Okay. I know I should have been working on 'Sing It Out', but this idea hit me like a brick and I couldn't say no. This is smut. Shameless, unadulterated, deliciously slashy smut. You have been warned.

This is going to be another collection, similar to 'Sing It Out', but without the songs. I hope you guys dig it! :)

Disclaimer: Not mine. Sad day.

He really shouldn't be here.

All he could think of while he idly stirred the drink in front of him was that something would go wrong. Things already weren't going the way he'd planned, if the drunken old man that had been pawing at him earlier was anything to go by. He should really just finish this drink—was this his third or fourth?—and go home. Drinking alone at a bar? What would his dad think?

Stiles smiled to himself at the thought and took another sip.

"What's so amusing?"

He looked over to eye the dark haired man that had sunk into the stool next to his. "Just thinking about what my father would say if he saw me now."

The man turned his head forward so Stiles could only see his profile as he took a long drink from his own glass. The corner of his mouth twitched up. "I can't think he'd be too happy. You hardly look old enough to be in here."

Stiles chuckled, "Between you and me," he leaned close, "I'm not. I'm eighteen."

The other man glanced at him and offered a raised eyebrow.

"Okay fine. I'm seventeen."

His bar mate snorted and threw back the rest of his drink, face twisting. "Alright. Jailbait. I can get behind that."

Stiles hummed into his own glass, downing what was left before licking at an ice cube at the bottom. He could feel the other's eyes on him, see his Adam's Apple bob as he swallowed, and Stiles couldn't help but love the attention. He sucked a cube into his mouth before taking it from his lips and gliding it across his collarbone, just to see how far he could take this.

"It's hot in here. Are you hot?" He simpered, enjoying the man's eyes on him.

The other licked his lips distractedly, eyes set on the icy water trailing down Stiles' v-neck. "Mmm, yeah. Hot."

Stiles smirked and gestured for another drink from the bartender.

"D'you, uh," the man cleared his throat, "d'you want to get out of here?"

The younger man reached for the new drink placed in front of him and sipped at it thoughtfully. "Ya know, I can't. I've got a boyfriend."

The man grinned, showing perfect, white teeth, and leaned in. "You tease," he said, a predatory lilt in his voice. "Boyfriend, huh? What's his name?"

The side of Stiles' lip lifted up. "Derek."

"And Derek let you come here all by your lonesome?"

"He doesn't know. Not the brightest guy in the world, ya know?"

The other man's eyes narrowed, despite his small smile. He leaned just a little bit closer. "Must not be, to let something delicious as you out of his sight."

Stiles tapped his fingers against his glass and bit at his lip. "He hasn't been paying much attention to me lately. He's got, uh…other things to worry about right now. Something about the full moon, or whatever."

"Huh. Guy's an idiot," the man snorted, smirk back in place.

Stiles pushed his glass away. He didn't feel much like drinking anymore.

"Come on," the darker man, suddenly very close, murmured in Stiles' ear, "Come with me. I'll make you feel real special."

Stiles took one last look around the bar before reaching into his pocket, fishing out money before the man tutted and laid down more than enough.

"I got it," he told Stiles with a wink.

And hey, what the hell. Stiles stood up, took the man's offered hand, and they left the bar.

"Let me go turn a light on," Stiles said in a small voice, stepping into his own dark house. The door shut behind him.

Stiles let out a small gasp as he was pushed against the wall roughly, the man's hands firm on his hips.

"Why?" The other whispered in his ear, teeth closing around his earlobe.

Stiles didn't answer. His breath hitched and—he really didn't mean to hike his leg up around the taller's waist like that. He felt rather than heard a low chuckle against his neck before a strong hand came up to rest under his thigh, thumb rubbing small circles into his jean-clad skin. The smaller man's jaw fell open, and he just let himself feel. The soft lips pressing lightly on his neck, the scratch of stubble.

But he really shouldn't be here right now.

"Listen, hey," he began, "my boyfriend—oh."

A harsh nip behind his ear cut him off and his eyes slipped closed.

"If you were really concerned about him, you wouldn't be here right now."

And Stiles tightened his leg around the man's hips. He brought his hand up, fingering the hem of the man's shirt. He took a shallow breath and lifted it over the other's head to toss it aside, and the man's lips were on his instantly. Their tongues met feverishly and Stiles couldn't help the way his stomach flipped. The taller man's hand fell to the back of Stiles' other thigh, patting it, and Stiles hopped up just enough to wrap both legs around the man's waist, arms secured around his neck to play idly with the hairs on the nape of his partner's neck.

And then he was being carried upstairs, the man's heady scent thick in his throat, filling his senses until all he could think of was oh, god, now please.

The two fell onto Stiles' bed, and the younger groaned and pulled his lips away.

"You don't know where my bedroom is," he muttered pointedly, and he felt the man grin against his lips and hum in response.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something else, but then the man placed a peck on the underside of his jaw before trailing lower. Lips brushed the hollow of his throat while fingers pushed his shirt up, and all Stiles could do was sit up to acquiesce the clothing's removal.

That sinful mouth was back again, tongue circling one nipple and then the other before heading lower to dip into his navel. Stiles buried his fingers into the dark hair, sucked his lip into his mouth in anticipation, and then the tongue was flat against the edge of his jeans. He tugged lightly on the other's hair, urging him on with a small moan.

He hadn't blinked twice before his jeans and boxers were around his ankles and that very same tongue was licking a thick stripe up the underside of his cock.

Had Stiles been even remotely coherent, he'd have been thoroughly proud with the long list of expletives falling from his lips. The man grinned up at him through the adjusting darkness and their eyes met.

Stiles' stomach did that stupid flipping thing again.

