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Dangerously Cute Maybe

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Stiles woke up feeling good. Like, really good considering, you know, his tendency toward traumatic nightmares and insomnia. It was a thing. He didn't wanna talk about the nightmares. He was too busy appreciating just how awesome he felt.

It really should have been the first sign, in retrospect.

Stiles sleepily scratched his fingers through his hair as he shuffled toward the bathroom and sort of... paused… when he thought he felt something that shouldn't be there. He shuffled with a little more purpose, flipped on the light, and (embarrassingly) let out a tiny screech.

"Oh my god." Stiles pressed close to the mirror, touching his face and hair to be sure that the reflection was real.

Sure enough, they were right there when he reached up. Ears like a cat's, pointed, furry, and dark to match his hair, while his usual human ears were completely missing. There were raised lines on his cheeks, faintly darker than his skin -- whiskers, maybe, to carry the theme -- and his teeth were more pointed, like fangs nearly.

"Fuck," he sighed leaning back from his self inspection. He guessed he could be glad it was summer now that he was gonna be a complete social pariah. God, he hoped that this was just a weird curse or something. A nogitsune side effect maybe. One last trick as revenge for getting torn out of Stiles' body.

Stiles was ready to accept anything that would let him function without the government hauling him off to a secret lab to be their new pet project because he was stuck like this. Of course, that would be when he saw another new thing twitch in his peripheral vision. He turned to look and promptly groaned.

"A tail too?" he whined, throwing his hands to the side as he looked to the ceiling. "Are you freakin' kidding me?"

Because his new pseudo-animal catboy freak status wouldn't be complete without it.

His dad rapped his knuckles lightly on the door. "You okay in there, kid?"

"I'm a freak, dad," Stiles wailed a little. "I want to die."

"Alrighty then," his dad said. "Guess I'll make pancakes for breakfast."

"With chocolate chips?" Stiles murmured hopefully.

"And whipped cream smiley faces," his dad confirmed.

"Okay, I want to die less now," Stiles said.

"Good to know," his dad replied. "Take your time."


One of the big advantages of his dad being In The Know was that he could do this: stand in the doorway with his new ears and his new tail and gesture at himself while saying, "Sooooo... I woke up like this. I don't know why."

His dad stared at him with a faintly amused expression (Stiles couldn't blame him) and stirred the pancake batter more slowly. "Huh," he said, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he slumped into the nearest chair.

The nice thing was, except for everything to do with his new um, attributes... Stiles really did feel good! The pancakes tasted even more awesome than he remembered them ever tasting. The morning sun felt amazing as it gently warmed his shoulder. He felt well rested and limber and pretty satisfied with himself and his environment and his life. If this was what werewolves felt like all the time, it was no wonder that the bite was called a gift.

(But that was unlikely since Derek looked like he felt awful nonstop every damn day, so maybe it was just a cat thing.)

After breakfast, he ushered his dad to the door, promising that he would call Deaton and Scott to let them know what was up. And hey! Maybe this whole thing would be fixed by the time his dad got back from work!

(Optimism! What a nice change!)

Nonetheless, his dad hovered just inside the front door. He looked concerned. "Maybe I should stay," he suggested.

"I'll be fine," Stiles assured him. "And if I'm not, I'll let you know. At worst, I'll still be like this when you get back."

(If Stiles were feeling less AWESOME, it might have occurred to him that worse things could happen than being stuck like a werecat… halfcat? Catboy! Wait, Catman! Yes. But anyway, since he did feel AWESOME, he wasn't even sure that being stuck as he was could be altogether terrible.)

So his dad reluctantly left for work, and Stiles puttered around the house for a bit before calling Deaton and Scott. Deaton made a lot of interested sounds, and then after asking a few questions, made some more noises about looking into things. It was all very Deaton in that it was reassuring while not actually being anything at all resembling helpful.

Scott was much better about the reassurance, even if he was very sleepy about it. He woke up quickly once Stiles' announcement sank in though. "You what now?" He sounded as if he was sitting up suddenly.

Stiles grinned on his end of the call, unreasonably happy considering the non-consensual nature in which he'd been given his new body parts. "I have a tail!" he repeated, tail curling overhead as he sprawled out over the couch. "And fur, I think!"

