Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In all honesty, Stiles should have known that working a spell he had only ever read up on once would not be a good idea, paired with the fact that it required a bit of his blood. But he knew he needed to do it, he was still having nightmares of the wild hunt…being chased by the ghost riders. Sure it was a reprieve from nightmares of the nogitsune, but replacing one nightmare with another wasn't something that he was ok with. 

He also should have expected his father to spy on him whether it be himself, or his favorite deputy.      

Although Parrish was a nice guy, he was also very much a marshmallow who was extremely loyal to the sheriff, so much so that Stiles couldn't really be surprised when he found the deputy standing outside his home.

“Hey Parrish,” Stiles greets with an arched brow. “Can I help you?” approaching the door, he unlocks and opens it. He  is  surprised however when the hellhound follows him inside. 

“Oh, your dad just wanted me to check up on you,” Parrish replies. “He knows you have been practicing with your spark and he couldn't get away from the paperwork so he asked me to check up on you,” he explains. 

Stiles nods in understanding. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Well I was just doing that in the preserve, near the nemeton,” he explains. 

“And how is your…magic coming?” he asks.

“Fine,” Stiles says. There is a spell I am trying but it's not working the way I want it,” Stiles admits. “It's not really working at all if I'm being honest,” he shrugs. 

“What is it that the spell does, if you don't mind me asking?” 

“It's a charm for protection, to ward off negative energies,” the spark says. “I was trying to make it for Dad,” he continues.

“That's nice of you,” Parrish smiles. “So what’s going wrong with it?”

“Haven’t been able to maintain it,” Stiles tells him. “I've been using the nemeton as a test for it but so far it's not working.”

“I'm sure you will get it,” Parrish assures the younger man. “If anything, maybe you should try it away from the nemeton, I mean…you guys do say that it's a strong source of negative energy maybe you should try it where there isn't something that can easily overpower you, no offense,” he says.

Stiles says nothing for a second before shrugging. “Sure, but where would I practice it?” he asks. “I don't want to try it here, in case something goes wrong, wouldn't want to potentially hurt my dad.”

Parrish nods in understanding. “You could try it at my place,” he offers.

Arching a brow, Stiles looks at the deputy. “Are you sure you would be ok with that?”

“Sure, I mean you and Lydia have helped me a lot with learning about being a hellhound, it's the least I could do.”

The younger man says nothing for a second before smiling and nodding. “Alright then,” he says. “If you’re sure.” 

“Why don't you come over tomorrow, I get out of work and I’ll let you in and you can practice there, I have faith in your abilities.”

Stiles smiles and nods .”Thanks, Parrish” Stiles smiles.

---

The next day, Stiles climbs out of his jeep outside of Parrish’s house and takes a breath before stepping forward and knocking on the door. A few moments later, it opens to reveal the deputy who smiles at him. The hellhound is dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a simple t-shirt, something that puts Stiles at ease. 

“Hey, Stiles,” he greets. “Come on in,” he says before stepping aside and letting the younger man inside. 

The deputy‘s house is meagerly decorated, enough to claim it as his own but minimal in comparison to other homes. Setting his bag down, Stiles turns to the other man and arches a brow at the older man. “So where do you want me doing this?” he asks. 

“Um,” the hellhound considers for a moment. “Will the kitchen be ok with you?” he asks.

“Should be fine,” Stiles nods as he begins taking out his things. Waving his hand, the candles arrange themselves in a circle around a bowl that Stiles sets down. He then produces a knife and sets it aside before he takes a breath. “Alright,” he says. “Let's hope this works,” he smirks before producing a locket and placing it in the bowl. He squares his shoulders as he grabs the knife and drags the blade down his palm, allowing the blood to spill over the locket. He begins muttering under his breath the incantation he had read in the spellbook that Deaton had provided for him. 

After a few seconds the blood begins to boil and bubble, causing Parrish to frown and glance at the spark who smiles. However a moment later, a green flame bursts to life within the bowl. Stiles jumps back in fear even as the fire leaps out of the bowl and engulfs him for a second before it dies out. 

Looking down, Stiles pats himself down, searching for injury or any hint that the fire had burned his clothes, but he finds none. Letting out a sigh of relief he looks back at the bowl and frowns. This was not what was supposed to happen. 

“Well, that sucked,” he sighs before looking up at Parrish, only o freeze when he sees the deputy standing ramrod straight and his eyes no longer their emerald green, and instead are blazing their fiery orange.

“Parrish?” he asks as he turns to fully face the other man. “You ok?”
     “I am Parrish no longer,” the deputy speaks, though his voice is no longer the normal, charismatic, and kind tone that Stiles is used to, and instead is one that is tight and almost cold as the register echoes through the room.

“Who…who are you?” Stiles asks, calling his magic to him in case he needs to defend himself. 

“I am Cerberus,” the man replies. “And you have the aura of the wild hunt.”

Stiles freezes and swallows deeply as he tries to decipher what the hellhound means. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Stiles asks. “What does that mean?”

“It means…that you have the same being as those that I obey.”

“The ghost riders,” Stiles surmises before frowning once again. “But I’m not a ghost rider,” he shakes his head. “I mean…I was at the train station for a bit…but I'm just…I’m just a human.”

“A human maybe, but not only just,” the creature of hellfire says. “You are a spark that has absorbed the being of the wild hunt by being in that which houses their power,” Cerberus explains. “And by absorbing their being…my loyalty belongs to you.”

“This seems very…dubious,” Stiles says. “What do you mean that your loyalty belongs to me?”

“I shall to the best of my ability obey you.”

Stiles gapes at the other man before clearing his throat. “So what? You have to do whatever  I say?”

“That is correct,” the hellhound nods. 

“And…is Parrish in there?”

“He is,” Cerberus confirms.

“May I…may I speak to him?”

The other man says nothing for a moment only to then nod. The glowing orange eyes fade into the normal green of the deputy’s.

     “Stiles?” he asks. “What…what did you do?”

     The tone of his voice breaks something in Stiles’ heart. “I promise, Jordan…I didn't mean to do this, I didn't even  know  that this would happen.”

     The older man says nothing for a second before frowning. “The only question is that why would a protection spell…awaken Cerberus and make me…” he swallows as a blush spreads across his cheeks. “Obedient to you?”
     Stiles thinks for a second before looking down at the bowl. “I don't know,” he says. “The…the hellhound said that it was because I've been touched by the essence of the ghost riders…and I  did  have to use my blood for the spell…so maybe me using my blood awoke that…essence and with your being so close to me Cerberus latched onto it?” he guesses. “But we don't even know if it's true,” he tries. “For all we know, Cerberus could be wrong.”

     The deputy gives him an unimpressed glare before sighing. “Fine, try it out,” he waves his hand. “I know you want to.”

     The younger man says nothing for a second only to then smile. “Jordan…make me a sandwich.” 

     A brief pause passes between them before Jordan suddenly begins moving, he opens his fridge and pulls out a container of lunch meat as well as grabs a loaf of bread. 

     Stiles watches from where he stands as Jordan indeed makes a sandwich and places it on a plate before handing it to him.

     “So it wasn't a lie,” Stiles says.

     Jordan gives him another glare before sighing. “How are we going to explain this to your father?”

     “I don't know,” Stiles admits. “And Jordan, I am so sorry, I didn't know this could happen, I swear.”

     “I believe you,” Parrish assures him. “I just…the idea of having to obey someone like a…like a pet, its weird.”

     “I promise I'm going to find a way to reverse this,” Stiles tells the other man. “I'll make it right, in the meantime just try to relax.”

     It's only after the fact that Stiles recognizes what he said as Jordan’s body suddenly goes lax where he stands. 

     “Damn it,” Stiles says. “Jordan back as you were,” he says, nodding as the other man returns to his previous posture. “Look, um…how about this,” he says. “I'm sorry,” he quickly murmurs before clearing his throat. “Cerberus, talk to me,” he commands. He watches as Jordan sucks in a breath before his eyes flicker to their orange glow. 

     “You wished to speak to me, Master.”

     Stiles cringes and shakes his head. “Ok, first of all, don't call me master,” he tells him. “I'm not your master,” he says before taking a breath. “Is there a way to reverse the spell,” he asks the hellhound. “A way to make Jordan no longer have to obey me?”

     “Once we are bonded, to my knowledge we are until your death,” Cerberus responds.

     Frowning, Stiles puts his hand on his hip. “But you were able to break free from Douglas’ control.”

     “Garret Douglas absorbed the essence of the hunt through impure methods…you absorbed it naturally, meaning that the circumstances are indeed different.” 

     Stiles groans and rakes a hand down his face. 

     “If I may,” the hellhound suddenly speaks. “I do not fully understand your hesitance, I can smell the arousal you feel towards Jordan Parrish, the current situation would provide an open chance for you to achieve your wishes.”

     Stiles stares dumbfoundedly at the hellhound and shakes his head. “I don't know where you come from and what rules you have there, but here, consent is a requirement here when regarding relationships.”

     Again the hellhound frowns before opening his mouth to speak only to stop when Stiles cuts him off. “Is Parrish aware of this conversation?”

     “I have, for the moment, subdued Jordan Parrish’s conscience,” the hellhound answers. “As for your statement, I can tell you, that your feelings are not unshared,” he explains. “Though Jordan Parrish does have uncertainties on whether or not he should voice his emotional attractions.”

     Stiles stares in shock as he processes what he has just been told, of course, he had always had a minor crush on Parrish ever since he met the man, one that quickly grew as he came to know him closer. He just never expected that feeling to be returned.

     “It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “Until Parrish openly admits his feelings for me…nothing can happen.” He takes a moment to collect his thoughts before sighing. “I should go,” he says. “You can let Parrish come back now,” he tells the hellhound as he begins packing his things. 

     “Stiles?” Parrish asks. “What are you doing?”

     “Going home, where I can't accidentally give you an order that will make the friendship that we have weird or even ruin it.”

     The deputy watches as his boss’ son walks to his door and leaves the house. A second later the sound of the jeep’s engine starting is heard and the vehicle pulls away.

---

Arriving home, Stiles quickly makes his way up to his bedroom, doing his best to not focus too much on the fact that because of his mess up with the spell, his dad’s best deputy, and the man who he has been crushing on a while, now has to obey his every command. Waving his hand, he summons all the books that Deaton had given him and brings them forward. 

     Flipping through the pages, he searches for anything relevant to the situation only to frown when he finds nothing. Deciding to venture further, he begins searching for anything relating to the wild hunt and hellhounds, he, of course, finds the obvious stuff he already knows, the hellhounds working with the ghost riders but isn't able to find anything relating to the essence of the ghost riders being imbued in another person let alone a spark.

     Sighing, he steps back and rakes a hand down his face as he tries to think of how he is going to handle this. Realistically he knows he can't just avoid Parrish forever, they work too closely together for that to be an option, but he also knows that he doesn't want to do anything to the man that could potentially harm him, he is aware that Cerberus revealed that Parrish has similar feelings to him, but until Jordan himself reveals that, he knows he won't do anything.

Sitting on his bed, he replaces his books before lying down. 

Chapter Text

Two weeks later, Stiles looks up from the tome that he had gotten from Deaton at the sound of someone knocking on the door. Letting out a sigh, he closes the tome. It's not like he had found anything new in it, having scoured it and many other books for anything that could help him reverse whatever had happened between him and Parrish. 

Making his way downstairs, he opens the door and pauses when he finds Parrish standing on the front porch. 

“What…what are you doing here?” he asks as he tightens his grip on the door handle. 

“Your dad mentioned that you have been holed up in your room lately, and I… I wanted to make sure that you were ok.” the hellhound replies. 

