Chapter 6: Midnight Mouth Service
The stale air inside the LaCrosse team bus hung thick with the scent of sweat, leather upholstery, and the lingering tang of victory beer. Outside, the highway stretched endlessly, swallowed by the deep velvet of a moonless night. The rhythmic thrum of the diesel engine vibrated through the floorboards, a constant, hypnotic drone punctuated by the occasional clatter over road seams. Most of the team sprawled across the worn seats, slumped in exhausted sleep after the grueling away game and the long drive back to Beacon Hills. Hoodies pulled low, headphones on, mouths slack – oblivious.
In the very back row, crammed into the corner seat pressed against the cold window, Derek Hale shifted uncomfortably. The deep ache radiating from his ass was a brutal reminder of the fraternity bedroom hours earlier. Nate’s cum, Scott’s, Peter’s… it felt like it was still leaking out of him, a sticky, shameful secret soaking into his boxers beneath his jeans. His face, scrubbed raw in a gas station bathroom, still felt phantom streaks of Nate’s claim. He tried to focus on the passing headlights painting fleeting stripes on the dark landscape, but his senses were overwhelmed. Nate Jacobs, massive frame taking up most of the bench seat beside him, radiated Alpha heat like a furnace. Scott McCall sat directly across the narrow aisle, his dopey chin resting on his fist as he stared out his own window, seemingly awake. Peter Hale was a shadowy presence a few rows ahead, his head tilted back, eyes closed, but Derek knew he wasn’t asleep. The air crackled with unspent tension.
Nate stretched, his muscular arm brushing deliberately against Derek’s shoulder. He leaned close, his breath hot against Derek’s ear, a low growl barely audible over the engine’s drone. "Still sore, Omega?" His hand landed heavily on Derek’s thigh, squeezing possessively. "Bet that used little hole is throbbing."
Derek flinched, a fresh wave of slick dampening his boxers. He couldn’t help it. His body betrayed him instantly. "Nate…" he whispered, a plea and a warning. "People are sleeping."
"Fuck ‘em," Nate murmured, his fingers digging in harder, creeping higher. "Captain’s prerogative." His other hand drifted casually to his own lap, palming the thick bulge straining against his track pants. "Long drive. Need to unwind." His gaze, predatory and demanding, locked onto Derek’s. "Been thinking about that mouth of yours since Peter painted your face."
Across the aisle, Scott shifted, his gaze sliding from the window to Nate’s hand on Derek’s thigh, then down to the prominent tent in Nate’s pants. A slow, hungry smile spread across his face. "Yeah," Scott breathed, his voice thick. "Fuck, yeah. That mouth." He adjusted himself conspicuously, the outline of his own substantial cock clear beneath his sweats.
Nate’s smile was a slash of white in the dim bus light. He unzipped his track pants slowly, the sound obscenely loud in the confined space. His thick, uncut cock sprang free, already fully hard and glistening at the tip. The musky scent of Alpha arousal flooded Derek’s nostrils, potent and irresistible. Nate gripped the base, angling it towards Derek’s face. "Get to work, pledge. Show McCall what you showed me and Peter."
Resistance was futile. Derek’s Omega instincts screamed submission. The memory of Peter’s cock battering his throat, Nate’s claiming thrusts, Scott’s release flooding him – it all coalesced into a desperate, humiliating arousal. He leaned forward, his jet-black hair falling into his eyes. His tongue darted out, tentatively licking the salty bead of pre-come from Nate’s swollen slit. Nate hissed, fingers tightening in Derek’s hair. "That’s it. Taste it."
Derek opened his mouth, taking the broad, hot head onto his tongue. He swirled, savoring the musky flavor, the heavy weight. Nate groaned low, a rumble deep in his chest. "Fuck, yeah. Just like that." He pushed forward gently, feeding Derek more of his thick shaft. Derek relaxed his jaw, letting Nate slide deeper, his lips stretching wide. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking firmly, his tongue massaging the sensitive underside. Nate’s hips jerked involuntarily. "Christ, Hale… suck that fucking cock."
Across the aisle, Scott was breathing heavily now, one hand shoved down the front of his own sweats, frantically stroking himself as he watched Derek’s head bob in Nate’s lap. The wet sounds of Derek sucking, Nate’s low grunts, Scott’s ragged breathing – it created a filthy symphony barely masked by the bus’s drone. Derek focused on Nate’s cock, taking him deeper with each pass, until his nose pressed into the coarse hair at the base. Nate held him there, grinding gently against his face. "Deep throat that Alpha cock, bitch. Show me you know your place."
Derek gagged softly, tears pricking his eyes, but didn’t pull back. He breathed through his nose, letting Nate use his throat, the thick shaft pulsing against his palate. Nate’s grip in his hair was iron, controlling the pace. "Feel that? Feel how hard you make me? Gonna flood that pretty throat."
