Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6463303.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Scott_McCall, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Rough_Sex, Anal_Sex, Scratching, Voyeurism, Gay_Sex, top!scott, Alpha/
      Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Alpha_Scott, Mating_Cycles/In_Heat
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-04-05 Words: 4361
****** What the heart wants ******
by Vivvums
Summary
     Watching the shift entranced him. It thrilled him, to see that power
     and the loss of control, and something about it... Well, it just
     turned him on a little, okay? It wasn't like he'd had fantasies about
     big bestial teeth biting into his shoulder, or a snarling Scott
     pounding into him, clawing him, ruining him... Okay, fuck, he had, he
     was messed up as hell, whatever.
     (Rape is tagged, but it's really more reverse-rape, and fairly mild
     at that, being ultimately consensual.)
Notes
     I splorged out 3/4th of this in 2 hours with a sudden spurt of
     inspiration and couldn't wait to post it, as such it has not been
     beta-read or even proof-read. Nonetheless I hope you enjoy, and
     critique/constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.
     Edit 05-04-2016: I gave it a proof-read, took out like a dozen commas
     and 3 typos, then extended the ending. I'm also considering a second
     chapter, but I'm going to leave it as 'complete' for now because I'm
     not sure.
     P.S. The lack of comments saddens me. Feel free to comment, maybe you
     can give me an idea for the next story :)
Stiles’ fingers drummed on the wheel as his jeep hammered down the asphalt, the
streetlights whooshing by one by one, his anxiety transforming into impatience,
and that impatience expressing it in the small, nervous gesture. He knew it was
stupid to be out driving on the full moon, which reminded him constantly of its
presence by shining obnoxiously in the clear sky, but it didn’t matter. Tonight
was the night he needed to be out, because he needed to go see Scott and make
sure he was okay.
It was the first full moon since he went all alpha, red eyes and everything.
They’d made some agreement that Stiles would just keep away and Scott would
stay at home, Mrs McCall was working the night so it’d be empty, and see
whether or not it would affect him too much. But Stiles didn’t like that plan,
it wasn’t a plan at all, it was just typical Scott ‘hope for the best’
At least that was why Stiles told himself he was going. Just to make sure his
best friend made it through his first moon as an Alpha, he likened it to a
second moon-ginity, and then he could spend the rest of the moons sleeping
peacefully. It was definitely not because he was fascinated by what might
happen, because every time he saw a transformation he got more and more
curious, because he wondered what those fangs combined with animal urges might
do to his skin.
Watching the shift entranced him. It thrilled him, to see that power and the
loss of control, and something about it... Well, it just turned him on a
little, okay? It wasn't like he'd had fantasies about big bestial teeth biting
into his shoulder, or a snarling Scott pounding into him, clawing him, ruining
him... Okay, fuck, he had, he was messed up as hell, whatever.
The heart wants what the heart wants, right?
Scott's house was dark, Stiles got there without interruption and killed the
engine to his jeep. All the wolves must have been keeping well clear of the new
alpha, and Stiles would have been wise to as well. What was it Madonna said,
“If I’m smart then I’ll go away, but I’m not so I guess I’ll stay.”? The song
started to play annoyingly through Stiles’ mind. As he made his way not to the
front door but around the side of the house, Scott would probably hear it if he
was listening, Stiles' sneakers thudding quietly on the driveway, but he didn't
go to the front door. This wasn't front-door business. Instead he made his way
around the side of the house, where he'd long-since memorized the footholds in
the wooden slats and the stronger parts of the guttering which would allow him
to bring his face at the level required to see through the window. Creepy?
Immensely. But right away he saw what he'd been after; the moonlight shone
through the window and even cast a Stiles-head-shaped shadow on the carpet
inside, but more importantly it bounced off of the toned, bronzed skin of his
best friend and provided a visual feast for Stiles' eyes.
He almost lost his grip on the window ledge when his eyes fixated on Scott's
cock, squeezed tight in his hand, jutting up toward the ceiling with a slight
curve to it... His hand seemed to engulf less than half of it, it was like a
big, meaty pole jutting up from his hips and it made Stiles' breath catch in
his throat as for a moment his whole body seemed to slow, then stop, then
bounced back like a rubber band as his pulse started to hammer.
Had it always been that big? Stiles was seriously going to have to reconsider
his life choices if being a wolf meant enhancements in that department, on top
of the general muscley-ness that seemed to go hand-in-hand with werewolf
endurance and metabolism.
