Fic: Sword Swallower

[neveralarch]

Here is a fic! I am sorry about the title! This fulfills the 'awkward sex' and 'arguing during sex' squares on my idfic bingo. It's also Derek/Stiles fic with basically no connection to canon, because this is apparently what the id wants. I'm dedicating it to everyone else who can't figure out the whole tongue brushing thing.

Sword Swallower
Teen Wolf
Rating: adult
(sex, swearing, warning for a lot of stuff about gagging/bile.)
Characters: Derek/Stiles
Wordcount: 2,500ish
Summary: "I was just thinking," said Stiles. "Oral sex is pretty great, right?" A post-canon fic about oversensitive gag reflexes and also over-extended metaphors.

Stiles always kissed like he wanted something. He would grab the back of Derek's head with one hand and his shoulder with the other, and pull Derek into him. Derek let him, for a few minutes, then broke away to nose along the line of Stiles' jaw.

"Tickles," mumbled Stiles. Derek could feel his voice thrumming under his skin.

"Want me to stop?" he asked.

"Want a bed," said Stiles, and dragged Derek's head up to kiss him again. "Or a couch," he offered, when they paused to catch their breath. "Or, I don't know, a chair, or a wall, or maybe the floor, hey, the floor's right here-"

"Bed." Derek tried to steer them toward his bedroom and ended up getting turned around so he was walking backward, his eyes fixed on Stiles' face. He couldn't really focus this close, Stiles' face just a blur of skin and freckles and a nose, but he didn't want to look away. Derek nearly crashed into the wall when he tried to take off Stiles' t-shirt and walk at the same time, and then he actually tripped and fell when Stiles unzipped Derek's jeans and started pushing them down his hips. Stiles fell on top of Derek, laughing.

"Oh my god," he said. "We are the worst at sex. Are you okay?"

"Maybe if someone wasn't elbowing me in the spleen." Derek took the opportunity to pull Stiles' shirt the rest of the way off.

"That's a kidney, not your spleen." Stiles prodded him. "This is your spleen."

Derek snapped playfully at Stiles' nose, shoving at him. "Get up so I can take my pants off."

"Sir, yes, sir." Stiles scrambled up.

Derek stood up and shucked his jeans, rolling his eyes when Stiles whistled at him. He pushed open the door to the bedroom.

"Hey, what about the shirt?" asked Stiles. "Lose the shirt."

Derek shrugged, and tugged his shirt off. He looked over his shoulder at Stiles as he dropped the shirt, enjoying Stiles' slightly glazed expression.

"Like what you see?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah, obviously." Stiles snapped his fingers. "Why are you still wearing boxers? Take it all off!"

"Don't snap at me." Derek tucked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers. "I'm not a waiter."

"It would be super rude to snap your fingers at a waiter," said Stiles. "I was just snapping in appreciation of a beautiful piece of performance art. Stripping for my Boyfriend, by Derek Hale."

"You're so full of shit." Derek pushed his boxers down and kicked them off. "Happy now?"

"The happiest," said Stiles, and there was that kissing thing again.

They stumbled into Derek's bedroom, nearly knocking over a standing lamp, a dresser, and a chair before falling into bed together. Stiles propped himself up on his side, trailing his fingers down Derek's chest.

"What do you want to do?" asked Derek.

"My choice?" Stiles traced a circle around Derek's bellybutton, and Derek's hips jerked as he tried to rub himself against Stiles' thigh. Which was really uncomfortable, actually.

"Whatever," Derek said through gritted teeth. "Just take off your jeans."

Stiles didn't look like he had heard. His mouth was open, his eyes wide. His fingers lightly brushed Derek's dick, and he licked his lips. Derek had a bad feeling about this.

"Stiles, stop looking at my dick like that."

"I was just thinking." Stiles didn't look up. "Oral sex is pretty great, right? Maybe I could try-"

"No." Derek shielded his dick with one hand. "Remember what happened last time? No."

"Come on!" whined Stiles. "Are you seriously turning down a blowjob? Who turns down a blowjob?"

"Last time you nearly threw up on my dick." Derek could feel himself softening at the memory. "There was bile."

"So my gag reflex is a little touchy." Stiles waved a hand. "That just means I need practice."

"Then use your fingers," said Derek. "Or get a dildo. Something that can be easily cleaned when you vomit all over it."

"Oh my god." Stiles sat up, so he could wave both hands. "I'm not that bad."

"You can't even brush your tongue without gagging." Derek sat up too, crossing his arms.

"Nobody brushes their tongue," said Stiles. "Brushing tongues is a non-issue."

"You're going to get cavities. Tongues are covered in bacteria."

