kyrene_writes: (TW: stiles)
[personal profile] kyrene_writes
Title: Being Plural
Author: [personal profile] kyrenekyorl
Pairings/Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Stuart Stilinski/Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski, Scott McCall
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 40,185
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warning: sibling incest
Summary: Just accepting what Stuart was doing to him without actively participating didn't make him less of a pervert; it just made him a selfish asshole.

Author's Note: This is set in an alternate universe that's very similar to canon, but it's different, obviously, in that Stiles has a twin brother. As well, it's set shortly after the end of season two, but without the Alpha pack or other complications (though they may well happen after the end of this fic; I don't intend to specify). I'm going with the name Stuart because it's the most common one used, and because it seems relatively apt. (Stuart Stilinski isn't really anything like Dylan's character on "The Internship" though.)

A birthday gift for my Tay-love!! *hearts*

"Being Plural"
by kyrene

Stiles Stilinski had been alone for so long that he didn't even know any longer what it felt like to be part of a whole.

It wasn't as though he simply forgot that he had a twin brother. He'd spent most of his childhood as one half of a complete person, after all.

But he'd gotten so used to feeling like he was on his own as he took care of his Dad, when he tried to make sure Scott didn't do anything too dumb while thinking with his dick, and then Derek Hale had... happened. And that was a completely new and different kind of a train wreck, involving tragedy and conflicting emotions on both their parts.

Stiles had grown used to thinking of himself in the singular and he'd let the fact that he used to be plural slide away.

Even though there had been nothing wrong with the way things had used to be. He and his twin had started out as one, after all. They'd been the same egg before it had split. So of course they considered that they were each a part of the other.

Stiles had always loved that feeling, growing up; knowing that there was always someone there for him, when even their parents couldn't be, that there was someone who always understood him, that there was someone whose world revolved around him.

And then their Mom had died, and their world had fallen apart.

No one blamed their Dad for splitting a couple of grieving twins apart; not even the twins themselves. Having two rambunctious eight year old boys to take care of would have a been a struggle, but it was one the Sheriff would have been more than happy to take up. That wasn't how things had worked out, though.

Their mother's twin had asked, had begged that one of her sister's boys be allowed to come and stay with her. And who understood both the grief of losing their beautiful, vibrant mother and having lost a beloved twin better than Stiles and his own twin brother? Even at eight years old they'd empathized with her enough that they'd made the sacrifice. Although it had torn them apart to be away from one another, especially while they'd still been mourning their mother themselves.

Stiles had still had his father, who'd also been lost and mourning. And he'd thrown everything he had into taking care of his remaining parent, filling the emptiness by his side with other people that he loved. It didn't work, but he told himself that it helped.

Of course, none of them had meant it to go on as long as it had, except maybe their aunt; selfish in her grief. Losing her twin sister had made her cling to the one thing she had left of Claudia, even though the Sheriff regularly asked her when his son would come home. By the time they were sixteen Stiles and his twin had been apart as many years as they'd been together, baring the time they had spent in the womb, of course.

But now their aunt was married and expecting her first child, and it was time -- it was well and beyond time -- for her to let go of Stiles' brother. To send him back to his father and his twin.

Stiles almost couldn't remember what it was like to have an identical twin brother... and yet, he knew his heart had never forgotten. It had ached for all the years they had been apart, and now that they were drawing closer to being back together, his heart began to sing.

Excitement flared through his veins and Stiles felt as though he was going to vibrate until he exploded in a trillion sparkling shards. He couldn't count down the hours fast enough. Soon he would be whole again, for the first time since his mother's death.

After eight long years, Stuart Stilinski was finally coming home.


The fact that Dad cleared out the guestroom and prepared it to be Stuart's bedroom was a little amusing to Stiles, but he didn't protest. When they'd been kids they'd shared a room, but evidently that wasn't how things were going to be now.

Stiles helped his Dad put together the brand new bed, thinking all the while that it probably wasn't going to be slept in. He couldn't imagine either of them not wanting to sleep twined around the other.

But he humored their Dad, and he even made the bedcovers look nice, all the while knowing that he and Stuart would be wrapped up in his own sheets, the ones that were faded and smelled like Stiles, that would soon smell like both of them.

Boxes had already arrived, preceding Stuart's arrival by a couple of days, and Stiles felt weird unpacking them, but he knew he'd have wanted Stuart to do it for him if their roles had been reversed.

It hurt, a little, handling eight years' worth of memories that Stuart had made without Stiles. Toys and electronics and books and games that Stiles didn't recognize.... But it felt good, too, because he knew that Stuart would soon be here and they'd be making memories together from here on out.

Stiles put the old teddy bear that they'd used to share, that had once belonged to their Mom, in his own room, on the shelf at the head of his bed. He also stashed Stuart's porn collection in his room, under the bed. And he started wearing Stuart's clothes exclusively, instead of his own, even though it made Scott's nostrils flare and had him giving Stiles funny looks.

Scott knew about Stuart, of course. He was Stiles' best friend, his other brother who wasn't Stiles' twin. But Stiles hadn't told him yet that Stuart was coming home. At first the knowledge had been too precious, too fragile to share. And then it had just been... kind of awkward to belt out with.

Besides, Scott was so busy with Allison and Isaac that he wasn't around much for Stiles to share intimate details of his life with. Stiles figured he'd take his time reuniting with his twin and then text Scott or something. Maybe on Monday morning to, give him a short heads-up before they both walked into school together.

Stiles was feeling selfish and possessive, and he had no regrets over that fact. Stuart was arriving on a Friday evening. That gave Stiles an entire weekend with him, and he didn't need Scott buzzing around, wanting to meet the twin he'd heard so much about. Aside from their father, Stiles didn't want to share Stuart with anyone those first two days!

Of course, none of this took into account what Stuart was going to want. But Stiles was confident that whatever he wanted, Stuart would want as well. That was the way they had always worked in the past, and he couldn't imagine it changing now.

Stiles didn't feel like it was weird, appropriating Stuart's porn or clothes, and Mister Spangles belonged in his room. After all, Stiles had made the sacrifice of sending him away with Stuart when they'd been parted, and while it was really Stuart that Stiles was excited to see, he felt like he had eight years of catching up to do with their old teddy bear as well.

He jerked off a couple times to Stuart's porn, but it was pretty sparse and Stiles suspected the majority of it was going to be on his brother's laptop, the same way his own was. He'd have to get Stuart to show him. What was clear was that Stuart was just as... fluid as Stiles was when it came to gender preferences, and just as adventurous in what kinks interested him.

Not that Stiles had expected anything different.

So he helped his Dad get the new bedroom ready for his brother, he got his own bedroom ready for the return of his twin, and it helped to ground him a little, wearing Stuart's clothes, but he still felt as though his heart was going to beat its way out of his chest.

And that was even before they went to the airport to pick Stuart up.


Dinner was pizza, and Stiles let their Dad order it with pepperoni and sausage because tonight was a special occasion; couldn't have been more special. There was ice cream cake for dessert that they were all too full to really eat, but which they enjoyed anyway.

Even after eight years apart, Stuart fit back into their family unit seamlessly, and Stiles felt something inside him settle and ease out, an emptiness and an ache he hadn't even really been aware of until it was gone.

It felt good and it felt right, and there was no way he was letting go of his twin, ever again, for any reason.

"Bedtime, boys," their Dad yawned, once the clock was rolling around dangerously close to midnight. It was late by his standards but he hadn't been able to drag himself away from his two sons, coiled together on the sofa, all of them ostensibly watching television.

On the other hand it was early for Stiles, and he suspected for Stuart too. But it had been a long day with a lot of travel and emotional reunions, and so neither of them complained when their Dad chivvied them off to bed.

Hell, Stuart had a look of joy and wonder on his face that made Stiles grin to see. Being nagged at by their Dad would lose its pleasure soon enough, but Stiles wasn't going to do anything to take it away from Stuart tonight.

Once their Dad had vanished into his own room, Stiles and Stuart brushed their teeth and got ready for bed. Stiles could feel his heart pulsing painfully against his breastbone as he shut off his light and slid under the covers, shivering slightly at their chill.

He didn't have to wait more than one full minute before his bedroom door opened and closed and then Stuart was standing next to his bed.

"Hey," Stuart whispered, and let in a cool rush of air as he lifted the covers, but it was quickly followed by the lithe wriggle of his body and the heat of his skin pressed against Stiles as he curled close and pulled the blankets over their heads. "Remember when we used to do this? When we were little?"

"Of course I do," Stiles scoffed, sinking into the comfort of his brother's reality, here in his bed, between his sheets, snuggled close and closer to him. "Did you think I'd forget?"

Just because he'd forgotten what it was like to be part of a whole, that didn't mean he'd forgotten the details. And now that he had Stuart here again, beside him, curled around him, he couldn't remember any longer what it was like to feel singular. And he didn't want to remember. He was plural again, and plural was good.

Stuart huffed out a little laugh, his breath warm against Stiles' cheek as he nuzzled closer.

"I missed you," he whispered, as though it was a secret and not something screaming through both their minds in huge neon letters. "I'm glad I didn't know how much until I had you back again."

Stiles nodded, clinging tightly to Stuart. They were still completely identical, as they'd always been, but he thought that Stuart might have a little muscle mass on him. Not much, just a little. It gave him something to shoot for, though. Hanging around with werewolves who had freaking perfect bodies was bad for his self esteem, but if Stuart could look this good, so could Stiles. They were the same, after all, even if they'd been separated into two different bodies.

"Never letting you leave again," he mumbled, not thinking ahead to things like college -- they could attend the same school -- or future relationships -- there was no one on his horizon now, not since Lydia had become a friend rather than a goddess on a pedestal -- but just living in the moment, here and now, with his brother in his arms.

"Never," Stuart breathed in return, holding on just as tightly.

They fell asleep like that, and when their Dad woke them in the morning for a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, he only smiled and ruffled their hair, didn't complain at all about the money he'd wasted on buying Stuart his own bed.

And so Stiles didn't complain about the bacon, even though he resolved this was the last time he was letting his Dad get away with wrecking his health like that.

Their family was finally whole again after losing their mother. Stiles intended to make sure that he and Stuart had their Dad with them for as long as possible. And if that meant hounding him into eating healthy, well, so be it.


Having Stuart back was both amazing and natural. Even though it had been eight years, and they were both so much older now then they had been then, it felt the same as it had when they'd been younger.

Things just slipped right back into Stilinski normal, before Stuart had even been home twenty-four hours. By the time Sunday morning arrived they'd already been in three arguments, had ganged up on their Dad twice, and were sharing the chore duties evenly without complaining about it.

Stiles briefly considered claiming that eight years' worth of doing the chores alone should have entitled him to foist all of them off on Stuart, at least for a while, but he didn't have the heart. He was still just too grateful that Stuart was here.

By some sort of tacit agreement, Stiles continued wearing Stuart's clothes, and Stuart began wearing his. They shared Stiles' bed while sleeping and they shared space while awake as if it was as easy as breathing. Well, it really was.

They'd exchanged laptop passwords and then exchanged laptops in order to view each other's porn collections. Stiles wasn't surprised in the least to find that they'd duplicated one another fairly often, even with all the porn that was available out there on the internet. They were identical twins after all. Well, and they may have shared some links the last few years, as they'd kept in touch through email and chat.

It was all so much the same as when they'd been kids, only with the added dimension of them being sixteen now and having things like laptops and favorite porn links.

Which made it a good thing that Stiles had finished jerking off in the shower before Stuart barged in to join him on Sunday morning.

Spending every moment with the twin he'd been reunited with was all very well and good, but Stiles had needs. He had sixteen year old male needs. He'd taken the shower as being his only alone time and had dealt with the pressing issue at hand.... And then Stuart had jumped on in there with him.

At least Stiles had already come. Otherwise he couldn't begin to imagine how awkward this would have been. Not that it wasn't still awkward.

"Dude!" Stiles protested, turning his back on the naked expanse of his brother's body; ostensibly reaching for the shampoo but actually mostly because his dick was still half hard. "You could have waited!"

"Why wait?" Stuart asked flippantly, muscling Stiles aside as he took over the spray of hot water.

"Jerk," Stiles complained, jostling Stuart in return, leaning back into him. He felt safe enough doing so when they were back to back, both their dicks hidden from view. He wondered a little if those were identical too, and he would have asked to see if he'd been completely flaccid, but he wasn't. Without looking, he kind of assumed that they were. After all, about the only physical difference between him and Stuart was the placement of their moles and a little bit of body mass.

"Gimme that," Stuart demanded, reaching over Stiles' shoulder and snatching the shampoo out of his hand.


"Shut up."

Stiles had kind of assumed Stuart was going to use the shampoo himself and he was ready to leave the shower entirely and let his brother have it. He could go without washing his hair just fine, and he'd really mostly just gotten in the here in order to jerk off.

But then he felt long, lean fingers sinking into his hair, pressing into his scalp, and he realized that Stuart was using the shampoo on him.

Stiles meant to protest, really, but it felt too good as Stuart worked the lather through his hair, fingertips a hard pressure against his skull, blunt nails scratching just enough to tingle, not enough to hurt. Stiles was glad he'd just finished jerking off, because if he hadn't he might well be popping wood right now.

It was just his twin shampooing his hair but it was easily the most sensual experience Stiles had had with another person since he'd hit puberty, and he thought he could be excused for finding it sexual... as long as Stuart didn't find out.

The shower stall was so intimate, filled with steam and the scent of their bodies. Stiles tilted his head back when Stuart tugged at his hair and sternly told his dick that it was still sated, that it had no need to jump to attention again.

It pretty much worked. Stiles was sixteen, with a minimal refractory period, but he really had just gotten off and even his teenaged balls needed some time to recover.

Thankfully Stiles' semi was mostly gone by the time Stuart maneuvered him around to tip his head back into the shower spray. Stiles would have assumed that this would have been the end of it, but Stuart's fingers dragged through his hair, helping to rinse the suds out. His other hand was resting on Stiles' shoulder, thumb pressed against his collarbone, fingers spread, helping Stiles keep steady on his feet as he stood there with his eyes closed and his head tilted backward.

Stiles could hear Stuart breathing, could feel his body heat even with the heat of the water, and every time he swayed a little, Stuart's chest brushed against his upper arm.

Stiles didn't say anything. There wasn't anything he could really think to say. It shouldn't have felt as good as it did, but it did, and he liked having Stuart so close to him, liked having his hands on him....

And then Stuart removed both hands, squeezing Stiles' shoulder before he let go. Stiles bit his lower lip. Even though no one really wanted him, it was good to know that his big hands and long fingers were good for something; namely, that someday he might be able to make someone feel the way Stuart had just made him feel with his identical hands.

"Do you... want me to return the favor?" Stiles asked, blinking in the hot water hitting his face. He didn't really feel like those words were the right choice now, but he was at a loss, and so he asked.

"Naw, it's okay," Stuart murmured, leaning in and pressing the tip of his nose to Stiles' cheek in a weird gesture that wasn't really a kiss or a nuzzle. It was chill against the heat of Stiles' skin, making him aware of just how flushed he was. "I just wanted to help you out."

Stiles nodded, relieved when Stuart stepped back and poured some shampoo for himself, the product puddling pearly white in his palm....

And that reminded Stiles just a little too much of why he'd gotten in the shower in the first place!

"Well, I'm done," Stiles squeaked awkwardly, nearly tripping as he exited the shower. It wasn't that he minded sharing the space with Stuart; at least not now that he'd gotten his rocks off. But he was afraid that if he stayed in there with all that naked, wet flesh he might pop another boner.

And getting hard in the presence of his naked twin brother was something that Stiles didn't think he could recover from. So... best to avoid the situation altogether.

Stiles wrapped his waist in a towel and grabbed his clothes, retreating to his bedroom to dry off and get dressed. And he resolutely told himself that his skin was not tingling the entire time, thinking that Stuart might be jerking off in the shower the same way Stiles had just done.

Even though he dead certain that his twin brother doing just that.


The first time Derek saw Stuart, it was hilarious.

The first time Stuart saw Derek, it was so far from hilarious that Stiles felt like he needed to invent a new word for how not hilarious it actually was.

Derek's first glimpse of Stuart came when the Stilinski twins were in the grocery store on Sunday afternoon, arguing over which flavor of toaster pastry to get because their Dad had said they could only get one. Stiles was pretty sure he was going to let Stuart win, still feeling generous and emotional because his twin was home, but he still had to make sure he made his preference was known first. It was the principle of the thing.

Something hit the floor loudly nearby, capturing their attention, and Stiles and Stuart glanced over in tandem. Both their mouths fell open, but in Stiles' case it was because it was Derek who'd dropped a bag of flour -- which thankfully hadn't broken open, and why was Derek Hale buying flour anyway? -- and in Stuart's case it was most likely because Derek was hot like burning.

Which, Stiles had mentioned that to Stuart many times when they'd communicated recently, but he knew it was different seeing it rather than just hearing it.

Derek's lips were parted too, his little bunny teeth showing white in the gap, and his wide-set, pale-bright eyes were round and a little glazed over. He looked more confused than surprised, and Stiles kind of assumed no one had ever told him about the Stilinski twins. He certainly hadn't. So, yeah, seeing Stiles standing here with someone who looked almost exactly like him... was probably more than a little confusing.

"Hey, Derek," Stiles said, speaking in normal tones even though Derek was an entire aisle away, because he knew he would be able to hear just fine, with his supernatural senses and all. He raised a hand, giving a half-hearted little wave and tried to smile.

"That's Derek?" Stuart gaped, and Stiles didn't approve of the head-to-toe look Stuart gave the Alpha werewolf, but he couldn't really blame his twin. "Please tell me you are tapping that!"

"What-- no!" Stiles squawked, flailing before clapping a hand over Stuart's out-of-control mouth. "Oh my God, shut up!" he hissed in Stuart's ear. "Werewolf hearing!"

As if he wouldn't have told Stuart if he was tapping that, Stiles thought, a little resentfully. As if he wouldn't have told Stuart if he wasn't still a frustrated virgin.

As if there were any universe where Derek would.

Stiles dropped his hand and glared at Stuart, who only smirked. First at Stiles, then, more pointedly, at Derek.

Stiles dared a quick glance over. Derek's cheekbones were flushed, as were the tips of his ears, and he'd averted his gaze, eyebrows wiggling in strange ways. It was equal parts adorable and terrifying, because Stiles couldn't be sure he wasn't going to come over and tear their throats out.

His own face was blazing, and he continued to glare at his idiot twin. Stuart just smirked more broadly. Asshole. Why had Stiles wanted him back so badly?

Although, to be honest, Stuart wasn't really any more of an asshole than Stiles was, generally speaking. And Stiles truly appreciated that fact... or at least he did so when it didn't lead to him wanting to die of embarrassment in the middle of the grocery store.

Derek had picked up the flour he'd dropped and put it in his cart -- he had a cart! -- and now he was making his way over to the twins, even though his face seemed to be saying that he was doing so against his better judgment.

Stiles wished Derek had exercised that better judgment. He really did.

"Stiles?" Derek queried softly, and to his credit he looked right at Stiles as he said it, even though Stiles and Stuart were wearing each other's clothes and looked virtually the same, down to the messy hair.

But then, it had been Stiles who had greeted him and Stuart who'd been perving over him, so it wasn't really that amazing that Derek could tell them apart.

"Hey," Stiles greeted weakly, even though he'd already said that. "So... Derek, meet my twin brother, Stuart."

He flapped his hands in Stuart's general direction and fought the urge to say "Tah-dah," or something equally lame. Hey, at least he'd resisted the urge to introduce Stuart as his evil twin. He'd done so in the past and probably would in the future, to be perfectly honest.

Stiles was actually mildly surprised that Derek didn't know he had a twin. Stuart had lived in Beacon Hills for the first eight years of his life, after all, and the Stilinski twins had been notorious mischief makers. But then, the Hale family had been very reclusive, and Derek would have been in high school when they'd still been in elementary school. So there wouldn't have been much overlap, if any.

It occurred to Stiles belatedly that maybe he should have told Derek about Stuart's return before he ended up face to face with Stiles' mirror image. After all, Derek was the Alpha and this was his territory....

But then again, Stuart wasn't a werewolf and Stiles wasn't a pack member. So it really wasn't any of Derek's business, right?

Except for the way it totally felt like it was.

There was a small crease between Derek's thick brows as he looked Stuart over -- at least as thoroughly as Stuart had done to him, though with more predator's gaze and less elevator eyes -- but then he nodded slightly and held out a hand.


It was weird seeing Derek introduce himself like a real human being, but it was even weirder that he smiled at Stuart as he did it. It was only a small smile, but it was a smile. He'd never smiled at Stiles like that!

Had Derek ever smiled at him at all? Stiles wondered, as he tried not to glower in what felt an awful lot like jealousy. What did he care if Derek was smiling at his twin brother? Stuart was his and Derek... definitely wasn't.

"Hey, Derek," Stuart said, smooth as you please, and Stiles envied his twin the confidence he obviously felt in the face of the Hale hotness. Well, it wasn't as though he was meeting Derek while trespassing in the Preserve forest or talking to him through the mesh of a police car after accusing him of murder. "I've heard so much about you."

Derek blinked, and Stiles could see that he was nonplussed even though he kept his face blank in a way that would seem expressionless to the casual viewer. As for Stiles, he was still burning with embarrassment and now he was even more ready to throttle his twin.

"Not that much," he protested, because the last thing he wanted was for Derek to think he'd been talking about him behind his back... even though he totally had been. But Stuart was his twin brother, of course Stiles was going to tell him about the werewolves in his life! All of them; Scott, Derek, Peter, even Jackson, who'd been a kanima before he'd become a werewolf, and who still didn't deserve the bite in Stiles' completely unbiased opinion.

And, okay, maybe Stiles had talked more about Derek than anyone else. But that was just because he and Derek kept somehow getting thrown into life-and-death situations together. And Derek was the Alpha. And Derek was hot like burning. And....

"I was away, but now I'm home. To stay," Stuart proclaimed, and Stiles blinked when one of his brother's hands closed tightly around his wrist. Okay... so maybe he wasn't the only one feeling possessive?

Derek nodded, his expression ridiculously serious. Earnest was a good look on him, Stiles thought idly, and one he didn't sport often enough. Usually Derek was glowering. Or snarling. Or, on the truly terrifying occasions, seeming moments away from crying.

That last had only been a couple of times, thankfully. And Stiles would never tell anyone about them; not even his own identical twin brother.

"Welcome to Beacon Hills," Derek said, and it seemed like something he had the right to say rather than sounding mocking. Well, he was the local Alpha, even if Stiles was pretty sure Scott would never acknowledge that fact.

Derek was a pretty shitty Alpha, Stiles mused ruefully, but he was better than Peter had been. People died around Derek, but he never really killed anyone. Except, ironically, Peter. Heck, even the people Derek had been trying to kill -- like Lydia when Derek had suspected she was the kanima -- were still alive.

And the one person Derek had managed to kill, namely his uncle Peter, hadn't stayed dead.

Mostly Derek ended up doing his best to save people, Stiles thought with a faint feeling of surprise at the realization. It happened almost incidentally, instinctively, much the way Stiles himself worked, but it did indicate that Derek had a bigger heart than he liked to pretend.

