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You never stop learning new things about yourself, even when you’re through your formative years and well into adulthood. Derek’s mom used to tell him that when he was young. For most of his life, Derek was under the misconception that there was nothing new to discover about his sexuality. He was attracted to girls, then to women, and he got married and had a kid and that was all he knew—or maybe it was all he cared to know. It was what all the other guys his age were doing, so he never thought to question it, never stopped to consider that there might be more to him.
Then the mother of his child ran off and left him to raise their son, Stiles, by himself. He was hurt but got over it. Theirs was a shotgun wedding, rushed and unromantic because he accidentally got Paige pregnant when they were eighteen and they were pressured into ‘doing the right thing’.
They were never happy together, both feeling trapped, even though neither admitted it. They pretended for a while, mostly for Stiles’ sake, but in hindsight, Derek supposes it was only a matter of time until one of them had enough and ended things. He just never thought Paige would leave Stiles behind too.
Struggling to accommodate the new hole in their lives, Derek and Stiles got even closer. They became best friends as well as father and son. They knew they could tell each other anything without fear of being judged, even the most tightly held secrets, and after several long months, Derek accepted that, if Paige could just abandon their son like that, they were better off without her.
Paige’s departure also opened up a world of possibilities for Derek, which he hesitantly began to explore with Stiles’ gentle nudging. He dated again but never found a woman he could see himself bringing home to introduce to his son. It was only after the one adult friend Derek had left suggested he fish in a different sea that Derek saw the reason no woman ever seemed right. Maybe it was the real reason he and Paige never worked out too.
Now, the day after Stiles moved back in after graduating from college, Derek paces in their living room, waiting for Stiles to get home. He reflexively clenches his hands at his sides. “Why are you so nervous? Stiles told you he’s bisexual years ago. It’ll be fine. This won’t change anything and—”
“What won’t change anything?”
Derek spins around so fast that he loses his balance and almost falls on top of their glass coffee table. He hadn’t heard Stiles come home, but there he stands in the living room doorway.
“You okay?” Stiles asks. “You’re pale.” He steps closer and puts a steadying hand on Derek’s arm.
Derek shakes himself. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sit down, kiddo. I have something I need to tell you.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is.”
Stiles chooses one end of the sofa, so Derek sits at the other. “What’s this about, Dad? You’re kinda freaking me out.”
“I’ve been doing some soul-searching lately,” Derek says, twisting his hands nervously in his lap, “and I’ve come to some conclusions about myself that I want you to know about.”
Stiles is still concerned, but he visibly braces himself, his face calm and ready for anything. “Alright. Lay it on me.”
The two words are a chore to get out, but when Stiles puts a hand over his, stopping his fidgeting, he finds the confidence he needs:
“I’m gay,” he announces, his head held high.
Stiles has no immediate reaction. His face is stolid, like he’s waiting for something else or perhaps even the punchline to a joke. When Derek doesn’t give him one, just sits and watches him anxiously, his countenance softens. “I’m glad you told me, but I already suspected something like that.”
Derek’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You did?”
Stiles laughs good-naturedly. “I’ve seen you checking out other men before, Dad. You weren’t subtle.”
Derek’s cheeks colour. “Oh.”
“Was that all you were getting yourself worked up about?”
“Yeah…”
“Hey, it’s no big deal. So you like dick. I happen to like dick too. No big.”
“That’s a relief. I knew I was getting worked up for nothing, but I couldn’t help it, y’know?”
“I do. I was the same way when I came out to you.”
“I remember.”
“So…” Stiles shifts into a more casual position, his legs folded under himself. “Have you done anything yet?”
“What?”
“Y’know, have you had sex with another guy yet?”
Derek blinks a few times and shakes his head, embarrassed. “Have you?” he counters.
“Of course. Lots of times. I’ve been told I’m very good at using what my dad gave me.” Stiles winks.
Stiles has always been free when discussing his sex life—he told Derek right after he lost his virginity five years ago—so Derek isn’t made uncomfortable discussing this. What they’re talking about this time is uncharted territory for him, but the fact that Stiles is keeping it light goes a long way.
