Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/583203.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Scott_McCall, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      PWP_underage_best_friend-y_goodness, Supernatural_References
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-01-01 Words: 1803
****** Friends (With Benefits) ******
by devils_trap
Summary
     Raunchy horror flicks and working parents can really change a
     friendship.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
They probably should’ve known before they started wrestling around on the
Stilinski living room floor that it would happen, ‘cause they’re thirteen and a
weak wind can make them pop wood, but they’re excited and don’t have to go to
bed at all because it’s Friday and both of Stiles’ parents and Scott’s mother
are at work, so they’ve got the house to themselves. They eat ice cream for
dinner and watch horror films on the couch with the volume up louder than
Stiles’ mom allows. Some of them are old and genuinely good, but the others are
new and generally shit but the surplus of topless, screaming chicks will always
outweigh plotholes, fake blood that might as well be watered down ketchup, and
bad acting.
After a particularly raunchy one, Stiles and Scott are keyed up and both trying
to hide their wood. Scott makes a grab for the pillow already situated in
Stiles’ lap without thinking, and Stiles promptly smacks away the extended
hand.
“Get your own pillow, bitch,” Stiles teases, sticking his tongue out.
“Oh yeah?” Scott counters and blows some of his hair out of his face.
“You’re supposed to say jerk. Jerk.” Jesus, did Scott pay attention during
Supernatural at all?
Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles are attractive and all, and he saw the way
Scott was trying (and failing) to hide his drool, but c’mon. The Winchester
brothers being hot—for weeks Stiles has been having wet dreams about helping
them vanquish a poltergeist and then letting them have their dirty, dirty way
with him right next to the dug up grave, many times and in many different
positions—is just a perk on top of how bad ass that show is.
“I’ll show you jerk!” Scott pounces like a mentally handicapped house cat, all
flailing limbs and slow reflexes but he deserves an A for effort if you squint.
He awkwardly jabs his elbow into Stiles’ stomach as he tugs them both to the
floor, shoulders jarring with the impact. He wriggles around, coltish legs and
spindly fingers looking for purchase along Stiles’ body, nails biting into the
flesh of Stiles’ forearm and the exposed strip of skin above the waistband of
his pajama bottoms. It’s getting harder for him to breathe through the
exertion, what with the asthma and the boner-that-could, and Scott should have
really waited for it to go away before jumping Stiles but he kind of forgot
about it. Besides, it feels good and there’s no way Scott is stopping now,
anyhow, not when he almost has Stiles subdu—
Stiles flips them, and Scott’s head bounces against the hardwood floor. He’s
sitting across Scott’s lap, knees locked tightly around skinny hips, and he has
Scott’s wrists clasped above his head. In the dim lighting only half of Stiles’
face is illuminated and that’s due only to the menu screen of that D-list
horror film playing over and over behind them. A raised knife and a set of
bouncing tits flicker across the right side of Stiles’ face, catching the glint
in his brown eyes. There’s the faint taste of blood in Stiles’ mouth from where
he bit down on his lower lip in concentration.
“Easy there, tiger,” Stiles says, trying his hardest to capture Dean
Winchester’s easy swagger and devil-may-care attitude while pining a dude to
the ground with just his body and presence. He manages to conjure up a little
of it and hold it (a good 13%, Stiles would say, but it’s not his fault anyway;
he’s more of a Sam, thank you very much) until he realizes that he’s been
slowly grinding his dick into Scott’s youth-soft stomach, and there’s an
answering hardness pressing up insistently into the seat of his thin pajama
bottoms. The bottoms they’re both wearing (sans boxers, it had been a good idea
at the time to go commando, it was—they even shook on it) are so thin from
repeated washing that Stiles can clearly make out the shape of Scott’s dick.
The air seems to leave the room, Stiles holding his breath and Scott’s face is
so red that Stiles is getting concerned he’s fucked this up, he’s fucked up his
only friendship by rubbing his dick against his best friend and maybe causing
him to have an asthma attack.
