has pulled his underwear down to mid-thigh. He feels the warmth of Derek’s breath on his skin and shivers, the anticipation like an agony, because he wants Derek—wants his tongue and his fingers, wants Derek to open him up and get him ready, wants Derek to fuck him, just like this—hard and rough like he needs it just as much as Stiles.

And then Derek’s tongue is following the line of his ass and circling around his hole and Stiles closes his eyes, lost in the pleasure as he works his tongue into him. He’s letting out little breathy gasps and moans and can’t bring himself to close his mouth because it’s always too much and not enough and every part of Stiles’ body feels cold and burning at the same time and he can’t breathe past the want. It’s always like this, Derek wrecking him with his mouth and Stiles just taking it, even when it becomes too much, when he works in a finger and finds his prostate. Stiles moans again, louder and Derek breathes out a “fuck” against his ass before he’s moving his mouth away and adding in a second finger.

The stretch is almost too much with so little lubricant, but Stiles just bites his lip and arches his back. Derek rewards him with a bite to his ass before he’s gone for a moment. The lack of body heat behind him makes him shiver again, but then Derek is returning and Stiles hears the pop of a bottle of lube. Derek doesn’t warm it up for him because he knows Stiles likes the shock of cold, especially after he’s been warmed up with Derek’s mouth. Derek presses in two fingers again and it feels so much better this time. It doesn’t take Derek long to find his prostate again and he rubs his fingers over it until Stiles whimpers. The other man peppers kisses over his spine—an apology, he knows, because sometimes Derek gets carried away with this part—Derek loves to watch Stiles fuck back onto his fingers—before he’s adding in a third.

Before long Stiles opens his mouth, “Derek. Derek, please. Fuck me. I need—ah, fuck—need you.” He’s moving his hips back against Derek’s fingers and he knows he needs to stop or slow down otherwise he’ll cum like this—there’s just something about the other man’s fucking fingers inside of him—but then Derek is removing his fingers and Stiles is almost grateful because he wants to be fucked, wants Derek to fuck him, but instead of the sound of the lube popping again and the feel of Derek pressing his length inside of Stiles, Derek is grabbing his hands and pulling him shakily to his feet.

Stiles lets Derek pull him a few feet further into the room until they stop. Derek takes the moment to rid Stiles of his underwear completely. Then Derek is kissing him, long and deep, running his hands through Stiles’ hair. Derek nibbles on his lower lip when he pulls away. “Stiles,” he breathes, “Want you to take my knot. Want you to take it all. Will you do that for me?”

Stiles doesn’t freeze, he’s too lust-drunk, but he does swallow hard and shake his head a little bit. “Wha—? But, all those times I asked, you said—you said—” Stiles stops, suddenly aware of how small his words are sounding. He clears his throat before he finds his voice again. “You said I wasn’t ready, that you’d hurt me. What changed?”

Derek presses a kiss to the side of Stiles’ mouth before he turns Stiles around to see the bench. Stiles somehow managed to forget about it—because, y’know, Derek and his mouth and his fingers—but suddenly it’s like a light is switched, and he understands.

“Derek. Oh, fuck. Are you serious?” He can’t help it; he wraps his arms around the other man’s waist, pulling him into a hug so that he can nuzzle at the crook of his neck.

Derek pulls away and bends down to retrieve the lube before handing it to Stiles. “I want to watch you take them, watch you fuck yourself open on the dildos, knowing that you’re doing it so that you can take me, all of me. Fuck, Stiles. I need it. Need you to.” It’s the closest Stiles has ever heard to Derek begging and he just captures Derek’s mouth in another deep kiss before he’s breaking away to head to the end of the bench where the smallest dildos are strapped.

Stiles is impressed with Derek for this. The bench looks like some work of modern art. There are so many colors and sizes and shapes of toys, all strapped centered and with a condom rolled over each one. They aren’t lined up from smallest to largest, but the smallest—a flesh-colored one with balls—is on one end and the largest—a monster black dildo—is on the other. Everything in-between is varied. Some are thick, some skinny; some have fake balls and some don’t; some are long and some are short. Stiles recognizes some from his and Derek’s personal collection but some are ones that Stiles has never seen before and he looks over to Derek again, knowing that the other man bought them just for this, just for Stiles.

Stiles opens the lube and squirts some onto his fingers before he reaches down to stroke over the first dildo. He maneuvers himself so that he’s perched above the toy, legs straddled over the bench, and he reaches behind himself to line up the dildo. He’s prepared enough and the dildo is small enough that he takes it in one motion. He presses his palms against the bench and uses it for leverage so he can move himself up and down.

