[pornmas] day 8.
Summary: "He's in heat. Good luck, make sure to use lots of lube."
Fandom/Pairings: Teen Wolf; Stiles Stilinski/Scott McCall
Rating: R
Pre-Notes: I don't know why I started this. I don't know when I started this. MY HARDDRIVE IS A REALLY WEIRD PLACE. This takes place in some alternate universe where nothing after s1 happens. Maybe. I don't even know.
Disclaimer: I don't even want to own Teen Wolf.
it's too 5am for titles
Stiles has always treated Scott a little bit like a dumb puppy. It isn't that Scott is - no, it's exactly that Scott is dumb like a dog and overly enthusiastic and sometimes he drools in his sleep and he always kicks and he forever wants to play without doing real work and he whines when he thinks Stiles isn't paying any attention to him. Honestly, Stiles sometimes wonders if that's what Allison had been fed up with when she frog-marched Scott back to Stiles roughly a month ago and said "Hi, here. You can have your boyfriend back now, I'm sorry I borrowed him for so long."
There had been a moment where Stiles was going to protest that no, Scott wasn't his boyfriend, but then he thought better of himself and realized that yes, Scott is pretty much his boyfriend except they don't have sex. Largely because Scott is hilariously fixated on breasts and Stiles doesn't even fault him that because boobs are awesome and there's kind of no getting around that. Even Danny probably thinks that boobs are awesome.
The point isn't that boobs are awesome, though, it's that Scott doesn't want to have sex with Stiles because he's mopey and Allison broke up with him kindasorta and Stiles just pats his back and gives him new bowls of cereal when he's finished eating the previous ones. They watch a lot of cartoons and it's whatever. They stop supernatural disasters from happening and then it's three months, six months, a year from when Allison returned Scott.
Not, like, down to the day or anything, but it's pretty close and Stiles thinks that's funny in the way he thinks the fact that they save Beacon Hills from a ridiculous amount of danger every couple of weeks is funny. He thinks it's funny in that desperate, sobchoking way where you're only laughing because the alternatives are crying or being angry. He thinks it's funny, because Scott climbs into his lap and nuzzles him (not unusual) before kissing Stiles full-on (really freaking weird).
Technically it's not the first time Scott has kissed him, because Stiles is 90% sure that they kissed when they were tiny and their parents thought it was cute. Seriously, they've been dating for like seventeen years at this point, but those don't count because they were tiny, kiddie kisses. Like, closed lips and everything, but that's not how Scott is kissing Stiles at the moment. Scott is kissing Stiles like Stiles is dinner, something delicious, and maybe Christmas. He's nipping at Stiles' lower lip and grinding against him and uh. There are a lot of strange things about the situation, so Stiles is epically Stiles-smooth about it.
"Um," he says eloquently in between kisses, "I need to. Pee. And, like. Use. The bathroom."
Scott whines pathetically, but Stiles shoves at him enough that he lets go and then he retreats to the bathroom to call Derek. It's really the only reasonable solution in a situation like this, because there is honestly no one else Stiles can ask werewolf-y stuff. This is definitely werewolf-y stuff, and as much as it pains Stiles to ask Derek, he has to.
As usual, Derek is a very happy camper when he answers the phone. "What."
"Hey, sour wolf. Chipper as always, I see." Stiles locks the bathroom door, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear. It's not gonna stop Scott if he really wants to get in but doors usually deter Scott at least a little. "So, Scott's acting hella weird."
"And?"
At some point, Stiles is going to have to teach Derek that monosyllabic answers are nobody's friend. There are more important issues to deal with currently and not much time before even Scott gets suspicious about how long Stiles has been in the bathroom. He sighs. So much werewolf nonsense to deal with, so little time.
"I need your sage, werewolf advice, duh. What would make a werewolf, like. Mack on someone unexpectedly?"
There's a really long and uncomfortable silence on the other end of the line, and Stiles fidgets uncomfortably while he waits for Derek's answer. He rearranges the toothbrushes about seven times. This does not sound like a good situation, and Stiles is so worked up that he almost misses when Derek actually responds.
"Has he been more clingy than usual lately?"
"Uh." Stiles blinks, and ponders that question. It's Scott, so like. "He's Scott. That's just, like, his personality."
Stiles can hear Derek rolling his eyes. It's impressive. "Physically, dumbass."
