
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1438948.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Chris_Argent/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Chris_Argent, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Outdoor_Sex, First_Time, Fingering, handjob, Anal_Sex, PWP, bad_men_doing
      bad_things_to_stiles
  Collections:
      Anonymous
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-04-09 Words: 3864
****** Premeditated ******
by Anonymous
Summary
     Chris Argent delivers a warning to Stiles. Among other things.
Notes
     So! This was written way, way back when 3A was airing and has thus
     been jossed to hell and back. It's in reference to the scene in Chaos
     Rising where the Sheriff calls Chris a hunter.
Between the chaos of the first day at school, the trauma of Scott's tattoo, and
the news of a fucking Alpha Pack, Stiles forgot all about his dad's little slip
to Chris Argent before his head hit the pillow that night.
The next day at school passed without any major werewolf-related incidents as
long Stiles ignored the weird new marks on Allison and Lydia's arms and the
boarded-up windows in the classroom. It wasn't normal the way freshman year had
been normal but it was calm enough for him to be humming by the time he hit up
the gas station for snacks after school. Next week, there would be cross-
country and a growing pile of homework but for now it was Stiles' personal
time. If that involved a pound of beef jerky, six hours of WoW, and jerking off
three times, nobody could judge. Stiles' time.
It was cooler outside with the small breeze; as soon as Stiles let the door
jingle closed he wanted to make a run for it. It had to be close to ninety
degrees inside and tiny, with all three aisles jammed close together like an
invitation for Stiles to incite chaos in the form of a domino effect. He
shuffled carefully toward the back, where the coolers made up an entire wall.
He opened the door and lingered there just to bask in the blast of air
conditioning that chilled the sweat running down his forehead and neck.
He had just grabbed a bottle of Mountain Dew when the little bell rang and in
walked none other than Chris Argent.
Stiles dropped the bottle.
When Scott described Mr. Argent, it was usually in terms of how terrifying he
looked today. They'd developed a scale. Stiles had never questioned it because
usually when he ran into Chris Argent it was in the middle of a werewolf
crisis. That was always pretty damn scary.
Now Mr. Argent just looked tired and hot. Hot as in sweaty, not hot as in -
Stiles shook his head and averted his eyes from the trail of sweat that ran
from the neckline of his gray t-shirt down to the middle of his back. No sexy
thoughts, Stiles told himself firmly. This was Allison's father, the one who'd
threatened to kill Scott and slammed Stiles into a wall and who was watching
him, holy God, Mr. Argent was watching Stiles right now..
Stiles met his eyes, nodded, and then looked firmly down at the ground. Nothing
good could come from initiating a conversation; he just needed to get his beef
jerky and get out of there. With his goal in mind, Stiles skirted up one of the
narrow aisles again but he ran into a problem when Mr. Argent walked down the
same one.
"Stiles," Mr. Argent said. Stiles looked up again. His mouth fell open when he
realized that he had about an inch of personal space left because he and Chris
Argent were standing way too close on the aisle with office supplies, motor
oil, tylenol and - oh yeah. Condoms.
"Mr. Argent. Hi. Lovely weather we're having." Don't look at the condoms,
Stiles, he told himself. Looking at the condoms meant he saw and acknowledged
the condoms, and the awkwardness, and the weird arousal that crashed like waves
under his skin.
"A little warm for my tastes." Mr. Argent tugged at the collar of Stiles'
overshirt. It put his hand in direct contact with Stiles' collarbone. Stiles
whimpered and hoped it was too quiet for humans to hear. "You look like you're
about to have a heat stroke."
"Well, um. They say dress for the weather you want, not the weather you have?"
Stiles eyed the gap of space between Mr. Argent and the shelf. No way Stiles
could fit in there without rubbing some very sensitive parts either on Mr.
Argent's leg or on the shelf and that meant he would have to make a tactical
retreat to the chips and candy aisle.
Mr. Argent's eyes tracked Stiles' own and he chuckled like he knew he was
intimidating Stiles. "I don't think that's how that saying goes."
