Work Text:
Stiles would be the first one to admit that he was a kinky bastard. It wasn't necessarily a fact backed up by experience seeing as he hadn't gotten laid in well over a year now and his few attempted relationships were so bland they were hardly worth a mention. But it was a fact firmly supported by his very incriminating search history, a copious amount of sex toys he had acquired over the years and even more lube in all sorts of flavors and consistencies.
That was to say that he had a very healthy sex life, even if it was only with himself. And with an arsenal of toys that even Erica, the woman working in his local sex shop was envious of, who even needed a boyfriend or a girlfriend to keep them satisfied? Let alone a one night stand that in his experience wasn't nearly as invested in his pleasure to give him a truly satisfying night of sex that would be worth all the risks with seeking one out in the first place.
If Stiles was the kind of guy who was satisfied with mediocre sex with selfish partners, he would have still been with his ex boyfriend who considered giving him a fist bump post sex as the height of intimacy. But at least he'd tried, which was more than most of his other exes could say.
Yes, Stiles did sure know how to pick them as his friends liked to point out. Which was exactly why he'd steered clear from any dates for the past year, even if his dick was starting to get a bit sick of his own hands. Because while his heart was done with all the disappointment that came with involving yourself with another person in such an intimate way, his libido had yet to get the memo.
Experimenting while single required creativity, which Stiles had in abundance. What he severely lacked in, however, was patience. And Stiles had done a lot of stupid things in his lifetime, but as he tugged uselessly at the handcuffs that kept him chained to his bed by his rapidly bruising wrist, he couldn’t deny that this had to be one of the stupidest ones to date.
Especially when there was a loud, thundering knock on his door and a deep, male voice called out the words, “Fire department!”
“Fuck you, Erica!” Stiles called out in return for the slightest chance that she was there to hear it and the laughter he heard in response was far from professional in his humble opinion. If he wasn’t too busy fuming with sudden rage, maybe he’d even call them out on it. But he was far too busy freaking out and trying to figure out how to clean up the scene surrounding him now that Erica, the person he’d actually called for assistance, wasn’t the one at his door.
God, what an absolute fucking nightmare this day had turned out to be.
The worst part of this whole ordeal was that really, he only had himself to blame for all of it. Erica had been trying to set him up with her friend for months at this point, promising him that they were a perfect match when it came to pretty much everything one needed in a partner, especially on the more physical side of things. If he’d just listened to her, this whole situation could have been prevented because if anyone would know about his taste and interests, it was her.
Stiles had a lot of good friends, but with Erica he could talk to about things he wouldn’t usually discuss with anyone else because he knew for a fact that they’d take some of his kinkier fantasies as a cry for help and another intervention was the last thing he needed. Erica, on the other hand, was a professional in the field of all things kink related and she spurred on said fantasies rather than trying to stifle them. She was hilarious and knowledgeable and she sometimes even let him use her employee discount on the pricier toys that caught his eye and she fully supported all of his solo endeavors.
Even if she was still of firm belief that everyone deserved to have a hot firefighter boyfriend who’d cater to their every whim and kink. Hence, trying to set him up with a good friend of hers named Derek who was his supposed perfect match, like such a thing even existed.
To be fair, Derek did seem nice from the few conversations they’ve had by now, fueled solely by Erica stealing the phone right from his hand and texting Derek in his stead after he’d refused to take the guy’s number for what had to be the hundredth time.
Derek was funny and a great conversationalist and he had no trouble keeping up with Stiles’ rambling and sarcastic remarks and he’d be lying if he said that they didn’t have plenty of interests in common, just like Erica kept saying. The brief talk they had about their sexual preferences was enough to fuel Stiles’ fantasies for weeks that followed. It was kind of ridiculous how he seemed to have more sexual chemistry with Derek just through a few exchanged texts than with most of his exes.
He was hot too, as Erica kept assuring him. Having met her boyfriend Boyd who was a firefighter just like Derek, Stiles didn’t doubt it. But all of the green flags that Derek was giving off scared Stiles more than any red flags ever had in the past. He found himself liking Derek far too much far too quickly and that was terrifying because Stiles would be the first one to admit that he was a mess and the full extent of it just simply couldn’t be translated over text.
After all of his previous relationship failures, Stiles didn’t think he could handle another disappointment if Derek didn’t end up liking what he saw and if he was being completely honest with himself, Stiles was a bit intimidated by the breadth of Derek’s experience compared to the lack of his own. Stiles had enough filthy fantasies to put any erotica writer to shame but when it came to the real, practical experience? He was still very much a novice and his current interests seemed so tame compared to all of the things that people like Erica and Derek got up to on a regular basis.