Hmmmmmmmmm. Stiles has to stop and think about that one. Over the last few days, Scott has been remarkably tactile. Every time Stiles wants to, like, not have Scott glued to him like an extra limb, Scott gets fussy and hella obnoxious. In fact, Stiles can hear him whining pitifully right now. He's scratching at the door like some kind of puppy-which is Scott's default state, but this is above and beyond normal Scott.
"Yeah," Stiles says, "a little."
"He's in heat." Derek's really good at conveying his facial expressions over the phone or something, because Stiles can hear the smirk there. Or maybe he's just got a limited set of facial expressions. Who knows. "Good luck, make sure to use lots of lube."
There's no appropriate response to the way Derek's words catch up with his brain except an extremely undignified and unintelligible squawk. With that giant bombshell dropped, Derek unceremoniously hangs up on Stiles. There's not a whole lot he can do but slump to the tile floor and hold his head in his hands.
After a minute, though, Stiles unlocks the door and lets Scott wrap himself around his midsection like an extremely heavy octopus. Absently, Stiles runs his fingers through Scott's hair and tries to think about how to proceed. He wished that Derek hadn't hung up so he could ask about, like. Werewolf STDs.
"You smell really good." Scott tries to physically become one with Stiles. It makes it a little difficult to breathe. "Like, really good."
". . . Thanks?" On the whole, Stiles isn't sure that's actually a compliment. "Okay, so. You know. Derek said."
In a last-ditch attempt to say words that make sense, Stiles waves his hands around erratically. Pulling away from where he's been sniffing Stiles' armpit, Scott looks up at Stiles and blinks slowly. There is not a single indication that he understands what Stiles' carefully thought out hand signals. Nobody actually understands Stiles' hand signals though, sooooooo.
"We need to have sex." When in doubt, blurt shit out. "Like, now. And maybe several times, I don't know. Derek is a douchebag who left me to deal with your weird werewolf stuff on my own and I didn't even know werewolves had heat but Derek says you do and oh god I can't believe this is happening when did my life become this-"
Scott kisses Stiles, probably to shut him up, and pushes at Stiles until they're in Stiles' bedroom. Then they're naked and everything comes to a screeching halt because, uh. Well. Neither of them has any idea how sex between two dudes works. The American school system has truly failed them here.
So they take a research break and Stiles is lying on his bed, turned toward his laptop screen while Scott fingers him and this is definitely not anything like Stiles imagined his first time to be. But Scott manages to get his dick in Stiles' ass and it hurts like a bitch but Scott stays still until Stiles feels a little less like he's been split in two and then Scott's moving and holy fucking hell if someone had told Stiles sex was this awesome he would have been having it all the time.
He doesn't know who he'd be having it with, but he would be having it all the time. Yeah.
(Then again, it's entirely possible that the sex is only good because werewolf-y sex is good. Half of the time when something in Stiles' life, it's related to werewolves. He really doesn't expect his sex life to be any different, because werewolves in the bad romance novels he totally read for research thank you very much have crazy werewolf sex powers so. There's that. Precedence and stuff.)
Everything gets kind of hazy and good until Scott comes (at least Stiles thinks he comes, he's not really sure what a dude shooting cum into another dude's ass really feels like) and everything feels like it's going to explode. Literally, and definitely not in a "it feels good" kind of way. He very valiantly does not panic for a whole ten seconds.
And then he prompts freaks out, because Scott's dick seems to have increased and maybe grown three sizes or something he really doesn't know. It's just. There's like.
"Scott," Stiles says as calmly as he can manage, "your dick. It's. Growing or something."
There's a very long moment where Stiles can actually see Scott shaking off his post-orgasmic haze and then his eyes get really wide. Scott tries to pull away in a panic and Stiles shrieks, because it hurts like a motherfucker. Stilling, Scott kind of flops on top of Stiles and whines.
"Shhhh," Stiles says. He's trying to be calm, but he's about as far from calm as Pluto. Petting Scott's hair, Stiles tries to make sense of what's going on. And then he has this horrible flashback to that time he researched animal sex. "Oh god. You have a dog dick."
If Stiles had to describe the expression on Scott's face, he'd say it was very confused puppy about to get hit by a car. Like, dead on. Not that Stiles knew what a confused puppy about to get hit by a car looked like or anything, but that's exactly what Scott's expression looked like.
". . . Nevermind. Just go to sleep."
Nuzzling Stiles, Scott sighed happily and proceeded to do exactly that. Sighing, Stiles groped for his laptop. If the internet was to be believed, he'd be stuck like this for a while.
(ps: if you're late to the party/just want more porn, go check out the pornmas advent calendar/masterlist.)