Stiles says nothing for a moment before clearing his throat. “I'm fine,” he replies. “I've been looking for a way to undo what happened between us.”

“Why?” Parrish asks after a moment. 

“Why?” Stiles exclaims. “Because it's not right! You have no free will against me.” 

Parrish holds the younger man’s gaze for a second before he lets out a sigh. “Stiles, I don't care.”

The spark gapes at the deputy and arches a brow. “You…what?”

“I don't care,” Parrish replies before taking a breath as he shifts uncomfortably. “I don't care that I have to do whatever you say.”

“But…why?” Stiles questions.

“Because…becauseIlikeyou,” the deputy rushes out.

Stiles stares in shock at the other man. “You want to run that by me again?” he prompts.

“I like you,” Jordan tells him. “I kind of have since I first saw you come in to give your dad a salad for lunch,” he explains. 

“But what does that have to do with you having no free will against anything I tell you to do?” Stiles counters.

“I don't know,” Parrish shrugs. “It’s…it’s kinda hot, not being in charge…letting someone else have control for once.” 

The spark takes in the bashful smile that spreads across the hellhound’s face and narrows his eyes. “You…you want to do what I say?”

“I mean…sure,” Jordan gives a small nod. “I trust you to…ya know…not go overly crazy with the power…but I really wouldn't mind.”

Again, Stiles says nothing for a second before stepping aside. “Come in,” he says. 

“Yes, Sir,” Parrish suddenly says before entering the house. 

“Follow me,” Stiles tells him as he leads the man into the living room. Sitting down, he takes a breath. “So let me get this straight, you like me having the ability to control you?”

“Again, I trust you to not go crazy with the commands, like I don't want to wash your jeep in a thong or anything, I want to keep my dignity in that regard at least,” he smirks. “But anything else… I would be fine with.”

Stiles studies the older man for a second. Internally, he knows that he had always thought that Parrish was attractive, with his beautiful body, and the adorable smile that made warmth spread through Stiles’ chest whenever he saw it. However, what really got Stiles going was the absolute kindness and loyalty that the hellhound showed to everyone he cared about. He would be lying to himself if he said that he had never wanted to see what Parrish was rocking under the uniform.

The other part of him though hates how this, this situation is what brought him to confess his feelings for Parrish and vice versa. “Look, Jordan, I… I think you’re a nice guy, and all, but I just… I don't like the situation.”

“I don't either,” Parrish shakes his head. “I really wish that I was able to confess my feelings for you under different circumstances, but here we are,” he says. “I get that it's not ideal…but…please…understand that I don't hold it against you, and I really want to at least give this a try, if me being obedient to you is the reason I get to be with you… I’m fine with it.”

Stiles pauses before narrowing his eyes. “Cerberus…come here.” the spark watches as confusion flashes across Parrish’s face before it is replaced with a stoic stare. His eyes turn their fiery orange and his posture straightens out. 

“You called for me.”

“Is Parrish telling the truth?” Stiles asks. “Does he…does he actually like me?”

“He does indeed,” the hellhound answers. “And he is truthful in saying that he does not mind you being able to command him.”

Looking down at his hands, Stiles says nothing for a moment before nodding. “Alright, thanks,” he says. “Can you…bring him back.”

The hellhound nods before relaxing back as his eyes return to their normal green. 

“Believe me now?” Parrish asks.

“I do,” Stiles nods before closing his eyes. “But I… I can't,” he shakes his head. “So, please…just…just go home.” he knows that the other man will have no choice but to obey his request, and he flinches as he sees the hurt flare in Jordan’s eyes as he stands to his feet and makes his way to the door. The spark listens as the door opens and closes a few seconds later before he lets the tears fall.

---

Later that night, Stiles lies on his bed, curled against himself, not even moving when his door opens and his father walks in. 

“Hey, kid, did Parrish-” the older man begins, only to pause when he sees his son. “What happened?” asks. “Parrish said he was going to come by and talk with you about your guys’ situation.”

“He did,” Stiles nods, “And he said that he didn't care about me being able to…order him around…he said that he likes me.”

“That's great, right?” his dad asks. “I mean… Parrish is a nice guy…practically a marshmallow compared to you,” the older man chuckles. “So what happened?”

“I told him to go home,” Stiles whines. 

“Why?” Noah frowns.

“Because…because I don't like it,” Stiles shakes his head. “I don't want to have the ability to order him around and him not be able to tell me no, and be in a relationship with him…it’s….it's wrong.”

Noah sighs but nods. “I get that,” he tells his son. “But unfortunately you don't have that luxury…but Jordan is clearly willing to look past it because he likes you…and you wouldn't be holed up in here like this, if you didn't like him back, am I right?”

Stiles averts his gaze but nods. 

“Then Stiles, you are doing nothing but hurting both yourself, and him, by keeping you two apart… I know it's not ideal, but when has Jordan ever lied to really anyone?” he asks. “If he says he doesn't mind… I believe him.”

“And what would you do, in my position, dad?” Stiles asks. “Would you just be ok with it?”

Noah sighs. “Of course I would be put off by it, but I would also realize that the other person in the relationship isn’t bothered by it, and no one is saying that you won't find a way to break whatever is tethering him to you like he is.”

“Cerberus says that there is no way to break it.” Stiles counters.

“Ah yes, because you are one to give up and accept things at face value,” Noah scoffs before taking a breath. “Look, son… I love you…but you need to let people other than me in.”

Stiles glances up at his father but says nothing. He watches as his dad stands to his feet and leaves his room.

---

Jordan takes another sip of his beer as he goes back over all that had been said between him and Stiles. He knew the younger man had good intentions, but Jordan would have hoped that the fact he was all but throwing himself at Stiles’ feet would increase his chances. Unfortunately, he had evidently thought wrong. 

A knocking on his door pulls his attention away from his thoughts. Sighing, he gets to his feet and goes to answer it. As he opens it, he is surprised to find Stiles standing on the other side.

“Stiles?” he exclaims. “What are you-”

“Step back,” Stiles cuts him.

Jordan’s brows rise to his hairline as he steps back, allowing Stiles to enter his home.

“Tell me how you really feel about me,” Stiles narrows his eyes.

“I like you, I'm attracted to you, I think you are cute and funny and a good person, you love furiously, and you fiercely protect those that you care for.” Jordan suddenly begins speaking. “And I want nothing more than to give a relationship between you and me a chance.” 

Stiles is quiet for a second as he processes all that Jordan had said. “Alright then,” he nods.

“Alright?” Parrish arches brow.

“I still don't like the whole…thing, but if you are ok with it, then I guess I can look past it, but consider this the first command I give you as part of our relationship…you are to tell me if I give you a command that you don't feel comfortable with or don't like…understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” Jordan nods.

“I do have to ask, why do you call me Sir?”

“I don't know…it just feels right,” Parrish replies. “I can… I can stop if you want.”

“No, it's fine,” Stiles replies as a blush spreads across his face. “I… I kinda like it,” he admits. 

Jordan, chuckles and reaches out to pull Stiles forward. “Well then, Sir,” he smirks. “What can I do for you?”

Stiles looks up into the hellhounds’ eyes and takes a breath before he finally gives in and lets himself have what he wants. “Kiss me.”

“Yes, Sir,” Parrish replies in a low tone that sends shivers down Stiles’ spine. Slowly, he leans forward and brings their lips together.

Stiles melts into the kiss and lets out a hum as he runs his tongue along the inside of Jordan’s mouth, The other man gives in easily and lets him take control of the kiss and dominate his mouth.

As they pull apart, Stiles continues to look into Jordan’s eyes. “That was…great.” 

“I agree,” Parrish smiles.

Stiles feels the hellhound run a hand down his back and smiles as his mind suddenly fills with images of what all he wants to do with the other man. 

‘Maybe this won't be so bad’ he thinks as he lets himself relax into Jordan’s arms.

Chapter Text

Parrish woke up to a soft beam of light pouring in through the window in his room. Looking around, his gaze locks on Stiles' sleeping form beside him. A smile spreads across his face before he slowly extracts himself from the younger man’s koala like hold. Getting to his feet, he rubs a hand down his face, not even remembering when he and Stiles fell asleep. Making his way out of his bedroom, he makes his way to his kitchen, where he pulls out the ingredients he needs to make omelets. 

Just as the food is about to finish cooking, he hears the sound of footsteps and turns to find Stiles entering the kitchen, a panicked look on his face.

“Are you ok?” the deputy asks as he begins plating their breakfast.

“I uh… I'm sorry,” Stiles says as he looks down at his feet. “I know we just…just started…whatever this is and I fell asleep.”

“I'm going to stop you there,” Jordan says gently as he turns to face the other man. “Stiles…we slept in the same bed,” he smiles. “It's not like we had sex or anything,” he says, offering the plate of food to Stiles, who falters before shaking it. “So you have nothing to worry about, besides, it's as I told you yesterday, I'm fine with you having command over me,” he repeats. “So even if we did, I wouldn't have really minded… I'm open to being open,” he grins.

Stiles stares at the hellhound in shock before closing his mouth and taking a second before sitting down at the table. “I just…” he murmurs before falters and letting out a sigh. “I don't want to overstep,” he admits. 

Parrish smiles softly at the younger man. Taking a breath, he moves and sits beside Stiles. “You have to trust me that I will tell you if you tell me do to something that I don't like,” he explains. “You already gave me that order, and I am literally compelled to obey it,” he chuckles. “Okay?”

Stiles looks up and meets his eyes for a moment before nodding. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

“You’re welcome,” the hellhound replies. “Now eat your food before it gets cold,” he smiles as he begins eating his own breakfast.

---

Later that day, Parrish heads into work and pauses when he finds the sheriff waiting for him. 

"Step into my office, Parrish," the older man says, his tone leaving no room for argument as he turns and steps back into the room. Taking a breath, Jordan follows him and closes the door before taking a seat across from his boss. 

“So…you and my son,” Noah begins. “There something you want to tell me?”

“I'm magically bound to him,” Parrish shrugs. “We don't fully understand it, but I don't have a problem with it,” he adds. “I want to be with him and I think he feels the same, but he’s understandably hesitant.”

“And if he were to decide that he doesn't want to be with you?” Noah arches a brow.

“Then I keep my distance,” Parrish replies. “I wouldn't want to put Stiles in a position where he is uncomfortable.”

Noah says nothing for a second as he studies the deputy before nodding and smiling as he stands up and holds out his hand. “I know you wouldn't hurt him,” the sheriff explains. “But as his father…” he trails off with a shrug.

Chuckling, Parrish nods and gets up to shake the other man’s hand. “I understand,” he replies. “It's nothing personal and no offense taken,” he assures the other man. 

“Good, I'm glad,” Noah smiles as he sits back down. “Now, get back to work,” he says, his voice taking on a mock authoritative tone.

“Yes, Sir,” Parrish smirks as he turns on his heel and leaves the office.

---

Stiles makes his way between the numerous shelves of the library, reading the spines, doing what he can to find anything about hellhounds and the wild hunt.

“Stiles?” 

Turning around, Stiles finds Danny standing at the end of the row of shelves, a smile on his face. 

“Hey, Danny,” Stiles says with a wave. “What you up to?”

“Meeting a guy,” Danny shrugs with a smile. 

“A meet up…in a library?” Stiles asks with a chuckle. 

“I thought it was a cute idea,” Danny chuckles, before pausing to look over Stiles’ shoulder. “And there he is.”

Stiles turns around and freezes when he finds himself face to face with Derek.

“Derek?” he asks.