Stiles didn't. His heart was small and was reserved for only a few people. That was okay, though. Stiles wasn't an Alpha werewolf. He did wonder, though, when and how Derek had become one of those people for him, that he protected and cared about. And he wondered when and how he'd become one of those people for Derek, because he was pretty sure he was. He wondered if Stuart would become someone important to Derek, and didn't know whether he actually wanted that or not.

"Boys?" their Dad called from a couple of aisles over, and Stiles had to smile a little at how easily the word fell from his lips even after eight years. Their father was hailing them, Stuart was bruising Stiles' wrist, and Derek was staring at them fixedly, probably seeing more than Stiles was comfortable with.

Stiles was definitely ready to end this uncomfortable grocery store meeting.

"Coming, Dad!" he called. Then he smiled at Derek, knowing it was a little sickly. "Well, see you later, Derek."

Derek nodded slowly, then paced back over to his cart and pushed it away, in the opposite direction from where their Dad was.

Stuart was watching him go, probably staring at his ass, and Stiles took the opportunity to put back the toaster pastry Stuart had wanted and to grab his own choice.

Hey, after Stuart's blatant ogling of Derek and both of them embarrassing Stiles half to death, it was only fair that Stiles get something out of it.

Stiles would take his petty triumphs were he could get them, thanks.

Also, s'mores flavor was better than brown sugar any day of the week, and Stuart was crazy for thinking otherwise. Evidently Stiles and Stuart weren't identical in every way.


Stiles probably should have expected that Stuart would be more touchy-feely and clingy after getting home from the grocery store, but it still surprised him a little.

He had no idea why. Yeah, he'd told Stuart how hot Derek was, but he'd also told him all about what an asshole he could be, about how he'd almost made Stiles cut off his arm, about how much of a mess he was....

So... what? Did Stuart think Stiles liked Derek or something? If so, then he obviously hadn't really been listening.

Well, Stiles tolerated Derek more now than he had when they'd first met. He felt kind of sorry for the guy; Derek kept trying and yet he never came out on top. Never. Stiles didn't dislike Derek, most of the time. Not anymore, anyway.

But it wasn't like he was gonna go off with Derek and desert his brother! That was absolutely ridiculous.

Stiles wasn't sure how to broach the subject without risking having misread the situation, so he just let Stuart push him around -- literally -- while they made dinner, let Stuart practically drape himself over his lap while they watched tee vee after dinner, and then when it was bedtime they bumped elbows because Stuart insisted they brush their teeth at the same time, instead of taking turns like they usually did.

Stiles really hoped Stuart wasn't going to get worse after school tomorrow, once he'd met Scott. Derek was just some guy who'd saved Stiles' life a few time, whose life he'd saved in turn. Scott was Stiles' actual best friend.

Stuart didn't even make a pretense of going to his own bed that night. He was so close on Stiles' heels that he was almost stepping on them as he followed him into his room and he clambered under the covers right behind Stiles, wrapping himself around his body like an octopus or something, before Stiles had even managed to get settled so that his shirt wasn't twisted around his waist and his boxers weren't riding up his crotch almost painfully.

Stiles desperately wanted to ask Stuart what was wrong but he couldn't find the words as Stuart wound his arms more tightly around him and stuck his nose in his cheek in that weird nuzzle not-kiss way he did. Stiles didn't remember that from when they'd been younger, thought it was a new thing. He actually found it to be kind of sweet, but Stuart had a pointy nose. Well, they both did, obviously. But it was Stuart's pointy nose that was digging into Stiles' cheek right now.

"You okay?" Stiles ventured, running a hand cautiously over the warm skin of Stuart's back. He wasn't wearing a top, just pajama bottoms, which had to be more comfortable than the shirt Stiles had on, but all that bare flesh made Stiles feel a little nervous.

Just on general principle. After all, this was his twin brother, right? Nothing untoward there.

"I'm fine," Stuart mumbled, hitching closer -- not that there was any closer to get -- and pushing his face into Stiles' neck now. No more pointy nose, but Stiles could feel the heat of his brother's cheek against his throat and he wondered if Stuart was flushed for some reason. Maybe he was coming down sick...? Ugh, hopefully he wouldn't give it to Stiles! When both of them were sick, it was double-miserable. Stiles definitely remembered that from when they'd been kids.

"I believe that," Stiles said in his most disbelieving tone, because he still remembered telling Scott and Ms. Morrell the same thing, and he remembered how absolutely not true it had been at the time. "So, what's up?"

That was nice and vague, and Stuart could answer it however he wanted. Stiles was pretty proud of himself for getting the question out there, and for leaving the next step up to Stuart.... But it didn't really do him any good in the end because Stuart just plain didn't answer.

Stiles was starting to feel really uncomfortable. Stuart was warm and solid beside and around him, his arms lean and one leg slung over Stiles' thighs. Stiles' body was beginning to think that this was awfully intimate and didn't seem to realize that it was his twin brother. Stiles had thought sharing the shower had been awkward, but it was nothing to compare to this.

It didn't help that Stuart's hand began to slide along his side, where his shirt was rucked up, and his palm was heavy and hot, his fingers unhesitating.

"Hey," Stiles whispered, and he didn't know what to follow that up with so he left it hanging, but he knew that he was going to have to ask Stuart to stop in a moment, and that was going to make this even weirder than it already was.

And then weird got thrown right out the window and Stiles sucked in a loud gulp of air as Stuart's hand migrated unerringly down to rest over his stirring crotch.

"Remember what we used to do?" Stuart asked, levering up to breathe the words hot and moist into Stiles' ear. "When we were sharing the bed before?"

And this was nothing like when he'd asked if Stiles remembered sharing the bed as kids, that first night he'd been home, even though the words were almost exactly the same.

Stiles didn't remember... he didn't....

Oh, wait.

Yeah, he did.

Now that Stuart had said something, the memory sprang right into Stiles' head and he wondered how he'd forgotten. Maybe he'd blocked it out....

They'd been eight, not yet pubescent, but as Stiles well knew that didn't stop kids from exploring. And he and Stuart had always been close, even when they weren't sharing a bed. But most especially when they were.

Just before their mother had died and Stuart had left to live with their aunt, Stiles recalled now, they had clumsily touched one another, had frotted against each other a little.... It had only happened twice, which might be part of why he'd set that memory aside. But now Stuart had said something, had brought it out in the open, and Stiles couldn't claim not to know what he was talking about.

"We were... we were kids then," he whispered back, holding perfectly still, knowing he should push Stuart away, or at least grab his wrist and prompt him to remove his hand, but feeling helpless and unable to move as his twin's fingers flexed slowly over the hardening shaft of his dick through the material of his boxers.

And he'd thought his boxers had been riding up before.

"So?" Stuart challenged. "Some people would say we're still kids right now. Derek probably thinks we're kids."

Stiles honestly couldn't decipher Stuart's tone of voice as he spoke this last sentence, though he usually had no problem figuring out what his twin was feeling or thinking even after their many years apart. Stuart didn't seem scornful when he spoke Derek's name, but that was about all Stiles could say with any certainty.

Before Stiles could come back with anything, his brain kind of shorting out because Stuart was still manipulating his dick through the thin material of his boxers, Stuart continued.

"Are you saying that we didn't know better? Because I'm pretty sure that even when we were eight, we knew what we were doing."

Stiles felt himself blush, his cheeks burning. His eyes were closed, but that was okay because there wasn't anything to see; he could only lay here and feel.

Feel the way his twin brother was still nuzzling his throat, feel the way Stuart's hand was wrapped around his growing erection, feel the way his breath was coming shorter and sharper. Not in the way that happened when he had a panic attack, but in the way that happened when he was jerking off.

Well, that was pretty apt, since that was what Stuart was just about doing right now.

Stiles had been able to tell that meeting Derek had rattled Stuart somehow, but he hadn't anticipated that he'd wind up being groped by his own twin brother as they lay in bed together.

And why wasn't Stiles jumping out of bed or pushing Stuart away? It couldn't be because of how Stuart was wrapped around him. If Stiles really tried to free himself, he was pretty sure Stuart would let him go, if only when he started making a fuss, because their Dad might come in to check and see what was going on.

But instead, Stiles was laying here, mostly on his back, Stuart draped over him and wrapped around him, his hand locked around Stiles' hard-on. Which Stiles couldn't deny he had, and not just because of manual stimulation.

This was the first time he'd had a hand on his dick that wasn't his own. It was true that Stuart's hand was pretty much a duplicate of his own -- aside from the bitten-down nails -- but it wasn't his hand and so it felt different. It felt amazing.

Stiles knew he ought to bring a stop to it, for the sake of his sanity, for the sake of his relationship with his brother. His twin brother. Who was touching him in the bad way.

Well, it didn't feel bad. Pretty much the opposite of bad. But it was definitely... um, morally objectionable, right? They weren't eight anymore. They didn't have the excuse of being young and stupid.

Except that they totally did. As Stuart had pointed out, at sixteen they were still considered kids by a lot of people. Like Derek. Like their Dad.

Stiles was supremely disconcerted by the fact that thinking of their father -- albeit briefly and fleetingly -- didn't lessen his erection in the slightest.

But to be fair, Stuart was still holding onto his dick, fingers flexing, not quite stroking it, but not far from doing so. Stiles' thigh muscles kept tensing, even though he was preventing himself from moving his hips into the touch by sheer force of will. It was hard, though.

Pun not intended.

Stiles was just thinking about how turned on he was despite his stupid brain trying its best to flood him with unsexy thoughts, when Stuart's hand left his hard dick. Stiles could have sobbed -- with relief, right? -- but then Stuart's fingers were sliding under the waistband of his boxers, and the next thing he knew his brother's fingers were closing over the bare skin of his dick.

Stiles jumped in Stuart's arms, and he was pretty sure he released a strangled sound of some sort. His erection felt like it was burning in the clasp of Stuart's hand, and he could feel the tip getting wet with pre-come. There was absolutely no way he could pretend that this wasn't happening.

"Shh, it's okay," Stuart whispered, nuzzling Stiles' cheek, then shifting up to press his lips to Stiles' temple. Like he was trying to calm him down when his hand was on Stiles' hard-on inside his boxers.

The strange thing was that it kind of worked....

Except for the part where his twin brother had his hand on Stiles' dick!

"Stuart," Stiles choked, but he couldn't force any words out other than his brother's name. Probably because he knew he should tell Stuart to stop but he couldn't bring himself to do so.

"Hush," Stuart urged, and he began moving his hand slowly, careful because his grip was dry. But even this gentle manipulation was wringing the most intense sensations out of Stiles' dick that he had ever felt. "I've got you."

Stiles wanted to say, "Duh," wanted to point out that as identical twins they both had each other, but he kind of figured Stuart meant something else. Especially since he had his fingers wrapped possessively around Stiles' straining hard-on.

There was no way Stiles could pretend that he wasn't aroused now, and no way he could deny that it was Stuart's doing. He didn't even bother trying.

Truthfully, he was too busy trying to remember how to breathe -- just laying there and soaking in the new feelings his twin was giving him -- to be anything but honest. Not that Stuart wouldn't have called him on a lie in a heartbeat.

Stiles had always known, objectively, using his imagination, that having someone else touch him would be incredible. But the knowing and the reality of it were two completely different beasts.

And when it was someone that he knew and trusted as intrinsically as he did his identical twin brother, that added another layer to it, made it that much more intense.

Of all the ways Stiles had thought and imagined that he'd become sexually active, he'd never have envisioned doing so with Stuart. But here they were, and Stiles was having a really difficult time convincing himself this wasn't happening.

Mostly because it so emphatically was happening.

"Grab the lube," Stuart whispered, as though he knew that Stiles kept it close at hand, within reach while he was laying under his covers. He probably did know, even if he didn't know.

Stiles balked, briefly. Retrieving the lube as directed meant that he was complicit in this, that he was an active participant. It wouldn't just be something Stuart was doing to him, it would be something they were doing with each other.

"Come on," Stuart husked, nuzzling Stiles' cheek with the tip of his nose again and giving his captive dick a little squeeze.

Stiles caught his breath as a stab of arousal shot through him. It had already been a low-key buzz under his skin that he'd been trying so hard to ignore. But this... this was the thing that had him reaching for the bottle of slick that he kept in his headboard.

Stuart didn't say anything as Stiles handed him the lube with a hand that was maybe kind of shaking a little, which was a smart move. The wrong thing would send Stiles flying out of his own bed. He was on edge and his brain was chanting, "This is wrong, this is wrong," over and over again....

And yet, it was Stuart. He wasn't doing this to hurt Stiles. He wouldn't hurt Stiles, not any sooner than he'd hurt himself. In fact, he was offering to make Stiles feel good. Very, very good.

It was terrifying to admit that he wanted this too, and so Stiles kept his mouth closed as well.

That didn't mean that a little whimper didn't escape his lips as Stuart pulled his hand out of his boxers. His hard-on was flushed and hot with blood, and yet it suddenly felt cold without the clasp of Stuart's fingers around its shaft.

"It's okay," Stuart told him, keeping his voice down. Their father was just down the hall, after all.

And once again, this thought did nothing to quench Stiles' arousal. All it did was underline for him how close he and Stuart were, in spite of their eight years apart.

He turned his head toward Stuart and he wasn't sure whether he was going to agree or argue the point, but before he could say anything, a hot mouth slid over his open lips, effectively silencing him and giving him all the more cause to internally freak out.

Stiles hadn't ever been kissed like this before; not all plush lips and licking tongue, and it was a really bizarre thing to know that when Stuart kissed him, Stiles was feeling exactly what someone else would be feeling if he kissed them, because their lips were the same....

Only maybe not entirely, because Stuart seemed to be a lot better at this than Stiles was.

Jealousy surged through him as he thought about Stuart kissing girls or other boys, and suddenly he felt as though he might understand what Stuart had been feeling after having met Derek in the grocery store.

Not that Stiles would ever have a chance in hell of doing anything with Derek -- who was an insanely hot Alpha werewolf and who didn't even like him -- no matter what his twin brother thought. The faith Stuart evidently in him was flattering, but Stiles knew what was what.

Now wasn't the time to be thinking about Derek, though. Not with Stuart's tongue slithering into Stiles' mouth, and he wouldn't have thought it would feel so startling, to have a part of someone else's body sharing space with his own tentative tongue like this, but it really did take him completely by surprise. It felt invasive and yet perfect all at once, and he let out another whining sound as Stuart's tongue swirled forcefully around his, demanding and certain.

There was a part of Stiles, a big part, that couldn't believe he was making out with his twin brother. This was certainly not something they'd ever done, back when they'd fooled around a little bit eight years ago.

But it felt just as natural, just as easy. Even though Stiles knew objectively that they shouldn't be doing this, there was no way he was going to make Stuart stop. Their mouths came together with slick sounds, they meshed perfectly, and while Stuart was the better kisser to start with, Stiles knew that he was a quick learner.

Stuart was definitely more skilled at this than Stiles was, because while all of Stiles' attention was wrapped up in what their mouths were doing Stuart evidently managed to get into the lube and then he got his hand back inside Stiles' boxers, fingers wrapping around the blazing shaft of Stiles' erection and moving much more smoothly now.

Stiles let out a throttled yelp, thankfully muffled into Stuart's mouth, and his back arched. Initially it was due to the slight chill of the lube on his brother's hand, but after a moment or two of friction, of Stuart easily tugging at his dick, it was rising pleasure that had Stiles moaning into their kiss.

"Hush," Stuart said again, and Stiles knew that he had a point -- a really good point -- but it wasn't as though he was in complete control here. The opposite of that, in fact.

This was nothing like jerking off, which didn't actually surprise Stiles at all. He couldn't do anything but lay there and take it as Stuart tugged on his straining erection, dragging more and more intense pleasure out of his body.

Stiles' breath was coming harder and heavier, and Stuart broke their kiss when they were in danger of cutting one another's lips with their teeth. Stiles might have missed that intimacy, but Stuart was fisting his throbbing hard-on with tight lube-slick fingers, and Stiles' hips were moving with growing urgency, and he knew he was within moments of coming, no matter how embarrassing that might be.

But, dude, this was the first time someone other than himself had even touched his dick, much less given him a skillful and determined hand-job. Stuart seemed to know exactly what Stiles liked and he did just that.

The thought that this was probably the same technique Stuart used to jerk himself off was what sent Stiles over the edge, and Stuart had to clap his free hand over Stiles' mouth as he came with a little more noise than was prudent.

The sensation of his twin's large palm covering his mouth, forcing his lips into his teeth, the spread of long, strong fingers over Stiles' burning cheek, the way he was so completely and carefully smothered had Stiles' dick twitching and shooting one last time in Stuart's steady grip inside his boxers.

Stiles felt no shame over the fact that being mastered like that had turned him on even more, he only felt the toe-curling pleasure that swept through him and filled his head with crimson buzzing and sent a burst of heat through the entirety of his body.

Stuart was crooning something comforting, Stiles thought, but he couldn't make out actual words through the humming of white noise in his ears, over the gusting of his own heavy breathing, over the pulse of blood in his veins.

As he came back to his senses, Stiles realized that Stuart's hand was still covering his mouth -- though his nose was free so that he could still breathe easily -- and he could feel the hardness of his brother's erection sliding against the hollow where Stiles' hip and thigh met. Stuart was humping against Stiles' pelvis through the soft material of his pajama bottoms. Stiles' boxers were riding up more and more with each thrust of Stuart's dick, but he was still mostly focused on his own tingling genitals, which were still clasped in Stuart's hand though more loosely now.

Stiles was just beginning to recover from his orgasm and wonder if he ought to offer to help Stuart out or something when Stuart stiffened and gasped, his hard-on jerking between their close-pressed bodies as he evidently came in turn.

It was something of a relief, Stiles thought hazily. It might have been rude of he hadn't at least offered to help his twin brother get off... but on the other hand, he'd never asked Stuart to jerk him off in the first place. What Stuart had just done to Stiles might have been considered something along the lines of dubious consent....

Except for the fact that if he'd tried to resist or break away, Stiles could have done so. And he hadn't. Instead, he'd kissed Stuart in return and he'd let his brother jerk him off and there was no way to take any of that back now.

The scary thing was that Stiles didn't know if he wanted to take it back.

It was wrong... wasn't it? But it had felt so good. And he and Stuart were twin brothers; they shared everything. Stiles didn't exactly have people lining up to get him off, had only kissed one girl on the lips, quick and closed-mouthed, and he didn't exactly have a lot of prospects for the future, either....

And this was Stuart. His identical twin brother. The one person who knew Stiles inside and out and still loved him anyway. Probably the only person who would ever feel that way.

"Are you freaking out?" Stuart murmured, leaning in close and kissing Stiles' flushed cheek, his mouth soft and plushy and only a little bit damp. It felt like a little-boy kiss, and for some reason it calmed Stiles down considerably, even though Stuart's hand was still wrapped around his slowly softening dick inside his come-smeared boxers. Maybe it reminded him of when they'd been tiny, back when sharing the bed had been innocent and harmless.

"A little," he replied honestly, surprised by how hoarse his voice came out sounding. "Dude, you just...."

Stuart chuckled when Stiles couldn't even finish that sentence.

"Yeah, I did," he said unrepentantly.

Stiles wanted to ask him why. Wanted to know if this was something Stuart expected would happen again. He knew he ought to kick his brother out of his bed, make Stuart go to his own room.

But instead he found himself saying, "I need to get out of these boxers."

Not only had he come inside them, his jizz getting all cool and tacky and gross, but they were riding up more than ever, giving him one hell of a wedgie that he could feel in all its glory now that he wasn't on the verge of coming.

Stuart chuckled again, kissed his cheek again, and then suddenly he was out of the bed, leaving a cold, empty spot next to Stiles where he had just been huddled close.

Stiles whined, the sound forced out of him against his will, but he didn't protest as Stuart walked away. Instead he reached under the covers and peeled off the offending underwear.

He was using the abused material to mop up his dick, balls, and belly -- underneath the covers, unwilling to lift them and confront the reality of what had just happened -- when Stuart padded back into the bedroom, naked and carrying a dampened washcloth.

Stiles blushed a beet red but he let Stuart clean him up without protesting. The warm-wet washcloth slid over his still throbbing dick in ways that had it twitching, but like in the shower, Stiles had come too recently to get hard again. That didn't stop his breath from catching and his heart from pounding in his chest.

"There," Stuart said, carelessly dropping the used washcloth on the floor beside the bed. "All better."

Stiles scowled, ready to utter the old familiar protest that just because Stuart had been born two hours before Stiles had been, that didn't actually make him the big brother, but before he could do so Stuart was stripping his teeshirt over his head and leaving him as naked as Stuart was.

"Oh my God," Stiles gasped, sinking into the sheets, but he didn't try to squirm away when Stuart slid under the covers again and reached for him.

It felt weird and new to have all that bare skin pressed right up against his, Stiles thought, as Stuart pulled him in close once more. And yet it felt completely normal and natural at the same time, because it was Stuart.

Exhausted by his emotions and the fact that he'd come super hard and fast, Stiles allowed himself to sink into sleep.

There was going to be hell to pay tomorrow, he mused sleepily. And he was laying in bed naked with his brother. But right now he was sleepy and Stuart seemed to be over whatever had gotten him all fussy and possessive.

So even though it was against his better judgment, Stiles let go of everything and allowed himself to slide into slumber.

Tomorrow would arrive, eventually, but he didn't have to deal with anything until it did. And in the meantime, he didn't want to have to think about it.

It was much nicer to curl up close to his twin brother and sleep the sleep of the well sated.


Stiles was awake and out of bed well before the alarm went off the next morning. There was only a small chance that their father would come into their room and pull the covers off in an attempt to get them up, but if he did so he'd get one hell of an eye-full. And Stiles was pretty much one-hundred percent certain their father wouldn't handle the fact that his sixteen year old sons were sleeping together in the nude very well.

Stuart slept through Stiles tumbling over top of him on his way out of bed, Stiles cursing as he stepped on the cold, wet washcloth still laying on the floor, and the noise of Stiles grabbing some clean clothes then leaving the room.

After showering Stiles felt a little better. He'd jerked off and done his best not to think about how it had felt to have Stuart doing the same thing to him the night before, and once his morning hard-on was taken care of he felt safe enough in attempting to wake his brother.

He could smell coffee brewing downstairs, which meant their Dad was up, so he went back into his room and shook Stuart until he roused. He'd briefly considered jumping on his sleeping brother, but after what had happened the night before that would have definitely been a bad idea, even with the bedcovers between them.

"Wake up," he said as cheerfully as he could manage when his heart was pounding in his throat. "It's time to get ready for your first day of school at Beacon Hills High!"

Stuart buried his face in the pillow he'd appropriated and uttered a muffled groan. Stiles had already informed him of just how shitty a school Beacon Hills High really was, had been complaining about it to his twin via email, text, and web-chat since he had first started attending, and so Stuart knew exactly what he was headed into.

Of course, Stuart was probably more socially adept than Stiles was, not that it would take much. But no matter how well he might get along with the cool kids, Stiles was relatively certain that Stuart wouldn't leave him behind. He wasn't crazy enough to think that Stuart's potential popularity would grant Stiles an "in" with the cool kids. It hadn't worked that way when Scott had made his brief foray into popularity. But the mere possibility gave Stiles a little hope for the future.

Well, to be fair, he didn't want to spend any more time with Jackson than he absolutely had to. But Lydia and Danny were another matter entirely.

