FIC: Teen Wolf -- Picture Challenge
May. 26th, 2013 12:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_deep_magicTitle: Mating Games Week 5: Picture Challenge (Director's Cut)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
the_deep_magic
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,454
Warning: poorly-executed bondage
Disclaimer: knot mine (see, I did it again, but with a different meaning this time!)
Summary: Stiles wants to surprise Derek. He succeeds.
A/N: I chose photo #5 from this list (completely NSFW).
Derek sets his groceries down and peers at the writhing mess on his living room floor. He takes a few moments, examines it from multiple angles. It’s really quite the display.
“Okay,” he says eventually, “I give up. Some type of performance art?”
“You’re a bad person,” Stiles groans from his position on the floor. “Morally, I mean. And occasionally hygienically.”
Derek shrugs. “Just trying to get some context here.”
“The context is that this was supposed to be a sexy surprise.”
“On my hardwood floor?”
“It didn’t start out on the floor, dumbass. I started in our bed like a sane person, but something went… awry.”
“So I’d guessed.”
“And there weren’t any scissors in the bedroom, so I was attempting to get to the kitchen.”
It would seem that Stiles has been awkwardly rolling across the floor in his quest. Derek’s never been so glad that he moved out of the loft, because he has no doubt that, had there been stairs involved, Stiles still would’ve tried to take them on.
He’s banged up enough as it is, easy enough to see because he’s wearing nothing but tight black briefs. There are rope burns across his chest from what had probably once been a ladder of lovely, intricate knots. However, the main problem seems to be that Stiles has managed to securely fasten his ankles not only together, but also to his left wrist… behind his back. So his lower legs and left arm are tucked up beneath him with only his right arm free. There’s a length of rope trailing out behind him, and his shoulders and knees are already dark red in a way Derek knows will blossom into bruises. But the ropes aren’t constricting Stiles’ breathing or cutting off his circulation, so Derek doesn’t really need to do anything just yet.
“But now that you’re here, you can just” – Stiles makes a clawing motion with his free hand – “Wolverine me right out of this.”
“And why would I want to do that?” Derek asks, letting a predatory smile spread across his face. “If I’m such a morally bad person.”
He sees Stiles wince with that I’ve totally set myself up for this and now I have to talk my way out of it look. Derek is pretty familiar with that one. “Um, redemption? Or because you want to get laid?”
Derek quirks an eyebrow, looking pointedly between Stiles’ slightly spread thighs. His ankles are bound together, but Derek could easily get between Stiles’ legs… and Derek sees the moment when Stiles realizes just that. “I don’t see anything stopping me now,” Derek says dryly.
“Respect for my bodily agency?” Stiles tries with a squeak.
“I’ll do my best to resist ravishing you,” Derek sighs and reaches down to scoop Stiles off the floor. He has to be more careful than usual with Stiles tied up, his weight distributed so awkwardly, but it’s still easy enough to sling Stiles over his shoulder and take him back to the bedroom. The groceries can wait.
By the time Derek has laid Stiles out on the bed – already rumpled to a ludicrous degree, presumably by Stiles’ struggle to free himself – Stiles’ briefs are even tighter, and Derek can see the clear outline of his growing erection. Derek kneels between Stiles’ spread thighs and rubs at Stiles through the fabric, cupping and squeezing until Stiles is writhing again for a completely different reason. “So what was the original idea here?”
“J-Japanese rope bondage,” Stiles gasps. “It’s hot.” He nods at a spread of computer printouts – some on the bed, most on the floor – showing naked men and women bound in elaborately tied ropes, some of their bodies in improbable positions. Stiles is right, there is something undeniably sexy about the obvious care and time that went into the binding as well as the precise placement of the knots, but Derek is positive that none of it was done by the subjects themselves. Sure enough, he also finds a printout of do-it-yourself instructions, and he only has to read the first three steps to be amazed that Stiles got as far as he did. Stiles is pretty damn flexible, but he only has so many hands.
