Two Part Invention

by HandsAcrossTheSea

"Don't look so worried dude – it's just an adult toy store. Like Toys-R-Us but for grown ups."

Getting moved up to principle viola is a dream job for Scott. Truly it is, even though some may joke. (Scott's heard every single crack at his beloved instrument there is to hear and it's not diminished his love for it in the least.)

But it's a hell of a lot of work.

Scott takes up his bow again, having rubbed the ache out of his fingers for the time being. He's been practicing for four hours now, only one class on Fridays so after lunch he's in the practice room until dinnertime – and it has to be getting close to that hour. Of course, Strauss waits on no one and Don Quixote is the big piece on the Beacon Hills Conservatory Orchestra's first program of the year. Scott also suspects that it was done deliberately, their director knowing he'd have a new guy sitting front and center in that chair and had personally decided to see what Scott was made of by tossing one of the most famous viola features in the whole repertoire out there.

Scott's feeling less like Sancho Panza and more like the Don himself, in over his head but by God, he'll get it under his fingers yet.

He's got the first variation down just fine, the second and third coming along, and the fifth is even okay. The sixth though – where Dulcinea meets the Don – there's some very quick fingerwork that Scott's been picking over for a week now, still not down yet and for a stretch of music that lasts barely a minute Scott thinks that this has to be a somewhat cosmic joke on Strauss's part. Still though, he has to get it in performance shape and no one's going to do it but him. And he's certainly not going to screw it up and cede his seat to someone else – he's been coveting the spot since he was a freshman and now as a junior he's got to prove himself all the more.

He's fifteen minutes into bludgeoning the music into submission when there's a loud bang at the door and Scott nearly drops his viola, immediately going into crisis mode. He's about to leap out of his seat and put his fists up and defend himself and then…

Scott sees Stiles through the narrow window, glomped to the door and giving him the most perfectly goofy grin he's ever seen.

"Can I come in?"

Scott sighs and shakes his head, which just makes Stiles decide to enter anyway.

Seriously, there need to be locks on these doors.

"I heard you cursing and decided it was time to go." Stiles plops down next to Scott on the piano bench, pulled out from underneath the battered Baldwin upright and occupied by Scott's viola case on its other half.

"I was not cursing, simply encouraging." Scott resumes playing, ignoring the way Stiles is pressed in way too close for decent concentration. He's almost got ten measures down and Stiles is starting to undo that and he's not even touching him inappropriately – at the moment anyway.

"And calling Strauss names like 'stupid dick' and 'awful German torture music writer' isn't cursing?" Stiles leans in and kisses Scott's shoulder, slipping a hand underneath the back of his shirt at the same time. Scott's determination slips because Stiles just has to scritch his fingers over the base of his spine and make Scott feel warmth flare in his belly.

"Well… yes."

Stiles walks his fingers a little further up Scott's spine and hooks his chin on Scott's non viola occupied shoulder. "Come on dude, we're the only ones left here. Everyone else has gone home for the night. It's also really nice outside and Friday, in case you didn't know. I'm aware that you operate on some sort of freaky three hours of sleep and constant work timetable but…" Stiles' hand starts to slide around Scott's side and drag over his ribcage, caressing the space between that and his hip. Scott makes a valiant effort to keep playing but he's defeated, knowing that he's done for the day and any desire to keep sawing away at Strauss's fourth to last tone poem is very quickly being replaced with the want for Stiles to not ever stop touching him ever.

"I hate you" Scott groans, but there's not an ounce of malice behind his words, especially since Stiles is using his fingernails to trace lazy figure eights into his stomach, Scott lowering his viola and turning his head. Stiles is right there, leaning in close and touching his forehead to Scott's.

"The only people left here, you say?" Scott puts his viola up on top of the piano so he can touch Stiles, putting one hand on the back of his neck and the other across his chest.

"Wouldn't lie about it to you" Stiles says, Scott rubbing the back of his head and making him close his eyes.

"Good – then no one'll see me do this" and then Scott's kissing him, resting his fingers at the base of his neck and guiding Stiles, Stiles whimpering softly as Scott halfway climbs on top of him, abandoning his chair and the piano stool creaks threateningly underneath their combined weight. Scott doesn't seem to care though, resting one knee on the bench and using the hand on Stiles' back to brace himself against the wall. Stiles has to tilt his head back to keep the contact, both hands now under Scott's shirt, resting right on his hips. He holds them tight, rubbing circles into the skin with his thumbs, sucking on Scott's tongue and earning himself Scott's full weight in his lap.

Stiles shifts them so that Scott's more evenly distributed in his lap, his legs spread across Stiles' thighs and Stiles doesn't even try to conceal the fact that he's hard – Scott's always been really good at getting him from zero to a hundred in half a second. Scott moves so that he brushes against it, jeans on jeans making all sorts of incredible friction and Stiles' hands come forward, dipping his thumbs into the waistband of Scott's boxer briefs where they peek out over the top of his jeans. They skirt dangerously close to the middle right above Scott's belt buckle but he's also not going to stop Stiles.

Stiles breaks the kiss and puts his mouth right next to Scott's ear and kisses the lobe before he pours words into his boyfriend. "I have a couple ideas I want to run by you that require not being here. Is that okay?"

Scott gives him a shit eating grin and drops a hand to Stiles' lap, squeezing the outline of his cock. "How's that for an answer?"

Stiles gives him a sort of helpless whimper that he's positive Scott can interpret the meaning of. After all, Scott's been speaking Stiles for all of their lives.

It's hard to keep their hands off of each other as Scott packs up but they manage and the moment he's finished Stiles is there again, giving him another filthy kiss before Scott finally pushes him off, grinning ear to ear and adjusting his boner. Stiles literally drools at the sight, Scott giving him a playful cuff on the shoulder before telling him "forward, Stiles."

They're the only people at the shuttle stop that'll take them back to their on campus apartment and they take advantage of that fact, kissing as the autumn sun starts to set behind them, Stiles making repeated efforts to grab Scott's ass or dick and failing, finally contenting himself with just being held and getting his neck nuzzled.

"You smell good, by the way."

"Just my normal soap, Scott. Well your soap too."

"And you make Old Spice smell even better, what can I say?"

Stiles squeezes Scott's hands where they're linked around his middle. "Say you're gonna order a pizza so that we can do other stuff like make out. Or suck dicks. I'm not opposed to either."

Scott dapples kisses from the base of Stiles' neck up to his ear. "I think that's a great idea."

Stiles turns his head for another sloppy kiss, pulling away when they hear the bus round the corner. Scott does indeed get his ass grabbed when he ascends the steps, had been expecting it really, pulling Stiles to the back of the otherwise empty bus so that they won't be disturbed.

Scott kisses him one more time before he rests his head over on Stiles shoulder and firmly holds his hands so that Stiles won't try to grab his crotch while they're in public.

"So that idea you had – care to tell me more?"

Stiles shifts in that way that indicates he's going to say something that Scott's not necessarily going to warm up to right away. "You know that sex store a couple blocks from us? The Toybox?"

Scott sits up a little and turns so that he can face Stiles. "Stiles…"

"Dude, c'mon! You said we could go like, a decade ago." Stiles rubs Scott's fingers and fixes him with a mournful puppy look.

Scott looks down at his lap and avoids eye contact.

"Babe, this has nothing to do with me thinking you aren't enough. For one, I'd never, ever think that and two, it's simply not true anyway." Stiles leans in a little more and bumps Scott's chin with his nose so that he'll raise his eyes and look at him. "Scott, seriously. I just want to try some new things. I want you to do things to me that will remain unspeakable until we die in our rockers on the back patio of the nursing home."

Scott does give him a smile then. "Why the back patio?"

"Because there's more to see?"

"How would you know?"

"Because I've already promised Dad I would make sure he gets into the best home in Beacon Hills."

"That's not nice, Stiles."

"Well…"

Scott kisses Stiles' chin and bumps their foreheads again. "I reserve the right to say no, if I want to."

"No to what, exactly?"

"Anything that looks like it's some sort of torture device or will leave you hurt."

"Scotty, c'mon - I'm not that kinky."

Stiles tries to keep the excitement out of his voice because Scott's agreed, if he hasn't outright said yes yet.

"You are."

"Just because I like for you to lick your spunk from your ass-"

'"Shut up!"

"doesn't mean I'm kinky." Stiles kisses Scott's cheek and runs a hand through his hair. "Scott, I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else but you, I swear. And you're amazing in bed. Like really, really amazing."

"You've only ever had sex with me though, so amazing compared to whom?"

"And it's so good that I would never want to go anywhere else. I've told you that every wet dream I had up til the age of sixteen involved you. There's never been anyone else, you know that. I just think that it could be amazing squared, you know?" Stiles cups Scott's face and gives him a long kiss, letting him mull it over more. He doesn't even use tongue so that Scott's not distracted because he's just that awesome of a boyfriend.

Scott pulls back from the kiss slowly, sucking on Stiles' bottom lip as he does and subsequently reducing Stiles to putty status that much more.

"Amazing squared huh?"

"To the point I forget my own name, Scotty."

"I can do that. Besides, I like it when you're all boneless and cuddly." Scott kisses Stiles' nose and grins.

"But that pizza thing – we need to that first. Seriously." Stiles' stomach growls in reply.

"Sure thing, babe."

The rest of the bus ride is spent laughing and making out, almost missing their stop but Scott pulls Stiles up just in time, hand in hand as they bound out of the bus and into the building. Their apartment is on the fourth floor, taking the elevator and trying to behave as it carries them up, the other people in the elevator acknowledging them with a smile. Scott grabs Stiles' ass and whispers "want this later" and Stiles shivers, mouthing back "fuck yes" before he drags Scott past the open doors and down the hallway, stopping to kiss every few steps and when they finally reach their door Scott has an awfully hard time getting the door open, ignoring the passers by (they're used to them being handsy at this point) as Stiles tries to grope Scott's dick through his jeans. Scott manages to turn the key in the lock and they burst into their apartment, the door slamming shut behind them as Scott pins Stiles against it and attacks his mouth, pinning Stiles' wrists above his head and licking hard past Stiles' lips.

"Handsy fucker" Scott growls, making Stiles shiver again.

"What can I say, I can't help myself." Stiles tries to rut against his boyfriend but to no avail, effectively squashed and not exactly mad about it.

Scott lets Stiles' wrists go and picks him up, their bookbags and music left by the door, Scott having at least bothered to set his viola down somewhat gently, Stiles wrapping his legs around Scott's waist and his arms around his neck as he's carried. Scott takes them over the couch, depositing Stiles on it and starting to strip. Stiles helps by taking his jeans off, siding Scott's boxer briefs down with them, Scott's cock springing out from the waistband, long and girthy and just fucking perfect. Stiles reaches to slide the foreskin back but Scott moves just out of reach.

"Want to see you naked too." Scott grabs his own dick and starts to stroke himself, clearly intent in his words.

"Fuck yes," Stiles breathes, not in a mood to argue if it means naked Scott and subsequent touching of said Scott. Stiles gets naked quick and right as he pulls his shirt over his head Scott's on him, kissing Stiles with barely contained ferocity. Stiles fucking loves this, Scott dominating and leading and overwhelming him, Stiles humming softly as Scott's tongue traces lazy figure eights into the roof of his mouth, getting his hand around Stiles' dick at the same time.

Right as Stiles is about to start fucking Scott's fingers Scott procures his phone, sealing Stiles mouth hard with his own right up until whomever is on the other end answers.

Not missing a beat Scott ruts against Stiles, speaking perfectly calm into the phone. "I'd like to order a large pepperoni and bacon pizza and breadsticks please." Scott thumbs at the head of Stiles' cock, smearing the precome around under his foreskin and making Stiles's eyes roll up into the back of his head. Stiles gets a hold of Scott's cock and strokes, being pressed further into the couch by his boyfriend's weight as Scott adjusts himself to a more comfortable position where he's straddling Stiles' thighs.

Stiles vaguely hears the girl on the other end ask how Scott would like to pay, more concerned with how Scott's unfairly skilled fingers are pulling and tugging at his balls, Scott kissing him hard again as the order's reviewed back to him, pulling away as if nothing's amiss to confirm the order and leaving Stiles a little breathless.

Scott hangs up and pulls Stiles longways on the couch on top of him, putting his arms around Stiles' body and resuming the kiss, Stiles going willingly and opening his mouth further, pant of Scott's breath warm against his tongue. Scott's left hand wanders down Stiles' spine as the right comes up to cup the back of his head, scritching across his scalp as Scott gets his hand on his ass, touching his middle and forefingers to Stiles' hole.

