Looking Glass || Stiles Stilinski ²

05 || Bloodied Glass

Episode: Shape-Shifted

"Thaís, are you okay?"

His voice was soft, but it had come out of the blue to pull me away from the looming thoughts clouding my mind. I could still feel remnants of power leaving my veins. The feeling of being leeched off of was overwhelming and terrifying, but at the same time, there was a warmth that coursed through my body. One that comforted me in ways that were difficult to explain. And it must have been a good thing since Lydia came back to us. But I needed to look into it. I needed to know what I did and how.

A small smile formed, "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, you wanted to see this film because it was one of your favorites." Asher pointed at the romantic comedy playing on-screen briefly before pausing it, turning his body toward me. "And yet, I don't think I've heard you laugh once. What's wrong?"

"It's just - I'm sorry. I'm all over the place right now." I sighed, the breath coming from deep within my lungs, and ran my fingers through my hair as I dug my body further into his bed. My brain felt as if it had been pummeled. Everything was uninteresting and foggy, altering my perception - Was I even real at this point? My brain was blank. And it all started after I helped Lydia. "I'm happy Lydia's okay, but I'm worried she might take off again."

His hands took my cold ones, fingers clasping them, forming a warm shelter around them. Worried eyes searched mine. "Baby, Lydia's safe. She's home. I'm sure if something's wrong with her health, her parents will figure it out and help her."

Except we're the ones that have to help her.

"I guess you're right," I mumbled, but the truth weighed down my shoulders. Everyone should have their secrets, but I don't know if I could stop myself from crumbling whenever I looked him in the eyes and pretended nothing was wrong. Allison was right. I could feel in my bones that he trusted me. He would be hurt when he found out I wasn't the girl he desired to date and not who he believed me to be... and I couldn't blame him for it. "Asher, I -"

I never got to say what I needed to because he fused our lips; the tenderness sent a surge of electricity up my spine — bringing me back to life (however sappy that might sound). I was zapped away from all the negative thoughts and situations. My hands lifted, cupping his face, my thumbs tracing the edge of his cheekbones. Soft sighs mixed inside our cramped space. I found myself needing more than I had bargained, my body setting ablaze wherever his hands had skimmed.

"Is this okay?" He whispered against my lips.

My breath was stolen, but I managed to nod, "Yeah, it's okay."

His lips pressed further onto mine, humming in surprise as I gripped at his shirt, urging him to get closer to me. And he obliged. His body climbed over mine, my legs straddled his waist. His arms at either side of my head, his scent engulfing me. It embarrassed me to lose composure this way, but what I felt was harder to quench. I had never felt this way before, but I wanted more. We hadn't been together for long, not long at all, but I was comfortable enough around him - He was a sort of safe space.

My palm pressed against his chest, pushing him gently. He went to speak but was taken off guard by my swiftness in switching us up so that I was above him, straddling his hips. He let his hands rest on my waist, our mouths still glued together. I could feel the rhythm of our bodies as we breathed heavy. Soft sighs and moans escaped us. His fingers lingering underneath my shirt led to them being yanked off and tossed to the side.

He hissed when his hand smacked against the headboard. A little smirk formed, "Stop laughing." He brought me back down to nibble and kiss my chin.

I giggled, "I'm sorry."