Title: A Little Exploration
Pairing/Characters: Stiles, one-sided (imagined) Stiles/Lydia, Stiles/Danny, and Stiles/Derek
Rating: R for sexual situations
Summary: Stiles takes a moment to explore his sexuality, and is surprised by the results.
Warnings: Contains graphic masturbation, neurotic tendencies, and imagined sexual situations (both het and slash)
Notes: This was written pre-1.07 “Night School,” and is situated on a floating timeline— it is definitely set post-1.04 “Magic Bullet” and probably before the end of 1.06 “Heart Monitor.” Anything pre-1.06 “Heart Monitor” is therefore fair game spoiler-wise, but I don’t think there are any major spoilers at all.
The lock clicked loudly when Stiles turned it, and he almost jumped at the noise. He took a deep breath and crossed his bedroom to pull the curtains closed. It wasn’t as if he locked his bedroom door often— in fact, unless he was doing werewolf stuff he didn’t want his dad to walk in on, he never bothered to lock it at all.
Nervously, as though there were something he’d overlooked, Stiles unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it over the back of his desk chair. He kicked off his running shoes as he walked over to his bed, sitting down on the edge and looking down at his socked feet, debating whether or not to take off his socks. He finally decided he wouldn’t want cold feet while he was doing this, so he kept them on as he carefully scooted backwards onto his bed, lying back and propping himself up against the headboard with his pillow.
He ran one hand over his short-buzzed hair as the other nervously crept over his flat stomach. It’s not like he usually did this. He didn’t usually set aside time to, y’know, masturbate— he was more of a quick jerk in the shower guy, because there was no cleanup and very little chance of getting caught by his dad, which would be positively mortifying.
Stiles glanced at the door again, as his hand settled over the top of his jeans, gently caressing the skin just below his waistband, dipping into the hollows of his hipbones. Ever since Scott mentioned offhandedly that he always thought of Allison when he jerked off (did the guy ever think about anything but sex and wolf stuff anymore?) Stiles had realised something very odd about himself; he had never, in his life, visualised a specific person when he was taking care of himself.
And that got him to thinking. Not that he ever stopped thinking, but— anyway. He started thinking that maybe he should, y’know, try to think about someone. In his shower-fantasies, he would sometimes pretend that his hand was someone else’s, sure, but never a specific someone. And that was probably weird.
So Stiles closed his eyes and pictured Lydia. Her hair, long and curly, cascading over her shoulders and her smile bright and eager as she stood in front of him. Stiles moved his hand downward and palmed the fly of his jeans. Lydia laughed breathlessly and pushed the spaghetti straps of her dress off her shoulders so that it pooled around her feet, and— oh. Stiles was almost startled when he felt his dick twitch beneath his hand.
He bit his lip and flicked open the button of his jeans, closing his eyes again and watching as Lydia sank to her knees in front of him, a smirk turning up the corners of her pink-glossed lips. Her French-tipped fingers found the zipper of his jeans and slowly tugged it down, each little click! making Stiles’ pulse rise.
Lifting his hips for better access, Stiles slid his jeans over his hips and down his thighs, kicking them off his feet once they were low enough. He palmed himself through his boxer briefs softly, still only half-hard.
One of his hands trailed down his thigh as the other pressed harder against his dick— Lydia licked her lips as she trailed her fingers feather-light up and down the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. She curled her fingers under the elastic of his underwear, gently pulling them down to expose his erection to the cool air of his bedroom. Her green eyes lit up excitedly as she looked up at him through her thick eyelashes, licking her lips and pulling his briefs the rest of the way down so he could kick them off his feet.
Stiles quickly lifted his hand to his mouth and licked his palm, slicking it up. Lydia continued to press her fingers into the skin of his thigh as she moved her face closer to his crotch and began to mouth wetly at the sick of his dick.
A little noise of contentment escaped Stiles’ lips as he pressed his slick palm against the side of his erection, flicking the pad of his thumb over the sensitive head as Lydia lapped at his slit with her pink little tongue.
He briefly considered added dialog to his little fantasy— but shut the idea down when he realised that talking to himself while he was jerking off was decidedly unsexy. Especially if he tried to imitate Lydia’s voice when he did it. (Yeah, that would just be weird.)
Stiles closed his fist and stroked downward swiftly, groaning a little as he imaged his spit-wet fingers were Lydia’s mouth, her pink lips stretched wide around his cock as she looked up at him through her lashes. He imagined reaching down and tangling his hand in those beautiful auburn curls, guiding her carefully to where he wanted her.
