Archive of Our Own

“Oh, shit,” Stiles whined as he stared at the image Alex had e-mailed to him. The coloring was wrong, the eyes were wrong, but the smile. The body. The hair. “Shit, shit, shit.”

With a quick, furtive glance around the little dorm room he shared with Scott, Stiles gave in to temptation and click on the link. Damn Alex for being an enabler and knowing the root of all Stiles’ innermost fantasies. 

Zach was the porn model’s name and Stiles whimpered as his page loaded. Watch Jake Bass interview Zach? Watch Zach and Asher break each other in? Watch Zach, Asher, and Levi have a three-way?

Stiles slammed his laptop shut and got up to get a drink. There were rules, and then there were rules. No jerking off in their dorm room was a big one; Scott couldn’t handle the overwhelming smell of hormones and body fluids - it made him grumpy. Among other things.

In the end, being deprived of a safe space to masturbate had turned out to be just the kick Stiles needed to finally dive head first into sex and sexuality. Not being able to rub one out anywhere but the shower had sucked, royally, and Stiles had quickly turned to getting it on with actual people. Freshman year was a whirl of awkward dates, clumsy kisses, and sloppy make-out sessions. Stiles didn’t actually sleep with very many people the first couple of semesters - hook-ups were not as easy to come by as popular culture had led him to believe - but Stiles sure did learn a lot about what he liked. 

He started out thinking he was about a two on the Kinsey Scale, but the more boys he made out with, the more he realized that assumption was due to a lack of opportunity and choice in his small hometown. He upgraded himself to a four the first time he had full-on naked sex with a dude (blow jobs were awesome but jesus fuck did Stiles love frottage). Fucking a guy for the first time was great, but for all the preparation and effort, it wasn’t any better than fucking a girl.

But then. Oh, then. The first time Stiles got fucked, it was a revelation. If frottage with a guy was better than penetrative sex with a girl, getting fucked overshadowed it completely. Stiles all but quit dating women and upgraded himself to a solid 5.

Which is when he really gave himself over to how much he loved his best friend. 

During high school, he’d ‘jokingly’ teased Scott about wanting to make out with him, about wanting to try new experiences out with him. He loved his best friend literally more than life itself, and once Scott starting dating women, Stiles had taken his attraction and want and shoved it in a little box. Friendship, saving each other from the trauma of their supernatural coming of age, protecting each other from the horrors of their senior year… well, putting the lid on his feelings was easy to do.

But now?

Now he’d come to terms with his infatuation enough that his buddies were sending him porn videos featuring people who looked like Scott.