"Scott…" Stiles moans, feeling his dick leak even more against Scott's hip, already sticky with precome. Scott just smiles, circling the pads of his fingers around the rim.

"Bet we can find a nice toy to fill you up with babe. Maybe put it in with my cock – you'd be so fucking full Stiles." Scott whines as Stiles bucks his hips against Scott at the thought, kissing again and fuck yes Scott's finally on board with the idea.

"Don't have time right now Scotty, fuck." Scott's sliding his dick against Stiles' making all sorts of positively life-changing friction and slipperiness happen.

"How do you want it?" Scott's down for anything, including the aforementioned hint at mutual blowjobs.

"Like this, Scotty. Want to see you blow." Stiles manages to sit up on Scott's thighs, their positions reversed from before, taking a hold of Scott's cock and starting to stroke.

"Fuck yes" Scott says, taking Stiles in his right hand and using the other to touch Stiles' body. Stiles may not think his body's anything's special but Scott loves him, the pale skin, the dark patch of hair right in the middle of his chest, his dark nipples that get hard with just a touch, the way his softish belly flexes when Scott drags his fingernails across the skin – Stiles is fucking beautiful, no matter how many times Stiles may try and play it down.

Scott strokes Stiles' dick a little harder, the exact same size as his (seven inches dude, isn't that pretty fucking great?) because of course Stiles has measured them one day back in high school, pulling from the base all the way to the point where Stiles's foreskin bunches between his index fingers and thumb. It makes Stiles start to go boneless but Scott doesn't let him, reaching up to tweak Stiles' right nipple.

"Fuck, Scotty, harder," Stiles implores, stroking Scott faster, his other hand where it's on Scott's shoulder to hold him up tightening further, fingernails digging hard into the tan skin. Scott pinches Stiles like he asked, feeling Stiles get even thicker in his fingers, jacking him faster in response, "Scott, Scott, Scott" pouring from Stiles' mouth like a desperate prayer. It's exhilarating and Scott hopes that he can keep Stiles like this all weekend, all wanting and breathless and flushed because he's about six hundred kinds of beautiful like this.

"Gonna come babe?" Scott asks after another few minutes of playing the virtuoso to Stiles' body, both of them drooling precome and riding the crest of arousal higher and higher.

"Yeah, fuck, Scotty, gonna fucking blow." Stiles looks into Scott's eyes, soon reflected in his pupils.

"Do it, Stiles." Scott opens his mouth wide and tilts his head down, pointed straight at Stiles' cock and all it takes is Scott's tongue sticking out and flattening for Stiles to come, long, ropey spurts of spunk erupting from the end of his dick and right into Scott's mouth, and all over his face and long, shaggy hair. Scott gets soaked, his own load erupting the moment Stiles' semen hits his body, adding to the mess in his mouth and on his face – it's a beautiful sight and Stiles leans down the moment his cock is spent to get at it with his tongue, starting with the come gathered at the base of Scott's neck.

Scott leans back for Stiles to have access, catching his breath and Stiles grabs Scott's hands, extending their arms up over the arm of the couch, squeezing Scott's fingers as he gathers up their commingled come on his tongue. Stiles slurps at it noisily, better than any porn they've watched, leaning up and pursing his lips so that it drips into Scott's already spunky tasting mouth. Stiles watches as it pools on Scott's tongue, following it up with a kiss and they swap it back and forth, open mouthed and supremely messy, moaning and panting and demanding, not stopping until their lips are swollen and they're gasping for breath.

Scott reaches up and runs all ten fingers through Stiles' hair. "Still want to get busy later tonight?"

"Hell yes – that was just pressure relief." Stiles gives him a bright smile and kisses the come dripping from the end of Scott's nose.

"Your libido should be bottled up and sold. You could make money off that better than playing the piano, anyway." Scott's teasing of course – the piano is Stiles' second great love, right after Scott.

"Yeah but my libido can't play Chopin."

"Comes in handy for Liszt, or so you claim anyway."

"Damn right it does." Stiles considers laying his head on Scott's chest but both of them are a righteous mess and they're going to have to take a shower as it is.

Good, Stiles thinks to himself.

"We should clean up before – " Scott's interrupted by a knock at the door.

"… the pizza gets here."

Stiles sits up and pulls Scott up with him. "It won't be the most shameful thing he's ever seen."

Scott sighs, nodding. "Where did my pants go?"

Stiles procures them with a smile, thinking Scott's going to put them on. Instead he just fishes his wallet out and goes to the door, kind of half hidden as he takes the pizza, Stiles not even bothering to cover himself and as Scott bids the delivery boy goodbye he hears something about not being paid enough for this job.

Can't put a price on good dick, Stiles muses before crossing the room and kissing Scott one more time before settling in to chow down.

It's not yet cool enough to justify anything other than a sweatshirt and Scott pulls on one of his oldest, a simple dark green hoodie that he's had since eighth grade and finally deemed good and broken in eleventh grade. It's the hoodie he was wearing the first time Stiles kissed him in tenth grade, after school one day when they were both practicing together and their fingers had tangled on the piano when Scott had sat down and started pressing keys to just mess with Stiles. It's the hoodie he'd worn after so many away lacrosse games and Stiles had buried his nose in the soft lining of the hood, jammed up together in the back of the bus. It's the hoodie Scott wore during his first orchestra rehearsal at the conservatory because the rehearsal room was so cold and he was really, really nervous because this is Beacon Hills Conservatory, the highest ranked on the West Coast and a stepping stone to any job in the world of classical music he could possibly want.

"I thought you'd thrown that thing out." Stiles appears behind him, a towel around his waist and his hair all damp and sexy.

"Not yet anyway." Scott adjust the frayed drawstrings so that they're even and steps back. He looks fine, right? Like he's not nervous about the fact he's about to step into a sleazy smut shop.

"Don't look so worried dude – it's just an adult toy store. Like Toys-R-Us but for grown ups. And most everything is intended to go near your junk." Stiles is naked now, digging around in his dresser for some underwear. His back is turned so Scott takes the advantage and checks his pretty little ass out in the closet door mirror.

"And I've never been in one, Stiles."

"I'm sure Melissa took you to Toys-R-Us at least once." Stiles face is still hidden but Scott can hear the self-pleasing tone in his voice anyway.

Scott gives a long-suffering sigh. "Why do I even try…"

"Because I love you." Stiles glomps to his back, arms circled tight around Scott's body and kissing his neck. "And you smell fantastic."

"Hardly enough basis for a solid, long lasting relationship." Scott's smiling now, linking his fingers with Stiles' inside the front pocket of his hoodie. Stiles squeezes and Scott squeezes back.

"And I love you too." It's quietly said, just enough for Stiles to hear in spite of the fact they're the only ones who live here.

Stiles nuzzles Scott's neck and kisses him under his ear. "Seriously, we're gonna be just fine."

"We aren't gonna be gang raped, are we?"

"It's got open windows and a bright neon sign out front. I don't think that necessarily screams 'probable cause.' Then again Dad never did work vice so I can't say much else."

"Stiles, the thought of your dad checking out a sex store for a crime is about the most uncomfortable thing I can imagine."

"Then you haven't seen him en flagrante with-"

"Stop. Just stop."

"Then quit worrying about literally nothing and come on." Stiles is already pulling him towards the door and they aren't even outside yet and Scott can feel his heart hammering away in his chest.

Scott can see the sign a couple blocks down, lurid as the products it's supposed to draw people too and honestly Scott's not sure why he's so nervous – he's got his assurance from Stiles that it's not because he's not good enough on his own. Maybe it's just the principle of the thing? It's not like he's a prude by any means – he and Scott have done some truly filthy things with each other over the last six years and they've probably gotten worse with age. No, they definitely have. Last weekend's romp with the leftover chocolate syrup confirmed that.

"You sounded really good earlier, by the way." Scott's shaken from his hazy flashback by Stiles' serious voice – one that he doesn't hear very often. "I think you're gonna be fine when the concert rolls around."

"Trust me, it's not been easy getting it there. Strauss hated the viola, he had to have."

"You make it sound easy though. Like you've had wet dreams about it for years and now that you finally get to romance the shit out of the Don…"

"The viola is Sancho Panza. And your metaphors are creepy."

"But it's all about seducing, Scotty. Coaxing the music in and then owning it."

"Please tell me that Dr. Hayes hasn't heard your weird comparisons on Mozart and masturbation."

"Well she stopped me before I could really get started but…"

"Just when I thought there may have been a lick of hope for you."

Stiles licks behind Scott's ear then and Scott nearly loses his balance.

"I'd much rather lick you."

Scott frowns and is about to tell him to not do that while they're walking when he realizes they've arrived. Scott looks around, checking to make sure there's no one he knows watching him. Stiles already broadcasts the more lurid bits of their bedroom goings on on his Twitter page (or so he's been told, Scott's almost too afraid to check for himself) but someone seeing them about to go into this store is the last thing Scott wants right now – he's nervous enough already and he still doesn't quite no why.

He gets a partial enough answer walking through the door, for behind the counter is no other than Derek Hale, he and Stiles Theory I TA and occasional chamber group partner. (Derek plays the violin aggressively well and somehow manages to look downright menacing while doing so.) Stiles just keeps pulling while Scott wills himself to disappear altogether.

"Hey Derek!" Stiles is all broad smiles and energy as he strides up to the counter, taking note of Derek's tight t-shirt and jeans. Now that he thinks about it, peddler of sex toys does fit Derek's life outside beautifully murdering Tchaikovsky and Brahms.

Derek fixes Scott with a sympathetic look and scowls at Stiles. "I would tell you to leave but this place has been slow all night and, may I forget this encounter completely later because the images may kill me, what exactly is it you two are looking for?" Derek leans forward on the counter, lusty salesman façade slipping a touch and slightly embarrassed acquaintance look coloring his cheeks a little.

Scott's too busy looking at the brightly colored vibrators under the glass case to hear Stiles say "most anything that can aid Scott and I here in having crazy, wall and bed breaking sex."

How many functions did it say that purple one had?

Derek gently clears his throat to get Scott's attention. "The men's products are back here." Scott looks up and as Stiles tugs him along he can't help but go slightly agog at the fiesta of brightly colored lace and silk hanging on the racks all around him, half-formed images of Stiles wearing some frilly unmentionable dancing around his brain and yes, his curiosity is very quickly overrunning his resistance to being here. The place exudes sex so earnestly that he can't help but be drawn in, despite his misgivings.

Stiles is gesturing towards something on the top rack of the room they've stepped in and Scott looks up as Derek gets down a rather terrifying looking plastic dick – or something resembling it.

"What is that?" Scott asks, his mouth going dry and then wet and then dry again.

Derek doesn't even try to be enthused about the thing Stiles has asked him to show. "The Destroyer 2000 – ten different functions and modeled after the top gay porn stars in the business. Apparently eight and a quarter inches is the average length so that's what they've done here."

"It vibrates, right?" Stiles has it in his hand now, the other one still linked with Scott's and subconsciously rubbing his thumb over Scott's knuckles, as if to say it's alright baby, just me and you here, no one else.

"It probably brings you a drink afterwards and does the laundry." Scott finally says something, curious to see what the ten different functions are.

"Well not quite – but it makes for some fun alone time. I have one myself." Derek smirks, watching the way Stiles eyes go wide and Scott looks more intrigued than anything.

"How much is it?"

"Stiles you can't afford it."

"Shush, Scott. How much?"
"A hundred but with a student discount eighty five."

Stiles looks mighty tempted but he also does have a budget (sort of) and doesn't want to blow it all on one thing. "Maybe next time."

Derek shrugs. "Suit yourself. I'm serious though – if you give me an idea beyond 'crazy awesome sex' I can help you better."

Stiles looks at Scott for a long moment like Scott's going to give him the answer he wants but just gets a shake of the head in return. "Cock rings?"

"Right this way." Once Derek's back is turned Stiles gives Scott's ass a squeeze, whispering "you doing okay?" in his ear and Scott nods, stealing a fast kiss and following their not quite willing salesman.

Derek waves a hand at a half wall of things that go around or on dicks, some of them fairly harmless looking all the way up to why does that have spikes on it, Scott feeling his junk retreat a little further into his body. Stiles meanwhile looks like a kid at Christmas and Scott's decided he's officially dating a crazy person.

"Who are these for anyway, before I go on." Derek folds his hands behind his back, pecs making the fabric of his dark blue shirt stretch and Stiles kind of wonders if there as nice as Scott's.

