Stiles slides open the loft door, looks up, and then turns bright red as he stares right at Derek making out with Braeden on the couch. His first reaction is heartbreak, because he thought the thing – the vague, unnamed, unbounded thing – between him and Derek was special, but apparently it's not. This is followed immediately by embarrassment because Braeden's bra is slipping and neither of them are wearing very much in the way of clothes.

"Oh, shit! Sorry. I'll just..." He loses whatever he was going to say as Derek looks up from where he was kissing Braeden's chest. His eyes glow yellow as they pin Stiles in place.

"Shut the door, Stiles." Derek's voice cuts through him, like it always does and he's helpless but to obey.

"Right. Sorry." He starts backing out. He doesn't want to think what he looks like – heartbroken and shamed. He can't meet Derek's gaze.

"From the inside, Stiles."

Stiles's head snaps up as Derek rises from the couch. He's a marvel of muscles and chiseled abs, clad only in boxer-briefs, and Stiles just wants to fall to his knees and suck Derek down. His eyes shift to Braeden as she sits up, hair falling in a wild cascade over her shoulders. She doesn't look at all startled or concerned, but rather amused.

"Close the door."

"Sorry." He slides the door shut and stares at it, his hand still on the handle.

"Come here, Stiles." This part is more familiar, though Stiles has never experienced it with an audience. Derek's voice sends chills down his spine as he crosses the room to stop in front of Derek.

Derek's hand lands on Stiles's shoulder and gently pushes. Stiles drops like he's supposed to, landing on his knees at Derek's feet. There's an appreciative murmur from Braeden but all Stiles can focus on is the way Derek's hand cups his face.

"Good boy."

The praise warms him so that he barely feels the cold, hard floor beneath him. He's face-to-face with Derek's crotch, so he misses nothing as Derek shoves down his briefs and pulls out his thickening cock.

"Open your mouth." He does, exactly like he's been trained, and lets Derek's warm member fill his mouth. It tastes salty and bitter but he wraps his lips around it, loving how full it makes him feel, how wanted. He sucks but doesn't touch, despite the urge to steady himself on Derek's hips. There's no touching unless he's been told to.

Quiet footsteps come closer. Fingers curl tight in his hair, tilting his head back until Derek nearly falls out of his mouth. He looks up at Braeden with wide eyes.

"I can see why you keep him," Braeden says. She tilts his head back towards Derek's cock, starts jerking his head forward and back over Derek's cock. Stiles breathes through his nose and lets her use him. It feels good. "So malleable."

Derek's fingers brush down Stiles's cheek. Stiles closes his eyes in reflex. "I know," Derek says. "He's perfect."

Stiles glows at the praise. It isn't the first time Derek's said that about him, but it's the first time he's said it in front of another. Suddenly it has more meaning, more weight to it.

"Let me show you." Derek steps away, pulling out of Stiles's mouth. A wet trail of saliva clings between them for a moment before dropping away.

Derek steps out of his underwear and walks over to the bedside table. He pulls out a familiar bottle of lube and sits down on the edge of the bed. Braeden's fingers disengage as Derek points to the space in front of him.

Stiles stands on shaky legs and walks to where Derek pointed.

"Undress."

He does, blushing as he feels Braeden's gaze on his back. He folds his clothes neatly beside the bed, going piece by piece until he's as naked as Derek. Derek motions with his hand, bringing Stiles willingly forward until his knees touch the bed on either side of Derek's legs. Derek's hands grip the back of Stiles's knees, bringing him slowly down until he's straddling Derek's lap. Derek pulls Stiles's arms around Derek's neck to help steady them. Then he's slicking up two fingers and pushing them inside, making Stiles gasp.

"You've done this with him before?" Braeden asks.

"He loves it. Don't you, Stiles?"

Stiles nods frantically. He doesn't trust himself to speak, not when Derek's fingers are moving inside of him, making him want to writhe and groan. He doesn't writhe. He stays still, like Derek wants him to, even though his hips ache to move, to press down on those invading fingers. Sounds are allowed and he makes muffled little moans every time Derek spreads his fingers inside of him, scissoring them wide to open Stiles up.

