Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1132284.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Allison_Argent, Isaac_Lahey
  Additional Tags:
      Pop_Culture_References_Out_the_Yang, Pack_Bonding, Originally_Posted_on
      Tumblr, tumblr!fic
  Series:
      Part 5 of this_shouldn't_even_be_here
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-12 Words: 1974
****** The Crown Hangs Heavy on Either Side ******
by calrissian18
Summary
     The phantom sensation of hands sliding up his sides momentarily
     crippled him. “The bond—” he croaked, face twisting up with disgust
     while his voice bottomed out, “I can feel them.”
     Stiles’ brow furrowed. “Feel who?”
     “Allison,” Scott gritted out, feeling teeth tug at his earlobe. “And
     Isaac.”
Notes
     Pt. 5 of the tumblr!fic series. tryslora - who is awesome! - prompted
     me with: "how about that time that Scott and Stiles feel Allison
     (getting it on with Isaac) through the bond and help each other out
     through it… ?"
     Original_post.
“Okay, if you were the Doctor, why would you pick almost all human companions? 
I realize that you’re humanoid yourself but all the Time Lords have been wiped
out, wouldn’t you want to surround yourself with the most alien-looking species
ever?  I mean, okay, you’re lonely so snatch up companions left and right, yes,
I get that, but wouldn’t you want a reprieve from that constant tugging of
‘just might be the next best thing but not quite me’ on your heart strings.  No
one’s that much of a masochist.”  Stiles held up a single finger, his beer
bottle hanging by the neck in a loose grip from his free hand.  “Except for
maybe Derek.  But that’s a whole new level of man pain and self-hatred the
world has ne’er seen before.”
Scott let the words wash over him.  He squinted at Stiles, his eyes aching like
they were burning.  He rolled his own beer between his palms, feeling lost. 
Stiles had snuck them after the Sheriff had left for his shift, handing one off
to Scott automatically.  When Scott had reminded him that it wouldn’t have any
effect on him, Stiles had stared at the bottle in his hand for a long moment,
clapped Scott on the shoulder with a grin and said, ‘You’re kinda dumb,
Scotty.  We could get a whole Placebo effect thing going.’
Ladies and gentlemen, his best friend. 
Stiles knocked his knee into Scott’s.  “You didn’t jump on the opportunity to
singThe Real Slim Shady at the top of your lungs and I gave you the perfect
opening, dude.”  He frowned.  “You gonna tell me what’s up?”
The phantom sensation of hands sliding up his sides momentarily crippled him. 
“The bond—” he croaked, face twisting up with disgust while his voice bottomed
out, “I can feel them.”
Stiles’ brow furrowed.  “Feel who?”
“Allison,” Scott gritted out, feeling teeth tug at his earlobe.  “And Isaac.”
Stiles’ eyes widened and he set his bottle down in the dirt, turning to Scott. 
“Oh fuck, really?”
“Yes,” Scott forced out tightly, shadow hands carefully attempting to spread
his legs.  He kept his own firmly closed.
Stiles swallowed.  “Can you feel all the Pack like that?” 
Scott nodded sharply, setting down his own bottle.  “Deaton says once I gain
more control over my inner Alpha, I’ll be able to close the floodgates on it.
 But right now, yeah, anything extreme I can’t block out.”  A sensation like a
flutter of anticipation and pure heat took up residence in his gut and he
groaned miserably.
Stiles licked his lower lip slowly, clearly considering something.  “I have an
idea.”  He stood up and opened the sliding glass door, clearly intending to
leave Scott there.
“Stiles, please,” Scott choked out as a tongue slid over his collarbone.  He
dropped his head.  Fuck, he hated when he could recognize it as Allison. 
Isaac’s hands were a little rougher, Allison’s soft, Isaac was tentative and
restrained – like he wanted to be demanding but wouldn’t risk it, Allison was
frisky and playful.  Scott hated the both of them.  And now Stiles was leaving
him. 
Stiles’ eyes softened as he looked down at him.  “Trust me.”  He closed the
door behind him and Scott could hear him creaking up the stairs before the
sounds faded to the edge of his consciousness, a hand smoothing over his neck
and tugging.
Scott closed his eyes and tried to force away the sensations, to retreat into
his own mind the way Deaton was teaching him.  For a second, it seemed like
Allison and Isaac had grown more persistent before the impression of their
hands and mouths on him dulled.  He finally felt like maybe he could keep
himself from going feral when a hand twisted hard around his nipple. 
This wasn’t Allison and Isaac’s exploratory touches, soft and caressing.  This
was familiar, someone who knew exactly how to take their pleasure.  These were
calluses on hands Scott knew almost better than his own.  Stiles.  He was
drowning them out, forcing Allison and Isaac to the background while he curled
his toes and flicked a nipple.  Scott gasped at the feel of it.
A hand ran down his stomach, fingers pulling at the trail of bristly hair
beneath his navel.  He leaned back on the porch steps as the fingers dipped
down further, circling the base of his cock and, oh fuck, this was what Stiles
was doing right now.  Touching himself for Scott – was he thinking of him while
he did it, too?  Scott bit his lip and forced himself not to strain his ears to
see if Stiles was moaning for him.
Fuck.  That made Scott’s cock throb at the same time that Stiles ran a fist up
and down his own.  He couldn’t let Stiles do this, even if it had relegated
Allison and Isaac’s actions to nothing more than a faint prickle.  He forced
himself to stand, taking a moment to catch his breath while his thighs quivered
from Stiles’ fingers dipping back to touch his perineum. 
His knees actually buckled on his way up the stairs as Stiles ceased teasing
the rim of his hole and pressed inside.  Scott released a shaky gasp, trying to
catch his breath as he pressed his forehead to the railing.  He heard Stiles
let out an almost wounded catch of breath as he pushed in deeper and Scott
spread his legs on the stair, getting finger-fucked right out in the open. 
