Dylan O'Brien Short Stories

Stiles || • smut/smut

It was an incredibly stupid plan—but then again, when wasn't it when it came to the pack of Beacon Hills?

You couldn't exactly remember what had led you into this situation, or how you and Stiles got the short-end of the stick to be volunteered into it. But what you did remember was Derek rambling about hunters having a sixth sense for supernatural beings in close vicinity so—as the only two humans in the pack—you and Stiles were thrown in the deep end.

And now the deep end meant hiding in a really small closet whilst some of the deadliest hunters stood in the room just before you.

"Can you stop moving? They will hear you rustling."

"I can't!"

"Oh my god."

You were pressed against the door, using a small crack to watch the hunters in the room. You couldn't really hear what they were saying, but the tables of weapons spread out in front of them was intimidating enough.

"I'm serious, stop wiggling," Stiles hissed from behind you, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Stiles, I can't," you hissed back at him. "If you move the hanger that is poking me, maybe I'll fucking stop."

There was a pause before the boy spoke.

"That's not a hanger."

Your body tensed for a few moments as the boy's words ran through your head, taking you a few moments to really process his words before you felt your cheeks heating up.

"Stiles—"

"I can't control it," he grumbled from behind you, letting out a small groan when you tried to move away again, only to push your ass further against him. "Fuck, don't do that. Can you feel what you're doing to me?"

"I'm trying to help!" you whisper-yelled under your breath.

"That's the opposite of helping," Stiles groaned into your ear, biting down on his lip. His hands found your waist, gripping it tightly in hopes of making you stay still. "Just...stop."

Your heart was thundering in your chest, your lungs feeling like they were on fire and the last thing you should be focusing on was Stiles' dick pressing into your ass when your lives were quite literally in danger.

And yet, it was your only focus.

Maybe you could blame it on the adrenaline pumping through your body at the risk of getting caught. Maybe you could blame it on a temporary lapse of judgement. Maybe you could even blame it on the crush you had been harbouring for the boy for ages.

Or maybe, you wouldn't really need a reason as you pushed your ass back into him, rolling your hips against the bulge in his jeans.

"Shit," Stiles hissed through clenched teeth and gripped your waist harder. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh, I'm just trying to help," you murmured as your arms wound behind your, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaned against your shoulder. "Just keep quiet, Stiles."

"Fuck," he moaned against your shoulder as he began to grind his hip against your ass, something about the action so needy and desperate, and yet it set your whole body on fire.

Your hands dropped to cover his, slowly guiding them up until they were cupping your tits over your shirts, a pathetic whine leaving the boy's lips as he continued to rut against your ass. It didn't take long for muffled curses to leave his lips as he finally came.

"Shit, shit, shit," he breathlessly chanted as you continued to circle your ass against him, even when he let out a small whine. "I-I can't, it's too much."

"Such a good boy, Stiles," you whispered in the closet knowing you still had to find a way out before your luck ran out. "Such a good boy for me."

"Just for you," he whispered, face nuzzled against the crook of your neck as he squeezed your tits, listening to the soft mewls you let out as you both desperately tried to keep your cover from being blown.

credit to: @theemporium tumblr