Chapter Text
Derek had been driving for several blocks, taking his eyes off the road every few seconds to check street corners, alley mouths, and the fronts of dive bars and cheap diners. Eventually he would find what he was looking for.
He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, trying to relax. The sun had gone down an hour ago, and since then, his restlessness had been building. He felt itchy under his skin and irritated. The moon’s sway was catching up to him.
Normally, he spent nights like this one running through the woods of Beacon Hills or cooped up in his loft. Tonight, he didn’t think either of those options would be able to satisfy him.
He wanted a release, with warm skin under his hands and a body to get lost in. Just for one night. It would all be out of his system by tomorrow.
Prostitution wasn’t his first idea, not that that was any kind of defense. There were certainly more legal and ethical ways to engage in a one-night stand, but they weren’t necessarily easier.
Clubs were noisy, and the unrelenting bass of shitty techno music always gave him a migraine. And then, of course, the annoying, drunk men and women—sometimes boys and girls—who threw themselves at him, grabbing and groping. Spilling their drinks on him, smearing their sweat along his skin when they brushed past. Bars were basically the same except the music wasn’t as loud. He hated all of it.
He didn’t want any games or getting-to-know-you small talk. He didn’t want sleepovers or shy glances across the table during breakfast.
He wanted a straightforward exchange. A few, good orgasms, and then he would go home and tumble into bed.
And now he was cruising through Beacon Hills, probably looking like some kind of serial killer or attempted drive-by shooter with the way his car crept along while he stared out the passenger-side window.
Unsurprisingly, he found what he was looking for in the “bad side of town.” In his opinion, all of Beacon Hills was pretty tame. Well, the human part was.
He pulled up to the curb along the main drag and waited, pushing the button to automatically open the window on the passenger’s side. An invitation.
Less than a minute later, someone leaned against his car, the stranger’s elbows resting along the bottom frame of the window. A nearby streetlamp cast shadows on half of the prostitute’s face, but Derek’s eyes were better than most, and he could tell the person was a guy. That suited him just fine for tonight.
“Want some company?” Maybe “guy” was too liberal of a description. Boy—or child—would be more fitting. There was a roughness to the kid’s voice, like it had just cracked to the relatively deep tone it now occupied.
“How old are you?”
The boy adjusted his stance, leaning more heavily onto the side of his car. “Old enough. I’m eighteen.”
“You don’t look eighteen,” Derek stated, not bothering to hide the disapproval in his voice.
The kid laughed. “Sorry to break it to you, but offering sex for money is illegal at every age. And since you were the one out here looking for a whore in the first place, I’d watch where you aim your judgments.”
Derek’s grip tightened on the wheel. How was it his luck that he found the lippiest hooker in the entire town? He imagined that nastier people than himself would not enjoy having their fantasies realized and destroyed by being reminded that they were paying for sex.
His annoyance flickered and transformed into an uneasiness at the thought of the kid mouthing off to some random, piece-of-shit pervert who would beat him bloody in a back alley or worse. Maybe the kid was new, and the world hadn’t knocked him down a peg yet.
Although, if he was out on the streets this young, maybe it already had.
“You’re eighteen?”
“Cross my heart.” The stranger followed the actions by indeed making an “X” over his heart. His face contorted into a smile, only half of it visible in the dim lighting.
“Get in.”
The boy slid into the seat, and the light on the car’s ceiling gave him a better look at the kid. He was slender and long-limbed like a lot of teenage boys, just starting to grow into his shoulders. His clothes were simple and hinted flatteringly at his frame, consisting of a washed-out black t-shirt and a snug pair of darker jeans. Derek thought he saw tennis shoes when the kid slid into the passenger’s side of the car. Derek wasn’t intimately informed about prostitute etiquette, but he had expected something more overtly sexual in the hooker’s appearance. Makeup or a flash of midriff or something see-through.
The moment the car door closed, the light went with it, and then the kid started chattering.
“Twenty for a handjob, fifty for a blow, and if you want to go all the way, one hundred. I don’t do bondage, you wrap it before you tap it, and I choose the motel.” He looked over towards the driver’s side expectantly.
Derek sighed, becoming more convinced every minute that tonight would be a horrible mistake, but he pulled his wallet out of the back of his jeans. “And if I want to fuck you more than once?”
The kid’s brows raised. “You must think pretty highly of your refractory period. One hundred for each fuck.”
“You want to stop between every fuck and have me pay you another hundred dollars?”
“Unless you know how many times you want to fuck me beforehand,” the kid replied cheekily. “However, if you’re worried about ruining the mood with intermittent breaks for payment, you can buy me out for the night.” The boy grinned.
“How much?” It was a better alternative than trying to calculate how many orgasms he wanted to have.