God, Stiles’ dad could come home and find him like this, a wet patch forming on
the front of his jeans while his hips plunged back into thrusts of a hand he
couldn’t see.
A second finger joined the first and Scott actually whimpered. 
“Stiles.  Stiles, stop.” 
And he must have because the sensations cut off abruptly and the fingers were
pulled free.  Scott bit back a sob as he dragged himself up on shaky legs and
found the door to Stiles’ bedroom.  Stiles looked up at him as soon as he
opened it, red-faced and still in his t-shirt, boxers shoved halfway down his
calves and stretched with the spread of his thighs.  One hand was still wrapped
around his cock and the other smelled strongly of lube and was resting on his
thigh.  He bit his lip.  “S’it working?”
Ladies and gentlemen, his best friend.
Scott licked his lip and hitched up a shoulder.  “I love you, you know.”
Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Duh.”
Scott unbuttoned his jeans, stepping out of his shoes and pulling off his
socks.  “You didn’t have to do this.”  He let his pants and boxers fall.
Stiles glared at him.  “Dude, yes, I did.  You were miserable, it was all over
your face.”
Scott reached halfway down his back and pulled his shirt off over his head. 
Stiles pushed at his own boxers until they were all the way off and Scott
slinked up the bed, pausing to nip at the insides of Stiles’ knees.  He sat on
Stiles’ thighs, leaned in close and messily slotted their mouths together. 
Stiles kissed back, gauging and careful, like he wasn’t sure what Scott’s angle
was.  Scott pulled away after lingering on a chaste kiss.  “Do I look miserable
now?” he breathed out against Stiles’ lips.
Stiles pulled back further so he could squint at Scott’s face, his searching
gaze playing over it.  “No.”
Scott kissed him again and spread his thighs further around Stiles’ hips. 
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.  He wrapped his hand around Stiles’ cock while
Stiles’ lube-slick fingers reached behind Scott, teasing, questioning, before
Scott pushed back into him.  He stroked Stiles slowly, twisting his wrist when
he reached the head of his dick, not wanting to overload him in case Stiles
lost it before Scott could even tell him: “I want you,” while he bore down on
Stiles’ fingers.
He gasped as they reached deep inside of him.  God, he never would have thought
he’d want this.  But it was Stiles.  That always seemed to change things.
Stiles reached up to touch Scott’s cheek with his free hand.  He pressed at the
spot between Scott’s eyebrows where the crease of his frown always appeared
like he was trying to force it to stay gone.  “I want you, too.”
Scott grinned, caught Stiles’ hand before it could retreat, and sucked his
thumb into his mouth.  Stiles’ cock twitched in his hand and he twisted in a
third finger while Scott’s hips bucked.  Distantly he could feel hands on his
hips but it was drowned before he could even decide whose they were.  Fuck, but
Stiles had obliterated everything else.
Scott pressed his hands to Stiles’ stomach, groaning deep and low in his throat
as he took Stiles’ cock.  Stiles was surprisingly silent himself, holding his
breath and letting it out in a slow exhale as Scott settled.  It was more – so
much more – than Scott could have expected but feeling full like this – nothing
else would ever compare. 
He leaned down and the angle made his hips jump forward.  He pulled Stiles’
lower lip into his mouth, sucking, as his hips starting to roll slow and up
into Scott.  And, fuck, it felt good.
Scott raised and lowered himself, letting himself adjust to the feel of Stiles
sliding in and out of him, while they tried to keep their tongues in each
other’s mouths.  It got harder and harder the more forceful Stiles’ thrusts
became.
Finally, Stiles could stand it no longer and he grabbed Scott by the hips and
flipped them.  He shoved up under Scott’s thighs, pulling his hips up and into
him and thrusted deep and, holy fuck, Scott didn’t know there was that much
more deep to go.  His breath caught in his chest while Stiles plunged into him,
face screwed up and eyes bright.  He bit his lip and Scott was so fucking in
awe of him – this person who would give him every bit of himself even though
Scott didn’t even come close to deserving it.
He wanted to make Stiles come, to give back something in the wake of
Stiles’ everything. 
He met every plunge of Stiles’ hips, clenching as he pulled back and away.  It
made Stiles moan every time and Scott wanted to devour that sound from his
mouth.  He dragged Stiles in by the back of his neck and kissed him hard and
deep.
Stiles’ thrusts grew more erratic and the fit of their lips became less
contained until it was mostly just Stiles panting into Scott’s mouth.  And it
shouldn’t have been hot but Scott was throbbing over it.  Stiles’ toes curled
and then he was grabbing Scott’s ass cheek and coming hard inside him and, God,
there weren’t words to describe the feel of that but Scott’s wolf was
stretching out contentedly in his chest over it.
Stiles pressed their mouths together and took Scott’s dick in hand.  It barely
took any time before Scott was arching off the bed and coming all over his own
chest.  Stiles collapsed on top of him, uncaring, his heartbeat like a
battering ram trying to break into Scott’s head.
They stayed that way for a long moment, Scott wrapping his hands around Stiles’
sweat-slick biceps to keep him close, and breathed together.  Finally, Stiles
rolled off of him, settling so that their shoulders were still pressed up tight
against one another’s.
“We totally won, then.”
Scott’s brow furrowed and he looked over at Stiles curiously.
“I mean, as far as ‘whose first time kicked whose ass’ – we totally won.”
A slow grin broke out over Scott’s lips.
Stiles nudged him in the shoulder.  “You should text Isaac, tell him he owes us
a Best Sex trophy.”
Scott huffed out a laugh, turned on his side and kissed Stiles soundly.
His best friend, ladies and gentlemen.
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