Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1992612.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Scott_McCall, Stiles_Stilinski, Lydia_Martin, Jackson_Whittemore
  Additional Tags:
      Teen_Wolf_AU, TW_Season_1_AU, Sciles, Topping_from_the_Bottom,
      Bottom!Scott, Top!Stiles, Jock_Stiles, Nerd_Scott, some_violence_and
      gore, minor_original_character_death, Dubious_Consent, Stiles_says_no
      Scott_doesn't_listen, First_Full_Moon, Smut
  Series:
      Part 7 of Jock_Strap
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-21 Words: 7724
****** Friday Night (TGIF) ******
by TruebornAlpha
Summary
     Scott was told to stay away from Stiles, but there's no way he's
     missing the party of the year and the boy with the wicked smile. It's
     just bad luck it happens to be a full moon.
Notes
     This work was inspired by Loz's amazing AU here and here. We just
     couldn't resist playing in her world! What would it be like if Stiles
     didn't grow up with the boy who taught him how to be kind and Scott
     didn't have anyone who believed in him so hard he learned to believe
     in himself?
See the end of the work for more notes
Lydia went all out.
She always did. A party had to reach a certain level of spectacular to be
associated with the Lydia Martin stamp of approval. The police were running
themselves ragged with a new string of murders. They’d found half a body in the
woods a few days ago, and only recently come across the rest of it. Laura Hale.
Sister of Derek Hale. The deaths that followed had been no less gruesome. 
Stiles googled more thoroughly than he’d willingly admit. Their story was the
stuff tragedies were made of, tucked into places that Stiles didn’t have legal
access to. His dad’s file cabinet was one of those places. He asked his dad if
there were any wild animal sightings in the woods, or if the local hunters had
turned anything up. It was a familiar question by now. He’d been asking since
Scott had come home, too pale and too quiet. 
The police didn’t have the time to hunt down potentially rabid, dangerous
carnivores. They wouldn’t have time to break up a high school party, even one
as lavish as Lydia’s.
A Lydia Martin extravaganza attracted everyone who was anyone, and then some.
Her mansion seemed to be rocking on its foundation. There was no shortage of
things to see, from the pool to the gardens, to the inconspicuously unlocked
rooms on the second floor.
Stiles spent all his time nursing a beer in the foyer, trying not to pace.
People were late to parties all the time. He and Scott hadn’t set a date or
anything. No big. He had no reason to worry.
It was a good thing he didn’t (shouldn’t) believe in werewolves. The moon was
full.
___
The moon pulled his veins like a tide, sending blood rushing against his skin
in a fevered flush. Derek had warned that he shouldn’t go out on tonight of all
nights, that they had to stick together but he’d made a promise. His already
heightened senses were cranked up so high that Scott could barely keep his
fractured thoughts together, mind chasing after stray streaks of color and
scents. Scott flexed his hands, feeling like the claws were going to break
through the skin at any moment. He felt fucking amazing.
The wolf snapped and howled inside, filling Scott with a sense of power like
he’d never felt before. He could definitely get used to this. All his fear was
gone, replaced with a sleek animal confidence that he was a predator in a flock
of unsuspecting prey. The boy knocked on the door, greeting his hostess with a
smile and a swagger that caused Lydia to raise her eyebrows in surprise. He was
going to have to mark that one if only to see Jackson’s face when he showed
Lydia what an actual lacrosse star was like. Bonus if he could get Jackson to
watch while he systematically took everything his rival cared about. Sly
thoughts of revenge slid through his head, foreign and confusing as he stopped
for a moment to try and sort through them. That wasn’t…it wasn’t…
He was distracted, catching the scent of something infinitely more desirable.
He stalked through the crowd, ignoring everyone as he honed in on his target
and slid his hands around Stiles’s waist from behind. “You’re standing here all
alone like no one wants to dance with you, dude. That’s kind of sad, we can’t
have that.”
___
Scott fucking McCall, Stiles felt like he’d been saying that a lot lately. He
turned, just far enough that he could kiss Scott over his shoulder. There was
something different about this, sharper, more insistent, and Stiles thought it
was all him. Scott was so good at pushing back.
"You saying you dance, dude?" He snorted, twisting in Scott’s grip, groping him
unapologetically. He tipped his bottle against Scott’s lips, watching him
swallow. He barely glanced over his shoulder, before he leaned forward, kissing
down Scott’s neck. He looked good. He looked so fucking good, and Stiles didn’t
know how he’d gone so long without it.
"Hi." Stiles greeted, distractedly. Scott was turning heads that night, and if
Stiles wasn’t so distracted, he’d have noticed sooner. That just made touching
Scott better. "You’re hot. Really friggin hot."
Scott had an audience now, at least for tonight, the same way Jackson
Whittemore could draw attention by just walking into a room. Not all of it was
good.
