Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1113325.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Allison_Argent_(mention), Isaac_Lahey_(mention), Kira_Yukimura_(Mention)
  Additional Tags:
      Wow._Porn., Somnophilia, Masturbation, Pop_Culture_References_Out_the
      Yang, Bottom_Stiles_Stilinski, Knotting, Explicit_Language, Comeplay
  Collections:
      MFWW:_Prompt_1_"Penises_falling_from_the_sky"
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-01 Words: 2589
****** Meth and Mountain Dew ******
by calrissian18
Summary
     Scott’s Wolfen – which was a lot like a Kraken but, you know, with
     wolves – had become a needy douche since the bump in power status.
     Allison was busy subduing werewolves by fucking her way through all
     the ones the town had on offer – or whatever her plan was there – and
     Scott wasn’t exactly at the point where he could knot the new girl.
     Didn’t stop his Wolfen from needing to make someone submit.
     And that was the story of how Stiles lost his virginity. He was
     beginning to suspect it might not make Hallmark movie material.
Notes
     I regret every single solitary bit of this. My friends are kind of
     aholes. I leave the room for five minutes and this is the prompt they
     come up with. Oh my life.
     Happy New Year btdubs!
See the end of the work for more notes
A sharp sting of pain pinched the skin of Stiles’ hips, tilting them up.  He
felt a shiver snake up his spine, cold air raising goosebumps over the wide
expanse of his back.  It took him a long moment to realize he was wearing far
fewer clothes than he had been when he’d fallen asleep.  He hissed as the
insistent prick of claws dug slightly deeper into his pelvis, the blunt
pressure of a cock pressing against his hole.  It made him jump a little, as
though he’d caught a chill, and he snorted into his pillow, half-mumbling,
“Penises are falling from the sky.”
One of the hands left his hip and smoothed over the back of his neck and then
his shoulder in a soothing fashion.  It was large and warm and the fingertips
were carefully angled up and away.  “‘m I hurting you?” asked the slurred-
stupid voice of a human with fangs.  But fangs like the fake plastic vampire
fangs people wore on Halloween, where you sounded slightly brain damaged and
sucked your teeth every few seconds.
Stiles took stock as Scott eased inside him.  He was still fairly loose from
earlier – What?  He was a healthy, growing boy with a sex drive roughly the
size of Greenland and an intimate knowledge of exactly how useful his own
fingers were – and Scott had been kind enough to slick himself up before
shoving in.  Stiles grunted, pressing his hips back into Scott’s and making him
moan as Stiles took every last bit of him.  He wriggled slightly on Scott’s
cock, his chest still pressed flat into the mattress, ass in the air, and
decided, “No more than Joss Whedon does on the regular, man.”  Scott pulled
back, one clawed hand on his shoulder and thrust back in.  Stiles let out a
slightly winded ‘oof.’  “We’re a bit too practiced at this for it to even merit
opening my eyes all the way,” he admitted, only one eye cracked, still wholly
drowsy.
“I stayed away for a week,” Scott argued petulantly.  Which was true.  But it
had always been thought of as ‘a week until…’  At least in Stiles’ mind.  He
was counting down to the next time, every time, simply because pattern said it
was coming – and fast.  Scott’s Wolfen – which was a lot like a Kraken but, you
know, with wolves – had become a needy douche since the bump in power status.
 Allison was busy subduing werewolves by fucking her way through all the ones
the town had on offer – or whatever her plan was there – and Scott wasn’t
exactly at the point where he could knot the new girl. 
Didn’t stop his Wolfen from needing to make someone submit.
And that was the story of how Stiles lost his virginity.  He was beginning to
suspect it might not make Hallmark movie material.
Scott rolled his hips down, nearly making Stiles lose the plant of his knees on
the mattress.  He lifted himself up onto his elbows, giving himself better
leverage to start shoving back onto Scott’s dick.  “Dude,” he panted, “you’re
an addict.  I’m just gonna have a bottle of Mountain Dew waiting for you on the
nightstand the next time you climb in through my window like the world’s worst
Derek Hale impersonator.”
Scott made his curious puppy noise even as his hand tightened on Stiles’
shoulder so he could hold himself flush against Stiles’ ass and grind.
The claws were still there and Stiles could feel them breaking skin.  He’d
stopped caring about the sexy times fouls about a time or ten back.  He
responded to what he thought Scott was questioning.  “You smile too much,” he
said in explanation.  “You can’t be Derek if you’re showing teeth in a way that
isn’t the preface to a threat.”
“Mountain.  Dew?” Scott forced out between driving thrusts, so vigorous that it
made Stiles lose his breath for half a second.
Stiles’ brain scrambled a bit in his head and he tried to pull his thoughts
back in and make sense of them.  It took a moment for the tumblers to click
into place.  He snorted when they did.  “Meth and Mountain Dew,” he said as
though it was obvious.  Scott pushed down on the valley between his shoulders,
flattening his chest into the mattress again and fucking into him hard.  “Meth
mouth?” Stiles tried, voice slightly muffled.
