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impala_chickTitle: Before the Water Gets Cold
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairings: Allison Argent/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 2,615
Warnings: Mention of past violence
A/N: The fic I wrote forcandyheartsex!
Summary: After a long and terrible hunt, Allison just wants to take a bath. To her surprise, Stiles indulges her.
Fic on AO3
Allison had just settled into the bathtub when she hears someone push open the motel room door. It must be Stiles. She’d left him a key at the front desk, but he hadn't told her when exactly he was going to be back from his conference.
They keep in touch with the occasional text, which Allison appreciates. They don't have to talk all the time, or much at all. It's just that when they’re both working and their paths happen to cross, they make time to meet up for an overnight rendezvous in a posh motel. It's a win-win for her because she gets to feel special, and Stiles' bosses at the FBI foot the bill.
“Allison?” Stiles calls from the main room.
“In the bathroom,” she calls back. She’s reluctant to get out while the water is still hot. She’d only just filled the tub, and it would be such a waste to get out now.
Stiles pushes open the door and peaks his head around.
“Mind if I come in?”
“No,” Allison says immediately. They’ve fucked enough times that she doesn’t feel self-conscious being naked in front of him. There are bubbles filling up the tub and covering most of her body, anyway. And it had been a long day, and a terrible hunt. She had gotten into an all-out brawl with a particularly aggressive werecoyote, and the adrenaline had barely worn off by the time she got to the hotel.
There's still mud caked in her hair but the huge bathtub called her name from the moment she laid eyes on it, so she skipped the shower beforehand. Even sitting in the bath hasn't helped her relax yet, though. There's too much guilt pressing down on her. Maybe having Stiles close will help ease her mind.
Stiles pulls the bathmat over and kneels on it, with his arms on the edge of the tub.
“You want to hear about how my super awesome case brief went today?”
Allison wrinkles her nose in a show of annoyance. “Maybe give me the super-condensed version.”
“Okay, so -”
As Stiles launches into his story, Allison slips all the way under the water and soaks her hair. She can hear a muffled Hey from somewhere above her, and she smiles. She stays like that for a moment, just letting her hair float all around her, before she comes back up for air. She's still grinning, but Stiles keeps a straight face and doesn't join in on the joke.
“I take it you’re not interested, then?” Stiles huffs with a roll of his eyes. He makes a show of wiping errant water off the front of his white undershirt. On the way into the bathroom, he must have taken off the button-up he usually wears.
“Can you tell me later?” Allison asks with a heavy sigh.
“That kind of day, huh?” Stiles asks, his tone much more gentle than before.
Allison nods, and lets her eyes slip closed to avoid having to talk about her hunt.
“Can I -” Stiles starts to ask, reaching over her for the tiny bottle of travel shampoo she’d put on the far edge of the bathtub.
He smells woodsy and masculine, and she closes her eyes and breathes him in as he shifts back to his kneeling position. She hadn't paid attention to the way he smelled before but ever since they started hooking up, she can't help but take notice.
When she cracks one eye open, he’s biting his lip and holding the bottle of shampoo up, a question in his eyes. She immediately assumes he’s joking, possibly trying to point out that her hair looks like a disaster.
Allison laughs and slaps her hand against the top of the water, sending water droplets over the side and onto Stiles’ shirt.
"Hey!"
This time, though, he does laugh along with her. His eyes twinkle with mischief, and Allison takes note of the laugh lines on his face and the way his freckles stand out starkly against his skin. He's beautiful when he's happy.
Her gaze travels down to the thin material of his shirt. The wet parts cling to him, accentuating his broad chest. He looks way more jacked than he did in high school, and she can't say she minds. The FBI must have put him through the ringer.
Then Stiles stops laughing, and his gaze softens. “I could help with your hair?”
“You’re being serious?” Allison is surprised at the offer. She's never dated anyone who wanted to wash her hair, and it just never occurred to her to ask. But Stiles' face is expectant and hopeful, like he really wants to do this for her. Maybe just this once, she can indulge him. She hopes this will distract her from replaying the hunt in her head.
“Okay,” Allison relents.
Stiles uncaps the bottle and drizzles some shampoo on her head. She lets her eyes slip closed again as Stiles’ strong hands push through her hair and massage her scalp. He’s firm and gentle in turns, and his rhythm is nearly professional. Allison figures this can’t be his first time washing someone else’s hair.
She bristles at the thought before she pushes her jealousy away. She’s got no right to ask him who or when, anyway.
Besides, it doesn't matter. His fingers feel amazing and she leans into him, her body straining towards his touch. She lets her body float up to the top of the waterline and sighs heavily.
“Is it too much?” Stiles asks quietly, pausing his ministrations.
Allison opens her eyes to look over at his profile. His eyebrows are creased together with worry, and his forearms are covered in soapy bubbles from reaching over to wash her hair. He opens and closes his mouth, like he is about to say something but changes his mind. The tension in the room suddenly feels heavy, like they are both on the cusp of saying something real. As a general rule, Allison shies away from that type of intimacy.