Stiles gets an air of mischievousness about him. “Top or bottom?”
“Uhh… I dunno. I haven’t done anything yet. I already said.”
Stiles waves a dismissive hand. “That doesn’t mean anything. Even when you were with Mom, you could’ve been the one getting fucked most of the time for all I know. Pegging’s a thing. So: top or bottom?”
“I’ve never— I’ve only ever been the one doing the…y’know, the fucking.”
“Are you curious?”
Derek’s hole clenches on its own, as if it has a consciousness and knows it’s being talked about. “Yes.”
“Well, I’m exclusively a top myself,” Stiles says, unashamed as ever. “I tried bottoming a few times, but it just wasn’t for me. It felt good, don’t get me wrong, but I prefer to be on the other side of things.”
“I see.”
Stiles regards him strangely, his expression inscrutable, then it changes to what Derek has named his Idea Face™—the one he gets whenever he comes up with some great scheme he can’t wait to carry out. Derek prepares himself, because when his son wears that expression, they’re usually both in for what can kindly be described as an ‘interesting’ ride. Sure enough, when Stiles tells him what he’s just thought of, Derek gapes because it’s ludicrous:
“What if you bottom for me?” Stiles suggests happily, apparently not seeing a problem with it.
Still gaping like a fish, Derek fumbles for a reply. “Kiddo, that’s— We can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I’m your dad, for one thing! It’s wrong.”
Stiles shrugs, not bothered at all. “Only if someone else knows about it.”
“We’re not doing it.”
Not giving up so easily, Stiles shuffles sideways until their thighs touch and leans in so their faces are close together. “C’mon, let me do this for you.”
Derek says nothing. He couldn’t, even if he could think of the right words.
“Like I said, I’ve got a nice dick and I know how to use it,” Stiles claims. “I’ll make it good for you.”
Silent, Derek raises his hands to force Stiles away as Stiles closes the distance between them and kisses a path along his bristly jaw, but when he puts his hands on his son’s shoulders, he doesn’t follow through, just rests them there. Stiles keeps going, starting with the side of Derek’s face, then finally reaching his mouth. When their lips connect, Derek gasps out of shock, which allows Stiles to slip his tongue inside his open mouth. Derek doesn’t reciprocate right away, but Stiles coaxes him into it and he begins to tentatively kiss his son back.
He should feel grossed out—this is his baby boy; it’s immoral, disgusting—but his body betrays him, his cock thickening in his jeans.
“Let’s move this to your bedroom.” Stiles hauls him up from the sofa, and Derek walks docilely behind him.
When they reach the master bedroom and his son closes the door behind them, Derek knows he has to stop this now. “Stiles—”
“Ah-ah-ah!” his son admonishes, putting an index finger to Derek’s lips. “It’s all gonna be okay.”
The next thing Derek knows, Stiles tugs at the hem of his henley and rucks it up to his armpits. He’s still unsure if he should be letting his son do this, but he finds himself raising his arms so Stiles can take his shirt off all the way. When it’s on the floor, Stiles kisses him again, hands running over every inch of his hirsute chest as he explores.
Derek moans into Stiles’ mouth when Stiles touches his nipples. He thrusts out his chest, and Stiles, catching on, twists and pinches his nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. Pain and pleasure shoot right to Derek’s cock.
Once his nipples are sore and red, Stiles walks him backward. Derek’s knees hit the foot of his bed, then Stiles pushes him so he falls back onto it.
Things are moving quickly, but Derek is now too swept up in everything Stiles is doing to him to act like a father should and put an end to it. His mind is clouded with lust, lowering his inhibitions and getting rid of any qualms he had altogether. He never thought it would feel so good to have someone else calling the shots. In the rare instances that he and his ex-wife had sex after they were pressured into getting married and Stiles was born, Derek was always the one taking charge and it was never exciting—just boring missionary, again and again, with neither of them really being into it.
That isn’t the case here. No, the wrongness of what he and Stiles are doing does an excellent job of making things exciting, a feeling that Derek has sorely missed. As Stiles undoes his jeans, he doesn’t want to stop anymore. He gives in.
