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Foolproof

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When Stiles comes in, Scott is sprawled in his desk chair, head propped in one hand. ”So?” asks Stiles. He takes a running leap onto Scott’s bed, then rolls over so he sits facing the desk. “How’d it go?”

“Bad,” says Scott despondently. Stiles looks at him expectantly, but Scott just shakes his head and turns his chair away.

Stiles sighs. If Scott doesn’t want to talk about his date with Allison, fine – Stiles is sick of hearing him go on about her. But, sadly, he’s still Scott’s best friend. And best friends sometimes have to do things they don’t want to do.

Stiles reaches out his leg and gives Scott’s chair a kick, angled to spin Scott so he’s facing him. “What happened?” Stiles asks.

The floodgates open. “It was terrible. Well, at first things weren’t that bad – I mean when we were at the movie. That was really great…” Scott starts to get a certain starry-eyed look on his face, but then – thankfully – it fades away. “But then we went to her house. We were, um… you know… kissing – and I started to change! I didn’t want her to see, so I had to run out of the house without any sort of excuse!”

Stiles whistles. “That does suck, man.”

“Tell me about it,” says Scott. “Derek said I would learn to control it eventually, but I want to control it now!”

“Maybe you just need practice,” suggests Stiles. “Like… Put yourself in a situation where you would go wolf, but somewhere safe, and practice not changing.”

Scott looks hopeful. “Okay. How?”

Stiles thinks about what he’s seen and read about werewolves. “Well, we just need you to put you in state of arousal –“

“Arousal?” repeats Scott, eyes wide.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Come on, Scott, try to treat this scientifically. We have to arouse your autonomic nervous system and that’ll trigger the change.”

“Okay, whatever. So how do we - ?”

“Well, it should work if you get angry enough,” says Stiles. “So… I’ll try to make you angry.”

Scott nods and Stiles takes a deep breath. His friendship with Scott works on a simple principle: if one of them does something bad, the other gets to take his revenge, and then they go on as before. They don’t hold grudges. Stiles has so completely buried past arguments that none jump to mind. Still, it doesn’t take him long to think of a good topic with which to make Scott mad.

“You don’t deserve to be a werewolf,” he tells Scott. “You were just a big loser before. You sucked at lacrosse. Um… Allison would hate you if it weren’t for the stupid wolf thing, and even so she’s thinking of cheating on you with… with me. Yeah. Uh… now you’re just a horrible monster like Derek, and I – I hate you?”

Scott shakes his head. “If anything, this is making me more depressed than mad,” he says.

“Oh,” says Stiles. Then, to make sure: “Well, you know that I don’t really think that, right?”

“Yes,” says Scott. “You’re a horrible liar.” He leans his head back and closes his eyes with a sigh. “I really don’t think this is going to work.”

“Yeah,” says Stiles unhappily. It shouldn’t be so hard to figure this out – and then the idea comes to him, and he doesn’t really think, just licks his lips once, jumps up, and gives Scott a peck on the mouth.

Scott’s eyes open wide – wide and yellow. “Wha –“ he begins, but it ends in a wordless roar. Stile scrambles backwards, instantly regretting his impulsiveness, as Scott lunges towards him. Scott’s face is all hairified, his teeth huge and pointy, and his claws, when he swipes at Stiles’ face, frighteningly sharp.

“So I guess that worked!” squeaks Stiles, tripping backwards onto the bed and then tumbling onto the floor as Scott tries to grab him. Scott is on him in an instant, wolf strength pinning Stiles to the carpet as he bares his teeth.

“Scott!” gasps Stiles. “Oh god. Please, please, please don’t kill me! I’m sorry!”

Scott freezes with his teeth inches from tearing out Stiles’ throat. Stiles feels him shudder for a moment. Then, gradually, amazingly, he shifts back into a normal, harmless human.

Scott gets up and puts his face in his hands. “What the hell, Stiles.”

Now that the danger is over, the adrenaline in Stiles’ veins is quickly turning from fear to excitement. “That totally worked! I mean it worked in that you changed! Now we just need to practice more until you don’t change.”

Scott looks at him, then away. He’s blushing, but chuckles a little. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Stiles grins and shrugs. “You want to make out with Allison? You’ve got to learn to control this!”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” mutters Scott, laughing, as Stiles gets up.

“Just concentrate on not making me into doggie kibble, if you wouldn’t mind,” says Stiles.

But when Stiles walks closer to Scott, they both stop laughing fast. Scott’s still blushing, and Stiles can feel his own face getting hotter as they stand face to face, desperately avoiding each other’s eyes.

It would be easiest to give up, laugh this off, and retreat to normalcy. But part of Stiles knows that this is important. He doesn’t want Scott to hurt Allison, or a lacrosse guy, or anyone. Scott could never forgive himself. And another part of Stiles, well –

He puts his hand on Scott’s shoulder. Scott shrugs it off in a nervous movement, taking a step back.

“Come on,” mumbles Stiles, annoyed. He licks his lips and Scott’s eyes dart immediately away.

“Look – “ says Scott, but Stiles grabs him by the shoulders before he can continue. He presses a quick, hard kiss to Scott’s mouth, then springs backward.

But no wolf follows. Scott is just standing there blushing harder than ever.

Stiles’ eyes widen. “You did it! It’s totally working!”

Scott shakes his head, looking at the ground. “Come on, man. I wasn’t surprised that time, I just felt stupid.”

“Oh,” says Stiles. “Then I guess –” He walks back to Scott.

“What?” says Scott. “Come on, obviously this isn’t –“

Stiles looks at him earnestly. “It’ll work, we just need to make you more upset.”

Scott looks pretty upset already, but he nods. So Stiles steps closer. They still can’t look each other in the eyes, but Stiles can’t help glancing at Scott’s mouth. In his peripheral vision he sees Scott looking down at his mouth, which is both incredibly embarrassing and kind of awesome at the same time. The situation is so awkward he can barely stand it, but the excitement of his plan working fills his veins, mixing with fear because Scott could, actually, kill him, and there’s another excitement – because he hasn’t dared dwell on it before, but he really, really wants to just –

- lean in and kiss Scott. This time he doesn’t pull away immediately, and they’re frozen like that for a moment. But Stiles is a little off balance, so he has to step forward, and the slide of their lips together makes Stiles’ heart skip a beat. He shifts a little more, feeling the movement of Scott’s mouth against his. Scott’s lips are surprisingly soft, and this is surprisingly nice, so Stiles tilts his head a little to catch Scott’s bottom lip between his own –

When suddenly Scott shoves him away, so hard that Stiles lands on his ass on the ground. Scott is staring at him, eyes yellow. His claws dig into the wall behind him. Stiles is briefly catapulted back to mortal terror. But then, with a deep breath, Scott closes his eyes. He opens them brown again. The claws retreat.

“You didn’t wolf out all the way!” says Stiles, still a little breathless. He clambers to his feet. “That’s awesome.”

“Stiles, this is crazy –” protests Scott, face still pink.

“But it’s working,” says Stiles, too elated by the success of his plan and the sheer awesomeness of kissing Scott to care about awkwardness. He leans in. “Ready?”

Scott hesitates, then nods. This time finding the right tilt for their heads seems easier. Despite the racing of his heart, Stiles moves slowly, giving Scott long, closed-mouth kisses. He could probably do this forever, feeling the texture of Scott’s lips against his.

Except that just then, Scott groans – well, actually, it’s more of a growl, if Stiles is being honest with himself – and puts his hand on the back of Stiles’ head. He kisses fiercely, so that Stiles opens his mouth a little, and for one brief glorious moment their tongues brush together –

“Ow!” gasps Stiles into Scott’s mouth. “Ow ow ow!”

Scott jumps back, leaving Stiles to run his tongue along his stinging lip. He tastes blood. “Next time can we stop before the fangs - ?” he begins, but stops when he glances up at Scott. Scott is staring at the blood on Stiles’ lip, a ferocious expression on his face. His eyes glint yellow. As Stiles watches, his face starts to change, already pointed teeth lengthening, fur growing.

“Come on, Scott!” says Stiles, taking a nervous step backwards. “Fight it!”

And somehow this works, because Scott snaps his gaze away from Stiles’ cut lip and slowly regains his human appearance. Looking back at Stiles, he winces. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” says Stiles. “That’s why we’re doing this. So you don’t go all ‘what big teeth you have’ on Allison.”

Scott chuckles a little at this, but there’s a strange look in his eyes. When Stiles steps forward, he meets him, and puts his hands on either side of Stiles’ head. Stiles, mystified, lets Scott turn his face up. Scott leans in, but instead of kissing Stiles, he licks the cut on his lip. Stiles shivers at the feeling, but Scott – Scott actually shudders, holding Stiles’ head tight. He keeps his eyes closed, breathing quickly, for a long moment, but when he opens his eyes, they’re brown.

Stiles is about to say something – “Nice job controlling the wolf,” maybe, or, “This is the single best thing that’s ever happened to me,” - but he doesn’t have time before Scott moves in to kiss him again.

Their mouths meet wet and open and they kiss quickly and hungrily. Stiles wants to take his time and catalogue the thrill of every slide of their tongues, but there are so many new ones to be discovered that he can’t go slow.

Scott kisses fiercely, pushing his tongue deep into Stiles’ mouth. As an experiment, Stiles tries sucking on it. And wow, that feels amazing, but Scott must think so too because suddenly Stiles feels pricks of pain on his scalp where Scott’s fingers are on the back of his head. Realizing, Scott tries to pull away, but Stiles, who doesn’t really care about death right now, follows him, licking into his mouth. God, he should stop, he can feel Scott’s long fangs – but Scott just groans something incoherent into Stiles’ mouth, and the fangs go away, and Scott’s hand on Stiles’ head is gentle.

When they finally break apart, Scott is completely human. Stiles gives him one last short, messy kiss, and then they rest their foreheads together and try to catch their breaths.

“Stiles, this is genius,” Scott says. “Crazy, but genius. Crazy and kind of gay, but genius.”

“Hey,” says Stiles warningly, pulling away to look at Scott. “I’m just doing this to help you out, man.”

“I know,” says Scott. He doesn’t even need to say that he’s just doing this to get with Allison – they both accept the statement, and they both know that it doesn’t change what’s actually going on here at all.

Stiles shrugs, trying to look serious. “It’s great that you’ve got that down, but I guess it just means it’s time to up the challenge.”

“Bring it,” says Scott.

Stiles grabs two fistfuls of Scott’s shirt at the hip and pulls him close. Scott stumbles into him and they’re pressed together, stomach to stomach, chest to chest.

Even after all the kissing, it feels strangely intimate, clutching each other close like this. Stiles can feel every stuttering breath Scott takes, every minute movement. Scott’s chest feels so solid and warm against his.

Stiles pushes his face into Scott’s neck, inhales the musky Scott smell of him. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to Scott’s neck. Every little thing he does feels new and exciting, and a part of him still can’t really believe this is happening. To make sure, he bites down on the juncture of Scott’s neck and shoulder.

Scott’s whole body stiffens. His grip on Stiles tightens. Nervously, Stiles puts a hand up to feel Scott’s face. It’s no hairier than normal.

Scott huffs a laugh in Stiles’ ear. “I have it under control,” he says. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“Oh yeah?” says Stiles.

Before he can think better of it, he grabs Scott’s hips again and grinds against him. He’s achingly hard from all the touching, and just pressing his erection against the heat of Scott’s body feels amazing. Scott gasps when they touch, and an electric shock shoots through Stiles when he realizes he can feel Scott hard against his thigh.

Stiles moves just enough so they can look at each other. Scott doesn’t look wolfy, just excited and a little scared.

“Okay?” Stiles whispers.

There’s a smile in Scott’s eyes as he leans in and mouths “Yeah,” against Stiles’ lips.

There’s no point denying this is happening any more. What Stiles wants more than anything in the world is to rub his cock against his best friend’s leg, and that’s what he does. And it’s amazing.

They’re kissing again, slipping easily back into the sweet sloppy rhythm of it. Their hips circle in counterpoint, and it feels so, so good, even through their pants. But something about the tempo, the angle, the pressure isn’t enough and he can tell Scott feels it too from the hungry little growl he keeps making in the back of his throat.

Stiles breaks the kiss, breathing hard. “Just get – get on the bed,” he says.

“Are you sure?” says Scott nervously.

“Are we going to test this wolf thing or what?” says Stiles more confidently than he feels. He gives Scott a shove with his hips, and Scott obediently backs up, pulling Stiles along, so that when Scott hits the bed they go down in a tangle of limbs.

“Ow, Scott!” says Stiles with fake indignation, struggling to extricate himself. They’ve been here before: there’s no counting the number of times they’ve tussled in this room, on this bed. But now Stiles is hyper aware of everywhere they touch. Scott’s skin sends sparks through him wherever they brush against each other. Stiles is achingly hard, and even though he does want to reach a more dignified position on the bed, he really likes the way Scott’s knee is pressed between his legs.

After a few false starts, Scott finally gets out from under Stiles and backs up on the bed. Stiles follows on his hands and knees. He stops when he’s right above Scott, not even touching him, knees bracketing Scott’s hips. For a moment they look at each other.

Scott’s hair is a mess and his face is still flushed. His lips are red from kissing and his eyes are wide and dark. He looks amazing, somehow both the Scott that Stiles has always known and loved and also some new, sexy person that Stiles has just met. A wave of desire sweeps over Stiles, like he wants to press himself against Scott everywhere, like he wants to kiss Scott’s beautiful face all over. But he lets it pass, because he knows what he should do next, and the decision fizzes in his blood like soda water.

Stiles sits up on his knees. Slowly and deliberately, trying to keep his hands from shaking, he reaches for his jeans and undoes the fly.

He feels Scott’s eyes on him as he shoves his boxers down and pulls out his cock.

Stiles’ heart is pounding in his ears and this has got to be the most turned on he’s ever been in his life. He doesn’t know what to do other than give himself a few strokes, and that’s when Scott says “Stiles,” in a husky voice and it’s almost too much, the whole fucking situation, almost too intense. But he stills his hand and takes a deep breath, because he can’t end this now.

Sitting back on his heels, he reaches for Scott’s shorts, the shorts which, oh god, show the clear outline of Scott’s cock.

Swallowing, Stiles awkwardly traces Scott’s cock with his fingers. It twitches under his hand. Scott makes a noise like a low whine and when Stiles looks up, Scott’s eyes are sharp and hungry and yellow.

Stiles has just enough time to think “Oh, shit,” before Scott lunges up. He knocks Stiles over and Stiles struggles, legs caught in his jeans, and tries to roll away but Scott is on top of him, body pressing Stiles face down on the bed. Scott’s breath pants hot against Stiles’ neck. Stiles’ body can’t decide whether to be terrified for his life or incredibly turned on, and somehow manages both.

Scott’s chest is pressed to Stiles’ back, all heat and hard muscle, but his back half is – wiggling? There’s the sound of fabric shifting and Stiles figures out what’s going on just in time for –

For, fuck, for Scott to thrust his naked cock against Stiles’ ass.

Scott rolls his hips and the hot length of him slides between Stiles’ cheeks, and this is insane, because Stiles wouldn’t have thought this would feel so good. It’s so incredibly hot, not just the intimacy of being skin-to-skin, but the fact that it’s Scott, and before he can stop himself Stiles gasps out, “Fuck, Scott.”

Scott’s rhythm stutters and he says hoarsely, “I’m sorry, I – Is this – is this okay?”

“Yes,” says Stiles fervently, rocking his hips up to meet Scott’s thrusts. Scott groans through his teeth and presses against him even harder. Stiles is trapped between Scott and the bed, humping desperately against the blanket, and he could almost cry with how insane and amazing this is.

Scott has one hand curled white-knuckled into the blanket and he grips Stiles’ hip with the other, giving himself extra leverage. His long fingers fit perfectly into the curve of Stiles’ hipbone. Stiles has a sudden blinding flash of Scott holding him tight by the hips, and – and fucking him, and he moans helplessly into the pillow.

“Nngh,” says Scott. “Can I –?” He sits up and yanks Stiles up by the hips, so that all of a sudden Stiles’ ass is in the air. Stiles’ legs are trapped together by his jeans and he’s off balance, but Scott holds his hips tight and waits one long, breathless second before thrusting his cock between Stiles’ thighs.

Scott's cock leaves a trail of precome on Stiles' inner thighs. It’s already slick there with sweat, and Scott slips in and out easily. With a low growl, Scott sets a frantic pace, thrusting so hard that Stiles’ whole body rocks. Stiles’ world narrows to the silky friction of Scott’s cock against his thighs and to his own achingly hard cock. Distantly he hears Scott’s pants and his own struggling breaths as he presses his face into the pillow.

Without letting up the hard rhythm, Scott reaches around and fumbles for Stiles’ cock. His palm brushes the oversensitive head first and Stiles’ hips twitch helplessly forward, trying to push into Scott’s hand. Scott’s other hand tightens on Stiles’ hip, pulls him back onto his cock with a grunt. From there it’s easy to find the rhythm, Stiles rocking back and forth between Scott’s body and his hand. Scott squeezes harder than Stiles usually does, but his hand is slick with Stiles’ precome and it’s amazing like this, perfect.

Stiles can’t even think anymore. He can barely manage, “Scott, I think – I’m gonna – “

“Yeah,” says Scott hoarsely. And that’s enough for Stiles. He feels like his heart’s going to explode, like he’s going to burst out of his skin, like he’s going to come: which he finally does, with a low groan, onto the rumpled blanket.

He barely notices Scott’s hips start to stutter, then freeze, but he feels the warm stripe of Scott’s come on his thigh. And just the thought of that makes him groan again.

Scott collapses next to him, and Stiles turns over to look at him. Scott looks just as amazed as he feels. Still breathing hard, Scott asks, “Was that okay?”

“Was it okay?” repeats Stiles, breathless and grinning. “It was amazing. Crazy amazing. We’re definitely doing this at least three times a day from now on.”

Scott laughs at that, and Stiles, even though he never expected to end up here – half naked, lying on a wet spot, with his best friend – silently congratulates himself on his brilliant plan.