Title: Likes, Dislikes, and Necessities
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairings: established Derek/Stiles with additional Derek/Lydia, Derek/Isaac, Derek/Erica, and Derek/Boyd
Word Count: 4,817
Warnings: open relationship, gangbang, voyeurism/exhibitionism
Disclaimer: These are not my characters.
Summary: It was something he’d never known he’d wanted until Derek brought it up: Derek receiving the intimate attentions of his entire pack, giving himself over to them, trusting them enough to take him apart and put him back together again.
A/N: Takes place in an alternate, happier universe several years after season 2, inspired by this gif + tag. What started out as a fill for the “decadence” square on my Kink Bingo card turned into… this. Now I don’t even know if it counts, but I dare you to find a fluffier, more indulgent gangbang fic. I DARE YOU.
Stiles is still getting over the shock of the fact that Derek wants this. Wants this so much he even asked for it, and Derek so rarely asks for anything. Well, not outside of bed. Certainly not on a crisp November afternoon with a mug of orange pekoe tea in one hand.
At least Stiles was too stunned to laugh. They’ve been doing this for almost a year and Stiles still worries sometimes that he’s going to accidentally do irreparable damage to Derek’s slowly-exposed heart. He knows that, P.S. (Pre-Stiles), sex wasn’t always a good or healthy thing for Derek – hence the continued tendency to keep silent even when he wants something.
And it wasn’t like it was funny – it was just so un-Derek-like that Stiles had trouble picturing it. But once he actually tried to picture it, it was something he’d never known he’d wanted until Derek brought it up: Derek receiving the intimate attentions of his entire pack, giving himself over to them, trusting them enough to take him apart and put him back together again.
Derek Hale wants to be the center of a gangbang.
Scott and Allison are out, for obvious reasons, and Jackson skipped town a long time ago, but Boyd, Erica, and Isaac are on board. Surprisingly, even Lydia wants in. Stiles can’t even begin to guess her motivation – starting on a bucket list? – but she sort of qualifies as pack. Besides, Stiles is 99.99% sure this has absolutely nothing to do with werewolves or pack bonding or anything like that. He thinks… He thinks Derek just wants to be taken care of by people he’s finally learned to trust. All those hands all over Derek’s body, showing him how beautiful and good and loved he is…
Stiles would have suggested it himself if he’d thought of it, and if he’d thought that Derek would ever, in a million years, say yes. Stiles won’t lie; there’s a little flare of possessiveness in his gut at the idea of sharing Derek, as well as worry at the idea of Derek making himself so vulnerable in front of someone who isn’t Stiles, but that’s the whole idea. And he knows how much Derek values what they have together; the entire pack knows it, and no one would even try to steal Derek away from him.
Stiles takes care of everything in advance, and when the day comes, he can feel Derek buzzing with excitement and nerves, though his face and his body language hide it well. Stiles sets his hands on Derek’s hips, thumbs kneading at the firm muscle there, and makes sure he has Derek’s full attention by kissing him soft and sweet, a slight brush of noses at the end. “You’re in control, remember that,” Stiles whispers, swaying into the heat of Derek’s body. “Nothing happens here that you don’t want. Just say the word and we stop.”
Derek’s hand comes up to cup Stiles’ cheek. “And you’re sure you’re okay with this?”
Stiles grins and kisses the palm of his hand. “We’ve been over this. You’re just too much werewolf for me to handle sometimes. Gotta call in the cavalry.”
That gets a soft snort out of Derek. “Liar.”
“I want this because you want it,” Stiles says earnestly. “I want this because I think it’ll be so good for you. I want this because I want to watch hot people get you off.” He smiles again. “Am I still a liar?”
“No,” Derek whispers, pulling him into a tight hug. “I just want you to know you’re the only one who gets me. Sometimes I don’t know why the hell you put up with me, but I’m grateful for it.” He kisses Stiles then, slow and deep until Stiles forgets the taste of air. “Thank you for putting this together.”
“Anytime,” Stiles says, not even bothering to feel embarrassed about the way his voice cracks. “Now let’s go in there and get you fucked six ways to Sunday.”
