TEEN WOLF IMAGINES

↬ Hickeys

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"YOU LITTLE FUCKER! Liam, are you serious?!" Was the first thing tumbling from your lips that early Monday morning as you peered wide-eyed at yourself in the reflective surface of his bathrooms mirror. You didn't even care that you appeared rough as hell, your hair an unkempt mess from the tossing, the turning, the pillowtalk, the events that occurred prior to pillowtalk or that you remained standing in just your pricey black underwear; the only thing your deep (y/e/c) irises were focused on where the dark purple bruises littering your skin.

"There's twice as many as last time!" You huffed out in annoyance, the tips of your fingers running over the skin of your neck and collarbone just like Liam's lips had done only hours before, tracing the marks heatedly inflicted by your werewolf boyfriend who seemed to had forgotten that the hickeys you leave on him heal and disappear in the blink of an eye, but the ones he left on you clearly did not.

Liam popped his head around the corner and flashed you a fearful look, "What did I do?" Then, his baby blue eyes located the hickeys tainting your skin and he chuckled, "Oh, that," Stalking closer until you were in reach for him to wrap his arms around your waist and hug you close to his bare chest, he nuzzled his nose into your neck and pressed a feather-light kiss to one of the cluttered bruises before mumbling out, "They're hot though."

"They may be," You started, snatching a flat top makeup brush and a tube of concealer from your makeup bag, "But, if my brother sees them, he's going to kill me. And then he's going to kill you!"

"Stiles doesn't scare me," Came the muffled reply, his fingers digging gently into your hips and his lips continuing to press faint kisses down your neck and across your exposed shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you rummaged through your makeup bag in search for a good primer to aid the concealer work all throughout the day, attempting your features to remain impassive and as if Liam's burning touch didn't drive you crazy. He spoke up again, his words reaching the same muffled fate as before, "And you're irresistible, so there's that too."

And then his lips pressed a little harder and his grip on your hips got a little tighter and your eyes fluttered closed, an inevitable, pleasured whimper falling from your lips before you could stop it. "Liam," His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as he nipped at the spot he knew drove you wild, your back arching into his hold and your fingers dropping the brush and concealer back onto the counter with a clatter.

Neither of you paid attention to the noise, mind, as the next thing you knew, Liam had spun you around and lifted you up onto the counter easily, the cool granite against your bare skin provoking goosebumps to rise across your soft skin and a gasp to escape in a strange pursuit of pleasure. Wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, he captured your lips with his in heated, feverish kisses. Your hands got to good use and slid up his arms and shoulders, feeling the muscle, before tangling your fingers in his dark hair and tugging lightly at the roots - earning yourself a quiet groan of pleasure and hedonism and a breathless, "Fuck," on his part.