"No? Well. Uh." Stiles had nothing intelligent to say to that, so he backed up
a few steps and tried not to trip over himself. He failed when Mr. Argent
reached out and - without breaking eye contact - picked up a box of condoms.
Stiles froze. He couldn't be interpreting this situation right. This was his
friend's dad, a widower twenty or thirty years older than he was. This only
happened in porn and to other people.
"Stiles," Mr. Argent said. He didn't bother to whisper and the bored clerk up
front didn't bother to look up. "We need to talk."
"Talk," Stiles repeated. He wanted to look down at the condoms, maybe raise a
sardonic eyebrow, but there was still the possibility that he was reading this
wrong and Mr. Argent's eyes wouldn't let him go even if he tried.
"About yesterday, in the classroom." As he spoke, Mr. Argent passed the condoms
from one hand to the other. The movement finally drew Stiles' attention down,
but not too far. "Wait for me outside."
Stiles nodded jerkily and dropped his snacks without another word. If he was
reading the situation right, his life was about to get a lot more interesting.
If he was reading it wrong, well, it would be interesting in a different,
unpleasant kind of way.
"Y-yeah. Sure."
He fled to his jeep because he had nowhere else to go and sat in the baking
metal until his shirt stuck to every inch of skin. Just as he peeled it off,
Mr. Argent stepped outside and stopped. Stiles wasn't sure if he was enjoying
the show, but he slowed his movements down as he finished stripping it off and
used it to wipe off his forehead. He tossed it in the back seat and stepped out
of the car again, this time relishing the slight breeze on his bare shoulders.
"Do you want to do this here?" He asked. 'This' was a nice, neutral word. It
could mean anything.
"No." Mr. Argent jerked his head toward his SUV. "I told the clerk that I would
be coming back to pick my nephew's jeep up in half an hour. Move it around
back."
Half an hour - Stiles could work with half an hour. That probably wasn't enough
time to torture him for information and then kill him. He clambered back into
the car and started her up with shaky hands. Moving her around back felt like
it took forever but as soon as he turned the corner again he wanted the time
doubled or tripled.
Mr. Argent had pulled the SUV around and leaned over to open the door for him.
The air conditioning was already cooling the cab, he could feel it blowing from
where he stood frozen to the spot. Mr. Argent huffed at him and said, "Get in
the car, Stiles. Half an hour."
Stiles got in the car.
They rode silent a few miles down one of the country roads leading away from
the preserve. Mr. Argent pulled off into a driveway that no longer belonged to
a house. The woods on either side had grown so thick that by the time they made
it halfway up Stiles knew they'd be completely invisible to the road. Mr.
Argent didn't bother to pull off. He stopped in the middle of the driveway and
stepped out, slamming the door behind him without a word to Stiles.
Stiles dithered until he heard the trunk opening behind him and decided it
would be best if he got out before Mr. Argent managed to locate any of his
guns. Because he was Stiles, though, he followed the man around to the back of
the vehicle instead of making a break for it through the woods.
They stood there, looking into the - empty - back seat without speaking to one
another until the silence got so loud it made the mosquitoes sound quiet.
"I know what you were thinking back at the gas station," Mr. Argent said
eventually. Stiles' hands stilled in his pockets. He looked sideways without
moving his head and wished Mr. Argent would tell him, because he had no idea
what he'd been thinking for the past fifteen minutes. Mr. Argent didn't seem to
need any input from Stiles, because he continued, "I could see it on your
face."
He turned and Stiles sucked in a breath. The expression on his face, thunderous
and hungry, made Stiles want to step back and lean forward all at once.
"You were thinking about this." Mr. Argent made the choice for him by
sidestepping Stiles so elegantly that Stiles didn't realize he was boxed in
until the backs of his knees hit the bumper. He braced himself on the car and
waited. Stiles had spent enough time around werewolves to know that you didn't
move around too much when a predator was watching you.