The pack has set up in the upstairs bedroom of the loft, piles of blankets and pillows on the floor to make room for everyone. It’s the cuddliest gangbang Stiles has ever seen. Well, not that he’s actually seen a gangbang. In porn, the idea sounded kind of repellent, exploitative. In practice, though, with Derek so willing, so eager…
Everyone helps undress Derek. Stiles gave them a Cliff Notes version of A Pack’s Guide to Gangbanging Derek Hale: Likes, Dislikes, and Necessities, which was very clear that everyone needs to touch Derek as much as possible, keep him as the focal point the whole time. Still, he watches Derek’s face very closely as Boyd tugs off his Henley while Lydia and Erica get to work on his belt and fly and Isaac goes for the shoes. Derek has his eyes closed and he’s breathing deeply. There’s a very fine distinction between Derek’s calm face and Derek’s pretending-to-be-calm face, but Stiles is good at reading him and is pretty sure it’s genuine.
When Derek is naked, Stiles steps in, stroking Derek’s stubbled cheek with the back of his knuckles. He promised himself he wouldn’t ask Derek whether he’s okay – if Stiles does it once, he’ll keep doing it. A year ago, he wouldn’t have trusted Derek to speak up if he was uncomfortable, but Derek’s voice is strong enough now that Stiles checking in on him constantly would feel patronizing.
Still, when Derek opens his eyes, Stiles is there to catch his gaze with an inquisitive look. Derek nods once, and Stiles is satisfied.
Everyone’s strangely quiet as they get comfortable in the blanket nest, some removing various items of clothing, others not. Stiles takes off his shirt and balls it up on his lap, giving Derek’s head something on which to rest on Stiles’ crossed legs. As confident as he is in Derek now, it’s Stiles who needs to be close to him, Stiles who wants to feel like he’s providing a measure of protection and comfort. Also, he gets a fucking awesome view down the long lines of Derek’s body.
The betas seem uncertain as to who should go first, and as always, when Lydia sees an opportunity, she seizes it. Stiles is a bit shocked she’s even here, since even though they’re on the same side, she and Derek don’t talk much. And they don’t break with tradition now: Lydia just holds up a condom and Derek nods. Lydia and Erica are the only ones who really need to use the condoms, safety-wise, but Stiles and Derek had agreed: only Stiles gets to fuck Derek bare.
Isaac and Erica work together with their hands to get him hard before Lydia indulges the need to show off by rolling the condom down with her mouth. Derek gulps hard and Stiles’ cock twitches in his jeans. Once upon a time, he would have done more than just twitch, but they’ve since become friends and Stiles is all Derek’s, anyway. Doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate getting to see Lydia’s talents and finding out whether his imagination at 16 was anything close to accurate.
Lydia keeps her skirt and blouse on like armor, only sliding out of her panties before straddling Derek and lowering herself on his cock. She goes slowly – Derek is kind of a lot to take – closing her eyes and bracing her hands on Derek’s ribs as she inches her way down. Derek is breathing harder now, and Stiles can see the strain in his muscles as he’s trying not to thrust up. But Stiles knows from personal experience that he won’t, that he’ll give Lydia as much time as she needs.
She stills when she’s fully seated and Stiles remembers the others, motions for them to come put their hands on Derek and hopes it won’t be too much for him. Hopefully it’ll give him something else to focus on until Lydia’s adjusted. Stiles strokes Derek’s hair just the way he likes while Boyd runs his hands down one of Derek’s arms, looking like he’s still trying to get comfortable with the idea, and Erica, substantially more at ease, plays with his nipples.
Always thinking ahead, Stiles gestures to the bottle of lube set on the floor next to Isaac and tells him to start opening Derek up as Lydia is starting to rock her hips. When Isaac is in place, Stiles smacks Erica’s hands away from Derek’s nipples. They both make inappropriately adorable noises of frustration, but Stiles doesn’t want to overwhelm Derek with too much, too fast. He needs to be worked up slowly, and being ridden and fingered at the same time is already pushing it. Erica only pouts for a second, though, then takes Derek’s hand and starts kissing his knuckles, his palm, the tips of his fingers.