"Both of us. Kind of. Well… I want to get something for Scotty. Not that Scott's not big enough or anything just-"

"Stop, Stilinski. I don't need to know."

Scott, meanwhile, has been studying the objects in front of him a little closer. "Can I see that one?"

Derek, thankful for something to do, opens up a set of three silicone rings that look about as normal as could be. Simple, black, effective. "These all have a fair amount of stretch to them and should be fairly comfortable regardless. They can all go around both shaft and balls but the bigger ones are going to do that without as much strain, on you or the ring itself."

Stiles, in what Scott's sure is an attempt to kill him, bites his earlobe and murmurs "bet you'd need the biggest one to even come close to getting around all you've got, baby." It makes Scott instantly hard, fingers curling around the ring he's inspecting and fuck yes they're getting this.

"We'll take them." Scott hands the ring back to Derek and pulls Stiles in for a kiss right there, hard and demanding and Derek has to step back from surprise.

"Can you two do that somewhere else other than here?"

Scott pulls back from a very blissful looking Stiles and looks at Derek. "Sorry."

Derek shakes his head and gestures around the room. "Anything else?"

"Butt stuff." Stiles is already making a beeline to the next wall and Scott has to adjust himself before he can move again.

Their next stop is plugs and massagers, all of them using some combination of "anal," "pleasure," and "maximum." Stiles, between the two of them, is far more in tune with his own ass than Scott is, bottom supreme and proud of it. It's not that Scott doesn't know what's back there, he'd just prefer to play with what's in front sooner. Stiles doesn't seem to mind that fact anyway….

"What do you think Scott? Something to keep me nice and stretched so you can fuck me whenever? Or just a little one for strength training?" Derek makes a coughing noise and wanders off to straight up his dildos.

"You're going to kill that man. "

"I know. I was also being serious. Scotty, no one's gonna see or use these but us. You can pick and no one will ever know. Well except Derek but he won't say anything – I think." Stiles is in front of Scott now, hands resting on Scott's biceps.

"I kind of like that first idea."

Scott sees the change in Stiles' eyes and he's probably going to regret it but it's too late to stop him now. "What idea? Of just keeping me open so you can bend me over whenever? My ass already stretched and wet for your big cock? So I can be your fucktoy whenever you want Scotty? Dump your load in me and then plug me right back up for next time?" Stiles leans in and sucks on Scott's bottom lip, grinding his hips into Scott's and yeah, Stiles is hard too. Scott moans loud enough for Derek to definitely hear but he couldn't possibly give less of a fuck.

Stiles whispers "that's a yes, then" before he kisses Scott, smoldering and warm to the point of making Scott's knees go all gooey.

"I'm going to spray the two of you with toy cleaner." Derek's back now, his voice betraying the slightest quaver from watching them so openly (and alright, pornographically) peruse the goods. He's definitely bringing home a new toy tonight for him and Isaac to play with and relay how McCall and Stilinski nearly made him jizz his pants without so much as being Scott and Stiles.

Scott backs off but keeps looking at Stiles. "No need. We'll take… that one." Scott points at a shiny purple plug, thick around the middle (he eyeballed it and it's a little bigger around than his cock) and with a flared base to keep it nice and snug. Stiles looks at it and drools, but only a little.

Derek adds it to the cock rings they've selected and takes a deep breath. "You're already up to forty dollars so if you have anything else in mind that's cheap, this is about as much as you can spend."

"Just a couple more things. What about like, masturbators?" Stiles can't bring himself to say the term 'fake pussy.' Or whatever they might be.

"We have Fleshlights."

"That'll work." Stiles takes Scott's hand again and they follow Derek over to the display, all sorts of things of the fake orifice variety before them.

"Different textures for each one, ranging from plain to bumps and ridges and swirls." Derek hands one each to Scott and Stiles so they can feel the material. It's surprisingly life-like, Scott in the middle of plunging two fingers in and out of one with a mouth opening on it when Stiles reaches over and sticks a finger in his mouth, nearly making Scott gag.

"This one feels the most like Scott's mouth." Stiles hands it to Derek and the mental image Scott gets is more than worth nearly biting Stiles' finger off.

"Well boys, this about covers the basics for male toys – everything does something pretty similar so if there's anything else, speak now or forever hopefully hold your peace."

"Yeah, there is. Scotty, you mind hanging back here for a minute?" Stiles gives him his trust me look and Scott nods.

Stiles gives Scott a lingering kiss and he and Derek wonder back towards the front, Scott mightily tempted to see what Stiles is up to but he knows that Stiles would be disappointed if his plan got ruined. Beside, Scott's free to look around more without Stiles eying everything so… closely.

He goes back over to the wall Stiles had so aptly termed "butt stuff" and looks over the prostate massagers. There are about ten different kinds and they all look mostly safe but the one that catches his eye is curved, thick at the end that remains outside the body with a button that changes the speed and vibration pattern, crooked like a finger except much thicker and blunt at one end. He picks it up, mouths the name of it "Rude Boy" and turns it over, seeing the price and figuring up how much he has – yes, he can buy it and not have to worry and normally he wouldn't but it's been forever since he's played with himself back there and he's sure that this will figure quite nicely into whatever it is that Stiles has planned.

Which, if he's being honest with himself, is something he's looking forward too, given the insistent press of his cock against his jeans, rock hard and completely obvious but it's a sex store – no one's going to think it out of place, will they?

Stiles and Derek come back after a few minutes, Stiles clutching a bag with the stuff they had picked out earlier and he keeps it firmly closed – Scott couldn't see into it anyway, given its opaque purple coloring. (Why purple though, that's the most obvious color. Because the universe is slightly against you at the moment Scott – that's why.)

"A Rude Boy? Man Scotty, you're in for a treat." Stiles grins as big as you please and kisses Scott again, his non-toy bag filled hand snaking around his waist. Scott feels Stiles trace the letter 's' inside his mouth before pulling away, hungry look in his eyes that only Scott gets to see.

"I didn't know you had one."

"Some things a man has to keep to himself. Now if you're getting it then now would probably be a good time – we've scarred Derek enough." Stiles looks at Derek, Derek messing with his phone and decidedly not paying attention to his patrons.

"You two scarred me two years ago when you were freshmen. Don't think it's going to change anything now." Derek looks up and gives them a slight smirk, like he's got the upper hand in some mysterious game.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Hale."

"I told you not to call me that."

"I know."

Scott groans and walks towards the cash register.

The moment the door's closed behind Scott and Stiles, tripping each over each other like two puppies with a new toy to play with (the literalness of that thought isn't lost on Derek) he pulls out his phone and dials Isaac's number, hearing his boyfriend answer and then saying "Hey babe, want to try out that sex swing we were thinking about…"

It doesn't take very long at all for Scott and Stiles to make their way back to their room, only hindered by breathless kisses and trying to grope each other. It's heady and sexy and Scott wants more and more, now that his apprehension is dissolving with each passing moment. Stiles has that effect on him, always has - Stiles makes it okay and reassures him the world isn't going to think any worse of them for trying something new.

Their apartment has two bedrooms but most of the time they sleep in one – besides, a good majority of Stiles' clothes are in the room Scott claimed. Nevertheless Stiles will occasionally disappear into his and that's the first place he goes, telling Scott to stay for just a moment while he carries the bag of toys in with him.

Scott's curiosity burns with the desire to know whatever secret purchase it is that Stiles made but he's sure that he'll find out soon enough. Besides, they have far more pressing matters to attend to and Scott's wondering if he should start taking his clothes off or if Stiles would rather participate in that activity himself. He does at least kick his trainers off, pulling his sweatshirt over his head at the same time. When he's no longer being blinded by his dark green cotton shroud he sees Stiles, bag in hand and standing right in front of him.

He's also naked as can be, cock jutting up proudly from his body and clearly ready to go. Scott eyes him with something approaching feral hunger and the complex thought parts of his brain very quickly start to shut down in order to give priority to the "fuck Stiles six ways to Sunday" parts.

Which if Scott is reading the look in Stiles' eyes correctly that's exactly what's going to happen. Just means a lot of practice time to make up for but that's okay – he's better at playing Stiles than any instrument he's been handed. (And he's good at quite a few.)

Stiles flexes his long torso and it's a taunt, Scott's eyes raking up and down and finally he crashes into Stiles, hungry, desperate kisses exchanged so hard that Scott growls low in his throat, the sound and vibration raising the hairs on the back of Stiles' neck in response. Stiles is desperately trying to climb Scott, rutting against him and his arms circled tight around his body, his naked skin presenting the most exquisite contrast against Scott's jeans and t-shirt.

Scott picks Stiles up, bag and all and tosses him over his shoulder, Stiles giving a small yelp at his sudden change in orientation but it's certainly not the first time Scott McCall has picked him up and carried him off to have his filthy ways with him, oh no. Stiles discovered this in high school when he bet Scott he couldn't do it and for once he's glad that stubborn teenage boy thinking had won out and Scott had gone through it – but with those arms, how could he live and not find out that Scott was capable?
The bed moves across the carpet when Scott tosses Stiles down on it, Stiles still holding the bag of toys and re-positioning himself for prime Scotty getting naked time, grabbing a hold of his dick and stroking as he watches Scott finish undressing. Scott doesn't intend to make a show of it but he stops at his boxer briefs, leaving them low so that Stiles can see where his happy trail turns into his pubic hair, hard cock tenting the fabric out. Stiles makes a grab for it but Scott pounces then, pinning Stiles wrists above his head.

"Not so fast, sweetheart" and then Scott's kissing him again, all growly and hot and so fucking perfect. Stiles still has wet dreams every now and then about Scott's mouth and this is reason number one right here, the only guy he's ever kisses and the only one he ever wants to, tongue and lips a work of art that if Stiles put any sort of belief in a higher power then he might say they were sent down from heaven and attached to literally the best person ever. Stiles opens right up to Scott, his mouth just the start and the rest of him following, legs splayed wide for Scott to rub against him and goddamn Stiles really needs his boyfriend to be naked right now.

Stiles sucks on Scott's tongue, trying to will and encourage and pull him right in but Scott's got the upper hand here and knows it, can read it plain as day in Stiles' body motion that he wants to be fucked right through the mattress – but he's going to make him wait until Stiles is good and ready.

Scott finally pulls back for a breath, biting Stiles' jaw and chin as he drags the fingernails of his right hand over Stiles' skin, marble pale and the absolute ideal canvas for him to compose on.

"You definitely bite more than you used to" Stiles rasps, spine arching every time Scott's canines sink into the flesh on his chest or neck, just depending on where Scott is at the moment.

"What can I say, you taste fucking amazing," Scott replies, emphasizing his point by biting right into Stiles' right pectoral before licking a wet line down to the nipple.

Stiles almost has a retort ready about him being better than Skittles and curly fries but the words die before they make past the half-formed stage, instead dissolving into a loud groan of pleasure as Scott sucks his nipple hard, pulling it up with his lips and holding it as he flicks his tongue back and forth across the peak. Stiles sees stars behind his eyelids as a result and damn to hell the fact he turns to complete putty when Scott does this to him and of course he can't get any sort of revenge at the moment Scott positioned so that Stiles can't reach him, one hand still keeping his wrists bound and the other pinching and tugging at the nipple his mouth isn't currently latched to.

"Scotty, fuck, gotta have more baby." Scott's a little surprised Stiles can string the words together – he needs to make him unable to do so. Scott gives Stiles one more hard nip of the teeth before he attacks his mouth again, reaching down between them, scraping and scratching his fingers over the area between Stiles' navel and groin. Stiles tries to push himself closer to Scott's stupid, teasing fingers but Scott's holding him down and dammit he wishes he'd not conceded all those play wrestling matches just to have Scott lay on top of him.

"How bad, Stiles?"

"Like really fucking bad. I swear to God if you don't do something in the next two seconds you're not getting laid for the next million years." Stiles is serious – or at least he's going to tell himself that.

"You know that's a lie." Scott moves his hand down Stiles' thigh, rubbing and squeezing and scratching, up and down and around but still no closer to his achingly hard dick.

"Just play along, please?" Stiles isn't going to beg but if he has to bat his eyelashes and ask all pretty then goddamn it he will.

"No." Scott gives him a shit eating grin before biting his way back into Stiles' mouth, Stiles giving a frustrated groan because Scott's either working him up in the most infuriating fashion or he's stalling because he's still nervous; honestly it's hard to tell some days.

Right as Stiles is about to start thinking his entire sexual relationship with his mean jerk of a boyfriend Scott releases his hold on Stiles' mouth and wrists, sliding down Stiles body until he's settled between Stiles' splayed legs.