___
Scott licked the alcohol from his lips, tipping his head back with a quiet
groan. “Am I? You’re not so bad yourself, Stiles.” The boy grinned wickedly,
dark eyes full of terrible ideas. “Why, don’t you dance?” He hooked his fingers
into Stiles’s belt hoops, dragging him away from the wall and out into the
middle of the room. He could feel eyes on him, baiting the trap and waiting
like the patient hunter. It was almost like he could somehow feeltheir rage and
their jealousy, the heightened emotions getting under his skin. He’d been
warned to keep away and here he was, co-captain and flaunting every success.
The boy swayed his body against Stiles, pleased with the scene as he ran his
hands up into the back of his boyfriend’s hair. He leaned in close, whispered
voice more like a growl than anything. “You should fuck me here while they
watch.” Scott pressed wet kisses against Stiles’s ear, rolling the lobe
carefully between his teeth. “I’d do anything you asked me to. Anything.”
Make them all watch.
___
Stiles choked on his want, a strangled moan drowned out by a pulsating beat. He
swore everyone would see him shiver. He didn’t care. He loved it when Scott was
aggressive. They pushed and pulled at each other so viciously, it left Stiles’
head spinning at best. This - this was a whole different level. Stiles didn’t
know what had gotten into Scott. Scott didn’t dance. Scott could barely reach
for another pack of nerds without falling over himself, but he did things, he
did such fucking amazing things Stiles didn’t know if he had the strength to
complain.
"Should fuck you here," he repeated, tilting his head back. Submission never
felt so good. What the hell was Scott on? Where could Stiles get some? “Bend
you over, show them how you look when you’re begging for me. Make you ride me.
Right in the middle of the room, right-“
There was a reason Duncan was one of their best defenders. His tackles wrecked.
He barreled into Stiles from behind, sending a sharp jab of pain that Stiles
really wouldn’t feel until the morning. It toppled them towards Lydia’s very
impressive, very cold indoor pool.
Scott was very good at making a scene.
___
For all his heightened senses, Scott had let himself be thoroughly distracted
by the boy in his arms and whispered words that made his eyes darken with need.
He wasn’t sure if he was just tempting Stiles or if he really would be willing
to drag his boyfriend down and ride him shamelessly in front of everyone from
school. Honestly, he didn’t trust himself not to go through with it, somehow it
just seemed like such a fucking brilliant idea right now when all of his nerves
were screaming for some kind of release he didn’t understand. He flailed as he
was shoved backwards, hitting the water with a gasp and struggling back up to
the surface.
Scott saw red. Literal red, the world took on a different shade as rage swept
through him. Stiles was forgotten, the only thing that mattered was the
laughing boy and his friends, and the threat of a baseball bat shoved between
his legs. He hauled himself out of the pool more easily than he should have,
glaring at Duncan as he dripped and lips curling back into a snarl that seemed
almost fanged. “You want an audience this time, Duncan? I thought you and your
little friend only liked to come at me when we were alone. Doesn’t your
pathetic little master prefer the private parties?”
Scott’s grin widened dangerously as he taunted them, goading the boys forward
like he didn’t care how many Jackson had managed to rally to his cause. The
only disappointment was the dick himself didn’t fight his own battles. Scott
moved in a sudden burst of energy, fingers closing around Gellar’s throat and
lifting the taller boy off his feet with just one hand. He threw the struggling
body across the room, the sound of crunching bone audible even over the music.
“Come on, Duncan, I owe you one. Unless you can’t get it up with all these
people around.”
___
"Thought you needed to cool off, McCall!" Stiles heard, words weaved between
laughter. He was still pulling himself out of the pool, losing a shoe in the
process. He was always quick to anger, and quicker still to retaliate. His
boyfriend gave him pause. Scott sounded furious. Duncan and Gellar - Stiles
should have known. Jackson could bum a kidney of them if he was feeling so
inclined.
Duncan’s stance brimmed with arrogance, driven by jealousy and loosened with
alcohol. “Warned you,” he whispered under his breath, like he didn’t care they
were in a room full of people, or that Lydia’s fashionable heels clicked faster
and faster as she approached. “Should’ve learned the first time.”
Then Gellar crashed. He didn’t get up. Stiles couldn’t believe his eyes. The
ruckus around them told him no one could either. “Stop.” Lydia ordered, tone
pointed and heavy with an unspoken threat. She barely spared Stiles a glance,
for all that he was meeting the party’s drowned rat quota. “Get out. All of
you.”
Duncan would never be able to speak of the fear that tinged his anger.
___
Scott curled his hands into fists, never taking his eyes off of Duncan. “We’re
not done. Watch your back, Duncan.” He snarled, stalking passed him and
slamming his shoulder into his rival hard enough to knock him back. It didn’t
matter, he’d made his point though something inside crackled and sparked for
more. There was too many people here anyways, it was too hot and he could
barely breathe. Scott needed to get out where there was enough air.
He shoved people out of the way, careless and dripping as he stumbled out
through the door and to the relative quiet of the empty street. No one was out
here, everyone who was anyone was already inside. Scott winced, pressing the
heel of his hand against his temple and feeling like sharped nails scraped hard
along the inside of his skull. His heart was beating too fast…it was too fast…
The boy winced again, doubling over in pain though Duncan and Gellar never laid
a hand on him. It hurt! Oh god, it felt like he was being torn into pieces. He
groaned, fisting his hands into his hair. “No…no no no, please no.”
