Chapter Text
The D.A.D Chip
Desire Augmentation Device
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The Sheriff, the FBI Agent, and the Alpha werewolf of Beacon Hills all sat around the patio table in the backyard of Gregory Hale’s charming suburban residence. They tossed back beers, laughing and joking with one another, not all that interested anymore in the poker game they started hours ago. They were drunk now, but not so drunk as to be rendered completely incoherent and sloppy. They were merely just drunk enough so that their conversation had that classic drunken vulgar edge to it.
“Stiles has always had an obvious tell.” Sheriff Stilinski casually took a sip of his beer, eyeing the way that Rafael and Gregory’s sloshed eyes twinkled with the desire to know more. “He’s wild—but you all already know that. Always loud and bouncing off the walls. So when he comes downstairs all muted and calm, that’s how you know you he just came his brains out.”
“That’s it?” Rafael laughed. “Damn, all these years I’ve let him run his mouth about a million miles a minute in my house and you’re telling me that all I had to do was corner him upstairs, slip my hand down the front of his pants, and make that little shit cum so that I could get a little peace and quiet?”
“Woah, that’s my son you’re talking about!” Sheriff feigned offense, too chilled on his booze to really care. And if he were being honest, the way that his dick twitched inside of his pants let him know that he really didn’t mind hearing one of his best buddies talk about his son in such a lewd way.
“Oh, come on, John—everybody has fantasies.” Gregory laughed.
“Not you too, Greg.” John said, hiding his chuckle behind another gulp of beer. “Don’t tell me you’ve also thought about fucking my son.”
“What? And you haven’t?” Greg slapped his hand down onto the wooden surface of the patio table, struggling to bite back his wheezy laugh. “Like we all haven’t wanted to take our greatest creations for a little test drive—just to see how they handle, hmm?”
“Too far! Too far, Greg!” Rafael pointed at Greg in an accusatory way, though lacking any real judgment behind his action. “John’s boy is obviously off limits…which is a real shame considering I’ve definitely thought about choking him out on my fat cock. He makes for a really nice wet dream.”
Rafael and Greg traded high fives, watching John nod to himself as he accepted the path that the conversation was headed down. He only briefly had to wrestle with the fact that the truth was bubbling up his throat and about to spill out. And once he said what he said, things would certainly only spiral further. But John was too enthused by all the after hours talk.
“My boy is nine inches hard.” John said, proudly puffing out his chest. “Caught him with his pants down at his ankles one time when he thought I had already left for work.”
“No fucking way.” Rafael said.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Greg shrugged, slurping his beer. “Skinny twinks like that always have nice big dicks.”
“What did you do?” Rafael pushed John for more details. “You offered to help him out, I hope.”
“Me? No, I’d never.” John slurred—not sounding all too serious with his words. “He panicked and tried to cover up. I pretended I hadn’t seen everything. But you can bet your ass I had the mental pictures all loaded up the next time I got my hand around my own dick later that night.”
“You think he’d swing for it?” Greg asked seriously.
“What? Fucking his own father?” John asked. “Nah—there’s no way.”
“That’s bullshit.” Rafael said, setting his beer bottle down so that he could use his hands to press down at where the crotch of his pants were beginning to get tighter. “You’re the man of the house! He has to do what you say. That’s the rules.”
“Oh, don’t fucking tell me that you’ve figured out a way to convince Scott to stretch his pussy on your cock.” John rolled his eyes jokingly, watching as Rafael held his tongue with something that he obviously wanted to say. “Lord knows if that were the case, as an officer of the law, I’d have no choice but to see who can work Scotty’s pussy over better—me or his daddy.”
“I think my boy would be easy. A little wolfsbane in this drink—like this…” Greg smirked, drawing attention to his little demonstration. “Oh, Derek, baby—you’d taste so nice.”
Greg reached forward to a small crystalline dish on the table and grabbed a pinch of ground purple leaves. John and Rafael watched as Greg sprinkled the powder over his glass of beer and then took a hearty swig. He sighed with delight as the wolfsbane-spiked alcohol helped the alcohol’s effects instantly take to his system the way that it did for humans.
