and I don't know how it gets better than this

[stiles]

You.

The word vibrates against his skin, and Stiles can’t help the groan that tumbles out of his mouth. Her hands are warm beneath the fabric of his shirt, and he can feel the heat that radiates from her own body. Her nipples are erect against his chest; she’s not wearing a bra, and it takes him until then to realize that he specified she needed to put underwear on before they left and nothing else.

“Oh?” he says as his hands find their way back to her ass. He cups it gently before pulling her closer still as she sucks on a spot just below his jawline. “The birthday girl could’ve saved us a lot of money if she told me that before now,” he teases. Her hand rises to hit his chest playfully in response, and he catches her wrist before she can pull it away. It’s enough to make her finally pull her lips away from his neck. Her pupils are dilated and dark. Her desire radiates off of her, and if Stiles hadn’t been there as a willing participant this morning, he never would’ve guessed that he had made her come not once but twice before she even left their bed. And the fact that she still wants him this much only makes him grow harder in his jeans.

He brings her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her open palm before he pulls it away to stare at that ring on her hand once again. It still startles him to see it there on her hand. It’s this constant reminder that she’s his, forever, and he hopes that he never gets used to seeing it there. That it always catches him by surprise just like this.

“I think I want the the birthday girl only wearing this ring,” he says. Malia doesn’t miss a beat as she steps back, already sliding her flannel off her shoulders. It falls to the floor just as both of their hands go to the hem of her t-shirt. “Hold on,” he says with a laugh, holding her shirt firmly there for a second before finally stepping away. “We could use some privacy.”

He thinks he hears her growl as he walks back to the front of the platform. If it is a growl, he chooses to ignore it as he unties the canvas flaps from the sides, pulling each side to the middle until he can zip it shut, effectively cutting them off from the rest of the world. He stops at his bag long enough to grab a condom, and by the time he turns back around, she is indeed only wearing that ring. It doesn’t matter that he has seen her like this nearly every night since she moved in, he still can’t look away from her long, tanned legs. Her perky breasts. The curves of her hips. The apex of her thighs.

“Should I catch up?” he asks her with a crooked smile. There’s a soft shake of her head as she steps closer, reaching for the hem of his shirt. He lets her take it off him before he catches her chin gently with his hand. He leans in to kiss her again before pulling back barely an inch. “What else does the birthday girl want?”

[malia]

There’s something so quietly intimate about the way he brings her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her palm. His lips are warm and gentle on her sensitive skin and it sends a shiver up and down her spine. It’s a moment that she’ll never forget. Just this moment of quiet, being here with him, far away from the world. This was a place where they could actually believe that nobody existed but the two of them. She closes her eyes, breathing in the fresh forest air as she lets her fingers move up to his chest. When he pauses, she opens her eyes to follow his, finding the ring that now sparkles there on her finger. It’s so strange, seeing jewelry on her normally bare hands, but now she can’t really picture that finger without it. And it’s only been half a day.

She’s so lost in her thoughts that his words take her off guard. She smiles, her heart racing slightly at his request. Once her clothes come off, she doesn’t intend to put them back on until they have to leave the next day. She pulls her hands away immediately, shrugging the flannel shirt from her shoulders and leaving her in only a tank top, but he stops her before she can remove anything else. She fights the urge to pull him back and force him to stay with her, but she knows the way his brain works and as long as the flaps of their tent are open, he won’t be able to focus on her and that’s all she wants. Though she doesn’t hide the small growl that escapes her lips when he leaves her hanging there. She doesn’t let the time go to waste though, and she immediately begins to pull off her clothing, stepping out of her shorts and kicking her boots to the side of the tent. She pulls her hair down, letting it tumble over her shoulders and when he turns back to her, the ring is the only thing adorning her naked body.

She can see the desire in his eyes, see the bulge there in his pants, and she bites her bottom lip as he makes his way back to her side. She nods in response to his question, immediately pulling at his shirt and helping him lift it over his head. She tosses it into the pile of her own clothes as she moves her hands back to his naked chest. She’s memorized his body a thousand times, but it has the same effect on her every time. She moans softly as he grabs her chin, pulling her in for a hard kiss. Her hands are already moving to the buckle of his belt, the zipper of his pants, something she’s become quite nimble at.

“It’s my birthday,” She almost purrs there against his ear, pulling his pants down over his hips. “Surprise me.”

She doesn’t wait for him to respond or do anything before she works to pull his boxers down, his cock hard and ready. She looks at him, licking her lip and reaching for his hand so she can bring it to her breast.

[stiles]

Her words send a shiver down his spine, and it takes all of his self control not to jump her right there. Her fingers brush his hips. Her tongue flicks out to lick her full bottom lip. And he thinks he might just implode. And that’s before she pulls his boxers down, leaving him bare before her, and brings his hand to her breast. His mind had been torn between slowly showing her how much he wants to spend forever with her and showing her how much that ring on her hand makes him want to fuck her, but all of his thoughts disappear the second she brings his hand to her body.