___
Come here.
It started as a quiet thing, slipping through Scott’s mind with the grace of a
serpent, but where it latched on, it wouldn’t leave. It pulled, taking
everything attached to it with it, dragging through Scott’s body until muscle
spasmed and bones cracked. It demanded more and more, no longer a whispered
demand but a growing howl, so loud that it was almost impossible to separate
from the one that ripped through the night.
RUN.
Lydia’s party was shaping up to be the most exciting one she’d ever thrown.
"He’s not getting up," Someone said, hovering over the injured teen, but no one
was actually touching Gellar. That had been the only thing keeping Stiles from
charging after Scott, the way people had swarmed because of it, the way their
hostess’s brows furrowed and Jackson looked vicious. Duncan was the worst. Fear
made him reckless, and alcohol made him stupider. Someone asked to call an
ambulance. Lydia was born to command armies. Stiles didn’t stop her. He just
made a beeline for her slut.
Stiles caught Jackson unawares, returning the favor he’d offered so many of
Scott’s friends in the past. He punched him hard enough to bruise his pretty
face. Someone screamed at them. They scuffled, and Stiles spat in his face.
“How could you?!” he demanded, and it didn’t matter that Jackson was the better
fighter, or that he’d eventually win. Stiles had to know. By the time someone
had pulled him and Jackson apart, the ambulance was on its way and Scott was
long gone. No one noticed Duncan leave, angry and vengeful. No one would have
tried to stop him.
Someone should have.
"Good boy." Much, much later, an oily, venomous voice applauded as a strong
grip curled over Scott’s bare shoulder. Blood red eyes flashed approval. Peter
Hale congratulated the werewolf as he sat in the middle of what used to be
Louise Duncan. There were too many pieces of him to count. He’d been scattered
across the woods. Scott wore his blood like a badge. 
"We’ll take care of it. Good, good boy."
___
Awareness crept back slowly, his thoughts still sluggish and muddled. His hands
were wet, skin slick and red and covered with things he didn’t recognize. His
bare skin was painted with it and Scott stared at the blood in confusion,
touching his chest and leaving smears behind. The scent of meat and blood and
perforated guts assailed him, catching in the back of his throat. He didn’t
understand what he was looking at, brain refusing to put the pieces together or
he’d never be able to stop screaming.
Scott shivered under the praise, something in him preening. The boy looked up,
eyes glowing a bright blue as he searched the stranger’s face. Not a stranger,
a part of him recognized something in the man, though Scott was sure he’d never
seen him before. Alpha. Just the presence calmed him and he had to stop himself
from nuzzling against Peter’s wrist like an animal. Derek had said-, what had
Derek said? Something about the alpha wanting him to kill together as a rite of
passage to be part of his pack. He didn’t know what that meant before,
but this…he felt connected. He wasn’t alone anymore, he belonged and it
grounded him. The animal that thrashed in his head was soothed, feeling safe
with…with pack? These thoughts and feelings didn’t make any sense.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Scott thought he should be horrified but he
couldn’t seem to stop the bone deep satisfaction. A tentative smile pulled at
the corner of his blood stained mouth as he nodded at his alpha and Peter
returned the smile coldly. The boy had been an impulse, a pretty broken thing
left vulnerable in the woods and just begging to be shaped into something more.
Peter couldn’t help himself from poisoning everything beautiful, fascinated by
how innocence could be twisted into something terrible. He needed a pack and
the power it would bring him, the boy was an added bonus.
“I know what he did to you.” Peter murmured, running a clawed hand lightly over
the back of Scott’s neck. “You’re stronger now, you’re not alone anymore.  No
one is ever going to hurt you again.” You’re mine. Scott gave a strangled
whimper, unsure if the thoughts in his mind were his own.
“Go home, get clean, sleep. I’m very proud of you.”
Scott nodded, t-that sounded like a good idea. He s-should go home now.  “Thank
you.”
Peter smiled.
___
The voices wouldn’t stop, not his own, but so apt at striking storms through
his already troubled mind. They buzzed like a swarm of wasps, sinking into
bite, chipping away the young wolf’s mind until there was a space for them,
wrapped in the broken pieces of Scott’s doubt. You’re safe. He’ll never hurt
you. He would hurt take steal everyone everything. You’re STRONG. You’re mine.
You’re mine.
Beacon Hills slept peacefully, unaware of the monster it shared its streets
with. They wouldn’t find traces of Duncan for another week, and by then, the
animals would have had their way with their meal by then. There was no one to
see Scott, no one to judge him. The silence was deafening, but the suburbs
turned a blind eye as he crept back into his house, like a common thief. There
was just someone in his bed.
