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Stiles crouches on the edge of the stage, watching the crowd move to the music. Cute couples trying to figure out how to slow dance, best friends purposefully stepping on each other's feet, all to a disgustingly boring song. All of them are still so innocent — and so lucky because they don’t know yet how extremely obnoxious it can be to have an alpha. Theo is great for the most part, but Stiles still wants to rip his head off half the time they’re together.
“He thinks people don’t sexualize athletes, huh?” Brett leans against the stage, arms folded and black shirt snug against his bicep. When it came to potential mates, Brett was on the list as a failsafe. He’s been the ‘if we don’t find anybody else by thirty’ alternative. Theo has always been his first choice, even if Stiles tried to ignore it in the beginning. He loves that pain in his ass more than he can comprehend. Theo knows that. Theo still hates Stiles working with Brett more than his own parents — and that’s saying something.
Kira clicks her tongue, balls of her feet knocking against the stage in no particular rhythm. “Give him a break,” she says, cocking her head to the right, “I wouldn’t mate with a nogitsune either.”
“Fair point.”
Stiles whacks the back of Brett’s head. “I love you too.” Sighing, he crosses his arms over his thighs. “We’ve been hired to teach these kids a few dances for their prom night. Theo needs to get his shit together.” Not that Stiles is entirely innocent, but that doesn’t change the fact that they keep fighting over the same stupid shit — Stiles’ job. But Theo knew that. Stiles has been working on this since before he’s presented as an omega, and certainly long before they even got together. It’s not like Stiles hid his nature. Theo knew exactly what he was getting into, and he still wooed Stiles for almost two years.
Brett snorts. “You say that as if High School students aren’t the horniest people on the planet.” For someone who calls himself his best friend, Brett is entirely unhelpful.
“Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying Theo flipping his shit,” Kira notes without looking away from the dancing crows. “You started this with yesterday’s choreography.”
Stiles throws his hands in the air. “It’s our job.”
“Personally, I don’t remember touching our partner’s leg as part of the choreography,” Brett deadpans.
Stiles needs better friends — or rather, he needs people who know him better and let him get away with his bullshit. Instead, his best friends are an absolute angel and a reformed lacrosse jock. It’s like having two Jiminy Crickets on his shoulders. “You don’t usually complain when I improvise a little.” Brett’s choreographies are amazing, but he encourages Kira and Stiles to work with each other as much as possible.
Shaking his head, Brett hoists himself onto the stage. “I might just change my mind if it means I have to walk home.”
“Theo’s gonna come.” As much as his dear alpha loves to bitch and moan, he’d never actually let Stiles walk anywhere at night. Omega nogitsunes are just rare enough to catch unwanted attention wherever he goes — not necessarily to claim him. Stiles would probably end up in a fucking zoo for a shitton of money. It’s a good thing he’s usually around alphas when he’s not with Theo. It’s not that he specifically chose his best friends to be alphas. They just happened to both present as one. It did make things a lot easier after hitting 21, that’s for sure.
Brett merely sighs. He’s probably mostly pissed that they’re at Beacon Hills High instead of Devenford Prep.
“Oh, look.” Kira points in the direction of the gym’s entrance. “Our ride’s here.” And she drops off the stage without another word. Seems like she’s looking forward to their ride home. Contrary to popular belief, Stiles and Theo know not to carry their discrepancies to the outside world. They like to fight, yes, but they know how to behave themselves in front of other people. They’ll probably drive home in uncomfortable silence. It’s not exactly pleasant, but much better than with people yelling at each other.
Theo leans against the doorframe, talking to Natalie and Coach Finstock. He looks as if he’s completely relaxed, but even from a distance Stiles can see that his boyfriend is pissed off. They didn’t separate on the best terms today, something Stiles usually tries to prevent. It’s something his father taught him, knowing exactly how it feels to lose someone in the middle of a fight. So, yes. Maybe he feels a little guilty now that he sees him.
Brett breathes in deep, even moving his hand a little as if to fan the air towards him. “Damn, the fresh scent of regret.” He pushes off the stage, smirking at Stiles over his shoulder. “What a beautiful thing.”
