Disclaimer: teen wolf does not belong to me in any way, shape or form. Thank you for the continued support on this story and the hundreds of reads, it means the entire world :) and a special shout out to guest, guest, guest, guest, guest and guest for the reviews, it means so much to me and really motivates me :)

Also, this chapter is a little explicit – the Stayla sexual tension is getting hotter ;)

She must have fallen asleep because, the next thing she knew, the room was dark and she heard faint breathing next to her.

It made her jump a little in surprise, the bed jostling slightly underneath her as she sat up, but soon realised it was just Stiles as she squinted through the dimly lit room. She could see the outline of his body facing her, the weight of his arm haphazardly thrown across her legs with his face nuzzled into the pillow.

Oh damn.

She swallowed nervously, reaching out to gently move his arm from her body and reach for her phone that he was half laying on, touching the screen so it lit up and nearly blinded her.

She blinked several times at the bright light that nearly shattered her eyeballs, a sharp pain shooting through her brain, but she persevered and squinted her tired eyes to see the time.

3.47am.

Even bigger damn.

Her mom would not be happy.

She didn't like boys in her room at the best of times, but a boy staying overnight? She was surprised she didn't storm back in and throw him out by his belt loops.

She tossed her phone beside her on the bed, rubbing at her eyes before lightly nudging Stiles.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't wake. Simply grunted and turned his head further into the pillow.

"Stiles" she hissed, nudging him again, "wake up".

Again, no response.

She rolled her eyes, nudging him harder but he just groaned and nestled under the blankets.

She knew if her mom found out about this it would just turn into yet another argument and, quite frankly, she could not be bothered with it. Her mom had never cared who her brother was hooking up with or had inhisroom, but with Kayla she was always so needlessly strict and judgemental.

That was probably why she was forced to get creative and hook up with people anywhere but her home.

In fact, it was probably why, subconsciously, she did hook up with so many people – a massive 'fuck you' to her mother that, by all intents and purposes, seemed to dislike her very much and to prove that she could still do whatever she wanted, regardless of the 'rules'. Hence the multiple parties, the string of boys she happily went to second and third base with and then disappeared at 15 years old with the worst kind of boy.

Ah, sweet teenage rebellion.

She knew her mom wouldn't believe her if she said nothing had happened with Stiles – which was true, they just accidentally fell asleep – because, newsflash, her mom didn't believe a word she said so just blew out a long breath, sitting back against the headboard with a long-drawn-out sigh.

Maybe if she could sneak Stiles out without waking her mom… maybe, just maybe, she could avoid the lecture and disappointing looks for another day. Maybe, for once, her mom might believe her.

"Stiles" she whispered with another well aimed jut of her elbow against his chest, "you need to wake up".

He began to stir, mumbling something under his breath that she didn't quite catch, seeming to shimmy closer to her body and try and wrap his arms back around her legs.

That made her blanche a little, unsure what to do. A little wary because, surprisingly, his touch felt soothing and reassuring, the weight of his arm like a heavy blanket trying to coax her back to sleep.

But no, she couldn't let herself feel that. It wasn't fair on her, and it wasn't fair on Stiles. She didn't do relationships or feelings like this and pretending she did would just hurt them both.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably, removing his arm again as she flicked his forehead and he – finally – reeled back in surprise, blinking around in surprise and confusion.

"Welcome back to the land of the living 'sleeping beauty'" she whispered in a hushed voice, "we fell asleep. If my mom finds us, we're dead"

Despite the darkness she could see Stiles' eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, flailing into an upright position in a flurry of limbs and blankets, promptly smacking the back of his head against the headboard and making a large, and rather loud, bang.

"Subtle" she remarked sarcastically with an eye roll, "do you want to wake the whole neighbourhood, or…?"

He rubbed the back of his head, still looking panicked.

"We-We fell asleep?"