Finally!

Stiles is anticipating it but all the same when Scott's lips slip over the head of his cock his mind shuts down and his body gently yanks the reins of control from his already tenuous grasp on them, fingers sliding into Scott's hair and pulling, Scott growling a warning that Stiles had better let him drive. Considering that Scott's the one with cock in his mouth and therefore teeth very, very close to the family jewels Stiles isn't going to argue – beside, Scott blowing him is always a wild ride that normally ends in a messy orgasm and Stiles not being able to do much else aside from hang on tight and let Scott work his magic.

Scott has one hand on the base of Stiles' cock and the other on his balls, thumb and first two fingers wrapped around the weighty hang and he pulls as he blows Stiles, the sensation racing fast up Stiles' spine and lightning crackles somewhere in the back of his mind, a hot bloom of energy that seeps right down to Stiles' bones. Stiles tosses his head back, fighting the urge to fuck up into Scott's mouth but Scott growls again, this time enough to where the vibrations from his voice make Stiles slip that much closer to losing it completely. It's a dangerous game but they've been playing it for a long time now, Scott knowing exactly what to do to make Stiles dance right on that razor-thin edge of control and blissful oblivion.

"Scotty, Scotty, Scotty" Stiles chants, listening and watching his boyfriend noisily slurp on his cock, perfect brown bedroom eyes flicking up at him every now and then and it's completely unfair because Scott looks unfairly sexy like that, pink mouth stretched and stuffed full of Stiles' pale dick. Scott's definitely deep throating him too, no gag reflex to speak of and he long ago learned to control his asthma long enough to give Stiles head – Scott's in his element right now, completely immersed in his task and pulling Stiles under with him.

Scott pulls off after what feels like an eternity and the sudden shock of atmosphere after being in Scott's mouth for so long throws Stiles off balance. He looks at Scott like Scott's committed some sort of grave offense, half confused and half angry because he was really starting to enjoy that.

"You're gonna get fucked with your own come as lube." Scott's voice doesn't leave any room for argument and Stiles doesn't have it in him to fight back – besides, Scott starts sucking him off even harder than before, nose touching Stiles' torso where he's got him swallowed down all the way, holding him there for a long moment before he pulls back to the head, Stiles' foreskin tugged all the way back and all it takes is a few good circles around the head and Stiles' nearly oversensitive skin for him to come, feeling the warmth flood Scott's mouth. Scott doesn't spill a drop, Stiles' tangy spunk pushed into his cheeks as he lets slip Stiles' cock from his mouth.

Stiles can't make words aside from "fuck" as Scott grabs the backs of his thighs and tilts him upwards, Stiles noting that Scott's underwear is tented out so much that it's honestly not doing much good at this point, a giant damp spot staining the fabric even darker where Scott's been leaking precome this whole time. Stiles wants to get his mouth on it, taste the salty-sweet through Scott's boxer briefs, make the fabric build friction on him until he shoots right through but he doesn't even get to entertain the thought for that long. Scott's got him nearly bent double, Stiles' legs and body bent back until his toes are touching the pillows.

Scott spread Stiles' cheeks apart, admiring the view for a moment. Stiles doesn't have much body hair, save for the patch on his chest and his happy trail but here he does, dark hair all along his crack and Scott fucking loves it, especially the way it looks coated with lube and spunk. Stiles' hole is a pink furl amidst the dark curls, Scott keeping eye contact with Stiles as he drips Stiles' come from between his lips and onto his skin, Stiles moaning as he feels the mixture of jizz and spit touch him. Scott's downright filthy about it too, the mess a continuous string that goes on and on until Stiles can feel it starting to spill from its resting place on his body and down both sides, dripping from his balls and down his spine. Scott takes one of Stiles' hands where he's got himself braced against the bed and places it right above his ass.

"Work it into yourself, nice and messy yeah?" Scott lets Stiles go and reaches for the bag, repositioning himself so that he's kneeling next to Stiles' head. Stiles is mighty tempted to take Scott's dick in his mouth, boxer briefs still clinging pathetically to him and doing positively nothing to diminish this whole dominant vibe Scott's got going right now.

Stiles smears the mess on his ass around, pressing it with the pads of his fingers into his hole. Of course it's not going to be enough for taking Scott's dick but it's a beautifully slippery start, wiggling one finger in and getting Scott's improvised lube inside him. He doesn't take his eyes off of Scott's lower body, unblinking as Scott finally slips his underwear off and boom, there's Scott's dick, proud in its uncut, veiny glory.

Scott takes a breath before slipping the second smallest cock ring over himself, careful that he doesn't pinch anything unnecessarily, getting it over the shaft before pulling his balls through the bottom. It's a tight squeeze but the pressure is heavenly, especially since Stiles fucking whimpers at the sight of it, helpless at letting it out because holy shit he's pretty sure Scott just got an inch thicker. Stiles gets two fingers inside himself, glad he cleaned himself in the shower earlier, fucking them in and out with more of the spunk/spit mixture coating him down to the last knuckle.

"So fucking hot, Stiles." Scott reaches up and pinches his left nipple, his right hand stroking himself as he adjusts to the cock ring a little more. He's got to be careful so he doesn't blow yet but watching Stiles is making that awfully difficult.

Stiles' mouth is so close to Scott's dick that Scott can feel the warm exhale of Stiles' breath on his glans.

"Can I, Scotty?"

"Yes." Stiles guides Scott to his mouth, swallowing before he opens up as wide he can. Scott places the hand he was stroking himself with on the back of Stiles' head, rubbing circles with his thumb as Stiles' mouth closes over the top third of his dick.

Scott gently pushes, murmuring "that's it babe, all the way down, you can do it." Stiles hums his assent and keeps swallowing, adding a third finger in his ass to push away the sensation of feeling like he may choke.

"So fucking good Stiles, getting my cock wet for your tight little hole." Scott utters the words all breathy and sincere, Stiles response being to take the last part where Scott's the thickest all at once. He coughs, eyes starting to water because blowing Scott's a challenge anyway but with the ring on Stiles may actually have to put some serious work into this, feeling saliva leak from the corners of his mouth. Scott's not exactly helping either, hips twitching with the urge to fuck Stiles' face.

Stiles can only hold this position for so long and he pulls off of Scott gasping for breath, wiping his eyes before he goes back down, stopping just past the head of Scott's dick and flicking his tongue back and forth over the frenulum. Scott's knees wobble as a result, a mixture of moans and "fuck" and "Stiles" being Stiles' encouragement, Stiles getting a fourth finger inside his hole and he's definitely open enough to take Scott's engorged cock now.

Stiles bobs up and down on Scott's dick for a few more minutes until the spit's dripping off of Scott's balls and Stiles' jaw is throbbing from working so hard, feeling like his skull's going to separate by the time he's finished. Scott gets the hint and grabs the lube from under his pillow, lust burning in his eyes so that his pupils are almost black.

Stiles sees the gleam in Scott's eyes and he doesn't even have to be told – he flips himself over on his hands and knees, pushing his ass up and out, on display just for Scott. Scott growls all low and hungry, looking at Stiles' butt. It's a gloriously spunk and spit wet mess, the hair pushed away from Stiles' stretched hole, skin dark pink and inviting. Scott leans down and gives Stiles a couple good licks, making a promise to himself to eat Stiles out good and thorough later. Stiles twitches again, "c'mon Scott, fuck me" the muffled response.

"Yeah baby, got you" Scott breathes, flicking open the lube and coating himself generously. Stiles inhales sharply when he feels the cold slick against his body, Scott being liberal with it and fucking it into Stiles' loosened hole with three fingers. Stiles tries to make him touch his prostate but Scott's not having any of it, withdrawing his fingers and leaving Stiles painfully aware of the fact he's empty.

"Scott, please." Stiles cast a pleading glance back over his shoulder, wide eyed and gorgeous and fuck, Scott's will crumbles with it. He lines himself up with Stiles hole and pushes right in, little resistance offered due to Stiles' efforts to open himself up. Stiles moans and arches his back, Scott's left hand gripping his shoulder and the other holding onto his hip, steadying Stiles as Scott adjusts, pushing himself balls deep inside.

"Fuck, Scott, you feel so fucking big." Stiles wiggles his ass, making Scott groan.

"C'mon Scotty, fuck me with that big alpha dick." Stiles isn't opposed to doing the work himself but Scott gets the message, pulling out and then slamming back in, moving Stiles an inch up the mattress and making the frame hit the wall. Stiles drops to his elbows, Scott having nailed him right where it counts and thus breaking Stiles' brain.

Scott does it again, enjoying the sound of their skin smacking together, lewd and filthy and a far sweeter sound than Strauss ever penned. Stiles howls in pleasure, probably loud enough to disturb the neighbors on the other side of the wall but they've heard far worse – besides, Allison and Lydia have made some incredibly loud noises during their lovemaking anyway. Scott kind of hopes they're listening to Stiles get pounded, setting a pace that some might call brutal but Stiles doesn't falter, just moans with each roll of Scott's hips and gets a hand down between his legs, stroking his cock until he's about to come again.

How Stiles manages to have a third orgasm that day is slightly beyond Scott – Stiles has always had an insane libido and Scott struggles to keep up some days. Of course he doesn't mind giving him his best effort, feeling Stiles start to clench around him as he rides the crest upwards to climax number three, mostly dry as his cock spasms in his fingers, a few droplets of come leaking onto the mattress but the sensation leaves Stiles trembling.

Scott takes advantage of Stiles' blissed out state and pulls out, flipping him onto his back and shoving his cock back inside, kissing Stiles hungrily as he fucks himself over the edge, screaming into Stiles' mouth and making his teeth rattle in the process, speared all the way in as he comes. Stiles holds him in until the aftershocks have completely subsided, soothing Scott by running his palms up and down Scott's spine.

"You okay?" Stiles voice is hoarse from deep throating Scott, raspy and sexy and Scott quells the sharp little flicker of arousal that sparks low in his gut.

"Yeah. Just… yeah." Scott extricates himself carefully from Stiles' body, blood making his softening cock hang heavy as soon he's out pulled out. He tugs the cock ring off and drops it to the floor, the blood flow returning to his nether regions and it makes his eyes cross as his body sorts itself out.

Stiles tugs him close and kisses his forehead. "Sleepy?"

"Yeah." Scott hadn't realized just how much he'd had taken out of him. Damn Stiles and his sexy everything.

"You stay here – I'll go get a cloth." Stiles slips off the bed, walking funny as he trots off to the bathroom. Scott feels a sense of pride in the fact that he got Stiles to that point. He closes his eyes for a moment, a smile on his face and by the time Stiles returns Scott's passed out, Stiles letting him rest as he wipes off Scott's junk and tucks himself up next to Scott, slipping the plug into himself before drifting off to sleep.

When Scott wakes up the next morning it's to the taste of… well, the fact that he hadn't brushed the come out of his mouth before he passed out. That and the smell of coffee, which Scott wants just as bad as he does to brush his teeth.

Sitting up he realizes the sun's coming bright through the open blinds – and that Stiles is next to him, sitting up with his lap desk in place and manuscript paper littering the covers in front of him. He's also got his reading glasses on, scratching away at his paper and not paying any heed to Scott until Scott sits up and nuzzles his neck.

"Just when I was about to start my chant to awake the dead." Stiles is wearing Scott's sweatshirt, setting his pen down and turning to give Scott a closed lip kiss – he'd woken up to the smell of Scott's rank breath cascading over his ear.

Not the most pleasant thing in the world.

"You wore me out last night, you jerk." Scott hooks his chin on Stiles' shoulder and looks up at him with big brown puppy eyes, making Stiles' heart beat a little faster because seriously, most adorable boy ever right here.

"As I recall Scott you're the one who did all the work. All I did was get bent into interesting positions and then proceed to have the life fucked out of me. Seriously, really liked the whole power top thing you had going."

Scott gives a shrug and circles his arms around Stiles' body. "I guess my being nervous about stuff turned into that."

"Well I hope you find the will to do it again, really. I'm gonna be feeling that one for a couple days." Stiles looks happy about it, though. Then again Stiles would be beaming after getting his ass reamed, so Scott's not in the least bit surprised.

"How are things back there this morning?" Scott's hand drifts under the blankets and yep, Stiles is definitely naked from the waist down. In Scott's sweatshirt. That knowledge and image makes Scott's cock stir, in spite of fucking Stiles to the point of passing out the night before.

"Sore. But a good sore." Stiles removes his lap desk and papers, setting them on the floor before he pushes Scott back down into the bed and climbs in his lap.

