Chapter Text
“Oh yeah, baby boy, you want to feel my dick inside of you?” The guy on the other end of the line sounds out of breath.
Stiles closes his Psych 2 essay and opens tumblr. “Mmm, yeah, love your big cock in my ass, Daddy.” He rolls his eyes and scrolls down his dash. Mm, shirtless Sam Winchester. “Want you to fuck me hard.”
About six months ago, Stiles had been looking around on Craigslist, trying to get a job to help with tuition (or just find a new couch for his apartment), and he’d seen an ad for job availability at a phone sex line, and, well, Stiles likes getting off. Stiles likes talking. Stiles likes getting paid. So getting paid (really well) to talk dirty a couple hours a day? Seemed like the thing to do, at the time.
Of course, he’d expected to find it arousing or whatever, but it turns out asking strange men to fuck him like there’s no tomorrow is less a chance to get off and more a chance to get ahead on his academics. But hey, it means he can pay the bills, stay on the dean’s list, and help out lonely souls. It’s not a bad way to make a living, even if he has to keep it quiet. (Scott thinks he’s doing tech support for Microsoft. Stiles makes every joke he can about hard drives and making sure everything’s turned on.)
Now Daddy’s talking about how he’s going to knock Stiles up, breed him so hard, and Stiles is trying really hard not to laugh. He’s been on the phone with this guy for almost forty minutes, and it just keeps getting more ridiculous. But it sounds like the guy’s close to coming, so Stiles does his best to moan and whimper enthusiastically, and it works. The guy hangs up without so much as a thank you, and Stiles sighs before closing tumblr and reopening his paper, because he needs to get this shit done. He’s about to text his boss saying he’s done for the night, but then his phone rings and he thinks about all the video games he wants to buy.
He answers it, putting on his “sexy” voice. “Hey baby. What can I do for you?”
“Um, hello?” The guy sounds lost.
“First time? Don’t worry, I can always take the lead.” He closes his laptop – full focus for newbies, and a great excuse to put off schoolwork even longer.
“I take it this isn’t Laura’s number.” The guy doesn't sound amused.
Stiles goes back to his normal voice. Not the first time this has happened. “Nope, no Lauras here. And protip – if a girl gives you her number and it starts with 1-900? It’s not her number.”
“Shut up, Laura’s my sister and I think she reprogrammed my speed dial.”
“Ooh, rough. Saran wrap on the toilet.”
“What?”
“Appropriate prank revenge. I don’t have any females in the household, but I’ve always wanted to try it. Put saran wrap over the toilet bowl but under the toilet seat –“
“Yeah, got it, not going to happen.”
“I’m just saying, it’s genius.”
“Sure. Anyway, I’m going to hang up now, call her actual number.”
“Yeah, of course.” There’s a pause. On a whim, Stiles says, “Stiles.”
“What?”
“My name is Stiles.”
“Okay then, Stiles.”
“Well, bye.”
“Derek. Is my name,” the guy blurts out.
Derek hangs up, and Stiles’s face hurts from smiling.