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He Fucks My Best Friend

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“--Oh my fucking GOD, yes, right there, yes, yes, fuck.”

“Yeah, you like that?”

“Oh my f-- holy shit, yes, Derek, please, goddamnit.”

“You take me so well. Tell me.”

“Harder, fucking wreck me dude... Oh yeah, just like that you motherfucker. Please fuck me all fucking day, I am a slave to your c-cock-- ”

“Jesus Stiles, your filthy fucking mouth.”

“Later I’m going to ride you so goddamn hard, Derek. Hell yeah, gonna work you so good. I’m, jesus, yes, keep going, ohsfjitkfdkl--”

The pack has been standing downstairs for at least eight minutes. They’re all pretty sure that Derek and Stiles have forgotten about the meeting being today. Isaac is a little worried about the sounds the bed is making against the floor above, because they’re still in the process of rebuilding the house. Scott is trying to cover his ears from the breathy and guttural moans, and grunts, and skin slapping, and mattress dancing going on that involves his best friend and someone he only likes about 80% of the time, thinks maybe this is a bit of payback for all of the details he hadn’t spared about him and Allison for Stiles’ benefit.

“Oh you cocksucker,” Stiles can barely get out, voice high pitched, when the sounds of the bed jarring into the wall pick up in speed and harshness. Scott frowns, a little worried at the look on Allison’s face. She looks a little too comfortable with the situation they’re in. She shares a quick look with Lydia, who is actually blatantly enjoying this, and Jackson looks offended, well, more offended than he did before, which is not by much because Scott doesn’t think he can look any more offended then he did when he realized what was going on.

Most of the noises being made is by Stiles, who is as vocal as he is usually, chattering mindlessly, throwing out moans, calling Derek names. However, Derek is making these terrifying sounds of pleasure that make Scott uncomfortable in every sense imaginable, and Derek is also complimenting Stiles, murmuring encouragement, sometimes asking for direction.

Peter is wheezing on the floor, and Scott doesn’t know if werewolves can keel over from laughter attacks.

The movement upstairs is almost frantic now and Scott wonders, idly, why the pack is still there, obviously listening in. Boyd is completely stoic , but Erica is gripping his arm a bit harshly and Scott is so confused as to how all the girls in here are enjoying this so much.

Stiles can’t even contain any noise that spews out of him, the ‘ahhs’ and ‘oh gods’ he is making are definitely porn star material. He doesn’t have to worry about that for long, though, because he’s repeating Derek’s name like a prayer and keening and that is definitely a noise Scott will remember for life. There’s more frenzied movement and then there’s the awkward moment when he knows Derek is coming, and if Stiles' keen is something he won’t ever be able to unhear, Derek’s half growl-half moan-grunt-thing will follow him into his next life.

They all stand in dead silence, well, not really dead silence because Peter is still laughing so hard it only comes out as small gasps. 

When he hears the ‘I love yous’, though, Scott thinks he can forgive them some really terrible emotional scarring he will need years of therapy for. He wants Stiles to be happy and Derek’s not so bad when he’s with Stiles, so there’s that, too.

It takes another five minutes before Stiles is yelping out a horrified, “WHAT?!” and then there’s scrambling and Stiles appears at the top of the steps, sheets pulled around him. Derek is strolling behind him, jeans low on his hips. Scott goes back to not forgiving them because Derek is definitely not wearing underwear.

“I, for one, would like to vote to keep this as part of all the meetings,” Lydia announces and Stiles flushes scarlet basically everywhere.

Scott thinks Peter is actually dead.