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Introduction:

This story is fiction. Characters are based from MTV's "Teen Wolf" series. Body images, except faces, are from my imagination of what character would look like to me.
If I were to say to you that I ever thought I’d be doing something like this, I’d be lying. In fact, in a million years I never thought that I would be here. I look before me at Stiles’s face, my mind pondering on the fact that he’s not Allison, and I’m not Lydia. He stares at me with dark eyes, hair cut short to his scalp, his bottom lip quivering.

With his shirt torn to pieces, and his breath low and heavy, he runs a hand across the back of his neck and sighs. “Well, you finally did it. You almost killed me. Happy?”

I turn my head and look at the mirror hanging on the bathroom wall. The snarl on my face was finally slipping away, the hair that came down in a perfect widow’s peak dissolving back into my black bangs, my hair hanging around my head in sweat-coated, twisted curls. Raising my hands into the air, I watch as the yellow, cracked nails sink back into my fingertips. Then I lick my teeth as, just like every other hint of what I really am, disappears before our eyes.

The bathroom belongs to our school. And while school let out a few hours ago, Stiles and I had to stay back for detention. Leaving, however, wasn’t the easiest thing. A group of guys walked up to us in the parking lot, a key scratching down one side of Stiles’s Jeep, his face familiar to the guy that Stiles had once keyed himself. Then he looked at me and smirked, laughed, and ran forward to shove me.

“Oh, shit!” Stiles through his hand over his forehead and crossed his fingers. “I wouldn’t do that if I…were…you…”

The guy was in his face in a matter of seconds. Nose-to-nose, the guy grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “What the fuck did you say?”

“Uh,” Stiles was able to say before his body was thrust into the side of the Jeep.

And that’s all it took to set me off. I went ballistic, and the dark tawny, yellow of my eyes glowing brightly in the midday sun was the only indication of what was going on. I rushed forward to the guy, snatched him back by his hair, and flung him behind me. His head collided with the grass not too far away, which was something I saw as a feat in itself.

He staggered back up into the air and came at me again. A group of guys behind him laughed hysterically, chanting to each other, “Beat his ass! Beat his ass!”

The guy laughed.

And I walked forward, bared my canines to the air and gave a low guttural growl.

The group screamed and disappeared.

Failing to change back, the anger that they had almost hurt my best friend still burning madly in my mind, I ran off back to the school. Entering, the lounge was full of staff from the office area that had stayed late in the day. I turned the corner as fast as I could. They called my name, but eventually backed off. I hoped they didn’t stay at the school longer than they needed.

Now I look around the bathroom where I ended up. Stiles had followed me this way. And they anger from my wolf state was too much to handle. The debris of two ripped up stalls, broken mirrors, and a sink spurting water on the floor in the hole I had created from it being torn from the wall. This was the evidence of my anger.

But more evidence was the shirt torn on Stiles’s chest. He revealed a lanky body underneath. But the sign of muscle underneath his pale flesh wasn’t to be overlooked in vision. His chest rises and falls. I didn’t realize how much of a toll I was actually taking on him until now. His voice cuts through my stare, “I wish we could have one day without all this wolf bullshit, man.” He shakes his head and peels the shirt from his back. “I just bought this.”

Running water in one of the sinks still stuck to the side of the wall, he cleans the dust and debris from it despite the tears and rips in the fabric. “The full moon’s coming up, Scott. What are you going to do then?”

“I don’t know,” I admit to him. “Chain myself up? Derek says I’ll probably kill…”

“I wouldn’t put it past you. Look at me!” He motions to the stains on his jeans, the shirt in his hand, the dust plastered to his hands, arms, and face. His hands shake in the sink; water splashes over the side and down to the floor. “This,” he mumbles, “is all my fault.”

“How is it,” I say back to him, wiping dust clear of my own clothes. Looking in the mirror, I see the streaks of dust lined across its black surface. I slip my own shirt from my body and join Stiles at the sink. Looking in the mirror, I see my abs cut six times, my chest built, my arms muscled far larger than Stiles. And below my navel, a deep V slices down my abdomen and into my pants.

I drop the shirt in the sink and walk over to a urinal behind me. With the button loose, I pull my zipper down and expose myself over the urinal. Pissing, I look into the metal tube above and peer at my reflection. “The only thing that makes me sane anymore is Allison,” he whispers without Stiles hearing.