When Lydia starts to move, really move, everything becomes a little more organic. They all sort of begin moving with the pace that Lydia sets, like they’re fucking Derek together, and he gets vocal quickly, all helpless gasps and moans. Stiles has heard him like this before, but it usually takes a while to get him there. Stiles grins, for the moment more happy than horny, because this is what he wanted for Derek, what he’s pretty sure Derek wanted for himself when he’d dared to ask.
Every bit like Stiles had once imagined, Lydia rides Derek like a show pony, rolling her hips gracefully to her best advantage. Unlike in Stiles’ imagination, however, her pale skin flushes a little blotchy as she keeps going and starts to make these deep, completely unladylike grunts when she grinds down on Derek. And it’s so much hotter than anything Stiles’ teenage brain came up with, because it sounds like she’s really working for it.
Derek reaches a hand down and gasps, “Can I?” and Stiles nearly faints when Lydia nods and Derek’s hand pushes up under her skirt. Fuck that skirt, seriously, Stiles needs to see his boyfriend bring Lydia off by rubbing her clit. But he’d also made it clear that they’re all supposed to operate at their own comfort levels here, clothing included. And besides, getting to watch Lydia’s face is more than enough; she bites her lip and is completely silent when she comes, though her body jerks so hard that it’s obvious what’s happening. She pushes Derek’s hand away almost immediately, and he’s still hard as a rock when she climbs off him.
It’s a good thing Stiles had Isaac get Derek ready, because he whines – actually whines – at the loss of stimulation, and Stiles strokes his hand down Derek’s cheek, letting his thumb slip into Derek’s mouth and trusting the fangs to stay safely tucked away. To Stiles’ surprise, Isaac, who Stiles hadn’t been able to see behind Lydia but who is naked and hard and jerking his slicked, covered cock with his free hand, doesn’t look to anyone for permission before removing his fingers and lining his hips up to push slowly into Derek.
Derek sucks hard on Stiles’ thumb, making Stiles groan almost as loud as Isaac does. Stiles can see Isaac trying to pace himself, to go slow, but it’s making his movements jerky and erratic – not what Derek needs. But before Stiles can say anything, Lydia is rolling the condom off of Derek and getting a good grip on him. Fuck, but that’s sexy, Lydia’s small and slender fingers wrapped around Derek’s cock, jacking him with a tight, even rhythm that gives Isaac something to imitate. He gets his knees under Derek’s ass and settles in at a better angle.
Stiles is pretty sure Derek’s just as surprised by his own orgasm as everyone else is. He comes hard, too, if the tension in his body and the look on Isaac’s face is anything to go by – Stiles knows exactly how it feels to have those muscles clenching tight around him. Lydia keeps stroking Derek ferociously, wringing every last drop out of him as he spurts across his chest and stomach and cries out around Stiles’ thumb still in his mouth.
After a long moment where everybody in the room is still and just breathes, all attuned to Derek’s ragged inhales and shivering body, Isaac starts up again, thrusting faster than before but still steady. Derek shifts his hips uncomfortably and Isaac gets the message, finding an angle that doesn’t hammer into Derek’s oversensitive prostate.
Meanwhile, Erica has started to rub Derek’s cum into his skin, tracing the sharply-defined lines of his abs and drawing swirls around his nipples. Boyd is a little less… whimsical, just spreading his large hands to stroke as much of Derek’s skin as possible. Derek is whimpering now, overstimulated, and Stiles draws his thumb out of Derek’s mouth to lightly caress his jawline. He can’t quite bend down far enough to kiss Derek like he wants to, so he settles for whispering soft words of praise, even though everyone in the room can hear him. Hell, he wants everyone in the room to hear him, to hear the intimate, loving things that only he gets to say to Derek. You’re doing so well and You’re beautiful like this and You’re perfect to me, so perfect.
Isaac doesn’t take long to come, and his arms nearly give out soon afterwards. He pulls out carefully, but he and Derek both groan, and Isaac leans up over Derek’s cum-smeared body to nuzzle at his neck. It’s the first time Stiles has felt even a spark of jealousy, but from Isaac’s body language it’s easy to see that it’s a gesture of submission, not meant to be arousing. Derek reaches up and puts his hand on the back of Isaac’s neck, squeezing gently, and Isaac moves to cuddle up against Derek’s side.
