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Stiles had shocked himself when he figured out he could dance. Normally, he's clumsy and full of flailing limbs and accidental injuries, but on the dance floor, he's, dare he say it, graceful. It's definitely not natural talent; Stiles had dated a girl that was a dancer and while the relationship hadn't lasted, what he'd learned from her did. It's not often, but sometimes Stiles just gets the urge to go out to the club and dance. It's not about meeting hot women or men, though he won't say no to the option. It's about being able to let loose and not worry about his shitty job and his shitty apartment and his shitty car.
The club, The Baltic, is very different from Jungle, but moving out of Beacon Hills had made it necessary to find a new venue. The drinks and cover charge are affordable and the place is clean and relatively safe (you can't account for creepy people, unfortunately). The bouncer recognizes him and waves him through. Stiles loves Boyd. Erica is bartending, which means Stiles needs to watch how much he drinks or he'll be completely plastered in about five minutes.
"Hey, Stiles!" Erica calls out over the music. "What're you having?"
It's loud and busy already even though it's only 9:30 and Stiles has to shout to be heard.
"Captain and Sprite!" he shouts. She snorts but sue him, it tastes like cream soda.
"You got it!" Erica shouts and a few moments later sets his drink in front of him. "Start a tab?"
"Yeah, go for it," he says.
Stiles salutes her with his drink and walks around the busy dance floor, taking one of the smaller two-person tables toward to side. From here he can still watch the people dancing while he sips on his drink. He doesn't need to be drunk to dance, but he prefers to have at least one drink in him before he starts. It doesn't do much, but Erica pours heavy for him and by the time he's done, he feels the slight tingle that lets him know he's on his way to being buzzed.
An upbeat song starts playing and it's not usually Stiles' kind of music (he really gets down on the industrial nights, seriously.) but it's kind of working for him so he sets his empty glass aside and gets up to join the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor. He fits right in, though everyone is dressed so eclectically that it'd be hard to stand out. There's a guy in head to toe latex dancing with a girl in full on neon raver gear a few feet away from Stiles, so Stiles's simple tight dark jeans and tight black t-shirt don't stand out much. He likes how he feels though. He feels sexy and confident with himself, something he didn't find until after he left high school.
A girl next to him looks at him in question and he just nods. A second later she's in front of him, her back up against him. Stiles' hands rest her hips and they find a rhythm, dancing together to the pounding bass. She moves well with him and Stiles is a little disappointed when she winks as the song ends and drifts away, but another girl comes up not long after.
Stiles dances with a few girls and guys as the night goes on. He takes a break for another drink and feels pleasantly buzzed, but not out of control. He doesn't like being drunk, but taking the edge off once in a while and letting go is fun. A hot guys dances with him when he gets back onto the dance floor, but Stiles declines when the guy suggests hand jobs in the bathroom. The guys reminds him too much like Theo, a guy he went to high school with. The guy calls Stiles a tease and storms off to find someone else to waste his time on. Stiles doesn't care.
Stiles closes his eyes as he dances, letting the music wash over him for a few moments. Hands find his waist, not for the first time tonight, and he opens his eyes to see if he wants to pull them closer or tell them to fuck off. Closer, definitely closer. The man has ice blue eyes and his trimmed stubble is peppered with grey and fuck he wears it well. The phrase silver fox comes to mind.
Stiles grins and moves closer, enjoying the way the man's hands tighten on his waist. They move together fluidly, more gracefully than Stiles has with any of his partners tonight. The man's hands are hot on his skin where his shirt has ridden up at the waist. Stiles throws his arms over the man's shoulders and oh, they're nice shoulders. This guy, whoever he is, clearly puts effort into his body. Stiles dances closer, not breaking eye contact even though it's getting more intense than he's used to. The man's hands slip under the hem of his shirt and he raises his eyebrows in askance. Stiles nods and the man grins, dragging blunt nails over Stiles' skin. He's had a dozen partners tonight, but this man is the first one Stiles realizes that the wants. As if reading his mind, the man slots a thigh between Stiles' and they both hiss as they grind together. The man's erection presses against Stiles' and it's all he can do not to grind against him until he comes right here on the dance floor.