“Stiles,” the werewolf nods as he moves to stand beside Danny, who grins up at him.

“You…you two…together?”

“A date,” Danny reminds him as he looks between Derek and Stiles.

The entire time, Stiles holds Derek’s gaze. “Well, I hope you two have fun on your date,” he smiles before turning and returning to searching the spines of the books. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Derek and Danny turn and leave.

---

Danny walks with Derek up to the small coffee shop on the first floor of the library, the both of them. As they order their drinks, they step to the side and wait for their orders to be given.

“So… I have to admit,” Danny begins. “I've never met up with a date, at a library,” he says with a smile.

“I-I sorry,” Derek looks down at his drink, doing his best to hide the embarrassment.

“It's nothing to apologize for,” Danny shakes his head. “It's unique and I think it's cute,” he assures the other man, who nods after a few seconds.

A few seconds of silence passes between them before Danny sighs and sits forward, crossing his arms in front of him on the table. “So I guess we should get this out of the way,” he grins. “You’re an alpha werewolf, aren’t you?”

Derek tense as he looks up at the other man. 

Seeing the fear in Derek’s eyes, Danny frowns and looks down at his drink, twirling his fingers, he and Derek watch as the stir stick begins moving on its own. 

“Don't worry,” Danny grins. “I'm not going to hold it against you,” he chuckles.

“You…you’re a witch?”

“A hedge witch, yeah,” Danny nods as release his magic and lets the drink settle. “If that's ok with you,” he arches a brow.

Derek is quiet for a second before nodding furiously. “Ye-yeah…” he replies. “I wouldn't…wouldn't hold that against you.” he smiles as he throws the other man’s words back.

“Oh, you’re cute,” Danny smiles as he looks up at Derek before sipping at his drink. As he sets it down, he takes a breath. “What would you say we take this out for a walk?”

Derek smiles and nods. “I’d like that,” he agrees before standing up and grabbing his jacket. As Danny does the same, they walk out of the library, side by side.

Chapter Text

Stiles meets up with Parrish later that day when the hellhound gets out of work. Heading over to the deputy’s house, he knocks on the door and waits a few seconds before it opens to reveal Parrish, still dressed from work.

Stiles takes a breath as he admires the way the other man fills out the uniform, and blushes when he realizes that he’s staring. 

“You wanna come in?” Parrish asks.

“Uh…yes, yeah,” Stiles sputters as he clears his throat and steps inside the house. They make their way into the living room where they both sit on the couch. “So how was work?” the spark asks.

“It was ok, your father called me in and gave me the shovel talk,” Parrish shrugs. 

Stiles sighs and shakes his head. “I'm sorry about him,” he offers. 

“It's fine, Stiles,” Parrish replies. “He's a protective dad, you’re lucky that he cares about you so much.”

Stiles nods, I know, but having him scare away my boyfriend.”

He watches as the hellhound freezes at the statement. “I'm… I'm your boyfriend?” he asks.

“What would you call yourself if not my boyfriend?” Stiles asks.

“I don't know,” Jordan shrugs as he looks down with a blush. “I'm kinda something akin to your pet,” he chuckles. “I mean, I do have to do anything you tell me to.”

Stiles hums and moves to sit closer to the hellhound. “I don't see you as that,” he assures the other man. “I see you as my boyfriend…cause that’s what I want us to be.”

Parrish smiles and nods timidly. “I want that too,” he admits. 

“Good,” Stlies smiles. “Then, as your boyfriend…can I kiss you?”

Parrish smirks at the mischief of the other man before nodding. He gasps in surprise when Stiles slowly climbs into his lap. Looking up into the younger man’s eyes, he is shocked to find himself getting lost in the mirth that swims inside the amber orbs. When their lips finally come together, he feels a rumble tear through his chest. He finds himself submitting into the kiss, allowing Stiles to take control of the kiss. 

His hands reach around to hold onto Stiles’ waist as the younger man’s hands make their way into his hair. They pull apart a few moments and hold each other’s gazes.

“That…was…” Jordan begins.

“Amazing,” Stiles grins as he continues to study Jordan’s expression.

“Are you ok?” Jordan asks with a frown.

“I really wanna tell you to do something.”

The deputy smirks. “Then tell me.”

Slowly, Stiles slides off his lap and takes a breath. “Take your uniform off.”

He watches as the hellhound leans forward to untie his boots before toeing them off and nudging them to the side. He then stands to his feet and takes off his duty rig. The spark stands there watching as the other man raises his hands and begins unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders, leaving his white undershirt left. He then lowers his arms to unbutton his pants and pushes them down his legs to reveal his navy boxers that hug his body in all the right places. Stiles can't help but stare at the obvious bulge in the man’s underwear.

Jordan smiles when he sees how Stiles looks at him. The fact that his body is able to make the younger man speechless sends a shiver of pride down his body. 

“Damn it…it's like you're photoshopped or something,” Stiles shakes his head, drawing a laugh out of the hellhound.”

“I assure you… I’m one hundred percent natural,” Parrish grins.

Stiles smiles at that and moves forward to press his hand against Jordan’s chest, enjoying the feeling of the man’s muscles under his fingers.

Looking down into Stiles’ eyes, Jordan once again sees the desire in his eyes and smiles. “Say it….whatever you're thinking.”

Stiles looks up into his eyes and falters before moving back to sit on the chair behind him. “I want… I want your mouth on me.” he says. 

“Where?” Jordan asks? With a grin. 

“My…my dick,” Stiles replies. 

“Say it,” Parrish says again.

Taking a breath, Stiles nods. “Jordan…come take my dick in your mouth.”

The hellhound immediately falls to his hands and knees and crawls over to him, a sight that makes Stiles’ cock twitch with anticipation and interest. As Jordan comes to a stop, kneeing at his feet, he reaches out and unzips Stiles’ jeans before fishing out his manhood. Keeping his gaze locked on the other man’s, the deputy wraps his lips around Stiles’ length, causing Stiles to gasp at the warm sensation that envelopes his cock.

Letting out a whimper, Stiles thrust up into Jordan’s mouth, only to falter when the other man gives a small choke.

He is about to stop when Jordan slowly pulls off and smiles up at him as if he had read his mind. “Don't,” he murmurs. “I liked it.”

In response, Stiles gapes at the other man before a grin spreads across his own lips as he nods. He watches as Parrish once again takes him into his mouth, all the way to the base of his cock, before bobbing his head. In response, Stiles thrusts up into his throat, watching as the hellhound visibly relaxes into the sensation.

The pleasure is too much, the sensation fills his brain and overwhelms him. Closing his eyes, Stiles continues to snap his hips upward against the other man. Biting his bottom lip, he lets out a low groan as he feels his orgasm run through him. A sliver of embarrassment at having not lasted longer wedges itself in his mind, and he looks down.

Parrish, however, swallows him down before pulling off and giving him a smile that falters when he sees the spark’s distraught expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I'm sorry I couldn't…last, it just felt so good.”

“Stiles,” Parrish continues to frown. “You don't need to beat yourself up over everything,” he assures the younger man. “I'm actually kind of honored that I was able to get you off so quickly…kinda compliments my skills if I do say so myself,” he chuckles, earning a snort from the other man. “You don't have to last hours with me…just long enough to enjoy yourself.”

Stiles smiles as his chest once again fills with warmth. “Thank you,” he whispers before clearing his throat. “Alright, stand up.”

Jordan’s body gracefully rises to his feet. 

Getting up from the chair, Stiles switches their positions and has Jordan sit in the chair.

Curiosity fills the hellhounds mind, but he remains quiet and lets the spark do as he wants.

Taking Jordan’s hands, Stiles puts them on the arm rests. “Keep your hands still.” he says.

“Yes, Sir,” Jordan grins as his mind begins to fill in the blanks. Stiles then reaches up to grab the waistband of his boxers. He lifts his hips to help the spark pull them down his thighs, letting them pool at his ankles. His eyes never leave Stiles as Stiles slowly leans forward and gives his cock a teasingly quickly lick. Despite it being so fast, it still is enough to draw a moan out of Parrish as he arches his back. He wants so badly to pull Stiles back to his cock, but the previous command anchors his hands where they are on the arm rest.

Stiles gives the head of his cock another kitten lick before finally taking the tip into his mouth while his hand grips the shaft. He starts a process of bobbing his head to the same rhythm of his hand moving up and down Jordan’s length, coating the shaft and base with his saliva. 

“Fu-fuck,” Jordan hums, his eyes screwing shut as pleasure tingles like electricity over his body.

Stiles smiles as he lifts his gaze and watches as Jordan begins to fall apart as the pleasure fills his mind.

Taking his hand away from the deputy’s cock, Stiles slowly positions it at the man’s entrance. 

The touch against his most intimate area brings Jordan’s gaze snapping to his in surprise. However, before the man can say anything, Stiles slowly slides his index and middle finger into the deputy.

“O-oh shit!” 

Jordan had never really toyed with himself in the way that Stiles was now…had never really had a partner play with his ass, so he was unfamiliar with the sensation. But the way Stiles was making him feel right now by simply fingering him…caused regret at never exploring the act before fill his mind. It was beyond pleasurable…it was all consuming, filling his mind with the desire for more, a craving to have this feeling all the time.

“Ke-keep doing that, please,” Jordan begs.

“You like it?” Stiles asks with pride at having found something that sent Parrish into a state of pure lust.

“Fu-fuck, yes, Sir,” Jordan replies, falling into the submissive nature that he had prepared himself for when they first discovered the new dynamic between him and Stiles. It wasn't that he expected the spark to be dominant, but the pull to do what the other man said more or less hinted to Jordan that he should be ready for anything…and he was not disappointed. His previous partners had always wanted him to take charge…to be the one calling the shots. He hadn't minded at first, he knew that his body and appearance had a part to play in that. But now, as he sat with Stiles’ mouth wrapped around his cock and two fingers inside him…he knew that even without the magical bond in place…all Stiles would have to say is jump, and he would ask how high…he would do whatever the other man asked of him, if only to have the pleasure of his company and the heat that the spark brought with his touch.

He continues to moan and plead for more as Stiles continues to alternate between suckling on his cock and mouthing at the tip before once more taking it into his mouth, all the while he continues to work more and more fingers into his entrance until he can feel four digits inside him.

“Stiles… I'm going…fuck, I have to…” he stammers. 

Stiles grins up at him before giving a low hum that cause Jordan’s mind to momentarily short circuit as the vibrations pulsate against his cock, and he fills Stiles mouth with his spend.

Stiles continues to work his fingers in and out of Jordan’s entrance even as he swallows the man down before pulling off.

“How was that?” the spark asks with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. 

The only response Jordan is able to give is his head falling back against the chair as he slumps. 

“That good, huh?” Stiles chuckles.

“I've never had…someone do that,” Parrish admits. “I've never had my hole played with…or touched for that matter.”

“And now?” Stiles asks.

“I want more,” Parrish admits with a blush. 

Stiles grins. “Later,” He promises. “Right now, I just want to be next to you.” Stiles explains. “You can move your hands now,” he says as he holds out his own. A second later, Jordan accepts it and lets the spark pull him to the couch, where they lie down together, Stiles resting his head on Parrish’s chest and Jordan with his hands on Stiles’ hips, holding him in place.

Chapter Text

Stiles wakes up with a yawn and hums when he finds himself still pressed between Jordan and the couch. Smiling, he runs his fingers along the man’s chest, admiring the muscles that quiver beneath his touch.

A second later, the hellhound shifts and blinks his eyes open. He glances around before his gaze finally lands on the spark beside him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice rough and gravely from sleep.