"Make that very good." Stiles nips Scott's jaw before he guides Scott's hand to his ass, letting his fingers find the plug that he's had inside almost consistently since last night, Nature having kept it out for about half an hour after he'd woken up that morning but Scott doesn't need to know that part.

Scott groans, his head thumping back into his pillow. "You're going to kill me. Honest to God kill me."

Stiles grins, knowing he's gained the upper hand here. "No I won't, not willingly anyway. The only acceptable way for me to be involved in your life ceasing is if I ride your dick so good it literally gives you a heart attack."

Scott furrows his brow at him in an attempt to steer his morning back towards normalcy and not thinking about the fact his boyfriend kept a butt plug in all night. "Just one question – why?"

"Why ride your dick into the sunset? Because it's magic and makes me believe in higher powers every now and then."

"Stiles…"

"Oh, why do I have my ass stuffed full of purple butt plug. Well Scotty, you know that every morning after a wild night of passion I wake up wanting more. Just figured I'd save you the trouble of doing all the prep work this time. Don't say I never did anything for you because it's simply not true." Stiles wiggles his body against Scott's, Scott's hardening dick sort of trapped under Stiles' thigh and his ass.

Scott wants to kiss Stiles right now but he also doesn't want to give him a mouthful of nasty morning-mixed-with-come breath. "Don't move." Scott shimmies out from under Stiles and darts to the bathroom, almost wiping out on a stack of sheet music that he really should put somewhere else other than next to the freaking bathroom door but his dick's in the way, hard and bouncing against his stomach and thighs as he moves. He's honestly surprised he can even get hard after what he and Stiles did last night (and holy shit, did he really mount Stiles like that and fuck him within an inch of his life? Yes you did McCall, and you fucking loved it.)

Scott pushes the burning questions of am I really this dominant and just didn't know it and how on earth did I not break Stiles in two to the corners of his mind so that they can simmer for now, slapping some Crest into his toothbrush and setting a world record for brushing, looking at himself in the mirror as he does. Anyone else would call him a wreck, his hair a wild mess and stubble covering his jaw because he hasn't shaved in two days, not to mention the fact he's covered in fading marks and bruises from the week before. They aren't marks of combat or a fight or anything like that, just Stiles and his mouth and fingers.

It hits Scott at that moment (and why now, six years into their relationship and so not even close to their first or thousandth or two thousandth time) that Stiles is it, Stiles trusts him completely to do this, to keep a plug in his ass after a night of searingly hot sex so Scott can just fuck him in the morning. That's normal, right? Normal couples play with kinky toys and swap spunk like it's breathing and then fall asleep curled up like nothing odd's happened?

That's what Scott was afraid of – liking it too much and Stiles getting scared. The fact that he's the only guy Stiles has ever been with is a point of pride, the one Stiles lost his virginity to and hasn't left since no matter what's happened in the meantime (and there have been more than a few points where Scott was convinced that things would be rent asunder between them.) It's like Scott releases a breath he doesn't realize he's been holding – Stiles is part of Scott's DNA as much as anything else and getting carried away with what was admittedly Stiles' idea first isn't going to dislodge him.

"Dude, stop overthinking and get in here so I can ride your dick." Stiles saves Scott from his own thoughts and yeah, he's going to do just that and if things get intense there's no fucking reason aside from demonic possession or Stiles literally disappearing that they won't come out okay on the other side. Scott spits and rinses, testing his breath against his palm and the taste and smell are mostly gone, certainly tolerable enough for Stiles anyway.

Scott saunters back into the room and there's Stiles, still in his glasses and Scott's sweatshirt, stretched out lazy and casual on the bed, stroking his cock and positioned so that Scott's eyes can't help but he drawn to the long horizontal of Stiles' body, looking at Scott with a knowing expression because he can read Scott McCall better than any Beethoven sonata set in front of him – and Stiles knows all thirty two of them.

"Hey," Scott says as he gets on the bed and blankets Stiles with his body, looping his arms around Stiles' body and giving him a kiss.

"Not so fast, McCall." Stiles pushes Scott up so that he has a clear view of his face.

"You were the one who was gunning for sex just a second ago – why stop now?"

"Because I could see you having some sort of crisis in there."

"I wasn't!"

"You were too. So maybe we should hash this out now so that you aren't thinking about that while I ride you into the sunset." Stiles, for all of his mad sex drive and other generally spastic nature chooses the oddest times to have a Life Altering For You and Me talk.

Scott sighs and relays what went through his mind in the bathroom.

Stiles is grinning by the time he finishes, shaking his head and cupping Scott's cheeks. "Scott you are officially the most adorable guy ever because in case you hadn't noticed I was kind of willingly going on with all that business last night. That shit gets me off quicker than most anything and come on dude, how many times have I tried to provoke you? Like, a thousand, at least. I don't know how you didn't pick up on it before now, given that big old brain of yours."

Stiles twines his legs with Scott's and scoots down so that the world shrinks down to just the two of them. "Scott, I love you and I swear to God if you think that this sudden, very very pleasurable change in our sex life is going to send me running into the arms of some other tall, dark and handsome then you need to get your head checked. I bet Melissa knows a guy who'd do it for free even."

Scott just nods and smiles, Stiles calls him a dork one more time and then kisses him, maneuvering so that they're flipped without ever breaking contact. Stiles is a smooth operator when he wants to be and Scott doesn't even notice until he actually feels lube being slathered on his cock that they did in fact have other plans.

Stiles sits up and pushes his glasses up with his non-lube tacky fingers, Scott's sweatshirt still clinging to his frame, Stiles' dick caught in the fabric at the bottom where it's too long on him so that all Scott can see is his balls and the bottom of his shaft. He's gorgeous, just a simple fact of life that Scott's the prime beneficiary of and it makes his stomach turn a few flips because this is all his.

Scott's expecting Stiles to just take the plug out and sink right down but no, pulls another unpredictable move in what's been a very stuffed to the gills with new things eighteen hours by turning around and bending over, one hand supporting him as he pulls the plug out very, very slowly, lube coating it so that the purple rubbery plastic shines in the light and there's Stiles' hole, puckered and puffy from what's probably over use but it makes Scott's cognizant thought processes blow themselves to smithereens.

"Guh" is all Scott gets out before he even realizes what he's doing, leaning up and latching his hands to Stiles' hips, pulling him back with such force that Stiles accelerates backwards faster than Scott had been intending, Stiles gives this sort of squeak-moan as Scott's tongue pushes right into his slightly gaping hole, sensation racing along and lighting up flesh that's not touched like that every often, Stiles to his credit doing a very good job of not falling over and wondering if there are really great rimjobs like this one in the afterlife.

"Scott" Stiles pants, the only word he's even remotely capable of forming right now because that's all that really matters, isn't it? He gets a grip on Scott's cock and jacks him with something he hope approaches focus, already fattened up and hard and he wonders if Scott would let him put a ring on it again. Scott answers the question for him by handing him the smallest of the set, his other hand wrapped around Stiles' cock and making Stiles' nerves jump every time his fingers draw his foreskin up and forward.

Scott loses himself in rimming Stiles, already open and lube sticky but at this point it's pure self-indulgence, groaning when he feels Stiles get the ring around him and it's enough to throw him off balance for a second, a far tighter squeeze than before and it makes arousal dam up behind his already weakened resistance, threatening to spill over and carry both him and Stiles right out into the waters of over before it really starts.

Stiles could go down on Scott right now but his jaw's still killing him but that doesn't mean he can't try and return some sort of favor, seeing as how Scott's giving him the rimjob of his wettest of wet dreams, He looks around for something, keeping a hand on Scott's dick that at this point feels a little perfunctory. He cranes his head to the side and bingo, the Fleshlight he'd had the foresight to put on the nightstand is there, gleaming black case just tempting him to do what needs to be done.

He makes a grab for it, a little awkward since it's that moment Scott chooses to swirl the tip of his tongue around inside his hole, thus upsetting and rearranging Stiles' nervous system with a simple movement that Scott probably doesn't think much of – or he does and just isn't letting on that he knows precisely what he's doing. Stiles finally manages to get the Fleshlight in hand and unscrews the cap, biting his bottom lip hard to keep his concentration long enough to pour some lube into it and then onto Scott's dick.

Scott nearly has a heart attack when Stiles slides it down his cock, mouth pulling away from Stiles' body and Stiles almost regrets having the idea in the first place.

"Stiles, what the hell?" Scott's dick jumps because holy shit there are ridges and cold lube and so many fucking ridges.

"Just trying to return the favor, seeing as how you're fulfilling about ten thousand wet dreams worth of ass eating right now." Stiles pulls the toy up slowly, making Scott so that shuddery thing that Stiles never tires of seeing.

"Dude, you have to stop or I will fucking come and I had plans for doing that inside of you."

Stiles considers his options and he wants both Scott to eat him out until he blows and to also ride him. It's a tough decision to make but he had kept that plug in all night for the express purpose of morning sex so he groans as he makes his decision, shifting away from Scott's face and kicking himself mentally. Later he says, later he'll see if he can chase that other fantasy to completion.

Without missing a beat he pulls the Fleshlight off and replaces it with himself, Scott whining sort of pathetically because there's only so much a man and his cock can take, only for Stiles to immediately placate him by swiveling his hips, Scott's cock stupid thick again and making Stiles' vision swim as a result. Reverse cowgirl isn't a position they use very often but goddamn if it doesn't give Stiles all sort of an advantage, the angles and range of motion just this side of fucking perfect.

Scott grabs onto Stiles' hips, hidden by the way his sweatshirt drapes over his body, Stiles doing all the work and swiveling and bouncing and letting instinct take over, half-molded by himself and the other half by his soulmate, Scott McCall being the one who's forged him into who he is today (with a little help from his dad, of course) and he lets Scott know it, screams his name every time he slams himself back down on Scott's cock and tastes in almost in the back of his throat. Scott holds on tight, leaving fingerprints all along Stiles' hips, gripping hard because he's going to come apart and burst into a million billion pieces and it's all going to be due to one Stiles Stilinksi and his magical ass.

Scott moans "Stiles" loud enough to make Stiles' skin prickle before he comes, lower body raised off the bed to meet Stiles halfway up, Stiles getting a hand around himself and coming like a shotgun the moment he feels Scott's spunk leak out of him and then get fucked back in, three messy spurts coating the blankets in front of him before the rest dribbles out, not bad considering that he came three times yesterday. Scott gives him as much as he can before he falls back to the bed, pulling Stiles backwards and off his cock so that he can put his arms around him and bury his face in his neck.

Stiles vision tilts as he's rolled onto his side, Scott glomped to his back and hell yes for little spoon status. Stiles wiggles his hips, making Scott hiss and grip tighter to hold him still.

They lay in silence for a while, catching their breath and coming down from their high. Scott feels sleepy again but it's already almost eleven, no time to laze in bed right now – but he's going to keep Stiles here for just a few more minutes because it's only appropriate to cuddle after sex like that.

Stiles' heartbeat finally slows to a regular pace under Scott's palm and Scott kisses Stiles' neck, inhaling the scent of sex and sweat and the vaguely sweet smell of Stiles himself. It's home, more than anything.

"Yesterday, when I fucked you – what was that business about my 'big alpha cock?' I haven't heard that one before."

Stiles turns over and pushes Scott's hair out of his eyes. "Just something that slipped out, man. Congratulations, your dick makes me say things I normally don't."

"I knew that already, just not that particular term."

"It was a compliment, I promise."

"If you say so."

Another long moment of comfortable silence passes, exchanging soft kisses and touching each other's cheeks.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we go shower now? I'm sticky."

Stiles snorts and hits him with a pillow. "Says the man without come dripping from his ass."

Scott puts Stiles over his shoulder again and carries him to the bathroom, Stiles squealing in mock protest the whole way.

It's almost as if there's a tacit agreement between them that they cool off sexually the rest of the weekend – for once, Stiles' lust is slaked to a manageable level and Scott's going to need more time to sort through some of the changes he discovered about himself – not that Stiles is going to give him shit for it, seeing as how he understands Scott better than most and having known him for quite literally all his life he knows when to let Scott deal on his own. Nonetheless he still touches Scott every chance he gets over the next couple days, whether it's brushing his shoulder or scritching his head or a quick kiss as they pass each other as they go back to homework.

Sunday night rolls around and Scott's been in the practice room for most of the afternoon, Stiles sitting in the floor with him working more on his composition, the sound of Scott running through the rest of Don Quixote a pleasant background as Stiles scratches away at his music paper. He steals one or two note bits from Strauss and keep variating themes on them. Every time Scott pauses Stiles will get up and go over to the piano, playing the music he's just written and looking at Scott to see the reaction.