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D
Fandom/Pairings: Teen Wolf; Stiles Stilinski/Scott McCall
Rating: R
Pre-Notes: I don't know why I started this. I don't know when I started this. MY HARDDRIVE IS A REALLY WEIRD PLACE. This takes place in some alternate universe where nothing after s1 happens. Maybe. I don't even know.
Disclaimer: I don't even want to own Teen Wolf.
it's too 5am for titles
Stiles has always treated Scott a little bit like a dumb puppy. It isn't that Scott is - no, it's exactly that Scott is dumb like a dog and overly enthusiastic and sometimes he drools in his sleep and he always kicks and he forever wants to play without doing real work and he whines when he thinks Stiles isn't paying any attention to him. Honestly, Stiles sometimes wonders if that's what Allison had been fed up with when she frog-marched Scott back to Stiles roughly a month ago and said "Hi, here. You can have your boyfriend back now, I'm sorry I borrowed him for so long."
There had been a moment where Stiles was going to protest that no, Scott wasn't his boyfriend, but then he thought better of himself and realized that yes, Scott is pretty much his boyfriend except they don't have sex. Largely because Scott is hilariously fixated on breasts and Stiles doesn't even fault him that because boobs are awesome and there's kind of no getting around that. Even Danny probably thinks that boobs are awesome.
The point isn't that boobs are awesome, though, it's that Scott doesn't want to have sex with Stiles because he's mopey and Allison broke up with him kindasorta and Stiles just pats his back and gives him new bowls of cereal when he's finished eating the previous ones. They watch a lot of cartoons and it's whatever. They stop supernatural disasters from happening and then it's three months, six months, a year from when Allison returned Scott.
Not, like, down to the day or anything, but it's pretty close and Stiles thinks that's funny in the way he thinks the fact that they save Beacon Hills from a ridiculous amount of danger every couple of weeks is funny. He thinks it's funny in that desperate, sobchoking way where you're only laughing because the alternatives are crying or being angry. He thinks it's funny, because Scott climbs into his lap and nuzzles him (not unusual) before kissing Stiles full-on (really freaking weird).
Technically it's not the first time Scott has kissed him, because Stiles is 90% sure that they kissed when they were tiny and their parents thought it was cute. Seriously, they've been dating for like seventeen years at this point, but those don't count because they were tiny, kiddie kisses. Like, closed lips and everything, but that's not how Scott is kissing Stiles at the moment. Scott is kissing Stiles like Stiles is dinner, something delicious, and maybe Christmas. He's nipping at Stiles' lower lip and grinding against him and uh. There are a lot of strange things about the situation, so Stiles is epically Stiles-smooth about it.
"Um," he says eloquently in between kisses, "I need to. Pee. And, like. Use. The bathroom."
Scott whines pathetically, but Stiles shoves at him enough that he lets go and then he retreats to the bathroom to call Derek. It's really the only reasonable solution in a situation like this, because there is honestly no one else Stiles can ask werewolf-y stuff. This is definitely werewolf-y stuff, and as much as it pains Stiles to ask Derek, he has to.
As usual, Derek is a very happy camper when he answers the phone. "What."
"Hey, sour wolf. Chipper as always, I see." Stiles locks the bathroom door, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear. It's not gonna stop Scott if he really wants to get in but doors usually deter Scott at least a little. "So, Scott's acting hella weird."
"And?"
At some point, Stiles is going to have to teach Derek that monosyllabic answers are nobody's friend. There are more important issues to deal with currently and not much time before even Scott gets suspicious about how long Stiles has been in the bathroom. He sighs. So much werewolf nonsense to deal with, so little time.
"I need your sage, werewolf advice, duh. What would make a werewolf, like. Mack on someone unexpectedly?"
There's a really long and uncomfortable silence on the other end of the line, and Stiles fidgets uncomfortably while he waits for Derek's answer. He rearranges the toothbrushes about seven times. This does not sound like a good situation, and Stiles is so worked up that he almost misses when Derek actually responds.
"Has he been more clingy than usual lately?"
"Uh." Stiles blinks, and ponders that question. It's Scott, so like. "He's Scott. That's just, like, his personality."
Stiles can hear Derek rolling his eyes. It's impressive. "Physically, dumbass."
