[Sam smiles into the kiss, leaning to nuzzle at the line of his jaw.] I'm a hunter. If I wind up in custody, the line of charges they're going to level at me is probably going to be a few miles long as it is. [And that one had already been broken, even if it was under duress.
[He sucks in a gasp as nimble fingers find his zipper. Taking his hand, Sam eases Stiles up off his lap. They were going to do this right. Still holding his hand, Sam tugs him in the direction of his bedroom.] Let's get a little bit more room than the couch.
So I guess meeting the parent is out? [Stiles joked, humming at Sam's affectionate touch.
Stiles stood up when Sam moved him, movie entirely forgotten...until Sam tugged his arm and the suspense music leveled out into an ungodly shriek, making Stiles jump again and trip, knocking over a stack of books and items he hadn't noticed earlier on his way down. Apparently God decided to team up with gravity and refuse to give his awkward coordination a break.] ...Ow.
Probably not a good idea. At least not right now. [Active hunters tended to avoid law enforcement whenever possible and given their difference in age, it would put Sam squarely in the Sheriff's sights (if he didn't run his ass out of town). He couldn't afford that sort of attention.
[Sam blesses his enhanced reflexes, catching Stiles's elbow before he goes completely over. It doesn't spare him the bruised shin, but he also didn't wind up sprawled face first in a stack of old demon tomes and Enochian scrolls.] Crap. Damnit, I'm sorry. Are you okay?
[Stiles tried to bite back the grin that spread across his face at Sam's words, succeeding minimally. Not right now - it implied that there'd be a later. Once he turned 18...
Stiles blushed intensely, righting himself after Sam caught him. He bent down to pick up the books, snatching the clicker that had fallen on the floor to turn off the TV.] I'm fine, gah, sorry about the mess...oh Jesus I've screwed it up haven't I - was this supposed to be crooked? Dammit, Stilinski...
[Stiles rambled to himself, half of the words directed at Sam as he tried to put everything back where it was.]
Hey. [Sam's smile is fond as he kneels down, helping him stack the books into a slightly more orderly pile in the corner.] Dude, it's fine. Really. And don't worry about it. The only person that understands Bobby's filing system is Bobby. Even then I'm pretty sure he's making it up as he goes along.
[The books dealt with, Sam draws Stiles into his arms, holding him near in the quiet of the apartment. One hand travels up and down the length of his back, trying to help him relax.]
Sorry. [Stiles pressed his crimison face into Sam's chest, slowly relaxing as the man calmed him down.] ...I'm a little nervous. And when I get nervous... [Let's just say having ADHD didn't help matters in the slightest.]
[Stiles didn't know what was going to happen; he wanted to find out and he didn't know what he'd do when he did. It was all the right mix of exciting and terrifying at the same time, and since this was Sam it just made that even better...]
Shh. [Stiles being flustered probably shouldn't be so endearing. But Sam can't help but smile as he holds him near. As the tension starts to slip again from his shoulders, he cups his face and kisses him slowly.] We're not going to do anything that you're not ready for.
[When he's calmed a bit, Sam brushes a thumb along his cheek, a silent question in his eyes. Back to the couch or continue to the bedroom?]
No, it's...it's a good nervous. [Stiles admits, closing his eyes at the tender kiss. He opens them as Sam's thumb brushes along his cheek, curling his arms around Sam's neck.]
Sorry I killed the mood. [Devastatingly ruined it, more like. Stiles bit his lip, watching the wolf carefully.] But could we...do you still want to...
[Stiles wasn't sure where they had been going with this, but he hoped he hadn't completely screwed it up and put Sam off the idea.]
[Sam leans in for another kiss, a little more heated this time, pouring some of his want into the contact. Knocking over a stack of books is hardly going to put him off something he’s wanted for awhile now. Fingers threaded with his, he leads Stiles back into his bedroom. It’s a small, fairly spartan room. But outside of Stanford, he’d never really lived anywhere long enough to think about little details like decorating. A photograph of him, Dean and Bobby sits on a bookshelf, the only really personal item he’s put in there so far. There are books, various containers of herbs and matches and brass censers for spells, everything a hunter on the go needs.