Thinking about maybe getting invited to parties, maybe actually going on a date someday, Stiles had actually kind of forgotten that Stuart was completely naked underneath the covers.

That was why he squeaked when his twin brother threw them aside and rose gracefully from the bed.

It just figured that Stuart wasn't as clumsy as he was, Stiles thought, trying desperately to distract himself from Stuart's bare body and the rising memory of what they'd done the night before. Something else was rising, and Stiles cursed his traitorous dick; he'd jerked off in the shower for this precise reason, but evidently even five minute before had been too long ago.

At least he was wearing loose jeans and a long shirt, which went a ways toward hiding his burgeoning hard-on. The fact that they were Stuart's jeans and shirt... well, that didn't exactly help his problem.

"G'morning," Stuart mumbled, scratching at his head with one hand and his lower stomach with the other. His hair was standing up on end, in all different directions, and Stiles would have been amused that his brother had the exact duplicate of his bed-head if he hadn't been distracted by the morning wood that Stuart was sporting.

He neglected to return Stuart's greeting -- his mind filled with things like hand-jobs and blowjobs and shower sex -- but Stuart didn't seem to mind, smiling at Stiles smoothly as he stepped into his personal-space bubble.

"We should... we should go down and have breakfast," Stiles stuttered, swallowing tightly. "Gotta get the day off to a good start, you know."

"Oh, I intend to," Stuart practically purred.

Stiles froze as his twin brother leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Morning breath," he protested, even though he didn't really mean it. He hadn't been breathing when Stuart had kissed him, so how would he know? But their Dad was downstairs, making them bacon and eggs for Stuart's first day of school now that he was home, and Stiles wasn't comfortable with the fact that his twin brother, who'd given him a handjob the night before, was standing right in front of him, bare-ass naked.

"I'm gonna go shower," Stuart said, and the fact that he sounded completely normal and matter-of-fact was strange when juxtapositioned with the fact that Stiles could see his ass as he wandered over to the dresser for some clothes.

It was a nice ass, Stiles pondered, trying to notice this objectively and not carnally. He hoped his own looked that good naked.

Not that anyone would ever see it naked at the rate his high school social life was going.

Well, maybe Stuart would....

"Make sure you leave me some food," Stuart ordered, heading for the door, and presumably the bathroom. He was still hard and didn't seem embarrassed by that fact. Stiles tried to think about it as though he was looking at himself in the mirror, but even though he and Stuart were both equal halves of a whole, Stuart was definitely his own person, and his dick was not Stiles' dick.

Even though they seemed to look exactly alike, from what Stiles was very resolutely trying not to see.

"Better be fast," Stiles said, as his stomach rumbled and reminded him he hadn't eaten since dinner the night before. "I make no promises."

Stuart made it downstairs in good time; Stiles wondered if he'd even had time to jerk off in the shower. Then he tried to tell himself it was none of his business. There was plenty of food, and their Dad promised Stiles that he'd cooked off the last of the bacon and that next time he bought some it would be the more healthy turkey bacon, which cut back on his nagging a little. Not entirely, though. Turkey bacon still had too much sodium, even if was more lean.

Eventually breakfast was over and as the twins tumbled out of the house and into the Jeep, Stiles noted that Stuart was wearing Stiles' favorite slogan teeshirt under Stiles' lucky plaid flannel. It was the perfect outfit for his first day of school, and Stiles found himself wondering if the clothing he'd chosen to wear today had any similar meaning for Stuart. It wasn't his first day of school, of course, but it was his first day going to school with his twin brother since they'd both been eight.

"Do I get to drive tomorrow?" Stuart asked as Stiles turned the key and started the engine.

Stiles snorted. "I thought you drove last night," came out of his mouth before he could stop the words. Stupid lack of brain-to-mouth filter. Though if anyone understood and forgave, it would be Stuart. He already knew all the worst of Stiles and he still loved him anyway.

Stuart laughed, sounding delighted, as Stiles backed out of the driveway and set out. Stiles waved at their Dad, who was standing in the front door with a mug of coffee, smiling cheerfully as he saw his boys off.

If only he knew what they were talking about.... What they had done the night before.

He must never know.

"And here I thought you were just going to ignore the whole thing," Stuart said, leaning to wave at their blessedly ignorant Dad as well, before settling back into the passenger seat with a smug smirk.

"I should," Stiles muttered, hands clenching on the steering wheel. But now that it was out there, in the air between them.... "What the hell was that about, Stuart?"

Stuart shrugged, still looking pleased with himself and not at all repentant.

"I wanted to, so I did. Haven't you ever thought about it before?"

Stiles shook his head. "No. Nope. No, I haven't. Can't say I ever did."

Stuart squinted at Stiles, but Stiles couldn't take his eyes off the road to examine his twin's expression more closely. "Well, you're gonna be thinking about it now," Stuart said in a confident tone.

"You're not wrong," Stiles confirmed, because denying it wouldn't fool either Stuart or himself.

He couldn't think of anything to follow that up with, so he kept quiet. He was fidgeting as he drove, and maybe it would have been safer if he'd let Stuart drive them to school, but it was too late now.

"Did it have anything to do with meeting Derek?" Stiles asked, because if there was a bear asleep in the room, he was going to poke it with a stick. Also, he really wanted to know. Stuart was his twin; they shouldn't have secrets from one another.

Stuart snorted and folded his arms. Defensively? Stiles wasn't sure. Traffic was getting worse as they got closer to school, so he had to focus most of his attention on his driving.

"Maybe," Stuart said, but that was all he said. And then Stiles was parking and he knew it was only a matter of time before Scott hunted him down and found out that Stuart was home.

"Remember that Scott and Isaac are werewolves," he warned, grabbing his backpack and pinning Stuart with a stare as fierce as he could make it. "And they're not the only werewolves in school. Their hearing is, like, super good, okay? So don't say anything you wouldn't want them to hear, even if you don't see any of them around."

Stuart's mouth quirked up on one side. "So what you're saying is that we'll continue this discussion when we get home."

"If then," Stiles said, but he was self aware enough to know that he wouldn't be able to leave this alone until he knew. So, yeah, they were going to have to talk when they got home.

Right now, though, it was time to introduce his best friend and his twin brother to each other.

"Come on," he said, jumping out of his Jeep. "Let's go and find Scott and see if he can tell us apart!"

Stuart laughed and followed suit, and everything seemed completely normal between them.

Stiles was okay with that. He was so okay with that.

And for the record, Scott was able to tell them apart, but it took him a couple of seconds. Stiles thought that the traded clothing threw him off. And, of course, Scott had to recover from the shock of seeing Stiles essentially doubled, because with all his trauma over last night's handjob Stiles had forgotten to text his best friend about his twin. Once Scott realized who Stuart was he pulled him into a warm hug that Stuart returned with more tolerance than enthusiasm, but Stiles was proud of them both anyway.

Isaac, on the other hand, had trouble telling the two of them apart all day long. Stiles resolved to tease him mercilessly about it, forever. Or at least for a good long time. Even though Isaac didn't know Stiles as well as Scott did, he was a werewolf. Even with the shared clothes he should have been able to tell the difference.

Overall Stiles considered Stuart's first day of school at Beacon Hills High to be a success. Especially the way Harris went bug-eyed and complained that he was in a whole new level of hell when he saw that he had two Stilinskis in his chemistry class.

That alone was enough to totally make Stiles' day. And it was almost enough to have him forgetting that his twin brother had jerked him off in their bed the night before.

Almost. But not quite. And they were still going to talk about it once school was over.


When they got home they didn't so much talk about things as Stiles ended up on his back on the bed with his twin brother frotting him into the mattress.

Which was unexpected, and Stiles wasn't a fan of his hard dick chafing against the zipper of his jeans through the thin material of his boxers, but he couldn't really deny that it had been as much his doing as it had been Stuart's that had gotten them here, and he was definitely the one who was clinging to his brother's flexing shoulders as Stuart brought them both closer and closer to climax with each thrust of his hips.

Well, maybe not so much his doing. He'd slammed into their room, dropped his backpack, said, "So!"

And then the next thing he knew, Stuart had pounced him into the mattress in a move that had taken Stiles' breath away, both figuratively and literally.

But Stiles hadn't pushed Stuart away, hadn't even tried to roll out from under him, and he was just as hard as Stuart was; not to mention a couple of seconds away from jizzing in his jeans.

Stiles was a little focused on what was happening below the waistline, but he recognized that he and Stuart were sharing air, their mouths almost close enough to kiss but not quite. Not that this would change the fact that they'd basically made out the night before. And Stiles almost thought he missed it, missed the intimacy of it more even than the pleasure, but he didn't have the wherewithal to stretch up and press his lips to his brother's.

Really, all Stiles could do was hang on as Stuart brought them both off in quick succession. This wasn't the first time Stiles had come in his pants, but it hadn't happened often before and the sudden flood of body-hot come trapped inside his boxers, swirling around the sensitive head of his dick, had him yelping and bowing up under Stuart in a jolt of intense sensation.

"That was unexpected," he manage to say after a few minutes of laying there squashed under Stuart, trying to get his breath back and his breathing under control. His jizz was cooling in his pants and was significantly less pleasant than it had been when he had come, but he was feeling too lethargic to move.

Also, Stuart was still sprawled over top of him, smelling of both of them, his mouth eager, wet and soft where he was kissing and licking at the side of Stiles' neck. He really hoped Stuart wouldn't suck hard enough to leave a hickey; that would be pretty much impossible to explain to their Dad... or Scott... or anyone who knew Stiles well.

"It shouldn't have been," Stuart mumbled, the words breaking hot and moist against the tingling skin of Stiles' throat and making him shiver.

"Really?" Stiles flexed his fingers, realizing that they were clenched in the material of the plaid flannel Stuart still had on. His plaid flannel. "So should I be expecting to be thrown down and ravished on a regular basis now? I don't remember agreeing to that."

Stuart stifled his laughter into the curve of Stiles' neck and shoulder, his entire body shaking with it where he was resting on top of Stiles. It felt just a little too good.

"This isn't about Scott, is it?" Stiles ventured, even though his brother and his best friend had seemed to get along perfectly well all day. Still, he wouldn't have thought Stuart would have found Derek to be such a threat either.

"What?" Stuart lifted his head and looked at Stiles incredulously. "Euw, no!"

Evidently mentioning Scott right after sex was a deal breaker and Stuart rose off of Stiles and off of the bed, stripping and slinging his clothes in the general direction of the hamper.

"Hey, that's my underwear!" Stiles noticed, levering up onto his elbows and trying to glare. He wasn't sure how effective he was, not when the pair of boxers he was wearing were as stained with come as the pair Stuart had had on, and his cheeks were still flushed red with fading arousal.

"Yeah," Stuart agreed simply, and then he went over to the dresser. Stiles waited but Stuart didn't say anything else, just retrieved a change of clothes from the drawer. Including another pair of Stiles' boxers.

"Jerk," Stiles grumbled, but he rolled off the bed and stripped out of his own clothes. Well, they were technically Stuart's clothes, though Stiles hadn't gone so far as to wear his brother's underwear to school.

Common sense and common decency dictated that he wait until after Stuart was done showering to bathe himself, but nuts to that. Stiles was gross and sticky and it wasn't like it would be the first time they'd been in the shower stall together, after all.

Though, granted, it was the first time they'd be in the shower together after they'd sort of had sex.

Stiles discovered that this made a difference, to him at least, as they both stood under the spray of hot water. And maybe to Stuart as well, considering the way he turned toward Stiles and crowded in close.

"I'm not jealous of Scott," Stuart clarified, as though they were carrying on an uninterrupted, normal conversation. The hands creeping around Stiles' waist and the pointy nose pressing to his blushing cheek negated that illusion, though.

"There's no reason to be jealous of Scott," Stuart continued, not doing anything more lecherous, just holding onto Stiles. Stiles stood still, listening. It was a little late to protest this closeness, after all. "He's your best friend, I get that. But I'm your twin. We've been together since we were conceived, we're made up of the same material. We know each other better than anyone else ever will, and we're always going to be here for each other."

Stiles felt like pointing out that he was pretty sure Scott would always be there for him, but he didn't want Stuart to be jealous. He was actually glad that Stuart didn't have a problem with how much Stiles loved Scott and how much the two of them had invested in each other over the years. Besides, as much as Stiles loved Scott, Stuart did have a point. Best friends were forever, but being twins was an even deeper bond. Impossibly deep and forever and ever.

"But you were jealous when you saw Derek," he hazarded.

"Duh," Stuart confirmed, and he was pressing their fronts together now, bending forward and around to nibble lightly at the sharp point of Stiles' jaw. "You don't want to bone Scott."

"No one said I wanna bone Derek either!" Stiles protested, knowing his voice had gone a little high pitched. Stuart wasn't wrong, but if anyone else found out about it -- Scott, their Dad, or worst of all, Derek himself -- he'd be completely sunk.

"You didn't have to say anything," Stuart husked, nuzzling at Stiles' ear, his words barely audible over the pounding of the water against the shower walls and their bodies. "I can read you like a book."

Stiles snorted but he didn't challenge Stuart to prove his words, since doing so would likely result in more embarrassment and further debauching.

Actually, the debauching might be unavoidable....

"Dude, we just got off," he protested as Stuart pushed him up against the chilly wall -- raising gooseflesh on his back and on his butt cheeks, thanks very much -- then buried his face in Stiles' throat.

"That was just to take the edge off," Stuart said, speaking into the bone of Stiles' clavicle. "Fast and dirty."

"We still haven't talked about it," Stiles gasped, trying to keep his hands off his brother, because he knew that he'd be more likely to pull Stuart closer than he would be to push him away.

"Why talk about it when I can go down on my knees for you," Stuart purred, evidently rhetorically, because before Stiles could answer he was already on his knees as offered and he'd sucked Stiles' still mostly flaccid dick into his mouth with unmistakable enthusiasm and gusto.

"Oh my God," Stiles gasped, grasping uselessly at the slippery wall behind him and trying to lock his knees so that he didn't crumple into a heap. "Oh my God!"

It went without saying that this was his first time getting a blowjob, but even with his lack of previous experience he was pretty sure that this wasn't Stuart's first time giving one.

They were definitely going to have to talk about that. Because Stuart had evidently been having sex while Stiles had been stuck with his hands and his imagination, and Stiles wasn't upset because that was unfair, but he was pissed that Stuart hadn't told him about it.

Well, maybe he was a little upset because it was unfair... but he was definitely reaping the benefits right now.

Instinct was urging Stiles to close his eyes and tip his head back, just soak in the sensations washing through him, just experience the mind-blowing suction on his dick. But he had to look, he had to see what Stuart looked like while he was blowing him.

That might have been a mistake, because it brought him that much closer to coming, and also made him feel... well, a little uncomfortably narcissistic.

Because when Stiles looked down at Stuart, stared at the way his twin brother's hair was slicked to his skull with the water, how his lashes were starred, his red lips stretched wide and wet around Stiles' by now completely erect dick, what he was really seeing was exactly what he would look like while giving a blowjob in the shower! And that maybe shouldn't have been as much of a turn-on as it was.

But Stuart looked amazing and so sexy that if he hadn't come so recently, Stiles was pretty sure he'd have been spilling over his brother's clever tongue right now.

Of course, part of it was the sheer sensation of having his dick wrapped in heated wet suction while watching it be done. This was nothing like jizzing in his boxers just now had been, it wasn't comparable to anything Stiles had ever experienced. Not even his most vividly imagined sexual fantasy had come anywhere close to what he was feeling right now.

Stuart was as enthusiastic as Stiles' dick was, bobbing his head, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked, his tongue working at the bottom of Stiles' shaft. He fisted what he couldn't fit in his mouth, taking Stiles all the way to the point that the tip of his erection was hitting the back of his throat, and then swirling his tongue around the head when he pulled almost all the way off.

Stiles let out a low, guttural noise that was completely involuntary, knowing his own cheeks were flaming as bright and blotchy as Stuart's were, and he reached down, scrabbling at his twin's head. He wanted to sink his fingers into Stuart's hair, but it was too plastered down to get a grip on.

If he could have formed words, Stiles would have strongly suggested that they leave the shower before he slipped and cracked his skull, before Stuart drowned in the flowing water and his dick. But he was beyond words, and then he was coming a second time, and the whole concept of moving just oozed out of his brain, along with most of his other higher functions.

"Whoa," he thought he managed to gasp out, his chest heaving as he sucked in gouts of humid shower air. He fuzzily realized that Stuart had risen and was wrapping him up in a naked hug, nosing at his cheek and rubbing his own hard dick against Stiles' hip again.

Not with the intent to get off, though. Not this time. Or at least not yet.

"That was so awesome," Stuart breathed against the corner of Stiles' mouth. If he turned his head a little, they would be kissing again, and Stiles kind of wanted to kiss Stuart....

He also felt a little bad that Stuart had gotten him off three times in total now -- counting the night before -- and Stiles had done nothing to reciprocate.... But they were twin brothers, they shouldn't be doing anything sexual together... and if Stiles actively participated, then he'd lose any sort of moral higher ground that he might currently be able to claim.

To be honest, though, what moral higher ground was left? If Stiles hadn't pushed Stuart away the first time he had touched his dick, that made him one-hundred percent accountable. Just accepting what Stuart was doing to him without actively participating didn't make him less of a pervert; it just made him a selfish asshole.

It was too late now to turn back. Really, even if Stiles could force himself to tell Stuart, "never again," would he really be able to make that stick? Now that he knew what it felt like to have Stuart's tongue in his mouth, to have Stuart suck him off, could Stiles really give those things up forever?

And was it honestly so bad? They were twin brothers, but neither of them was a girl who could get pregnant. And it wasn't like they were boyfriends who could break up someday. They were identical twins, they would be together forever.

So if Stuart wanted to add sex to the mix.... Well, it was a little late for Stiles to protest that when he'd already come in his brother's mouth.

Stiles managed to have this crisis of conscious and reach an internal resolution within a span of less than one minute. Before he could make the conscious choice to move into a deeper kiss, he felt Stuart's fingers on his jaw, prompting him to turn his head with careful but deliberate pressure.

He didn't fight it, even though it was another instance of Stuart making the decision for them both. Stiles was starting to think that for all his independence and the initiative he displayed in his friendship with Scott, he really kind of liked being manhandled and told what to do... as long as it was something that he already wanted to do anyway.

Well, his fantasies involving Lydia Martin and more recently starring Derek Hale would seem to indicate the same thing. So he probably shouldn't be so surprised that it turned him on when Stuart was forceful. Especially not since Stuart was here and doing things with and to him, rather than just being a figment of his imagination, the way Lydia and Derek were when he fantasized about them.

Ever since they had been born, Stuart had tended to be the dominant twin. Stiles had sort of forgotten that while they'd been apart; mainly because Stiles didn't think of himself as being in any way submissive or passive. And he'd certainly done his fair share of getting the two of them in trouble in the years before their mother had died, not to mention himself and Scott after Stuart had left.

But now Stuart was back and he seemed perfectly happy to be making decisions for both of them, if the way he'd jumped Stiles twice now was any indication.

Since he hadn't protested what Stuart had done, that meant that Stiles must be okay with it. And that meant that it was very much on Stiles to return the favor. Time and past time, since Stuart had gotten him off not once, not twice, but three times in total.

"Let's go back in the bedroom," Stiles suggested hoarsely, once Stuart finally released his lips. He wanted to blow Stuart, but he wasn't comfortable doing it here in the shower.

"Oh-ho?" Stuart smirked at him. His lips were red and plump and Stiles stared at them for a moment in fascination. He'd never thought of his own mouth as being tempting, but seeing Stuart's mouth all roughed up and puffy, coming right off a blowjob and some kissing... wow.

"Shut up," Stiles grumbled, summoning his strength and moving away from the wall so that he could turn off the water. "We're still talking about this."

"Right," Stuart responded, sounding as though he was humoring Stiles, the jerk. But he got out of the shower first and grabbed Stiles a towel before claiming his own. And he had just been sucking Stiles' dick. So Stiles sort of forgave him.

Especially since Stiles recognized his own tendency to ignore things that he didn't want to deal with. Sex with his twin might actually fall under that banner....

But they couldn't just do it and ignore it, could they?

Well, they weren't going to talk about it right now. They were both naked and still damp, Stiles had been able to taste his own jizz on his brother's kiss, not to mention Stuart was still fully erect and no doubt aching to come.

Stiles felt his mouth watering a little as he looked at Stuart's dick. Which was kind of weird because it was pretty much exactly like his own, and yet not really all that weird because he knew how orally fixated he was at the best of times.

Thinking about blowing Stuart was... it was safe, Stiles realized, as Stuart smirked at him and took Stiles by the hand, twining their long fingers together before leading him back to his own bedroom. They were both naked, and they had one and a half boners between them, which made Stiles pray that today wouldn't be the day of all days that their Dad chose to come home early for some reason.

Stiles had been curious about giving head ever since he'd discovered that it was a thing. And he hadn't restricted his curiosity and fantasies to how it would feel to have it done to him. Which, he knew the answer to that now, and it was amazing. But he'd always wondered what it would be like to give head as well. What it would be like to have a hard dick in his mouth.

As a complete virgin -- before Stuart had gotten his hands on him the night before, anyway -- Stiles had also always felt kind of anxious about the prospect. What if he was awful at it? What if the guy he was blowing could tell he didn't know what he was doing and didn't like it? What if he accidentally used teeth?!

With Stuart, that pressure was nonexistent. Yeah, Stiles kind of hoped he'd be naturally good at oral sex, as unlikely as that was, and he definitely hoped he could keep his teeth under control. He wanted to give Stuart as much pleasure as Stuart had given him. But if he fumbled a little and had to learn the basics as he went... well, he knew Stuart would be okay with that.

Still, Stiles was thinking about blowing his twin brother. So when Stuart paused just before they climbed back on the bed to kiss Stiles breathless, that was probably a smart move on his part. It helped keep Stiles from freaking the fuck out.

Stiles moaned a little, even though he tried not to, clutching at Stuart and crowding close. His brother was all bare skin and hard to get a hold of, but Stiles had big hands and a hungry determination. It helped that Stuart met and matched this desire, and he was actually more bold than Stiles was, a fact that led to him sliding his hands down and palming Stiles' ass, fingers digging into the meat of his buttocks.

Stiles yelped into their kiss, wriggling closer, overwhelmed with both surprise and pleasure at once. Yes, he had just recently come and was mostly flaccid. But that didn't mean that he wasn't sexually excited by Stuart grabbing his ass.

More excited than he ever would have expected, but this was the first time he'd ever had his ass grabbed. It felt incredible. And that was just some groping, not anything more specialized.

So, yeah, Stiles was curious about anal sex as well, and he'd spent enough time fingering himself to know that he liked it, liked the sensation of being penetrated....

But he wasn't going to share that with Stuart. Not right now. He shouldn't share it later, either, but he already sensed that his inability to keep secrets from Stuart was going to extend to include sex.

"Come on," Stuart murmured against Stiles' mouth, the words warm puffs against the tingling skin of Stiles' lips. Stiles wondered, as Stuart threw back the bedcovers and pulled him down onto the mattress, what it must look like when the two of them kissed.

His dick gave a definite twitch, a shudder of arousal running through him at the mental image he was getting. Maybe he could set up his laptop to record them while they made out.... It would be worth the danger of having physical evidence of their incestuous behavior, to get to see what it looked like when they pressed their identical kiss-bruised mouths together, tongues tangling, identical fingers grabbing and gripping at identical bodies....