“A thousand.” The kid said it like he was calling Derek’s bluff, his voice cocky.
Derek pulled out a mix of twenties, fifties, and one hundred-dollar bills and handed the prostitute his due. The kid’s mouth dropped open when he placed the wad of cash into his hands. Derek noticed the plump curve of his bottom lip and instantly turned his head towards the window.
“You can count it if you need to. I won’t get offended.”
It seemed he had finally silenced the boy. He heard the soft crinkle of the bills being separated and counted. In his peripheral vision, he saw the kid shift in his seat so that he could push the folded money into one of his front pockets.
“Where to?”
“Motel on the highway as soon as you come into town. You know the one?”
“Yeah.”
As expected, the motel was sleazy and barely sanitary. Derek’s sensitive nose could detect bleach and detergent but also vomit and urine and come. Still, the room he rented for the night—“a service fee,” the boy had called it—appeared neat enough on the surface. One double bed, an older television, a chair, a side table with a drawer, and a small dresser.
His preoccupation with the drab room ended quickly, and Derek turned to the kid that he picked up. The traffic lights and the brief glimpse of the boy in the car had not done him justice. Even with Derek’s eyesight, it had been hard to make out more than a pale complexion and a disarrayed head of brown hair.
Now, there was proper lighting, and he could stare at the kid in privacy without feeling like a complete, despicable creep. The slob working the front desk hadn’t afforded the kid the same respect or courtesy, leering a little too intently at the boy when he passed Derek the room key. The prostitute didn’t seem fazed by the attention, which only made Derek want to punch the guy’s teeth down his throat even more.
It was hypocritical, Derek knew that. But he couldn’t quite shake himself of the belief that he was better than the other people who gazed lecherously after the kid. Maybe it was because Derek knew himself, knew that he would never threaten or force anyone in such a vulnerable position.
The kid was fucking beautiful and that really pissed Derek off. Some masochistic corner of his mind added that the boy looked like an angel; creamy skin and big eyes and some inexplicable aura of sweetness. The boy talked too much, but he also said “thank you” when Derek held the door open for him, and he couldn’t ignore the feeling that he was going to desecrate this kid.
He might be entangled in unsavory circumstances, but he didn’t seem like a bad kid.
Surprisingly, the boy didn’t say anything as Derek outright ogled him. The goddamn beauty marks splattered across his face unhinged Derek’s instincts, made him tense his jaw in restraint. And then there were the lips: the top one a perfect Cupid’s bow and the bottom so full that Derek wanted to tug it between his teeth. Shining brown eyes whose perimeters were bordered with long, dark lashes.
Derek was going to hell for this one, regardless of whether the kid really was legal.
“What’s your name?” the kid asked, sliding his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. After a few seconds of silence, he added, “I’m Stiles.”
“Derek.”
When Stiles smiled, his mouth opened wide to reveal a straight set of teeth, and the shift of facial muscles somehow accentuated the upturn of his nose. Derek secretly found it adorable and felt his underlying wolf growl at that fact.
“Well, I’m all yours. As long as you stick to the rules, you have free rein.”
“I’d like to kiss you,” Derek said almost hesitantly.
The cocky little bastard just flashed another grin that said come and get it.
Derek wished he could say that this kid—Stiles—didn’t affect him, but something about his playful arrogance and the curl of lips was getting to him. He blamed it all on the full moon.
Either way, he needed to be careful. Fucking the kid was bad enough; he didn’t want to get carried away and scare him, too.
He squashed the impulse to drag the boy forward and crush their mouths together. Slowly, he curled one finger into a belt loop on the front of Stiles’ jeans and coaxed him forward.
He could do this. He didn’t have to ruin the boy.
Derek held Stiles’ face between his large palms, his pinky fingers nudging under the hinge of the kid’s jaw while his thumbs brushed over his cheekbones. They didn’t get any farther than a chaste press of lips before Derek pulled back, leaving Stiles confused.
Before he said anything that would make him sound like a lunatic, he sniffed the air to double check his suspicion.
“You’re not human.” He was still holding the boy’s face in his hands, neither one of them having moved since Derek broke apart their mouths.
“Based on your assessment, I’m guessing that neither are you.”
His forehead creased, a tension building between his eyebrows. “What are you?” He finally had the sense to release the kid’s head and move back a foot or two.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Stiles’ face twisted into a mischievous grin.
Out of curiosity, Derek decided to play along. His eyes flashed blue, and it was a bit of a relief to not have to hold back part of his shift. Meanwhile, the boy’s eyes bled black, like spreading ink, not even leaving the sclerae white.
“Wolf.”
“Demon.”