Shit, where’s the emergency inhaler Stiles started keeping around last month—
Scott makes a pained sound when Stiles begins to apologize profusely and scurry
off. With his hands free now, he slaps one over Stiles’ mouth and clamps the
other down hard on Stiles’ hip to hold him in place. He’s still breathing hard
but this doesn’t feel like an asthma attack. He’s warm low down in his gut and
his heart is beating so fast it’s practically crawling up his throat, but Scott
doesn’t feel panicked at all. He should be panicking, Stiles’ boner is against
his stomach and, shit, his boner’s against Stiles’ ass, but he’s not. Maybe
later, but not now.
Without thinking about it Stiles runs the tip of his tongue against Scott’s
palm, and he whines in the back of his throat when Scott shivers under him and
pushes his hips up against Stiles’ ass. Scott does it again when Stiles is
fully seated once more, and it reminds him of when Stiles’ dad let them ride on
that mechanical bull when they took that trip last summer to the Grand Canyon.
Up and down Stiles goes as Scott does it again, and again, and again. Weedy
knees dig into Scott’s sides as Stiles grinds down in earnest, the prize in
sight and nothing, not Heaven, Hell, or anything short of Stiles’ father coming
home and seeing them like this with a shotgun in hand is going to stop Stiles
from coming, from making Scott come beneath him.
They moan at each other when Stiles starts grinding down harder, and suddenly
Scott’s hands are both on Stiles’ hips, and Stiles’ face is pressed into the
crook of Scott’s neck, breathing wetly against the flushed skin there. The way
Stiles presses his mouth against Scott’s throat can’t be called kissing, not
really, he’s just dragging his lips around all the skin he can reach and
occasionally nipping at Scott’s Adam’s apple, but it makes Scott keen and throw
his hips up harder, faster. He’s furiously shoving at Stiles’ pants, little
“off’s” and “please’s” falling from Scott’s mouth like a broken record as
Stiles finally, blessedly gets with the program and pushes both of their
pajamas down. It’s weird to have their pants trapped around the bottoms of
their thighs, but the skin contact is good, so good, and Stiles is bouncing a
little more each time Scott fucks up against him, and, God, the sounds Stiles
is making.
Scott didn’t really know he wanted this a day ago or, hell, when they both
decided to go commando earlier and were naked and shoving their legs into the
pajama pants now around their knees, but now he never wants anything other than
his eyes rolling back as his balls draw up tight into his body. And he comes,
comes, comes against the underside of Stiles’ dick. He comes harder than he
ever has in his life, smearing it along Stiles’ balls and the backs of his
thighs. The vibrations from Stiles’ keening births goosebumps up and down
Scott’s body, and he digs his fingers into Stiles’ hips as hard as he can as he
rides out his orgasm until his dick feels tingly like a live wire.
Stiles’ asscheeks fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, Scott notices when his
hands slide down after he’s finished, and he digs his nails into the meat of
them as he breathless urges Stiles on.
Then Scott gets an idea. He’s seen it in porn and he doesn’t know if Stiles
will like it, but he squeezes the globes once more anyway, almost for good
luck, and let’s his fingers dance down Stiles’ crack.
Stiles flinches away like Scott hit him when his fingertips brush against his
hole, and Scott’s nervous he did something wrong until Stiles is throwing
himself back, back, back, until the tip of Scott’s index finger is wriggling
inside and Stiles is so warm inside and he’s making these high pitched, punched
out noises that sound like they hurt, and then he’s coming so hard he’s
shaking.
They stay like that, come cooling on Scott’s t-shirt and Stiles’ junk, well
after Stiles gives this hiccuping sigh and wilts against Scott. Stiles might be
skinny as hell but dead weight isn’t fun no matter who it is, and Scott lets
him rest for as long as he can take it.
Then he pushes Stiles off.
