A/N: Listening to club music and wanting a little smut. Since I don't normally write sex scenes, I challenged myself to write a fairly explicit one to expand my horizons, but don't be surprised if its amateurish. Also, there is a moment of snowballing, so don't read if grossed out by that.

Stiles swiveled his hips and threw his hands up like he didn't just care.

And to be honest, right now, he didn't.

He was single, young, and fucking hot, damnit. He deserved to be here, regardless of what Ethan or his twit of a brother thought.

"I haven't seen you around before," a rough voice purred in his ear right before strong hands clamped down on his hips. Normally Stiles didn't enjoy people in his personal space - there's a reason why it's called personal space - but when he was on the dance floor, it didn't matter. Nor did the erection rubbing up against him, separated only by distressed denim (his) and leather (mystery man). "Alone tonight?"

"Dude, if you're trying to ruin the moment, keep talking. Otherwise shut your pie hole and fucking dance."

The answering chuckle whispered against the sensitive hairs on his nape, and Stiles shivered delicately, the high from the music transforming into another more primitive heat. He hadn't gotten laid in months, and for once he wasn't beholden to anyone, so no one would care if he got his nut off in the bathroom or not. It wasn't the first place he'd pick for a sexual encounter, but it would do in a pinch.

Stiles did a few complicated moves which involved plastering his butt against the stranger's crotch while similtaneously winding his arms around the guy's neck. It was for a twofold purpose: it made him appear vulnerable, which was always a plus especially if the guy was a werewolf, and it also allowed him to check for weapons. Sure wolves had ones Nature intended, but nowadays with hunters upping the ante, they also packed others just in case. His companion groaned low in his throat and took the bait, nipping ungently at the bared skin afforded by Stiles' collarbone-brushing shirt. Stiles was delighted to confirm a wolf - probably a beta - was his partner and aside from illegally tight pants and a soft tank top, not packing anything more dangerous than a hard dick Stiles had every intentions of seeing tonight.

"Want to get out of here?"

Words from his mouth to God's ear. "Hell yes."

The hand wrapped around his wrist was tipped in razor sharp claws, though it was dark enough in the club no one would notice unless standing right with them. His mystery guy knew the way to the alley exit and soon they were freed from the cloying heat of a few hundred bodies packed into a tight space, and the relative cool of the California night seeped into Stiles. It was relief, as was the feel of the rough wall against his back, and the wolf pressed against his front. They were of the same height so there wasn't any awkward tilting of heads or standing on tip toes - Stiles once fucked a Russian wolf who was mammoth in all ways - as their mouths sought dominance with nipping kisses and long heated tongue strokes.

Gasping, Stiles finally drew back for a breath, and to finally look at the man in his arms. The light was bright enough he could see his lover was dark-haired and pale-eyed with a sharply angled stubbled jawline that could make angels cry; and Stiles wasn't anywhere close to an angel, so he bit at the contours of his face before licking his way down the guy's strong neck muscles to his heavily muscled shoulders. Stiles knew wolves and avoided the areas guaranteed to trigger aggression, so he was startled when a clawed hand thrust him away when he reached for the tank top, intending to move it out of his way.

"No. Leave it on."

Stiles shrugged and changed trajectory by dropping to his knees, so he could mouth at the flies of the leather pants stretched to what must be excrutiating lengths. He looked up and smirked. "This all for little ole me?"

He didn't bother waiting for a response and found the zipper which he drew down until the pants parted, proving the wolf went commando when his cock popped out of its prison. It was large, uncut, and already drooling seminal fluid from its flushed tip - Stiles husked a sound of pure want before sucking the wolf's cock between carefully guarded teeth and convulsively swallowing until it rested against the tightness of his throat. He was fortunate not to have a gag reflex, so he began a brisk pace of bobbing and tonguing to the tortured sounds of a man getting the blowjob of his life. Soon hands - not clawed this time, what a relief - bunched in his longish hair as the wolf took over, his hips speeding up until Stiles could only relax his mouth to avoid injuring either of them. Being skull-fucked in an alley was insanely hot, and Stiles fumbled at his own crotch until he was able to pull his dick out and start his own brutal pace. The tensing of the heated muscle in his mouth warned him a moment before the wolf growled furiously as his balls contracted and spat out copious amounts of thick white fluid that Stiles eagerly drank down.

