OK ANON! I’ve said before that this doesn’t match your prompt exactly, but I hope it will suffice! Also it’s 4:30 in the morning so if I miss a typo, I’ll get it when I wake up. HOPE YOU LIKE! <3
Call of Booty (or Somewhere In the Middle Turkey)
“Hey, you remember that game we used to play when we were kids?”
“Cops and robbers?” Scott guesses.
Stiles rolls his eyes. “No, idiot. The other game.”
“Oh.” They used to play a lot of games when they were kids. Scott’s not sure why Stiles is giving him that look, like it’s some sort of natural progression to jump from getting his ass kicked at Call of Duty to answering vague questions about the unlimited amount of dumb shit they did as kids that got them in trouble. “Huh?”
Stiles rolls his eyes. His scent goes a little bitter and his hands are doing that frustrated clenching thing that they do sometimes, like they know they can turn into fists and punch something, but they’re trying not to. “Don’t pretend that you don’t remember.”
Scott shrugs. “I don’t know, man. It was a long time ago.”
“Not long enough for you to forget my hand on your dick.” On screen, Stiles’ bomb explodes, and takes a dozen civilians with it.
“You mean gay chicken?” Scott’s pretty pleased with himself for figuring it out. They’d only played it twice maybe, before they got bored.
“No, asexual pigeon. Yes, dumb-ass, what do you think I mean?”
“Sorry,” Scott says, and he is, even if he’s mostly just sorry Stiles is being so dramatic. He’s pretty sure he knows where this is going. He’s been expecting it. Stiles can calm down. “Yeah, I remember.”
Stiles hits pause. “Why’d we stop?”
“Um, I guess it just wasn’t funny anymore.”
“I never thought it was funny,” Stiles says. Then he swallows and wrings his hands.
“Oh,” Scott says. This isn’t going the way he thought it was. He thought it’d go better. “I guess, me neither?”
“Yeah?” Stiles is looking at him, wet-eyed, the way he gets sometimes when he’s nervous and he doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry.
Scott wants to fix it, but he can’t rush in and save Stiles from this conversation. It’s one they need to have. He licks his lips and takes a breath. “I mean—I thought it was a little funny. Because you made it funny. I don’t think you’re a joke.”
Finally, Scott gets a chance to use his ability to find the right thing to say, and it works. The tension leaves Stiles’ body in an exhalation of breath. He stretches. “Dude, I really want to make out with you right now.” His face goes still, frozen in shock. Stiles probably didn’t mean to say that. He means it, though. He means it so much that Scott can smell it on him.
“Okay,” Scott says.
“Are you sure? That you want that?”
Scott can’t help himself—he smiles. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Um, okay, then, I guess.” Stiles tilts his head a little and leans forward. He’s got his fists in his lap. It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “Hey, you know what? You start. You’re the one with all the experience.”
“Not with dudes.”
“It’s the same—Actually, wait. Is it different?”
“I don’t know yet.” Scott’s still grinning. He likes this more than he thought he would. He likes teasing Stiles and watching him squirm.
“All right, fine. I guess it’s up to Stiles to get his hands dirty.”
“Who said anything about hands?”
Stiles goes pink. Scott kisses him. It’s tentative at first, and sweet, and then it’s exactly like Scott thought it would be. Stiles’ kisses are just like Stiles: enthusiastic and sly and they punch Scott in the heart when he’s not looking. He’s not looking at all, though. His eyes are closed. And even if they were open they’d be trying to figure out how Stiles ended up straddling Scott’s lap and what he’s doing with his roaming hands.
“Oh my god,” Stiles says. He’s got his hands tangled in the bottom of Scott’s shirt. “Can I?” His lips are wet, his eyes are bright, and his hair makes him look like he’s been shocked.
“Yeah.” Scott squeezes Stiles’ sides and kisses him. “Whatever you want.”
It takes both of them and a few minutes to get Scott out of his shirt, but they get the hang of it. Both of Stiles’ are off in record time, and then their hands meet on the buttons of Scott’s jeans.