So instead of growing a pair and going after a good thing when it finally presented itself, he kept dodging Derek’s offers to meet up with empty excuses and tried to tame his insatiable libido all by his lonesome.
Stiles was just a big fan of orgasms of all around, it really was that simple. And with so much free time on his hands and all of the endless possibilities around him, he was determined to wring as many of them from himself as he could, if only to prove a point that he was doing just fine all on his own.
But there was one kind of orgasm he’d gotten obsessed with recently, his white whale of orgasms that he’d been chasing since he was a teenager and he first encountered it in a random video that despite his best efforts was still tragically far from his reach. And that was a handsfree orgasm, accomplished by nothing other than pure prostate stimulation.
It was something he’d been experimenting with for years at this point, both with partners and by himself. His previous partners never had enough patience to get him there and when he was on his own, he always got too damn impatient and whenever he got close to the finish line, he’d inevitably give into the temptation and touch his cock, completely derailing all of his progress.
It wasn’t until Erica mentioned that she and her boyfriend tended to use restraints – more specifically, a pair of leather cuffs – to achieve the same goal that it hit him. Oh. Now there was an idea.
Erica was probably trying to not so subtly sell him on the idea of having an extra pair of hands to hold him down and help him get to where he so desperately wanted to be but Stiles’ mind had gone in the opposite direction. If he had a pair of handcuffs to keep his disobedient free hand out of the way and forcing himself to either come without a single touch to his cock or not at all?
Well, if reality was half as hot as the idea now firmly planted in his head – and it was beyond scorchingly, mind meltingly hot even in his tamest fantasies – that seemed like a perfect solution for all of his woes.
He’d spent weeks trying to convince himself that it was not, in fact, a good idea at all but it was to no avail. Like a dog with a bone, he simply couldn’t fucking drop it and was it really a surprise that with his low impulse control, the next time he stopped by his dad’s office to bring him lunch, he left it with a pair of sturdy metal handcuffs stuffed deep in his pocket, his heart in his throat and his cock already half hard in anticipation?
Naturally, it had all gone downhill from there. Because one of the serious downsides of being so nervous about stealing the cuffs from a literal police station was that he’d completely forgotten to steal the key that came with them. He hadn’t thought that far ahead in his horny frenzy and since he’d rather not take his chances by another bout of theft, he decided that a paperclip would just have to do instead.
In retrospect, he was a fucking idiot, as was evidenced by the crew of firefighters currently getting ready to knock his door down.
“Sir?” the same voice as before called out when Stiles was silent for a moment too long. “Do you have a spare key somewhere around here? Maybe with one of your neighbors? If not, I’m afraid we’ll have to make our own way inside.”
Stiles clenched his eyes shut and took a deep, calming breath in hopes that it would help him focus. It was time to weigh which possibility was worse; not having a functioning door and having to sort out that mess with his asshole landlord or having the firefighters deal directly with said asshole landlord who’d no doubt have many deeply inappropriate questions and might even kick him out for his depraved sexual exploits.
In the end, he decided that destroying the door would attract the attention of the rest of his neighbors too, at least the ones who weren’t already on alert from all the shouting and decided to go with the latter option.
“Landlord in the apartment 215 has a copy!” he shouted back, immediately regretting his decision but what else was new?
“Okay, just hang in there, Stiles,” the firefighter said and Stiles winced because of course. Of fucking course things could get even worse. He’d be doomed from the fact that he lived in such a small town to begin with but did they have to know his name too? There was no way he would get out of this experience socially unscathed. “We’ll be there soon.”
Stiles didn’t bother responding. He was far too busy trying to figure out where to hide his massive bottle of strawberry flavored lube he’d gotten as a gift from Erica because it was almost out of date and the many, many toys he had spread out on his bed like some orgy style buffet.
They weren’t a problem when he thought that Erica was the one coming to his rescue. She was the one who’d sold him most of them to begin with and by now, the two of them knew way too much about one another’s sex lives for people who’d never actually had sex and it was basically a situation of mutually ensured destruction if she ever dared to tease him about any of it.
Including the stupid lube, because he knew for a fact she had the same giant container at home for all those days where Boyd was at work or in the mood to be pegged – or rimmed, which according to her was quite often – and did Stiles mention that she was also a chronic oversharer? No? Well, she certainly was!