They all rest for a moment, nothing but labored breathing and the heavy scent of sex in the air. Stiles looks down and catches Derek’s eyes; they look glazed over but content. When Stiles raises his eyebrows – Good? – Derek gives him a soft smile, which makes Stiles beam in return.
Erica’s the one who finally breaks the silence, and it’s by poking at Isaac, who was starting to doze off, and saying “Scoot over.” She isn’t wearing much makeup tonight and she looks softer somehow, sweeter, even as she manhandles Isaac out of the way and strips off her panties, leaving her bra on. Stiles isn’t sure Derek’s ready to go again, but Erica doesn’t straddle his hips; she straddles his chest, her intentions apparent.
“This okay?” she asks Stiles, but Derek is the one to answer her.
Stiles has to scoot back to make room and put a pillow down to support Derek’s head, but it feels good to stretch out his legs – they were starting to fall asleep. When Erica moves forward until she’s kneeling right over Derek’s face, Stiles has to spread his legs pretty wide, but it’s worth it for Erica steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders.
Derek doesn’t even wait until she’s lowered herself down; he raises his head and gives her a long, decadent lick that makes her shiver. Stiles grins up at her and she just quirks an eyebrow, but when she does follow Derek’s mouth down, any smugness quickly drops from her face.
Again, Stiles wishes he could have a better view of what Derek’s doing, because it sounds wet and dirty and fantastic, but at least he gets to see Erica’s reaction. And feel it, because Derek does something that makes Erica pitch forward a little and squeeze Stiles’ shoulders hard. Then she’s circling her hips – Stiles imagines she’s rubbing her clit on the tip of Derek’s agile tongue – and mewling, starting to tremble. Derek must back off at that, because she huffs out a frustrated breath that turns into a long sigh when Derek brings a hand up underneath her.
Stiles doesn’t know if Derek can properly use his fingers at this angle, but he imagines Derek holding her open to lick in even deeper, maybe pressing a thumb just inside her. Stiles’ dick has been at half-mast ever since he walked in the room, but now it’s getting the kind of hard that makes him need to adjust himself. He knows how good Derek’s mouth is – Derek once rimmed Stiles until he cried – and Erica is loudly enjoying herself and thank god she left her bra on, because her breasts are right in Stiles’ face and he’s barely keeping his tongue to himself as it is.
He can tell by the pitch of Erica’s cries when Derek stops toying with her and goes in for the kill. Her thighs start shaking, and Stiles would try to hold her up if he thought it would do any damn good, but he settles for putting his hands at her waist. She gives a startled gasp, then starts up a chant of “Yeah, yeah, fuck, there, right there” until her whole body goes rigid and she moans, riding it out for an enviably long time.
She doesn’t move right away either, and Stiles can hear lazy, wet licks in time with the shudders that wrack her body. When she finally does move off of Derek, she keeps her hands on Stiles’ shoulders and grins down at him. Dropping a kiss on his forehead, she murmurs “Lucky boy” right in his ear as if everyone can’t hear her perfectly well.
Derek even has the presence of mind to look a little smug, his mouth and chin still glistening wet. Stiles picks up his shirt and uses the corner to clean Derek’s face before leaning down to kiss him. Stiles keeps the kiss soft and teasing, mostly because he still has to make it through Boyd’s turn without coming in his pants.
When Stiles looks down, Boyd is stretching Derek again – healing means he tightens up pretty fast, even when he’s this relaxed, and Boyd is… not of insignificant girth. If Stiles weren’t so secure in his relationship with Derek, he might be slightly intimidated. But he knows how Derek feels about him (and his cock), and Boyd’s looking a bit nervous himself. Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever been with a guy before, but Stiles had made it clear to all of them that participation was not mandatory, yet Boyd is here anyway, lifting Derek’s hips easily and pushing in.
If Stiles had to guess, he would have thought Boyd would be the gentlest out of all of them, and he is at first… but only at first. Maybe he never really gets the chance to let loose with anyone else, because soon Derek’s shoulders are the only part of him still resting on the floor as Boyd pounds into him like a machine. It’s so hot, watching Derek get manhandled like this by a guy almost as big as he is, that Stiles is panting. Derek seems to enjoy the rough treatment as well – he’s getting hard again, his cock bouncing against his stomach with every hard thrust.
