Stiles sometimes marvels at the changes in her life. She's got friends, plural now, that's still a bit of a surprise to her, and a long list of experiences she can't tell anyone about unless she wants to get sent to the loony bin. Knowing werewolves and knowing magic is certainly one of the best and worst things to ever happen to her, but she's still glad it's happening at all compared to how her life could have gone.
Where it was going before Scott got bitten - well, when she thinks about it, it was pretty sad and boring compared to now. She shaved her hair off moreso for control and frustration with life, she sneaked out of the house a lot for distractions that Scott couldn't always give, and there were some nights where her mothers picture was so bright against the darkness of her room, where her dad was at work another night and morning, night, morning, night, that the loneliness crept up her spine like spiders, where the glass of her window looked nice enough for her head to smash through -
...where, where, where. A lot of where's.
Now she has more distractions than she can handle. Now she has an emotionally constipated werewolf that breaks into her house every other week, which used to be three times a week, but they're slowly working on boundaries. It's still not exactly cohesive, but it's not as difficult as it used to be.
Now her hair is to her ears and she feels a bit like a dandelion, especially in mornings when it's up every direction and sort of looks poofy. Now, with how much she's helped in life and death situations, there's a sort of confidence she has that she may still be learning to carry, but it's there. She hasn't done a one eighty of personality or looks, god knows he wouldn't know how to avoid those questions from her dad. She's still mostly boyish in apparel and would rather play lacrosse. Still doesn't wear makeup and cannot, for the life of her, figure out how Lydia wears heels so often. But she doesn't hide herself with sweaters as often as she used to. And maybe now her jeans are a bit skinnier than before.
In terms of sexuality, she's the same, she thinks. She never had sex and barely masturbated, and now she's still never had sex and still barely masturbates. Honestly her mind is so easily distracted that usually she can't get herself to orgasm - she just lets herself feel good for a while, then thinks about something to research, or realizes she still has homework, or gets hungry, and now her mind is elsewhere and the need dies down. Especially with the constant distraction of being in the supernatural know-how, she finds a lot of things to take her mind off of herself. Her vibrator can get her there when she's really aching for an orgasm, but usually...eh.
Usually.
Stiles wakes on Monday with what she thinks guys would call a major fucking hard-on. She doesn't know what she dreamed about, but whatever it was has her underwear damp and her skin tingling in anticipation. She doesn't even open her eyes before turning over and swinging her arm over the side of her bed to grab the vibrator hiding underneath it in a shoebox. It's that kind of need burrowing deep in her belly, the sharp zings of now now now flying down her spine.
She moans even with just the pressure of the mattress against her as she thrusts her hips down while retrieving her toy. There's no substantial pressure, nothing even on her clit, but fuck, the idea of it, of thrusting against something, drives her still half asleep mind reeling.
Stiles finally gets a grasp on her toy and rolls onto her back. She flings her underwear off, doesn't bother with her shirt, and raises her legs to her chest. The blanket slips down and her naked lower half is on display. If she was more awake or thinking straight, she might give a shit, but as it is, she slides her right hand down to her mound and slips two fingers in to spread her slickness around her folds. She spits in her hand, rubs it down the vibrator, then teases it at her entrance until she's moaning through clenched teeth, god, she wants to get fucked -
The vibrator slips in and she slams her head against her pillow and swallows down a moan that might've been a touch too loud for a house that might not yet be empty. She presses the button once it's inside her and Stiles lights up from the vibrations, toes flexing, throat convulsing.
Stiles comes in one minute, so fucking keyed up, so fucking ready, not even having to fuck it in and out of her, just lightly bumping her G spot again and again until she's twitching and tightening around the vibrator, her legs closing on their own accord from the intensity and a groan releasing past her lips.
She's frozen like that for a moment, vibrator still buzzing, though not against her clit cause that'd be too sensitive. It takes her a moment to breath out slowly and loosen her legs to spread outwards so she can slowly pull out the vibrator and turn it off.
Holy shit.
