Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/802358.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski,
      Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale/Scott_McCall
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Blow_Jobs, Age_Difference, Brotp,
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-05-14 Words: 1474
****** First Line ******
by night_reveals
Summary
     To make first line, Scott and Stiles will do anything.
     Even give the scary team captain blowjobs in exchange for lessons.
Notes
     this is not beta'd, this is barely even re-read, don't look at me
     content note explanations @ end
See the end of the work for more notes
The room blazes in the midsummer heat. Stifled August wind whistles in through
a cracked window, sunrays slanting through its panes. Next to Scott, Stiles is
slippery as a minnow, his new muscles buried beneath a layer of baby fat and
sweat.
Scott runs his hand over Stiles' buzzcut, watching the tendons in his friend's
neck tighten up as Stiles sucks on a cock like it's the last piece of ice from
the freezer.
"Good," Derek says with a grunt from the top of the bed. He's the coolest kid
at high school and he's here, on Scott's bed. It's still kind of blowing
Scott's mind. "Scott, help your friend get lower."
"Stiles?" Scott wonders, inching closer to the apex of Derek's legs, where the
older boy's balls hang heavy and full onto the old Star Wars bedspread that
Scott outgrew three years ago. With a nasty, naughty noise, Stiles slides his
mouth off of Derek's dick and looks straight at Scott with dark eyes and
bruised lips. Scott swallows. "You want me to help?"
"Ye --" Stiles has to clear his throat, coughing once. "Yeah, okay."
When Stiles lowers back onto Derek's dick, Derek fists his hand in the replica
of Han Solo's face, fingers twisting in the sheets. Scott watches him,
fascinated and scared, before Derek's gaze snaps to him. "Help him."
Like before Stiles is stuck three or four inches down, still a few away from
the hair under Derek's belly button. Everything is too hot, the bedspread wet
with spit and prespiration, enough that Scott's knee slides out from under him
as he gets closer to his best friend. Gentle, he sets a hand on Stiles' head.
Like this he can feel the urgency whipping through Stiles, the way his tongue
is working on the flesh buried in his mouth. Scott pushes -- just barely -- and
Stiles slides down a little further than before.
Derek curses above them, his thighs beginning to shake. There's water streaming
down Stiles' face, and Scott belatedly realizes that Stiles is crying. Scott
yanks his hand away from his friend's neck.
"He's crying!" Scott wipes his wet hand on the sheets and looks to Derek, who's
biting his own lip viciously, eyes hazy.
"Fuck, really?" Derek asks, gaze sharpening, his voice garbled -- not upset,
though, not at all. He stares at Stiles for a long moment, like Scott's
promised him a show. When he sees a tear leak down Stiles' face, Derek groans
and thrusts. Stiles chokes.
"Hey!" Scott protests, pulling Stiles up and off Derek's cock again. "Stop
that! You said you wouldn't -- "
"Shut up, you little -- "
"Scott," Stiles says, interuppting Derek with a rough voice. "It's fine, dude.
Just -- go up there with Derek, okay?"
"But," Scott says softly, twisting the bottom of his shirt. Stiles sighs, then
leans forward. The kiss is quiet and too warm, the sun like a fire at Scott's
back as he licks into Stiles' mouth, the salty taste of Derek heavy on their
tongues.
"You wanna be first line, right?" Stiles breath gusts over Scott's lips after
he pulls away.
Scott nods reluctantly and whispers, "He's an asshole, though."
"I can hear you both," Derek says, obviously annoyed and impatient.
Without even looking at Derek, Stiles wraps a hand around the older boy's dick.
"Hush," Stiles says easily, and Derek does, a groan replacing whatever he was
going to say. To Scott, Stiles says, "If you want to leave, go get some water
and come back later, yeah? But if you want to stay..."
"I'm staying." Scott crosses his arms over his chest. He's not leaving Stiles
alone.
"Okay." Stiles smiles and nods towards Derek, who's breathing heavily and
panting. "Go make nice, then."
Like he's heading to his doom, Scott drags himself up the bed to Derek's side.
This had been fun for the past hour, but Scott doesn't like it when Stiles
cries; he doesn't really understand why Stiles isn't more upset.
"Hey." Derek twists to look at him, flicking his gaze up and down. "Take off
your shirt."
"Take off yours first," Scott says mullishly.