Stiles had spread out, claiming every inch of the mattress like he was want to
do without a pillow fort to deter him, or Scott to hold onto. His dress coat
and pants thrown over Scott’s chair, left limp where chlorinated water had
wreaked havoc on it. Clumsy bandages were wrapped around Stiles’ knuckles,
speckled with blood, and obviously fixed without assistance. The smell of
alcohol still clung to his skin, and the end of the world might not have woken
him. 
He still buried his face in Scott’s sheets, clinging to what he could smell of
his partner, to what comfort he could find. If Scott ever saw his phone, he’d
see dozens upon dozens of texts and calls. Stiles had been so close to calling
the police. If something happened to Scott, he didn’t know if he’d ever forgive
himself for failing to do so.
Stiles understood, or he thought he did. The damage Duncan and Gellar had dared
spoke for itself. So Stiles could understand if Scott didn’t pick up his phone.
He just really wanted him to.
The voices never went away.
___
It took a minute for Scott to recognize the figure sprawled across his bed like
he owned it, too distracted by their his own thoughts. He’d completely
forgotten about Stiles, the night was a blur and his mind was full of images he
didn’t understand. There was no panic, just a calm sense that things were going
to be okay and that everything that had happened was just right. Scott didn’t
fight it, he want to. That certainty was a comfort, making him feel powerful
and in control for once.
Scott should shower, he needed to get cleaned up. The blood was still tacky
across his chest and quickly drying. He left the sleeping boy, creeping into
the bathroom to scrub the worst of it from his skin with a damp towel. He was
glad Duncan was gone, he’d been a threat and Scott knew it was only a matter of
time before he’d try to hurt him again. Duncan could have killed him before
with that bat and probably wouldn’t have cared. He could have died alone in the
woods and no one would have found him until it was too late. Ironic.
Peering into the mirror, Scott watched his eyes glow blue and smiled even
though he didn’t understand the change. He had been proud, that man, the alpha.
Scott wasn’t sure why he’d been so afraid of him, accepting his place in the
pack was the right thing to do and he could feel the new connection binding him
to his creator. It whispered through the back of his mind, a bleeding poison
that infected every thought. Derek hadn’t wanted him to accept this, maybe
Derek was afraid of how strong it would make him. Good, it should make him
afraid.
Scott left the bloody towel slung carelessly across the bathtub, stalking
through the early morning light that spilled through his blinds and scattered
across the floor. He crawled across the bed with a smile, ready to just start
taking what he wanted. It felt good to give in and stop hesitating, no one
could hurt him ever again. “Did you get lost on your way home or are you this
desperate for me?”
___
Stiles struggled to fight sleep, rolling over clumsily, drool already dried on
his jaw. He waded through bleariness, before hooking an arm around Scott’s neck
and tugging him down, leaving no room for argument. He held on as tightly as he
could, a strangled little whimper ripping through his throat as he buried his
face in Scott’s neck. There was a lingering, metallic scent over Scott, sharper
than sweat and skin and boy. Stiles didn’t care. He kissed over it, eyes still
caked with sleep.
"Dude, you’re back." He didn’t recognize the relief that coursed through him,
the start of a hangover already winking at him. He’d been genuinely scared for
his boyfriend’s safety. He’d been scared he’d find him in a hospital again,
right next to Geller, but this time with more than his back bruised and face
wrecked. 
"Where’d you go Jesus you’re back." He shouldn’t have asked. He didn’t need to
know. He knew enough. He knew the sons of bitches who had to pay. His hands
ached. Stiles wouldn’t be playing lacrosse any time soon, but he only wished
he’d been able to do more damage to Jackson before he’d been pulled off. He
still lost his best friend.
___
“Of course I’m back, I live here.” Scott said with a chuckle like it was the
most obvious thing in the world as he enjoyed being fussed over. He kissed his
boyfriend’s forehead, cuddling down next to him to get comfortable. “Sorry, I
just had to figure a few things out. I took care of it though, it’s a good now.
It’s kinda great, actually. Everything makes sense.” Mine. The feeling echoed
through him and Scott smiled, his animal pleased to belong. Wolves needed a
pack, he had no idea how stressed and alone he’d been without one. Derek
shouldn’t have tried to keep this from him, his alpha had only been looking out
for him.
“No more being Mr. Avoidy, I’m back and you can’t get rid of me.” Screw the
warnings, he felt more in control now than he had from any of Derek’s lame ‘be
the anger’ pep talks. “I’m sorry I made you worry.” It was sweet that Stiles
had been so worried, he’d spent the night waiting for him. Scott slid his hands
down the boy’s body, carefully taking the bandaged hand and bringing it to his
lips. “What did you do? You’re not supposed to get hurt!”
___
Stiles whined, low in his throat, eager for more attention. Scott’s voice was a
cooling salve, sliding over his touch starved skin, before Stiles could drag
him down, forcing Scott against him. He was a familiar weight on top of him,
comforting in his consistency. He kissed Scott everywhere he could reach
without actually moving, brushing his lips along the sensitive curve of his
boyfriend’s throat. He nipped at the juncture of neck and shoulder. 
