To: Lydia Martin
From: Allison Argent
Sent: 2:07 AM
CODE +. Call me ASAP.
To: Allison Argent
From: Lydia Martin
Sent: 3:14 AM
On my way. Don't do anything stupid.
"Did you do something?"
"No! Did you?"
"Will both of you just shut up?" Scott snapped at Stiles and Derek, voice only a little muffled through the bathroom door. "Whatever you did or didn't do, now's not the time."
Allison curled up against the bathroom wall, head on her knees and trying to breathe. It wasn't one of her finer moments. Not that she'd actually intended to end up hiding in Scott's mom's bathroom. It had just sort of... happened. She'd been fine, managing at least, and then Derek had shown up and asked if she was okay and then he'd started to phone Stiles and she'd just panicked.
Half an hour later, and she was giving serious consideration to squeezing out the window. It was small, and they were on the second story, but she could do it. Probably. The chances of a werewolf not noticing her escape were pretty tiny, though.
They'd have to leave eventually, right?
Allison pulled out her phone, flipping through her last text from Lydia—just landed, hold on—and letting the soothing glare of the phone keep her brain dulled. If she tried hard, she could pretend that she didn't hear every hissed word on the other side of the door. That wasn't normal, was it? The doors in Scott's house were pretty thick, and actually metal rather than wood. Werewolf insurance, according to his mom. So their voices shouldn't have been that clear. Right?
"Allison?" Stiles sounded like he was right in her ear. She flinched, dropping her phone to cover her head. "Allison, let us in."
"Allison, please. We're worried."
Bracing herself on the wall, Allison estimated heights and took aim. She kicked out, right where Stiles head would be if he were kneeling down. On the other side of the door, she heard a yelp and a thud as he toppled. Vindictive glee surged, making her louder as she shouted, "Go away! I don't want to talk to any of you!"
The good feeling lasted until she saw the foot-sized dent her kick had left in the door. Then she whimpered and curled up again. The boys were still talking, audibly upset, but at least they weren't right by the door now.
This couldn't last forever. She had to get out of there. Needed advice, needed help.
She needed her mother.
Clenching her eyes closed, she tucked her head down and tried to breathe again. She felt ridiculous and afraid and a thousand things that she couldn't actually make sense of, but not one single one of them would have her going out that door. No matter how stupid it was, she was staying put.
Fifteen minutes later, something farther away in the house—the first floor?—slammed open. Allison's head came up as the sound of bone cracking echoed through the house.
Footsteps. Heels on carpet. The jingle of keys.
A single knock.
"Allison?" Lydia asked, soft and gentle, the kind of voice she used on Prada when the elderly dog was having a bad moment. "Allison, honey, you can come out now."
Slowly, Allison crept to the door. Her ass had gone numb except where her tailbone was sore, but she managed to haul herself to her feet. The door unlocked with a little click. Carefully, she cracked it, peering out into Scott's empty bedroom.
Lydia was still dressed for the flight, hair up, in a plain dress and with her travel purse slung over her chest. She held out her hand, palm up. There was blood on her knuckles.
Allison took it, pretending that hers wasn't shaking. "How did you know?"
Grim amusement twisted Lydia's lips into a hard smirk. "The three idiots called me. They thought I was still in Boston." She squeezed Allison's hand and tugged. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."
Keeping her head down, Allison let Lydia guide her downstairs. The three guys were in a protective huddle at the far corner of the living room, very pointedly staying out of the way. Blood was dripping down Derek's chin, and his nose was still slightly crooked. He looked bewildered, but not seriously hurt, so Allison just kept her eyes down let Lydia take her away.
The shiny red rental car that must have been Lydia's transport was still sitting in the drive, purring—she'd left the motor running. Lydia opened the passenger side door and pushed her down, even going so far as to reach over to fasten Allison's seatbelt for her.
Allison let her fuss. It felt good, knowing Lydia was there and would take care of her. Any of the others would too, she knew that, but Lydia was... Lydia. She'd understand better than they would. And she didn't need an explanation, either.
