Work Text:
Derek was on his knees in his bedroom, sucking his neighbour's cock as the man lazily scrolled through Instagram. He'd tried to keep this to his office in the beginning but most of his dick appointments ended up wandering off to the bathroom and kitchen anyway, so he ended up abandoning that rule.
The neighbour, Marcus, the divorced architect from two doors down, had one hand loosely tangled in Derek’s thick dark hair, more for show than control. His thumb idly swiped across the screen while soft, wet sounds filled the sunlit room. Derek took him deeper, hollowing his cheeks, tongue pressing along the thick vein on the underside just the way Marcus liked. The man let out a low groan.
“Fuck, you’re good at that,” Marcus muttered, hips twitching forward. “Better than my ex ever was. Keep going, Hale. I’ve got a call in twenty.”
Derek hummed around the cock in his mouth, the vibration pulling another pleased curse from the man. He loved this, the casual disrespect of it. While his husband Stiles was stuck in back-to-back meetings downtown and their son Eli was buvsy at school, Derek was here on his knees like a trained slut, throat relaxing as he swallowed Marcus to the hilt. His own cock strained against his sweatpants, untouched. That was part of the system too, he didn’t always get to come. Sometimes the thrill was just being used.
He pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting his swollen lips to the glistening head. “You gonna fuck me today or just use my mouth?” Derek’s voice was rough with want.
Marcus finally lowered his phone to smirk down at the slut.
“Greedy. Bend over the bed.”
Derek didn’t need to be told twice. He shoved his sweatpants down and kicked them aside, presenting himself, his broad shoulders down to the mattress with his ass up and his back arched. The lube was already waiting; he’d prepared himself earlier like always. Marcus slicked up quickly, pressed in with one smooth thrust, and started a selfish rhythm.
The bed creaked under them. Derek gripped the sheets, moaning low as Marcus hit that perfect spot inside him over and over.
“Harder,” he growled. Marcus obliged, gripping Derek’s hips hard enough to leave faint bruises that would fade by dinner time thanks to the wolf healing.
“You love this, don’t you?” Marcus panted, slapping Derek’s ass once. “Perfect little househusband getting railed while your family’s gone. Bet you’d let the whole street run a train on you if you had time.”
Derek came untouched at the words, spilling across the sheets with a broken groan, body clenching tight around the cock inside him. Marcus followed right after, burying himself deep and filling him with a satisfied grunt.
They were still locked together, breathing hard, when Derek’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. Stiles’ name flashed on the screen.
“Shit-fuck, answer it,” Marcus whidpered, grinding lazily in and out. Derek reached for the phone, voice surpisimgly steady despite the cock twitching in his ass.
“Hey, babe.”
“Hey! Just checking in. Traffic’s brutal, but I should be home by six. Eli said his staying late for lacrosse practice.”
Stiles paused momentarily.
“Hey, you okay? You sound out of breath.”
Marcus chose that moment to thrust deep again. Derek bit his lip hard but could help the yelp he let out as he came all over the sheets.
“Yeah… just finished a workout. Core stuff. Hurts so good.”
Stiles laughed goofing.
“Save some energy for me later. Love you.”
“Love you too.” Derek hung up, then shoved his face into the pillow as Marcus fucked him through the aftershocks, laughing darkly, chasing his own nut now.
By Tuesday, the system was running like clockwork. The hot delivery guy - Tyler, 20, barely older than Dereks own son, built like a linebacker with a cock to match - showed up at 11:30 with a ‘wrong address’ package and a hungry look. Derek didn’t even pretend anymore. He pulled the man inside, dropped to his knees right there in the foyer, and sucked him off while the delivery app dinged on Tyler’s phone.
“Fuck, man, you do this for everyone?” Tyler groaned, fucking Derek’s throat with shallow thrusts.
“Only the ones who look like they can ruin me,” Derek rasped, pulling off long enough to turn around and brace against the hallway table.
Tyler didn’t bother with much prep- he figured the slut was still loose from some other fuck. He pushed in raw, using the leftover jism, and pounded him hard enough that the table scraped across the floor.
“Wait, hang on, let’s get to the bathroom, wanna watch my face while you fuck me.”
Tyler groaned and they moved without pulling out, until Derek was facing the bathroom mirror, ready to watch his face bliss out from some barely legal cock.
God he was drooling already.
While they fucked though keys rattled in the front door.
“Dad? I forgot my cleats!”
Derek froze for half a second, then clamped a hand over his own mouth. Tyler didn’t stop. If anything, the risk made him thrust harder, grinding deep and relentless.
“Bathroom!” Derek managed to shout, voice strained. “I’ll bring them out, don’t come in!”
He rushed to close and lock the door just in time, but got pulled back and bent over the bathroom sink.
