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Liam checked his watch. 8:18pm. He’d been standing on Scott’s porch for the better part of an hour, working up the courage to knock. Stiles’ jeep sat in the driveway, motor cold, the sphere of the moon trapped in its windshield. If he concentrated, he could hear them. They were watching TV, something with explosions and gunshots. Every so often Stiles would make a comment and Scott would laugh himself out of breath. It almost felt like Liam was with them, so much so he’d opened his mouth twice with a comeback, only to remember they didn’t know he was there.
He raised a fist, ready to knock, but let it drop back by his side. He let out a slow breath through pursed lips and turned to leave. As he did, a building on TV collapsed, Stiles farted, Scott snorted, and Liam missed the top step. He toppled to the ground, ass over elbows. He was still untangling his limbs when Scott opened the door.
“Are you—”
“I’m okay! I’m—” Liam wobbled to his feet, brushing dirt off his jeans, “—I’m fine. Sorry.”
“For what?” The corner of Scott’s mouth quirked into a smile.
Liam heard but failed to process the question. The hem of Scott’s shirt had folded up on itself. A scant trail of wiry, black hair descended past the lip of his jeans. Liam swallowed; the moon felt heavy above him.
“…Liam?” Liam’s eyes snapped up to Scott’s, eyebrow raised in question.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, did you need something?”
“Oh, right.” Liam fished into his hoodie pocket. “I just wanted to return this.” He handed the IPod to Scott. “Thanks. I enjoyed the playlist, except for the stuff by Lost in Kostco.”
Scott smiled and slipped the player into his back pocket. “No one’s tastes are perfect. But I’m glad it helped.” His eyes wandered above Liam’s head, catching the moon in the dark brown of his iris. When he looked back, there was a fullness to his gaze. “You sure you don’t need it tonight? I’ve been feeling it all day.” Scott nodded his chin skywards. “There’s no shame in needing an anchor.”
Liam swallowed and wondered if Scott could hear the rush of his heartbeat. How to tell Scott that it isn’t his IPod he wanted? Scott watched him, a patient yet inquisitive lift to his eyebrow. The TV bled out onto the porch; Liam heard a man’s scream quickly covered by a rain of gunfire.
“Yo, Scotty!” At Stiles’ voice, the hairs on Liam’s arm stood to attention, his pulse up-ticked, his eyes drawn instinctively to Scott, like he’d been caught out, hand in the cookie jar. “Who is it?”
A smile better fit for a fox than a wolf slid sly across Scott’s face. He never broke contact with Liam’s wide eyes as he turned his face to shout inside. “Just Liam. He wanted to return my IPod.”
“Well, invite him in, the best part’s coming up!”
Scott stepped aside, sweeping his arm in invitation. Liam teetered on the first step, hands deep in his pocket. “Only if you want,” Scott whispered.
And he does. Oh, he wants.
Stiles sprawled out on the couch, arm dangling by his side, fingers wrapped loosely round the neck of a beer. Liam stood in the center of the room, lost from orbit. He didn’t recognize the movie, full of cheap effects and gratuitous violence. Scott handed him a plate with two slices of pizza. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
“There’s more in the kitchen if you want, plus some sodas.” Scott shoved Stiles’ legs off the couch to make room, but as soon as he sat down, Stiles lifted them back up, draping them across Scott’s lap. Scott let his hand drop onto Stiles’ thigh, the most natural thing in the world. “You can sit down, if you want.” Scott pointed his chin at the armchair behind Liam.
“Oh, right. Yeah. Cool.” Liam collapsed onto it, stuffing half a slice of pizza into his mouth for want of something to do. They lapsed into silence, transfixed by the film. At least, Scott and Stiles were. Liam’s eyes kept flitting back to the two of them, snuggled up on the couch. He tracked their easy touches: Scott’s fingers intertwining with Stiles’, Stiles’ hand toying at a tuff of Scott’s hair, the foot Stiles let drop to the floor covering Scott’s toes.
Liam sniffed the air, searched for a scent. He smelled Scott, not just from where he sat on the couch, but infused into every piece of furniture, the very air. Tinged with Stiles. His eyes went unfocused as he followed it, trying to pick them apart, but he lost the thread, unable to distinguish the one from the other. There was a faint, lingering scent, peppery and spiked with heat, a heady smell of arousal. But not like before, not like in the warehouse. More baseline, almost saturated into the carpet. Liam opened his eyes, looked at the stain-speckled carpet. Had they ever…? His cock twitched in his jeans.