"You know that's called stealing." Scott sits down his viola for a moment and inspects the notes that Stiles has scrawled, unable to make heads or tails of it as Stiles is the only one who can read his own notation.

"No, it's called encouragement. Besides this work's been public domain for a long time now and Strauss is dead. I don't think anyone's going to know that I took a couple of the juicier bits from the viola part and jazzed them up." Stiles stands up and puts his hands on Scott's shoulders. "Besides, they're from the viola part. No one knows about it anyway."

Scott glares and if he could shoot laser beams out of his eyes right now, he would.

Stiles just grins and kisses Scott on the cheek.

It almost slips Scott's mind (how though is beyond him) that the concert is the following Sunday, that afternoon and anyone who's anyone in Beacon Hills is going to be there. Scott already knows his mom's taking the afternoon off to come and holy shit he's starting to freak out, spending every waking moment he can practicing and perfecting, even outside the twice weekly full orchestra rehearsal.

In a word, Scott's stressed.

Thursday afternoon rolls around and since he only has one class in the morning he's been in the practice room since lunch (if it could be called that, a granola bar and a banana he'd tucked away in his bookbag before leaving that morning) and the notes are starting to get blurry in front of him, his fingers hurt and he misses Stiles. As much as he hates to say it he needs a break, and not just five minutes standing and stretching, no, like the rest of the day off so that he doesn't drive himself crazy.

He packs up his stuff and turns out the light, checking the time and it's just past four, which means Stiles is in studio for another two hours. Scott kind of wants to go and steal him away but knows better, deciding to walk back to their apartment. It's a twenty minute walk back to his room, the conservatory on the far side of campus (part of the Beacon Hills Arts College) but it's a pleasant evening so he doesn't mind. He puts in his earbuds and listens to some Mozart on the way, his mind staring to unwind not five minutes in.

By the time Scott swipes his door pass he's already making plans for a hot shower and possibly making fajitas for dinner, mouth watering at the idea because perfection is made incarnate in Melissa McCalls' Famous Fajitas. He doesn't even bother to take his bookbag and things into his room, just sets them next to the door and starts stripping on his way to the bathroom.

Although they aren't exactly made for sprawling the shower stall is certainly large enough for him to sink to the floor and extend one leg out and once the water's running he does, letting the steady pressure pound into his skin and make his mind go pleasantly blank. After fifteen minutes of soaking he decides to stand and wash himself, using his hands instead of a washcloth and the closer he gets to his groin he realizes he hasn't gotten off since Saturday. He and Stiles had tried rubbing off against each other Tuesday night but Scott literally fell asleep while kissing Stiles and the matter had been left unresolved in the process.

Scott doesn't even bother with a towel after he's finished drying himself, walking naked back to his room and flopping down on the bed. He drags his fingernails down his front, raising goosebumps in their wake and he imagines it's Stiles touching him, closing his eyes and parting his lips. His cock's half-hard by the time his fingers wrap around it, stroking himself all the way to full mast and he settles into a steady rhythm, sinking back into the mattress, digging his heels in and thrusting his hips up. He's good and lulled into his self-pleasure when he remembers the toy he bought last weekend.

Now there's an idea, Scott muses.

It's still in its packaging on the night stand and Scott unboxes it quick, keeping a hand on himself while he inspects it, smooth silicone rubber and decently thick. Scott grabs the lube and coats it generously before spreading his legs and coating his hole as well. He wriggles a finger in to make a little more give, exhaling as he puts the toy to his ass and slides it in.

It's pleasantly invasive, following the curve of his body up and in until yep, there's his prostate, moving the Rude Boy around so that it swipes back and forth across it. Scott moans and jacks himself a little faster, pressing the toy in a little harder, making a thick drop of precome pearl at the slit. Scott takes his thumb and smears it around, bumping the corona and circling his frenulum with his forefinger, sucking a breath in through his teeth at the same time. It's not often he gets to masturbate, Stiles always more than willing to take care of him but this is heaven, relearning his own body a little and giving over to self-indulgence.

Scott gets a little lost, picking his pace up and working his toy in and out, in and out, right on his sweet spot and it makes him go stupid with pleasure, gnawing his lip to contain the moans threatening to spill out, his body breaking out in a light sheen of sweat the deeper he gets into it.

"Mind if I join you?"

Scott picks his head up and there's Stiles, leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, boner obviously tenting his jeans out.

"Oh – hey." Scott gives him a deer caught in the headlights look, hands still in places that if it were anybody else he'd be trying to cover himself up. "I thought you'd be in class longer."

"It's six fifteen Scotty – did you lose track of time? So lost in getting off everything else stood still?"

"Maybe…"

Stiles saunters over to the bed and crawls up Scott's body, arms and legs braced to keep himself upright. "I know the feeling, don't worry." Stiles leans down for a kiss that Scott gives him most willingly, lips parting the second he feels Stiles' tongue swipe over them, Stiles tasting like Doritos and sour gummy worms because junk food powers him through studio, braving Dorito dust on Dr. Hayes' precious Steinways.

Stiles pulls back with a slow draw and brushes Scott's hair back. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." Scott steals another kiss before he lets Stiles up, whimpering as the warm furnace of his boyfriend moves away to get naked. In fact, Stiles leaves the room completely, coming back a moment later with his own toy in hand and flopping down next to Scott.

"You know it vibrates, right?"

"….yes."

"Did you have it turned on?"

"No."

Stiles gives him a grin and loops an arm around Scott's shoulders. "Then please, let me be your Obi-Wan."

"What did I tell you about making Star Wars references during sex?"

"To not to but seeing as how this isn't actual sex…"

Scott groans instead of dignifying that with a more complex reply.

Stiles reaches down where Scott's got the toy held in him. "These can be used hands-free, you know. Frees you up for more… exploration." He presses the button on the end and Scott moans, a low vibration starting up and holy shit, he may have just seen God a little bit.

"That's not even the best one." Stiles presses the button again, a faster vibration starting and Scott really kind of wishes he'd bothered to do this when he's started, rocking the toy against his prostate and kissing Stiles at the same time. Stiles reaches down and plays with Scott's balls as he dials it up another notch, a strong, steady buzz emanating from Scott's toy and it makes Scott moan into his mouth, Stiles using his other hand to slick up his own Rude Boy and put it in. He finds the setting he likes best, a series of vibrations that start soft and then get really intense over and over again, letting Scott take over his own now that he's got the idea.

"Stiles, fuck, this feels so fucking good." Scott's found the one that'll do it for him, a constant pattern of strong pulses that he's sure are going to turn him to putty but it's gonna be fucking worth it.

"I know babe, I know." Stiles lays down and throws one leg over Scott's, taking his hands off of Scott and putting them on his own body. He already feels like he's interrupted enough but he also wants to see this, seeing as how when it's them together Scott's far more concerned with getting Stiles off than himself.

It's a shame really, because Scott wears pleasure so well.

Stiles syncs up his hand with Scott's, both on his cock and his toy, watching each other get off and Stiles swears he can hear Scott's heart beating with his, pressed up against the other and somehow it's more intimate than even sex, two sides of the same coin glued to each other down their sides and Stiles manages to tear his eyes away from Scott's body to kiss him, hungry and wet. Their teeth clack together, lips mashing and molding to the other's mouth, breathless and fringed with desperation.

Scott breaks the kiss, breath huffing warm over Stiles' mouth as he asks "can we… together?"

Stiles nods, hard. "Of course Scotty, we can."

"No I mean… in that." Scott points to the Fleshlight and fuck yes Stiles wants to do that. Thank whom or whatever gives Scott these ideas because Scott will swear up and down he's not that imaginative sexually but it's simply not true – and Stiles makes sure Scott knows it.

Managing to keep the toy inside him without too much mishap Stiles maneuvers himself and grabs the Fleshlight, unscrewing the cap and dumping a fairly generous amount of lube inside. He sits so that he's between Scott's spread legs, Scott wrapping his calves around Stiles' waist as he lines their cocks up, looking into Scott's eyes as he slides it over them.

The look Scott gets on his face is pure ecstatic rapture, between the Rude Boy vibrating away inside him and Stiles' cock pressed right up to his, wet and warm and it's a million times better than when they use a hand wrapped around both of them.

"S'good," Scott manages shakily.

"Yeah, really really good." Stiles reaches behind himself and fucks his toy in and out of himself as he starts to move the Fleshlight, listening to the soft wet, sucking noise it makes as it glides back and forth on he and Scott's dicks.

"Kiss me," Scott says, and Stiles is quick to obey, leaning down and giving Scott all he has, pouring I love you and need you and want you into that sweetly divine contact, Scott's kisses better than any good day of rehearsal combined with deep dish pizza in the cafeteria, Scott groaning into Stiles' mouth as his body tears itself along to climax. It boils hot in his gut, an overflow that breaks the dam really fast and he bites hard on Stiles' bottom lip, the taste of copper sending him over the edge. Down he plummets, Stiles waiting at the bottom to catch him as Stiles sees starbursts behind his eyes, the hot-wet contact of Scott's spunk in that confined space blowing him to bits and then sticking him back together.

It's a long ride up and then fast and hard back down, both of them shaking all over and Scott pulls his toy out and tosses it aside, still buzzing away but his body's on overload and he has to stop or he may just pass out. Stiles follows suit, careful as he extracts them from the Fleshlight and their combined spunk spills out in the process, leaving them both wet and sticky. Stiles is half tempted to lean down and start cleaning it off of Scott but he doesn't get the chance, Scott's arms going around his neck and pulling him close.

"Next time, okay? I just need you here for a while." Scott kisses Stiles' temple and buries his nose in his hair, nuzzling and loving him. Stiles' eyes flutter shut, breathing in, out, in, out with Scott, both of them tacky with come and lube and sweat but it doesn't matter. It's them, pure and simple, stuck fast together whether they're sticky or not.

Stiles puts his mouth next to Scott's ear and whispers "everything alright?"

Scott nods, moving to kiss Stiles' shoulder. "Yeah. Just need to not think for a while."

"We can do that Scotty, it's okay."

And it is, right up until Scott's stomach grumbles so loudly that Stiles has to look at his boyfriend with a fair deal of concern and then burst into gales of laughter that earns him a solid whump with a pillow.

He makes up for it by staying glued to Scott's back the whole time Scott tries his hard to make fajitas.

"Dude, stop fidgeting."

Scott swallows against the bile rising in his throat for the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes and wills himself to hold still. He shouldn't be nervous, not with how much he's prepared and rehearsed and then done it all over again – but he's got the jitters like nothing else.

"Can't help it."

Stiles is about to hold Scott down so he can finish tying his bowtie. "You're never this jumpy before a show, what's so different about this one?"

Scott looks at Stiles like he's lost his fucking mind.

"Just kidding." Stiles grins, Scott finally holding still and Stiles takes advantage of the moment, getting Scott's bowtie done in a flash.

Stiles turns Scott around so that he can give him one final check over in the mirror, circling his arms around Scott's middle and kissing his shoulder.

"You look absolutely fantastic, Scott. Prettiest girl at the ball, honestly."

Scott gives him a crooked-jawed grin and links his fingers with Stiles'. "It's not a ball and I'm not a girl."

"Just take the compliment, you dork."

Scott turns and looks at Stiles, kissing his nose. "You're a dork."

"But your dork."

Scott smiles again and kisses Stiles for real this time, bending him backwards slightly and hugging him tight to his body.

Stiles is the one to break, resting his forehead against Scott's and asking "do you trust me?"

Scott looks confused for a moment before stepping back a bit. "Of course I do."

Whatever it is, it's clearly making Stiles slightly uneasy, and uneasy is something Scott normally doesn't see in his boyfriend. "Like really, really trust me. Like first time we told your mom we were a couple trust me."

"Stiles, just tell me."

"I have a surprise for you, after the concert. I just can't tell you what it is yet but I need some time after it's over, like an hour or so to get it ready. Can you do that?"

Scott nods. "Of course, babe."

Stiles gives him a reassuring look and squeezes Scott's biceps. "Good. Now are you ready to go knock 'em dead?"

The butterflies start to get really bad when Scott takes his seat on stage, ten minutes before the concert even starts. He's sweating under his tux, in spite of six good luck kisses before Stiles had parted ways with him backstage to take his place backstage (Stiles is a stage hand) and reassurances from his colleagues. What makes it worse is that their conductor likes to put violas stage right on the outside instead of in the middle next to the first violins, so Scott's in plain view of everyone in the auditorium.