Wine. Wine was what he needed. 

~~~

Scott sighed as he stood outside the door. He could smell wine and week-old pajamas and the subtle but still unmistakable pheromones of sexual frustration that meant Stiles was home, had been for hours, and was doing his best not to break Scott’s “no jizzing in the room” rule. Scott twisted the bottle of wine he’d brought home in his hands, letting himself settle in the comforting familiarity of Stiles before he walked in the door. 

Stiles looked up, face red with alcohol and something else Scott couldn’t quite place - embarrassment, maybe? - and slammed the lid to his MacBook shut. He leaned back in his desk chair and peered at Scott’s dejected face. “Hey, buddy.”

With a grunt, Scott kicked off his shoes, waggled his eyebrows at Stiles, and crossed the room to pull a wineglass down off the shelf over their desks. And by wine glass, of course, he mean the Game of Thrones ceramic beer steins Stiles had bought on ThinkGeek the day they moved into the dorm. 

“Wait, I thought you weren’t coming tonight for after-dinner sexyfuntimes… Oh. Oh. Seriously?” Stiles asked, realization dawning on his face as he watched Scott picked up the half-empty bottle of Coppla claret Stiles had opened earlier. “After only three dates?”

“Yeah. And it was okay. But I think that’s it for us. He’s just so…” Scott started, trying to reach for the word. Bland? Uninteresting? Without spark? 

A rattling at the desk drew Scott’s attention and he grinned as Stiles drew a bag of powdered wolfsbane free from the desk. He drew out a pinch, leaned over the desk to drop it in Scott’s glass, and smirked. “Boring?”

Well, that was true, Scott admitted to himself as he stirred his drink. Compared to the rich blood-soaked tapestries of his and his friends’ lives, most average teenage college students were pretty dull in comparison. But that wasn’t the word he was searching for.

“Passive,” Scott settled on. 

Stiles tilted his head curiously. “Really?”

“Really,” Scott sighed. He grimaced at the foamy top of his glass, where the wolfsbane was reacting with the alcohol, and tipped it back. He drank it down in four big gulps, willing the effects to take quickly, and flopped in his chair. They’d pushed their desks next to each other in the dorm, not just because it was crammed in there, but also because Stiles had decided it was perfect for playing Battleship.

“Passive,” Stiles repeated. His eyes narrowed, and he took another pinch of wolfsbane powder and dropped it in the empty cup before Scott refilled it. “But, wait.”

“What?” Scott asked as he took another deep drink. He set the glass down and slowly started unbuttoning his shirt. He’d worn his soft “deep red shirt of sex” that Stiles had told him to wear, and skinny black jeans to match. It had worked - Scott had gotten laid - but it was one of the least fulfilling encounters of his life. Thus the extra bottle of wine he’d picked up on his way home.

“I know you don’t, you know, with many guys,” Stiles said slowly, waving his free hand in the general direction of Scott’s belt buckle, “but I kinda always assumed, from your play-by-plays, that you generally like…” A pink blush scraped along the ridge of Stiles’ cheekbones, and Scott shook his head, confused.

“What?”

“You like to be on top,” Stiles finished.

“Oh.” Scott shrugged off his shirt and threw it in the direction of his desk chair. Stiles watched as Scott set his glass down on his nightstand and stripped off his socks. “Well, yeah. I mean, I like to be, uh… the penetrating partner, I guess. But that doesn’t mean I always want to be on top. I don’t always want to ‘be the top’. Sometimes I wanna mix it up. And besides, what’s wrong with that? I mean, look at you. You almost always wanna get fucked.”

“Hey,” Stiles huffed indignantly, dodging the rolled-up trouser sock that Scott flung in his direction, “we’re not talking about me here.”

“Exactly,” Scott pointed out. “Because, like you’ve told me repeatedly, you love to get fucked, but that doesn’t mean you just lay there and take it.”

Stiles blushed even harder and this time it crawled up his collar bones to his neck. Scott licked his lips and turned his gaze to his wine, knowing that there was innuendo in there somewhere but not really caring. 

“Well, not all the time,” Stiles chuckled. 

“True,” Scott agreed, smirking as he unbuttoned his jeans. “How did you put it when you starting dating the roid rager from Alpha Delt?”

“Sometimes you just need a face-down, ass up, ba ba bang,” Stiles said, emphasizing the last words with a few solid drumbeats on the desk top. 

“You want to get, I want to give…” Scott agreed, relaxing in his chair, feeling the alcohol settle into his blood thanks to the wolfsbane. “Everyone has a preference. But who wants someone to just - ”

“Be an unenthusiastic partner in the horizontal tango?” Stiles supplied helpfully.

Scott laughed and waved his hand. “Exactly.” He finished his second glass and stood up from his chair, already little wobbly on his feet. He refilled his glass, and Stiles shook his head as he added another batch of wolfsbane. 

“Last one,” Stiles warned. “Otherwise you’re gonna get sick. Not the fun kind of sick.”

“Okay,” Scott agreed easily. He flopped in his bed, getting comfortable against the headboard, and watched Stiles get up. “How are things with you and… uh…”

Stiles dropped the now-empty bottle of claret in their recycle bin and cracked open the new one Scott had just bought. Scott watched as Stiles twisted the corkscrew, absently admiring Stiles’ hands and arms. For all that Stiles often looked like the more human version of Jack Skellington, long, thin limbs flailing everywhere, from the elbows down he looked like every inch the sexually voracious man that he was. Scott let his mind drift, thinking about those veiny arms pinning Scott’s wrists down while Stiles rode him mercilessly…

Hey. He was a guy. He had fantasies about just about everyone, okay? It was the fact that he didn’t act on most of them that made him a gentleman.

Stiles refilled his own glass, then rolled his eyes and shoved gently at Scott’s shoulder. Scott took the hint and scooted over to make room.