“You’d drug your son?” John scoffed playfully. “Isn’t that illegal or some shit?”
“Derek can be a real stick in the mud, though.” Greg explained, finishing off his beer before tucking his hands behind his head and letting his eyes flutter shut so that he could try to imagine how much more fun Derek would be under the influence. “He needs to loosen up a little.”
“Really? Lemme take a swing at him, Greg.” John laughed loudly, completely unfazed by the conversation at hand—despite the fact that he was meant to uphold laws, not toss them aside if it meant getting a chance to fuck one of his friend’s hot sons. “I’d loosen him up, alright.”
“I have a way.” Rafael blurted drunkenly, cutting the conversation into a silence.
“A way to do what?” Greg asked. “Fuck my son?”
“John asked if I found a way to convince Scott to let me stretch his pussy on my cock.” Rafael explained. “I have a way.”
“Are you going to elaborate?” John asked, genuinely interested in what seemed like total nonsense talk from an inebriated Rafael.
“There’s a lot of experimental technology out there. Some of it comes from the underground illegal weapons manufacturers who get their shit seized.” Rafael took another sip of his beer, reaching down into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He flipped it open to show the guys his agent badge and ID, looking mighty impressed with himself as he did it. “And I just so happen to have access to most of it.”
Gregory and John traded humored looks with one another before bursting into hysterical laughter. Their cheeks burned white hot from laughing so hard, mixed with the alcohol that pumped feverishly through their bodies. As they slapped their hands onto the table and rocked around in their chairs, they caught sight of the embittered look that was mapped onto Rafael’s face from across the way. Clearly, he was peeved about not being able to land a successful prank on his two friends—not even after so many years of attempts.
“How dumb do you think we are, Raf?” John raised an eyebrow, wiping a rogue tear from his cheek as he settled his laughter down. “I’ve raised my own son for twenty-two years and more than ninety percent of the shit that comes out of his mouth is a bold-faced lie. You’ve really got to try harder than that.”
“Yeah, don’t tell me the government has a special ‘fuck me, daddy’ incest ray gun somewhere in cold storage, buddy.” Greg hopped onto the ridicule train, shaping his fingers into a fake gun so that he could pretend to shoot beams around into the open night air. “I might be a werewolf, but I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“You think I’m pissing on your leg?” Rafael scoffed lightly, finding the humor in how doubtful his friends were.
“Is that supposed to be some kind of racist joke?” Greg laughed, jokingly letting his eyes flare bright alpha red as he nudged John with his elbow.
“Okay, fine—what do I get if I’m telling the truth?” Rafael asked.
“Truth about what?” John asked. “The incest ray gun?”
“It’s not a ray gun, but yes.” Rafael said. “Suppose I make you eat your words in about a week, because that’ll probably be how long it’ll take me to get my hands on what I want—what do I get for proving you dumbasses wrong?”
“A week, huh?” Greg said, looking down at the calendar on his phone. “Well, damn, that’d put us on December 23rd. Sounds like an early Christmas present, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, good.” Rafael said, delighted. “That means you need to sweeten the deal even more.”
“You want a deal, bud? Okay, how’s this—” John laughed, shooting a wink in Greg’s direction before turning his attention back to Rafael. “If by some string of magical luck you show up to next week’s little poker night kickback with a neat gadget or gizmo that let’s us fuck our sons’ brains out, then I’ll let you have first dibs with Stiles…”
“And Derek.” Greg added, looking incredibly smug with himself. “Now that’s sweetening the deal, eh, Raf?”
Rafael stood up from the table and smiled down to where John and Greg looked like they were both about to burst into another fit of childish laughter. But their faces settled when Rafael reached out both of his hands, inviting the others into a solid and firm handshake to help close out the deal they made. John and Greg rolled their eyes, laughing slightly as they shook Rafael’s hands.
“Oh, I can’t wait to see the looks on your guys’ faces when I’m dumping my fat loads in both of your boys.” Rafael laughed knowingly.