"Come on, come on," the smaller man pleaded, fingers pulling hard on the dark hair again. He attempted to lift his hips to the other's mouth once more, to no avail, and a frustrated whine burst from him, "Now who's the tease? Come on."

"Bossy little slut, aren't we?" The man's voice held a hint of dark amusement but his mouth lowered to engulf Stiles' cock anyway.

"Nngh, you h-haven't seen bossy yet," was all Stiles managed before his eyes closed and the man really set to work on his length.

Stiles groaned, all consonants and shapeless mumbles, feeling the breaths the man made through his nose against his skin, but he would not lose it.

Not yet, at least.

As if reading the younger's mind, the dark haired man lifted off of Stiles' cock, smiling at the boy's whimper of loss. He leaned across the teen's body to open the drawer of the nightstand next to the bed, digging around inside before pulling out a small bottle.

Stiles snapped open his eyes and he glared at the man. "You don't know where I keep my lube, either."

The taller only rolled his eyes. This was taking way too long.

Stiles watched as he yanked off his jeans and boxers, and nudged the highschooler's knees apart. He brought his fingers up to the boy's lips, commanding, "Suck."

"What? Why? You've got the lube right there."

The man's eyes darkened and his voice dropped an octave, husky as though he'd swallowed gravel. "I said, suck."

Stiles very nearly came.

He opened his mouth just enough for the other to slip his fingers inside, and Stiles wrapped his tongue around the digits, holding the other's heated gaze, and damned if he didn't pout when the fingers were pulled away. The man hitched Stiles' leg up to rest in the crook of his elbow and leaned down to slip a finger past that tight ring of muscle. The boy inhaled through his nose, reveling in the strange, slightly uncomfortable feeling. It had been but a moment before a second finger was added and Stiles breathed out a whine. He rolled his hips impatiently because yeah, preparation was great and all but he was so over all of this. He laced his fingers into the man's hair again.

"Ungh, just fuck me, goddamnit. Now."

The man laughed darkly. "There's that bossiness you promised me."

The elder had Stiles' legs over his shoulders before he could blink, and pushed in with one smooth thrust. He wasted no time in letting the boy adjust, because fuckhewassotight and he had asked for it, so a furious pace was set.

Stiles curled his fingers into the man's biceps and rocked his hips up to meet every thrust with a loud slap, curse after moan after hitched breath filling the dark room. He tossed his head from side to side, entire body writhing when the man found his prostate.

"Oh fuck, fuuuck, right there! Nngh, oh god!"

The man's lip curled possessively, leaning forward to lick Stiles' bottom lip before taking it between his teeth and pulling, snapping his hips forward with enough vigor to slam the headboard into the wall.

"Scream for me," he commanded, licking Stiles' teeth when the boy's jaw dropped to oblige.

The man laid one forearm across Stiles' collarbone, succeeding in pinning him thoroughly, and a feral growl ripped from his throat. And fuck if that wasn't the sexiest thing Stiles had ever heard. He rolled his eyes up and wondered if it was possible for the man to rip a hole through his inner walls. Not that he'd complain.

The older man traced the shell of Stiles' ear with his tongue, down across his jaw and neck to land just above the boy's nipple, where he bit down and smirked at the immediate bruising. He could feel the rapid heartbeat beneath his tongue, each increasingly desperate noise the boy made ringing in his ears, and refused the urge to draw blood. He was not going to lose it. He was not going to lose it.

And then Stiles flipped them.

He kneeled over the taken aback man, reached down to grasp the other's pulsing cock and sinking down on it until their hips met once more. He rocked his hips with ease, rolling his body into perfect curves and throwing his head back, mouth open in a drawn-out moan. His hands rested heavily on the man's chest to keep his leverage, and his face twisted as the man's thrusts upward bounced his body.

This was just too much.

Stiles' movements jerked and staggered, indicating the impending oblivion, and he dragged the other man's hand to his cock. With his partner's fist flying over his length, Stiles didn't stand a chance. His eyes screwed shut and his jaw dropped in a silent scream as he came, white hot heat shooting through his body and he couldn't fucking catch his breath. He collapsed against the man's chest, clenching his muscles while the other thrust one time, two times, three times more before releasing into the younger body as well.

Sharp gasps, twitching muscles, a few more shallow thrusts and Stiles whimpered from over-stimulation. He rose delicately off of the other man and fell onto the bed beside him. Chests heaved, slick with sweat, and Stiles choked out a laugh while glancing over at his bedmate.

"Hey, man, my boyfriend's gonna be home soon, so you should probably—"

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek laughed, eyes flickering over to the younger man as he laid an arm out in offering.

The highschooler grinned and took the opportunity to curl into the lycan's side. "Was I right, or was I right?"

Derek raised his eyebrow in question.

"Didn't I say the whole 'bring home a total stranger' fantasy would be ridiculously hot?"

The older man smirked, too tired to deny.


"Yes Stiles, yes, God, you were so right."

The smaller man's grin widened. "We should do this more often."

When the wolf simply shrugged noncommittally and didn't answer, Stiles sat up on his elbow to look down at him. "Oh come on. How can you say no to someone so delicious as me?"

And Derek outright laughed. "Never mention that. Ever again."

"Only if we can do this more often."

No answer.

"Come on, Derek. I will match you fantasy for fantasy. Deal?"

And how could anyone say no to a proposition like that?

"Fine," Derek agreed, smirking at Stiles' exclamation of victory, "but it's my turn next."

Okay, Tyler Hoechlin tweeted just as I was finishing up this story. I blushed - actually blushed - because of what I've done to his character.

Sorry, Tyler. Sorry, Dylan.

HOWEVER, I'm not sorry to you guys, haha! I hope you liked it - reviews are still my motivation. The more people seem to like my stuff, the more I'll post. :)