"What are you thinking about?" Stuart asked, pressing Stiles down into the mattress and cupping his dick possessively.

"Blowing you," Stiles answered, even though that wasn't completely honest. He'd been thinking about it, before he started thinking about recording them, so that wasn't exactly a lie.

Stuart nodded, smirking down at him, grip flexing carefully on his dick. Stiles had gotten off twice in quick succession, so he wasn't going to be able to get fully erect so soon, but he was definitely interested in Stuart's hold as well as the potential blowjob they were talking about.

Not a blowjob Stiles was gonna get. He'd just gotten one, and it had been amazing. No, he was excited by the thought of blowing Stuart. Partially because fairness demanded it. But mostly just because he wanted to.

"You don't have to, you know," Stuart said, settling back against their pillows, his thighs spread despite his words, his hard-on standing up red and stiff. Beads of pre-come were collecting at the tip and sliding down the shaft, and Stiles felt his mouth legitimately water.

"Shut up," he told Stuart, moving into a kneeling position between his brother's legs. He was grateful that Stuart wasn't sitting on the edge of the bed and making Stiles kneel on the floor in front of him, but that might have given him a less awkward angle to approach this from.

Stiles wasn't going to suggest that they shift, though. And if he was going to do this, he was going to do it now, and he was going to do it right.

Or, at least, he was going to give it his best try.

Before he could have second thoughts, Stiles reached out and wrapped his fingers around Stuart's erect dick.

It was hot and hard and pulsing in his hand, and they might be identical but this was nothing like touching himself had ever been. And Stiles was an expert at touching his own dick, okay?

Stuart had probably been about to say something snarky, but when Stiles grabbed his hard-on all he did was suck in a great hiss of air, his hips tilting up, his head tilting back.

That shouldn't have looked as sexy as it did, but Stiles kind of liked that he was now the one with all the power. He wondered if he had the balls to film them having sex rather than just making out, but that was something to ponder for the future. Not right now, when Stuart's dick was jumping in his admittedly somewhat tentative grip.

Stiles watched in fascination as the head twitched, the slit flaring and oozing out more mostly clear pre-come, so focused that he barely heard Stuart groan above him, and without really pausing to give it any consideration -- because that way lay disaster -- he bent his head and ran the flat of his tongue over the tip of his twin brother's dick.

Stiles wasn't unfamiliar with the flavor of pre-ejaculate -- or ejaculate, for that matter -- seeing as he was of a curious nature and had a dick of his own to play with, but it was somehow different when it involved someone else. And that was completely aside from the pleasure he was so obviously giving Stuart with the movement of his tongue.

"Hoy shit, you look hot like that," Stuart breathed, his fingers sinking into Stiles' still damp, towel-tousled hair. Not demanding, just holding on, and Stiles appreciated his restraint, because even though he was looking forward to putting Stuart's dick in his mouth, he was still a little anxious about the whole thing and didn't feel comfortable with rushing.

Stuart's heartfelt exclamation gave him a little burst of self confidence, though, and Stiles made use of that to open his mouth and slide the entire head of his twin's dick into his mouth.

That was something that worked better in theory than in practice, he quickly discovered. Not that Stiles had any real problem with it, but.... Well, Stuart's dick was thicker than Stiles had expected, and even though he had a big mouth, he felt like he was having trouble fitting the whole thing. Especially since he wanted to be so careful about his teeth.

"Holy shit," Stuart ground out again, and he didn't seem to have any problem with Stiles' technique... which was good, because basically Stiles didn't have any technique.

Stiles remembered how sexy Stuart had looked when he'd been blowing him in the shower, and he took heart from that. He wasn't completely awful at this, and he was relatively confident that he looked sexy, so he kept at it.

It was really, really hard to actively suck on something that was as thick as Stuart's erection, but Stiles did his best. He was drooling a lot, spit running down his chin, which was kind of gross, but he figured that wetter was better where a blowjob was concerned, and anyway, he didn't want to take the time to wipe the saliva off.

Sucking was difficult, so Stiles tried relaxing his jaw at the same time he bobbed his head. It wasn't ideal, but it seemed to work, as Stuart let out some really embarrassing but really sexy noises above him and pulled at his hair hard enough to make his eyes water.

Stiles wasn't sure how he felt about the hair pulling, but he knew he liked what it said about what he was doing to Stuart.

All the extra spit seemed to come in handy when Stiles moved back to suck hard on the head of Stuart's dick, and he fisted the slick shaft, the skin burning hot under his fingers.

He'd meant to do something awesome and cool and sexy, like going back down and taking Stuart's dick as deep in his throat as he could without choking, but this was the moment that Stuart whimpered, convulsed, and shot off all over Stiles' tongue.

It wasn't the best experience of Stiles' life, but he liked the fact that he'd just gotten Stuart off without half trying, and also he was relieved that he was going to be able to take his mouth off his brother's dick. His jaw was aching and he definitely needed to practice more at this to be any good.

"Holy shit," Stuart gasped, which was clearly his go-to phrase during sex, and Stiles just wasn't going to think about the fact that he now knew his twin brother's sex phrase, his sex noises, and knew what Stuart's come tasted like.

Not really any different than his own, Stiles thought, as he grabbed a nearby teeshirt and wiped his face off. He didn't want to have to wash his sheets, and was glad that he'd managed to swallow most of Stuart's load. It had seemed sexy at the time, even though the thought of it now almost made him a little queasy. But not really. And Stuart had swallowed, Stiles was pretty sure, when he'd blown him in the shower.

Tossing the shirt aside, Stiles stretched out next to Stuart on the bed, and took stock. They were both half-hard, though in Stiles' case his dick was valiantly trying to become erect again, whereas Stuart was coming down from his orgasm.

Stuart was relaxed and boneless, lounging on the mattress, the corners of his lips turned up in a smile, and it made Stiles feel good that he could put that look on his brother's face, even if the reason and the way he had done it were so, so wrong.

It suddenly struck Stiles how completely and totally unfair it was, for Stuart to get all jealous and possessive and clingy over Derek -- who Stiles had never done anything with and never had any likelihood of doing anything with -- when Stuart had very obviously gotten sexual experience with someone, who was not only not Stiles, but who he'd never even told Stiles about!

"You asshole," Stiles grouched, punching Stuart in the upper arm.

"What?" Stuart actually looked startled, brows rising. "Dude, you're the one who just sucked me off! I didn't make you do it!"

"Not that," Stiles growled, flipping over to straddle Stuart's stomach and glaring down at his twin brother. "You're an asshole because you've been having sex and not telling me!"

"Um...." Stuart licked his lips and plastered on his best innocent expression. He was better at it than Stiles was, but Stiles wasn't fooled. "What makes you think I've had sex?"

Stiles snorted. "Oh, come on. I mean, I did a pretty good job of sucking dick for the first time, I think, but there's no way you were doing it for the first time!"

Stuart tried to keep a straight face, Stiles could tell, but his lips curved even more, into an honestly amused smile, and he snickered.

"Asshole," Stiles repeated, and he went to punch Stuart's arm again, but evidently he couldn't even manage to best his identical twin, because the next thing he knew he was the one on his back and Stuart had him pinned to the bed. Bad enough being manhandled by werewolves, but.... Oh, who was Stiles kidding; he liked it when certain werewolves manhandled him. Well, one certain werewolf.

Which thought led him back around to, "I can't believe you're jealous of Derek."

Stuart wrinkled his nose. "Can we not talk about him right now?" he asked, flopping on top of Stiles and cuddling close. He was resting most of his weight on Stiles body, but Stiles didn't mind. It kept him from getting cold, and it kind of felt good to be pressed down into the mattress by his twin. Stuart rested his head on Stiles' shoulder so that he couldn't see his expression, but he sounded sulky as he continued.

"I can understand why you want him. But we just got each other off. Can I have a moment to enjoy that?"

Stiles snorted, though he also wrapped his arms around Stuart and sank the fingers of one hand into his thick hair, still damp from the shower.

"If you think he's any kind of a threat," he murmured, holding Stuart close, "You're delusional. He's so far out of my league that--"

"Hey," Stuart interrupted, pinching Stiles' side. "You can't insult yourself without insulting me!"

Stiles winced, as much at the truth of Stuart's words as the pain in his side. "Ow," he protested, but not loudly. "That wasn't what I--"

"No, dude," Stuart said, and he levered up, propping himself on his elbow, resting on his side next to Stiles, one hand spread over his chest. "You either meant that you're not good looking enough for Derek, which is a burn on me as well, because, duh, same face. Or else you meant you're not cool enough because you're a spazz and a dork, which you are, but I love you, so if you put yourself down because of your personality then you're insulting the person I love more than anyone else in the world!"

Stiles' mouth was hanging open by the time Stuart finished speaking, then he snapped it closed and swallowed tightly. "Okay," he said weakly. Because he really couldn't argue. Not without sounding like an even bigger asshole than he was accusing Stuart of being.

Speaking of which, "But you're changing the subject," he said. "I was talking about the fact that you've been having sex without telling me about it."

"You changed the subject!" Stuart pointed out forcefully, poking Stiles in the breastbone. "I didn't mention Derek until after you did!"

Stiles cast his mind back. "Oh." Stuart was right. Dang it. "Well."

Stuart sighed and bent down to kiss Stiles with surprising sweetness.

"Yeah, I've fooled around some," he said, once he pulled away, his tongue leaving a trail of dampness along Stiles' lower lip. "But I didn't say anything because I didn't want to upset you."

"I'd have told you if I'd fooled around with anyone," Stiles muttered a little resentfully.

"Yeah, I know," was Stuart's response, and what was that supposed to mean? "But no one I messed around with mattered, so it wasn't worth sharing."

Stiles frowned a little. That sort of made sense... except for how it made absolutely no sense at all.

"Do you wanna tell me about it now?" he asked, then stifled a yawn. All this sex on top of a stressful school day and a minor freak-out the night before when Stuart had surprised him with a hand-job had him feeling more than a little worn out.

"Naw," Stuart replied, not completely unexpectedly. "It's in the past. We're here together now and that's all that matters."

Stiles scoffed a little, but he really was on the verge of falling asleep and he didn't want to be naked on the off chance that their Dad might come home while they were napping and decide to wake them. Terrifying thought.

"Clothes," he slurred, and Stuart grumbled, but they both managed to drag on some comfy shirts and pants before collapsing on the bed all over again, in a tangle of lanky limbs.

"Still think we should talk about it?" Stuart asked, slightly mockingly, as Stiles drifted toward blessed slumber.

The answer was a resounding "yes" but Stiles was too tired to be vehement, so he just pinched Stuart's side and then fell asleep.


Stiles was pretty sure that he ought to insist that he and Stuart talk about the... things... that they were doing. If there was ever anything in his life that he shouldn't ignore....

But what could he say? He wasn't exactly capable of telling Stuart to knock it off. Not when he'd found himself not only enthusiastically consenting, but also participating. Sure, maybe Stuart had started it all, but Stiles hadn't at any point tried to stop him; not really tried to stop him. And that made him just as much responsible as Stuart was.

Stiles wasn't comfortable taking any of the blame for their incestuous behavior, but he couldn't in good conscience say that he wasn't to blame.

And it was too late to stop it now. Not without irrevocably hurting Stuart's feelings, and denying a part of himself that went bone-deep and into the center of Stiles' heart. Because he and Stuart were one, and maybe the rest of the world wouldn't understand what went on behind their closed bedroom door, but the rest of the world didn't know, and this was only their business.

At least Stuart stopped acting like a jealous girlfriend. He didn't seem to have any trouble sharing Stiles with Scott, as long as he was included. And the three of them, with Isaac sometimes, all got along just fine.

In fact, Stiles was feeling better about all the time Scott was spending with Isaac or Allison now, because he had Stuart. He actually kind of liked it when Scott was with Allison and it was just him and his twin brother. Stiles was no longer left completely alone when Scott wasn't around, and he was never going to be alone again.

Which, maybe it was a good thing that Stuart wanted to give their relationship an incestuous bend, because otherwise masturbation might be difficult and Stiles might have spent the rest of his life with a really awful case of blue-balls.

As it was, Stuart took care of that nicely, and Stiles took care of his twin brother in turn. It was ideal, even though it really, really wasn't. Stiles tried not to think about the ways in which it was severely wrong, because that way lay madness, or at least a panic attack and some building resentment.

Stiles didn't want any negative emotions connected with his twin brother, and if that meant turning a blind eye to just how wrong it was that they were engaging in sexual acts together... well, he kind of figured he'd pay for it later, but it should be fine for right now. They weren't doing anything but giving each other hand-jobs and exchanging oral sex and making out. So much making out. Stiles almost felt like he could legitimately ignore how wrong it was.

It helped that they hadn't stumbled across Derek Hale since that one day in the grocery store, and so there was no reason for Stuart to act like a whiny brat out of jealousy.

Stiles should have known that things had been quiet too long. Things were never quiet for long in Beacon Hills. But his head-in-the-sand approach had been working so well....

He should have known his uppance would come. He kind of had known. He'd just been more comfortable not thinking about it.

It figured that this approach wouldn't work forever. Stiles had known that. He just hadn't wanted to acknowledge it until he was forced to.


The first time Stiles saw Derek after he and Stuart had started having regular sex, he felt an intense moment of gut-freezing, blood-chilling horror and extreme anxiety.

Because Derek could tell, couldn't he? He was a werewolf, and not just a werewolf but an Alpha. He had to be able to, like, smell it on them, right?

The look Derek gave Stiles was like a perfect example of deadpan. No expression, only a tight jaw and the slightest widening of his eyes. Stiles was totally imagining that he saw Derek's nostrils flare. That part was just paranoia on his part, born of a guilty conscience.

Right? Right?

Oh God, he hoped it was only his imagination.

Incest was taboo for humans; surely it was for werewolves too. How could it be different? And now Derek had to know what Stiles and Stuart were getting up to in their bedroom and he was probably completely disgusted and trying to hide it.

Derek was good at hiding his feelings except for when he wasn't. Unfortunately for Stiles' peace of mind, right now seemed to be one of those former times.

Scott and Isaac hadn't seemed to realize that Stiles and Stuart were indulging in pursuits that most twin brothers didn't get up to together, but they were both relatively new to the whole "being a werewolf" thing, and Stiles swore they both still needed to be reminded that their senses were better than they had been when they'd been human.

Derek had been a werewolf from birth and he used his extra abilities perfectly naturally, because they were a part of him and he had never known anything else.

And right now, wasn't Stiles wishing that Derek wasn't quite so observant.

Well, he had no real proof that Derek knew.... But how could Derek not know? He wouldn't have given them such a blank look if he hadn't known or a least guessed, would he have?


Stiles was freaking out internally so much that he barely processed what Derek had ambushed them next to the Jeep in the school parking lot to tell them; namely that there was an Omega werewolf loose in the area. And while Derek intended to have the encroacher dealt with sooner rather than later, he warned Stiles and Stuart that they smelled like they hung out with werewolves, so they shouldn't go anywhere alone, and they should try to stay indoors as much as possible until they got the all-clear.

Stiles grimaced, wondering what else they smelled like, while Stuart -- a little unexpectedly -- nodded with a serious look on his face.

"You'd better give me your number," he said, holding his phone out to Derek.

"I've got his number," Stiles frowned, tuning back in to the conversation, but it was too late because Derek had taken Stuart's phone from his hand and was putting in his own number. Not that Stiles cared, really, but it kind of annoyed him how easy that had been for Stuart when it had been like pulling teeth for Stiles to get Derek's number in the first place.

Of course, that had been quite a while ago, before events had thrown him and Derek together time and again, back when Derek had been even more mistrustful than he was now, and Stiles liked to think that their relationship had grown since then.

It still kind of rankled, though. Why should Derek make it so much easier for Stuart than he had for Stiles? It wasn't fair.

"Good for you," Stuart said dryly, accepting his phone back from Derek, and had their fingers lingered when they had touched? "Now so do I."

Stiles scowled as Stuart brandished his phone, wrinkling his nose. Was this how Stuart had felt when he'd seen Stiles and Derek interact? This burn of jealous that settled in the pit of Stiles' belly?

But it wasn't like Stiles had been actively flirting with Derek! He'd just introduced Stuart and Derek to each other, and if anything he'd been riddled with embarrassment!

Stuart was... well, maybe he wasn't flirting, but he'd boldly gotten Derek's phone number and now he was rubbing Stiles' face in that fact. Stiles glared at them both, and while Stuart seemed unaffected, Derek actually looked a little taken aback.

Which was much better than him looking judgey and disapproving, Stiles supposed, but that was hard to keep in mind when he was feeling left out and butthurt.

Hey, he didn't have to be rational about this. He was a teenager, Stuart was his twin brother, and Stiles had known Derek first!

At this point Stiles wasn't sure who he was more jealous of or who he was more jealous over, but while he was internally fuming, Derek took the opportunity to fade away, and Stuart gave Stiles' shoulder a little shove.

"Are you gonna let me drive home today?" he asked, like now was a good time to put in that request.

"No," Stiles snapped, grimacing when Stuart looked startled, then a little wounded. "Let's go home," he added, trying to sound more reasonable. "Though we should probably stop somewhere for snacks if we're going to be under house arrest."

Stuart's brows rose, and did Stiles look that obnoxious when he did that?

"So you're gonna listen to Derek?" he asked as they both climbed into the Jeep.

"Your incredulity insults me," Stiles replied haughtily, mostly but not entirely kidding. "Anyway, I'm not listening to Derek; I'm being prudent. There's no point in messing around with a loose Omega when we haven't got wolfy powers. Let the leather pack who have claws and fangs deal with it."

Stuart snorted. "Uh-huh. And since when do you advocate the hands-off approach? Don't think I've forgotten about all the trouble you got yourself neck-deep in before I came home. You told me about most of it, and Scott informed me of the rest. It was like you were actively trying to get yourself killed!"

"No," Stiles said vehemently, starting the Jeep's engine and headed out of the parking lot. "I was trying to keep my best friend alive. Something that Scott ought to appreciate. I didn't get involved just on a whim or because--"

"Because you were bored?" Stuart interrupted, and now he was sounding judgey. "Tell me again why you were in the woods the night Scott got bitten?"

Stiles' mouth flapped a few times, but he really didn't have any good comeback for that. As always when he thought about that night, a shaft of hard guilt lanced through his heart, and he knew he was frowning but he couldn't help himself.

"Shut up," he settled for saying, cursing himself for how breathless his voice came out. Well, it felt like he'd been kicked in the chest, so that only made sense.

There was silence in the Jeep for a couple of minutes, as Stiles drove them toward the closest grocery store -- because they still needed fortification if they were gonna be stuck inside for who knew how long -- until eventually Stuart spoke up.

"I'm sorry, Stiles. You know I'm not blaming you for any of the bad things that happened to you or your friends. But I just... I worried about you, all those years when we were apart and you were doing crazy stuff because you were bored. Now I'm here and I wanna make sure to keep you safe."

Stiles shrugged jerkily. "Then why are you acting like a dick when I'm planning on staying inside, away from the Omega, like Derek suggested?"

"I'm not acting like a dick!" Stuart protested. "I'm just--" He broke off, sighed, and slumped on his side of the Jeep. "Never mind."

Stiles nodded and clenched his hands around the steering wheel. "Damn right," he grumbled, even though he wasn't sure why. It was probably an asshole thing to say, but he was still smarting over how easy Derek and Stuart had been with each other when Derek had never been that friendly with Stiles, and additionally over the lack of trust Stuart was showing in Stiles' ability to be intelligent and prudent.

Which, yeah, Stiles might not have the world's best judgment all of the time.... But he was planning on doing his best to avoid this errant Omega, and Stuart was giving him shit for that? Unfair!

"At least I know what we can do to pass the time while we're stuck in the house," Stuart said, with a leer evident in his voice, and Stiles guessed he wasn't all that upset. Which sucked, because Stiles was still stewing.

Well, if Stuart could let go of it, Stiles could try to do the same. At least Stuart was going home with him and not Derek.

"The same thing we do every time we're home alone?"

By this point Stiles had come to the conclusion that he was as deeply involved as Stuart was, that he was no longer blameless. Not that he had ever been blameless, of course. He hadn't forced Stuart to stop the first time he'd put his hand on Stiles' dick and so that made him just as much a participant as Stuart was, even if he hadn't been the instigator.

At least now, settled into his role as one half of an incestuous whole, Stiles wasn't being a selfish asshole who didn't reciprocate, and he was making sure Stuart had just as many orgasms as he had.

So, okay, maybe being trapped indoors while Derek and the other werewolves dealt with the Omega wouldn't be all that bad.

Not that the Stilinski twins needed a reason to get their hands all over each other, right?

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked as he parked his Jeep in the grocery store lot and saw that Stuart was on his phone.

"Texting," was the unenlightening reply.

"Texting who?" Stiles growled, even though he already suspected.

Stuart raised big brown eyes, looking at Stiles guilelessly, his expression so carefully innocent that it immediate set off warning bells in Stiles' head.

"You should contact Scott and make sure he knows about the Omega," Stuart suggested smoothly, and Stiles glowered. While that was true, it just meant that Stuart wasn't texting Scott himself. And since Stiles doubted he was texting their Dad about anything....

"Fine," he snarled, pulling out his own phone, and shooting off a tersely worded text message to his best friend. If Stuart wanted to annoy Derek, let him. Derek would either ignore him or shut him down as hard and fast as he had done Stiles every time he'd tried.

And then, maybe then Stiles would feel better about this whole freaking mess.


Stiles had thought that it had been bad when Stuart had been jealous of Derek. He hadn't anticipated that it would be worse once Stuart got over his misplaced jealousy and became friends with Derek.

Evidently the two of them somehow ended up bonding, and wasn't that just enough to make Stiles wish he'd never introduced them in the first place.

It wasn't that Stiles was jealous over Stuart the way Stuart had been jealous over him, despite the fact that he thought Stuart had more of a chance with Derek than he'd ever had. And it wasn't like he didn't think Derek should have nice things. Derek was kind of a dick sometimes, to Stiles especially, but he didn't deserve life shitting all over him the way it too often happened, just because he was a werewolf.

But did the nice thing that Derek got now have to be Stiles' twin brother?

He'd only just gotten Stuart back, after eight agonizing years apart. Stiles knew that logically they were going to want different things in life, but he wasn't ready to lose Stuart to someone else quite so soon....

Add to that the fact that Derek was something that Stiles did sort of want.... And now Stuart had swooped in and just managed to do what Stiles hadn't had any hope of doing.

Okay, so maybe Stiles was as much jealous of Stuart as he was jealous over him.

It wasn't like they weren't still fooling around. All the time. Every night and in the day when they could get away with it. So Stiles as least still had that.

And it wasn't like he actually wanted Derek.... Except that he really, really did. He hadn't even realized it until Stuart had said something, but now that it was out there the knowledge was in his face and Stiles couldn't un-know it. He also couldn't do anything about it, and it didn't matter anyway, because he wasn't the one that Derek was constantly exchanging texts with.

Definitely jealous, and trapped in a pit of not-able-to-figure-a-way-out, and Stiles' life sucked.