Derek smirks and obliges. The sun soaks into his skin, turning it a warmer,
inviting shade. Before he can think, Scott has his hand on Derek's pecs,
outlining their perfect shape. He can't decide whether he's jealous or whether
he simply wants to lick them.
Derek urges Scott to go next. Scott tries not to blush when his shirt slips
over his head, but it's the first time he's shown his happy trail to anybody
besides Stiles, and maybe the people at the neighborhood pool -- and this
doesn't feel like any of the times at the neighborhood pool.
After his shirt's gone, Derek says that it's only fair Scott loses his jeans,
too, and Scott doesn't protest because he's so hard that it hurts. Soon enough
he's in his boxers and sidling up next to Derek, Derek's hand demanding on the
skin at his side.
"You ever kissed anybody?" Derek cocks an eyebrow.
"Duh." Scott looks to Stiles -- who's licking at the head of Derek's cock,
tongue swiping at the head. It explains the random shivers that keep running
through Derek.
Derek huffs. "Besides your friend, I mean."
"His name is 'Stiles'," Scott says instead of answering the question. Derek
grins likes he knows exactly what Scott isn't saying, how untouched Scott
really is.
"C'mere," Derek says, gruff.
Kissing Derek is nothing like kissing Stiles. Ever since they started
exchanging pecks when they were 13 and curious, Scott has considered Stiles'
lips his personal safe-space. All his worries don't melt away, but Scott always
feels bigger when they share each other. Braver.
Kissing Derek is, if possible, the opposite. Derek bites and takes, a bit of a
bully -- Scott's lips buzz but he doesn't want to stop. He fists his hands in
Derek's hair and lets himself be pulled in tight. Every few moments Derek
breaks the kiss to moan at whatever Stiles is doing, and the whole bed shakes
when Derek does. His muscles clench with it, his thighs bigger than anything
Stiles or Scott are packing.
"Fuck," Derek says sharply all of a sudden, his hips jerking. Scott looks down
and Stiles is -- Stiles is almost all the way down. "Oh, fuck, you're amazing."
Scott can't help laughing at the stupid words that start pouring out of Derek's
mouth, the praise and the stuttered pleas for more as Stiles fucks his mouth on
Derek's cock. This whole time Derek's been in control, seemingly suave, but now
he's begging.
"I'm -- " Derek says, and Stiles pulls off quickly, but not quick enough: Derek
comes all over Stiles' face, a ribbon of it falling onto Stiles' buzz cut, more
splashing over Stiles' lips.
"Stiles," Scott says, voice full of worry. He grabs a tissue and helps his
friend clean off, Derek's come thickening with each moment they let pass. They
get most of it off of Stiles' face by the time Derek is dressed, but there's
still a sheen of it on Stiles' lips when Derek pauses by the door.
"Next Tuesday, the practice field on Robinson Street at 4."
"We can't drive yet," Scott objects.
"Find me after school, then." Derek smirks and stares at Scott. "Next time it's
your turn."
He's gone a moment later, and Scott turns to Stiles, ready to get him water or
anything else he wants -- but Stiles pushes him down onto the bed, hand to
Scott's chest.
"You're still," he starts, glancing at where Scott's stiffy is pushing through
his boxers.
"It's okay," Scott says, "I'm fine." But Stiles is already leaning down and
peeling off Scott's boxers, wrapping his still-wet lips around Scott's dick,
and Scott's brain fucking shorts out like an overloaded fuse box. There is no
higher thought here, nothing but Stiles' hollowed cheeks and his soaking wet
tongue, bright eyes urging Scott to come. They've never done this before and
Scott doesn't know why. It's amazing.
When Scott finally does come the sun is almost down, the room darkened and
cooler at last. Still Scott can see Stiles wipe at his mouth, cleaning it
roughly with a careless wrist.
"Dude," Scott says dumbly. "Dude."
"Come here, man," Stiles rushes out, grabbing his own dick. Together they jerk
Stiles off until he splatters all over the bedspread, dripping onto Han Solo's
face. They laugh and collapse back onto the bed, ignoring what feels like a
puddle between them.
"So, Derek said it's your turn next time."
Scott nods and bites his lip. "Yep."
"Guess you'll have to practice before then, huh?" Stiles looks caught between
leering and falling asleep.
"Guess so," Scott says, giving him a playful shove.
Later that night after they've changed the sheets and eaten dinner with mom,
they kiss for a long time, sweet and warm and safe.