Mr. Argent was every inch the predator as he took another step, one that forced
Stiles into sitting half into the car and spreading his legs. That was all it
took for Mr. Argent's hand to come between them and squeeze Stiles where he was
already half-hard.
"See?" He squeezed again and Stiles whimpered. "It's not difficult to guess
with you."
"What are you going to do about it?" Stiles asked. He wanted to sound flippant,
but his voice wavered.
"I think you can guess." Mr. Argent pushed him back onto his elbows. The back
seats were down, flush with the floorboard so that Stiles could lay back and
prop himself on his elbows as long as he kept his legs dangling out of the car
on either side of Argent. "You're a smart boy, aren't you?"
Stiles looked away and licked his lips. His eyes caught on the plastic bag from
the gas station and the little pack of condoms within. His hands needed
something to play with, anyway, so he grabbed it and shook out the contents:
the same box that Argent had grabbed in front of Stiles plus two packets of
lube.
Lube. Condoms. Seats pushed down. Stiles' eyes darted between the three and
then back at Argent, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he
exclaimed, "You planned this! You - what, followed me to the gas station?"
That was scary and flattering all at once. Why Stiles? Why not Lydia or Scott
or anyone else attractive in Beacon Hills? Stiles was no slouch in the looks
department, he knew that, but even he could see that seducing the Sheriff's
underage son in broad daylight in front of a witness and a security camera was
a remarkably stupid idea.
Mr. Argent just smirked while he watched Stiles squirm. His hands clamped down
on Stiles' thighs to keep them from wiggling, starting at the knee and then
sliding up to hold him where his hips met his leg. "What are you going to do
about it?"
"I -" Stiles looked down at the hands and the holster he could see under
Argent's shirt from up close. Unthinking, he brought his hand up to caress the
line of it from Argent's shoulder to where it disappeared under his arm. "I'm
following you lead here. What did you want to talk about?"
"Talking can wait." Mr. Argent punctuated that with a kiss that sucked all the
air out of Stiles' lungs and pushed him onto his back. He'd kissed people
before - a couple of girls at parties and, once, a boy from the next town over
when they'd both been drunk - but they'd been fumbling, sweet and mostly
innocent. Mr. Argent kissed like he wanted to obliterate Stiles with his tongue
and Stiles could do nothing but open himself to it.
His erection swelled in his jeans until he had to buck his hips to try and meet
where Argent's body brushed his own. He whimpered into Argent's mouth and tried
to break the kiss, but the older man followed his mouth no matter which way he
turned his head until the car filled with the sounds of kissing and releasing.
While they struggled Mr. Argent somehow got his hand between them and popped
the button on Stiles' fly. The zipper followed shortly until all that stood
between Stiles and the sweltering heat was a soft layer of cotton briefs.
Mr Argent yanked at the waistband of Stiles' jeans, pulling them down as far as
they'd go without separating their bodies. He growled in frustration and backed
away just enough to pull them the rest of the way down and then tossed them
over Stiles' head. Stiles didn't turn to see where they'd landed; he was too
busy tugging his remaining shirt off and then freezing when Mr. Argent pulled
his underwear too.
It was just after four and he was completely naked in the back of Chris
Argent's SUV while Chris Argent stood over him fully clothed. Stiles flushed
from his cheeks all the way down to his dick; it heated his skin and made the
intensity of the lust building in his body intolerable.
"Please," Stiles said, loud in the quiet of the afternoon. The only sounds out
here were their labored breathing and the occasional buzz of insects until
Chris ripped open one of the packets of lube. That sound echoed. "You - you're
going to use the condoms, right?"
"Not yet." Argent hadn't undone his jeans, but he was coating his fingers in
the thick liquid one by one. He pushed one of Stiles legs over his shoulder to
hitch him up and then poured the rest of the lube over Stiles' ass. It was cold
compared to his body temperature and Stiles moaned again, louder this time.