It would suck a whole lot less if his twin brother and his Alpha werewolf crush weren't all buddy-buddy. But evidently whatever Derek disliked in Stiles, he liked in Stuart. It wasn't as though Stuart was more forward than Stiles had been. It wasn't as though Stiles was lacking in boldness. But for some reason he just managed to piss Derek off most of the time, whereas Stuart didn't, for some reason.

Stiles briefly considered getting a girlfriend or boyfriend of his own, to fill the gap in his heart, but that idea was a pipedream teetering on top of a myriad of problems.

First of all, who would date Stiles? If he'd had any options, he'd have already been getting sex on a regular basis before Stuart had come home. It wasn't like he was hideous -- Stiles thought Stuart was quite attractive, and even though that felt kind of narcissistic, it did give him more confidence where his own looks were concerned -- but Stuart's assurances aside, Stiles didn't really have a personality that was very compatible with most of his classmates.

Secondly, if Stiles tried to jump into the dating pool and actually somehow succeeded, that would kind of be a slap in the face to Stuart. It felt like a slap in the face for Stiles, the way Stuart was spending so much time communicating with Derek, and they weren't even officially dating. And while in his darker moments, Stiles felt like he wanted to hurt Stuart as much as he was feeling hurt, he couldn't actually go through with that. He loved his brother too much.

Thirdly, and related to the second problem, even if Stiles managed to get someone to go out with him, how could he maintain a sexual relationship with them and Stuart at the same time? Not physically, per se. Stiles was a sixteen year old boy, still two years away from his sexual peak, and he'd been training for this like it had been an Olympic sport before Stuart had come home, with his at-least-twice-daily masturbation.... But mentally and emotionally. Could Stiles commit to someone else and still mess around with Stuart? Maybe, but he kind of doubted it.

And fourthly, well, there was still the matter of how Stiles felt about Derek Hale, and the fact that anyone else -- even Lydia Martin or Danny Mahealani -- would be a step down from the cranky, rude, insanely sexy Alpha werewolf that Stiles had somehow become fixated on without knowing it.

Damn Stuart for making Stiles acknowledge it! And damn Derek for being so mouth-watering and yet so unobtainable! And double-damn them both for getting along with one another way too well.

Stiles' life sucked, he decided sulkily, as Stuart sat on their bed and laughed at something on his phone; a text from Derek, no doubt, and Derek had never, never made Stiles laugh.

Sure, Stiles was getting regular sex with someone he loved that he found to be amazingly attractive, despite how self-centered that kind of was when said partner wore his own face. But Stuart was drifting away, into the arms of the man that Stiles was starting to think he loved as well, and all Stiles could do was stand on the sidelines and watch it happen.

While knowing that he'd been the one to introduce them!

And the Omega was still at large, so Stiles was not only stuck at home, but he was stuck at home worrying about his Dad. Who was out there, where the Omega was, being the Sheriff and potentially putting himself in danger, and there was nothing Stiles could really do about it.

It had only been three days since Derek had warned them about the Omega, but to Stiles it felt like an eternity.

"You know," he finally spoke up, where he was sitting, fuming and twitching in his office chair, "If you'd leave Derek alone for even a few minutes, maybe he'd actually have the time to find that damned Omega and we could get the hell out of this house!"

Stuart looked up from his phone, his eyes wide and surprised, his mouth falling open in a way that made Stiles' dick throb, but now was most definitely not the time, and he didn't really feel like getting into the subject, even though he'd been the one to bring it up, so he jumped up and snapped;

"I'm gonna go shower. Alone!"

Which he did. It was kind of a relief when Stuart didn't barge in to bathe with him, or to talk, and it was kind of disappointing at the same time.

What? Stiles was allowed to have complicated feelings about the identical twin brother he was banging and who was also trying to steal his not-boyfriend from him. It was a complicated situation, after all!

Once he was done showering and dressed in the clean clothes he'd, glory halleluiah, remembered to take into the bathroom with him, Stiles didn't feel like going back into the bedroom. So instead he went downstairs and into the kitchen. It wasn't quite lunch time yet, but he hadn't had breakfast -- being too busy sucking Stuart off at the time -- and his stomach was growling.

The hunger was fighting with the twisting of anxiety, making Stiles' middle a huge mess, but he ignore both these feelings as he started to put together a couple of sandwiches. He might be upset with Stuart right now, but that wasn't any reason not to feed him.


Speaking of his brother, there came a pair of lean arms, sliding around Stiles' waist, and a bony chin dug into his shoulder.

"What?" Stiles asked tersely, even though he still didn't want to talk about it, slapping the top slice of bread on the first sandwich.

"We mostly text each other about you, you know," Stuart said earnestly, giving Stiles a little squeeze.

Stiles' heart surged, then it plunged. He snorted, beginning to put a second sandwich together. "Yeah, to make fun of me, I'll bet."

"I wouldn't do that! I wouldn't!"

Stuart sounded so wounded that Stiles felt a little guilty. Even though he was the damaged party here, damn it.

"Whatever," he mumbled, shrugging and hurrying to put Stuart's sandwich together. "Doesn't matter."

"It matters," Stuart pursued.

Stiles tried to elbow him away. "Get off of me. Your sandwich is ready."

"No." Stuart clung tighter. "Not until you say you believe me."

Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes, even though Stuart couldn't see from where he was draped over his back. "Fine, I believe you," he said, even though he really didn't. What could Derek and Stuart possibly have to say to each other about him? Anything positive, that was. And Stiles would rather believe that they didn't actually text each other about him than believe that they gossiped about his more annoying traits.

"You didn't mean that," Stuart accused, which, fair enough. Still.

"If you don't let go then I'll have no choice but to stand here and eat both these sandwiches," Stiles threatened, because he could do it. He was hungry and Stuart was being an asshole.

"Fine." Stuart let him loose and sulkily accepted the sandwich Stiles thrust at him. "Are there chips?"

"You're welcome," Stiles snarked, even though he actually didn't care whether Stuart thanked him. There'd been plenty of times since he'd come home that Stuart had prepared food for Stiles. "They're in the cupboard, there."

It hurt a little, remembering that Stuart didn't know where everything was in the kitchen. Or outside the kitchen, for that matter, though he at least recalled where the washer and dryer were, and knew how to find the vacuum. Eight years was a long time to be away when someone was as young as they were, and it had been eight endless years, as far as Stiles was concerned.

He didn't really resent their aunt, but.... But if they had it all to do over, he was one hundred percent convinced that all three of the Stilinski men would have given her a different answer.

Stiles felt an ache in his heart as Stuart grabbed the chips -- one bag of his favorites and one of Stiles' choice -- and settled down at the kitchen table. It was a mostly good ache, though, because he was still so happy to have his brother back.

If he had to share him with Derek, so be it. It sucked a huge amount and he still held out hope that it would be a short-lived thing, but he didn't want to alienate Stuart with his jealousy, whether it was misguided or accurate.

"Want a soda?" he asked, already grabbing a couple from the fridge and joining Stuart at the table.

"Thanks." Stuart gave him a slightly suspicious look as he accepted the offering, but he didn't say anything. Instead he just slid the chips toward Stiles and added, "Thanks for the sandwich too."

Stiles nodded and bit into his own sandwich. Stuart didn't have his phone in his hand, and he had on boxers so it wasn't like he could be hiding it in a pocket. That was a good sign, right?

It was a lazy Saturday for the twins. Their father was going to be at the Station until dinnertime, and while Stiles felt a little bad about that, it did leave their afternoon wide open.

"What did you want to do after we eat?" he asked Stuart, raising his brows and smiling in what he hoped was a suggestive manner.

Stuart arched just one of his eyebrows, and Stiles was a little annoyed by how much more smoothly he'd managed that, but he was still filled the warm glow of affection for his brother so he tried not to let it get to him.

"Did you have something in mind?" Stuart asked, licking chip seasoning off his fingertips in a way guaranteed to get Stiles hard in his jeans. Because he was the idiot who'd actually gotten dressed, instead of lounging around in his underwear like Stuart.

"I'm pretty sure I can think of a few things we could do," Stiles smirked, and who knew that having a regular, active sex life could make a guy feel so... fulfilled? Well, he'd always suspected, but before Stuart he just hadn't had anyone to have that sex life with.

Masturbation was nice, but it was nothing to compare to having an eager and talented partner.

"I put my phone on silent," Stuart informed Stiles earnestly, and he winced internally, but at least there wasn't any tone of accusation in Stuart's voice. "But you still have yours on, right? In case there's news about the Omega?"

Stiles nodded, finishing off his sandwich. That last bite tasted a little bitter, though, as he said, "Yeah, 'cause there's no other reason Derek or anyone else would contact me."

Stuart looked honestly appalled, and once again Stiles felt a pang of guilt.

"It's fine," he said, stealing a pickle slice that had fallen out of Stuart's sandwich onto his plate. "I'd rather not be interrupted unless it's something important anyway."


"Nope." He shook his head. "Not talking about it. Finish your lunch and let's go upstairs."

"Let's go upstairs" was the closest Stiles could come to saying, "let's go and have sex," because as much as he'd come to be at ease doing it, saying it out loud was something else entirely. He definitely wanted to do it, though. Even despite the almost-fight he and Stuart had just had. Maybe even more so because of it.

Stuart looked unhappy, but he didn't argue, just ate the rest of his sandwich, drained his soda, and threw his crumpled-up, empty chip bag at Stiles.

"You ate them all?!"

Stuart laughed, and Stiles felt something tight in him relax. They'd be okay, as long as they just kept acting like brothers. Well, brothers who had sex. And if Stuart wanted to be friends with Derek, or maybe even more... Stiles would just have to deal with it.

He'd learned how to share Scott with Allison, after all. He could share Stuart, as much as it pained him. He loved his brother too much to deny him something he obviously wanted so much, even when it was the same thing Stiles wanted, and even when it took his attention away from Stiles.

"It was only half full to start," Stuart protested, grabbing their plates and empty cans.

Stiles smiled and slung an arm around Stuart as soon as his hands were free. He liked being able to touch someone whenever he wanted. Someone who wasn't Scott, that was. Because Scott was fun to cuddle, and if he'd ever taken Stiles seriously when he'd suggested they make out he probably would have been fun to kiss, but....

But Scott wasn't Stuart. Stuart was warm and all hard muscles and soft skin. He was lean, like Stiles, but he was solid. It felt good to grab and hold him. He smelled pretty good, too, like clean skin and fresh sweat. With all the fooling around they were doing, both Stiles and Stuart bathed often, and Stiles was just glad their Dad hadn't said anything about it yet.

Well, he probably thought that was the only time they had for jerking off. He didn't know about the fact that they showered together at least half the time....

And he would never know. Stiles banished that thought, because it wasn't conducive to getting and maintaining a hard-on, and it wasn't going to happen.

But, anyway. Stuart was just the same size as Stiles all over, he was strong and sexually bold, and it felt so good to hold him close. Stiles still liked girls, he still thought that he might like to wrap Lydia up in his arms and feel her all soft and curved and delicate, he still loved how she smelled and wanted to feel her hair sweeping over his skin, soft and sensual.

He still liked the idea of vaginal sex and sort of hoped that someday he'd have it; if not with Lydia, then maybe with a different girl, beautiful and willing.....

And yet there was something about being with Stuart that reached in and touched something deep inside of Stiles, something about having a sexual partner who was forceful and demanding, who handled Stiles in ways that most females just wouldn't be able to do -- though Stiles would have bet Erica could manage it, being a werewolf and a very angry person to boot -- and who had a penis.

Stiles liked dick, he was man enough to admit. And he really liked Stuart's dick. It was so much like his own, yet completely different. And he wanted that dick right now.

"Come on." He grabbed Stuart's wrist and dragged him out of the kitchen and back upstairs.

Stuart let himself be dragged, and Stiles liked that too, when Stuart let him take the lead. He liked that they had this give and take. Stuart might be the more dominant of the twins some of the time -- okay, most of the time -- but he never tried to overwhelm Stiles or make him do anything against his will. Stiles wouldn't have stood for that.

"Get undressed," he instructed Stuart as they entered their bedroom. "I want to try something."

Stuart raised his brows, watching with a bright gaze when Stiles went over to his laptop, but he moved to do as directed, stripping off his shirt and then removing his boxers. "What's up?" he asked.

"Um." Stiles bit his lower lip, realizing belatedly that this was probably the sort of thing he should be asking permission for. "How do you feel about..." he blushed to say the words out loud, "Me taping us while we... do stuff?"

Stuart's eyes went wide, and then his lips curled upward at the corners. "Why haven't you thought of this before?" he asked, sounded so delighted that Stiles felt all his anxiety evaporate.

Stiles ducked his head and set things up. "I did, a while ago, but then I forgot."

"Loser," Stuart said scornfully, but Stiles knew he was kidding. "Hurry up and get naked."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles replied absently. "Help me with this, then."

Between the two of them they got things set up so that Stiles' webcam would be able to record them with the best angle and lighting they could manage.

"We should get an actual video recorder," Stuart suggested, grinning gleefully as he got his hands all over Stiles' body where they were kneeling facing each other on the mattress. "Make some good quality videos."

Stiles bit his lower lip, feeling his stomach twist even though this had been all his idea in the first place. "That just raises the chance that someone else could eventually see," he protested, visions of complete disaster dancing around his head.

Stuart raised his brows. "Are you kidding? Twinky teenage identical twin brothers getting it on? We could make a lot of money selling any recordings. And unless they're way kinkier than we think, no one we know would ever see them."

"We don't need money," Stiles snapped, smacking Stuart in the chest. "And there's no way I want anyone else seeing this! Besides, we're both underage, so it would be illegal."

Stuart drew in a breath, opening his mouth, and Stiles slapped a hand over it.

"No, I know that wouldn't stop some people. And I've obviously done plenty of things that aren't exactly legal myself. But it would just make things that much more likely to fall apart, all right?"

Stuart rolled his eyes broadly above the back of Stiles' hand, and Stiles felt a warn flush as he remembered the first time Stuart had touched his dick, when he'd given Stiles a handjob and he'd covered Stiles' mouth like this to keep him from waking their father with his noise when he came.

He was distracted enough that when Stuart grabbed his wrist and tugged, his hand just flopped loose.

"I was mostly kidding," Stuart said, staring at him intently. "I don't care about any money, you know that. I just care about you. Even though I think it'd be hot, knowing that people were watching us banging and getting off to it. I'd be okay sharing you as long as it was on film and I was the only one actually touching you. I'd love to know that there were perverts watching me take you apart. But I'm not going to do anything that freaks you out."

Stiles drew in a shaky breath, because Stuart painted a pretty hot picture with his words, he had to admit. Stiles didn't... he didn't really want those things, but he did want to see what it looked like when he and Stuart made out. That was the whole point of this, after all.

"So I take it no camcorder for my birthday," Stuart grinned, back to teasing now that he could tell that Stiles was calming down. And getting more turned on, in fact.

"Our birthday, jackass." Stiles smacked his brother's chest again, but lightly. "And, no, I already know what I'm getting you and it's not a camera. Now, let's turn this thing on and stop talking."

"Right." Stuart gave Stiles a searching look, though Stiles couldn't say what he was searching for. Whatever it was, he must have found it, because he gave Stiles a smile so sweet it made his heart seize up, and then leaned in to kiss him before he broke away and moved to get the webcam recording.

Kissing was good, more kissing sounded just about perfect, and after all, that had been what Stiles had initially wanted to record. It was a little awkward with both of them on their knees on the bed, but they were young and flexible, not to mention determined, and Stiles felt about a million times better once Stuart's lips pressed against his like they belonged together.

The two of them made out for long minutes, slick sweeps of wet tongues, and strong hands wandering restlessly, and Stiles managed to completely forget about the fact that they were being filmed, soothed by his brother's soft kisses and warm touches.

He remembered again, when Stuart manhandled him into position facing the camera, still on his knees, Stuart kneeling behind him, Stiles' aching dick jutting up proudly from between his spread thighs, Stuart's equally hard erection pressed into the top of the cleft of his ass cheeks where his brother trapped his body in the cradle of his legs and his reaching, entwining arms.

"Stuart," Stiles groaned, knowing his entire face was red, tipping his head back onto Stuart's broad shoulder as his twin's hands traced knowing, sure, expert paths of pleasure over his chest, belly, and inner thighs. "Oh my God." He wanted to hide his face against Stuart's throat, but couldn't turn his head quite far enough. His leg muscles were trembling as Stuart stroked closer and closer to his goal, and Stiles felt like he couldn't catch his breath.

"Hush, it's okay, I've got you," Stuart murmured smoothly, pressing his lips soft and damp to the sweat-dewed skin of Stiles' shoulder and neck. "Mm, you feel so good."

It should have sounded like bad porn, and it did make Stiles hyperaware of the camera for a moment, but then Stuart was taking his dick in hand, clasping it loosely and slowly moving his fingers up and down the shaft, while his other hand went unerringly to a nipple, the pads of his forefinger and middle finger rubbing it to hardness and making Stiles pant and squirm where he was slumped back into Stuart's bracing body.

"Oh my God," Stiles gasped, his eyes closed, red stars sparking behind his lids. He had no idea what his own hands were doing; he flailed a little and then grabbed a hold of either Stuart's thighs or his own, he was too far gone in arousal to even really tell. He could feel his dick leaking precome, and the slickness of it eased the slide of Stuart's hand a little, but Stiles still thought they needed some lube if he wasn't going to end up feeling raw and tender later.

There was nothing sexy about a chafed dick, Stiles already knew from experience. Not even in the heat of the moment, and especially not afterward.

He was trying to get his mouth working enough to explain this to Stuart when all it wanted to do was hang open and gulp in air, when Stuart left off teasing his nipple to reach for the lube that they kept close by.

"Oh," he gasped, almost managing to form words before choking, when Stuart set to jerking him off with a well-slicked hand. "Holy-- Oh my God."

"Mm-hm," Stuart said, not sympathetic in the least, as he tugged and twisted with devastating skill, his other hand going down to cup and fondle Stiles' drawn up balls.

There was no way Stiles was going to last long like this, especially not with Stuart's own hard, dripping erection riding the cleft of his ass, and all too soon, he was writhing in Stuart's partial embrace, shooting off all over his own stomach and chest, thanks to the fact that his asshole twin brother tilted his dick up to press against his body in the last moment before he climaxed.

Though, once he'd recovered enough from his orgasm that he could think, Stiles was grateful that Stuart hadn't just let him jizz on his laptop. It wouldn't have been the first time, and it would have sucked, as he unfortunately knew.

"Love taking you apart like that," Stuart purred, rubbing his dick lazily against Stiles' sweaty back. He could feel the perspiration and Stuart's pre-come trickling down his ass-crack, and it was ticklish and not exactly pleasant, but Stiles enjoyed it because it was Stuart, and because it meant he had made Stuart horny just by coming, and because Stuart was now rubbing Stiles' own jizz into his chest and stomach with one hand, while still holding onto his tingling dick with the other.

Stiles wriggled his ass back, telling himself that Stuart had meant those words and that they weren't just for the camera. He'd sounded sincere, and he'd said plenty of stuff like that before, so it wasn't unlikely that they'd just been dragged out of him by Stiles' sheer sexiness.

"Do you want me to suck you off?" he asked hoarsely, once he felt like he'd recovered enough that he'd actually be able to do so. He wasn't even thinking of the fact that they were being filmed when he offered, and he didn't think the low groan that his question dragged out of Stuart was in any way put on or exaggerated.

"Hold on," Stuart grunted, and he removed his lube-slick hand from Stiles' dick, snaking it around between their close-pressed bodies, and....

"Hey, no fair," Stiles protested, as he felt Stuart begin to jerk himself off. He turned just in time to take a second shot of hot jizz to the torso, and then he had to kind of awkwardly catch Stuart as he slumped forward.

"Oh my God, you couldn't wait one minute for me to get my mouth on it?!" Stiles asked, as he and his twin brother fell onto the mattress in a tangle of knees and elbow. "Ow!"

"Was too close," Stuart gasped, and then he was covering Stiles' body with his own and laying claim to his mouth, licking his way inside as enthusiastically as though he hadn't just come.

"Asshole," Stiles coughed out once they broke for air, doing his best to deliberately elbow Stuart. It was harder now, though, with his brother laying on top of him. "I know you like coming in my mouth!"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Stuart snarked, then attached his mouth to Stiles' again.

"You're the bitch," was what Stiles tried to say, but it was kind of hard to talk with someone else's tongue in one's mouth, and it came out as a garbled sound of protest that was completely muffled by Stuart's lips.

They grappled together, almost wrestling, for long moments, before Stiles just gave in and let Stuart kiss him dizzy. He was wiped out from coming so hard, and he loved kissing his brother, and it just felt good to lay here, blanketed by Stuart's body, kissing until their lips were numb.

"I shut off the video," Stuart whispered into the line of Stiles' jaw as Stiles tilted his head back to grab some air. Stuart took advantage by latching onto Stiles' throat, though he didn't suck hard enough to leave a mark. He liked to bite and bruise Stiles in places his clothes would cover, but they were both careful about hickeys in places where anyone could see.

"Okay," Stiles huffed, because he didn't really care by this point. It wasn't going to be too much longer before he was hard enough to go again, especially if they kept making out, and he didn't feel the need to record that.

It showed how out of it he'd been that he hadn't noticed Stuart reaching over to switch off the webcam. Well, he had been out of it.

Stuart's hands could be very distracting.


Stiles really didn't believe Stuart, that he and Derek mostly texted each other about him. He didn't want to believe it, because it made him twitchy and anxious thinking about what they could be saying.

If he'd thought he could get away with it, he'd have checked Stuart's phone. But for all they shared everything else, up to and including the bed, their laptops, their porn, and their orgasms, Stiles and Stuart both held their phones sacrosanct. Stiles wasn't sure why, but in the same way he didn't want Stuart snooping around in his own texts, he didn't let himself snoop in Stuart's texts. Even though he really wanted to see.

"You didn't have to stop texting Derek because of me," Stiles told Stuart on Sunday night, when his brother had barely touched his phone all day. That was so unusual it was worth noting, and it had been going on since Stiles had snapped at him about it Saturday.

Seriously, though, Stiles hadn't meant to drive a wedge between Stuart and Derek. As much as it killed him to see them happy together, he did want to see them both happy.

"Huh?" Stuart looked up from his homework, blinking a little, a pen cap in his mouth. Evidently Stiles wasn't the only one with an oral fixation, and, huh, so that was why people sometimes looked at his mouth like that.

"You haven't texted Derek all day," Stiles prodded.

"Oh." Stuart spat out the pen cap and shook his head. "Naw, it's not you. I freaked him out with something and I'm letting him have some space while he... processes."

Stiles frowned, trying to parse meaning out of his brother's vague words. "What the hell did you freak him out with?" he asked. Because now he had to know.

Derek was a born werewolf who'd become an Alpha after his entire family had been killed in various, horrible ways, he'd killed his own uncle, said uncle had used him to come back to life, he'd dealt with a kanima and created a pack of asshole teenage werewolves.... What could Stuart have done to freak him out?! And could Stiles hop on that action? Because he could use some revenge for all the times Derek had completely freaked him out in the past. Like sneaking into his room and shoving him against his own door, trying to force Stiles to saw off his arm, making him deal with his asshole teenage werewolf pack members....

Stuart smirked, looking far too wicked for Stiles' peace of mind, but then he just shook his head.