“‘Demon?’ I at least had the courtesy to be specific. I could have just called you ‘shifter,’” Stiles complained, crossing his arms. His bottom lip pushed out in a pout, and Derek struggled not to snarl at the display. It was unnerving for him to consider something so juvenile attractive.
“There are hundreds of kinds of demons. I’m not going to guess.”
“Aw, c’mon.” That gentle, devious curl of Stiles’ lips appeared again, and it wasn’t hard to tell that he was enjoying himself. “Use that pretty head of yours.”
Derek huffed in annoyance, and then, the answer hit him. It was pretty obvious when he stopped and thought about it.
“Incubus.” The demon’s brightening smile confirmed his guess. “Of course,” Derek sighed.
“Why ‘of course?’ Nothing has changed. You wanted sex. You gave me money. We’ll have sex.” Stiles shrugged, like it really was that simple, and flopped onto the bed, the springs bouncing.
The muscles in Derek’s jaw ticced. “You left out the small detail that your kind tend to suck the life out of people during sex.”
The demon raised himself onto his elbows and gave Derek a flat glare. “Yeah, and apparently, your kind go around tearing up innocent people during the full moon. Yet, here you are. We’re not all stereotypes, you know.”
“How does this work for you then?” He was still standing stiffly in the middle of the room, unwilling to sit down near the incubus. It was healthy to be skeptical the first time he met a new creature. Especially in this town.
“This is really what you want to spend your money on?” Derek raised his eyebrows in a wordless but clear response.
“Alright, alright.” Stiles raised his hands in surrender. “Well, most of the people who pick me up are humans. With them, I just skim a little energy off the top. It leaves them tired and drained, but good sex does that to everyone, right?” The boy winked.
“So you don’t kill them?”
In a dramatic series of movements, the incubus flung himself supine across the bed and groaned loudly. “Back to this again. Do you kill people? Why do you think you’re the only supernatural thing around here that doesn’t murder people on a whim?”
Derek shuffled his feet and felt his apology leave his mouth one painful word at a time. He wasn’t flattered by the assumptions people generally upheld about werewolves and should have known better than to be so presumptuous. The kid had a point, but he was such a little shit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that incubi and succubi could feed without killing the other person.”
Stiles pardoned him with a small nod.
“So, how do you do it? How do you feed?”
“Isn’t there some mythological book or bestiary you can read instead of pestering me for my species’ modus operandi?”
Finally, Derek sat in the simple, wooden chair on the opposite side of the room. “It’s my money I’m spending, and I’m curious.” Stiles grumbled and crossed his legs at the ankle. Derek noticed that from this level he was looking up the long, lean lines of the boy’s body.
“Well, I feed on sexual energy. That’s not just bodies smooshing and orgasms. It’s the desire during foreplay, the haze of lust throughout, and the sharp arousal right as you come. All of it replenishes me.” The kid bent his arms behind his head and wiggled, finding a comfortable position. The movement caught his shirt and rucked it up his abdomen, exposing a sliver of pale skin and a hip bone.
Derek wondered how intentional that had been. He was sure Stiles could sense his attraction to him.
“If you’re barely feeding off of humans, that can’t keep you satisfied for long.”
“Ergo, the large number of men, and sometimes, women, that I lure into my bed. Well, into this motel’s beds.”
A thought struck Derek, and he leaned forward in his chair. “With my healing and strength, you could theoretically feed off of me much more substantially than you do humans.”
“Not just theoretically,” the demon stated, his eyes glittering. “It’s been a while, but I’ve had a few wolves. And some other creatures that go bump in the night. I could go through my whole shebang without killing you.”
“What happens?”
A fine shudder rippled through Stiles, and he fluttered his lengthy lashes and licked over the salmon pink of his lips. It was far more erotic than it had any right to be, and Derek felt his cock twitch.
Shit. Stiles had probably felt that, too.
“I get to orgasm. I guess it’s nature’s way of incentivizing me—aside from the not dying— to feed. If all I had to do to sustain myself was jerk off, I certainly wouldn’t be doing this. I mean—” Stiles’ hands were just as slender and bony and pretty as he was, and they were flitting through the air in a way that made it hard for Derek to focus. “—I still experience the physical pleasure of masturbation, but it doesn’t nourish me. When I climax, and we’re connected, that’s when I draw most of the energy from the other person. Humans wouldn’t be able to survive it.”
“So, aside from the random supernatural creature you stroll across, no one ever gets you off?” Derek asked, the disbelief a little too evident in his voice. He couldn’t understand how people weren’t tempted to take apart the boy in front of him, reduce him to a writhing mess.
The incubus laughed, and it wasn’t sarcastic or jaded. In fact, it was a nice sound. The kid laughed like he smiled, with his whole mouth, baring his teeth, throwing his head back.
“Believe it or not, the majority of people who buy whores are not that concerned about mutual pleasure.”
