WARNING; EXPLICIT MATURE/SEXUAL CONTENT BELOW. I REPEAT, EXPLICIT MATURE/SEXUAL CONTENT BELOW! NOT MEANT FOR IMMATURE AUDIENCES.
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. AND PLEASE DO NOT REPORT BECAUSE YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
xvi. SLEEPY HOLLOW
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"SHE KISSED YOU, Stiles!"
Before this, Carter had debated whether or not she would even go to his house. She thought about calling him. She thought about what she would say for nearly five hours. Is five hours forever? It had felt like it. She had sloshed up to the door. She had left in such a hurry that all she was wearing were her faded jeans and a black tee. God, only in Beacon Hills, California does it rain like this and actually feel good. She had taken only three steps from her car, and she was already soaked through.
She walked up to the door, trying to think of what else to say. A lot of thoughts crossed her mind, first among them being: Fuck you very much! Fuck you for not listening to me! Right before she knocked on the door another thought crossed her mind. Do you want her? She reached out and stopped cold. The door was opening from the other side.
She pushed on the door and it swung halfway open. There he was, still wearing only the white tee that he had on the last time she saw him. He looked up, phone in hand. Carter's face was tear-streaked, mascara smeared below her eyes. His mouth dropped open when he saw her.
Before she even stepped into the house, she was yelling: "She kissed you, Stiles!"
"What the hell are you talking about, Carter?"
"I saw the two of you kissing at the hospital yesterday when I came to visit you! She practically had her tongue down your throat!"
"It was involuntary and one-sided!" Stiles insisted, stepping forward to meet her gaze. "Carter, would you try to listen for just a second? Please?"
"Why should I listen?" Carter hissed. Fury reigned in her head. It clouded everything else out.
"Because you're the one who told me this. Do you remember? You said we belonged in each other's lives, right? That we were fated to be together forever. You said that was how you and I were supposed to be." He told her.
She glared ferociously. She did dimly remember those words, but her new found anger was two steps ahead of his argument. "If you believed in what I said so much, why did you allow that coyote-bitch to kiss you? Hmm?"
"I'd rather die than be with Malia," he protested. "I'd rather die than be with anyone but you."
"Don't be melodramatic, please, I'm trying to have a serious conversation."
"I'll stop being melodramatic if you stop being ridiculous." He seethed, but she didn't answer. She glared at him, finally taking notice that somehow they had managed to argue all the way up the stairs and into his bedroom. "Are you even going to let me tell my side of the story?"
Carter rolled her eyes so hard her head hurt, "Oh, so now there's two sides. Why would it be any different from the side I saw."
"You can't have it both ways, Carter—either you continue to be ridiculous and let this relationship fall apart because of something you don't even know the whole story to or you don't. One or the other." His voice was stern, but not as strong as before.
She let out a long breath. "Okay. I've decided to stop acting ridiculous and let you tell your side of the story."
She could feel his gaze—could feel that he was ready to explode. It was obvious that he had so many things that he wanted to say to her in that moment, and he was fighting an internal battle on just how to say them. She took another deep breath, feeling the raging flames in her chest dwindle into crackling embers, and attempted to prepare herself(and her Pheanix) for the emotional words that were about to come out of his mouth.
Her hands were shaking at her sides, so she clasped them together in front of her to try and keep them still. Her breathing started to become uneven and ragged, she squeezed her eyes shut briefly to calm herself down. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and looked at him. He was looking at the wall with his arms folded across his chest.
He licked his lips, glancing toward her. "There's not much to tell—she came to talk to me at the hospital, I told her I was fine and that we were all sorry for lying to her about Peter—and before I knew it, she was kissing me. I pushed her off and told her that she was never to do that again and then I left."
"You haven't even apologized."
Stiles scoffed, "Is that what you want? Some damn apology? Fine, Carter, I'm sorry! I don't know what else there is to say—I didn't want to kiss her and I didn't want to keep it from you!"
"Then why did you?" Carter spat, the embers were being fanned, turning into brilliant flames within the depth of her chest. "I mean, it's not like it was a secret! I saw it with my own Goddamn eyes! I didn't bring it up until now because I was waiting for you to man-up and tell me yourself!"