"I'm Stiles," Stiles says, not knowing if he's been heard over the music.
"Chris," the man says.
Stiles grins and tightens his arms around the man's shoulders until their faces are only inches apart, their bodies still rolling sinuously with the music. When the song ends, Stiles tightens his grip, having the sudden fear that Chris will want to stop. But Chris is still holding Stiles' hips tightly. Their dancing is more dirty grinding than anything else now, though plenty of people around them are doing the same thing and pay them no mind. That's when a new pair of hands slip around his waist from behind.
"And what do we have here, Christopher?" Where Chris' voice is rough, this new man's is like honey. Stiles shivers.
Stiles turns his head and his breath catches. The new man's eyes are blue, too, not the same shade as Chris' but just as beautiful. He's smirking slightly and has a goatee that would make anyone else look like an asshole, but it suits him well.
"This is Stiles," Chris says. He reaches an arm over Stiles' shoulder to pull the man closer until Stiles is all but sandwiched between them.
"You two know each other?" Stiles asks.
"This is Peter. He's my husband," Chris says.
Stiles freezes, completely forgetting he's in the middle of dancing and almost topples over. He looks over his shoulder again at Peter, his mouth hanging open.
"I didn't know," Stiles stutters. "I didn't mean..."
"Relax," Peter says, hooking his chin over Stiles' shoulder. His hands rest low on Stiles' hips. "Christopher and I have an understanding."
"An understanding," Stiles repeats.
"Dance with us," Peter says again.
Chris is looking at him steadily, not at all like a man caught grinding on a man that isn't his husband. That's what Peter had said, an 'arrangement'...The ideas flying through Stiles' head make him dizzy.
"Okay," Stiles says.
"Excellent," Peter says in his ear.
They move together well, just as fluid as when it was just Stiles and Chris, but this is more. There's an edge to it, how Peter's hands run over Stiles' stomach, how he rolls his hips against Stiles' and oh, Stiles can feel him hard against his ass. And he wants. These two gorgeous men dancing, well, grinding with him, and he wants to know what else he can do between them. Peter touches him everywhere, their bodies nearly melded together as they dance.
Chris leans over, breath tickling Stiles' ear, and asks, "Do you want to get out of here?"
It's so cheesy and Stiles didn't come out tonight for this, but yes, he really really does. He nods.
"Come home with us?" Peter asks.
"Yeah," Stiles breathes. "Let's, uh, let's do that."
Peter chuckles and nips his ear before pulling away. He takes Stiles' hand and guides him through the the dance floor, Chris trailing behind him.
"I have to cash out," Stiles says and pulls away briefly to fight his way through the crowd at the bar to have Erica run his card.
When she hands it back, it's with a wink.
"I want all the details," she says.
"Oh believe me, I'm going to be bragging about this for years," Stiles says. There's a surprised laugh from behind him and he sees Chris and Peter there, though he's pretty sure Peter's the one that laughed. "Oh god," Stiles says. "Kill me now."
"We're the one picking up a hot younger man at a bar and you think you're the one that gets bragging rights?" Peter says. "Well, we are magnificent, but you, Stiles..." Peter pauses and gives him a very obvious once over. "You're positively delightful."
Stiles blushes and of course Erica wolf-whistles.
"You're a menace," he says to her. She doesn't look ashamed at all.
Peter leads them to a dark blue Mercedes and before Stiles can get in the car, presses him up against the side of it.
"I mean it," Peter murmurs. "Delightful."
"Anything you don't want, you tell us and we stop," Chris says.
"I want this," Stiles says. He's completely sure of that. He's more sure of that than he's been of anything in a long time.
Peter grin is wicked.
"Good," he says. Then he kissing Stiles, licking into his mouth with such ferociousness that it makes Stiles dizzy. Just like it started, it stops. Stiles whines but then Chris is there, pressing a softer kiss to his lips. It's exploratory, like he wants to take his time learning everything about him.