“Someone must have tried before. I mean, you’re so…” Derek let the thought trail off, and thankfully, Stiles didn’t ask him to resolve it.
“If that happens, you just flash these puppies,” the kid blinked, his eyes turning pitch-black, “and they go a-running. Sometimes, a motherfucker gets pushy, and you have to break a finger. Overall, it’s a good gig. They give me money, so I can keep my apartment and buy groceries, and I’m treated to a nightly buffet of the Beacon Hills populace.”
“I’m guessing you’re not really eighteen?” Derek wasn’t sure whether that fact soothed or disturbed him more.
“This form corresponds to that of an eighteen-year-old male. But, no, I’m not eighteen.”
“And your real name isn’t ‘Stiles?’”
If Derek hadn’t been convinced Stiles was a demon before, he was now. The boy crawled off the bed and sauntered forward with a grace that teenage boys absolutely did not possess. It was almost predatory, and an unexpected spike of arousal shot through him.
“You can’t understand my real name,” the incubus murmured, leaning in towards Derek with his hands braced on the arms of the chair.
At this proximity, Derek could feel the warmth of Stiles’ breath and see that his eyes weren’t just brown but looked like two puddles of dark whiskey. “The way I see it, this has all worked out for the better. I know you’re dying to release some steam tonight, and I…”
“You want to feed on me.”
“I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to. It’s been a while, and you’re just…” Stiles exhaled and languidly dragged his eyes from Derek’s head to his toes. “But I won’t if you don’t want me to. I wouldn’t do that,” the boy assured, his eyes flicking back to Derek’s to convey his seriousness.
“Okay.”
“Like ‘yes’ okay? Or like ‘I’m glad you understand the moral boundaries of sexual consent’ okay?”
Derek rolled his eyes. “The first one. I think.”
Stiles grinned again and backed up, outstretching a hand for him. Derek took it, felt those long fingers wrap around his palm. “You’re still running this show, daddy-O. Tell me what you want.”
Derek’s nose wrinkled in repugnance. “Don’t call me that. I’ve known you for less than an hour, but I’m convinced that you developed your vocabulary from nineties television.”
The demon scoffed and set his hands on his hips, which Derek found oddly cute. Probably because he had never found anything “cute” in his entire life.
“I’ll have you know that my lexicon is both eclectic and colorful whereas yours is mainly composed of grunts of various timbres.”
Derek snorted and hid his smile behind his hand. “Do you talk to all your clients this way?”
“The extent of my conversations with clients includes them telling me how tight my ass is or giving me condescending advice about how it’s not too late for me to turn my life around. There usually isn’t enough verbal exchange for me to inject an insult.”
“Maybe we should stop talking then.”
He heard a pleased sigh from the boy as he reeled him in by his slim hips. For a demon, his body was surprisingly warm, and Derek didn’t wait to push a hand under Stiles’ t-shirt, feeling soft and heated skin.
Derek hooked two fingers under the kid’s chin and goaded their mouths back together. This time, he got a proper taste of the demon, sucking on that enticing bottom lip. There was a generous amount of tongue involved and a little bit of teeth from Stiles.
Stiles resisted just for a second when Derek pushed him away to tug him out of his shirt. The color was high on the incubus’ cheeks as he panted and licked over his lips.
The moles didn’t just cover the kid’s face. They were speckled across his entire torso as well. One was located particularly close to a rosy nipple, and Derek wanted to lick it.
Derek started on the boy’s jeans. His breath caught for the slightest moment when he opened the front of the demon’s pants and found his bare cock, half-hard and flushed as pink as his lips. A lurid voice in his head commented that it was probably much more convenient if Stiles forewent underwear. Since he was in and out of his clothes all night anyway.
He pushed away tangential thoughts, not wanting to think about all the others. It relieved him that Stiles could defend himself from even the seediest of humans, but it did little to assuage the guilt he felt knowing that he had brought Stiles here under the impression that the kid was a normal teen. Instead of lingering on those feelings, he walked Stiles backwards until the boy sprawled across the bed.
God, he was stunning. Derek didn’t know what he wanted to do first, and strangely, Stiles was being silent and patient. Small heaves of breath were stretching the milky skin taut over his ribs, the muscles in his stomach quivering.
It was almost as if Stiles were waiting for him. Oh.
Derek wasn’t used to giving explicit instruction during sex. Usually, things happened much more organically. But this was different. They were strangers, and this was a transaction. Stiles was presumably supposed to cater to his client’s every desire and command.
“Let me just…” he grunted and started disrobing. The opaqueness of his shirt obscured his vision, and once he pulled off the article, Stiles was sitting at the edge of bed, looking up at him through his eyelashes.
Derek startled for a second, unused to people moving quietly enough that he couldn’t hear them.