“Stiles…” he breathes, lifting his hips so his son can strip him the rest of the way.
Now wholly bared, Stiles surveys him. Does he like what he sees?
“Look at you,” Stiles says reverently, giving Derek his answer. “So fucking hot. I always knew it.”
“You did?”
Stiles meets his eyes. “Yeah. I’ve liked looking at you since I was ten. I jerked off for the first time after I got a peek of you in the shower once.”
Derek is stunned. He never would’ve guessed. He listens raptly to his son:
“That was one hell of a sexual awakening, let me tell you.” Stiles kneels on the carpeted floor and puts his hands on Derek’s knees. “Seeing you there, all wet and soapy… God, the things it did to me. You didn’t know I was there. You had your front to me, and when I got bigger I realised you were where I got my dick from. It was distorted because of the glass, but even when you were soft, you were big. Then you turned around to wash the shampoo out of your hair and I saw your ass. I nearly came in my pants right there in the doorway. I never went after you because I didn’t wanna spook you, but I’m tired of waiting and this opportunity was too good to pass up.”
Derek nods stiffly, finally ready to accept his son’s offer. “Do it.”
Stiles kisses the inside of Derek’s knee. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I want you.”
“Where? Tell me…Daddy.”
Stiles hasn’t called him that in years, since he got too old and it changed to just Dad. Back then, it was never said like this, Stiles’ lips curling around the word so it drips with sex..
Derek’s heart pounds. “I want you inside me.”
* * *
Those five words are like music to Stiles’ ears.
Like he just told his dad, he’s been awaiting this day for years, never knowing if it would actually come to pass. Now that it’s here, he isn’t going to squander it.
Stiles takes his time, wanting to stay true to his word and make this good for his dad. He curls his hands beneath his dad’s knees and pulls him down the bed so his ass is just short of hanging off the end and there’s more space between his legs. Now that his dad is in a better position, Stiles runs his hands up his quivering thighs, feeling the way the hairs tickle his palms. He reaches the V of his dad’s hipbones, and his gaze is glued to his dad’s crotch.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he knew his dad was big.
Standing tall at eight inches, his daddy’s cock is thick, uncut and perfectly proportioned to his balls. Stiles admires it before lowering his mouth to the head. He seals his lips around it and bobs up and down, putting into practice every trick he’s learnt over the last few years—and he’s learned a lot.
* * *
Derek turns insensible with alarming speed, the pleasure of his son’s tongue too much to handle. He fists his hands in the sheets, wants to buck his hips into the wet heat but is unable to because Stiles still has him pinned down at his hips. His son is disconcertingly strong—when did that happen?—and no matter how hard Derek tries, he can only move his hips a couple millimetres at most. It’s frustrating and titillating at the same time, the fact that someone else is in control of him making the blowjob even more hot. His son is a genius with his mouth, and that tongue… Derek shudders when it slips beneath his foreskin and wiggles over his glans.
Just when he’s getting close to coming, Stiles stops. Derek lifts his head, and his mouth ceases working as Stiles flings off his clothes.
Derek has seen Stiles naked before, of course, but it’s been approximately sixteen years since he’s seen him with more than his torso bared. The last time for that was a few months ago, and a lot has changed even since then. Stiles has filled out, gaining some muscle and losing the last of his baby fat. He’s still smaller in stature than Derek, but Derek isn’t complaining. There’s enough there to enable Stiles to do some serious damage, which Derek wants him to.
His son’s skin is pale and dotted with moles, and his shoulders are broad and strong. There’s a small patch of hair in the centre of his chest and a thin trail running down from his belly button, but apart from that, his torso is smooth, a contrast to his dad. When Stiles works down his jeans and underwear, Derek sees where the treasure trail morphs into a thatch of brown hair above a cock very similar to his own, like Stiles said. It’s about the same length and thickness and is also uncut, but it curves upward, whereas Derek’s is straight.
Stiles doesn’t fail to notice where his dad’s eyes have gone. “You wanna blow me?”
Derek is already drooling. He croaks out a yes.
“Good, ‘cause I’ve wanted your cock-sucking lips around me for years.”
