She sees them and her heart shatters.
He has her pressed up against the wall, her leg wrapped tightly wrapped around his waist and her hand is gripping his shirt like it's the only thing keeping her on the floor. His hand rests right next to her head and she can't even see his other hand.
But that's her boyfriend.
She opens her mouth to say something—anything. To scream, to cry, to yell but all she can do is watch as he tugs her upstairs and then they're out of sight. She's rooted to the ground.
Tears burn her eyes and in a flash, she turns on her heel and she's out of the house party that they had come to together.
She climbs into her car and blinks, tears are pouring down her face but no cry is escaping her mouth. She wipes her face wordlessly and starts the car—she doesn't fucking care anymore.
She ends up at his best friend's house; she knows she can do this here. Cry or whatever the hell she's supposed to do.
His mom answers the door and she's able to put on a smile and ask for her son, when she says that he's in his bed room she just nods, thanks her and bounds up the steps.
Without knocking she opens the door, he looks up from his book wide-eyed and confused "hey, shouldn't you be at that party?"
She shakes her head "nah, I needed to get out of there"
"where's—"
"I don't know" she shrugs as she cuts him off effortlessly, sitting on his bed "I don't care either just can we get drunk or something"
"Malia—"
"Please" she pleads softly "I need this"
He sighs and leans over and tugs out a bag from beneath his bed, he opens it and it's then she's practically salivating at the idea of getting shit-faced.
"here" he hands a bottle with brown liquid sloshing around in it, she doesn't question it though as she unscrews the cap and tips the bottle back letting the liquid burn her throat.
She knew he would have what she need—God knows that party didn't.
"whoa" he grabs the bottle and tugs it away from her mouth causing some of it to spill down her lips "slowdown"
"sorry" she wipes at her mouth with the back of her arm "I just need this right now"
"Why?"
She feels tears coming but now, she doesn't want them. She wants them to never come.
"later" she reaches over and tugs the bottle from his hands "let me get drunk first"
They stay like that for some time, passing the bottle in-between them, him forgetting whatever the hell he was doing before she showed up and her letting her mind go fuzzy as she tried to forget what the hell she saw.
Two hours later, they're on their backs, her lying her on his outstretched arm, his hand playing with the tips of her hair. They're both drunk, the empty bottle that's thrown somewhere on the floor evidence of that.
"so" he breathes out "why did you come over anyways?"
"not important" she turns on her side and looks at the side of his face
"you showed up and demanded to get drunk, sounded important"
She snorted "it was but it's not"
He turns his head and looks at her '"why's that?"
"cause" she wiggles her body closer to him "I just need this right now" and without any warning she leans up and presses her lips to his own. He doesn't move for a second but then his mouth is moving against her own and she reaches up and cups his face, she throws her leg over his waist and straddles him and his hands are wandering when he pulls away abruptly.
"wait—no, we can't do this—he—" he leans down and whispers something in his ear, his eyes widen and when she pulls back he looks at her "are you sure?"
"positive" she leans her weight back and grinds against him "I stood there for like 2 fucking minutes watching them before they went upstairs"
"but"
"I know" she leans down and presses her chest to his own, putting her mouth back on his "I know" she mumbles softly
She sits up and tugs her shirt off, his hands go up and hold onto her as he slips out from under her and lays her on her back.
Desperately her hands go to the hem of his shirt and tug it over his head, throwing it carelessly to the side. He starts trailing kisses down her neck and she nearly forgets everything that happened that night.
He kisses her everywhere above her waist; her stomach, her cleavage, over her bra, her collarbone—no area is left untouched by his mouth.
When he reaches her jeans he looks up at her "are you sure?"
She groans softly "yes now please for the love of god, take my pants off"
He obliges quickly.
Kissing the inside of her thighs leaves her breathless, so when he lay s a kiss on her core through her pantie—she's not sure she's ever going to get her breath back. She feels his teeth scrape against her skin and a shiver runs down her spine "you okay?"
She just nods.
He tugs her panties off and kisses a path up back to her core, she can feel his hot breath over her core and then—then she forgets her own name.
His mouth is doing God's work against her core, paying attention to everything that made her moan, made her squirm, sucking and flicking gently. It doesn't take too long for her to give way to the pleasure.
Her body is racked with wave after wave of pleasure leaving her body trembling as he kisses his way back up her body. She gets impatient after only a second and quickly tugs him back him up and presses her mouth harshly against his own tasting everything he just tasted.
She lets one of her hands wander south and feels him through his sweats, she groans and how hard he is and when he feels her grip him through the think fabric so does he. She uses both her hands to tug his pants off while he leaves bruises on her neck that will be gone by morning.
He kicks off his sweats to the side and they stay like that for a second, taking in the feeling. His mouth moving against her own, her core still soaked from his mouth, and feeling him pressed against her thigh.
She pushes him on his back and straddles his lap, merely grinding down on him rather than giving in to what they both want. She grinds down and he moans into her mouth—and really that's about all she can take.
Reaching over to the desk and pulling out multiple drawers before finding a condom, she rips it open and rolls it down his length. Quickly reaching down she aligns him with her core and slowly sinks down letting the sensation of being filled by him become her new high, replacing the one the bottle had given her.
"shit" he breathes out "oh, god"
She can only moan as she starts moving up and down along his length, her whole body covered in a thin layer of sweat and her very core squeezing and grabbing onto him.
She doesn't last long before her walls flutter and she sees stars behind her eyes—all he can do is watch as she throws her head back and lets her orgasm take her. He pulls them apart and lays her on her back, gently pushing back into her groaning at the feeling of having her back around him.
"oh god" she breathes out, his thrusts are slow and languid perfect for any other day but not right now "please, do it harder, faster"
"are you sure?"
She nods quickly, desperation in her eyes "please"
And then he's fucking her like there's no tomorrow.
Neither of them last long with the feeling her gripping him sending him over the edge and with him hitting just the right spot every time he thrusted into her making her spasm.
"oh god, Scott" she breathes out as they lay there for just a second, him still in her.
He pulls out and takes care of the condom with no problem and throws it away, he was going to tug his pants back on but she doesn't seem to care as she's just lying there curled into a ball.
Slowly climbing in she sighs and wraps her arms around him and pulls herself closer to him "sorry"
"why are you sorry?"
"cause I don't feel bad about this"
He shrugs and doesn't say anything, just pulls her closer. No one says anything for ten minutes and then he hears it—the sniffling.
And then the crying.
She has her face buried into his neck and she's cursing her boyfriend, Stiles everyway from Thursday through her sobs. He just rocks her softly and shushes her with soft kisses pressed to her nose, eyelids, anywhere he can reach.
When she falls asleep, naked, wrapped around him and clutching onto him like he's her lifeline he thinks back to the words she slurred into his ear as he tried to stop her from kissing him;
"I just watched your girlfriend practically eat my boyfriend's face—this isn't gonna send us to hell"
He just tugs her closer and presses his nose to her hair, letting tears slip down his face. He should feel bad—he just slept with Malia, his best friend's girlfriend but then he thinks to how Stiles fucked, Lydia, his own girlfriend and he doesn't feel so bad.
But then again, they'll probably feel bad about it the morning, call it a drunk mistake and promise to never speak of it again.
Scott won't.
In fact, he might just ask for round two.