Author's Notes:
Warnings: This story contains adult content, particularly of the hot males banging each other variety, so if that's not your thing, I'd stop here. This story will have some angst themes at times, but nothing too bad I don't think. It contains underage sex I'm pretty sure because the more I think about it I doubt that anyone is 18 in the show besides Derek, so if that bothers you, the Supernatural Fanfiction forums can be reached from a link at the top of your browser I'm sure.
I don't own Teen Wolf (and trust me I cry about it every night before I fall asleep. Its ugly, you wouldn't want to see it), I don't make any money off this, its just for fun.
This is a new story I've been cooking up for a couple of days, hope you like it. It probably won't be updated as quickly and as frequently as my other story has, but hopefully you enjoy it all the same. No one tell my girlfriend I posted this while I should be getting dressed to leave for dinner okay? Thanks! Hope you enjoy!
"Damn I wish they would turn up the heat in here," Stiles said as he walked quickly from the locker room's showers to the locker that held his clothes. He shivered in the cool air, clutching the bag that had his shower supplies in it to his chest.
"What's the matter Stilinksi? You're shaking, thinking about too many naked boys in the showers?" a smug voice said from behind him.
Stiles groaned when he heard Jackson's voice. He really didn't have the patience to deal with the asshole today. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder to see pale blue eyes regarding him. Stiles had thought that he was alone, that everyone else had already left since he had to stay and run extra laps because Coach didn't really think he was that funny.
"Aren't you supposed to have a gay best friend?" Stiles asked, "Doesn't that sort of make you a huge douche for making a gay joke?"
Jackson stalked over to him and got up in his face, he accidentally dropped the shower bag he was clutching. It was totally because of the soap. It had nothing to do with fact that another dude in a towel was practically about to be pinning him against his locker.
"I don't have any issues with gay people Stilinski," Jackson said as he leaned in close to speak softly and directly into Stiles's ear, "I have a problem with people who go after things that don't belong to them."
Stiles put his hands on Jackson's chest to try to push the arrogant bastard away but Jackson grabbed his wrists. They struggled, towels dipped on smooth hips and when they were done thrashing about Jackson had Stiles's hands pinned above his head, back against the locker. The cold metal sent chills down Stiles's spine.
"What the hell dude," Stiles said, "let me go!"
Jackson leaned in; body flush against Stiles's and whispered again. This time it was close enough that Stiles felt the occasional brush of lips against the sensitive shell of his ear. "So tell me Stilinski," Jackson said, his breath hot against Stiles's skin, "is it really Lydia you're sniffing after or are you just curious what I taste like and too afraid to ask?"
Stiles shivered against the heat radiating off of Jackson, bit his lips as his body's trembling inadvertently caused the skin of their torsos to rub slickly together. The horrifying thing was that Stiles was suddenly not sure himself. It seemed impossible because they were so close but Jackson was somehow getting closer, holding more of Stiles against the locker. The only thing that was separating their skin was two thin layers of towels.
"Screw you Jackson," Stiles said, trying to keep his voice calm, "you seem to be the one who wants to know a little bit more about me right now."
Jackson pulled his body back as he adjusted the grip he had on Stiles's wrists so he could hold them both with one hand. He used the other to flick playfully at one of Stiles's hardening nipples. Stiles wanted to punch Jackson in the face for the way the blonde smirked at him when he licked his lips nervously. He struggled to free himself but Jackson's hold was too tight. Stiles needed to work out more if he was going to get in fights with other lacrosse players.
"This is just a game for me Stilinski," Jackson told him as he playfully twisted Stiles's other nipple in his fingers, "we both know that I've got everything you want."
Why did this have to happen in the locker room after lacrosse practice? Sometimes he really hated his life. Stiles tried to hide his growing arousal but it was impossible with Jackson's thigh right up against it. Two towels weren't exactly the Great Wall of China. His mind skittered at the thought, he was going to be as hard as the Great Wall of China if Jackson didn't stop grinding into his dick and tweaking his nipples. He was a teenage boy; all it normally took was a stiff wind.
"Oh god," Stiles whispered, "why do I keep coming up with these analogies?" He immediately regretted it, he hated that his internal monologue was frequently an external monologue against his will.
"What's that Stilinski?" Jackson asked, "I can't hear you over that needy whining sound you're making."
Stiles narrowed his eyes at Jackson, he could play this game. He was awesome at games. If Jackson wanted to see what could happen to any teenage guy's body if you fucked with it, then Stiles was more than happy to kick his ass at it.
"Jackson…" Stiles panted out, licking his lower lip and letting his mouth hang open slightly. Jackson's blue eyes blinked at him for a second, watched his flickering tongue and lips. Stiles wasn't sure if Jackson's dick grinding into him suddenly was instinctual or purposeful but either way, his plan was working. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the locker exposing his throat. "Harder…" he begged, "I want more."
He felt the wet heat of Jackson's tongue against his throat accompanied by little nips. Jackson was just as hard as he was now. His mind wandered and his dick twitched as Jackson got the two of them lined up and started rutting into him. He couldn't remember what his plan was anymore, couldn't think of anything except for how he thought he could feel the heat of Jackson's cock through two layers of cotton.
"Fuck…" Jackson panted as he rubbed their hard lengths together.
"Jackson…" Stiles breathed out.
He spread his legs wider, towel almost slipping off but tried to give Jackson more room to maneuver. The athletic body delivered exactly what he wanted as it thrust against him. He whined at the aching pleasure shattering his concentration. His breath hitched as Jackson trailed the hand that wasn't holding his wrists along his side before gripping his hip with bruising force.
