Work Text:
Dara does not look pleased.
"Vaguely annoyed" had been stretching it when he told her five minutes ago that they weren’t going to be able to fool around while he was…incapacitated.
"How do you expect to fuck me with a sprained dick?"
Stiles spread his hands helplessly, shrugging his shoulders all the way to his ears. “Well, I…can’t.” He didn’t know it was possible for a woman to look that put out.
"Then why are you here?"
"I wanted to tell you! You were worried yesterday when it happened."
Dara purses her lips. “I was not worried I was-” She pauses, eyes drifting skyward as she searches for a better word and comes up empty. She glares instead and Stiles is only a little bit smug. “Fine. So, that’s it?”
"Yeah, no, don’t worry about me. I just, y’know, twisted my dick and was in excruciating pain for a couple hours. No biggie."
"You fell on your own lacrosse stick, Stiles."
"Well it still hurt!"
Dara rolls her eyes and perches on the edge of her bed - which Stiles has made his own, claiming right to it since he’s the one wounded for once - with her fingers on Stiles’ thigh.
"You poor thing," she coos. "Want me to kiss it better?" Stiles makes a face and clasps both hands over his crotch.
"The doctor said no erections for a week, Dara. Don’t be mean."
Dara smirks and sighs, “What are we going to do if we can’t have sex?”
Stiles shrugs, casual. “I still have fingers, you know.”
Dara shifts up onto her hands and knees and advances on him with a grin.