MORTALA [adj.] unrelenting and deadly; involving loss of divine grace or spiritual death.
stiles was tired of the pack running behind his back. they had been shutting him out, avoiding him at school, not texting him about meetings, ignoring him all...
listen i have no idea who i am, what i look like, or why i'm here, so go easy on me
wednesday, august 6 beacon hills high school third person pov
"Mr. Stilinski, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt any business you may be conducting with your drool on the desk, but maybe you would find the lesson more beneficial."
Stiles jerked up at the voice, eyes squinting at the teacher, "I'm good with the whole desk, drool business."
"Then you should've thought about that last night and gotten some sleep."
Thomas was looking at him, similar bags resting under his eyes, his notebook filled with little doodles instead of the chemistry work on the board. A smirk curled Stiles' lips, he shoved himself up into a sitting position, "I was preoccupied last night."
"With something more important than sleep?"
"Oh much more," Stiles reveled in the pretty blush that painted Thomas' cheeks, his smirk growing into a cheeky smile.
The bell rang before the teacher could respond and Stiles was up, hovering behind Thomas' chair while he stuffed his notebooks into his bag and stood up with a wince.
"Wipe that bloody smirk off your face," he grumbled, pushing at Stiles' shoulder before walking stiffly down the aisle and walking out the door. Stiles slung an arm around his boyfriend, "C'mon, Tommy, don't be like that. You act like it's all my fault, but I distinctly remember it being you who was beggi-"
Thomas elbowed Stiles in the stomach, his skin flushing a darker shade of red, memories prickling hot and arousing under his skin.
"Please," Thomas' head was trashing side to side, the tears on his cheeks pressing into the sheets. His wrists tugged uselessly at the ties around his wrists, "Oh god, please."
His hips pressed up in the air, thighs trembling with the tension coiling in his stomach. Thomas blinked up at Stiles, his eyes bleary with the frustrated tears clawing at his lashes.
"Hmmm," Stiles' hand fell on his hip, fingers digging into the skin as he pinned it back to the mattress, "I told you to be still, baby. I thought you wanted to be good for me."
Thomas' eyes widened, fresh tears spilling out of his eyes and over the ridge of his cheekbones, "Good, m'good. Please, I'll be good."
"I don't know," Stiles tutted, lips brushing Thomas' thighs, "I was gonna eat you out, baby, make you all wet and loose for my cock. Was gonna make my good boy cum all over his pretty little tummy." A pout tugged on Stiles' lips, "But you have to be still, baby, gotta be good."
"I'll be good, please," Thomas tugged on the ties again, Stiles' lips distractingly close to where he needed him most, "Please, wanna cum."
"Look so pretty when you beg, baby," a feather light kiss was pressed to his rim, Thomas sobbed, his chest heaving at the touch, a string of pleas falling from his lips.
"I don't beg," Thomas scowled, shoving books into his locker and slamming it shut.
Stiles laughed, leaning against the row of lockers, eyes trailing over Thomas' form, ready to make a remark about his knowledge of the subject of Thomas and begging, but his phone rang.
"Hey, Tony, what's up?"
Thomas turned at the name, eyebrow raised as he closed his locker and leaned closer to Stiles.
"I think we may have a problem, kid."
"Problem? What kind of problem?" Stiles' heart stuttered in his chest, "Was there another murder?"
Thomas looked concerned as their eyes locked and the British boy glanced around the hall quickly and pushed them toward an empty classroom.
"No, but I think that little puppy pack of yours is up to something. Are they at school?"
Stiles scanned through what he could remember of the last hour, but Thomas snatched the phone and put it on speaker, "No, I haven't seen any of them."
"There's something outside the motel, it's some sort of symbol."
"Yeah, looks like it was done by claws. Why, you recognize it?"
"It means revenge," sighing heavily, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent fought down the frustration that threatened to bleed into his words, "Apparently they're still not too happy with us being here. We're on our way back, get ready."
"Ready for what exactly?"
Stiles snorted, "Some territorial puppies attacking us without any good strategy."
"Oh, yeah, okay."
Ending the call, Stiles cursed softly, "I hate this god forsaken town. We don't have time for this, there's a real war we need to figure out how to fight in. There's no time for these idiotic power displays."
Thomas pressed a kiss to his cheek, "It's a good thing we'll have not trouble kicking their arses into submission. It'll barely take ten minutes."
———————
heyo
so i was supposed to update friday but i had some family stuff and everything got delayed.
this chapter is REALLY short and so i'm v sorry about that, but i'm trying to figure out the small details on how this area of the plot will play out
we're getting closer to the end though, probably no more than fifteen chapters left....wow that's crazy, i can't imagine this story coming to an end omg
also because i wrote smut, be ready for that to be the way i fill spaces. ummm i'll be asking about opinions on whether anyone wants a sequel soon
so yeah, i think that's it?
thank you for sticking with this story! let me know what you think...
ilyilyilyilyilyilyilyilyily
your loser, :) thezqueen
song of the day: defenceless by louis tomlinson (IM SO PROUD OF HIM OMG IT WAS NUMBER ONE WORLDWIDE ON ITUNES)
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^^hi, i don't have any good dylan gifs (so none because they're all good) so we're getting into my one direction memes