At that point, she was yelling so loud that Stiles' eardrums began to ring and his heart lurched in her chest. Their was a distinct pain in her throat and heart that had her in tears.
"Are you honestly this mad over a kiss that I didn't even want?"
"No, I'm not."
"Then why are you so fucking pissed at me?" He wasn't yelling anymore and she could practically feel the beating of his heart against her own. "Because I don't know what I did to make you so mad."
"You wanna know why I'm mad?" She asked, Stiles nodded. "I'm mad because you're my Ideale Altro and everything that involves you makes me fucking crazy! In a good or bad way—doesn't matter. You walk into the room and this...this fire in me," she places her hand on her chest, "just ignites with this ferocity that I can't control. Then I see the way Malia looks at you, and it just makes me wanna punch her in the face. And when you are angry with me or when you yell at me, it makes the Pheanix—I mean, it makes me want to curl up in a corner and die rather than have you disappointed in me.
And I hate it! I hate feeling so codependent on you. The feelings I have for you have officially taken over my life—they rule everything I do, because no matter what decision I make, I make them with you in my thoughts. I'm jealous, okay? I'll admit it. I'm jealous and I'm afraid. Afraid that you'll get sick of putting up with my bullshit that you'll leave me for someone else. And I know we've never had a perfect relationship—we've had our fair share of ups and downs. But one thing that's never been lacking is passion."
Stiles swallowed thickly, a certain heat swelling through his body. "Car, I still don't understand why you're so mad."
"I'm mad because I love you and I don't know how to handle that."
Before Carter could even think, Stiles' lips were smashing against hers. It was soft at first, and then with a swift gradation of intensity that made her cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzy swaying world. His lips upon hers sent wild tremors along her nerves, evoking from her sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling. With a fierce hold, he cupped the back of her neck and kissed her deeply, gently obsessive...possessive in his touch. His fingers twined in her hair, desperate to explore.
And then all at once, Carter's back was arching as it made impact with the closed bedroom door. She felt the metal hinges press into her flesh through the thin material of her shirt—but she didn't care. Her curvy body molded to his with an answering moan that vibrated in her chest as her mouth rivaled his with equal demand. Her teeth tugged on his lower lip; desire and lust licked through her, searing her body as her fiery core exploded in a flash of euphoric pleasure.
With one swift motion, she was off the ground and wrapping her legs around Stiles' hips. His hands gripped the curve of her butt like his life depended on it. Her fingers ran down his strong jawline then fled up into his soft hair as he led them toward the bed that was pressed up against the wall. As her back hit the plushness of the mattress, she removed her mouth from his long enough to tear of his shirt. Quite literally—rather than taking the time to pull it over his head, she grabbed two fistfuls of the material before giving it a quick yank and discarding it to the floor.
Stiles managed to pull the black tee from Carter's body, leaving her with white laced bra—one that cupped and cradled her plump breasts so perfectly—and an exposed neck. His mouth quickly went to her collarbone, tracing his wet lips up until he met her shoulder and bit down on the skin. Hard enough for her back to arch and her fingers to tighten in the fistfuls of hair that she grabbed. His lips made their way back to her neck; he began sucking and biting the tender flesh below her ear, running the tip of his tongue over the love-bites. She would answer each of his nips and pulls with low moans, gasping when he blowed against the coolness his kisses left behind.
A low moan, like a possessive growl rose from the back of her throat as she quickly switched the position, straddling his hips with her knees as she lent down and began her own assault. His hands traced the curves of her waist, caressing the soft and hot skin of her stomach, pressing between her breasts to feel her heart thumping beneath his palms. Carter allowed her fangs to slip through her gums, graze them lightly across his skin before running her tongue softly over the mark. Stiles answered with a deep and throaty groan that made her insides clench.
In all honesty, she had never felt more alive than in that moment. She could almost believe that Stiles' heartbeat was her own as his hands made their way to cup her breasts, pawing at them and giving them a light squeeze. She was melting into him—a breathy moan escaped her lips as he continued to fondle her breasts through the material of her bra. And before she knew it, she was on her back, her legs were being pushed apart by his knees. He placed a kiss just below her naval, lips brushing against the waistband of her jeans. He started placing kisses all over—each place he kissed burned with fierce intensity and made her feel alive.
