Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/882677.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Vernon_Boyd/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Vernon_Boyd, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Swallowing, In_Public, Blow_Jobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-14 Words: 2924
****** Stall-Fed ******
by troq
Summary
     The bathroom wasn't as spectacular as he was expecting. For it to be
     locked all the time, he thought there'd at least be a fancy couch
     along one of the walls for him to lay down on while Boyd took his
     'blowginity'. It was how he was picturing it all week, anyway.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
He definitely wasn't walking into the cafeteria for any particular, super
special reason or anything - oh, no. Just a normal teenage kid in normal
teenage jeans and a normal teenage jacket (in which he kept his normal teenage
hands firmly pocketed as if holding onto some kind of incriminating evidence
that would out him in front of every single normal teenage person in the room).
It may have been a little bit suspicious that he was now taking a seat across
from Boyd, fidgeting around with a creepy smile on his face like he was about
to offer the other teen some form of hard drug, but everyone was probably too
wrapped up in their own conversations to even notice.
Stiles plopped his ass against the cold, hard blue chair (which he's sure the
school's staff insists they sit on so that they are never comfortable) and
propped his elbow on top the table in the most nonchalant and super, one
hundred percent, non-conspicuous way possible.
"Boyd," he said after nodding to the black teen, whose expression remained
unbelievably bored. "Ya got the keys?"
The other responded, guise all the same, by lifting his arm out in front of
Stiles' face with a set of keys jingling from betwixt two fingers, to which
Stiles responded by lunging for them with a sigh that spoke about fifty percent
relief and fifty percent worritement (his word for worry + excitement, a
feeling he felt often, apparently). Boyd gripped onto the keys with little
effort, but with more strength than Stiles could outmatch, as to prevent him
from taking them.
"This isn't a favour. It's a transaction."
"Right ... yeah. Absolutely." Slipping his hand from the pocket of his hoodie,
he slapped a bill onto the table.
"I said fifty."
"S- Really? I, I remember twenty. I don't know. I have really good verbal
memory. And I remember twenty. I remember the distinctive 'twuh' sound.
Twuhhhhhh-enty."
"I said ... fifty."
Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, his shoulders giving out from their
upright position, his arms flailing across the table like a Magikarp in battle.
"C'mon, Boyddddd! Have you seen the piece of crap jeep I drive? Fifty is way
too much for something that honestly probably won't even last very long! I see
your lips, I know your reputation, man. Cut me some slack, my body is
practically screaming at my puny little virgin mind to stop being so awkward
and lame and you're just shootin' me down like a stupid, gangly womp rat
running through the forest with those creepy, beady eyes when little Stilinski
could be blowin' up like the frickin' Death Star right about now! In a good
way!" he ranted with his fingers and arms flying around in every which
direction, exhaling with a slump, looking to the other teen for a reaction.
Boyd remain unfazed, and quite frankly, unamused.
"IsaidfiftypshI'llshowyoufiftyalright," he muttered beneath his breath. "Okay.
Maybe we can cut some kind of a deal here, Boyd-o. Maybe if we, uhhhhh ..." he
leaned in and whispered, "split the work load ...." and then leaned back to his
original position, "then maybe you'll be okay with spending the night with
President Jackson and President Jackson only? Eh? Eh??"
"Fifty."
Stiles threw his arms into the air and shouted against gritted teeth, Oh my
God. In a rush, he reached into his pocket again and pulled out the rest of the
money (which was conveniently fifty bucks) and slammed it onto the table. Boyd
responded by smiling from ear to ear in the greatest amount of sarcasm he could
muster before mimicking what he had done earlier - holding out the keys for
Stiles to take this time.
"Aw, that's cute, so cute," he claimed, snatching the keys from his hand before
jumping up to leave the cafeteria.
Now this was probably the hard part, no future, soon-to-be-obvious pun
intended. Considering the halls were littered with students who were either a)
the spawns of some old, demonic creature and didn't need to consume the food
from the cafeteria to nourish themselves or b) students who just already ate
the food from the cafeteria, it would make things a bit difficult for Stiles to
reach his destination.
Going straight down the hall and to the right, he stopped in front of the
locked door he was to go into and surveyed his surroundings. Spencer from his
English class was busy hitting on two girls who were obviously not interested
in him (he's the worst kind of person) and a few other randoms were stopping by
their lockers to chit-chat about the weather or whatever kids who aren't
involved with werewolves on a nightly basis talk about these days.
Come on, come on, come on. Your lives can't be that interesting.
A moment later and the hallway was just about empty, save for himself and one
other person. The instant that person was gone, though, Stiles' body had what
would appear to anyone else to be a miniature seizure as he tackled the door
with the keys he was twirling through his fingers. He nervitedly (another one
of those amalgamated words of his, see: nervous + excitedly) jammed the piece
of metal into the opening and jiggled it around until he heard a click, and
with a triumphant screech, he pushed the door to the staff's first floor,
private bathroom open and closed it shut immediately behind him.
