”I didn’t want to wake you up.
I’ve heard that you need to sleep
at least eight hours per night.”
Malia jumped on the spot
next to him, smiling down
at Stiles.
“Should I wake you up next time?”
He allowed himself to
relax a little, slinking easily
into the sheets. He’d grown
accustomed to the warmth
she provided next to him.
( Though this was not
something he’d necessarily
admit by choice. )
❝ Next time,
you should call.
Or just stay the night
from the get-go. ( & he’s mumbling under
Save some trouble. his breath. )
I don’t mind you
waking me up.
It’s the surprise. ❞
+ A hand reaches up,
+ tender touches on her face.
+ he could get used to this.
“Blah blah blah. Do you ever stop talking?”
( he’s a rambler, that one. )
❝ Not likely.
Maybe when I’m sleeping. ❞
bigspoonxmalia-blog
9; Hickey
It wasn’t his original plan
to have his lips placed so
delicately
on the soft flesh of her neck,
but it happened nonetheless,
and he wasn’t complaining.
His hands traveled
desperately
from jaws to hair and back again,
venturing to her hips
to grasp at the thick fabric
that rested there.
She was a woman of the wild,
and Stiles goes
where the wild things are.
He may not be an animal,
but sometimes he feels like one.
His lips part with skin
only to meet lips,
purple splotches marking
where he lay his affections,
blood rushed to her skin.
“ Sorry —-
It got away from me. ”
His tone breathy but sincere,
syllables uttered between kisses,
each letter seeming forced,
pushing them out through
moments of devotion.
She is an altar, and here he
will sing her bedroom hymns.
He's alone,
and this song is great,
so he’s going to dance.
( shamelessly.
and without rhythm. )
But he looks to the window,
and he isn’t alone.
Of course.
’’ Malia,
—- uh, I was just
dancing???“