“Because,” Stiles says back at his friend. “I wanted to go out in the woods and look for that dead body. I had to drag you out with me. When my dad caught me, I should have snitched on you when I had the chance. You wouldn’t have been bitten.”

“Aright, Stiles, don’t blame yourself for this.” I put my penis back into my jeans and turn around to see him whipping around abruptly on his feet.

He throws the shirt behind him into the mirror and pace forward. “I will blame myself, Scott. I’ll blame myself all the hell I want. Because this,” he throws his arms around the room displaying the damage, “is all. My. FAULT!”

“Calm down, man,” I say and place a hand on his shoulder. “Stop yelling. Please.”
He sucks in a breath through his teeth and shakes his head. Chewing on the side of his lips, he brushes his hand through his hair and coughs. “You’re right,” he says. “I need to stop yelling. But I won’t calm down. I fucked up your life. I won’t ever forgive myself.”

“I forgive you.”

“Bullshit,” he spits back at me and stalks back to the sink with his shirt. “You couldn’t forgive me for something like that.”

“It’s because of you,” he says, “that I made it higher on the team.”

“And I’m still shit hanging on the sidelines with Coach.”

“It’s because of you that I got together with Allison.”

“Oh, yeah,” he mumbles. His bottom lip quivers. “And it’ll be because of me when you kill someone, or injure someone, or end my life. It’ll be because of me if Derek has no choice to kill you himself or if the Alpha finds you and takes you away. This isn’t the gift I thought it might have been, Scott.”

By now, I’m behind his back looking at him through the mirror. “You think I blame you for this,” I think back at him. “You think I couldn’t ever forgive you if I had to. This isn’t your fault. If I was meant to be this way, the Alpha would have found me eventually if he wanted to. And think about it for a minute, what if Jackson was the one bitten. You’d be freaking out worse then. We’d be dead in less than a second.”

“You’re right,” he says back and looks up into the mirror. His eyes find my stare, and then fall down. “You know,” he whispers back to me. “I’ve been in love with Lydia for since the third grade. However, she isn’t the only person who I’ve been in love with though.”

“Who else,” I say back to him, my breath drawing out of my lips as thin as I managed to get it.

He shakes his head and starts fumbling around with the shirt in the sink again. In the mirror, I can see his lip continue to quiver. His pushes his tongue against the side of his cheek and sighs. Then he shakes his head and throws the shirt back down. Turning around to face me, he throws his hands in the air and says, “You, Scott. I’ve been in love with you.”

I don’t say anything back to him. I don’t dare mumble a word, or sigh, or breathe, or make any indication that I heard what he had just said. He rolls his eyes and starts to turn away from me when he stops dead in his tracks. My fingers fall against the side of his cheek, falling down his jawline, and landing atop his bottom lip. I pull it down exposing his white teeth inside and then lower my face to his.

He braces himself, sucks in a breath, and meets my lips with his. We kiss for a few seconds until he shies away. But I grab his face with both hands and pull him back to me, kissing him once more, slipping my tongue between his lips.

He plays back.

The light in the bathroom flickers but manages to stay on. Stiles pushes on my body causing me to fall back. Together, we walk until my back smacks against a wall. He runs his fingers through my hair, across my cheek, down my chest.

And takes a step back without warning. “No,” he says. “We can’t do this.”

“We can if you want to,” I answer back to him.

“No,” he looks away and sticks his hand in the pockets of his jeans. “We can’t.”

I don’t listen. I grab him by the shoulders and turn him around. I look down below his waist, notice the bulge stretching its way to my right, and fall to my knees. Not once in my life had I ever envisioned myself doing this, but in this time and moment, with Stiles on the verge of tears and blaming himself for fucking up my life, it just felt right. I pull at the hem of his jeans; his button comes loose, his zipper falls, and from beneath the thin fabric of his boxerbriefs out bounces his dick. No longer than a full six inches, his cock swells before my eyes. He’s cut, his head shorter than mine by the looks of his, mushroom shaped, curving slightly after its pink rim. Full of newfound blood, he bounces before my face. Then I take it in my hand, my fingertips barely touching my thumb, and stroke it once.

He shudders.

And shakes his head. “Stop,” he pulls away, “you don’t have to do this. This isn’t right.”