That was also how he knew that she had quite a collection of handcuffs at her disposal, including official police ones and the keys that came with them. The keys that she promised she’d bring along to help him out of his predicament when he’d called her in a panic when after about an hour of twisting and turning and tugging on the cuff keeping him prisoner got him nothing but a painfully bruised wrist.
She’d spent half the phone call laughing at his plight, and half chewing him out for his shoddy safety measures, if putting a paper clip on the corner of his nightstand where it could get easily knocked on the floor and out of his reach could even be considered as a safety measure.
As he’s already established, he wasn’t really thinking that far ahead when he woke up early this morning with his cock hard enough to pound nails. Maybe abstaining for the week leading up to his experiment wasn’t the smartest decision to make because all of the blood that rushed to his cock at the mere idea of what he was about to do didn’t leave him with enough brain power for much needed critical thinking.
The only thought running through his mind in the moment had been that today was the day he would finally reach his personal Mount Everest or he would die trying. The dying part was supposed to stay metaphorical but it was safe to say that it quickly became a far too real possibility that had him reaching for his phone to make the distress call. He’d thankfully left it within reach to play some helpful material to get him going.
Stiles wasn’t exactly eager to call for help and get anyone else involved in his mess, but the last thing he wanted was for his dad or for one of his friends to show up in his apartment in a few weeks to do a welfare check on him just to find his rotting corpse chained to the bed. That’d just be traumatizing for everyone involved and since he didn’t have the mental fortitude to break his thumb to get out of the cuffs nor the patience or bladder control to slowly saw through the thick wooden headboard of his bed, calling in reinforcements it was.
The most logical choice of them all would have been to call his dad. As the Sheriff, he had plenty of keys at his disposal and it would be in his best interest as both the Sherriff and a father to keep this incident solely between them. He considered his best friend next when he realized that his dad might never recover from the trauma of seeing his son in such a state but quickly gave up on that idea, too. He loved Scott like a brother but the guy couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it.
Erica really was his only real option. She worked close by and took frequent breaks, she was his only friend who knew how to pick locks, she already had a key somewhere in her own collection of tools and toys and while she’s never let him live it down, she also wouldn’t hesitate to help.
And he was right. She hadn’t. After she’d made sure that no, he hadn’t gotten catfished or robbed and no, there wasn’t currently a serial killer sharpening his knives in his kitchen to dismember him and they established that she consumed far too much true crime, she didn’t hesitate to come to his aid. Well, after she made him swear up and down that he’d attend her next safety related workshop and he promised that he’d never do any kind of bondage by himself first.
“Please, Erica,” he’d shamelessly begged, even though he could already hear her shuffling around the store, probably getting ready to leave.
“Fine,” she’d played along and he could hear the smirk in her voice as she’d added, “But only because you sound so pretty when you beg.”
No amount of begging would spare her life once Stiles got his hands on her, assuming he survived the humiliation of his current situation in the first place. Because when she told him that ‘help was on the way’ he never once thought that she’d call 911 on him instead. All he could really do now was pray that Derek wasn’t part of the crew that was answering this particular call and do his best to mitigate the damage.
He tipped over the industrial size tub of lube into the drawer of his nightstand that was just deep enough to house it, though there wasn’t anything he could to do get rid of the chemical scent of strawberries that permeated the room. Next, he covered all of his toys with a blanket and used the towel that he had strategically prepared in advance to cover his lap because all of his clothes were tragically out of his reach.
He couldn’t hold back a whimper when he heard the telltale jiggle of the keys in his door far too soon and the toy he’d used, all slippery with lube, started to slip from his fingers. Panicked, he went to throw it but pitching had never been his strength and in his frantic attempt to just get it out of sight, it somehow went up instead of sideways like it was supposed to. And there it stayed, somehow sticking easily to the ceiling with the stupid suction cup that always refused to stick to the tiles in his bathroom, jiggling merrily away while he fought an impending breakdown.
“Fuck!” he screamed into his pillow and when that didn’t magically help, he glared down to his lap where his stupid, useless cock was still half hard. “See what happens when I let you do all the thinking?”
His cock, to absolutely no one’s surprise, offered no helpful solutions.
“It’s all going to be fine,” he told himself as the door opened and he heard muffled voices from the hallway telling his landlord that he’ll have to stay outside and give them space to work despite his insistence to join in. Just as long as no one looked up, he might still make it out of this only partially scarred for life.