“Jesse,” Stiles added helpfully. He was in the fuzzy Mickey Mouse pajamas they’d picked up on their last trip to Disneyland, and the fleece was soft on Scott’s bare skin as Stiles snuggled up next to him. Scott let his head drop on Stiles’ shoulder, and Stiles shook his head. “It didn’t work out.”

“Sorry,” Scott mumbled.

“It’s okay,” Stiles shrugged. “He’s kind of an asshole. Called my Jeep a piece of crap.”

“You and Roscoe both deserve better,” Scott said firmly, and Stiles grunted.

The room was quiet for a few minutes as they sipped their wine, both pleasantly buzzed and comfortable. Stiles shifted every few seconds under Scott’s weight, messing around on his phone, but Scott was too used to it to be annoyed. Scott craved physical contact like a drug - he really missed his mom and his pack while he was at college - and Stiles was always happy to give it.

“You know,” Stiles started after he’d started streaming his favorite Pandora station. Mazzy Star floated in through their surround sound, and Scott relaxed. “I’m really surprised we haven’t -”

Scott blinked at Stiles, rewinding the discussion in his head. Wherever Stiles was going with this, their conversation wasn’t giving Scott any clues. Not that that was unusual. Stiles’ brain worked so quickly, made so many leaps in such a short amount of time, that Scott rarely could keep up. 

“Haven’t what?” Scott asked, rolling his head to peer up at Stiles.

Stiles, who was blushing so hard Scott was momentarily concerned. He blinked, watching Stiles chew his lip nervously, until it finally sunk in. “You’re kidding.”

“Um, no,” Stiles shrugged. “I’m not. I actually think it’s really odd that we never did. I mean, we always tried everything else out on each other first. I guess I always wondered, when you were figuring out that maybe guys were sometimes okay, too, why you never…”

Came to me, Scott filled in silently. He frowned, and Stiles rushed on.

“No, I totally get it. I mean, our first kiss was, what, second grade? And first orgasm with another person, each other, I mean, was sixth grade?” 

Scott bit back a grumble of embarrassment, remembering them sitting in his room, jerking off across from each other, trying to figure out just what their dicks could do. 

“I totally get why you wanted to explore that with someone else.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Scott objected. Stiles slithered down the bed, eyes closed, and settled his glass on his chest. Scott rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “There wasn’t as much ‘thinking’ on my part as you assume. One minute, I was joking with David in the locker room after PE, and the next there were hands and mouths and -”

“I get it,” Stiles interrupted, grimacing. “But we’ve also both slept with a lot of our friends. You and Kira and Lydia, me and Malia and Danny and…”

“Oh my god,” Scott laughed. “We’ve both slept with Isaac and Derek.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles agreed. Then, with a spike of arousal, “Oh my god.”

“Stop it.”

“Why?”

“The rules.”

“The rules say no jerking off to, and no having, hot threesomes in this room,” Stiles pointed out fairly. “Can’t stop me from thinking about them.”

“Wait,” Scott said, heat curling in his stomach. “You and Derek and Isaac, or you and one of them and…” Me?

Stiles laughed as Scott cut himself off to take another drink of wine. “What? It’s hot. I think it’d be fun.” He drained the last of his wine and leaned over Scott to set his glass on the nightstand. 

“Get off,” Scott laughed and gave Stiles a shove. Stiles landed with a soft oof of an exhale, looking up at Scott with something soft and hot and wanting. But as much as Scott wanted to stare at Stiles, break down that expression piece by delicious piece, his slight intoxication caused him to overcompensate in his lean. He pitched forward and only Stiles’ strong arms on his biceps kept him from falling over.

“Fun, huh?” Scott asked, breathing more heavily than the small bit of physical exertion actually called for. 

“Nice, even,” Stiles added. His honey brown eyes were wide and his heart beat rabbit fast under Scott’s hand.

“‘Nice’?” Scott repeated, unimpressed. “Really?”

Underneath him, Stiles quirked his eyebrow and titled his head, and that was it. The expression was a challenge and an invitation and a dare all at once and Scott wanted to sink into it. But he also wanted to do this right. 

It took only a moment’s self control to lean back to strip his shirt off and toss it aside. Stiles’ shirt was next, and Scott couldn’t help but smirk at the sparks of static as the fleece dragged over Stiles’ hair. Once that was gone, he pressed himself down, bare chest to bare chest, and rolled his hips against Stiles. 

Stiles’ reaction was instantaneous and gratifying. He pulled his legs up to bracket Scott’s hips and wrapped his arms under Scott’s and over his shoulders. Scott found himself being pulled in, pulled down, until they were forehead to forehead, mouth to mouth, only the barest space between them. For a long moment they just stared at each other as if each was daring the other to make the first move. 

The kiss wasn’t fast or rough or hard or frantic. It was the gradual meeting of lips, chaste brushes of soft skin to dry, chapped lips that sent waves of goosebumps up Scott’s arms. He opened his mouth to taste, tongue flickering out to drag along the thin curve of Stiles’ bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. Stiles’ eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head just enough for Scott to be able to move a few inches closer. He released Stiles’ bottom lip just to capture the top one, this time teasing with the barest hint of teeth. Stiles sighed happily into his mouth, his exhale tasting like wine and satisfaction. Scott’s cock jerked at the intimacy of it and he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.

At the first touch of tongue to tongue, Stiles shuddered and moaned, his fingers curling around Scott’s shoulders. His hips jerked and Scott shoved his down to meet them. Stiles brought a hand up to run it through Scott’s hair and the blood rushed to Scott’s cock so fast that he felt lightheaded. 

