Le notes: Tumblr brought this ship upon me. Sterekah is their name, and trust me; they are cute because seriously, they would have major chemistry. And I suck at titles and summaries (what is this skill and how do you master it?) so I just stole the title of a jrock song. On with the story!
Summary: Someday, he's going to steal her heart. —-StilesRebekah
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filth in the beauty
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i:
she never wants to
fall in love again
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/ / /
Once upon a time, there lived a girl who's story was not the story you thought you knew. She's Marilyn Monroe; selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. She makes mistakes, is out of control, and at times, hard to handle. She's Princess Diana; she doesn't want expensive gifts, she doesn't want to be bought. She has everything she wants; she just wants someone to be there for her, to make her feel safe and secure.
And then—
"I don't want to run anymore Nik, all we ever do is run."
She's Sleeping Beauty, Aurora, Briar-Rose; a girl with a dagger through her heart and sleeping for a hundred years. She's waiting for true love's first kiss and unfortunately, it never comes. Only her brother's hand in hers. Together forever, always and forever.
But then big brother went, and off she left.
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/ / /
Once upon a time, there lived a boy who's story was not the story you thought you knew. He's no hero; nothing like superman with magical abilities (flying, speed, agility, and all that jazz). He's no batman, fighting crime with nothing but his bare fists. He's kind of like a Robin, but just a little weaker. Because even Robin is trained in hand-to-hand combat, and he sort of has his own show (does Teen Titans even count?). But Stiles can't always think so much, since his loved ones are in danger every other week or so.
He lives in fear, almost every day. Since once they're dead, they don't come back. And it's hard, really fucking hard. Like when mom passed on, Erica, Heather, and Boyd…he hates counting them but then, he meets her.
The girl who has blood in her mouth and at first he screams. He's scared and thinks she's a monster but then, her blood is shoved in to her dead victim's mouth. Suddenly, the dead doesn't seem so dead anymore. Her victim is alive, breathing and well.
Without thought, Stiles Stillinski is in awe of the girl who can bring the dead back to life. By the slip of his tongue, he thinks of her as some kind of angel, blonde hairs, green eyes, and fair skin fitting the imagery of saints. But she can't help but laugh (although, never has anyone ever looked upon her with such an honest and innocent gaze.
"an angel? No sweetheart, I'm the devil."
Yet he is too similar to a babe in the woods; so sincere and square that he finds her kind of magical. She chuckles. He reminds her of a virgin; so inexperienced and untainted. She doesn't get him. But then, she kisses him and he pulls back.
Afterwards, she understands. It takes weeks, but eventually, she does figure him out.
He really is a rather gullible young boy).
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/ / /
His eyes darken with a feverish passion while gazing in to her irises; emerald-like stones, green like the heart of the Nile River under the summer sun.
She strains up against him; her warmth and perfume surrounding his limbs.
The human boy hisses when pearly white teeth (fangs?) pinch at the sensitive area just below his ear, fingers (nails? claws?) digging in to the hard lines of his back, and soft sounds whispered in to his ear; like a hymn, like an anthem for the broken.
The undead girl's hands squeeze at either side of his hips as she holds on to the boy above her. The temperature steals higher with each wet slide of a tongue against his skin.
Stiles doesn't even bother to hide his groan when Rebekah latches on.
"You've going to leave a mark." He tells her, feeling her teeth digging deeper and deeper, always deeper, in to his skin. She presses herself, harder against him. So that she can melt in to him, open him up and bury herself deep within his bones; in search of some kind of warmth, some form of connection. She wants some kind of feeling, that not everything or everyone in the world is running from her or leaving her behind.
That she is not alone.
"That is my intention, Stiles." She tells him and right away, he is silenced; not by her words but by the golden hues of her irises. He sometimes forgets just what she is and just how much power she wields over him.
He wonders if today is the day that she will take without asking. That she will give in to her feverish animal instincts. But never has she ever bared her fangs to him before this. It's because she acknowledges the fact that he is afraid (oh but who bloody wouldn't be?). He truly does see her under a cloak of darkness (why should she let him see her under any sign of light?).
"Stop thinking so much," she advises him, as her right hand comes to release the angle of his bone, sliding over his waist and up to the center of his back. He tips his head back, so that Rebekah has better access to do what she wants. The human blood courses through his veins; his scent drives her wild, singing to her. His heart skips a beat when her teeth nip at the skin above his jugular. He waits for her bite, waits for her to reveal just whom she truly is. But all she leaves is a blueish purple bruise on his neck. It's dark and blooming, like a morning glory planted upon his skin. He can't help but let his fingers trail over the bruise.
"Did I hurt you?" She asks, but she's not serious because he notices the slight smile on her lips. She wants to hurt him; she really does, because hurting him means sharing her pain with somebody else. He doesn't mind, mostly since he understands. He's faced his fair share of pain as well, he can relate.