“You hurt?” Derek asks, suddenly wondering if Stiles is in the mood for this, tented briefs or not.
Stiles sighs. “Only my pride. And my dick, so cut me out of this and kiss it all better.”
Chuckling, Derek shifts up the bed to shove a pillow under Stiles’ shoulders, supporting his head and neck. “I don’t know. You’ve wrapped yourself up so nicely for me, it seems like a shame to waste it.”
“Don’t tease,” Stiles whines as Derek slowly drags a hand down Stiles’ chest, mindful of the abraded skin, and yeah, he’s in the mood.
“I thought teasing was the whole point of this,” Derek says, bending down to nuzzle at Stiles’ clothed erection. The briefs are already a little damp with precum and Derek groans at the heavy scent of growing arousal.
He feels Stiles’ fingers combing through his hair. “But I can barely touch you.”
The head of Stiles’ cock is peeking out of the waistband now, and Derek fits his mouth over it and sucks very lightly, just once. “If you’d actually managed to tie yourself up, you wouldn’t be able to touch me at all,” Derek says, letting his breath ghost over the wet head of Stiles’ dick. He sucks again, sweeping his tongue over the slit to make Stiles buck beneath him. “But if you want me to cut you out of there, I will.”
Stiles groans, obviously caught between his pride and his libido. “It’ll take too long. Keep going.”
Actually, with Derek’s claws, it would take a matter of seconds, but there’s a reason Stiles was trying to tie himself up in the first place without letting Derek know in advance, so Derek tugs Stiles’ briefs down just enough to free his cock and balls.
And then he leans up over Stiles’ chest again, tucking Stiles’ right arm underneath his body, where it would’ve gone if he were tied up properly. Stiles doesn’t resist, just whimpers softly as Derek kisses over each of the rope burns. By sheer luck, one loop of rope has managed to stay tight over Stiles’ nipples, and Derek tugs at it a little, getting Stiles to arch up into the scratching pressure.
By the time Derek has kissed his way back down, Stiles’ cock is flushed an angry red, rock hard and begging for attention. So Derek goes straight for Stiles’ balls first, sucking each one into his mouth in turn until Stiles is practically sobbing. Derek wonders if he pushed a finger against the sweet spot behind Stiles’ balls right now, if Stiles could come just like that. He seems worked up enough that it might be possible.
But in the end, Derek is greedy and wants Stiles to come down his throat. It doesn’t take much, just the warm, wet slide of Derek’s tongue as he bobs his head. In less than a minute, Stiles is crying out, Derek’s hands holding him steady as Derek swallows him down.
As soon as Stiles collapses back to the bed, Derek’s claws are out and he’s cutting neatly through the ropes. Once Stiles is free, Derek helps him stretch out on the bed, and Stiles’ groan is half pleasure at extending his cramped limbs and half pain as the circulation returns.
“I am totally gonna reciprocate,” Stiles slurs, “as soon as I can feel anything but pins and needles below my neck.” Even his right arm must be numb from being pressed under his body.
“Idiot,” Derek says fondly, gently moving Stiles’ major joints to make sure nothing’s strained. When he’s done, he crawls up to kiss Stiles, soothing his chapped, bitten lips. “If you wanted to be tied up, all you had to do was ask,” he murmurs against Stiles’ mouth.
“But that ruins the surprise,” Stiles complains, nipping at Derek’s lower lip.
Derek skips over the part where he really doesn’t want to be surprised by coming home one day and finding Stiles hanging by one ankle from an exposed ceiling joist – Derek remembers some of those pictures, and if anyone could manage to accidentally suspend themselves six feet in the air, it would be Stiles – and just whispers, “Think how much better it’ll be when it’s me wrapping those ropes around you, slowly tying those knots in just the right places.”
He’s imagining looping ropes around Stiles’ hips, maybe his upper thighs, placing a knot to press firmly against the sweet spot behind Stiles’ balls. Derek can practically hear the whimpers already.