Just when he thought that surely he’d reached the limit of just how bad things could get, the first firefighter entered his room and he was hot. Like, the hot firefighter calendar kind of hot. The guy looked like he’d crawled straight out of Stiles’ dirtiest fantasies and that just made this whole thing that much more humiliating because there was no way in hell he’d be able to keep his composure now. It was only a matter of time before he made an even bigger idiot of himself now that he knew for certain that his propensity for insanely bad decision knew no bounds.
He was so focused on the first firefighter – Hale, according to his uniform – that it took him a moment to realize that the other two firefighters looked a bit too familiar for his liking.
“Stilinski?” none other than Jackson fucking Whittemore asked and Stiles groaned.
“You doing alright?” Hale asked, rushing to his side to better observe the situation and Stiles was beyond relieved that instead of mocking or laughing, all he got was professional concern.
“I think I died and went to hell.”
Hale’s serious demeanor cracked just the tiniest bit at his quip. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first person to say that after meeting Jackson.”
Well, shit. He just had to have a sense of humor on top of his ridiculous looks too, didn’t he? Trying not feel self conscious about his nakedness quickly became impossible. He probably should have gotten under the covers instead of a threadbare towel that did little to conceal his modesty, assuming he had any left at this point.
“We went to high school together,” Stiles said, desperate for a distraction. “Trust me, I know.”
Jackson looked like he wanted to say something just as cutting but one look from Hale had him biting back his witty retort and Stiles couldn’t have stopped his smug grin if he tried. Not that he tried very hard at all. Stiles wasn’t just an annoying classmate anymore, he was a victim and Jackson was contractually obligated to be nice to him and seeing him silently seethe about it was the one bright side of this whole situation.
Well, as long as none of them looked up at least. There was no contract in the world strong enough to keep their mouths shut if they noticed that.
“Isaac, hand me the bolt cutters,” Hale ordered. “And hold his hand steady so I can cut these off.”
Stiles let Isaac maneuver his arm into a more suitable position without complaint even though it hurt to move it after such a long time of it being stuck in one position because he was too busy squinting at the curly haired firefighter. Lahey, his uniform said and that too sounded vaguely familiar.
“Did we go to high school together, too?”
Isaac smirked, clearly barely containing a laugh. “Beacon Hills is a really small town, huh?”
Yes, yes it was. Which had its advantages on occasion, but definitely not when calling 911 meant having a full blown high school reunion. As Hale first cut through the chains of the cuffs to release his arm and started working on the metal clamped around his wrist, he wondered if he went to school with him, too. But no, he couldn’t have. Hale seemed to be a few years older than the rest of them but his name did sound a bit familiar now that he wasn’t too busy drooling over him to pay attention.
Hale… the family that lived on the preserve, right? The ones whose house was set on fire after their youngest son ended things with his psycho girlfriend and who then decided to become a firefighter because of it? Hale, Boyd’s captain and Erica’s friend-
His eyed widened in shock once it hit him. “Hale,” he said slowly, his mortification reaching an all time high. “Please don’t tell me your first name is Derek?”
Namely, Erica’s hot firefighter friend Derek who she’d been trying to set him up with for months at this point. The guy that Stiles had been flirting with over text for weeks now but hadn’t been brave enough to actually go out with despite Derek’s multiple invitations for drinks, always claiming to be swamped with work when in reality he was a coward who just hadn’t wanted to risk losing the good thing they had going on by being his usual awkward self.
There was a reason Stiles usually insisted on meeting people he met online as soon as possible; the sooner they knew what they were signing up for, the better. But Derek actually was kept very busy with his job and after the first few initial delays and after Erica kept talking Derek up, well, could anyone blame Stiles for worrying that he wouldn’t be able to measure up to Derek’s expectations?
Derek was already exceeding his, that was for sure. Erica hadn’t put enough emphasis on just how attractive Derek truly was and he was going to be having words with her about that, assuming he survived this whole ordeal first. Things were looking pretty damn dire from where he was sitting, naked and covered in strawberry lube he’d rubbed all over his wrist in an attempt to free himself.
As far as first impressions went, this one was far from ideal to put it mildly.
Derek glanced briefly up at him with a knowing look before he focused his attention back to his task. “That’s me.”
“I’m going to kill Erica,” Stiles concluded, his face no doubt flushing into an ugly, blotchy red. He had to fight the urge to look up at his ceiling lest he called anyone’s attention to it as he tried to keep his eyes away from Derek’s knowing expression, praying to all the gods he could think of for a hole to open up under his bed and swallow him whole. At this point, a swift death would be a mercy.