After making sure Allison's seat was adjusted and the sunshade down, Lydia crossed over and slid into the driver's seat. "Where to?" She pulled down her sunglasses and put the car in reverse, twisting to back out of the drive. "Macy's? You look like you need a good shopping trip."
Licking her lips, Allison looked down at her hands. They were clenched in her lap, knuckles white. Taking a breath to steady herself, she forced them to relax. "Take me to the hospital."
Melissa McCall was the best.
The very first thing she did when they arrived was give Allison the best hug she could have asked for before bundling her off to a private office that had a water cooler, a plush looking couch and absolutely no sign of anything medical. Then she vanished for a second and came back with an ice pack for Lydia's hand, which was starting to bruise where she'd smashed it on Derek's face.
"Are you sure you don't want an x-ray?" Melissa asked dubiously, inspecting the red-purple that was starting to form across Lydia's knuckles.
"It's fine." Lydia flexed her hand, wiggling all of her fingers in turn. "You don't survive werewolves without learning to throw a punch."
Scott's mom made a face and shook her head. "If you say so. Just make sure you keep it on ice for a while, okay? And let me know if you need anything for the pain. Now, you..." Turning to Allison, she pulled out a little plastic cup.
"The bathroom is over there when you're ready," Melissa said. "No one will bother you here. Just call me when you're ready, and I'll handle everything, okay?"
Allison took the cup, nodding. It was warm and weird and oh God, she was pretty sure she was going to puke before she peed, and that was just embarrassing.
Melissa gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "It'll be okay, honey. Trust me." She kissed Allison's forehead. "We're all here for you."
Allison closed her eyes and leaned forward, head between her knees. Lydia rubbed between her shoulder blades, which was probably the only reason she wasn't leaping to her feet and running out of the room. Water ran, and the cooler glugged, and then a second later a paper cup was shoved into her hand.
"Drink," Melissa ordered, and the tone was so much like her own mother's had been that Allison took the cup and sipped automatically. "Drink it all."
The cup was only half full, but by the time she reached the bottom Allison was already breathing easier. She leaned into Lydia's side and closed her eyes.
"So, not intended, I take it?"
Wordlessly, Allison shook her head. She'd known, suspected, or she wouldn't have taken the at-home test, but actually hearing it from a medical professional sealed it.
Pregnant. I'm pregnant. Oh my God.
"We were mostly careful—just a couple mistakes is all," she said into Lydia's neck. There was a whole swath of hair and dress that was getting soaked by tears and drool, and it was a mark of friendship that Lydia didn't even try to move away. "And I'm on birth control."
The couch shifted, and Melissa's arm wrapped around her from the other side. "Let's just say that you're not the first woman I've seen in here this summer with birth control failure. Maybe some of that moss down in the lake, huh?"
One of Lydia's hands ran through her hair. "Do you want me to punch Derek again?" she asked. "I can. He'd let me, too."
A laugh bubbled up from Allison's stomach. It probably was Derek's. Most of the mistakes had been with him—condoms didn't exactly work well with his wolf form, and she'd honestly thought that birth control would be enough. But they'd been a little lazy with Stiles, too. It could be either, really, there was no telling.
A little girl with Stiles' nose and her hair. Or a boy with Derek's eyes. Or her mom's.
When Melissa took her hand, Allison squeezed. "I think I want to keep it. I'm—I'm okay. My dad can help, I can—I can take a semester off school if I need to, I don't need money if they—" Words locked up in her throat as she tried to explain to them, to herself, why she wanted this. It all felt so stupid. She could face down werewolves and mermaids and anything with a gun, but the thought of a baby and she just...
"Breathe." Lydia's hand in her hair moved down to her back, patting. "Breathe with me, Allison."
She giggled breathlessly, completely inappropriately. "Isn't it seven months early for that?"