"What are you doing?" Stiles craned his neck to see, but his hips blocked the
view of whatever Mr. Argent was doing with his hands. A finger, invisible to
him, circled the rim of his asshole a few times until the lube warmed up. He
took in a deep breath and tried not to tense when Mr. Argent slipped a single
finger in, just up to the knuckle. "Oh my god."
"Ever done this before, Stiles?" Mr. Argent asked, sounding almost
conversational. Stiles nodded and tried to speak, but before he could the
finger plunged deeper, up to the second knuckle, and he had to focus on
breathing. "Had someone else do it for you?"
"Just me," Stiles admitted, when he felt like he could talk again. Mr. Argent
probed around inside; it felt strange coming from a different angle, and
already deeper than what Stiles could manage with his own fingers.
"Ever used a toy?" As he spoke, Mr. Argent forced in a second finger. Stiles
tried to arch away from the new pressure but Mr. Argent yanked Stiles' legs
back and impaled him all the way on both fingers.
"Oh my god, oh - fuck," Stiles whispered. He slammed his eyes shut, unwilling
to watch the movement of Mr. Argent's arm as it worked in and out of him.
"Answer the question, Stiles."
"Question...?" Stiles could barely remember his own name. Questions were
probably above his tolerance right now.
"Toys. Do you fuck yourself on one?" Stiles shivered, though he wasn't cold,
and nodded silently.
"I - it's not big. Not the size of a real - I ordered it online. To start
learning how." Argent hummed and pulled his fingers out. Stiles relaxed again,
or as much as he could with his body twisted half-sideways and ass spread for
easy access. "I use it in the shower. Or just put it in when I jerk off."
Argent's fingers teased the rim again. It felt different, now, more charged.
Stiles' dick leaked sluggishly onto his stomach and ran down through the trail
of hair leading to his bellybutton. He reached for himself but Argent slapped
his hands away.
"Wait," he ordered, and for once Stiles couldn't find it in himself to argue.
He couldn't find it in himself to do anything but wait, wait for the fingers to
return, or Argent's dick, or someone to come out here and haul them both off to
jail.
The fingers came first, the two of them straight in together this time. Stiles
threw his arm over his eyes and arched into it this time, hoping that Argent
would hit that sweet spot instead of playing around. They only had so much
time, and Stiles wanted everything.
Instead he felt more pressure added - a third finger. His arm flew off and he
opened his eyes, looking at Argent incredulously. "That's not going to -"
It fit, tight and burning until Stiles' body adjusted. He bit his lip so hard
he was sure it would bleed and tried to figure out if this was pain or
pleasure. He couldn't tell until Argent started to move his hand and his
shoulder to fuck Stiles stupid. Finally, finally he hit Stiles' prostate and
Stiles cried out only to muffle it with his arm.
"Let it out, Stiles," Argent said as he reached around Stiles' thigh to grab
his dick. Stiles bit down on his arm instead, unwilling to let Argent see how
affected he was even though it was obvious from his flush body and the way he
arched into the strong hand. Mr. Argent's hands were smaller than Stiles', but
they had more calluses from handling guns and crossbows since before Stiles was
born. He was rougher, too - he jerked like he wanted to pull it off.
Eventually he settled into a rhythm that ran counterpoint to the motion of his
fingers fucking Stiles' ass so that Stiles would push up into one hand when the
other withdrew and then fall back hard until he was shaking. Stiles thought
maybe he was crying, and he was definitely screaming now, but there was no one
around to see when he came except Argent himself.
As soon as Stiles started to come, Argent stepped away, taking his hands and
the press of his body with him. Stiles spilled all over himself and the back
seat of the car. By the time he could tell what was going on again, Argent had
unzipped and was holding the condom. Stiles watched through lidded eyes as he
pulled his dick out of his boxers and bit his lip when he saw the girth. It was
bigger than his toy at home and maybe bigger than three fingers, and that had
nearly killed him.
"Here." Argent tossed something at his chest, drawing Stiles out of his daze.
it was the condom packet. "Put it on."
