Stiles was five the first time his life changed drastically. His mom got sick and then she went to the hospital and never came home. He didn't understand, and his dad was too sad to help him. He was already starting to show signs of attention problems, slight behavioral issues, but the new loss had him regressing further. He fluctuated between temper tantrums and not speaking at all, went back to sucking on his thumb and insisting on being held whenever possible. He could rarely sleep through the night in his 'big boy bed' anymore, needing to be tucked in with dad most of the time.
John felt guilty enough that he didn't put a stop to it, though he should've. Especially when he woke one night to find Stiles had slid down within the covers, his small hands untucking John from his boxers, mouth latched around the head of his rapidly hardening cock, sucking like he was still nursing on a tit. He was shocked and it took him a moment longer than it should have to pull Stiles off, drag him back up the bedding, waking his son in the process.
"Daddy wha?" Stiles was still half asleep, smacking his lips and rubbing at his eyes.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, but you...I...you need to stay up here on your pillow." John didn't have the words to try and explain what he'd caught Stiles at, so he hoped this would be enough. Unfortunately, it wasn't.
"But why?" Stiles was waking up a little more, his face scrunching in confusion.
"Because you do. You can't...do. What you were doing. It's...wrong."
"But why?" John sighed.
"It just is. I need you to listen to daddy, okay?"
" 'Kay." Stiles rolled over and tucked his thumb into his mouth and John laid back, trying to will away his erection and convince himself that his reaction to a mouth on him was biology and that he didn't get harder when he realized who was sucking on him.
It only got worse from there. Stiles continued to refuse sleep in his own bed, John waking more nights than not to find his son's mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, suckling on it, sometimes one of his small hands wrapped over John's balls, caressing them. At first, he'd gently detatch Stiles and pull him back up to the pillows, sometimes trying to wake him and explain again why he needed to stay up there. But the amount of time it took him between waking and moving Stiles started to grow longer and longer.
John knew it was wrong, that he should put a complete stop to all of it, that he should put Stiles back in his own room and start using the lock on his door. He'd always thought he was a good man, an upstanding person, someone who would always choose right over wrong. But he knew better after a few weeks of Stiles sleeping in his bed. One night he woke to that warm little mouth stretched over his cockhead, tongue digging into his slit, and didn't stop his son. Instead, John laid there and gave himself over to the sensations.
It had been so long, and he was weak. Weak and terrible to allow this to keep going. But he did. His breath came in soft pants, sighs that sound like moans escaping past his lips. John did his best not to rock his hips up, though he couldn't stop his muscles from flexing, feeling the way his cock twitched in his boy's mouth. It felt so good but it was just shy of enough, and he resigned himself to the fact that he was going to hell as he reached down and began to stroke his shaft beneath where his son was suckling on him.
It didn't take long at all for his balls to draw up tight and his cock to start spurting into Stiles' mouth. He felt a little bad when Stiles coughed as the come splattered the back of his throat, but the boy adjusted to it quickly enough, sucking harder and swallowing as he woke, lips smacking as the last few spurts painted his skin.
"Daddy?" John was at a loss as Stiles blinked awake, confusion scrunching his expression.
"Yeah baby?" His voice was rough, fucked out, and guilt stirred.
"What's this?" Stiles was pointing at John's come-covered cock, licking the drippings off his lips. John felt addled and couldn't come up with a lie, so he told the truth.
"Sometimes, when a man feels really good, his cock gets excited and he ejaculates. It's...happy juice." He couldn't think of a better way to explain come right now, but he figured that would do. He was trying to figure out how to apologize, to tell Stiles that what he'd done was wrong but it wasn't his fault...his mouth was opening to say something, anything, when Stiles surprised him again.
"Oh, 'kay." The words were barely out before Stiles was dropping his face back down to John's crotch, mouth opening as wide as he could stretch it to fit as much of the softening cock inside as possible, sucking up all the remnants of John's seed. John closed his own mouth with a clack and instead raised his hand, bringing it to rest on the boy's head and petting through his hair until they both fell back asleep.