“Jesus,” Scott groaned, turning his head to follow the line of Stiles’ tug. The movement bared his neck completely, but before Scott’s instincts could demand he protect his jugular, Stiles was there. He buried his nose in Scott’s neck and pressed little kisses in a line from his pulse to behind his ear. 

“Better than nice,” Stiles exhaled, breathing his confession into the fine hairs at the nape of Scott’s neck, and the words rolled down his spine in a wave of need. Scott dropped his head to Stiles’ chest and just breathed, fighting back the shift that was always just under the surface, waiting for a crack in Scott’s armor, to be released. “I’ve wanted this, Scotty. So much.”

“Fuck,” Scott said shakily. He closed his eyes and focused on Stiles heartbeat just long enough to regain his control, then took Stiles’ mouth in a slow kiss. Stiles moaned into his mouth appreciatively, and this time when they broke apart, Scott grabbed Stiles’ arms and pushed them over his head. He nuzzled at the hair of Stiles’ arm pit, breathing the scent in deeply, revealing in the heady rush of sex and need before moving back up for another kiss.

This. This. This is what was missing from not just Scott’s last encounter, but so many of his hookups that he’d lost hope he’d ever really find it in a lover. Stiles may have been a spazz - a hyperactive adult with too much on his mind - but he was always present in the moment with Scott in a way that made his body sing with pleasure at the attention. 

“Scott!” Stiles shouted as Scott’s mouth closed around his nipple. The benefit of sharing a room with a life-long best friend was that there was no such thing as too much information. Stiles had once regaled him with a tale of how he’d come just from some expert nipple play, and Scott put some of that knowledge to use. He swiped his tongue in a slow, firm drag down Stiles’ chest before blowing on the damp skin. The nipple hardened and lengthened almost immediately, and this time Scott nipped and pulled at it with his teeth. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Stiles hissed. He let go of the headboard to run gentle, almost reverent hands down Scott’s back. He settled into a slow but steady roll of his hips, and the friction of unbuttoned jeans against simple white briefs was almost too much for Scott. His erection throbbed painfully in his jeans, and Stiles’ frantic, wide eyes told him that he Stiles was no better off. 

He rolled off the bed and stood, staring down at Stiles with what he was sure was a hungry look. Stiles looked so perfect for him - long and lanky and spread out and almost bare - that he almost wanted to sink back on top of him and stay that way for the night.

Then Stiles’ cock twitched in his underwear, and Scott reminded himself that he could have that again, later, when they were done.

He tugged Stiles up by the wrists until they were standing mere inches apart, then pressed lightly on his shoulders. Stiles’ eyes widened in understanding and sank to his knees in front of Scott.

“Is this okay?” Scott asked, running his knuckles along Stiles’ jaw. 

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered. He licked his lips and shifted his gaze from Scott’s face to his unbuttoned jeans. Scott dragged a thumb over Stiles’ mouth, then pushed it in for Stiles to suck. When Scott pulled his hand away again, Stiles nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“Unzip them,” Scott urged him. When Stiles moved to obey, long fingers working nimbly at Scott’s fly, Scott had to look away again in another effort to keep his control. He’d never thought he’d have Stiles like this - soft and pliant and needy - and it did things to him to have the burning, barely contained flame of his best friend kneeling at his feet.

“Jesus,” Stiles murmured as he pushed the zipper down. Scott wore black and red striped briefs that did nothing to hide his hard cock, and Stiles seemed to like what he saw. He leaned forward, balancing with his hands firm on Scott’s hips, to lick at the fabric. Scott caressed Stiles’ hair, his cheek, his mouth, trying to put his appreciation in every touch as Stiles explored. Stiles licked and sucked and opened his mouth wide to take the fabric-covered head in his mouth, and Scott could hear himself panting sharply and biting off noises of desperation. 

Then Stiles pulled Scott’s underwear down and Scott froze. He stared down at Stiles with hungry desperation and couldn’t hide a whimper when Stiles moved forward and teased him with a flicker of his tongue under the head. 

When Stiles looked up at Scott from where he was teasing Scott’s dick, dragging his wet mouth up and down the hot, hard skin, Scott felt his heart speed up in a way that had nothing to do with the wolfsbane-laced wine he’d drunk. Stiles was unbelievably hot like this. A small part of Scott wanted to freak out about what he was doing - what they were doing - because he was afraid of wrecking their friendship, but then Stiles made a sound of unrestrained pleasure and Scott knew he would never be able to bring himself to regret this.

“Oh fuck!” Scott shouted when Stiles took his cock into his mouth, sliding slowly but inexorably down to the base. It was an incredible feeling, watching himself disappear in Stiles’ mouth, and it wasn’t entirely physical. There was something about Stiles knowing Scott so intimately that had Scott moaning pleas and affection and worship as Stiles worked him. Scott enjoyed blow jobs as much as the next guy, but this? This was something he’d never experienced before. This was his best friend, who knew him better than anyone, who trusted him implicitly, who had offered to die with him. There was no fear here in this moment. Scott could let his wolf slip, could shout and cry, could ask Stiles to stop, and it would be fine.

