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Even Bad Wolves can be Good

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It starts out as a joke, a dare. Stiles doesn’t take any of the rumours seriously, even though his dad warns him to stay out of the preserve. Especially at night.

Scott is terrible, just eggs him on and on until Stiles gives him his cockiest grin and opens his stupid mouth.

‘I’ll do it.’ The statement is full of false bravado, but then he is sixteen and far dumber than his genius level intelligence would have anyone believe.

‘Really?’ Scott is frowning in that adorably puppylike way of his. ‘I was kind of kidding.’

‘Nope.’ Stiles grins and plucks the twenty from Scott’s unprotesting hand. ‘Gas money is gas money, my floppy haired friend. I’m taking that action.’

Of course this declaration of intent just so happens to take place in the locker room after practice and within earshit of Jackson. He immediately jumps in and says that if Stiles completes his task, he;ll give him a hundred bucks.Stiles is not one to decide whether a fool and his money should be parted so he holds out a hand.

‘Up front.’ he insists. ‘I can’t spend it if I’m dead.’

‘Good point.’ Jackson smirks but he antes up and now Stiles has a hundred and twenty dollars burning a hole in his hand.

Then it snowballs. Apparently everyone wants to see if there really is something living in the Beacon Hills preserve and Stiles is the perfect bait. Now he’s got well over three hundred bucks and a small amount of concern that he may have just signed his own death certificate. Still, too late to back out now.

They settle on Friday night. Noah’s got the night shift and he’s also working overtime on the whole Monster of Beacon Hills case. Stiles takes some consolation in the fact that should his dead body turn up, his dad will at least have some hard evidence.

To his surprise, everyone turns up for his little show. Jackson is grinning from ear to ear as he produces a wicker handbasket.

‘For effect.’ he snickers and Lydia joins in and it about tears Stiles’ heart out because he’s so in love with her it hurts.

‘Fuck you.’ he snipes, grabbing the basket and tugging his red hoodie up and over his shorn hair. ‘We’ll see who’s laughing after.’

Scott pulls him aside and gently tries to reason with him.

‘Dude.’ His big brown eyes are full of worry. ‘You can totally back out.’

‘I really can’t.’ Stiles replies. ‘I’ve already spent the money.’ He doesn’t’ tell Scott that part of it went on a subscription to a gay porn website. It would damage his innocent brain.

The deal is that he has to to walk through the preserve from one side to the other. They are currently at the side closest to town, all hanging around in the public parking lot. The pathway winds through the trees for about eight miles until it comes out at the beauty spot that overlooks the town. That’s where the bet ends and Stiles can go home, jack off to his new all access subscription and get some well deserved sleep.

He scuffs his sneaker along the ground. For the first time, he feels trepidation at what he’s about to do. The moon is full and there’s so much light he shouldn’t but he mutters the words anyway.

‘I just know I’m going to get lost in those woods again tonight.’ He looks at Scott as Scott snorts, knowing Stiles and his passions so well he recognises the quote.

‘I’ll be waiting for you on the other side, dude.’ He puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. ‘Try not to get eaten, okay?’

‘Thanks.’ Stiles snorts and then stands and watches as all the spectators climb back into their cars and head of to wait for him on the other side. Then he checks the basket and grins when he sees that it’s got mace and a half-jack of JD inside.

At least Jackson has taste.

He takes the bottle out, cracks the top and drinks enough to make himself cough.

‘Right.’ he exhales sharply. ‘Show time.’

He starts walking into the trees, squaring his shoulders and trying to look like he’s not shitting himself. It doesn’t really work.

The first half hour goes pretty quickly and Stiles manages a reasonable pace that’s not quite a lope. He’s got long legs that eat up the ground and he starts to relax as he goes, the Jack doing its job. The light really is enough to see by and he starts to enjoy himself, sniffing the air and breathing in dead leaves and moss. There are noises, birds and the low shuffles of animals and Stiles grins to himself. This is the easiest money he’s ever earned. It takes him another twenty minutes to realise something is off and he stops, listening carefully. Then it hits him.

There’s not a single sound to be heard. It’s like someone threw a switch and now the silence is deafening.

