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fic: I want freedom, I want sin
I want freedom, I want sin
Teen Wolf (Erica Reyes/Scott McCall).
NC-17. warnings/kinks: ass play, outdoor sex, rough sex (including hair-pulling). 1,750 words.
Summary: "It's too cold," he says. "We'd freeze our asses off. Possibly literally."
notes: Non-specific post S2 finale time setting. Title from Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
discreetmath's prompt 'winter chill' at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
stop_drop_howl
They don’t do it often, and never when the Scott-and-Allison on again/off again relationship is ‘on.’ Only sometimes, usually few days before the full moon, when one or both of them feel like their skin is about to peel off at any moment.
Erica will run around Scott’s house once or twice. Long enough to let the scent linger a little while for him to catch it, but not so long as to be a challenge. Or, Scott will pass her in the hallway and brush their shoulders lightly and turn his head toward her so slightly that it doesn’t look like anything, but Erica can hear his inhale and exhale so clearly it’s like an alarm in her ear.
It’s the second to last class period of the day, the day before the full moon, and Erica may yet kill everyone in her physics class.
She excuses herself to the ladies’ room, casually bringing her textbook with her. There is absolutely no way she’s going back into that classroom without an edict from Derek. She’ll sit on the bleachers on the lacrosse field outside until its time for her next class, even though it’s freezing cold in early December in Beacon Hills. She just can’t take another minute in that room with all her smooth-limbed, easily bite-able classmates just sitting there. On her way down the hall, she shoves the book into her locker and grabs her notebook for last period, then exits through the back.
Erica fully intends to read through her notes on Brave New World for class, and then she scents Scott McCall.
His trail is fresh, and Erica has always believed in ‘satisfaction brought it back’ over ‘curiosity killed the cat.’ She stashes the notebook under the bleacher and then takes off running into the woods.
It doesn’t take long to find Scott.
His eyes are glowing, ears pointed, face fuzzier than usual. Erica throws her curls and raises an eyebrow at him. “Don’t give me that look,” she says.
After a moment, the wolf retreats from his face. With eyes dark and non-luminous, he looks like Scott again.
Erica smiles at him. “Not so hard, was it?”
Scott huffs in frustration, and asks: “What’re you doing out here, Erica?”
“Following you,” she admits. What she doesn’t admit to him is that she was hunting him, tracking him, the fine hairs on her arms standing up more from animalistic thrill than cold. She doesn’t need to explain; he understands.
His eyes flash gold when he looks at her, but he doesn’t wolf out. “It’s too cold,” he says. “We’d freeze our asses off. Possibly literally.”
“We’ll have to be quick, then.” Erica sheds her jacket and drops it onto the leaf-covered ground.
Scott doesn’t hesitate to do the same, before quickly pulling off his shirt as well. Erica, who spends a lot of time around shirtless man-boy-wolves, never fails to be impressed and turned on by the sight of Scott’s chest. She smirks when he catches her eyeing the slope of his shoulder, and then pulls her thermal shirt and camisole over her head. She had skipped a bra this morning, and she feels her nipples harden in the winter air almost painfully quick. Erica hisses at the sensation and Scott laughs softly. Erica notices how Scott has a way of laughing at someone without truly mocking them; she likes that.
Scott reaches out and pulls her close. Erica presses herself against him, lets him suck on that spot on her neck he always finds so fascinating. Erica slides her hand tauntingly down the back of his jeans, under the elastic band of his boxers, fingers spread and pressing lightly until she finds the two little indentations she’s looking for.
“You have the cutest ass-dimples,” Erica tells him even though she can’t currently see them. He growls and bites the lobe of her ear.
Not for the first time, Erica is profoundly grateful that werewolf healing gets rid of love-bites as well as rabid-werewolf-bites. Otherwise, she would have had a lot of explaining to do to her parents long before now.
Erica laughs, and then unzips his jeans and tugs them down past the broadest part of his (admittedly, narrow) hips so that she can push her hand further down. She doesn’t warn him before pressing two fingers into him, just the way he likes it, but it can’t be a surprise because they both love when she does this to him. His breath hitches and his nails sharpen where they are already digging half-moon marks into her back.
She doesn’t move her fingers for a second, and then she twists them suddenly so that she’s touching the place she knows can’t possibly be anywhere near his prostate, but is still somehow one of his hot spots. He moans and Erica has a brief moment to congratulate herself before Scott moves suddenly.