He probably should've checked to see if any teachers were in there before he
started plowing his way into the space, but he tended to be a lucky(ish)
person. Sometimes. Occasionally. Rarely.
The bathroom wasn't as spectacular as he was expecting. For it to be locked all
the time, he thought there'd at least be a fancy couch along one of the walls
for him to lay down on while Boyd took his 'blowginity'. It was how he was
picturing it all week, anyway. All that was in the room was a simple mirror,
urinal, and stall - albeit they were all miraculously clean.
He dropped the backpack that was hanging from one of his shoulders off onto the
ground beneath the sink and looked up at his reflection.
"Okay, Stilinski. You're gonna be half a virgin when you walk out of this room.
Be cool, it's totally normal. This happens all the time!" He blew air into his
palm and sniffed it to check his breath, which in hindsight was probably
totally useless unless he planned on making out with the guy - which he didn't.
He then proceeded to flex his muscles, as if he was even able to see his (lack
of) definition through the layers of clothing he was wearing. Then, he pulled
at the waistband of his jeans and his underwear simultaneously, looking down at
his penis. "Show time, buddy."
With a snap, the black boxer briefs fell back onto his skin and he looked
himself in the eyes, winking while mentally saying 'oh yeahhhh'. With a sharp
turn he swiveled around and wobbled over to the stall. Once in, he sat on the
seat and surveyed his surroundings. To his dismay, no teachers appeared to be
into graffiti.
Now that he was settled in, the slight tinge of fear was making its way into
the forefront of his mind. What if Boyd was actually a serial killer who used a
bathroom sex business as his cover and once he was done chopping up Stiles'
body into tiny little pieces, he'd flush them down one at a time until he
ceased to exist? There'd be no witnesses to speak of, considering Scott didn't
even know about these particular, lunch-time happenings.
Or what if Boyd totally fell in love with his penis (obviously) and began
worshipping the ground he walked on like he was some sort of penile Messiah?
Then he'd follow him around the hallways on a continual basis and he'd probably
be outed eventually for being the guy who payed Vernon Milton Boyd IV for
blowjobs because his dick was too beautiful to be left alone.
Crazier things have happened.
Becoming fidgety, he started to nibble on the strings hanging from his hood,
then soon realized that maybe having a hoodie on wouldn't exactly set a sexy
atmosphere, so he began to take it off. He only began to take it off because in
the time it took for him to loosen one of his sleeves, the door to the stall he
was in was being pushed open and his heart flew through his chest and onto the
floor before realizing it was Boyd - silent as ever.
"Oh my God, why would you even do that? Do you enjoy giving blowjobs to
corpses?! Does rigor mortis turn you on?!" he spat out.
"Why are your pants still on?" replied Boyd, locking the stall behind him.
"I'm sorry, but did you miss the part where you just gave me a frickin' heart
attack? I didn't even hear you come in! I-" and as Stiles continued to ramble
on and on about the nuances of Boyd's silent entrance and the possibility/
horror of him being one of the many teachers who hated him, the other teen
knelt down onto the ground and immediately began to unbutton the awkward boy's
jeans. "And oh my God if it was Coach Asshole who'd-
ohwowyoujustgetrighttothepointdon'tyou?"
This was it. There was no backing out now. Boyd was now unzipping his pants in
what seemed like slow motion (though he was sure it was happening entirely too
fast), his big, strong hands gripping at the fabric, pulling them down hard
enough to make his body slide forward. Well that's hot. He pulled them as far
down as he could, 'til Stiles' jeans were wrapped around his ankles and he was
left in just his boxer briefs.
"Okay, okay. Slow down big guy," he called out, already flustered. Boyd looked
up at him with annoyance streaked across his face. "This is probably already
common knowledge, to I don't know, everyone? But I'm a virgin. And if you keep
that up," he made a clawing gesture with his hands, "then I'm probably gonna
last like, two freakin' seconds. And fifty dollars is a lot of money for two
seconds of pleasure, even if it happens to be, like, mind blowing pleasure,
right?"
"You gonna keep talking or can we get on with this?"
Taken aback, Stiles responded. "Welllll, it is kinda my thing. I talk a lot,
get things done, save the wor-" and yet again, he was being interrupted by
Boyd's tenacity.
This time, his fingertips were tracing the skin beneath the briefs' waistband
as he pulled at the cloth. To Stiles' surprise, Boyd actually listened. He
watched closely, unintentionally holding his breath as Boyd slowly pulled, inch
by inch at his underwear. A million thoughts were racing through his mind, such
as: Ohmygod he's like the first person besides Scott and my parents who've seen
Stilinski Jr. and his gigantic hands are probably gonna make it look so small
and oh my god I probably should've shaved my pubes, I mean maybe he totally
hates pubes and will think I'm super lazy or something and not wanna blow me.
That'd be horrifying but I really hope he does blow me because those lips look
really experienced. I mean Jesus Christ have you seen them?
Soon enough his briefs were brushing past his knees and joining his jeans down
by his ankles and with a sigh of relief he let his legs spread apart
automatically, his flaccid cock waiting for the next step. Now there was really
no turning back.