"Me?" Stiles was soft against his thigh now, no reaction but the slightest
twitch. Argent laughed, loud in the otherwise silent woods.
"No."
Stiles got the picture. He fumbled to open the condom as mental images from
health class flashed through his eyes. He nearly expected the cool skin of a
banana when he touched Argent, but his skin was hot.
"I want to suck you off," Stiles breathed with his mouth close enough that the
movement of air - or his words - made Argent's cock twitch. Argent ran a hand
through Stiles' hair, leaving streaks of precome, and grabbed tight enough to
hold Stiles there. Stiles licked his lips, waiting, but then Argent let him go
with a little push.
"Not this time. Put it on, Stiles." Stiles looked up through his lashes. Argent
wasn't even blushing. He eventually nodded and forced his shaking hands to
cooperate as he pinched the top and then pressed it over Argent's head. Maybe
he wasn't doing it right or moving fast enough, though, because Argent put his
hands over Stiles' and pushed them down fast. For the first time since they'd
started, Argent made a noise that sounded like he cared what was happening.
Stiles stayed with his fingers circling the base of Argent's cock, unsure of
what to do and unwilling to admit it. Eventually Argent recovered himself
enough to push Stiles down again, right back into the wetspot on the carpet,
and press his knees up to his chest. Stiles tried to hold still but when the
blunt tip of Argent's dick touched his ass he twitched away on instinct; Argent
didn't care. Instead he dragged Stiles back and put one leg over his shoulder
like before. This time when he jerked Stiles' body, instead of falling onto
fingers Stiles' weight brought Argent inside him.
Stiles whimpered. If he hadn't come before, he thought that would’ve done it.
The pain from earlier had gone and left behind it buzzing pleasure that skated
the edge of too much. He closed his eyes and tried to thrust back, but Argent
didn’t seem to need him at all. He felt like he could fuck Stiles like this all
day while Stiles sprawled in the back of the SUV and let himself be used.
Argent’s hands gripped tight on his thighs, tight enough to bruise, and he
breathed raggedly every time he withdrew. His eyes, Stiles noticed, stayed
twisted tight shut. Was he imagining someone else? Victoria? Stiles wondered.
The thought stole some of his warm lethargy and left him feeling cold.
He didn’t like it so he pushed harder, put up more resistance and glared at
Argent until the man opened his eyes to look down and Stiles could be sure that
he was being seen. His doubts left him unprepared for the sheer lust in
Argent’s eyes when they poured over him from his parted lips to his flaccid
cock bouncing with the motion of their bodies. Stiles used his leg to pull
Argent all the way in, hard, and sent him spiraling into orgasm.
Stiles let him ride it out in silence. Even after Argent’s body stilled he
seemed unwilling to let go. Stiles ached from being fucked twice, but he
hesitated to break the quiet between them; he feared what came next. He said
nothing when Argent withdrew, or even when he retrieved Stiles’ undershirt from
where it had been tossed.
“Here.” Argent slipped the singlet over Stiles’ head and guided it down his
body with broad hands that still glistened with lube and Stiles’ sweat. Stiles
let Argent dress him without resistance or response. He felt floating, distant
from the buzzing world and still hot all over. “I’ll drive you back.”
Stiles’ legs felt like jello and his ass hurt. They were at least three miles
out from where they’d left the jeep. “I’ll walk.”
“Stiles.” Argent frowned and caressed his cheek like a – well, they were lovers
now. Or something. “We still need to talk.”
“What, seriously? You actually wanted to talk?”
“About you father. You need to be more careful what you say around him. Nobody
wants the Sheriff’s department getting involved.” Argent’s hand was still on
Stiles while he talked, and his serious blue eyes never left Stiles’ face.
Stiles squirmed and looked away.
“Message received. No more need to talk.” He slipped around Argent and offered
a wave.
“Stiles –“
“See you around, Mr. Argent.” Stiles grinned and tapped his lips. “You know,
next time.”
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