"I didn't think werewolves got tails," Scott said, sounding more muffled as he got dressed. "Are you a werewolf? Were you bitten?"

"Pretty sure not a werewolf," Stiles said and examined his nails. They looked normal, but he wondered if he would get claws eventually. "Pretty sure I'm part cat now."

"Could you be a fox?" Scott asked with a sudden deep hush to his voice, serious and worried.

Stiles hugged his phone between his cheek and his shoulder and reached for his tail, smoothing down the fur and poking the tip. "Foxes have bushy tails, yeah? Mine seems pretty sleek. You wanna see it?"

"I'm already at my bike," Scott said, sounding more amused now. "And Stiles? You'll be okay, no matter what. You got me."

Stiles smiled to himself, ducking his head even though there was no one to see him. "I know," he murmured. "I'll see you soon."

With the leftover batter, Stiles made more pancakes while he waited for Scott, leaving the front door unlocked for him. It was surprising, actually, to feel nervous when he heard the motor of Scott's bike purring down the street, and then more nervous still when Scott knocked at the door before coming in when Stiles shouted permission.

There was a stack of still-warm pancakes on the table, and the pan and mixing bowl were in the sink. Stiles fidgeted in the kitchen while Scott approached and carefully set his bike helmet on the sofa. It was different than when his dad stared. Less funny.

Stiles bounced his arms against his sides, hyperaware of how his tail was swaying in distress. He didn't know how to stop it. "So," he started, "what do you think?"

Scott stepped closer, with his hands held up like he needed to show Stiles that he wasn't a threat, which was ridiculous. Stiles huffed at him, looking away, but he could tell that he'd made Scott smile.

"Definitely not a fox," Scott said. The smile was in his voice. Stiles jumped when Scott touched his arm. "How d'you feel?"

Stiles scratched at his face. "Good," he said. "Nervous and I don't know why or how this happened and I'd rather it went away, but... Good. You know, for now. Really um--"

"Good?" There was laughter in Scott's voice now. Stiles rolled his eyes at him. "Hey, can I--" His gaze flicked upward.

Stiles raised a brow at Scott's hand, raised in an aborted gesture. Stiles shrugged and bowed his head so Scott could touch his ears. Scott carded his fingers through Stiles' hair and then between his new ears, then one finger traced the edge of one, tickling. Stiles felt the ear flick back and forth as Scott touched, like it wasn't sure about trusting him.

It felt weird so eventually Stiles shook his head and squirmed out of reach. "Okay that's enough petting I think," he said. "I made pancakes!"

"Awesome, I'm starving," Scott said, sounding distracted, but he sat at the table anyway and helped himself to breakfast.

They talked about what other changes that Stiles had noticed other than the obvious. Stiles admitted a mild disappointment about not having enhanced senses to make up for the ears and tail, but Scott suggested that it might be a matter of waiting. After all, Scott had been a werewolf for hours before his superhearing kicked in. Maybe it would be like that for Stiles too.

Scott did kind of laugh to himself when Stiles wondered aloud about his general AWESOME feeling being related to his cat status, and when pressed, he said, "Well I've always thought cats feel really proud of themselves all the time. Like the world was made for them to play in or something. But in a good way. Not like the nogitsune."

Stiles hummed thoughtfully and stole a bit of pancake from Scott's plate. "Maybe," he agreed.

"It might not be so bad for you to be like this for a while, if the two are connected," Scott said to his plate.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stiles asked, suspicious.

Scott rolled his shoulders, looking up at him finally, earnest in his gaze. "Just that it might be good for you to feel good," Scott said. "After the nogitsune, you were upset a lot. Worried. And I get it, I do. There's a part of me that's afraid all the time that I'll hurt you or my mom or our friends because I couldn't control myself. So I get being afraid of that.

"But," Scott said, reaching across the table to clasp a hand on Stiles' wrist, "I've always trusted you. That hasn't changed."

Stiles made a noise, something that was supposed to imply that Scott was making a big deal out of nothing. Instead, it came out sounding like Stiles couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"That is exactly what I'm talking about," Scott insisted. "You don't think I should trust you anymore. I know you feel weak but that's why it'd be nice if you had something to remind you that you're a good person too."