End Notes
     underage: Stiles and Scott are freshmen; Derek is a senior
     mildly dubious consent: it's implied Scott and Stiles are in bed with
     Derek to get help with lacrosse; also, Scott has a few misgivings,
     though not about his own actions
  Works inspired by this one
      [Podfic]_First_Line by Jinxy
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
ache and
Scott pressed his hands harder against his skull like the pressure would help
relieve the pain.
His hand curled into a fist as he tried to beat back the rage. This wasn’t
right, this wasn’t him. He’d get angry like anyone, but it wasn’t ever this
misdirected and intense. All he wanted to do was lash out at whatever was close
by. Without a word, he slammed his fist against the bank of lockers, denting
the steel like it was flimsy plastic and scraping his knuckles bloody. The
burst of fury seemed to calm him and he examined his hand with a detached sort
of fascination. It barely even hurt.
___
"What the fuck, Scott?" 
Stiles was stunned. That was more than enough to knock him out of his self-
righteous vexation. Scott had held him back, and Stiles could have sworn the
guy had hooked him to a brick wall. Jackson’s dramatic departure had done
enough to alleviate the focus on them. The blond stalked off and commanded his
most loyal cronies to follow. Stiles made note of those who had, and those who
hadn’t. Danny hadn’t. Stiles wouldn’t have either. Sometimes, Jackson didn’t
need friends.
Stiles was glad that the rest of the team seemed preoccupied by that, even if
it wouldn’t last for long. Someone bending their locker in two kind of demanded
attention. 
He grabbed Scott by the wrist, gagging in his mouth at the sight of blood, but
he forced himself to think about the basic first aid he was forced to learn. It
was one of the hazards of practicing with Jackson Whittemore. He tried to drag
the other teen away from the scene of the crime, before anyone else noticed
what had happened - or rather, could understand what had happened. He shuffled
Scott out into the hall, dabbing at his hand with Scott’s uniform. The wounds
weren’t as bad as he thought they would be. “What the fuck is going on, dude?” 
___
He was too shocked to be anything but passive, letting Stiles drag him out into
the hall. “I don’t know.” Scott seemed to snap out of it, blink up at his
friend in confusion and pulling away. “I don’t know! Dude, I can see things,
you don’t even understand. And I can smell everything, like…I can tell the girl
three classrooms down uses sour apple shampoo. And I can hear everything, I can
literally hear Jackson talking about me!” The boy gestured vaguely towards the
locker room, paused, and then scowled. “Butthole.”
Scott huffed, wiping his knuckles off on his jersey and frowning as he ran his
thumb across the unbroken skin. How the-? Something was wrong, what was
happening to him? He could feel something foreign, like an infection, slide
beneath his skin and he shivered. “I’m okay, it’s nothing. I’ve just been
feeling a little off. It’s the adrenaline or whatever from making it on the
team, it’s no big deal.” He looked at Stiles, hoping the other boy would agree
with him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! Maybe it’s like that thing when people get so
amped up they can lift a car and save a baby? Just forget it. C’mon, let’s get
changed and get out of here, okay?” Nothing was wrong, things were finally
falling into place. He had a hot boyfriend who actually liked him, he just made
first line, Jackson got smacked down, people wanted to talk to him, everything
was perfect and he wouldn’t let anything ruin it.
___
There was too much to focus on. They should get Scott’s hand treated. He
wouldn’t be able to work a stick without it - or Stiles’. They had to make sure
no one freaked out about the locker. Stiles was pretty sure he could convince
everyone in the locker room to stay quiet. Even if he wasn’t as popular as his
friends, the guy who shoved Jackson Whittemore tended to command a lot of
influence. Former friends. Maybe - he didn’t know.
But Scott was talking nonsense, and Stiles wanted to get a better view of his
injured hand. Scott looked like he was falling apart, and Stiles was worried
for him. What he assumed seemed so unfair. On the field today, Scott had
been unreal. 
"Hey Scott - Scott focus on me, dude. Come on." Stiles said, brows furrowed
with concern. He bracketed Scott against the lockers, close enough that he
could see the shadows of Scott’s lashes across his flushed cheeks, and Stiles
had to admit that this was a really good look for him. They hadn’t even been
able to celebrate yet.
"Where do you get your juice?" 
