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Summary
One minute he and Theo are running surveillance—better Stiles with him than anyone who might actually get duped by his bullshit—in stoic silence. The next, they’re arguing, throwing jibes at each other, trading low blows and pointed comments and carefully crafted backhanded taunts. Then, somehow, Stiles’ pants are bunched up around his thighs and Theo is gagging on his dick, and Stiles fucking hates himself for letting it get to this point.
He hates himself even more that it’s not even the first time.