“Fuckkk,” he hears Derek hiss from where he’s sitting on the couch, a hand shoved into his briefs, eyes rapt to Stiles’ moving body. Stiles flashes a toothy grin before it catches on a moan. “The next one,” Derek’s words are needy. “God, move to the next one.”

“Yeah. Okay, yeah.” He lifts himself from the toy, feeling just a twinge of discomfort when it slips out. He reaches for the lube again and spreads it over the next toy, a long blue number, and then he’s sinking down onto it, slowly. It’s larger than the last and the stretch hurts just a little but he works through it. The dildo is curved just enough that it perfectly rubs against his prostate when he once again lifts himself up and down on the toy. He lets out a loud moan and he hears Derek whimper from his seat. Stiles looks over to see Derek stripping his cock, underwear settled below his balls. Derek’s head is thrown back, his body a long line of chiseled musculature, such a contrast of light and dark that he looks like something out of a painting, but then his eyes open and he’s looking at Stiles again, biting at his lower lip, hand moving even faster over his cock. Stiles loses his breath for a moment before his lubed up hand is finding his long-neglected cock and he’s stroking over it, rhythm erratic as he fucks himself onto the fake cock at the same time.

He thinks about just letting himself cum like this, but he wants Derek, so he forces himself to slow down, to lift off the toy and move on to another one. He skips over the next two because they are smaller, and he wants the stretch now, wants to work himself open for Derek, because he needs Derek inside of him, so he lubes up a larger dildo, thick and long, with big balls on the bottom. He settles it at his entrance and lowers himself onto it. He hisses at the pain. It’s a lot thicker than he’s used to, so he takes more time with this one, letting his body adjust and lowering himself in increments. When he finally takes it all, he feels fuller than he ever has before. It’s such a new feeling that for a moment he doesn’t move, just strokes his hand over his cock a couple times, but then Derek is walking over toward him, underwear apparently removed because he’s stark naked.

“Move, Stiles.” He whispers the words into Stiles’ ear, even as his hands settle onto Stiles’ hips and they lift him up, just a little, just enough for Stiles to feel the friction, before pushing him back down onto the dildo.

Stiles lets out a shaky breath. “Derek. I—it’s too much.”

“No,” the word sounds fierce. “C’mon, take it. For me? Take it like you wish it were me, like you were fucking yourself onto me. I want to see you move. Please. Fuck, Stiles—” But Stiles is already moving, one hand on Derek’s arm to steady himself and one on the bench and he wills his body to relax, to picture the toy as Derek as he works himself up and down, again and again. Derek’s hands are still on his hips, but one hand moves around to spread his ass cheeks so that it’s easier for Stiles to move. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Fuck,” Stiles gasps when he feels one of Derek’s fingers press against his rim. “It feels so good. I’m so full. Want you to fill me like this. Wish it were you inside of me. Want to feel your knot swell against me. Want you to fuck me with it until I’m full of your cum, till I can’t move I’m so full of you.” He punctuates each sentence with a rough up-down motion until finally he’s just circling his hips to get the dildo to hit that right spot inside of him, but then Derek slipping his hands under Stiles’ thighs and lifting him off of the toy. It hurts a little as his body adjusts to being so suddenly empty, but then Derek’s walking him over to the couch before he’s plopping down to lay down with Stiles on top of him. Stiles straddles his waist and moves so that he’s grinding his ass against Derek’s erection. Derek is grabbing at his hips to hold Stiles still.

Stiles leans down to kiss Derek, to run his hands through the other man’s hair while he feels Derek’s hands slip down to his ass, to pull his cheeks apart and finger his wet, warm hole. Derek groans into his mouth and then Stiles feels the unmistakable bluntness of the head of Derek’s cock pressing against his opening. He lets out a broken moan and Derek slides in, almost too much too fast, but then he’s canting his hips up into Stiles’ body and Stiles loses his breath. He sits up and gasps in a mouthful of air when one of Derek’s hands wraps around his leaking cock. It feels just like every other time—amazing, like an out of body experience, like this is the only place he belongs, like he isn’t ever really complete unless Derek is inside of him.

They move like that for a while, rising and sinking together. Derek’s fingertips bruise into his hips and ass, but it feels so good, feels better than anything else ever has. Stiles bites into Derek’s skin, watches the bruises form and fade, form and fade before he captures Derek’s lips again in a kiss that’s verging on brutal, but Derek just kisses back like he can’t get enough, like the pain of teeth and the tang of blood is a drug. Stiles kisses him until he can’t breathe, until the pleasure/pain is too much and he pulls away, leveraging himself fast and rough over Derek’s hard cock.