“Hey, yourself,” Stiles replies with a grin. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” the deputy grins. “It may have something to do with the mind-numbing orgasm that I had beforehand though,” he grins.

Chuckling, Stiles sits up and slides over the hellhound. Making his way to Jordan’s kitchen, he snaps his fingers and conjures up a platter of food that he sets on the table. “I wonder how that could have happened,” he replies with a wink.

Smiling, Jordan stands to his feet, foregoing retrieving his clothes as he moves to join Stiles at the table. Just as he is about to sit down, Stiles turns to him and falters. 

Seeing this, Parrish pauses. “Are you ok?”

The spark says nothing for a second before nodding. “Yeah, uh…don't worry about it.”

“Well now I’m going to worry more,” Parrish chuckles. “Stiles…tell me, what’s going on.”

“There…there was something I wanted to try, but I don't know how you would feel about it.”

Frowning, Parrish steps forward and rests his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Stiles, I didn't know how I would feel about you fingering me,” he admits. “But now I know I love it,” he assures the spark. “So just tell me what it is.”

Taking a breath, Stiles turns to the hellhound. “I kinda wanted to see what it would be like to feed you the food.”

Jordan says nothing for a moment before smiling as he slowly kneels down, resting his hands on his knees, his gaze never leaving Stiles’.

The spark sucks in a breath of shock before smiling as he sits down in the chair, reaching out and plucking one of the pieces of the fruit and holding it to Jordan’s mouth. Slowly, the hellhound cranes his neck to wrap his lips around the fruit, his gaze never leaving Stiles’.

The spark hums, his breath catching and his heart beating faster in excitement as he watches Jordan suckle on his finger, cleaning the digit of the fruit juice.

“Holy…shit,” he breathes, earning a smile from the hellhound who continues with his task.

---

Noah frowned as he answered the door, he hadn't been expecting company, and because of this fact, he had decided to relax in nothing but a pair of worn sweatpants and an old tank top. His socked feet padded against the floor as he crossed from the living room to the front door. Opening it, he is pleasantly surprised to find Chris Argent on the other side.

“Uh…sheriff,” Chris greets as he takes in the sight of Noah in his current attire. “Good evening,” he says.

Noticing how the other man continues to rake his gaze down his body, Noah can't help but smiles as he lifts his hand to rest his forearm against the doorway. “I have a feeling this is business that shouldn't be discussed in public, so why don't you come inside,” he says before stepping aside and letting the hunter step past him.

Entering the house, Chris does what he can to collect himself.

“So what can I help you with?” he hears Noah ask from behind him as he closes the door.

“I came to offer my assistance to the sheriff’s department whenever you guys get a case that…doesn’t seem quite normal,” he answers…only to yelp as a hand grabs his arm and turns him around, while being pushed backwards at the same time.

He gasps as his back connects with the wall. He falters when he finds Noah smirking back at him. “Really? Because it looks to me like you need help with this …” Noah says as he lowers his hand to rest it on Chris’ crotch. “...more,” he grins before he slowly lowers himself to his knees, his eyes locked with Argent’s. The hunter can only stand there and watch as the sheriff kneels before him and opens his fly before fishing out his cock. With a hum, Noah leans forward and takes it into his mouth, drawing a moan from Chris.

“Holy shit,” Chris groans as the sheriff swallows his down, taking every inch of his cock down until it presses against the back of his throat. 

Reaching down, Chris cards his fingers through Noah’s hair for a moment before tightening his grip and proceeding to fuck the man’s face, relishing the surprised grunt that escapes Noah’s stretched wide lips before it melts into a low moan.

“Fuck,” the hunter groans before glancing down at the sheriff. “You like that?”

The other man gives another low hum as he bobs his head with even more until Chris is groaning, his grip on Noah’s hair tightening.

The sheriff pulls off and smiles up at the hunter. “As much as I'm enjoying this, I would much prefer…a more comfortable venue,” he grins. “With fewer clothes.”

Chris stares at the man, briefly wondering just where this side of Noah came from, but instead of dwelling on it, he decides to smile and nod, accepting the gift for what it was. Helping Noah to his feet, he lets the other man lead him upstairs to the bedroom.

---

Derek sets his keys on the counter as he steps inside Danny’s home. Toeing out of his boots, he moves into the living room where he finds the younger man sitting on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, his legs stretched out to rest on the coffee table in front of him.

“Hey, Der,” he greets.

Derek nods in greeting as he moves to sit beside the witch, unable to fight the smirk that spreads across his lips when Danny flicks his wrist, causing a blanket to fly out of the hall closet and cover him.

“You know I naturally run hot, right?” he asks.

“Shut up and let me take care of you,” Danny chuckles.

The werewolf smiles and nods, relaxing into the warmth as Danny shifts their blankets until he feels the flesh of Danny’s arm rest against his own. A second later Danny rests his head in the crook of his neck and hums.

The closeness at one point would have both annoyed and scared Derek, even he could admit that to himself, but now…after spending some time with Danny, he had grown used to the younger man’s touch, part of him even going so far as to crave it. It was because of this, that he no longer flinched away from the younger man, instead he mirrors the witch and leans into his touch.

They sit in silence for a while as the movie plays on the television until finally Danny speaks.

“You’re more relaxed,” he notes aloud. “More relaxed.”

“What do you mean?” Derek asks.

“You took your boots off,” Danny explains. “You don't even do that in your own loft.”

Derek falters as he realizes that Danny is right. 

“Not only that, but you didn't flinch at my magic, sure, I'm no spark like Stiles, but non-magic users are usually on edge when we use our powers,” he shrugs.

Derek is quiet as he thinks for a moment before shrugging. “My wolf and I feel…calm around you…anchored.”

He feels Danny shift and turn to face him, but he keeps his gaze on his lap.

“And you’re ok with that?”

Derek pauses and nods. “It's nice…being around you,” he says. “My wolf…my wolf responds to you.”

“Responds to me how?” Danny asks in confusion.

Letting out a sigh. “Its… It's hard to explain,” Derek admits. “But it wants to please you,” he says before finally turning and meeting the witch’s eyes.

“And what do you want?” Danny asks as he moves to straddle Derek’s lap, wrapping his arms around the alpha’s neck. “I mean…we’re dating, yeah, but this sounds like a bit more than that,” he says. 

Holding Danny’s gaze, Derek takes a breath. “I trust you,” he replies. “I’ve never the same way I feel with you, with anyone…ever,” he admits.

“I'm flattered,” Danny grins. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I want what you want,” Derek finally answers. “ I want to please you.”

Danny smiles and nods before leaning down and capturing Derek’s lips with his own. 

The alpha easily melts into the kiss, momentarily faltering when Danny’s hands grip the back of his neck and gently squeeze as the witch’s tongue explores his mouth. Surprisingly, Derek feels himself ease into the subtle dominance of the younger man.

He gasps in surprise as Danny finally pulls away from him, a smile on his lips. “Good,” he says, earning a shiver from the alpha.

“Oh you like that?” Danny grins. 

Derek holds his gaze as he gives a short nod.

“You want more?” the hedge witch asks.

Again, Derek nods.

“All you have to do is ask,” Danny tells him gently.

“Please…” Derek begins only to falter,

“Yes?” Danny asks, softly cupping the alpha’s chin with his fingers. 

“Please…please let me be good for you,” Derek breathes.

The younger man smiles and once again brings their lips together.

This time, Derek lets Danny fully control the kiss, dominating his mouth, claiming it…claiming him …and surprisingly…it feels good.

When Danny pulls away, he smiles down at Derek. “Good boy,” he murmurs, relishing the shiver that runs down Derek’s spine. 

“Thank you,” Derek murmurs.

Humming with a smile, Danny presses himself against Derek who relaxes into his embrace.

“We can discuss this more later,” he tells the werewolf. “But for right now, I just want to be here.”

Derek falters before smiling and humming as he nods and closes his eyes.

Chapter Text

Danny opens the door to his home. The bags of groceries balanced in his arms as he moves through the entryway. As he closes the door, he turns and freezes in place, dropping the bags to the floor with a thud. Looking into the living room he finds Derek on all fours, his legs spread and bent, in the middle of a workout. But what really has his attention is the fact that Derek is bare of any clothing, leaving his perfectly sculpted body naked and on display.

He watches as Derek looks over his shoulder and smiles at him. 

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Danny asks.

“I don't know,” Derek grins. “Is it working?” 

Chuckling, Danny bends down to lift the groceries back into his arms before carrying them into the kitchen where he sets them on the counter. Afterward, he moves to sit in the chair beside Derek and grins down at the werewolf who holds his gaze even as he continues his work-out.

“Oh it's working alright,” Danny smiles as leans forward, reaching out he gently cups Derek's chin with his fingers and brings their lips together. When they pull apart, he smiles at the wolf. “Come on, I know another way you can get your workout.”

Derek grins and nods as he stands to his feet, enjoying his Danny’s gaze trails down his body, admiring it before turning to lead him up the stairs. Derek follows after the witch, anxious to see what the younger man has in store for him.

---

Danny wakes up with a smile as memories of last night immediately fill his mind. How Derek felt under him, submitted to him, how he had his way with the excitedly willing wolf. 

Looking beside him, he is given pause by the empty bed and frowns. Standing to his feet, he quietly makes his way out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen where he is greeted by a sigh that has him conjuring his phone. 

He immediately opens the camera and records the sight of Derek, dressed in nothing but a pair of tight white briefs that show off his toned body and bubble butt that bounces as he dances with the best of the music that softly plays from his own phone on the counter. 

The witch watches as the werewolf's hips move and thrust, even as he cooks the eggs and flips the pancakes without missing a beat.

His smile widens when Derek turns around, reaching for the spatula on the island and gives a sheepish smile.

“How much did you see?” Derek asks.

“Enough to forbid you from ever wearing clothes in this house,” Danny smirks.

Derek snorts as he grabs the spatula and turns back to the food. “Oh really? And why's that?” He asks with feigned innocence, only to gasp when hands sudden and firmly plant themselves on the globes of his ass.  

“Because this…should never have been hidden from me…understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” Derek breathes as he bends at the waist, leaning forward to lower the heat of the stove, pressing his ass against Danny’s groin.

“Tease,” the younger man chuckles as he slaps the werewolf’s ass. 

“If you don't mind, I'm not entirely done with breakfast,” Derek says with a raised brow.

“Fine,” Danny murmurs as he moves to lean against the fridge beside the alpha. 

Glancing at the witch, Derek grins before he returns to performing for the younger man, gyrating his hips, captivating Danny’s attention with the sight of his cock bounces behind the confines of his briefs.

---

Two days later, the pack meets up for a pack get together at the loft. Stiles smiles as he and Parrish enter the building and finds Derek and Danny both moving around the kitchen, setting out food and getting everything around. 

“Hey guys,” Stiles greets, moving to stand on the other side of the counter from Danny, watching as his former classmate stirs a sauce in a pot.

“Hi,” Danny smiles while Parrish and Derek move to the living room, beers in their hands.

“So,” Stiles begins as he snaps his fingers, summoning a thin translucent globe around them to block the hellhound and werewolf from hearing them. “How has it been being with Derek?”

The hedge witch looks up at the spark and grins. “It's been amazing,” Danny replies. “He's kind, he's adorable, and obviously he’s hot.”

Stiles snorts at his friend's antics but nods in agreement.

“And how have you and Parrish been? Still looking for a way to reverse whatever happened?”

Stiles sighs and nods. “Yeah, so far no luck,” he admits. “But on the bright side…he too is incredibly adorkable and hot, and he's great in bed,” he winks, earning a chuckle from the other man.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Derek asks Parrish, glancing over to where Stiles and Danny are chuckling and laughing together, the sound blocked by the barely visible barrier between them.

