Teen Wolf fic: Red Hood
Title: Red Hood
Rating: R
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Word Count: 1,019
Summary: Stiles takes a walk in the woods.
Warnings/Notes: BDSM, roleplay, knotting, consensual non-con, underage
Stiles is walking through the woods, breath puffing out of his mouth in a quick fog against the chilled night. He needs to clear his mind before he reaches the Hale house. He adjusts his grip on the cooler he brought with him.
A figure slinks out of the tree line, covered in shadows.
“Oh, hey there, suddenly appearing dude. The road is that way.” Stiles helpfully points in the opposite direction he’s heading.
The stranger chuckles.
“I know a shortcut. And you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. All sorts of things in this forest.” His voice is gravelly.
“Oh, you mean like a mountain lion? Well, I have a taser. So I think I’ll be ok. I’m gonna walk away now.” Stiles is getting nervous.
The stranger is on him then, features twisted into the face of a wolf, claws out.
“Oh God.” Stiles is screwed.
The wolf, because he’s not a man, not with those claws and fangs, drags him into the denser woods he came from.
Stiles is thrown to the ground, landing on his hands and knees and the wolf is back on him, dragging his sweats and underwear down to his knees so fast it burns a little. His shirt and red track hoodie get hiked up a bit.
The chilled air hits his naked middle and Stiles knows this is about to really bad really fast, like Decipticon bad.
The wolf ghosts a hand over his ass and he sucks in a breath. Claws dig into his hip before sliding over and curling around his dick. Stiles can’t think, can’t move. If he moves he might get disemboweled. The possibility is there, if he doesn’t play along.
Something slick and wet nudges at him, and he can’t place what it is and then it’s inside him, and oh fuck.
The hand on his dick starts jerking him off, lazy and hot while the tongue, the tongue moves inside him. He can feel himself get hard, and this really isn’t the time, but what is he supposed to do?
The wolf takes his tongue out and Stiles is split between hope and disappointment, which is sick, but just as fast he can feel something pressed against him, blunter than the last time and --- oh.
The wolf slams in and they’re pressed together so close and Stiles feels like he’s being split in two, can feel a heat low in his belly spreading out. The wolf fucks him, fast and dirty, hand working his dick and Stiles know he can’t last for much longer, not like this.
His hands curl in the cold dirt for leverage, trying to push back, answering the thrusts.
The wolf licks at his earlobe and nuzzle at his neck and it shouldn’t be like this, rough and gentle.
But then the wolf bites at a point to the right of his shoulder being marked and it’s not gentle at all and Stiles can feel himself coming all over the wolf’s hand.
The wolf takes his hand away and Stiles can hear the wet sounds of the wolf sucking and licking at the mess on his hand. The mess from him.
The wolf stills and Stiles can feel something inside, something growing and oh God. The wolf is knotting him.
The wolf nuzzles at his neck, holding his teeth gently over the skin and Stiles know he isn’t supposed to move, but he wants to and how long is he supposed to be still like this, weak from orgasm and being filled even now?
Hands trace patterns over his back and the tension that had been building in his back dissolves and Stiles shifts just a little bit, trying to balance himself better.
“Good boy.” The wolf is amused.
Stiles lets out a shaky breath. He needs more but they’re at a standstill.
All he can feel is the knot, his consciousness contracted to a small point deep inside himself. The sounds of the forest, the chill settling on his arms, the feel of dirt grinding into his knees just ebbs away.
“You’re doing so well.” The wolf tells him and it shouldn’t be comforting but it is. The wolf presses a kiss into the nape of his neck and Stiles shudders.
The wolf starts moving again, small, gentle thrusts, almost barely moving and the knot gets bigger if that’s even possible and Stiles can’t help the moan that rips out of his throat.
“Yes.” The wolf sounds desperate now, and Stiles can feel anticipation singing in his blood.
The knot swells, and finally, finally the wolf is coming inside him and it feels too tight, like Stiles is too full but it feels so good and it sets him off somehow and he’s going again, spilling onto the cold ground.
Everything else fades away then, and all he can feel is the wolf and his knot and his seed inside of him, feeling him up forever.
The wolf pulls out ever so slowly and Stiles finally collapses onto the ground, on the wet spot.
“Fuck.” Stiles breathes and the wolf just laughs.
*&*
Derek has collapsed on the ground beside him, arm curling around his body.
“So was it good for you?” Derek asks; his voice low.
“Yeah. Except for how I somehow got grass stains on my sweats in the middle of winter. How does that even happen? I’m gonna have to presoak these.” Stiles gripes.
“It would be worse in summer. Mud, too.” Derek points out, looking away.
“Oh? Summer?” Stiles turns his head to look at him. They haven’t really talked about this thing, not really. Not how long it would last. Negotiations for specific scenes don’t count.
Derek looks back and slowly clasps their hands together, rubbing the flesh between Stiles’ thumb and index finger in gentle circles.
“Yes. Summer. All of them.” Derek looks at him now, touches Stiles jaw and draws him into a slow kiss.
“Good.” Stiles says and it is good.
“Come on; let’s find that hot chocolate you brought.” Derek tugs them up and Stiles follows happily.