Stiles walks around to the side of the bed, climbs on and sits back against the pillows, his legs spread invitingly. “Don’t worry; I’ll tell you what to do.”
When his son beckons him closer, Derek turns over onto his hands and knees and crawls into the space Stiles has created for him. Up this close, Stiles’ cock seems even bigger, and the scent of it fills Derek’s nose. This musk causes more saliva to build in his mouth, so he snaps it shut to preclude drooling again. That’s when Stiles gives him instructions.
Derek wraps a hand around his son’s cock and gives it a stroke. It feels just like his, but at the same time, it doesn’t because he can’t feel his own hand and the angle is different.
Stiles tells him to grip his cock tighter, so he does, also increasing the speed of his strokes as he becomes more confident. Then, Stiles enjoins him to keep his hand gripping the base and put his mouth to work. Using his newly gained confidence, Derek flicks his tongue over Stiles’ slit and swirls the taste of his pre-come around his mouth, wondering if it will be any different from his own. It probably isn’t, but because it’s his son’s, Derek is of the opinion that it tastes better.
Soon enough, Derek has his son’s cock properly in his mouth. It feels heavy on his tongue and he gags when the head touches the back of his throat, but Stiles runs slender fingers through his hair to soothe him and keep him from panicking. He fears he’s doing a terrible job, but Stiles still seems to be enjoying it and doesn’t demean him when he has to stop every now and then to catch his breath. It isn’t long until Derek’s jaw aches. He wasn’t expecting it, but apparently his son was. Stiles’ hands move from his hair to cup his jaw, his fingers massaging the ache away.
“Keep going if you can,” he says, maintaining control of himself a lot better than Derek had.
For a while, Derek works on taking his son’s cock in his throat. His eyes sting every time, but he gets an inch or two down before he has to pull off, so he figures he’s making decent progress. Stiles grins proudly at him, and Derek’s chest feels warm.
“I knew you’d look good like this,” Stiles murmurs, still massaging Derek’s jaw. “Your mouth was made for sucking cock.” Then, Stiles tugs him off. “That’s enough, though. Any more and I’m gonna come before I can get inside you.”
“Are you—” Derek clears his sore throat. “Are you doing that next?”
“We’ll get there. I’m gonna rim you first.”
Derek is on board. When Stiles is out of the way, he crawls further forward so his son can fit on the bed behind him.
He’s ready.
* * *
“Damn… It’s just as sexy as I remembered,” Stiles says, in awe of his dad’s ass. It’s muscular and hairy, a delightful combination.
He takes each cheek in hand and squeezes, approving of their firmness and the jiggle they still somehow have. He spreads them apart and bites his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning when he finally sees his dad’s virgin asshole. It’s tight and twitching from being exposed to the air. Too good to resist.
“Get ready for me,” Stiles says, all the warning he feels like giving.
“What—”
Not letting his dad get more than one word out, Stiles dives straight in. He stuffs his face between his dad’s cheeks and swirls his tongue around his hole, tasting him and getting it nice and wet. His dad squirms against him, like he’s deciding if he should get away from the alien sensation or embrace it. He goes with the latter, sticking out his ass even more so it’s easier for Stiles to get at his hairy little hole.
Stiles speaks right against it. “That feel good?”
“It’s weird…but I like it. Don’t stop.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Stiles resumes eating out his dad, relishing the musky taste of the furled skin. He’s certain that his dad likes it because he starts to actively participate, pushing his ass back onto Stiles’ face in another plea to keep going. Stiles prods at the tight muscle with his tongue to loosen it. It takes a while, his dad’s body tightening right back up every time Stiles makes some progress, but after some persistence, they get there and Stiles is able to fit the tip of his tongue inside.
“Stiles!” Derek cries out, his thighs quivering.
When he’s tasted him enough, Stiles asks him where he keeps his lube.
“B-bedside drawer.” Derek points to it. “Top one.”
With the half-empty tube in hand, Stiles retakes his place behind his dad and pops the cap. “I’m gonna finger you now, Daddy. Tell me to stop if you need me to and I will, okay?”
Derek inhales deep and slow. “Okay.”