"Yup. It's nearly 4am"

"Oh crap"

"Yeah, so if you could just leave out the window that would be great-"

"The window?" he shrieked, realising he was being super loud by her pointed look and adjusted his volume control, "the window? What do you mean 'the window?' I'm not jumping out your window. I'll break my legs!"

"We're only one storey high".

"That's one storey enough to put me in a wheelchair".

"Oh, don't be so dramatic".

"Dr-Dramatic?" he demanded, "No. Jumping from a window is being dramatic. You have front doors".

"No. What I have is a judgemental and overbearing mother" she corrected, "if she hears or sees you leaving, we'll get accused of raw dogging each other all night".

She watched as his expression became embarrassed and almost doubtful.

"Uh… we-we didn't, did we?"

She sent him a moody glare.

"If we had, trust me, you would remember it".

He soon shut up at that, his cheeks no doubt turning a cherry red.

However, as he was Stiles, he didn't stay quiet for long.

"Uh… heh… yeah, of-of course. I just thought… I mean, my dream…um…" he blanched, "I mean… I didn't mean that-"

"Stiles" she interrupted, "I don't really care about your sex dreams. They probably pale in comparison to what I can actually do anyway. So, relax"

Her words seemed to have the opposite effect on him, looking like he was in the middle of an asthma attack.

"So… the window?"

He looked like she asked him to kill his dog.

"Okay" she muttered, "no window. Don't get your panties in a twist".

"Don't you get your panties in a twist" he retaliated without thinking, becoming flustered and overwhelmed at the word 'panties', "not that I'm thinking about your panties or anything-"

"Stiles" she interrupted, "I don't wear panties to bed so they're definitely not in a twist".

He gulped, his gaze automatically snapping downwards to her pyjamas and flaring an even deeper red, suddenly bunching the blanket around his crotch to no doubt hide the alarmingly fast response of his boner at those words.

She rolled her eyes, "are you getting a boner in my bed?"

"… Is-Is that curiosity or an accusation?"

She opened her mouth to respond but snapped it shut, finding herself somewhat – ah – distracted by the intruding but pleasant thoughts of exactly what he was hiding under the blankets. She tried to distance herself from her developing feelings but when the boy she clearly fancied – despite wishing she didn't - was in her bed trying to hide his growing boner because he thought she was the next best thing since sliced bread, well… let's just say it got her a little hot under the collar.

And by that she meant horny. Really fucking horny.

Her blood started to pump a little bit quicker and the sound of her heart thundering against her ribcage was almost deafening. Despite her best efforts, her brain ran away from her, delving into so many unfiltered fantasies that made her own legs clench together, a lingering sting of yearning twisting her gut.

Here he sat clearly wanting her, very clearly thinking the same things she was, maybe she should just say 'fuck it' and indulge. Would that be bad? Would it be bad to take this charming and innocent guy and ruin him for her own pleasure? Would she wreck her newfound friendship by being weak and doing what she always did – never saying no to short term satisfaction?

But somehow, she knew Stiles would be different to everyone else.

She knew once she got a taste, she wouldn't be able to say no.

She didn't know what it was, but there was something about him that was starting to make her… soft. All squishy and melty in the middle. Like her armour, that she always wore so well, was cracking. In the weeks that she had known him and grown close to him, she had found herself opening up to him more than pretty much everyone in her life.

With him, things were easy. Comfortable. An effortless natural ebb of conversation and vulnerability and, without realising, she had found herself seeking him out – his presence and his company.

What did that mean?

She didn't understand what was happening to her but, whatever it was, it wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't meant to feel these things. When she felt too much of something, it became dangerous.

When she was happy, she got her heart broken.

When she was sad, she destroyed herself and everything and everyone around her.

She just wanted to exist on an equilibrium, never letting herself feel too much – least of all, romantic feelings.

Romantic feelings that, against her wishes, were bubbling in her chest.

