Work Text:
Summer in Beacon Hills is the worst, the heat making it next-to-impossible to be outside. So her and Scott opted to spend the day at his apartment, the one he shares with Isaac, with every fan and air conditioner on their highest setting. Scott's favorite lighter (small and silver with a howling wolf etched onto the front, it was a gift from Stiles) is cool against the palm of Allison's hand, a welcome feeling considering the sticky heat of Scott's apartment surrounded her. She flicks the lighter open and watches the flame rise, mesmerized by the beauty of it. She feels Scott shake in silent laughter next to her, so she turns to him with a small pout on her face (she's mastered the McCall trademark puppy-eyes and is not above using them). “You just look so fascinated by the fire, it was adorable.” Scott exclaims, throwing his hands up in defeat and a crooked smirk dancing across his face. Allison leans over and twists slightly to press a kiss to the corner of Scott's smirk, nipping gently since she knows he likes it. It soothes the wolf in him, he's told her, it makes it easier for him to just exist next to her without the insistent urge to claim her.
Scott whines as she pulls away, as if he can't survive without the feel of Allison's skin against his own; that thought makes Allison's heart inflate with joy. She moves to kneel by the small end table adjacent from the couch, rummaging through the drawer to find a small pouch, and she raises it in victory once she finds it. “You can roll the blunts, put those pretty fingers to good use.” She says, her voice light and teasing and she tosses him the bag; he pouts as he catches it single-handed. The carpet is rough against her bare knees, but she doesn't move since her spot allows her to take in all of Scott. He's made of defined muscles and sharp edges, but Allison knows that under all of the hard planes there is hidden softness that only adds to his beauty (for lack of a better word, Allison can't find one that captures Scott's essence).
“These pretty fingers have some other awesome uses...” He trails off with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Allison sighs fondly because Stiles had to teach him that move, but watches intently as Scott lines shell with the ground bud (Allison is nothing if she's not prepared). Scott tucks the wrapper underneath the weed and rolls it with nimble fingers; werewolf reflexes give him the added gift of being able to roll without a flat surface, so Scott reclines back into the plushy couch. His already low slung sweatpants shift to expose more of his hipbones; Allison notes happily that he's going commando. He sweeps his tongue across the edge to seal the blunt, and she can't help the full body shiver that passes over her at the sight. She feels the dampness between her thighs and she knows Scott can smell her arousal bleeding into the stale air of the apartment.
“Ladies get the first hit of course.” Scott tells her, extending the neatly rolled blunt between his fingers, shifting his legs open slightly so Allison can fit snugly between them. She all but races to him, tripping over herself in excitement (damn Stiles, his bad habits are spreading like wildfire) and Scott only smiles fondly (bless his soul). She straddles his lap, sitting so that he can feel her wetness against his covered cock and the gentle press of her breasts against his bare chest. She feels the prick of claws against her hip and Allison can't help the slow grind her hips do (her body controls itself when the lust is thick in her veins). She loves the moments when she's allowed to follow her instincts and not her head, it goes against everything her family's taught her; but Allison won't ever be like the rest of the Argents.
“Such a gentleman,” she utters, fumbling with the lighter lid until the flame appears. She tenderly grabs the blunt and lights one end, taking the first drag with exaggerated care (the look Scott gives her, full of raw animalistic passion is what Allison lives for). She tilts her head up to blow out the smoke, Scott takes the opportunity to suck a mark at the junction of her neck-humming into the soft skin. She taps the top of Scott's head, waiting until he pulls away from her neck so she can offer him a hit. They mix their weed with a small amount of wolfsbane, enough so Scott can feel the effects without hurting him or Allison. Scott takes a long drag before slotting his mouth against Allison's, blowing the smoke into her willing mouth.
“I hear Isaac's heartbeat outside the building, he'll be here soon. You sure you want this?” Scott asks, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Allison starts to formulate a response, but then Scott's hand (that's not currently bruising the pale skin of her hipbone) slips underneath the red bra she's wearing and squeezes; well, she can't really be blamed for moaning obscenely and nodding her head jerkily. Scott and Allison discussed the Isaac issue on various occasions, every time they come to the conclusion that they both want Isaac (in a strictly sexual manner rather than a romantic one, although both wants are there.) They each had a different ideal way of propositioning him (Scott wanted to dive right into the actions while Allison wanted to talk; this is a good medium).
Allison feels the buzz in her nerves first, Scott's touch is scalding against her flushed skin. Allison balances the blunt in one hand as she grips the edge of the couch with the other-- hovering over Scott and framing his face with her dark hair. Scott has both hands up her bra and his hips are grinding into hers relentlessly by the time Issac walks through the door. Allison takes a long drag of the blunt before meeting his eyes.
