Teen wolf - two large penises vine
Kind of based on this (5:55-6:01). I feel like this could’ve been better and there should be more of Stiles and Lydia being bros, but.
~1k | Teen and Up (?) | Derek/Stiles | Peter/Lydia | AU/Everyone is an adult.
{{ now on ao3 }}
Lydia swirls her cosmo and sighs. She pouts out at the crowd in the bar, but she addresses Stiles. “Where are all the good dicks in this town?” She swigs down her drink.
“You know, I’m right here,” Stiles huffs, but then he follows her gaze. “But yeah, a big dick would be nice.” He chews the straw of his long-finished mojito, then gives up, grabs both their glasses and goes to get another round.
Lydia taps her fingernails on the table, but then she spots something at the entrance and immediately checks her lipgloss. She sits up and smiles and starts schmoozing.
When Stiles gets back with their drinks, he finds that there are two men—definitely older than them—sitting at their table.
He slides her drink over and takes a sip of his own. He raises his eyebrows at her and she smirks back.
“These are the Hales,” Lydia tells him, then gestures to the two men.
“Peter,” one says, and he eyes Stiles like he did Lydia, and, sure, the guy’s hot, but he’s giving off major creep vibes. Peter smiles.
There’s a jolt and it’s obvious Peter has just kicked the other guy because Mr. Handsome (Stiles is tipsy and the guy looks like a fucking model, okay) is glaring at Peter, but he drags his gaze to Stiles, still frowning to say, “Derek.”
“Stiles,” Lydia says, when Stiles doesn’t respond.
“Oh. Yeah. Stiles,” he repeats.
“Well, Stiles,” Peter starts, and he looks the older of the two, “What are two beautiful creatures like yourselves doing here? Are we interrupting a date?”
Lydia laughs—musically, she’s trying to impress—and Stiles glares at her, but offers a hopefully not-too-annoyed forced smile.
“Nope,” he says. “Just out here looking for dick.” It’s half-sarcastic and Peter seems delighted, if a little surprised at the brazenness of it. Derek, on the other hand, looks, like he wants death to take him so this moment will be over.
Lydia is smiling, so at least there’s that. “Although that was rather blunt,” and Stiles rolls his eyes—she had, after all, started it—she continues, “yes, we were looking for a couple of gentlemen to join us this evening.”
Peter and Lydia start talking then and Stiles is relieved that it’s not him with Peter, concerned for Lydia, and just a little bit miffed he has tall, dark, and broody to contend with.
“You’re both Hales, huh?” he says, trying to break the ice.
Derek grunts. “Peter’s my uncle.”
Stiles glances between the two of them. “Uncle?” He nods to himself. “Okay.” He appraises Derek again and Derek looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Sorry if I’m not your type.”
Derek’s eyes widen slightly and he tilts his head. “It’s not that. Peter dragged me out here.” He finally looks up, actually lets his gaze meet Stiles’s. “I used to be better at this,” he says.
Stiles shrugs, glad to be making some progress. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Peter’s arm snaking up on Lydia, hidden by the table, and he can only guess what’s going on there. He’s not sure he wants to even guess, really.
Derek clears his throat. “Tell me about yourself.”
For a moment, Stiles is dumbfounded. What can he possibly say about himself? Fortunately—or, perhaps, unfortunately for Derek—this only last a moment before he starts talking. And talking. And talking.
The thing is, Derek actually asks him questions about certain things. Sure, sometimes Stiles runs himself off onto tangents that have Derek reminding him almost rudely where his intentions had been, but for the most part Derek seems to be appraising what he says with interest.
“So you’re smart and cute,” Derek says, when Stiles finally shuts up.
Stiles nearly falls off of his chair. “Uh.”
Derek smirks. “Or not.”
Stiles downs his drink and gestures. “You want me to get you something?”
He would have spent the whole time up at the bar panicking, but Lydia slides in next to him.
“I’m going to go make out with Peter,” she announces. “If he’s a bad kisser, I’m not going home with him.”
Stiles gapes. “So basically you’re going home with him?”
Lydia smiles. “There’s something about him.”
“He’s hot and you need dick,” Stiles says and Lydia laughs.
“Exactly.” She glances back to where Peter and Derek appear to be talking. “Are you going home with Derek?” she asks, and before Stiles answers, she says, “You should.”
“He’s very attractive,” Stiles mutters. “And he listened to me talk. I don’t think you’re even listening now.” Lydia hums, but she’s waving at Peter. “And I think he’s actually into me,” Stiles says, to himself as Lydia is obviously distracted.
“You need this,” Lydia tells him suddenly, very serious, and Stiles gawks at her, then shoots a look back to Derek, then swallows.
“I… Yeah, you got me.”
Lydia smirks, heads towards the restroom only to be followed by Peter a few seconds later.
Stiles returns to the table and hesitates before putting a drink in front of Derek. Because his brain is trying too hard to think of how to voice his previous thoughts now that most of it is chanting big muscles big dick just ride him.
“Look,” Stiles says, and Derek does. Derek looks at him with that stupidly handsome face. Stiles blinks, taken aback. “I think my friend is gonna fuck your uncle.” Why? Why that? Why is that the thing he said?
Derek grimaces. “Yeah.”
“Do…” Stiles sips his new drink likes he’s being nonchalant, even though his heart is in his throat. Or maybe that throbbing is something else, and lower, but. “Um. Do you want to get into me?” His eyes widen. “I meant out of here. I meant do you want to get out of here. With me.” He gulps.
“Are you okay?” Derek asks, but his lip is curled just enough for Stiles to see cute little bunny teeth peeking out.
“No,” Stiles says. Then, he shakes his head. “I mean, yeah. Do you know you’re stupidly attractive?” He cringes. “Of course you know that.”
“Stiles,” Derek says, and it’s the first time. “Try again.”
“Do you want to get out of here?” Stiles says slowly, enunciating the words so he won’t fuck up this time. “With me?”
“Yes.”