Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4834583.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Scott_McCall/Kira_Yukimura
  Additional Tags:
      Light_Dom/sub, Asexual_Kira, Masturbation
  Series:
      Part 7 of Tumblr_Fics
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-20 Words: 3580
****** i wouldn't mind ******
by rjosettes
Summary
     “You feel like you’re going to snap.” The muscles barely move under
     her touch even when she puts some force into it, her own aches
     forgotten. “Your mom has to know someone who can do this for you once
     in a while, professionally.”
     “Costs money,” Scott mumbles, his eyes never straying from his work,
     flickering between the textbook and the unnatural, cramped
     handwriting of the notes he’s been taking. He’s at the end of the
     reading, at least, looping back to make stars next to important terms
     and underlining things he doesn’t want to forget. She reaches around
     and gently slips the pen from his hand. He makes a noise of protest,
     twisting to grab at it, and she catches his lips with hers.
Notes
     Written for the tumblr prompt "scira with ace!kira. scott is like,
     totally cool with not having sex with kira but she knows he gets
     horny and gets boners sometimes, so one day she's like "get off right
     here, right now" and he DOES and it's v nice for both of them.
     (bonus: lots of praising and "so good for me, scott")".
Mrs. McCall’s car isn’t in sight when Scott puts the kickstand down on the bike
and holds it steady while Kira climbs off. She aches in places on her body
she’s not sure even existed before tonight. The bruises and scrapes have
vanished by now, healing slow and steady on the ride home, but the heaviness in
her bones and the tenderness in her flesh remains like the world’s worst
consolation prize. She follows Scott into his house blindly and lets him take
her helmet off so she doesn’t have to lift her arms above her head. The house
is dark and quiet and palpably empty.
 
“Mom’s on 7 to 7,” Scott explains with a sigh as he puts their helmets up on
the shelf his dad nailed up for him. “We’ll pass her on the way out tomorrow.”
He glances at the fridge wearily and Kira takes him by the hand and nudges him
toward the snack basket instead. Neither of them has the energy for more than
chips and fruit tonight. There’s homework to scrape together before they can
sleep and Scott could honestly use a shower (or two), though he’s likely to get
it in the morning while he lets Kira catch an extra twenty minutes. It all
seems like so much right now, though, when they’re so tired it’s hard to make
their way up their stairs even together, supporting one another as they go.
AP Bio is kicking everyone’s ass but Lydia’s, and ‘advanced’ is just about
Lydia’s leisurely pace. They nudge each other alert through the reading as well
as they can, but Kira’s eyes cross and blur every few lines. Scott doesn’t even
seem sleepy anymore, the wrinkles in his brow growing more pronounced the
longer he mutters to himself. His whole body is strung tight with stress and
it’s painful to watch him wind himself even tighter with studying that doesn’t
stick the way it should. All of the sections about genes are reduced to
circling thoughts about the chimeras and how they work, why they fail. He
doesn’t have to tell her for her to know; it’s on all of their minds.
 
Kira gives up about three quarters of the way through and makes a note to try
and raise her hand early in class. She’s not guaranteed to get called on, since
AP teachers seem to love to call on the ones who are desperately praying to be
left alone, but it’s her best bet on getting her participation in before they
get to the part she doesn’t know yet. Maybe she’ll have a minute to skim it
before it’s time for class tomorrow. Or today. She checks the alarm clock on
Scott’s bedside table and finds it’s past one in the morning. She groans and
kneels up, dropping her books over the side of the bed, steadying herself on
one of Scott’s strong, bare shoulders. The tension is right there under the
surface, stone solid beneath his skin. She drops her things and tentatively
rests both hands against him, thumbs brushing up to the base of his neck.
“You feel like you’re going to snap.” The muscles barely move under her touch
even when she puts some force into it, her own aches forgotten. “Your mom has
to know someone who can do this for you once in a while, professionally.”
“Costs money,” Scott mumbles, his eyes never straying from his work, flickering
between the textbook and the unnatural, cramped handwriting of the notes he’s
been taking. He’s at the end of the reading, at least, looping back to make
stars next to important terms and underlining things he doesn’t want to forget.
She reaches around and gently slips the pen from his hand. He makes a noise of
protest, twisting to grab at it, and she catches his lips with hers. It takes
long seconds before Scott’s mouth relaxes under hers, warm and giving. She
doesn’t want giving from him right now.
