Who: Malia Tate and The Nogitsune (as Stiles Stilinski) What: Reconnecting Where: Private little area Malia has found When: Evening Warnings: Implied sexual situations, mental manipulation is going on Status: Closed, Complete
Malia had settled into a little makeshift den near some heating pipes. The place was cozy, out of the way and had plenty of room to sprawl, while being small enough to feel comfortable. It wasn’t grand, not that she cared anyways, but it was a good fit for her needs. This ship threw her off a bit, she couldn’t recall being on boats and certainly nothing of this size, and combined with the lack of places to run, it was almost too claustrophobic.
But Stiles was here - even if the Nogitsune was possibly here - and that’s really all that mattered. He was hers and she would protect what was hers. She’d had some socialization in Eichen, although no one could say it was good socialization, so she wasn’t as snippy as she could have been. Even if she was stressed.
She didn’t like the idea of the Nogitsune wandering around an enclosed space. But the thought was the last thing on her mind right now. Stiles had headed down to meet her and she was planning on welcoming him in the best ways she knew how. Naked. Ready. and waiting. Sex was delightful and it was something she was eager to get down to. The fun, the freedom and with every little sound she worked from him the more he was hers.
Coyotes were adaptable, but they were protective too. Incredibly so. And Stiles was hers. She’d tear the Nogitsune limb from limb and devour his spleen and liver without a second thought. He harmed her Stiles and that? was not okay.
~~~
The Nogitsune wasn’t thrilled about the charade, the pretending to be Stiles. Stiles was a pathetic loser teenager. He was so far beneath the nogitsune that it hurt. But he had to play the game. He had already convinced Malia and Lydia on the network that he was actually Stiles. The real test would be face to face, but he wasn’t worried.
Even if Malia caught on, what could she do? She was a coyote, sure. She had powerful jaws, but he was a nogitsune. She was a lowly beast compared to him. She could tear his mortal body to shreds, but she couldn’t touch him. But he? Could destroy her, if he had to.
For now, though, he was going to play pretend. He was going to meet her in the cozy little coyote den she’d set up for them. Joy of joys. There were definite perks, given her lack of social skills and experiences, and her raw need for physical contact. As long as she wasn’t clingy, he’d be fine. he’d make it work, for as long as he had to.
He made his way to her and smiled a sly, horny teenaged boy smile when he saw her there. “I guess you took me seriously when I said to get started without me…”
*** Of course she didn’t really know any difference - he presented himself as her Stiles and her nose didn’t smell anything different. So she believed it. Her nose wouldn’t lie to her. Right? She had never needed to not believe it. Smells didn’t lie. Malia wasn’t worried, not really anyways. She didn’t really know how to worry like that anyways. She still thought in the moment, not so much in the future. Day to day. Hour to hour. It was how one survived in the wild, as an animal. Humans over thought things.
Malia was very much an in the moment, here and now kind of person.
She loved contact. She loved sex. She liked feeling. She wasn’t clingy, not so much anyways. She protected, needed, possessed - but not in a you’re my second skin kind of way. Besides, he should be happy, she was at least hot.
Malia stretched her limbs out as she looked up at him. “I said I would.” and Malia? Didn’t lie. “Come here.”
***
It was a tricky situation, but the fact was, his physical form was as much Stiles as the real Stiles. So long as consciousness wasn’t a factor, there was no way to distinguish between Stiles and the nogitsune. They were, for all intents and purposes, one and the same, simply fractured into two separate, yet 100% identical bodies.
He carried in him every thought, every memory, every experience Stiles Stilinski had ever had. He knew exactly what the boy had felt when his mother accused him of trying to kill her as she neared the end stages of her disease. He knew how he’d resisted getting up and walking away from the casket when his mother was laid in the ground. He knew exactly what had driven Stiles to save Malia from her life as a coyote, and how he’d felt a longing he never knew he’d had when she’d kissed him on that dingy old sofa in the basement of Eichen House. There wasn’t anything he didn’t know about Stiles, which made presenting himself as Stiles incredibly easy, and entirely convincing.
Not even a werecoyote’s senses could see through the facade.
He grinned at her with that quirky lopsided smirk Stiles got when he was turned on. He even managed to bring a blush up to his cheeks as he shed the button down he wore, and then tugged the T-shirt over his head.
“Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?” What he really wanted was to tear her apart. But she was pretty, and really, if he was going to get some action, she was as good a choice as any.
*** Malia smoothly moved so she was on her knees, then crawled over to him, as comfortable on all fours as she was on two. She had no modesty to speak of, and clearly.enjoyed being naked and devoid of clothing.
She reached up to pull him down to her. Malia liked sex as much as she liked running around in the forest. And she had no intention of letting him leave any time soon. It was warm, and cozy, and no one around but them.
She had no idea anything was wrong. The world could burn while she was with him, and she'd not notice until later.