Scott couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up abruptly, swaying slightly with the bus’s motion, and stepped across the narrow aisle. He loomed over Derek, his own cock freed from his sweats, thick, uncut, and dripping. He tapped Derek’s cheek with the slick head. "My turn, Hale," Scott rasped, his voice tight with need. "Been thinking about this since Jacobs wrecked your ass. Gimme that mouth."
Nate reluctantly pulled his slick cock from Derek’s lips with a wet pop. Derek gasped for air, saliva and pre-come stringing from his chin. Before he could recover, Scott shoved his cock past Derek’s lips. It was different – thicker at the head beneath the foreskin, a different musky flavor. Derek gagged harder this time, unprepared. Scott moaned, thrusting shallowly. "Fuck yeah! Tight fucking throat!" He gripped Derek’s head, mimicking Nate, starting a rough rhythm, fucking his face while Nate watched, stroking his own wet shaft.
"Switch," Nate commanded after a minute, his voice rough. Derek barely had time to register Scott pulling out before Nate was shoving back in, reclaiming his territory, plunging deep. They traded him back and forth like a toy, Nate’s thick dominance, Scott’s eager rutting, their cocks slick with Derek’s saliva, filling his mouth, battering his throat. Derek’s jaw ached. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks. His own cock strained painfully against his jeans, untouched, responding violently to the degradation, the overwhelming Alpha scents, the sheer animal use of his body. Slick soaked through his boxers and jeans, a humiliating puddle forming beneath him on the seat.
Peter appeared silently, leaning against the seat back in front of them, a dark silhouette. He’d been watching. His eyes gleamed in the passing headlights. "Looks like the Omega’s earning his ride," he drawled, his voice a cold counterpoint to Nate and Scott’s heated grunts. He unzipped his own pants, freeing his cock. It was thick, veined, already hard. He stroked it slowly, deliberately, his gaze fixed on Derek’s tear-streaked face stretched around Scott’s shaft. "Don’t forget who else needs servicing, pledge."
Nate pulled out again, his cock glistening. "Peter’s right. Share the wealth, Omega." He gestured towards Peter’s cock. "Show Hale some appreciation."
Scott reluctantly withdrew, his cock slick and bobbing. Derek gasped, coughing, trying to draw breath. Peter stepped closer, pressing the head of his cock against Derek’s swollen, spit-slicked lips. "Open," he commanded, no warmth, only expectation. Derek obeyed, his mouth falling open, utterly spent but wired with submission. Peter pushed in, his cockhead stretching Derek’s lips wide. It felt thicker than Nate’s, the stretch more intense. Peter gripped Derek’s hair, not with Nate’s possessive heat or Scott’s eager roughness, but with cold, clinical control. He began fucking Derek’s mouth with deep, measured thrusts, each one hitting the back of his throat with punishing accuracy.
"Look at him," Peter murmured, his thrusts relentless. "Taking it all. Jacobs’s cock, McCall’s cock, now mine. Just a hole for Alphas to use." He glanced at Nate and Scott, both stroking themselves furiously as they watched Peter claim Derek’s mouth. "Gagging on it. Pathetic." He shoved deeper, holding Derek impaled, making him choke. Derek’s body convulsed, his neglected cock twitching violently in his soaked jeans. The triple assault, the public humiliation mere feet from sleeping teammates, the raw dominance pouring off the three Alphas – it pushed him over the edge. His hips bucked as a silent, untouched orgasm ripped through him, cock pulsing helplessly into his boxers, adding fresh wetness to the mess beneath him. His throat clenched wildly around Peter’s invading shaft.
"Fuck!" Peter hissed, feeling the spasms. "Choking on my dick while you come untouched? Filthy little cockslut." His rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming jerky, brutal. "Swallow it!" he snarled, burying himself to the hilt. Derek felt the thick cock swell, pulse, then the hot, bitter flood of Peter’s release gushing down his throat. He swallowed convulsively, tears streaming, as Peter emptied himself, holding Derek’s head locked in place.
Peter pulled out with a slick sound, wiping his cockhead roughly across Derek’s cheekbone before tucking it away. Nate immediately shoved back in, reclaiming Derek’s mouth, fucking it hard and fast. "My turn to finish," Nate growled. "Suck it clean, Omega. Get me off." Derek, dazed, overwhelmed, obeyed on pure instinct, hollowing his cheeks, swirling his tongue. Nate’s hips pistoned, his groans deepening. "Yeah! Milk it! Fuck, gonna blow!" He slammed deep, holding Derek’s head down, and roared softly as thick ropes of cum pumped directly down Derek’s throat. Derek swallowed frantically, the salty bitterness mixing with Peter’s lingering taste.