His fingers began to work on the button of her jeans, unzipping them before tugging them off her legs. He spread her legs apart and kissed the inside of her thighs, the unexpected contact caused her back to arch. With increasing urgency, she ran her hands up his muscular back and through his hair, doing everything she could to pull him closer to her. Needing to feel more of him. Needing to feel all of him.
Carter watched as Stiles moved forward, hovering over her once more. Her eyes never left his as his hands gently moved themselves to her back; fingers immediately finding the clasp of her bra. She arched her back, granting him the space her needed to relieve her of the constraining piece of clothing. But before he undid her bra, he looked down at her—silently asking her if this was what she wanted. Carter rolled her eyes, in that moment she wanted to punch him, but decided against it and nodded.
And with one flick of his fingers, her bra was removed and tossed to the floor. Stiles couldn't do anything but marvel in the woman that was lying beneath him, he had thought she was perfect with her clothes on but now that she was completely bare...he found himself being completely speechless. People believed that sex was the only thing that made them feel close to God, and if the feeling in his veins was what God felt like, he needed to start going to church.
After a long moment, Carter began to become impatient. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she unbuttoned his pants and tugged them off his hips—along with his boxer briefs.
And like a crack of lightning, he was between her thighs and delving into her warm center. That one possessive thrust had been enough to send her over the edge. His hips moved—meeting up with hers, giving her what she'd wanted for so long. What they've both been craving. She felt his teeth graze across her neck as her nails dug into his back, leaving her mark. He groaned and pushed into her still, his body shaking.
Stiles made a noise deep in his throat that was so raw and sexual that she thought if he merely looked at her and made that noise, she might explode in an orgasm. Her head fell back while her moans got even louder—building into screams. Everything burned and exploded, only to burn again. He rocked against her, pleasure ripping through her, almost shocking her with its serenity. His fingers dug into her hips where he held her to him, and his teeth scrape against her shoulder.
It was the most pleasurable thing she'd ever experienced.
Heat spread through her pelvis, pressure built, squeezed her organs, and knotted her muscles. Nothing had ever felt this good.
She seized his hair and dragged his head up, made him look at her. Her breath caught. Passion and raw need and something else lurked in his eyes, but what stole the air from her lungs was the color and the light burning in the irises. He twisted his hips, drove deep, and she cried out.
He was doing that slow, erotic bump and grind so smooth and deep it made her purr to the bottom of her toes and kissing her so hard she couldn't breathe around it and she didn't want to. He was in her soul and she was in his, and they were in bed but they were in a desert, and she did not know where he began and where she ended. It was a small price to pay for such euphoric pleasure.
"I love you, too, Carter," he had whispered in her ear before they were both completely lost to the pleasure.
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"Carter, if you keep rubbing at that hickey you're gonna damage your airway."
The sarcastic words fell from the mouth of Logan Dunbar like it was his second nature. His face was buried under a plush pillow with a thick notebook that consisted of Pre-Cal notes lying open on his chest. He couldn't physically see Carter with his eyes at that moment, but with his heightened hearing, he could hear her fingers pulling at the flesh on the side of her neck. He didn't have enough fingers and toes to count how many times the Were-Pheanix reached up to run the pad of her fingers over the love bites.
When Logan had first arrive at Carter's apartment, she hadn't been home. They had been planning on studying for the upcoming test, so he decided to wait until she arrived. Over an hour later, he heard Carter's distinctive heartbeat—he took note that it was beating faster than usual. When she had finally appeared she looked flustered with over a half-a-dozen red hickeys—that he could see—on her exposed neck and some on her collarbone.
Carter glanced up from her content rubbing, pulling her fingers away from her neck with a small frown as she realized that she had been touching the marks too much. And she wasn't touching them because she was dazzled with what happened between her and Stiles to the point where she was obsessed with the love bites, she was touching them because she wanted to know why they hadn't healed yet.