Eli’s footsteps paused in the hallway, only feet away from where his father was getting railed, cum from an earlier load still leaking down his thighs. “You sure? You sound weird.”
Tyler reached around and stroked Derek’s cock in time with his thrusts. Derek came silently, biting his own wrist until it bled, body shaking.
“Yeah, yeah-go! I’m… on the toilet!” Derek lied hoarsely.
Eli grumbled something under his breathe and left, slamming the door behind him. Tyler pulled out and painted Derek’s back with stripes of white, laughing breathlessly.
“Close one,” he said, zipping up. “Same time next week?”
“Wednesday,” Derek corrected, already wiping himself down with a shirt from the laundry hamper. Elis. “Eli has early practice.”
Thursday brought Marcus back, but this time he brought a friend,a stranger named Javier, a tall, tattooed contractor working on the neighborhood pool renovation. Derek’s eyes lit up at the sight of two cocks. They didn’t make it past the living room. Marcus bent Derek over the back of the couch while Javier fed him cock from the front. Derek was in heaven, full on both ends, moaning around thick length while Marcus fucked him open again.
“God, your husband’s a lucky guy,” Javier grunted, holding Derek’s head steady. “Doesn’t know what a perfect cumdump he married.”
The words sent a filthy thrill through Derek. He sucked harder, tears pricking his eyes from the depth. His phone rang. Again, it was Stiles. Derek pulled off just enough to answer on speaker, voice wrecked.
“Hey.”
“Baby, I’m leaving early. Be home in twenty. Want me to pick up dinner?”
Marcus didn’t slow down, slamming into Derek’s prostate on every thrust. Javier rubbed against his face and mouth, coaxing the answer out of him.
“Sounds-ah-good,” Derek gasped. “Whatever you want. I’m… finishing up some work.”
Stiles paused. “You sure you’re okay? You keep sounding like you’re running or something.”
Javier chuckled quietly, thrusting deeper into Derek’s mouth, into hisnfucking throat. Derek’s eyes rolled back as he gasped when Javier pulled out with an expectant eyebrow raised.
“Core workout again,” Derek lied, barely holding it together. “See you soon. Love you.” He whimpered to Javiers cock, the head pressing into his nostril, like he was trying to snort the precum.
He dropped the phone and let the two men use him harder. They fucked like that for a few more minutes, all on edge from Stiles unexpcectd call.
Marcus came first, flooding his ass. Javier followed, pulling out to paint Derek’s face and tongue.
Derek came untouched for the second time that day, collapsing against the couch in a boneless, leaking mess. They barely had time to clean up and leave before Stiles’ Jeep pulled into the driveway. Derek rushed through a shower, changed the couch throw, and met his husband at the door with a kiss that still tasted faintly of sweaty cock .Stiles pulled back, frowning slightly.
“You smell like… cologne? Is that new stuff?”
Derek smiled innocently. “Something like that.”
Friday was the professor; Dr. Evan Lang, married, closeted, and addicted to Derek’s ass. He liked the kitchen island that Derek was bent over with pants around his ankles, and he loved the view of Derek’s muscled back flexing under his tight shirt as they looked out the window to quietly buzzing street. They were making the most of their time alone together with an invested afternoon fuck.
Of course this meant that Eli came home unexpectedly early.
“Dad? Practice got cancelled-”
Derek locked eyes with his son through the reflection in the window for a split second. Evan froze mid-thrust.
“Eli- go to your room!” Derek snapped, voice rough. Evan started to pull out, but Derek reached back and gripped his thigh, keeping him inside.
“Now.”
Eli hesitated, confused, but obeyed, muttering again under his breath as he headed upstairs. Derek really had to get the boy to use his fucking senses. Oh well, worked out hood for Derek this time. The second the bedroom door closed, Evan started fucking him again, faster, panicked, thrilled.
“Oh my god! You’re insane,” he whispered, pounding harder. “Your kid was right there-”
“Shut up and fill me,” Derek growled. Evan did, coming deep with a muffled groan. Derek followed, biting his arm to stay quiet.
Later that night, after Eli was asleep and Stiles was curled against his back, Derek lay awake, sore and satisfied. Stiles’ hand rested possessively on his hip, thumb brushing over a fading bruise.
“You’ve been really into workouts lately,” Stiles murmured sleepily. “Should I be jealous of the gym?”
Derek turned, kissing him slow and deep—the same mouth that had been on three different cocks that week. “No. You’re the only one I come home to.”
Stiles smiled, already drifting off. Derek stared at the ceiling, cum from the day still faintly leaking into his boxers, and smiled in the dark.
The work from home policy was never changing. His system was perfect. And as long as the close calls kept adrenaline pumping through his veins alongside the pleasure, he had no intention of stopping. He already had three new appointments lined up for next week including the new mailman who kept staring at his ass when he dropped off packages.
Life was good.