"I'll tell you later, okay," he offered, and then he sprang up to get them some snacks without answering Stiles' question.

"Yeah, right," Stiles scoffed, reaching for Stuart's phone. He didn't trust Stuart to tell him later, and he hated waiting.

But of course Stuart's phone was locked. And Stiles didn't have time to guess the password before he heard Stuart on his way back upstairs. Seriously, it was as though he didn't trust his own brother! Well, okay, it wasn't like Stiles didn't have his phone locked too; it was just common sense. Especially when one was dealing with werewolves on a regular basis. And to be fair, Stiles had just tried to snoop....

"Dammit," Stiles growled under his breath, doing his best to put the phone back exactly as it had been when he'd picked it up. If he'd had more time he might have been able to get in, but time was what he didn't have.

He felt guilty when Stuart walked into the room and tossed him a soda, but he did his best to disguise it.

"Chips?" Stuart asked, shaking the bag.

"Gimme!" Stiles made grabby motions with his free hand. He tried to push the whole Derek thing out of his head, but the only thing worse than Stuart spending all his time texting Derek was Stuart not spending all his time texting Derek and wondering if it was his fault, despite Stuart's assurances otherwise.

Mostly what bothered Stiles, though, was wondering... what the hell Stuart could have said or done to freak Derek out!


Stiles actually kind of missed Derek, even though they hardly ever saw each other and when they did it was usually when they were in extremis.

So Stuart had been texting Derek, and then had freaked him out. That didn't mean that Stiles couldn't text him too. And he hadn't done anything to freak Derek out. Besides, he was getting seriously bored sitting at home, and there was still no news about the errant werewolf they were hiding out from. Stiles felt like he ought to be in the loop even if he couldn't really do anything to help.

Any news on the omega?

He was halfway expecting not to get a reply. So he was actually shocked when Derek texted him back after only about two minutes had passed.

We found his hole in the woods on the preserve but there's been no sign of him.

Stiles pursed his lips, checking and double checking that, yes, the reply had come from Derek. For half a second there he'd thought he must have texted Scott or maybe even Isaac. But it really was Derek.


He glanced up at Stuart, who was lounging on their Dad's recliner. Stiles was stretched out on the sofa, and the television was on but neither of them was paying it much attention. Stiles was evidently texting Derek now, and Stuart seemed to be dozing off. Their Dad had promised to bring home Chinese, and he should be walking in the door any time now, which was why they weren't cuddling.

Maybe he's staying in a hotel?

After all, werewolves weren't actually animals, right? Derek might hang out in his family's burned down house, but Stiles knew that the house hadn't always been burned down, and he suspected that Derek lived somewhere else. And not in the old abandoned train station; that had only been an emergency hide-out while asshole hunters had been actively looking for Derek.

Things were a little quieter now, and Stiles found he was suddenly curious over where Derek was sleeping. He was pretty sure Isaac spent half his nights or more with Derek, and Derek wouldn't make Isaac sleep in a creepy hole in the ground, would he?

There's no hotel.

Stiles snickered. He could almost hear Derek saying that in his flat tone, the one that said he was somehow disappointed in Stiles, even if he probably wasn't actually disappointed.

He kind of missed Derek and his dickishness, Stiles thought, his grin twisting into a grimace.

Don't be so sure of that. Maybe the reason you're not finding him in the woods is because he's staying here in town.

Before Derek could reply to this sally, Stiles thought of something and asked another question.

Is it a 'he'? Are we sure it's a dude?

He didn't have to wait long for a reply, which was kind of weirding him out, but he thought he liked it.

Yes, it's a male omega.

Headlights cut across the front room and Stiles heard the familiar sound of his Dad arriving home. He didn't need super werewolf senses to recognize the sound of that engine, and his stomach growled. He was so ready for food.

Gtg, dinner

If it had been Scott or even Stuart, Stiles wouldn't have bothered sending that last text, but he didn't want Derek to think he was just blowing him off or ignoring him when he'd been the one to start the text exchange.


Stiles had been about to put the phone away and get the door for his Dad when that last text came through. He froze and stared at it.

Maybe... maybe it hadn't been Derek he'd been texting with. Maybe Isaac had stolen his Alpha's phone? Maybe it was Peter fucking with him?

Because no way could Derek have told Stiles it enjoy his meal in a way that was quick but cute, understated and sweet.... Okay, maybe it had been Derek after all, but since when did he care about whether or not Stiles enjoyed his dinner?

"No problem, I've got this," Dad called out dryly, making his way into the house with his arms full of overly stuffed white bags. "Why should I expect my two strapping young sons to help me when I can do this myself? I can just eat all this by myself too."

"No way are you eating all that," Stiles informed him, jumping off the sofa and shoving his phone in his pocket. "You'd pop!"

Stuart groaned and dragged himself upright, rubbing his eyes, as Stiles took some of their father's delicious, delicious smelling burden. Stiles tried not to let his face show how adorably fuckable he thought his twin looked as he rubbed his eyes sleepily.

Being stuck at home because of some rogue Omega wasn't all bad, Stiles thought. Not when there was Chinese take-out with his father and his brother, and he was getting regular sex.

He refused to think about the fact that his mood had risen the moment Derek had replied to his text, but he knew that Stuart was staring at him.

Well, let Stuart stare. Derek was giving Stuart the silent treatment and yet he'd texted Stiles back. Maybe it shouldn't have, but this made Stiles feel better about... well, everything.

Maybe Stiles was an asshole, but he was an asshole who actually received a reply when he texted Derek.

And that put him one ahead of Stuart right now.


Stiles still wasn't sure that Peter Hale hadn't just been fucking with his mind that time in the parking garage, when he'd offered Stiles the bite and had told him he was lying when he said he didn't want it.

Being a werewolf would solve some of Stiles' problems, it was true... but he knew firsthand that the change came with a whole new color wheel of difficulties. Some of which he'd helped Scott deal with, some of which he'd seen Derek suffer through, some of which his classmates were dealing with right now.

Bad enough Stiles had supernatural creatures trying to kill him on a near regular basis. If he was a werewolf, he'd have both supernatural creatures and human hunters after his hide.

Not that he thought there was anything "human" about the stuff that Kate, Victoria, and Gerard Argent had done. Hell, even Allison had gone somewhat crazy, and Chris Argent had threatened Stiles personally, for all his talk of protecting humans and his supposedly noble "Hunter's Code".

Stiles was a human and just a kid and Chris Argent hadn't had any qualms about bruising him and telling him he ought to kill his best friend. And that was nothing compared to what the guy's insane, cruel, megalomaniacal father had done.

And then the old creeper had turned around and proven himself to be a huge hypocrite, trying to force Derek to give him the bite and make him a werewolf. So much for the Argent's code, right?

Anyway, the point was that Stiles was pretty sure he didn't want to be a werewolf. It might bring him popularity, but Scott's rise had been quickly followed by his fall. It would give him athletic prowess, but, dude, he'd almost singlehandedly won a lacrosse game all on his human own! Even if no one remembered it due to Jackson dying on the field, and even though Gerard Agent's almost immediate abduction and beating of Stiles kind of soured the memory for him.

So, even though Derek was going around biting his classmates and turning them into raging douche-monsters -- another reason not to become a werewolf, because it hadn't done Isaac, Erica, or Boyd any favors where their personalities were concerned -- Stiles had never really considered asking Derek for the bite.

He didn't want Derek as his Alpha, he just wanted Derek. Stiles was no one's Beta, of that he was certain.

Stiles was actually relieved when he saw Derek and Stuart talking where they were standing near the Jeep, outside the school after it let out. That meant that whatever weirdness had been between them they must be past it, and maybe Derek had news of the Omega.

Derek looked incredible, leaning back against the blue side of Stiles' Jeep, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, his cheekbones sharply etched in the afternoon sunlight, his cute ears pink, and his hair and stubble perfect. Stiles hadn't even realized how much he'd missed seeing Derek until he was looking right at him.

In fact, he had to transfer his gaze to Stuart, because otherwise he'd be giving too much away as he joined them. If Derek knew he was banging his brother, then he already knew. Stiles couldn't afford for Derek to guess how Stiles felt about him.

Stuart looked good too, Stiles thought, biting at his lower lip. He was pretty sure he'd never looked that good in those jeans and that shirt, even though he and his brother were literally identical. Maybe it was the confident way Stuart was standing, close to Derek, his hips angled toward the Alpha werewolf in a brazen way Stiles thought he'd never manage himself. Not without pulling a muscle or throwing out his back.

Also, Stuart's hair just always looked better than Stiles' hair did, no matter how hard he tried to style it the same or similarly.

All of Stiles' fond, horny feelings evaporated, though, as he got close enough to hear what Stuart and Derek were saying.

"So, if someone is sick then the bite cures them of that, right?" Stuart was asking, his eyes bright and clear. "But if someone were hurt and dying, then the bite would probably kill them before it turned them."

Derek nodded. "Right. It's a shock to the system and it isn't instantaneous. It's not a cure-all or a last resort. And it's not something to be asked for lightly, because it's an entire life change, and becoming a werewolf sets you up for all sorts of potential dangers."

Stuart nodded, and Derek's words were only echoing what Stiles had already known or guessed, but he hadn't expected Stuart to be asking about becoming a werewolf, and he felt his stomach bottom out at the thought of it.

"Oh, hey, Stiles," Stuart greeted cheerfully, as if he hadn't just been asking Derek about making a major life change, about becoming a werewolf, setting himself that much closer to Derek and that much further from Stiles. Making himself completely other, in fact, and he and Stiles wouldn't be identical anymore.

Stiles nodded at Derek, then tossed his keys to Stuart, who was so startled he fumbled as he caught them.

"Let's go home," Stiles ground out, stalking around to the passenger side of the Jeep. He didn't miss the look that passed between Stuart and Derek, all sassy eyebrows and confused grimacing, but he didn't care. His stomach hurt and his pulse was throbbing in his temples and he just wanted to get the hell out of here.

It wasn't like he'd never let Stuart drive before. Technically, he kind of figured they were supposed to be sharing the Jeep. But he did tend to take control of the wheel more often than not.

Stiles knew he was being rude to Derek, but he didn't care. It wasn't Derek's fault for stealing Stuart away from Stiles just by being who and what he was, but it wasn't as though Derek hadn't been rude to Stiles in the past, usually for no real reason. And Stiles had a reason.

He heard Stuart mutter something at Derek before he climbed into the Jeep and started the engine, but he didn't even try to listen in. He didn't have werewolf hearing, though it sounded like Stuart might pretty soon.

Stuart would be a great werewolf, Stiles thought with as much admiration as bitterness. Stuart would be more of a natural at it than Scott, and he'd listen when Derek tried to teach him things. He was smarter than Isaac and Erica so he'd no doubt have better control in school. He'd be stronger and faster than he was now and he'd have Derek.... He wouldn't need Stiles anymore; not as his wolfy Yoda, and not in bed.

Stiles had suspected he was going to lose his brother to Derek. He just hadn't thought it was going to be this thoroughly, in a way that would make them completely different when before they had always been so much the same. And he hadn't really thought it would be so soon.

"Are you okay?" Stuart asked, once they were well on their way, reaching over and palming Stiles' thigh.

Stiles noted that they'd been riding in silence to that point, but he couldn't bring himself to break it, just nodded in a completely unconvincing way.

He could see Stuart shooting him worried glances all the way home, but he did his best to ignore them, turning to stare out of the window. He was fidgeting, chewing on his lower lip until it stung, but he couldn't figure out what to say.

"Don't leave me," was what he really wanted to say, but he couldn't beg Stuart to forget Derek and stay with him. Well. Not while they were still on the road, anyway.

Stiles was feeling torn as Stuart parked the Jeep and they entered the house. Yeah, he wanted Stuart to be happy, and if Derek made Stuart happy, Stiles could live with that....

But he hadn't thought that in giving Stuart up, he'd have to completely lose him. He'd thought that they'd still be identical twin brothers.

If Stuart was a werewolf, they wouldn't be identical anymore.

Stiles was expecting Stuart to say something the minute they got in the house, but the sound of his phone receiving a text distracted Stuart as soon as they were in the door, and Stiles took the opportunity to escape upstairs, even though he knew this wasn't going to be a real reprieve.

Stiles barely had time to dump his backpack next to the desk before he heard Stuart thumping up the stairs. He wondered if Stuart would be quieter once he'd gotten the bite. Derek usually moved pretty silently, to the point of startling the piss out of Stiles without even trying.

"Are you okay, Stiles?" Stuart asked, and if he'd been angry or belligerent then maybe Stiles could have kept his cool, but he only sounded concerned and confused. " What's going on?"

"It's nothing," Stiles tried, mumbling the words into his chest, keeping his eyes down because he just couldn't meet Stuart's gaze.

"It's not nothing," Stuart said, reaching for Stiles' arm, grabbing at him with a desperation that was both grating and gratifying at once.

Stiles jerked away and took a step back, and his heart jumped at the wounded look on Stuart's face. As though Stuart hadn't been the one to move away first. Not physically, but....

"Are you that unhappy with what we are?" Stiles burst out, feeling his eyes suddenly and unexpectedly pricking with hot tears. Tears as much of humiliation over the fact that he was about to cry as they were upset over the fact that he was feeling increasingly rejected and left on the outside by two of the most important people in his life.

"What?" Stuart's eyes were round, and he was beginning to look as upset as Stiles was feeling, only there was no way he could be that upset, because he wasn't the one whose twin brother had been going behind his back, planning to become a werewolf.

"Do you want to be separate from me that much?!" he choked out, putting it into words.

"What are you talking about?" Stuart asked, reaching for Stiles again, but not moving toward him when Stiles stayed back out of reach.

"Well, you want to be a werewolf now, right?" Stiles snapped, sniffing and trying to surreptitiously wipe his stupid snotty nose. "You want to be like Derek, to be with Derek. You don't want to be like me anymore."

He didn't add the logical conclusion of, "You don't want to be with me anymore," but he figured it was implied. He'd read it loud and clear, anyway.

"What?" Stuart was staring at him like he'd grown another head, and that just wasn't fair. "Is that seriously what you think?"

Stiles shrugged jerkily. He wasn't crying, but his throat felt tight and he didn't dare to try to talk.

"Jesus, Stiles," Stuart said, lifting his hands and shoving his fingers into his hair. "I was just curious," he continued, throwing his arms out. "I was making conversation while I was waiting for you. I wasn't asking because I wanted to become a werewolf!"

Stiles swallowed tightly a few times. Stuart sounded sincere, and Stiles wanted to believe him.... But even if it was the truth, Stiles was still losing his brother to Derek. And he'd only just gotten him back.

"I'm gonna.... I'm gonna go for a walk," he mumbled, shouldering past Stuart and headed out of their bedroom.


Stuart's phone alerted him to a text message, and Stiles took that as his opportunity.

"You'd better get that," he said, slipping out the door as Stuart automatically pulled out his phone and checked the screen.

"Stiles!" he heard his twin call after him, but he was on his way out of the house and didn't let love or logic slow him down.

Which was really a bad idea, because trying to get away from Stuart and the idea of his brother getting together with Derek led to Stiles forgetting the fact that he wasn't supposed to leave the house alone.

He hadn't really bought into that whole thing where he supposedly smelled like werewolves, especially since he spent most of his time with Stuart and their father rather than Scott or Derek. But evidently there was something to it after all.

Because Stiles hadn't gotten three minutes of brisk striding away from the house before there was a flurry of fur and claws and fangs, and then the next thing he knew he was unconscious.


So, yeah, turned out the Omega had a hotel room after all.

Stiles might have felt more vindicated in this discovery if he hadn't come to tied up and bleeding in said hotel room. And if his head wasn't pounding like his skull contained its own brain-sized heart now.

Now that was a pleasant mental image. Ugh.

"Ow," Stiles whined, flexing his muscles to test his bonds. As grateful as he was that the Omega -- at least that was who he assumed had assaulted and abducted him -- had tied him up and not just gutted him or slashed his throat right there in the street, being tied up on the floor of what looked like the cheapest hotel Beacon Hills had to offer was no picnic.

Especially when his head was throbbing and moving meant that he could feel every ache in his body. He must have hit the ground pretty hard to be this sore, Stiles thought foggily. Which made sense; he doubted the Omega had caught him in his arms like a swooning maiden after knocking him in the head.

"Dammit," he gritted, when no response met his initial waking exclamation. He wiggled around, risking rug burn, and it actually wasn't to see if he could get free of the ropes -- though that would be awesome -- it was to try and figure out if he'd been bitten or clawed anywhere.

Aside from his horribly aching head and the lingering impact shock to the rest of his body, Stiles thought that he was okay. But his head really hurt. He could feel the tug of dried blood on one temple, and when he started moving around something on his scalp evidently broke open, because he felt a fresh trickle of hot blood running down the side of his face, tickling him as it cooled.


Great. Derek was going to tear him a new one for leaving the house alone just like he'd been told not to do. Or even worse, he'd just give Stiles that disappointed glare, plainly and silently telling him what an idiot he had been.

As though Stiles was unaware.

And that was assuming that Derek and company even bothered to come and rescue him. Or could figure out where he was. They hadn't been able to track down the Omega up to this point, even after Stiles had sensibly suggested to Derek that he might be staying in a hotel.

Stiles might have been being a sulky bitch about the thing with Derek and Stuart, but he was honest enough to admit that Derek would probably try to rescue him. Even if only because Stuart asked him, though Stiles liked to think that all the times he and Derek had helped each other in the past might add up to the Alpha actually caring, even a little.

And Scott would try to find him, right? Unlike the time when Gerard Argent had kidnapped him....

Okay, so maybe Stiles was better off hoping for Stuart and Derek to find him, he thought with a sinking heart. Hey, he loved Scott. Scott was his brother in a completely different and actually more platonic way than Stuart. And he would always love Scott no matter what happened and he would always trust him. But it still stung a little, knowing that Scott hadn't even tried to look for Stiles after he'd been kidnapped. The rebirth of the kanima was a valid distraction, granted, but....

Stiles shook off his sadness before it could really get a hold of him, and focused on the fact that Stuart had to be worried about him, and would hopefully have contacted Derek already. Stiles could feel that he still had his phone in his jeans pocket, underneath his thigh where he was laying curled on his side, but his hands were bound behind his back and he couldn't get at it.

At least if anything happened to him, if the Omega returned and ate him or something, at least his Dad would still have Stuart, Stiles thought dolefully. Then he thought about how he'd feel if anything happened to Stuart, and he knew that was how Stuart would feel if he died, and he started thrashing against the ropes binding him, because his heart could barely stand to imagine that pain and he didn't want to inflict it on the brother that he loved more than he loved himself.

"Quit wiggling."

So either the Omega werewolf had been in the hotel room all along, or he had entered while Stiles had been lost in thought, because that was an unfamiliar low growl, and now there was a booted foot resting ungently on Stiles' throat.

"Ow," Stiles repeated, stilling, but mainly because his head was pounding again to the point that his vision was getting fuzzy around the edges. Evidently one didn't recover immediately from being knocked unconscious; who knew?

Okay, so some werewolf healing might come in handy right about now, Stiles thought, struggling to breathe with a boot pressing into his windpipe. Though, it had been Stuart who'd wanted to be a werewolf, right? Not Stiles.

Everything was vague and confusing by the time the Omega let up, and there were dark spots dancing around Stiles' head -- or maybe it was just his eyesight -- and he gasped in air despite the way it burned in his throat and made his chest hurt.

Then again, existing made his everything hurt. Why should breathing be any different?

At least the pain in his head and now his neck made him mostly forget about how much the ropes were digging into his tender flesh, and how awkward and uncomfortable it was to be laying on his side with his hands tied behind his back.

Yeah, because that was something to be glad for.

"Just lay there like a good little bitch and wait for your Alpha to come rescue you."

The Omega was squatting down to speak to Stiles directly, he recognized that fact, but he couldn't focus on what the asshole looked like through the rushing blur of his vision, and he could barely process his words.

Once he did, though, of course he couldn't let that slide.

"Not my Alpha," he croaked, almost proud of himself for being able to speak.

That pride vanished pretty quickly when the Omega werewolf stood and then stamped on his face.

This time Stiles wasn't even able to articulate another, "Ow," because his entire world was pain. He definitely made a noise, but it wasn't words, just an agonized exclamation.

His werewolf captor might have been ranting, Stiles thought dimly, but if so he couldn't hear anything over the roaring in his ears, couldn't parse any meaning past the agony of his stomped-on face.

It might not be brave or manly, but Stiles just let himself lay there and recover, trying to pretend he wasn't whimpering. His face was throbbing to match his head now, his throat still hurt, and he was pretty sure his nose was bleeding.

At this point Stiles didn't even care why the Omega was in town, he didn't care why he'd thought nabbing Stiles and keeping him tied up on his hotel room floor was a good idea, and he didn't care what the hell happened to this asshole when Derek eventually caught up with him.

He just wanted to be at home in bed with a face and head that didn't hurt, preferably with his brother's arms wrapped around him. Safe and warm and comfortable....

Okay, so Stiles must be more out of it than he'd thought, because the next thing he knew there was a whole lot of commotion and crashing and yelling in the hotel room, and he took a kick to the stomach that sent him sliding halfway across the room, which hurt but didn't hold a candle to the pain in his face, and then he somehow magically had Stuart's arms around him and that made things better, even though he was pretty sure he was about to throw up.

"Stiles. Stiles!" Stuart was holding him close and touching his face, and it hurt but it was worth it, Stiles supposed, because he was with Stuart and he wasn't getting eaten or stomped on by a nasty, combative Omega anymore. "Stiles, you're okay. He'd gonna be okay, right?"

Stiles had no idea who Stuart was talking to, but he had a faint sense of someone kneeling behind him, and he really hoped it wasn't the Omega. Stuart wouldn't be on speaking terms with that asshole, though, not after he'd beaten the shit out of Stiles, right?

Something sliced through the ropes binding Stiles, he suspected it was claws, and then he was free... free to go limp... which he did. He'd almost have preferred to remain tied up, he thought hazily, as his entire body informed him all at once just how ill-used it really was.

"Ow," he said weakly, and there was a large, warm, heavy hand on his neck, and he was pretty sure that Derek was doing that pain-drain thing that Scott had told him about, but the growing absence of pain meant that he was kind of losing the only thing keeping him conscious....

At least this was a better way of passing out than getting whacked in the head, Stiles thought as he tumbled away. And he was in Stuart's arms, so everything was going to be all right.

It had to be all right. Now that he had his brother and his Alpha here with them.


The next time Stiles woke up he still had a headache, but his position was far more pleasant than the last time he'd regained consciousness.

Well, it would kind of have to have been, as long as he didn't wake up dead. Or, you know, tied up on a dirty hotel room floor with blood drying on his forehead.

Stiles was blood-free, as far as he could tell, clean and wearing comfortable clothing. His head hurt and his face was sore, but he didn't ache anywhere near as much as he had when he'd lost consciousness.

He was wrapped up in Stuart's arms, their legs tangled together, and there was a dim golden glow in whatever room they were in. He was pretty sure it wasn't their bedroom because the light was all wrong. Not to mention he could feel a third body at his back, warm and solid, and there really wasn't room for three people on his bed at home.

Wait. Why was there someone else in bed with Stuart and Stiles?