Whatever it was she was dreaming about must have been the dream she had throughout the entire night. Like she was teased for fucking hours, and was finally able to do something about it when she woke. Stiles stretches her body out and sighs. She's certainly not against morning orgasms.
Her alarm for school goes off the next moment and she rolls her eyes. Of course something would ruin her afterglow.
Her and Scott have been best friends for too long to not have had sexy talks. Not as in they talk dirty to each other, just as in they've talked about sex and girls (for both of them) and guys (for Stiles). So Stiles doesn't hold back and doesn't think to be embarrassed when she meets Scott outside of school and says, "Dude. Guess what."
"What?" he says around a mouthful of morning cheetos. Breakfast of champions.
"I had the fucking best orgasm this morning."
Scott chokes on his cheetos, but it's because he's laughing so Stiles just smiles along with him.
"Congrats dude," Scott roughly says around a cough. "Happy for you."
"Me too," Stiles giggles, still a bit high from it. "You know when you can't remember a dream but you remember the feeling of a dream?"
"You had a sexy dream?" Scott has continued eating his cheetos. The bell goes off for class and they automatically start heading for the doors.
"I'm sure I did. Unfortunately, I can't remember a damn thing from it." Stiles sighs forlornly. "I hope I have it again soon. It was awesome."
Scott is laughing again, this time not choking on his breakfast. "I'll pray for you."
"Bless you," Stiles smiles, holding a hand over her heart. "You're my best friend. I love that you support my self love."
"Ew. What?" someone says to Stiles' left, and suddenly there's Jackson and Isaac, disgusted and amused, respectively.
"Nunya business," Stiles flaps a hand at them to go away. "We're having friend talk."
"You're having a fun talk." Isaac has a shit eating grin as he breathes in deep. "Self love, huh?"
Stiles stops in her tracks, aghast. "You can smell that?" She whips to Scott. "Can you smell that?!"
Scott shrugs. "I can't really, unless I get really close, which." his nose wrinkles. "Ew. Sorry."
"Don't be," Stiles says, dumbfounded. "Don't ever get close to me again." She turns back to Isaac. "Is it because your sniffer in sensitive?"
Isaac loses the look of amusement, and both Scott and Jackson snort quietly.
"I don't know. Is it?" is all Isaac says before pivoting and leaving.
"Is it!?" Stiles yells across the hall. Isaac doesn't even turn. She turns to ask Jackson, but he's already started down a second hall.
"I think it is," Scott assures with a shoulder pat, which actually isn't very assuring at all because he looks awkward about it.
"Thanks Scotty," is all Stiles says, and she decides not to bring it up again for the rest of the day lest someone get too close.
That night, while she's doing homework at her desk and attempting not to space out so often so she can actually get it done, her belly clenches the tiniest bit and tingles erupt across her skin.
Despite her attempt not to day dream, she finds herself thinking of the dream or lack thereof, what it could have possibly been about. It was someone fucking her, that much is obvious. She wonders who. She wonders how, too, cause god it had been good in her dreams and she'll certainly want to try it as some point in reality to see if her imagination holds up. Was she riding them? Were they fucking her down into a mattress, or couch, or floor?
Stiles' thighs rub together lightly and she knows her face is flush. She chews on her pen for a moment, eyes glazed in the direction of her wall as she contemplates masturbating again. She glances at the time, one thirty AM, she glances at her homework, still unfinished, then clenches her thighs together with a high sigh.
She should just go to bed and avoid the decision. With either one she'll be a bit disappointed in herself. She can finish her homework in the morning, anyway.
Stiles is burning again the next morning. Not as much as the previous morning, but enough that she finds herself on her tummy, thrusting into her own hand when she finally wakes up. She groans low and immediately gets to her knees, face still smashed into her pillow, her left hand coming up to cup her breast and tease her nipples. Her right hand stays between her legs, but she slips her fingers beneath the fabric of her underwear and grazes between her folds to spread her wetness. She glides some up to her clit and rubs lightly to start with.