Stiles moaned and suddenly pressed deep, letting Scott’s cock hit the back of this throat as he sucked. Scott realized with a jolt that his claws had come out and were scraping tiny nicks into Stiles’ scalp, and Stiles was getting off on it. Scott gentled his grip, and Stiles started to pull back in annoyance, but then Scott grabbed his jaw - gently, always gently - and held him still. Stiles looked up at Scott, mouth stretched and tongue still busy, something grateful glittering in his eyes.

“So perfect,” Scott hissed as he thrust slowly but firmly. “So good, Stiles.”

Stiles made a noise in the back of his throat that had Scott curling over him. “I need to,” he started to say, then pulled free of Stiles’ mouth. “I don’t want to come yet.”

Stiles surged up and threw himself on the bed, coltish limbs flailing as he pulled Scott onto the mattress with him. Scott threw himself onto the bed and over Stiles in an attempt to pin him down and avoid getting accidentally hit. 

“Dude,” Stiles objected, arms thrashing as he tried to reach for Scott.

“You know I’m stronger than you,” Scott pointed out, pinning Stiles' wrists to the bed just for emphasis. Stiles laughed and struggled, though the way he spread his legs to make room for Scott between them wasn’t exactly productive. The struggle itself, though, did things to Scott, and before he knew what had happened, he had Stiles flipped on his stomach and held down under him. It felt like his blood was burning in his veins as Stiles thrashed underneath him, crying out in pleasure as he ground against the blanket. Scott thrust hard against Stiles’ ass, rutting his dripping cock along his crack. He covered Stiles’ body with his own, skin in contact from where his hands wrapped around Stiles’ wrists, where his chest was pressed to Stiles’ back, to where his ankles were hooked around Stiles’. 

“I really, really, really, want to fuck you.” Scott murmured in Stiles’ ear. 

“Yeah,” Stiles ground out, his eyes squeezed shut as he kept up his rhythm - back against Scott’s cock, then down against the mattress. “Just don’t stop.”

“I have to, just for a second,” Scott managed to get out as he reached wildly for the nightstand. Stiles didn’t let him get far, though, because he yanked his arm and pulled him back down. 

“Stiles,” Scott protested. He didn’t fight it, though. He fell back over Stiles with an undignified grunt of want, pressed his knees tight against Stiles’ thighs, and dropped his head between his shoulders. His lips brushed the back of Stiles’ neck, breathing his scent in long, deep inhales that made his toes curl with lust. He shifted his hips enough to slot his cock perfectly against Stiles’ ass and slid forward. It felt amazing - enough to make both him and Stiles groan but not enough to make him come too quickly. Then Stiles lifted himself on his knees and shoved back, forcing Scott’s cock between his thighs.

“Fuck,” Scott cursed as the head brushed under Stiles’ balls and along his perineum. Scott knew damn well that frottage was one of Stiles’ favorite things - thank you, best friend TMI - but, as Stiles had so helpfully pointed out earlier, Scott wasn’t overly experienced with men. This was the first time he’s tried this and was terrified of hurting Stiles. 

“It’s all right,” Stiles murmured. He wrapped a hand around Scott’s wrist and started rubbing his thumb along his pulse point, a soothing counterpoint to their physical intensity. Scott shuddered and relaxed over Stiles, letting the tenderness of the moment calm him. 

“You feel incredible.”

This time when Scott reached for the nightstand, Stiles didn’t stop him. It took only a moment of digging through tangled earbud wires, assorted tablets, and various first aid supplies to find the lube. When he did, Scott focused all of his attention on the little bottle, worried that in his enthusiasm he might grip it too tight and send the contents exploding all over the bed.

“Scotty, please,” Stiles groaned when Scott finally dragged a lube-slicked thumb over Stiles’ hole. 

With a stuttering exhale, Scott leaned back and grabbed his cock at the base. Those words weren’t exactly anything new - how many times in their long friendship had Stiles begged him for something? But the way Stiles spoke them, the need and lust infused in them, made Scott’s blood pump faster in his veins and his cock jump in his hand. Everything about Stiles right now screamed desire, and not the false kind Scott had sometimes encountered in his recent experimentation. It was in his scent, in his voice, in the dip of his lower back and the way his body seemed to gravitate towards Scott no matter where he moved. It was in the way Stiles’ hand stayed anchored to Scott’s knee, fingers drawing soothing circles over Scott’s skin even as Stiles trembled with want.

Stiles wanted him. Stiles wanted him.

It was easy, then, to not bother with teasing. Neither of them wanted it or needed it. Stiles had teased Scott long enough with jokes about making out, being attracted to him, and finding his ass in good shape. Scott had (albeit unintentionally) teased Stiles for long enough by assuming Stiles had been joking, by not taking him seriously. Now he just wanted to have Stiles, all the way, inside and out, and never look back.

This part Scott had actually done before, and not just with men. Oversharing on Stiles’ part - Oh man, Scotty, you wouldn’t believe how easy I take it now, it’s like two fingers right away don’t even phase me anymore. I wonder how long until I can just take it unprepped? - made it a little less nerve-wracking as well. It was easy to slick up his thumb and slide it in, knowing Stiles would love it.

Stiles didn’t pant or writhe or whimper like Scott might have expected him to. All that manic energy seemed to be held tight to Stiles’ core, vibrating just under the surface like a fire cracker just waiting for its flame. Scott wanted to be the one to set Stiles’ nerves on fire, to be the one that wrecked his control and brought him down to a trembling mess of aftershocks and joy.

“Jesus, Scotty,” Stiles moaned as Scott rubbed the edge of Stiles’ hole with his thumb. It felt amazing, the way Stiles’ skin gave way so easily, the way Stiles’ body seemed to want to pull him in. Scott slid his other hand up and down his own cock, jacking it slowly, letting the pleasure seep slowly through his body. 