He doesn't even look at the other two pieces on the program - Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 and Shostakovich's Piano Concerto No.2 – no, he goes right for Don Quixote and runs through the trickiest bars he can, knowing his mom is right up on the first row of the balcony like she always sits. No one else looks nervous, not Allison in the principle cello chair or Derek in the assistant concertmaster's seat, wearing glasses and looking as cool as can be.

Scott runs out of time to be nervous, the house lights dimming and the concertmaster comes out, cuing them to tune up and Scott goes through the motion on autopilot, knowing he's already there and then their conductor walks out, Scott rising with the rest of the orchestra and feeling his stomach clench up and hide somewhere behind his lungs.

Show time, McCall, get it together.

It's only when they strike the first chord of the Liszt does Scott finally accept his fate and he's going to just have to survive.

The Liszt makes a perfectly raucous noise that actually relaxes Scott, going well enough that for the opening piece there sure is a lot of applause, more so than Scott's heard for just the beginning of a concert. It's a good sign, right? And he's going to survive the next thirty odd minutes relatively unscathed so that he can get through Don Quixote without dying?

Scott's sure everything's going to be just peachy until Stiles comes out on stage with another one of the stage hands to put the lid up on the piano, winking at Scott before he turns and gets the piano ready. Scott's heart skips a few beats, fighting the urge to smile back like some lovesick teenager at his boyfriend. It's a nice little respite from the tension, a drink of water from the purest oasis to ever exist.

Then Stiles sits down in the chair next to the piano bench and gets the solo part for the concerto open for the first page.

What?

Isaac walks out on stage, taking a bow before sitting himself down and as the applause dies down Scott's still looking at Stiles – who proceeds to unbutton the top of his solid black dress shirt and hello Stiles' neck and the collar –

Wait.

Collar?

Around Stiles' neck, just under that of the shirt, is a black leather collar that Scott has definitely never seen before, dark against Stiles' pale skin and it's a mighty effort for Scott to keep his jaw clamped shut, silently hating Stiles and his entire existence for one whole second before he tears his eyes away, nearly missing his entrance. It takes a lot to keep his eyes glued to the notes in front of him and not look at Stiles or his sudden, infurating, sexy choices in accessories. Stiles is maddening on the best of days but there's nothing more that Scott wants to do right now than to see that collar up close for himself, just peeking out from where his shirt is open.

Of course Stiles is cool as a cucumber, turning the pages for Isaac as the concerto plays, Scott half wondering when Stiles was assigned to be his page turner and it had to have been a literally last minute thing. All the same it's the most awkward boner Scott's ever had, and Stiles has caused more than his fair share of them. The middle of a concert though in the most literal sense? Stiles had better hope that this surprise he's got planned is worth it because Scott is surely going to murder him.

The applause Isaac receives is tumultuous, coming back for three solo bows and on the last one he gestures to Derek and they play an encore, Dvorak's Humoresque but Scott's hardly paying attention, trying to find Stiles, the fucker having disappeared backstage.

The house lights come back on for intermission and Scott goes backstage for a very long drink of water and to try and locate his boyfriend, who's either going to suffer via no sex for a year or constant sex for the same amount of time, just depending on how benevolent Scott's feeling when he finds him.

Scott doesn't have much time to stew in sexual rage and frustration though, because in ten minutes time he has to go out there and play through the biggest piece he's been in up to this point. He pushes Stiles out of his mind and right as he's about to go back out Stiles decides to make an appearance, whispering "good luck" into his ear before pushing him back out on stage, Scott's ears burning scarlet as he gets back to his seat and sits down.

He hates him, he really does.

Scott's sweet sounding saving grace is Allison, whose enthusiasm as she absolutely nails the solo cello part spreads through the ensemble. Scott ends up missing not a single note, complimenting Allison's playing perfectly and doing so at least ten times better than they had in any rehearsal up to this point. It's almost like it's playing itself at this point and Scott's wrestling to keep a positively beaming smile off of his face by the time that last downward glissando slide of the cello ends the piece, the very last chords almost an afterthought. The house ruptures with applause, rising to their feet immediately, stamping their feet and going nuts in the most civil way possible.

It all leaves Scott feeling giddy and weightless, taking two solo bows himself with Allison and after they're finally released from the stage Melissa's there to tackle him with her best "look at my baby all grown up" hug, Scott returning it just as fiercely.

Stiles, however, is nowhere to be seen.

Stiles has had some incredibly wild ideas before but honestly he's not sure why he had this one. Or why executing it without really giving Scott any sort of heads up was a remotely smart move. He's sorry for doing that on stage but he needed to give Scott something else to think about aside from his nerves – and it had worked, right? At least is sounded like it had because Stiles had bolted the moment the applause started so that he could start implementing his plan.

First he'd taken a very, very long shower with the strawberry scented body wash he'd borrowed from Lydia and he smells awesome, if he does say so himself. Why this stuff is only marketed to girls is beyond him because he'd buy this stuff by the shelf full if he could afford it. Next had been shaving, including his face but also his junk, a process hampered by the constant boner he'd had throughout it. Just the thought of what Scott's going to come home to has him raring to go, hard since he's showed the collar to Scott at the concert. He finds that he likes how it feels against his neck, simply touching it making his sex drive kick up about a hundred notches. Yeah, he's going to come hard tonight if Scott doesn't murder him for pulling a fast one on him at the concert.

As proud as he is of his hairy butt he needs to get rid of it to complete the image, holding his breath the whole time but the baby-smooth feel of it is worth it, admiring himself in the mirror and hot damn he does have a nice hole, finally able to see it and yes it does look like a little pink starburst, going by the words Scott told him one rather buzzed evening after shotgunning and boozing at a piano studio party. Stiles hadn't forgotten the words and remembering Scott's fucked out voice as he'd slurred the words into his body makes it even more difficult to not put his hands on himself.

Stiles cleans himself twice before he starts to work his body open for the plug, eyes shut the whole time he scissors and stretches, a week of not being touched back there by Scott too much for any man to ever go through and he's extremely glad there's no class tomorrow, because he's not going to let Scott out of bed if he can help it. Again, if Scott doesn't brain him with his viola for being Stiles at the worst possible time. The plug sits in him just this side of too full, a not good enough substitute for Scott's dick but for now it will simply have to do until he can gets his hands/mouth/whatever on the real thing.

Right as he's screwed up his courage again, smelling sweet and feeling clean inside and out he starts to falter, picking up the tinted lip balm which, again, had come from Lydia, puckering his lips in the bathroom mirror and coating them generously. It's called Blush Orchid and while it's not exactly going to change the color of his lips it's definitely going to make them look plump and juicy. It also tastes kind of good and Stiles has to resist licking at it after he's put it on. Combined with the dark eyeliner he's put on, winged out to a very small extent on the sides of his eyes, he looks as close to a knock out as he's ever. (And he's been practicing with that stuff for a week in secret.) Hell, Stiles would do himself right now, should there be some freaky cloning thing to suddenly happen. He looks that good, he thinks. Seriously, someone's sitting on a fortune if they'd peddle this stuff to men.

The last touch, aside from the collar, is what really makes his knees wobble. Last week when he and Scott had gone to the sex store is when he'd picked it out, a classic plaid Catholic schoolgirl skirt, just long enough that it stops at mid thigh and he's tried it on already but only for a second. Now as he slides it up his legs he feels his heart beat faster than the tempo of Balakriev's Islamey, tapping a fast staccato pattern against the inside of his chest.

It's going to be so, so worth it, Stiles tells himself out loud, smoothing the skirt front and trying his absolute hardest to think unsexy thoughts so that his boner doesn't mess up the picture he's been putting himself in for days now.

Or he hopes, at the very least.

Stiles goes and kneels inside their shared room, centering himself and trying to relax because this is going to be one hell of a ride, if things go according to the rickety half-plan he's managed to construct in his mind.

Scott's even jumpier now than he was before the concert – and this time it's all because of Stiles and his infuriating everything.

He and Melissa go out for pizza, the really good stuff they only save for special occasions but the best mushrooms and peppers can't block out the taste of desire – he wants to get his hands and mouth on Stiles sooner rather than later. He's sweaty in his tuxedo, feeling too overdressed and antsy and he's still half hard. It's bad when not even the presence of his mother will make a boner go away.

Either it's more motherly intuition or Scott just looks that ready to disappear from the world but Melissa doesn't keep him out that much longer, smooching his cheek outside his dorm and giving him a hug before she lets him go, Scott nearly getting his viola case caught in the door as he bursts into the building. He's texted Stiles ten times telling him he's coming back but he's not gotten a reply to a single one of them.

Scott nearly trips over himself getting into their apartment, the front room and kitchen dark. There's light coming from underneath and Stiles' room door and since he remembers shutting it off before leaving for the concert - Stiles has to be there.

Scott's correct, but the sight that greets him is about the last he was expecting.

Waking dreams are a thing, right?

Stiles is kneeling on the floor, eyes closed and his head bowed. He's naked, wait, no, he's wearing the collar and holy shit, a skirt. A bona fide, plaid skirt. And nothing else. Scott's boner perks right back up, so fast he feels the blood drain from his face and he's also slightly – fine, a lot – confused. This is not a thing he was expecting. Naked Stiles ready for a post concert fuck on the bed? Sure. But Stiles kneeling before him in a skirt and collar?

Scott's gripping the door handle so hard he doesn't even realized his knuckles have turned white.

Stiles looks up at him, blinking slowly and goddammit, there's eyeliner and something on his lips. It might be lipstick, Scott can't be sure. He does know that he wants Stiles' mouth and body but he also can't move, his feet encased in cement that may as well exist, given how heavy and slow and unreal his world currently feels at the moment.

Stiles rises but doesn't make any sort of effort to move towards Scott, giving him an out if he's unsure of what's going to happen. For that matter Stiles isn't quite sure what to do, having only thought ahead to Scott actually finding him. Come on Stilinski, where's that thinking on your feet thing you pride yourself on?
Stiles is the one to break the thick fog of sexual tension, his voice kind of squeaking like his testicles haven't quite dropped yet.

"The safe word is Chopin."

Scott nods.

Stiles takes it as agreement to at least a partial extent. This next idea though is bad, like sneaking into the Death Star where everyone has itchy trigger fingers bad. All the same Stiles has come this far and the worst Scott can do is tell him to stop, right?

"I'm sorry for distracting you earlier, Daddy."

Scott's breath leaves him in a sudden whoosh, like he's been gut punched in the dick. It hurts in a strangely good way, like the time he and Stiles tried breathplay. (It was fine until Scott had an asthma attack.)

"What did you say?"

"I said I was sorry, Daddy." Stiles purrs the last word, stepping closer to Scott and still not sure if Scott's going to bolt.

Scott finally realizes he's capable of breathing and that the world hasn't suddenly gone crazy around him. He kick starts his brain and okay, yes, this is awfully how and he remembers Stiles' words about this not being a thing that will drive them apart. He just hopes that he doesn't mess up whatever this thing is that's about to happen one way or the other.

"I don't think you're sorry enough." Scott starts to take off his tux but Stiles stops him.

"Please don't, Daddy, you look so handsome in your tuxedo."

"Do I?"

Stiles bats his eyelashes at him, all innocent and filthy at the same time.

"You still aren't forgiven."

"Would it help if I sucked your cock, Daddy?"

Scott nearly creams his pants then, hearing the words put so sweetly to him. As good as the offer sounds he wants to see the rest of Stiles.

"No. Come here and turn around."

Stiles obeys, stopping his legs from shaking willfully as he stands with his hands at his sides. Scott circles him, Stiles feeling like chum about to be torn in half by a great white but it doesn't put the least bit of a damper on his arousal – Scott could probably literally eat him and he'd go with it gladly.

"Such a pretty boy. But only my pretty boy, right Stiles?"

Stiles can feel Scott's body heat so close he sweats a little, radiating off of him in waves. He almost smiles at the though of Scott's hot literally – almost.

"Yes I am, Daddy. Only pretty for you." Scott's behind him, one hand lifting up the back of his skirt.

Scott rubs his ass, gently pinching and squeezing. Stiles doesn't dare move, feeling the plug shift around inside him. He's got a mostly firm grip on how insanely turned on he is right now but feeling that plug nudge and wiggle against his sweet spot makes his knees move ever closer to taffy status.

Scott stops touching him suddenly and grabs his wrist, hauling Stiles over to the bed. Scott sits down on the edge, giving Stiles an honestly kind of evil grin. Stiles feels a shudder race down all the way to the soles of his feet as a result.