This time Stiles scoffed for real. "I'm not good like you," he murmured.

Scott smiled indulgently. "You wouldn't be Stiles if you were, but that doesn't mean you aren't good in your own way."

Stiles looked at Scott for a long moment, not sure what to say or how to say that he was grateful for their friendship. Seeming to understand anyway, Scott just smiled at him again, squeezed his wrist, and asked if Stiles had called Deaton yet.

Thankful for the obvious out, Stiles groaned, "Yes. And he didn't know anything either. I'm not sure he would have told me anything if he did."

It felt easier after that, with the heavy stuff out of the way, though it hovered in the back of Stiles' mind and nagged at him. Stiles could appreciate his AWESOME feeling better now, how it made him feel lighter than he had been in weeks. Even though it was undoubtedly a mindset that came with the new ears and tail, Stiles couldn't find it in himself to worry about it. It wasn't as if he was doing anything he didn't want to do, after all. He just felt--

Liberated. Relaxed. It was nice.

Scott stuck around without Stiles having to beg him, which saved him the embarrassment. And okay so they did all the summer stuff they always did together: video games, movies, shooting the shit. Stiles was able to forget for a while that he had weird new animal parts, too. But by the time a couple hours passed, he started yearning for a nap. He'd had a pretty stressful morning, after all, and Scott looked like he'd be down for a nap too.

So they napped. Together. Business as usual! ...until it wasn't.

Because, well. Stiles ended up flopping over Scott's chest, legs draped everywhere. His tail was curling and uncurling, lazy and content. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds. Even if it hadn't been warm, Scott definitely was. Warm and comfortable and giving good head scratches. Stiles purred his approval and Scott tried to muffle his laughter.

"You are such a cat," Scott murmured. "It's cute."

"Not cute," Stiles pouted sleepily. "I'm dangerous. Imma big, bad werekitty." He made a sleepy rawring noise for good measure.

"Dangerously cute maybe," Scott said.

"Mean," he sighed, not even angry because he was cute, and being cute was awesome. He wiggled in protest when Scott hauled him further up the bed, but his cat qualities hadn't included strength that could match a werewolf. Besides, his favorite cuddles after the ones he got from his dad were the ones he got from the McCalls.

He hummed when Scott rubbed a cheek against his forehead. "You smell good," he heard Scott say.

"I took a shower last night."

"Different from that," Scott said. "I know what that's like. This is..." He pressed his nose into Stiles' hair. "I don't know."

"Maybe it's a cat thing," he suggested, nuzzling into Scott's collarbone. "Don't care."

"It's good though," Scott said and pecked a fond kiss over Stiles' brow. "I like it."

Purring, he pressed closer to Scott's side. "I like that you like it," he whispered, daring to look up.

Scott petted his hand down the back of Stiles' head, cupped the back of his neck. "Stiles," he breathed as he dragged his lips dragged over Stiles' cheek. Stiles turned his face to meet Scott's kiss, returning it gently and slowly without being sure why it had taken them so long to get this far.

Stiles eventually pushed for more, pushed himself over Scott, pushed into the kiss with a gasp of Scott's name. Scott had his hands on either side of Stiles' face, fingers under his ears, holding him steady as they kissed and kissed and--

Scott pulled away slowly, like it took effort. He was trembling. Stiles kept wanting to kiss him forever, for always.

"Wait," Scott said. "Wait this-- This isn't--" Stiles whined, and Scott groaned as he gave in with a hunger that made Stiles purr. They kissed for minutes this time, with Scott's fingers tight against his nape. When Stiles whimpered encouragingly, Scott broke away with more force. "We shouldn't--" he started, but lost the words against the skin of Stiles' throat.

Stiles threaded his fingers through Scott's hair and made him look up. "I want to," he said and straddled Scott's waist. "Don't you?"

"Yeah" Scott gasped. "I want to." He strained upward. Stiles kissed the tip of his chin, the slope of his jaw, then his mouth. "I just."