Isaac lifted his eyebrows as Derek lifted up his bolt cutters and looked for the perfect spot to make the cut. “Did she cuff you to your bed and leave you here?”
He didn’t seem half as surprised by that idea as he should have been, but then again, it was Erica. “No, but if I wanted the whole fire department to swarm my apartment, I would have made the call myself instead of calling her. I’m sure you have much more important things that you could be doing with your time.”
Isaac only shrugged, helping hold Stiles’ wrist in place as Derek clamped the bolt cutter to the perfect spot. “It’s a simple, quick call without anyone actively bleeding or dying so I’ll take it. Especially at the end of an already long shift.”
“You do seem to have it well under control,” Stiles said, mildly impressed by their efficiency, even though they probably had a very good idea of what they were walking into thanks to Erica.
“This kind of thing happens a lot more often than you’d think,” Jackson said with a grimace and Stiles wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or despair for the fate of humanity. But then there was a click and Stiles gasped in both pain and relief as the metal of the cuff gave way and finally released his hand.
“It’s a good thing she called,” Derek murmured, taking a hold of his forearm and inspecting the damage. The skin of his wrist was rubbed raw from all of his frantic attempts to free himself and it was definitely going to leave a nasty bruise. “How long have you been stuck here like this?”
“A little under two hours I think,” he said, though it had felt much longer than that.
Derek nodded, though he didn’t exactly look happy with his response. Stiles couldn’t blame him. If he’d tightened the cuffs just that tiny bit more, he probably would have ended up with some far serious injuries instead of some mild soreness and bruising.
“What happened?” Derek asked instead of voicing his judgements like Stiles half expected him to do, his pretty eyes full of genuine concern that made him feel like that much more of an idiot. “Did someone do this to you? Because if they did, you should consider filing a police report.”
Stiles immediately shook his head, but he hesitated to elaborate. He wasn’t sure what would be worse at this point; making up a story to blame this on someone else or admitting to the truth of his own idiocy. Derek looked like he could be trusted to keep it quiet, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about the other two.
As if sensing his concern, Derek glanced at Isaac and Jackson and ordered them to grab their equipment and go wait for him by the truck and it was such an odd thing, seeing Jackson actually listen to a figure of authority without any complaints for once. It spoke to the respect he had for Derek as his Captain and Stiles should not be as affected by that quiet confidence he so easily embodied as he was.
A minute later, he and Derek were alone in Stiles’ bedroom, Stiles’ wrist still cradled in Derek’s impossibly large hand as he waited patiently for Stiles to speak.
“I…” Stiles trailed off, feeling his face flush with more than just embarrassment at being caught under the weight of that gaze. Derek’s eyes were absurdly mesmerizing. “I may have done this to myself?”
He didn’t sound convincing even to his own ears and Derek’s frown deepened. “Look, I know you probably don’t want to get anyone in trouble. I understand. But leaving you alone cuffed to the bed is very dangerous, Stiles. What if you had a medical emergency? What if there was a fire? You could have gotten seriously hurt.”
Great, now he felt even worse. “I’m not seeing anyone,” Stiles had to address first because he didn’t want Derek to think that was why he’d refused his invitation for drinks so many times. He never was great when it came to prioritizing.
Derek sighed. “Stiles-“
But then Stiles looked up, unable to help himself and Derek’s gaze immediately followed his, his mouth dropping open at the dildo just… hanging right there for all to see. Then he glanced at the empty side of Stiles’ bed where, to Stiles’ horror, there was a very clear imprint of all of the toys Stiles had covered up with a blanket far too thin to actually hide them out of view.
“Oh,” Derek simply said in a tone of voice that Stiles couldn’t quite interpret. “I see.”
Stiles let out a nervous laugh. “It was a very stupid idea, I know. But I’m single and I had this plan and well, no one ever accused me of having great impulse control.”
“You have to know that Erica holds regular kink related workshops, including one that’s centered entirely on safety,” Derek said and Stiles cursed himself for not bothering to attend a single one. Not because it could have spared him the embarrassment, but rather because it sounded like Derek might have visited one himself. “There’s clubs and apps for people who are into the same thing, too. Surely that’s much easier than going through all this trouble to- what? Experiment with bondage?”
“Handsfree orgasm,” Stiles admitted, then flushed at the amused quirk of Derek’s eyebrows. “And I did try hooking up with a dominatrix once who I met on an app. She brought her collection of whips on our first date and I cried like five minutes into our scene when she called me names and I quickly realized that believe it or not? I’m not a huge fan of humiliation. Or pain.”