"Let's go," Chris says against Stiles' lips. Stiles does, needing to adjust his jeans a bit in the front.
Stiles expects the mood to wane a bit once they're in the car, but he's just as worked up as before. Peter's driving and Chris is in the back seat, much to Stiles' surprise. It becomes apparent why as soon as Stiles does his seat belt. Chris hands are immediately on Stiles, running up his arm and ghosting his fingertips over his throat. Stiles tilts his head to the side, giving the other man more access. Chris takes advantage and leans forward to scrape his teeth across Stiles' throat before biting down. Stiles whines and fights not to buck his hips forward, but it's close. Chris licks over the bite then scrapes his stubbled cheek over the mark, making Stiles shiver.
"Not fair," Stiles moans.
Chris hums against Stiles' skin, sending vibrations down Stiles' throat. His hand moves to Stiles' chest, brushing over a nipple and making Stiles twitch.
"Oh?" Chris says. He brushes Stiles' nipple again, harder and more deliberately. Stiles whimpers, his cock hardening even more, pressing against the front of his tight jeans. “Look at you,” Chris says and fuck, Stiles loves his rough voice.
Peter stops at a red light and immediately reaches over to Stiles’ lap, tracing fingers up his inner thigh and brushing over the bulge in Stiles’ jeans. Stiles’ breath hitches and Peter rubs him through his pants, eyes never leaving the red light. Chris attaches his mouth to Stiles’ neck again, sucking on the bite mark he’s already made while twisting and pinching at Stiles’ nipple. It’s too much, Stiles is going to come in his pants like a teenager before they even get to the fun part.
Then the light turns green and Peter takes his hand back to take the stick shift. Stiles lets out a breath and sags into the seat. Chris chuckles and rubs his cheek against Stiles’ throat again. It’s quickly becoming one of Stiles’ favorite sensations ever.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’re almost there,” Peter says.
“Peter can’t wait to get his hands on you,” Chris murmurs into Stiles’ neck. “He’s been watching you all night. Every time someone danced with you, he got more wound up, wanting to take you right there in front of everyone.”
Stiles shivers and looks over at Peter, who’s still watching the road but has a smirk on his lips.
“He’s not wrong,” Peter says, his voice like silk. “You are absolutely stunning and your body moves like sin.”
“He wants your mouth,” Chris continues. He nibbles on Stiles’ ear. Stiles shudders at both the words and the sensation. “And I can’t wait to taste you,” Chris says.
The car pulls to a stop and Peter is immediately out of his seat and walking around the car to open Stiles’ door. Stiles barely gets a glimpse of the front of the house (very modern and sleek, very Peter) before Peter is tugging him out of the car and claiming his mouth in a harsh kiss.
Stiles is so lost in Peter’s mouth on his that he nearly jumps when there’s a chuckle from behind him and Chris says, “Let’s go inside before we give the neighbors a show.”
“You’re no fun,” Peter says, but he does pull away and head up the driveway. Chris takes Stiles’ hand and they follow.
The inside of the house is just as nice as the outside, but Stiles doesn’t get much time to appreciate it because Peter's immediately kissing him again. He doesn't know where they're going, but Chris is behind him. Chris guides them down the hall and into a bedroom. Stiles is grateful because he doesn't want to separate from Peter, never wants to stop being kissed like this. He has to though, when Peter pushes him backward and onto the bed. Peter undresses him slowly, seeming to need to touch every inch of skin as it's revealed. Stiles doesn't know when Chris stripped but he's suddenly at Stiles' side, completely nude.
"Holy shit," Stiles says, staring at Chris. He had known the other man is hot, it's a hard thing to miss, but holy god. Chris must spend serious time at the gym because he has muscles in places Stiles hasn't even seen before.
"Christopher's beautiful, isn't he?" Peter murmurs to Stiles, reaching down to stroke Stiles' cock. "Do you bottom? Because all he's been thinking about since he saw you is how much he wants to fuck you."