“Oh, screw you.” Stiles jumps to the ground, head held high. Just because he feels bad for having to leave before making up to Theo does not mean he’s wrong. His point still stands. If Theo wants someone who is his tame little omega with no life then he should just end their relationship. It’s not like Stiles tricked Theo into anything. They’ve known each other before they eventually presented and got together. To be fair, their friendship has already been a rollercoaster with Stiles being a fox and Theo being a wolf. So, it’s absolutely no surprise their relationship is as tumultuous as it is. That still does not change the fact that Stiles will not become Theo’s little house omega. He has a life. He has a career. He is not going to put that on hold just because Theo is so fucking jealous he’d rather lock Stiles up in the basement so nobody can look at him. He’s a dancer, for fuck’s sake. He has always been a dancer.
When they reach the entrance, Theo is merely holding out his hand while still deep in conversation with Finstock about the current state of the lacrosse team. Theo has never been on the lacrosse team, but Finstock probably doesn’t care.
“Are we still on for Sunday?” Natalie asks.
Stiles slips his hand in Theo’s, unable to hide his smile when his boyfriend squeezed his hand tightly. “Yes, of course.” When Natalie contacted them, wondering if they could maybe give the students a few dance lessons in preparation for prom night, they also agreed on a lunch date. Sunday was the only day his father managed to get off work. They haven’t seen each other in a couple of months with all of their schedules as full as they are.
“Wonderful, I’ll see you then.” Natalie smiles at them, then hurries off to the stage. The dance lesson is officially over.
Theo doesn’t offer Finstock a ‘goodbye’. He tugs on Stiles’ hand, grip all but painful, and drags him off to the car.
Kira and Brett follow in silence.
— — —
“I don’t know what you want from me,” Stiles snaps, throwing his bag into one of the chairs near the window front.
Theo slams the door shut behind him. “I want you to behave for once in your life!”
“Behave?” Stiles echoes, whirling around in disbelief. “I’m not your fucking dog, Theo.” He understands that he’s overdoing it sometimes, even though touching Kira’s leg during a choreography to a flirty song isn’t what Stiles would consider ‘overdoing it’. He’s a fucking dancer. It’s called doing his job. "If you want someone who worships your every step you should've— maybe you shouldn’t have wasted your time with me, and instead mated with Tracy."
Theo narrows his eyes, watching Stiles for a few seconds. His tense posture relaxes a bit, almost like he regrets ever bringing it up. “You know that’s not what I want.”
“Then stop telling me what to do, Theodore.” The hotel room felt way too small for the two of them right now, but he isn’t going to leave — at least not completely. “I’m going to take a shower,” he says in a low voice. Because if he cannot leave, he’s simply going to end this discussion differently. “Maybe you should use that time to take a fucking walk and calm down.” There are a lot of things Theo lets him get away with; Stiles ordering him around isn’t one of them.
As expected, Theo slams him against the large window front. “What did you just say?”
Stiles can feel the glass vibrate at his back. His body reacts to this treatment almost immediately, and he knows Theo noticed it as well. “I said,” he snarls, even though there is absolutely no need to repeat his words — they both heard what he said, “take a fucking walk and calm down.”
Red bleeds into Theo’s eyes. “You better watch that pretty mouth of yours.”
“Or what?” Stiles shoots back, even though he already knows the answer. Because it’s part of their routine, it’s part of their way to make up. They will fight, they will fuck, and then, after spending all of their anger and energy, they’ll finally be able to talk. They will have a few good weeks, maybe months, and then they repeat their little song and dance. Their natures clash, but their souls connect. It’s the classic tale of two people who cannot live with or without each other.
Theo grabs him by the throat, his thumb pressing against his pulse point. “Or I’m going to fuck it.”
Stiles laughs. “I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be a threat or a promise.”
Growling, Theo all but tosses him to the ground.
The second Stiles’ knees hit the expensive rug in front of the bed, his omega nature clashes with his nogitsune. It’s an endless internal struggle that’s driving Stiles up the wall in the best and worst possible way. Part of him wants to please his alpha, show him how good he is, how perfect. The other part wants to bring Theo down with him, watch him crumble or blow up. In retrospect, he can’t blame Kira or others who say they’d never mate with a nogitsune. It takes a special person to keep him under control, and perhaps Theo is the only person who ever could.