“As much as I want you" she stated with a wicked grin ***
“Mmmmm,” he purred, raking his eyes over her form. Maybe being Stiles wasn’t all bad. He was definitely interested in what she had to offer. He just hoped the times like this were worth the aggravation of everything else. But really, he shouldn’t have to keep up the charade for long. he just had to convince Malia to put an end to the real Stiles, under the guise that it was the nogitsune she was destroying.
He’d die far too quickly to be a powerful nogitsune, but by the time Malia or anyone else figured that out, he’d be dead. And the nogitsune would be the one left standing. It would be glorious, the chaos would be delicious.
He only had to play at being Stiles for a little while. He may as well enjoy it as much as he could, while he had to make it work. He sauntered the last few steps toward Malia, and dropped down to her. “You’re so beautiful,” he told her. Stiles was disgustingly romantic like that. It made the nogitsune want to gag, but he buried that down, and moved in to kiss her.
*** Malia wrapped her fingers around his face, pulling him in for the kiss. She wanted nothing more than to entwine her limbs with his. This place, the ship, the people didn't matter. All she wanted was to.inhale his scent and feel his hands on her.
She didn't think much of romantic notions, they hadn't fit into her world view before Stiles, but she smiled against his lips because he made her feel beautiful and worth his time.
***
True love and other fairy tales were bull shit lies people told themselves. The nogitsune had no interest in any of it. He thrived on chaos and pain, mental anguish was a particularly tasty meal for him. But in order to get what he craved, in the way that he craved it, he had to endure the love and bull shit first.
At least she was hot. Although he really would have preferred the banshee. Because, well. Banshee. But that teenage fantasy had slipped through Stiles’ fingers. He considered Lydia a friend, one of his best friends, but he no longer had a romantic interest in her. Such a shame, from the nogitsune’s point of view.
So Malia would have to do. Not bad, for a consolation prize. The nogitsune eased into the role of Stiles with grace and the illusion of eager desire. He returned the kisses, and slid his hands into her hair, fingers pawing at her skull. “Mmmm. Don’t stop,” he murmured.
*** Malia would not care too much that she was a consolation prize. Beyond the fact it really wasn't Stiles, that is. But to every one of her senses he was Stiles so she was happy in that confidence.
There was a touch of naive to her touches, she didn't really understand yet just how much her touch could drive him. But she was rather insatiable, and was a quick learner.
She shifted her weight and brought him to the ground, settling astride, fingers resting along his hips. She was learning the fine art of teasing, she had a long way to go, but she was relentless. And fully intent on exhausting them both. ***
When it was done, when she achieved her goal of full exhaustion, he relented to snuggle with her. She spooned against him, holding him to her. They were naked, sweaty, and warm. Skin elt plastered to skin, and he wanted to be anywhere but there, but Stiles would stay put. Stiles would like the warmth and the sticky closeness. So he stayed, and he wore a contented smile on is borrowed lips.
Stiles liked to talk, anyone who knew him knew that. He liked to hear his own voice. He liked to discuss things. The Nogitsune would rather stay quiet and allow Malia to sleep, because if she slept, he would have at least some measure of peace. But Stiles would probably talk to her death before he’d let her sleep, and since he was technically Stiles, he knew he needed to strike up a conversation.
“That? Was amazing.” he said, and let a finger drift along her forearm in a casual stroke.
*** Sweat and stickiness didn't bother her. She was content with the aftermath. It was one of the few times she felt warm. Malia could have slept easily, but Stiles did like to chatter. So she snuggled close, eyes closed, forehead rested against the back of his head.
“I'm pleased.” She murmured, her fingers rested against his skin, lazily drawing lines, thoughtlessly, tired. She had far more energy than he usually did, but even she was tired. There had been a lot going on in a short period of time.
“How many people do you think heard us?” She drawled out, lips curling into a smile against his head, she didn't notice a thing. It was a wonderful feeling. ***
“I don’t even care,” he told her. At least that was true. He didn’t care who heard them, he didn’t care what anyone thought. He didn’t care if people got pissed off about it, either. He’d actually thrive on that.
But of course Stiles would be mortified, so he had to balance his own motivations with how Stiles would behave. “I mean, I care, but...but I’m here with you and that’s all that really matters.” Stiles was such a poetic pansy. Sometimes the nogitsune wondered why he’d ever bothered to go after the boy, then he remembered he was a human among werewolves and banshees and despite his obvious shortcomings, he really was somewhat extraordinary.
*** Malia nestled down, grinning against him. She didn't mind, honestly. It wasn't in her nature to do so.she was just curious though. She felt like sometimes every one was missing out on the fun.
She nipped lightly at his ear and sighed. “I'm tired, Stiles" she murmured as she closed her eyes again. She was happy, he was here, things would be just fine. She was tired, too, wearing him out wore her out too.
**
“Go to sleep.” And let him have some peace and quiet for a few hours. Even if he was trapped there in her arms, at least he could shed the Stiles persona for a little while. He shifted, turned his face just enough to kiss her gently before settling back down as if he meant to go to sleep also.