Actions

Work Header

Teamwork

Work Text:

He's freaking exhausted. It's been worry and school and Erica and fights and detention and kanimas and ceilings collapsing and more Erica but with seizures and running to Derek's and dinner with Dad and... all he wants to do is sleep.

Stiles leaves the train car as soon as Erica is stable and dozing on a mattress in the corner, ignoring the intense way Derek has been staring at him ever since they brought her in, ever since she made the Batman quip to Stiles. Derek's brow had furrowed and a strange look had passed his face, only to be replaced by his habitual frown moments later as he and Scott began to talk. Stiles couldn't begin to place that look, wondered what he'd done to piss off Alpha-Ass this time, and he wishes he could flat out ask Derek what his problem was. In a fantasy way that involved less growling and threatening and more body contact and sweat and... yeah. Shutting off that crazy-train thought right there.

He'd gone to the police station to bring dinner for his dad, playing the Normal and Dutiful son and then gotten swept up into the evidence board, pulling his dad along with him. It had been... good. Gratifying. Knowing that he was being taken seriously, that Stiles was seeing something not even his dad had seen, that he was helping solve something; that was the best freaking feeling he'd had in a while. His dad had insisted Stiles go home to sleep, while he opted to stay and work the night through on this new information.

Once home, Stiles mulls over what Erica had said and smiles a little. Nice to know someone thinks he can be Batman sometimes. And, yeah, okay, not gonna lie: it'd been nice to hold her in his arms for a little bit. Because having a female in his arms was a major occurrence, what with it not really happening much before, and certainly not with someone that hot. No matter how damn scary-dangerous she is. Which is why when he's taking off his shirt to get ready for bed, he nearly climbs the wall when he hears her voice murmur behind him, "Stiles."

He spins around, clutching his t-shirt to his chest and she's already inside, leaning against the window frame. "Erica!" he shrills, "Jesus, you can't just sneak up like some... some sneaky thing!" He quickly runs through a list of reasons as to why she'd be there and it involves such delightful possibilities like hitting him in the head again, basically kidnapping him and tossing him in a dumpster again, being in trouble with grump-ass werewolves again, basically anything that results in Stiles Not Liking It At All.

"You ran off," she says, lips curving into a genuine smile, not her "gonna seduce you and eat you" smirk like she's worn ever since being turned. She looks different, softer. She's even wearing a soft short dress, something leaving more to the imagination and less porn star. Like, normal girl stuff. She looks really pretty, and that makes him trust her even less.

"Yeah, well, I needed to get going and I was wiped out and that whole subway car of doom down there just kinda makes me nervous." He trails off as she slowly steps toward him and he braces himself, not knowing what she's up to and expecting the worst. Because when she smiles? Bad shit generally follows.

"Seriously, thank you. Thank you for being there. For, you know. Caring." She shrugs, coloring up a little, possibly about having the seizure, possibly about screaming and crying in his arms when Derek had pushed the venom out of her, Stiles isn't up to deciphering werewolf speak right now. "I meant it about the Batman thing," she continues. She's only 2 feet away now and, crazy enough, looks almost shy. He's still on alert. Not only is there a girl in his room who's incredibly hot, she's also more than a bit psycho and oh, yeah, werewolf. Who has, y'know,  previously threatened him with serious harm and actually beat him up a little.

He edges away from her and around to his desk, sitting on it while he fumbles to put his shirt back on as his mouth kicks in. "It's fine, seriously. Anyone would, y'know, I mean we've had our differences, but Scott and I weren't going to leave you like that, just because you're a werewolf and playing for the other team and have been threatening in the past and want to mess with our friends, doesn't mean we're total jerks, I mean, everyone's got their reasons." Suddenly the gentle smile fades and Erica's eyes go hard again, her stance immediately changing back to predatory. Stiles knows he totally just missed something important, said the wrong thing, blew it. And she might do that part about eating him now.

She moves in a flash, crowding him up against the desk, all cherry lips, smoky eyes, smelling like sugar and looking like imminent death at the same time. "Remember how I said I used to have a crush on you, Stiles?" He swallows and nods, trying to look casual and failing spectacularly when she kicks his legs open to stand between them. "I used to fantasize about you kissing me," she purrs, leaning her face in closer while he tries to find his breath, tries to find a way to push her away.

"Yeah, so?" his voice cracks. "How was I?" He edges sideways to escape and she just leans in, firmly grabbing his hips as he lets out a shuddering breath.

"You were so... good..." she whispers in his ear now, breath hot against his face, his jaw, as she slightly nuzzles him. "Know what else I used to do, Stiles?" He can only shake his head, mutely, willing the sudden and unwanted boner he has to disappear, failing to keep from moaning this time as she gyrates against him. He's only human, a virgin, and she is rubbing against his crotch, for god's sake and why is something this insanely dangerous pushing his fucking buttons?

She whispers again, "I used to get so wet, thinking about you kissing me, thinking about you touching me." He's gasping now and Erica's breath is equally ragged as she continues to slowly roll herself against his crotch, "I used to touch myself, Stiles, used to imagine it was your finger on me, in me, and I'd come so hard," and that's it, game over. He grabs her hips as he frantically seals his mouth to hers. She lets out a tiny chuckle that turns to a moan when he bites her lower lip, licking at her mouth in an approximation of what he hopes is a good kiss. She certainly isn't complaining.

She tugs at his shirt bringing him forward and turning him around to be backed into his bed. In a second she's pushed him down and is on top of him, grinding, rubbing the denim into his cock and oh, god, if she doesn't stop... He grabs her hips to try and hold her still, "Wait, stop, this is wow, um, but can we just, uh, take a step back and think about this?"

"Really want to slow down, lover, or do you just want me to make you come?" she growls, and he clenches his eyes shut and wills himself not to do just that.