A shiver goes down Stiles’ spine and then he panics because there’s the soft tread of something coming towards him. He turns in the vague direction of the beauty spot and starts running, dignity be damned.

The sound of his feet pounding the dirt doesn’t quite drown out the grunts of the thing that’s chasing him. Stiles hasn’t got time to cry, just sticks his head down and runs as fast as he can. Bizarrely, he’s still holding onto the stupid wicker basket Jackson gave him, and he’s a little hysterical when he considers the implications of when his dad finds his body. Something along the lines of Local Youth slain in Little Red Riding Hood Roleplay gone Wrong.

Yes, this may not be the best life decision he;s ever made and now he’ll never get to finish that awesome threesome comeplay vid he’s just downloaded.

That’s the last thing he gets to think because right after that, something roughly the size and shape of a small elephant slams into him and Stiles is thrown through the air, landing on his back with all the breath knocked out of him.

He lies there and wheezes like a ninety year old emphysema patient as the thing that tackled him comes to stand over him. His somewhat drunk brain realises that it’s a quadruped and very very big. Hot breath washes over his face and he cracks an eye open to see glowing blue eyes looking down at him.

‘Holy shit.’ he squeaks and the thing growls, lips pulled back to reveal a very impressive set of fangs that are probably as long as his pinkie finger. Stiles can smell it now, a deep woodsy animal smell that is oddly pleasant.

Still, if this thing thinks he’s going to be a free dinner then it’s got another thing coming. He does the only thing he can think of and swings the basket still clutched in his hand so it whacks the animal right in its snout.

There’s an affronted whine and to Stiles’ complete astonishment, the thing backs off from him completely. He manages to sit up and that’s when he realises he’s looking at a huge black wolf.

‘I must be fucking dreaming.’ he mutters to himself and now the wolf chuffs. It sounds a little like it’s laughing at him and Stiles frowns.

‘Fuck you, buddy.’ he retorts. ‘What the fuck did you do that for?’

The wolf tilts its head and snorts at him. Then it pads forward a couple of paces and boy, it’s fucking enormous. Stiles reckons that it would come up to at least his shoulder and he’s not exactly small. He holds out one hand.

‘Dude.’ He gives it his best authoritative look, the one he’s copied from the one his dad uses on him. ‘Just stay the fuck away from me.’

The next thing he knows, Stiles is flat on his back again with one huge clawed paw pressed to his chest and the wolf is snarling in his face. Stiles stares up into glowing blue eyes and then…

Oh fuck. Talk about an inappropriate boner.

Stiles is not ashamed to admit that he has kinks. He just didn’t think potential beastiality was one of them.

The wolf hesitates and then leans down closer. The fangs disappear but then the sniffing starts and Stiles is mortified as his cock gets hard in what must surely be a land speed record.

‘Fuck.’ It comes out as a hoarse moan. ‘Dude, seriously?’

The wolf ignores him, nosing into his neck and taking deep breaths and Stiles shivers at the press of that cold wet nose against his skin. He still can’t move, trapped by the giant paw and an unexpected urge to just let the thing do what it wants to him. He’s just about to give it up when the wolf retreats and then licks him from his chin to his nose.

‘Gah!’ Stiles flails wildly and swipes at the wolf’s snout, only to have one of his wrists caught and held lightly between jaws that he’s pretty sure could snap his bones like twigs. He freezes, feeling the wolf’s tongue lapping over the exposed skin of his wrist and then he’s released. Not sure what to do, Stiles lies there and watches as the wolf sniffs down his body, nose pressing in on his hard cock and that’s enough to nearly get him off all by itself.

‘Hey.’ He sounds weak. ‘No way, dude. Not without verbal consent from both parties.’

The wolf makes that chuffing noise again and then gets off of him. For half a minute Stiles contemplates changing his mind, but then he hears the shouts of people and sees flashlights in the distance and the wolf goes on immediate alert. Its blue eyes sweep the trees surrounding them and then it darts away, disappearing into the darkness and leaving Stiles with a hard-on and whole lot of questions.

It turns out that Scott is actually a big scaredy cat who caved when Stiles hadn’t appeared after an hour and called his dad. Now they are both in the back of the squad car getting a lecture of safety and public spaces and underage drinking and Stiles gets grounded for a week.

At least he has his porn to keep him company.