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Stiles struggles and squirms against the restraints, but Derek has them knotted expertly, and he doesn’t actually remember ever agreeing to this, but it’s for training and pack morale and he, apparently, makes an excellent trophy for the pack to fight for, a prize to win if they make it past Derek, the perfect stand in for an Alpha with bad intentions. They need motivation, Stiles. Just play the part. And for God’s sake, stop fidgeting. And stop trying to talk to me. Worst kidnap victim ever.
It’s dark under the blindfold and the rag in his mouth is dry and scratchy against his tongue, but even his discomfort can’t stop the piercing thought that he is essentially helpless and alone with Derek.
He has nothing to do but sit until the rest of the pack shows up and he can’t stop the thoughts of other situations in which Derek could tie him up from flying through his head. He can’t help but imagine himself tied up to the headboard of his bed, unable to touch as Derek’s tongue explores every inch of him, or tied to a tree while Derek fucks him up against it, his legs wrapped around Derek’s waist as he thrusts into him, and he really needs to stop watching so much gay porn because as awesome as it is, it’s turning this training exercise into a really good fantasy and the combination of imagination and the very real feeling of being tied up has given him quite the erection and he curses himself for wearing skinny jeans today because it has to be hard to miss the bulge in them and, shit, Derek’s going to see and now that thought is making his heart beat faster, like he’s running a marathon, and--”
“Stiles, you ok? Your heart is racing. Are the ropes too tight? Are you, like, silently freaking out or--oh.”
Shit.
He can feel Derek’s body heat and, yeah, so not helping. No, Derek, I’m not thinking of you as a sword-wielding pirate who pillages and plunders and takes me for his wench and commands the high seas with his dick. He grunts against the gag and sighs. Maybe Derek will untie him and he can slink away, go home, never speak of this again, jerk off repeatedly to it later on....
“That for me? Or is it just being tied up that’s doing that?”
What.
“I mean, it’s not like you can say anything. So let me try is this way.” He leans in close, close enough that Stiles can feel the sting of stubble on his cheek. His hand grazes Stiles’ dick, barely disturbing the fabric that conceals it, but it feels so good Stiles can’t help but jerk up into it and whimper. “Is this.” He pushes harder into him and oh, God. “For me?”
Stiles nods wildly, every movement scratching against Derek’s face, and what in the hell did he do right to deserve this? Derek curls his fingers into him, outlining the shape of his dick through his jeans and grunts approvingly. “Is this ok?”
Stiles nods again, pushes up into Derek, feeling the heat of his palm and the strong fingers that grip him. He bites against the gag because it’s all he can do and he doesn’t want to break the spell by being stupid and begging to be untied, but he wants to touch back so badly.
He can’t see what Derek is doing, but he guesses from the shift in the air and the movement around him that he’s dropping to his knees in front of him and his suspicions are confirmed when he feels a hand on his thigh and the hot rush of breath on his belly through his shirt. Derek removes his hand from Stiles’ erection and he, fuck, pops the button on his jeans and slides the zipper down, pushing in so it short circuits his brain as it goes down.
He’s wearing red boxers. It’s not an unconscious decision when he wears red. It reminds him of angry Alphas and Little Red Riding Hood and being caught in the woods by the Big Bad Wolf and now he really is caught and, ok, Derek opens his boxers a little and reaches in the delicious moment skin meets skin must be some kind of test and he’s going to fail and come all over his hand before they get to the good stuff. And please, God, let there be more good stuff.
Derek’s free hand reaches under him, a sign to push up his hips and he does so the best he can without use of his feet or arms, and he feels his jeans and boxers slide down his legs and pool at his ankles and he’d complain about the hard wooden chair and his bare ass, but, yeah, no, Derek is fisting his cock again slowly and even without the gag, he wouldn’t be able to form complete words in this state.
A little shuffle in Derek’s position and suddenly there’s warm air on the head of his dick and before he can wonder about that, Derek’s mouth is on him, wet, hot, and pushy, tongue bumping against his shaft, and it’s so much better than he’d ever imagined in his best fantasies and Derek’s moaning--moaning--around his dick and everything is upside down and turned around because Derek Hale is giving him a blow job, an insanely awesome blow job, and the best part is that Derek likes it.