She had seen herself heal from far worse than a few broken blood vessels. The more she thought about it, the more she could still feel Stiles' teeth against her flesh—fingers digging into her hips—mouth stealing the oxygen right from her lungs...
"Ew, Carter! Stop!"
"What?" Carter retorted almost immediately, looking over to Logan as he lifted himself up with reluctance. The pillow and notebook fell effortless from their places on his body to his lap. Carter's lips were tugged down into a frown when she saw the disgust that was written all across her Beta's face.
"You know what," Logan pressed, giving the Alpha a pointed look. "Whatever you're thinking about, its like, drowning your entire body in hormones. I can basically smell what you're thinking about. You smell like a horny teenager."
Carter's face scrunched up at Logan's words while her lips pulled into a tight line into an obvious grimace before the heat in her chest rushed up into her cheeks and neck. Grabbing a note sheet that Logan had spent ten minutes highlighting, she balled it up and threw it right at his head. "Shut up, Logan."
"You're a naughty girl," Logan said with a slight chuckle, his smile wide in his victorious attempt to tease his Alpha. Leaning forward, he grabbed the ball of paper she had thrown at him and tossed it back at her. "For a while there, I never thought you and Stiles would ever do the dirty."
"Why do you say that?" Carter asked with a slight wince.
"I don't know, I just thought the friendship you have with Scott would end your relationship with Stiles before anything actually happened." Logan admitted, sending a sympathetic look toward Carter. What he said, had been true to some extent—at least, Logan believed so. From the moment he saw Stiles, Carter, and Scott around each other he knew that something truly deep rooted had formed between the three of them. "I should probably go, Liam's been having nightmares lately."
Carter cleared her throat, ridding the stray thoughts. "Yeah. Right. Of course, it's normal for him to be scared. Is it the Berserkers?" Logan nodded. "I can't blame him. They're pretty freakin' scary."
They got up from their respected positions, the notes for tomorrow's test being shoved inside the back pockets of Logan's jeans. Carter nodded to herself silently as she opened the door to her bedroom. There was a sudden sound of gunshots, which made Carter's body tense up and Logan jump in front of her in quick reflex; as if he were protecting her from any posing threat. The gunfire ceased when laughter followed afterward. Both werewolves relaxed, their chests heaving out sighs of relief.
"That's gotta be the group of college kids that live in the apartment below me," Carter half-apologized, continuing to guide Logan through the door and out into the hallway toward the stairs. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the boy turned to give the brunette a reassuring smile before wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
"We're going to get through this, Carter."
"I hope so."
Logan released her, moving to leave the apartment complex only to be stopped when a familiar figure appeared. Had her scent and strawberry-blonde hair not given her away, the two supernatural wolves wouldn't have known who was approaching them seeing though her head was hung low. The effects of the rain were dripping off her body, forming against her like a second skin as a crack of thunder rumbled the ground.
Carter stepped forward, heart pounding up between her ears. "Lydia, what's happened? Are you all right?"
The Banshee finally raised her head, allowing Carter to see the faintly purple-bruised porcelain skin, mascara and eyeliner stained her eyes as little droplets of water rolled down her face. Without a second's warning, the girl's mouth opened and the piercing wail of a Banshee was emitting past Lydia's lips. Everything seemed to shake around Carter as she clamped her hands over her ears—the intensity of the scream made the brunette feel lightheaded. Logan's arms wrapped around her waist, easing her to the ground as blood pooled in her palms.
That was when she realized that the fight with the Benefactor may have been over, but she was still fighting a very important battle. There had been this slight glimmer of hope in the back of her mind that if the deadpool was destroyed her fate would be altered—but Lydia Martin just confirmed that Death was more than just a horseman that rode on the back of a White Steed. He was a merciless villain—and, now, he's coming for blood.
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not edited
phew, i cranked this out like it was nobody's business...im just soooo ready to finish season 4 so we can move onto the dark and gritty-ness of season 5. but, on a happier note; STARTER FINALLY DID THE DIRTY! whoop whoop! i hope i did the well-anticipated scene justice.
so, let me know what you think about this chapter; especially about Lydia showing at Carter's apartment in full Banshee-mode.