She hadn't felt this way before. Not with Aiden. Not with any of her short-lived hook ups. Not even with harry – her long-term best friend back in Louisiana that everyone thought she would end up with and that she had tried to not think about because fresh start, right? That and, well… it still hurt. Everything that happened still hurt like hell, but she couldn't show that because, when she showed her emotions, people got uncomfortable and she felt even more alone and judged than ever.

But with Stiles… she didn't know, it just felt different.

They must have been quiet for a long while, both just staring, waiting for the other to say something to break the ice but, for once, she had nothing.

She was truly speechless.

All she could think about was reaching out and touching him. Letting her fingertips brush across his skin, imagining the subtle but taut muscles flexing and contracting in pleasure, allowing her nails to dig in when she wanted more. She knew he would be warm – she had been close enough to him to know that – and suddenly craved that, feeling herself shiver in disappointment that there was a small distance between them.

He was still grabbing at the blankets, bunching them up awkwardly around his waist and she felt her teeth bite down – hard – on her bottom lip, a delectable sigh escaping her throat.

She had thought about it, more than once… imagining what exactly he had to offer.

He was awkward, somewhat socially challenged and lacked confidence but she just knew that his 'downstairs' would be impressive. When she imagined him naked, it was all good things. Lean, but firm. Dustings of dark hair kissing his skin, leading a tantalising trail to the base of a thick heavy cock.

She wondered how many times he touched himself thinking about her… how many times he stood in the hot steamy shower, letting the water cascade over his naked body as he got off thinking about her? Or, how many times he laid in his bed, tightening his hand around his cock as he eyed up pictures of her on his phone?

She hoped it was a lot… the devilish part of her hoped she plagued his thoughts, both waking and sleeping, until it became so unbearable that he had to relieve the building tension in his body before he lost his god damn mind. She wondered how he imagined her… cute and innocent, submissive as he explored? Or dominating and temptress, confidently taking what she wanted?

What Kayla did he think about? Because she could be both. She would happily be both.

Between her legs was getting hot and wet, the silk material clinging to her clammy skin as she reached out and pushed him backwards on her bed, straddling his hips and pushing down on his chest – hard – keeping him pinned and helpless.

The temptress it was.

His bulge, dominating and captivating, stiffened even more as it fought against the confines of his slacks, the motion pressing against her core and causing her to let out a silent gasp, the edges of her vision beginning to darken.

What was she doing? She didn't know. She didn't know and that scared her, but this sudden need welled up inside her and she found herself unable to think rationally, taking all her self control not to roll her hips against every thick inch below her.

His chest was rising and falling quickly under her palms resting side by side between his ribs, his heart hammering repeatedly and quickly, like an excited hummingbird.

"… We can't do this Stiles" she murmured, despite every fibre of her being telling her they could, "you're my friend…"

Through the haziness, she could see his eyes were wide and overwhelmed, staring up at her with such intense desire she almost melted. His hips adjusting themselves slightly under her, the movement pressing gently against her core and causing it to throb with need.

"… You're my friend too…"

Oh, it was a dangerous line they were approaching. Things were going to get complicated if she kept going… if she kept poking this bear, but it was like she was a woman possessed, unable to help herself.

"How often do you think about me?" she whispered, deciding to hell with it and dangled her toes over that line.

He gulped, his breath jittery and nervous as he tried to find his voice.

"… A-All the time" he answered honestly, his voice shaking, "I never stop thinking about you".

Oh god… she was falling headfirst into that whirlwind of feelings and hormones, tightening her legs around his hips hard enough to make him gasp and buck a little, sending another delicious wave of pleasure coursing through her body.

She wanted to ask why, but she was scared of the answer. Terrified to make this all real.

"… What kind of things do you think about?" she asked, her toes now no longer over the line, but her feet too.

His eyes darkened with lust, telling her everything she needed to know.

"Everything…"

His bulge, throbbing and pulsating against her seemed to put her under some kind of spell, captivating her and rendering her useless to her usual logic and common sense.

She had always been in tune with her sexuality, but something about this was different. She didn't just feel horny or needy, she felt the urge to just be close to him – in every sense and every way. Like her soul, barren and broken, was mending in his presence.