His adams’ apple bobbed as he swallowed the lump in his throat, pressing close
enough to the glass that his nose squished against it, watching, trying to get
a better view. Scott’s eyes were closed and Stiles could see the way the
muscles of his abdomen rippled back and forth as he fucked up into his own hand
rather than using the strength of his arms to jerk off like any normal guy
would. It occurred him that this might not have been anything to do with the
Alpha changes, that he might just be a regular old perv, when it happened.
Scott’s eyes opened and Stiles could see their red glow before they even turned
to him, and then when his head rolled a little to face the window, Stiles could
see his heavy brow. The hair thick along his jaw, the thick teeth pushing in to
his bottom lip, the way his nose was broader, flatter. And the look on that
face sent a shudder down his spine, because Scott—The Alpha, whatever, was
looking right at him. And his hips didn’t stop.
It was much too late to try and sink back down under the window ledge, he’d
been irrevocably caught, and all he could hope was that Scott wouldn’t hate him
too much in the morning. His immediate reaction was one Stiles couldn’t
interpret either. Those werewolf faces were real hard to read and only seemed
good at conveying anger and now, apparently, lust. That was the emotion that
sunk into Stiles’ conscious understanding after a few moments. That was what
Stiles told himself as he began to slide open the window and climb inside, feet
thudding quietly on the carpet.
 
That noise seemed to be what snapped the Alpha before him into motion. In what
seemed like a single, blurred movement Scott was off the bed and on his feet
too, standing just opposite Stiles. His legs, however, were bent at the knees,
his shoulders pushed forward, his arms hanging wide by his sides in a
threatening posture. His shoulders moved with his breathing and Stiles could
hear those heavy grunts fall from his mouth.
And did Stiles stop and try to run? No. Because he wanted it. He wanted the way
the Alpha was looking at him, he wanted those teeth and those claws all over
him. His breath was a little shaky as he inhaled it, and that was the second
trigger that Scott needed.
He was nearly winded as he was barrelled against the wall, hard enough that he
would have worried if Melissa’s car had been in the driveway. Scott’s forearm
was pressed across his collarbone, holding him in place, while Stiles’ eyes
were inches away from those red halos. Scott leaned in close to him and
maintained eye contact, and Stiles saw his nose twitch as he sniffed a few
times. It seemed experimental, he even tilted his head like a curious dog as he
moved in closer to sniff from Stiles’ face then around to his neck, where the
blood thrumming closer to the surface would make his scent all the fresher,
heat making him sweat slightly.
Stiles didn’t move. He’d thought it’d be okay and that he could trust Scott not
to kill him werewolf or no, but right at that moment, he couldn’t exactly call
himself sure. Even when he felt that still-hard dick brush against his thigh,
and he was gripped with the desire to touch it.
Without warning the pressure left his chest, and his heels dropped to the
ground where he’d been held slightly upward without even noticing. A low whine
erupted from the other’s mouth as he backed away a little, the conflict obvious
in his features, the way his eyes darted between himself and Stiles, then the
floor, as if he were trying to avoid the thought.
Stupid move of the night, numero trés: Stiles stepped forward and opened his
mouth. “I want it, Scott.” His voice said, more gravelly than he’d expected.
Scott lunged at him again, but this time he was pretty sure he saw both of
Scott’s feet leave the carpet for a moment. Stiles didn’t even have time to
gasp as his entire world became the heated body pressed up against his front;
he felt claws raking down his back hard enough to make him let out a noise of
pain, and that noise was quickly silenced by Scott’s lips on his own.
Kissing with a werewolf was not an experience Stiles could relate to anything
else, it was savage, there was no tenderness and instead just hunger. Those
fangs grazed and nicked at his lips, and Scott’s tongue pushed right into his
mouth, hot and wet and pressing up against his own. His head was pinned back by
the force of it, Scott was huffing on him through the gaps between their lips,
Stiles tried to kiss back but it was more like Scott was trying to tonguefuck
his mouth than actually kiss him, it didn’t leave much room for a riposte.
By the time he’d tired of that, his claws had made quick work of Stiles’ shirt,
shredding the key points of the hem and neck along the back, leaving numerous
stinging lines of flesh. Stiles hadn’t even noticed it happening, the pain of
it so faded in his mind compared to the intensity of the kissing, and of his
boner, and Scott’s riding right on along it where their bodies connected at the
hip and didn’t break apart again until the shoulders. The flesh was turgid and
hot, it’s skin smooth enough to glide with only some drag, and Stiles could
have sworn he could feel the damn thing throbbing.