"No, bad! Bad Allison!" The bangles on Lydia's wrist jingled in her ear. "You've been spending too much time with Stiles."
Stiles. Not for the first time, Allison wondered if there was a way to crawl back in bed and demand a do-over. Actually, scratch that. There probably actually was, knowing their lives, and it would turn out badly. "I'm going to have to tell them. Aren't I?"
Melissa nodded, curls brushing up against Allison's cheek. "It's usually considered polite to tell someone when they're going to become a father, yes."
An elbow bumped into her shoulder. "Don't worry," Lydia said, "I have your back."
"This isn't what I thought you meant when you said you have my back."
Lydia stroked her highly illegal sawed-off shotgun tenderly. "Do you want backup or don't you?"
Judging by the way Derek was edging toward the far end of his sofa, it was probably loaded with wolfsbane. Where she even got the weapon or the ammunition, Allison wasn't sure she wanted to know. Probably it was leftover from something, but damned if she knew where. At least Stiles looked comfortable, sprawled out on the cushion closest to Lydia. Then again, Stiles had never really shown what could be a called a comprehensive survival instinct when it came to Lydia.
"Not what I meant." Leaning forward, Allison rubbed her forehead tiredly. She'd spent the entire day fretting, and had thrown up her dinner because of it. All she really wanted to do was drop the bombshell and let Lydia pack her off. If she could do that without actually dropping said bombshell, so much the better.
"Allison?" Stiles twisted his fingers nervously, watching her like she was something fragile that would break into sharp pieces at any second. It made her feel warm and loved and violent all at once. "What's wrong?"
"Just— give me a second?" She smiled dully at him and ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm.. yeah, just…" Words failed, so she flipped a gesture with her hand, working her wrist.
A second too late, she realized what it looked like and snatched her hand back into her lap, flushing . There were a thousand unuttered quips in Stiles' expression, and she loved him for not saying any of them.
Shaking herself hard, Allison leaped to her feet and started to pace. "I have news. Okay? Important news." Her fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms. Were they sharper than usual? Was she grinding her teeth more? "And—and I won't blame you if you don't want to stay after this. Really. I want—" She waved a hand in the air, and yes, it was something she'd picked up from Stiles. Damn Lydia to Hell for being right. "I want you guys to stick around. But this is something I'm going to go through with for me, and if you can't do it with me, then I accept that." Whirling, Allison met their eyes. "Okay?"
"Maybe you should tell us what we're supposed to accept?" Derek suggested gently. It was his patient freaking out voice. She could have hated it, except Allison probably fell into that category and no, actually, she did hate it, deserved or not.
Taking a breath, Allison planted her feet, looked them square in the face and said, "I'm pregnant."
The loft had never seemed so quiet.
Derek's jaw hung open. Stiles sank back into the cushions like he'd be okay just vanishing into them. And Lydia continued quietly petting her gun like a Bond villain with a fluffy white cat, because that was helpful, yes. Allison kept her chin up and her hands by her side, waiting for their reaction. Waiting for anything, really.
"I—" It was Stiles who finally broke the moment, running a shaky hand through his hair and clearing his throat. He was so pale that his moles stood out like paint splatters. She hoped that if he passed out Derek would move fast enough to catch him. "With a baby?"
One of Lydia's nails rapped the barrel of her gun. Tap tap tap. "No, Stiles. With a llama."
Or a puppy, Allison thought, a little giddily, shoving down the panic that stung the back of her throat.
Stiles flushed and sat back, twisting his hands so hard the knuckles popped. She noticed him counting his breaths, in and out, in and out, when she found herself matching him.
The other man in her life was still quiet, staring at her. Not accusingly, but blankly. It was the poker face Derek never had. Finally, he said, "You were on birth control." No accusation, no tone at all. Just a statement.
"Failed. Probably because of the mermaids."
Never in her life had Allison expected to utter the words because of the mermaids and have someone nod like that was completely reasonable, but that was what Derek did. He just accepted it, no more questions asked.