Scott squeezed his eyes shut, trembling as Stiles licked up the front of his throat. It rasped, surprisingly rough. His eyes cracked open when Stiles sat up. Stiles put his fingers in his mouth, curious. Sure enough, his tongue was rough.

"Fuck," Scott said. He grabbed at Stiles' thighs. "Stiles, tell me this isn't- It's not a cat thing, right? Your smell, it's--"

Stiles smiled shyly, embarrassed really. He put his wet fingers against Scott's lips. When Scott took them in, Stiles couldn't help squirming at the feeling, imagining Scott's soft tongue on other parts of his body. Like his neck. Like his cock.

"I told you," Stiles said, breathless as Scott's hands moved to grasp his hips, pulling him closer. "I want this." Stiles moaned, grinding down like it seemed Scott wanted him to. Scott was hard under him. "I want you."

Stiles bit his lower lip as he pulled his fingers from Scott's mouth. He was trying to hide a feral grin, but couldn't quite. "I want you, Scotty," he breathed. "Do you--" Scott bucked under him, stealing his words. His hand dropped to the front of Scott's throat, wet fingers cooling at the heavy beat of Scott's pulse. Stiles shuddered, bowing forward. "Please, please--"

Scott pushed himself up with one arm, grabbed for Stiles with the other. "Shut up," he growled. "We'll figure it out later."

Stiles didn't argue. He couldn't even if he wanted to with Scott kissing him again, this time like he wouldn't stop. Stiles surrendered happily, relieved that Scott was no longer focused on the why of it all. It felt real enough on his end. It only felt more real as Scott kept touching him, his broad hand sliding up the back of Stiles' shirt to settle at his waist.

It was only odd when their tongues touched -- slick against rough. Stiles could feel the difference. He only started to blush, however, when a flick of his tongue made Scott moan.

"Touch me," Stiles pleaded softly as he hid his face against Scott's neck and licked his skin. "Everywhere. Want your hands--"

"Yeah," Scott said, tilting his head to the side. "I wanna--" His fingers scrambled at the hem of Stiles' shirt. "Let me--"

Stiles scrambled to help. He held his arms up as Scott yanked his shirt up and off. He didn't look to see where it got thrown. He could only hurry to return the favor, shoving his hands under Scott's shirt and pulling, pulling until there was bare skin.

"Scott," he breathed as he leaned in. When they kissed again, Stiles had his hand on Scott's chest, over his heart. It was beating so hard, all because they were doing this, and the knowledge made Stiles shiver.

Scott sank back into the pillows and Stiles settled on top of him instead of hovering. He wanted the feel of skin on skin. He wanted to know that there was nothing else between them. He wanted everything, anything that Scott would give him.

Scott rubbed both hands along Stiles' sides, palming around his ribcage and down the slope of his spine. His fingers dipped under the waistband of his sleep boxers but slid back up before Stiles could encourage him to go further. Whatever protest Stiles wanted to make, it left him as Scott found the base of his tail instead and rubbed there.

It was like... He didn't know if he could describe it. It wasn't jitters or like his blood was being set on fire. It was… It was good. All this goodness swelling in his chest, getting stirred up and whipped to fullness by Scott's fingers.

He could only pant against Scott's neck as his hips lifted and lifted, trying to get more. It was frustrating. It had him lifting his chin a little like he could get what he was looking for if only he bared his throat. But Scott just kept rubbing, relentless even when Stiles whimpered.

Stiles spread his hands out to the sides of the bed, barely able to clutch the edges of the mattress. He cursed, thrusting hips up, and his tail curled up and to the side and he wanted... He needed... "Scott," he groaned.

Just like that, Scott shoved his hands under Stiles' boxers and grabbed his ass, squeezing both cheeks as he hauled him up. Stiles cried out in surprise, catching the headboard of his bed before he could ram his face into it, and looked down in time to see Scott latch on to one of his nipples and suck. It hurt to get suction that was so hard and sudden, but he curved into it all the same. He curled one hand under Scott's head too because he didn't want Scott going anywhere.

Scott kneaded the muscle of Stiles' ass, digging his fingers into the meat of it, feeling the heat gathered between his legs. Stiles arched his hips into the touch as much as he could without jarring Scott's mouth as well. It wasn't much, but Scott understood though. Stiles shouldn't have worried.

