Scott/Stiles/Theo, T - club AU, body shots, implied open relationship, alcohol
sleepy-skittles told me it’s poly shipping day, so here’s this ridiculous, short thing. Dedicated to disassociatedtinman, because I owe her porn, but this isn’t that at all!
“Oh god, he’s here,” Stiles says, hands digging into Scott’s shoulder. It’s almost lost in the sound of the music, loud and throbbing in Scott’s ears. The words make Scott’s stomach jump in anticipation, eyes scanning the crowd.
It’s hard to see through the thickness in the air, vapor and fog from the machines, the bright lights flashing and cutting through it all, pulsing with the music. There’s dancers on elevated platforms scattered throughout the dancefloor, and – Sure enough. The dancer’s back is to Scott, but Scott would recognize that ass in those tiny golden shorts anywhere; scrap of fabric unable to cover it all, a small swell of flesh out the top of them, right under deep lower back dimples. Scott wants to bite that ass.
Theo.
Scott smirks sideways at Stiles, bumping their shoulders together, remembering exactly how great Theo’s ass is, how his body just gives under Scott’s touches. Theo is a great fuck, and Stiles has heard about it entirely too much. It’s not that Scott’s rubbing it in his face, though. Not at all. Stiles likes hearing about it, likes getting worked up over it. The jealousy makes him competitive, like he wants to out-fuck anyone else that Scott sleeps with. It’s obnoxious, sometimes, but endearing nonetheless.
Stiles squints at him in annoyance.
“Don’t talk to me about him,” Stiles says, raising his voice slightly over the music. It’s not that loud near the bar, music reduced to a dull roar in the background.
“You don’t have to be jealous, baby,” Scott says, leaning in to nuzzle Stiles’ neck and bite at his ear. Stiles goes still against Scott, allowing Scott to suck on his lobe, hand spasming on the bartop. Scott wouldn’t be surprised if he was half hard already. “There’s enough of me to go around.”
“I’m not jealous,” Stiles says, hotly, pulling away, making sure Scott sees him roll his eyes. Scott resists the urge to flick him in the forehead. Instead, he leans in to press a hard kiss to his mouth. “He’s just so –”
“Sexy?” Scott teases, sways towards Stiles as Stiles hooks his fingers in Scott’s belt loop and tugs, irritated. “Has a great body? Earnest? Eager to please?”
Scott watches with amusement as Stiles’ face goes all pitched at that, nose crinkling up in displeasure.
“Cocky and overconfident –”
“I’m not a literary genius,” Scott interrupts, “but I’m pretty sure those are the same thing.”
“Close, but not quite,” Stiles answers, before waving down the bartender to order, leaning over the bar top so he doesn’t have to yell. The action pulls up his tight grey shirt and Scott drags his fingertips over the exposed skin, watching as Stiles’ eyelids flutter as he asks for four Jaeger bombs. When he drops back down, he glares at Scott half heartedly, but Scott just shoves his hand up Stiles’ shirt and over his hips.
“Cocky is like, when he’s dancing and he knows how he’s affecting you, right?” Scott says, head tilting innocently, like he’s thinking. He is thinking. Not about the meaning of the words, but about the way Theo rolls his hips in time with the music, abs and thighs flexing as he dances. “He knows you want to grab him and pin him down and do all sorts of terrible things to him.”
Stiles doesn’t answer, but Scott can see the look on his face changing. Reluctant agreement, and something hotter. As much as Stiles acts like he doesn’t like Theo, he would fuck Theo.
“Overconfidence is the same thing, but annoying, right?” Scott asks, biting off a laugh. Stiles ignores him in favor of pulling their Jaeger bombs towards him and dropping the shots into the larger glasses. He slides Scott’s over, and Scott barely has time to toast in acknowledgement before Stiles’ already halfway through his. The glass slams back on the bar, and Stiles drags his second one closer, but he waits for Scott.
“You’re so transparent!” Scott shouts, because Stiles is leaning away so Scott has enough room to tip his drink back and guzzle it down. “You want that ass! You want it so bad!”
“Oh my god, are you done?” Stiles asks, huffing and dropping the shots again: slide it towards Scott, toast, repeat. When their glasses come back down Scott looks at him seriously for the first time since they came in through the doors.
“If you want me to be,” he says, sincerely. Stiles snorts at him, and butts their heads together gently, hand on the back of Scott’s neck, perfect and secure like it always is.
“You know I don’t actually care like that,” Stiles says, in his ear, cutting through the noise of the club. “It’s whatever, I just wish he would share.” Stiles pulls back, and bites his bottom lip while Scott laughs in response, wishing he could see the way Stiles is undoubtedly blushing.
“I knew you were jealous,” Scott says, smugly, before grabbing Stiles and dragging him into a kiss that’s dirty and promising, slick and hot. Stiles’ hands grab at Scott’s hips, fingers digging in.
“Besides,” Scott says, as they pull away, leaning into Stiles’ again so Stiles doesn’t miss it, lips over the shell of his ear. “He’s down to share.”