Hmmmmmmmmm. Stiles has to stop and think about that one. Over the last few days, Scott has been remarkably tactile. Every time Stiles wants to, like, not have Scott glued to him like an extra limb, Scott gets fussy and hella obnoxious. In fact, Stiles can hear him whining pitifully right now. He's scratching at the door like some kind of puppy-which is Scott's default state, but this is above and beyond normal Scott.
"Yeah," Stiles says, "a little."
"He's in heat." Derek's really good at conveying his facial expressions over the phone or something, because Stiles can hear the smirk there. Or maybe he's just got a limited set of facial expressions. Who knows. "Good luck, make sure to use lots of lube."
There's no appropriate response to the way Derek's words catch up with his brain except an extremely undignified and unintelligible squawk. With that giant bombshell dropped, Derek unceremoniously hangs up on Stiles. There's not a whole lot he can do but slump to the tile floor and hold his head in his hands.
After a minute, though, Stiles unlocks the door and lets Scott wrap himself around his midsection like an extremely heavy octopus. Absently, Stiles runs his fingers through Scott's hair and tries to think about how to proceed. He wished that Derek hadn't hung up so he could ask about, like. Werewolf STDs.
"You smell really good." Scott tries to physically become one with Stiles. It makes it a little difficult to breathe. "Like, really good."
". . . Thanks?" On the whole, Stiles isn't sure that's actually a compliment. "Okay, so. You know. Derek said."
In a last-ditch attempt to say words that make sense, Stiles waves his hands around erratically. Pulling away from where he's been sniffing Stiles' armpit, Scott looks up at Stiles and blinks slowly. There is not a single indication that he understands what Stiles' carefully thought out hand signals. Nobody actually understands Stiles' hand signals though, sooooooo.
"We need to have sex." When in doubt, blurt shit out. "Like, now. And maybe several times, I don't know. Derek is a douchebag who left me to deal with your weird werewolf stuff on my own and I didn't even know werewolves had heat but Derek says you do and oh god I can't believe this is happening when did my life become this-"
Scott kisses Stiles, probably to shut him up, and pushes at Stiles until they're in Stiles' bedroom. Then they're naked and everything comes to a screeching halt because, uh. Well. Neither of them has any idea how sex between two dudes works. The American school system has truly failed them here.
So they take a research break and Stiles is lying on his bed, turned toward his laptop screen while Scott fingers him and this is definitely not anything like Stiles imagined his first time to be. But Scott manages to get his dick in Stiles' ass and it hurts like a bitch but Scott stays still until Stiles feels a little less like he's been split in two and then Scott's moving and holy fucking hell if someone had told Stiles sex was this awesome he would have been having it all the time.
He doesn't know who he'd be having it with, but he would be having it all the time. Yeah.
(Then again, it's entirely possible that the sex is only good because werewolf-y sex is good. Half of the time when something in Stiles' life, it's related to werewolves. He really doesn't expect his sex life to be any different, because werewolves in the bad romance novels he totally read for research thank you very much have crazy werewolf sex powers so. There's that. Precedence and stuff.)
Everything gets kind of hazy and good until Scott comes (at least Stiles thinks he comes, he's not really sure what a dude shooting cum into another dude's ass really feels like) and everything feels like it's going to explode. Literally, and definitely not in a "it feels good" kind of way. He very valiantly does not panic for a whole ten seconds.
And then he prompts freaks out, because Scott's dick seems to have increased and maybe grown three sizes or something he really doesn't know. It's just. There's like.
"Scott," Stiles says as calmly as he can manage, "your dick. It's. Growing or something."
There's a very long moment where Stiles can actually see Scott shaking off his post-orgasmic haze and then his eyes get really wide. Scott tries to pull away in a panic and Stiles shrieks, because it hurts like a motherfucker. Stilling, Scott kind of flops on top of Stiles and whines.
"Shhhh," Stiles says. He's trying to be calm, but he's about as far from calm as Pluto. Petting Scott's hair, Stiles tries to make sense of what's going on. And then he has this horrible flashback to that time he researched animal sex. "Oh god. You have a dog dick."
If Stiles had to describe the expression on Scott's face, he'd say it was very confused puppy about to get hit by a car. Like, dead on. Not that Stiles knew what a confused puppy about to get hit by a car looked like or anything, but that's exactly what Scott's expression looked like.
". . . Nevermind. Just go to sleep."
Nuzzling Stiles, Scott sighed happily and proceeded to do exactly that. Sighing, Stiles groped for his laptop. If the internet was to be believed, he'd be stuck like this for a while.
(ps: if you're late to the party/just want more porn, go check out the pornmas advent calendar/masterlist.)
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D