Boyd took one hand and started to massage Stiles' somewhat hairy balls before
lapping his tongue across the sensitive head of his cock - to which Stiles
responded with a muttered OhmyGod.
Stiles gripped the part of the toilet near his ass cheeks for support as the
other teen began to suckle the head of his cock - the new, insanely pleasurable
feeling already taking its effect on his body as if the entire lower part of
his body was simultaneously feeling the same pleasure. It was slightly mind
numbing and he wouldn't mind getting used to the feeling at all, he decided.
His cock started to harden as those thick, juicy lips slid up and down, up and
down, and the tugging at his balls only made the sensation all that much worse
(in a good way). Boyd let the teen's dick slip out of his mouth so he could
lower his lips down to the suck on his nuts. Seeing his cock lay against the
darker boy's cheek as he did this made Stiles go partially insane.
Stiles' head tilted back as he sighed once more; Boyd's mouth now engulfing the
entirety of his length. He was nearly fully erect now and could feel everything
at a multiplied sensitivity. The underside of his cock slid across the other's
wet tongue and the heat of it all surrounded him. He wanted desperately to
thrust into Boyd's mouth every time he felt the tip of his dick push near the
boy's throat, but restrained himself.
The sound of saliva swashing back and forth as Boyd's lips made their way from
bottom to top was echoing in the small enclosure. It didn't help in terms of
Stiles' assumed inability to last longer than the average t.v. commercial
break, but simply hearing it sent waves of pleasure through his groin and lower
stomach.
Considering his brain was in no condition to bark out orders, Stiles' various
body parts were acting upon their own, newfound free will. He felt his legs
wanting to wrap around Boyd's torso to pull him closer to his own body or raise
up to give the other a new vantage point from which to suck. He felt his mouth
seem unable to close itself as the sighs and quiet moans escaped his lips in a
hurry. He felt his hands want to latch onto the top of Boyd's head, to guide
him to the more sensitive spots that he knew would drive him over the edge (not
that he wasn't already doing spectacularly). All bodily feelings aside,
however, the last thing he wanted to do to a person whose teeth were literally
nanometers away from his dick was make him mad by pushing his head down or
locking him into a leg-chokehold, as much as he wanted to.
Regardless of all the desires running rampant in his mind, he could feel
himself nearing the end already. His legs were weakening and the pressure
building up in his lower stomach was increasing. The pleasure was surging
through him as his hands coiled into fists and he let his body fall back
somewhat against the metal piping of the toilet.
"Oo-oh my God," he muttered out shakily when his ass cheeks clenched together
and his balls constricted. His cock became numb with pleasure and his body
inadvertently thrusted forward into the other boy's mouth as the cum shot out
of the head and down Boyd's throat. Two shots and he felt himself thrusting
even deeper. Three shots and his body was twitching - by the forth it was
rigid. Five shots and his eyes were glued shut, his hands reaching out to grip
at Boyd's shoulder, who was choking at this point. Six shots and he wondered
when the insane amount of pleasure would come to an end, and by the seventh it
did.
When Boyd let Stiles' cock slip from his mouth he swallowed hard and glared up
at the boy. The pale teen felt empty with the release of the heat, like a baby
who just had his candy stolen.
"What the Hell was that?" Boyd asked through gritted teeth.
"OhmyGod I think I literally might be paralyzed. I'll probably have to be
pulled out of the faculty bathroom with my pants around my ankles in the most
embarrassing fashion and oh my God I can't move my legs. My head hurts, does
your head hurt? Because mine is like POUNDING over here. Where did you even
learn how to do that?"
"I asked you a question."
"Oh sorry, what was what? What happened? What did I do? What did I miss? Did I
blackout or something?" he replied, breathing exhaustively.
"You didn't warn me when you were going to finish."
"Oh. I was supposed to do that? Is that a problem? I don't read the fine print
very often, totally my fault."
"Wouldn't be a problem if you didn't cum so damn much," he retorted, matter-of-
factly.
Stiles opened his eyes and adjusted himself, looking up at the now rising Boyd.
"Do what now? I do? This is news to me. I thought I was normal. Normal body.
Normal volume of pearl jam. Am I not? Oh God please don't tell I'm in some
freak one percent of people that spews out like an ocean of lotion like those
guys in those creepy porn videos. Am I one of those guys?"
Boyd rolled his eyes at the comment made by the other and wiped his mouth with
the side of his hand. He then proceeded to open the stall door and walk out,
not saying any more or giving any indication of answering, grabbing the ring of
keys he gave to the boy on his way out now that his job was done.
"Uh, Boyd?" He heard the door to the bathroom open and close again. "...Boyd?
You didn't answer my question!"
No reply.
"AM I?!"
End Notes
     Just a quick rewrite of a scene from Ice Pick (you know the scene,
     c'mon) to have something to put on AO3 because I've had this account
     for entirely too long and all my old fics no longer exist so whoops
     have this. (And yes, my headcanon is that Stiles cums a lot).
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