Tiny kisses along his jaw have him turning back around as Kira lets her hands
pull and press at more than just his neck. His arms are thick with muscle and
his back feels the most tense of everything. It’s no surprise after hours of
hunching over at school followed by running, fighting, more twisting over books
by the time he gets home. Lather, rinse, repeat. Her hands might not have a
lasting effect, but for the moment she can feel Scott begin to ease, leaning
back into her touch even further when her fingers dip beneath his shirt to feel
warm skin. It actually feels like she’s doing something helpful for once in all
of this.
She’s starting to get the hang of it, knowing where to push and how hard, when
Scott gets fidgety. Not fidgety like Stiles, fiddling with his hands or chewing
at his lip. He flinches away from her when she comes near the small of his back
or her fingertips reach too far around his sides, stomach clenching. “Are you
ticklish?” She lightens her touch until she’s barely brushing him. His laugh is
nervous and a few seconds too late. She frowns against his shoulder where she’s
been pressing her lips, uncertain. “Or am I hurting you? Are you still hurt? I
have some Icy Hot in my bag, we could try that instead.”
When he laughs again it’s honest but tired, and he curves his hand over hers on
his bicep. “Kind of the opposite of hurting me, here.” His cheek touches hers
when he tries to glance back at her and it’s flushed so hot it’s like he’s…oh.
He’s blushing. Oh gosh. She has to pull her hands away before she digs her
fingernails into him in surprise. “Sorry,” he adds immediately, curling in on
himself like he’s done something wrong. Undoing all the work she’s just done,
like it doesn’t hurt his back to bend this way. “Maybe I’ll just go take a
shower.”
Her arms fit around him even when he tries to move away, and that feels like a
relief in itself. He could be across the room if he wanted to be, but he lets
her hug him tight from behind, her face in his still-mussed hair. “You don’t
have to apologize for us being…different,” she tells him, slow and steady, her
heartbeat a little quick but hopefully level enough that he knows it’s the
truth. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling that way just because I don’t. I
wasn’t thinking, though; I’m supposed to remember that touching means something
else to you. Especially in a bed. With your girlfriend.” Her face must be as
hot as his now. “Do you want to…”
“Kira, you don’t have to-”
It’s the same conversation they’ve had three or four times already. Or started
to have, rather, since they seemed to get interrupted each time in the
beginning. Kate Argent and a henchman wearing a skull on his head can be a real
buzzkill on a good talk about asexuality. She’s heard the same words from him
over and over – the words girls like her should pray for, supposedly. ‘I like
you, not the idea of sex with you’ and 'Of course I want to, but we never have
to’ and 'No, I don’t wish you were different. Or that I wanted someone else’.
Scott is honestly amazing, in the sense that every amazing word he says is
honest. 'You’ve had other boyfriends,’ her mom had said, but none that, instead
of “handling it well”, treated her like she wasn’t an issue that needed
handling.
Until now, 'you don’t have to’ has been a saving grace. An easy exit. Scott
knows that she likes to kiss him. Likes to sleep in his bed with him where she
can hear his voice before anything else in the morning and keep warm from the
heat of his body. He also knows that when she puts her hands on him and thinks
of how beautiful he is, how strong and wonderfully made, it doesn’t make her
want to have sex with him. Scott is gorgeous, body and soul, and she’d be lying
if she said any different. He feels good against her, comforting and steadily
more familiar as time goes on. It’s just that none of that can excite something
in her that she just doesn’t have. There are all sorts of pretty, eye-catching
people in the world and her eye is caught, definitely, but that’s the end of
the line. Even with Scott, who smiled at her like she’d made the sun rise and
told her he loved her. He doesn’t rev her engine. She’s more sure every day
that there is no engine to be revved, and that’s fine. But Scott’s engine is
revved. Very revved, from the way he holds her where she is, behind him where
she can’t see a thing without sitting up taller. And 'you don’t have to’ sounds
less like a final answer and more a sort of permission. You don’t have to, if
you don’t want. You don’t have to, but you could. Maybe she’s allowed to pick
and choose.
“I know,” she says, because Scott is still talking, chest rumbling beneath her
hands. “I’m asking you if you want to try something. With me. Right here,” she
adds quickly, so he doesn’t get the wrong idea. “Something for you.”
“You want me to jerk off?” Scott asks, incredulous. Not offended, not a no.
Kira settles her fluttering heartbeat – or tries – and drags her hands back the
way they came, tracing along his sides and around to the small of his back. He
shivers and she smiles because this? This she can do. It’s only his back, after
all, and it’s making him feel good. She liked rubbing his back and making him
feel good when she was only worried about his tense muscles. It’s not that
different. She’s behind him, even, and he’s sitting down. He could be naked and
she wouldn’t see a thing she hasn’t before unless she peeked on purpose. “You
deserve some time to…relax.” It’s relaxing, right? She’s rolling with it. “I
want you to go to sleep feeling good tonight, for once.”