“Hey Liam?” He jumped at his name, nearly dropping his pizza crusts. Stiles suppressed a smile.
“Y-yeah?” Liam told himself to get a grip, turned his thoughts to puppies and puddles and other such pure things.
Scott shook his empty soda can. “Could you grab me a refill?”
“Uh, sure, no problem.”
Liam goose stepped, stiff-legged, into the kitchen. He rested his head against the cool wood of the cabinets. He pressed his crotch against the counter, groaned softly at the pressure. The movie seemed endless; he couldn’t possibly survive till the end. He resolved to bring Scott his soda, say his goodbyes, and make his getaway while he still had time. He grabbed a coke from the fridge, kicking himself for tricking himself into believing. Last month had been a fluke, he rationed, a one-time-deal. He should just be grateful, quit pushing his luck for more. Liam took a deep breath, plucking up his resolve, burying disappointment deep enough it couldn’t show.
“Hey, so it’s getting pretty late, I should probably—”
The words caught in his throat. Scott stretched his body across the couch, one arm braced against the back, holding himself upright. Beneath him, Stiles arched into his other hand, muscles of his neck taunt as he reached up to kiss Scott. The cloud of arousal hit Liam, thick as smog. His claws sprang free, pierced the thin aluminum of the can. A sugary spray poured over him, soaking his face and clothes.
“Shit, Liam!” Scott sprang to his feet, was at his side in an instant. He pried the can from his grip, handing it off to Stiles, who rushed to the kitchen. He returned, arms full of paper towels. He mopped at the carpet, handed Liam a roll of sheets. “You’re soaked. Here,” Scott turned him towards the stairs, pushing him gently, “you can change in my room. I’ll bring you a towel. Just—” He turned back to grab a handful of sodden, dirty paper towels from Stiles. “—just give me a sec.”
Liam dripped as he mounted the stairs. He held his limbs akimbo, the cotton of his shirt sticky against the skin of his chest. He slipped into Scott’s room, nudging the door shut. He stripped his clothes off, dropping them into a wet pile in the corner. He felt exposed in nothing but the tight black of his boxers. He paced the center of the room, turning his head to take in the little touches of Scott that dotted the walls. The lacrosse stick leaning against the bedframe, the computer printouts of supernatural phenomena, the pictures of his mom. Liam touched with the reverence of a pilgrim at a shrine, every discarded shirt, every crumbled test paper relics of a saint.
He caught of himself in Scott’s mirror, the tense line of his thighs, the rigid valley of his stomach. He imagined Scott standing before this same mirror, imagined him dressing, undressing, each layer revealing another swath of brown, sun-warmed skin. Had Stiles watched him, eager, hungry with anticipation? He saw the tent of his boxers rise. He sat on the edge of Scott’s bed and sent aloft a rush of his scent. Liam’s head swam with the heady smell. Sweat and hair, musk, and something else, a tang of salt, like bitter almonds. Liam lowered his face to Scott’s pillow and breathed deep. Here too, Stiles’ scent mingled with Scott’s. How often had they shared this bed? He smoothed a hand over the sheets, wet with imagined passion. A bead of precum stained dark the front of his boxers.
“Hey.” The door swung open as Scott stepped inside. Liam sprang upright, shaming his thighs together. Scott tossed him a towel. “I figured you’d want to clean up.” He stooped to scoop up his soaked clothes. “Let me toss this into the wash.”
“You don’t have—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Scott flashed him a smile, waving off his concern. Liam waited, hands covering his lap. He willed himself to think of something other than Scott and Stiles, together in this bed, but his mind swam with the smell of them. He groaned as his cock strained against its cotton confines. “They should be done in an hour or so.” Scott fell onto the bed beside Liam, an arm encircling his shoulder. “Hey.” He ducked his head to catch Liam’s eye. “Don’t sweat it. Accidents happen.”
“Can I borrow some clothes?” Scott furrowed his brow. Liam plowed on. “Once I’m dressed I can get out of your hair. I can pick up my clothes later.”
