It’s Naked Lazy Sunday, which is what she and Stiles have coined the two Sundays every month when their schedules align to give them a weekend off together. Saturdays are spent going grocery shopping, doing chores, making sure the laundry is done and put away, and culminating in Date Night Saturday. That’s when they have a romantic date, when they dress up twice a month and go out dancing or listening to music or to see movies or whatever catches their interest for the evening. They have other date nights, but they’re not the ‘dress up and go full scale romance’ that Date Night Saturdays are.
Allison isn’t sure when she actually started using all of Stiles’ silly labels for various days in their lives, but it happened at some point during the last three years. Sure, nearly three quarters of those months were spent simply (though, really, has anything ever really been ‘simple’ with her and Stiles?) as platonic roommates with undeniable chemistry and definitely a healthy amount of pining mixed with outright lust, but she knows that she picked up that annoying habit of his before things even changed between them.
Looking back, maybe that should have been her first clue that their relationship was never going to remain strictly platonic and just friendly.
Of course, there had been plenty of denial on her part because Stiles is her ex-boyfriend’s best friend, and there are some things that are just supposed to be off-limits. At least, that’s what she convinced herself of after they started sharing an apartment while attending the police academy, and it’s something she used as a reason to ignore the developing feelings she was having whenever he’d make her favorite meal after a rough day or paint her toenails after a stressful test. Denial can only last so long, though, which she found out first-hand when she ended up straddling him one night while watching cheesy slasher movies and had proceeded to kiss him until her toes curled.
That event happened a little over eight months ago, a fact she only knows because Stiles had bought her a bouquet of arrows a couple of weeks ago to celebrate their eighth month anniversary. He’s a cynical asshole, but she’s learned over the months that he’s also a romantic cynical asshole. Of course, he’d had to go too far by reciting a deliberately bad poem he’d written to her about her arrows piercing his heart and comparing it to parts of him piercing her, which had degenerated into a giggle fest she hadn’t been able to stop and had eventually become making out on the sofa until they’d fallen off and broken an ugly vase her partner at work had given her for her birthday last year.
Stiles is currently sitting on the sofa naked, playing some new video game that he’d picked up after work the other day, and she’s been reading a new mystery that he downloaded for her the other day. It’s a nice, lazy day where they can just hang out together and make out whenever they want and have sex a few times throughout the course of the day and she just really loves Naked Lazy Sundays. That’s the main reason she’s so annoyed by the text that she’s just received. The other reason being that she hasn’t really told anyone about her relationship with Stiles because her family is overbearing, ridiculous, and more than a little annoying.
They hadn’t approved of Scott because of the furry problem, but they won’t approve of Stiles because he’s more involved in the supernatural than Scott is despite the whole true alpha thing. Stiles is an emissary for the two packs of Beacon Hills, bridging the McCall Pack and the Hale Pack in a way that’s made the combined force strong enough to dissuade threats from even bothering with the town usually. It had got so quite after graduation that her parents had packed up and moved on. This time, she hadn’t had to go with them because she was eighteen and chose to stay. Their leaving meant that she didn’t have to deal with them and their hypervigilance except via skype calls and the occasional text chat, which was fine with her.
Yet here they are showing up in California with no warning after more than a year between visits.
“What’s wrong?” Stiles pauses his game and looks at her curiously. “You’re punching the screen of your phone hard enough that you might crack it.”
“My mother just texted me.” Allison makes a face when Stiles does, which makes him snort-laugh, and she can’t help grinning because he’s such a dork. “She and Dad have left Las Vegas and are headed this way. They decided to surprise me with a visit.”
“Don’t they know that you need like a week’s warning, at least, to prepare yourself for dealing with them?” Stiles shifts on the sofa, and she’s distracted for a moment by his naked body because he might be a dork but he’s a smoking hot dork. He’s filled out and grown his hair and he just looks so good naked that she couldn’t help adding the Naked part to his suggested Lazy Sundays proposal months ago. He smirks at her as he snaps his fingers to get her attention. “Objectifying your boyfriend isn’t cool, babe.”
“Like you weren’t just staring at my breasts,” she challenges, arching a brow and daring him to lie.
“Yeah, well, can you blame me?” Stiles waves his hand at her. “You’ve got all that hanging out for me to admire, and I’ve always been a huge fan of beauty.”
“I could say the same thing, you know?” Allison smiles, knowing she’s flashing her dimples. “You’ve got all that hanging out, after all.”
“Not my fault that you’re easily distracted by a two pack and a nice dick,” Stiles drawls in a haughty tone that’s totally trying to imitate Jackson.
“It’s more like a four pack, at least. Those gym dates with Isaac and Boyd are paying off in ways that I never imagined.” Allison waggles her eyebrows and leers at him. “And it isn’t just a nice dick. It’s the perfect cock, and you know it.”
“Perfect for you, but not everyone would agree.” Stiles ducks his head, and she smiles softly when she sees the blush spreading across his neck. He’s unable to hide it when he gets flustered and embarrassed because his blush is splotchy and covers his face and neck, much to his frustration. She happens to think he looks good in pink and enjoys making him blush whenever she can because she’s a little evil.
“Everyone’s stupid, obviously.” Allison reaches over to stroke his thigh. “Those people you were with before me just weren’t brave enough to handle that pretty cock.” She scratches her fingernails against the inside of his thigh, hitting the place that makes his back arch and his eyelashes flutter because it’s one of those kinds of spots. “I happen to like big, thick, and filling.”
“It’s too much for you, too, sometimes,” he mutters, reaching down to grip her wrist before she can move her hand up his leg towards her final destination. “Don’t think I don’t notice when I go too deep.”
