I think I might actually go to sleep in the next few minutes so I have no idea what I wrote here or if it makes any sense. Hopefully not, because that would be hilarious. If I have time, I might revisit this prompt later. Possibly with a fic that has a lot of multishipping and lots of kink. I’m going to try to edit this in the morning, though. Also sorry I failed at actually porn. D=
“Hey Stiles,” Allison says from where she’s laying on her stomach across Stiles’ bed. She tosses her copy of The Great Gatsby onto the floor and leans against Scott. “Truth or dare?”
“Oh for the love of—”
“You don’t have to.”
“Good. Because I’m not going to.”
Allison smirks. “That’s okay. If you’re chicken.”
Stiles rakes his fingers through his hair. It’s probably sticking up all over. He doesn’t care. Allison is smiling sweetly at him, and Scott is smiling at Allison, besotted and amused. There’s no way this isn’t going to end badly. “Ugh. Okay. Truth. Are you happy?”
She laces her fingers through Scott’s and nuzzles against his neck. “I’m very happy.”
“Of course you are,” Stiles says bitterly.
Scott looks up. “Hey man, you don’t have to do it.”
“If I don’t, your girlfriend will make fun of me.” Allison is always “Scott’s girlfriend” when she’s being frustrating. When she’s not, Stiles calls her Allison.
“My girlfriend always makes fun of you,” Scott says, smiling.
“You’re a horrible person, you know that?”
“No I’m not.”
“No you’re not. But you suck anyway.”
“Ooh!” Allison says. “Truth! Stiles, what’s the furthest you’ve ever gone with a guy?”
“Huh?” Stiles’ mouth goes dry. Not because Allison knows—he doesn’t actually care who knows—but because of the answer.
“You still like dudes, right?” Scott asks.
Stiles fights the urge to turn his chair around so he can literally headdesk. “Yes, Scott. It’s a permanent affliction. I have failed to sleep off my love of cock.”
“I didn’t—I just meant, like. You said you weren’t sure.”
“Well, I am. I am sure.”
“Great,” Allison says. She kind of interrupted a bro moment in the making there, but it needed to be done. They’re supposed to be doing their English project, not having an unnecessary heart to heart about Stiles’ sexuality. “So.. How far?”
“If my bed is absolutely nothing, and sex is China, you need to move the Hell over.”
“Because, Scott. I haven’t done anything with a guy. Or anyone.”
“Didn’t you make out with Macy Ramirez at Greeburg’s birthday party one year?”
“It was Spin the Bottle. We pressed our lips together for thirty seconds. Can we drop this now? Allison. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” Allison says. It’s almost infuriating, that she’s so calm.
“How many people—other than Scott—have gotten you off?” Stiles asks. He doesn’t regret it. Vulnerability makes him vindictive.
Allison smirks again. “Do I count myself?”
Stiles pulls his collar way from his neck. The room is definitely at least ten degrees warmer now than it was a minute ago. “Absolutely.”
“Then one.” She slides her fingers through Scott’s hair. “Okay, Scott. Truth or dare.”
“Dare,” Scott, the blind, trusting fool says, and nuzzles into Allison’s neck.
“Great. Kiss Stiles.”
“Your girlfriend is evil, dude,” Stiles says. He doesn’t know why he’s talking—or how he’s talking. His heart is beating fast and it’s getting hard to swallow.
At least Scott probably can’t hear it. Not when he’s crawling off of Stiles’ bed and onto his feet. For a second, Stiles thinks he’s going to leave, but he doesn’t. He walks over to where Stiles is sitting and holds a hand out for him. “Stand up.”
Stiles takes Scott’s hand and lets Scott pull him up until he’s standing. Scott’s strength is a little emasculating at the best of times. Right now, Stiles is almost supernaturally smug that he’s at least taller. “Go for it.”
Scott looks at Allison. “Are you sure you want me to?”
Allison’s eyes are practically glittering. “Positive.”
Scott puts his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck and pulls him forward. “You okay with this, dude? We don’t have to.”
Stiles swallows and licks his lips. “Give me your best shot, McCall. I can take it.”
Scott rolls his eyes, but he does tilt his head up and press their mouths together. They kiss, tentatively at first, just sliding their lips together and clutching at one another’s shirts, but it doesn’t take long for Stiles to get the hang of it.
They’re kissing still, open mouthed, with Scott’s hands clenching the fabric at the bottom of Stiles’ shirt and Stiles’ hands going everywhere. He can feel Scott’s muscles tense as he moves and Stiles wants to get his hands on them, so he does. He slides his hand under the front of Scott’s shirt and spreads it out—it’s almost big enough to fit both hands around Scott’s waist, but Stiles doesn’t do that. He drags his nails lightly down Scott’s stomach to rest on the button of Scott’s jeans instead.
Scott likes that. He must, anyway, because he sighs and takes a step back, using Stiles’ belt loops to drag Stiles with him. Scott trips, though, over the book Allison had thrown into the floor earlier, and Stiles falls on top of him.
“Ow,” Scott says. He’s okay, though. And even if he wasn’t, he would heal. “You okay Stiles?”
He is, but he’s probably going to have weird carpet burn up his legs in the morning. That’ll make for a fun cross country meet. “Evil, Scott. Your girlfriend is evil.
Scott wriggles beneath him. “No she’s not. You’re not evil, are you babe?”
“Nope.” Allison is sitting on the bed, cross-legged and a little glassy eyed. “No evil here.”
Stiles huffs, and tries to disentangle his limbs from Scott’s. “That’s what all the evil people say.”
Allison smirks at him. “At least now you can say you went down on a guy.”
Scott actually laughs. Stiles wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t. “Well played,” he says instead, “well played.” He nudges Scott with his foot, and Scott sits up, perky and wide awake.
“Oh, is it my turn? Allison, truth or dare?”