___
Scott leaned back against the cool metal of the lockers, letting his eyes close
for a moment to try and focus. His hands found their way to Stiles’s waist, a
new rush of emotions flooding through him, replacing the rage and the fear, but
no less intense. He groaned softly, feeling like someone had rubbed his nerves
raw, leaving him too exposed.
“My…what?” He blinked his eyes open, brows furrowed in complete confusion.
“Dude, my mom does all the grocery shopping, you know that.” What did juice
have to do with anything? Did Stiles drink out of the orange juice carton
again, that would be-OH. Oooooh. “Wait, steroids? You think I’m taking
steroids?! No way, I haven’t taken anything! How could you even think that? You
know I’d never cheat.”
He put a hand on Stiles’s chest and pushed, annoyed by the accusation. “I’m
just a little…I don’t know. I can’t rein it in. I feel like I’m going to come
out of my skin, Stiles. It feels good, you know? Like I can run forever without
worrying about breathing. And like I can go a whole second practice right now.
Nothing’s wrong with me, I’m just better?”
___
Scott sounded so aghast, Stiles wanted to hug him forever. Scott wouldn’t do
that. Stiles barely knew the guy, but already, he was the exception to so much
of his pessimistically-tinged realism. But when Scott pushed him back, he
nearly fell on his ass.
He reached out, blindly grabbing for Scott’s shoulders to steady himself.
Slipping even closer wasn’t something he had to consider, motivated by both the
urge to wipe the disappointment off Scott’s face and the urge to spread him out
on the nearest flat surface and watch him make a whole lot of other faces.
“Dude, relax, okay. You’re just pumped. You did crazy shit today. You’ve been
expecting this for weeks.”
That sounded weak. Stiles didn’t buy it, but he started leading Scott towards
the locker room. He carefully stepped around the fact that he’d made the
accusation. Hopefully it was empty enough by now that they could grab their
shit and go. Besides, if Scott wanted to take part in some illicit drug trade,
he’d have to ditch Stiles, and Stiles had been happily attached to his hip
throughout his recovery. They’d stayed in bed longer than it took everything to
heal, save for that awful bite on Scott’s hip, which made sucking him off all
the more difficult. 
He snorted loudly. “It’s not like you’re a werewolf or something. Come on.
Let’s make out in front of the team again. Facebook wasn’t official enough?”
___
“Yeah, I guess.” He looked suddenly so unsure, emotions swinging wildly back
and forth without his control. It was exhausting to be so amped and then crash
over and over, and Scott sagged against Stiles. What the hell was wrong with
him? He might argue that everything was okay, but he could feel something
inside that didn’t belong. It tore through him, messing with his thoughts and
leaving his head spinning. Was he just sick? How could he feel so invincible
one minute and like he was being pulled apart the next?
Scott sighed, letting himself be led anywhere Stiles wanted to go. The worries
perched on the edge of his tongue, but he held them back. He wasn’t sure why,
he trusted Stiles more than anyone, but he’d always been a quiet and private
kid. He never shared his pain with anyone, locking all the weakness away where
no one could see it and painting over the cracks with a smile that fooled
everyone. He never let anyone in and he hesitated now, burying the fear deep.
It was probably nothing, he was overreacting. Everything happened so fast, it
was probably just the adrenaline talking. Scott ran his thumb across the back
of his knuckles and the completely healed, unbroken skin. He was okay.
The boy managed to huff a laugh. “I think I’d rather be a vampire. You get all
the girls that way and you don’t smell like wet dog.” He made a face at the
suggestion, trying to look nonchalant but his skin seemed to burn even hotter.
“I’m sure Coach will definitely appreciate that.”
___
"Hm - and you’d conveniently sparkle when you’re naked, and still be really
into biting. I might get behind that." Stiles snickered. The dent in Scott’s
locker - and that was putting it kindly - put a damper on Stiles mood, but the
locker room was mostly empty. The last few people who filtered out saluted
Scott on making the team, unapologetic awe clear on their features and just a
hint of badly concealed jealousy. Stiles let them distract them, then he pushed
Scott against the nearest wall and distracted him with his mouth. It was much
more effective. Stiles liked being effective.
Almost as much as he liked taking Scott apart.
"S’fine, dude," he muttered at length, pressing the words straight into Scott’s
mouth. "We’ll tell Coach y’found it like this… Someone’s playing shitty pranks.