Rating: R
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Word Count: 1,019
Summary: Stiles takes a walk in the woods.
Warnings/Notes: BDSM, roleplay, knotting, consensual non-con, underage
Stiles is walking through the woods, breath puffing out of his mouth in a quick fog against the chilled night. He needs to clear his mind before he reaches the Hale house. He adjusts his grip on the cooler he brought with him.
A figure slinks out of the tree line, covered in shadows.
“Oh, hey there, suddenly appearing dude. The road is that way.” Stiles helpfully points in the opposite direction he’s heading.
The stranger chuckles.
“I know a shortcut. And you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. All sorts of things in this forest.” His voice is gravelly.
“Oh, you mean like a mountain lion? Well, I have a taser. So I think I’ll be ok. I’m gonna walk away now.” Stiles is getting nervous.
The stranger is on him then, features twisted into the face of a wolf, claws out.
“Oh God.” Stiles is screwed.
The wolf, because he’s not a man, not with those claws and fangs, drags him into the denser woods he came from.
Stiles is thrown to the ground, landing on his hands and knees and the wolf is back on him, dragging his sweats and underwear down to his knees so fast it burns a little. His shirt and red track hoodie get hiked up a bit.
The chilled air hits his naked middle and Stiles knows this is about to really bad really fast, like Decipticon bad.
The wolf ghosts a hand over his ass and he sucks in a breath. Claws dig into his hip before sliding over and curling around his dick. Stiles can’t think, can’t move. If he moves he might get disemboweled. The possibility is there, if he doesn’t play along.
Something slick and wet nudges at him, and he can’t place what it is and then it’s inside him, and oh fuck.
The hand on his dick starts jerking him off, lazy and hot while the tongue, the tongue moves inside him. He can feel himself get hard, and this really isn’t the time, but what is he supposed to do?
The wolf takes his tongue out and Stiles is split between hope and disappointment, which is sick, but just as fast he can feel something pressed against him, blunter than the last time and --- oh.
The wolf slams in and they’re pressed together so close and Stiles feels like he’s being split in two, can feel a heat low in his belly spreading out. The wolf fucks him, fast and dirty, hand working his dick and Stiles know he can’t last for much longer, not like this.
His hands curl in the cold dirt for leverage, trying to push back, answering the thrusts.
The wolf licks at his earlobe and nuzzle at his neck and it shouldn’t be like this, rough and gentle.
But then the wolf bites at a point to the right of his shoulder being marked and it’s not gentle at all and Stiles can feel himself coming all over the wolf’s hand.
The wolf takes his hand away and Stiles can hear the wet sounds of the wolf sucking and licking at the mess on his hand. The mess from him.
The wolf stills and Stiles can feel something inside, something growing and oh God. The wolf is knotting him.
The wolf nuzzles at his neck, holding his teeth gently over the skin and Stiles know he isn’t supposed to move, but he wants to and how long is he supposed to be still like this, weak from orgasm and being filled even now?
Hands trace patterns over his back and the tension that had been building in his back dissolves and Stiles shifts just a little bit, trying to balance himself better.
“Good boy.” The wolf is amused.
Stiles lets out a shaky breath. He needs more but they’re at a standstill.
All he can feel is the knot, his consciousness contracted to a small point deep inside himself. The sounds of the forest, the chill settling on his arms, the feel of dirt grinding into his knees just ebbs away.
“You’re doing so well.” The wolf tells him and it shouldn’t be comforting but it is. The wolf presses a kiss into the nape of his neck and Stiles shudders.
The wolf starts moving again, small, gentle thrusts, almost barely moving and the knot gets bigger if that’s even possible and Stiles can’t help the moan that rips out of his throat.
“Yes.” The wolf sounds desperate now, and Stiles can feel anticipation singing in his blood.
The knot swells, and finally, finally the wolf is coming inside him and it feels too tight, like Stiles is too full but it feels so good and it sets him off somehow and he’s going again, spilling onto the cold ground.
Everything else fades away then, and all he can feel is the wolf and his knot and his seed inside of him, feeling him up forever.
The wolf pulls out ever so slowly and Stiles finally collapses onto the ground, on the wet spot.
“Fuck.” Stiles breathes and the wolf just laughs.
*&*
Derek has collapsed on the ground beside him, arm curling around his body.
“So was it good for you?” Derek asks; his voice low.
“Yeah. Except for how I somehow got grass stains on my sweats in the middle of winter. How does that even happen? I’m gonna have to presoak these.” Stiles gripes.
“It would be worse in summer. Mud, too.” Derek points out, looking away.
“Oh? Summer?” Stiles turns his head to look at him. They haven’t really talked about this thing, not really. Not how long it would last. Negotiations for specific scenes don’t count.
Derek looks back and slowly clasps their hands together, rubbing the flesh between Stiles’ thumb and index finger in gentle circles.
“Yes. Summer. All of them.” Derek looks at him now, touches Stiles jaw and draws him into a slow kiss.
“Good.” Stiles says and it is good.
“Come on; let’s find that hot chocolate you brought.” Derek tugs them up and Stiles follows happily.