The thing about having someone blindfolded on their back underneath you is that in theory it's supposed to make you feel like you're in control. But Stiles doesn't feel like he's in control, not of himself at least. He's been with a few different people. Not like a ton of people, but he has a decent record. Respectable. He doesn't know who he's keeping score with, but everyone likes having points. Regardless, Parrish is so incredibly different than all the others.

He's not sure what he should have been expecting. Every time he and Parrish had gotten into each other's pants the circumstances had been wildly different. Parrish isn't a passive lover though, and he's not wild or fierce. Even though he's on his back under Stiles, with a blindfold on, he's so invested in what they're doing that Stiles is kind of stunned. He lets out a shaky breath as Parrish licks up his throat, tries to pull Stiles closer with his legs, grinding his cock up against Stiles's stomach.

"You're so hot," Parrish whispers as he trails burning kisses across Stiles's jaw. "And so hard." He rolls his hips up, grinding into Stiles's groin, sweat slick skin and overwhelming heat.

Stiles makes a choked-up noise, somewhere on the dazed side of a groan. There isn't any space between them. Parrish wraps his arms tightly around Stiles's body, like he thinks there's some way he can pull them closer. It's hard to breathe. The pressure, the temperature, it's like Stiles can physically feel how badly Parrish wants him and it's terrifying and exhilarating.

No matter how many times people tell him they think he's attractive Stiles never really accepts it. He's not great at taking anything serious, especially himself. The thing is Parrish isn't giving him the space or time to doubt it. It's all being scorched away in the face of the deputy's naked want.

"H-how?" Stiles asks, blinking sweat out of his eyes and then kissing Parrish when he opens his mouth, probably to ask what the fuck Stiles is talking about. Nails drag down Stiles's back, and Parrish grinds up into him harder, more desperate, and holy shit Stiles is stunned that Parrish seems even more enthusiastic about getting Stiles inside him.

"However, you want," Parrish says when they stop kissing long enough to take a breath. Or at least that's probably what he's saying. Stiles can barely think, let alone hear over the blood pounding in his ears.

He grins against Parrish's mouth. He's not asking Parrish how he wants to be fucked, though he probably should be asking that, not how is it that Parrish is so… focused? Invested? Present? Fuck Stiles doesn't even know how to describe the palpable waves of need rolling off Parrish and crashing over him.

Butterflies roil in his stomach, and Parrish traces his fingers down Stiles's spine like he can feel the arc of electric need racing along it. Stiles pushes himself up, his hands on the bed to the sides of Parrish's head, creating a space between them and gulping down the little bit of air that feels like it's left in the room. Parrish doesn't miss a beat, he turns his head to the side, pressing his lips against Stiles's wrist and then playfully biting at him. He reaches up running his fingers over the back of Stiles's neck and then up into his damp hair.

"Please," Parrish begs against Stiles's skin, and it makes his head spin. "Please I've wanted you inside me since before we even went to get ice-cream. Please, please, don't make me wait any longer."

Stiles pushes against Parrish's thighs trying to get him to unwrap his legs and lay flat against the bed. Parrish makes this rolling noise in the back of his throat that edges toward something like a protest but does it. Stiles moves up the bed straddling Parrish's chest. The deputy immediately realizes what Stiles wants and he licks his lips in anticipation, the blindfold not doing anything to disguise the hunger. He gets his hands on Stiles's hips and tries to pull him up the bed further.

It's not like Stiles needs to get in Parrish's mouth to get hard enough to fuck him. He's already more than hard enough, but he needs to get his head up away from the bed up into what he thinks is cooler air because yeah, heat rises or whatever but it's still cooler by degrees than the broiling aura coming off Parrish's skin.

Stiles grips his dick by the base, and gently pushes it down and then across Parrish's lips. The deputy makes this grateful relieved noise and licks out, mouths at the underside and starts to lift his head so he can get a better angle. Stiles reaches down and pushes Parrish's head back against the bed.

"On my terms this time," Stiles says, and bites his lower lip when Parrish's nails dig into his hips. "You said I can do what I want." Parrish's brow furrows and his grip tightens but he let's his head rest back against the bed. "Let go." It takes a moment, but Parrish releases Stiles's hips. Stiles rolls off him and gets to his feet to the side of the bed.

"Is everything okay?" Parrish sits up, reaching for the blindfold.

Stiles grabs his hands, stopping him from taking it off. "I said I'd fuck you while you're blindfolded." He pulls Parrish forward, sliding him across the bed and then getting him down on his back again. "And I'm going to do that. I'm just going to fuck your mouth first. You want that don't you? To taste me again?"

Parrish nods enthusiastically, let's Stiles arrange him how he wants, on his back with his head off the side of the bed. "Can I touch myself?"

"Yeah," Stiles says, after a short delay because he realizes he's just nodding dumbly as he stares at Parrish stretched out and naked on the bed. He moves forward running a thumb over Parrish's lips to get him to open his mouth. Parrish bites his thumb, then sucks it into his mouth.