“Uhm, hello there. I'm just going to step out right about now..” Isaac mumbled, running his hand through his curls awkwardly. Allison can only imagine how her and Scott look, like a live snapshot from a sleazy porno and that thought only fuels the need bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She rolls her hips purposefully, causing Scott to whimper and she knows that they have Isaac before the invitation is even vocalized. His nose twitches and Allison can see the way his eyes roll back-- the smell of sparkling lust and pungent marijuana must be intoxicating to a werewolf's sensitive nose.
“No, you should stay. We have more weed than the two of us can smoke; would be a real shame to let it go to waste..” Allison offered, the smoke curling around her face before dissipating; she's using the McCall puppy eyes again (Derek can say what he wants, puppy eyes work much better than intimidation tactics). “It's also a California past-time, you wouldn't want to disappoint!” Allison jokes, and both boys laugh with her. Isaac still looks unsure, but he carefully walks over to the couple with a sheepish grin on his face; Allison's heart stutters when his hand brushes against hers when he takes the blunt. Scott slides his hands out from under her bra, causing Allison to whine at the loss of contact. Isaac takes a sharp intake of breath and Allison giggles, earning a glare with no bite from Scott. Isaac looks nervous when he takes his first hit (which is bullshit because she's had first hand experiences with a blazed Isaac) but Allison doesn't say anything but she does rub reassuring patterns into the top of Isaac's head; she feels the tension practically melt out of him.
Scott's hands find themselves tucked under the elastic band of Allison's shorts before the blunt is completely smoked, stroking the smooth skin for the feeling of it under his fingertips. Allison can also feel Isaac's finger soothe the skin around her ankle, touching it reverently (she must've forgot to verbalize just how much her and Scott actually want him). She knows Scott is thinking the same, he's obvious in the way the pads of his fingers drift closer to her center with intent. She writhes on Scott's lap, desperate for some form of friction; Isaac's touch stills and she can feel his nervousness permeate the air again. “We want to fuck, all three of us because you're really hot and we both have misplaced feelings for you and... Basically we want you to join us, if not for awhile then at least for today?” Allison rambles, pausing to catch her breath because every few moments, Scott brushes against her clit and her brain goes numb. Isaac shudders and Allison catches his nose twitching, Allison can't help the smirk on her face.
“Is fucking also a California hobby?” Isaac teases as he looks at Scott and her, a mixture of wonder and desire plastered onto his face. She knows that's acceptance and it sends her desire into a hyperactive overdrive. Allison grabs Scott's wrist (pausing for a moment to appreciate the contrast of her pale hand against his tanned skin) and tugs them away from her body, before smoothly getting off of him. She wavers as she stands, the marijuana throwing her equilibrium off. She knows that when werewolves have wolfsbane flowing through their veins, the control over their wolves weakens; they're more willing to bite and mark and fuck her, and that's exactly what Allison craves when her control is in a similar state. The two boys look at her with confusion (they're never logical thinkers, Allison sighs inwardly, exasperation and fondness seeping into her features). Allison pauses for a moment so she can truly appreciate the sight in front of her, both boys with their wide eyes and tightening pants; Scott with his dark hair tousled and Isaac with his work shirt slightly unbuttoned to expose his sharp collarbones.
Allison worries her bottom lip between her teeth, knowing it drives Scott wild (she'll have plenty of time to figure out what makes Isaac go insane) and gathers all of her courage. She turns so she's facing the hallway leading to their bedroom before giggling, sprinting towards it with little finesse. She hears two predatory growls and she just makes it over the threshold before being thrown onto the oversized bed (bless Scott's misjudgment, it's never been more helpful than this moment). Scott's pining her hands above her head, claws pricking against her wrist, and Isaac's nudging her legs open so he can sit between them. Two pairs of golden eyes rake across her body, their gazes heavy with lust-- causing Allison's heart to thump unevenly and a flush to color her cheeks. “Why are your clothes still on?” She whines, since she wants to see all of them. Scott slides out of his sweatpants and goes to undo Isaac's tight jeans as he fumbles with the buttons of his work shirt (he growls and tears it off, sending the clear buttons flying). She hums contently when Isaac is also going commando, leaving them with their erections curving proudly towards their stomachs.
She's still a huntress, knows that somewhere in her there is fear for the beasts so close to her; but that fear is overthrown by an overwhelming sense of trust and desire for the two of them. Allison knows that they won't ever hurt her, even with their lessened sense of control. “Hey,” she breaths out, giggling softly. Scott snickers soundlessly, Allison can feel the puffs of breath against her neck, before sucking on the bruise he made earlier. She whimpers unknowingly, bucking her hips in frustration because she needs something to soothe the insistent ache between her thighs. Both boys chuckle (Scott's is light and airy while Isaac laughs with his whole body, the sound rumbling from him) and comply to her wordless demand happily. Scott releases her wrists and soothes the angry red marks with his tongue, with his hands roaming across her chest (leaving a fiery trail of goose bumps behind) and stopping at her covered breasts. He strokes the silky fabric, knowing the slight drag against her drives her crazy. She keens before propping herself on her elbows and deftly unhooking her bra before flopping back down, flinging the red fabric across the room; she hisses as Scott cups them with reverence, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh.
