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A.N. The title is from a poem by William Blake.
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Usually he can't stand them, but tonight he can't imagine being without either of them. He's doing that thing again, where is mouth is hanging open as he watches them. Jackson's sucking on Derek's cock, and he knows just how good Jackson's mouth is when he isn't throwing insults around.
Stiles always had a staring problem, and Derek had complained more than once that they practically had to drag him into joining. Usually it involved Derek manhandling him into joining. Sometimes Jackson smirked at him as his hand lifted Stiles' chin to close his gaping mouth, Jackson's eyes sparkling with condescension.
Derek's growling in that way Derek does, animalistic and a little scary, never failing to spend pleasant shivers up Stiles' spine. His fingers were tightening in Jackson's perfect hair, and Stiles is happy to have a buzz cut because otherwise Derek would have left him bald ages ago.
He couldn't take his eyes off the way Jackson licked alongside Derek's length, his hands on Derek's fighting hips, keeping them from thrusting into his mouth. Jackson lets him go and grins, because he's such a tease, then moves to lap at Derek's balls, making hungry sucking noises that set Derek on the edge.
Stiles can tell he's on edge from the way he's breathing, ragged breath bouncing off the walls. Stiles moves to them – because he wants to show them he can do things on his own without Jackson and Derek asking him to join in - bringing his head to the same level as Jackson's, joining him in lapping at Derek's dick like it's the freaking fountain of youth and his semen was-
Stiles wasn't going there.
Derek growls, his eyes flickering that vibrant shade of blue, causing something to swell up inside of Stiles, and he hates how his own body betrayed him when it came to either of them. Derek yanks on Jackson's hair harder, muttering under his breath for Jackson to slow down, but Jackson continues to gulp him down.
Another growl escapes Derek before he pins Jackson roughly to the floor. Jackson makes a face, gritting his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing in that way it did when Jackson wasn't getting his way. Not that he ever did when it came to Derek. Derek did what he wanted, took what he wanted, and in the end he left them satisfied.
He parted Jackson's thighs with ease, both not breaking eye contact. Stiles was back to staring, his mouth falling open as he watched as Derek fucked Jackson with just his fingers, spreading Jackson roughly. Jackson writhed beneath him, moaning out, making Stiles even harder than he already was.
Stiles always felt inexperienced when it came to sex. He was the only virgin to come into the table. Having a threesome with them was probably the greatest way to lose his virginity, but during it he had been a little worried, a little anxious. They had experience, Derek was practically a sex God, and it was intimidating to someone like Stiles, whose Jeep was the closest thing he had to a girlfriend. Which sounds weird and makes him sound like he has a thing going on with his Jeep like the guy from Stephen King's Christine.
Then there was Jackson, who was the popular jock of the school and had been laid more times than, well, Stiles.
One thing he learned was when it came to threesomes, the biggest issue was having to spend an equal amount of attention on each person so no one was left out. Not that they left him out, it was just he tended to stare too much. Stiles hadn't realized he was such a voyeur until he had started sleeping with them. There was something about watching Derek's thick tanned body move, Jackson crawling at his skin beneath him. He loved watching how their lips snarled as they shared kisses, the way sweat collected on the sharp angles of Derek's tanned and muscled body, or the way Jackson's pale and lithe figure arched.
Which was what was happening before him as Derek worked Jackson roughly with his fingers, plunging inside of him. Jackson groaned deep in his throat, his face twisting with signs of pleasure written all over him. His head was lolling back, his head turning side to side as he was writhed under Derek.
Jackson was always a little frantic, hands a little desperate when he ripped off their clothing, like he was afraid they would leave if they weren't quick enough. He fought against Derek's hands, wanting some control, and arched, gasping from his touch. Then Jackson turned his head to lock eyes with Stiles.
It was times like this, when Jackson is glaring at him that Stiles feels embarrassed for getting so caught up in looking that he forgets to join in.
Stiles' breath hitched, and Jackson grit his teeth, looking angry and frantic again. He obviously wanted Stiles to join them. Stiles gulped as he inched closer to them. Derek's free hand went to Jackson's mouth, slipping it open. Derek looks at Stiles and he stills, knowing what he wants him to do, but Jackson isn't saying anything, he only tilts his head. Stiles looks down at Jackson, and it's unnatural how Jackson closes his eyes and wraps his lips around his cock.
Jackson opens his throat for him, taking him deeper into his mouth. His tongue is so wicked, with the way it laps at the underside of Stiles' cock. His cheeks hallow around him and Stiles could understand Derek's frustration. He was way too good at head to be true. He wondered how he got so good at it; maybe Danny had something to do with it.
Stiles wasn't going there.