“Liam, you don’t have to leave. I’m not upset.” Scott’s hand ran down Liam’s back to settle near the base of his spine. Liam sprang to his feet, as if burned with hot iron.
“I just, think it’s best if I leave.” He kept his back turned to Scott, eyes lost on the ceiling. His heart raced.
“If that’s what you want.” Scott lowered his voice to a whisper. To a growl. “But I don’t think it is.” A shiver ran down Liam’s spine, straight to his cock. “And I don’t think you came over here just to give me back my IPod.” The bedsprings squeaked and groaned as Scott stood. The floorboards creaked with each step as he stalked closer. The skin of Liam’s back prickled, warm from the heat of Scott’s body inches from his.
“I…I…” Liam wavered, tongue thick and slow. He felt like how people made drunk sound. He swooned. “I want—”
“Look at me.” Liam thrilled at the command in Scott’s voice. He obeyed without thought or question. Red eyes swallowed his, heavy with power. Scott towered above him, strength in the hard line of his jaw. Awareness dawned and he remembered nakedness; he wished he could cover himself but dared not move. Scott’s hands hovered just shy of touching him. Liam drifted towards their gravity, hungry for touch. “Now tell me.”
“I want you. Both of you. I want—everything.” Liam stepped forward, fell into Scott’s open arms. They wrapped round his back, holding him up. He clawed at Scott’s shirt, desperate as a drowning man, ripping ten neat holes clean through. Liam tilted his chin up, lips parted in wordless supplication.
There was no tenderness in the kiss. No hesitation. Scott pulled Liam’s bottom lip between his teeth, plied his tongue inside. Liam opened to him, steady now on his feet, his hands grasping fistfuls of hair, tugging. A low growl hummed in Scott’s throat as Liam licked at the inside of his mouth. A strong hand pressed on his lower back, bringing their hips together. Liam groaned as Scott’s jean-clad crotch rubbed against his cock.
“Decided to start without me?” Stiles leaned in the doorway, a smirk toying at his mouth. “Hope I didn’t miss all the fun.”
Liam flew from Scott, wiping at his mouth. Scott, with tussled hair and kiss-swollen lips, offered a twinkled wink as he stepped to Stiles, pulling him into an embrace.
“And deny myself the pleasure of your company?” Scott kissed Stiles, wet and open-mouthed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Well, what would you dream of?” Stiles picked at the button of Scott’s jeans, slipping a hand inside. Scott swore under his breath as Stiles tugged at his dick, short, languid pulls, hampered by his clothes. Scott grabbed the back of his head, attacked Stiles’ mouth with his own. When they broke apart so Scott could lick down the side of Stiles’ neck, he looked over Scott’s shoulder to where Liam stood, awkward in the center of the room. “Scotty, don’t you think wolf-boy feels a little left out?”
Liam shrunk under such scrutiny. He felt like a voyeur, an intruder, like he should have been hiding in the closet instead of standing out here in the open. He expected any moment for a jealous lover to come rushing in with a knife, a gun. But they were both already there.
Scott pulled his face from the base of Stiles’ neck, where he’d been sucking a boiled-cherry kiss into Stiles’ skin, to turn to look at Liam. Whiskey eyes poured over him, spilling over his cock, thick and pressing against the tightness of his boxers. “No.” Scott grabbed Stiles’ hips, turning them slowly so they stood with their sides to Liam. “I think he wants to watch.”
Scott pressed on Stiles’ shoulders till he sank to his knees. Stiles looked up, tongue swiping across his lips, as Scott shoved down jeans, letting them pool mid-thigh. Scott rested his hand on the back of Stiles’ head, but he needed no prompting. Stiles took Scott into his mouth, one hand on Scott’s thigh to steady himself, the other wrapped round his cock. Stiles’ eyes fluttered shut as he bobbed his head along the thick length of Scott’s cock.
Scott let his head fall back, mouth open, as Stiles dripped and dribbled. Liam’s heart beat to the wet rhythm, the slick suck and slurp as Stiles took all of Scott into his mouth, gagging as he hit the back of his throat. Scott threaded his fingers through Stiles’ hair, began to pull and push him, faster as his hips bucked into the inviting warmth of his mouth. Stiles’ slackened his jaw, let his hands drop to his sides, content to let Scott fuck his throat.