“Your tits are unreal, my fucking god.” Isaac utters, awe evident in his voice and his touch (Allison shivers when his smooth finger drags over the area Scott's hands leave uncovered). He makes quick work of her shorts, tossing them near her discarded bra and slowly pulls her thighs farther apart. He noses at the damp patch of her cotton panties, she can feel his intake of breath and his pleased exhale. Before she can complain, Isaac is tugging her panties aside and has a finger curled inside of her-- brushing against every sensitive spot. “You're soaking wet,” he murmurs before nudging his tongue alongside his finger, kitten licking her folds like it's an honor. Allison grinds back, moaning shamelessly when Isaac adds another finger and thrusting with the intention to rip her apart.
Scott chooses that moment to take a nipple into his mouth, laving at it while his other hand rubs soothing patterns into her skin. Allison is making high keening noises because it's too much yet not enough, she can only arch into Scott's mouth and tangle her fingers into Isaac's curls (as if her grip can hold him there forever). They work as a team-- when one slows down, the other speeds up to constantly keep her dangerously close to the edge. She knows that her orgasm is around the corner, she just needs that extra push to send her hurtling off the cliff and she whines desperately. Scott works his hand away from her chest to rub circles against her clit. That's it for Allison and she comes with her back arching like her crossbow and her toes curled against the sheets.
The world goes fuzzy for a moment, searing white across her eyelids with flashes of bright color. When she opens her eyes from post-orgasm bliss, Scott is darkening one of many bruises splattered over her chest and Isaac was still working two fingers in-and-out of her rhythmically. She bats Isaac's hand away and gently shoves Scott up and away from her boobs, motioning to their straining erections when they look at her worried. She hopes her gestures are enough, because Allison doesn't think she can formulate words even if she tried her hardest. “Relax babe, you don't have to do anything but watch.” Scott tells her, pressing his lips to her cheek before pulling back with a dopey grin.
Allison doesn't quip back, content to watch the two beautiful boys do their thing while the last bits of orgasmic bliss cradle her. She snorts as Scott and Isaac scramble for each other, lips crashing together with more desperation than sophistication. Claws come out and rake red lines across their torsos, healing just as quickly as they appear. Scott spits on his hand before stroking Isaac, while Isaac just uses the hand slick with her cum (that sends another ripple of pleasure in the pit of her stomach). She watches them attentively, noting that Isaac likes it faster than Scott does and makes a choked off gasp every time Scott thumbs at the head of his cock. As she watches them fall apart, she thumbs at her clit, matching their pace. It doesn't take them long before they're coating each other's hands in cum; Allison gasps along with them, as her second orgasm tears through her. She's shaking and gasping, her pants softer than Scott and Isaac's.
Her boys flop down on either side of her, trailing their sticky fingers across her sweat-shined body. Allison laughs but lets them continue (she secretly loves all of the kinks that werewolves posses) and pulls Isaac in for a kiss. It's more spit and teeth than a skillful kiss, but she hopes it conveys how much she wants this to become a regular thing. He kisses with more of a bite than Scott, like he's not afraid of breaking her and Allison kisses back with the same intensity. Scott nuzzles at the back of her neck and presses a kiss to the knob of her spine, purring praises for her and Isaac into her as if her skin can keep secrets. The three of them twist their fingers together and cuddle contently as the come dries on their skin.
~
They each shower separately a while later, not trusting what could happen if they're together with the shower stream as witness. Munchies while blazed and blissed out are unforgiving so they make their way to a nearby diner; Isaac having to borrow one of Scott's shirts and Allison digging through the drawer of her stuff to find something appropriate. They order a huge plate of greasy fries with a small cup of dip for each of them, considering they couldn't agree between honey mustard or barbeque sauce (Allison settles for regular ketchup, not into fancy dips herself).
“So can that become an event that happens more than once?” Isaac pipes up, his blue eyes glittering with hope. Allison visibly swoons and Scott sighs fondly. She nods, her mouth full of amazing potato-goodness. She's sitting on one half of the booth while her boys sit knee-to-knee facing her.
“I'd be very okay with that,” Scott amends, wiping his hands on a paper napkin. His phone chirps and he snickers as he reads the text to himself. Allison peeks over his shoulder in an attempt to read the message and Scott holds his phone so that her and Isaac can read it too. They burst out into loud laughter and devise a proper explanation to tell the others (they settle for the truth, because Allison always gets her way).
stiles: opened the apartment door and the smell of sex and weed literally slapped me across the face. kudos.
ps- i used the key under the mat, u need a better hiding spot bro
pps- i know u got your freak on with isaac and allison. ur a beast
ppps- i deserve the details because u forgot to ask me if i wanted to join :((