He doesn’t notice it at first, too caught up in the feel of Derek around him and inside of him, but then he slowly starts to notice how there’s more friction, how Derek feels bigger, how he feels more stretched than he ever has, how Derek is starting to slow his thrusts until he’s just kind of grinding Stiles down onto him instead. It’s then that he understands. He’s starting to feel more of it now. Derek’s knot is pressing against his insides—a dull pressure that’s getting harder and harder to ignore. It starts to feel uncomfortable and he whimpers, hand grasping out for Derek’s. “Derek, I—”

“Shh,” Derek soothes, one hand running up and down Stiles’ back while the other slowly jacks him off, thumb pressing hard just under his slit. Derek knows that’s Stiles’ sweet spot and Stiles kind of hates him for using that knowledge right now, but then Stiles is letting the arousal flood back into his system and it makes the uncomfortable pain of the knot inside of him lessen. Derek doesn’t move for a long while, and then when he does it’s just to grind his hips against Stiles’ ass. Stiles bites his lip and follows his lead, moving his hips in a circular motion. It doesn’t feel quite so uncomfortable when he’s moving like this, so he keeps at it, slowly working himself on Derek’s cock.

“Fuck. Stiles.” Stiles looks down to see that Derek is panting, flushed, pupils blown. Derek moves a hand up to push Stiles’ sweat-slicked hair from his face. “You’re taking it so good. Mmm. Keep going. Please. You’re so good, babe. So good. Take it. Just like that. Yeah...” Stiles speeds up the motion, gyrating faster, grinding down harder. Derek bites his bottom lip. “You’re beautiful. Feel so good, so tight. You’re perfect. Fuck.” Derek throws his head back, back arching off the couch when Stiles experimentally tightens around him. It’s bordering on painful but it’s worth it for the reaction he gets from Derek.

“Stiles. I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Yes,” Stiles breathes the word, lowering himself to kiss Derek, tightening around Derek once again, and then Derek holds his hips in a vice-like grip, grinding himself as hard and deep into Stiles as he can. It steals Stiles’ breath. He feels the knot swell even larger, impossibly larger, but then Derek is shuddering beneath him, pulling Stiles against him and wrapping his arms around him, uttering his name like a prayer, body moving like he’s trying to crawl out of his skin. After a moment the pressure inside of him eases, even as Derek convulses against him, breathing heavy, and Stiles knows that he’s still cumming, can somehow still feel it. The knot isn’t as big anymore, but it’s still there, still a firm pressure inside of him, and when Stiles sits up to let Derek get more air, it rubs against his prostate and he cries out, body involuntarily moving against it, seeking the pleasure that he’s been wanting so badly since he walked through the door earlier.

Derek whimpers under him, knot probably over-sensitized, but Stiles doesn’t care. He needs this, needs to find release, needs to cum while Derek is still cumming inside of him. He grinds back against the knot and moves one hand back to his cock. He doesn’t last long, especially when Derek reaches out and takes over jacking him off, so that Stiles can fuck himself harder onto the still-swollen knot. He knows he’ll probably be sore tomorrow, but he doesn’t care, because now that he’s used to the pressure, it feels good—so fucking good—and he needs to cum so badly that he can feel the start of tears in his eyes. Derek must know this, because he presses his thumb just under the slit on Stiles’ cock again and Stiles is gone, lost in a haze of white and pleasure and Derek. He keens, high and loud, cumming over Derek’s hand, onto his stomach.

Stiles is still trembling when he catches his breath. Derek is stroking long lines up and down his spine with one hand, the other is cupping his face and he’s pressing soft, feather-light kisses to Stiles lips, jaw, forehead, eyes, nose. Stiles sighs, feeling boneless and happy and content in a way that he feels only when he’s with Derek.

“How long’ll it take?” Stiles’ voice still sounds breathy, but he doesn’t care.

“Don’t know. I’ve never done this with anyone else.” Derek sounds a little hesitant and Stiles grins.

“Well, I’m glad you did it with me. This should be a thing, y’know.” Stiles kisses at the underside of Derek’s jaw.


Stiles knows that Derek is asking so much more in that one word, but he just nuzzles against Derek’s throat. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Also. The dildos. Those should be a thing. I can’t believe I didn’t get to try all of them.” Stiles hums, considering. “Maybe later.”

Derek lets out a soft laugh. “Don’t be too sure about that. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Stiles just smiles into his skin.