Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2532575.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Danny_Mahealani/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Danny_Mahealani, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, Dirty_Talk, Frottage
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-10-29 Words: 2753
****** The Thing About Stiles ******
by Cimila
Summary
     The thing about Stiles is, well, Danny doesn't know exactly what it
     is but he's kinda been head over heels for it since primary school.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
You see, the thing about Stiles was… The things about Stiles… Well, Danny has
never known exactly what it was about Stiles, but from that time in fifth grade
when Stiles punched Wade in the face for being a racist when Jackson was home
sick, Danny knew there was something. They’d been in the peripheries of each
other life since they’d started school. Same primary, middle and now high
school, though not always in the same classes. Half way through middle school
Danny still hadn’t figured out what it was about Stiles, but it made his cheeks
heat up when he thought about Stiles, gave him butterflies.
Which, Danny would have preferred a crush on Jackson to a crush on Stiles
‘Lydia-Martin-Is-The-Only-Person-I’ll-Ever-Love’ Stilinski. So, in the same
vein as hormone ridden teens all across the world when it came to dealing with
unwanted feelings, Danny ignored the hell out of them. Danny would emphatically
state to anyone who knew about his crush on Stiles (a list consisting of
Jackson and Dannys family dog, Dog) that he was one hundred percent over it.
Jacksons scoff would have him revise that statement to, ‘Okay, not over-over
it, but I’ve got it under control.’ And he did, he kept this crush so close to
his chest that not even Lydia knew about it, and she made a point to know
everything.
And then, grabbing a quick drink from the side lines during a time out, Danny
decided he was cursed. And, indeed, hearing Stiles admit that he ‘already did
that today, twice’ was the start of a severe downward spiral for Danny. He
didn’t think about it for the next few days, too occupied with the not only the
victory, but the fact that Jackson was hospitalised. It was almost a week
later, when thing started to stabilise again, that Danny remembered. After
that, the thought of Stiles ‘playing with himself’, as Coach so delicately put
it, was constantly on his mind.
He really, honestly, tried not to think about it except, well, there’s this
thing about Stiles, right, and Danny still has no fucking clue what it is, how
he can explain it, because it’s Stiles. It just makes it impossible for Danny
not to think about him, for him to ignore the stupid way that Stiles walks with
all the grace of a baby giraffe, practically throwing his body from one place
to the next. And, God, what Danny wouldn’t give to be the next place Stiles
threw his body. So, after a few days of agony, surreptitiously watching Stiles
during class, the way his long fingers wrap around pens and paper, and how
Stiles will apparently put fucking anything in his mouth – Danny wants to test
that theory so bad it hurts, sometimes – Danny decides enough is enough.
He leaves school during his free period, not caring that he has two more
classes after, because if he doesn’t do something right now, he’s going to
crack and either jump Stiles or punch him in his pretty, pretty mouth because
(and Danny feels kind of horrible for thinking it, but awkwardly turned on at
the same time) something needs to bruise up his mouth and Danny wants to be the
one to do it, either way. Occasionally Danny thinks that the next ‘do you think
I’m attractive’ question will finally tip that scale permanently towards the
‘punch’ instinct, but it never does.
So Danny goes home, because his parent are at work, and his younger siblings
are at school, and he doesn’t even remember to lock the front door because he’s
one hundred percent committed to getting out of his clothes and flat on his
back so he can finally, finally, work through the backlog of images he has in
his head about Stiles. He’d tried to resist, tried not to think about Stiles
while jerking off in the shower, because it has never solved his problem
before, but Danny has officially reached the threshold of not caring.
He’s almost completely naked by the time he reaches his bed, stumbling the last
step to the bed as he tries to take his socks off and open his bed side drawer
at the same time, but before too long Danny is stretched out against the
sheets, wondering where, exactly, he should start. No one else would be home
for hours, he had time to work himself over slowly, but he thinks back to where
this most recent fixation started and Danny knows that he’s not going to be
able to fuck himself nice and slow on his fingers because all he can think
about, now, is how Stiles would touch himself.
Maybe he’d tease himself to orgasm, like Danny does when everyone else is out
of the house, draw it out until it’s almost painful, but Danny doesn’t think
so. Stiles probably jerks himself hard and fast, like he’s worried he hasn’t
got enough time, and rougher with himself for it. He’s got that type of
personality, Danny muses, one slick hand wrapped tight around himself. Maybe
Stiles would just spit into his hand, moaning through the pleasure and the
friction; or maybe he likes the smooth glide of lube, hand wrapped real loose
around himself, nice and sloppy like Danny knows his mouth would be if that’s
what Stiles wanted.
Dannys hips stutter upwards at the thought, mouth parting as he moans because
just the thought of kneeling in front of Stiles makes the warm heat pooling in
his gut tighten. He thinks Stiles would probably like that, like him on his
knees, maybe after practice, Stiles sitting on a bench with his legs spread,
because Danny sure as hell likes the thought. Maybe after, when Stiles is loose
limbed and relaxed, Danny can bend him in half and fuck him til he comes again.