So he lies. "No," across his chest, he feels her fingers crawling, like spidermonkeys looking for a home. "Not at all," he hisses, her hands find their way right below his—
The silk of her skin is distracting, he ducks his head immediately. Stiles buries his skull in to the crook of her neck; adrenaline makes him soar. Rebekah presses the boy down against the mattress; her lips drag along the length of his chest, biting the skin right above his heart. Still, it hurts like it's done on purpose; bitemarks dotted above his heart, like a pathway for poison to freely climb its way inside of him. Infectious, deathly, and dangerous, just like she is. She loses herself within the salty taste of him, her tongue painting swirls on his hip bone as she pulls and then, there's a restrained noise.
She lifts her head to look in to his eyes, a mix of fear and arousal are her witnesses as he sees her in her true form. Black veins forming under her eyes, prominent and savage. He touches them with fragile fingers, only to try and understand that this girl is not a monster. She really isn't.
But she lets him believe she is. Better this way, she might think, because this way, it will be okay to break him. He will be expecting the pain and misery. And besides, he has always had a thing for broken girls. She just so happens to break everything she touches; what a perfect match, even cupid would be jealous.
She distracts him with the way she arches her back, and he rolls his entire body in to a plea for her to continue. She smirks, touching with a slow pace, fascinated by the way he shivers from any little contact. His toes curl, the fire in his belly only become more and more fierce.
"Rebekah." He releases softly, and she's never heard her name said in such an innocent tone. For once, she feels guilty. However, she is quick to forget her own sins when Stiles releases a low toned please.
Her hips grind down on to his own.
A delicious sound leaves Stiles's mouth.
"You're loud." Rebekah comments, trying to ignore how much she appreciates his naïve expressions. It's new and fresh, unlike most boys who man-handled her as if she was an animal. This boy is weak, yet flimsy. He treats her like she's human, like she's alive. It's nice that he likes to oblige, he prefers to give in, and he stays silent when she throws her head back in laughter.
"I'm sorry," he tells her, calloused fingers placing pressure on to her bare thighs.
"It's okay," she says, putting her hips back in motion.
Quickly, Stiles clamps a hand over his mouth and she dips her head back when she comes. She meets him with rough shoves and clawmarks left all over his skin, painting him pink and red. Again, she thinks it's good that it hurts. Yet Stiles melts away at her contact, as if he is a cube of ice facing the heat of the blazing sun.
Her golden locks, mimicking the color of daylight, fall like a curtain over his face as she meets his lips for a lethal kiss. She tastes like a miasma; toxic and bacterial. He wishes that he wasn't already sick, mad, and addicted to her venom.
Finally, Stiles finds his release, letting go of her hips, giving in to her control, and just releasing everything. He touches, he breaks, and he falls apart. All broken and alone, just like her (but he has been this way for a while now, ever since his mother, ever since the countless deaths he had witnessed,
—she doesn't know).
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/ / /
He runs through her veins, like a disease.
At times, he studies her while she holds on to him, as if he is a rope of life. His blood is coursing through her because she drinks from him. He can't exactly describe the feeling, but he can say that it isn't exactly unpleasant. At first, when her teeth begin to pierce his skin, there is pain. But then, the numbness sets in and soon, there is nothing.
He can't tell if the blood is hers or his own. Perhaps, it is at once his and hers; dark vampire blood and pure human blood, both replicated eternally in to her bloodstream.
He wonders if she'll ever offer him a taste. And he also wonders why he would ever desire such a thing. But Rebekah has made him obscure and strange.
Or maybe, he has been like this from the start of things. He could never tell when darkness truly claimed his soul; his heart's true feelings have always been a little hazy for his mind to comprehend.
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/ / /
(Once upon a time, there lived a girl who was a monster).
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/ / /
(Once upon a time, there lived a boy who was surrounded by monsters).
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/ / /
She lets him have the upper-hand once, and only once.
Of all things, he decides to twist her over, fast but never faster than her. Because he's only human, but he presses her head in to the pillow she later uses to cry herself to sleep in to. There are no tears this time, just her blocked whimpers. She sounds so raw and pure; he gives in just as quick.
"Harder," she hisses, and he hears it. He's been hearing it for a while now. But he's doing his best, grinding his hips faster and faster. So fast that he hears the clack of his bones, but she insists on harderharderharder. And desperately, he tries to open her up, wider and wider. For if this is what she needs, if this is what she wants, then he is willing to comply, to do whatever it takes.
"Stiles, harder please. I want, iwant, iwant—" she doesn't know, but he presses inside of her, trying his best. As a result, he satisfies her, quenches her thirst at the last second. And finally—
"Stiles."
For now, he has her body and perhaps, momentarily, and that is enough. But someday, he's going to steal her heart. And she lives in fear, every hour, every minute, every second of her life, wondering just when will that day come?
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/ / /
Once upon a time, there lived and boy and girl, both loved too easily and fell too hard. Until the night stole away their sadness, until they buried their grief within each other's ribs, until there was nothing left.
And then, well—
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/ / /
Tbc?
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Le more notes: Okay so I'm back to writing angst…I really do enjoy writing dark things though; it is very freeing, in a strange way. And once again, I am not so sure how to continue this, perhaps just as sex drabbles (rating might go up because of that). Until then, follow me on tumblr for more information on updates? Please? The link is on my profile!
—Xoxo Carter