“You don’t need to… I don’t need…” Stiles started to protest.

“Shhhh,” Scott whispered. He didn’t stop stretching Stiles, didn’t stop sliding his own slick hand over his cock, but he did bend over and try to soothe Stiles’ impatience with a scatter of kisses over his back.

When he licked at the hot stretch of skin around his thumb, Stiles whimpered and pushed back just enough to show his pleasure without throwing Scott off. His tongue slipped in unexpectedly and Stiles arched and cried out. “Fuck, how can you… fuck, Scott!”

Scott was inside Stiles. Inside him. And he was about to be more intimately connected with him that he ever dreamed he would be. The realization send twin sensations of heat and fear coursing through him. Was he crossing a line. Was he crossing the line? Sure, Stiles was the one who initiated it, but wasn’t Stiles always the one who initiated it? Wasn’t he always the one who pushed at peoples’ buttons, waiting to see what would happen, not necessarily meaning the words that came tumbling out of his mouth, and not always truly delirious of the consequences.

With a reluctant groan he couldn’t quite hold back, Scott let go of himself and freed himself from Stiles’ body. He covered Stiles’ body with his own and leaned in to whisper into his ear. “Is this okay? Are you sure you want this?”

When Stiles pulled away and rolled into his back, Scott felt his heart sink to his knees. He didn’t want this to ruin their relationship, but he also wanted. But he immediately pulled back to rest on his heels, face schooled to his best impression of a neutral expression. Not that he was ever very good at that.

“I want this,” Stiles reassured him, letting his body slowly relax against the pillows. His legs fell open as he reached down to stroke himself, face soft and open as he watched Scott. “I’ve wanted this -“

He cut himself off and turned his head away, and Scott… Well. Scott couldn’t have that. He sat up only to let himself flop on the bed next to Stiles, sending Stiles bouncing and grinning. He tucked himself close and nuzzled at Stiles’ neck before reaching down to take over for Stiles. He watched greedily as Stiles’ eyes fluttered, jerking him in a tight, steady rhythm that he interrupted occasionally to play with Stiles’ balls. Just when it looked like Stiles was about to say something, Scott grabbed his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft and sweet and slow, the way he took Stiles’ lips between his, sucking and sniping lightly, teasing with the tip of his tongue. 

It wasn’t long before Stiles lost patience, though. He opened his eyes and met Scott’s as he twisted a little more onto his side. He lifted his leg and shoved his ass back, and Stiles gripped just below his knee, steadying him on reflex. 

“C’mon, Scott,” Stiles demanded. “Don’t you think I’ve been patient enough?”

It wasn’t mere impatience in Stiles’ eyes that prompted Scott into action. It wasn’t need or desperation, though those were there in every line of Stiles’ body and the pitch of his voice. It was the hint of nervousness in Stiles’ eyes that made Scott burn. The fear wasn’t of something physical - of the monster within, of the red that burned just under the surface of warm brown. It was fear that he would be rejected, that at any moment Scott would wake up from his arousal, realize who was fucking, and not want him anymore. 

Scott got on his knees and pulled Stiles up from the mattress. He lifted and turned so that Stiles was facing the wall, gripping the headboard, head hanging between his shoulders in an act of submission that Scott couldn’t resist. He covered Stiles’ hands with his own and growled in pleasure, knee-walking forward until he was completely covering Stiles’ back. His thrusts again skated along Stiles’ crack, then between his thighs and against his balls, until Stiles was almost crying with overstimulation. Stiles kept trying to move his hips, shift his weight, to catch Scott, but Scott kept teasing him. He was too drunk on Stiles’ frantic panting to give this up so easily. 

But then Stiles shoved his ass back, hard, at just the right moment, and Scott slid in easily.

“Oh, ben zona,” Stiles cried, throwing his head back on Scott’s shoulder. It was all Scott could do not to come right then by focusing on biting Stiles’ neck and holding himself still.

“Jesus, Stiles,” he bit out, cautiously moving again when he was sure he wasn’t going to end this far sooner than he wanted to. Scott could count on one hand how often he’d heard Stiles swear in Yiddish, and 99% of those times were when his mother was still alive. He fleetingly wondered whether Stiles always got this way in the heat of sex, or if it was just him. Foolishly, he hoped it was just him. Hey, he could fantasize. 

“C’mon Scotty,” Stiles urged, leaning forward and spreading his knees a little further, opening his hole a little wider, so Scott could fuck in deeper. Scott leaned back on his palms and thrust with his back instead of his hips so he could watch himself disappear into Stiles. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Stiles muttered. He reached back and pulled Scott closer until Scott couldn’t separate what he was feeling in his own skin and what he was feeling from Stiles. It was amazing… but not amazing enough. Stiles was hot and wanting under him, but no matter how deep Scott sank into his friend - his lover - it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t see him. He couldn’t see him.

“Scott, Scott,” Stiles shouted as Scott once again manipulated him into a better position. It was too easy, moving his arms and legs, biting his neck, until Stiles did what he wanted. Soon, Stiles was on his back and Scott was on his side again, staring at each other with desperation.

Scott slid into Stiles, cock throbbing painfully inside his tight heat, making sure to keep eye contact. Though the traces of drink could still be felt in the way their smiles came too easy and their hands moved too clumsily, neither of them were drunk. Scott needed Stiles to know that this wasn’t just a momentary lapse in judgment… that he’d chosen this. And how was that so hard for Stiles to believe? Hadn’t Scott always chosen Stiles? Over and over and over again?