“Probably our sex lives,” Parrish grins. “Knowing them,” he grins before shrugging. “So what all have you done?”

Derek chokes on his breath as he turns to face the hellhound with a raised brow. “You really expect me to answer that?”

“What? You embarrassed?” Parrish snorts. “Stiles likes to tie me to the bed and fuck me until I can't see straight.”

Derek, once again sucks in a breath before glancing down at his beer where it sits between his legs. “Danny…he's forbidden me from wearing clothes other than my underwear when we’re alone, says he likes the way my ass looks in briefs…he likes to spank it and I… I like it too.”

Parrish grins as he nods. “See? You didn't combust into flames for sharing pieces of your sex life.”

Derek says nothing, simply nodding as the door opens and the rest of the pack enters the loft.

Later that night, Parrish and Stiles return to the deputies home where the deputy immediately removes his clothes and instantly chuckles.

Frowning, the spark turns to face him and raises a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh just laughing at how alike you and Danny apparently are,” he answers. “Derek told me that Danny forbade him from wearing clothes in the house other than his underwear…and you have me do the same thing.”

“You both have voluptuous asses,” Stiles shrugs with a chuckle. “Now get over here so I can get my hands on yours.”

“Yes, Sir,” Parrish replies as he approaches the younger man. He lets the spark turn him around and gently bend him over the couch. Once he is in position, he feels Stiles’ hands through his boxers.

“Like I said,” Stiles smiles. “A voluptuous ass.”

The hellhound can’t help but chuckle as he wiggles his hips, only to moan as Stiles spanks him.

“Such a tease,” Stiles grins before hooking his fingers into the waistband of Jordan’s boxers and slowly pulls them down the man’s legs. “Now for the fun part.”

Parrish lets out a low moan as Stiles’s finger breaches his entrance and begins to tease his hole.

---

Chris Argent smiles where he sits in his living room, lifting his beer with one hand and takes a drag from the bottle while he uses his other hand to run his fingers over the lips of Noah Stilinski, who kneels on the floor beside his seat, bare of any clothing. 

Glancing down at the kneeling sheriff, Chris slips his fingers into the man’s mouth, drawing a small whine from Noah, one that he acknowledges with a hum before turning his attention back to his program on the television.

Chapter Text

Parrish curled his fingers as he lightly tugged on the magical restraints that Stiles had conjured to hold him to the bed. His gaze was locked with Stiles, as he watched the spark fully remove his boxers before tossing them aside. “Now that we have those out of the way,” Stiles grins before reaching out to run his finger along the underside of Jordan’s cock, sending shivers down the hellhound’s spine.

“Could you be any hotter?” the spark exclaims with a grin before leaning down and wrapping his lips around the deputy’s manhood, drawing a moan out of Jordan who arches his back.

Stiles smiles around the cock in his mouth as he brings his finger up to run along the ring of muscle that is Parrish’s entrance. The hellhound whimpers and gasps.

“F-fuck, Stiles,” he mewls as he looks down, his eyes meeting the other man’s, finding mirth and joy shimmering in his amber orbs. “S-so good,” he murmurs, his voice raw and coarse from the pleasure coursing through his body.

“Glad you like it,” Stiles replies as he pulls off momentarily and gives the length a few licks before once again taking it into his mouth, only to pause when Jordan’s body gives a small shift, and he pulls on his restraints. “Don't move,” he commands.

Instantly, whatever spell that had bound him to Stiles has Parrish’s body going still. Inside his mouth, Stiles feels Parrish’s cock twitch with excitement. Chuckling, he looks up at the deputy. “You like that, huh?” he smirks. “Me being able to tell you to do whatever I want?”

“Yes,” Parrish nods. “It's still a bit strange, but I like it.”

“I'm glad,” Stiles smiles as he resituates himself so that he is kneeling between the hellhounds legs. Smiling, he reaches down and places his fingers along Jordan’s entrance. Muttering an incantation, he grins when he feels slick lubricant coat his fingers. Slowly, he pushes his finger into the hellhound who whimpers as he looks into Stiles’ eyes. “You look gorgeous like this,” he murmurs. “So desperate for me,” Stiles grins. “Love hearing you whimper and beg,” he whispers as he inserts his index finger into the other man.

“Please,” Parrish whines, his gaze locking on Stiles as his bottom lip quivers.

Stiles grins as he leans down and captures the deputy’s lips with his own, the hellhound hums into the kiss as Stiles dominates his mouth, his tongue sweeping across Parrish’s cheeks. Pulling back, he grins as he works his second finger into the hellhound who gasps and arches his back, pleasure filling his mind as he relishes in the sensation of being filled with Stiles’ fingers. 

Using a bit of his magic, Stiles finishes preparing Jordan for his cock. Gently, he slides into the deputy whose eyes go wide and lets out a moan as Stiles bottoms out inside of him. 

“Fuck you feel good,” Stiles grunts through clenched teeth. “So fucking tight, thank fuck for your healing,” he chuckles.

Smiling, Parrish mewls as he surrenders himself to the pleasure that Stiles bestows upon him. 

“Ho-holy shit,” Parrish cries out, his eyes screwing shut as his body is racked with pleasure. “S-Stiles,” he whines. “Please…fu-fuck, don't stop!” he pleads.

“Now why would I do that?” Stiles grins as he begins to thrust in and out of the deputy. “You feel too good to stop,” he grins. His grip tightens on Parrish’s hips as he increases the force behind his movements, drawing out a shocked gasp from the other man, one that soon evolves into a wanton moan as he feels Stiles’ cock press against his prostate.

Reaching down, Stiles takes Jordan’s cock in his hand and slowly begins to stroke it in tandem with his thrusts, drawing out more moans from the deputy. 

“Such a good boy,” Stiles whispers. “So fucking perfect for me,” he hums.

Jordan preens at the praise and soaks it up as his body continues to rock back and forth from the force of Stiles’ thrusts. 

It doesn't take long before Stiles feels his orgasm approaching, gritting his teeth, he closes his eyes before slamming back into Parrish who gasps at the force only to hum in delight as he feels Stiles fill him with his seed.

The amounting stimulation and pleasure cause Jordan’s breath to stutter as his own cock twitches before expelling his own release onto his stomach.

Looking down at the blissful expression of the hellhound, Stiles grins as he takes in the sight of the come covered deputy. Waving his hand, he cleans them both up before pulling out of Jordan and moving to lay beside him, reaching out, he cards his fingers through Parrish’s hair, smiling when the other man hums and nuzzles into the touch before slowly falling still as he drfits off to sleep.

---

Derek watches in anticipation as Danny approaches him. His hands grip the ropes that bind his hands, he knows that he could break free from them at any moment, but he also knows that he doesn’t want to. His eyes flick toward the riding crop that Danny holds before jumping back to the smirk that is spread across Danny’s face. 

“Don't you look absolutely stunning?” Danny hums as he takes in the sight of Derek kneeling at the foot of the bed with his hands behind his back, bare of any clothing, leaving his muscular and beautiful body on display for Danny to admire. He smiles as he drags the tip of the riding crop along Derek’s inner things before snapping it against the werewolf’s hip, drawing out a gasp from the bound man. “Love having you like this,” he grins. “Tied up and at my mercy, I can do whatever I want with you, and all you can do is kneel there and take it,” he smirks as he snaps the riding crop against Derek’s ass.

The werewolf’s hiss turns into a moan. 

“Such a slut,” Danny hums as he runs the tip of the riding crop along Derek’s spine before kneeling down and leaning forward to trail kisses along the juncture of Derek’s shoulder and neck, loving how the werewolf gasps and melts under his touch. With a grin, he drags his teeth along the flesh before biting down causing Derek to cry out as his cock threatens to betray him.

“P…please,” Derek begs. “Please…sir, more!”

Danny chuckles and stands to his feet, his fingers find purchase in Derek’s hair, their grip tightening before pulling his head back to look up into his gaze. “I love hearing you beg,” he smiles. “But we had an agreement, you take what I give you and only what I give you.”

Whimpering, Derek sucks in a breath. “I'm sorry, sir.”

Danny holds his gaze for a moment before leaning down to bring their lips together. When he pulls away, he grins when he finds Derek’s eyes blown wide with lust, smiling with glee, Danny reaches down with his free hand to drag his thumb along Derek’s lips. “Such a good boy,” he murmurs before lowering his hand to the collar around Derek’s neck. “Get up on the bed for me,” he says gently.

Nodding his head, Derek gets to his feet and clambers onto the bed, he lets Danny maneuver him until his chest is pressing against the mattress and his ass is raised in the air. His breath stutters when Danny’s hand connects with the flesh, a thundering crack echoing through the room. 

“Ya like that, baby?” Danny grins. 

“Y-yes,” Derek stammers, his body shivering with anticipation. 

Danny smiles as he takes in the sight of the werewolf eagerly accepting everything that Danny gives him. Reaching out, he gently drags his nails along Derek’s back loving how the man arches into his touch. Snapping his fingers, waving his hand, he opens the side table with his magicks and calls the bottle of lube that he keeps within the drawer to his hand. Uncapping the bottle, he slicks up his fingers before softly pressing them into Derek who mewls at the intrusion. 

“Relax,” he coos as he continues to prepare Derek, working up to being able to fit three fingers inside the werewolf. He then eases his cock into the werewolf who sucks in a breath before letting out a wanton moan as his body thrums with pleasure.

Grinning, Danny pushes all the way into Derek, bottoming out and fully seating himself inside the alpha. He takes a pause to allow Derek the chance to adjust to the intrusion. 

“Move,” Derek gasps, his voice rough yet with a desperate edge to it. “Please…move.” he pleads.

Humming, Danny begins to slowly piston his cock in and out of Derek all the while running his hands over the man’s body, enjoying how the muscles twitch and shiver under his touch. “Such a good pet for me,” he murmurs, his words drawing out another mewl from Derek. “Love having you under me, having an alpha at my command.” he grins. His hands move to Derek’s chest and begin to toy with the alpha’s nipples. 

Derek gasps as Danny’s touch sends red-hot ecstasy through his body, his wolf whimpers and howls with want. “Oh…fuck…please,” he cries. 

Smirking, Danny continues to scrape his nails over Derek’s nipples. “Please what?” he asks.

“I…more… I need…more!” Derek all but roars.

Chuckling, Danny nods and use his magic to fill Derek’s mind, amplifying his pleasure so that it feels as if his touch has fully encased the werewolf’s body. Derek’s eyes go wide before he hums. “Yes,” he gasps, his toes curling as his mind overloads lust. 

Danny smiles and continues to thrust in and out of the wolf, completely aware of his orgasm quickly building. “Damn, I love the sounds you make,” he hums. “Like music to my ears,” he chuckles. 

Derek can only whimper in response as Danny’s cock continuously presses against his prostate, short-circuiting his mind. 

Moving his hands down Derek’s body, Danny takes Derek’s cock in his hand and begins to stroke it slowly as he increases the pace of his thrusts. Gritting his teeth, he lets out a grunt as he slams into the werewolf and fills him with his release. At the same time, he squeezes Derek’s cock, preventing him from his own orgasm. Whining in protest, Derek closes his eyes, his wolf howling with the need to come.

As Danny pulls out, having come down from his orgasmic high, he gently turns Derek over and smiles into the werewolf’s eyes as he returns to stroking the man’s cock. “Come on, pet,” he whispers, “let me see you come, come for me,” he continues.