She allowed her hands to slowly slides across his chest and press into the mattress on either side of his head, hovering over him so tantalisingly close she could feel his warm breath, tinted with toffee popcorn, drifting across her lips.

"This could be a mistake…" she whispered, the ends of her hair dusting along his neck and cheeks, :"… this… this thing between us… it could be a mistake"

Her past having drilled it into her head that feelings and relationships just ended in heartbreak. Why would she risk the last remaining pieces of her fragile and damaged heart?

He didn't say anything, helpless to her very presence on top of him and the way he looked at her with so much gentleness and longing made her breath catch in the back of her throat, his eyes always sliding back to her lips.

"… How?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Because she was damaged goods. She wasn't innocent, or pure. She had a sketchy past, questionable morals and enough baggage to load a semi-truck… she didn't understand what it was he saw in her.

… Except that didn't stop her thinking about just how easy it would be to slide her hands between their bodies, unbutton his slacks and glide the zipper all the way down… reaching around to untuck his cock so it bounced free and untamed, perfectly angled for her to simply force it into herself with a breathy moan-

She shook her head gently, freeing herself from those thoughts.

"You like Lydia".

"I-I don't" he said immediately, "not like that".

"I don't date".

"You could" he mumbled, "you could date me".

The ghost of a smirk graced her lips, thinking 'wow, smooth Stilinski' as she watched him squirm underneath her, scared and unsure where to rest his hands that floated helplessly by his sides.

She could, but how would it end? She could lose one of her new best friends because, in the end, she always ruined things. She destroyed everything she touched. Why would Stiles be any different?

But what she didn't expect was to feel so tempted by him… almost whispering yes…

She had him right where she wanted him. All she had to do was say that one word and she could indulge headfirst and fast into these new feelings if she let herself, if she just allowed herself to feel-

A figure appeared in the open doorway of her bedroom, but she was so engrossed in staring into his eyes, getting lost in the honey glaze that seemed to envelop her very soul, that it wasn't until she heard a stern and deliberate cough that she broke free from the trance she was in to see her mother, arms folded across her chest, her gaze alight with fire.

She gulped, not normally nervous or scared around her mom but this was different. What she had walked in on, no doubt thinking the worst, was just another thing to add to her list of disappointments when Kayla was just trying to figure shit out. But nope, her mom didn't understand that. She was simply looking at her daughter like she was a slut, plain and simple.

She hated to admit that hurt her.

"Didn't I tell this young man to leave already?"

She avoided her mother's stare, wordlessly sliding off Stiles' lap as he floundered into an upright position, covering his ever-throbbing bulge as he stared between them in shock.

"We fell asleep".

Her mom scoffed, clearly not believing a word that came out of her mouth.

"Yes. I'm sure that's all you did" her mom said, "I've had enough of this. The countless stream of people you seem happy to do God knows what with. Your father and I raised you better than this!"

Resentment bubbled up inside her, throwing her mom a furious glare.

"No" she insisted, "my dad raised me. All you did was give birth to me".

"And what do you think he would think of you now?"

"We'll never know because he's dead" she screamed, "and I'm stuck with you".

For a moment, she was almost sure her mom's eye's stung with hurt but dismissed that thought nearly immediately – when did her mom ever show any sign of caring what Kayla thought?

"Your friend needs to leave before I phone his father and tell him what his delinquent son has been up to. I'm not asking".

Stiles took that as his cue to awkwardly standing up, pulling his tee down lower around his hips.

"Uh… y-yeah… yes, of course. Um… I'll just… I'll… go…" he murmured, "Sorry for… uh… just… I'm gonna go…"

"Good choice" Her mom said, her steely eyes following Stiles closely as he tip toed around her, trying not to get too close in case she killed him with her stare and then disappeared down the stairs – not out the window like she had suggested.