Nate pulled out, spent, his cock glistening. Scott was instantly there, his cock thrusting against Derek’s lips. "Me next, Hale! C’mon!" Derek opened his mouth weakly. Scott shoved in, fucking his face with desperate, shallow strokes. "Gimme that mouth! Fuck yeah! Gonna come!" He lasted only seconds before his hips jerked, and he spilled his load onto Derek’s tongue in hot spurts. Derek swallowed automatically, the taste less bitter than Peter’s, thicker than Nate’s.
Silence descended, broken only by the bus’s drone and the ragged breathing of the three Alphas. Derek slumped back against the cold window, trembling violently. His mouth felt raw, used. Spit and come leaked from the corners of his lips onto his chin. His jeans were soaked with slick and his own release. Nate zipped up, a satisfied smirk on his face. Scott did the same, wiping his hand on his sweats. Peter had already vanished back to his seat.
Nate leaned close again, his breath hot on Derek’s ear. "Good pledge," he murmured, the praise laced with ownership. He draped a heavy, possessive arm across Derek’s shoulders, pinning him against the window.
Nate’s heavy arm felt like a shackle, his possessive grip trapping Derek against the vibrating window. The stale air tasted like salt, Alpha musk, and Derek’s own humiliation. "Good pledge," Nate murmured again, the words vibrating against Derek’s skull, but the rumble held a familiar, demanding edge that sent a fresh pulse of slick between Derek’s legs. Nate shifted, his other hand clamping onto Derek’s bicep. "You need to get off too, Omega. Can’t have you leaking all over my bus seat without finishing the job." He hauled Derek upright with shocking force, ignoring his stumble on the moving floor.
"Wh—?" Derek choked, his raw throat protesting, but Nate was already maneuvering him. He spun Derek roughly to face the high seatback directly in front of them – battered blue vinyl smelling faintly of decades-old sweat. Nate shoved Derek’s jeans and soaked boxers down to his knees, the cold air hitting his slick-smeared ass. Nate’s own sweats were shoved down just enough, his thick cock already jutting out, glistening and rock-hard again. "On it," Nate commanded, his voice a gravelly whisper full of intent. "Ride me, Derek. Facing forward. Now."
Resistance was obliterated by the raw command in Nate’s Alpha tone and the brutal need twisting in Derek’s gut. He braced his hands on the cold vinyl seatback, its rough texture biting into his palms. Reaching back, he guided Nate’s thick, blunt head to his loose, dripping entrance. He sank down slowly, gasping at the immediate, burning stretch. Nate’s cock breached him, thick and unforgiving, forcing his slick channel wide again. "Fuck, Nate…" Derek whimpered, the stretch a razor’s edge between agony and ecstasy as he impaled himself fully.
"All the way down, bitch," Nate growled, slapping Derek’s ass hard, the sharp crack echoing softly under the engine drone. Derek pushed down, swallowing Nate to the root, a choked cry escaping him as Nate’s cockhead slammed into his prostate. He felt obscenely full, Nate’s heat branding him from the inside. "Move," Nate ordered, hands gripping Derek’s hips hard enough to bruise. "Ride me like you mean it."
Derek obeyed, rocking his hips tentatively. The angle was deep, Nate’s cock grinding relentlessly against his sweet spot with every rise and fall. Derek moaned, the sound muffled against the vinyl. He pushed himself up, his thighs screaming, then sank back down, Nate’s thickness stretching him perfectly. "Yeah," Nate hissed, thrusting up to meet Derek’s descent, driving deeper. "That’s it. Fuck yourself on my cock. Goddamn, you take it so good." Each downward plunge forced a grunt from Derek, pleasure coiling white-hot and urgent in his core. His own neglected cock throbbed against the scratchy seatback.
He rode faster, losing rhythm, driven by the brutal friction inside him. The bus hit a bump, jolting them, forcing Nate even deeper. Derek cried out, the sensation overwhelming. He felt the orgasm building, unstoppable, a pressure cooker about to blow. His body clenched around Nate’s shaft, milking it. "Fuck! I’m… Nate, I’m gonna—"
"Come then!" Nate snarled, pistoning his hips upward with brutal force, drilling Derek’s prostate. "Cream that fucking seat, Omega! Paint it!"
The command was the detonator. Derek arched, a silent scream tearing through him as his cock exploded untouched. Ropes of thick, white cum shot forward, splattering across the blue vinyl seatback in messy, overlapping streaks. His vision whited out, body convulsing as Nate kept pounding up into him, grinding against his spasming walls. "Take it!" Nate roared softly, his rhythm shattering. He slammed up one final time, burying himself to the hilt, and unleashed. Hot jets of cum flooded Derek’s churning depths, pulsing deep as Derek’s orgasm wracked him, adding fresh streaks to the seat. Nate held him impaled, grinding, pumping every drop into his clenching hole.