Derek whines as he meets Danny’s gaze only to then let out a thunderous roar that shakes the windows with its force as his balls tighten, and his cock shoots his spend on to his stomach. 

“Good boy,” Danny murmurs, running his hand down Derek’s cheek with a smile on his face. He waves away the come before also dismissing the ropes that bind Derek’s wrists. Lying beside the werewolf, he pulls Derek tight against his body. 

“Thank you,” Derek says. “I needed that.”

Danny hums in response and cranes his neck to press a kiss against the back of Derek’s neck, knowing how much the wolf loves it whenever he does. “Thank you ,” he murmurs back. “I don't think I have ever felt the way I feel about you with anyone else before,” he admits.

Derek responds with his own hum of agreement. Together they fall into a comfortable silence as they fall into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

Two days later, Stiles wakes up, shuffling out of bed, he makes his way down to his kitchen, only to pause when he finds Jordan kneeling beside his table with a plate of food already made. Around his neck, he wears his collar, a look of absolute joy upon his face.

“I made breakfast,” the hellhound says simply as he gently pushes out the chair beside him.

Smirking, Stiles moves forward and takes his seat, reaching out to caress Jordan’s cheek. “Such a good pet,” he murmurs softly before turning to his food, he takes in the sight of the pancakes, fluffy and surprisingly perfectly round. Reaching out, he grabs the syrup and pours a bit of it over the top of the pile, watching as it cascades down the sides. Taking his fork, he cuts a corner off and brings it to his mouth, humming in joy when the delicious taste touches his tongue. 

“These are perfect,” he praises around a mouthful of the food, earning a chuckle from Parrish who ducks his head with a small blush. Suddenly, an idea pops into Stiles’ mind and he grins. Carving off another corner, and dipping it in the syrup, he guides it to Parrish. “Why don't you try it,” he smiles.

Slowly, Parrish leans forward and wraps his lips around the fork, his teeth softly clanging against the tines as he accepts the offered food. Pulling back, he chews for a moment before swallowing. Looking up at Stiles, he smiles. “Thank you, Sir,” he murmurs.

Stiles nods and returns to eating. “You know, I planned on coming to visit you later today, perhaps for lunch,” he says. “But I can't say that I don't appreciate this surprise,” he grins.

Parrish grins as a warmth spreads through his body, taking a breath, he settles into the comfortable silence that blankets over the kitchen.

---

Elsewhere, Chris Argent is panicking. Memories flood his mind of Noah’s lips around his cock, the feeling that it had brought, that it had awakened. Images of Noah kneeling beside him, watching the game as he carded his fingers through Noah’s hair…it felt right, but in the back of his mind, all he could hear were the words of his father, declaring how no son of his would lay with another man. The phantom stings of his father's backhand striking his cheek when he was caught with another boy in high school. He could almost taste the iron of his blood in his mouth, could almost smell it. 

Sitting up in bed, he raked a hand over his face as he does what he can to settle his breathing. Closing his eyes, he tries to push the images out of his mind. He won't deny that he enjoyed the feeling of Noah’s mouth on his length, or the feel of the other man’s soft hair in his fingers, the mere memory of Noah kneeling at his feet is enough to spark something inside him, a spark that clashes with the memories of his father. Sighing, he turns and slides out of bed, making his way to the bathroom where he turns the water on as cold as he can bear before stepping under the spray.

Once he is finished, he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist. Just as he is about to reenter his bedroom, he sighs when he hears someone knocking on the front door. Glancing to his bedroom, he sighs before tightening in the towel around his waist and making his way downstairs. Peeking through the peephole, he falters and feels his blood turn to ice. Slowly, he places his hand on the door handle before turning it and opening the door. 

“Noah,” he greets.

“Hey, Chris,” Noah smiles, taking in the sight of Chris’ state of undress “Sorry for not giving a heads-up, but I just wanted to see if you were up for dinner later tonight.”

The hunter says nothing for a moment before lifting his gaze to meet Noah’s.

The other man must see something in his eyes because a moment later, Noah is frowning. “Is…is that not ok?” he asks. “You busy?”

“Uh…no,” Chris, replies. “I just…I need some time,” he settles on.

Noah frowns and studies Chris’ eyes. “Did…did something happen? Did I…did I do something?” he asks.

“No, no,” Chris shakes his head. “I just…I've been dealing with something,” he says. “And right now I just need to clear my head.”

Noah falters but takes a stuttered breath as he nods. “Uh…yeah,” he murmurs, lowering his gaze. “I had just thought that after…what we did…we were…I don't know…” he trails off.

Chris opens his mouth to reply, but no sound escapes him. Finally, he sighs and nods. “I'm sorry,” he says before stepping back and closing the door. As it shuts, he slumps forward, listening as Noah turns and leaves. Pounding his fist against the wall beside the door, Chris grits his teeth and closes his eyes as he turns and steps back. He hastily makes his way up the stairs to his bedroom. With shaky hands, he reached out and grabbed his clothes. As he dressed he tried to get the look of Noah’s disappointed and hurt expression out of his mind…but to no avail, it was as if the image had seared itself into his mind’s eye. Once he was dressed, he made his way back down the stairs, pausing to glance back at the front door before turning and walking downstairs to work out.

---

Noah sits on the couch, in the dark, alone and holding a bottle scotch in his hand. Every now and then he glances down and moves his hand to break the seal and open it, a dark voice in the back of his mind that he had thought he buried for good telling him that the amber liquid will dull the ache, will make him forget about the way that Chris Argent seemed to regret their time together.

Another part of his mind told him that he should regret it as well, evidently it meant nothing to Chris. But whenever he thinks to indulge that aspect of his mind, he can’t bring himself to do it. He loved how he had been with Chris, how Chris had simply accepted the fact that Noah liked being taken care of. Moving his hand, he grips the cap of the bottle and twists, he listens as the seal is broken. He pauses his hand, and looks down.

Before he can twist his hand the rest of the way to unscrew the bottle, the door opens and Stiles steps in. 

“Hey, Dad, I was just coming by to see if you were ok, I sent you a text about dinner with me and Parrish tomo-” Stiles begins as he steps into the house and turns the corner, cutting himself off and freezing in place when he finds his father seated on the couch with the bottle in his hand. “Dad?” he asks. 

“I-” Noah begins but his voice cracks and he ducks his head. 

Waving his hand, Stiles sends the bottle of scotch away and moves to sit beside his father. “What happened?” he asks. “What’s going on? Dad, you need to talk to me.”

“Chris,” Noah manages to get out before sucking in a breath and ducking his head further. 

“Chris? Argent?” Stiles asks. “What happened, is he ok?” In response, Noah lets out a small sob and something inside Stiles’ mind clicks. “Dad…what did he do?”

“He…said he needed time,” Noah replies after taking a breath and managing to formulate the words. “But…but he wouldn't look at me, and then all he could say was ‘I'm sorry’ and then he closed the door.”

Stiles feels his blood boiling inside him, his spark moving through him like waves in a storm, crashing and roaring. Snapping his fingers, he glances up when Parrish appears in the middle of the room. The hellhound deputy looks around in confusion before his gaze finds Stiles and Noah, he raises a brow at Stiles who only stands to his feet. “Stay with him,” the spark says as he makes his way back to the door. 

“Where are you going?” Jordan asks as moves to sit beside Noah.

“I have a little hell to raise,” Stiles replies as the door throws itself open for him and he steps through.

---

Chris Argent suspected that Stiles would find out about what transpired between him and Noah, he just hoped that he would have a bit more time to prepare. But now as he stood in his kitchen, watching as Stiles’ eyes flicker between their normal amber brown coloration and a purplish hue. “What did you say to him,?” Stiles asks, his voice calm and even, sending chills down Chris’ spine.

“I…all I said was that i need time.”

“And why is that?” Stiles asks, beginning to move around the kitchen island that separates the two of them. “”Clearly you and him did something and now your backing out…and not telling him why…so now he thinks he did something wrong.”

“He-he didn't,” Chris shakes his head, matching each step forward of Stiles’ with his own step back. “I just…I can’t…”

“Can't what?” Stiles all but growls. “Can't tell him the truth, be upfront with him? Can't handle the commitment?” he snaps, his magic responding and pushing Chris against the wall, lifting into the air.

“Can't get him out of my head.”

Stiles narrows his eyes in confusion. “Then why break his heart.”

“I didn't meant to…”

“That’s rich, cause right now he's thinking of going back to the bottle,” Stiles roars. “So this is your last chance to tell me everything or so help me, Argent…I’ll make what happened to your father look tame.”

Chris whimpers and ducks his gaze.”

“I can't get him out of my head.”

“My dad?” Stiles arches a brow.

“No,” Chris shakes his head. “Mine.”

Stiles frowns in confusion before slowly releasing the hold his magic has on Chris, letting him back down to the ground. “Explain.”

“All my life, I was the oldest, I was supposed to be the heir to the hunting family.”

“I thought women made the rules,” Stiles crosses his arms.

“They do, but they are in charge of the organization…it's the men who carry out their orders in the field. I was my father’s heir…supposed to make him proud…but then I met Adam in highchair and when Gerard found out….”

Stiles sucks in a breath. “He wasn't happy.”

“We had to move towns because my father nearly killed him.” Chris says. “And then he turned on me…’beating the disease out of me’ he would call it,” Chris sighs before taking a breath. “I stopped looking at guys, I cut myself off from others for the most part and I did whatever Gerard asked, hoping that I could make him proud of me again…and then when he married me off to Victoria…when he became the monster that you know him to be…I stopped trying…but even so…he’s still in there, in the back of my mind…I love your father and I don't regret the few nights we spent together, they were the best nights of my life…but…”

“Gerard is still in your head,” Stiles says.

“Yeah,” Chris nods.

“Did you tell my dad?” 

At this, Chris scoffs. “Yeah, let me just explain to the guy I want to be with that I have issues with the voice of my dead father in the back of my head telling me that what I am doing is wrong and disgusting…I’m sure he’ll stick around.”

“I turned his prized deputy and right hand man into my thrall by accident and have been dating said deputy since it happened…and that's only because my father told me to accept the fact I can't exactly change it right now…and that i should go for it if it makes me happy…I think he would understand.”

Chris says nothing as he processes what Stiles just said before sighing. “You really think he’ll take me back…after I broke his heart?”

“Tell him the truth…all of it,” Stiles answers. “Explain yourself and he just might.”

Chris sighs and nods. “Yeah,” he mutters before getting to his feet and heading to the door, Stiles right behind him.

---

“You could have told me!” Noah shouts later that night when Chris has finished his explanation. “I would have understood, you’re not the only one with an asshole for a father…I'm familiar with the concept,” he adds. 

“I was afraid that you would be uncomfortable or…unsure of our relationship if you knew what was going on in the back of my head,” Chris explains.

“Well, I guess we’ll never know,” Noah shakes his head. “I love you Chris…I guess I have for a while now and just realized it when we started…spending time together,” he sighs. “But if you can't trust me to listen to you, to work with you through the bad things and help you out of your head when you fall into a funk…I don't…” he trails off and looks down at his hands.

“I understand,” Chris’ voice cracks as he nods and gets to his feet. He makes his way to the front door and grips the handle tightly in his hand. “I love you,” he says, not trusting himself to look over his shoulder, afraid of seeing Noah crying, knowing that it would break him more than he already has been. Opening the door, he steps through and closes it softly behind him as he steps out into the night, his hands in his pockets and his head hung low.

Chapter Text

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over Beacon Hills. Inside the Stilinski home, the air was thick with unspoken emotions. Stiles sat beside his father on the couch in their living room, his hand resting on the older man’s shoulder. Sheriff Noah Stilinski sat dejectedly on the edge of the couch, his gaze glued to the floor. 