Stiles uses his index finger first. He runs it in small circles around his dad’s asshole, further matting down the dark hairs surrounding it, before he inserts it just up to the first knuckle. When his dad doesn’t tense up too badly, he keeps pressing inside until his whole finger has been eaten up by his dad’s hole. He feels his dad clench experimentally around him a few times, testing the waters.
“You still good?”
“Y-yeah,” Derek confirms, relaxing himself again.
Stiles extracts his finger, coats it in a new layer of lube and puts it back inside, not stopping partway this time. He does this several times, crooking it to feel around his dad’s channel. His walls are silky-smooth and burning-hot, and Stiles can’t wait to feel them gripping his cock tight like a vice. He knows it’s going to be awesome.
“I’m gonna put a second finger in now,” he apprises. “Remember to tell me to stop if you need me to.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it. Just do it already.”
Stiles snorts as he complies. Despite his dad’s impatience, it’s a long process to go from one finger to three, then four when Stiles adds in his pinky, just to be safe. He knows the stretch will feel like a lot for his dad. It had for him the first time he got fucked. He hadn’t liked it that much because the guy topping him hadn’t done all that much to make the experience a good one for him. He was only out for himself, the selfish bastard.
Stiles makes sure this isn’t the case with him and his dad. With each new finger he adds, he spends several minutes allowing his dad’s hole to acclimate, stroking over his walls and leisurely fucking the digits in and out. He takes his time, ignoring the throbbing in his cock, and the first time he grazes his dad’s prostate, Derek’s reaction is explosive. He screams, a sound of surprise as well as pleasure.
“D-do that again!” his dad demands, and who is Stiles to say no?
He rubs the pads of his fingers across his dad’s prostate every time he thrusts them forward and curls them on the way out. His dad’s toes curl.
“Stiles, please… Need more.”
“You sure you’re ready?” Stiles doesn’t want to rush and accidentally hurt him.
“I’m sure. Need you inside me yesterday.”
Needing the same thing, Stiles gently removes his fingers from his dad’s hole. He gets distracted by how loose it is, how it can’t tighten up again all the way. The fire of arousal that’s been burning in his gut for nearly an hour now turns into an inferno when he glimpses his dad’s pink insides, shiny and slick with lube.
Stiles grips the base of his cock to stop himself from coming. “D’you have any condoms?”
“No. I haven’t exactly needed them lately…”
“You’re clean, right?”
“Yeah, I got checked not too long ago.”
“Cool. Me too. You good with going bareback?”
“I never thought I’d say this,” Derek admits, his pupils dilated, “but hell yes.”
Stiles yearns even more to get inside his dad’s ass. He’s never fucked someone bareback before—he’s a responsible man-whore, thank you very much!—so this should be a memorable experience for both of them. As if it wasn’t already going to be.
“Should I change positions? Get on my back, maybe?” his dad ponders.
“No, this’ll be better, at least at first. You can move when you’re more used to me. Keep your back arched.”
“Okay.”
Stiles makes short work of slicking up his cock. “I’m gonna push in. Remember—”
“I swear to god, I’ll ground you if you tell me again,” Derek snaps.
Stiles arches an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, Daddy.”
Shuffling closer, Stiles spreads apart his dad’s hairy cheeks with one hand and uses his other to guide the head of his cock to his dad’s slick hole. He holds still as soon as he makes contact, the touch of his cock light like a kiss. He’s broken in other guys before, and in his experience, they always tense up at the first contact, even if they’re actively trying not to. It’s natural when something is going somewhere it’s not really supposed to, but he has patience, and his dad’s hole relaxes again so he’s able to pop the head of his cock inside.
* * *
Derek’s mouth hangs open when he feels the first breach. He does his best to breathe through the ensuing burning sensation, but it isn’t easy. Even though he just had four of his son’s fingers up his ass, Stiles’ cock already seems thicker, like it’s past his limit. He gets his body to relax enough for his son to slide the next inch inside, at which point the process commences all over again.
“Breathe, Dad,” Stiles reminds him.