Stiles moves to Derek’s side so he can take his hand and squeeze. Derek squeezes back, looking at Stiles from under heavy lids. Lydia takes Stiles’ former position behind Derek’s head, carding her hands through his hair and drawing lazy circles on his scalp with her long fingernails. Erica reaches for Derek’s cock, but Derek pushes her hand away. “Not… not yet,” he pants out.
Erica smirks over at Stiles and he manages to wink at her before turning his attention back to Derek, who is grunting with the force of Boyd’s thrusts. Boyd is quieter, only the heavy raggedness of his breathing betraying how close he is. He does groan when he comes, though, gripping Derek’s hips tightly. He pulls out and lowers Derek back to the ground with surprisingly steady arms, but after that he sort of sways backwards on his knees. It seems like it’s hard for him to pull away completely, and Stiles has never seen Boyd look quite so dazed, but he squeezes Derek’s calf and gives him a silent nod that’s immediately returned, and then Boyd can stagger off to recover.
Without missing a beat, Derek lifts their joined hands and presses soft, dry lips to Stiles’ knuckles. “Your turn,” he says softly.
Stiles brings up his other hand to run a thumb over Derek’s cheekbone. “You need a minute?”
Derek shakes his head and smiles sweetly against Stiles’ fingers.
“Do you want us to go?” Isaac asks, and when Stiles looks up, it’s almost a shock to see so many people still in the room. All eyes are on him, but he looks to Derek.
“Are you okay if they stay?” Derek asks, eyes burning brightly up at Stiles.
“Y-yeah,” Stiles says, his heart rate tripling, but it’s not a lie. He’s just nervous. It’s not like this is unexpected, considering it was planned beforehand, but the way he is with Derek – the way they are together – is so much more intimate than anything else that’s happened tonight, and Stiles suddenly isn’t sure he wants to share that with anyone else.
But Derek’s been so bravely vulnerable all night and this is what he wants. Still, Stiles knows he’s allowed to call it off, that if he asked everyone else to leave the room, Derek wouldn’t be the least bit disappointed in him. And maybe this is his chance to show the rest of Derek’s pack – their pack – how well Stiles cares for their alpha.
So Stiles says it again – “Yes” – more adamantly this time and shuffles over to kneel between Derek’s legs without letting go of his hand. Derek lifts his hips again and Erica and Lydia slide pillows under him; as much as Stiles would sometimes love to just hike Derek’s hips in the air and hold them there, it’s just not happening. Besides, Derek just got one hell of a drilling from Boyd, and that’s not what Stiles wants to give him.
Before doing anything else, he leans over Derek’s body and kisses him softly. Derek sighs against his mouth, and even though Stiles can feel Derek’s erection pressing eagerly against his stomach, Derek relaxes at the touch of Stiles’ lips. It’s comfortable, familiar, even with four pairs of eyes looking on.
Stiles pulls back just enough that Derek’s eyes are in focus and whispers, “Hi.” It should sound ridiculous, given the circumstances, but Derek gives him the faint glimmer of a smile and whispers it back. Stiles doesn’t have to ask if he’s okay, just nuzzles up the line of Derek’s jaw until he gets to his ear and whispers “Touch me.”
He’s expecting Derek to go for the waistband of his jeans, but instead Derek’s hands come up to his shoulder and his neck, firmly holding him in place for Derek to suck and bite at Stiles’ exposed throat. It’s definitely not an uncommon thing for Derek to do, nor for Stiles to do the same to him, but Stiles wonders what, if anything, it means in this context. As vulnerable as Stiles is, this doesn’t feel like submission. It feels like adoration, even more than usual in the presence of witnesses, and his eyes flutter closed as Derek marks him.
Then Derek’s hands do go to Stiles’ jeans – but only to undo the fly, nothing more. Stiles pushes up on shaky hands and gives Derek another kiss before pulling away. He doesn’t bother doing more than shoving his jeans and briefs to his knees, trembling with impatience after waiting so long. Someone presses the bottle of lube into his hand – he doesn’t look to see who, he’s too focused on Derek’s face – and Stiles slicks himself.
