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Derek hums, slowly pushing into Stiles, his hands cradling Stiles’ head.
“I suppose you’re like an old toys. The ones that has grown comfortable, that fits you just perfect.”
He jabs his cock in deeper to punctuate the last word, groans when his cock slips past Stiles’ tonsils. The rough fabric off Derek’s jeans rubs at Stiles’ shoulders, Derek’s legs boxing in his shoulders. He keeps his hands on Derek’s hips, not daring to push away unless Derek decides to punish him for it.
His cock is slick and meaty on Stiles tongue, but when Stiles tries to suck he gets a light slap to his cheek. His face is sticky from Derek’s come, from when Derek had jerked off above him.
Derek presses his thumb inside Stiles mouth, keeping it open as he grinds inside Stiles, until he can feel Stiles’ throat flutter around his cock. He’s still keeping Stiles from doing anything, just keeps him kneeling underneath him as he uses the slave’s mouth, Stiles only being able to make a breathless keen.
“Couldn’t have bought a better dick sleeve,” Derek croons.
He watches with keens eyes as Stiles gags, pulls out his cock and smears the head over Stiles lips and eyes, the come sticking to his eyelashes. Stiles takes the opportunity to breath before Derek’s slips in again, deeper, Stiles throat convulsing around his cock. Derek’s balls slaps against Stiles chin as the inches disappears inside of him.
He keeps doing it, pulling out and letting Stiles take a breath before thrusting inside him again, until there’s tears in a steady stream from Stiles eyes and he feels dizzy, then Derek feels satisfied enough to come into the limp body. He slaps Stiles mouth with a growl, spreads the spit and come around Stiles’ face.
“Suppose I should clean you,” Derek muses, “but you look so fucking pretty like this.”
Stiles whines, his throat sore.
“You seem to still have energy,” Derek says.
He rises and leaves Stiles on the floor, with his head resting against the couch. Stiles closes his eyes, he licks around his mouth that still tastes like salt, swallows with a sore throat. He doesn’t dare to clean his face. It only feels like seconds before Derek returns, rolling a big black box in front of him. The large bolts in the sides makes Stiles assume that the wood is thick and there’s a large padlock on the outside.
“Bought something for you,” Derek says and pats the box, “my mother always got angry when I wouldn’t put my toys back in their box, when I was little, but I haven’t had a place to store you before now.”
There’s a gag on top of the box and Derek takes it to show it to Stiles. It’s a little bit smaller than Derek’s fist, but it’s not the size of it that makes Stiles whimper in fear, it’s the thick tube, stretching through the gag, one end is supposed to stick out from between his lips and the other reaches some inches into the slave's throat.
Derek comes forward and takes a hold of his neck when he flinches backwards, he clenches his mouth shut but is rewarded by a stinging slap to his rump. Deftly Derek shoves the gag inside when he cries out. It’s made of some kind of spongy material that molds itself inside Stiles mouth, fitting snugly behind his teeth.
His tongue is firmly pushed down by the gag, forcing him to breath through the tube, and Derek stares at him while he adjusts, palm in front of the tube to make sure that Stiles breathes.
When he doesn’t look like he’s on the verge of gagging anymore Derek lifts him onto his lap, Stiles soft cock rubbing against Derek’s jeans. He can look at the inside of the box from there. It’s all black leather and straps, expect the pink dildo placed for Stiles to kneel on. There’s a plank that closes around his throat when the box is locked.
Stiles wriggles on Derek’s lap, he won’t be able to move at all inside that box.
“Going to start storing you like this from now on, after some time you will always be loose for me,” Derek says.
He turns Stiles around on his lap, placing one of his palms over Stiles’ slim throat the other grabbing the tube of lube, which he spreads over Stiles fingers.
“You have to fuck yourself with your fingers,” Derek smiles, “or that cock is going to split you open.”
Stiles reaches between his legs with his shaking fingers, circles his hole before pushing inside. Derek always makes him work on a time limit, so Stiles is fast to push in the second finger. He can’t really reach well, can’t really circle his rim like Derek does to get him loose, and his fingers feels narrow compared to Derek’s thick ones.
Just as he pushes the third finger inside Derek lands a slap on the inside of his thighs, Stiles wails, his hole clenches around his fingers as he struggles in Derek’s lap.
“Keep going,” Derek orders, roughly pulling at his balls.
He nods, fucks three fingers inside of him even as Derek’s next slap is dangerously close to his balls. It’s too much, the sting from the slaps and his fingers inside of him, his face feels hot, his throat works around the tube.
“Fucking love this don’t you, my little fuckdoll,” Derek praises, and Stiles moans in morfification.
There’s lube all over his ass, precome from his cock on his belly, because even though the slaps stings Derek always gets him hard, his cock plump and purple.
“Going to make you come first.”
Stiles wants to say that he can’t, but his body reacts to Derek as always, more come gushes out from the slit.
“Come now,” Derek orders, gives his balls and cock a rough jerk. He gags on the tube inside his throat, spilling on his chest. His fingers slips out from his hole, but Derek doesn’t seem to mind, milking his cock raw. When his belly is covered in his own come Derek bends him over to look at his hole. Fingers lightly tapping at the mess.
“I guess it will do,” he says.
Derek lifts Stiles off his lap, takes him to the box, it’s a little complicated to stuff Stiles’ limp body inside the box, but Derek manhandles him inside it. He spreads Stiles ass open as he forces the fake cock inside Stiles, the thing large enough for Stiles to feel it inside his belly when he’s finally kneeling on it, his hole burning. He ties Stiles' wrists to the armrests, his hands inside some kind of pockets where he can’t move them. He pushes Stiles head back until he’s neck meets the fabricated plank edge.
The straps goes over his thighs, keeping him on the cock, the other two tightly over his chest and belly. The leather feels hot against the abused skin of his thighs, the buckles cold where they pinches into his skin.
“Look at how filthy you are. Have to rinse you off tomorrow,” Derek smiles, smears the froth of his come and Stiles’ spit over Stiles face like a brand. He lightly pokes at the bulge in Stiles stomach, making Stiles whimper and try to shy away.
Just to be an asshole he presses his palm more firmly against it and gives Stiles a kiss on the corner off his mouth, “From now on this cock is going to fill you up every night, going to become such a good doll for me,” Derek praises, “Keep your head still while I’ll close this, don’t want any skin to be pinched.”
He closes the box, makes sure that the tube is peeking out from the small hole in the box’ side and that Stiles’ moist breath is still coming out from it before closing the padlock. Tomorrow Stiles when Derek takes him out from the box he will be ready for Derek to fuck right into his cunt, and too tired to even move.