Derek nodded, as if what Stiles was saying made any sense at all. “Braeden?”
Stiles blinked at him. “How did you-?”
Derek shrugged. “We played around a bit but didn’t turn out to be a good match in the long run. Different styles,” he explained. “She can be quite… intense.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Stiles muttered, much to Derek’s amusement. “So, yeah. I don’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to relationship and since I highly doubt that there’s many people who’d be into a sub whose tastes are still pretty vanilla by most of their standards, I figured I’m better off steering clear from the scene altogether.”
“You’d be surprised,” Derek said, words heavy with meaning and then he cleared his throat, going back to his professional demeanor when he remembered that this entire time he’d just been holding Stiles’ hand in his without checking it over. “There doesn’t seem to be any damage, save for a nasty bruise and the soreness in your arm. I’d still like for you to get checked out in the hospital-“
“No,” Stiles was quick to say, shaking his head before Derek could even finish his sentence. “No hospitals, I’m fine. I’ve sprained enough wrists and ankles and broken enough bones in my lifetime to know what that feels like and it’s not like this.”
Derek didn’t look like he approved but he didn’t try to push either. “If you’re sure. But you should at least ice your wrist for a while and go get it checked out if you experience any swelling.”
“Oh, I’m definitely experiencing some swelling,” Stiles muttered as he glanced down at his own lap where the towel he’d thrown haphazardly over his lap was now comically tented and then froze in horror when he realized that he’d actually said those words aloud. “Oh my god,” he breathed out, so horrified he couldn’t even look Derek in the eye. “I’m so, so sorry. As you can see, today is not my best day.”
Much to his own surprise, instead of chewing him out for his less than appropriate conduct, Derek shrugged out of his jacket, leaving him in nothing but the tight black shirt with the fire department logo and a pair of suspenders that only highlighted his impressive muscles that much more.
“Technically, I’m off the clock,” he said, giving Stiles a very thorough once over. “But I wouldn’t mind taking a look.” When all Stiles could do was gape at him, sure he’d suffered some head trauma along the way because there was no chance in hell this was actually happening, Derek added, “Only if you’re comfortable with that, of course. No pressure.”
“Is this real?” Stiles asked, just to double check. “Because this time it feels like I might have died and went to heaven.”
Derek nodded instead of laughing at him like he clearly wanted to. Probably like any sane person would in his situation. Instead, he simply said, “I like you, Stiles. We’ve been talking for a while and from everything that Erica’s said about you? I think we’d be a good match. We could start with drinks of course, but since I’m already here and you’re clearly in need of assistance… really, it’s up to you.”
“Shouldn’t you go back to your team?” Stiles asked, thinking back to Jackson and Isaac who were no doubt already gossiping about Stiles and Derek and what they were getting up to alone in his apartment.
“They’ll live,” Derek said with ease, shrugging off his concern. “Besides, I don’t think this is going to take long.”
Derek pointedly glanced down to his lap where the towel tent had only grown bigger, now marked with an embarrassing wet spot. But while his dick was beyond eager to get some action, Stiles’ brain was still a bit on the hesitant side.
“if it helps, I won’t even touch you,” Derek threw in to help ease his mind, “What I had in mind was more of a supervisory type of deal. Someone has to make sure your experiment doesn’t end up with you cuffed to your headboard again.”
“Right.” Stiles nodded, his cock straining against the rough fabric of the towel from the mental image Derek had just planted in his head. “You’re just performing your civil duty as a firefighter. Saving reckless twinks from falling prey to their own desires.”
“Plus, you’re really hot too and I’m still only a man under this uniform,” Derek said solemnly, though her eyes were full of humor. Huh. It seemed that he was one of the few people who actually found Stiles charming. Maybe Erica knew what she was doing after all.
“And you’re not going to touch me?” Stiles asked, just for the sake of clarification. “Not even a little?” He might have been pouting as he said it, just the tiniest bit.
Derek considered him for a moment, head tilted to the side before he said, “I’d be open to holding your hand, just so you don’t strain it even more.” He nodded to himself. “That might actually work out even better to help you achieve your goal for the day. The handsfree orgasm?” he clarified at Stiles’ confused look.
Stiles nodded once, then twice, then three more times for good measure. Would he like to have Derek’s hands and his mouth and his everything all over his body? Absolutely. But hearing that voice lead him towards his orgasm was far from a consolation prize and he had to stop himself from nodding before he gave himself whiplash.
“Yup,” he managed to croak out. “That- that’ll do.”