Derek is about to scold him again because he is breathing, damnit! Then he registers that, no, he actually isn’t. His lungs have turned to stone, and it takes work for him suck in some new air. Stiles running his hands up and down his back aids him, grounding him as more and more of Stiles’ cock presses inside his no-longer-virginal asshole.
When finally he feels his son’s hips come to rest against his cheeks, Derek knows that he’s finally managed to take all eight inches. It was tough, and it still feels like too much, his hole clenched tight around the intrusion, but he gets through it. He wants this. He wants his son to be his first, wants someone experienced who he’s close to.
“You doing okay?” Stiles checks in, his voice hoarse like he’s barely restraining himself.
“Give me a minute,” Derek replies. His cock hangs flaccid between his thighs.
“Sure thing.”
There’s silence, then:
“You’re doing so well,” Stiles praises. “You already feel great around me. Just wait: soon you’ll be seeing stars, and you’ll always crave a nice big cock to fuck you good. And I’ll give it to you every time.”
Derek’s eyes widen, comprehending the meaning behind his son’s words. “You will?”
“Damn straight! Now that I’ve claimed your ass, I’m not giving it up again,” Stiles asserts, like there’s no question.
“Oh.”
Stiles plasters himself to Derek’s back and nuzzles into the side of his neck, placing delicate kisses over the sensitive skin. “You’re mine now. You know that, right?”
“When did you get so…cocksure?”
“Since I went off to college and had a string of flings. Turns out I’m actually a catch. Funny, huh?”
“You’ve always been a catch,” Derek says, his parental instincts kicking in. While he has his son’s cock up his ass. What interesting timing.
“You’re one to talk.” Stiles kisses Derek’s bristly cheek, then picks himself back up, his hands resting on Derek’s hips. “Just tell me when I can move.”
Experimentally, Derek leans forward an inch then pushes back, fucking himself on his son’s cock. When he doesn’t feel any more pain, just some minor discomfort that he can handle, he gives Stiles the all-clear: “You can move.”
Ever so slowly, like he’s anticipating Derek taking back his permission, Stiles withdraws from Derek’s ass until just the head of his cock remains inside, and begins. It’s an odd sensation. Derek frowns as he gets to grips with it, the feeling of something big and solid sliding in and out of his hole, stimulating nerves within that he hadn’t even known he had. It’s very different from Stiles’ fingers. Derek honestly isn’t sure he likes it, but he doesn’t tell Stiles to stop. He just has to give it time. His son had seemed so sure that it would feel good, that he’d be begging for it by the end, so Derek places his faith in his son’s ability to make that promise a reality.
Stiles rubs Derek’s back again. “Doing okay?”
“Y-yeah, I’m good.”
“It doesn’t hurt anymore, right?”
“No. It’s— It’s weird, though.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Derek arches his back a bit more to make the position easier to maintain. Doing this must change something, because the next time Stiles thrusts into him, his cock glances hard off of Derek’s prostate. He shouts.
“Ah, there it is,” Stiles says behind him. Derek can hear his smirk.
Every time Stiles thrusts back inside now, he angles his cock to keep striking Derek’s prostate. Soon enough, Derek can feel himself getting into it, his cock hardening again between his legs as the strangeness of being fucked—the way the constant prostate stimulation makes him feel like he has to piss and the vulnerability it causes—is overshadowed by the pleasure of it. His son wasn’t lying when he said he was good at this. Derek is jealous when he considers all the boys Stiles broke in before him. Possessiveness grips him, and when he recalls what Stiles said about his ass belonging to him now, he’s thrilled.
He never wants this to end. This is what he was missing with his ex-wife. He knows that for sure now. This is where he was meant to be—getting fucked by a nice big cock, just as his son said.
* * *
When he’s able to work his cock in and out of his dad’s ass without trouble, Stiles thinks it’s time to switch positions. He wants to see his dad, to touch his body and see his face as he comes apart. He thrusts inside a final time, then pulls out, much to his dad’s confusion.
“Why’d you stop?”
“Because I want you to turn over.”