"Don't you dare bring our baggage up in front of other people" her mom warned once they heard the front door open and close and Stiles was out of ear shot, "we have our issues Kayla, but that is between us. Not your flavour of the month"

"He's not my 'flavour of the month'" she scoffed, "he's… he's my friend. He's different-"

"He's a teenage boy" her mom interrupted, "and you've proved yourself to be far too easy. I told you we were leaving this kind of behaviour back in Louisiana. What was that boy's name again – Arron?"

"Aiden" she corrected with a glum grumble.

"And look what he turned you into. A drug addicted runaway that was probably passed around more times than their joint. How can you even be sure he was the fath-"

She knew the words of accusation before they were even out of her mouth, a new well of guilt and misery creeping up inside her.

"Don't go there" she snapped, "don't speak about that. You have no right-"

"I have every right when you're living under my roof" her mom snapped, "and I won't tolerate any of that behaviour you exhibited last year. I want you to focus on school, extracurricular activities and working on being a better person – not focusing on boys and sex"

She didn't say anything, too wound up and angry that she knew if she did say something then she would probably put a few holes in the walls as well.

"I mean it Kayla" her mother warned, "if you slip, that's it. I'm done. I won't tolerate any more games".

"I can hear you loud and clear".

"Good" her mom nodded, "now get some sleep. Oh, and you're grounded".

"Figured as much"

Her mom went to walk away but turned around, quirking a brow at her.

"Did you, at the very least, use protection?"

"We didn't have sex!"

"Well, maybe it's time we book you a doctors appointment to discuss… options" she said, "in case you do have more slips, we don't need any more accidental pr-"

"Do whatever you want" Kayla snapped, "I don't care".

"Of course you don't. You've proved that multiple times".

She turned and left, leaving Kayla alone in the darkness once more, hating herself even more than usual.

By the time Stiles escaped that house and got home it was past 4.30am, the sound of his clanky jeep rolling into the driveway obnoxiously loud in the quiet jeep.

Unfortunately, to his surprise, it looked like the lights were still on which meant his dad was either still up or has fallen asleep with a whiskey in his hand pouring over all the recent unsolved cases which had been happening more and more these days.

He slipped out his jeep, awkwardly adjusting the last swell of his boner that, for whatever reason, hadn't fully settled or gone down, even after his awkward run out the front door.

He touched his phone that was in his back pocket, wondering if he should call her – or, at the very least, shoot her a text. Or was a text a douche move? He didn't know. He was confused. Everything with her seemed to confuse him lately. She was his friend, but yet just moments ago she was on top of him and, if he was reading the signs correctly, it seemed like she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

He could still feel the gentle weight of her on top of him, her legs tight around his hips as she – slowly – tilted them against his crotch, forcing himself to come alive under her. If he was braver, he would've pulled her down harder but, as usual, he was scared and unsure, becoming increasingly overwhelmed and anxious.

He knew if he kept thinking about her it would make for a very awkward walk through the front door so shook his head, trying to forget about what the hell had just happened, and walked up the steps and in his front door.

As suspected, his dad was sitting at their rickety old wooden table in the kitchen reading over a stack of case files, an empty glass of scotch pushed to the edge of the table.

He thought that – maybe – he could get away with sneaking to his room and pretending he wasn't just rolling in in the early hours of the morning, but his dad was the Sheriff for a reason and clocked him coming in before he even had two feet inside the door.

"Stiles, is that you?"

He winced, "uh… yeah dad. Sorry. Lost track of time"

"There's a curfew for a reason, you know. Get in here"

He closed his eyes for a moment, dreading the talking down he was about to get as he shuffled his way down the hall and into the kitchen, plastering a fake innocent smile across his face.

His dad peaked at his over the edge of his glasses, giving him a thorough once over.

"Is everything okay?"

"Wha- yeah. Yeah. Of course. W-Why?"

"It's 4.30 in the morning"

"Uh… yeah, like I said… lost track of time-"

"You and Kayla, you've… you've become quite close, hm?"