She waits for the idea to settle on him in the silence. It’s quiet but not
tense. She realizes it doesn’t matter if he says yes or not; this is a big deal
either way, and it’s out there no matter what. It makes her even calmer and she
feels more in control, more like she knows what she’s doing. Scott should have
nice things and okay, so what, sex with her isn’t one of them. It wouldn’t be
even if he had it. But sex is this whole big web of stuff, not all things that
make her wrinkle her nose or worse. She presses one more kiss at the side of
his throat, gentle and dry, and lets him make up his mind.
They peel him out of the tank top together, inch by inch with their strained
muscles. He rings the laundry basket with it and drops his arms again, going
still, like he’s waiting for her next move. All of his skin at once is a lot,
especially when he’s not just changing for school, and she’s meant to look and
touch. She focuses on the way he moves as he breathes and how warm and soft he
is to touch. Skin that should be broken and bruised from earlier is smooth and
tan, dotted with the occasional mole – not so many as Stiles, but enough to
play connect the dots with.
“And your shorts,” she directs, tugging at a belt loop expectantly. He almost
objects, stalling halfway through the reach for the button, and she hums into
his ear. “I want you to be comfortable.” There’s a beat where he could take
that as an out, and then she can hear him fumbling at the zip. He lifts his
hips to push them down and off and Kira takes stock of his underwear. They’re
deep blue, the waistband grey, and she can tell from the way they hug his body
that there’s no point peeking to see if there’s a convenient opening in the
front. “Good.” Her hands knead at his shoulders soothingly. “If you were alone,
what would you do now? Would you take those off, too?”
There’s a rush of fresh blood beneath the skin at the back of Scott’s neck and
Kira has to bite her lip so she doesn’t laugh. He has nothing to be embarrassed
of. “Not yet,” he admits, the hint of a stutter at the start. “Not at first.”
His hands clench and unclench in the sheets by his side,arms stretched out wide
so he doesn’t even touch his own legs with them. She slides her own hand down
to his wrist and circles it the best she can, thumb rubbing against his pulse,
quick and thunderous.
“So you would touch yourself through them.” No. That’s not what she means. “You
should touch yourself through them,” she corrects, tracing a heart on the back
of his hand before she lets him go, free to move. She can’t see it anymore once
he does, safely hidden by his body between them, but she can tell when he does
what she’s telling him to. His throat makes a tiny click as he swallows hard
and the sheets rustle as he shifts and settles, holding himself up with just
one arm. “Is this okay?” Scott’s head bobs so slowly it’s almost not a nod, but
his arm is moving, too, just barely. “Can you tell me that out loud?” She
doesn’t want to actually say that him being so quiet is freaking her out a
little. Maybe she’s not 100% on what is and isn’t sexy, but it sounds like a
mood-killer.
“It’s totally cool. You just surprised me? And I’m normally alone for this.” He
swallows again, the way he’s moving getting more pronounced. “But it’s cool.
It’s good.”
That’s all the encouragement Kira needs. She lets her fingers dance across his
back, the hint of a spark on skin when she gets careless, wrapped up in the
moment of what they’re doing. Scott twitches, gasps when the energy skitters
out, touching him all over at once in a way she can’t. In the back of her mind,
she makes a note to learn how to do that on purpose when (if?) things calm down
again. Wordless murmurs leave her, chasing the tiny hitches in Scott’s breath,
and it feels so natural that it warms her from the inside. “That’s really good,
Scott,” she whispers, resting her forehead against him and boldly reaching to
brush the arm he’s using. There’s a tiny pause, and she shakes her head,
squeezes so he knows she doesn’t want him to stop. “What does it feel like?’
“Um,” he starts, and she’s never heard his voice quite like this, thick but
threatening to break all the same. “You mean my…?”
Kira can’t stop herself from giggling fast enough this time. “No, not that. How
do you feel? When you touch yourself.”
“Oh.” She gives him the time to think, only distracting him a little with her
little points of contact, places where he can feel her, too. “It feels…hot.
Like my skin is too tight.” That doesn’t sound all that great to Kira. “It
feels good, but it can be kind of…kind of hard to pay attention to.”
“Distracted?”
“Mm,” he answers, and she thinks it’s a yes until he slows his hand again,
frustrated groan bubbling up. “You just always know it’s going to feel better
at the end. So you’re trying to get there really fast. Too fast sometimes.”
“We don’t wanna go too fast. Not right now. We’re relaxing,” she tells him, and
watches as even more tension bleeds out of him. His pace is glacial now even
though he’s still squirming and breathing heavily. “I think you can come out of
these now, though,” she adds, snapping at his waistband. “So you can really
touch.”
Scott doesn’t need telling twice. He’s careful not to turn too much getting out
of them and her heart skips a beat at how sweet he is even when he should be
thinking only about himself. They stay close unlike his tank and shorts, like
he’s thinking ahead to after. With the way he’s sitting, she can’t really see
any more from the back than she did before, making her breathe a sigh of
relief. She’s working herself up to it, okay? The tiny voice in her head
calling her a scaredy-cat can take a nap until later.
After a long quiet spell, Kira realizes Scott’s just sitting there, naked. She
can even see his hand resting against his thigh idly, though his foot twitches
rhythmically near the end of the bed. He’s waiting. He’s waiting for her to
tell him what to do, even though he knows what she’s okay with by now. “Okay,”
she says, more to herself than anything. “I want…I want you to go slow, okay?
Like you – like we have all the time we want. Just to feel good.” Hopefully her
voice isn’t as shaky as her hands as she presses her palms more tightly against
him to keep them stable.
Scott does everything she says, more of his weight resting against her as he
goes, and it gives her time to handle the new layer of this that she hadn’t
planned for. There’s a tingling thrill going through her – not sexual, still,
she’s sure of that much. Every part of her body seems aware of the rest of it
in a way she’s only ever felt with a sword in her hands. It’s like settling
into something she was meant to do. It’s just as scary and big as the kitsune
thing, in its own way, and just as exciting. She urges Scott on with little
demands – turn your head this way, spread your legs a little more. He stops for
a whole minute when she tells him to, cranes around to kiss her like she asks.
She feels braver the more he follows along with her words, kneeling up higher
until she has to shut her eyes to keep from seeing. Scott’s hand makes a slick
sound that’s loud and insistent in her ears and she’s pleased to find it
doesn’t bother her. It’s as telling and wonderful as his breath speeding up and
his toes curling and uncurling, mussing his sheet. “What are you thinking
about?” she asks when she can feel him tensing again, different now, all of the
stress gone from the way he holds himself. “Tell me what’s making you feel
nice.”
“This,” Scott says, and her eyes pop open in surprise, her own lungs struggling
a little. “This,” he says, and she can see where he’s hard, dark skin and
slippery shine, the drag of his fist. “You, talking to me, letting me do this.
I didn’t think we would ever do this, I never-” Her mouth is open and wet
against his jaw and she thinks he bites his tongue, caught off guard. She knows
he likes it, loves the low whine in his throat. Maybe branching out is good.
“Can I, Kira, can I please?”
“Can you what?” she asks slyly against his ear, foxlike for once. A vixen after
all. “What do you need, Scott?”
There’s something deep and dangerous rattling beneath the surface of the moan
that pours from him, something powerful. An alpha under her hands. An alpha who
begs her to come in a hiccuping, pleading voice, like his life depends on it
even though she’s barely touched him, not like that. She says yes with the
weight of it all crashing down on her and holds Scott, shaking like a leaf,
right through it until he’s limp in her arms.
Kira doesn’t let go until Scott’s himself again, carefully nudging her hands
out of his way as he cleans up a little, struggling back into his underwear at
the protest of his weak, lazy muscles. He’s gentle as a kitten like this, not
exactly out of character, but it’s less deliberate. She laughs to herself at
the idea, a tamed beast. Sex, it seems, has a lot more power to soothe the
savage than music does. Scott pulls her to his chest as they find their way
under the comforter, letting her curl its corner in her fist the way she would
in her own bed.
“You so know me,” she says contentedly, thinking tonight might mean sweet
dreams for once.
“I thought I did.” His knee slips between hers, their bodies fitting into their
practiced little puzzle. “I’m kind of second guessing myself now. Was that…it
wasn’t weird, for you?”
She hums sleepily, rubbing her face against their shared pillow. “New. Kind of
private. But not any weirder than when I found out your middle name. Or saw you
without your socks on the first time.” He chuckles and she grinds her elbow
into his ribs. “Seriously. It was different, but I liked it.”
Kira’s on the very edge of dozing when she feels the kiss to her cheek,
feather-light, and stirs. “I liked it, too.” Another, at her temple, and then
everything melts into the cloud of sleep, clear of storms.
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