The room filled with the heady scent of them, of precum and sweat, billowy waves of arousal rolling off all three of them, so thick Liam could smell nothing but. His cock had become painfully hard, trapped in the confines of his boxers, straining against the cotton. The pink circle of Stiles’ mouth, the taunt muscle of Scott’s arms, mesmerized him, drew him in, so his hand drifted to his cock without conscious thought. His fingers slipped beneath the band of his boxers and wrapped around his dick. He shuddered at the touch.
“No.” Liam froze beneath Scott’s gaze. Scott continued to pump into Stiles’ mouth, the wet slapping of his cockhead against the back of his throat a baseline beat. But his eyes held Liam’s. “What did I say about control?”
“I need to learn it.” The words sounded far away, Liam’s voice someone else’s, foreign to his ears. He drew his hand away from his cock, let it drop limply by his side.
“That’s right.” Scott gripped the back of Stiles’ neck, balls slapping against his chin. Spit spilled out from the ring of his lips, dribbling down his jaw and onto the floor. Stiles groaned around Scott’s cock, hands balled into tight fists. Liam swallowed, mouth full of saliva, cock dripping. “Why did you come over tonight, Liam?”
Liam couldn’t understand the question, the words strange as hieroglyphs. He tore his eyes from the gravity of Scott’s cock sliding in and out of the wet cave of Stiles’ mouth. Scott never stopped fucking, never slowed the roll and snap of his hips, as he stared down Liam. “I—I wanted…” His cheeks colored crimson, neck warm with a sudden rush of blood. “I wanted you to…to help me. Like you did last month.”
“Is this—” Scott pushed Stiles down the length of his cock, stayed nestled deep down his throat. Stiles gagged around him, lips fluttering as his Adam’s apple bobbed “—helping?”
Words abandoned him. Liam nodded dumbly. Scott pulled his cock free of Stiles’ mouth with a wet pop. He glistened in the lamplight, thick gobs of spit beading off the tip, splattering onto the hardwood. Scott threaded his fingers through a tuff of Stiles’ hair, pulling his head back, while he stroked himself off with his other hand. In a few, quick tugs he was coming, thick, ropey strings painting Stiles’ face. His tongued wagged out, lapping at Scott’s cum. He licked his lips, eager as a kitten, but most of it clung out of reach across the swell of his cheeks, dripping off the ridge of his forehead to pool in the crevice of his eye.
Scott panted, chest cresting and collapsing with each ragged breath. He stumbled back, slumping against the wall. The hollow of his throat hummed, a languid, satisfied grin sliding across his face like egg off a pan. He chuckled light and airy as he ran a hand through his hair.
“Fuck. That was—”
“Yeah.” Stiles let out a breathy laugh as he rearranged his legs beneath him. “Top ten, for sure. What got into you? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Dominant Wolf-Daddy should definitely make more frequent appearances, but what brought him out?” Scott looked up at Liam, who still stood, transfixed.
“Guess I like having an audience.”
“Speaking of.” Stiles turned around on hands and knees to face Liam. He waved a hand at his face. “Little help?” Liam looked about for a box of tissues or a spare towel. Finding neither, he picked up a discarded t-shirt, holding it out. “Thanks, but that’s not really what I had in mind.”
Liam sputtered, unsure of what to do. He looked to Scott for guidance, but his eyes stared back at him through fog, unfocused in the daze of his orgasm. Liam sank to his knees beside Stiles, hands hovering over his face, unsure if he should wipe him clean with his fingers. Stiles swiped his tongue out, licking the tip of Liam’s finger, and understanding dawned upon him.
Hesitant, Liam poked his tongue out between his lips, kitten-pink. He lapped at Stiles’ cheek, at the still-warm streak of Scott’s tongue. A taste like citrus hit him, and he pulled his tongue back inside his mouth. Stiles set his hands on Liam’s thighs, rubbed encouragingly. Emboldened, Liam licked again, dragging his tongue across Stiles’ forehead. Salty, thick like warmed honey, Scott’s cum clung to his throat as he swallowed between rapid swipes of his tongue. He worked at Stiles’ cheeks, dipping the tip of his tongue into the creases around his eyes, nuzzling down at his chin. He licked him clean, sure not to miss a single drop. Stiles’ face shone with a thin sheen of spit, eyes shut in rapture or patience he couldn’t say. And because it seemed the thing to do, Liam kissed him.