That was the start of it all, two years passing in the blink of an eye, Stiles' mouth on John's cock almost every night since then, and some mornings too. John gave up any pretense that he didn't enjoy it, and Stiles never said a word about it to anyone they knew. John stopped feeling guilty after a few months, right around the time he started reciprocating. Stiles was too young, couldn't come, but his little cocklet could get hard, and the way he writhed when John sucked on him, mouth big enough to engulf his little balls too, made them both happy. He'd suck on Stiles until his son twitched his way through a dry orgasm, his own cock getting rock hard, and then let the boy bob his mouth down John's cock.
It wasn't always restricted to bedtime anymore, either. John had stopped fighting his urges, relaxing about it all, and Stiles took that as full permission to do whatever he wanted. It often meant a lapful of his son, squirming around and grinding down as John would harden in his pants, teasing during breakfast. Or no pants movie days when John didn't have a shift - Stiles insisting that they didn't need them, his small hands playing with John's cock and balls, sometimes laying his head down on his daddy's lap to suckle at them while he watched whatever movie he had picked out.
Stiles was a lot calmer than he had been, more able to focus on whatever he was doing, provided he had access to John's cock. He could sit through the whole movie, never chattering through it or bouncing on the walls, so long as his mouth was firmly wrapped around the head or dipping down to suck one of John's balls into the warm wet. John couldn't focus on the screen at all, but that didn't matter. Not when his son was keeping him on the teasing edge of coming until the movie finished, not when he got to encase Stiles' cocklet and balls in his palm, or spit on his fingers and drag them through his son's cleft, rubbing circles over his tiny pucker. The first time he'd done it, his heart had pounded in his chest, nerves zipping through him as he prepared to yank his hand away if Stiles didn't like it. Lucky for him, Stiles had only stilled for a moment before pushing his ass back, silently encouraging the touch.
Life was getting good again for them, both of them settling into their new routines and relationship. And Stiles seemed to know, instinctually, that he shouldn't talk about what they did together. He'd never brought it up, never acted out when he'd bring a friend home, never try to start anything if anyone else was around. So things were good, great even. Until the new deputy started at the station.
After Claudia died, John had thought that was the end of relationships for him. Things with Stiles were a surprise, an adjustment. But again, John thought that would be the most he'd ever have - his son until the boy outgrew whatever he was doing here with his daddy. Or until someone found out and John went to jail. The new deputy though - he walked in for his interview and John's heart stuttered in his chest, cock twitching a little inside his uniform pants. He tried to be objective about the guy's resumé, tried not to let his desire to spread this man out on his bed color his decision. It was difficult, because along with he chiseled jaw and beautiful eyes, there was an undercurrent of snark and sarcasm - John could see it in the small smirks and raised brows. He hired the man, Derek Hale, former Beacon Hills resident returned home after over a decade away, on the spot.
John spent weeks trying not to read into Derek's body language, ignoring the subtle brushes of skin against skin as they worked together, the looks that seemed heated but were probably his own imagination running wild. He had two decades on the new deputy, surely it wasn't flirting he was experiencing. Besides, he had Stiles at home, he didn't need someone new. Things there were progressing again, Stiles having grown more interested in his daddy's fingers on his ass, more interested in exploring the rest of John's body.
John bought lube from a couple towns over on one of his days off. Not that he couldn't buy it in town, but he didn't want any speculation on who the special someone might be. Later that night, after dinner and instead of having a movie night, John showed Stiles how to finger him open. He hadn't gone further than the tip of a finger breaching Stiles' hole, his son too small for more, but this was something they could do. It had been a long time, well before he was even married, but Stiles was eager and attentive. When John was loose enough, he carefully wrapped his lived hand around Stiles' cocklet and balls, encouraging his son to line up, helping him to push them all inside - being oh so gentle. It was barely a stretch even with Stiles' small sac pushed inside, but it was worth it when he saw the blissed out look on his son's face. Stiles couldn't really thrust in this position, everything too small to risk pulling out, but John could still gently squeeze down around where they were joined, his ass rippling enticingly as his son's hips twitched.