Stiles swallows hard and nods. "I'm versatile. I bottom and top, but right now I really needs Chris in me."
Chris grins and switches places with Peter, kneeling between Stiles' legs with a bottle of lube in his hands. Stiles doesn't know where to look, be it at Peter, who's pulling off his v-neck to reveal and impressive torso that Stiles just wants to lick, or at Chris who's beautifully naked and warming lube between his fingers.
"Look at me," Chris says. Stiles immediately follows his command, meeting Chris' eyes. "Good boy."
Stiles shivers at that and whimpers. He hears Peter's chuckle but doesn't take his eyes off of Chris.
"You like that? You want to be our good boy?" Peter asks.
Stiles' cock twitches at that and well, there's their answer, but before he can speak, Chris is sliding a finger into him. Stiles whines and arches his back. It's been a long time since he's had this and he's almost forgotten what it's like. And Chris? Well, Chris knows what he's doing. He teases Stiles, running a finger over Stiles' rim before pressing in another and pressing them over his prostate every few pumps. When Peter settles next to Stiles' head, his hand tracing patterns over Stiles' chest, Stiles can see Peter's cock, thick and hard next to him.
"Hold on," Stiles manages to say.
"Are you okay?" Chris asks, stilling.
"More than okay," Stiles says. "Just let me...here."
Stiles rolls onto all fours, presenting his ass for Chris, who looks at him hungrily.
"What...fuck," Peter hisses as Stiles swallows down his cock without warning.
Peter's hand flies to Stiles head, twisting in his hair. Stiles' hums around Peter, loving the heavy thickness in his mouth. He loves going down on partners, be it men or women. He loves the little sounds he pulls out of them, the grunts from Peter, and the little twitches in Peter's muscles. He's missed this and Peter, well, Peter had a fantastic dick, so it's not a hardship. Chris slips his fingers back into Stiles, three this time, making Stiles whine around Peter.
"You're doing so well," Chris says, smoothing a hand down Stiles' back. He twists his fingers, hitting Stiles' prostate, making Stiles push back against his hand. "Are you ready, sweetheart?"
Stiles nods, not wanting to take his mouth from Peter. He tries not to whine when Chris takes his fingers away because a second later, the blunt head of Chris' cock is nudging at his hole. Stiles stills as Chris pushes in, reveling in the overwhelming fullness. It takes him a second to adjust, but when he does, he pushes his hips back, getting even more of Chris inside him. Chris groans and grips Stiles' hips hard enough that he's sure there will be bruises tomorrow, but that's okay. He loves getting marked up by his lovers.
"Such a good boy for us," Peter says, stroking his hands through Stiles' hair. "So good for your daddies."
Stiles groans at that, unconsciously clenching around Chris. Of course they pick up on his daddy kink, how could they not? They're both just the most walking, talking daddy types ever.
"Oh you like that baby boy?" Chris says.
Stiles sucks Peter harder in response, digging his hands into the man's thick thighs. He doesn't want Peter to be able to talk coherently. Stiles wants him gasping in pleasure and coming down Stiles' throat. Peter's hand twists in Stiles' hair and he hisses when Stiles gets a hand on his balls, rolling them gently in his hand.
"Fuck, your mouth..." Peter groans.
Chris picks up his pace, fucking into Stiles harder than before, all but shoving him down onto Peter. Stiles doesn't mind, opening his throat and taking in as much of Peter as he can while Chris fucks into him. The drag of Chris' cock is delicious and perfect, long and curved just right to brush his prostate over and over. Stiles isn't as much sucking Peter as he is along for the ride. Peter gently pulls him off and Stiles whines.
"It's okay, sweetheart, just let yourself enjoy it," Peter says. "I want to watch your face. Christopher's close. I want to see what you two look like when your daddy fills you up."