At first Stiles failed to react. But then his mouth moved against Liam’s, lips parting to swipe a tongue across his. Liam palmed Stiles’ crotch as he eased his jaw, opening his mouth further, allowing Stiles entrance, letting him lick the taste of Scott’s cum out of his mouth. His eyes, which had fallen shut, opened as he shifted his weight to push Stiles back. He saw Scott watching. He squinted, expression dark and unreadable. Liam pulled back, color rising to his cheeks.
“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” Stiles said as he grabbed Liam’s hand, “you should have. Stop apologizing.”
Liam looked between Stiles and Scott. Worry dragged down the corners of his mouth, tugged at his eyes, throat tight. “But you’re…I mean, isn’t he your…? And I—”
“And you’re my beta. Liam, we want you here just as much as you do.” Liam looked to Stiles, who nodded in agreement.
“What, you think we’d show off for just anyone?”
“But…what are we doing? I mean, are you two…” Scott and Stiles raised their eyebrows, waiting. Liam gestured noncommittally, wishing he could pluck the words from thin air. “I mean, didn’t you date Allison?”
“Once, yeah. And Stiles used to be in love with Lydia.”
“Hey, I’m still in love with Lydia.” Stiles winked at Liam. “It’s impossible not to be, if you pay attention.”
“But that doesn’t mean Stiles and I can’t love each other.”
“So he’s like, what, your boyfriend?”
Scott went quiet. A smile soft as rain pulled at the pink of his lips. A light shone in his eyes. He looked at Stiles like the night sky was painted across his skin. Like his whole life could be predicted if he watched carefully. Like people could write myths about the constellation of his moles. Like a manied precious thing. “No. He’s my everything.”
Stiles held out a hand. Scott took it, fingers intertwining, and let Stiles pull him down onto the ground. He kissed him, slow and long. Their noses bumped when they rested their forehead together, lost in the other’s eyes.
“So what am I doing here then?” Liam winced at his own voice as he shattered the moment. No, not shattered, because Scott and Stiles rolled their eyes to him, enveloped him in the soft warmth of their gaze. Scott cupped his neck, thumb rubbing at the apple of his cheek.
“There aren’t a lot of non-werewolves that would understand the bond between an Alpha and his Beta. But Stiles does. Just like there aren’t many people that would understand about me and Stiles. But I hope you do. What I feel for him, it doesn’t preclude what I might feel for you. But I’m a package deal. There’s no Scott without Stiles.”
“Which is a great deal, when you think about it.” Stiles shrugged, wide grin showing two rows of white, human teeth. “Two for the price of one.”
“This is…I mean, before last month I’d never…” Liam couldn’t bring himself to speak the words, to give voice to the acts that had kept him up for nights, which compelled him to rub himself raw.
Stiles patted his knee, squeezed. Scott let his hand drift down to his shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Anytime you want to stop, you can, no questions asked.” Scott trailed his hand down to Liam’s, grabbed his fingers as he’d done with Stiles’. “But I’ve smelt it on you, all month. The desire.” Scott lowered his voice so Liam had to lean in. “I heard you, when you first walked up tonight. I was waiting for you to knock.” Scott looked to Stiles, grinned. “We were waiting,” he corrected.
“Why do you think we asked you in?” Stiles took his other hand. “I mean, you’re a petulant wolfboy with anger issues. But damn,” Stiles slid his eyes over Liam’s broad chest, down the splayed display of his thighs, lingering on his still-hard dick, “if you don’t get a boy’s blood moving.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not half bad yourself.” Liam gave out a weak laugh, heart warmed at the squeeze around his fingers.
“You hear that, Scotty? Not half-bad. That’s practically half-good.”
“Think we can get the other half?” Something mischievous twinkled in Scott’s eye, matched in Stiles’ smirk.
“I don’t think there’s any harm in trying.”
