14

Max and I were in the back corner of the store again, tucked between mythology and obscure folklore. The kind of place no one ever really bothered to clean because no one ever really came here.

He was thumbing through a worn-out book on shadow gods like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever touched. I wasn't even sure he was reading it. He just liked to look interested when he was trying to avoid saying something.

"Just say it," I muttered.

He didn't look up. "Say what?"

"That you think I'm dangerous."

"I don't think you're dangerous," he said, tone flat. "I think you're unstable."

The silence that followed was sharp.

I stepped back like I'd been hit, because honestly? That stung. Even coming from a smug vampire in an overpriced sweater.

He finally glanced up. "What? It's not an insult. You're carrying something old inside you, something raw. You think that's gonna stay quiet just because you want it to?"

I clenched my jaw, hands curling into fists at my sides. I didn't even know what I was mad at, him, myself, the truth of it all, but I felt it.

Something shifted behind me. The lights flickered once.

Max blinked, looking past me.

"...Stiles," he said carefully.

I turned and saw them. The shadows on the wall, they weren't still. They were writhing, thick and alive like smoke underwater. Moving without light. Moving without permission.

I stumbled back, and they followed. Stretched toward me like arms. Protective. Possessive.

"I didn't do that," I said, my voice weirdly calm and not calm at all.

Max stepped forward slowly, watching them like he was approaching a wild animal. "They did it for you. You got upset, and they reacted. Like they thought I was a threat."

"You were a threat."

He actually laughed, but it was quiet. Respectful, almost. "Noted."

The shadows calmed when I did. I could feel them, not leaving, just settling. Like they were waiting for my next breath to decide if they needed to act again.

I suddenly felt very, very not human.

And Max? He was smiling like I'd just handed him the best mystery he'd had in a hundred years.

"You're changing," he said softly, voice low and thrilled. "You're not just holding onto that power anymore. It's holding onto you back."

I didn't answer.

I just stared at the wall, where my shadow didn't match my shape anymore.

—————————————————————————

It had gotten easy, too easy maybe, the way Max and I had started... orbiting each other.

He was around more often than not. Showing up with books and terrible snacks, asking a million questions about how I felt when I touched the shadows, if I heard anything when they moved, if I ever dreamed in black and white. I didn't have real answers, but he seemed thrilled just to listen.

And me? I let him. I let him in.

Maybe I was lonely. Maybe I was reckless. But for the first time in months, I didn't feel empty.

Tonight, after my shower, I stood in the middle of my room in nothing but my boxers, running through exercises he'd taught me. I hadn't expected them to work this well so soon. The shadows moved under my fingertips like ribbon caught in wind, sharp, fluid, alive.

I turned my hand, focused, and they curled into shapes, messy at first, then steadier. I smiled.

"That's new," came a voice from behind me. Amused. Low. Familiar.

I flinched so hard I nearly fell.

The shadows didn't wait. They lunged.

They surged across the floor like a wave, slamming toward the windowsill where Max sat perched like a smug, uninvited cat. His eyes went wide a second before they struck him, lashing like whips, not lethal, but definitely pissed.

"Stiles!" he barked, laughing through it. "Call them off, unless you want your room redecorated with me."

"Shit, wait! Wait!" I yelled, stepping forward and throwing my arms out. The shadows hesitated mid-air, writhing like they didn't want to stop, but finally obeyed, slinking back to the corners like scolded dogs.

Max stood, brushing his jacket off. "You know, I'd say 'you should really lock your window,' but I'm starting to think you like me breaking in."

"You scared the crap out of me!" I snapped, still catching my breath. "What the hell, dude?"

He grinned, entirely too pleased with himself. "Sorry, I saw the light on and thought I'd drop in. Wasn't expecting a show. You and your shadows, in your underwear? Don't tell me you didn't want an audience."

I blushed so fast I got dizzy.

"Shut up," I muttered, grabbing a hoodie off the floor and yanking it over my head.