The blanket stays over her body this time so she's encased in her own cocoon of pleasure. She switches her left hand periodically from her breasts to sliding down her tummy, then back up in a tease of light touches that helps the desire build in her lower stomach. As her right hand quickens its pace over her clit, short and fast with the pad of her two fingers with random dips into her pussy to wet her fingers, her left hand gets more rough over her skin, her fingers gripping her nipples and twisting harshly, her nails digging into her skin as she slides them down her chest and stomach.
Because her face is in her pillow, she's not trying as hard to stop the moans erupting from her throat. When the pace was slower she allowed a rhythmic "Oh, oh, oh," to fuel her urgency. Now, though, her fingers are rubbing intensely over her clit and her hips are undulating into her fingers despite there being nothing to grind into, she can't help it, she can't help the flex of her thighs and the rise and fall of her hips into her own hand. "Fuck, fuck, fuckfuck," falls from her mouth and she's fucking desperate for it, rubbing her clit so hard now that it almost hurts but she doesn't fucking care she just needs to fucking come -
And her cunt spasms, wanting something inside of it, and her stomach tightens when her "Fuck, fuck -" becomes "Fuck me, fuck me -!"
Stiles comes, two fingers abusing her left nipple, two fingers rubbing mercilessly on her clit until the waves are over and sparks erupt behind her eyelids and down her back to her toes. She's gasping into her pillow and her wrist hurts too much to work herself over anymore, so it drops to the bed with a flop because she's still on her knees and can't get herself to lower back to the mattress yet.
After a moment she groans loudly into her pillow. God, this is ridiculous. Two mornings in a row where she's fucking gagging for it.
Her alarm goes off for school. She groans again and flops fully onto her mattress.
She doesn't mention it to Scott the next day to hopefully avoid another sniffer talk, but Isaac stares her down at the lunch table with a knowing smirk and a blush blooms across her cheeks. She throws a couple french fries at his face which he smacks down to the table, and mostly from that she just feels sad she wasted some fries.
"Starting a food fight?" Boyd asks from beside Isaac.
"No." Lydia sets her tray on the table. "If any of you ruin my clothes I will personally castrate you."
Stiles raises her hand. "First problem with that -"
Lydia glares. "I'll find a way."
Stiles lowers her hand.
Isaac doesn't say anything, but she's gotta admit that his smirk gets to her more than what he could possibly say. It leads to her cornering him near the end of school when they're on their way to the field. She doesn't care about being embarrassed anymore - she just needs to know.
"I know that you guys have better senses, that some are more sensitive to it than others, i.e. you, but does that really mean anyone can tell when someone masturbates or has sex? Is there a smell?"
"Hello to you, too." Isaac drones.
"Yeah, hi." Stiles knocks her lacrosse stick against the wall as she talks. "You gotta tell me dude, because if there's anything I can do to not have you guys smell when I, like, do stuff, that'd be fantastic. I'm sure it's awkward for you, too."
For most of Stiles talking at him, Isaac looks slightly amused alongside a gallon-full of boredom. But on the mention of awkwardness, his face pinches and he reluctantly nods. "Yeeaahh. Listen, Stiles." He breathes in to speak, then just breathes out a tired sigh. "You don't have to worry about it."
Stiles grunts with an eye roll. "Right."
"No, seriously, you don't." He breathes in through his teeth and can't quite look at Stiles. "Because of our sensitive smelling, hearing, whatever, there's some shit that we just have to...get used to, you know? People don't suddenly stop having sex or...or stop using the bathroom just because it's amplified for us. We haven't stopped having conversations in other rooms or eating different foods. We know more about each other than what we were all comfortable with at the beginning, but - ugh, like, I've heard Boyd and Erica having sex, but it's not like they're trying to throw it in our faces. They're doing it at night on a different floor of the house, nothing crazy. We can't help that we...know. So it's like, whatever. We all masturbate. It's normal."
Stiles glares steadily at Isaac and he finally really looks at her. "I'm serious. I just liked fucking with you."
"I don't hear a sorry in there."
He smirks. "I'm not. And I'll probably waggle my eyebrows at you a few times. Two mornings in a row? That's more than usual for you."