Stiles rolls gracelessly beside him, his heather gray t-shirt sweated through
in places, arms akimbo and chest still heaving. There’s a bit of jizz on the
lower left side, and Scott is pretty sure that’s not his but who knows. Scott
blacked out a little when he came.
After a handful of minutes more of silence, Stiles croaks, “Dude.”
“Yeah,” Scott breathes. To be honest, Scott’s waiting for the fallout because
there’s always fallout with shit like this, right? But it never comes. Stiles
has this stupid, lazy grin on his face and it’s contagious because the next
thing Scott knows, he’s grinning like a dumbass back at Stiles and, really,
things are looking like they’re gonna be okay.
“Wanna get more snacks and then do that again?” Stiles asks, propped up on his
elbows. He’s looking down his upturned nose at Scott and God he looks good like
that, his lips red and swollen from being bitten, his cheeks fresh with color.
Stiles let his hair grow out since the last time his dad buzzed it because his
mom liked when he gelled it up, and it’s sticking up at all angles and it’s
cute as shit and God when did Stiles get cute?
“Yeah.” Scott props himself up, too, and for a moment they just look at each
other. Stiles’ eyes never stray far from Scott’s mouth (mainly because Scott
keeps licking it, for Christ’s sake, maybe they won’t even need snacks and a
break because Stiles’ dick is making an extremely valiant effort to meet
Scott’s again). He wants to try everything Scott will let him, and he wants to
let Scott do whatever he wants to him in return.
The thing—the thing with the finger and his ass, Stiles was startled by how
much he liked that.
“C’mon, bitch.” On the legs of a newborn deer, Stiles makes his way to his feet
and holds out his hand for Scott.
They’re hand-in-hand and heaving Scott off the floor when he replies, “Yeah,
yeah, jerk.”
Things are gonna be okay.
End Notes
     This was originally posted on my Tumblr, and may become a series if I
     ever finish the second part.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
etter time to be horny," Tristan
laughed, and pulled the other boy into a strong kiss. Miles enjoyed the
sensation of Tristan's warm lips on his, and he slid his hands down Tristan's
back to pull the other boy nearer to deepen the kiss.
"Miles," Tristan moaned as they pulled apart.
"I've missed this, Tris," Miles breathed.
"I'm willing to forgive and forget everything that went wrong last time if we
promise that everything will be good this time," Tristan stated with only the
slightest traces of fear.
"I'll... I'll do my best. If that's enough for you?" Miles asked. "I really
want to change, Tris, but you know I'm not the best guy."
"You're a great guy," Tristan said adamantly as he found Miles' hand and
intertwined his fingers in them. "You just made some mistakes. Just promise me
one thing. If you need to talk, communicate with me this time. If we fall apart
again, don't make it something that we can avoid by talking."
Miles nodded. "I will, Tris. There's no one I'd rather talk to. I'm sorry..."
"No, you're forgiven," Tristan stated as he put his hand on Miles' chest to
stop from apologizing yet again.
Miles placed his hands on Tristan's over his chest in acknowledgement. Then he
snaked his hands along Tristan's arm and down his side to his waist, and
pressed their already near bodies closer together. "Look, Tris. That party
likely has another hour left on it, and I'm cold. Want to take this to my car
to warm up?"
Tristan nodded before Miles added, "We don't have to do anything you don't want
to do. We have tons to chat and catch up on anyway."
A grin spread across Tristan's face. "There's nothing I wouldn't do with you
right now," he whispered huskily in Miles' ear.
Impossibly, that turned him on even more than their already melding bodies did.
"Let's go," Miles said in a voice that was too close to a squeak for his
liking, but he didn't care as his fingers found Tristan's in a grip, leading
the other boy to his car. And after the squeak he had just made, he was not
ashamed to giggle as they nearly skipped to his car.
Miles spoke as they arrived. "Quick, look around for Hunter. Do not let him see
us getting in the car - he wants to go home so badly."
"If there's one thing I learned about Hunter this summer as his science
partner, it's that he is a homebody," Tristan agreed as he came around to the
passenger side while Miles unlocked the door.
