Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/874633.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Scott_McCall, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Frottage, Teen_Angst, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot,
      Hand_Jobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-08 Words: 1494
****** Lights Out ******
by ofvanity
Summary
     "Do you think eighth grade will change us?"
     Scott kisses the base of Stiles' skull, fluttering pressure there and
     down the first notches of his spine. “Not if we don’t let it.”
Notes
     Set pre series, the summer before Scott and Stiles enter 8th grade.
See the end of the work for more notes
They've been friends for so long, Stiles is like a voice in Scott's head.
Infinitesimal in it's pressure and somehow pressingly important. Each whisper
of his voice or each creak of his footsteps' pressure on the hardwood resonates
inside Scott on nights like these. The fifth night in the last six weeks Stiles
is tip-toeing into his bed. Every time he is less precautious, less unassuming,
less hesitant.
He comes to a halt three steps away from Scott's bed. "Where's your mom?"
Scott shrugs, "Hospital. Yours?"
Stiles scans the room and grunts noncommittally.
It's more than enough answer and Scott shoves over to make room for them both
on his twin bed. Before Stiles can reach him, the bedside lamp flickers and
gives out. Outside, the street lamps shut off as well. "Fuck," Scott mutters
into total darkness.
Stiles doubles back and peaks out the windows. "Lights are out across the
neighborhood," he announces.
Scott shuffles off the bed and into the drawer beside it, "Probably from the
storm that’s coming soon."
"Do you have a flashlight?" Stiles asks just as Scott finds his Bat symbol
flashlight and slathers light into the room.
Stiles' silhouette turns to face him, face obscured in the Bat symbol. "I can't
believe you still have that."
"Why wouldn't I?'
Stiles shrugs. Scott rolls his eyes at him and turns the flashlight on its side
so the light will hit the wall and reflect into the room.  It lights only a few
feet in its radius while the rest of the room obscures into darkness. He lays
back down and says, "Come on, let's go to sleep," but they both know it's a
lie.
"It's nine thirty." Stiles protests aimlessly and climbs in beside him.
"I'm allowed to be tired."
They lay beside each other for a few minutes, Scott listening to the rise and
fall of Stiles' chest. He slings and arm around Stiles' waist and presses his
nose to the fine hairs at the back of Stiles' neck. Stiles squirms for a moment
like he does when Scott tickles him and then goes still. "Do you think eighth
grade will change us?"
Scott kisses the base of Stiles' skull, fluttering pressure there and down the
first notches of his spine. Stiles arches into it and then Scott responds, “Not
if we don’t let it.”
Stiles shuffles and turns over. His eyes are bright even in the shadows of
scarce light. “Will we?"
Scott kisses him on the mouth. “No.”
Their kisses are warm and trembly, still. Scott hasn’t mustered the temerity to
truly kiss Stiles yet. He can’t fathom the idea of attempting to engage his
tongue in the equation and whenever Stiles' mouth opens with hot breath, Scott
stops himself. He is tempted, but instead nibbles gently on Stiles’ lower lip
and hopes that it resembles something sensual. 
He turns Stiles over and bears his weight over him a little, pinning him to the
bed. Stiles squirms beneath him and Scott can feel Stiles’ growing erection
pressed against Scott's thigh. It’s hot and he rubs against it experimentally.
When Stiles moans in Scott’s ear, Scott does it again. But then Stiles’ anxiety
is back, Scott can hear it in his voice. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” Scott says evasively and ceases the hip motion to kiss Stiles’
mouth again. 
Beneath Stiles’ shirt, his skin is warm and Stiles squirms under Scott’s hand,
“It’s cold.”
“Sorry.”
“Wait,” Stiles says and sits up a bit, elbowing Scott in the process of taking
off his shirt.
“Ouch,” Scott mutters, rubbing at his jaw.
Stiles’ eyes are dark without the regular bedside lamp so Scott can’t see them
but he think Stiles feel brave tonight. Stiles is shirtless and leans forward
to kiss Scott’s jaw. “Sorry,” he murmurs and then kisses his neck. His breath
is hot against Scott’s pulse and in his ear, “You too.”
Scott thinks of how skinny his chest will look and is grateful for the power
outage. He sits back on his haunches and pulls the shirt over his head, dumping
it off to the side to deal with later. Stiles is watching him curiously and
then touches his hips, above the hem of his pants. His hands are cool too and
Scott arches into them, skinny fingers running across his stomach and touching
his nipples. Scott shudders as Stiles rubs them softly and tweaks one with his
left hand.