Drawing his head back, with his mouth hanging open in that way that werewolves
often did with those rows of dangerous teeth, Stiles got another look at his
face. He was still handsome even under all that fierce wolfy-ness, but yet that
added to him and made him even more appealing to Stiles than he should have
been. He only had a moment to admire it before Scott’s eyes moved, those red
rings blurring for a moment in the dimness of the moonlit room.
Then he was being hauled by arms that only looked athletically toned, but hid
the strength of a bodybuilder. It was a swing rather than a lift, hauling
Stiles in an arc across the room to let him land just before the bed, his knees
brushing the carpet. And then he was lifted and shoved onto the bed, still on
his knees, his arms reflexively jutting out to protect himself from a fall. At
the foot of the bed, he had the space to stretch forward and lie down, but
Scott didn’t let him.
Stood at the foot of the bed, his grip on Stiles’ hips was like iron. It hurt
for a moment as his claws drew gashes in his skin as they sunk under the
waistline of his dark blue jeans. Then there was the discomfort as Scott
exerted his strength, the unrelenting fabric squeezing Stiles’ waist until
finally the well-sewn button at the front popped off and the zipper was ripped
down so fast that probably ripped at the bottom too.
Then Scott yanked his jeans down to his knees, and the curve of his smooth,
pale ass was in the air, dented at the sides thanks to the hard-earned muscle.
Lacrosse training paid off in more ways than one. If he’d been in another kind
of mood Scott might have taken some time to admire it, but presently those
Alpha hands grabbed Stiles’ ass for the sole purpose of holding it in place. He
pushed down, forcing Stiles’ knees to spread apart so that his ass was at the
perfect elevation for Scott’s hips.
Stiles’ dick was hard enough that even with his current position, his cock
jutted up rigidly against his stomach, only his balls visible from behind, just
as smooth and pasty as his rump. Stiles could only suck in a breath, his cheeks
bulging out, and bunch up a handful of bedding in each fist before Scott fucked
into him. “Hnghk—GAAAH! FFFFUUCK!” The pain was explosive, it burned through
his mind like a gunshot, causing most of that air to leave his lungs in a loud
cry. Stiles didn’t swear a lot, but he couldn’t even stop it leaving his mouth.
The first tinge of regret sunk into his mind as Scott pushed deeper, and seemed
to spread fire in his wake. And not the good kind of fire; the ‘it feels like
it’s gonna break me’ kind.
Stiles’ head slumped forward and he buried his face in the mattress to follow
the next sequence of scream-like exclamations as Scott pounded into him
relentlessly. On the first swing he’d thrust all the way in, his precum copious
and beyond what a human would be capable of but still not nearly enough for
Stiles’ previously virgin hole. It was stretched tight and thin around his
cock, a red ribbon of puffy flesh that squeezed Scott’s fat girth firmly enough
to make a couple of veins significantly more pronounced. After the first few
thrusts his cock started to glisten with his own fluid, and the burn of
friction lessened, but not by much.
Scott’s claws had practically made a home in Stiles’ skin, possibly crossing
the ‘wolfism’ line. He used the grip to rock Stiles’ body back against him just
as much as he thrust forward with the strength of his powerful, toned thighs.
His hips bounced off of Stiles’ muscled ass, and made it easier to go back in
for more. Long after Stiles’ pained yelling, the Alpha let out a noise of his
own. It was like a growl laced over his huffing breath, the panting of a rabid
beast accompanying each movement, Stiles feeling Scott’s drool splattering down
against his back in little plops.
In that time Stiles had gone completely soft, his limp dick bouncing between
his thighs, his screams having died into yelps. But finally it was starting to
feel warm. The ache was there but it was spreading through him, fading until he
could feel more than just the pain of Scott’s penetration. He could feel the
warmth of it, the shape as it filled him up—And it was doing that very well.
The friction as it glided against the flesh of his hole, oversensitive and raw
because of the pain he’d just endured. It flipped; he couldn’t be sure if it
was the pain or the pleasure now, he didn’t know how long it had been and if
his brain had just got it’s wires crossed but eventually, the noises coming
from Stiles’ mouth weren’t grunts of pain.
He started to roll his hips and buck back against Scott, trying to find a new
angle for himself since Scott was too far gone to think about his partner’s
pleasure. That rutting figure just pounded relentlessly, the muscle of his
tanned torso flexing rhythmically, his somewhat larger and hair-dusted nuts
swinging forward to brush against Stiles’.