"Always has been," Miles stated as he slid into the car and switched the
overhead light into the 'on' position. Then he saw Tristan's face in enough
light to make out all the little features, and he couldn't stop himself from
pulling Tristan into yet another kiss. They kissed passionately, and Miles was
halfway into Tristan's seat when he had to break the kiss due to the gearshift
digging into his abdomen. He snickered as Tristan's lips tried to follow him as
he pulled back.
"Why'd you stop?" Tristan asked lazily as he fell back into his seat.
"The good old PRNDL was betraying me," Miles said, a soft laugh escaping his
lips at his own joke. Tristan shared a snicker of his own.
"So, want to chat some more, or take this to the back seat?" Miles asked
already climbing back through the center. He yelped as Tristan slapped his ass.
"Hurry up, you," he heard as Tristan nearly pushed him the rest of the way and
followed with speed and grace that Miles had scarcely seen before.
"Whoa there, Tris. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're more excited than I
am," Miles jested, but that sentiment was lost as Tristan tackled him against
the seat.
"Just shut up and kiss me," he heard Tristan barely have time to say before
their lips met. Miles relaxed into the kiss, and allowed himself to meld into
the cushioned seats as Tristan ravaged his lips. His hands slipped into to
Tristan's pants, and Miles let out a moan as the other boy gasped into his
mouth.
They kissed for a while before logic got the better of Miles. "Should probably
turn off the light," he muttered as he broke the kiss. "Want me to grab the
condom and lube before I do, or just keep this at kissing?"
"Mhhm, go ahead," Tristan muttered as he returned his lips returned to Miles
and pushed the brunette down along the back seat. Miles' head hit the window a
little harder than he would have liked, but it turned him on to see Tristan so
into him. He returned Tristan's kisses as he reached his left hand under the
driver's seat to scramble to find the pile of condoms and bottle of lube he
kept under there.
Tristan snickered. "I can't believe you have those down there."
"Just being responsible," Miles quipped. "I bought the lube for us back then –
plus, you did say you wanted a ride in my car."
"How romantic," Tristan replied drolly as he flicked the light before Miles
could ask.
"Nothing's in the way of that now," Miles murmured enthusiastically as he
licked his lips. "So, what do you want to do first? We have an hour. That's
enough for... well everything," Miles said huskily. Then he gasped as Tristan's
hands grabbed at his cock through his shorts. "Wooaoo," or some other weird
noise was the only sound he could make at the contact as his body jerked a bit.
"Getting a little handsy there, Tris," he said before Tristan silenced him with
a kiss, and all of his gasps were forced into the other boy's mouth as Tristan
unbuckled his belt and began to play with his penis.
Miles groaned as his penis was released from its confines and met fresh air
that was quickly replaced by Tristan's warm hands. "Tris," he heard himself
breathe in a shuddering breath, and then his hands were at Tristan's waist as
he snapped loose the button that held his pants up. Excitement surged through
him as his hands brushed over Tristan's smooth, hardened penis.
His lips tickled as he felt Tristan's spread on his, and he pushed his tongue
into Tristan's mouth before the other boy pulled back. Tristan went down, and
Miles gasped as warmth surrounded his dick. "Tris," he groaned, as Tristan
rubbed his tongue down his shaft. Then he groaned again at the sensation of a
chuckle on his penis.
It was so wet and warm as Tristan's mouth and hands travelled up and down his
cock, and he heard himself mutter Tristan's name every time his palm stroked
the head of his dick. Miles let out a shuddering breath as he came into
Tristan's mouth, and didn't miss a beat as his lips met Tristan's as soon as
Tristan's rose from his position. They kissed, and Miles wasn't bothered at all
by the taste in Tristan's mouth.
"My turn," he gushed as he pushed Tristan gently until he was positioned behind
the passenger seat, and Miles found his face buried in Tristan's crotch.
Tristan barely had time to adjust his seating before Miles lips swallowed his
penis.