"Don’t leave again dumbass," Stiles scolded. He stretched over their linked
hands to smack Scott with a kiss before flopping back, surrendering to his
hangover. "Jackson’s a dick." He insisted with feeling. His hand shook a little
in Scott’s grip, still healing. "He deserved it."
He gently scratched down Scott’s spine, sighing with shameless contentment. It
felt good everywhere. He was sorry Scott had to go through anything. He was
sorrier still that it took so long and so much for Stiles to realize how much
his mate was worth. “You were so cool last night, dude. Geller’s a piece of
shit. I wanted… Catch up with you.”
___
Scott laughed, bearing his throat and moving to better straddle the boy’s hips.
“I promise I won’t go anywhere. Jackson is a dick, I hope you clocked him hard.
Next time I see him, maybe I’ll pay him back for what he did to your poor
knuckles.” His back bowed under Stiles’s nails with a groan.  “Jackson and I
definitely need to have a talk.”
He leaned down, licking Stiles’s bottom lip before kissing him, drawing it out
to hear all the little noises he could steal from the other boy. “I was cool
because I broke Geller’s neck? Did I break his neck? It wouldn’t be that much
of a loss after what he and Duncan did.” The wolf bit Stiles’s lip hard to feel
him jump, grinning into his human’s skin. “They beat me with a baseball bat,
you know. Tied my hands behind my back so I couldn’t defend myself. Duncan
threatened to rape me with it.” It didn’t matter now if he admitted what
happened, there wasn’t any reason to be afraid. They can’t hurt you. No one
could hurt him anymore.
“It’s okay that you can’t catch up, everything’s okay now.” His smile grew sly
as his hands roamed beneath Stiles’s shirt. “Or are you saying I was cool
because I wanted to ride you in the middle of Lydia Martin’s house while
everyone watched?”
___
This was wrong. This wasn’t Scott. Scott would never say anything like that.
Scott would never sound so brutal. But they hurt Scott. They could have killed
him. The boy Stiles knew was never so cruel. His assailants deserved cruelty.
He believed that. They should have been arrested. They should have been hunted.
Stiles couldn’t think when Scott touched him like that. Maybe he didn’t know
Scott as well as he thought. He gasped into the werewolf’s mouth like he wanted
to give him everything. Stiles tasted blood on his lips and demanded more with
his tongue.
"Yesss…" He rasped, arching his back, anything for a little more contact, for
another chance to touch Scott. Geller hadn’t woken up. That was all Stiles
knew, and already more than he cared to. "Fuck them," he hissed, gripping
Scott’s hips. He spread his legs, leaving Scott room for anything, for
everything he wanted. "You’re okay you’re mine-!"
Let them watch. Let the whole world watch. Who the Hell taught Scott to move
like that? “Fuck, Scott, how’re you so hot?”
Everything’s okay now. Stiles wanted to believe it.
___
Stiles offered and Scott was so willing to take everything and more. He wanted
to tear Stiles apart, to make him writhe. You’re mine. You’re mine. He shivered
at the words, bowing his head a moment as he felt them echo around his skull.
“Mine…” He murmured, rolling his hips like he was riding him through Stiles’s
pants. Fingers twisted into the boy’s hair, yanking back his head so Scott
could scrape  sharp teeth down his throat. He misjudged his strength, beads of
blood welling from shallow cuts along the skin. Careful, careful.
Scott had been a good boy, his alpha had been proud of him. This was his
reward. He sat back, grinding down and demanding his human respond to the
rhythm of his body. “Tell me what you want, Stiles. Do you want me to ride you
so hard you wake up the neighbors or do you want me to fuck you face down into
mattress until you cry.” The wolf growled in satisfaction, eyes flashing as he
hooked one clawed finger into the neck of Stiles’s shirt and shredded it into
pieces.
___
Stiles groaned like he’d been punched, arching his back as he scrambled to
maintain contact. His voice twisted in a wretched groan. He couldn’t tell if he
was suffering pleasure or savoring pain. Blood trickled down his throat, and
Stiles’ jumped pulse and frayed. This was wrong. This was different. This
wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Scott moved his hips and ripped his shirt
off, and Stiles groaned. He was so hard he felt like he was going to burst.
"Scott - Scott!" He gasped, swallowing down a whimper as his cock strained
against the front of his jeans. His knees buckled, and Stiles didn’t know what
to do. "What? What’re you-"
He pushed at Scott’s chest, the grip in his hair beginning to hurt. “Slow
down,” he hissed, blinking through the lust that clouded his vision. He could
taste blood on his tongue, and he didn’t know where it came from. “Slow. Down.”
___
“Shut up!” The boy snarled, voice distorted and barely human. “I can smell how
much you want me. Don’t fight.” Scott kissed him, sucking the taste of blood
from the human’s tongue. “I’m yours…” He murmured the words into Stiles’s
mouth, but he wasn’t sure who he was answering. He could see Stiles’s body
respond like he’d never noticed before. The pulse beat strong and fast beneath
the human’s neck, he reeked of arousal, the way he shifted and sweat gathered
right along his hairline, how could he have missed all of this?