Voting for week 6 (Hungry Like the Wolf) is going on here until Friday.
Author:
the_deep_magicFandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,454
Warning: poorly-executed bondage
Disclaimer: knot mine (see, I did it again, but with a different meaning this time!)
Summary: Stiles wants to surprise Derek. He succeeds.
A/N: I chose photo #5 from this list (completely NSFW).
Derek sets his groceries down and peers at the writhing mess on his living room floor. He takes a few moments, examines it from multiple angles. It’s really quite the display.
“Okay,” he says eventually, “I give up. Some type of performance art?”
“You’re a bad person,” Stiles groans from his position on the floor. “Morally, I mean. And occasionally hygienically.”
Derek shrugs. “Just trying to get some context here.”
“The context is that this was supposed to be a sexy surprise.”
“On my hardwood floor?”
“It didn’t start out on the floor, dumbass. I started in our bed like a sane person, but something went… awry.”
“So I’d guessed.”
“And there weren’t any scissors in the bedroom, so I was attempting to get to the kitchen.”
It would seem that Stiles has been awkwardly rolling across the floor in his quest. Derek’s never been so glad that he moved out of the loft, because he has no doubt that, had there been stairs involved, Stiles still would’ve tried to take them on.
He’s banged up enough as it is, easy enough to see because he’s wearing nothing but tight black briefs. There are rope burns across his chest from what had probably once been a ladder of lovely, intricate knots. However, the main problem seems to be that Stiles has managed to securely fasten his ankles not only together, but also to his left wrist… behind his back. So his lower legs and left arm are tucked up beneath him with only his right arm free. There’s a length of rope trailing out behind him, and his shoulders and knees are already dark red in a way Derek knows will blossom into bruises. But the ropes aren’t constricting Stiles’ breathing or cutting off his circulation, so Derek doesn’t really need to do anything just yet.
“But now that you’re here, you can just” – Stiles makes a clawing motion with his free hand – “Wolverine me right out of this.”
“And why would I want to do that?” Derek asks, letting a predatory smile spread across his face. “If I’m such a morally bad person.”
He sees Stiles wince with that I’ve totally set myself up for this and now I have to talk my way out of it look. Derek is pretty familiar with that one. “Um, redemption? Or because you want to get laid?”
Derek quirks an eyebrow, looking pointedly between Stiles’ slightly spread thighs. His ankles are bound together, but Derek could easily get between Stiles’ legs… and Derek sees the moment when Stiles realizes just that. “I don’t see anything stopping me now,” Derek says dryly.
“Respect for my bodily agency?” Stiles tries with a squeak.
“I’ll do my best to resist ravishing you,” Derek sighs and reaches down to scoop Stiles off the floor. He has to be more careful than usual with Stiles tied up, his weight distributed so awkwardly, but it’s still easy enough to sling Stiles over his shoulder and take him back to the bedroom. The groceries can wait.
By the time Derek has laid Stiles out on the bed – already rumpled to a ludicrous degree, presumably by Stiles’ struggle to free himself – Stiles’ briefs are even tighter, and Derek can see the clear outline of his growing erection. Derek kneels between Stiles’ spread thighs and rubs at Stiles through the fabric, cupping and squeezing until Stiles is writhing again for a completely different reason. “So what was the original idea here?”
“J-Japanese rope bondage,” Stiles gasps. “It’s hot.” He nods at a spread of computer printouts – some on the bed, most on the floor – showing naked men and women bound in elaborately tied ropes, some of their bodies in improbable positions. Stiles is right, there is something undeniably sexy about the obvious care and time that went into the binding as well as the precise placement of the knots, but Derek is positive that none of it was done by the subjects themselves. Sure enough, he also finds a printout of do-it-yourself instructions, and he only has to read the first three steps to be amazed that Stiles got as far as he did. Stiles is pretty damn flexible, but he only has so many hands.
“You hurt?” Derek asks, suddenly wondering if Stiles is in the mood for this, tented briefs or not.