"You're not allowed to come," the wolf spoke then, just as Stiles finished swallowing and resumed fucking his own tight fist.

"Dude, what the fuck?"

"Don't call me Dude."

Stiles was unceremoniously hauled up from his knees, and dragged towards the parking lot despite his protests and his dangling dick. Sure it was late enough no one was on the streets and early enough no one from the clubs were coming out so he wouldn't be spotted, but Stiles wasn't used to being manhandled like this despite his years in a wolf-pack. They stopped beside a gleaming black car that Stiles didn't recognize nor had any intentions of entering as the first rule of being kidnapped was to never get transported to a new location.

"Uh huh. No way. You got yours now I'll get mine."

"That's what I'm trying to do."

"Uh..." Stiles wasn't very eloquent right now, but could you blame him? His mind was still pleasantly swimming in endorphins and his dick was perky despite the danger - or, most likely, because of it. He had a weird response to death and danger, which probably made his life choices understandable.

The car door opened, though no light came on, and Stiles was thrust in sideways so his butt was in the seat, but his feet were planted on the cement. The wolf nudged his way between his thighs and settled between them before a hot fanged mouth descended and proceeded to suck what was left of his brains out.

Stiles had been raised away from humans and endoctrinated into the werewolf community at an early age, so all of his sexual encounters were with supernatural beings. And to the man - and one woman, but she so didn't count - none of them ever reciprocated blowjobs, especially after getting off. This was completely new territory for him and he was terrified of screwing it up which in turn made it harder for him to actually achieve orgasm despite how close to it he was in the alley.

"You're thinking too hard," the wolf whispered, drawing back with a pop.

Stiles stuttered a laugh, helplessly waving a hand at the wolf's current position. "You shouldn't kneel before me."

"Why not?"

"Because you're you, and I'm me."

What went unsaid was their respective species, but Stiles knew the wolf knew he knew what he was. Though he doubted the wolf knew what he was.

"I want to."

"It's just...weird." Unsettling. Unnecessary.

"Unwanted?"

"I'd say there are ten inches of proof to the contrary."

"Eight if you're reaching."

"Nine at least."

"In your dreams."

"Or maybe in yours," Stiles retorted, shocked anew at the teasing. He wasn't used to someone playing with him.

The deep bite to his inner thigh, so close to his ballsack, jolted him and he sank backwards onto his elbows when the wolf resumed his sucking and licking. The gear shaft was a hard knot in his back, but Stiles had loosened up enough it didn't detract from the glorious heat wrapped around his dick. In no time at all, he could feel himself at the point of no return, and he lightly scratched his lover's head in warning. Instead of drawing back, the suction got stronger, and Stiles nearly wailed as he spurted long and hard into the wolf's mouth, chest heaving with the exertion of trying to breath through the insane pleasure.

Stiles may have blacked out - or whited out as the case may be - for a few seconds because he didn't remember the wolf getting up and pulling him forward. The gleam of his eyes was hidden in the parking lot's gloom, but Stiles knew the color would be either Omega blue or Beta gold, and he eagerly opened his mouth to the pressure of the other's lips. A long thick tongue pushed fluid across the barrier of his teeth and Stiles knew then the wolf hadn't swallowed, but kept it for him. He accepted it and drank it from him as eagerly as he had from the wolf's cock. It should've been gross tasting himself, but instead it fed a deep-seated desire, and he sighed contentedly.

"Come home with me," the invitation was breathed against his lips when they finally parted.

His first response was to say an unequivocal yes, but Stiles quashed it before it reached his mouth. His time was not his own nor was he in his own territory. Hill Valley was neutral grounds for the packs co-existing in Beacon Hills County, and Stiles was in town for a reason. So was the wolf unless he actually lived here, which while unlikely, was a distinct possiblity. Lone wolves weren't common, but not exactly rare either, so it could stand to reason Stiles would come across the only one in the area. Knowing his luck, however, he ruled it out and proceeded with the usual protocol.

"I can't. It's a school night."

The wolf stiffened against him, and stepped back a pace as if to fully look at Stiles. "Please tell me you're legal."

Stiles was startled into laughter as the wolf took his meaning the wrong way. Apparently he didn't know the code words, and Stiles relaxed at once. He couldn't be a wolf from one of the packs he was dealing with tomorrow at the Assembly, and therefore Stiles hadn't crossed any lines.