Initially, his dad can’t get his body to cooperate, then he flips over so he’s lying on his back, his movements ungainly. Stiles is greedy as he drinks in the state of him. His dad is flushed and a sheen of sweat covers his body. He’s so gorgeous that Stiles is desperate to get back inside of him and make him sweat even more. For now, he makes use of the brief intermission he’s given them.
He’s mesmerised by the way his dad’s hairy chest heaves. His nipples are still hard and redder than usual, only partially recovered from when Stiles played with them. Stiles runs his hand over the dips and planes of his dad’s abs, feeling the way they twitch and contract at his touch.
He continues down the trail of hair from his dad’s bellybutton and tugs on his coarse pubes, admiring how the dark hairs contrast with the lightness of his dad’s skin. It’s like that everywhere. It’s one of the things Stiles has always loved most when looking surreptitiously at him, the contrast of light and dark, especially how his strong jaw is framed by his dark beard.
“God, you’re hot. No one else even compares,” Stiles opines. He sweeps his gaze back up the long length of his dad’s body just in time to see the floridness of his face get even more pronounced. His dad blushes, cute in a way that someone as big and strong as him shouldn’t be able to achieve.
Derek spreads his legs wider in an open invitation. “Stiles…”
“Wow, you’re already begging for it, aren’t you?” Stiles observes fondly. “Okay then, Daddy, I’ll give you what you want.”
Taking the invitation, Stiles fits himself between his dad’s legs and hitches them around his hips. “Can you take it harder now?”
Derek nods enthusiastically. “Just give it to me.”
Stiles guides his cock back to his dad’s entrance. “Get ready, then. I’m gonna give you the ride of your life.”
The grip of his dad’s ass is even stronger than it was when Stiles left it before, maybe because of the change in position. He keeps things gentle for now as he once again makes room for himself in his dad’s body. He moves his dad’s legs from around his hips to stick straight up in the air, his feet on either side of Stiles’ head. His dad groans as he’s filled up again, his eyelids fluttering as he throws his head back, exposing the column of his neck. He’s the most erotic sight Stiles has ever seen, better than all the porn he’s watched—which is a lot—and all the people he’s fucked in the past combined. Yeah, there’s no way he’s giving this up for anything.
“I’m gonna go harder now,” he says.
“Do it,” his dad pleads, tangling a hand in the sheets and flinging the other arm above his head.
Stiles gradually increases the power behind his thrusts. He doesn’t quite go all-out because this is still his dad’s first time bottoming, but the speed at which he moves appears to be enough to satisfy, judging by how hard his dad has to bite his bottom lip to keep in the noises that almost come out.
“Let me hear you,” Stiles orders, his tone brooking no argument.
Derek peers up at him as he releases his abused and swollen lip. He’s unsure of himself when a particularly well-aimed thrust causes him to whimper, but Stiles smiles at him.
“Stop thinking about it,” he drawls, leaning down to kiss his dad’s lips. His dad’s calves slip from his shoulders and his knees hook around his elbows, the position basically bending the man in half.
“It’s humiliating,” Derek says. He removes his hand from the sheets to grasp his son’s arm instead.
“It’s not. It’s hot as hell. I wanna hear every little noise I can get you to make.”
Even though he’s still unsure, Derek gives in and Stiles picks up the pace of his thrusts as a reward. The new speed means that the sounds his dad makes get louder and more frequent, so it’s a way of giving them both what they want. Stiles unhooks his dad’s legs from his elbows and presses one hand into the mattress by his dad’s head, but he keeps his arm fully extended so he can look as well as feel and hear. He uses his free hand to touch his dad, running his fingers through his chest hair and twisting his nipples like before, renewing their abused quality.
His dad yelps as the spark of pain heightens the pleasure coursing through him, his voice pitched higher that usual. Stiles is entranced. He doesn’t want to blink in case he misses something. After years of pining and taking other people to bed in hopes of forgetting about his crush on his dad, he finally has him right where he’s always wanted him—writhing beneath him, lost in how good it feels to be fucked by his son’s thick cock.
“Stiles…” his dad whines, wrapping his legs tighter around Stiles’ waist, pulling him in harder.
“Yeah, Daddy?” Stiles questions.