Max was still grinning like a bastard. "What? I'm just admiring the view. Scientific interest."

"The shadows almost murdered you for scientific interest."

"Yeah," he said, eyes flicking to the dark corners of the room again, a gleam in them. "And that was hot."

I threw a pillow at him. He didn't even try to dodge it.

Max didn't move for a second after I threw the pillow. Just stood there in the soft light of my room, eyes on me, not mocking anymore. Something else flickered there, low and dark and hungry.

He took a step closer.

"You don't even know what you're doing to me," he said, voice rough now, the humor stripped out of it.

I swallowed, suddenly all too aware of the distance between us. Or the lack of it.

The shadows twitched behind me like they were listening.

Max reached out and brushed his fingers against the hem of my hoodie. Barely touching. Testing.

"Is this okay?" he asked, voice quieter, more careful.

I nodded before I even realized it.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn't tentative. It was possessive, like he'd been waiting weeks and decided waiting was officially overrated. His hand slipped under the back of my neck, cold and firm, pulling me into him like he'd been craving it. Like he needed it.

I stumbled forward with the force of it, hands gripping his jacket, anchoring myself as his mouth moved over mine, demanding, deep, and a little desperate.

He tasted like winter wind and something metallic underneath, something sharp I couldn't name. Maybe it was just him. Maybe it was the blood.

His other hand pressed to my lower back, dragging me closer until I could feel every inch of him. He kissed like someone who didn't know how to be gentle but was trying anyway, messy and real and so hot I felt like my knees might just give out.

I gasped against his mouth, and he groaned, low and guttural, like the sound had been pulled straight from his chest.

When we finally broke apart, I was breathing hard, lips tingling, heart thudding so loud I was sure he could hear it.

Max leaned his forehead against mine, eyes still closed.

"God," he whispered, "you're going to be the death of me."

"You're already dead," I managed, voice barely a whisper.

His smile was crooked, lips swollen from kissing me. "Then I guess I've got nothing to lose."

Max was still watching me like I was something to be devoured, something that had his full attention. His hand brushed lightly along my jaw, cool fingers trailing fire in their wake, and I forgot how to breathe. The air between us felt heavy, charged.

"You really shouldn't leave your windows unlocked," he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But I'm not complaining."

I rolled my eyes, still catching my breath from the scare. "You're unbelievable."

"I've been told," he murmured, and before I could say anything else, he leaned in.

This kiss was different from the others.

Slower.

Hungrier.

His mouth was soft at first, just a gentle press against mine, but the tension that had been building for days finally cracked open. I didn't even realize I'd grabbed the front of his shirt until I was pulling him closer, until we were stumbling back toward my bed like gravity had stopped working right.

His hands found my waist, fingers cool and confident as they slid against my bare skin. I was still, every point where we touched sparked something beneath my skin something dark and molten that had nothing to do with shadows.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered against my lips, and I could feel his restraint. The edge. That dangerous tension I should probably be afraid of.

But I didn't want him to stop.

I pulled him down with me, our mouths finding each other again in a kiss that was messy, heated, and deep. His hands roamed, not rushed, but certain, tracing the shape of me like he was trying to memorize every inch. And I let him. Because it had been so long since I felt wanted, since I felt like someone actually saw me.

He looked at me like I was something precious. Breakable, maybe. Dangerous, definitely. And still, he didn't back away.

"Are you sure?" Max asked, voice softer than I'd ever heard it. The playful edge was gone. This wasn't a game to him anymore.

I nodded, breath catching in my throat. "Yeah. I... want this. I want you."

Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Hunger. Emotion. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine. "You don't have to prove anything to me, Stiles. Not with this."

"I'm not," I whispered. "I want to feel something good for once. With you."

Max didn't answer right away, he just kissed me. Slowly. Carefully. Like he understood how much it took for me to say that out loud. And then we were moving. We shed the space between us like it was just another layer we didn't need.