“You never hurt me, Stiles.” She might have trouble taking all of him sometimes, but it’s not painful. It’s more like hurts so good than ouch. She hadn’t actually realized she’s a bit of a size queen until she fucked Stiles and saw proof about the whole big hands, big cock could be totally true. And then some. But it had been an eye-opening experience in more ways than one, and now she’s pretty damn addicted to that pretty cock of his. Plus, talking about how big he is tends to fluster him, which leads to the cute pink flush. So it’s a win-win all around.
“God, I’d better not. You promised you’d tell me if it ever gets to be too much.” He strokes his thumb over the pulse point of her wrist, looking up at her in a coyly flirtatious way that he totally practices in the mirror to know just how damn sexy it makes him. “You know, we’ve been lazy for a couple of hours now.”
“Hmm. I guess we have,” she says, slowly smiling as she leans in closer to him. “I’m already halfway done with my book, and you’ve been killing demons or bad guys or whatever for a while now. Might be time for a Making Whoopee Break.” She stops and grimaces. “Damn it, Stiles. Now you’ve got me using that stupid word. No more Newlywed Game reruns, got it?”
“But we love those cheesy old game shows, Ali.” Stiles leans in and ghosts his lips over her cheek. “Maybe I can persuade you to start associating it with something hot instead of goofy.”
“I don’t care how sexy you are, Stiles. I’ll never consider Making Whoopee to be hot.” Allison arches a brow and smirks. “However, you’re welcome to try persuading me all you want.”
“Oh, I think I could prove that adage to never say never if you give me the chance,” he teases, and the fucking brat is probably right because he’s good at stroking her buttons, in more ways than one, and she’s using dumb titles that she used to groan and eyeroll about as if they’re really on a calendar or something now.
“Hit me with your best shot, pretty boy.” Allison moves her head and kisses him, licking into his mouth as he moves his hand to her thigh. The kiss escalates pretty fast because sex between them is always rather combustible, like adding oil to a fire or something, and it’s amazingly hot even when they go soft and slow. This time, they aren’t taking a slower pace, though. He’s soon got her pressed against the pillows with his leg between hers, and they’re making out like horny teenagers.
That’s when the chime of her text message interrupts the heavy breathing and moaning.
“Damn it,” she growls, rolling onto her side slightly so she can reach for her phone. She types her passcode as Stiles starts sucking on her neck, totally trying to leave marks because he’s an ass like that. Not that she minds. It’s always low enough to cover with her uniform shirt. “Oh fuck. Fucking hell.”
“I know I’m good, but we’ve barely started. You’re totally faking, aren’t you?” Stiles raises his head and blinks down at her, his lips swollen and puffy and distracting.
“I’m not faking, dork. It’s a message from my mom.” Allison waves her phone at him until he grabs her arm and makes her stay still so he can read it. “They’re not still in Las Vegas. Oh, no. They left two days ago. She just wanted to surprise me, so she made sure Dad didn’t let me know they were on the way. Stiles! My parents are coming over in 10 minutes so please put some clothes on. Fuck. I need to put clothes on. This is terrible.”
“Allison, babe, calm down.” Stiles moves so that he’s kneeling on the sofa between her spread legs. “You haven’t seen them in over a year, and you were just talking about missing them a few weeks ago. Your parents might be scary as hell PILFs, but they’re still your parents.”
“Do not ever call my parents PILFs when we’re naked on the sofa, alright?” Allison groans and runs her hand over her face. “Just my luck. My boyfriend wants to fuck my parents.”
“Nah, they’re too old, and your mom’s scary dominant and your dad’s like scary unpredictable.” Stiles grins at her. “I’m perfectly happy fucking the Argent who is naked in front of me right now.”
“That’s good because I won’t share with my parents,” she grumbles, poking his collarbone. “Stop scarring me for life by calling them that, though. It’s worse than hearing you call Melissa a MILF.”
“What? They totally are PILFs, and she’s a gorgeous MILF.” Stiles shrugs. “It’s not saying I actually want to have sex with them, but they’re attractive old people. I hope we age as well as they do.”
“Well, I’ve heard that when you get older, certain parts start to shrink,” Allison teases, looking pointedly between his legs, where his cock is half-hard and becoming more flaccid as they talk. “But, in your case, that’ll just make you average.”
“You’re terrible,” he mutters, ducking down to kiss her breathless before rolling off the sofa. “You said ten minutes, right? That’s long enough for me to get you off, at least.” He gives her a smug smile and flicks his tongue at her. “I know all the right spots to hit. And that’ll make you more relaxed for their visit.”
“Tempting, but I’d better not. My mom would probably know as soon as she saw me or something because she’s perceptive that way. I never want her to be all-knowing when it comes to my sex life.” Allison shudders at the idea of having to deal with her mom’s scowling awareness that Stiles got her off before their visit. On the flip side, it would make it obvious that their relationship has changed without actually having to have a heart to heart about feelings and shit. “You know, on second thought…”
“Never say never?” Stiles asks, waggling his eyebrows at her as he pulls her into the bedroom. She laughs when he trips over a shoe he left in the middle of the floor, but he manages to catch himself before he falls.
Her laughter soon fades away when he drops to his knees and proceeds to calm her down with that wicked tongue of his. Her parents will be there anytime, but she no longer cares because what she’s got with Stiles is worth bragging about, and they can accept it or leave. As she curls her fingers in his thick hair and her eyes roll back, she says a little prayer to whatever deity might be listening that there’ll be a traffic jam somewhere because she’s not letting Stiles stop what he started until she’s satisfied. It is Naked Lazy Sunday, after all, and they’ve got plans to make whoopee.
Oh, fuck it. If her parents show up before they’re finished, they can just wait.