Sharp pinpricks of sensation caught Scott’s attention, and he glanced up from Stiles’ pleasure-heavy eyes to see his hand curled over Scott’s shoulder, the nails drawing perfect half moons in the flushed skin. It didn’t hurt, except for how it seared Scott down to his soul, reaching him in a place that somehow Stiles hadn’t been able to get to before.

The first thrust was a frantic, ragged movement that nonetheless made Stiles gasp and throw his head back. His grip tightened momentarily on Scott’s shoulder, but the angle looked uncomfortable. Scott reached up to pull Stiles’ hand away and shift so they were even closer. Stiles was still mostly on his back, turned on his side just enough to let Scott fuck him. Scott held his leg high and his body close, his position on his side stable thanks to his preternatural strength. Stiles certainly seemed to enjoy it - he grabbed Scott’s hair, pulled him in for a kiss and held him there, forehead to forehead. 

“Faster,” Stiles whispered into Scott’s mouth, his eyes slamming shut as Scott fucked into him with slow and measured thrusts. 

“Are you sure?” Scott asked, making his driving deeper but not faster. Not yet.

“Please.” Stiles’ words weren’t spoken so much as breathed out, and Scott’s hips immediately sped up in response. He wasn’t pounding into Stiles, though - he couldn’t quite bring himself to that. He wanted to savor every slick slide of flesh on flesh, draw this out as long as possible, stay like this until Stiles wouldn’t let him anymore. 

With panting little gasps and almost inaudible curses, Stiles gave himself over to Scott completely. He dropped his head back and arched his back, his nipples still puffy from Scott’s earlier ministrations, before pushing back again against Scott.

“Fuck,” Scott huffed, greedily drinking in Stiles’ delicious responsiveness. “This is so amazing.”

What he didn’t expected was Stiles’ wrecked expression, and the breathy “Oh, yeah,” that slipped out of his mouth. Sarcastic, clever, always-has-something-to-say Stiles was lost in his body under Scott’s careful hands, and Scott was drunk on it. “Oh, I’m close.”

“Really?” Scott asked, surprised and more than a little gratified. He couldn’t look away from Stiles’ face, the way it scrunched in the kind of overwhelming pleasure that almost looked like pain.

“C’mon, mitromem mizdayen batahat,” Stiles moaned, jerking his hips hard against Scott, who had slowed to almost stopping. “Harder, damn it!”

Scott complied, cock jerking inside Stiles at his newly discovered language kink. He was so turned on he couldn’t see straight, so he closed his eyes and focused on fucking hard and deep and steady. 

“Oh fuck, oh god, ohhh…”

Even with their impressive oversharing and total lack of boundaries, all the TMI in the world couldn’t have actually prepared Scott for what Stiles looked like, sounded like, when he came. His eyes crashed shut in complete contrast to his body’s increasingly frantic movements. His back arched and the vein in his neck pulsed, and he didn’t jerk himself off so much as caress the head of his cock, cupping and massaging it, as Scott’s thrusts grew stronger and deeper. The air grew sharp and bitter with the smell of semen, and Stiles cried out over and over again, body jerking with each spurt, as he came.

Stiles’ body clenched and that was it for Scott. Orgasm slammed into him like the shift during a full moon, his muscles rippling and bones cracking as he roared his pleasure. His cock pulsed endlessly inside Stiles, spilling into him, filling him up, marking him like he’d never been allowed to mark anyone before. When it was over, he collapsed in a shuddery heap over Stiles, panting raggedly, clutching at his friend as his body calmed. 

Under Scott’s cheek, Stiles’ chest rumbled and shook. “Holy fuck, dude,” he laughed as he wrapped his arms around Scott and tugged him impossibly closer. “That was amazing, holy shit.” He even punched the air in victory with his free hand, and Scott smirked against the sweaty skin of Stiles’ chest.

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” Stiles agreed. He squirmed a little and Scott instinctively clutched him, holding him tight and still. 

“Dude?” Stiles asked, hand stilling in Scott’s hair. 

“I…” Scott started, lifting his chin to look up Stiles. “I don’t want to pull out yet,” he admitted.

“Oh,” Stiles said, smirking. “That’s totally okay, man. I don’t mind. Is this a freaky werewolf thing?”

“I don’t know,” Scott said with a shrug. Was the fear that, the moment he pulled away, all this would end a wolf-possessive thing or a Scott-possessive thing? He couldn’t be sure. 

“I’m not going anywhere, you know that, right Scotty?” Stiles asked, resuming his lazy carding through Scott’s sweat-damp hair. 

Completely without his permission, Scott’s hips drove forward again, burying himself even deeper in Stiles’ body. They both moaned, and Scott shuddered. “Fuck.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles huffed breathlessly. 

“This - you and me? - was the best I’ve ever had,” Scott said quietly, staring up at Stiles’ curious gaze.

“With a guy, you mean?” Stiles asked carefully.

“No. Not just with a guy. With anyone. Ever.” Scott watched Stiles’ eyes widen and mouth open in surprise. “I don’t want it to end.”

“Scotty,” Stiles breathed. He gripped Scott’s hair and pulled him up for a kiss - one as slow and deep and longing as the sex they’d just had. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He rolled his hips again just to watch Stiles’ mouth go slack and his eyes roll up in pleasure.

“Thank fucking god,” Stiles exclaimed quietly on a long exhale. “Took you long enough. I’ve wanted to be yours since second grade, man.”

“Mine?” Scott growled, thrusting again, feeling himself start to harden again inside Stiles’ body. 

“Werewolf recovery time is awesome,” Stiles said, dazed grin lighting up his face.