Derek lets Jackson go to grab a bottle of lube, lying somewhere to the side of him. Derek spills a liberal amount on his cock, as well as Jackson's. He works them both, grasping their erections and sliding his hand from base to tip. When Derek lets them go he slides into Jackson, swiftly, in one quick motion, looking almost effortless, smooth and frictionless. Stiles is amazed as he watches the way Derek is fucking Jackson hard.
He realizes the times Derek had fucked him, he had been holding back. He knows this because Derek is fucking Jackson hard, throwing his hips savagely into him, making Jackson writhe and arch and beg and plead. It's not the way Derek fucks Stiles, slow and steady, gradually building up to a faster rhythm. Stiles realizes those times Derek had fucked him, he had been…
Gentler.
Derek looked at him. "Come here," he beckons him with a jerk of his head.
Stiles moves to him, without resistance, and it's scary how willing he is to do what Derek asks of him. When he's within reach, Derek grabs him by the back of his neck, brining him into a deep kiss. Derek groans into the kiss. His lips move hard on Stiles' mouth, enough to hurt Stiles' teeth, enough to make Stiles dizzy.
His hand goes to his ass, and Stiles' eyes widen at the invasion of Derek's fingers moving and scissoring inside of him. Stiles' fingers dig into Derek's arm. He's gasping for air like he's drowning, and he thinks he is drowning in the sensations Derek is giving him, making him swell in some feeling Stiles can't quite name. Then Derek's fingers crook inside of him until Derek is pointing at himself, and Stiles feels his entire body trembling.
"Oh God," Jackson groans. "Just ride me already Stilinski."
Stiles realizes then what they had wanted him to do. Jackson is about as narcissistic as they come, and he's always the first to complain when 99.98% of the attention isn't directed at him. Derek looks at him encouraging it, and Stiles almost smiles back, because this is fucking awesome, and he moves to settle over Jackson. Derek's hands find his hips and soon he's being led down on Jackson's cock. He fills him, and Stiles hisses.
Jackson throws his head back, moaning softly. His chest broke out in a thin layer of sweat, making his muscles glisten, and Stiles thinks he should follow Jackson's wishes more often. Jackson isn't complaining for once because all the attention is on him. Derek is fucking him hard and Stiles is riding his cock for a merry ride.
Really, if Jackson had complained Stiles was sure Derek would have ripped him a new one.
Stiles gasps as Derek moves him at an angle, and Jackson fills him in deeper. With Derek's hands still on his hips, Stiles starts to flick his hips, and Jackson groans, moaning as his hips buck into Stiles, then pulls back and slams himself back to meet Derek's thrusts. The three of them are moving together so well, like it's a practiced art, even if when once they're done they're be going back to fighting about something.
Stiles' head falls back on Derek's shoulder, closing his eyes, just wanting to feel them, let his other senses feel for him. Derek's solid chest against his back, his hands still guiding the way his hips move, practically showing him how to ride Jackson. Then there's Jackson's cock pulsing inside of him, thick and hot, hitting bundles of nerves inside of him; making him a shuddering mess.
When his eyes open Jackson is grinning at him; that wicked smile that Stiles is used to seeing on his face. Jackson's face is flushed, and he's panting hard, beginning to buck up hard into Stiles. His hands leave the sheets he had been gripping and instead places them on Stiles' thighs, running them up his smooth legs.
"You're close," Jackson smirked knowingly.
It was true. He was close.
Stiles fidgeted, hating how easy he was to figure out. He gasped as Derek kissed his neck, feverous tongue bathing his skin. Derek's hand left his hip to grip at his cock, beads of pre cum falling on Jackson's toned stomach. Stiles gave a whine, titling his hips, thrusting into Derek's hand. Derek chuckles in his ear, low and feral, and his chest is right against Stiles' back and he can feel the way his chest rumbles when he chuckles.
"You are close."
He isn't supposed to be enjoying fucking them as much as he does, but oh God he does. Stiles blushes madly, but he doesn't say anything. For once he can't come up with anything smart to say, his sarcasm leaving him as he stifles a moan. He could feel his lips bruising, swollen from biting down on them to hold back. Derek's tongue stops lapping his skin, and he hums, moving to hook his chin on Stiles' shoulder.
"You're close too, Jackson," he says, deep and rich Stiles leans back against his chest, feeling the way it resonates through his chest.
Stiles notices then that Jackson is on the same boat. There is sweat forming by his temple and Stiles wonders when did they start reading each other so well. Stiles thinks the only time the three of them ever agree on something is when they're naked and sweating, their limbs moving in perfect sync to achieve orgasm in what will probably be the greatest sex of their lives.
Jackson, instead of denying it, or glaring through the foggy mist of lust clouding over his eyes like he usually does, just grins. A blush forms on his cheeks, spreading to his ears, and he just licks his lips hungrily. He nods in agreement with Derek.