Stiles stuck out his tongue a little bit and crossed his eyes, like he was trying to examine it for bacteria. Then he seemed to realize that he looked ridiculous, and snapped his eyes back up to Derek.

"I'm a college graduate," he announced. "I can deal with sucking your cock."

"Your degree is in religious studies," said Derek. "I don't think that's relevant to my penis. Unless you actually took a class in cock worship-"

"Okay, that class would either be awesome or horrific and I would have totally taken it either way, but," Stiles poked Derek in the chest, "but that's not the point-"

"Was there a point?" Derek pushed Stiles' hand away. "I thought we were just listing random accomplishments. Look at me, I was a mediocre lacrosse player, I can suck dick. Look at me, I helped fight a murder lizard, I can suck dick!"

"The point," insisted Stiles, "is that I can apply my critical thinking skills to the problem of my gag reflex. I heard that if you make a fist and hum-"

"I'm going to put my pants back on." Derek started to stand up.

"Hey, no!" Stiles grabbed Derek's arm. Derek raised his eyebrows, and Stiles let him go, sighing. "I mean, sorry, you can totally leave if you want to, you are always free to withdraw consent, etcetera, etcetera, but I would just like to point out that you are hoarding the blowjob privileges in this relationship."

Derek opened his mouth, closed it, and finally settled back down on the bed. "Blowjob privileges?"

Stiles nodded. "Whenever you want to suck my cock, I say 'of course, Derek, my awesome boyfriend, that would be wonderful.' But when I want to turn it around and suck your cock, all of a sudden it's 'oh no, Stiles, that would be terrible, I think you might leak bodily fluids all over me.'"

"Was that supposed to be my voice? That sounded nothing like me."

"It sounded exactly like you."

Derek raised a finger. "Okay, one, it did not." He raised another finger. "Two, giving blowjobs is not some amazingly pleasurable experience that I'm trying to keep all to myself."

"Oh, so now you don't like blowing me." Stiles narrowed his eyes. "That's not what you said last week."

"I do like blowing you!" snapped Derek. "I'm just saying-"

"No, I see how it is." Stiles held up a hand. "You think that blowjobs are a burden."

"I don't think-"

"But they're not your burden to bear alone!" Stiles' eyes gleamed. "I can help, Derek. I can share in this responsibility."

Derek dropped his face into his hands. "Stop talking," he groaned.

"Hey," said Stiles, brightly. "I can think of a great way to shut me up."

"No," said Derek into his hands. "No blowjobs."

"What about just the tip?" asked Stiles. "We could start slow."

"Do not put your mouth anywhere near my dick," clarified Derek. "Just, just don't."

"Okay, okay, compromise." Stiles pulled Derek's hands away from his face. "What if-"

"If this compromise involves your mouth on my dick, then the answer is no," warned Derek.

"Just hear me out," said Stiles. "What if you fuck me while I suck on your fingers? That's hot, right? You can even be on top. And it'll be good practice for me."

Derek considered this. "I guess," he said, finally. "But we'll stop right away if it gets to be too much for you."

"They're just fingers," said Stiles. He sounded confident, but he looked a little nervous.

Derek was pretty sure this was going to end poorly.

But he had to admit that watching Stiles strip and prep himself was pretty hot, and it didn't take him long to get hard again. Stiles opened the condom with his teeth and smiled as he rolled it onto Derek's dick.

"Don't forget about the fingers." Stiles got onto his hands and knees.

"I'm not going to forget." Derek lined up and pressed into Stiles. He was tight - Stiles never stretched himself as much as Derek would - and it was so good. Derek groaned, making little thrusts until he was fully in Stiles.

"Fingers!" Stiles pushed back against him. Derek grunted and reached out blindly, pressing one finger and then another into Stiles' mouth. Stiles sucked on them as Derek thrust into him, curled his tongue as Derek rubbed his thumb on his cheek, and Derek pressed his fingers in a little deeper, just a little, for a second Derek could imagine getting a blowjob from Stiles and it would be amazing, Stiles on his knees in front of him, his mouth warm and wet, Derek's hands in his hair-

Stiles choked.

"Shit!" Derek pulled out - his fingers, his dick, everything.

Stiles gagged a couple of times, then coughed and wiped at his mouth.

"Are you okay?" Derek patted tentatively at Stiles' shoulder.

"Fine," croaked Stiles. "Uh, sorry about your sheets."

Derek looked down at his bed and saw a spreading, light yellow wet patch.

"It was only a little bile," said Stiles.

"Get dressed," said Derek. He thought he sounded admirably calm.

Stiles looked up in alarm. "Are you throwing me out?"

"We're going to the laundromat," said Derek. "I don't have a spare set of sheets."

"Dude, what about-" Stiles gestured at his hard-on.