Stiles sighs. “Only my pride. And my dick, so cut me out of this and kiss it all better.”
Chuckling, Derek shifts up the bed to shove a pillow under Stiles’ shoulders, supporting his head and neck. “I don’t know. You’ve wrapped yourself up so nicely for me, it seems like a shame to waste it.”
“Don’t tease,” Stiles whines as Derek slowly drags a hand down Stiles’ chest, mindful of the abraded skin, and yeah, he’s in the mood.
“I thought teasing was the whole point of this,” Derek says, bending down to nuzzle at Stiles’ clothed erection. The briefs are already a little damp with precum and Derek groans at the heavy scent of growing arousal.
He feels Stiles’ fingers combing through his hair. “But I can barely touch you.”
The head of Stiles’ cock is peeking out of the waistband now, and Derek fits his mouth over it and sucks very lightly, just once. “If you’d actually managed to tie yourself up, you wouldn’t be able to touch me at all,” Derek says, letting his breath ghost over the wet head of Stiles’ dick. He sucks again, sweeping his tongue over the slit to make Stiles buck beneath him. “But if you want me to cut you out of there, I will.”
Stiles groans, obviously caught between his pride and his libido. “It’ll take too long. Keep going.”
Actually, with Derek’s claws, it would take a matter of seconds, but there’s a reason Stiles was trying to tie himself up in the first place without letting Derek know in advance, so Derek tugs Stiles’ briefs down just enough to free his cock and balls.
And then he leans up over Stiles’ chest again, tucking Stiles’ right arm underneath his body, where it would’ve gone if he were tied up properly. Stiles doesn’t resist, just whimpers softly as Derek kisses over each of the rope burns. By sheer luck, one loop of rope has managed to stay tight over Stiles’ nipples, and Derek tugs at it a little, getting Stiles to arch up into the scratching pressure.
By the time Derek has kissed his way back down, Stiles’ cock is flushed an angry red, rock hard and begging for attention. So Derek goes straight for Stiles’ balls first, sucking each one into his mouth in turn until Stiles is practically sobbing. Derek wonders if he pushed a finger against the sweet spot behind Stiles’ balls right now, if Stiles could come just like that. He seems worked up enough that it might be possible.
But in the end, Derek is greedy and wants Stiles to come down his throat. It doesn’t take much, just the warm, wet slide of Derek’s tongue as he bobs his head. In less than a minute, Stiles is crying out, Derek’s hands holding him steady as Derek swallows him down.
As soon as Stiles collapses back to the bed, Derek’s claws are out and he’s cutting neatly through the ropes. Once Stiles is free, Derek helps him stretch out on the bed, and Stiles’ groan is half pleasure at extending his cramped limbs and half pain as the circulation returns.
“I am totally gonna reciprocate,” Stiles slurs, “as soon as I can feel anything but pins and needles below my neck.” Even his right arm must be numb from being pressed under his body.
“Idiot,” Derek says fondly, gently moving Stiles’ major joints to make sure nothing’s strained. When he’s done, he crawls up to kiss Stiles, soothing his chapped, bitten lips. “If you wanted to be tied up, all you had to do was ask,” he murmurs against Stiles’ mouth.
“But that ruins the surprise,” Stiles complains, nipping at Derek’s lower lip.
Derek skips over the part where he really doesn’t want to be surprised by coming home one day and finding Stiles hanging by one ankle from an exposed ceiling joist – Derek remembers some of those pictures, and if anyone could manage to accidentally suspend themselves six feet in the air, it would be Stiles – and just whispers, “Think how much better it’ll be when it’s me wrapping those ropes around you, slowly tying those knots in just the right places.”
He’s imagining looping ropes around Stiles’ hips, maybe his upper thighs, placing a knot to press firmly against the sweet spot behind Stiles’ balls. Derek can practically hear the whimpers already.
Voting for week 6 (Hungry Like the Wolf) is going on here until Friday.