"Over my knees."

Stiles may actually die if he thinks what's about to happen, happens.

"Now."

Stiles gets moving, draping himself over Scott's thighs, halfway off with one hand supporting himself on the floor and the other holding onto the bedframe.

"Are you going to spank me Daddy?
Scott gives Stiles' as a light smack. "Yes I am, because spanking turns bad boys into good boys."

Stiles moans and Scott's not even started yet, feeling Scott lift up the hem of the skirt and lay it up on his back so that it doesn't get in the way.

Scott's a little afraid of himself at this point, very much concerned with hurting Stiles but also wanting to keep playing along because he's so fucking turned on right now his precome has soaked through his underwear and is now making a very nice damp patch on his polyester tux pants, trapped down to the left and making him sit splay legged.

Here goes nothing. Or everything. God it's really hot in here.

Stiles maybe wants it a little too bad, pushing his ass up just a bit in invitation. Scott swats him, growling "ass down." Stiles complies, laying himself as flat as he can again.

Scott drags a finger over the fading mark he just left, making Stiles bite his lip so he doesn't let on just how into this he is. It feels good, exuding this power, however temporary, over Stiles. Too good and yeah, they're going to have to talk about this because Scott's as scared as he is enjoying himself.

Stiles' cock is leaking right now, staining his skirt and the first smack of Scott's palm makes him jump, the stinging on his skin from the contact and the plug being pushed in making him drool even more. He closes his eyes, Scott spanking him again and fuck, it's already too good, the pain and pleasure making his body come alive.

"Daddy, please."

Scott smacks him again, harder than the first two and this time his handprint lingers for a minute afterwards. Stiles' skin is vivid pink already, a sharp contrast to his otherwise pale complexion.

"Please what?"

"I've been really bad. N… need more."

Scott hears the quaver in Stiles' voice and nearly puts a halt to it right there – can he use the safe word too, even though he's not being spanked?

"Daddy needs a second." Scott takes a breath, keeping a hand in the middle of Stiles back and rubbing a circle, screwing his eyes shut and trying to hold back tears. It's been a tense evening and he can feel it coming around on him, between the concert and this and he just doesn't know if he's capable of keeping on.

Stiles cranes his neck back, feeling that Scott's no longer moving, instead the hand he was using to spank him is over Scott's eyes, Scott's mouth quivering like he's going to cry and this is not how Stiles wanted this to go.

"Chopin?" Stiles asks gently.

Scott nods.

Stiles climbs into Scott's lap, holding his face and rubbing his thumbs over Scott's cheeks, kissing his forehead and rocking him gently. "Talk to me, Scotty."

Scott wipes his eyes and takes Stiles's hands in his. "I don't like hitting you, even if it's like this. I don't… God, Stiles, I don't like feeling you're not my equal."

Stiles wipes away more tears that have fallen down Scott's face, his heart surging with affection because Scott can't turn off the sunshine even if he really, really wants to. "Scotty, it's okay."

"No it isn't! You went through all this trouble and set it all up and I… I can't."

"No, it's okay you're not." Stiles wriggles them around so that Scott's laying on his back and he can put his head in his lap. "I probably should have given you more of heads up and you know, actually talked about this more in detail. Springing this on someone isn't exactly fair."

Scott's heart is beating too fast and he can hear it hammering away like so many bass drums in his ears. "I'm so, so sorry Stiles."

Stiles leans down and puts his lips right on Scott's mouth. "Listen, Scott – this is a two way street here and I never, ever want you to feel uncomfortable or bad or like you're doing something wrong when we have sex. I was just as scared as you were just now."

"But what about your fantasy and everything?"

"Sometimes it's better in theory than in reality. Scott, I'm not going to make you do something that you don't want to."

Scott swallows and gets his arms around the back of Stiles' neck. "But what if you want to again? Does… does that mean you're going to find someone who'll do that?"

"Scotty, that's a little harsh." Stiles pushes Scott up into a sitting position so that he can look him in the eye. "One little half-assed kink isn't going to even come close to making or breaking what we have. Do you honestly think I'm gonna go and get my kicks by having some skeezball smack my ass? Sorry, that became the exclusive property of Scott McCall sometime in tenth grade."

Scott gives him a little smile and wipes his eyes again. "Yeah."

"You want to know what else?" Stiles scoots even closer and puts his forehead against Scott's. "Earlier when I was helping you put your tux on I thought about how fucking incredible it's gonna be one day when I see you waiting at the altar in a penguin suit waiting for me. Cause that's gonna happen, Scotty. I didn't want to say it earlier because it honest to God looked like you were gonna puke but that's the truth."

Scott feels his heart swell and burst about ten times in succession before he manages to regain the function to speak. "Why on earth would you put the Sheriff through walking you down the aisle?"

"So your mom can take pictures of his face as he does so because you bet I'm going be dragging him along to get there to you. That and I look damn good in a dress."

Scott laughs and kisses Stiles' nose. "You have a point there."

Stiles puts Scott in a hug and buries his face in Scott's neck. "I love you so freaking much, Scotty."

"I love you too, Stiles."

It's a long moment before they pull apart, Stiles wiping away the last couple drops of moisture from Scott's face and brushing his hair back.

"You know I do still have a butt plug lodged in my ass and we're going to celebrate the fantastic job you did tonight one way or another." Stiles clambers into Scott's lap and doesn't make any more moves until Scott gives his thoughts on the situation at hand.

"If I make you come hard enough will you not make any viola jokes for at least a day?"

"Maybe we should stick to realistic goals here, don't you think?"

"Can I make you come anyway?"

Stiles pulls Scott down onto the mattress with a whump. "Take me off into the night, oh handsome prince."

Scott shakes his head before diving in with a smiling kiss, reaching for Stiles' hands and linking their fingers together. Stiles squeezes and Scott squeezes back, happy under the warm weight of Scott's body. His cock never really went soft and he can feel it rubbing against Scott's pants, too much friction and not enough everything else.

Scott breaks the kiss and licks his lips together. "Two things – you smell really fucking pretty and what the hells' on your lips?"

"Flavored lip balm. Uh, Orchid Blossom or something like that. Lydia let me borrow it."

"We need to get some, for real."

"Right?"

"Can I have another taste?"
Stiles puckers up and Scott seizes the invitation, kissing hungrily as Stiles reaches up to undo his bowtie, Scott getting his jacket off as least awkwardly as he can manage, given that he doesn't feel much like moving off of Stiles to try and finish undressing. The jacket comes off along with his shoes, toeing them off while sucking on Stiles tongue. Stiles hums into Scott's mouth, scritching down Scott's spine as the other goes up into his hair, running his fingers through the black, soft strands.

Scott pulls back only because he's running out of breath. "You look so fucking hot in eyeliner."

Stiles winks at him and grins. "Not bad, huh?"

"Not at all."

"Want to get the rest of you naked?"

"Hell yes."

Scott works at the buttons of his shirt while Stiles gets his pants, reaching around to take off his cummerbund and tossing it aside, exaggerating the motion and yanking Scott back down by his open shirtfront and kissing again.

"Like this, baby. I was serious about you looking hot in the tux."

Scott nips Stile's chin. "Your wish is my command."

Stiles cups Scott's cheeks again before he hands Scott the lube. "Give me all you got, Scotty."

Scott makes a show of slicking himself up, his pants and underwear pulled down to mid thigh. He's likely going to have to have his tux dry cleaned by the time this is over but it's gonna be more than worth it, especially since Stiles looks positively edible right now.

Stiles takes the plug out, wincing slightly because the lube's dried and his ass is sore from sitting on it for so long. Scott immediately soothes him with a kiss, coating his fingers with lube and three slip right into Stiles, the skirt hiked up around his waist almost to his navel.

"Need more?" Scott inquires gently.

"'M good, just any time you want to get this show going I'm ready, Scott. Remember the whole butt plug thing shitfuck!" Scott brushes over his prostate, massaging his index and middle fingers into it just hard enough that Stiles feels like his core is being exposed to a blowtorch, hot and melting and overwhelming.

"I got you, babe." Scott takes his fingers away and makes to grab for a cock ring but Stiles stops him.

"Just you and me, Scott, nothing else. That okay?"

Scott gives him his most heartwarming, dimpled smile. "Better than okay."

Stiles opens his legs as wide as they'll go, grabbing Scott's slippery cock and guiding him in. Scott keeps himself braced on either side of Stiles head, tossing his head back as he pushes the rest of the way into his boyfriend's body. It feels like an eternity and half before he bottoms out, Stiles no matter how far he's stretched still snug and too hot around him.

Perfect.

Stiles gather his legs up around Scott's back and waist, putting a hand on his ass and the other around the back of his neck.

"Straight on til morning, Scotty."

Scott kisses Stiles deep and passionate as he starts to move, slow, rolling thrusts that take him almost all the way out and then just as deep back in, the kiss dissolving into hot breaths against each other's mouths, desperation taking over finally. Stiles doesn't even care if Scott takes this super fast or really slow because each time their bodies touch he can feel his skin come alive with a million pinpoints of starlight, getting brighter and hotter in their intensity every passing second. Stiles doesn't have any other comparison for it, melting and molding into Scott. It's not hard to do at this point because there's been a Scott shaped place in his soul since he was four, Scott having long ago made his impression.

Stiles doesn't want to imagine himself without it, either.

Scott's getting harder and less coordinated with his thrusts, sweaty bangs laying across his forehead, his voice pitching higher and higher every time his body collides with Stiles.

"Gonna… god, Stiles, gonna come." Scott's vision is hazy and swimming and it's honestly too hot to see.

"Do it, Scott, come in my ass. Wanna feel you baby, so fucking bad."

Scott kisses Stiles so hard that their teeth scrape against each other, Stiles' eyes shut as Scott rides the wave of climax all the way to shore, cresting high and then feeling like time's standing still as he hits the sand in a messy heap. It's world-endingly good and he can feel his body starting to flood and spill over with endorphins, taking away all the bad things and in their place leaving Stiles and his body and just them.

Stiles manages to get a hand in between them right before Scott comes and gets off as soon as Scott stops shaking himself apart, smearing a long line of spunk right up the middle of his body and all over the front of his skirt. His eyes roll up into the back of his head, mouth held open against Scott's like he's sucking down air after nearly drowning and Scott's all the air he needs in order to breathe.

Scott picks himself up off of Stiles after a moment, breath mostly caught again and he looks at his boyfriend for a moment, right into his eyes before he winks and starts to move down his body.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Trust me," Scott says from between Stiles' legs.

"Funny how we keepohmygod." Stiles forgets most of his words as he feels Scott's tongue trace a ring around his come sloppy hole, plunging into him and yep, it feels just as good if not better than before, freshly widened and opened up by Scott's thick cock. Stiles gets his hands in Scott's hair, legs shaking as Scott licks his own jizz from Sitles' ass, leaving him shuddering harder than before. Scott doesn't do this often, a special occasion sort only of thing but today is definitely that, given what's happened this evening. Stiles feels like the world's coming to an end but it's in the loveliest imaginable way, Scott's tongue blotting out all other thoughts he may or may not be actually capable of.

"Scott, Scott, Scott" Stiles pants, tears of pleasure gathering at the corners of his eyes and this is too much, his ass already sensitive and Scott's pushed him right on to overload.

Scott sits back, spit and spunk coating his lips and making them shiny. "Something wrong?"

Stiles shakes his head, pulling Scott forward and kissing him. He tastes lip balm and lube and come, a frankly filthy combination but with Scott's it's the best damn thing in the world, licking his fill from the inside of Scott's mouth and whimpering, feeling the slick run out of his body and onto the mattress.

It's a long while before they separate and Scott doesn't go far at all when they do, laying down next to Stiles and licking his lips over and over again.

"Do you ever think we're kind of gross sometimes, as much as we like each other's spooge?" Scott's voice sounds gorgeous and wrecked.

Stiles shrugs, turning his head to look at his boyfriend. "Probably, but I don't honestly care. I like your come."

"It's sweet, I always thought. Yours is more… spicy."

Stiles swipes a finger through the half dried mess on his stomach and brings it to his mouth. "Yes."

Scott does the same and sucks it off his finger to the point it makes arousal try to flare in Stiles' belly. "If you're trying to turn me on again you need to give me at least half an hour, dude."

Scott scoots closer and nuzzles Stiles' neck. "Just enjoying myself, is all."

Stiles can accept that.

"Good. Because I am too."

Forty five minutes later they're asleep, sticky and hand in hand but as happy as they can be.