"Um… I-I… I suppose"

"Do you think her cousin, Derek, did these murders?"

He was surprised, having been so sure his dad would want to have 'the talk' with him. After all, it wasn't normal behaviour for him to spend all day and half the night with a girl – least of all, a girl of that calibre. Usually so unattainable to the likes of him.

"Oh… uh… I don't, um, I don't really know the guy-"

"But you know Kayla" his dad said, "do you trust what she says? About Derek?"

"Yes" he said, nodding his head, "a hundred percent. She wouldn't lie".

"Okay then" his dad sighed, "but that puts us in a difficult situation because that poor man's face is being splashed across every news station from here to Wingston and the real killer is still out there somewhere. Something tells me this is far from over".

"Have you found out anything more? About the murders?"

His dad normally tried to keep him out of this kind of stuff but Stiles, being Stiles, always snaked his way back in somehow. Except this time, his dad didn't try and deter him, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's just rumours and small-town speculation but… some of the people murdered were… well…" he sighed, "… you can't tell Kayla this, okay? Promise me?"

"What?" he blanched, "not tell Kayla what?"

"It's just rumours… people pointing fingers over a tragedy but… there was talk of one or two of these guys being involved in, uh… well, the fire…"

Stiles' eyebrows shot into his forehead, his jaw nearly hitting the table.

"The fire? The Hale house fire?"

"I think it was just people bumping their gums" his dad sighed, "after all, it was ruled an electrical fire-"

"Do you believe it was an electrical fire?"

His dad simply shrugged.

"I wasn't sheriff then. It wasn't my place. But… it seemed too… clean. Too organised. Too perfect of a timing. I mean... ten members of one family? To me, that sounded like a hit. Unfortunately, there was no evidence".

"So, say these people were involved somehow…" Stiles suggested, "… and now they're dying…?"

"It could all be coincidental. After all, these seem to be animal attacks".

"Yeah… animal attacks"

"I don't know Stiles" his dad sighed, "I can't figure it out. I shouldn't have told you this. It's not your burden to bear".

"It's okay-"

"I don't know if Kayla has heard these rumours, but don't weigh her down with it. It wouldn't be fair".

And that was how he was now between a rock and a hard place.

To keep this secret from the girl he was falling for or tell her and retraumatise and break her heart all over again? Especially when she was still healing from everything else that had happened in her tragic life.

"Yeah… yeah of course dad".

"Uh… on the subject of Kayla…"

Oh no… here it comes… he should've known he wouldn't get let off the hook so easily.

He gulped, "… y-yeah?"

"I'm guessing it was her house you were at… until this late?"

His dad seemed awkward, not accusatory, seeming just as out of place as Stiles felt.

"Uh… yeah. Yeah. Her house. Which, by the way, is massive. There was like, 20 feet of distance between us at all times".

"Well, uh… is there anything there?"

"Lots of things, yeah" he nodded, "lots of… furniture. And pillows. And there's this really cool coffee machine that- "

"Between you. Anything between you" his dad emphasised, "as in… more than friends?"

"Oh. Uh… I… I don't know…"

"Did you shoot your shot?"

"Oh god dad, please don't say that. Ever" he groaned, "never let me hear that ever again".

"You know what I mean" his dad said, "do you think she likes you?"

He was pretty stupid when it came to these things, but judging by the way she was grinding on him earlier, he assumed it was a solid 'Maybe'.

He remained quiet, not quite sure what to say.

"Nevermind" his dad smiled, "up to bed. It's late".

He did as he was told, standing up from the chair and was just about to leave when his ad called out "but you did break curfew so, sorry kid, you're grounded".

Typical.

A/N) Shit is steaming RIGHT UP hahahaha, its definitely going to be a lot more sexual tension and playfulness than last time before they finally get together so buckle uo because its gonna be WILD hahaha so please please let me know what you think and I will see you all super soon.

P.S) How mean is Kayla's mom in this rewrite? God i hate her so much. the comments she makes - bleh. lol,