“Hey, Scott,” Stiles says, and finds Scott’s eyes. He’s breathing heavy, and worrying his lip between his teeth. Scott wants to lick it. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yeah. Positive. Are you sure?”
Thirty seconds later, they’re both completely undressed and rutting against each other, spread out in a gangly mess of limbs in the floor. They’re still kissing, but it’s different now—there’s intent, and Scott can finally get his hands in Stiles’ hair the way he wants to, just a little on this side of rough.
Stiles really likes it. He keeps making little shocked noises like he doesn’t mean to be so noisy, and working his hips down and around, not even flinching at the way his knees must be burning against the carpet, like he’s too far gone to stop. Scott gets a hand between them and wraps it around Stiles’ cock.
“Oh god,” Stiles says. His eyes roll back a little, and his head falls, like it’s too much effort to hold it up. “Holy—Scott.”
Scott grins. Stiles is awesome, and Scott wants to get his mouth on him. “Turn over.”
“Huh?” Scott twists his fist and Stiles’ body tenses. “Fuck.”
It’s going to be over soon, so Scott shoves Stiles onto his back. He crawls in between Stiles’ thighs and fits their bodies together, then kisses him again, with slow, sweet tongue, before he moves to the side of Stiles’ mouth, his long throat, his nipple. By the time Scott’s kisses reach Stiles’ stomach, Stiles is trembling.
Scott rests his chin against Stiles’ hipbone. “Is this okay?”
Stiles’s hand comes up to rake through Scott’s hair. Scott can hear him swallow. “I want you. I really want you.” He’s wearing one of the most naked looks Scott has ever seen on him.
“Oh,” Scott says. He probably shouldn’t be smiling. “Okay then.” Seconds later, he’s got his mouth around Stiles’ cock. Stiles nearly screams. That’s the best part.
Scott hadn’t thought it would be like this. He’d hardly thought about it at all. He thinks well on his feet (his knees, too, so far). Especially in this situation, when he’s got his mouth wide open and he’s letting Stiles fuck his throat.
Neither one of them are great at it. Scott gags a little, and Stiles’ movements are jerky and his rhythm is off. It’s the hottest thing Scott has ever been a part of. Until Stiles comes in Scott’s mouth and knocks him onto his back in the same second, which is hotter by far. He collapses half on top of Scott and strokes him firm and lazy until he gets off.
It only takes a minute, and then they just lie there, with Stiles’ head on Scott’s chest and Stiles’ hand a mess of drying come. They’re both wet with sweat and the air is like a wet dream in Scott’s nose, hazy and full of sex.
“So,” Stiles says. His body tenses, just a little. “What now?”
Scott stretches and smiles. “Pizza rolls?”
Stiles sits up. His face looks complicated, so Scott leans close and takes a kiss. Stiles takes it a little deeper.
“Okay, pizza rolls,” he says when he pulls away. “But no sleeping. We’re in the middle of a game, and I’m kicking your ass. Werewolf powers didn’t really improve the hand-eye coordination, huh?”
“I’m captain of the lacrosse team.”
Stiles snorts. “Way to rub it in, dude.”
“Can I make it up to you?” Maybe it’s teenage hormones, or maybe it’s werewolf powers, but at just the thought of it, Scott’s cock starts to fill.
“Yeah.” Stiles shoves an X-box controller into Scott’s chest. “See who can get the most kills—” Scott tries not to be disappointed. “—with a mouth on his dick. You first.”
Fuck pizza rolls. Scott situates himself on the bean bag while Stiles gets comfortable between his legs. He hits unpause, and Stiles leans down and licks him. Scott groans.
“Best idea ever, or best idea ever?” Stiles asks. His smirk is ten times more devious when he’s attempting a blowjob.
“Best friend ever,” Scott tells him.
Stiles holds his fist up for Scott to bump it. “Yeah I am,” he says. A second later, his mouth covers Scott’s cock.