He didn’t want slow or safe, he wanted, needed release. Scott reached towards
the nightstand, clumsily searching for the lube before snagging the tube with a
hiss of success. His hands moved lower, fighting his human’s jeans lower to
free Stiles’s cock and Scott hesitated as he reached for it, lips parted
hungrily. Claws? He shook his hand, confused, squeezing his fingers into a fist
and shaking it again. His hands shifted to human blunt fingers and he grinned
at Stiles in success as he messily squirted lube into his palm and stroked his
boyfriend’s cock with an unapologetically tight fist.
___
Stiles pushed back, shoving at his partner’s middle, and he couldn’t understand
why Scott didn’t budge. He didn’t know where the strength came from, or how
Scott could yield it so loftily. He’d said stop. That was supposed to mean
something. That was - this was insane. Stiles must have been overreacting or
something like that. Except he was scared. He couldn’t believe what he saw.
Scott’s eyes weren’t supposed to be blue. His mouth wasn’t supposed to be so
rough. Stiles wasn’t quite willing to accept that.
"Scott!" He hissed, biting at his boyfriend’s mouth. Adrenaline coursed through
his veins. It felt like Stiles saw too much and not enough. But Scott held him,
and his nerves jumped. A strangled, embarrassed whine escaped him, and Stiles
spread his legs further. It was so tight, so wet. He couldn’t keep his hips
from bucking upwards, eager for more friction, for more anything. He bared his
neck, drying blood caked across his clavicle.
He dragged his nails down his partner’s back, leaving white lines in his wake.
“Scott…”
___
The way Stiles said his name tightened low in his body and he moaned. Scott
didn’t seem to realize that the human said no, everything about his body so
clearly wanted him and he could give Stiles exactly what he craved. Mine. Mine.
Ours. He was dizzy, confused about what were his own thoughts, what was the
snarling  beat inside his veins and what were echoes from someone else’s voice
in the back of his mind.
“Don’t fight me.” You couldn’t win anyways. Scott shifted his hips with a
wicked smile, twisting his grip and teasing the head of Stiles’s cock against
the cleft of his ass. “I know you want this, I can give you want you want.” He
rocked his hips, denying his partner the friction he wanted before guiding the
head of Stiles’s cock to his entrance and sinking down. He gasped, closing his
eyes as he was filled, hot and thick and just this close to painful. Scott
lifted himself, swaying his body as he rode against the human with a shameless
groan. “Fuck…Stiles…” The wolf leaned back, bracing his arms behind himself on
Stiles’s legs and fucked himself against the other boy.
___
Stiles couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. Something like a
protest caught on his tongue, his grip on Scott’s body threatening to draw
blood, but how could he deny this? How could anyone deny this? Scott looked at
him like he could eat him hurt him love him. He looked like sin and temptation,
and felt even better. He’d told Scott to stop. He had no reason to be scared.
He was. He loved him so much. Stiles leaked cum across his taut ass. He reached
lower, and squeezed, and his entire body rocked with anticipation. 
Scott sank down on him, and Stiles sobbed. He was hot, unbearably hot,
clenching all around his cock like a tight, wet glove. Stiles bucked wildly,
moaning so loud the neighbors must have heard. He couldn’t look away, cheeks
flushed pink and mouth slicked red where Scott bit it raw. Scott’s cock drooled
between them, dripping and bouncing with every vicious thrust. His pace was
brutal, the most sensual torture, and Stiles fucked into him with abandon. He
reached up, stroked down Scott’s chest. He teased his nipples until they were
puffy and aching, before dragging his boyfriend down to kiss him. It was filthy
and eager, frantic like Stiles could never remember being. He stroked Scott’s
cock, tight and fast the best way he knew how.
Scott could do anything to him. Stiles didn’t have a choice.
___
Scott’s body twitched and jerked, knees tightening around Stiles as his
sensitive nipples were teased. He gave a broken moan as he momentarily lost his
rhythm, clenching as his muscles shook. He could probably come from this alone,
sharp spikes of pleasure racing through every hypersensitive nerve. It was so
hard, so deep, the air caught in Scott’s lungs as he bounced on Stiles’s cock
until he felt like screaming. Precum spattered across Stiles’s stomach, the
head of his dick red and shiny slick. He should be doing this, he needed to
stop and needed to never stop. He wanted it to hurt, he needed to wreck this
human and make Stiles his. A reward, a gift. Obedience had its perks.
He attacked Stiles’s mouth, desperately groaning into him. Eyes lit with a cold
blue glow as he smiled a monster’s smile, fangs long and dangerous as he
dragged them across the human’s skin. Stiles was fragile, it would just take
the slightest press to carve through the skin like he’d done with Duncan. It
would be so easy to break him apart. Just the touch of claws twisting inside
and ah-! Scott arched back with a cry, body shaking as he came in hot spurts
across the human’s chest and neck. His frantic pace slowed, circling his hips
slowly as he bowed his head, eyes flickering and fading back to brown. He
laughed, voice breaking and edged in hysteria.