“Want me to help you?” The incubus raised his spindly fingers so that they hovered near Derek’s belt.
“Yeah,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair while Stiles unfastened his jeans nimbly. The kid licked his lips again—Derek started to think it was a habit rather than some seductive gesture—when he saw the outline of Derek’s dick in his briefs.
Stiles’ hands lingered teasingly on his stomach and hips and thighs as he finished stripping him. A growl finally slipped past Derek’s lips before he could stop it, and he pressed the boy into the mattress, crawling over him.
The demon tilted his head back, exposing the long column of his throat and the cartilaginous jut of his Adam’s apple. Derek couldn’t deny himself such an explicit offering, especially not right now.
He kissed all over Stiles’ neck, feeling the kid’s pulse thump under his lips, tickling them. He touched the soft skin underneath him, dragging his hands from the joint of Stiles’ hip to his knee, feeling the soft hair and wiry muscle underneath his fingertips.
Stiles’ body was jolting at the slightest touches, hypersensitized and anticipating.
“C’mon, Derek, I know you want to fuck me. You don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Be gentle with me. I know that wolf inside of you wants to take over.” One of Stiles’ long gazelle legs bent, and the sole of the boy’s foot brushed smoothly over Derek’s calf. Derek shivered and rolled his shoulders, hovering over the incubus.
“Maybe I don’t want to be rough with you,” he stated quietly, brushing his thumb near the corner of Stiles’ lovely mouth. Naturally, the kid turned his head just so and sucked the tip of Derek’s thumb between his plush lips.
Derek was realizing that Stiles’ smallest actions fixated him, and the boy fellating his thumb was no exception.
Stiles released him with a soft nibble and smirked. “You know that I could grab you by your werewolf scruff and toss you through the wall if I wanted to. I’m a lot stronger than you.” Derek believed him, having felt a hint of that strength when Stiles had refused to let them part and interrupt their kisses. Derek had felt like he was bound in concrete, immovable and uncompromising.
“That doesn’t mean I want to cause you pain.”
The incubus’ smile softened. “You won’t. I won’t let you.”
Derek had the foresight to grab the condoms and packets of lube out of his jeans. A few had fallen on the floor when he and Stiles bounced onto the bed, but Derek found one of each on the far side of the bedcovers.
“Save your lube. I don’t need any preparation. Just…” Stiles squeezed his arm in a desperate grip.
It was early enough in the evening for it to be conceivable that he was Stiles’ first customer of the night. The boy might not have fed since yesterday.
Derek was ready to argue, his mouth flattening into a stern line. Demon or not, it couldn’t be comfortable for Stiles to be fucked dry. Derek would never be able to go through with it, even with the kid’s reassurances and protestations. Not when the incubus’ current form was so convincingly tender and breakable and precious.
Stiles interpreted the silence as easily as having read Derek’s thoughts. The kid took one of Derek’s hands and guided it down between his own legs until the fingers brushed against his hole, already slick.
He felt a little foolish. Of course Stiles would get himself ready before he started his night. It was an unfortunate reality that a lot of his clients wouldn’t bother to.
Derek couldn’t stop at just a touch. He watched Stiles’ eyes flutter when he dipped one finger inside of him. He couldn’t understand how the boy could be so wet but still so tight. It seemed paradoxical for him to be filled with so much lube and yet not feel at all stretched.
“Stiles, I think I should—”
At the same time, Stiles burst out, “It’s not—”
Derek saw that a vibrant blush was painting the incubus’ cheeks, not coy or seductive but genuinely bashful. On a sex demon, it was a noteworthy sight. Just another thing he found irritatingly endearing.
“I, um…well, my body’s made for this. Like, literally. So when I get turned on, it makes—it starts to—”
A series of tiny details accumulated at the forefront of Derek’s mind, and he immediately understood what Stiles was stuttering over. The lube had an unusual texture—thinner—and the scent wasn’t distinctly chemical or artificial like he was used to.
As Derek’s realization fully unfolded, the arousal his body was emitting thickened, sweetened. He knew the moment Stiles sensed the change because the boy’s flush deepened.
“Jesus, Stiles, did I make you wet?”
The boy’s eyes widened, and his breath hitched like he was ready to say something but had decided against it.
Derek lowered himself so that he was almost nose-to-nose with the demon. “Did your hole start dripping slick just for me?”
The incubus’ teeth had settled into his bottom lip, and he nodded fervently.
Derek pressed a gentle kiss to the boy’s lips and felt a jagged breath wash over his mouth. He steadied himself with one hand on the mattress and used the other to roll on a condom.
Stiles groaned softly and shifted at the first touch of Derek’s cock to his hole. Derek held his breath until he bottomed out, feeling suffocated by the snug grip of Stiles around him. The demon half-laughed, half-moaned, clamping his legs tightly around Derek’s hips.
