A/N: This took me forever to write, and I'm not even that happy with how it turned out. But let me know your thoughts! Enjoy! :D
Malia 's head rises and falls with the motion of Stiles' chest. His heart beats wildly beneath her, not that she needs to be this close to hear it. But she likes to be close, sometimes even closer. His fingers brush through strands of her hair, pull them back to reveal her bare neck. She shivers, always cold, her desire for warmth insatiable.
"Stay the night," she whispers, her fingers drawing circles on his abdomen. Stiles smiles.
"You know I can't," he says. "Not until you tell your dad, anyways."
Malia buries her face in the crook of his arm, squirms. "I can't,"
Stiles shrugs.
"I haven't even told him about the other thing." She says, moving up to his chest again, taking in his scent. "He's so happy, and I'm-"
"Also happy?" he asks, bending to kiss her. Her lips taste like salted licorice, pleasant, but with a tinge of darkness. Darkness that could pull him in at any moment. She smiles against his lips, her fingertips on his jawline, stroking gently.
"I'm comfortable," she says, pulling away. "With what I am, with what's happening."
He nods, pulls her into an embrace.
"I don't want to ruin that," Malia mumbles, "And he doesn't seem to want to know."
Stiles presses her closer to him. He'd say something, try to give advice, but Malia knows what to do. She's stronger than he is.
"And with you," she continues, "he doesn't understand that it's been eight years since. That I'm older, that I have needs." She grins against his cheek.
"Needs?" Stiles echoes, teasing.
"The need to have your arms around me," she says, kissing his jawline. "The need to kiss your weird mouth," she presses her lips to his.
"Anything else?"
"The need to hear your babbling as I'm falling asleep," she laughs.
"Dude," Stiles interjects, "you just admitted you fall asleep when I open my mouth."
Malia laughs, "Depends on why you open it."
He sits up abruptly, pulling Malia into his lap.
"Whoa there," she exclaims, still laughing. "That wasn't an invitation for a hot make out session!"
"Well consider yourself invited on my behalf," he says, pulling at her disheveled hair, angling his head to kiss her on the neck, tongue pressing against her sensitive flesh.
She lets out a small moan, wraps her hands around him, pulls him towards her face.
"Accepted," she whispers before kissing him.
She straddles him, grinds her hips against him almost involuntarily as their lips clash in series of breathless kisses. His hands slide underneath her shirt, clawing at her hips. She pulls it off, and Stiles masterfully unhooks her bra. His shirt comes off next, and in between the tangle of limbs when they shift positions, so do their jeans and sweatpants, respectively.
Malia lies on her back, arches towards him when he kisses down her smooth flesh.
"Stiles," she half-moans, half-says when his fingers grasp the hem of her panties and he pulls them down ever so slowly. There's a moment of silence when he looks at her, completely naked and willing, on the bed in a room where the walls are lavender, and the headboard is still covered in holographic stickers. She waits for him, legs trembling with anticipation.
"Everything okay?" She asks suddenly, her words cutting through the silence, bringing him back into the moment. Stiles nods, smiles.
His hands slide to the inside of her thighs, slowly spread them apart. Malia is tense, hands in fists and biting her lip. He gives her a lopsided grin before lowering himself just enough to kiss the inside of her leg, then the hot pink flesh underneath. She buckles under him, his tongue working back and forth, caressing until she throws her head back, clutches her breasts and moans. Her moans are beautiful, throaty and raw and all for him. All because of him. A few more tongue strokes and her breathing quickens, muscles contracting with undeniable pleasure. Her lips parted and eyes just barely shut, skin glowing under the lamp light.
Stiles lies down next to her, waits until her breathing has evened out, until she's kissing him again with passionate intensity. Malia climbs on top of him then and he holds her hips as she guides him in, slowly, but with an air of impatience. She feels tight around him, her walls contracting, hot and aroused. Her arms on either side of his head for support, moving her hips rhythmically, biting her lip in concentration. His hands brush the sides of her abdomen, down to her behind. It only takes a couple of minutes before his breath hitches, his hands grasp Malia's hips, fingers pressing hard against her soft skin. She climbs off of him awkwardly and shakily, lies down so she's pressing against his chest and sighs. Their hearts attempt to outrun each other, beating erratically in the stillness of the house.
"Would you stay now?" Malia murmurs, looking at him through her eyelashes.
Stiles chuckles. "Especially not now. Chances of crucifixion from your dad are even higher now that I've-"
She kisses him lazily, lips pressed against his and unmoving. "It's not like it's the first time," she says. "It doesn't change anything."
He blushes, recalling all the other times, awkward and filled with a mixture of anxiety and desire. They haven't perfected it even now, but who needs perfection when imperfection feels so right?
"It's getting darker," Stiles says, cocking his head to look out the window. "I should probably scoot before another dad walks in on us."
She pulls on his arm, doesn't let him get off the bed. "We'll just explain everything,"
Stiles allows himself to stall, brushes stray hairs away from her face. "I don't want to get you into trouble."
"But I already am," Malia says. "In really, really big trouble." She's grinning, biting her lower lip seductively. He could go along with this, could go along for hours, but he promised his dad he wouldn't go too far, too fast. And he owes Malia an opportunity to talk to her dad on her own. It's not that he's scared of the man, or still has nightmares about his ankle getting caught in the steel teeth of his trap.
"Seriously," he says watching as she wraps her fingers around him, moves up and down, grinning. Sparks of pleasure shoot up his spine, and he almost considers staying. "Please," he pleads.
She lets go in that instant, climbs off the bed to look for her shirt on the ground. Stiles stares at her, a little disappointed that she listened to his objections. Malia moves quickly, pulling her shirt and panties on before he can even locate his pile of clothes.
"Are you upset with me?" He asks while in the process of buttoning up his jeans. Malia looks out the window pensively. "Of course not," she says. "You're right you know, I need to tell dad. Nothing worse than false happiness."
He nods.
"But not right now." She adds, "At least not about that."
"Then what?"
"You?" Malia says, placing her hands on his back and pulling him forward. "I don't want to sneak around anymore." She kisses him. "I want everyone to know."
"To be fair," Stiles notes, "everyone but your dad already knows."
She laughs, kissing him a lot more deeply this time. "Good."