Chapter Text
Werewolves were real. It’s true. Scott had fucked one before. Multiple times, actually. It was kind of his new thing. It wasn’t that he went around bragging about it or something. He really only bragged about it once to his best friend, Stiles, and it was less of a brag and more of a swapping of secrets during a late night pizza and root beer binge.
Stiles had confided in Scott that he secretly had a crush on his ex-girlfriend, Allison, before she moved away to London with her father. And Scott confided in Stiles that he snuck out of the house about two to three times in a week to get fucked by a giant werewolf by the creek that cut through the Beacon Hills Preserve. So, yeah—it was basically a totally reasonable and fair trade of information.
Although, despite Stiles being totally understanding, albeit a little skeptical on whether or not Scott was getting boned by some freak in very realistic werewolf costume instead of being the real deal, he did jokingly call Scott a “mutt-fucker” afterwards. Scott didn’t take offense, but he realized pretty quickly that it was probably in his best interest to not tell anybody else about it. Out of fear of destroying his social life if word ever got out, cutting back on the amount of times that he gave it up to giant furry werewolves became Scott’s new number one goal.
He needed to find a normal boyfriend.
The bell let everybody flood into the hallways. Scott and Stiles continued on with their little conversation that they were whispering to each other all period in the back of Mr. Harris’ stupid chemistry class. No detention this time, but they were on thin ice. Either that or Mr. Harris had been listening into their conversation the whole time, mentally deciding on whether or not to get Scott and Stiles committed to the local mental hospital.
“I really need to find a normal boyfriend.” Scott said. “Otherwise my mom is going to stop buying my excuses about getting injured at lacrosse practice, but how else am I supposed to explain why I limp around for half the week?”
“Tell Mr. Werewolf to go easier on you.” Stiles suggested.
“What’s that going to do?” Scott asked, genuinely perplexed. “Dude’s like…eleven inches.”
“Eleven fucking inches?” Stiles stopped Scott dead in the hallway, grabbing him by his shoulders so that he could look him straight in those big, brown puppy dog eyes to see if he was actually being serious. And sure enough, Scott was as serious as he could be. “Can you even take all that?”
“I have.” Scott smirked, feeling very accomplished with himself. “Multiple times.”
“Well, that’s going to be your big problem. Finding a normal boyfriend is easy, but finding a normal boyfriend that’s going to be able to compete with that is almost impossible.” Stiles said.
“Yeah…” Scott said.
“What about Danny?” Stiles pointed across the hallway to where Danny Mahealani, so tanned and muscular and sexy—with those big arms and tight bubble butt—was taking books out of his locker to prepare for his next class.
“Why? Does he have a giant dick or something?” Scott asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. I try not to look at other guys in the showers after practice. It makes me feel insecure.” Stiles joked, twiddling his thumbs in a playful loser kind of way.
“You’re like…eight inches.” Scott laughed. “Did you forget that we’ve had sleepovers since forever and I almost always catch you rubbing one out in the morning?”
“Yeah, well you can still feel insecure about being the biggest guy in the room, too. That’s a thing! Reverse insecurity? High-low self esteem? Crack open a psychology book, Scott!”
Scott just laughed.
“Nah, I can’t date Danny.” Scott brought the conversation back to a more serious front, eyeing how gorgeous Danny was even when he wasn’t trying to show off.
“Why?”
“Because he’s Jackson’s ex.”
“So? Jackson’s a douchebag.” Stiles dismissed the worry.
“Yeah, but Jackson’s also Abercrombie levels of hot.” Scott rolled his eyes. “I could never compete with that.”
“Competition is good for the soul.” Stiles said.
“Hey, I think I’m coming down with your high-low self esteem thing.”
“No, I think that’s just regular low self-esteem.” Stiles clicked his tongue, waiting until Scott shot him a dead-eyed scowl of disapproval before he poked him in the gut.
“Thanks, buddy.” Scott deadpanned.
“Okay, what about me?” Stiles stopped in his tracks again, stretching out his arms and giving himself a twirl in the middle of the hallway to let Scott check out the goods. “I’m boyfriend material.”
“You’re straight!” Scott argued.
“Sometimes!”
“You’re practically my brother.”
Stiles quickly pecked at Scott’s lips and then patted him on the cheek, making Scott briefly blush. “I can get kinky like that, little bro.”
“No, it’s just not going to work out between us.” Scott shrugged.
“Oh, I get it. Fucking werewolves gets the juices flowing, but some hot brother on brother action is where you draw the line.” Stiles feigned outrage. “Pfft…eleven inches. What kind of absurdity is that? None of us regular-shemegular guys could ever hope to compete…”
“That’s my problem.” Scott sighed.
“Do they even make condoms for dicks that big?” Stiles asked, kind of absentmindedly.