"Calm down," Derek murmured in Stiles' ear, and he might have jerked in shock if he hadn't been so tired. He did twitch a little as he felt Derek's hand come to rest on his side, underneath the shirt he was wearing, fingertips on bare skin, and he only figured out what Derek was doing due to the slow cessation of pain just in time to stop himself from squawking, flailing, or making a fool of himself in some other way.

Stiles wasn't sure if it was the sapping of his pain, Derek's soft but commanding tone, or just the reality of waking up safe and wrapped in the arms of two of the people he cared about most in the world -- and he was glad that it was just Stuart and Derek, that neither Scott nor his Dad were in bed with them as well -- but he did as Derek instructed and let himself sink into the peace of calmness and comfort.

He was still vaguely aware of his face being tight and sore, but it didn't hurt anymore, not really. A part of him kind of thought that Derek should have asked before pain-draining him like this, much less touching his bare skin, but the larger part of him was just grateful as hell for the reprieve.

"You're an idiot, you know," Stuart mumbled into Stiles' hair, evidently awake as well, and he squeezed Stiles tight, holding him close, taking some of the sting out of his words. Not that Stiles didn't deserve them.

"Yeah, I know," he grumped, his voice a little hoarse, but he didn't think the Omega had done any lasting damage to his throat. "I shouldn't have run off alone."

"Not that," Stuart snapped, and Stiles stifled a whine as his brother pulled away a little, levering up on one elbow and moving so that he could look down at Stiles. Derek wrapped a powerful arm around his waist and pulled Stiles' body back into his own, which threw his entire body and mind into confusion, but Stiles was too focused on what Stuart was saying to let himself get too distracted.

"I meant thinking that I would leave you for Derek," Stuart continued, sounded affronted. And Stiles might have felt guilty if his entire face and body hadn't been one giant bruise. Even with the pain sapping thing Derek had done, Stiles still ached. It was just duller now, more removed from his immediate senses.

"It would be okay," he tried, stiffening against Derek, wishing he had the strength of will it would have required to move away. It felt too good, though. Even better than spooning with Stuart, because Derek was built entirely of muscle, and his arm was sturdy and steadying where he still had it locked around Stiles' stomach.

"Shut up," Derek growled, and Stiles' eyes went round as he felt what could only be the tip of Derek's nose press against the skin behind his ear. It was oddly intimate, it reminded him of the way Stuart would nuzzle his cheek, and it was the closest he and Derek had ever been to each other outside of things like treading water for two hours or being paralyzed on the floor of the Police Station together.


Stiles blinked, contentment now warring with adrenaline, his heart thumping even though his limbs were all limp and noodly. It was like he wanted to panic because this whole situation was so bizarre, but the lassitude left in the wake of his drained pain and the relief of knowing he was not only safe but was laying in bed with Stuart and Derek made panicking impossible.

Even though that last fact was the thing that was making him feel panicked in the first place.

"It was stupid to leave the house alone after I expressly told you not to," Derek said, his voice rumbling through the bones and muscles of Stiles' back in a way that made him feel even more relaxed somehow. "And it wasn't like I didn't tell you why."

Stiles yawned, even though it made his throat and face hurt despite the pain Derek had drained from him. He wondered how bad he looked and how he was going to explain it to his Dad.

"I told you he was staying in a hotel," he muttered, trying to sound smug but just coming off sleepy and maybe a little petulant.

He could feel Derek sigh, it moved through his whole body like a gentle wave, from Derek's chest to his own, and it made him smile. Stuart was staring down at him, a strange look on his face. His hair was completely wrecked and he had shadows under his eyes, but somehow Stiles thought he looked even more sexy than he had in the parking lot earlier.

Which probably wasn't the sort of thing to be thinking about when he was lounging in bed with both Stuart and Derek. But Stiles was exhausted and hurt, and thankfully that was enough to keep him from getting aroused.

"Idiot," Stuart said, and he sounded affectionate, but Stiles still pulled a sour face, even though it tugged at his sore nose. Damn, if he was still aching like this after Derek had drained his pain, he hated to think how he'd be hurting if Derek hadn't drained his pain.

"Where are we?" he asked, because Stuart was blocking his view and he was too tired to lift his head. Hell, he was too tired to lift his eyelids. He was on the verge of falling back asleep, and maybe his head would hurt less when he woke up, but he had a few questions to ask first.

"In Derek's loft," Stuart replied, as though it was common knowledge that Derek lived in a loft. Well, it probably was to Stuart, Stiles thought a little bitterly. But he was too worn out to really feel resentful or left out. "Dad thinks we're spending the night with Scott, so we're staying here until some time tomorrow."

Stiles blinked tiredly, then let his eyes remain closed as he mulled that over.

"How bad is my face?" he asked, because they were going to have to tell Dad something.

"Not so bad," Derek surprised him by replying. He could feel the ghost of Stuart's fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, which actually didn't hurt. "Your nose is bruised," Derek continued, and he put his hand back on Stiles' side, taking more of his pain. Which was great, but it made Stiles even more sleepy. "Your throat is bruised too, and you have a goose egg with a small cut on your temple. But they'll heal pretty quickly. You're lucky it wasn't worse."

Stiles grunted in agreement, hoping he wasn't about to get lectured again.

"Just rest and you'll feel better," Stuart murmured, and Stiles thought that he had more questions but he couldn't bring them to mind and he couldn't open his eyes and so he was kind of inadvertently going to do exactly what Stuart said.

"C'mere," he slurred out, twitching when he'd really meant to reach for Stuart, because his arms just didn't have the strength to move. He didn't want Stuart angry at him, and if anything, getting beat up by the Omega should have bought him a little leniency.

Oh, yeah, that was one of his questions; what had happened to the Omega werewolf who'd kidnapped him. Well, whatever had happened, Derek had clearly won that fight, since Stiles was here in his loft, and Stiles supposed he could wait until he woke up again later to get the actual details.

He hoped that Derek had knocked the shit out of the asshole, though. In revenge for the damage he'd done to Stiles.

Stuart snuggled back into his front, and even though it should have been freaking Stiles out, he really liked being the middle in this delicious sandwich. He was too sleepy to freak out, honestly.

A fact that was made very clear to him when Stuart kissed him softly and sweetly on the lips, right where Derek could presumably see, and murmured, "Sleep, Stiles."

Because instead of freaking out, like he maybe should have done, Stiles just kissed Stuart back and then fell asleep.


Of course, this cool, easy acceptance of having kissed his twin brother on the mouth while in bed with Derek didn't last past Stiles waking up the next morning, alone and chilly in Derek's bed.

It was a nice, wide bed with a soft mattress, Stiles noted absently as he sat up, taking in his surroundings. Who knew Derek could appreciate things like comfort? Stiles might appreciate it more now if he wasn't on the verge of having a fucking panic attack.

Sure, it was one thing to suspect that Derek suspected he and Stuart were closer than identical twins ought to be. But it was another thing entirely to know that he and Stuart had kissed where Derek could see.

Stiles sat and breathed, trying to tell himself that Derek might not have noticed. He'd been behind Stiles, right? Maybe he'd had his eyes closed.

Yeah, and if he had, maybe his werewolf hearing hadn't caught the sound of two teenagers kissing just a foot or less away from him.

Stiles focused on the way his face was aching now that he was sitting up and awake. It actually wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting. That was good, right?

The bed was soft but it wasn't warm without the two extra bodies in it, and Stiles had to take a leak. He made his way to the edge of the mattress, joints a little stiff but not too sore, hoping that Derek had a functioning bathroom in this place.

It was a loft, the way Stuart had said. Stiles shivered as his feet hit the floor. Cold. He looked around. Morning light filled the place, flooding in through the huge windows, and how had he slept in so long?

It was a little run down, but Stiles was just glad to know that Derek was living here instead of in his burned out family home or an abandoned train station.

There was no sign of either Derek or Stuart as Stiles looked around. Across the room there was a spiral stairway that led upward, but he didn't hear anything moving overhead.

Stiles frowned, palming his aching head. Waking up alone had sucked, but finding himself completely alone in the loft made his heart hurt a little. Even though he knew that Stuart loved him and even though he thought that Derek probably cared -- he'd rescued Stiles from the Omega, after all, and he hopefully hadn't done it entirely for Stuart's sake -- it might have been nice if they'd stuck around....

His bladder throbbed and Stiles made haste to find the bathroom. The toilet worked, and there was a sink with a mirror, which he used to examine his face.

He was wearing clean clothes that he didn't recognize, that were just a little baggy on him, so he assumed they were Derek's. His face actually didn't look that bad, he thought, craning his neck. There was a butterfly bandage on his temple, and the skin around it was dark under the fringe of his limp bangs but the swelling had gone down. His nose almost looked normal, even though it was tender to the touch. And the bruising on his throat wasn't as awful as it had felt, though he was pretty sure he could see the tread marks of the boots the asshole Omega had been wearing.

All right, so Stiles was doing okay. But where were Stuart and Derek? And where was his phone?

The answer to that last question, at least, became apparent as Stiles made his way back out and toward the bed. His phone was plugged in and charging, sitting on top of a large crate that evidently served Derek as a bedside table.

Stiles grabbed it, turning it on for lack of anything better to do.

There were several voicemails from Stuart, which made Stiles' stomach twist. He now felt bad about storming out the house over a simple misunderstanding.... Hell, it hadn't even been a misunderstanding; it had been Stiles jumping to stupid conclusions that had nothing to do with reality, simply because he was insecure and jealous.

There were several texts from Derek, in tones of growing anger, urgency, and worry. And Scott had sent him two texts letting him know he'd be covering for him and Stuart with their Dad, but that he expected to know what was going down as soon as Stiles had a chance to tell him.

Stiles was giving serious consideration to calling Scott and spilling the whole story -- except for the part where he and Stuart were having regular sex together, of course -- when he heard noises at the front of the loft, where the ridiculously big-ass door was.

"Look, I'm just saying," Stuart was, well, saying, as he and Derek walked into the loft carrying bags that looked as though they contained groceries, "That if you made a move, I can absolutely guarantee you wouldn't find yourself being rejected."

"Stuart, shut up," Derek growled, his bright, multi-shaded eyes cutting to where Stiles was sitting on his bed.

Stiles gave them what was probably a sickly smile and raised the hand not holding his phone. "Hi."

"Stiles!" Stuart promptly dropped the bags he'd been carrying and practically flew across the loft, plowing Stiles into the mattress with painful enthusiasm.

"Ow," Stiles moaned pitifully, and that was evidently his new catch phrase, but he hurt, okay?

"Sorry, sorry," Stuart mumbled, but he stayed where he was on top of Stiles, hands running all over his body, and the next thing Stiles knew Stuart was pressing quick little kisses to his cheeks, nose, and chin. At least he was avoiding his lips, but Stiles really, really hoped that Derek wasn't looking over here, because this was wrong enough.

"Get off of me," he grunted, shoving at Stuart.

"I'm going to make some lunch," Derek announced, bending over to pick up the bags Stuart had dropped with a baleful glare at Stiles' twin. Which Stiles only saw because Stuart had thankfully rolled off of him as directed.

"Do you need help?" Stiles asked, because he was beginning to feel like an ingrate. Derek had saved Stiles' ass from a violent werewolf, cleaned him and dressed his wounds, dressed him in comfy clothes, drained his pain, let him sleep in his own bed, and now he was making food. And what had Stiles done in return? Snubbed Derek for no reason in the school parking lot and then gotten himself captured by the Omega.

Stiles was pretty sure they'd moved past the whole favor-for-a-favor thing a while ago, but he didn't like feeling as though he was so deeply indebted to Derek. He preferred it when it was Derek who owed him. Or maybe he liked it when they supported each other.

"I've got it," Derek grunted, and Stiles felt a little bit dismissed, but he wasn't offended. At least Derek hadn't sounded grumpy. That was kind of a new thing for him and Stiles thought he liked it.

He watched as Derek carried the groceries over to the kitchen area that was set up in one corner of the loft, admiring the way his jeans fit over his ass, then he flushed and turned his attention back to Stuart.

Who was smirking at him with a gleam in his eye. At least he wasn't jealous. Well, why should he be? He'd been hitting on Derek as they'd arrived back at the loft, and Derek hadn't seemed inclined to shut him down.

"I can't believe you," Stiles hissed at Stuart, hoping vainly that if he spoke quietly enough Derek wouldn't be able to hear him. Maybe he could turn off his werewolf super-hearing and give the twins some privacy. Maybe he'd do that.

"What?" Stuart looked honestly taken aback.

Stiles leaned in. "Putting the moves on Derek after leaving me alone here in bed!" he whispered. He wasn't actually even that angry, not like he'd been when he'd thought Stuart wanted to become a werewolf and leave him, but he was a little hurt. Not a lot, after what the three of them had been through in the past twelve hours or so. But a little bit.

"What?" This time Stuart's voice was louder and he looked a little outraged.

Stiles frantically shushed his twin, glancing over to where Derek was chopping vegetables or something. He was momentarily distracted by the strange and unexpected realization that Derek seemed to know how to cook, but he'd grown up in a house, right? As part of a big family, so of course he knew how to cook. Just because he was on the run sometimes, from asshole hunters who wanted to torture and kill him--

"Stiles!" Stuart was tugging at the front of Stiles' borrowed shirt, distracting him from his mental maunderings, bringing him back to the conversation at hand. "Stiles," Stuart repeated, giving him a look like he thought Stiles was crazy, "I wasn't talking about me to Derek. I was talking about you."

It took a couple of seconds for that to process. Mainly because Stiles was so far from a place mentally where he could understand what Stuart meant.

So Stuart hadn't been throwing himself at Derek at all. He'd been....

"Oh my God!" Stiles gaped. "Are you... are you saying you were pimping me out to Derek?" he asked breathlessly.

Stuart's eyes flashed, anger and maybe a touch of hurt drawing his brows together. "No!" he snapped, and then his expression softened and he reached out to cup Stiles' flapping jawline in hands essentially identical to Stiles' own.

"No," he repeated, and now he was smiling. "I'm offering to share with Derek."


Something metallic clashed in the direction Derek was in, but Stiles was too busy having his own crisis to worry about how Derek had reacted to possibly, probably having overheard that.

Stuart hadn't exactly just outted the two of them to Derek.... He'd offered to share, but he hadn't specified that he and Stiles were banging each other.

That was kind of inconsequential, when the important thing was that Stuart was suggesting that Stiles and Derek enter into a relationship. One that, presumably, included Stuart. Because he might have been talking about stepping aside and letting Derek and Stiles bang when he wasn't around... but where was the fun in that? And when wasn't Stuart going to be around Stiles?

"Derek knows we're a package deal, right?" he asked, not even bothering to keep his voice down any longer because this was important and propriety had no place when twin brothers were trying to seduce an older, emotionally-damaged Alpha werewolf with trust issues.

Stuart nodded vigorously, his face lighting up. Stiles was pleased that he could make his brother so pleased. "Of course," Stuart replied cheerfully.

"So he knows that you sharing me is just the same as me sharing you?" Stiles continued, brows rising.

"Of course," Stuart said again.

"Well, this might just work out, then."

Normally Stiles would have been wallowing in a welter of insecurity, uncertain as to whether Derek even wanted him, but... but Stuart wouldn't be throwing Stiles at Derek if there was no returned interest there, would he? Stuart wanted Stiles to be happy, and teasing him with unrequited feelings wouldn't make him happy.

It was a strange feeling, being sure of himself, of his allure. But Stuart had told Stiles that he found Stiles to be worth loving and he found Stiles physically attractive. Stiles respected Stuart's opinion, colored by familial love as it might be. So how great a stretch was it to think that there was the possibility that Derek felt the same way? After all, Stuart had said that when he and Derek had been texting, they'd mostly been discussing Stiles....

"Don't I get any say in the matter at all?" Derek asked plaintively from where he was still working on fixing them lunch.

"No," the Stilinski twins replied in unison, grinning at each other.


Of course, nothing was ever that cut-and-dried or that easy. Especially not where Derek was concerned. Stiles didn't blame the guy for having something of a martyr complex, for all the awful shit life had thrown at him since he'd been Stiles and Stuart's age.

But now that Stiles had set his mind, he wasn't going to be swayed. And Stuart was easily as stubborn as Stiles was when he wanted something.

Between the two of them, Derek had never stood a chance.

They didn't push physically. Stiles knew better than that. He respected Derek too much for that, even though it shocked him to discover that he held Derek in any respect. Derek deserved it, though. He did try his hardest. And he'd saved Stiles from the Omega.

He hadn't told Stiles what had happened, just growled that the matter was "taken care of." The Sheriff hadn't been called to any murder scenes in sketchy hotel rooms, so Stiles figured the odds were fifty-fifty that the Omega was still alive. Stuart admitted that he actually didn't know what had happened either, all of his attention having been focused on Stiles. And since Derek swore that the asshole werewolf wouldn't be back, both the twins let it go. They had something more important to focus on.

Namely, one Derek Hale, and the seduction thereof.

"The reason Derek stopped texting me for a while," Stuart confessed the night after they'd come home from the loft and were tangled up in bed together, Stuart kissing Stiles gently around his bruises, both of them thinking about the Alpha werewolf, "Is because I sent him that video of us having sex."

"What?" Stiles would have felt far more outraged and violated if he hadn't just come hard and long into Stuart's mouth, and if he hadn't known that it had worked out in their favor... sort of. Well, they were still working on it, but they'd get there.

"Sorry," Stuart offered, not actually sounding sorry at all. "He liked it. It freaked him out how much he liked it."

"Did he tell you that?" Stiles wondered, finding that difficult to imagine.

"Naw." Stuart shrugged, running his hand soothingly over Stiles' sweat-dewed back. "I could read between the lines. Derek's not so hard to figure out once you get to know him."

Stiles snorted. "Then you know him better than I do," he scoffed, and he wasn't jealous, not really now that they'd agreed to share, but it hurt his heart to think about how little he really knew about Derek.

"That's not true," Stuart hurried to assure him. "And even if it's kind of true, you'll get to know him well enough now that you're gonna start trying, right? Especially with me to help you."

"I can't believe you sent him that video," Stiles said, his face burning, because Stuart was probably right but he felt weird admitting it. It was easier to focus on what a bad idea it had been for Stuart to share their homemade sex tape. "That could have gone so badly!"

"What, do you think he'd forward it to Dad?" Stuart snarked.

"Don't even joke about that!" Stiles gulped, going cold all over at the thought.

Stuart cuddled and kissed him until he warmed up again, and they curled together.

"He liked it and wants to be with us," Stuart whispered with so much assurance in his voice that Stiles actually believed him. "I'll bet he hangs around outside the house while we fuck, touching his cock, wishing that he could join in...."

"Oh my God," Stiles groaned, hopelessly turned on, and even though he and Stuart had just recently gotten off, they came together and got off a second time. And Derek wasn't with them, but he was foremost in their thoughts.

And maybe... just maybe.... Maybe he was outside, listening in. Stiles liked to think so.


Stiles and Stuart courted Derek with a patience Stiles hadn't known either one of them had possessed. They got to know him, they texted, they invaded his loft, they forced him to watch movies with them and eat what they cooked, and they generally did everything they could to make him comfortable with them in every way possible.

Except that they didn't touch him. Stiles wanted to, he ached to. And he knew that Stuart felt the same. But Derek was like a skittish wild animal; they had to make him come to them.

There had been too many people and situations that had forced themselves on Derek Hale, Stiles thought sadly. He wanted this to be something that Derek chose. Even if Derek never chose the Stilinski twins, it was up to him.

That wasn't an option, though, as far as the Stilinski twins were concerned. And there were other ways to seduce someone than to jump on top of them and suck on their tongue.

Stuart kind of wanted to go with the jumping on Derek plan, and Stiles had to literally sit on his brother a few times to keep him from being overly eager. That might have helped his cause more than hurting it, though, because Derek might act like he was really uncomfortable when Stiles and Stuart got physically affectionate with each other in front of him, but Stuart was convinced that he was just trying to hide a hard-on, and Stiles was fairly sure his brother was right. Especially since Derek never kicked them out or even told them to knock it off.

In fact, it was this behavior that decided Stiles, after he and Stuart had passed two weeks actually spending time with Derek, getting to know him, forcing him to get to know them....

"We can go on like this forever," he told Stuart, as they entered Derek's loft, "But I'd rather move things along."

Stuart nodded, grinning widely, twining his fingers through Stiles' now that they were out of the public eye. Derek probably regretted ever letting them know where he lived, since they took his home as a safe place outside their own bedroom for cuddling, but so far they hadn't done more than that in front of him. Partially out of respect for Derek's feelings, and partially because Stiles was unaccountably shy.

Well, frustration had overcome his shyness, and he was done with tip-toeing around Derek's sensibilities. Stuart was all for testing the limits of Derek's self control, but the idea had initially been Stiles', and he was both proud and ashamed that he had reached this point of desperation.

It wasn't any big deal.... Except for the part where it totally was.

"What are you two doing here?" Derek asked, looking up from where he was reading a book on his sofa. It was a nice sofa, as Stiles knew from bouncing on its cushions, but that wasn't where he was headed right now.

"What are we ever doing here, Derek?" Stiles said, light and teasing but hopefully not mocking. "Enjoying the pleasure of your company."

Derek raised a brow, frowning a little as though he sensed that something was different, and Stiles had a flashback to "cousin Miguel". He hadn't known Derek back then, they'd been operating on a basis of mutual need and shared distaste for each other in a state of panic and stress.

But maybe even back then there'd been a spark. Some sort of underlying tension that Stiles hadn't been experienced enough to recognize as being sexual.

Or maybe Derek had just grown on him in the time since.

"Of course, you're going to have to come and join us," Stuart took up smoothly, tightening his fingers around Stiles' and dragging him toward Derek's bed. Not that Stiles was in any way reluctant. This was his idea, after all.

"We can't enjoy your company until you grace us with it," Stiles continued where his brother had left off. "So we'll just have to get started in the meantime."

"What are you--"

Derek had started out sounding annoyed, but he broke off with a gulp when the twins came to a stop beside his bed and Stuart whipped Stiles' shirt off without preamble.

Stiles kind of wished that Stuart had been the one to start undressing first, but he didn't have long to wait before Stuart stripped off his own top. Stuart still had a little more muscle than Stiles -- just a little, dammit, seriously! -- but they had the same nipples, and Stiles smirked as his twin's pebbled up in the slight chill of the loft.

"Cute," he said, reaching out and thumbing them, smirking even more widely when Stuart sucked in a quick breath.

"Who do you think you are; me?" Stuart asked, reaching out and grabbing Stiles by the waist. He reeled Stiles in and then they were kissing. Stiles left off teasing Stuart's nipples and instead reached up to palm the back of Stuart's neck, making sure to get a good grip, well aware of how his hands looked when they touched his brother.

Hey, he'd watched the video they'd made. Blushing all the way through it, but it had been just as hot as he'd thought it would be, and the idea of Derek's watching it... well. Stiles whined, grinding his hips into Stuart's as his brother slid his own hands down from his waist to grab his ass, fingers squeezing.

Stiles was already hard, so hard, leaking in his underwear, and he and Stuart were still standing, half clothed, making out beside Derek's bed. But they were beside Derek's bed, and Derek was watching, and if he jizzed himself right now Stiles would never live it down, but how was he supposed to be expected not to be this turned on?