“Good.” Derek carefully sat down on the edge of Stiles’ bed and pulled up the blanket that was doing a rather poor job hiding away his toys. He inspected the collection with a critical eye while Stiles tried his best not to squirm, but mostly failed, much to Derek’s amusement. “Which one’s your favorite?”
Stiles looked up mournfully at the ceiling. “That one.”
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be in the mood to come down any time soon so Derek simply asked, “Can I choose an alternative?” and Stiles nodded again because for what might have been the first time in his entire life, he suddenly found himself tongue tied.
Derek took his sweet time looking over all of the options before he finally settled on the medium sized vibrator with a wicked curve perfect for prostate stimulation and when he inquired about the lube, still speechless Stiles directed him to his nightstand drawer with a look and the slight sting of embarrassment at the smirk on Derek’s face when he saw the label only made his arousal burn that much hotter.
Huh. So maybe not all types of humiliation were off limits. Good to know.
With all of the supplies gathered, there was no point in beating around the bush anymore. Stiles ripped off the towel off of his lap like one would a band aid and Derek’s appraising look melted the last of his previous self consciousness. Derek liked what he saw if the tightness of his uniform pants was any indication. And if Stiles made a show out of shamelessly stretching out his legs and spreading them apart to give Derek the best view while he poured a truly excessive amount of strawberry lube onto the vibrator? He was just a man, too. A desperately horny one.
All in all, he’d say that he was handling this whole thing rather well. He’d expected it to be more awkward because he’d never been the type to put on a show but there was something about Derek’s calm, steady presence and the heated eyes roving over the lines of his body that instantly put him at ease.
Which was of course why he immediately turned into a blushing, flustered mess the moment Derek held out a hand in a silent request to hold Stiles’. Here he was, about to fuck himself in front of this stranger who he barely knew but it was the handholding that got to him? Ridiculous. This whole situation was insane.
And yet he’d never been more turned on in his life.
“Go on,” Derek told him, his warm, rough hand gently cradling Stiles’. “I want to see you come apart for me.”
He didn’t need to ask twice.
“Slower,” Derek ordered as Stiles started to push the toy inside him, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down his spine.
“I can take it,” Stiles protested. He was still wet and open from his previous attempt with a significantly larger toy that he’d used a lot more vigorously. He knew his body, he knew his limits and the only danger he was in right now was losing his mind if he didn’t get to come soon.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Derek said, voice betraying none of the impatience Stiles was feeling himself. “I told you to go slower.”
Reluctantly, Stiles did as he was told, trying his best not to whine his displeasure at the torturously slow pace that left him more frustrated than when he started.
“This isn’t going to work,” he huffed out a complaint, the hand caught in Derek’s hold twitching with the need to reach for his cock and just get this over with already. He was so hard it was starting to hurt. But Derek held firm, his touch careful but as steady as a steel trap, not giving up as easily as Stiles had.
“It’s not about the speed or the size, it’s about the angle,” he reminded him. And Stiles knew, okay. He knew. But he’d been on edge for so long by now that it was hard to think rationally. He just needed to come, any way that he could to get some much needed relief. “Take a deep breath and let it out, nice and slow.” Again, Stiles did as he was told. “Good. Now turn it on.”
Stiles frowned. “I think I’m plenty turned on already as you can see.”
His cock was leaking non stop, each bead of precome sliding invitingly down the length a very obvious plea for attention. It would take one touch, just one and he’d go off like a rocket. He wouldn’t be surprised if that too managed to reach his poor ceiling at this rate.
“The vibrator,” Derek clarified with a laugh.
“Oh.” Stiles had all but forgotten the toy Derek had so thoughtfully picked out for him. He was still very skeptical because while yes, the vibrations felt good, he’d tried getting off with them alone before and it had never worked. But then again, he’d never had an insanely hot guy holding his hand while he used one, whispering how well he was doing in his ear when his head dropped into the pillows the moment he turned it on, his surprised moan echoing across his bedroom.
He shouldn’t have been surprised at how intense the feeling was after he’d spent so long basically edging himself but still, goddamn. He lost himself in the feeling for a little while, working the vibrator in a frantic rhythm until his toes were curled into his bedspread and Derek had to adjust the grip on his hand to keep it in place.
But despite how spine meltingly good he felt, his orgasms was still frustratingly out of reach. “I can’t-“ he whined, his eyes burning with frustrated tears that threatened to fall. “It’s not working.”
“Hey, no,” Derek told him sternly when he turned his head to the opposite side and tried to hide his face in the pillow. “Eyes on me, that’s it.”