“Can I?” Stiles asks tentatively and when Scott nods, touches his mouth to the
nub, licking slowly and then sucking when Scott moans again. He repeats the
actions until Scott is panting with anticipation. They kiss silently for a
moment, and when they break apart Stiles lays against the pillows and says,
“Try me.”
Scott nods and does his best to mimic Stiles’ action, licking his nipples
softly and even biting gently but Stiles seems unresponsive. “I guess not,” he
decides.
Instead Scott goes to kissing him, spreading his legs farther apart to
accommodate Stiles between them. This kiss is no less chaste than those before
and Scott hopes Stiles won’t hold that against him. He kisses at the base of
Stiles’ neck and then his Adam’s Apple, gnawing gently and feeling victorious
when Stiles’ mouth shudders with a guttural moan.
Between his legs, the heat is growing again and he presses his stomach against
Stiles’ to feel the way his body moves when Scott rubs their erections
together. Stiles moans again, breaking the kiss to breath, but he doesn’t
discourage Scott in any fashion. Instead, his hands appear at Scott’s nipples
again, tweaking gently and Scott is barely registering that when Stiles rolls
his hips up. The heat ripples inside Scott, curling his toes and making his
head spin.
“Scott,” Stiles chants, “Scott,” and then grabs the back of his neck to bring
him into a kiss. With the heat of the cocks pressed together and building with
each grind, Scott forgets about his fears and slips his tongue into Stiles’
mouth, doing his best to keep their kiss coordinated but probably failing. They
break apart and Stiles is panting, “Wait.”
Scott’s truly impressed with himself when he manages to stop. The room is
spinning and he feels faint, “What’s the matter?”
Stiles maneuvers them and only knocks their knees into each other once,
shifting until he’s on top. He kisses the center of Scott’s chest to placate
him and straddles him, rolling his hips down on Scott's groin in ways he’s seen
on HBO late at night. Scott makes a choked sound and pulls him down into
another kiss. The friction between them is maddening, growing faster with
fervor and multiplied by Scott's tongue brushing against Stiles'. Stiles is so
caught up in the pressure of their hips that he doesn’t notice Scott’s hand
until it’s unzipping his shorts.
“Scott, I’m going to--”
“Keep riding me,” Scott instructs and his hand is hot on Stiles’ dick, pumping
it fast and faster as Stiles loses his rhythm. He’s panting in Scott’s ear and
now he’s fucking Scott’s fist, toes curling with the pressure and how fucking
good it feels and he knows he can’t hold for much longer. Scott’s other hand
grabs Stiles’ ass and he urges Stiles’ rhythm, rough with anticipation and his
dick is so hot through his shorts that Stiles can feel it against his leg.
“C’mon,” Scott groans again and sucks at Stiles' neck encouragingly. In a
flash, Stiles is coming, mouth dry and the sensation shaking heat through his
core, coming on Scott’s hand and between his fingers and on Scott’s shorts.
Scott leaves his dick and both his hands grab Stiles’ ass, manipulating the
grind until he’s gasping and his shorts are wet with his come. 
Stiles sighs heavily and disentangles himself from Scott, quietly tucking
himself away. After a hesitant moment, he lays down beside him again, panting
to collect his breath. Scott only scoots over, not meeting Stiles’ eye like
he’s afraid to. Stiles can’t hold it against him.
The last time Stiles came over, the had kissed and touched each other enough to
get hard but Scott finished hastily in his bathroom, first stuffed into his
mouth to keep himself quiet. When he came back, Stiles was gone. Tonight was
the farthest they’d ever gone together and the gravity of it hangs between
them.
Before either of them can speak, lightning sparks up the sky outside in a flash
so bright the inside of Scott’s eyelids turn pink. The clouds cackle and it
begins to rain, steadily and heavily. Wind whistles inside the window and the
trees outside Scott’s room shake with it. Stiles glances at it. “I guess the
storm is here.”
Scott tries to smile reassuringly for him. There's pressure building in the
back of his head, thudding like a heartbeat and a migraine and Stiles' voice.
"We'll get through it," Scott says, but within the month, Mrs. Stilinski is
dead.
End Notes
     This is for my babe, everhaunting, on her fantastic amazing beautiful
     birthday. I know this is late but I hope you'll forgive it. Plus, I
     hope you forgive that I beta'd this myself, my complete disregard of
     characterization, the shameful lack of cannibalism, and the fact that
     there's like all this angst in there. I know you knew this was coming
     but hopefully I surprised you with the time. I'm going to sleep now
     but I love you! Let me know if I fucked anything up or if you hated
     it. <33 Happy birthday!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!