She smacks him upside the head as he bursts out laughing. "Shut up."
"Okay, okay." He jumps away from more of her smacks. Stiles huffs and speeds past him to get to practice.
Despite how annoying he is, she's glad she asked. That did actually make her feel a bit better.
But embarrassment bombards her body that night when a thought barrels through her skull.
The pack has smelled her. They've known when she's…
She slides out of her chair in full-bodied embarrassment, all of her skin red. She lays on the ground for a good five minutes before she can pull herself to bed.
Fuck.
The next morning, she - fuck, fuck, fuck.
She comes in under a minute, two of her fingers as deep as they can go inside of her cunt, holding one of her legs to her chest for easier access. She didn't even have the patience to grab her vibrator.
Wow.
She's gasping at her ceiling, still half asleep, and a thought occurs to her that maybe this is more ridiculous than is considered normal.
She shakes it off though. Sure, they've seen and dealt with some shit, but just because she's more horny than usual doesn't mean that it's supernatural related. It's only been three days, anyway, or she guesses three mornings.
It's fine.
The fourth morning Stiles is able to take care of herself more slowly than the other mornings, grazing her fingers all across her stomach and breasts in a more thorough tease than her mysterious dreams. She's clenching around her vibrator is her second satisfying orgasm when her alarm for school goes off. She doesn't move to turn if off for a full minute because of the beautiful buzz across her skin.
Friday morning she comes with a frenzy, nothing inside of her, but her fingers are rubbing her clit furiously, reminiscent to the first morning she was desperate to come. She's biting her thumb so hard that she'll for sure have indents of her teeth dug into her skin for most of the day. Her orgasm is fierce enough that she arches off of the bed and is left whimpering into her skin even after she stops twitching.
The consistency of her desperation is finally getting to her, but what really puts her over the edge from maybe-this-is-weird into this-is-weird-it's-super-weird, is when she's in an afternoon class and her thighs are slowly rubbing together without her notice, her teeth are around where she bit her thumb that morning, and an image comes unbidden of Boyd, who's sitting in front to the right of her in this class, pounding her into the teacher's desk hard enough to drop the computer to the ground, scrape the desk legs across the floor, leave bruises on her hips and lose feeling in her toes -
Stiles comes back to herself as if breaking through water, suddenly and viscerally aware that she's in her fucking classroom, surrounded by students, flushing and fucking wet, oh, and also, daydreaming about fucking a pack mate who's in a relationship.
She drops her stupid hand to her desk and clenches her fingers together to keep them from going places she doesn't approve of. She resolutely avoids looking at Boyd, feels so guilty and ashamed even though, god, she's never thought of him like that before, she's never wanted someone in a relationship before, what the fuck is wrong with her -
Her stomach clenches and she clenches her teeth together in response. She crosses her legs to hopefully quiet the need to slip her fingers down her jeans, quietly, no one will notice -
It tightens the pressure across her mound and she sighs harshly through her nose, frustrated in more ways than one. Her fingers twitch, but she keeps them on her desk.
Something is definitely up.
"Heeeyyy, Scott." Stiles slips into step with him on the way out of school.
"Yeeeaaaahh?" He replies, side eyeing her. "Wait, before you start - is this something bad or good? You have a tone."
She shrugs. "Honestly don't know for sure, bud, but I'm worried about it."
"Alright." He shifts his bag higher on his shoulder. "To your car!"
They drive out to a parking lot in front of Stiles' favorite ice cream shop. Once they park, they unlatch their seatbelts and face each other in the seats.
"You're masturbating a lot," Scott blurts.
"I've been - whoa, yeah! How'd you -" she cringes. "Ew."
"I'm sorry," he's absolutely red now, "It's just - this whole week, and like, with the others I'm used to it but with you -"
"I've never done it this often!" Stiles enthuses and Scott nods fervently, leaning forward.
