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“Hurry up, I hear someone coming.” Isaac hissed, keeping an eye out as Stiles shoved the body in a dumpster after snatching all the loose bills from his wallet.
“Bet that doesn’t happen often.” Stiles retorted under his breath as he patted himself off and quickly pushed the back door of the club open, Isaac following after him. He snickered when the jab finally registered in Isaac’s brain, stumbling when the taller blond gave him a smack on the arm. “Careful! You can’t damage the goods, man.”
“No one cares if their used gift wrapping is a little torn up.” Isaac grinned, ducking a swat and sliding into a seat at the bar. He ordered himself a beer, and something that didn’t require a straw for Stiles. As graceful as the guy could be when he was killing somebody, he had the seduction of a newborn deer with an inner ear infection when he had a straw near his mouth.
Stiles made a disgusted face when he was handed a glass of coke, “…I don’t smell alcohol.” He muttered, sniffing at the fizzy drink, “Why don’t I smell alcohol?”
“Because you’re already unattractive as it is, when you get drunk you start drooling too.” Isaac sipped his drink, enjoying the offended gasp Stiles responded with. The bickering was what kept their ongoing partnership stable. Had it stopped, this all would become too serious too quickly.
“At least I don’t attract pedophiles.”
“No, you just attract rapists and stranglers.”
“Um.”
They both snapped to attention as a tanned, puppy-dog looking guy shifted uncomfortably in front of them. “Am I… interrupting something? Are you alright? Do you need help?” He looked sincerely worried for Stiles, as if he was a recent victim of said rapists and stranglers. Which- technically, yes, he had, but that was beside the point. Stiles wasn’t blind, he could see the way the crooked-jawed stranger was standing a little closer to Isaac. He’d obviously come over to chat with him.
“Nah, I’m fine, got some weird fetishes is all. All day, every day. He helps me with the rug burn sometimes- he’s got a large amount of cream to help with sore butts and knees, and all in between-”
“Thanks, Stiles, I think I’ll tell him about my cream, you can go anywhere but here now.” Isaac interrupted with a glare, rolling his eyes when Stiles only responded with a shiteating grin. The poor guy looked more clueless than he had before, if not a little scared.
“Riiiight, I see, gotcha, I’ll just be not here.” He slid away, offering his seat to the guy with a flourish as he started towards the crowd of writhing bodies. It took less than a second for him to be swallowed up.
He lost track of time, but everything came to a screeching halt when he felt rough hands grip his hips and push him back against a firm body. He lost his breath for a moment, and when he twisted around to look at the owner of those strong hands, he had a moment of hallelujah. Goddamn, did men that attractive even need to go to the club? He assumed they just had every human’s phone number programmed into their phone to call up whenever they needed anything.
“Hey.” The man murmured, lips pulling back to show sharp, white teeth. The asshole knew how hot he was too.
“Hi.” Stiles gulped, and he already knew he had that stupefied expression where it looked like he forgot how to close his mouth. The dark-haired stranger’s amused eyebrows confirmed this.
“Wanna get out of here?” He leaned in, and even those damn bunny teeth made him look hot. Also cute. But Stiles didn’t fuck cute, he fucked hot, which this guy also was.
“Uh, yeah- yes.” Stiles sputtered, and then he was being twisted around and pulled out of the crowd. He glanced at the bar, and at the absence of Isaac already knew he was having a good night too.
If the guy’s muscles, face, hair, eyes- basically everything hadn’t made Stiles pant, his car sure as hell did.
“Is that a-“
“Camaro? Yes. You can touch it.” Oh, that bastard knew what his car did to people. For once, Stiles didn’t feel the need to sneer and show off how he wasn’t as simple as everyone else, because he started fondling the car as soon as he could. He ran his hands along the door, stared at the tires, and sighed when he pulled the door open. It seemed like the stranger wasn't very patient though, because he started the car and began driving before Stiles had even closed the door. It made Stiles preen a little that he wasn’t the only one excited.
At some point, it was like they had bombs strapped to their dicks and they were running out of time. Derek (whose name he’d come to find out during their rushed drive) swerved into a parking space haphazardly and started dragging Stiles up into his apartment. Their mouths became fused together at some point, which made pressing the elevator button for the right floor extremely difficult since Derek refused to detach his mouth. Stiles grunted when his back hit the wall of buttons, and literally laughed against Derek’s mouth as the elevator stopped at every single floor.
Derek was less amused, and seemed to think that more time in the elevator meant time for the first round if his traveling hands were anything to go by. He was embarrassingly close to coming in his pants when the right floor dinged and Derek just about carried him to his apartment door. The aggressive manner in which Derek rammed the key into the lock made Stiles worry slightly for his ass, but that was quickly muddled with testosterone and his insistent dick.
Then he was being slammed against a wall inside the apartment and his pants were being shoved down. After that it was a haze of pleasure, he vaguely recalled it being so because of the tight suction on his dick that quickly turned into getting a rim job, and then getting screwed three times in five different positions.
He literally forgot his name after the second position and became a devout Christian after the third.
Stiles could safely say that he’d never fallen asleep after a one night stand. Not even now, because after that sex marathon, he’d blacked out, fainted, fallen unconscious, had a near death experience from euphoria, everything but fallen asleep. He jolted into the land of the living around seven am when Derek was shoving on his jeans in a hurry.
“Whazzat?” He slurred, sitting up blearily and wiping some drool from the corner of his mouth.
“I've gotta go.” Derek buttoned up his jeans, looking over his shoulder and snorting a little at Stiles’ dumbfounded face, as if he hadn't known it was possible to get up before nine am.
“Oh, yeah…’kay.” Stiles collapsed back onto the bed and curled up with a pillow. Derek’s eyebrows were probably doing a judgmental thing, but Stiles was stubborn, and he was not getting up before eleven am. Hell no.
“I’ll be back by twelve for lunch, you can stay around.” Was that fondness in the guy’s voice? Ridiculous, Isaac had been his partner for as long as he could remember and he’d never had a fond tone at all, maybe when he thought Stiles was dying. Maybe it was just indigestion.
“Mm, why’dya have to go?” Stiles was already drifting off to dream land, where he would relive the other night. Even his imagination had to turn to reality for it to get anywhere as good.
“I’m a cop, and my partner Scott just called saying there was a dead body found outside the club. Probably overdose. I’ll be back, don’t go anywhere.” Derek said it as he was grabbing his keys and pressing a kiss to Stiles’s forehead. He left before he could see Stiles’ eyes snap open.
“Ah fuck.”