Stiles could see by just the expression on Scott’s face that there was no reason to worry about finding condoms to fit a werewolf’s dick, because there was apparently no such thing as condoms when it came down to him and the werewolf in the woods. Stiles gasped overly dramatically. He just couldn’t believe it. Those embarrassingly awkward Sex-Ed classes in grades 5-8 apparently meant nothing to Scott.
“Dude, please tell me that you haven’t been letting Mr. Bark n’ Fangs cruise down Scotty Street without an umbrella.” Stiles said.
“Uh, if that means letting him fuck me without using a condom, then uh, yeah, I guess.” Scott rubbed anxiously at the side of his neck, squinting to avoid the direct intensity from Stiles’ judgement.
“Scott, but you’re like…totally packing pussy.” Stiles gestured down to Scott’s crotch where the noticeable lack of a bulge set him apart from most of the other guys in the school.
“Well, yeah. But I don’t have the kind of plumbing that lets me get pregnant.” Scott laughed, shoving playfully against Stiles’ shoulder.
“You don’t have the kind of plumbing that lets you get knocked up by regular dudes, but who even knows how a werewolf works?” Stiles finally arrived at his locker. He unzipped his backpack and traded his chemistry book for his calculus book. “What if he has some kind of crazy magical werewolf cum that can knock you up? Your mom would flip.”
“I think my mom would flip just knowing that I have sex.” Scott said.
Stiles slammed his locker. The warning bell blared through the hallways. Class was about to begin and Stiles absolutely dreaded the puzzling torment of math that loomed ahead on his schedule. Scott was pretty lucky, however. He had swim class with all the hottest girls in the school—just soft, wet skin, skin-tight bathing suits, and the smell of perfume and chlorine. It’s too bad Scott was on the market for fur and eleven inches instead.
“How about we hang out tomorrow night and make Tinder profiles.” Stiles suggested.
“Can’t.” Scott said—sour and frustrated.
“Why not?”
“It’s my mom’s birthday.” Scott said, not budging from the sour.
“Uh, are you fighting with your mom or something?” Stiles eased. “Aren’t you supposed to be excited to celebrate her birthday?”
“I am excited!” Scott said. “But she’s inviting her dumb boyfriend over for the birthday dinner and I have to meet him.”
“So?”
“So, it’s supposed to be just us. It’s been just us since I was like eight and now there’s a new guy getting thrown into the mix.” Scott whined. “I don’t want her dating some loser.”
“To be fair, I don’t think she’d approve of your dating preferences either, Scott.” Stiles laughed. “And how do you know if the dude is a loser? You’ve never met him before. Maybe he’s a total catch.”
“Oh, he’s a total loser, alright!” Scott reaffirmed. “He’s a fucking doctor on the other side of town. They bumped into each other at a stupid coffee shop and bonded over how they both work in the medical field.”
“Unless I’ve just entered Opposite Day City, a doctor doesn’t sound like a total loser.” Stiles chewed at his bottom lip, trying to ease Scott’s frustrations. “He’s probably rich. You can make his life hell and threaten to ruin his relationship with your mom unless he buys you things—like a new motocross bike! Or a boyfriend that isn’t totally covered in fur.”
“Fat chance.” Scott grumbled. “Not about the being rich part, the part about him being able to buy me a new boyfriend. He is rich. I googled his address. He lives in fucking Hollowridge Rivers, just outside the city.”
“Wowza! Lydia lives in that neighborhood.” Stiles said. “Those are million dollar homes. I wonder why he’s still single. Maybe he’s a serial killer on the down-low?”
“As opposed to a serial killer not on the down-low?” Scott asked. “Don’t jinx my mom, Stiles. You know how bad she is at finding the right guy.”
“Yeah…” Stiles sighed.
“That’s part of the reason why I have to be supportive and not totally fuck this up for her. She might have finally found the guy that’s going to give her what she wants.”
“Aww, first comes Scotty’s new daddy, then comes the new little brother…” Stiles pinched at Scott’s cheek, making him smile and push away his hand. “Of course, said little brother will not be replacing me in the hierarchy. I can’t let that happen. It’ll damage my high-low self-esteem.”
“And we definitely wouldn’t want something like that to happen.” Scott laughed.
x
Scott was in the kitchen with a big stock pot of homemade marinara sauce on the stove. Spaghetti was a big deal in his house. It was the first thing that Scott really learned how to prepare all by himself back when he had to spend weekends at his dad’s house. Now, Scott cooked it for special occasions—spaghetti for distant cousin’s weddings, spaghetti for good grades on finals, spaghetti for his mom’s birthdays. And now, spaghetti for his mom’s birthday and meeting his mom’s new boyfriend. Scott swore that he was a full-blooded Italian in past life.
“Scott, that smells amazing.” Melissa rounded the corner into the kitchen, fixing her earrings. “What did I ever do to deserve such a sweet son that goes out of his way to cook us dinner on my birthdays?”
Melissa pulled Scott’s face closer to hers so that she could kiss him on the cheek. Scott smiled, using his forearm to wipe away any lipstick that might have transferred onto his skin. She looked so happy and excited. It helped breeze away some of the gloom Scott had hanging over his head about his mother dating somebody new.
“Uh, mom?” Scott said, noticing how his mom was all dressed up in her fancy date clothes, all except for the beat up old band t-shirt that she usually wore as pajamas. “Is your boyfriend a big fan of Culture Club or something?
Scott pinched at the hem of the old shirt, bringing Melissa’s attention to it. If his mom was fine wearing an old t-shirt, Scott couldn’t help but feel overdressed. He actually took time to brush and gel his wild poofy mess of floppy hair and he definitely wasn’t wearing any of his old t-shirts. His favorite collared shirt and a pair of ironed jeans that didn’t have holes anywhere on the knees was definitely a step up from what he would’ve worn if he didn’t care about first impressions.
“Shit…oh, jeez I forgot to change out of this after I finished with my makeup. Melissa gasped and started to scramble around right as the doorbell rang. “Oh great…”
The boyfriend was here.
“It’s okay, I’ll keep him company.” Scott offered, even though he so totally didn’t want to be alone with his mom’s new boyfriend. That shit was always so awkward. “Go back upstairs and change.”
“Okay, okay—It’ll just take a couple minutes.” Melissa hurriedly exited the kitchen. “And be nice to him!”
“No, I’m going to greet him with a good punch to the jaw.” Scott said sarcastically, which didn’t earn much of a smile from his anxious mother as she raced up the stairs. “Yeah, okay—of course I’ll be nice! Just hurry up before we eat without you.”
Scott checked himself out in the small mirror that was mounted to the wall next to the front door, just to make sure that he looked presentable. He had butterflies in his stomach, which made absolutely no sense because it wasn’t like he was going to be the one on a birthday date with the guy. He didn’t even know the guy’s name or what the guy looked like. For all he knew, the dude could be a total loser.
“Oh…” Scott opened the door to meet his mother’s boyfriend. “…you’re not a loser.”
“I can’t say that I’ve ever been called that a day in my life.” The man on the front porch carried himself with a suave power that effortlessly radiated off him.
“Yeah, I bet…” Scott said.
The guy was hot as fucking sex on a stick. From head to toe, just pure sex. He definitely looked like the kind of guy who never had to have a glow up because he probably just came out of the womb with that chiseled jawline of his, and those piercing green eyes, and that totally jacked body that Scott couldn’t help but stare at even through the well-tailored clothes that the man was wearing. The word “loser” was reserved for just about everybody else in the world except for the man that was currently standing right in front of Scott’s face.
“Sorry, uh…I mean, you’re not an ugly loser. I mean, you’re totally hot. I mean, you’re very proportional and not a loser…my mom doesn’t call you that either, I was just worried that the guy she was dating would be ugly. And you’re not! So, hooray!” Scott cringed so hard that he thought maybe it would be better if he just pretended to pass out to avoid the embarrassment of saying anything further.
“Hello, Scott.” The man smiled, offering out one of his hands. There was something in his eyes that called out to Scott. It almost felt familiar in a way, but Scott couldn’t put his finger on it. So he just shook the man’s hand and mentally kicked himself when he realized that even the man’s handshakes were perfect. “Melissa did say that you were a charmer.”
“Derek…hi…” Melissa’s voice called out from inside the house from where she was just getting down to the bottom step of the staircase, now dressed in the nice blouse that she picked out to wear instead of that old band shirt.
Great. Even the man's name was sexy. Derek. Derek…hmm. Scott could moan that name and not even feel embarrassed. Not that he was thinking about moaning his mother’s boyfriend’s name.
“Melissa! Happy Birthday!” Derek swung around the arm that he had tucked behind his back, presenting a gorgeous bouquet of bright red roses. “You look beautiful.”
“Oh, thank you.” Melissa laughed, stepping up to where Derek was standing on the porch. They warmly embraced, sharing a quick kiss between one another. “I try.”
“I’ve learned two things so far tonight—that your street doesn’t offer that much parking and that I don’t look like a loser.” Derek said, finally stepping inside as he followed Melissa’s lead.
“Somebody called you a loser?” Melissa asked, laughing dorkily. Scott was so glad that he got his awkwardness from his mother. It really was charming.
“Well, I got called a ‘hot’ loser, so I think that helps.” Derek laughed, shooting a knowing wink over to where Scott was busy shutting the door.