Then, like a spell, Jackson and Derek start to move faster. Derek's hand on his hip held tight, and Stiles was scared his claws were going to come out like it did sometimes in the heat of amazing orgasm, leaving a mark on him that Scott would later question him about.
Oh, he shouldn't be thinking of Scott at a time like this.
Jackson's hips start to throw up into Stiles mercilessly. The little control Stiles had left starts to leave him, soft moans escaping him. Lust took over him, and he rode Jackson mercilessly. Derek's tongue was licking strips on his neck, his ear, teeth occasionally nibbling, drawing shudders from Stiles' body. He could feel the way Derek was pounding hard into Jackson, without restraint.
With some savage thrusts, Derek makes the three of them grind together. It was an unspoken steady flow between them. Stiles is left gasping for air, he's trying and failing to keep control of his own body, of the way his hips just seems to slam down hard on Jackson and the way his hands are behind him, pulling hard on Derek's hair.
Even though Derek's hips were bucking wildly, his hand on Stiles' cock was moving with calm precise movements. His slow movements are frustrating to Stiles, but they are still and experienced. Not like his own, frantic, clumsy as they wandered to seek heat and skin, betraying his inexperience, his impatience.
Jackson came first.
He always had been the loudest one out of three, shouting every time he came. Stiles came to wait for that sound, that raw scream that was ripped form his throat. Jackson threw his head back, screaming out with his release, triggering Stiles' own orgasm. Stiles knew that beautiful noise was going to be bouncing in his head for days, maybe even weeks, and fuck would it distract him from paying attention in class.
Both their cries mixed together, and Stiles couldn't tell who was louder. He felt that familiar rush filling his ass, felt Jackson coming inside of him, still shouting in the course of his orgasm. His hips grind down one final time before his vision goes white.
Behind him, Derek started to breathe unevenly and he knew Derek was beginning to lose control. It wasn't much time he had to wait before he heard Derek grunt, a choked moan escaping him, and then his teeth clamp down on Stiles' shoulder in an almost cruel bite, and Stiles knows he coming, filling Jackson with his release. He's practically howling into Stiles' shoulder, his bite a vain attempt to muffle his moans.
It's only then Stiles regrets getting into that position, only because he can't see Derek's face when he comes. Not that he hadn't seen it before, though, he misses it. Also it kinda fucking hurt to get bitten that hard. He whimpers at the pain, knowing there is going to be ugly markings on his shoulder, and he knows he's going to have to hide behind Scott and his locker to hide the marks from everyone else when he's changing for practice.
Not that everyone at school thinks he's a prude virgin or something, with the way he hides behind Scott all the time. If they really knew the reason they wouldn't laugh at him, Stiles thinks.
Derek lets his shoulder go when his body is relaxed again, and Stiles shifts to move off Jackson. He lies next to him, Derek landing on the other side of him so he's in the middle. His thighs are wet from cum leaking out of his ass and his body is sore in the best way possible. The three of them are panting gently, all staring at Jackson's bedroom ceiling, the best place to have sex because his parents are never home.
Stiles moves to rest on his side, facing Derek, who is looking like he's recovered quite well. Jackson shifts behind him so they're back to chest, his cool fingers resting on Stiles' hip. Before he had gotten to know Jackson in an intimate way he would have never guessed he was the cuddling type, but he was. He was the one who held him, like he was precious, completely different than his demeanor when they were in school, when he's being a complete asshole.
At the moment, Stiles is surrounded by assholes. The only thing the three of them shared in common was profound loneliness. They were missing someone; something, and they came to each other; trying to pick up the pieces and stitch each other back up with honest kisses and blunt hands, surrendering to each other earnest moans. And whenever either of them came to their sessions with a sad look in their eyes, the other two would pounce, and well, the night would become even more memorable.
Stiles ran his hand through Derek's sweaty black hair, watching his face as he stared at him intently, his expression unreadable. Behind him, he can feel Jackson licking at the bite Derek left on his shoulder, lapping gingerly at the wound like he was trying to heal him, occasionally leaving a soft kiss on his skin.
Derek catches his wrist, stopping Stiles from pushing damp hair away from his forehead. He lowers Stiles' hand to his face, and his thick dark lashes flutter shut as he starts to audibly suck on Stiles' long fingers. Stiles lets out a breathy sigh when Jackson's fingers lower to bury themselves in the dark curls of his groin.
He knows that tomorrow there's going to be a dull pain between his legs, his spine will scream at him, but Stiles thinks he's beginning to savor the ache.
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The End
A.N. This is for you guys waiting for an update on Keep Me Warm. Hopefully this will do until I finish that up. :D