Stiles leans forward, widening his stance as he moves up to get in position. Parrish doesn't hesitate for even a moment, opening his mouth eagerly and reaching up to try to get his hands on Stiles's hips again to pull him in closer. Stiles chokes out a groan as he slides into the wet heat of Parrish's mouth, then a gasp as Parrish yanks him even closer, swallowing him down easily.

"Holy fuck," Stiles hisses out between gritted teeth. He pulls his hips back, then thrusts forward, eyes locked on the muscles in Parrish's neck as they flex. For a moment he thinks he should be a little more cautious but the way that the grip on his hips tighten and yank him forward are enough of a hint that now isn't the time to be gentle.

So, he's not. He gives Parrish what he wants. That's what he came here to do. He thrusts forward again, rougher, harder. The deputy makes this hungry noise around Stiles's cock, it races up his spine and short circuits his brain. He puts his hands on the sides of Parrish's neck, stroking over his throat with his thumb as he fucks into his mouth.

He thought it'd be easier to breathe when he wasn't so close to Parrish's skin, but he's wrong. So wrong, but it doesn't matter because he doesn't need air. He's got everything he needs, and he loses himself in the rhythm of it, and somehow, when Parrish starts tugging on himself as he lets Stiles use his mouth it makes Stiles even harder.

The noises Parrish makes around Stiles's cock take on a desperate edge, and it snaps Stiles out of the delirious haze he's lost in. He steps back, and Parrish stretches his body out like he's trying to keep Stiles from getting out of his mouth. It ignites a deeper heat in Stiles's gut. He reaches out, pushing and pulling until he gets Parrish turned around, ass near the edge of the bed and legs up. He get's down on his knees, and sloppily licks at Parrish's hole, uses his fingers to try to stretch him open a bit to make what's coming next easier but they're both shaking and impatient.

"Stiles—"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm going to make you feel good. Trust me." Stiles's hands are steadier than he would have expected as he picks up the bottle of lube they'd used earlier and slicks himself and Parrish's hole with it again.

"I trust you," Parrish says.

It makes Stiles blink rapidly, and a different kind of warmth spreads through his belly. He wasn't sure if Parrish should trust him, but there's nothing he can do about it immediately. The only immediate thing he can do is give Parrish what he wants.

It's painful for him in a way, how slowly he slides into Parrish's body. But it's a good kind of painful, as if that made any sense, but his brain hardly ever makes sense to himself, let alone anyone else.

"Yes, yes… fuck…" Parrish gasps out. "Needed so badly." He let's his arms rest up by his head, and his fingers move and flex in the air like he's thinking about grabbing Stiles hips again and pulling him forward.

It's all too much. Everything about Parrish is too much and too good and he swallows down the fear lurking at the edges of his mind. Tries to be with Parrish in the present, not letting his mind wander to the future, of the things they were going to have to deal with soon.

He owes this to Parrish, but it's not like he doesn't want it just as desperately. That's not a lie he was even going to try to tell himself. He tries to focus; he does but he's spiraling and even though he knows it's coming there's nothing he can do about it because that's his brain and it's never worked the way people say brains are supposed to. His mind is always going in overdrive. He talks so much because the alternative of him not saying things is that he's trapped inside his own mind, just him and too many thoughts, and no way to keep it together. As much as he wants to b—

"Kiss me," Parrish begs.

He kisses Parrish, and it saves Stiles. Saves him from himself. Parrish wraps his legs around Stiles's hips, curls his arms around Stiles's neck and just kisses him like there isn't anything else in the world but the two of them. And in that moment, it is just the two of them. No fear, no anxiety, nothing but how badly they need each other.

Stiles gets his arms underneath Parrish, one under his waist and the other under his neck, and keeps moving, keeps driving himself into the heat. Parrish is so hard, his dick trapped between them and he alternates between pushing back into Stiles's thrusts and grinding into his stomach.

"I'm so close…" Parrish gasps out, like he can't believe how many times he's gotten off and being on the edge again already.

Stiles kisses him, he's spent so much of his time fucking Parrish barely being able to breathe and for the first time it sounds like Parrish is the one who can't get enough air, so Stiles wants to give him what he has left. Parrish's whole body convulses as he loses it, and Stiles does his best to fuck him through the aftershocks, but he his self-control is frayed, and Parrish is still shaking when Stiles loses it too.

"T-thank you," Stiles says, his voice trembling as badly as his body.

Parrish pulls the blindfold off, and Stiles stares down into blue eyes that never seem icy, sinks into them like sun warmed summer waters. Stiles expects Parrish to make a joke, it's what he would have done. He expects him to say something like 'who is being unfailingly polite now'. But he doesn't. He just let's the soothing warmth of who he is roll over Stiles.

The amazing thing is that as sleep starts to creep up on Stiles, he's not afraid. He'd never admit to anyone… except maybe Scott, but the moments just before he falls asleep are often filled with a nameless lurking fear. Nightmare scars that never healed right. As he drifts off though, none of the shadows at the edges of his mind creep towards him, seemingly afraid of the blazing fire wrapped around him.