But I tighten my hold on him and pull him back to me. “You know when you found a way to test my anger and told me how to bring myself back to sanity? You remember how I thought of Allison and the entire animal part of me dissolved away? It was the thought of her touching me, the way her hand gently fell on me, the way her smile caught stars in my eyes. And when we actually touched, a coolness spread about me and it was like, damn, there’s not a thing wrong in this world. If you truly love me, Stiles, I can do that to you.”

“But—”

“Trust me,” I look up at him and smile. Stroking his cock again, I peer down his shaft as if it was the barrel of a gun. I look at the way it curves slightly left and up, the way his balls hang fairly low underneath, the way his trimmed hair looks nearly pitch black in the dull lighting. I bend my face forward and pull his head into my mouth; my tongue cups it in its length and I suck in a small breath.

He sighs and his knees already start to go weak.

Allison and I had never gotten this far, but as of right now I wished we had. I think of how it must feel for Stiles, a virgin, like me, and close my eyes as I push my lips farther down him.

His hands find their way to my head and hold it in place. He tenses his fingers in my hair and gasps as his head slips through my lips and back into the cool air of the bathroom.

Stroking him again, I say, “I never thought I’d be doing something like this before.”

“Me either,” he replies and moans as my lips touch him again. Stroking him with the rhythm of my face, I suck his dick to the best of my ability. Judging by the constant twitching between my lips and his soft moans, I have a feeling I’m doing pretty good. Then he confirms it. “You sure? This feels fucking amazing.”

I laugh and hum, which was something I once saw in pornography. The humming causes tiny vibrations to send spells of ecstasy through his member until he can’t hold back any longer. He nearly screams, his mouth falling open, his moans turning into aggressive groans. He holds his teeth tightly together and sucks in a breath, then exhales. “Mmm…”

“You like,” I say to him, my eyes peering up at him.

He nods his head with a smile. “You do good, Scott.”

“You taste good,” I joke with him. Lifting his cock up so that it almost rests against his stomach, I bury my nose into the center of his balls and take a breath. The smell is musky and full of sweat. And it kills me to admit that I kinda like it. Stroking him once again, I lick his sack and stick my face under them until his right nut lands on my lips. I like it, his cock tenses, and I suck it in between my teeth. Sucking gently and pulling it away from his body, I pull back up on his cock and feel a sticky presence in my palm.

Looking at my hand, he notices. “Precum.”

I let go of his ball—his body convulses with pleasure—and shake my head. “Figured. I’m still a virgin, but I know it when I see it.”

“Scott, have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“How often do you masturbate?” He smiles and scratches the back of my head with the tips of his fingers.

“At least twice weekly. I mean, when you’re constantly thinking of Allison it kind of has to happen.” I stroke his cock.

Then he pulls me back up to my feet and hugs my body. “I’ve imagined you doing it. Jacked off to imagining you doing just that. And thanks.”

“For what,” I ask.

He lets go of my body. “For calming me down. And sucking my dick.”

I laugh and grab it between my fingers. “No problem man. But I didn’t get to finish.”

He throws his jeans down around his ankles, steps out of his shoes and kick the leggings to the floor. Propelling himself forward, he holds on to me again. I lift him into the air as he jumps; his legs wrap around me and I stagger back into the wall behind me. His cock presses into my bare stomach. “You will,” he says and kisses my lips. “Be honest. Are you horny?”

“Kinda,” I say back.

“Then pull your pants down, for me, let me feel you.”

I do as asked, kicking off my shoes and pants just like he had. He slips from my waist and looks down at it. My pubic hair is fairly thicker than his, my cock much darker, my head longer and less curving. It curves up more dramatically than his, but it doesn’t swerve to either side. Having measured myself before, I know that I’m only close to a quarter inches longer than he. We’re both pretty normal, both carrying a cock realistic compared to that of the porn we’ve seen. I’ve been cut just as he has, but I still have loose skin that holds slightly over the rim of my head.

Then he jumps back up on me and I catch him. He holds himself there for a moment until he lowers his body. Between his ass cheeks that are spread due to his legs, my cock curves up into it and toward his back. Even if he tries, I’ll refuse entry. I sucked his cock and I’m doing this, but I won’t go full-on sex. He’s calmed down enough.

If I wasn’t so full of horny hormones and I wasn’t already hard as a rock, I probably would have finished it there. But upon his admittance of affection toward me, and the shitty emotions running wild in his body, I vow to finish.

He grabs one of my hands, steadies himself against the wall with his other, and guides it down our abdomens until I find his cock again. “Stroke me,” he whispers. And I do.