That seems to push Chris over the edge. With a grunt, he slams into Stiles again, stilling while his cock pulses, pumping him come into Stiles. And damn, that's just one of Stiles' favorite sensations, the feeling of a big cock twitching inside of him. But he's still ridiculously hard and wants to come so badly. Peter smirks.
"Okay baby boy, it's your other daddy's turn," Peter says.
Chris pulls out slowly, almost regretfully and Peter takes his place between Stiles' legs. Peter gently rolls him onto his back while Chris sits at the head of the bed, moving Stiles' head to rest of his thigh.
"Peter likes to watch," Chris murmurs, running his hands down Stiles' throat and onto his pecs, brushing fingers over his sensitive nipples. "He wants to see you fall apart. He wants to know exactly what you look like when you come."
"Feeling's mutual," Stiles manages to say.
Peter kisses Stiles' ankle before placing his leg over his broad shoulder. Peter sliding into him is a stretch, he's thicker than Chris, and the angle gets him much deeper. Stiles gasps and grasps at Peter's arms.
"You okay?" Peter asks, his voice strained like he's trying desperately to hold back.
"I'm good," Stiles says breathlessly. "Come on, fuck me."
Peter's smile is wicked as he pulls back just enough to slam into Stiles. Chris twists Stiles' nipples at the same time and Stiles nearly screams. Peter's pace is harsh and fast, pounding against Stiles' prostate. Chris teases and abuses his poor nipples, turning them red and puffy under his hands. A steady stream of filth is spewing from Chris, about how pretty Stiles looks opened up on Peter's cock, how much they want to fill him up, how his daddies want to see his pretty cock come for them.
"Please," Stiles whimpers. He can feel his orgasm building and he's so close. "Please, daddy..."
"Please what?" Chris asks, pinching a nipple.
"Please! I need to come," Stiles begs.
"Do you think we should take pity on him?" Chris asks.
"Touch him," Peter growls.
Chris smirks and reaches down, palming Stiles' weeping erection. Stiles bucks up into the touch, chasing his own pleasure. He's so close, he just needs a little bit more, so close. Then Peter leans down and bites harshly at his neck and that it, Stiles comes with a shout, clenching around Peter's cock. Chris works him through his orgasm until it's just this side of too much. Peter growls again and slams into Stiles one last time before coming inside Stiles, adding to the load Chris already fucked into him. Completely spent, Peter has the state of mind to pull Stiles' leg from his shoulder before all but collapsing forward onto him. Breathing harshly, Peter nuzzles at the marks on Stiles' neck while Chris carefully slips out from behind Stiles. He comes back a minute later with wet cloth.
"Let me clean him up, Peter," Chris says.
"No," Peter says, settling heavier onto Stiles.
"Peter," Chris says again.
Peter gives a dramatic sigh, but pulls out of Stiles. Stiles mourns the loss, hating how suddenly empty he is, but he can't deny how much he loves feeling their come seep out of him.
"Mmm," Stiles says, stretching languidly like a cat. He winces a bit when Chris brushes over his inner thighs and hole with the wash cloth.
"You okay?" Chris asks.
"Very," Stiles says. "Just tender."
"I bet," Chris says with a smile.
Stiles has only had a few one night stands before, so he isn't sure the protocol here. Is he supposed to leave right now? Because it's going to be really, really hard for him to get his limbs to cooperate with him on that. Before he can ask, Peter hooks an arm around Stiles' waist and pulls him into his side, snuggling against him like he's a big stuffed animal. Stiles grins and relaxes into it, more than okay not getting up right now. He'd be embarrassed about calling two men that he's just met daddy, but they seemed into it too so he decides not to worry about it. Chris crawls into bed on the other side, sandwiching Stiles in the middle of them, a position Stiles is rapidly coming to love.
"Tomorrow morning, I want you to fuck me," Peter mumbles into his neck.
Stiles' dick tries to get hard at that, but he's just too tired.
"What a hardship," Stiles says dryly.
"Smartass," Chris says and tucks himself against Stiles. "Go to sleep."
"Sure thing," Stiles says. "Daddy."