"Miles," Tristan groaned, as Miles went all the way down in one go. Miles
coughed as he pulled up from Tristan. Tristan stroked a hand through Miles'
brown hair as he chuckled. "Always just jumping into things," he muttered.
Miles laughed as well. "Ugh, I can't do that one anymore without practice –
been a while since we've done this," he said as he ran his palms up and down
Tristan's thighs before speaking again. "All right, on your knees," he ordered,
as he stood up to kneel as well as he could in the cramped car, bent over
halfway as he helped Tristan to his knees in the seat.
Miles grinned from his position with knees on the floor board as he grabbed the
lube, and spread some in his right hand. He returned his lips to Tristan's
cock, causing Tristan to intake a large breath, while Miles slipped his lubed
hand behind Tristan, and traced his finger down his spine and through his crack
until he was pushing gently on his anus.
Tristan gasped as Miles pushed one finger in ever-so-carefully, using his
tongue on the whimpering boy's penis to relax him so that the penetration would
be that much easier. Miles pulled off of Tristan's penis as he asked, "Does
this feel okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine. We're going to need a better position before you get another
finger in there though," Tristan stated.
Miles grinned as he climbed back into his earlier position, reclined against
the driver's side backdoor. "Come here," he beckoned, but Tristan was already
on him. Their lips hungrily met again, and Miles had already returned his hands
to Tristan's rear. He pulled Tristan closer to deepen the kiss as he fingers
found their way to his hole, and his first finger went in easily this time
before he slowly inserted another.
Their tongues explored one another's mouth, and they moaned as their dicks
rubbed against one another's. Miles felt Tristan press his dick against his
crotch as he slowly pushed his third finger in, and moved his fingers ever-so-
slightly to help loosen Tristan up the last little bit as Tristan hungrily
removed their shirts.
"You ready, Tris? I'm about three fingers thick right?" Miles asked as he
brought his lubed hand to jerk his cock a few times.
"You just keep telling yourself that," Tristan joked. "Are you ready?"
"So fucking ready," Miles groaned as he searched for where he dropped the
condom, ripped it open, and slipped it on – it wasn't the best feeling, but he
knew it was the right choice as he didn't want to blow the second he slipped it
in. He grabbed the lube and squirted a large amount into his hand as he sucked
on Tristan's neck, and then spread it on both his and Tristan's dick.
"It's uh, dark, so just kind of sit in the general direction of my dick," Miles
suggested as his hands grasped at Tristan's ass and guided him towards his
dick. Miles groaned as the tip of his dick brushed against Tristan's hole, and
his dick somehow managed to grow harder at the whimper Tristan let out at the
contact. "Just let me know if I need to slow down or stop," Miles said, and
then he pushed upwards as his hands tugged Tristan down onto his dick.
They both let out a shuddering breath, and their lips nipped at whatever skin
of the other's they could find as Miles pushed in. It was so tight, though not
painful for either as the lube kept the penetration slick.
"Ughh, Tris," Miles moaned as he pushed further and further in. He heard
Tristan moan his name into his neck, and he thrust deeper causing a grunt that
lead into a sigh of ecstasy in his ear. "You liking this, Tris?" Miles panted.
"So much," Tristan moaned as he lifted himself up half of Miles' shaft causing
the brunette to take a deep breath in pleasure, and he let his head relax
uncomfortably against the window. And then he was driven wild as Tristan
dropped down, taking all of his dick in one swift go causing Tristan to make a
sound in his ear that Miles knew he would never get enough of.
"Fuck, Tris, keep doing that," Miles groaned as he hands trailed up and down
Tristan's body – over his chest as thumbs brushed his nipples, over his ribs
and slowly feeling each bone, and then finally on his hip – and he thrust up
into Tristan to meet his motion. Tristan whimpered in his ear, causing Miles to
thrust hard up into him quite a few more times to keep hearing that wonderful
noise.
"Next time we're doing this in my bed," Miles groaned, as he gave Tristan
another thrust. "I just want to pound you into the sheets right now and never
stop."