Theo prowls over to him, quietly growling the whole time.
Stiles struggles with wanting to lash out and wanting to make himself as small as possible. It pisses him off even more, pushing him deep into a rabbit hole of anger and guilt — but his body reacts despite both feelings. He can feel his dick harden, can’t stop thinking about Theo fucking him senseless. “Fuck you,” he snaps after a short while, mostly to fill the silence hanging heavily between them.
A chuckle follows his insult. “You really think you can just run that pretty mouth of yours whenever you want, huh?” Theo licks his lips and opens his belt. “Are you that desperate for my cock down your throat?”
Stiles is not proud of the wanton sound leaving his mouth, or that his boxer briefs are already damp. They’re in the middle of a fucking fight. Theo threw him to the floor, and yet his fucking body prepares to be fucked by his alpha. Stiles absolutely loathes it. Yet at the same time, he can’t get enough of it. He swallows heavily and straightens his spine, moving himself to his knees. It’s not the first time it would happen exactly like this — Stiles on his knees, Theo wrapping the belt around his neck as a substitute for a collar and leash. This one, like all of Theo’s belts, has a small hole punched into it so Theo can fasten the belt tight enough to be noticeable without choking Stiles.
That’s something he prefers to do by hand.
But Theo has something else in mind. “Hands behind your back.” He’s stepped so close that Stiles’ nose bumps against the obvious erection poorly hidden by jeans. Looks like he’s not the only one conditioned to get horny whenever their fight is reaching its climax. It’s an interesting combination, and even though Stiles is more than aware this isn’t the healthiest of relationships or conflict resolutions, but it works for them. Probably so much better than it should be.
Stiles whimpers, but he puts his arms behind his back and tries his hardest to stay unmoving even though Theo presses deliciously against him.
“If you think,” Theo says in a very low voice, pulling the belt tight, “I’ll reward you for acting the way you did today and yesterday, you’re wrong.” There’s a cold edge to his voice, but his dick more than betrays Theo’s words. He loves Stiles sucking him off just as much as fucking him senseless. “You want to be seen?” Without checking if the belt is too tight — it isn’t, Theo knows it isn’t because he’s done this more than enough times to have perfected it — his dear alpha yanks him to his feet. “Fine, let’s give them a show.” Without any more explanation, Theo shoves him onto the bed.
Stiles falls onto it face first, grumbling into the pillows before twisting his head to the side. It’s pretty apparent who is the “them” Theo was referring to. They’re on full display for the building on the other side of the street. There are lights on in one of the offices. If they just so happened to look out of the window, they’d see something they probably didn’t sign up for.
Theo makes short work of Stiles’ jeans, pulling them down with his boxer briefs. “Look at that,” he croons, pressing two fingers against his wet hole for all but a second, and Stiles whines at the loss before he can catch himself, “your body knows who you belong to.” Humming appreciatively, Theo opens his zipper.
Stiles watches Theo in the reflection of the windows, pressing his lips into a thin line. There will be no foreplay today. Neither has the patience for it, even though his fucking boyfriend makes a show of stroking himself lazily. “Screw you,” Stiles spits, twisting his hands uselessly. Neither is in the right mind to be nice or affectionate either.
Theo grabs his hips and pulls him back towards him. “Watch it.” And that’s all the warning he gets before Theo presses against him, and the tip of his dick pushes inside without any resistance.
Stiles’ knee-jerk reaction is to twist away, but Theo doesn’t give him any wiggle room. His hands are on his hips, blunt nails digging into his skin, and pushes into him in one long thrust. There is zero time to adjust. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s an uncomfortable stretch since Theo isn’t exactly on the small side. Stiles loves it. Way too much. Yet at the same time, he hates how his body betrays his anger; how desperate it is for Theo and his stupid dick playing him exactly the way he needs it. Stiles curls his fingers into tight fists, wishing he was strong enough to break this belt. He also knows it’s there for a reason because the part that doesn’t want to please Theo wants to fucking hit him — something he’s done before, something he still feels horrible about.
But Theo knows how to handle his nogitsune. Theo knows to handle all of him.
