“You look beautiful like this.”
Jackson whines low in his throat, fingers clenching tighter around the silk binding his wrists, his biceps bulging as he obviously resists the urge to simply rip the silk. Stiles deliberately tied the silk lightly, wanting to force Jackson to want to stay bound. He knows Jackson doesn’t even need the pretense of silk to keep him from touching when he’s been told not to, but Jackson craves the visual reminder that he’s not supposed to move, so Stiles lets him have it. Besides, it makes such a pretty picture.
They don’t play like this often. Their relationship might be volatile sometimes, they’re both opinionated and argumentative and consider fighting foreplay a lot of the time, but it’s never about making one of them submit or battling for dominance. Oddly enough, their relationship is balanced in a way that would surprise many who draw conclusions based on the snarky asshole exteriors they both possess.
The thing is, they aren’t really into giving up control, not even to each other. They know what it’s like to be a puppet, to be forced to do things that continue to feed their worst nightmares even all these years later, and it doesn’t matter how much trust and love they have for each other because that’s just not something they want to experience again.
Sometimes, though, Jackson will crave it, will want to give Stiles that control over him, and he’ll leave one of the expensive silk ties he bought solely for this purpose on Stiles’ pillow to let him know. Verbalizing the need makes it a weakness, to Jackson’s mind, so he communicates in another way. They have discussed it, obviously, because Stiles isn’t about to do something like this without knowing limits, expectations, and being clear on consent. Consent is so important normally, but especially between them due to their past possessions.
It’s such an odd thing to have in common, but Stiles knows it actually helps their relationship that they understand what it’s like, that they can accept the weird quirks that they have as an aftereffect of their murderous pasts, that they know how to handle nightmares and triggers and there’s never any judgement.
As he stands at the foot of their bed looking at Jackson, he can’t even put into words what it means that Jackson trusts him with this. Stiles doesn’t need to hear I love you all the time when something as a silk tie left on his pillow says more about Jackson’s feelings for him than a thousand page novel.
“Stiles,” Jackson breathes out his name, not even loud enough to be a whisper. The muscles in his arms are tense, his fingers tangled around the red and blue silk as he shifts on the bed. There’s a sheen of sweat already visible on his chest and face, his skin flushed, his lips swollen from where Stiles fucked his face earlier, drops of come drying on his chin from where he spilled, his eyes dazed, and his pretty dick leaking pre-come and so hard it’s almost purple. Stiles reaches between his legs, stroking the leather cock ring, letting his fingertips brush over his balls.
“Is your poor little hole empty, Jackson?” he asks sweetly, moving his fingertips lower to stroke the hole he’s already fucked once tonight. “My huge dick isn’t enough to keep you satisfied tonight, is it?”
A whine is only his response. Jackson also spreads his legs wider, rolling his hips slightly, trying to push his hole onto Stiles’ fingers. Stiles pulls his hand away, walking around the bed to their toy chest, which is just a wooden box they bought at some antique store to use for their various sex toys and other similar items. He gets a glove out of the box, turning so Jackson can watch him slowly pull it on, taking time to flex his fingers and make a show of it. He doesn’t even need to be a werewolf to know Jackson reeks of arousal and lust by the time he finishes. The scent of come and sweat is thick enough that he can smell it with his human senses, after all.
When Stiles crawls onto the bed, he looks at Jackson’s face. There’s a vulnerability there, the openness of his emotions never failing to make him pause whenever he sees Jackson like this. No masks, no posturing, nothing hiding the need or the love that he’s feeling at this very moment. Stiles doesn’t know what his own face looks like, but he stares into Jackson’s eyes for a moment, trying to silently tell him all the things he whispers into his skin when they make love. This isn’t about making love, so Stiles doesn’t say anything, but, fortunately, they don’t need words to understand each other.
“Let’s see how greedy your tight little hole is, shall we?” Stiles smiles as he picks up the bottle of lube. The towel he put under Jackson’s ass earlier is still there, but he has to spread it back out where it’s bunched up. Things are about to get very messy, and the last thing he wants is for their mattress to get a huge wet spot.
Once that’s arranged, he squirts some lube into his hand, moving his fingers to Jackson’s hole. He’s still loose from where Stiles’ fucked him, come trickling out onto the towel, and Stiles can’t help but stare for a moment because, damn, that’s hot. Finally, he stops staring and focuses. After his dick, Jackson can definitely handle three fingers without much issue, so that’s what Stiles begins with, pushing three fingers into Jackson at once. He watches Jackson’s face as he fucks him with his fingers, gradually adding a fourth when he feels Jackson loosen enough to take it without too much discomfort.
