a Whole Lotta Smut

a fairly indecent proposal (Sterek)

Derek convinces himself that he keeps going to further the cause. Never mind that he doesn’t know what the fuck the cause even is, but that’s the phrase all the pamphlets and late night commercials use to get them all in here in the first place, so he figures it’s a decent enough excuse. Not that it is—an excuse he means. Does it really matter why they need werewolf semen and what for? No, no it doesn’t. He’s just helping people. That’s what all of this is.

Sure, the first time he’d gone, he and Isaac and Jackson had come as a sort-of joke. They were broke and horny and the corporation promised a good time and better pay. The latter was universally true, especially for Derek, who got a 45% market bonus for being an alpha—but it seemed the former was up to debate as Isaac calmly never talked about the situation again and Jackson took an extra half hour longer than both of them to come out of the small, sterile room in the back of the clinic—looking embarrassed and walking like there was some definite chafe.

Derek? Well, he’d come so hard spots had formed behind his eyes and the equipment technician let out an audible gasp as he had to run and get extra containment vials to pop into the machine before it overflowed. He’s not ashamed to admit that once he had full brain function and at least half of his normal body strength, he rolled to his side as the suction was released, wiped off his wet cock, and smirked at the pretty boy as he licked the extra from his palm.

He’d been fuck-happy and arrogant and so loose and pleased, he hadn’t even needed to think about flirting with the honey-eyed boy behind the machines—trying to clinically mark off Derek’s vials and wind down the machines even as the alpha could scent his arousal. Not wanting to make a thing of it, but not being able to really let it go, Derek’s been coming into the clinic to be thoroughly milked every two weeks since.

Nobody knows about it but him and Stilinski (the boy only blushes and fish mouths every time Derek asks for his first name, but he doesn’t think it’s any coincidence that he just happens to be the technician on call every time he comes to make a donation). Honestly? They’re his favorite times of the month and he makes sure to stop shaving and showering two days before because he knows Stilinski likes it—can see the way the boy’s eyes dilate as Derek strips down, lays back, and spreads his legs to wait for the technician to clean him—only a wetnap between Stilinski’s hand and his musky balls.

Today he’s freeballing in a pair of basketball shorts and wearing the same tanktop he took to the gym yesterday to make up for the fact that he’s got an ingrown hair up on his cheek and he didn’t have the time to clip his toenails if he wanted to make his favorite boy’s shift. He’s feeling a little more grunge than gorge, but when he’s greeted at the intake desk with a familiar smile from the clerk behind the counter and ushered immediately into his preferred room without having to refile paperwork, things feel like they’re going his way.

The room is only just large enough to hold all the equipment and the large, leather table that sits in the middle of it all. The walls are the usual, medical-sterile white and there’s stainless steel on the countertops, but there’s no first aid kits or gauze or syringes. A varied collection of video porn is alphabetized within category on the far wall, surrounding an old TV that was built into its entertainment center. There’s human, werewolf, gay, straight, and a whole lot of orgy flicks, but Derek doesn’t bother with more than a cursory glance.

All the stimulation he needs is watching Stilinski as his eyes get big and his breath gets short and his mouth gets wet while Derek’s hips try and fuck the air, but the leather straps keep him from moving as he gets sucked dry. Smiling and palming himself through his shorts at one particular memory, he fingers the equipment—at the least the end that he understands. All the buttons and knobs and blinking lights mean little to him, but as his eyes follow the tubes from the collection vials on down, his body starts to tingle electric at the sight of the large suction domes.