FIC: Teen Wolf -- Kink Grab Bag

[the_deep_magic]

Title: Mating Games Week 3 Challenge: Kink Grab Bag (Director's Cut)
Author: the_deep_magic
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Erica/Stiles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 984
Disclaimer: fingerbangin' fiction
Summary: This is a lot more fun than the way they do it on the Discovery Channel.
A/N: So many delectable kinks to choose from!  I'd already had this idea knocking around in my head, but this gave me the perfect chance to use it.

There’s a lot that Erica can tolerate for Stiles’ sake – god knows he does the same for her – but a six-hour marathon of “How It’s Made” on the Discovery Channel is not among them.

Still, she doesn’t feel like getting up off the couch, where she’s lying spooned up so nicely against Stiles, his chin resting on the top of her head and one hand resting on her hip, idly stroking the skin just above the waistband of her jeans.  It’s oddly domestic for them, but this position is good for two things, and Erica isn’t feeling sleepy.

Reaching up, she covers Stiles’ hand with her own.  He whines when she pulls it off her hip, but makes another sound entirely when she brings his hand up to her mouth and sucks on two of his fingers, twirling her tongue around the sensitive tips until she can feel him start to harden against her lower back.  But he’s got his TV show to keep him busy, she reasons, so she should get the use of his fingers.  They’re long and graceful and stroke lightly against her tongue, and she wets them as thoroughly as she can.

The next part is a little tricky: maneuvering his wet fingers into her jeans without undoing them.  The jeans are tight enough to make her tingle pleasantly if she crosses her legs, but right now she wants the slick pressure of Stiles’ fingers against her.

He pushes them beneath her panties and she stops him just as the tips press against her folds – not that he’s got the room go much farther, anyway.  She presses between his first two knuckles, getting him to split his fingers slightly so they’re resting on either side of her clit.  He makes a soft, broken noise when she clasps him by the wrist and begins to rock back and forth, teasing herself.  She knows from experience that he’s all too happy to be her own personal sex toy when she needs it.

His fingers are a tight fit between the material and her skin, and she only has to roll her hips slightly to get the feeling she wants, warm little jolts of pleasure that start her nerve endings sizzling.  She likes the build-up, and her mouth falls open as her breath starts to come a little faster.

Stiles whispers her name into her hair, kissing the top of her head and tucking up tighter against her back, no doubt so he can feel the motion of her hips.  But this is about her right now – her feeling good, her getting off – and when he squeezes his fingers together ever so slightly, she bucks and gasps in surprise.  He immediately relaxes his fingers and she can feel him smiling against her scalp.

Fine.  He wants be a more active participant here?  Erica can work with that.  She pulls his hand back slightly and squeezes his first two fingers together before guiding them back down.  Grasping the back of his hand, she manipulates it so he’s rubbing tight circles around her clit, and he knows not to press too hard, not yet.

She controls the pressure with little more than a slight squirm, but it makes her whole body undulate against his and he moves with her.  It’s starting to get really good now, and when he briefly dips his hand down to wet his fingertips, she gasps, suddenly realizing how empty she feels.

As she reaches down to finally unzip her jeans, she mutters, “Don’t you fucking dare stop,” and Stiles squeezes her clit again, gently, making her shudder.  She’d slap the back of his hand for it, but, well, he hardly breaks rhythm and she definitely doesn’t want to discourage him.  She wriggles her jeans and panties down to mid-thigh.  It still doesn’t give him a lot of room to work with, but she gasps, “Other hand,” and she doesn’t even have to tell him what to do. 

He reaches down and slides two fingers into her, murmuring “Fuck” when he feels how wet she is.  At this angle, he can’t push very deep – his wrist is probably already straining a bit as it is – but he doesn’t need to.  She just wants the fullness right there at her opening.  “Another one,” she breathes, tightening around his fingers to show it’s not quite enough.  He obliges and oh, fuck, that’s good.  That’s perfect.

The pleasure coiling low in her stomach is getting more and more urgent, and she finally grabs his wrist and holds him still, grinding her clit against his fingers.  He’s whispering something in her ear, low and dirty, but she doesn’t hear it at all, only the wet sound of his fingers against her and in her and with a hard shiver, she’s coming, body shuddering silently with each hard pulse of it.

He’s the one who makes noise, little sighs of adoration every time she clenches around his fingers.  When she goes limp, he gentles her down, fingertips wringing a few jolting aftershocks out of her as she gasps for breath.  She’s still got his wrist in an iron grip, but at least there are no claw marks.  When he starts to take his hands away, she gently massages his wrists and fingers.  He doesn’t always believe what comes out of her mouth – not really his fault – but his heart skips a little when she’s gentle with him.

She’s not surprised when he fumbles for the remote.  It wasn’t really the reason she started this, but it’s a bonus.  “What?” she asks, getting a final glance at the show before he switches it off.  “You don’t want to find out how steel shipping drums are made?”

“Already saw that one,” he says, and she can practically hear the grin before she sees it, when he flips her onto her back and kisses her down into the cushions.

Voting for week 4 (The Ties That Bind) is going on here until Friday.