When Stiles mustered the will to lift his head again, he could see his
waterworks in the sheets. Drool, tears, maybe even something a bit nastier. The
clock he noticed by the bedside told him it’d already been 30 minutes, and
Scott still wasn’t done. Stiles was just getting started though. He arched his
back and pushed his ass up a bit, forcing Scott to find a higher angle. And
then, just as he did that, Stiles lowered himself, following Scott’s thrust and
turning it into a rolling dance of hips.
That was when Scott hit something that made Stiles moan almost as loud as he’d
been helping. He’d thought the pleasure was just from that warmth, the tingling
of friction akin to a handjob but in a slightly less sensitive place, the
enjoyable movement as it slid inside of him. He was wrong.
“Oh my god, Scott!” He gasped, thumping a fist down against the mattress. He
could feel bead of sweat trickling down his face; now he was starting to feel
hot in the good way. It had all been worth it to get here, he moved his hips
just right to make Scott pound that place again, and drew a noise from himself
that sounded like he was trying to swallow something and shout something at the
same time.
Scott seemed to respond to his bitch’s sudden interest, maybe the fucking had
alleviated the beast a little, or maybe that part of Scott was coming to care
for Stiles too. His eyes still glowed red but he moved, pulling back out of
Stiles. It drew a low whine from the human, Scott’s prick leaving that hole
yawning, with sticky strands of his precum clinging like gossamer across the
expanse of his slowly closing entrance. Scott’s thick precum had slathered most
of Stiles’ lower asscheeks and was crawling in lazy, trailing lines down the
creamy flesh of his inner thighs.
Stiles wouldn’t be empty for long, though. Scott crawled up onto the bed with
his knees and pushed Stiles’ hips all the way down, twisting him so that he was
lying on his right side, whilst hooking his left shoulder under Stiles’ now
raised left leg. His knees shuffled along the mattress so that he could move
between Stiles’ legs, settling his ass on Stiles’ thigh, letting Stiles’ leg
rest on top of his own. Stiles’ leg was held upright, at a pose that strained
his flexibility, but he held it… not that he had much choice.
And then Scott was sliding back in; the angle was new, requiring a lot more hip
movement than thigh. But as soon as it slid in to his now welcoming hole,
gripping snugly but comfortably around Scott’s oversized cock, Stiles’ eyes
went wide. And since he was on his side now he could glance down and see Scott
there, feel him nestled up close between his own legs.
Too bad the assaulting wave of pleasure made him close his eyes, this position
seemed to make Scott’s cock piledrive into that hotspot. Scott was sweating
too, skin drawn taut over the curved muscle of his pecs glinting in the
moonlight. He rocked his hips back and forth, his own taint and balls dragging
against Stiles’ thigh. It tugged his cock at a downward angle, making the
tendons and muscles of his lower groin become more pronounced.
Stiles had no chance, he couldn’t even count the thrusts on his hand before he
was cumming, his pleasure echoing off the walls. His cock spurted
uncontrollably over the bed, painting several erratic, white lines as Scott
continued to fuck him and make his junk bounce. He was breathing so hard his
lungs could barely keep up and it felt like his rib muscles about to cramp.
Scott wasn’t done though.
The alpha, his best friend, pulled out once again and let Stiles roll forward
onto his stomach flatly, and this time when Scott mounted him he felt the
entire weight of his friend’s body bearing down upon him. His own legs were
spread with Scott’s knees between his thighs, and it was all Stiles could do to
wedge a pillow under his stomach to make it a little more comfortable as Scott
humped him. Up close with short, fast thrusts, his skin sliding against Stiles’
back, his breath tantalizing Stiles’ ear. An arm wrapped around Stiles’ body
and pulled them even more tightly together.
Stiles could feel himself starting to get hard again, far outstripping his
usual refractory period. But something wasn’t right, something was hurting
again. Every thrust seemed to be getting more difficult-- like Scott was
getting stuck. Scott’s breathing was getting heavier, enough that it was making
an all new source of pleasure in teasing Stiles’ ear. Then he felt it; like a
fucking tennis ball got shoved into his ass. Scott had already stretched him to
the limit, otherwise he might have cried again, but the pain was very brief,
followed by an incredible, intense tight feeling that erupted all through his
lower abdomen. His prostate was practically squashed and Stiles felt his body
convulse as his second load was pushed out of him. This time though his own cry
was drowned by Scott’s.
The howl sounded weird from Scott’s still largely human vocal chords but that
was what it was. Not that real-wolf howl but the deep and resonant one that
Scott could do, the one that shook the windows and the wall hangings, the one
that reverberated through Stiles’ skull. He felt Scott’s cum gushing through
him in the form of heat, building up spurt by spurt until the pressure got too
great and it started to leak out, trickling down over his own perineum and over
the shape of his balls where they’d been resting on the bed, to soak into the
sheets gradually.