"Don't worry, Dude, the Po-Po won't be pulling you in for sexing up a minor."

Kali always laughed at him whenever he complained about being carded at his age, and muttered he wouldn't mind his baby-face when he was middle-aged.

"I thought I told you not to call me Dude."

"Well, it's either Dude or Hey You, since I never got your name."

The startled silence reverberated as the wolf absorbed his statement.

"It's - "

"Lets not do this."

"This?"

"This -" he motioned between them. "There's no need. We danced, we laughed, we had fun. I had a great time and I know you did too."

Stiles leaned forward and gave a short if filthy kiss. "Nice knowing you...Dude."

"My name isn't Dude!"

"It is tonight," Stiles called back, already half way across the parking lot. He had no reason to go back into the club, and slipped his phone from his pocket to dial his ride.

The line rang once.

"Come get me."

"Already? Strike out?"

Stiles grinned, "That's a negative, Ghost Rider. The pattern was full."

"Jesus, Stiles. How do you do it every freakin' time?"

"Skill, my man, pure skill."

"Yeah, yeah," came the expected grumbling. "You're lucky I like you."

"I like to think of myself as touched by the Gods."

"You're touched alright."

"You on the way?"

"Yeah, just be waiting out front."

Click.

Stiles knew his driver would be shortly as their hotel room wasn't far from the club, and he made his way to the entrance. He melted into the shadows and indulged in people watching, a favorite pastime of his, and ruminated on the delicious events of the evening. When he'd set out earlier to find a little action, he hadn't expected it to go the way it had. A tingling warmth suffused him, and he chuckled soundlessly at the feeling. Tonight was more than adequate and the nagging sense of emptiness had abated, which was always a plus in his book.

A sleek white car rolled up, one tinted window slightly cracked. The dark-skinned driver grinned when he opened the passenger door, his eyes glowing gold for a moment before settling back to their normal black.

"Damn I can smell just how much fun you had."

Stiles stuck out his tongue as he slid into the front seat. "Just turn off your nose then, Boyd."

The wolf made a show of twisting his nose. "Don't think this has an off-switch."

"Then you can enjoy the funk while I tell you about my night." Not that he had any intention of sharing the details, but man he loved winding Boyd up.

"No! I'm still recovering from the time with the Brit."

"Not my fault you broke into the room."

"Oh my god Stiles, the way you were hollering we thought you were dying."

Stiles rolled his eyes at the inherent drama of wolves. "You could certainly tell I wasn't being murdered. There wasn't any blood." He thought about it for a moment. "Okay, not a lot of blood." A beat passed. "Okay, none of my blood."

Boyd shuddered as he smoothly turned the wheel. "I hope I'll never see that again."

Stiles smirked. "That'll learn ya not to go where you're clearly not wanted."

"Yes, yes it will."

The silence that fell then was comfortable as the two friends - for they were friends despite their differences - indulged in the rarity of mental peace.

"Duke was looking for you earlier."

Stiles knew the calm couldn't last, and internally sighed at his own acuity.

"He knew I was going out tonight."

"Yeah, he wasn't mad, just wanted to see you as soon as you got in." The street lamps briefly lit up the dim interior, and Stiles chanced at look at Boyd, noting the tenseness of his shoulders. "Jenny's back."

Stiles' lush mouth thinned with irritation at the news. He thought he would be blessed with a few more months of separation from her. "Whose with her?"

"She came ahead of Ennis and Kali."

At the mention of the only married duo in the pack, Stiles felt something in his stomach drop. "Why are all five gathering? The twin terrors are here with us as well. What's going on?"

Boyd's deep voice seemed to coalesce from the shadows once again filling the car. "I dunno for sure, but something's different about this Assembly."

"What?"

This was to be Stiles' first without his mentor, and he silently cursed whatever ill-fated winds had touched his life.

"I really don't know, Stiles. That's probably what Duke wanted to talk to you about."

Stiles nodded once, his body brimming with a level of intensity noticably absent just moments earlier.

By the time Stiles reached the Penthouse Suite where they were staying, his mind was bouncing in ten different directions as he tried to anticipate the upcoming confrontation. And no matter what Boyd said, a confrontation was the only outcome with Jennifer Blake in the mix.