He pulls her arms away and pushes her back, fumbling with the clasp of her jeans and breathing hard. She bats his hands away after a minute. “I’ll take care of mine. You take care of yours.”
She kicks her jeans and panties off, and then takes a moment to sloppily fold them and put them with her jacket since Scott apparently still has not managed to get his off.
When she turns back to Scott, he’s completely naked. His dick is hard and flushed dark pink as he bites through a condom wrapper before rolling it down. He looks up at her once it’s on, and tells her without a trace of guile: “I brought the purple one because it’s your favorite color.”
Erica throws her head back and laughs so hard her breasts bounce, which does nothing to combat the biting cold, but she can’t help it. Of course he picked the purple condom for her.
She comes to stand just in front of him, rubs her fingers lightly down the sides of his arms. “You think I’m that easy?” She teases, even though, yeah. She had stared at him all through lunch the day before and had done her best to saunter by in the hallway. Subtlety is not exactly Erica’s strong point.
“No,” Scott says with surprising tact. “I just know I am.”
Erica licks her lips. “Good answer,” she says, and then tries to push him down and back to straddle him.
Except Scott doesn’t budge.
“Scott,” Erica sighs. “I know it has been awhile, but this is typically the part where you lie back and think of Beacon Hills.”
“I want to do it differently this time,” Scott tells her.
Erica crosses her arms, which is probably a lot less intimidating when she’s naked than when she’s wearing her spiked leather bustier (which, really might be taking her bad-girl image makeover too far, but is an excellent conversational piece).
“And how would that be?”
Scott bites his lip, but it seems to be more from arousal than nervousness. “You, on your hands and knees, with me behind you.”
“Doggy-style?” Erica rolls her eyes. “Christ, you’re such a cliché. You know we’re not actual wolves.”
“I’m not a cliché! I just think it would be really hot,” Scott defends. “And people do it all the time. I’ve seen it in porn.”
“I’ll think about it for next time,” Erica says, and means it.
Scott furrows his brow for a moment before seeming to realize he’s gotten the best offer he’s going to get. He sinks to his knees and then positions himself so that he’s lying down. Erica stands over him, and then drops to straddle his thighs. She eases up, and he grabs her hips as she positions him to slide in. Glancing up, she notices a steadily growing pout on his face.
“What?”
“The ground’s damp. And cold. And dirty,” he says. “And there are twigs digging into my butt.”
“Whiny much?” But she looks at him closely. He has a kind face, not darkly attractive as Derek, or as delicate as Stiles, or as striking as Boyd, or as androgynously lovely as Isaac, but there’s something about him all the same. She likes the way he never really looks like anyone but himself.
“Fine,” Erica says. She eases off him and rolls over onto her hands and knees.
Scott beams at her and crawls over. Erica digs her fingers into the mess of leaves on the floor of the woods until she can feel the cool, tightly packed earth below. She clenches and unclenches her toes to keep blood circulating. She shifts so that her shoulders are slightly lower than her hips, which is a little more comfortable.
Erica is starting to get impatient, “Are you ever going to—“ Scott grips her hips hard enough to bruise a human, and pushes in hard and fast. “—unnffff.”
Scott gives her a minute to adjust, playing idly with her hair with one hand while the other slides under her to dip the top of his smallest finger into her belly button.
Erica tries to breathe smoothly, because there’s no way she is giving him the satisfaction of agreeing that this is actually a brilliant idea. Not just yet, anyway.
“You should move now,” she tells him.
He does.
It takes a little while, and some minor repositioning for them to figure out what really works for them. Scott slides the hand on her belly back up to her hip, and Erica is pretty sure that by the time they’re through she could dust for fingerprints, were she so inclined. His other hand gets tangled in her hair, closer to her scalp now, and he likes to pull it sharply after particularly deep thrusts. She’s not entirely sure whether she’s a fan of that or not, but she doesn’t dislike it, and she adores the way he moans. Erica orgasms shortly after Scott, which is a tad surprising because normally it takes Scott a minute or so with his fingers knuckle-deep in her to finish.
Erica eases herself to lay face down on the ground, and Scott lies on his back next to her and ties off the condom.
“That was…” Scott starts and then trails off, obviously trying to think of an appropriate description. “Amazing? Best idea ever? Really hot?”
Erica sits up and grins at Scott’s stupidly giddy post-sex expression. “I don’t know,” she says, “About that last one. I’m pretty sure my nipples are frostbitten.”
Teen Wolf (Erica Reyes/Scott McCall).
