"Boobs are really just squishy pillows." Stiles feels his squishy pillows move as Allison laughs, which makes him frown because she shouldn’t find his awesome realization funny.
“I think we broke him.” Jackson sounds so smug that Stiles would totally flip him off if he had the energy to lift his head.
“We?” Allison is scratching Stiles’ head, her nails scraping against his scalp in a way that would make his leg twitch if he was a dog.
“Yes, we.” Jackson huffs, the mattress shifting as he crawls onto it to join them. “I wasn’t lying around passively, you know?”
“No, you were whining and begging for more.” Allison is definitely gloating, and he isn’t any happier about that than knowing Jackson’s being a smug prick.
“That doesn’t nullify my part in helping you break our boy.” Jackson spreads Stiles’ cheeks and wipes off the leftover lube from Allison’s toy, the touch gentle in a way few would believe Jackson capable of being.
“Big word,” Stiles murmurs, moving his head to get comfier against Allison’s chest. “And I’m not broken. I’m just wrecked. There’s a difference. Don’t make me explain it now, though, because my brain’s not working well.”
“Sure there is, sweetheart,” Allison says, rubbing her thumb over the nape of his neck. “We wore you out, poor thing.”
“Glad to hear you finally recognizing my contribution, Ms. Bossy Pants.” Jackson finishes cleaning the lube left on Stiles’ ass before maneuvering his lower half around to clean up the front. “Damn, Stiles, you made a mess.”
“Not my fault,” Stiles says, finally opening his eyes and looking down at Jackson. “You wanted it hard, and I’m not gonna risk hurting you.”
“I’m a werewolf. It’s not like you can really even hurt me.” Jackson finishes wiping Stiles off then tosses the dirty washcloth onto the floor. He crawls further up the bed and kisses Stiles, the taste of the three of them still on his tongue. When he pulls back, he smirks. “By the way, Brainiac, my boobs aren’t squishy pillows. So you’re totally wrong with that comparison.”
“No, they’re definitely not.” Allison pats Jackson’s pecs, her thumb rubbing his nipple until he whines. “I don’t think there’s anything squishy about you, in fact.”
“Except his heart.” Stiles watches Allison and Jackson kiss, too sated and exhausted to physically react to the beautiful image they create. “His heart is all squishy and loving no matter how much he denies it.”
“I liked you better when you were too broken to talk sense,” Jackson mutters, lying down on Allison’s other side. “Or nonsense, in this case, because I don’t have a squishy or loving heart. You're just sex crazy, obviously.”
“It is pretty squishy,” Allison says, dimpling when Stiles looks up at her. She winks at him when he grins. “But don’t worry, Jackson. We won’t tell anyone.”
“Nah. We like that being our little secret,” Stiles agrees, stretching up to kiss Allison. She deepens it, licking into his mouth and then Jackson’s there, because he can only watch for so long before he has to be part of it.
The kisses are languid, the touches tender, none of them ready for another round yet. Instead, they make out for a bit before cuddling Allison between them, he and Jackson both lying with their heads on their favorite squishy pillows.