Scott grunted out a sound of negation, tightening the hand on Stiles’ hip and
dragging Stiles back onto his cock.
“How do you not know these things?” Stiles asked him, exasperated.  “It’s like
you don’t even have the National Geographic channel.”  He lifted up, too hot
and sweaty to be pressed into his comforter, and shook his head.  “Dude, you
ruin my cleverness when you make me explain it.”
Scott’s breaths were coming in huffy little pants but he still managed to
demand judgmentally, “I should know what meth addicts prefer to drink?”
Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Obviously.”
Scott’s hand left his shoulder and fitted over the back of his neck, pushing
him down again and, fuck, but his Wolfen was annoying when it decided it needed
to try to smoosh Stiles into his mattress.  Stiles tried to subtly shake him
off but Scott’s grip only tightened, his hips slamming into Stiles’ ass.  Scott
puffed out a few labored breaths and then bit out, “I am sorry about, you know,
you having so much practice at this.”
Stiles let out a sharp breath through his nose.  He was starting to get hard as
Scott’s idiot Wolfen finally chanced on his prostate.  Creatures of the night?
 Not so big on making it good for the dude they were ramming into, just FYI.
 “I haven’t heard me complain once,” Stiles told him, annoyed.  He rested his
forehead on the thumbs of his clasped hands.  “The way you get about this, it’s
like I’ve written you a letter that stretches to fucking Australia detailing my
issues with it.  I would have to write my one bullet point at like ten
tragillion font if I was gonna get it there,” Scott made a curious sound and
Stiles said harshly, “You keep apologizing mid-fucking.”  Even if he wasn’t put
off by Scott’s inability to ‘find the bullseye’ with any regularity, the
constant apologies weren’t exactly going to get him tripping over himself to
come.
“Sorry,” Scott said.
Stiles chuckled, it coming out slightly broken as Scott gave a forceful jab of
his hips.  “That was purposeful, I know it,” he snarked.  He blinked open both
eyes, still feeling half-asleep even as his dick considered plumping up all the
way.  He glanced around and there was nothing lurking in the shadows or hiding
in the cracks in the walls.  Which was a good indication that he was awake and
his mind belonged solely to him, at least for that moment.  “What time is it?”
he asked, staring into the dark corners of his room.
Scott’s hips were starting to stutter a little more unevenly and he pulled
back, holding himself so just the tip of his cock was still being clung to by
Stiles’ hole.  He was clearly trying to bring himself back under control,
attempting to calm his short gasps for air and the tenseness of his clawed
hands on Stiles’ skin.  Apparently Wolfen wasn’t done fucking Stiles quite yet.
 Scott’s voice flickered between gruff and deep and something more regular,
more his own.  “Either really early or really late, depending on how you look
at it.”
Stiles snorted, trying to press back into Scott, to make him fucking get there
already.  Instead, both of Scott’s hands shifted to his hips and held Stiles
forcefully still.  “When was the last time you saw me wake up when it was pitch
black out?” Stiles asked, mouth twisting petulantly as he was thwarted in his
movements.  “Around never hundred hours?” he asked rhetorically, clarifying,
“It’s late.”
“A little after four,” was the answer either way.
“Shit,” Stiles said, trying to wriggle his hips back, but it only made Scott’s
claws dig in more deeply as he remained unmoving, until he was sure he could
thrust back in and not lose it.  Stiles huffed.  “That Wolfen of yours just
does not respect proper business hours.”
“It’s kind of a dick,” Scott agreed, finally caving and giving a shallow thrust
that hit Stiles’ prostate dead on.
Stiles gave a loud moan, reaching a hand back to stroke himself as he sniggered
– gave his cock a lazy pump – and said, “Leave the puns to those with more
capable hands, Scotty.”
Scott’s front pressed up against his back, leaning over him and bringing
clawless fingers up to tweak one of his nipples.  “You want me to get you off?”
he asked with hot puffs of breath against Stiles’ ear.
Stiles considered it but his eyes were half-lidded and he felt like sleep might
still be a genuine possibility.  And, these days, there was only one thing he
wanted more than an orgasm.  “Pass,” he said, yawning, even as Scott’s hips
started rocking into him with more force.  “I think I’m close to passing out
again, and considering how rare that is—”
Scott seemed to understand instantly, his mouth opening on Stiles’ earlobe and
sucking slightly before pulling back.
Stiles rubbed his nose against his pillow and murmured, “You nearly there?”
Scott’s hips were snapping forward with greater regularity and it looked like
Wolfen was done building himself up, bringing himself to the edge, and then
backing off as Stiles’ ass started to get sore from the pace of his thrusts.
 “Fuck yeah, close,” Scott breathed out, voice wrecked.
Thank fucking Thor.  As exhausted as Stiles was, he doubted he’d be able to
sleep through an Alpha werewolf in his final throes.  He started letting out
wounded catches of breath at every plunge of Scott’s hips and eventually he
managed to gasp out, “How long do you think it’s gonna last?”