NC-17. warnings/kinks: ass play, outdoor sex, rough sex (including hair-pulling). 1,750 words.
Summary: "It's too cold," he says. "We'd freeze our asses off. Possibly literally."
notes: Non-specific post S2 finale time setting. Title from Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Written for
discreetmath's prompt 'winter chill' at stop_drop_howlThey don’t do it often, and never when the Scott-and-Allison on again/off again relationship is ‘on.’ Only sometimes, usually few days before the full moon, when one or both of them feel like their skin is about to peel off at any moment.
Erica will run around Scott’s house once or twice. Long enough to let the scent linger a little while for him to catch it, but not so long as to be a challenge. Or, Scott will pass her in the hallway and brush their shoulders lightly and turn his head toward her so slightly that it doesn’t look like anything, but Erica can hear his inhale and exhale so clearly it’s like an alarm in her ear.
It’s the second to last class period of the day, the day before the full moon, and Erica may yet kill everyone in her physics class.
She excuses herself to the ladies’ room, casually bringing her textbook with her. There is absolutely no way she’s going back into that classroom without an edict from Derek. She’ll sit on the bleachers on the lacrosse field outside until its time for her next class, even though it’s freezing cold in early December in Beacon Hills. She just can’t take another minute in that room with all her smooth-limbed, easily bite-able classmates just sitting there. On her way down the hall, she shoves the book into her locker and grabs her notebook for last period, then exits through the back.
Erica fully intends to read through her notes on Brave New World for class, and then she scents Scott McCall.
His trail is fresh, and Erica has always believed in ‘satisfaction brought it back’ over ‘curiosity killed the cat.’ She stashes the notebook under the bleacher and then takes off running into the woods.
It doesn’t take long to find Scott.
His eyes are glowing, ears pointed, face fuzzier than usual. Erica throws her curls and raises an eyebrow at him. “Don’t give me that look,” she says.
After a moment, the wolf retreats from his face. With eyes dark and non-luminous, he looks like Scott again.
Erica smiles at him. “Not so hard, was it?”
Scott huffs in frustration, and asks: “What’re you doing out here, Erica?”
“Following you,” she admits. What she doesn’t admit to him is that she was hunting him, tracking him, the fine hairs on her arms standing up more from animalistic thrill than cold. She doesn’t need to explain; he understands.
His eyes flash gold when he looks at her, but he doesn’t wolf out. “It’s too cold,” he says. “We’d freeze our asses off. Possibly literally.”
“We’ll have to be quick, then.” Erica sheds her jacket and drops it onto the leaf-covered ground.
Scott doesn’t hesitate to do the same, before quickly pulling off his shirt as well. Erica, who spends a lot of time around shirtless man-boy-wolves, never fails to be impressed and turned on by the sight of Scott’s chest. She smirks when he catches her eyeing the slope of his shoulder, and then pulls her thermal shirt and camisole over her head. She had skipped a bra this morning, and she feels her nipples harden in the winter air almost painfully quick. Erica hisses at the sensation and Scott laughs softly. Erica notices how Scott has a way of laughing at someone without truly mocking them; she likes that.
Scott reaches out and pulls her close. Erica presses herself against him, lets him suck on that spot on her neck he always finds so fascinating. Erica slides her hand tauntingly down the back of his jeans, under the elastic band of his boxers, fingers spread and pressing lightly until she finds the two little indentations she’s looking for.
“You have the cutest ass-dimples,” Erica tells him even though she can’t currently see them. He growls and bites the lobe of her ear.
Not for the first time, Erica is profoundly grateful that werewolf healing gets rid of love-bites as well as rabid-werewolf-bites. Otherwise, she would have had a lot of explaining to do to her parents long before now.
Erica laughs, and then unzips his jeans and tugs them down past the broadest part of his (admittedly, narrow) hips so that she can push her hand further down. She doesn’t warn him before pressing two fingers into him, just the way he likes it, but it can’t be a surprise because they both love when she does this to him. His breath hitches and his nails sharpen where they are already digging half-moon marks into her back.
She doesn’t move her fingers for a second, and then she twists them suddenly so that she’s touching the place she knows can’t possibly be anywhere near his prostate, but is still somehow one of his hot spots. He moans and Erica has a brief moment to congratulate herself before Scott moves suddenly.
He pulls her arms away and pushes her back, fumbling with the clasp of her jeans and breathing hard. She bats his hands away after a minute. “I’ll take care of mine. You take care of yours.”