Stiles came mostly dry after less than a minute, his cocklet softening rapidly and slipping out, taking his balls with it. Before John could shift to finger himself and get off, Stiles was sliding his body down a little more, mouth wrapping over John's cockhead and fingers sliding into his loosened hole. The suction was good, felt great, but John wanted more, so he helped guide Stiles' hand, helping the boy to find a thrusting rhythm for his fingers, enjoying the dual sensations and coming faster than usual. He watched Stiles try to swallow it all, felt his cock give another feeble twitch as come slide out of the sides of his son's mouth and down his shaft. They fell asleep wrapped around one another.
John woke late the next morning, rushing them through their routine. School was out so Stiles had to come to the station for the day - it didn't happen often, but the deputies knew that it was a group effort to keep an eye on him throughout the day so John wasn't overly worried. Stiles usually spent most of it with whoever was on the front desk, greeting the people who came in. He'd forgotten that Derek had never met his son before, up until he walked by the man's desk and saw the raise of his brows, the surprise clear on his face. He missed the subtle flaring of Derek's nostrils though.
It was busy at the station, busier than normal, and John didn't have a lot of free time. When Derek knocked on his office door and asked if he'd like to have dinner after they were done, John had distractedly agreed. He'd forgotten entirely by the time he was wrapping up for the day, Stiles being passed over to him by one of the other deputies, excitedly chattering about all of the people he'd seen. Derek was waiting out front and John startled a bit when the man loomed up out of the shadows, hand reflexively tightening where it held Stiles'.
"We still on for dinner?" Derek's voice was soft and warm, more intimate sounding than it should be in the night air when John's son was standing next to him. He felt a tug against his hand, glanced down to see Stiles' face twisted up in confusion and maybe a little bit of anger.
"Oh, uh…" John's free hand waved in the direction of Stiles, as if to indicate that he couldn't.
"I don't mind having dinner in, I'll even cook - I just need to run by the grocery store." Brain addled by the sudden heat in Derek's voice as it dipped on the word 'in' and without any excuse coming to mind, John murmured his agreement, ignoring the increasingly obvious ire coming off his son, and gave Derek the address. The deputy left with a wave, slipping into a sleek black sports car and gliding out of the parking lot. Stiles glared the whole way home, or at least every time John's eyes caught his in the rearview mirror. There was also pouting and stomping when they finally got out of the car and made it inside the house. John knew there probably wasn't a lot of time before Derek arrived, so he carted Stiles upstairs with him while he changed from his uniform to jeans and a shirt.
"I don't know what's gotten into you tonight Stiles, but this better clear up before Deputy Hale gets over here, he's being -" John's cut off mid sentence by an outburst from Stiles.
"You like him! He's coming over and you like him and he likes you and what about me?" Stiles' voice breaks a few times as he yells, and John can see the redness creeping over his cheeks, the tremble in his lips. He finishes buttoning on his clean shirt and kneels down.
"Stiles, you're always gonna be my son, you'll always come first. Sometimes I need to spend time with other grown-ups baby. What we've been doing, it's not right. We both know that. I should've never -"
"But I love you!" It comes out almost as a wail and John's heart breaks at the sound, his arms opening to scoop his son up, clutching him tight to his chest. He strokes a free hand down Stiles' back, soothing him until the sobs trail off to sniffles.
"I love you too baby." The doorbell rings, interrupting them. "Please behave, we can talk more about this later." He can feel the shuffle of Stiles' face against his collarbone as the boy nods, sets him back on his feet and sweeps his thumbs under Stiles' eyes to dry his cheeks. He gives in to the urge and leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Stiles' mouth. "We'll figure it out, okay? But tonight you need to be good."
Stiles mumbles his assent and they both head down the stairs just as the doorbell rings a second time. Derek's on the porch, bag of groceries in one arm, duffle bag in the other. John leads him to the kitchen and helps him pull all the food out, passing over cookware as Derek asks for it. Soon enough, there's a delicious looking casserole sliding into the oven. Stiles is somewhere in the living room, ignoring them both.
"Do you mind if I have a quick shower and change? Long shift." Derek's eyes seem to glitter in the low light as he glances at his duffle and John finds himself smiling back.