She was appalled when she blinked and her vision went blurry with tears. Sniffling as quietly as she could, but not even close to quietly enough to escape a werewolf's notice, Allison looked down. At some point, she'd clenched her hands again. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I never meant for this to happen. I can..." The words tried to lodge in her throat, but she forced them out. "I can go, if you want."
"Allison..." The couch creaked, and suddenly someone's arms were around her shoulders—Derek's judging by the hair. A second later, a second set wrapped around her from the other side. The little snuffles she'd been holding back twisted up high in her throat, and before she knew it she had her face pressed against someone's shoulder. One of them, it didn't really matter who, was petting her hair, and some else was murmuring in her ear. It was too quiet for her to really make out any words, or even know whose voice it was under the sound of her own heart pounding away, but the tone was warm and soothing and just made her cry harder.
Minutes vanished, swallowed up. When she'd finally cried herself out, her eyes were swollen and her face was red and she had no idea what time it was other than "later."
Stiles kissed her cheek. There were some tear tracks on his cheeks, too, and that made her feel weirdly better. "You okay?"
Not wanting to risk another crying binge, Allison nodded and leaned forward to rest her head against his shoulder.
"Good." He kissed her again, nose pressing against her temple. "I can't speak for bozo the wolf over here, but... I want to be here for it, okay? I didn't really plan to be a dad yet, but I'll support you."
"Me too." Derek's fingers in her hair tugged a little, pushing aside the strands that were stuck to her cheek. "I... I want to be one of the fathers?" His face twisted, lips bunching into a frown. "That doesn't sound right."
In spite of herself, Allison giggled and ducked her head against Stiles. "It sounds right to me."
Stubble scratched the back of her neck where Derek kissed it. Allison closed her eyes and let herself calm down, breathe. Their body heat on either side of her was a comforting, familiar thing now, but she was incredibly aware of it anyway. Every shift of weight, every stutter of breath made her want to curl up and hide, or maybe to shove away and stand on her own two feet. She didn't want them to think she was weak, and it was nice to have the support. Nice to know that they were there, and would be there.
"I do have one question." The arms around her shifted, and Allison found herself with Stiles' chin resting on the top of her head so he could look over her at Derek. "How did you not smell this? Isn't that super werewolf sniffer good for anything?"
With Derek behind her, it was impossible to be sure, but Allison could have sworn she felt the heat of his blush. "She doesn't..." His arms around her squeezed, then released suddenly and moved up, closer to her ribs. "Usually she smells like sex. It's not like I was trying to smell it."
"A likely story." Stiles snugged his chin down on her head. "Next time, you won't have that excuse."
"She can't get more pregnant, Stiles," Derek muttered, rubbing his cheek against her neck. It was damp, and that was... Wow. Reaching down, she found his hand at her ribs and laid hers over it, lacing their fingers. In return, she got a little squeeze of her hand and a callused thumb running over her knuckles.
"Come," Derek said, kissing her neck again before giving her a gentle tug. "You've had a long day."
"But Lydia—" Allison twisted, but Lydia's chair was empty of both woman and gun. A quick look around the loft showed no sign of where she'd gone.
"She snuck out while we were having our moment." Keeping his arm around her, Stiles propelled Allison toward the bed in the far corner of the room, which was mostly hidden behind some screens Derek had bought after the third time they'd traumatized Scott.
Allison let them pull her shoes and socks off, unbutton her dress and pull the pins from her hair. It was a little silly, a little over the top, but Derek still had tears in his beard and Stiles was humming as he turned off the lights and it was just... beyond words. So she let them pamper her, let them press her down into the mattress.
It wasn't exactly I love you, but it worked for them.
Soft voices speaking over her head tugged Allison up out of the soft not-quite-sleep she'd been floating in. Almost as soon as she was aware of them, they stopped, but the damage was done.
She should have still been asleep. The mattress under her was just soft enough, and the blankets were warm, the arms thrown over her just firm enough that she didn't feel trapped. But even when she grunted and buried her face back in a pillow, it didn't come. Annoyed, she flipped over again and opened her eyes.