“No, I like it,” Allison admits, but then steers them into more flirty territory. “I’d say I would return the favor, but there’s not much room in here.”
Allison gestures at the tub, definitely only built for one person.
Stiles laughs. “I’m sure we can think of something.”
Allison grins and leans back, and Stiles combs his fingers through her hair, all the way to the tips. They are both lulled back into silence, and his fingers feel incredible, but the tension in her body doesn't dissipate. She taps her fingers against her hip underneath the water, unable to let go of what had happened earlier that day.
She knows she's not going to feel any better until she talks about what happened. She wishes she had asked Stiles earlier what it was he wanted to say, so that she isn't the only one to spill her guts. But it's too late now. She sighs, and finally lets go of the words she’d been holding back all night.
“I killed him,” Allison admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “The werecoyote. I had to. He was on top of me, about to claw my jugular.”
She feels so exhausted. Her line of work was never going to be easy, but today it feels near impossible.
“I haven’t killed anyone in so long,” she adds, disappointed in herself.
Stiles doesn’t stop massaging the top of her head, but he doesn't say anything right away either. She cranes her neck to get a full view of his face. After a moment, Stiles makes eye contact with her.
“If you had to, I’m glad it was him and not you,” Stiles says, his voice firm and sure. "If anyone can relate, I can."
Allison exhales, a big woosh of air that seems to deflate her whole body. She sinks down until only her face is sticking out of the water.
“Okay,” Allison says. "Okay then."
Stiles nods and pulls his hands away, covered in soap bubbles.
“Good, that's settled.”
He puts both his forearms onto the edge of the tub and gazes at her. She sits up and searches his eyes, looking for judgment or disappointment or outright disdain, but she finds none of those things. Instead, he just looks fond. She finally feels some of the guilt washing away from her body.
Then the tension thickens in the room again as her gaze flicks down to Stiles' kissable mouth, hanging slightly open as he stares at her chest, still mostly covered in bubbles. He's just waiting for her cue, happy to let her lead. She's never desired him more than she does in that moment.
She surges up from the water to press her lips to his. He gasps, greedily kissing her back as water splashes out of the tub. Her heart pounds in her chest as she grabs his shirt with her wet hands and holds him steady.
After a frantic moment, she pulls back enough to see his pupils blown wide. Now he doesn’t look fond. He looks hungry.
“Towel, please?” Allison says against his mouth.
The water was starting to get cold anyway.
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairings: Allison Argent/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 2,615
Warnings: Mention of past violence
A/N: The fic I wrote for
candyheartsex! Summary: After a long and terrible hunt, Allison just wants to take a bath. To her surprise, Stiles indulges her.
Fic on AO3
Allison had just settled into the bathtub when she hears someone push open the motel room door. It must be Stiles. She’d left him a key at the front desk, but he hadn't told her when exactly he was going to be back from his conference.
They keep in touch with the occasional text, which Allison appreciates. They don't have to talk all the time, or much at all. It's just that when they’re both working and their paths happen to cross, they make time to meet up for an overnight rendezvous in a posh motel. It's a win-win for her because she gets to feel special, and Stiles' bosses at the FBI foot the bill.
“Allison?” Stiles calls from the main room.
“In the bathroom,” she calls back. She’s reluctant to get out while the water is still hot. She’d only just filled the tub, and it would be such a waste to get out now.
Stiles pushes open the door and peaks his head around.
“Mind if I come in?”
“No,” Allison says immediately. They’ve fucked enough times that she doesn’t feel self-conscious being naked in front of him. There are bubbles filling up the tub and covering most of her body, anyway. And it had been a long day, and a terrible hunt. She had gotten into an all-out brawl with a particularly aggressive werecoyote, and the adrenaline had barely worn off by the time she got to the hotel.
There's still mud caked in her hair but the huge bathtub called her name from the moment she laid eyes on it, so she skipped the shower beforehand. Even sitting in the bath hasn't helped her relax yet, though. There's too much guilt pressing down on her. Maybe having Stiles close will help ease her mind.
Stiles pulls the bathmat over and kneels on it, with his arms on the edge of the tub.
“You want to hear about how my super awesome case brief went today?”
Allison wrinkles her nose in a show of annoyance. “Maybe give me the super-condensed version.”
“Okay, so -”
As Stiles launches into his story, Allison slips all the way under the water and soaks her hair. She can hear a muffled Hey from somewhere above her, and she smiles. She stays like that for a moment, just letting her hair float all around her, before she comes back up for air. She's still grinning, but Stiles keeps a straight face and doesn't join in on the joke.
“I take it you’re not interested, then?” Stiles huffs with a roll of his eyes. He makes a show of wiping errant water off the front of his white undershirt. On the way into the bathroom, he must have taken off the button-up he usually wears.
“Can you tell me later?” Allison asks with a heavy sigh.