Stiles pulls away with a shocked look that quickly becomes suspicious.
“Don’t fuck with me, McCall,” he says, loudly. Scott laughs outright and shakes his head quickly. Once Scott explained his arrangement with Stiles to Theo, he was definitely interested.
“I promise I’m not,” Scott says, dragging them together again. “He said something about wanting to get it in with your ‘twinky ass’ –”
“He called me a twink?” Stiles demands, mock-offended. Scott thinks he hears something like, “That three-foot-tall, go-go dancing pretty boy –”, but it’s too loud to actually tell. It’s all in good fun, anyway, Stiles is grinning like he’s going to burst.
“Will you stop acting put-out whenever I mention Theo, now?” Scott asks, biting back a laugh. Stiles rolls his eyes, but nods his head, kissing Scott hard.
“No promises,” he says, smirking. “Let’s fucking dance.”
Scott lets himself look to where Theo’s dancing as Stiles pulls him along. He’s decked out in glitter and gold. It should be a terrible look: tiny gold shorts made out of a shiny, clinging fabric; matching cuffs and high top gold Nikes; a gold and white snapback on backwards. It’s very go-go dancer chic and completely ridiculous, but it makes Scott want to drag Theo off the stupid platform and suck him off in the bathroom.
Their eyes meet over the heads of the dancers and Theo’s eyebrows jump up, smile stretching wide and genuine. He rolls his hips and gives a little wave before biting his bottom lip and rotating, moves a little more deliberate and sexy than they were before.
Show off.
“So much glitter,” Stiles shouts, pulling Scott to a stop. Scott doesn’t bother responding, he knows how much glitter there is. When Scott and Theo hooked up the first time, Scott came home covered from head to toe in glitter. Stiles laughed so hard he looked like he pulled something and shoved him in the shower. It was still everywhere for weeks afterwards, like a not-so-gentle reminder that he needed to call Theo back.
The music is louder and heavier on the dancefloor, overhead speakers blasting. It’s hot with bodies, a chaotic sensory overload that Scott relishes. Stiles grabs him and steers him closer, bodies melting into each other, moving together automatically. They grind together, touching and kissing and mouthing at each other’s skin.
Scott loses himself in the press of people, the way he never disconnects from Stiles. It’s not long until Stiles’ hands are wandering under Scott’s crop top to tweak his nipples, teeth to his neck like he wants to claim Scott. Scott’s his already, but he lets Stiles bruise him up regardless.
The rhythm and the heat are pulsing. Scott barely registers anything that’s happening besides the feeling of the music moving in his veins, and the way Stiles is pressed along his front. Stiles’ fingers touching over his hips and ribs, under his shirt, over his nipples and down his abs. Scott is half hard in his jeans, but it’s a low burning arousal, nothing urgent.
It doesn’t take long before there’s another body at his back, hips slotting up behind his, sandwiching him. It’s not uncommon for someone, or multiple people, to start dancing with them uninvited, but Scott sees the surprised look on Stiles’ face, and knows it’s Theo.
Sure enough, there’s hands on Scott’s hips that aren’t Stiles’, wrists wrapped in gold, shiny cuffs.
Scott spins so that he’s facing Theo, trying to fall back into a decent flow when he’s ass is to Stiles’ crotch, and Theo is dancing expertly at his front. Theo doesn’t miss a beat, hips popping and rolling in time with the music. It makes Scott feel off-beat, and graceless, but Theo just smirks at him, eyes glittering.
“Hey!” he shouts, leaning in close to be heard over the music. Scott laughs at the formality of it, as Theo literally grinds on his thigh, but he nods in greeting and presses a warm kiss to Theo’s cheek. Theo’s grin stretches, pleased.
“Want drinks?” he asks, lips brushing over Scott’s ear. The touch is electric, sizzling heavily through Scott’s veins.
“Is that even a question?” Stiles asks, voice loud behind Scott. Theo pulls back and smiles, even wider, at Stiles.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” Theo says, and grabs Scott’s hand to pull him through the crowd. Scott tangles his fingers in Stiles’, and pulls him along behind him. When they get off the dance floor, Scott’s sweaty, limbs heavy in a way that means he’s going to be sore tomorrow. There’s a surge of adrenaline pulsing through him that feels like expectation.
Theo brings them up to the bar, telling them to stay put before swinging himself up onto the bartop and strutting down to the other end, crouching down to grab a bottle and lime, putting his ass directly in multiple people’s faces. It doesn’t seem to bother them, hands reaching out to cup his ass through the gold shorts, a couple of dollars in his waistband just for rolling his hips a little as he comes up, and making it pop in time with the music.
It’s absolutely ridiculous, and ridiculously sexy.
Theo knows too, smirk on his face as he strides across the bar with sure steps. The bottle lands with a thud in front of Scott, platinum tequila, and Theo squats, bringing his crotch level with Stiles’ nose. Stiles jerks back and glares up at him, but Scott can tell it’s weak, dopey.