Just like Stiles knows Theo struggles not to move. He can feel the muscles in his thighs tremble a little. If anybody on this planet could match Stiles’ stubbornness, it would be Theo, and he’s trying to teach him a lesson. Stiles breathes in through his nose, forehead pressed into the pillows, and grinds his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. The second he opens his mouth, he is either going to lash out or beg Theo to move, move.
Move.
He doesn't want to do either.
It's Theo who cracks first, cursing audibly before pulling back, and with a snap of his hips, he buries himself deep inside him again. Then he pauses.
Again.
Stiles bites into the pillow to stifle a moan. Betraying his earlier words, Theo isn’t exactly punishing Stiles for his behavior. Theo wants Stiles to enjoy himself every time they have sex — if it’s during his heat or an argument, it doesn’t matter. Stiles can angrily bite into pillows for as long as he wants, they’re both aware that he wants to tell Theo how he takes care of him, how he’s a good alpha, how he’s his alpha. It’s the type of submission that makes Stiles want to pull his teeth out.
Theo keeps fucking him, hands never straying from his hips. It's a slow pace. Agonizingly slow. Littered with too many pauses. Theo fucks him like he has all the time in the world — like they don’t have dinner plans in two hours. And although Stiles isn’t exactly hating what’s going on, this is Theo’s form of punishment. He’s doing this to fuck the attitude out of him. Slow and steady. That’s always been this asshole’s motto. They would not be together if it weren’t.
And it works.
Like it does every time.
Stiles moans.
Theo chuckles, shifting just the smallest bit behind him. The jeans scratch against Stiles’ exposed thighs, making him squirm. “Are you done now?” Theo asks, sounding ever so innocently — like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. His question is accompanied by a sharp snap of his hips. This time, he hits Stiles’ prostate.
And it makes Stiles bite the pillow for an entirely different reason.
“Hey.” Theo reaches for him, curls a hand around Stiles’ throat, and pulls him up against his chest. “It’s time,” he breathes right into Stiles’ ear, “to stop acting like a bitch before I treat you like one.”
“No.” Stiles shakes his head, trying to find a single strand of thought while Theo is buried inside of him at this angle. It's not the first time just having Theo's dick inside of him causes his brain to malfunction. He sucks in a breath. "Hotel," is all he manages to say — and that, somehow, causes Theo to bark out a laugh.
Without hesitation, Theo pushes him back into the pillows. "You really think," he asks and finally, finally, he starts fucking him in earnest, "I care about who hears you?" His fingers move to Stiles' jaw, making sure he's not able to muffle his sounds again. "Let them," Theo stresses his words by fucking him harder.
His dick is throbbing. Stiles twists his hands uselessly. He needs to— fuck. "Theo," he moans, but speaking is hard with the way Theo fucks him like he’s meaning to make him remember it for the foreseeable future. "Please.” His muscles tighten, and he’s rushing towards his orgasm embarrassingly fast. The knot pressing against his rim with every thrust doesn’t help either.
Theo all but yanks him back up again, turning his head enough so they could look at each other. “Stiles,” he whispers, continuing to slam up into him, “I love you.” The hand around his throat tightens just enough to make breathing a little harder. At the same time, Theo’s pushed his knot inside of him—
And that’s when his orgasm slams into him. His vision whites out as pleasure cuts through every single inch of his body. He comes hard with Theo’s name on his lips. He’s dimly aware that Theo stopped moving, holding onto him even tighter. As boneless as he feels right now, that’s probably a good thing.
Chuckling, Theo peppers a few kisses onto his shoulder. “Pretty sure they heard that multiple floors down.” The belt finally drops between them.
Stiles groans in relief, but he also uses his newfound freedom for evil. “Shut up,” he says weakly, elbowing Theo in the chest even though they just fought because of his attitude.
Huffing out a laugh, Theo kisses his cheek. “You’re lucky I love you.”
Stiles grins, turning his head enough to kiss him on the mouth. “I love you too.” So much more than Theo is aware of. “I will still blame you when we’re late for dinner.” Because Lydia will be absolutely livid if they don’t make it on time.
“I can handle her,” Theo whispers, carefully moving them so they can lie down.