They moved in sync, lips pressed to Liam’s throat, hands pushing him, pulling him to his feet. The back of his knees hit the mattress, he fell back, Scott and Stiles atop him. Someone tugged down the band of his boxers, wrapping a hand around his cock. He groaned into Scott’s mouth as he bucked, strong fingers digging into his hips, holding him down. Stiles licked the shell of his ear, sucked a lobe between his teeth. His blood thrilled, stirred afresh by the fullness of the moon, which he felt, even now, even here. Such touch. He grabbed a fistful of Scott’s hair, pushed his face down to suck on a pert nipple, fingers gripped tight against the back of Stiles’ neck as he nibbled on his shoulder. All the while a hand pumping at him, fingers tight, thumb swiping across his leaking slit. Boxers slid down and off, caught momentarily on his big toe. All of them, laughing, open mouthed, moist lipped.
“Roll over.” Scott—or was it Stiles?—turning him over, pulling him onto his knees. Stiles settled in front of him, hands scratching down his back. Liam sucked at his chest, wet, burnt plum kisses peppered down his sides, teeth scraping tender skin. Scott pressed his thighs apart, a hand on his lower back. Liam nestled his face between Stiles’ thighs, mouth on the crease beside his balls, hand gripped tight on his hips.
Hands grabbed his ass, spread him apart. A tongue swiped hot across his hole. Liam shuddered whole-body, mouth popping off of Stiles’ dick in a gasp, a prolonged oh which made both of them laugh. Scott buried his face between his cheeks, lapped at him, tongue dipping in and in and in, running the circle of winking muscles. Liam pushed back, hand reaching for Scott, pressing him deeper in. Spit dripped down his balls. Scott wiped a few fingers over them, grabbed Liam’s cock, began stroking. Stiles threaded his fingers in Liam’s hair, pumped into his mouth, head thrown back, mouth spewing obscenities. Scott bit, nibbled at the mounds of his ass, nails digging into his skin from where he pulled him apart. Stiles pushed Liam off his dick, pulled his face up, licked into his wet mouth.
“Fuck me.” Stiles slurred, cum drunk, pupils blown out, tongue lazy with the taste of himself. “I want—” Stiles looked past Liam to Scott, peering over the rise of Liam’s ass, “—I want to make him watch.”
And Liam could have come, right then and there. He nodded vigorously against Stiles’ cheek, kissed his mouth, sucked his tongue, bit his lip till he gasped, just on the other side of pain. Stiles slid down off the headboard, hitched his legs into the air, hugging his knees into his chest. Scott stopped licking, leaned across Liam’s back to pull open a drawer on the bedside table, tossed him a half-used bottle of lube.
“Don’t we need—”
“Unless someone’s cooked up werewolf AIDS, no.” Stiles’ voice came in whines, hips lifting off the mattress, mouth darting up to kiss at the hard line of Liam’s jaw. “Besides, didn’t seem too concerned when you were shooting down my throat last month.” Color crimsoned Liam’s cheeks, he hurried to explain, but Scott pulled him up by his shoulders, pressed him back against his chest, nestled between his splayed thighs.
“He’s teasing.” Scott’s breath puffed warm against the shell of Liam’s ear. “The bite protects us from disease.” Scott popped the lid off the lube, squeezed a fat dollop onto his palm. “But it’s sweet of you to be worried.” He sucked at the spot just below Liam’s ear as he smeared the lube across Liam’s cock. Liam tried to buck, but Scott held him, one arm wrapped tight round his middle. “Easy. You won’t hurt him if you’re careful.”
Stiles reached out, swiping a smear of lube off the head of Liam’s dick. He pressed his fingers into his hole, sliding easily up to the knuckle. A thick scent of lust chocked the air, a miasma of arousal as he watched Stiles stretch himself. The wet glide of his fingers in and out of his body transfixed him, the slow, teasing pull of Scott’s hand on his cock enough to drive him mad.
“If you’re not careful, Scotty, you’ll break our poor wolfboy.” Stiles arched, fingers rutting, hooked to rub against a sweet spot just inside. “And me too.” The flush which crept up Stiles’ neck overtook his cheeks. Sweat pricked at his forehead, underarms wet. Liam felt drunk on the smell.
“Maybe I like seeing you wrecked.” Scott slid his hand up and off of Liam’s dick. He whined petulant, turning his face to nuzzle imploring into Scott’s neck. Scott scooted them closer, tipped Liam forward. He fell onto his elbows, parentheses around Stiles’ head. His dick bobbed in the air before his hole, slick and glistening. “Go slow.”