"Sure - go ahead and use mine, it's got the best water pressure." John leads him up the stairs, pausing at his bedroom door and passing over a towel from the hall closet before heading back down to find Stiles. He settles onto the couch beside him, waiting until the groan of pipes tells him the water is on before opening his mouth to continue their discussion. He doesn't get very far, because he's suddenly got a lapful of Stiles, his son's mouth pressing against his own, tongue parting his lips. He gets lost in it for a few moments, lost in lips and tongues and the feel of his son grinding down into his lap. It's so normal for them that his brain takes a minute to register what's happening as Stiles slips off of his lap, sinking to his knees and fumbling with John's belt. His cock is out, tongue flicking against his slit before he remembers they're not alone and yanks Stiles up by his arms, careful not to hurt him.
"Baby we can't, Deputy Hale is right upstairs." His voice is a low hiss, and Stiles just pouts.
"So? He could come down at any minute Stiles...this isn't - we can't -" John cuts off as Stiles' small hand starts stroking him. It feels so good and he forgets again for a moment before stilling his son's movements. "Stiles please…"
"Please daddy, please let me." Stiles moves sideways until he's on his knees on the sofa, eyes locked on John's as he bends down, ass arched in the air and mouth latching onto John's cockhead again. It's horrible and thrilling. The risk making everything more intense. He can hear the shower running upstairs, knows he'll hear when the water shuts off, and gives in like he always does. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, soaking them with spit before slipping them beneath the band of Stiles' shorts, dipping them between his cheeks and rubbing at his hole, teasing it with the tip of a finger. Stiles moans softly around him, the vibrations traveling down his cock and making his hips twitch with the urge to thrust. Stiles is using both of his hands to keep his balance, rocking back and forth between John's cock and his fingers, so he uses his free hand to stroke his shaft, knuckles gently bumping Stiles' chin on each upstroke. Neither of them hear the creek of the stairs as Derek descends.
"Fuck, I thought...but I wasn't sure." Derek's voice is soft but sounds thunderous over the slurping, slick sounds in the room. John and Stiles both startle as Derek comes around the side of the sofa, body dripping wet, towel wrapped around his waist. John thinks, stupidly, that the shower is still on upstairs. His mouth gapes, brain running, trying to find an excuse that could explain this beyond the fact that he's a horrible person and an even worse father. Before he can get anything out though, Derek lets the towel fall away, revealing his throbbing hard cock.
"I -" John doesn't get much more out before Stiles' mouth is back on him, despite their audience.
"I've been smelling it since the first day I walked in. But I thought I was imagining it. I wasn't though." Derek's hand has come up to stroke himself and John doesn't know what to say, how to react. He can feel lust flaring anew in him though, realizes his fingers are moving again against his son's hole under his shorts.
"Can I see?" Derek gestures to Stiles' ass, still in the air, and John can only nod. Stiles doesn't even flinch when Derek moves up next to him, lets the deputy reach around and undo his button, slide them and his underwear down his thighs. "Fuck." Derek's voice has taken on that dark timbre again, eyes fixed to where John's fingers are between his son's cheeks. Guilt and lust flare in him as he watches the deputy settle on the couch behind his son, shifting so he can spread Stiles' cheeks open, see where John is rubbing at his pucker, fingertip occasionally pressing teasingly against the small hole. John and Stiles both gasp when Derek leans down and runs his tongue up Stiles' cleft, spit making a wet trail over skin.
Derek does it a few more times before John regains some senses and spreads his fingers wide around Stiles' hole, pulling it open. Derek's gaze flicks up to him as he points his tongue and starts to wriggle the tip against the opening, groaning as Stiles seems to open around it and he can dip it inside. It makes Stiles moan around John's cock, makes him have to clamp a hand around himself to stop from coming. He watches eagerly as Derek starts thrusting his tongue inside of Stiles, fucking the boy with it. Watches Stiles rock back hard into the sensation and wishes it was his mouth there, that he'd thought to try this first. His hand starts running up his cock again, stroking himself faster as he watches his son get tongue fucked by the deputy he's been lusting after for weeks. It doesn't take long at all before he's coming, filling Stiles' mouth and before painting his face with it.
