"You're staring again."
Stiles snapped his head back to Scott. "What?"
Scott was barely able to hide his smirk. "You're staring."
"Shit." A blush spread across Stiles's face. "Do you think he noticed?" He risked a glance back towards where Boyd stood talking with Erica and Isaac. Boyd's eyes met his across the room. He didn't look amused.
"Yeah. I think so."
Stiles took a huge swallow of his drink. God, he was such an embarrassment. His stupid crushes were going to be the end of him one day. First Lydia, and now Boyd. He couldn't help it. There was just something about Boyd that Stiles found irresistible. Ever since Derek had turned them, it was like they were suddenly gods walking among men. Boyd had a confidence now that he'd lacked before and it just made Stiles think of Boyd in ways he'd never really considered before.
Most of those ways were sexual positions. Almost all of them ended with Boyd's dick inside of Stiles. What could he say, he was a teenage boy. He had needs and right now he needed Boyd's dick.
"He's coming over here."
"Shit." Stiles flailed with his cup, sloshing liquid on his hands but thankfully avoiding dumping the drink all over his crotch. That would have been a waste of good, illegally obtained booze.
"Stiles," Boyd said, the word reverberating through Stiles like he was a tuning fork that had just been struck.
"Hi." Stiles waved awkwardly and tried to sink into his chair.
"We need to talk." That said, Boyd turned and walked towards the patio.
"Oh. Okay." Stiles shoved his cup at Scott, not really caring if Scott caught it. He was too busy following after Boyd like a lovesick puppy.
He followed Boyd out into the garden and around a corner of the house. The hedges blocked off the sound of the party, effectively hiding them from view. This would be the perfect spot to murder someone... or have sex.
"Are you going to murder me?"
In lieu of an answer, Boyd grabbed Stiles by the front of the shirt and slammed him against the wall of the house.
Stiles squeaked and grabbed onto Boyd's wrists. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry. Please don't murder me."
"You keep staring at me."
"Yeah... sorry, man. I'll stop. I promise."
Boyd shifted closer. His body pressed Stiles against the side of the house, effectively pinning him. "You look hungry when you stare at me. Like you want something."
Stiles felt his face go red again. He stuttered, making a vague attempt at words but failing miserably.
Boyd took a step back and unzipped his pants. The cock he pulled out was large and thick. It looked better than Stiles imagined, even at only half-mast and he couldn't help himself... He licked his lips.
"That's what I'm talking about. That look, right there." Boyd tugged on the front of Stiles's shirt, sending him tumbling to his knees. "Are you really that greedy for it?"
"I..." What was he supposed to say? Boyd's dick was right in front of his mouth. His mouth was already open so he leaned forward, taking the tip in. He moaned as his lips closed over it. Boyd's cock was big and warm in his mouth. He leaned forwards, sliding down as much as he could until the tight grip Boyd still had on his shirt stopped him.
"I didn't peg you for being a slut."
Stiles didn't have a defense for that, not when he'd practically jumped to put his mouth on Boyd's cock. He moved his head instead, sliding his mouth back down. Boyd's free hand settled on the back of his head, stopping him before he could pull off. Fingers tightened on his head, digging into his scalp with just the barest hint of claw and then Boyd was moving, hips pushing forward, cock driving into Stiles's mouth.
It felt good. So good. Boyd held Stiles in place, his hands keeping Stiles from moving more than a few inches while Boyd fucked himself on Stiles's mouth. It was probably the most erotic thing Stiles had ever experienced, which wasn't saying much considering his experience was limited to his hand and a solitary toy he'd bought online.
His tongue rubbed against Boyd's cock and he groaned. His own erection was straining against his suddenly too-tight jeans but that didn't matter because he could taste salt in his mouth and then Boyd was coming. Boyd's hips slammed hard into Stiles's mouth, hard enough to bruise the back of his throat but he didn't care because he was too busy swallowing down Boyd's come.
Boyd pulled out and Stiles became aware of his own body in parts. His attention shifted from being centered on his sore throat and swollen lips. He could feel the pinpricks on the back of his skull where Boyd's claws had dug in. He could feel the chill in the air through the rip in his shirt. His knees ached. His back was sore.
He didn't care about any of that as he looked up and caught a momentary look of wonder cross Boyd's face before Boyd released him and stepped back.
Boyd left him there without another word but Stiles didn't need words. He had something better.