“Harder. Need it…”
It would take someone much stronger than Stiles to deny such a nice request.
He plants both hands flat on either side of his dad’s head and does what he hadn’t planned on doing, picking up the pace of his thrusts until their skin smacks together and he’s fucking him as hard as he can. His dad is a big man, though, can take it. Stiles stares into his half-open hazel eyes and doesn’t let up, not even when his dad’s nails dig into his back, scratching and leaving red trails that will last for days. Good. Stiles wants the evidence of this encounter to last as long as it can.
“I’m getting close,” his dad chokes out, reaching between their bodies to bring himself off.
Stiles wants to do that. He bats his dad’s hand away and strokes his cock himself. It’s already soaked with pre-come. “Gonna come for me, Daddy?” he teases. “Cover yourself in your own load?”
“Y-yeah…”
“Do it. Wanna see. Wanna feel you clamp tight around me.”
His dad obeys. His body arches off the bed as his cock spurts and he paints his hairy torso with his own seed. His ass gets impossibly tight around Stiles, so tight that it’s difficult to move, but Stiles only needs a few more thrusts before he’s coming as well, the vision that is his dad in the throes of his climax making it too hard to hold off any longer.
Stiles buries himself to the hilt one last time, then stays there, grinding his hips in tiny circles against his dad’s ass as his orgasm overwhelms him and he shoots deep into his dad’s guts, claiming him from the inside. He collapses on top of him, exhausted, his face tucked into his neck. He can feel the scrape of his dad’s beard against his forehead but just keeps lying there and inhales his dad’s familiar scent. His cock slowly softens in the grip of his dad’s ass, his come seeping out.
When he’s able to move again, Stiles rolls sideways, coming to lie next to his dad instead of on top of him. “So, what’s the verdict?” he asks, leaning up on his elbow.
Derek smiles. “That was amazing,” he says, wiggling his hips. “Feels kind of gross now, though.”
“Yeah, that happens. We can shower in a minute, if you want.”
“Sure.”
For now, Stiles is more than content to ogle the debauched state of his dad, how he’s covered in sweat and his own come. He’s beautiful.
Once the afterglow has faded, Stiles and his dad reluctantly get up and enter the en suite bathroom to wash the sex from their aching bodies. On the way there, Stiles gets a real kick out of the awkward way his dad walks. It’s the gait of someone freshly fucked.
“Oh shut up,” Derek says, rolling his eyes at the shit-eating grin on his son’s face. “It’s your fault.”
They shower, soaping up each other’s bodies and caressing naked skin. It’s loving and entirely non-sexual—one could believe it was platonic were it not for what they just did—and when the last of the soap has eddied down the shower drain, they dry themselves off with fluffy white towels, swiftly and efficiently change the bedsheets for fresh ones, then fall together into bed, ready for a nap.
“Come here,” Derek says, turning his back to his son.
“You like to be the little spoon, huh?” Stiles observes. He covers them with the new sheets before taking up his position as the big spoon.
“I guess I do. It feels…nice.”
Stiles hums contemplatively. “Y’know, I’ve barely unpacked anything since I moved back here.”
“What’s your point?”
“What if I unpacked in here? And what if I kept sleeping in here too?”
His dad goes quiet, and Stiles fears that, now that the fog of lust and desire is gone, his dad will deny him. After all, his dad hadn’t actually agreed when Stiles said his ass belonged to him now.
But he needn’t have worried.
“I’d like that,” Derek says eventually. “I’m still your dad, though.”
“And you always will be,” Stiles agrees. “But I still want more with you. I want everything.”
His dad sighs. “Part of me hates it, but…I do too.”
“Good.” Stiles presses his lips to the nape of his dad’s neck. “I love you, Dad. Even more now that you’re a slutty bottom. My slutty bottom.”
Derek chuckles. “I love you too.”
They’ll have a lot to discuss in the coming days, how their relationship is going to work as both father and son and as lovers. They’ll also have to figure out ways to keep it hidden. It would be calamitous if someone were to find out what they just did, and what they’ll continue to do with each other.
But those are problems for later.
For now, they’re content, wrapped up in each other as they drift off to sleep.