“Yes.” Stiles’ eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his grip on Derek’s bicep was almost painful. The boy started undulating his hips, his pink lips dropping open.
It was a sign for Derek to start moving since Stiles seemingly needed no time to adjust. He retracted his hips and then pushed forward smoothly, biting his own lips to silence a moan. The kid was so wet already that he could hear slippery, sticky noises every time his cock dragged inside of him.
He could smell the slick that Stiles was secreting, acrid and sharp but still a little smoky like Stiles’ skin. Knowing that it was natural, all Stiles, somehow made it better, and he thrust sharply back into the incubus.
Stiles cried out and dug his head back farther into the pillow. Derek did it again, keeping up a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly only to fuck back into Stiles’ supple body with a powerful slam.
“Harder, Derek. I need it. Please.”
Stiles’ hands smoothed over his back as he pounded into the kid, having abandoned an even pace for a more frenzied one. He would do anything the kid wanted as long as he kept making those sounds. In the midst of moans and tiny whimpers, the demon would unleash these high-pitched little trills, unearthly and disorienting like a siren’s song. He was oddly enthralled by the quavering noises and wondered if sirens and incubi were supernatural cousins.
He reached for Stiles’ cock, stroking the hot skin a few times. The boy’s moans deepened, and he started fucking back to meet Derek’s thrusts with a new ferocity.
Derek noticed the telltale clenching in his gut, every collision with Stiles’ soft insides feeling electric. He felt detached from the jackhammer fucking of his hips, single-mindedly chasing his release. Stiles’ endless stream of choked noises only spurred him on, and he came, shuddering.
Underneath him, Stiles gasped, his eyes swallowed by blackness. Derek’s hips jolted forwards desperately until sensitivity forced him to stop. He started stroking Stiles’ dick again, almost absentmindedly, as he watched the boy’s reactions with fascination. Derek didn’t know if he should pull out yet, if that would interrupt Stiles from…feeding, so he stayed inside the warm clutch of Stiles’ body and caught his breath.
After a few seconds, the demon’s eyes faded back to their normal honeyed brown, the inky pools shrinking and centering to form his pupil.
The incubus giggled and laid a hand on Derek’s forearm to stop him. Stiles’ smile was lazy, and he looked remarkably fucked-out for someone who had not even gotten off yet. His orgasm really must have given the kid a boost.
“Save your strength, wolfman. It takes a lot for me to come. And I’m not done with you yet.”
The feeling was mutual. Derek pulled out as gently as he could, tying up the condom and tossing it into the trash. He definitely felt more relaxed with his first orgasm out of the way, but there were still so many things he wanted to do to the charming creature below him.
In fact, it hit him all at once during his afterglow. He found the talkative kid in front of him enchanting, and he didn’t completely understand that feeling. Although…the noises Stiles made were sexy, mostly because they seemed unforced and genuine rather than some ploy to please a client. And he tasted delicious. And then there was the unwavering compulsion to see what Stiles would like when he came.
He was far from finished.
“How soon can I fuck you again?” He murmured, sucking at the boy’s earlobe, prompting another little moan. So responsive.
Stiles’ earlier joke about refractory periods hadn’t been that far off. As a wolf, his stamina was greater than a human’s, and the full moon only fueled him further.
Stiles tugged his face downwards and kissed him filthily, licking over his lips and biting his tongue. The boy grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. “As soon as you’re hard again.”
“Until then…” Derek whispered, “Can I eat you out?”
That same surprised blush covered Stiles’ cheeks as when he tried to explain the finer points of self-lubrication. “No—I mean, I don’t think you should.”
“Why not?” Derek frowned when he saw the worry etched into Stiles’ features.
“It’s kinda weird, and I’ve never had to explain it to anyone before.” The demon shrugged, and it was a little too self-conscious for Derek’s liking.
“You won’t chase me away.” He curled his fingers into the incubus’ hair, a shock of uncertainty running through him. Maybe he was being too familiar, and that wasn’t what this was. But Stiles didn’t seem bothered and said nothing, so maybe it was okay, even for just tonight.
“They’re aphrodisiacs,” Stiles said quietly. It was strange to see both sides of the coin, how the kid could shift from confident and seductive to unsure and flustered.
“And by ‘they,’ you mean that your bodily fluids are the supernatural world’s little blue pill?”
Stiles chuckled and groaned, covering his face in his hands. “I guess so. They, um,” the boy paused to suck his bottom lip into his mouth before letting it pop back out, distractingly shiny, “make people frenetic and delirious. That’s what I’ve heard. I don’t let anyone…”
“Then I won’t,” Derek assured softly. “Just tell me what you need.”