“That kind of day, huh?” Stiles asks, his tone much more gentle than before.
Allison nods, and lets her eyes slip closed to avoid having to talk about her hunt.
“Can I -” Stiles starts to ask, reaching over her for the tiny bottle of travel shampoo she’d put on the far edge of the bathtub.
He smells woodsy and masculine, and she closes her eyes and breathes him in as he shifts back to his kneeling position. She hadn't paid attention to the way he smelled before but ever since they started hooking up, she can't help but take notice.
When she cracks one eye open, he’s biting his lip and holding the bottle of shampoo up, a question in his eyes. She immediately assumes he’s joking, possibly trying to point out that her hair looks like a disaster.
Allison laughs and slaps her hand against the top of the water, sending water droplets over the side and onto Stiles’ shirt.
"Hey!"
This time, though, he does laugh along with her. His eyes twinkle with mischief, and Allison takes note of the laugh lines on his face and the way his freckles stand out starkly against his skin. He's beautiful when he's happy.
Her gaze travels down to the thin material of his shirt. The wet parts cling to him, accentuating his broad chest. He looks way more jacked than he did in high school, and she can't say she minds. The FBI must have put him through the ringer.
Then Stiles stops laughing, and his gaze softens. “I could help with your hair?”
“You’re being serious?” Allison is surprised at the offer. She's never dated anyone who wanted to wash her hair, and it just never occurred to her to ask. But Stiles' face is expectant and hopeful, like he really wants to do this for her. Maybe just this once, she can indulge him. She hopes this will distract her from replaying the hunt in her head.
“Okay,” Allison relents.
Stiles uncaps the bottle and drizzles some shampoo on her head. She lets her eyes slip closed again as Stiles’ strong hands push through her hair and massage her scalp. He’s firm and gentle in turns, and his rhythm is nearly professional. Allison figures this can’t be his first time washing someone else’s hair.
She bristles at the thought before she pushes her jealousy away. She’s got no right to ask him who or when, anyway.
Besides, it doesn't matter. His fingers feel amazing and she leans into him, her body straining towards his touch. She lets her body float up to the top of the waterline and sighs heavily.
“Is it too much?” Stiles asks quietly, pausing his ministrations.
Allison opens her eyes to look over at his profile. His eyebrows are creased together with worry, and his forearms are covered in soapy bubbles from reaching over to wash her hair. He opens and closes his mouth, like he is about to say something but changes his mind. The tension in the room suddenly feels heavy, like they are both on the cusp of saying something real. As a general rule, Allison shies away from that type of intimacy.
“No, I like it,” Allison admits, but then steers them into more flirty territory. “I’d say I would return the favor, but there’s not much room in here.”
Allison gestures at the tub, definitely only built for one person.
Stiles laughs. “I’m sure we can think of something.”
Allison grins and leans back, and Stiles combs his fingers through her hair, all the way to the tips. They are both lulled back into silence, and his fingers feel incredible, but the tension in her body doesn't dissipate. She taps her fingers against her hip underneath the water, unable to let go of what had happened earlier that day.
She knows she's not going to feel any better until she talks about what happened. She wishes she had asked Stiles earlier what it was he wanted to say, so that she isn't the only one to spill her guts. But it's too late now. She sighs, and finally lets go of the words she’d been holding back all night.
“I killed him,” Allison admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “The werecoyote. I had to. He was on top of me, about to claw my jugular.”
She feels so exhausted. Her line of work was never going to be easy, but today it feels near impossible.
“I haven’t killed anyone in so long,” she adds, disappointed in herself.
Stiles doesn’t stop massaging the top of her head, but he doesn't say anything right away either. She cranes her neck to get a full view of his face. After a moment, Stiles makes eye contact with her.
“If you had to, I’m glad it was him and not you,” Stiles says, his voice firm and sure. "If anyone can relate, I can."
Allison exhales, a big woosh of air that seems to deflate her whole body. She sinks down until only her face is sticking out of the water.
“Okay,” Allison says. "Okay then."
Stiles nods and pulls his hands away, covered in soap bubbles.
“Good, that's settled.”
He puts both his forearms onto the edge of the tub and gazes at her. She sits up and searches his eyes, looking for judgment or disappointment or outright disdain, but she finds none of those things. Instead, he just looks fond. She finally feels some of the guilt washing away from her body.
Then the tension thickens in the room again as her gaze flicks down to Stiles' kissable mouth, hanging slightly open as he stares at her chest, still mostly covered in bubbles. He's just waiting for her cue, happy to let her lead. She's never desired him more than she does in that moment.
She surges up from the water to press her lips to his. He gasps, greedily kissing her back as water splashes out of the tub. Her heart pounds in her chest as she grabs his shirt with her wet hands and holds him steady.
After a frantic moment, she pulls back enough to see his pupils blown wide. Now he doesn’t look fond. He looks hungry.
“Towel, please?” Allison says against his mouth.
The water was starting to get cold anyway.