Stiles opened his eyes when Jackson's mouth left his throat; blue eyes were locked on his. He licked his lips again and Jackson's mouth was hanging slightly open too. They were panting, breaths coming in shaking fits. Their lips were so close, Jackson leaned forward slightly as though he was going to kiss him but Stiles turned his head away. Jackson made an angry growling noise and slammed his hips harder into Stiles. It was almost to the point of being painful but Stiles loved the edge to it.
Jackson bit his earlobe and hot breath was right in his ear, tickling the skin and making Stiles's stomach flutter at the sensation. Stiles shuddered when Jackson released his hip, no doubt there would be bruises there later. Jackson trailed the hand up over Stiles's belly and pulled mercilessly at his nipples again.
He wasn't sure who was winning anymore as he panted, he wanted more of Jackson's hips, more of that biting mouth. Jackson kept moving his hand up Stiles body, stroking and lightly gripping Stiles's neck in his calloused hand. Stiles almost came, his hips bucked forward slightly and Jackson hissed out another hot breath against his ear. Stiles thought they might both be right on the edge of losing control, he knew he was.
Jackson released the possessive grip on his throat and Stiles whined at the loss, much to his own surprise. The sound seemed to compel Jackson to thrust harder, the locker was shaking and clanging behind him and Stiles hoped that they really were the last two people in the locker room because otherwise this was going to be the gossip people talked about for the rest of the year.
Jackson's fingers trailed up over his face and rubbed against his lips. Stiles sucked two of those fingers into his mouth, snaked his tongue around and between them. Jackson made a strangled noise and Stiles worked his mouth and tongue harder.
"Fuck you have a wicked mouth," Jackson said, "I guess you really did want to know what I taste like."
'What a fucking asshole' Stiles thought. He scraped his teeth lightly against one of the fingers he was sucking on, hoping that Jackson got the message.
The hand Jackson was using to pin his wrists above his head tightened and his hips slammed into Stiles again hard enough to shake the lockers. Stiles had the wild thought that Jackson was practically trying to fuck him through the metal. Their towels would have fallen to the floor if there had been any space between their bodies but Jackson was doing his level best to fuck his way right through Stiles. Jackson must have liked the little edge of pain that Stiles's teeth had caused.
He groaned around the fingers in his mouth as Jackson abandoned his ear and bit into the soft flesh of his neck, whined at the force of the bite and the sucking heat as Jackson worked on the sensitive skin. Stiles was going to have a ridiculously huge mark to try to explain.
He sucked the fingers harder, tried to get more friction to his hard cock. Jackson made angry frustrated noises and pulled his fingers out of Stiles's mouth, let go of Stiles's wrists and used both hands to still Stiles's hips so that he could grind their dicks together more directly but still through the cotton that Stiles desperately wished wasn't there.
Finally free to use his hands Stiles used one to grip the back of Jackson's hair and yank his head back roughly, loving the gasping noise Jackson made. Stiles scratched his nails harshly down Jackson's back and sank his teeth into the exposed neck in front of him. Jackson would have marks of his own to explain when Stiles was done. Teeth marks, light red scratches from fingernails that might be taking it right to the edge of too far without crossing over.
Jackson's body started shuddering wildly, the teeth, the hair pulling, and the nails seemed to have sent him over the edge and his body spasmed. Even through the towels Stiles imagined he could feel the hot wet mess Jackson was making. It made him bite and suck harder at Jackson's neck and when the athletic blonde panted out "fuck yes", Stiles's body seized up and he was unloading into his own towel with just as much force as Jackson had. Stiles's release had been so powerful his legs were wobbly and he might have fallen if Jackson wasn't still holding him against the locker.
Stiles released Jackson's hair when the blonde tried to shake it free. Released the flesh of the neck he had in his teeth and let his arms fall to his sides. Jackson stepped back and they looked at each other, both of them trying to readjust the towels that had become a lot more uncomfortably sticky.
They didn't speak as they both grabbed new towels and headed back into the showers. Stiles occasionally caught Jackson staring at him through the steam. Jackson occasionally caught his wandering glances too. Once they were clean again with fresh towels wrapped around their waists they looked into each other's eyes.
"I told you I had everything you wanted." Jackson said smugly again.
The arrogance of it made Stiles want to scream. Jackson had practically been on the verge of begging Stiles to fuck him at the end. Stiles shook his head to clear away how good the memory of Jackson's hand closing on his throat had been, how much harder it had made him. He suddenly really wanted to say something to hurt Jackson, to humiliate him the way he felt exposed and humiliated.
"You know Jackson," Stiles said, with venom in his voice "I thought about that when you tried to kiss me." Jackson stiffened with anger, but Stiles kept on going, "but you don't have everything I want. You'd need more than one real friend for that to be true."
Blue eyes blinked at him and Stiles suddenly regretted what he said when he saw the crack of emotion that seemed to splinter the jock's arrogant gaze. Jackson looked away from him and then without saying anything else turned and walked away to where his locker was.
Stiles stood silently in the cold air of the locker room and listened to the slamming metal and angry jerking of zippers and cloth. He jumped when the door to the locker room slammed closed. He suddenly felt really bad about what he said.
"Fuck," he whispered into the silence of the room, the only other noise being the occasional drip of water, "I really do have a wicked mouth."
Stiles got dressed, ran his fingers lightly over the painful swelling on his neck. He tried to think of some way he could fix the situation. He looked back at the locker he had just been held up against, where his first non solo sexual experience had taken place. The truth was he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted anymore. He made his way out of the locker room. He realized he also wasn't sure that he could get it once he figured it out.