"It's so weird!" he practically yells. "I mean, I'm sorry, I'm happy for you -"
"No, dude, rewind, I agree!" Stiles shifts to sit on her leg, leaning forward with waving hand motions. "I'm going crazy, I was thinking I just happened to be more horny than usual but dude, you don't even know, I - I -" she flounders for words and sputters consonants for a moment. "It's just - I - it's a lot," she finally settles on. "And I don't think it's natural."
"Whoa, wait," Scott sits up on his leg, too. "It's that crazy?"
"It's that crazy," she breathes out. "Scott, you're right, it's more than usual, but all in all I've never felt the need more than a couple times a week, and even then, I never felt like I had to masturbate through it, it's just kind of a - a simmer for me, nothing necessary!" She runs her hands through her hair and is trying to ignore how much she's blushing. "I - It hasn't been just that I'm masturbating more often, it's been that I have to masturbate. Maybe - I mean, I don't know, maybe my meds are finally kicking in a certain way -"
"Three years being on this dose?" Scott says in disbelief, brow raising.
"Or," she glares at him, "maybe I'm going through a late puberty thing? Or something?"
"You eat more than you used to," Scott suggests, but his face doesn't look committed.
"I do," and not even Stiles' voice is completely convinced. They both pause, staring at each other awkwardly.
"Scott," Stiles gulps, "I really really don't want this to be a supernatural thing. That means it's - it's like...effecting me."
He nods slowly, chewing on his cheek. "There's just...I mean, I know you pretty damn well, and it's not like we haven't talked about this before, and we've known each other for years, and -"
"Spit it out, Scotty."
"I don't think this is normal," Scott finally says. "I'm sorry. You're - you've never really been an actively sexual person. Like, obviously, you are, sometimes -"
"Rarely," Stiles slips in.
"And you're interested in it, generally -"
"Well, yeah."
"But, like - well. If you're saying that it's worrying you, and me knowing you for so long I can definitely agree that it's odd to smell you like this every day," he breathes out harshly and swallows hard. "It's - it's pretty strong, I'm not gonna lie."
"Oh, I know." Stiles breathes out shakily. "Is it like...is it that you smell me being horny, or do you actually smell that I've…"
"I smell...it smells…" he struggles for a good half a minute until he sighs awkwardly and says, "it smells like want."
"So…" Stiles ventures. "...horniness?"
"I guess," Scott shrugs. "I can't...I don't know, I can't put it into words. But that's close enough."
"Eugh."
"Agreed."
They stare at each other for a moment then Scott clears his throat.
"So...what do you want to do?"
"I…" she sighs, shifting in her seat. "I don't know. It's just - it sounds so stupid, right?" She shrugs at Scott and interrupts what he's about to say. "Hey guys, I've been really horny lately! What up with that?" She feels face burning even just from the thought of it, of saying anything like that in front of the pack.
"Uhm," Scott starts, then shrugs with her. "Yeah, I can get that."
"It's only been a week," she says more quietly.
"Yeah, I guess." He chews on his cheek again. "But it's still a little weird."
"We know that because of how long we've known each other. But saying to the others that a teenager is really horny and it might be a problem? I don't know, dude. I can't fathom that conversation going somewhere that doesn't involve me bursting into flames."
"Hm." Scott looks to the ceiling of the car, to the seats, then back to her. "So...you don't really wanna do anything about it, then?"
She hesitates. "Not...yet."
"Why mention it at all yet?"
"I just...wanna make sure I'm not crazy, you know?"
He nods slowly then sighs. "Alright. I'm worried, though. Putting it out there."
She smiles. "Thanks."
"If it goes on for another week, we gotta tell someone. If not the whole pack, maybe Deaton?"
Stikes rocks back and forth in her seat, considering. Scott starts her down more intensely as the seconds tick by.
She blows a raspberry. "Fine."
He beams out a smile. "Cool. I mean, we've seen a lot of shit, you know? I'd rather be careful than realize too late that something might be hurting you."
"Well it doesn't hurt," Stiles smirks, and Scott rolls his eyes.
"Ice cream?" He looks to the double doors of the building in front of them.
Stiles beams.