As soon as the last drops are free, John is yanking Stiles up and around, shifting so he's got his son planted on his face, his own tongue sliding into the boy's loosened hole. He barely manages to mumble out encouragement to Derek and Stiles, but it's okay, he can feel the couch shifting under Derek's weight as he kneels up on it. John manages to stop long enough to glance around Stiles, see Derek on his knees, Stiles' mouth sucking on his cockhead, his own soft cock twitching uselessly against his pants, before he's driving his tongue back inside his son. He can feel it when Stiles' body tenses above him, when the boy whines as he comes, tiny drops of watery spunk, barely any at all, dripping from his cocklet. He can hear the growl that Derek lets out before there's a shout and warm liquid dripping onto his pants.
Stiles half collapses on him and John does his best to sit up, shuffling his son until he's curled in his lap, the boy flushed and smiling, practically coated in come. When John glances at Derek, he can see how sated the man looks, skin glistening and lips slightly swollen from how long he'd been eating Stiles out. His cock is still hard, but there's a slick layer of come coating it now. They're all still staring at each other silently when the oven timer goes off a few minutes later. Derek ducks his head almost sheepishly before he stands, his cock finally starting to soften, and wraps the towel back around his waist.
"Let me pull that out of the oven and get dressed, we should be able to eat in just a minute." Before John can reply, Derek is leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Stiles' lips, following it with one to John's, and then he's out of the room. John feels stunned and adrift, his mind whirling as it tries to process everything that just happened. For the first time in two years, guilt starts to creep back in, his mind reminding him that he just shared his child with another man.
"Stop doing that to yourself."
"What?" John is startled again by Derek's sudden reappearance.
"The feeling guilty. Stop it. Look at Stiles, look how happy he is. He was worried about losing you, losing all this, if we started dating. I just wanted to make sure he knew he wouldn't lose anything. That maybe he'd gain something instead."
"Wh-what?" John feels even more lost, because now he's remembering Derek's words when he caught them. They were careful, nobody knew, but Derek…
"I'll get dressed, explain over dinner."
Dinner feels surreal as it's happening. Derek does explain, and John has trouble grasping it. Grasping things like werewolves and other myths and legends being real. Derek explains that wolves are different than men, that he doesn't think John's relationship with Stiles is wrong, because it's common for them. His mother and father were the ones who introduced him to sex when he started acting curious. He talks about how open packs are, how it was normal for him to see people fucking all over the place, that he doesn't remember anyone ever hiding it. That John and Stiles never have to hide from him, even if they don't keep him. When dinner's done, they pack away the leftovers and then Derek shuffles awkwardly in place.
"I should go. I overstepped, I should have never -" he's interrupted when Stiles come bounding into the kitchen, grabbing both of their hands.
"Movie time!" His excitement is palpable, and John lets himself be led towards the living room. When he realizes Derek had let his hand slip free and is still standing there, unsure, he turns back.
"You coming?" The relief on Derek's face makes John smile, despite still being overwhelmed by it all. They settle onto the sofa together, Stiles between them, and John feels something ease in his chest when, a short while later, Stiles has managed to slip down, head resting on Derek's thigh, feet in his father's lap. His toes brush against John's cock, not enough to get him all the way hard, not so soon, and he hears the familiar rasp of a zipper as Stiles opens Derek's pants. His cock is uncut, something John hadn't noticed before, but something that must please Stiles as he hums happily before fitting his mouth around the soft head, little hand pushing and pulling on Derek's balls until he can stuff one in too, mouth stretched somewhat obscenely around them. Derek doesn't say anything, just settles back further into the sofa, fingers seeking John's and twining their hands together.
Sometime during the movie, John manages to free his own cock, allows Stiles to kneed at it with his toes. When Stiles shimmies his shorts and underwear down, John and Derek slide their fingers between his cheeks, still tangled together as they pet at his hole softly, without any real purpose. John looks over, smiles at Derek, getting a soft smile in return, before they all focus on the movie again. The guilt has ebbed away, leaving contentment and comfort in its wake, and John thinks that they're definitely going to keep Derek.