Sleep was wonderful. Sleep was magic. But sleep wasn't going to come while she was staring at a dark ceiling with two hard bodies on either side of her doing an absolute shit job of pretending to be asleep too. Stiles was a fidgeter, and Derek always curled around anything he could touch like an octopus. Neither were actually doing anything like that.
The final hold of sleep broke under the incredible frustration of their terrible acting. Allison flopped over, peering at Derek over the lump of her pillows.
His eyes were closed, but a faint red glow under the edge of his lashes meant he'd been using them. When he saw her looking, the red blinked away, and then his chest moved in a quiet laugh. "Did we wake you?"
"Maybe I'm just not as tired as I thought," she said in a whisper that was completely unnecessary, since Stiles was actually trying not to crane his head to listen. How had they gotten through high school without everyone knowing that they were hiding something? "It's been a really long few days. I even had blood drawn."
"Poor thing." If she hadn't known Derek's voice, she might have mistaken him for being sincere. He shifted closer, one big hand coming up to cover her hip. "Is there anything we can do to make it up to you?"
"I can think of something." Stretching a bit, Allison kissed him. She ended up hitting stubble first, due to the lack of light, but her second attempt hit its goal, right on his lips.
When he wasn't completely dick-over-brains in lust, Derek kissed like someone from a romance novel. It was all long, slow sweeps of the lips that made Allison tingle down to her toes. It was the kind of kiss that made swooning seem like a valid choice. His hand slid around to grab her ass, too, and that was also on par with a novel, though a raunchier sort.
Murmuring happily, she braced her feet against Stiles and pushed closer until her knee could come up around Derek's thigh. Warm muscle pressed all down the front of her body, one thigh lodged between hers, promising many things and all of them ending in mutual orgasm. When she shifted a little, body hair scraped, making her skin prickle.
"Are you two cheating on me?" Another body pressed against her from behind and, true to form, Stiles was already getting hard. He looped an arm around her, pulling her back until he could steal the corner of the kiss for himself. "Selfish."
"Selfish? Which one of us is pregnant again?" Allison demanded, sticking her tongue out. "You want to carry a baby?"
Rather than take the obvious opening she'd given him, Stiles went quiet. His palm ran over her stomach, fingers splaying out across her skin. In the dark there was no way to be sure, but she thought his eyes were shining a little more than the low light could have accounted for.
"You know that's amazing, right?" Stiles' voice was a little thick, the roughness not entirely hidden by the softness. "You're amazing."
"Isn't she?" Derek kissed her throat, then down against her collarbone. There was still stubble burn from the last time they'd had sex, but it didn't stop the fresh burn from making her toes curl. She found herself being laid out, back to Stiles' chest, between his knees while Derek kissed down her chest, between her breasts to her stomach. Her breath caught when he nuzzled softly, cheek pressed against her stomach. Then he just stayed there, not moving.
Allison tangled her fingers in his hair, combing it back. Part of her wanted to know if he could hear a heartbeat, and part of her was afraid to know. It was still too new. Thinking about that, about an actual heartbeat, was overwhelming.
Stiles kissed her shoulder. He had a little stubble, too, but not as much. Just enough to give his skin texture when he rubbed it against her. She sighed and bent her head back for another kiss. For a long time, they just laid there, all wrapped up in each other, no one moving more than the few inches it took for another caress, another kiss or touch.
Then Stiles' hand came up to cup her breast. His thumb brushed over her nipple, making Allison arch up. Her head fell back against his shoulder in invitation that got her another kiss, harder than the last few.
Derek started moving, sliding farther down between her legs. Her breath hitched when he nuzzled the fold of her hip and thigh. A tiny, broken sound slipped out of Allison's throat when his fingers trailed over sensitive skin. Stiles echoed her, other hand coming up to cover her throat like he could catch the sound.