No one’ll snitch. Think about going home, and everything I’m gonna do to you
when you’re in my bed."
Super strength, super speed, agility - energy, mood swings? Stiles wasn’t sure
what caused that, but right now, he was pretty sure it meant they were gonna
have amazing sex. Amazinger sex. Teaching Scott how to move his tongue was
quickly becoming Stiles’ favorite thing ever. It probably was nothing. He’d
long learned that the finer things in life were things you could measure, and
Stiles forced down the urge to ask just how fast Scott could run, or how strong
he’d become. It was for the best, probably. Yeah. 
"I gotta congratulate you, bro."
___
Scott shoved his boyfriend, more pleased than he’d be willing to admit. “You’re
the pale one, you’d be more likely to sparkle than me. Haven’t you seen those
movies? Er…not that I’ve seen them or anything. I don’t watch crap like that.”
Unless his mom rented them and they had one of their mother-son movie nights.
They were pretty terrible, but at least he could focus on the fact the actors
were kind of hot? That had to make it slightly better. “The biting though…”
He wound his arms around Stiles’s neck, melting into his kisses and losing all
sense of where they were or who might be watching. It was hard to think of
anything else when Scott was able to slip his tongue past parted lips and steal
a taste of him. Kissing might be his favorite new pastime, it was a shame he’d
waited so long to try it. Stiles could wreak havoc on his body with that mouth.
No, maybe it was his hands, they could take him apart. Mmmm, but his shoulders
and the way the muscles tensed down his back as they fucked, that was the best
thing about this. Or the look in his eye where Scott just knew what Stiles was
thinking without saying a word, that must be it. No, it was definitely the way
he could tease his hips in slow circles when they’d stripped to their boxers,
grinding down against the thin cotton in ways that were never ever enough.
With a groan, the boy buried his face in Stiles’s neck, his runaway thoughts
having physical consequences.  “I can think of a few ways, dude. Take me back
to your house and if your Dad’s not home, I’ll thank you for all the private
lessons.”
___
"Bullshit." Stiles challenged, and he didn’t know how that was endearing. The
Twilight movies were shit, but the last one saved them by being exceptionally
awful. Stiles loved it, and Scott was the worst liar in the history of liars.
He didn’t know why he was attracted to that. The people in his life were kind
of amazing at spinning truths. In the quiet of his mind, Stiles guessed it was
because it was nice knowing someone genuinely liked him. 
Then Scott moved his hips, and Stiles forgot how to think.
"You think we’re done, McCall? I’ve got a lot more to teach you. You’re good,
but you still can’t beat me." Stiles murmured, nearly purring against his
lover’s ear. He pinched the tip between his teeth, his hand sliding between
them to dip into Scott’s shorts. He cupped Scott with a familiarity Stiles
reveled in, stroking him like they hadn’t been through the most bizarrely-
amazing tryout Stiles had ever seen. "You gotta thank me for all future
lessons, too."
And maybe he was more invested in watching his boyfriend come apart in semi-
public places than he should have been. That didn’t stop him from wanting Scott
to be loud.
___
“No no no no, not here! Stiles, no ah-! Y-you, fucker…” The back of Scott’s
head hit the locker behind him with a dull clang. They were going to get
caught. Coach was still here, they were so dead. This was the worst idea every,
oh my god, they were going to get detention and someone was going to call his
mom to tell her that he’d been frick fracking in the locker room after tryouts
and, and… He thrust helplessly against Stiles’s hand and mentally cursed. How
the hell could Stiles convince him to do just about anything?
“I hate you.” He growled, trying to keep his voice down as he rubbed his own
palm against Stiles’s groin through his pants. “I hate you so much. I hate you
for-fuck-ever.” Whatever this thing was inside of him, it seemed to revel in
the risk and Scott growled again, a little less human. He attacked Stiles’s
mouth, biting hard on his lip and soothing it with a swipe of his tongue.
Scott gripped the band of Stiles’s shorts, yanking him hard against his body.
“C’mon, Stilinski.” He hissed challengingly. “Impress me.”
___
Stiles loved sex. He was hooked on it. He loved the hot crash of heat and skin.
He got as much as he could, any way he could. It didn’t always end the way he
wanted to, but sometimes it did. With Scott though, everything changed. It was
wilder than he expected, hotter, rougher. Maybe it was because Scott was so
responsive, so ready to scream, so keen to groan. He was an eager learner,
shameless with what he wanted and always hungry for more. He made Stiles know
he wanted him. And afterwards - Stiles didn’t want to think about afterwards.