Letting out a breath, Stiles moves closer to his father. “Look, I know that things are rough right now,” he begins. “But speaking as someone who was once shot down by his own father for the idea of being bi,” Stiles trails off before taking a breath. “I'm not saying what he did was right, but I also understand that fear.”

“I never would have abused you for who you are,” Noah exclaims, looking at his son in fear.

“And I'm not saying you would have…but the invalidation can sometimes feel like just as much of a punch than an actual fist,” Stiles says. “You and Chris are good for each other,” he continues. “And clearly communication is something that needs to be worked on…but you like him, don't you?”

Turning his gaze back to the floor, Noah nods. “Yeah… I do,” he murmurs.

“Then take a few days to let yourself settle,” Stiles tells him. “But I think you both can fix this,” he says.

Noah huffs, but a smile spreads across his lips. “Thanks, kid,” he softly mutters.

“You’re welcome,” Stiles replies, pulling his father in for a hug.

A week later, Noah lets out a sigh as he leaves the sheriff’s office, getting into his cruiser, he starts the engine and looks at the road that lays before him. Turning left would take him home, home where he can sit in the suffocating quiet, home where he can still hear himself yelling at Chris, can still see the way that Chris seemed to shatter under his words before turning to leave. Or he can turn right and go to the man that, despite everything, still holds his heart. His grip tightens on the steering wheel, before he finally lets out the breath he hadn't known he was holding in and slumps back into the seat as he turns on his blinker and turns right.

Arriving at Chris’ home, he sits in the driveway for a short while, doing what he can to collect his thoughts before he finally gets out of the vehicle and makes his way to the door. Raising his hand, he knocks and waits. A moment later, the door opens, and he is met with a broken looking Chris Argent.

“N-noah,” Chris breathes.

“Can I come in?” Noah asks, wanting to get right to the point, 

The other man silently nods before stepping away and letting the man enter his home. They head into the living room where they sit opposite of one another. 

“I’d like to start,” Noah says, earning a stuttered, silent nod from Chris. Taking another breath, Noah begins. “I understand,” he starts. “I understand your fear, I recently learned that I gave Stiles the same kind of fear when I initially dismissed the idea of him being anything but straight,” he admits regretfully before continuing on. “I know what It's like to fear your father, I grew up afraid of my own dad…he was abusive, and he was cruel…and I still to this day despise him,” he sighs, wringing his hands as he collects his thoughts. “But in relationships, you have to trust your partner, you have to trust in them to accept you for who you are, what you’ve been through, and to accept your fears. Noah watches as Chris once again nods in agreement. “I'm not saying that I'm not still hurt by being blown off, by being dismissed and told that you need time and then left in the dark, because I am still hurt by that.”

At this, Chris winces as though he had been struck, and perhaps he had, from a blow more emotional than physical. 

“I'm sorry,” Chris says. “I shouldn’t have blown you off like that,” he admits. “It was wrong of me.”

Noah nods. “If we are going to make this relationship work, we have to talk with each other, no more shrugging each other off and walking away, we stay, and we talk.”

“You…you still want to be in a relationship…with me?” Chris sputters.

“I do,” Noah nods. “Do you?”

Chris answers with a small sob that is a mix of both regret and joy as he nods. 

“Please,” he brokenly pleads. “I need you.”

Smiling, Noah moves to sit beside the hunter and pulls him into his arms, letting the other man soak his shirt with his tears as he unleashes his emotions and lets himself crumble, knowing that Noah will be there to put him back together.

Chapter Text

Stiles' eyes skim the yellowed pages of the one of the many tomes that he had borrowed from Deaton in hopes of finding a way to break the spell over Parrish. His living room—cluttered with notes and discarded books—bears witness to his solitary quest. A soft groan echoes through the quiet space as the front door swings open, the hinges creaking a familiar tune. Looking up, Stiles frowns as he watches Jordan, looking worse for wear, steps inside. His uniform is wrinkled beyond what it normally is, and his footfalls are heavier than usual.

Just by looking at him, Stiles can tell that Jordan has had another long day, his eyes are heavy though they fight to maintain alert as they sweep the room. Stiles sets his book aside, pausing in his study, and offers a warm smile, the corner of his eyes crinkling. "Hey," he says, voice a gentle reprieve from the silence. Jordan simply hums, his movements deliberate as he sheds the armor of his job, removing his utility belt and setting it on the table before taking off his boots and removing his vest. 

The couch beckons, its worn fabric a testament to the countless hours they've spent entwined in its embrace. Jordan approaches and flops down, stretching his legs along its length until his head lands in Stiles' lap with a sigh that seems to release the day's tension. Stiles' hand automatically finds its place on Jordan's forehead, carding his fingers through the older man's hair.

Jordan's eyes close, and for a moment, Stiles continues to read, his voice low and soothing as he softly relays the words of the page to Jordan.

---

Across town, the scene in Derek Hale's loft mirrors the one in Stiles' living room. Derek, sitting in his boxer briefs and lounging on the couch, has Danny's legs in his lap. Danny's eyes are closed as Derek's hands work their magic, the tension in Danny's body after a long day at his software job unwinding with each stroke of Derek's thumbs along the arch of his foot. 

"You're amazing at that," Danny murmurs as he waves his hand and conjures an icepack that hovers over his head, the cold seeping in to soothe his pounding headache. 

"You know what else helps with headaches?" Derek asks, his voice a playful rumble that sends a shiver down Danny's spine. "Blowjobs," he suggests, his eyes flicking to Danny's face, a glint of mischief in them. Danny's laughter fills the space, the tension in his shoulders dissipating with the absurdity of the suggestion.

"Is that right?" Danny says, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "Or are you just addicted to my cock?" he chuckles playfully.

Derek grins, not bothering to hide his delight at the idea. He presses a little harder on the tender spot on Danny's foot, eliciting another moan. "Maybe I am," he admits, his thumb tracing lazy circles around the spot. "But can you blame me?" He leans back, his eyes darkening as he starts to paint a picture with his words. "It's like velvet, so warm and inviting," Derek murmurs, his voice dropping to a low seductive pur. "The way it fills my mouth, the taste of you, its intoxicating." His hand moves up from Danny's foot, his fingers flexing in anticipation. Danny's eyes open, watching Derek's face, the desire in his gaze is unmistakable. "And when you're hard," Derek continues, his eyes glazing over with lust, "it's like nothing else matters." "Nothing but me and your cock, when it throbs when I suck you deep, the way your precome tastes." He licks his lips, his own cock twitching in his boxer briefs at the mere thought. 

Danny's breath hitches, his eyes fluttering shut as the words wash over him, a tantalizing preview of what's to come. He can almost feel Derek's mouth on him, the warm wetness, the suction, the flick of a skilled tongue against his slit. "You're going to make me come just talking about it," he groans, his hips shifting restlessly. Derek's grin widens. Before he met Danny, he never would have talked like this with anyone, let alone let himself be this open with someone. But now as he sits with Danny, he feels nothing but warmth at being so vulnerable and open to his desires.

"Then lets not just talk about it," he says, his hand sliding up Danny's leg, teasing the hem of his shorts.

---

Meanwhile, in their own sanctuary, Stiles guides Jordan towards the bathroom, the quiet understanding between them speaking louder than any words. The tension in Jordan's shoulders visibly relaxes as they enter the space, the tiles cool underfoot, a stark contrast to the warmth of the rest of the house. The bathroom, a bastion of steam and comfort, is bathed in the soft glow of candles Stiles has conjured around the tub, creating a haven of tranquility. Stiles' hands are gentle as they trace the lines of Jordan's uniform, the fabric coming away from his body to reveal taut muscles beneath. Each article of clothing that falls to the floor is a shed layer of the day's burdens, until Jordan stands before him in nothing but his skin, raw and exposed. Stiles follows suit, peeling away his own layers until they stand, bare and vulnerable in the candlelight. 

Taking Jordan by the hand, Stiles leads him into the tub, sitting down first before pulling Jordan to lay back against his chest. Waving his hand with a practiced flourish, the tub fills with water, the sound of it rushing to fill the space between them. It's a simple spell, one of the first he'd learned, but it never fails to amaze Jordan, who lets out a contented sigh, his legs stretching out in front of him. Stiles wraps his arms around Jordan's waist, watching as the warm water laps at their skin, a gentle embrace that seems to melt the last of the day's troubles away.

Stiles begins by massaging shampoo into Jordan's hair, his fingertips digging into the tight muscles of his scalp with a firmness that's just shy of too much. Jordan's head tips back, exposing his throat, and Stiles can't resist the urge to press a kiss there, feeling the pulse of Jordan's life beneath his lips. He's always been fascinated by the vulnerability of this spot, the way Jordan seems to melt into him whenever he touches it.

As he works the soap into a lather, his hands slide down Jordan's neck, over the strong shoulders that have borne the weight of so many battles, both internal and external. His touch grows more exploratory, his fingers tracing the line of Jordan's collarbones before sliding down the slick expanse of his chest. He can feel the rapid beat of Jordan's heart, a rhythm that matches the one in his own chest. 

Jordan's breath hitches, his eyes drifting shut as Stiles' hands glide over his chest, teasing the peaks of his nipples before continuing their journey south. Stiles' control is slipping, and he knows it. His cock is hard against Jordan's back, a silent plea for more, but he holds back, focusing on the task at hand. For now, he'll give Jordan the gentle touches and soothing care he craves and needs, saving the passion for later.

The soap forms between them, a white froth that clings to Jordan's skin as Stiles works it over his body, his hands lingering on the ridges of his abs, the soft trail of hair that leads lower, Jordan's hips twitch, and Stiles' bites back a groan, his own need growing with every passing second. He's painfully aware of the heat building between them, the way the water seems to thicken with it, a testament to their desire.

But he's nothing if not a man of his word, so he continues on, his hands moving over every inch of his body with a tenderness that borders on worship. Each touch is a silent promise, a declaration of love and lust. And when he finally reaches the firm muscles of Jordan's ass, his hand squeezes gently before sliding away, leaving Jordan with a whine of protest.

Stiles chuckles, the sound echoing in the small space. "Patience," he whispers, his breath hot against Jordan's ear. "We've got all night, right now I just want to make you feel good." And with that, he stands, helping Jordan to his feet, guiding him out of the tub and into the warm embrace of a soft and fluffy towel. 

Stiles leads Jordan to his bedroom, his hand firm but gentle on the small of his back. He dries him off with the towel before it vanishes with a wave of Stiles' hand. Jordan's eyes are on him, dark with want, and Stiles can't help but lean in for a kiss, their bodies pressing together.

Their kiss deepens, tongues dancing a familiar tune as they move closer, their wet forms sliding against each other. Stiles breaks away, panting, his eyes locked on Jordan's

"Put your hands above your head," Stiles murmurs, the command in his voice unmistakable. Jordan sucks in a breath as he feels the spell weaving through his very soul. His hands move of their own volition, reaching up and gripping the bars of the headboard, his legs spreading apart from their own accord. The spell of submission is as potent as ever as the love that has come to fuel it, and Jordan feels a thrill of anticipation race through him, his cock hardening in response.

Stiles takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him, the water droplets glistening on Jordan's skin, the way his muscles tense and release with every breath. He runs his hand down Jordan's body, tracing the path his eyes have taken, savoring the feel of him beneath his fingertips. Jordan hums and closes his eyes, his head tilting back as his breath coming in shallow gasps as he anticipates what is to come.

