2nd DEREK/STILES AND DYLAN/TYLER H POST!

[lycanon]

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Previous prompting posts: round one, round one favorites, round two, round two recs and favorites, round three, spoilery prompt post, the other pairings post, the gen and pack fic post and the
first Derek/Stiles and Dylan/Tyler H post.

This meme is closed. Please see tnw_kinkmeme for your Teen Wolf kink needs

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Re: Fill: Collegiate Supernatural Hijinks, Derek/Stiles, 3/? (warnings for allusions to past dubcon)

[anonymous]

Pretty fucking likely, apparently. He goes over to Jon’s apartment after a few text messages. It’s a little nerve wracking, and Stiles spends a few terrible moments trying to get the words “Baby’s first booty call” out of his head, but makes it to Jon’s place without incident. Stiles’ memory was totally correct. Jon is seriously ripped. He looks like the stereotype for California guys -- sun bleached hair, tan, serious ab definition. It’s hot, Stiles can admit. And he’s nicer than Stiles had thought at first, too, offering to call for takeout first and not laughing at Stiles when he accidentally knocks his teeth into Jon’s.

It’s nice and Stiles decides he won’t hold the fact that Jon’s not a werewolf with stupidly attractive eyebrows against him. Jon actually wants to do sexy things with him, unlike others who shall remain nameless.

They kiss for a long time. Besides the girl from the club, and a couple of drunken kisses spurred by a terrible game of ‘I Never’ in high school, Stiles hasn’t really ever even kissed anyone, let alone gotten to just make out with someone.

He thinks he’s finally gotten the hang of not slobbering all the over the place when tongues are involved, and gets as far as a hand up Jon’s shirt, when the desperate urge to throw up hits him again.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles manages, thanking everything ever that they passed the bathroom on the way to Jon’s bedroom. He shoves Jon off of him and rolls off the bed, racing down the hall. The door is kicked shut behind him just in time and oh, god, it’s like his entire body is rebelling against sexual congress. Again. But without the buffer of alcohol. He kind of wants to die.

Once he’s stopped retching, he hears a tentative knock on the door followed by, “Uh. Dude, are you okay?” Jon sounds genuinely concerned, and Stiles feels kind of bad for thinking he was a douche before.

“Food poisoning,” Stiles says, because he hasn’t got a better explanation. It’s not like he can say, oh, sorry, I touched your chest and then had to puke. Not cool. Self esteem issues forever. He gets up and runs some water in the sink, ducking his head under the tap to slurp up enough water to rinse his mouth out.

“Do you want some water?” Jon offers, and now Stiles feels like even more of a dick. A glance at the mirror shows his face looks pale and strained, but the nausea has receded enough that he feel safe to open the door.

“I should probably go home,” he says. “I don’t wanna...” he trails off and Jon claps him on the shoulder sympathetically.

“No problem, man. But seriously, call me if you want to hang out another day.”

Stiles nods, even though he has no intention of doing so. Feeling perfectly fine before and after violent emesis? Not normal.

After a two day long self pitying sulk, Stiles decides more research is needed. Brushing up against people leaving class is easy enough, and doesn’t cause him to feel sick. But unfortunately he doesn’t exactly have a line of people waiting to make out with him, even for research purposes. Just a college full of strangers and one pack member.

Make that one easily bribed pack member.

“This is a terrible idea,” Isaac insists. He’s back in Stiles’ room, clutching a bag of chips like a shield. “You said we were going to play Call of Duty and order takeout.”

“Which we can totally do! After one tiny favor.” Stiles gives Isaac his best pleading face, and Isaac crumples.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” Isaac tries. “Maybe those were just... the wrong people!”

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Stiles says, “Thanks for the pep talk, dude. But this is serious. I refuse to allow my body to stop me from having sex.”

Isaac cringes. “Maybe you should ask Derek.”

“Ha.” Stiles eyes him suspiciously. “Do you know what’s going on with me? Oh my god, is this some sort of werewolf curse?” he demands but Isaac is already frantically shaking his head. “Fine. This is for science,” he reminds Isaac, then leans up onto his toes to plant one on him.

Isaac rears back immediately, but Stiles is already fleeing the room to the bathroom down the hall, hand clapped firmly over his mouth.