(It was warm and safe and soft, and Stiles liked him. Stiles liked him so much.
He didn’t know what to do with that, but he never wanted to let go. He was
fucked. He was fucked. He was fucked.)
Scott pulled the rug out from under him, and Stiles didn’t know what was going,
but he wanted everything. For a second, all he could do was moan. He shoved
Scott back, thrusting into his palm. They bumped against the lockers with a
clang. Stiles snarled, chasing after Scott’s tongue with a wicked grin. His
pace quickened, heart beating too loudly. 
He pinned Scott’s wrist above his head, yanking down his uniform in a single
move. He ground against him hard and fast, before grabbing his hips, grip hard
enough to bruise. “Want me to fuck you here Scott? Right against the lockers.
Let everyone see you let everyone hear you,”
___
It just wasn’t fair. He could never say no to Stiles, he never wanted to. They
kept pushing and pushing to see where his limits lay, but Scott never could
seem to find them when Stiles’s hands were on his body. He did things he never
thought he was capable of and loving every minute of it. His friends would
never believe half the things he’d done. And then Stiles would give him that
look, that tired smile afterwards when they’d laugh and he’d be so gentle that
Scott’s heart would stutter. He wasn’t sure exactly what was between them, but
Scott worried he might have already fallen too hard.
Scott could hear the spike in Stiles’s heart, almost like he could taste his
pulse. He fought the other boy’s grip, not really trying to be escape as he
squirmed against the lockers. “Shit, Stiles!” He gaped as he was stripped,
bucking hard against him with a surprised groan. So much for the upper hand, he
was doomed. This was what happened when he tried to challenge things that were
so far out of his league. He should say no, this was such a bad idea. Of all
the bad ideas, this had to at least make the top five. There was no way they’d
pull this off without being caught.
“Yes!” God damn it. He was pleading like a whore and didn’t regret a thing.
Well, it was already too late for him, he couldn’t make it worse. “Unless
you’re worried? You think you’re gonna make me scream for you here?”
___
The room echoed with that, and Stiles was going to do something awful like go
through with it. It wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t have been fair. Stiles should
have run the show. Scott had never done anything. Scott still giggled when
Stiles said dick. (Stiles giggled, too. He’d rather swallow his tongue than
tell anyone.)
But when Scott said jump, Stiles asked how high, and aimed for higher. They got
into the worst competitions, and half the time, Stiles didn’t know who he was
competing against. He wanted to get Scott loud enough that they both won. They
were going to end up on YouTube and he was okay with that.
"God-" He begged, biting down on Scott’s shoulder, through a mouthful of fabric
and not enough skin. He kissed up Scott’s throat, trying to claim every inch of
skin he could reach before large hands gripped Scott’s thighs. He pulled him up
off his feet, urging him to wrap his legs around Stiles’ waist as he slammed
Scott into the locker. He was going to bruise probably. Stiles hoped he could
kiss them all away.
"Suck." He ordered with a throaty moan, pressing two fingers against Scott’s
plush lip. "It’s all you’re getting. You’re gonna be so loud. You’re gonna tell
the whole school who’s breaking you in two."
___
Scott had no idea Stiles could lift him so easy and he wrapped his legs around
the other boy to hold on. Stiles’s body pressed hard between his legs, pinning
him to the lockers did nothing for his self-control and left him throbbing. He
couldn’t move like this, trapped at his boyfriend’s mercy but he wasn’t going
to lose the challenging gleam in his eyes. Scott wasn’t quite sure what the
rules of the game were or what the prize would be, but whatever it was, he was
going to win.
He felt hot, like there was a fever raging beneath his skin and a heady
confidence that didn’t feel like his own. Something was so wrong, but there
wasn’t a chance to worry when he was hard against Stiles’s belly. Scott open
his mouth, dragging his tongue down the proffered fingers with his eyes locked
with the other boy’s amber brown.  He sucked them inside, putting on a show as
he slicked Stiles’s skin with quiet little whimpers that contradicted the
wickedness in his gaze. There was the barest scrape of teeth as he slurped like
he was giving head, slightly sharper than expected.
Do it. The dare was unspoken but hung in the air between them. Stiles might be
the one who came up with the ideas, but Scott was just as bad and could goad
his friend into the best kinds of trouble.