Whimpering, Allison arched and pushed herself down. Neither one of them were really touching her. Their hands and mouths stayed tender, even when she pointedly nudged Derek closer with her knee, even when she pushed back against Stiles' dick demandingly. Derek's hands spread out over her thighs, nearly touching. The closest he came was when his thumbs swept up between her legs and came close to her ass. She was already incredibly wet, and he just ended up smearing it. The dampness made his breath cool on her skin. It was followed by a quick lick that made her cry out.
Then they were lower on her thighs again, and Stiles was nibbling at the crook of her neck while Derek kissed the inside her knee. The kisses ran up her thigh to her hip, then to her stomach, and she could have cried. But she'd already done enough of that for the day, so she just held on, focusing on sensation rather than feelings and fisting her hands in the sheets when it started to get to be too much.
"What do you want?" One of Stiles' fingers traced up her ribs to the tender spot under her breast that she was almost positive she'd never told either of them about. He ran his fingers straight over it, making her hips buck involuntarily and her thighs clench together. They would have rubbed, but Derek's shoulders were in the way. "Come on, woman of the hour."
"Both of you?" Allison licked her lips when Derek looked up at her, a flash of red in the dark giving him away. For a second, she wished that they'd left a light on. "And I want to be tied."
She felt a little silly asking for it. They probably did it often enough that it wasn't actually special any more—her and Stiles both had probably developed a bit of fixation. It was like going into an ice cream shop and getting a scoop of vanilla with extra sprinkles. But damn it, she liked vanilla, and she liked the way sprinkles held on until the ice cream melted.
That metaphor may have gotten away from her a little.
"I think we can do that." Derek kissed her stomach before, tongue dipping into her navel. She leaned forward so Stiles could reach into the bedside table. Plastic rustled, and then he was handing her two condoms.
Allison rubbed them together skeptically. "I think it's a little late for this, don't you?"
"Do we really want to take that chance?" Stiles asked in what he probably thought was a reasonable tone. The cap on the lube popped loudly, and Allison leaned forward even more. He fumbled a bit, spreading slick across her lower back and left ass cheek before finally finding his way. "Magically induced fertility isn't normal. Let's do some research before making assumptions that lead to ectopic pregnancies or something."
It was such a Stiles thing to say that she had to laugh. "Fine. Clear the messy sex with Deaton. Got it." What the hell, she'd had worse conversations with the man. May as well go for broke and discuss her sex life.
Derek sighed, like they were a trial to him. But he snapped one of the condoms out of her hand, rising up to lean over her shoulder and kiss Stiles. Two sets of stubble burned against her cheek, and she could hear their breath right in her ear.
She really wished they had more light.
The slick finger against her hole pressed in to the first knuckle. Someone's hand gripped her hip when she instinctively tried to push back against it. Their kiss broke, which should have helped her peace of mind. Except that Stiles set his teeth to the back of her neck—bastard had been learning from Derek—and Derek was scooping up spare lube from Stiles' mistakes and helping and one day she was going to kill them both out of self-preservation, she swore.
Stiles' second finger was a little much, a little bit of a burn. Her breath caught, but before she could bear down a tingle ran up her spine and the pain just... vanished.
"Bastard," Allison sighed, feeling around for Derek's dick to give him an appreciative stroke. "You're on epidural duty in seven months. Just so you know." He wasn't actually as hard as he usually would be, so she did it again, putting her wrist into it. Don't want to be selfish. Even if they were the ones being nice to her.
Werewolf healing mojo might have handled the little bit of pain, but Allison could still feel it when a third finger was added, twisting, playing with her. She sighed and rested her head against Derek's shoulder, groaning as Stiles took his damned sweet time.
Stiles' free hand ran up her hip soothingly, tapping along her hipbone. "Ready?" he asked, lips moving over the back of her neck.
"Please?" The word came out soft and needy, nearly a whine. She was past caring about dignity.
The three fingers in her twisted once before slipping out. Allison found herself being maneuvered around. Condoms were opened, the lube set aside and pillows rearranged. Then she was settled back against Stiles' chest again, legs spread around his thighs. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her steady. "Bottom first, right?"
Biting her lip, Allison nodded and lifted up. The head of his dick pressed against her hole. Breathing out, Allison sat back. There was some pain again, a burn to match the stretch, but it was a glorious burn. A cry lodged in her throat as she worked him inside, rocking back and forth until there was no where left to go.
It was only when her lungs started burning that Allison realized she'd forgotten to breathe. The first breath was sweet, but it shifted her atop Stiles, and that just made her want to stop breathing again.
Derek nuzzled a kiss to her neck, hands settling over her waist. She didn't miss how his thumbs rubbed swirls under her navel, little bit of a scratch there hinting at claws. "Okay you two?"
"Mmhm," Allison nodded while Stiles said, "Great," breathlessly.
"You now." Turning her head, Allison slid her lips along Derek's cheek until she found his mouth and could lick the corner.
It was a little weird, laying back on Stiles and keeping her feet planted rather than wrapping her legs around someone. But then Derek was over her, and Stiles was holding on to them both, and it was impossible to feel unbalanced when she was so safe on both sides.
And then, then Derek's cock was pressing into her and all Allison could think was oh. He made a soft sound, kissing under her jaw when finished settling in.
Humming, she rolled her hips, working them both. There was a stretch and bump of them both in her at once, an extra width that played havoc with her stomach. Every little move, every breath was another reminder of how incredibly full she was.
Moving was slow, almost delicate in the slide of Derek's dick in her, the smaller movements of Stiles'. The last time they'd done this with her in the middle, it had been rougher, more desperate. Most of their sex was rougher in general. Good as that was, Allison thought she liked the gentler version. There was something in the broad sweep of palms, in quiet words and kisses that stayed light that left her floating. Pleasure curled through her, building but not demanding, just taking her up and up and up.
Stiles' hand slipped across her stomach, down to curl his fingers around where Derek's cock had her pinned open. One of them swirled around her clit, clipping it. Allison hissed and thrust back, stars flashing behind her eyes. When he actually rubbed her clit, it was all over. She came, crying out, entire body clenching as the built-up pleasure sizzled along her nerves.
Her nails dug into Derek's back, leaving scratches that would have been around for a week on a human. The snap of his hips picked up, a hot counterpoint to Stiles' slower movement. A growl rumbled through his chest, the loudest sound he'd made since the lights had gone off. She felt the moment he came, the sudden extra pressure of his knot swelling and locking him in her, tying them together.
Twisting her head, she found his lips on the first try and dragged him into a hard kiss. Her cunt clenched around him, working his cock. It made his hips twitch, tugging at her cunt.
As if that weren't enough, Stiles planted his feet and moved. Allison cried out, pulled at both ends. She ended up clinging to Derek as Stiles rocked under her, throwing her up and back again. Stiles' hands held her steady, his breath warm on her neck when he did it again.
"Okay?" he asked, squeezing. A desperate edge lined his voice, a tremble.
There was no air to reply, so she just shoved herself back in answer. Derek braced himself over them, riding it out while Stiles rode her. The tattered remains of Allison's last orgasm knitted themselves together, dragging at her again until she was shoved back over the same edge. Under her, Stiles moan choked off, and his hips stuttered.
Afterglow sank in like warm honey. It saturated muscles, making the littlest bit of movement seem like too much effort. Allison shifted enough to make herself comfortable while waiting for the stretch of Derek's knot to go down. Stiles, who was the bearer of most of their weight, pulled out, tied off the condom and then was right back against her. His hand wiggled between her and Derek to press his palm against Allison's stomach, stroking idly.
A second later, Derek's joined it, lacing their fingers together. Between them, Allison smiled and buried her head against Derek's shoulder. A tiny—giant—part of her was still terrified, but she could breathe again. She wasn't sure of much, but she was pretty sure it would be okay.