He wants to see Derek’s face, wants to see his mouth stretch and cheeks hollow, but the blindfold stays tight and maybe that’s how Derek wants this, maybe this is what Stiles needs to focus on it better, because all he can do with no eyes or hands and no ability to speak is feel and hear what Derek is doing to him...what it’s doing to Derek. The gentle wet sucking sounds punctuated by the soft hums and whimpers coming from Derek’s mouth fill his ears and it’s probably the hottest thing he’s ever heard, but it’s nothing--nothing--compared to what Derek is doing to him with that mouth, tongue swirling around, giving way to the barest hint of teeth, and just in case Stiles would like to buck up into his mouth deeper than Derek is willing to let him, he’s got the hand that isn’t stroking his cock in perfect rhythm with his mouth firmly on his hip pushing down, stroking circles with his thumb over a particularly sensitive spot that makes makes him shiver from the contact.
He wants this to last forever. Partly because he’s not sure if this will ever happen again. But Scott and the rest of the pack can’t be too far away now and they don’t need an eyeful of the Alpha going down on him.
Derek speeds up, sucking and jerking in harmony and it makes his toes curl in his sneakers and his hands ball up into tight fists and, oh, God, please don’t let anyone walk in right now because he needs to come and Derek squeezes his hip, scratches lightly over his skin down his thigh and nudges his legs apart a little more so he can reach his balls. He cups them lightly and Stiles takes a last ragged breath and bright lights dance behind his eyelids as he comes so hard and loudly, and, wow, ok, Derek is a swallower and coming into something that warm and wet and tight is a whole new world and he doesn’t ever want to go back to a pre-Derek world.
Derek holds him in his mouth until the spasms stop and Stiles is breathing somewhat normally again and Derek releases him gently and stands and unties the gag, lets it fall somewhere in his lap. He can hear the sound of slow unzipping and a rustle of fabric and there’s velvet heat on his lips, all musk and slick as Derek rubs his cock against them and Stiles licks his lips to taste the salt and Derek groans as his tongue flicks out further to lap at the head of his cock. He wants more, needs more right now, parts his lips in what he hopes is equal parts sexy and obscene, silently begging and Derek gets it and pushes into his mouth, stretching his lips around the shaft and maybe all that gay porn was good for something because Stiles sucks and licks and it seems to be driving Derek crazy. Stiles can hear him call his name beneath greedy breaths and grunts.
“Just like that, Stiles...so good.” He can feel Derek tense and pull back and he realizes that Derek is trying not to thrust in and choke him and he’ll take the time to fully appreciate that later, but right now he just wants to feel the slide of Derek going in and out, the fullness in his mouth. Stiles gets the rhythm and starts to move his head in time with it, and is rewarded with a hand on his head, scraping his scalp deliciously until it moves to the back of his head, relieving some of the strain on his neck.
The salty taste gets stronger; Derek is getting close. He goes faster, not wanting to miss the opportunity of a lifetime, not wanting to break the rhythm and succeed only in making them both cranky. He wants to get it right.
Derek growls and Stiles wonders if he’s starting to wolf out from this and he really wants this blindfold off. He’s getting sloppy, drool forms at the corners of his mouth, but he doesn’t want to stop and Derek doesn’t seem to care.
“Gonna come, Stiles. Now. Pull away or I’m coming in your mouth.” Oh, hell no. Stiles is not going to miss this. He sucks harder, pulls him in a little deeper and Derek digs his fingers into his shoulder and cries out as he spills into his mouth hot and fast and Stiles swallows around him as best as he can in this position and relaxes into Derek’s grip on his head as he wrings the final twitches out of him.
He can hear Derek breathing hard and he feels a swell of pride that he did that to him. He can make him breathe like that and lose control and come and, oh GOD, they just had sex, didn’t they? He and Derek had sex. With each other. It might never actually sink in properly.
Derek zips himself back up and Stiles can feel him lean closer to plant a kiss on his forehead and with supernatural speed, he releases the restraints and the takes off the blindfold.
Despite the relative darkness, Stiles squints and strains to see after the pitch black of the blindfold and Derek slowly comes into focus. “Why did you let me go? I still have to be your victim.”
Derek chuckles. “Oh, did I forget to tell you? Scott texted a half hour ago and said he couldn’t make it, so I cancelled the exercise for today.”
Stiles’ jaw drops open in disbelief. “Then why did you--” But Derek cuts him off with a hungry kiss and he can taste himself on Derek’s lips, his tongue, and he’s going to get hard again just from this.
“Are you complaining?” How anyone could complain while Derek Hale nibbles on your earlobe is beyond Stiles’ comprehension. He attempts to say no, but it comes out as a contented sigh.
“Good, because I’ve scheduled another...training session...for tomorrow.” Stiles shivers as he whispers in his ear. “And the pack is not invited to this one, either.”