But then he starts doing something I hadn’t expected. He wraps an arm around my neck, buries his tongue into the depths of my willing mouth, and starts to rock his hips against me. The crack of his ass slides up and down the shaft of my penis. The unknown flesh against me causes me to moan with him, and my momentum of stroking speeds up.

He shudders again and picks up the pace of his thrusting. Against my stomach, and through my fingers, his pre-ejaculation causes a natural sticky lubrication that I’ve only done with myself when I’ve masturbated like we talked about before.

Kissing me wildly, Stiles pulls away for a moment and looks me deep within the eyes. I fear that he’s going to actually say “I love you” but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles and says, “I’m getting so close, Scott.”

The obvious slips from my mind and I raise an eyebrow. “Close to what?”

“Cumming.” Then he leans his head into my shoulders, starts moaning as loud as he can the yells out, “Ahh.” He shoots a shot of sperm on my chest. “Uhh,” he shoots again. Then he moans each time he cums until my chest and hand is covered in semen. I grab onto the bottom of his shaft, squeeze, and pull up. Jizz drizzles out over my clenched hand.

I laugh at him and let go. Raising my hand into the air, I spread my fingers and watch the sticky fluid pan out in strings between them.

He sticks his tongue out and licks up my index. “Tasty.”

I smile at him and let go of his body. “When do I get to cum?”

Falling to his knees, he immediately sucks my penis into his mouth without hesitation and starts groping me with his lips. He sucks in breaths, strokes my cock, hum his throat when my head reaches the back of his mouth. He gags slightly, then pull back. Flicking his tongue over my head, he causes intense sensations of pure agonizing sensitivity to expel precum forward. He drinks as much as he can then pulls away.

His lips grab onto a ball, sucks it just as I had, then tends to the other. Going back and forward, he makes sure to pay special attention. And when he realizes that I’m extremely sensitive only under my piss slit, he focuses his attention there.

His teeth rakes against it.

His lips suck on the bottom of my head.

Then he pulls his mouth away, pulls back the loose skin so that my head falls forward slightly, the grabs my head in his hand. He squeezes my sensitive spot, tugs at it with my palm, then plays with it with the tips of his growing nails.

Meanwhile, I have my head slammed back against the wall, one hand on my forehead the other pushing on him to get away despite the pleasure sending spasms through my body. I can’t breathe correctly; my body sucks in a breath as he hits me, my stomach concaves dramatically, then I release each time he gives me some relief.

Precum expels forward again. And he milks me of any juice as he can.

Then he lets go of my head, pull his other up my cock and hold it before his face. He focuses into my cock, sucks heavily on my sensitive spot, and strokes me as hard as he can.

My breathing worsens. And I’m literally forced to moan slightly louder than he had.

“Sti—Stil—St—STILES,” I scream his head out and bend forward. My chest falls over his head and I groan at the top of my lungs. Without warning to neither myself nor him, my cum spurts into his throat. He chokes and pulls away from my face as I continue to cum onto his face.

When I’m done, he laughs and looks up at me. A rope of my cum hangs just above his eyebrow and falls down over his cheeks. His chin is soaked with my sperm. He sucks on his lips, licks as much of my cum up as he can, then stands to his feet. Standing before me, Stiles runs his tongue over my chest coating his tongue with his own cum. He points at his face, and I lean forward suspecting what he wants and pull my cum into my own lips.

We kiss one last time.

Cleaning up and getting dressed, both of us are silent. The tension in the air has ceased to exist. After pulling on my shirt, I look through my own and throw him a jacket. He puts it one and nods as we head from the bathroom.

All the hallway lights are off. I pull my phone from my pocket and look at the time. It’s well after four o’clock.

Heading out into the school parking lot to his Jeep, we both stop and look at each other. Stiles smiles and lays a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s just say that never happened.”

“Way ahead of you,” I say and dial Allison’s number.

We both laugh.
4 comments

anonymous readerReport

2012-04-09 23:26:29
write a second one, lol

anonymous readerReport

2012-03-23 11:58:47
I always saw Stiles as gay.......c:

anonymous readerReport

2012-03-23 11:40:31
I love Teen Wolf and if they were gay this is totally how I would imagine it!

anonymous readerReport

2011-07-23 05:16:56
wow awsome story! really great detail and totally believe able . id really love you f u made a second story! great job :)

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