[He sits down on the bed, drawing Stiles into his arms again. He wants this, wants him so badly. To lay him out on the bed and love him like he should have been able to the first time. Sam slides his hands up his back, seeking his mouth for another kiss.]
[Stiles had a tendency to make things worse in his head than they actually were. He doesn't want to screw this up...
Stiles trailed after Sam into the sparse room, following him shyly over to the bed. The rooms feels more like a standardized dorm than a bedroom, but Stiles spots the photo and smiles.
Sam drew him closer, hands sliding up Stiles' back, lips moving heatedly against Stiles'. The teen leaned forward, threading his fingers through Sam's hair, other hand splayed across his t-shirt, stretched across the lean muscle of Sam's chest.]
[The kiss gradually builds in intensity until they finally need to break for air. His breath coming quick, Sam leans back only long enough to pull his shirt up and off, tossing it at the foot of the bed. Sam wants to feel his skin against Stiles's bare skin, nothing but warmth between them.
[His hands stop at his waist this time, fingertips just sliding beneath his shirt, brushing along warm skin. Sam shifts back, letting Stiles straddle his lap on the bed.] Tell me if.. if you need me to slow down.
...I will. [Stiles assures Sam breathlessly, watching with wide eyes as he stripped off his shirt. God damn, Sam was fit. Stiles reached out, brushing his fingers across Sam's chest, tracing the tattoo. He hadn't had a chance to...explore properly, the last time...
Sam's fingertips dance along the edge of Stiles' shirt. Stiles straddles Sam's lap, ass brushing against his erection as he did so.]
[A low sound of want rumbles in his chest as Stiles straddles him. When there was no protest or sign of hesitation, Sam slid his hands up Stiles's bare back, fingers gliding along the warm lie of his bare skin.
[The shirt needed to come off. The scratch of cotton against his chest was nice, but he wanted the warmth of his skin. Nothing between them.
[He leans in, his lips tracing a path down the length of his neck. Tasting his skin. Sam can't help but rock his hips slowly up into Stiles.]
[Stiles shivered as Sam practically growled at him, mapping out Stiles' back. Stiles knew he should probably take his shirt off - he doesn't to be modest after everything that had happened - but hell, Sam was gorgeous. Stiles felt - and was - an awkward-looking teenager compared to him.
Stiles' eyelashes flutter, hands wrapping over Sam's shoulders as Sam trailed down Stiles' neck, hips rocking slowly but firmly against him. Sam's erection is exciting and kind of scary at the same time - just because Castiel had taken away his pain didn't mean Stiles didn't remember it.
He knew, of course, that Sam hadn't meant to hurt him - didn't blame him in the slightest - but Jesus, it hurt.]
[He might have felt awkward, but all Sam saw were lean, gorgeous lines. Dean had sex for fun. For company. Sam didn't, he never could. He didn't simply fall into bed with people. For him, sex was about intimacy with someone he cared about. Stiles might be a little on the flaily side and talk a lot when he got nervous, but he also had an incredible heart. He was giving and kind and Sam adored him.
[His hands continue to move beneath his shirt, up and down his back and finally shifting around to stroke his chest. Every slow rock into him elicits a quiet groan into his skin.
[Sam wants to take his time for Stiles's sake, but also for himself. He doesn't want to frighten or upset Stiles. He wants him to be comfortable. The last thing he wants to do is hurt him all over again.]
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[He sucks in a gasp as nimble fingers find his zipper. Taking his hand, Sam eases Stiles up off his lap. They were going to do this right. Still holding his hand, Sam tugs him in the direction of his bedroom.] Let's get a little bit more room than the couch.
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Stiles stood up when Sam moved him, movie entirely forgotten...until Sam tugged his arm and the suspense music leveled out into an ungodly shriek, making Stiles jump again and trip, knocking over a stack of books and items he hadn't noticed earlier on his way down. Apparently God decided to team up with gravity and refuse to give his awkward coordination a break.] ...Ow.