~~~

When the phone rang the next morning, Stiles was too tangled up in Scott’s incredible warmth to even consider moving. 

“I’m not gonna get that,” he murmured, snuggling a little deeper under the blanket against Scott’s chest.

“Uh huh,” Scott agreed, more asleep than awake. His arms tightened around Stiles’ body, so tight it was momentarily painful, until he relaxed again in sleep. 

Stiles grinned, thumb gently brushing Scott’s nipple, unbelievably grateful that they’d finally made it here. Normally, promises whispered against skin in the heat of sex were completely unreliable, not to be trusted. When Scott had promised forever last night, Stiles had believed him. And the way Scott’s eyes slowly opened warm and grateful and happy, Stiles was relieved to find that belief still held in the daylight.

“What if it was pack business?” Scott asked, nuzzling against Stiles’ sleep-spiky hair.

“I don’t care,” Stiles dismissed. He threw a leg over Scott’s waist and straddled him, grinning down impishly. 

“Really?” Scott asked. He cocked an eyebrow in disbelief, hands coming up to grip Stiles’ bruised hips to steady him. “I’m not sure I buy it.”

“I can think of better things to do than worry about vampires or trolls or whatever they’re calling about now,” Stiles shrugged. But the phone started ringing again, and Stiles mouth dropped open with the implications of what he’d just said. Excitement sent a ripple of adrenaline coursing through him. “Dude, what if it is trolls? We haven’t seen those yet!”

Scott laughed and let go just in time for Stiles to fumble and fall of the bed in a dash for the phone. “And if it’s not?”

“Then I’m sure we’ll find other ways to burn off the energy,” Stiles said with a wink. 

Scott grinned and sat up while Stiles accepted the call.

“Hi Kira! Man have I got news for you. But first, you gotta tell me, is it a troll?”