Stiles holds out his hand, using his magic to draw the lube on the nightstand to his hand. He pours a generous amount onto his fingers before bringing them to Jordan's ass, the cool gel a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. He teases the entrance, watching the way Jordan's body reacts to his touch, the way he arches into it, begging for more. With a smirk, Stiles obliges, pushing one digit inside, feeling the tightness give way to his gentle coaxing. Jordan's moan is music to his ears, and he adds another, scissoring them apart to prep him for what is to come. The spell of obedience makes Jordan's body more receptive, more responsive to Stiles' touch, and he takes full advantage, pushing in deeper, curling his fingers to find that sweet spot that makes Jordan's toes curl.

And then he's there, knees on the bed, positioning himself at Jordan's entrance, the head of his cock nudging against the tight ring of muscle. He looks up, his eyes meeting Jordan's and sees the love and trust shining back at him, a silent permission that sets his heart racing. With a gentle push, he enters, the feeling of their union enveloping Stiles in delicious heat.

Jordan's body stretches around him, welcoming him in, and Stiles can't hold back the groan that escapes his lips. He starts to move, a slow, steady rhythm that has them both panting and gasping for breath. The room fills with the sound of their lovemaking, a symphony of pleasure that echoes through their very beings.

The magic in the air thickens, a tangible force that seems to pulse with every thrust, every touch. Stiles can feel the power swelling around him—inside of him. The warmth spreads from his very core, up to his spine and into his fingertips, his teeth gritted against the urge to come.

But he holds back, his eyes never leaving Jordan's watching the way the pleasure etches itself onto the hellhound's features. He wants to see him shatter, to know that he's the one bringing him to the brink and then sending him over. And as he picks up the pace, his hands gripping Jordan's hips, he knows that it won't be long now.

Jordan's eyes are wide, his pupils blown with desire, and Stiles can feel him tightening around his cock, the promise of release building. He reaches up, wrapping a hand around Jordan's cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts, his own orgasm approaching like a freight train.

A moment passes, a moment of Stiles continuing to stroke Jordan's length in tandem with the snapping of his hips, A moment of pure bliss until the world explodes around them as Stiles tightens his hold around Jordan's shaft.

"Come."

Ecstasy fills their minds as they come together, their bodies entwined, their cries mingling with the night. 

---

Across town, the scene in Derek's loft is equally intimate, albeit with a different flavor of passion. Derek Hale, the typically brooding alpha werewolf, is blindfolded and naked, kneeling between the bare thighs of his lover. Danny's eyes gleam with satisfaction as he watches the other man, his hand carding through Derek's hair, guiding the skilled mouth that worships his cock. The room is thick with the scent of arousal, a heady mix of sweat and desire.

Derek's movements are steady and sure, his mouth a perfect fit around Danny's shaft, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of his head. Danny's fingers tighten in Derek's hair, his hips bucking slightly with every pass, his breath hitching as Derek hums. He's lost in the sensation, his eyes squeezed shut, the only thing grounding him being Derek's muffled groans and the occasional glimpse of his own hand in the firelight, guiding the man he loves.

In the throes of passion, Derek's eyes are closed, the fabric of the blindfold soft against his lids, a symbol of his willingness to give control to Danny, to enjoy the heightened sensations that are brought on by his blindness.

Danny's grip tightens in Derek's hair, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm that matches the pounding of his heart. His free hand finds Derek's where it rests on his thigh, their fingers lacing together in a silent promise of support and love. 

"You're doing so good," Danny whispers, his voice a caress that sends a shiver down Derek's spine. "So, so good," Derek's eyes glaze over behind the fabric of the blindfold, his mouth works faster, his tongue swirling around the sensitive head of Danny's cock. He can feel the tension in Danny's thighs, the tightening in his abdomen, the signs that he's close.

And when Danny finally lets go, his release a shout that fills the room, Derek is there, eager and accepting, drinking him down as if he's the sweetest nectar. Danny's eyes roll back, his head dropping to the couch cushion with a thunk as he rides out the waves of pleasure. When he opens them again, Derek is there, the blindfold discarded, his face flushed, his mouth swollen from his efforts, a look of pure contentment on his face.

"Well," Danny says with a chuckle, "I'd say the headache's gone," he says, his voice coming up to stroke Derek's cheek. Derek grins, a look of smug satisfaction that makes Danny's heart swell. He leans in, capturing Danny's mouth in a kiss that tastes of him, their tongues tangling together.

The loft is still, the only sound their ragged breaths. Danny's hand slides down Derek's chest, his fingers playing with the alpha's nipples for a moment before willing ropes into existence, watching as they wind around the man's torso before binding Derek's hands behind his back. Derek sucks in a breath but smirks at the other man nonetheless. "Your turn," Danny murmurs, his voice thick with want. Reaching down, he takes out Derek's cock, watching as it juts up, a silent agreement. Danny takes him in hand, stroking him with a firm grip that has Derek's hips thrusting upward.

Their eyes meet again, the unspoken promise of more, of exploration and passion. Derek's eyes darken, his body responding to the stimulation, the scent of desire that clogs his nose in a way that makes him dizzy with lust. Craning his neck, Danny leans down, kissing along Derek's jaw, his teeth nipping the soft skin, drawing a gasp from the bound werewolf. He takes his time, shifting once more to sit with his legs framing Derek. He leans down, his free hand gripping Derek's hair and tilting his head back to expose his throat. Relishing the power he holds over the alpha who doesn't even flinch at the submissive posture he has been positioned in. He drags his tongue along Derek's throat, nips at Derek's Adam's apple, before once again bringing their lips together. He swallows the heady moans and whimpers that burst forth from the werewolf, and when Derek can't take it anymore, when his hips are bucking upwards in a silent plea, Danny tightens his grip on Derek's hair.

"Do it."

Derek roars, his alpha red eyes shining as his cock expels his release onto the floor in front of him, his body quivering as his orgasm continues to tear through him. When its over and he is left panting, gulping down air to refill his lungs, he leans forward, resting his forehead against Danny's knee.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

Danny smiles and reaches down, his hand finding the knot of the ropes that frame Derek's chest and bind his arms and wrists, but Derek shakes his head. "Leave them," he says, his voice a gravelly whisper. "I like how they feel…when you're in control."

Danny smiles, his heart swelling with affection. He nods, his moving to caress the nape of Derek's neck, playing with the raven dark hair there as they bask in the aura of their love for each other.

Chapter Text

Stiles leans against the counter of The Daily Grind & Brew, his favorite coffee shop, his eyes scanning the room for a familiar face. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, a comforting scent that is all too familiar to his early morning ritual. 

A moment later, the bell over the door chimes. Looking up, Stiles smiles and waves in greeting to his former classmate.

"Stiles," Danny greets, joining Stiles in walking to a booth near the back of the coffee shop. 

"Hey," Stiles smirks before waving his hand and filling his empty coffee cup with his preferred brew, smiling when Danny does the same. "So, how are you and Derek?" 

"Word travels that fast?" Danny arches a brow.

Chuckling, Stiles takes a sip of his drink before setting the cup down. "You know me, nothing happens in this town without me knowing it." 

Danny smirks and nods, "Unfortunately, that's typically true" he takes a drink of his coffee before humming. "And how are things with you and Parrish?"

"It's…interesting," Stiles says with a grin. "Let's just say I've discovered a new side of him."

Danny raises a brow, intrigued. "Do tell," he urges, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he leans forward, making Stiles chuckle.

"Well," Stiles begins, his voice dropping to a whisper as he mirrors Danny and leans in. "I accidentally cast a spell a while back…"

Danny's eyes widen, his grip tightening around his coffee cup. "What kind of spell?" he inquires, his breath catching as he silently urges Stiles to continue.

"It's a bit complicated," Stiles admits, "but basically, he's kind of… under my control. But it's not bad, really… not anymore!" he assures Danny, who is staring at him like he's gone insane. "He told me that he's okay with it…that he doesn't mind it, and he thinks it's hot." Stiles pauses for a moment before a sly grin spreads across his lips. "And the things he's been willing to try…," his voice trails off as he thinks of the steamy and erotic things he's done with Parrish.

Danny stares at him in shock for a moment before he shakes his head and breathes out a huff of laughter. "Wow…you accidentally cast an enrollment spell, and he turned out to like it?" Sitting back, he smirks. "I'll be damned."

Stiles nods thoughtfully. "It's definitely been an adjustment, but in a good way. He's happy when he's doing what I say."

Danny nods in understanding before sitting back. "Well then, this can only call for one thing," he says with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"And that is?" Stiles questions.

"A double date," Danny replies. "Think about it, us with the two hottest guys in Beacon Hills out in public…imagine the looks we would get!"

Stiles giggles and nods. "And what would we even do?" 

"Bowling," Danny answers immediately. 

Stiles stares at his friend for a moment as he ponders the idea of Parrish and Derek out on a double date in public. After a moment, he nods. "Alright, I'm down."

"Then it's settled, you go and tell Parrish, and I'll see what Derek thinks," Danny says as he stands to his feet, downing the last of his drink. Turning on his heel, and leaving the coffee shop. Stiles watches him go before he too finishes off his coffee. However, instead of leaving, he pulls out his phone and opens his message thread with Parrish.

>"*What would you say to a double date with Danny and Derek?*"

It isn't long before Parrish responds.

<< "*Where would we be going?"* he asks

> "*Bowling*," Stiles replies. "Nothing too ambitious."

For a moment, Parrish doesn't respond and Stiles begins to worry that perhaps this may have been a bad idea, maybe Parrish feels rushed. But before he can send another message saying that he can just tell Danny they will need a rain check when Jordan finally responds.

>"*Sure, I'm off this weekend, works for me."*

Stiles smiles and replies as he types out his reply. 

>*"Cool, see you in a few, I'll bring you lunch."* Stiles grins as he sends the message and slips his phone his pocket.

---

Danny watches as Derek sets his things down when walking into the loft. The young hedge witch smiles as the werewolf immediately obeys his rules and begins to shuck off his clothes, starting with his shirt. Conjuring, a drink into his hands, Danny happily watches as Derek continues to remove his clothes until he stands in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Without a word, the werewolf moves to kneel beside the couch, his eyes never leaving Danny's.

"Have I ever told you just how sexy you look like this," Danny grins, reaching out to gently cup Derek's chin. 

In response, Derek smirks as he leans into the touch, silently drifting into the tender love and care from the younger man.

"I met up with Stiles today," Danny explains after a moment. "We had coffee together and came up with an idea."

Narrowing his eyes, Derek studies his dom for a second, silently prompting him to elaborate. 

"He wants to go on a double date, him and Parrish, and you and me."

The alpha's eyes widen in shock, having never thought of doing such a thing but just as he thinks to dismiss the idea, to draw the line and put his foot down, he sees the flicker of excitement in the younger man's eyes and any and all idea of shooting the idea down leaves his mind.

"Alright," Derek finally whispers, turning his head to press a kiss to Danny's palm.

Danny smiles but holds Derek's gaze as he remains quiet before finally taking a breath and sighing. "Derek, don't agree to it just because you think I want you to," he warns. "If you don't want to go-"

"I do," Derek cuts him off. "I… I want to be with you…out in public… I don't want this to just be a dirty secret," he murmurs. 

Danny hums with a smile as he nods and feels his heart unclench. "I want that too," he whispers. Leaning forward, he brings their lips together. When they pull away, Danny reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone to quickly send the text to Stiles letting him know that they are on for the double date. As soon as he puts his phone away, he turns back to smile at Derek before whispering a word, grinning as Derek sucks in a breath an unseen force cups him through his boxers.

Chuckling, Danny sits back and savors the sight. "Tonight, though, I'm going to work you over."