“I can’t,” Stiles told him again in a cracked little whisper, feeling like the biggest failure in the world but Derek wasn’t as easily discouraged. Instead, he simply switched tactics.
“It’s not about the in and out motion as much as it’s about the steady pressure against the prostate,” he explained and Stiles tried his best to process it. “So find the best angle for that and keep the toy right there, okay? Good. You’re doing so good, Stiles. You’re so close.”
Stiles shook his head even as he started to pant for breath, the heat inside him rising to near unbearable levels. He was just about ready to call for a time out, a little scared of the building knot of pleasure curling low in his belly but Derek’s voice kept him tethered in the moment and he clung to every word he said, turning up the vibrations on the toy and letting the tears fall because according to Derek, “You’re so pretty when you’re desperate.”
Fuck. He sounded so sure that Stiles couldn’t bring himself to try and argue his point because he’d seen himself in the mirror after a good crying session before, okay? It was not a pretty sight. But if Derek liked it, who was he to deny it?
Besides, he had much more pressing things to deal with at the moment, like the way his cock was now leaking a steady stream of precome even though his orgasm was still out of reach but so close he could practically taste it. The wrist he was using to mercilessly grind the vibrator against his prostate was starting to cramp and if he didn’t get off right the fuck now, he might actually scream.
“Next time,” Derek told him in a gravelly tone of voice that had his eyes rolling to the back of his head, “I’m going to tie you to the bed and eat you out until you’re begging for my cock. And I’m not going to stop until you’re so desperate you’re crying for it just like you are now. Then and only then, will I fuck you. And if you’re really good for me? I might even let you come. But only if you ask me for it like a good boy that I know you are.”
“Please-“ Stiles didn’t waste any time in saying. By now, Derek’s hold on Stiles’ wrist was a full on grip as Stiles struggled against it, desperate for any kind of relief for his swollen cock. “Please, please, please-“
He never thought he’d be this into edging but he sure was learning a lot of new things about himself today, wasn’t he?
“And when you do finally come?” Derek added, apparently determined to strip him of what little sanity he still had left. “It’s going to be on my cock or not at all. So what do you say, Stiles? Are you going to come for me?”
In the end, it was the sensation of Derek’s thumb rubbing circles into the oversensitive palm of his hand that tipped him over the edge, though his words were nothing to scoff at either. Not that it mattered what the cause of it was, really. Not when Stiles was left in a shaking heap on his bed, covered in a variety of fluids and grinning at his ceiling like a lunatic who’d just escaped from an insane asylum.
Derek was murmuring some sweet nothings to him but Stiles was having a hard time hearing them over the buzzing in his ears. It was still nice, though. Very relaxing, ten out of ten, would happily do again. And again and again and again-
He finally came back from the clouds when Derek brushed an apologetic kiss against his bruised wrist before he set it gently down onto the bed. He left the room but he wasn’t gone for long, returning a minute later with a bottle of water and one of the many ice packs Stiles had in his freezer.
After helping him sit up, Derek put his jacket back on while Stiles drained most of the water bottle in one go. He was beyond parched but the sudden dryness in his throat had nothing to do with the dehydration and all to do with this amazing firefighter standing uncertainly in the middle of his bedroom.
“So,” Stiles said, having to clear his throat before he could say anything else. “Next time, huh?”
Derek shrugged, trying to appear unaffected but miserably failing to hide his own nerves. “It’s up to you.”
This was, without a doubt, the hottest sex that Stiles had ever had in his life. And all Derek did was talk at him and hold his hand. Like, the bare fucking minimum of having sex with someone and yet it had quite literally changed his life. And if Derek was still interested in him after seeing him at his absolute worst? Stiles really would be the biggest idiot on this planet if he passed on this once in a lifetime opportunity.
“Does that offer for drinks still stand?” he asked, fidgeting with the protein bar that Derek had given him that he was pretty sure he didn’t even own, once again struck with how considerate he was.
“No,” Derek said and Stiles couldn’t hide his disappointment even if he tried. But then Derek added, “It’s just been upgraded to dinner. At my place, so I can cook and then we won’t have to waste time on driving because I’ll want to get my mouth on you as soon as we’re done with dessert.”
“Or,” Stiles bargained with a growing grin. “How about you have me for dessert instead? I have it on very good authority that I look quite irresistible wearing nothing but strawberry flavored lube.”
Stiles was happy to note that Derek’s smile was bright enough to rival his eyes. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”