Scott teased his fingers between Stiles' cheeks, tickling through coarse hair as he traced the space between Stiles' hole and his sac, over and over until Stiles could only shake with it. He was so close to begging. Then Scott brought one of his hands up and pressed a couple dry fingers into Stiles' mouth. Grabbing Scott's wrist, Stiles sucked and licked and drooled all over Scott's fingers, hoping he knew what it was for.

Meanwhile, Scott bared the curve of Stiles' ass and slapped one cheek with the flat of his palm. Stiles jolted and moaned around Scott's fingers, getting them wetter and protesting when Scott pulled them away. The spit cooled quickly, but Scott put his fingers right at Stiles' hole and circled it. That's all. Just circles, teasing.

"Jerk," Stiles said, scratching his fingers against Scott's scalp. "Put them in me."

Scott popped his mouth off of Stiles' nipple and nosed the center of his chest. "Why? You want me inside you?"

"Yes," Stiles hissed, canting his hips up when words alone didn't make Scott increase the pressure.

Scott hummed like the idea of fucking Stiles was a pleasant one, but he simply cast a mischievous look upward before directing his attention to Stiles' neglected nipple. Stiles cursed and shoved his hands through the little shelves inside his headboard, searching as he fought against distraction. When he wrapped his fingers around the lube, his cry of triumph got caught in his throat when Scott bit him with blunt teeth.

He curled over Scott, head hanging between his shoulders, watching as Scott's white teeth bared around his nipple. "Fuck, Scotty," he breathed. "Need you."

Scott bit down a fraction harder before releasing Stiles with an apologetic lick, tongue flat against his chest. The look Scott was giving him made Stiles feel hot, had him sliding down Scott's body to kiss him without thinking. He didn't need to think, not really. He wanted Scott. There wasn't anything complicated about it.

They turned on their sides, and Scott kissed Stiles at an unhurried pace, smiling against his lips. When he untangled their legs a moment later, Stiles chased after him. "Nonono. Scotty, come back."

Scott did come back, for a peck at the corner of Stiles' mouth. "I need to take off my pants," he explained with a whisper. Stiles couldn't hide his relief apparently because Scott kissed him again, touching his knuckles under his jaw.

They weren't even apart for thirty seconds, but Stiles ached in meantime anyway, watching with avid eyes Scott kicked his jeans and underwear away. Stiles opened his arms for Scott when he crawled back to the center of the bed, happily welcoming him back with a kiss.

Scott palmed over Stiles' side and slid down to help Stiles get rid of his boxers. He kissed Stiles' hip and then his knee. The boxers got tugged off his ankles, toed off the end of the bed, and Stiles laughed at how proud Scott looked when he raked his gaze over him.

He lifted his chin, beckoning. "Come here."

Scott did with a sigh, inhaling deeply at his throat before he noticed the bottle of lube Stiles was offering with a waggle of his brows. Stiles poured lube over Scott's fingers and then his own before returning the bottle to the headboard.

"You still want this?" Scott asked, hush.

"Yeah," Stiles answered.

He scooted closer, closing the narrow space between them. He was nervous but when Scott kissed him, he reached for Scott's cock without hesitation, slicking him up and then himself so that he could squeeze their cocks together. Scott was just as much a tease as before, wetting Stiles' rim before finally skating his fingertips directly over his hole.

Stiles nipped at Scott's lip. "In me," he demanded in a low voice. "Just put them in."

Scott growled back, eyes burning red, and he slanted their mouths together as he did as Stiles wanted. Two fingers, even wet ones, had Stiles shouting briefly, but Scott just swallowed up the noise and waited for him to adjust. Stiles tightened his grip around their dicks, gasping Scott's name, and Scott happily fucked his fingers deeper.

"Damn," Stiles bit out. He needed. He wanted. "More," he said. "Move. Fuck me with your fingers, Scotty."

Scott pushed his fingers in and pulled them out so slow that Stiles thought he could feel his body clenching to keep them inside. Stiles threw one leg over Scott's thigh and hid half his face in the pillows as Scott mouthed and sucked at his neck. He had a whole new appreciation for Scott's hands, how long his fingers were. They pressed so deep, it felt like.