“Finger me?”
Derek leaned down and kissed Stiles, hoping to chase away any lingering anxiety the kid felt. There was no reason for him to be ashamed of his biology.
He crooked two fingers back inside the demon, sliding so easily past the boy’s used rim that Derek had to hold back an undignified groan. Stiles stretched his long limbs and made a satisfied noise.
Derek used some of the incubus’ slick to jerk his own cock, and when Stiles realized what he doing, the boy whimpered pitifully and swore under his breath. His back arched while Derek twisted and jabbed four fingers against his prostate, and it really wasn’t that difficult for Derek to get hard again.
Stiles enthusiastically agreed to turn himself onto his hands and knees but chose to make a grand show of it. He rolled over onto his stomach, bracing his hands under himself so that he could rise with a smooth sway of his body. He tipped his ass high in the air and looked back at Derek, playfully batting his eyelashes.
Derek smiled because the kid was ridiculous, but his stomach also tightened with desire as he noticed Stiles’ hole glistening in the overhead light.
He pressed himself against the boy’s back and sank into him, watching Stiles’ head drop downwards. Derek kissed the knobs of the demon’s spine and the protrusions of his shoulder blades, smiling at the deceptive signs of the boy’s fragility. This kid, who looked harmless and as sweet as pie, could tear anyone who wronged him limb from limb. Maybe such a morbid thought shouldn’t have comforted him, but it did.
Derek enjoyed finding other ways to please Stiles. Their first fuck had been a little hurried and destination-oriented, but now, he wanted to savor Stiles’ tight, wet heat gripping around him. He tweaked the incubus’ nipples while he fucked him and held onto one bony hip so that he could grind deeply into him.
Stiles pumped his own cock, the sweat collecting on both of their skin, and Derek felt himself pulled to the crest of orgasm again. The demon still didn’t follow, but Derek imagined that Stiles’ eyes had changed again as he fed. He thought of Stiles with every pulse of pleasure that wracked his body.
Derek was panting slightly as he dropped onto his back, stripping himself of another dirty condom.
“I really thought I’d get you off that time,” he mumbled.
Stiles turned onto his side to face him, grinning.
“Are you sure you can handle another one?” the incubus teased.
The sex was great. In fact, Derek didn’t remember sex being this good. It was probably related to the fact that Derek couldn’t remember the last time he had sex or who his last partner had been.
This was just what he wanted, but he hadn’t expected to enjoy Stiles’ company so much. The kid was obviously smart and adorably quirky, and Derek wasn’t quite ready for this to be over. Having sex with Stiles for the rest of the night would not be a hardship, and once they stopped fucking, there would be no reason for the boy to stick around.
“You’re still hard,” he noted calmly, trailing his fingers lightly over the side of Stiles’ dick and then cupping his balls. He was pleased when he saw the demon squeeze the bedclothes tightly in a fist.
In a flash of movement, Stiles flattened him back into the mattress, giving Derek another taste of the boy’s understated strength. The incubus ripped a new condom open with his teeth, and seconds later, started sucking sinfully on Derek’s covered cock. Stiles skipped right past any semblance of teasing and deepthroated him, scratching blunt nails down the tops of his thighs until Derek’s eyes glowed blue.
When he started to feel just a little too good, he pulled Stiles off of his cock and kissed him, tasting stale latex. With the kid kneeling over him, Derek let his hands ghost along the backs of Stiles’ thighs and the curve of his ass.
Stiles started grinding against his lap, and his cock slid between the boy’s cheeks until he felt the smooth glide of leaking slick.
“Ride me?”
Stiles’ answer involved dropping down onto his cock so quickly that Derek felt dizzy with the sudden barrage of heat and pressure around him. The boy let out a wounded noise once he settled back into Derek’s lap, and for a moment, Derek worried that he had hurt him.
“Oh, fuck,” Stiles’ voice wavered. “I’m gonna come this time. That felt so fucking good, Derek.” He started swirling his hips, his eyes clenched shut and his mouth parted. Every bounce on Derek’s cock forced a punched-out breath from the demon, and Derek could scarcely do anything but steady Stiles by his hips and watch him go.
He didn’t know how long they had been fucking because the alarm clock was on the nightstand and out of sight. By this point, Stiles was so open and slippery that slick was dripping down the insides of his thighs in slow, viscous trails. The wet, squelching sounds the kid made as he slid up and down Derek’s cock would be impossible to forget.
“Oh god, oh god,” Stiles panted, rolling his hips slowly so that Derek could see the ripple of flexing abdominal muscles. One of Derek’s hands slipped from the kid’s side, circling his cock instead, and Stiles squealed when his orgasm finally reached him.