He’s seen Stiles stretch, knows that he could fold him up against the lockers,
Stiles legs over his shoulders, and fuck him slow; do him right until Stiles
was a wreck in his arms, moaning and whimpering for more, for Danny.
Danny moans again, much louder than before, as he fucks up into his hand,
because thinking of the difference between the quick, rough way Stiles fucks
himself and how slow Danny would make it is intoxicating. Stiles would be
impatient, no doubt, trying to work himself open on Dannys thick fingers, but
Danny would pull back, pin him down and then go even slower. Danny can
practically see him now, legs spread over Dannys mattress, head thrown back,
begging for more, but Danny would work him open nice and slow. He’d pull away
slowly too, giving Stiles time to whine about the loss – the thing about
Stiles, whenever Danny thinks about this, is that he always whines at the loss
of any part of Danny, clenching around his fingers to make him stay, arching
his back to chase the feeling.
And then he’d move up in between Stiles legs, spreading them further with his
shoulders, before burying himself to the hilt in one sure, swift stoke.
“God, Stiles.” Danny moans again, tightening his hand, because he’s so close,
toes clenching in the sheets as his thighs tense and he tries to thrust deeper
into his hand.
“Danny!” Eyes snapping open, Danny slowly looks over at his now open door,
where Stiles is standing, red cheeked and breathless. Danny feels his own
cheeks flare red, but it doesn’t really matter because Stiles is most
emphatically not looking at him. His eyes are flickering around the room,
incapable of stopping anywhere for more than a few seconds. Danny really needs
to say something, break the tension, because Stiles clearly just heard Danny
moan his name. Except, why I Stiles even in his house, standing in his bedroom?
How long has Stiles been standing there, anyway? Danny doesn’t ask any of these
questions, though, because when he reluctantly unwraps his hand from around his
still hard cock, his hips thrust involuntarily from the sensation and Stiles
eyes hone in on the movement, biting his lip as he takes an unsteady breath
and, oh.
Oh.
“Come here, Stiles.” It’s a huge risk, Danny knows, as he hauls himself up into
a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, because Stiles
could turn and bolt. Incredibly, though, Stiles starts moving towards him, eyes
blown wide, and he stops just shy of Danny. There are so many things Danny
wants to do, notably everything he’s just thought about an then some, but he
settled for reaching forward and undoing Stiles’ belt buckle, and then
unzipping his shorts. Stiles snaps into action then, ripping his shirt off and
kicking off his shorts at the same time, until he’s standing in front of Danny
in just his briefs, dick straining against the fabric. There’s stillness for a
few seconds, again, and Danny is certain that neither of them have any idea
what they’re doing.
So Danny takes the initiative, curling his hands around the back of Stiles
thighs, high enough to feel the swell of his ass, and pulls him so he’s sitting
on Dannys lap. The feeling is overwhelming; just the weight of Stiles on his
legs, his body heat, is enough to have him listing forward until his mouth
comes into contact with the base of Stiles neck, just at the right height for
him to lean against. He takes a moment to breathe in, closing in his eyes,
pressing a soft, chaste kiss to the warm skin. Stiles breath hitches, and Danny
kisses him again, slightly higher, working his way up until Stiles’ mouth is
half a breath away from his own.
Danny looks at Stiles, then, who licks his lips, and that’s about all Danny can
take, so he leans forward and kisses him, chaste as he’d been when he’d pressed
the first kiss against Stiles’ neck. Danny shivers as Stiles drags his hands up
Dannys arms, rubbing his shoulders for a moment, before his long fingers slide
their way down Dannys chest. Danny tries to stop himself from shivering as
Stiles explores, distracts himself with his own exploration of the miles of
pale skin suddenly bared to him. They’re quiet, breathing into each other
mouths, until Stiles skims his hand too close to Dannys still hard cock,
shocking a moan out of him, and the moment breaks.
Stiles stands up, suddenly, and it’s all Danny can do not to grab him again,
pull him back down, beg him not to leave. He doesn’t, though, because if Stiles
wants to leave, Danny has no right to keep him here, no matter how much Danny
wants. Stiles doesn’t dive for his pants and shirt, though, madly scrambling
for the door. Instead, he pushes down his underwear and kicks off his socks,
before he climbs back into Dannys lap, pressing up even closer against him.
Danny can feel an uncontrollable grin stretching across his face, so he pulls
Stiles in for another kiss, and it’s nothing like their previous kisses.