"I would like to live to see tomorrow and I would really like to make this last a second longer than I think it's gonna," he mutters aloud like an idiot, cringing as she pulls back to grin down at him.

"This totally is your first time, I was right. Oh my god, that was your first real kiss, Stiles!" Erica looks like she's about to pat herself on the back, the smug bitch.

"Hey!" he protests, "Like you were all Easy A before the bite!" So. Embarrassing. He can feel himself blushing

She narrows her eyes, "True. But I've made up for a lot... of... time..." she says, sliding down and unbuttoning his jeans, slowly pulling the zipper down in tiny increments. And this is such, such a bad idea, but. Teenager. Hot girl on lap. Apparently DTF. And.

"ohmygodohholyfuck," is approximately what comes out of Stiles' mouth as she's slowly sliding her hand against his thin boxers, leaning back down to capture his mouth and swallow his moans. She's rubbing his cock and basically humping his leg and he can't even deal with it, just trying to breathe while simultaneously trying to understand what the fuck is even going on. After a moment of this, she's biting her lip in frustration and quickly stands to raise her short skirt to her waist. She's wearing a tiny black thong and Stiles gapes at her. She roughly tugs his jeans a little down his hips to reveal more of his boxers, running a finger down the length of his cock, and settles back down to straddle him. And then begins to ride.

She's grinding against him, rolling, he can feel the damp of her against his cock, even through his boxers and her tiny scrap of underwear, and oh fuck this is the worst idea ever, she's probably going to let him come and then kill him, but oh my fucking god it's good. She's beginning to let out these little staccato breaths and oh fuck, she's undulating, twisting her hips in these little circles as she rocks against him and it's so good, so fucking good, oh my god, so, "Oh fuck, ohfuckohfuckohfuck..." Stiles can't even stop the way he cries out as he comes too soon, too hard, and she keeps riding, riding him through it until she is almost sobbing and stops to sit back, reaching into her thong to rub frantically at her clit until she's coming moments later, still riding her hand like she did with his cock. Stiles has to close his eyes because he absolutely cannot handle this shit, fucking Erica, coming on top of him, moaning in little sibilant hisses like she's almost saying his name.

She shudders to a stop and drops forward onto his chest, nosing at his neck and licking it, biting very gently and making him tense as he wonders if this is it, this is where she goes psycho-wolf. "Mmmm, good." She pulls back to give him a very thorough, if slightly bitey, kiss and looks down at him. "So? How was losing your virginity, Stilinski?" She's got that damn smirk back on her face.

"Oh my god," he says, faintly, unable to deny the awesomeness of what just happened in his pants. He can't even say anything else, torn between the orgasm high and utter fear for his life at this point.

"Was I good?" she prompts, waiting.

"Excellent, good, oh holy crap good, I mean, god. I don't even know how I lasted that... didn't last... whatever, oh god what are you even doing here?" He feels himself blush, damn it, even as he's waiting for some sort of signal that she's going to pounce and he's going to bleed.

"Mmmm," she purrs again, leaning back down to lick a swipe at his mouth, "wonder if I could make you last longer another time?" and he feels his stomach churn. Okay, it was amazing, she is completely hot, he came like whoa, but Erica is about nine kinds of crazy and he doesn't trust her at all and hello? she's beaten him up and threatened to kill his friends and he seriously needs her to leave so he can scarf down some Pop Tarts and call Scott before he loses it completely.

She must see it in his face, because she takes a sniff and laughs. "Don't worry, handsome, I won't be pining. And I'm not here to eat you." Her eyes look a bit soft, though, as she gets up and adjusts her skirt. She gives a pleased little after-shiver as she smoothes the skirt over her belly and looks down at him. "Besides, I know you have your eye on someone else."

"Lydia?" He scoffs bravely. "I think I've finally given it up to just Fantasyland, I mean, come on. That train has sailed or whatever." Lies, all lies, man.

Her eyes narrow and her smile widens, "That's not who I meant, Stiles."

He gapes at her, sputtering, waving his hands, "Who do you think I mean?" He tries to think of possible candidates and definitely not think of someone else who is totally scary and hot and who he may or may not have a bit of a thing for, because that's between his head and his gay porn files and it's completely based on looks and sex and that's it, okay?

Erica tilts her head sideways with a skeptical look, "Really? Come on, Stiles, it's obvious, I think people know." She pauses, rolling her eyes, "Or maybe not, considering the collective IQ's around here."

"Know what? What does everyone freaking know that I don't?" He's winces as he pulls his jeans up, feeling the wetness in his boxers and reminding himself not to do that particular bit again.

"Oh, baby, that's so sweet." She leans in swiftly, making him jump, but she only gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek. "You'll figure it out someday. Or not. Idiots."

She turns to go and he's still flailing, but finally asks, "So. Um. Not that I'm not utterly irresistible, but why this? Why now?" He chews at his lower lip while he waits for the answer.

She smiles, but it's brittle now, "Thanking you, remember? And some leftover wish fulfillment; you've gotten hotter. And I wanted to be the one to pop your cherry." She pauses, and then, "And yes. I really did used to fantasize about you touching me."

With a wicked grin, she slides out the window, leaving Stiles staring blankly at the ceiling, sitting on a rumpled bed that stinks of teenage-boy-come and girl-werewolf-come and would definitely be some sort of nose assault to any other wolf who came around so Scott better not  just yet and... oh, shit.

He bolts up as he hears a door shut, glances out the window, and sees the Camaro in the driveway. Seconds later, Derek has swung into his window, taken a deep breath and reared back his head to growl, "What the fuck was Erica doing here?" 

"What the fuck is my life?" Stiles groans, dropping his face into his hands.