Scott hid his face and blushed. He couldn’t tell if Derek was trying to get him in trouble or play with him. Obviously, he was just being friendly and making small talk to defuse a slightly awkward situation. But oh damn, oh shit, oh fuck, Scott definitely wanted Derek to play with him…
“Your home is lovely.” Derek said, taking off his coat. He draped it over one of the backs of the dining table’s chairs.
Scott watched from the other side of the table, trying not to stare as hard as he knew that he was already doing. Derek removing his coat was such a simple thing to do, but it really showed off the man’s body. Despite wearing a shirt, it was tight. Like, really, really tight. He was wearing a short-sleeved, collared button-up shirt—black and made of some kind of silk, maybe? It looked really soft to the touch and clung ridiculously to every ridge and bounce of the man’s muscles underneath. Scott could literally see each one of the man’s abs. He could see the man’s pecs jutting out. Worse, Scott could even see a tuft of black chest hair puffing out from the neckline.
Derek seemed like he was hairy. The obvious chest hair was one thing, but Derek’s forearms were all pretty hairy. And he had a beard, too. It was nicely shaped up to define an already perfectly sharp jawline. The longer Scott thought about it, the more he realized that he was just standing there in the middle of the dining room mentally undressing his mother’s new boyfriend and imagining his hairy chest and hairy abs and hairy cock and hairy ass cheeks…
“Scott—? Yoo-hoo, Earth-to-Scott?” Melissa snapped her fingers. How long had she been calling his attention?
“S—sorry, what?” Scott said, blushing slightly as he turned his attention back over to where his mother was staring at him. Derek was staring at him too, but in a different kind of way—those heavy eyebrows and piercing eyes looking straight into his soul like he could read his naughty thoughts. “I, uh, just kind of lost myself for a second.”
“I was asking if dinner is ready.” Melissa laughed.
“Oh, right! Yeah, it’s just about done.” Scott livened up.
“Scott has a way in the kitchen.” Melissa joked, turning back to Derek. “Well, when he’s not eating me out of house and home.”
“I hope you’re a spaghetti kind of guy.” Scott said.
“Oh, I’m an anything kind of guy.” Derek said. “I love to eat.”
Scott was delusional. He knew that already. And he was getting wet. He knew that already, too. But he swore there was just the faintest emphasis on the words “anything” and “eat” when Derek said them. Surely, he was mistaken, because that was flirting. Right? Right! But then again, Scott was a boyfriend-less hormonal high school senior and Derek was hot as fuck, so naturally, anything that came out the man’s mouth was going to register as being flirty in Scott’s mind.
“Derek, do you want to help Scott in the kitchen?” Melissa asked, rubbing softly at the man’s arm. “I’ll get the table ready.”
“Sure.” Derek smiled softly.
As Melissa got the place settings together back in the dining room, Scott and Derek stepped into the kitchen. It was a tight alley-style kitchen, dimly lit by the warm bulb underneath the hood vent of the stove. Oddly enough, it felt both cozy and intimate, two things that made it even harder for Scott to focus as he shared the space with Derek.
“It smells delicious.” Derek said, meeting Scott’s eyes. For just a second, Scott swore that Derek eyed down to his crotch where he was lucky enough to not be built like all the other boys in school, otherwise Derek would definitely see a big boner in his jeans. “Can I have a taste?”
“A taste of what?” Scott asked, flustered because that look in Derek’s eyes was so intense. Scott felt like he was catching a fever.
“Your sauce.” Derek said, shifting his attention over to where the big stock pot was simmering with heavy red sauce.
“Oh, yeah—totally.” Scott hurriedly grabbed a new spoon from a drawer and scooped down into the big pot, accidentally burning himself when he half dunked his pinkie alongside the spoon. “Uh, try it. And please like it. It’s okay to lie if you don’t.” Scott laughed awkwardly, holding up the spoon to Derek’s face.
Derek nodded and craned slightly forward, taking the spoon into his mouth even as he kept direct eye contact with Scott. He hummed, slurping the sauce onto his tongue like a rich soup. Clearly enjoying himself and enjoying the flavor. Scott blinked slowly, chewing at his bottom lip as he got lost in the way Derek licked once more at the spoon and then casually licked at where there was a little bit of sauce on Scott’s pinkie finger.
“That’s good.” Derek said. “That’s really good. Your mom’s right. You do have a way.”
Jesus Christ.
Scott was actually pretty sure that he was going to soak through the front of his jeans by the end of the dinner if he didn’t get a handle on himself. Derek was just being nice! He wasn’t flirting. He was just hot, so anything he said and did looked hot and flirty. But Scott was definitely going to hang onto that millisecond of Derek’s tongue on his finger for later. He already knew it was getting filed and saved into his mental spank bank folder and the delusion was telling him that Derek somehow knew that, too.