A lick to the head of his cock was a flick of his thumb; a hard suck as she pulled off was a swift twist of his wrist on the upstroke. He had to keep stopping to lick his hand and add more lubrication, but it was... nice. It didn’t feel nearly as creepy as he thought it would, imagining another person doing things to him.
But it wasn’t quite as good as he had expected. No matter how enthusiastic he made Lydia behave, no matter her wet his hand was, it was like... it wasn’t enough. It usually didn’t take him nearly this long to get off, and he was growing increasingly frustrated.
Biting down hard on his lip, Stiles decided to change the direction of his fantasy, so to speak. It was worth at shot, at any rate.
He closed his eyes and imagined trailing his fingers down a broader, squarer jaw and weaving into short black hair instead of long red curls. Danny was rougher as he grabbed Stiles’ hip, curling his large hand around the jut of bone and pulling Stiles closer. The contrast of tanned skin on pale was strangely alluring, and definitely appealing.
Licking his palm once more, he closed his hand around his cock and brought it down to the base in one fast movement. Danny closed his mouth around Stiles’ erection and took it all into his mouth in one go, his hand clenching around Stiles’ hip. He worked faster than Lydia had, sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks as he came nose-to-skin with Stiles’ pubic bone.
Stiles groaned loudly, actually throwing his head back and narrowly missing giving himself a concussion via contact with the wall. That was... better. The harder touch, the stronger hand clenching around his hipbone— that was good. That was something he liked.
Danny sucked Stiles’ cock like a pro, knowing just when to speed up and slow down, varying the pace to keep Stiles on that edge, with never quite enough to push him over it. Danny’s tongue pressed hard stripes along the thick vein on the underside of Stiles’ dick— Stiles pressed his thumb harder when it got closer to the tip, swiping it over the sensitive slit and gathering his precome on the digit to ease its journey back down the vein.
Stiles’ breath quickened, his heart racing as he let his fantasy take over. Danny would nuzzle at his cock before taking it into his mouth, hard and fast, only to pull off again and mouth at his hipbone instead. Stiles experimentally dug his own fingernails into the flesh at his hip, a nip of Danny’s teeth before he went back to lick at the tip of Stiles’ cock.
The little sting of pain made the sensations he was giving himself just that much better— setting a steady pace with his hand, just a little harder and a little slower than he usually liked it, Stiles let the fingers of his other hand move off of his hip and trail back down to that sensitive place in his inner thigh, where he dug in his nails again.
A whimper escaped his throat, high-pitched and needy. Well, that was different. He didn’t even know he was into biting, but the image of Danny scraping his teeth up Stiles’ leg— Stiles scratched his fingernails along that path— was much hotter than it had any right to be. A nip at the jut of his hipbone made Stiles’ breath start to come in short little pants, and he sped up the movements of his hand.
He was so close now. He’d never teetered on the edge like this before, never felt like it was hard to get himself to that peak. But now that he knew what he wanted, what he needed— Danny couldn’t give that to him. Not in this fantasy. He needed—
Hazel eyes and a square jaw, longer hair than Danny’s but still just barely enough to tug on, rough stubble grazing his sensitive skin as Derek nuzzled his hipbone, his pupils blown huge and his lips red and swollen. One of Derek’s hands kept pace on Stiles’ erection as he scraped his sharp teeth over the jut of bone.
Derek pulled back and looked up at Stiles, a smirk playing across his swollen lips. And then, in one swift movement, Derek swooped in and bit down in the hollow of soft flesh at his pelvic bone, and Stiles dug his nails in as hard as he could.
With a soft gasped that was cut off by a masculine groan, Stiles came and spilled over his fist. He lay there, panting, for several minutes while feeling returned to his limbs and his head stopped spinning.
“Shit,” he whispered as he came back into himself. He’d just had the best freaking orgasm of his life— and he couldn’t have gotten there without thinking of Derek Hale. Moving his hands away from his hip and dick respectively, Stiles moved to sit up and hissed when he felt the sting. The four angry red crescents marking his pale skin were a blatant reminder of the thought that had gotten him off, in the end.
“Shit,” he mumbled again, gingerly running his thumb over the marks. He’d done it hard enough that they would probably bruise. Yet another thing to hide from his dad, he supposed.
He grabbed a tissue from his bedside table and made quick work of the mess on his fingers and the dribble of pearly fluid that had made it onto his stomach. He dressed himself quietly and then walked to his door and turned the lock. He opened the curtains and sank into his desk chair, one hand resting on his chin as he stared blankly at the blue walls of his bedroom.
All he could think of was how pretty Derek’s eyes were, and how close he’d been to Derek’s naked chest just days ago without appreciating it at the time.
Fuck. He was totally screwed.
- Current Mood: giggly
- Current Music:In My Head (cover) - Brick by Boring Brick