“Body shots?” Theo asks, brandishing the lime.
“Off you?” Stiles asks. Not hostile, either, Scott is so proud. More curious, eyelashes fluttering. Theo’s eyes drag slow up Stiles’ body, confident smirk in place. That look usually makes Stiles annoyed when he sees it on Theo’s face, but Stiles is just on the right side of tipsy; his mouth dropping open, eyelashes fluttering more. Scott would love to see what he’d look like confronted with Theo’s confidence in bed, if he would be intimidated or up for the challenge.
“If that’s alright with your boyfriend,” Theo says, with a wink towards Scott. What a ham.
“Please do,” Scott says, nudging his elbow into Stiles. Stiles riles like he didn’t remember Scott was there,blinking fast and confused. Scott presses a kiss to his nose, chuckling when Stiles smiles fondly. “Body shots, baby!”
“Right,” Stiles says, eyes on Theo as Theo stands and holds out his hand. It’s a miracle that Stiles doesn’t fall off the bar when he finally gets up there, but it doesn’t take long for Theo to lie down, pulling at Stiles until Stiles is crouched over him. He straddles one of Theo’s thighs as Theo grips the lime in his teeth.
Of course, Stiles plays it safe, licking a stripe across Theo’s chest. It’s still incredibly sexy watching Stiles lick Theo, tongue pink and wet against Theo’s skin, before he draws away and sprinkles salt there, lapping it up with slow strokes. He pulls back to swallow the shot before leaning over and grabbing the lime out of Theo’s mouth.
Scott watches them make eye contact, and feels the tension in the air, thick and palpable. Theo’s hips tilt up slightly, obviously grinding himself up into Stiles. The hand that Stiles has planted on the bartop so he doesn’t topple over clenches and releases momentarily, like he can’t help it.
“Do another one,” Scott says, leaning over to get Stiles’ attention. Stiles’ eyes snap up to meet Scott’s gaze, heavy lidded and intensely dark. “Lower.”
Stiles’ mouth drops open in surprise, but he grabs the salt again and shimmies down so that when he bends down, he can lick along the bottom of Theo’s abs. Scott watches the muscle jump visibly under Stiles’ tongue, like a flinch. When Scott looks at Theo’s face, his eyes are screwed shut, mouth open and pink and begging to be kissed.
There’s no time to warn Stiles that there’s no lime, already pouring the salt and licking it up before Scott realizes. Then, Scott’s too distracted by the way Stiles drags his tongue up, slowly, pulling away with a nip to Theo’s stomach that has his hips lifting off the bar. Stiles ignores him in favor of the tequila, crawling up Theo’s body, eyes intent on his mouth.
He doesn’t comment on the lack of lime, just leans down and kisses Theo, pushing him back into the bar and grinding down so that their hips crash together, rough and sure. Theo’s hands come up to fist in Stiles’ shirt, and Scott’s getting hard just watching them move together, their mouths, the peek of their tongues as they chase each other’s taste.
“Fuck,” Scott says, mostly to himself, as Stiles pulls back, looking incredibly smug as Theo’s chest rises and falls in short pants. Scott helps Stiles down, holding still as Stiles uses him to steady himself.
“Your turn,” Theo says, right in Scott’s ear. Scott whips around, and almost knocks their heads together they’re so close.
“No way am I climbing up there,” Scott says. “You have to be standing.”
Theo eyes him, but there’s no way he doesn’t know where Scott is going with this. When he’s down on the floor, Scott pushes him so that he’s leaning against the bar, grabbing the front of his pants and running his finger along the waistband.
The music is pounding in Scott’s head, making his heart bounce in time with the bass. Everything is intoxicating, heavy and heady with intimacy, even though the room is crowded, it’s like there’s nobody around except for Scott and Theo and Stiles pressed close, watching.
Theo shudders, tipping back his head to expose the tempting length of his neck. Scott takes the opportunity to lick it, skin there salty with sweat and hot under Scott’s tongue. He sprinkles the salt on carefully, tipping the shaker right up against the skin, and pulls the band of Theo’s shorts out, knuckles brushing the hot skin of his dick before he puts the shot glass in, and lets the elastic snap back.
He licks the salt off Theo’s neck, and falls to his knees, getting his mouth around the shotglass to pull it free of Theo’s pants. He tilts his head back, tequila sliding down his throat, burning. Scott stands again to sink his teeth into the lime and tug it free from Theo’s mouth, barely biting it open to chase the taste of the tequila before he’s grabbing Theo’s neck, and steering him into a hard kiss.
When they part, Theo’s eyes are bright, surprised.
“Fuck, please tell me you’re coming home with me tonight,” he says, voice gruff even as he raises it to be heard over the music. His eyes dart over Scott’s shoulder, to where Stiles’ is pressed against his back. “Both of you.”
Scott tips his head back and laughs, looks over his shoulder to catch Stiles’ eye. There’s a wide, dopey grin on Stiles’ face, beyond pleased.