He got so caught up in the feeling of being full, of Scott being inside him, that he didn't realize the noises he made. It was only when he kissed Scott in a desperate attempt to resettle himself and it fell quiet, did he realize all that noise was him.

Scott took his fingers away only once, and Stiles whined into his kisses and thrust their dicks against each other. Scott's fingers were wetter when the came back, cool with fresh lube, and Scott finger fucked him harder than before.

Stiles whimpered, straining. The hand he had wrapped around them went uselessly slack. His tail thrashed across the sheets. Scott's arm shoved under Stiles' thigh, spreading him open. His muscles bunched up, flexing and tense, and Stiles took it all. His fingers stroked ruthlessly over Stiles' prostate, going so deep that knuckles start to stretch him.

"Scott," he said and then couldn't stop saying it. He was lost to how his body surrendered, opening for Scott, taking him in.

"You gonna come?" Scott gasped, kissing his open mouth. Stiles didn't quite manage to return it. "You sound like you're gonna."

"Fuck, don't just--."

Scott rolled them carefully, put Stiles on his back, mindful of the tail that ended up sliding wild between their legs. "Don't what?" Scott asked, finding Stiles' free hand and linking their fingers. He pinned Stiles' hand to the sheets. "I wanna know if I'm gonna make you come. I wanna hear you say it. You get so embarrassed about it, but you're gorgeous."

Stiles choked on his breath and tried to hide his face in the pillow. Scott just whispered in his ear. "Let me see you come."

"You-- you--" With a broken sound, Stiles pressed his hips down into the mattress just as Scott curled his fingers upward. Stiles' legs kicked out and then curled back in. He shook and he shook and he couldn't make a sound because he couldn't breathe and Scott's fingers just kept moving inside him, milking the pleasure out of him -- every second, every pulse of come that his body could give.

Eventually he had to push at Scott's arm. "No more," he croaked weakly. "I can't, I quit. Fuck, Scott."

Scott removed his fingers carefully, but Stiles still trembled sharply at the feeling, half expecting them to slide back in. Scott kissed Stiles on his mouth and then again in the center of his chest. Then Scott wrapped a hand around himself and jerked off slow and steady in the vee of Stiles' splayed legs before spilling generously over his spent cock.

"Kinky," Stiles commented, skimming a couple fingers through the streaks of come.

He was still catching his breath if he was being completely honest. He lifted his hands above his head, aiming for a coy look. The tips of his cat ears tickled at his forearms. The way Scott gazed at him would have made Stiles blush if he weren't still pink cheeked from his orgasm.

"What do you think?" he asked Scott . "Worthy of being a centerfold in your autobiography?"

Scott laughed, chest heaving. His dick twitched in his hand like he wanted to get hard again. "Yeah, even though I don't know why I have a centerfold in my autobiography."

Stiles smiled cheekily, cat ears flicking back shyly as he sat up. "Pictures makes books more interesting."

"Okay," Scott agreed. "Still not sure I'd share this particular picture though." He scooped up some come with his finger. He sucked his knuckle clean. "Might just keep it for myself."

"Sounds good," Stiles said, angling in for a kiss. He couldn't look away from Scott's mouth, wrapped around the curl of his finger. "Keep me all for yourself."

Stiles rested their foreheads together and linked their fingers slowly, one by one. He eased in by fractions, hesitant now that neither of them were caught up in the moment, and thankfully, Scott met him halfway. They kissed gently, slowly, and the lightness -- the kind that had brightened Stiles' mood since he woke up -- swelled into a sweet warmth that left him smiling. He licked his lips afterward, tasting Scott. He felt Scott's fingers slide through his hair, curling at the back, and then he was pulled in for another kiss and another.

"I could keep doing this for a while," Scott confessed softly.

Stiles laughed, delighted. "Didn't think you were this much of a cat person, buddy."

Scott smiled. "More of a Stiles person, probably. That's enough responsibility for me right now."

Stiles couldn't help smirking. "Am I a lot to handle, Alpha McCall?"

Ducking his head, Scott tightened their linked fingers. "You're just enough."