___
Scott was so good at wrecking him. Stiles lost himself in the slick slick slide
of skin, the suffocating heat that enveloped him. Scott ran hot. Stiles didn’t
know how he missed it before. Scott crashed down on him, moving so quick, so
fast, he stole his breath away. He pounded into Scott, scrambling to keep up,
needing more and more and more. Scott bore down on him and Stiles yelped, eyes
falling shut as he howled into parted lips. He cut himself on fangs, and didn’t
care. Stiles couldn’t hold on, and letting go felt so good it hurt. His climax
hit him hard, tearing through his nerves. Pleasure undulated through his
senses. He shot his load, streaking Scott with cum.
He caught Scott around the waist, pulling them as close together as they could
possibly get. Stiles didn’t know where he found the strength, but he rolled
them over, trapping Scott beneath him. His body trembled. Stiles kissed him
like he’d never get the chance again. 
He never wanted to hear Scott laugh like that again.
Stiles surrendered, collapsing on top of his boyfriend, dull aches settling
with him. His heart was trying to explode, and Stiles didn’t know what he’d
done. He just wanted Scott. He felt so tired. “I love you,” he muttered, not
opening his eyes. The previous night’s fears came crashing down, and Scott was
good for him. Scott was good to him. “Don’t freak out. I love you.”
___
The smile faded from Scott’s lips as he looked up at Stiles, shock etched into
the lines of his face. “You love me?” He asked like he was surprised anyone
could. The cruelty was gone from his hands as he cupped the other boy’s face,
tracing carefully down Stiles’s cheek. Stiles loved him? Stiles was smart and
funny and popular, everything he wasn’t. He was so hot that it left Scott giddy
whenever Stiles gave him that wide-mouthed smile and set him dancing alone in
his room when he couldn’t keep the excitement inside any longer. He was the
name scribbled along the spine of Scott’s math notebook, the password on his
computer (all the passwords on his computer), and the daydreams that got him
yelled at in chemistry class. Scott wasn’t sure what any of this really was,
he’d never dated before and it all seemed to happen so fast, but he was happy
with it. He was supposed to be the lovesick puppy, he never thought…
The dark haired boy seemed so unsure, the feral confidence replaced with shy
wonder. “You love me.” I love you too! I’ve got it so bad, you don’t even know.
You just look at me and you actually see who I am, no one else has ever done
that. It’s embarrassing how much I love you.
There was blood trapped beneath his finger nails and Scott jerked his hands
away, feeling like he was going to be sick. Oh my god, what had he done? Broken
images, half remembered flashes, a feeling of power that he enjoyed more than
he should have and hands stained red. He had liked it, the alpha had been
proud. He had-, did it really happen? It felt almost like he’d been dreaming,
please let it just be a dream. A monster lived inside of him, he could feel it
stirring sluggishly in his veins and panicked. The wolf whimpered, struggling
in Stiles’s arms and trying to push him away. “You shouldn’t. You need to go.
I’m not…get out. Go home, Stiles, this was a mistake!” 
___
This was the Scott he knew, with crafty humor and the sweetest smile, prone to
quiet moments that he never wanted anyone to see, and so terrifyingly brave,
Stiles was sure it was going to get him hurt one day. It probably already had.
Stiles’ best friend had been to blame. Scott was shy at the most surprising
times, and so ready to see the worst of what people thought of him, but with
the right push, he could light up a room by just being in it. Stiles was crazy
for him. If he wasn’t so happy, he might be a little scared. 
"Love you. Love you so much."
Scott would never hurt him. Scott hadn’t hurt him, but Scott did. When he
pushed back, Stiles nearly fell of the bed. 
"Scott?" His expression crumbled. Scott sounded so sad, and Stiles couldn’t
stop the surge of anger that coursed through him. He’d waited all night. He
could take care of Scott, better than anyone else. He wanted him, and Scott
wanted him, too. Stiles knew it. Stiles wouldn’t have said anything if he
didn’t know! 
He held on tighter, pinning the other boy to the bed. They scuffled, but Stiles
wouldn’t stop pushing, until he had his boyfriend spread beneath him, trapped
under lean muscle and clumsy elbows. Stiles snarled, but he was suddenly
terrified. Scott was going to kick him out. It blind-sided him, and it hurt.
“Stop!” He yelled, louder than he intended. “Fuck you McCall stop!”
___
Scott snarled back, deeper and angry as he was restrained against the bed. He
knew that he could break free, there was a violent strength to him now. “You
don’t know, Stiles.” He all but spat the name, baring his teeth. “You have no
idea what’s happening, you’re so fucking blind!” There was blood on his hands,
actual human blood. He was pretty sure Duncan was dead and he was the one who’d
torn the boy apart, there had to be something wrong with him because he
remembered enjoying it. Derek had warned him, he was a monster. Stiles could
never know, he couldn’t see this part of himself or get dragged into any
violent mess and end up like Duncan.
This was his fault, it was all his fault.