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[Sam blesses his enhanced reflexes, catching Stiles's elbow before he goes completely over. It doesn't spare him the bruised shin, but he also didn't wind up sprawled face first in a stack of old demon tomes and Enochian scrolls.] Crap. Damnit, I'm sorry. Are you okay?
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Stiles blushed intensely, righting himself after Sam caught him. He bent down to pick up the books, snatching the clicker that had fallen on the floor to turn off the TV.] I'm fine, gah, sorry about the mess...oh Jesus I've screwed it up haven't I - was this supposed to be crooked? Dammit, Stilinski...
[Stiles rambled to himself, half of the words directed at Sam as he tried to put everything back where it was.]
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[The books dealt with, Sam draws Stiles into his arms, holding him near in the quiet of the apartment. One hand travels up and down the length of his back, trying to help him relax.]
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[Stiles didn't know what was going to happen; he wanted to find out and he didn't know what he'd do when he did. It was all the right mix of exciting and terrifying at the same time, and since this was Sam it just made that even better...]
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[When he's calmed a bit, Sam brushes a thumb along his cheek, a silent question in his eyes. Back to the couch or continue to the bedroom?]
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Sorry I killed the mood. [Devastatingly ruined it, more like. Stiles bit his lip, watching the wolf carefully.] But could we...do you still want to...
[Stiles wasn't sure where they had been going with this, but he hoped he hadn't completely screwed it up and put Sam off the idea.]
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[Sam leans in for another kiss, a little more heated this time, pouring some of his want into the contact. Knocking over a stack of books is hardly going to put him off something he’s wanted for awhile now. Fingers threaded with his, he leads Stiles back into his bedroom. It’s a small, fairly spartan room. But outside of Stanford, he’d never really lived anywhere long enough to think about little details like decorating. A photograph of him, Dean and Bobby sits on a bookshelf, the only really personal item he’s put in there so far. There are books, various containers of herbs and matches and brass censers for spells, everything a hunter on the go needs.
[He sits down on the bed, drawing Stiles into his arms again. He wants this, wants him so badly. To lay him out on the bed and love him like he should have been able to the first time. Sam slides his hands up his back, seeking his mouth for another kiss.]
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Stiles trailed after Sam into the sparse room, following him shyly over to the bed. The rooms feels more like a standardized dorm than a bedroom, but Stiles spots the photo and smiles.
Sam drew him closer, hands sliding up Stiles' back, lips moving heatedly against Stiles'. The teen leaned forward, threading his fingers through Sam's hair, other hand splayed across his t-shirt, stretched across the lean muscle of Sam's chest.]
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[His hands stop at his waist this time, fingertips just sliding beneath his shirt, brushing along warm skin. Sam shifts back, letting Stiles straddle his lap on the bed.] Tell me if.. if you need me to slow down.
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Sam's fingertips dance along the edge of Stiles' shirt. Stiles straddles Sam's lap, ass brushing against his erection as he did so.]
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[The shirt needed to come off. The scratch of cotton against his chest was nice, but he wanted the warmth of his skin. Nothing between them.
[He leans in, his lips tracing a path down the length of his neck. Tasting his skin. Sam can't help but rock his hips slowly up into Stiles.]
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Stiles' eyelashes flutter, hands wrapping over Sam's shoulders as Sam trailed down Stiles' neck, hips rocking slowly but firmly against him. Sam's erection is exciting and kind of scary at the same time - just because Castiel had taken away his pain didn't mean Stiles didn't remember it.
He knew, of course, that Sam hadn't meant to hurt him - didn't blame him in the slightest - but Jesus, it hurt.]
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[His hands continue to move beneath his shirt, up and down his back and finally shifting around to stroke his chest. Every slow rock into him elicits a quiet groan into his skin.
[Sam wants to take his time for Stiles's sake, but also for himself. He doesn't want to frighten or upset Stiles. He wants him to be comfortable. The last thing he wants to do is hurt him all over again.]
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