Derek had better be watching them, anyway, Stiles thought hazily. But then Stuart's tongue was in his mouth and he was still groping Stiles' ass, and Stiles could feel Stuart's hard-on meeting and matching his own between them, trapped in their respective jeans, and after a few seconds of this, he actually didn't care whether Derek was watching the show.

Even though it would be for the best if he was.

Stiles sank his fingers into Stuart's hair, tilting his head so that their mouths fit together more tightly, and sent his own tongue to twist around Stuart's with more enthusiasm than skill. Stuart was still better at kissing, but Stiles was confident that he was better at giving head. Even if Stuart had had more practice.

Right now they were still just kissing, and Stiles was kind of sloppy, but he knew from the video that they'd made how hot it looked. Their identical red mouths clinging to and caressing one another, tongues tangling and teeth catching, and if this didn't bring Derek over to join them... well, then maybe he was asexual or something.

Not that there was anything wrong with that if he was, Stiles thought distantly, but it would sure be a shame. Because he and Stuart both really, really wanted to have sex with Derek.

"Pants," Stuart slurred once they'd broken for air, and Stiles let out a discontent sound when his brother let go of his ass, but then Stuart was unbuttoning and unzipping his fly, and that was good.

"Yeah," Stiles breathed, about as articulate as he was gonna get at this point, and he focused on getting Stuart's hard-on out of his jeans. Part of him wanted to glance over at Derek, but part of him was afraid of what he would see, and another part of him was scared he'd lose his nerve if he did, so he didn't, he just stepped out of his jeans and underwear as Stuart peeled them down his legs, then helped Stuart out of his in turn.

Once they were naked they moved to the bed. If Derek really wasn't into this, Stiles thought a little hysterically, then they were going to owe him the world's biggest apology and a new mattress. But Derek had to be into it, right? Because Stuart wasn't infallible, but he couldn't be that wrong about Derek wanting them both--

"Oh my God, quit thinking," Stuart instructed, wrestling Stiles into the bedsheets. Bedsheets that smelled like Derek. Bedsheets that Derek had slept in, rolled around lazily in, maybe even jerked off in....

"Shit," Stiles hissed as Stuart grabbed his throbbing erection without preamble. "Seriously?"

"Shut up." Stuart plastered his mouth to Stiles' again, and they traded a few languid kisses, lips pressing, tongues pushing, and then Stiles tipped his head back as Stuart moved down to the taut line of his throat.

The bruising from the Omega was long gone, and Stiles had shaved recently, so he knew the skin there was smooth and pale. Stuart nuzzled, licked, making him squirm and pant for breath already, but as per their standing agreement he didn't leave any marks.

Not like Stiles' collarbone and his inner thighs, where he proudly bore bruises in the shape of Stuart's teeth. He was glad that Stuart had a biting kink, because he kind of had a being bitten kink, and it would have sucked if they hadn't been compatible.

Even though he was focused on what Stuart was doing to him, what Stuart's hand was doing to his dick, Stiles took a moment to imagine this scenario from Derek's point-of-view. Completely aside from how damned sexy he knew it looked when he and Stuart touched each other, there was also the fresh salt scent of their sweat, not identical but complimentary. Stiles could feel the heat radiating from Stuart's bared flesh and he was burning up himself, and his erection was already eagerly leaking all over Stuart's fingers.

Derek could probably see that, smell it, and it only made Stiles leak more to think that, didn't embarrass him in the slightest.

He was kind of past embarrassment by this point, and he only hoped that this show was having the desired effect on Derek.

Well -- Stiles groaned, arching up as Stuart moved down to run his tongue around one of his nipples, returning Stiles' teasing from earlier -- there was also the fact that he was having sex with his twin brother right now. Completely aside from the fact that they were trying to seduce Derek into joining them, this was something that Stiles enjoyed immensely. Even the ever-growing familiarity with all their sexual acts did nothing to damped Stiles' pleasure. If anything, knowing what Stuart liked, anticipating Stuart doing the things that Stiles liked, those added to the experience rather than taking away from it.

Stuart didn't spend long on Stiles' chest, which was kind of disappointing, but on the other hand Stiles really didn't need Derek knowing how sensitive his nipples were. Instead, he moved back up to kiss Stiles again, still slowly fisting his erection, not really stroking it, just holding on and flexing his fingers. Stiles was grateful for that, because if Stuart had started jerking him off, he'd be coming within moments.

"Do you wanna see his lips stretched around my cock?"

For a crazy couple of seconds Stiles thought that Stuart was talking to him, because give him a break, his brain was really coming in second to his throbbing hard-on. Then he felt the mattress depress behind him and he realized that Derek must be joining them.

Which was exactly what they had been aiming for, and yet Stiles felt his stomach give a twist of nerves. Because Derek was joining them on his bed, and Stiles wasn't sure where they were gonna go from here.

"Or would you rather see them stretched around yours?" Stuart continued, sounding infinitely wicked.

Stiles dragged his eyes open, because evidently he had closed them at some point, and turned his head so that he could look at Derek.

It was a sight that had a fat blurt of pre-come oozing out of his dick, slicking Stuart's hand, and Stiles was actually genuinely afraid he was going to pop off just from seeing Derek.

It was one hell of a sight, though.

Derek had taken off his own clothes, which Stiles definitely took as a good sign. His high cheekbones were flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded and steamy, his brows low but not quite scowling. His mouth was hanging open just enough that Stiles could see his front teeth peeking out from between his pink lips, and those lips were moist, as though he'd just been licking them.

Without his meaning to, Stiles turned more toward Derek, and Stuart let him. Stiles lifted his chin, his own mouth open, his lips still tingling from Stuart's kiss, still tasting of his brother's saliva, and before he could second-guess the offer he was making, Derek's mouth was crashing down against his own.

Thank God for a brother who gripped the base of Stiles' dick hard and saved him the humiliation of jizzing just from being kissed by Derek Hale. Maybe Derek would have been flattered, but Stiles would have been forever humiliated.

Having Derek's tongue in his mouth shouldn't have been different than having Stuart's tongue in his mouth, but for some reason it was. Derek didn't taste like Stuart, for one thing. For another, he didn't kiss like Stuart.

If anything, Stiles would have expected Derek to be all aggressive and angry while kissing. He was a werewolf and an Alpha, after all. He'd shoved Stiles around enough early in their relationship that Stiles had come to expect violence from him as a matter of course.

What he didn't expect was for Derek to kiss him sweet and slow and syrupy. Deeply, yes, but he stroked Stiles' tongue with his own, coaxing him into responding rather than demanding, the way Stuart sometimes did. His stubble prickled at the skin around Stiles' mouth but Derek's lips were soft and felt really good as they moved over Stiles' lips. Derek cupped his face with one hand, his thumb tracing over Stiles' sharp cheekbone with a strange but flattering fixation, and Stiles tilted his chin up higher, offering and asking for more at the same time.

Stiles got lost in the sensation of making out with Derek Hale and forgot to be nervous or embarrassed. He didn't forget about Stuart, but he did sort of forget to remember him....

That was, until Derek broke the kiss, and the next thing Stiles knew Derek and Stuart were leaning over him to kiss each other. And that was... god damn that was hot. Stiles gaped, his well-bruised lips hanging open and just watched as his Alpha and his twin brother made out for a while.

That was what it had looked like for Stuart when he and Derek had been kissing, his mind happily supplied. Now he kind of wanted to see Stuart's lips locked around Derek's dick. Why should it be him and not Stuart?

Not that Stiles didn't want to go down on Derek, because he definitely did. Now that their plan had succeeded, they'd all have every chance to do everything, right? God, Stiles hoped so.

Stiles turned more toward Derek, tugging his dick free of Stuart's grip -- which had gone slack as soon as he'd gotten Derek's tongue in his mouth -- and cast his gaze down Derek's body now that he could see more than just his face.

He'd seen Derek shirtless before in the past, but it was usually when they were in trouble for some reason or other. This was completely different. Those pecs and abs ought to be illegal, Stiles thought in a haze of arousal, not even trying to keep his hands from wandering to touch.

But as amazing as Derek's torso was, it was his crotch that drew Stiles' full attention.

Because Derek was as naked as the twins were, and that meant that Stiles could see his dick. And what a tool that was!

Stiles licked his lips, letting his fingertip linger on Derek's tight belly at the same time his eyes fixated on the erection that Derek most definitely had. Completely aside from the making out, Derek wasn't faking his interest.

Stiles and Stuart were both pretty well hung, Stiles knew from surreptitious locker room peering that enabled him to compare their dicks to their classmates' dicks, but Derek was even more "gifted" than they were. It was... a little intimidating, Stiles admitted, and he was very much leaning toward Stuart being the first one to take that thing in his mouth.

Hey, Stiles was no wilting flower. He'd be doing his brother a favor, letting him suck Derek off first. It was just a good thing that they both had big mouths, Stiles thought dazedly, as he contemplated whether or not he had the courage to dig his fingers into the thick, dark pubes Derek's magnificent dick was rooted in.

He really wanted to....

"Maybe you'd both like to see my mouth stretched around Stiles' cock," Derek rumbled as he broke his kiss with Stuart, and that was certainly enough to snap Stiles' attention away from Derek's hard-on and back up to his face.

"What?" he gasped, knowing his eyes were huge.

"Awesome," Stuart chortled, and suddenly he was manhandling Stiles from behind.

"Hey!" Stiles squawked, arms and legs shooting out, and oh God, he'd just almost kneed Derek in the junk. That would have been an epic disaster, even with Derek's werewolf healing.

"What?" Stuart chuckled, settling them both against Derek's pillows, tucking Stiles into the spread of his thighs, his arms locked around Stiles' chest. "You don't want Derek to blow you?"

Stiles blushed harshly, knowing he was all crimson and splotchy, his face shiny with perspiration. And just from a little bit of making out and talk about suck jobs! He wasn't sure if it was pathetic or just to be expected when in bed with two incredible hotties, but he was leaning toward the latter. It was easier on his self esteem.

Derek was.... Oh, God, Derek was crawling between Stiles' legs, looking terrifyingly and wonderfully predatory. It was an awful cliche, and yet there was no other word for the expression on his gorgeous face right now.

"You're the one who started this, Stiles. No wimping out now," Derek murmured, smiling and glancing up almost coyly at Stiles, and it should have looked dumb, but instead it made Stiles' heart clench. That had been a real smile, like he had never seen on Derek's face before. And his lashes were so thick and dark over pale eyes that were gazing at Stiles with an honesty that he had never expected to get from the Alpha.

Stiles licked his lips and swallowed down something snarky and assholeish, because Derek was opening up to him and now would be the worst time in the history of ever to cop an attitude.

"How... how do you know it was my idea?" he asked hoarsely instead, as much to distract himself from the fact that Derek was prepared to give him a blowjob as to keep himself from saying something stupid, bitchy, or just plain inappropriate.

"I heard you both talking on the way up here," Derek explained, and Stiles gasped as he reached forward and wrapped a hand around his straining erection. "I just didn't know what you were talking about."

Stiles let out an inarticulate sound, his head thumping back against Stuart's shoulder, and he knew, he fucking knew that his goddamned twin brother was smirking as he rubbed at his nipples and watched Derek break him to pieces, with nothing but his one hand so far.

"It was a good idea, though," Stuart prompted, and he sounded smug, but at least it was aimed as much at Derek as Stiles. "Right?"

"Right," Derek murmured, sounding distracted, and Stiles quickly lowered his head and opened his eyes, because there was no way he was missing seeing Derek put his mouth on his dick for the very first time.

It was even more sexy than watching Derek and Stuart make out, and that was saying something. Derek's lips were still soft and pink and lush, and they parted so charmingly as he placed his mouth on the very tip of Stiles' swollen, red dick. It wasn't quite a kiss, but he didn't take it into his mouth yet, just let the beads of over-eager pre-come stain his lips and trickle down his chin to darkness his stubble, and Stiles felt like he was going to hyperventilate just from the sight of it, much less the feeling of Derek's hot breath breaking wet over the pulsing head of his hard-on.

"Oh my God," he choked out, not meaning to and actually a little surprised he was able to form real words.

"Nice," Stuart purred in his ear, rubbing more gently at his nipples now, and the extra stimulation was not what Stiles needed but he couldn't gather himself enough tell his twin to cut it out.

Derek smirked up at him, looking almost shy and yet completely wicked at once, then he opened his lips wider and took Stiles' erection into his hot, hot mouth, and that was it, that was it, Stiles was gone.

Maybe he would have been embarrassed about shooting off so quickly -- not to mention in Derek's mouth without giving him any warning -- but that would have required that his brains not be melted into sparking puddles of pleasure that swept down from his skull to fill his entire body with warm and wonderful repletion after a short muscle-tightening burst of intense reaction.

Somehow Stiles manage to pry his rolling eyes open as his orgasm faded away, and he watched dazedly as Derek pulled off of his dick with a working throat, pearlescence-streaked lips, and an expression that looked both disappointed and proud at the same time.

And, holy shit, if he could have shot off again at that sight, Stiles would have. As it was, his dick gave a valiant twitch where Derek was still holding onto it.

"You can't expect more of me than that," Stiles panted before either of the other two could say anything. "I'm sixteen and you look like a sex god."

Derek shook his head slightly as he straightened up, though his hand was still warm and heavy around Stiles' shaft, but Stuart had Stiles' back, figuratively as well as literally.

"He's right, you know," he informed Derek in a serious voice. "You definitely look like a sex god."

Derek actually seemed to blush, though it was hard to tell when he was pink with arousal already, and Stiles was feeling generous in his lassitude.

"You should let Stuart suck you off now," he rasped, turning his head and shifting enough that he could nuzzle his brother's throat. "Fair's fair, and I wanna watch."

"Pervert," said his identical twin brother who was still fondling his nipples.

That was probably why Derek snorted scornfully, but he didn't say it wasn't a good idea....

Stiles was still shivery-warm from his climax, but he was beginning to recover his strength, and he moved to extricate himself from his brother's arms and Derek's soft grip on his softening dick.

"Stiles," Derek rumbled, and Stiles darted in to kiss him, tasting his own come on Derek's mouth.

"Let Stuart take care of you now," he offered, grinning widely then licking his lips. He wanted to make out with both Derek and Stuart, right now, but neither of them had gotten off yet and that was greedy. Stiles could be greedy, but he tried not to be during sex, and besides, he really wanted to see the two of them get it on.

Derek ran his fingers through Stiles' hair, his expression fond, and Stiles wanted to get things going, so he gave Derek a smile, then turned and plastered himself against Stuart's front, claiming his lips with an enthusiasm that he could seldom muster so soon after he'd come. But he knew that Derek was watching and that he liked it, and that made all the difference.

Sure enough, he could hear Derek groan behind him, and he did his best to get out of the way and push his twin and Derek together at the same time.

Stiles didn't have werewolf strength, but Derek and Stuart both clearly wanted to touch one another. So they might have been humoring him but they did come together on the bed beside him. Stiles didn't care why they embraced, he was just happy that they did.

After putting on a show with his twin for Derek, and sort of inadvertently putting on a show for Stuart when Derek had put his mouth on his dick and he'd jizzed entirely too quickly, Stiles was ready to sit back and watch the other two put on a show for him.

He wasn't disappointed. Derek and Stuart lounged together on Derek's rumpled sheets, Derek half on top of Stuart, their mouth meeting and meshing with growing urgency. Stuart was rubbing himself and Derek was rocking his hips slightly against the mattress underneath him, and Stiles thought it would serve them right if they got off as quickly as he had, but he really hoped they wouldn't.

After a little bit of making out, Stuart shoved at Derek's chest and tugged at his arm until he had him where he wanted him, laying on his back against the pillows, shoulders raised but his body supine. Stiles watched Derek's stomach muscles tighten as Stuart moved between his thighs and sucked down his mighty hard-on with a hunger that Stiles understood and echoed, his own mouth watering slightly.

Derek let out a low, throttled moan, even though he seemed to be trying to remain quiet, and Stiles wanted to make a move on his upper half, maybe suck his tongue or lick his nipples, but he was fixated on watching Stuart bob up and down on Derek's generous erection, and he didn't want to block Derek's view either, because he knew how amazing his twin's lips looked stretched red and wet around that thick shaft.

It still seemed kind of narcissistic, but Stiles really didn't care. Stuart looked awesome when he was giving head and if that meant that Stiles looked just as awesome when he was doing the same, then so be it. That was a good thing, not a bad thing.

Derek buried his hands in Stuart's hair, tugging, and Stiles shivered in sympathy, more than a little jealous, he was willing to admit. He wished he was the one taking Derek apart like that. Well, hopefully he'd get his chance. Idly, he wondered if a werewolf's refractory period was anything like a sixteen year old guy's. Because he was already starting to get hard again, thanks in no small part to the amazing show his twin and Derek were putting on.

To be fair Derek lasted a lot longer than Stiles had, but that wasn't saying much, and Stuart was good at what he was doing so he managed to bring Derek off before more than three full minutes had passed. They were sweaty, sexy, breath-sapping minutes, and Stiles was definitely well on his way to being ready to go again by the time Derek tensed one last time, let out a long, low groan, and spilled across Stuart's tongue and chin.

Stuart had barely pulled off of Derek's spurting dick when Stiles had pounced him, kissing the mingled semen and saliva right off of his mouth. It should have been gross as hell, but it just turned him on more, and besides, Stuart had a hard-on that was no doubt aching to come.

"Do you wanna see me suck my brother off?" Stiles asked Derek, peering over his shoulder and reaching down to grab Stuart's leaking erection.

Derek let out a pitiful whine and pressed his palms to his eyes. "You're gonna kill me," he choked out, and Stiles felt a little bad for him, but not bad enough to prevent him from sucking his brother's dick.

"Sorry," he said, and he was pretty sure it was clear he didn't mean it, but the next moment he was going down on Stuart and nothing else mattered but the throbbing member in his mouth.

Stuart came gratifyingly quickly, but then he'd watched Derek sort of almost blow Stiles, and he'd blown Derek, so that was hardly surprising.

"I'm actually really good at that," Stiles assured Derek, turning to face him, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, but before he could offer to suck Derek off once he got hard again, he found himself squeaking as he was hauled into a powerful set of arms and crushed against a hard chest.

"Yeah, this is nice" Stuart sighed happily, plastering himself to Stiles' back as the three of them just kind of collapsed in a tangle of limp limbs under the sheet that Derek pulled over their naked bodies. They were sweaty and sticky in awkward places, but Stiles couldn't think of anywhere else he'd rather be. Even though....

"Why do I never get to be the big spoon?" he complained, elbowing his twin without any real force.

Stuart just yawned and gave him a squeeze, and Stiles gave up, resting his head on Derek's shoulder. When he'd suggested this plan to Stuart, he hadn't dared to think it would work out so well, but look at them now.

He smiled broadly, albeit sleepily, and told his libido to stand down. Sure, he was pressed between two incredibly hot people with amazing dicks who both wanted him, but they could all use a little rest before they went again.

At least, Stiles was pretty sure that they'd have the chance to go again....

"So, is this okay?" he asked Derek, shifting restlessly. Which wiggled his ass against Stuart's crotch, but Stuart had been the one who'd come most recently, so his dick was still spent. "You're all right with us doing this when we're, you know, twins?"

Derek was silent for a moment and Stiles felt his heart thump, even though Derek had been enthusiastic enough up to this point.

"I know how close twins can be," Derek said after a moment. "And it's always been clear how close you two are."

Stuart snickered, and Derek sighed.

"I didn't just mean sexually," he said, reaching over Stiles and poking Stuart in the side. "Though that too."

Stiles was quiet, because he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Plus it's hot as fuck," Stuart added, poking Derek back around Stiles. He scowled, not wanting to get stuck in the middle of a tickle-fight or anything, but then his mood lightened when Derek agreed with Stuart.

"Yeah. It's hot as fuck."

"We're different but we're the same," Stiles told Derek seriously, because one of the three of them had to be serious right now. "It's not like being separate people, it's like being plural. But that doesn't mean there isn't any room between us. It just means that we want the same things."

"And what we want is you," Stuart supplied, bold as ever, stating the obvious.

"As long as you want us," Stiles added, suddenly assailed with uncertainty, despite the fact that Derek had let Stiles jizz in his mouth, and Derek had jizzed in Stuart's mouth just now, and they were all locked together on the bed like a big sexy, sweaty pretzel.

Derek and Stuart snorted in tandem, and Stiles wished he could elbow both of them at the same time. He settled for elbowing Stuart again, and Stuart pinched him in retaliation, but lightly.

Derek cupped Stiles' face and lifted it to give him a soft kiss on the mouth while Stuart pressed his lips to the nape of Stiles' neck and his shoulder, just warm and heavy, not intended to arouse. They were calming him, comforting him, and Stiles wished that it wasn't so necessary... but he was grateful that it was so effective.

"You're stuck with us now, you know," Stuart informed Derek softly, once Derek had broken his kiss with Stiles and leaned over to kiss Stuart in turn.

"Trust me, I'm well aware," Derek said dryly, cuddling closer, his hands running over both their bodies at the same time with a skill that Stiles could only admire. Of course, it helped that he and Stuart were pressed so closely together. "I've known that since the first moment you set foot in this loft."

"Well, I set foot," Stuart said. "We carried Stiles in."

Stiles elbowed his brother yet again, annoyed at the reminder of his own stupidity and the trouble that had come of it. "Asshole."

Derek looked sober, his jaw set and lips thin, which probably made it a good thing that Stuart almost immediately lightened the mood.

"Admit it," Stuart pursued unrepentantly. "You were hooked from the moment you watched that video I sent you."

"Oh my God," Stiles groaned, burying his face in Derek's chest, embarrassed all over again even though he and Stuart had just done way more with Derek than they'd done with each other in the video. It might be a little counterintuitive to choose Derek for a hiding place, but it wasn't like he had much choice right now.

"Yeah, but I wasn't sure how Stiles felt at the time," Derek said quietly, and it was weird to hear him sound so soft and insecure. It made Stiles' heart thump, and he emerged from Derek's chest in order to kiss him thoroughly.

"You're not in any doubt now, are you?" he asked.

"I don't think either of you would let me misunderstand," Derek said wryly, but he was smiling again, and it was real and it was happy, and Stiles would do whatever it took to keep him looking like that.

"You're stuck with us now," he informed Derek earnestly, and the only thing Derek did was smile more widely.

"Guess I'll have to make the most of it, then," Derek said, and Stiles startled and squawked when Derek reached down and squeezed his ass.

"Aw, yeah," was Stuart's crude but heartfelt addition to this part of the conversation.

"Have you ever eaten your brother out?" Derek asked Stuart, his thick brows rising in query.

"Oh my God!" Stiles wasn't sure what he and Stuart were in for, but he was pretty sure that they were going to enjoy every moment of it. All three of them.

Stuart was beaming beatifically, and Stiles knew that he'd do whatever it took to keep both Derek and his twin brother smiling. And, hey, if he got some quality rimming out of the deal, who was he to complain?

"Let me show you how it's done," Derek was saying, and Stuart was laughing with delight, and Stiles' heart felt so full he could hardly stand it.

He'd known he was complete once Stuart had come home to him. But he hadn't been aware that there had been room for Derek with them as well. They were really going to do this, and they were going to make it work.

It was going to be perfect. It was going to be amazing.

And, no, he wasn't talking about the rimming.


kyrene_writes: (Default)

February 2015

1516 1718192021

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 12:17 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios