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A Cup of Folgers a Day (keeps the serial killers away)

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Stiles blinks sleepily at Scott who is saying something about needing to get to class early to talk to Mrs. Hodges. He nods, waving Scott off and staring at his locker, trying to remember what books he needs for his next class. He’s been up late the last few nights, eavesdropping on his father’s phone calls, trying to figure who the hell is slitting the throats of Beacon Hills’ teens.

“All right, Stilinski!”

Startled, Stiles spins around and smashes his back into his open locker door. “Shit.”

Laura Hale looms over him, looking strikingly beautiful and scary as fuck -- just as she always does in the halls of BHHS. She doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Stiles is clutching his chest, trying to look cool and not like he almost pissed himself.

She leans in and says, “Time for you to stop being a virgin.”

“Uh.” Stiles drops his books on his toes, but the shock must have numbed them as well as his brain because he barely feels it. “What?”

“Some asshole is doing virgin sacrifices.” Laura tosses her dark hair over her shoulder like this is all so obvious.

He’s heard of the sacrifices, of course. Not only had he found one of the bodies, he was the one who made the ‘virgin’ connection and suggested it to his dad.

“And are you that asshole?” asks Stiles with as much respect as he can muster with a question like that. He’s not even sorry. Stiles feels it’s a natural assumption based on the complete weirdness of the conversation. He looks past Laura to find her brother creeping it up behind her and gives him an awkward tight-lipped smile like he hadn’t just accused his sister of being a serial killer.

For a moment he’s worried about a broken nose; he knows they are both capable of it, but Laura throws her head back and laughs. It’s not a polite titter like when she’s sitting with the senior girls, but more like when the Hales are standing alone and Derek whispers in her ear and she cracks up enough for milk to spew out her nose.

Behind her, Derek breaks his usual scowl with a small quirk of his lips. It’s so much better than anyone breaking Stiles’ nose.

“We just want to keep you safe,” Laura says, patting Stiles' cheek. The bell for third period goes and they all ignore it.

He still doesn’t understand. The Hales are weird with everyone, but they are a special kind of odd around Stiles. They are kind to him in a way they aren’t to the rest of the school. Scott thinks they are freaks, but Stiles just gets a thrill when Laura brushes against him in the hall and winks, or when Derek swings open the door of his Camaro on a rainy day and offers Stiles a ride home. Even though they aren’t exactly friends, everyone at school knows they like Stiles in a possessive, mildly-alarming, intense sort of way.

But when Laura grabs him by the neck and sniffs behind his ear, it’s way beyond the usual crossing of social norms. Stiles panics at the awkward boner suddenly tenting his pants. Laura doesn’t seem to mind, though, as she presses him against his locker door. The edge of it cuts into his shoulders.

“Tonight at seven,” Laura whispers. “Stop by.”

Stiles’ eyes fall shut as he feels Derek slip a piece of paper into his front pocket, his fingers brushing against Stiles’ hard dick. When he looks again, they are gone. The hallway is deserted, and he’s late for English.

He might believe he dreamed the entire thing if it weren’t for the crumpled address he finds in his pocket.

---

He goes. Of course he does. They are the Hales and, no matter how weird they are, there is not soul in Beacon Hills High that would pass up an offer to hook up with either of them, no matter how cryptic or creepily that offer is delivered.

Still, it’s a good idea to be safe. He stops at the doors to the apartment building matching the address they’d given him that morning, and he pulls out his phone.

going on pos. date (pos. orgy) w the hales.

Scott’s reply is immediate and about what Stiles expects: What? What?

His fingers hover over his phone a moment before he replies. don’t tell my dad unless my body turns up with my throat slit.

what? whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?????

Stiles snorts and turns off his phone. He’s an asshole. It keeps him up at night, but Scott will forgive him eventually.

He pulls open the heavy door and lets his eyes skim over the mailboxes mounted in the foyer. He spots Laura and Derek Hale and it strikes him for the first time that it’s just them. Everyone knows that they’ve been on their own since the fire and Laura was just a month old enough to get custody of Derek and save them both from landing in the foster system. It’s not weird that they share an apartment together, a brother and sister, yet Stiles’ stomach flip flops at the thought.

Laura answers after his first knock. Stiles’ cheeks burn hot at the see-through white tank top she’s wearing and the bright pink bra beneath it. He does everything he can think of not to stare. His eyes flit around the apartment. It’s tiny, an open door to a bathroom, a closet by the front door and a kitchen off to the left. The main area looks like the only other room and it doesn’t even have a couch, just one large bed smack in the middle of the room. Stiles’ cheeks flush hotter as he realizes Laura and Derek obviously share it.

“This is a great place you’ve got here, guys,” he says, bobbing his head like an idiot as he takes a few steps deeper into the apartment. “I really love what you’ve done with the...”

He’s saved from having to say ‘incest-motif’ by Laura attacking his face with her lips.

“Oh, okay,” he says, flailing backwards and bumping into the hard wall that is Derek’s chest, “so we’re just... getting right to it then.”

“You’re here,” Laura says. “Did you come here for something else?”

“I have a chessboard.”

Stiles whips around, eyes wide. He had no idea Derek had such a deadpan humor. He grins, impressed. “I like chess.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “How do you feel about sex?”

“Like it too!” Stiles blurts, not really having time to think about anything really, except for Laura kissing his neck and Derek’s hands on his waist. “Sex is good. Awesome.” He tilts his head to give Laura access to his neck and Derek’s fingers curl in on hips. It’s possible he could come in his pants right now. “Um, in theory. I haven’t spent much time with the practical.”

“We can help with that.” Laura spins him back around and kisses him, her hands already on his belt buckle. “We would have waited.” He’s being walked towards the bed. There are hands everywhere and clothes being tugged at while he tries to understand what Laura is saying. “But with the freak out there killing virgins…”

Laura’s mouth tastes like chocolate and mint, like she’s been eating York Peppermint Patties all afternoon. Maybe she’ll share. After.

By the time he’s pushed back on the bed, he’s naked and Laura’s lost her pants.

“Derek didn’t want to risk it.”

“What?”

“The virgin sacrifices. He’s a worrier.”

Derek appears beside the bed, scowling. At Laura, not at Stiles, who is very naked underneath his sister so scowls could be appropriate, but it’s hard to tell at the moment.

“What do you think?” Laura gives Stiles’ dick a few strokes and it takes him a minute to realize she’s not talking to him. Derek leans closer. Stiles’ dick is standing full at attention, pointing at the ceiling.

“Nice cock, Stiles.”

“Thank you?” He isn’t sure of the correct response to that, but he’s going to google it and happily comply if it involves a written thank you note. Is this an orgy? Are they going to pass him back and forth? How much of a virgin is he no longer supposed to be? Stiles has about a million more questions than that, but he snaps his mouth shut and thinks this is something he needs to just go with.

Laura straddles him, still in her white tank and pink bra, and she is possibly the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His eyes go further down and Laura is not trimmed-to-naked like porn stars, she’s got a triangle of full bushy coarse hair. Stiles moans.

“He’s going to blow.” The warning is in Derek’s deadpan casual. Stiles squawks because it’s not his fault Derek’s sister is so hot.

Laura just rolls her eyes and arches her back. “So get me ready.”

Stiles is more than willing to comply, but Laura takes his hands and pins them over his head. She’s surprisingly strong.

He’s not sure what he should be doing right now besides kissing Laura. It’s nice, really nice, but completely distracting and he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be doing something to help this whole loss of virginity thing. He understands, when the bed shifts and Derek crawls between Stiles’ legs right behind Laura.

“Bossy,” Derek mutters and then Laura’s hips are shifting, her belly just grazing Stiles’ cock. There a soft wet sound to accompany Laura gasping in Stiles’ mouth. He gets it and Derek’s right, he is going to blow before Derek’s even finished getting Laura’s cunt wet for him.

Laura’s bites his jaw, hard. “Not yet,” she says, like she’s a mind reader.

It works, the pain staves off his orgasm a little longer. She moves just above him, rocking back on her brother’s fingers, her belly still teasing Stiles’ cock now and then.

“You’ll do this yourself next time.”

“Okay.” His hips lift involuntarily off the mattress, rubbing precome above her navel. “I really don’t think I can-- Do you-- Condom?”

“We’re clean,” Derek says.

Then Laura adds, “There isn’t anyone else.”

Just me and Derek,” he knows she means. Just the two of them and now Stiles, the virgin. Tonight feels like a string of bad decisions tumbling over each other. Adding one more to the pile hardly feels reckless, like the sixth drink at a party where you are underage and already laying under the table. “Okay.”

Then Derek’s hand is on his dick and all the air escapes his lungs. He’s positioned clinically, a gentle grip directing him through the tickle of Laura’s bush. Stiles breaks out in a sweat as the tip of his cock grazes soft dampness. It’s happening, better than anything. Laura sinks down faster than Stiles can handle. His heart jackrabbits in his chest as he slides further in.

Sitting up, she places her palm over the spot like she can see it trying to pound out of his ribcage. “Breathe, Stiles.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” His fingers clench in the worn sheets, and he wonders how often Derek’s done the same. Or are the tears he feels beneath his hands from Laura’s fingernails clawing while her brother thrusts between her thighs.

Laura smirks and lifts off only to press down again right way. Breathing doesn’t get easier. She’s hot and tight and every cliché Stiles can think of. He’s sure that his dirty talk would sound like he watches too much porn (which he does) so he bites lip to stop the ohgodyessogood from spilling out and tries to keep up with her rhythm.

Laura’s thighs are made of iron -- Stiles vaguely remembers her getting a gold in gymnastics three years running. She’s a bit brutal with him, but he gets the feeling she’s actually holding back. If she’s taking it easy because it’s his first time, he can’t imagine what she’s like usually.

He’s imagined his first time being painfully awkward, both him and his partner fumbling in the dark and giggling nervously. It would be him in control, trying to reassure her that he’d go slow.

With Laura, he’s just along for the ride. But that’s not a complaint because there is nothing not mindblowingly awesome about what is happening to his cock right now. Not to mention the sight of Laura’s beautiful body as she rides him hard, one hand on his chest and the other working her clit. He tries to help, but she slaps his hand away.

“Next time,” she says.

He feels a hand on each of his thighs, bending his knees and spreading him open. Derek, he remembers, is watching all this, still on the bed and nearly out of sight over Laura’s shoulder. The touch is a thousand times more intimate because, holy shit, he is currently fucking Derek’s sister. The audience suddenly makes this kinkier than any porn Stiles has ever watched. And it doesn’t look like Derek’s willing to remain ‘audience’ much longer.

Stiles feels a slick finger at the tight, dry muscle of his asshole at the same time as Laura starts to tremble. Her head’s thrown back and Stiles can feel her squeeze around his dick. He fucks up into her, making her gasp; Derek’s finger pushes in. It’s sensory overload and Stiles can’t figure out what to focus on, the bliss of Laura coming on his cock or the strange, new, fucking brilliant realization that he likes a finger in his ass.

His toes curl and his body just lights up from his balls to his fingertips. He cries out, jerking his hips up and up, spreading his legs wide, only stopping once he’s hoarse and Derek’s finger is buried so fucking deep.

Laura collapses on him. He’s still inside her, still hard enough he hasn’t slipped out. Stiles’ pants, petting her hair as it sticks to his sweaty chest. Craning his neck, he kisses her forehead and she squeezes his cock through the aftershocks of her own orgasm.

“That was--” He can’t even finish. There are no words he can come up with that feel enough.

Laura laughs, just a puff of breath on his nipple. “Agreed.”

“Not over yet,” Derek says, carefully pulling his finger from Stiles’ ass.

He’s naked and hovering over both of them from between Stiles’ legs. Stiles watches, unashamed -- after all the shows for him, isn’t it? -- as Derek fists his own cock. His arms are a thing of beauty, veins popping under sweat-glistening skin. People would pay good money for this sight. Hell, Stiles would pay good money just to have that cock in his mouth or those fingers in his ass again.

Derek’s hips start to jerk, rocking the bed something fierce until he finally stops and aims. A second later he’s coating Laura’s back. To Stiles surprise, she just squirms and smiles.

Falling forward, Derek shoot one hand out to balance as he starts to rub his cock along Stiles’ balls. Stiles feels the last few spurts, sticky wet, along the base of his cock and dripping down the crack of his ass.

“Possessive fucker,” Laura says, lifting her hips so Stiles’ softening cock slips out the rest of the way, and she rolls off to Stiles’ left. “You’re changing the sheets.”

“Always do anyway.” Derek grunts as he hits the bed on Stiles’ right. “You’re a slob.”

Stiles blinks at the ceiling, his body crashing from the adrenaline high and still coasting, post-orgasm dumb. He’s in the middle of two naked Hales and their crazy good looks. On one side Derek’s strong arms stroke his chest, on the other Laura’s kissing his shoulder.

He’s going to be hard again in like a minute. He wonders how soon he can cash in on Laura’s ‘next times,’ also if there is indeed a Peppermint Pattie hidden somewhere close by so he can find the energy to survive the next round.

“Don’t you feel safer now?” Laura asks, while she inspects the hickey she just decorated his clavicle with.

He’s not at risk of being a virgin sacrifice anymore, but whatever he’s feeling right now ‘safe’ doesn’t quite describe it.

But that’s alright. He’s always thought safe was overrated.