“Look at you, taking four fingers and still wanting more. Such a greedy little boy, aren’t you? You’re so well, Jax. Such a good boy for me.” Stiles coos at him, watching Jackson practically preen under the praise. “I think you’re ready for more, don’t you?”
“Please,” Jackson murmurs, his arms flexing as he tugs on the silk. He relaxes his fingers for a moment, obviously realizing he’s about to rip the ties, then he’s writhing on the bed, dick bobbing in the air as he pushes down for more. He really is so gorgeous that it’d make Stiles sick if not for the fact Jackson is his.
“Shh. It’s alright. We’ll give that greedy hole just what it wants,” he promises. “You’ll have my whole fist filling you up soon.”
With that said, he carefully curls his thumb into his palm and starts to push all five fingers into Jackson’s hole. It’s a tight fit, and he knows Jackson is a werewolf, so it’s not going to actually damage him if he isn’t gentle enough, but Stiles never wants to be responsible for hurting Jackson if there’s any way to avoid it. So he’s careful and patient and takes his time when they do this. When he’s got his hand inside, sees the widest part has finally breached Jackson, he curls his fingers into a fist, giving Jackson time to adjust and process what he’s doing.
He loves watching Jackson’s face when his fist is in his ass, but that’s the only part that he particularly enjoys about it. It’s not something Stiles is that fond of, in all honesty, but Jackson likes doing it sometimes, and he likes making Jackson happy. Jackson is always willing to indulge his kinks, like getting off during pack meetings when everyone can hear which turns Stiles on but flusters Jackson a bit, and Stiles is always happy to return the favor. After all, making Jackson happy is his biggest kink. Besides, it’s not something he hates, especially not when Jackson is utterly wrecked and so vulnerable in these moments, but it isn’t something Stiles ever wants to experience receiving himself.
“You took it all, Jax,” he says now that his fist is completely inside Jackson’s ass. Jackson is breathing hard, his fringe clinging to his sweaty forehead, his abdominal muscles clenched so tight it almost looks painful. “Relax for me, babe. That’s a good boy. Yeah, you like having your hole so full, don’t you? Bet you could take both my fists and would just beg so prettily for more.”
With that being said, he begins fucking Jackson with his fist. He can’t push too far in, but he manages to reach a point where Jackson’s hole is stretched around his wrist, about an inch from his palm. The noises Jackson makes as Stiles fists him have his dick twitching and half-hardening despite having come twice before they reached the finale, so to speak. Stiles leans forward and sucks Jackson’s dick into his mouth, swirling his tongue and lapping at pre-come before taking his length into his mouth. He moves his head up and down in a rhythm that alternates with his fisting, so Jackson is soon rocking back and forth between Stiles’ mouth and his fist.
When he hears Jackson start whining, low and needy and desperate, Stiles uses his other hand to unfasten the cock ring. He slides it off Jackson and looks at him. “I want you to come for me. Let me taste your sweet release,” he tells him, putting his mouth on Jackson’s dick. All Jackson’s been waiting on is permission, and he comes hard, keening with pleasure as his dick pulses in Stiles’ mouth. Stiles swallows his come, continuing to fist him until Jackson’s completely spent and panting. “So good for me, Jackson.”
Stiles lets Jackson’s dick slip from his mouth as he uncurls his fingers. Carefully, he begins to pull his hand out of Jackson’s ass. When it’s out, he looks at the stretched hole, slightly red and quivering as it tries to clench around the air. He leans down to kiss it, tonguing it gently, listening to Jackson moan his name. This isn’t about prolonging the tease or starting another round. It’s just something he likes to do to help Jackson come down from the euphoria he feels when they play like this. When he notices Jackson start to relax, he takes the glove off and crawls up Jackson’s body.
As he unfastens the silk ties, which officially ends their play time, Stiles leans down to gently kiss him before pulling back and stroking his face. Jackson has tears in his eyes, dripping off his lashes, and he’s bitten his lip, but it’s already starting to heal. The expression in his eyes makes Stiles’ breath catch because it’s so full of love. Jackson leans up to kiss him, his arms going around Stiles as he pulls him down against him. Jackson holds him tight as they kiss, snuggling closer, and continuing to take care of each other however they might need.