Stiles matches Dannys open mouth with his own, and Dannys glad Stiles tongue is
in his mouth because there are so many things Danny wants to say. He wants to
tell Stiles that he’s thought about this before, about wrapping himself around
Stiles so tightly Stiles can’t leave, doesn’t want to leave. How he’s tried not
to want Stiles like this, because he’d thought that there was no way Stiles
would want this, about how he thinks his heart’s about to beat right out of his
chest in ecstasy. Instead, he keeps his lips sealed to Stiles, wraps one hand
around the back of his neck, and the other around his already leaking dick.
Stiles throws his head back, then, making a sound that could have been Dannys
name.
Danny just applies himself to Stiles neck, keeping everything inside by nipping
and biting his way up and down Stiles neck as he shudders beneath Dannys
ministrations. He pulls back slightly, slowly jerking Stiles off as he
appreciates the colour blooming on Stiles’ neck.
“God, you’re gorgeous.” Stiles says, voice low and wrecked, and Dannys’ hand
falters slightly, because he never imagined something like this. Stiles leans
forward and kisses Danny again, long fingers wrapping around Dannys neglected
cock, and Danny gets back with the program because this isn’t his imagination.
“Fuck, Stiles, the things I wanna do to you…” Danny trails off as he chases
Stiles tongue again, rocking up slightly into the lightly calloused grip, and
Stiles moans against his mouth.
“Li-like what?” Stiles breath hitches as Danny moves both their hands out of
the way and hauls him even closer, so that Danny can feel Stiles’ dick against
his own, pre-cum smearing against their stomachs, and he has to take a second
before he can respond because he’s been so close to the edge since before he
knew Stiles was there and the feeling of Stiles squirming in his lap hasn’t
helped calm him down.
“Stiles, I want to do everything.” Danny could give a detailed list, and
decides that since this might be the only time he has Stiles like this,
thrusting against him and moaning slightly, he might as well go all out.
“I want to fuck your throat until your voice is wrecked, and then return the
favour. I think about spreading you open and fucking you until you’re sore and
loose and over sensitive, and then fucking you some more, until all you can
think about is my cock; I want you on your hands and knees begging me for more
because I’m so good to you, Stiles.” Stiles is panting next to Dannys ear, lips
occasionally making contact and nibbling, but mostly he’s just making small
keening noises and thrusting against Danny, and it’s the best combination of
anything Dannys ever felt. He should have thought of this before, when he first
got his hands on Stiles, because of course talking would be what got Stiles hot
and needy.
“I wonder how much room there is inside your jeep, if there’s enough space for
us to have sex in the back seat, or would we have to do it in the passenger
seat, just like this, you in my lap.” Stiles moans Dannys name, then, and Danny
wonders if he’s close, hopes he’s close, because Dannys not going to last much
longer thinking of all the ways he wants to have Stiles, but he want to get
Stiles off before he comes.
“Do you think you’d let me pin you down, Stiles? Press you into the mattress
with my weight, fucking into your tight–” That’s as far as Danny gets before
Stiles tenses against him, biting just underneath Dannys ears as he comes, and
Danny moans Stiles name as well because feeling Stiles come across their
stomachs, feeling his teeth clamp down, finally pushes him over the edge as
well.
They stay wrapped around each other for a few minutes, breathing in each others
scent, calming down, before Danny flops backwards onto his mattress and drags
Stiles with him, the lanky teen squawking in surprise on the way down. Danny
contemplates getting up to find something to clean them off with, before he
gives into laziness and uses the edge of his sheet. He feels the awkwardness
trying to set in, because what they fuck, they’d just had sex, not that Danny
was complaining, but there wasn’t really a handbook for this type of situation.
Danny was still deciding what to say to break the silence when Stiles rolled
over and buried his face in Dannys neck.
“Talk later, sleep now.” He mumbled, and Danny thought for a second before
agreeing, wrangling Stiles until they were lying properly on the bed. There
wasn’t anything they couldn’t talk about later, after all, except,
“Stiles, not that I’m complaining, but why are you even in my house?” Stiles
shrugs a bit.
“I would say it’s a funny story, but it’s really not. Blame Scott and Jackson,
but blame them later, because I’ve decided we’re sleeping now.” Danny figures
it’s as good a reason as any, and allows Stiles to use him as a pillow, though
neither of them actually sleep. They doze, slightly, and kiss a bit, until the
front door opens and they realise at the same time that the door to Dannys room
is wide open.
The resulting nude sprint to shut his door is hilarious, though fortunately not
seen by anyone else.
End Notes
     This was just going to be a short piece about Danny pining for
     Stiles, and then it turned into Danny working through his feelings
     for Stiles by wanking, and the I decided no, you know what? Danny
     needs some requited love, and voila, Stiles. You wouldn't guess from
     reading it, but there is actually a plot behind why Stiles showed up,
     but I didn't manage to work it in. Although I am now thinking of a
     sequel from Stiles point of view so we know why, exactly, he was at
     the Mahealani house and, also, how long was he standing there
     watching Danny jerk off? Also, apologies for any mistakes, this is
     not beta'd, and it's ten to five in the morning, so, you know.
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