___
Scott McCall was unreal. He was every bad idea Stiles ever imagined wrapped in
more charm than Stiles could dream of. Stiles watched a tease of pink tongue
peek out between his fingers, a broken groan ripping through him. He knew what
Scott felt like when he was licking his cock just like that. He knew how good
it would be to give in. “God, McCall, didn’t know you could be such a fucking
slut.”
His fingers slid across Scott’s tongue, spit dribbling down his palm. Stiles
pinned Scott against the locker, grabbing a handful of his hair and forcing his
head up as his other hand slipped lower. Slick fingers stroked between Scott’s
thighs, teasing his balls before pushing in at the same time. Scott felt so
good when he was opening around Stiles.
"Anytime, anywhere, and you get so wet for me. All for me. Wish you could see
yourself like this how hot you are. You’d let me fuck you in front of the whole
team if I asked."
___
“I can be a lot of things, Stiles.” What the fuck was wrong with his mouth
today? It was like his filter was completely broken. Something kept spurring
him on, clawing inside of his head and demanding to be released. Logic didn’t
matter anymore, the world narrowed into wants and needs. When Stiles looked at
him like that, he didn’t want to fight the feeling anymore and gave in.
Scott gripped the boy’s shoulders hard, bearing his teeth as his head was
yanked back. He groaned at the touch, legs clenching tighter around Stiles’s
waist and cursing viciously. “You want them to watch? What if they want a ride?
You’ve gotta…ah…you’ve gotta show them I’m yours. You’ve got to prove it.”
His face went slack, groaning too loud to keep anything a secret before biting
off the end. No, he wasn’t going to lose! He bit his lip, trying to keep
himself silent. There were heartbeats outside the locker room door, the boy
could hear them clearly somehow. He couldn’t let himself fall apart.
___
Scott fucking McCall! Stiles snarled, biting down on his pulse until it jumped
beneath his lips. He love how husky Scott’s voice got when he moaned, how good
he sounded when he was fucked. Stiles just didn’t think he’d ever heard him
like that.
Pleasure surged down his spine, flooding his nerves. He shoved Scott against
the locker, pushing so his lower back lifted off it just so. Stiles pulled out.
Scott didn’t have the chance to breathe before he pushed back in. Stiles
moaned, and didn’t care who heard, thrusting into impossibly tight heat. He
could spend hours opening Scott up, tasting him and touching him where no one
else had the privilege. Scott ran so hot, it was amazing.
Stiles had him cornered, resting his brow against Scott’s, taking long,
measured gasps against his soft, soft lips. His hand closed over Scott’s cock,
stroking too quickly, smearing precum down his throbbing shaft, and it was a
mess, such a mess. “They’ll hear you and they’ll know. No one can have you like
I do. They’ll want and they’ll beg and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t care.”
Stiles didn’t care who showed up right now, he wasn’t stopping until he tore
Scott apart.
___
The boy gave a strangled moan, entire body shaking as he bit his lip bloody to
keep from screaming. It hurt, oh god, it hurt and then it didn’t and he didn’t
care as long as it didn’t stop! Everything was sharp teeth and raw friction, he
was coming completely undone. Scott sobbed against Stiles’s mouth begging in
slurred, rambling breaths.
“Yours!” The bravado was fucked from him and he surrendered with a shout. “Need
you, fuck me. Fuck me! Stiles, please.” He was never going to live this down.
If people didn’t know about them yet, they sure as hell were going to now.
There were voices, everything was getting confused in his head as he drowned.
Clawed fingers dug into Stiles’s shoulders as he scrambled for a way to hang
on, heart racing too fast and eyes reflecting yellow. He lost, but he’d put up
a valiant effort, keening as he was stroked roughly. Stiles demanded pleasure
and Scott’s body betrayed him to cruel hands.
“Come in me.” Scott pleaded, voice broken. “I wanna be yours, wanna make them
know!” The boy came with a howl, slapping a hand across his mouth and biting
down to try and stop himself as he spilled thick between them. 
___
Scott was amazing. Stiles gasped helplessly, struggling for control. All he
wanted to do was thrust into that suffocating heat, to tear his lover apart. He
fit like a too tight glove, tight muscles dragging across his aching cock. It
felt like he was being clawed in two. There was blood on his tongue, and Stiles
didn’t know how it got there. He didn’t care. He licked his way past pink lips,
swallowing every moan, every shudder. Stiles didn’t have the strength to fight
back his own. 