"This is pretty good," Tristan sighed into a moan as he lifted himself up,
before slamming onto Miles' cock with full force.
"Pretty damn good," Miles agreed. "But really, as fun as this is, you deserve
to do it in a bed."
"We'll have to make that happen then," Tristan grunted as he pressed his ass
into Miles' crotch, before rotating his hips and pressing into him as hard as
he could.
"Ahhh, fuck, Tris. Where'd you learn that?" Miles cried, only able to take
shallow breath due to the sheer pleasure of it.
"Porn, probably," Tristan stated as he rose to Miles' lips to kiss him.
"Is that so?" Miles tried to joke, but Tristan fell back on his cock and his
words were lost in a groan. "Keep doing that and I'm going to cum," he managed
to squeak out.
"Good," was all Tristan said as he kept up his motions on Miles' dick.
"Mhhhm, fuck, Tris," Miles moaned as his hands found Tristan's cock, and pumped
it as it was still slick with lube. Tristan breath hitched as Miles' thumb
found this tip of Tristan's dick – Tristan had always been so sensitive there.
"I'm gonna cum soon, Tris," Miles murmured, as his hand sped up on Tristan's
cock.
"Me too," Tristan replied through a grunt. "Cum for me, Miles," he begged.
"Fuck," Miles cried as he thrust up into Tristan. It was all a blur from there.
Pleasure, incredible pleasure as the world spun around him. He only vaguely
felt Tristan's warmth splatter on his stomach and hands as he absently jerked
on the other boy's dick.
"Ugh, Miles," he heard as reality returned around him to find Tristan resting
on his shoulder.
"Tris," Miles exhaled. "That was great."
"Very," Tristan agreed, head resting lazily on Miles shoulder as his lips
pecked at his neck, and fingers trailed down his chest.
"We're definitely doing this again," Miles stated as he shook himself to
awareness. "Ugh, I wish you could come home with me tonight…" he suggested as
he stroked Tristan's hair.
"I could… Zoë did drive us here…" Tristan trailed off.
"Text her, you're coming home with me tonight," Miles stated. They grinned and
shared a kiss. "We should probably get dressed. Hunter is probably about ready
to tear the doors down to get home."
A loud banging on the window above Miles head broke their silence.
"Fuck," Miles muttered. "I didn't mean for that to be literal."
Tristan chuckled as they collected their scattered clothing, and clumsily put
them on in the back seat. Miles took a deep breath to prepare for the
awkwardness as he opened the door and stepped out of the car to find his
siblings waiting.
"Uh…" Miles began. "Tristan's coming home with us, hope you're cool with that."
"Yeah, whatever," Hunter muttered. "Give me the keys. We are not sitting in the
back seat after whatever you two did back there."
Miles huffed. "You can't even drive, Hunter."
Hunter just looked at him as Frankie sighed.
"We got our licenses last month, Miles," Frankie said. "If you weren't dating
Zoë of all people, you might have noticed."
"Hey, I would not have noticed for a variety of reasons," Miles retorted as he
tossed Hunter the keys. "Plus, Tristan will keep me on my toes."
Tristan grinned. "That I will," he promised.
End Notes
     Well, I hope you enjoyed :D Inspiration in this fic was found in
     Until Now, by Fluphies on a03, and AmethystBeloved's Triles Don't
     Look Back missing moment fic.
     Oh, and apparently, Tristan is a power bottom? :P
     I'm thinking of continuing this in two one-shots. One set around
     prom/graduation, and one after college where they finally turn their
     friends with benefits relationship into boyfriends/marriage. But this
     is the far future in my plans, so don't expect them soon.
     For anyone questioning the difference between boyfriends and friends
     with benefits, the difference is only what you make of it. For
     Triles, they are afraid of dating and being hurt, but if they call it
     something else they feel that just maybe they can be happy.
     Hopefully everything is correct. I read this like 47 times D:
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!