She kicks her jeans and panties off, and then takes a moment to sloppily fold them and put them with her jacket since Scott apparently still has not managed to get his off.
When she turns back to Scott, he’s completely naked. His dick is hard and flushed dark pink as he bites through a condom wrapper before rolling it down. He looks up at her once it’s on, and tells her without a trace of guile: “I brought the purple one because it’s your favorite color.”
Erica throws her head back and laughs so hard her breasts bounce, which does nothing to combat the biting cold, but she can’t help it. Of course he picked the purple condom for her.
She comes to stand just in front of him, rubs her fingers lightly down the sides of his arms. “You think I’m that easy?” She teases, even though, yeah. She had stared at him all through lunch the day before and had done her best to saunter by in the hallway. Subtlety is not exactly Erica’s strong point.
“No,” Scott says with surprising tact. “I just know I am.”
Erica licks her lips. “Good answer,” she says, and then tries to push him down and back to straddle him.
Except Scott doesn’t budge.
“Scott,” Erica sighs. “I know it has been awhile, but this is typically the part where you lie back and think of Beacon Hills.”
“I want to do it differently this time,” Scott tells her.
Erica crosses her arms, which is probably a lot less intimidating when she’s naked than when she’s wearing her spiked leather bustier (which, really might be taking her bad-girl image makeover too far, but is an excellent conversational piece).
“And how would that be?”
Scott bites his lip, but it seems to be more from arousal than nervousness. “You, on your hands and knees, with me behind you.”
“Doggy-style?” Erica rolls her eyes. “Christ, you’re such a cliché. You know we’re not actual wolves.”
“I’m not a cliché! I just think it would be really hot,” Scott defends. “And people do it all the time. I’ve seen it in porn.”
“I’ll think about it for next time,” Erica says, and means it.
Scott furrows his brow for a moment before seeming to realize he’s gotten the best offer he’s going to get. He sinks to his knees and then positions himself so that he’s lying down. Erica stands over him, and then drops to straddle his thighs. She eases up, and he grabs her hips as she positions him to slide in. Glancing up, she notices a steadily growing pout on his face.
“What?”
“The ground’s damp. And cold. And dirty,” he says. “And there are twigs digging into my butt.”
“Whiny much?” But she looks at him closely. He has a kind face, not darkly attractive as Derek, or as delicate as Stiles, or as striking as Boyd, or as androgynously lovely as Isaac, but there’s something about him all the same. She likes the way he never really looks like anyone but himself.
“Fine,” Erica says. She eases off him and rolls over onto her hands and knees.
Scott beams at her and crawls over. Erica digs her fingers into the mess of leaves on the floor of the woods until she can feel the cool, tightly packed earth below. She clenches and unclenches her toes to keep blood circulating. She shifts so that her shoulders are slightly lower than her hips, which is a little more comfortable.
Erica is starting to get impatient, “Are you ever going to—“ Scott grips her hips hard enough to bruise a human, and pushes in hard and fast. “—unnffff.”
Scott gives her a minute to adjust, playing idly with her hair with one hand while the other slides under her to dip the top of his smallest finger into her belly button.
Erica tries to breathe smoothly, because there’s no way she is giving him the satisfaction of agreeing that this is actually a brilliant idea. Not just yet, anyway.
“You should move now,” she tells him.
He does.
It takes a little while, and some minor repositioning for them to figure out what really works for them. Scott slides the hand on her belly back up to her hip, and Erica is pretty sure that by the time they’re through she could dust for fingerprints, were she so inclined. His other hand gets tangled in her hair, closer to her scalp now, and he likes to pull it sharply after particularly deep thrusts. She’s not entirely sure whether she’s a fan of that or not, but she doesn’t dislike it, and she adores the way he moans. Erica orgasms shortly after Scott, which is a tad surprising because normally it takes Scott a minute or so with his fingers knuckle-deep in her to finish.
Erica eases herself to lay face down on the ground, and Scott lies on his back next to her and ties off the condom.
“That was…” Scott starts and then trails off, obviously trying to think of an appropriate description. “Amazing? Best idea ever? Really hot?”
Erica sits up and grins at Scott’s stupidly giddy post-sex expression. “I don’t know,” she says, “About that last one. I’m pretty sure my nipples are frostbitten.”
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NEW SHIP ACQUIRED
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THEY'RE BOTH JUST SO WONDERFUL THAT TOGETHER THEY'RE UNSTOPPABLE