His hands were cool, but his touch was steady, grounding. I could feel how much he was holding back, like he was afraid to break me. But I wasn't glass. Not anymore.

"You're so lovely" he says bitting and licking my ear "I am going to make you feel so good"

"Please" this was the only think I could say

Max started to rub my thigh, bitting and kissing my neck like he wanted to drink from me, I could even feel his fangs out scratching my skin.

He knew how to touch me. How to work me into a frenzy. The way he stroked my cock, finding the perfect pressure and the perfect motion made me almost go crazy "Just fuck me already" I say

"You're so impatient, God..." he says "Can I bite you?" he asks with a raspy voice and I couldn't even think

"oh my God yes, please" I know I will be so embarrassed tomorrow but right now I don't care about anything

He blinked, dark lashes fluttering. "You're not afraid?"

I swallowed, then tilted my head, baring my throat without really thinking. "Maybe I should be. But I'm not."

The air between us went still. Even the shadows quieted, like they were holding their breath with me.

Max leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against the skin beneath my jaw. "It'll hurt," he warned, his voice like silk and smoke.

"So does everything else," I said, almost laughing.

There was a pause, a heartbeat, where I thought he might pull away.

But then I felt it. The sting. Sharp, precise, real. His fangs slid in like a knife through velvet. I gasped, not from pain exactly, but from the shock of it, the heat that rippled through me in its wake.

His hands were on my hips, steadying me. Holding me in place. And I didn't want to move. I didn't want him to stop.

I should've been terrified. But all I felt was this strange rush of adrenaline and something deeper, darker pleasure, maybe. Or power. Or the feeling of being wanted in a way I hadn't known I craved.

My fingers curled in his shirt. I could hear my breath, shallow and ragged, and his, slower, controlled. I could feel my dick getting harder and harder, it was so hot, it felt do good. He pulled back a second later, fangs bloodstained, pupils blown wide. We didn't say anything, then his fingers trace the bite, slick with blood, like he's savoring the mess he made, he drags his fingers along my neck, smearing the blood in slow, deliberate strokes.

He then drove his fingers stained with blood inside me, releasing a strained huff. Hand tightening around my hip, he gave me a little shake that seemed almost like a reprimand. I was so shaken by the sensation of his fingers thrusting up inside me that for a blinding second, I couldn't think around the spike of pleasure.

There were words whispered between kisses. My name in his mouth. His name in mine. Little confessions,"I haven't wanted anything this badly in a long time."

He removed his fingers and I could hardly breathe, hardly think beyond where our bodies were joined. He quickly took his clothes off and invaded me without warning.

"FUCK, a warning would be nice your asshole" I screamed, but I've never felt like this before, I didn't even know what to do.

He bit me again this time it was harder it hurt, I couldn't focus on the pain because he was going so fast, so deep, so hard inside me, it was so many sensations that I thought I was going to die.

Max pulled out slightly and thrust back in slow this time. So torturously slow "You're mine," he gasped out.

Again, he pulled out, then thrust in. "You're mine."

Again, faster, deeper this time. "You belong to me"

I moved my hips in time with his. He kissed me over and over, and both of our faces turned damp and red, a mixture of sweat and blood. Every inch of me burned and tightened, and my control slipped entirely as he whispered in my ear.

I finally came as he pounded into me, hard and fast, drawing out my pleasure until I only felt and saw and smelled us, a mixture of our scents, shadows exploded off me making the whole room dark, I could feel it, max could feel it, it was something I never felt before.

And then, silence, except for breath and heartbeat and the quiet ache of two people finally letting go.

It wasn't perfect. It was messy, and real, and something in me cracked open and spilled out, and I didn't want to put it back in. Not with him here.

Afterward, Max laid beside me, his hand on my chest like he needed to keep me tethered. I stared at the ceiling, shadows shifting gently above us like they were watching too.

"Shit... this was amazing" Max said "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Better than okay."

He smiled and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "Told you I'd never hurt you."

I didn't know if that was true. But for now, I believed him.