“It’s been a while,” Scott puffed, “so… longer,” he finished ambiguously.
 Well, that was just fucking great.  Scott’s rhythm faltered and he let out a
long groan, folding himself over Stiles’ back and saying in a voice wracked
with pleasure, “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Happy to oblige,” Stiles said tiredly at the same moment that Scott yanked his
hips back, pelvis pressed flush to his ass and grinded himself into him, the
base of his cock starting to swell and stretch Stiles further.  Stiles
whimpered as the nerves of his hole were rubbed raw and stimulated almost
against his will while Scott came hard inside him, moaning almost non-stop as
he emptied himself in Stiles.
Stiles’ dick throbbed between his thighs, the pressure on his prostate intense,
but he wanted sleep.  He could cry he wanted it so badly.  He shifted, trying
to ease the sharp burst of pleasure into something more manageable – maybe beat
it back into a dull thrum.
Scott moved with him as Stiles dropped down onto his stomach, still adjusting
to the feel of the knot inside him.  That was one thing that just refused to be
gotten used to.
“Okay?” Scott asked sleepily.
Stiles yawned again and thankfully his body was starting to calibrate itself to
function while not only full of cock and come but also tingling with arousal.
 “‘ll live.  Don’t fall asleep on top of me again, dude,” he said at the same
time that Scott was draping himself over Stiles’ back.  Stiles snorted to
himself.  Yeah, he should’ve seen that one coming.
He scrabbled, snatched, clawed at consciousness simply because he hated letting
anything slip away these days but, even impaled and throbbing, he couldn’t hold
on to it.  His eyes slid closed and he dropped into a dreamless sleep.
The first thing Stiles noticed as he eased back into awareness was a stark and
cold emptiness.  He could feel Scott’s spunk inside him still, which was just,
yeah, the opposite of sexy.  Sexy to the negative power.  Not that Stiles’ dick
seemed to know that, the opportunist.  The thought that Scott had gone hadn’t
even fully formed before Stiles felt a mouth engulf his cock.  His breath
caught in his chest.  “Jesus fuck,” he burst out, fisting a hand in Scott’s
hair, “that is nice, dude.”
Scott answered by unceremoniously shoving two fingers inside Stiles' ass and
pushing his come back up it while he bobbed up and down on Stiles’ cock.  Scott
didn’t have any tricks.  He wasn’t a cocksucker at heart.  Now that Wolfen was
satisfied though, he was a generous fuck and so he was willing to fake it.  He
slobbered, drooled over Stiles’ dick and sucked inconsistently and stopped and
stalled in an effort to keep his teeth out of the fray, but it was the thought
that counted.
Besides, the worst blowjob was pretty much better than no blowjob.
At least he knew what he was doing with his fingers.  He worked them inside,
pressing against Stiles’ prostate, thrusting with every dip of his head.  He
pulled off after another minute or so and sat up on his shins, shoving up under
Stiles’ thighs so they were resting over his own while he thrust his fingers in
and out with one hand and pumped Stiles’ dick with the other.  His own cock was
still softening and shiny.
He removed his fingers and pressed his dick back in while he still could, using
it to force his come in deeper while he worked Stiles’ cock.  This, Scott was
better at, probably because he had so much practice with the motion.  It didn’t
take long before the twist of Scott’s wrist and the grip of his hand was
bringing Stiles off.  He came all over his chest and abdomen and the come
hadn’t even had a chance to cool before Scott was dragging his hand through it
and shoving as much of it as he could up Stiles’ ass with his own spunk.
Which was… odd.
Even for him. 
Eventually he noticed that Stiles was staring at him and he shrugged self-
consciously.  He didn’t quite meet Stiles’ eye, instead focusing on some spot
near the middle of his forehead, and cleared his throat.  “I don’t want to get
you pregnant, just to be clear.  The Wolfen, though.”  He coughed.  “He super
wants to put babies in you.  Just wants you totally full of… jizz.”  Stiles
blinked at him and Scott licked his lower lip, face red, like he just realized
he’d used the word ‘jizz’ in a semi-serious conversation.  “So, yeah, sorry
about that.”  Stiles wasn't exactly sure what he was apologizing for,
the ‘jizz’ comment or that he’d added another weird werewolf kink to his
already impressive repertoire.  He should probably be sorry for both though.
Stiles gawked at him for another few seconds before deciding to just let it go.
 He could worry about getting wolf preggers or he could worry about the ever-
widening cracks in his mind or he could worry about how he was going to sit
down tomorrow.  The last won out.  “It’s cool,” he said with a shrug.
 “Wolfen’s going to fail, you’re going to be weird, and I’m going to keep
getting well-fucked out of the whole dealie.  Sounds like a whole lot of win
for the Stiles.  Hooray,” he added with a weak fist pump and a cringing grin.
Scott collapsed onto his back next to Stiles and let out a relieved breath.
 “It’s about damn time you got a win.”
Stiles grinned, agreeing heartily, “A-fucking-men, buddy.”
End Notes
     I'm here sometimes, being AMAZING!
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