Even without amazing werewolf senses, Stiles could see the moment you walked through the door of his house that you were not in the best of moods. In fact, when you made your way to his bedroom with a seemingly heavy weight on your shoulders and dark circles under your eyes, he could actually sense how stressed you were. He could pick up on certain things about people he was especially close to; like how he noticed when his dad stopped wearing his wedding ring, and how he could notice when something wasn't right with Scott.
He stood up from his desk, moving to greet you with a kiss, though you dodged him easily. You practically slammed your backpack on the floor, shrugging your jacket off and throwing it on his bed. If your thoughts weren't so consumed with the Dread Doctors and evil experiment hybrids named chimeras, you would feel bad. You hated even feeling like an intrusion in the Stilinski house, let alone throwing your stuff around your boyfriend's bedroom. He didn't mind, of course, but he was a bit concerned.
"Hey, you all right?" He asked, helping you take off your sweatshirt. You looked angry, and even if the anger wasn't directed specifically at him, it was scary. He refused to back off, however. "Seriously Y/N, what's wrong? And before you tell me that you're fine, just know that I can tell when you're okay, and when you aren't. I'm also a really good lie detector."
You huffed, knowing he was right, earning a triumphant smile from your boyfriend himself.
"I'm just so stressed, everything is piling up, you know?" You rubbed your temples in exhaustion, letting Stiles rub his hands across your shoulders. He wrinkled his nose at all the built up tension there. "It's like... we're dealing with all this supernatural, Dread Doctor, Chimera bullshit, right? But, that's not even the end of it. On top of that, we have actual high school crap to deal with. Homework, being on time, college applications, trying to figure out what we're going to do after the year ends, and I keep getting detention because I'm not doing my homework but I don't have time to do my homework because of all the complete and utter bullshit going on in our lives that no one has to deal with but us," you said, the last sentence coming out in one big breath that you only ended when Stiles gently took your hand in his own larger one.
"You're too stressed, baby," Stiles murmured, leading you to his bathroom. You sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching as he turned on the tap, letting the water run warm. He dipped his hand in the water, nodding in satisfaction before turning the water off, closing the curtains on the window so that just enough sunlight could peek through, but not too much. He added the bubbles into the water. "I'm gonna help you relax, all right? Rant to me if you need to, but relax. I'll turn around," he added, covering his eyes with his hands and facing the wall as you went to pull your shirt over your head.
You slipped into the water without a sound, sighing lightly as the hot water soothed your skin. You leaned your head back, slipping further into the bubbles.
"Holy shit, Stiles, I'm relaxing already. What was I stressed about again?" You knew your problems wouldn't go away by you melting in a wonderful bath, but you prayed that they would. You wanted to stay there forever. You glanced up at your boyfriend, smiling, just as you heard the thump of a pair of pants dropping to the floor. His boxers followed in suit, and he smirked slightly when he noticed your blush.
"What? It's nothing you haven't seen before," he said innocently, climbing into the tub with you and submerging the lower half of his body into the bubbles. You raised your eyebrows at him as he rest his arms along the sides of the tub, his hands... all right, you didn't want to get started on his hands, because you could go on all night about how nice they felt wrapped around yours and gripping your waist. "Get your cute little ass over here and let me relieve your stress."
"And how are you planning on doing that?" You questioned, turning around all the same and moving back so that your back was facing him.
"Massaging you, of course," he replied, letting his skillful hands run along your sides, sending shivers up your spine as they came to rest on your shoulders. He grinned at the rigidness of your body, just from one little touch. "Just relax, gorgeous. It's just me," he whispered in your ear, digging his palms into your shoulders and beginning to rub slowly, but surely. He was easing your tension, that was for sure. Maybe a little too well. This continued for a bit, Stiles applying pressure at certain areas, digging his hands into your shoulders carefully but forcefully, and this kept on normally until his lips neared the shell of your ear. You sucked in a breath, your eyes closing as his mouth trailed up your neck, planting open mouthed kisses all up the side of your neck unabashedly.
His hands were no longer at your shoulders but firmly pressing against your hips, his mouth moving down to your collarbone. His teeth grazed along the skin there before he stopped, sucking your skin and sure to leave a mark to promote his handiwork. His lips worked on all over your neck, collarbone, and shoulders until you couldn't hold back anymore previously restricted moans. Once he heard that, he was flipping you over, the water in the bathtub sloshing over the sides and the bubbles overflowing.
You gulped. "What are you doing, Stilinski?"
He licked his lips, admiring your body with a loving look in his eyes, a large smile on his face. You were his. You, and all of your gorgeousness. His. And he was going to take advantage of every moment that he was allowed to call you that. His leaned down, his lips hovering over yours. "Relieving your stress."
Stiles pressed his lips to yours, and you both sank beneath the water with elation.