His knees buckled feebly. He pushed in harder, faster, giving in as he felt the
ground slip from under him and the world fade. Scott’s eyes were glowing, and
he didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care. Darkness prickled at the corner of his
vision, pleasure hidden right beneath it. It left his nerves keening with want.
Sweat dripped across his brow, sliding down the tip of his nose. Stiles moaned
into Scott’s jaw. He sucked his neck, feeling every plea beneath his lips.
He pushed Scott’s hand back, pinning it to the locker. The school would know.
The world would know. Scott clenched around him when he came. Stiles couldn’t -
Stiles couldn’t! Scott sounded like an animal. Stiles never heard anything
hotter. “Scott - Scott!”
He came hard, entire body trembling with it. His hand slipped from Scott’s hip.
All Stiles could do was hold on. He filled Scott up, painting his insides with
his cum, fucking him until he was utterly spent. He nearly fell over, but that
was okay. For the first time in a long time, he was sure someone would catch
him when he needed it.
He dragged Scott to the ground, arms wrapped tight around his neck. Gurgling
with pleasure, he slurred, “Scott yuuur’mazing.”
He didn’t feel the blood that dripped down his back. He didn’t see the way
Scott’s throat healed over. “Come home w’me… Show’r there.”
___
Scott couldn’t speak, sagging limply against the other boy with a groan. Cum
dripped slick down his thighs and he dragged his fingers through the mess
across his stomach, stunned. He nodded weakly as the golden glow faded from his
eyes, wondering if he’d ever be able to stand away. All of his limbs felt loose
and liquid. Every part of his body inside and out ached, raw and abused.
He nuzzled into the warm boy next to him, licking the salty sweat from Stiles’s
skin. “Home….home’s good. Shower’s good. Gimme…a minute. Or like ten.” Or
never. Never sounded really great. Maybe he’d just be able to lay here in a
heap for the rest of his life. Whatever it was that had gotten into him had
been just the best idea, holy fuck. A weak hand patted the side of Stiles’s
face with a crooked smile. “S’good. I think I died for a second.”
“Stilinski! McCall!”
The boy startled at the voice, trying to curl into Stiles like he could somehow
make himself small enough to disappear. Oh my goooood.
Coach scowled and flung a towel at the two sprawled bodies. “Next time you two
idiots decide to celebrate, wait until I’m gone so I don’t get trapped in my
office listening to the whole damn thing! Now I’m going to go get a drink until
I can forget anything or die, whatever comes first.” Finstock stomped off,
muttering about degenerates and how at least they hadn’t used his office this
time.
Scott stared open mouthed after him for a long moment before he lost it,
pulling the towel over his face and doubling over in hysterics. “Duuuude, he’s
going to be making us run suicides until we die! That’s it, I can’t ever come
to practice again. I’m never going to be able to look him. Just leave me here
to die.”
___
Scott was gooood and warm and soft and fuzzy, like a puppy, a super sexy puppy,
and Stiles had been to corners of the internet that made that thought vaguely
uncomfortable.  They hadn’t even gotten their jerseys off. Stiles wondered if
that stain would stay. Stiles hoped it would, and every time Scott ran out on
the field, he’d think about how he got it and -
Blood was not meant to flow that quickly. His face was on fire, and Stiles
stared, open-mouthed and just a little terrified, more than a little grateful
that the towel hid so much. The idea that anyone else got to see Scott,
actually see him, not just play fights and jokes, enraged him. He was so close
to doing something insane like punching Coach. He was distracted by being
thoroughly mortified.
"Dude, don’t worry. He might die." One could only hope. Stiles couldn’t help
it. He broke out into giggles, rocking back and forth, kissing the sweat off
his boyfriend’s brow. His boyfriend, oh God. 
"Oh my God we should do it in his office!" He smashed Scott’s face against his
neck, hiding him from the world. He laughed because he couldn’t not.
And then, well, he couldn’t not kiss Scott.
Stiles took that boy home, but not before making out with him in his Jeep all
over again. They kept Coach’s towel. 
 
End Notes
     This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP!
     You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on tumblr and keep up with this
     story here
     You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha Here and find her on tumblr at
     Runicscribbles
     Art by the amazing Rouvere
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their work!