He stopped fighting, settling for glaring up at his boyf-…at Stiles. Everything
in Scott wanted to apologize and just lean upwards to kiss him until the anger
left those bright amber eyes. They could act like it had just been a slip of a
stressed tongue, curling together until sleep took them and the sun passed into
late afternoon. He wanted that so badly and he’d never get that again. “Let me
go.” The words were spoken in a low warning. “This was a mistake. I just wanted
a quick fuck, but did you think this was ever going to be more than that? I
don’t want complicated, Stiles. I don’t want to love you. Get out and don’t
bother coming back.”
___
He never knew that Scott could be so good at drawing blood. Stiles reeled back,
gasping for air. He felt foolish. He’d feel worse if he wasn’t so occupied by
being so shocked. 
"Bullshit," Stiles spat, but his tone wavered. Scott was the worst liar. He was
so convicted now, Stiles didn’t know what to do. Stiles didn’t know how they
could be so close but feel like they were on opposite sides of the world. "What
the fuck are you doing, McCall?"
Something had to have happened. This wasn’t them. Stiles refused to believe it.
He knew how Scott looked at him. He loved the way Scott touched him. They were
good for each other. There was no explanation for this, none, most certainly
not the one Scott was trying to pass off. His heart lodged in his throat, and
Stiles had to look away. Heat pooled across his cheeks, dancing behind his
eyes. This was stupid. This was so stupid. 
"What - what happened?" His voice cracked, and Stiles’ face burned with
embarrassment. 
___
Scott could hear Stiles’s heart stutter, smell the stress like he could
separate out each tangled thread of his emotions. It was too much, he didn’t
want to know this much! “Nothing happened.” He put everything he could into
lying, meeting Stiles’s eyes with a cold stare. “You really thought this was
going to be something serious? You’re such an idiot. You and I never had a
chance. We both got something out of it, now it’s done.”
He really was going to be sick. Bile burned the back of his throat and Scott
tried so hard not show that his overbright eyes were full of tears. It wasn’t
safe to do this until he figured out how what to do with the monster inside of
him and the alpha. Derek had tried to warn him that distractions like Stiles
would just put everyone in danger, but he’d been so sure he’d be able to
control it. “What the fuck am I doing? I’m breaking up with you, I thought that
was really obvious. I don’t want to see you anymore, I’m done. Now get the fuck
off of me and get out of my house.”
___
Scott could have shoved him off, but this was far more effective. Stiles
stumbled to his feet. He’d held on hard enough to leave bruises, but nothing
seemed to mar Scott’s skin. It was like nothing Stiles could do could touch
him, and that was fucking terrifying. Stiles didn’t know how he could have
gotten something so wrong.
"Really, McCall? You rode my dick like you couldn’t get enough." Stiles grabbed
his clothes, pulling on as much as he could in the span of five seconds. He
just needed to get out of the room. 
This wasn’t Scott. There was no way this was Scott. This couldn’t possibly
Scott. That didn’t make anything hurt any less. Stiles nearly tripped over his
own feet, rushing out the door, his jacket dragging on the ground and left shoe
only half on. He didn’t stop until he was out of the house, struggling to start
the Jeep. He missed the ignition switch every time, and fuck. Fuck. How could
he have messed up so badly? How could he miss that Scott was such a fucking
jackass?
He sat there for a moment, stunned and sorry. He didn’t know what he did wrong.
That made it all the worse.
Later that afternoon, a missing person report would go out for Duncan, and
later still, the Alpha would have Scott at his heel.
"We only hurt the monsters, Scott." The Alpha claimed. Scott couldn’t
understand the perplexities of those lies.
___
Doing the right thing was impossible when you couldn’t tell what it was
anymore. Pushing Stiles away would save him, it had to be the right decision,
but Scott felt hollow. Sleep was a long time in coming and restless when he
kept reaching for something that wasn’t there. How could he have gotten so used
to the feeling of someone’s body tangled around his own? There was nothing left
to hold on to, that tether that kept him connected back to humanity cut by his
own hand and when the alpha called, Scott grasped desperately at any lifeline
he was offered to keep from drowning.
The alpha promised they were doing the right thing and Scott tried to believe
him. They were monsters, killers. They’d murdered children and this was only a
way to right a wrong that had been overlooked. If they didn’t stop them, then
others would get hurt and all he wanted to help. The man would murmur lies that
sounded so much like truth, make him feel stronger than he’d ever been before
and Scott would have done anything for that approval and the way the alpha’s
voice held actual pride. It wasn’t until he was alone, washing the bus driver’s
blood from his hands that he felt any doubt. He watched the water run red as it
circled the drain and couldn’t let himself waver or he’d start screaming.
When the alpha would stroke a clawed hand through his hair and promise that
he’d be strong enough that no one would ever hurt him or ignore him again,
Scott shuddered and surrendered.
At school, Scott started to wield his newfound popularity like a weapon,
learning his lessons well. Those who hurt others deserved to be punished and he
was powerful enough to take them all apart. It was an addictive feeling and
he likedit.
 
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
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