Then Scott fell on top of him, both arms winding around this time, still
connected firmly by Scott’s dick. The heat of his body felt so comfortable that
Stiles couldn’t protest as he was pulled onto his side again, head resting on
the top of Stiles’ bicep while that arm clutched his chest, the other under his
own arm and around his waist. He was sticky, he could feel Scott’s skin
clinging to him, he was breathless and sore and spent but he’d never felt so
damn light. He wanted to laugh, but instead he got pulled down into sleep by
his too-heavy eyelids, the pair sprawled in an awkward diagonal across the bed.
------------
When Stiles woke up, Scott wasn’t there. He felt it immediately, there was no
sweet moment where he could imagine the warmth was still around him, or he
forgot where he was and could imagine everything was fine. He remembered
everything simultaneously, with clarity that shocked even himself. Panic bucked
in his stomach, and then he noticed the pain.
All he’d tried to do was roll over to locate Scott, but a shock of agony surged
through his lower body, It made him groan. And then, Scott’s shadow crossed the
room and he was sitting down on the bed in front of Stiles. He didn’t look at
Stiles, but a hand reached back and touched his shoulder, Stiles’ pain fading
as the veins on Scott’s wrist and forearm became outlined in black.
Stiles didn’t know what to say, and neither did Scott, so for a while neither
of them said anything. But Stiles was pretty sure that even if Scott didn’t
remember everything he’d done, waking up with his cock buried in his bestie was
enough of a shock.
“I could have hurt you. You shouldn’t have done it.” He said eventually, the
emotions in his voice so turbulent, Stiles couldn’t make out how he felt.
“…Sorry. I fucked up.”
Stiles saw Scott’s fist clench and unclench.
“That wasn’t even me. Something else fucked you in my body, Stiles.” He said,
and this time the pain in his voice was evident. Ouch.
“I—“ Stiles tried to speak, but choked instead as the wave of guilt threatened
to make him sob. He knew it had been selfish, a stupid obsession, but all the
regret in the world wouldn’t fix it.
“Was it just the wolf you wanted? Did you plan all of that?” It wasn’t like
Scott to be so… critical, but then, he was reacting a hell of a lot better than
most people Stiles could have imagined would. He clearly remembered how willing
Stiles had been.
Stiles needed time to think about that question, but eventually the honest
answer found him. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t. It just happened, like—I
guess I was a bit gay for you already but—“ He stopped mid-sentenced, amazed by
how stupid what he’d said just sounded. He swallowed a gulp.
Scott finally turned to face him, and Stiles could see the conflict on his
perfectly human face. His handsome face, with his cute crooked jaw, and where
his endearing smile could often be found. Stiles’ hand moved to lay on top of
Scott’s where it was touching him.
“Pleasecanwestillbefriends?” Stiles asked, in a voice so quick and quiet Scott
might not have heard him without super hearing. Scott sighed and his expression
softened.
“You didn’t need to do it like that, Stiles.” Scott began, chewing his lip a
little. “I was… curious, before. And now—“ He glanced across Stiles’ very
naked, very exposed body. Even without a partial shift, his nose could pick up
their mingled scents, Stiles’ sweat laced with his own thick musk, no doubt
from all the cum.
“Now I know. So yeah, we can be friends. Or we can be more. But either way,
don’t do that again.”
Stiles was pretty sure his heart wanted to jump out of his chest again as a
portion of that light, floaty feeling returned, along with a rush of dizziness.
“C’mere and kiss me then. No wolf, just us.” And Scott didn’t need to be told
twice, he leaned down across the bed and toward Stiles with grace that was
impressing, supporting his shoulders on an elbow so that he could position his
lips perfectly against Stiles’.
It was a softer kiss, one that Stiles could have expected from Scott, and it
didn’t evoke the same thrill as the ravaging touch of the werewolf, but it did
make him feel plenty of other things. So Stiles’ arms slid around Scott’s bare
shoulders, over his tanned, toned back and dragged him further onto the bed
until they were pressed flush together, with Scott’s legs off to the side.
Scott was better at, tugging on Stiles’ lips with his own, teasing him by
drawing back and then going in for more and then capturing Stiles’ lip in a
different spot. It didn’t take the teen long to pick up Scott’s tricks though
and soon he was rewarded by Scott’s soft sigh brushing over him.
“Better?” Scott asked, pulling back a little, gazing down at Stiles. Stiles
grinned, taking a moment to respond before nodding. “Totally,” he agreed.
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