Initially, Derek felt a brief flare of panic. Never having slept with an incubus or succubus before, he was wading around in the middle of the big, black unknown. He hadn’t thought to ask Stiles what it would feel like. He had been…preoccupied with other thoughts.
Stiles’ nails dug into his chest, and the kid breathed out, “Don’t fight it, Derek. It’s okay.”
There was an overwhelming pressure building inside of his groin and abdomen, treading the line between pleasure and discomfort. It was just so much, and yet, he didn’t want it to stop. Stiles was milking his cock so tightly, and within a span of seconds, he was coming for the third time, his breath catching in his chest. The overlap of their orgasms must have done something wondrous for Stiles because he whined and gouged his nails hard enough into Derek’s pectorals to make him bleed.
It was difficult for him to tell when Stiles finished because his cock was still throbbing from his orgasm, but then the boy slumped forward onto Derek’s chest and did nothing but breathe for a long time.
When he looked up, Derek noticed how bright the kid’s eyes were, the healthy flush of his cheeks. The word that came to mind was “radiant.” Stiles looked sated and well-fed, and Derek’s inner wolf rumbled happily and then curled down for a nap.
Derek could use a nap, too. He felt quite literally drained and would be content to never move again. He felt the slowness of his breaths and the relaxed rate of his heartbeat, both too slow to be normal. He felt the slightest shiver of coldness across his skin and springing goose bumps, a stimuli and a response that he had never experienced before. A human certainly wouldn’t have fared well.
Despite those side effects, he felt incredibly light and content and smiled as Stiles leaned over him.
The demon’s eyes were wide, and he looked worried. Stiles must have just noticed the blood under his fingernails and the drying smears on Derek’s chest.
“Shit, Derek, I’m so sorry. I should have paid closer attention. Are you okay?”
The scratches had long since healed, and he hadn’t felt anything besides undiluted ecstasy while Stiles fed anyway. Still, the demon was cradling his face, those long fingers brushing anxiously over his skin.
“I’m fine, Stiles. It’s alright.”
The kid sighed, and his shoulders sagged in relaxation. “Your vital signs will be back to normal in a few hours. You just need a good night’s sleep.”
“What time is it?” Derek mumbled.
“Late.” Derek hummed noncommittally and watched the pretty boy through hooded eyes.
“I’m going to clean up. Just rest, okay?”
Derek heard water running in the bathroom, and a minute later, Stiles returned with a warm washcloth. A few droplets of water were still hanging on the kid’s skin, and they sparkled in the light.
Stiles pulled the condom off for him and threw it away, the trash bag rustling quietly. He felt a little guilty that some person would have to clean up the traces of his sexual debauchery tomorrow morning, but he wasn’t too motivated to do anything about it.
He hummed when Stiles wiped his cock with the warm rag, running it over his stomach and his chest, wiping away blood smears and Stiles’ come. As tempted as Derek was, he didn’t taste it. He had promised Stiles that he wouldn’t.
The boy pulled on his jeans and held up Derek’s underwear, but he only made a displeased grumble at the prospect of getting dressed, so Stiles dropped them back to the floor with a chuckle.
The kid sat down on the side of the bed, fresh-faced and half-naked, and suddenly, Derek laughed.
Stiles nudged his shin with a bare foot. “What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking that life is ironic.” Stiles’ puzzled expression urged him to explain. “When I first saw you, I thought you were angelic. Of all the words my mind could have picked, that was the one it selected. And then I thought about how I was going to go to hell for defiling you.”
The demon cackled. “Don’t worry, the defiling was my favorite part.” Stiles’ smile became devilish. “Besides, I’ve never been to hell, so I wouldn’t know how to drag you there anyway.”
Before Derek knew what he was doing, he set a hand against Stiles’ knee and rubbed it lightly. In the morning, he would probably be horrified about how uninhibited he was right now. Stiles’ hand settled over top of his.
“I should probably get going.” There was a sadness to the kid’s voice; at least, Derek liked to think there was. Perhaps he was just listening for what he wanted to hear.
“Let me drive you home.”
“Big guy, you can’t even drive yourself home. You look ready to pass out. Just sleep it off.”
“It’s a long walk back. It’s dark out,” he reasoned.
“Did you forget that I’m a demon?” The boy smiled with faint amusement. “I can get myself back to my apartment in one piece.”
Stiles got up to finish dressing, and Derek rolled onto his side to watch him. The incubus scanned the room, checking for anything he might have left behind, and then patted his front pocket as furtively as possible to make sure none of the money had fallen out.
The kid returned to the bed, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek and run fingers through his hair.
With a parting smile, he said, “Goodnight, Derek.”
He only stayed awake long enough to hear the click of the front door closing. He fell asleep with his face pressed into covers that smelled faintly like smoke.