“Not too slow.” Stiles licked at his mouth, wiggled his hips, tucking his legs tight against his chest. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Scott moved to lay beside Stiles, propped up to watched, dick in hand. He nodded when Liam looked to him for approval. He placed the head of his cock against Stiles’ hole, slid in slow as a held breath finally released. He felt Stiles tighten around him, heard the sharp, sudden intake of air between gritted teeth.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Stiles licked at his lips, gave him a quick nod. He pressed in, Stiles’ chest rising up as he arched. Liam slotted in deep, all the way to the base. Wet heat wrapped itself around his cock. He felt the muscles of Stiles’ body squeeze and stretch, slowly relaxing around the fullness of him. Liam tensed, lifted himself back onto his elbows, ducked his head to look back at himself, at Stiles, stuffed to the hilt. His cock flopped, half-hard, against his stomach. Scott reached a hand between them and began stroking him. Stiles’ eyes rolled between the two of them, smart grin tugging up the corners of his mouth. “A boy could get used to this.” He threw his head back, bared his neck to them both. Liam sucked at his collarbone as Scott nibbled on an ear. Stiles writhed, filthy little moans floating through the air like clouds. He grabbed Liam’s hips, tapping his thigh with his fingers. “I need—you to move—now.”
Liam did, rolling his hips, pulling halfway out before sliding back in. Stiles moaned, open-mouthed, lower back lifting off the mattress. Scott kissed at his jaw, captured his lips, smothered his groans. Liam sped up, encouraged by the rolled-back, slack-jawed expression of rapture playing on Stiles’ face. He rutted, balls smacking against the sweat-slick curve of Stiles’ ass. He sank his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, sucked a plum purple hickey onto the alabaster flesh.
“Fuck, oh fuck, Liam, I-yes, fuck, like that. Keep—don’t stop—keep going, just like that.” Stiles dug his nails into Liam’s thighs, desperate to hold him in place. Liam spread his knees, sweet burn in his tired arms, but he never stopped, not for a second. He bucked into the tight heat of Stiles’ body, wet smack of skin on skin filling his ears. Scott sucked on a nipple, hand once more tugging at Stiles’ dick. “Guys, I can’t, I’m gunna—”
Liam dipped down, kissed Stiles, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He hitched a thigh over his shoulder, leaning his weight into it as he smashed into him. He felt Stiles tighten, muscles pulsing. He swore into his mouth; Liam swallowed every syllable. He came, spilling ropey white over Scott’s knuckles, smearing across his stomach and chest. His body shook with the waves of his orgasm. Liam felt his balls tighten as his pace lost its rhythm, hips frantic and wild as he shot deep inside Stiles. Spent, he collapsed atop him, heaving chest to heaving chest.
“That. Fuck.” Stiles laughed, hollowed chested, a slow whistle of breath between pursed lips. Liam barely registered Scott’s hands on his hips, gently pulling his cock out of Stiles’ body. He curled reflexively against his warmth as Scott settled behind him. Sandwiched between them, sleep came sudden and heavy as a December snowfall. Someone—Stiles, maybe—reached over him to click off the light on the bedside table.
Liam knew he should get up, get cleaned up, get dressed. He felt rapidly cooling cum pressed to his back when Stiles wrapped an arm around his waist, snuggling up close. His own cock, slick with lube, drippled onto the sheets. He smelled his own seed leaking out of Stiles. The bedroom was thick with the smell of cum and sweat, soaking into the mattress, infused in the blankets and pillows. But Scott and Stiles had bracketed him in, cocooned him in the warmth of their sex-warmed bodies. He muttered something, some argument, a protest or proclamation.
“Shh,” Scott hushed, hand gently patting down a stray strand of Liam’s hair. “We’ll get cleaned up in the morning. You told your parents you were coming over here, right?” Liam nodded against his chest, eyelids growing heavy. “Then they won’t worry. Nothing weird about a study session turned sleepover.”
“Most study session involve more studying and less fucking.” Scott flicked Stiles’ shoulder, not unkindly. “Sleep tight, wolfboy.”
The world grew dark as Liam’s heartbeat slowed, falling into step with Scott’s and Stiles’. Together they marched off into slumber, arm in arm in arm.