"Tell Braeden what you want me to do to you, Stiles."

He whimpers, bites his lip, gasps out "Fuck me, please," before another moan cuts him off.

"Since you asked so nicely..." The fingers pull out, leaving Stiles feeling bereft. Not for long. Derek pulls him forward by the hips, shifting under him until his cock lines up and he's sliding into Stiles's slick hole.

Stiles can't help the tiny cry that escapes him. It feels so good. His fingers clench against Derek's back, aching to grasp at skin but not daring to move from where he was placed. Derek slides all the way in in one thrust, not stopping until Stiles is fully seated on his cock. Stiles whimpers with pleasure. It just gets better when Derek's fingers dig in to Stiles's skin and he's being lifted up until only the tip remains. Derek lets go and gravity pushes Stiles back down, wringing a truly wrecked sob from him. Derek lifts him again and again, building up a slow rhythm of pleasure that makes Stiles shiver and shake in Derek's hold.

"Look at him," Braeden says, close to Stiles's back. "He's such a good boy for you."

"He can be for you too." Derek kisses Stiles's cheek, licks off a tear that threatens to spill. "You'll be a good boy for Braeden, won't you?"

He nods without opening his eyes. He can't look at Derek right now or he'll come. He doesn't have permission to come yet.

He feels more than hears Braeden move away. A case is opened. Fabric falls away. Long fingernails drag down his back and between his cheeks to press against the join between Stiles's and Derek's body. Stiles sucks in a gasp as her finger pushes against his entrance.

"Are you a good boy, Stiles?" Braeden asks.

Stiles nods emphatically. "Yes."

"Are you going to let me in?"

"Huh?" Stiles has a moment of confusion before her finger slips in, pressing alongside Derek's dick and opening him up wider. His eyes fly open and he moans, long and loud.

Her other hand pets his hair, smoothing over his head is soft strokes. "Good boy. Let me in."

Derek has stilled, his hands sliding down to hold Stiles's cheeks apart, holding him open for Braeden. A second finger presses against him and he shivers, has to hold on to Derek to keep still as she spreads him open. Each new invasion is heaven and hell, making him feel so full once he's used to it but burning on the way in. He whimpers as she adds a third finger, then a fourth, barely pausing to give him time to adjust.

"Such a good boy," Derek whispers in his ear and it's the only thing that keeps him holding on as he feels something hard and thick press against his ass. "You can take it. I know you can."

He nods against Derek's shoulder. He's wrapped tight around Derek's neck, breaking the position he was originally put in but he can't help it and Derek doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he seems pleased as Stiles shivers in his arms, trembling as Braeden's fingers pull out to be replaced by a thicker monstrosity.

"Look at him take it," Braeden says, a hint of awe in her voice. Her hands soothe down his trembling back.

"I told you he'd be a good boy."

She stills, her body pressed tight against his back, the object – a dildo? – wedged firmly inside of him. He can feel the soft press of her breasts against his shoulders.

Then she moves and he can feel nothing except for what's inside of him, two cocks, one real, one not. She slides out, almost all the way and then pushes back in at the same time as Derek pulls out. It's too much for him. His head goes back and he screams, feels Derek's arms tighten around him. He grabs at his dick, holding it tight with one hand to keep from coming. Tears well in his eyes and he collapses against Derek's shoulder, twitching and sobbing as they move inside of him.

He can't take it. He can't, but he will because Derek wants him to, Derek expects him too. He has to be Derek's good boy. He has to.

Derek's hand closes around Stiles's wrist. He pulls Stiles's hand away from his cock. "It's okay. You can come."

It's like Derek's permission pulls a plug inside of him. He comes hard, body spasming, voice screaming. He tightens around the cocks inside of him, making Derek moan and buck, and then Derek is coming too, spilling inside of him and out of him, come leaking where he's stretched open wide.

Stiles breathes and trembles against Derek's skin. He has no brain left to do anything else.

Slowly, Braeden disengages, then Derek. Two pairs of hands wipe him down and situate him under the covers. Braeden is talking, saying something to Derek but Stiles is too gone to listen. He falls asleep with Braeden and Derek sitting on either side of him. He feels safe. He feels protected. He feels at home.