Selenophiles Vol. II ☾ Stiles Stilinski

Chapter Eight - Raving

The sharp gasp of pleasure that Amber let out mouth sent a hot puff of breath fanning out over Stiles' lips just before she collapsed, muscles far too shaky to hold herself up any longer. She let her forehead drop into the curve of his neck, panting quietly against his skin as she attempted to catch her breath. Her legs were trembling, the muscles in her thighs jumping with aftershocks where they were parted over one of his own legs.

Stiles removed his hand from where it had been wedged between them to run his fingers soothingly along the length of her spine, "You good?" He asked quietly.

She nodded into his neck and took a deep breath, "Good," Her lips puckered against his skin to press a light kiss to the base of his throat, "Yeah. Yeah, 'm great."

She pushed up onto her elbows to bring their lips back together for a sweet kiss of thanks; for the orgasm, for being so caring, for simply existing in her orbit.

As their mouths parted again, her gaze drifted to the old-fashioned analog clock that sat on her bedside table. Her eyes went wide and in a flash she was scrambling from his lap, limbs flailing as she tumbled over the side of the bed in a sudden haste to find her pants.

Stiles sat up on his elbows to watch her stumble around the room, a look of confusion on his face, "What-"

"We're late," She interrupted before he could finish his question, carelessly tossing his jeans in his general direction as she grabbed her own and began to yank them up her legs, "We were supposed to bring your dad dinner so we could check where he was at with the case, like, an hour ago-"

It was only after her words that Stiles took notice of the darkening sky outside her bedroom window, afternoon having long since bled away into evening, and he immediately followed her lead by pulling his pants back on with a mumbled curse.

"It's fine. 's fine, he's probably been too caught up working to notice, anyway," Stiles assured her as he approached with slow steps, amusement sparking behind his eyes as he watched her spin around in nothing but her jeans while she frantically tried to locate her bra, "We have time." He told her, his reassurances ignored in favor of kicking at a dirty tshirt on the floor in her hunt.

She didn't pause in her search until he stepped into her space and crowded her back against her desk, her breath stuttering when he reached an arm around her and forced her body to arch over the desk. Her gaze flicked over his face in question, eyes catching on a small, barely-there splotch of pink beneath his jaw, lingering evidence of the distracted kisses she'd been giving him only thirty minutes before.

When Stiles leaned back, he was grinning, the article she'd been silently looking for dangling from his finger by the strap. He dipped his head to give her a soft kiss as he simultaneously handed over the piece of clothing and she accepted both gratefully. She stepped away to secure the bra over her chest before grabbing a flannel from the floor beside the bed, a shirt that had been in her possession so long it was more of a staple in her own wardrobe than it ever was in his.

As she began to fasten the buttons, Stiles was just finishing pulling his hoodie back on and he let out a groan when he lifted his head and caught sight of what she was wearing.

"What?" She questioned immediately.

"D'you have to wear it like that? With no shirt underneath?" He pleaded weakly.

An amused smile pulled at her lips and she shook her head as she finished buttoning up the fabric over her chest, "Does it seriously bug you when I wear it like this?" She asked somewhat curiously.

"Yes," He shook his head in exasperation and plopped down to sit on the edge of the bed with a huff, "It's, like, painfully unfair of you to wear my shirt and to force me to be taunted with the knowledge that I know exactly how freakin' hot you look in the lace-y bra you have on under there-"