Nate pulled out with a wet, sucking sound, a fresh gush of his release spilling down Derek’s trembling thighs. Derek slumped forward, forehead pressed against his own cooling mess on the vinyl, gasping. Before he could even register the emptiness, Scott was there, shoving Nate roughly aside. "My turn!" Scott panted, his cock already slick with pre-come, thick and uncut. He hauled Derek back by the hips. "C’mon, Derek, up!"
His hands were everywhere, positioning Derek roughly over his lap as he sat where Nate had been. Scott guided his cockhead to Derek’s gaping, leaking hole. "Down," Scott ordered, his voice tight with need. "Take it all, yeah?" He didn’t wait, pulling Derek down hard. Derek cried out as Scott’s thicker head stretched his abused rim anew, the burn sharp despite the slick. He sank, sheathing Scott fully, the different angle a deep, filling pressure. "Fuck yeah," Scott groaned, hands gripping Derek’s ass, spreading his cheeks. "So warm. So fucking wet from Jacobs."
He immediately set a brutal pace, driving up into Derek from below, his thick cock pistoning deep. "Ride me, fuck!" Scott grunted. "Harder! Use that ass!" Derek braced his sticky hands back on Scott’s muscular thighs, trying to match the punishing rhythm. Scott’s strokes were powerful, less controlled than Nate’s, each upward slam jolting Derek’s entire body. "Feel good? Huh? Feel my big cock stretching your used hole?" Scott’s hips snapped up relentlessly, his balls slapping Derek’s ass. The deep, relentless assault on his prostate reignited the embers too soon. Derek sobbed, his cock twitching back to life against his stomach. "Sc-Scott… too much… gonna—"
"Come!" Scott commanded, slamming up hard, grinding his pubic bone against Derek’s ass. "Cream this seat again, slut! Do it!" The pressure exploded. Derek’s body seized, untouched cock spurting another load across the already painted vinyl, adding to the obscene mural. His hole clamped down, milking Scott fiercely. "FUCK!" Scott bellowed, thrusts turning wild and shallow. He buried himself, pulsing violently as he emptied his load deep inside Derek’s spasming channel, flooding him anew. "Take it! All of it!" He held Derek down, grinding as he came.
Scott shoved Derek off him, his spent cock slipping free with another messy gush. Derek crumpled sideways onto the seat, trembling violently, hole gaping and dripping. Peter stood over him, already unbuckled, his expression coldly assessing. "Room for one more," he stated, not asked. He hauled Derek’s limp form up, positioning him facing the seatback again with ruthless efficiency. Peter spat onto his own thick cock, slicking it, then pressed the broad head against Derek’s ravaged entrance. "Open up, pledge. Finish your duties."
He pushed in without preamble. The stretch was excruciating, Derek’s hole protesting violently after two brutal fillings. Peter thrust deep in one brutal motion, burying his substantial length to the hilt. Derek screamed into the vinyl, tears streaming anew. Peter hooked his arms under Derek’s, locking him in place against the seatback, his own chest pressed hard against Derek’s back. "Move," Peter commanded, his voice icy steel in Derek’s ear. "Ride it. Or I’ll make you."
Peter’s hands clamped on Derek’s hips, forcing him to move. Each agonizing rise and fall dragged against raw nerves, but the angle was mercilessly precise, Peter’s cockhead grinding his prostate into dust. Derek sobbed, his body betraying him again as pleasure surged through the pain. "P-Peter…"
"Shut up and fuck yourself," Peter hissed, pistoning his hips upward to meet Derek’s feeble movements. "This hole’s been stretched by Jacobs and McCall, but it still grips. Clench for me, Omega. Show me you remember who marked your face." He drove up harder, deeper. Derek’s body convulsed, another brutal, untouched orgasm tearing through him. His cock spurted weakly, the last drops smearing the vinyl as his ass clenched like a vise around Peter’s shaft.
"Good boy," Peter rasped, his own rhythm fracturing. He slammed up, burying himself impossibly deep, and released with a guttural groan. Thick ropes of cum fired into Derek’s depths, hot pulses joining the mess inside him. Peter held him impaled, grinding, ensuring every drop was deposited. He pulled out slowly, a river of mixed seed following. Peter wiped himself casually on Derek’s discarded jeans. "Clean yourself up," he ordered, his voice flat. "Before we get back." He zipped up and vanished down the aisle towards the front.
Derek collapsed sideways onto the sticky seat, trembling uncontrollably. His ass throbbed, gaping, sticky warmth leaking down his thighs. The vinyl seatback before him was a Jackson Pollock of his own release. Nate’s heavy arm landed across him again, pulling him back against the Alpha’s solid heat. Derek closed his eyes. The engine droned. Headlights washed over him. The ache was deep, possessive. The silence, heavy. Waiting for the next stop.