He goes to press his fingers into Derek, who shakes his head. He must have held himself back from healing after Boyd, because when Stiles lines up, he finds he can slide right into Derek’s superhuman heat, no stretching necessary. He thrust so deep so soon that the air is punched right out of his lungs with a quiet oh my god, and he falls forward so he can kiss Derek’s open mouth.
His hands land on Derek’s palms and their fingers tangle together as Stiles starts to move. It’s slow at first, simply because Stiles is already so wrecked from watching Derek pleasure and be pleasured by the rest of his pack that it takes a moment to get his coordination back online. Though everything’s gone exactly to plan – better, really – and Stiles doesn’t need heightened senses to know that Derek is seriously blissed out, Stiles is feeling intensely protective of Derek. He rolls his hips in a steady cadence and presses gentle kisses to the corners of Derek’s mouth.
When the first pair of hands ghosts over his back, Stiles gasps and his rhythm falters, but only for a moment. He’d completely forgotten there were other people in the room, let alone people that are supposed to be participating. Maybe it should feel intrusive, with both Stiles and Derek so exposed, but instead it feels supportive, even loving.
And it gets even better when Stiles lets himself sink into it, all of it, thrust a little harder into Derek and breathe in Derek’s gasps. Their hands are still clutching tightly, but Stiles is being touched all over – a kiss to his shoulder, a stroke down his spine, a pair of hands around his hips urging him on. He doesn’t even try to distinguish who each touch comes from; he just surrenders to the constant flow of sensation that spirals into a tight center where his body is joined with Derek’s.
There are hands on Derek, too, petting his chest and smoothing over his shoulders. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back, and he looks more beautiful than Stiles has ever seen him. Stiles hopes he can feel it, how loved he is, how cherished. Stiles has always known that Derek’s insecurities run deep, too deep for Stiles alone to fix. But he also knows how important touch is for Derek, how it can comfort and ground him when nothing else can, how he needs it to feel centered and real and alive. Their friends are giving him this gift. Stiles can only hope that Derek can acknowledge it for what it is: his pack caring for him, affirming his place with them.
A hand settles between Stiles shoulder blades – not pressing or stroking, just resting there firmly – and that’s when he realizes that the pack is doing the same for him.
Luckily, someone is stroking Derek’s cock in time with Stiles’ thrusts, because Stiles doesn’t want to let go of Derek’s hands, not for a second, but Derek’s hips are pushing up impatiently. “Tell me you’re close,” Stiles gasps softly, rubbing his cheek against Derek’s, the stubble a familiar rasp against his skin.
The sound Derek makes gives Stiles his answer. He feels the hand on Derek’s cock speed up between their bodies, and he can’t get the best angle to thrust from this position, but it doesn’t matter. Derek’s breath hitches and he comes for the second time, muscles spasming tight around Stiles’ cock.
Stiles fucks him steadily through it, peppering Derek’s face with kisses. As he’s coming back down, Derek shudders out a long exhale and squeezes Stiles’ hands, and that’s all the permission Stiles needs to let loose. It feels like he’s been waiting so long, and his orgasm doesn’t hit him so much as roll through him, waves that start low in his gut and ripple out until he can feel them tingling in his fingers and toes.
Maybe he should be embarrassed about collapsing on top of Derek, physical strength crumbling to dust, but there are people all around him, strong arms to help lift him up and settle him until he’s curled against Derek’s side.
Derek turns to face him, eyes clearer than they’ve been since the night started, and he reaches up to touch Stiles’ cheek. He doesn’t look fucked out or used at all, just tired and… loved. Stiles is aware of bodies moving around them, warmth pressed to his back and limbs criss-crossing over him and Derek. Stiles doesn’t want to shut them out, the way they all feel like a single living thing, breathing together and huddled around the warm center of Stiles and Derek, but he’s deeply content right now. As is Derek, his expression so soft and open.
Later Stiles will ask him if this is what he’d wanted, whether it was as good as he’d imagined, not because Stiles doesn’t know the answer but just to hear Derek say the words. But with the pack settled in around them, he just presses his face against Derek’s shoulder and mouths I love you against his skin.
He can feel Derek’s answering smile against his forehead.