"It's going to stain if we leave it." Derek pushed Stiles out of the bed and started stripping the sheets. "Get yourself off in the bathroom if you have to. I want to be out the door in five minutes."

"This sucks," said Stiles, and stormed off into the bathroom.

"Five minutes!" shouted Derek.

---

Stiles and Derek sat on a table in the laundromat, watching the sheets spin in the washer. Derek was fully dressed, but Stiles had taken way too long in the bathroom and then realized he didn't know where they'd thrown his t-shirt, so now he was just wearing his hoodie zipped up over his bare chest.

"This itches." Stiles started unzipping the hoodie. "I'm just going to-"

"No shirt, no shoes, no service," said Derek.

"I've got shoes."

"You can't just pick one. If you get thrown out, I don't know you."

"Fine." Stiles swung his legs, moodily. "I'm buying a dildo. Immediately."

Derek looked at Stiles, and then slung an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. "You know that you don't need to stress out about this, right? I don't need blowjobs for a happy relationship."

"This isn't about you," said Stiles. "It's about the challenge. Blowjobs are my Everest."

"People died on Everest, right?"

Derek's attention wandered while Stiles ranted about how he was 'not going to die of blowjobs, Derek, what the hell.' There was an elderly woman folding clothes over on the next table and staring at them. Derek gave her a weak smile, suddenly aware that his boyfriend was talking loudly about sex acts. The old lady just winked at him and started humming.

"Hey, pay attention to me." Stiles poked at Derek.

Derek looked back at him and raised his eyebrows. Stiles actually looked kind of sad, now that he'd gotten over his rant.

"Sorry about your sheets," Stiles mumbled. "You're never going to let me try again, huh."

"I guess if it's your Everest." Derek watched the sheets spin. "But next time I'm putting down a tarp."

Stiles elbowed him in the kidney (or possibly spleen), but he was grinning now.

The old lady walked by with a huge basket of folded clothes. She hesitated, and then leaned in, one hand shielding her mouth. "You ought to try earlier in the day next time," she whispered conspiratorially. "People always have more relaxed throats in the morning."

Derek could feel himself blushing, his mouth fixed in a what-the-hell smile. He looked over at Stiles, but he didn't look embarrassed at all.

"Thanks." Stiles even gave the lady a sincere smile. "I appreciate the advice."

The lady beamed at him. "None of my business of course, but I hate to see a young man having difficulties. You could try a numbing spray, too, for the palate?" She opened her mouth to point at her palate, and Stiles bent down to peer at her. "I think they still sell them at adult shops, or I suppose you could order them online."

"You can order pretty much anything online." Stiles nodded, thoughtfully. "I hadn't even thought of numbing spray."

"I even order my cat food online," said the lady, vaguely. "Good luck!"

Derek watched her walk away. "Numbing spray?"

"We'll try the morning thing first," said Stiles. "Man, you meet the greatest people at the laundromat. I thought your face was going to spontaneously combust."

The washer beeped, and Derek got up to grab his sheets.

"That lady," said Stiles, "is my trusty guide."

"Uh-huh." Derek stuffed the sheets in a dryer and started feeding in quarters.

"She has climbed that mountain, Derek. She's climbed that mountain many times, and she is entrusting me with its secrets. The handy crevices that I can work my fingers into, the dangerous rockfalls I need to avoid, the equipment I need to avoid treacherous altitude sickness. With her help, I can finally scale-"

"Enough with the Everest metaphor." Derek started the dryer.

"I thought it was flattering." Stiles shrugged. "You know, I regard your cock as an analogue to the tallest mountain in the world. If I was going to be honest, I guess it's more of a Nanga Parbat or a Gyachung Kang, but I figured I'd rather be generous."

Derek walked back over to where Stiles was sitting on the table. Stiles smirked at him as Derek leaned in between his legs, his hands on Stiles' waist. "Did you memorize the tallest mountains in the world just for this dumb metaphor?" asked Derek.

"Not just for this dumb metaphor," said Stiles.

"You're ridiculous," said Derek, and kissed him.

He meant it to be quick, a 'hey, I remembered that I really like you' kiss, but Stiles made a noise and grabbed him by the back of the head and the shoulder and the kiss kept going and going-

"No making out in the laundromat," said the attendant, without much interest. She hadn't looked up from her magazine.

"Yeah, yeah," said Stiles. He smiled at Derek. "Hey, we should go back to your place."

"In forty minutes," said Derek. "When the dryer is done."

"Oh my god." Stiles looked incredulous. "Let's get out of here, and I'll kiss you until you've forgotten you ever had sheets."

"Sure," said Derek. "In forty minutes."

In the end, they compromised on thirty. Derek's sheets were still kind of damp when they finally got back in bed together, but sometimes you had to make sacrifices.