He presses his palm closer, cupping his hand around her breast. It fills his hand differently now that she’s nursing, fuller and heavier than before. There’s a fleeting thought that she’ll probably have to pump soon without the baby here to eat, but he thumbs her nipple and the sound she makes is so unholy, he forgets that, too. She arches her back so that her breast presses into his palm more, and he groans into her mouth. Her other hand reaches blindly for his wrist, unwrapping his arm from her waist so that hand comes to cover her other breast. He squeezes it gently, kneading her soft, supple skin before flicking his thumb across her nipple again. Malia swears, and that’s all it takes for his mind to be made up.

He stops kissing her long enough to take her by the hand and guide her towards the front of the tent. If she’s confused by the way he pulls her away from the bed instead of towards it, she doesn’t voice it. Instead, she just follows him until he stops beside one of the wide oak supports. He lifts her hand, half spinning her until her back is to the beam, and then he steps forward, forcing her back until her back is pressed against it. He doesn’t let go of her hand while his other hand comes up to the back of her neck. He gently cradles her head as he brings his lips back to hers. He kisses her slowly, pulling gently on her bottom lip before kissing her again. “God, I love you,” he mumbles against her lips, and she arches her back again, pressing her front against his.

He’s aching for her, hard against her thigh, but he ignores that as he kisses her one more time before he drops to his knees in front of her instead. He cups her center, hissing at the heat that radiates from her. Malia’s hips move involuntarily, seeking out friction there against his palm. But he just keeps his hand there as he presses a kiss to the inside of her right knee, and then her left. His other hand comes to rest on her calf, rubbing her leg as he kisses his way up her other thigh until he gets to that junction with her hip. He finally pulls his hand away from that warmth then to lift her leg instead. Her hands immediately grip his shoulders hard as he moves her leg to rest over his shoulder. His hand stays there on her thigh, anchoring there as he finally presses a kiss against her center before tracing that line with his tongue.

[malia]

Their next few movements are like a dance that they’ve practiced a thousand times before. Something beautiful, natural, like they can reach each others movements. She doesn’t hesitate to follow his lead. She wants him, but she also wants whatever he wants to give her, and she has an idea just by the insistence of his movements that he has something in mind. Her body hums as he leads her by the hand, her back ending up pressed against one of the wooden supports of the tent. All of her senses tingle and she feels her eyes flash bright blue as they heighten once more.

She can smell the familiar scent of the wood, mixed with the smell of his desire, her desire. The familiarity of his aftershave and the fresh air as the breeze blows over the lake. Her body sings with some kind of happy desire that she couldn’t really put into words even if she was good at them…and she’s still not.

She moans as he bites her bottom lip, pulling it slightly as she smiles, her own hands wrap around his neck. She can’t help the way her body arches into his, longing to be closer to him…always just a little bit closer. She wants to respond to his declaration of love, to tell him that she feels the same way. But the feelings are so strong in that moment, she doesn’t really think she can tell him. So she lets her body do the talking, pressing her front to his, her fingers tangling in his hair. She locks her eyes with his before kissing him again. But then he’s pulling away before she’s ready and he slowly makes his way to the floor, coming to his knees before her.

Her center aches, pulsating with the anticipation of his touch. She lets her hands move back to his hair, her fingers tangling in the soft, short strands. And then his hand is on her, his lips against her legs, his arm pulling her leg over his shoulder. She lets her mouth fall open as her head falls back, her hands turning to fists into his hair as she presses herself against his waiting mouth.

He could do things to her with his lips, his tongue, that make her feel like she’s going to explode from the inside out.

Her hands fall to his shoulders, pulling him closer as her claws hold him firmly in place. “Shit Stiles,” She moans as she feels his tongue against her finally. He grips her thigh and he begins to move his mouth in that way she’d been so ready for. He dips his tongue inside of her, then his lips find that spot that makes her hear being to race. And everything becomes a blur as she moves her hips against him looking for even more of his touch. Even the feeling of his teeth gliding against her makes her feel like she’s on the verge of losing control.

[stiles]

There’s a lot of things he should tell Malia. Like the fact that even when he was Lydia, Malia was the girl occupying his dreams and leaving him with an erection come morning. Or that he thinks his biggest regret in life is not trying to convince her to stay in Beacon Hills, but this version of her is also his favorite version, and he wonders if that’s who she became because she left. That sometimes, the way he loves her feels so overwhelming, it feels like he’s on the verge of a panic attack (or maybe that’s just the fear that comes with loving someone else so completely.) Or that he’ll never be able to thank her enough for Ava. Or for staying. Or for loving him in that same verge-of-a-panic-attack-overwhelming way. But it feels like every time he starts to tell her any of these things, that panic attack feeling wins. Or he forgets every word he knows. Or he pictures her staring at him blindly in response because what could he say that could really encompass exactly how he feels about her?

So sometimes, he resorts to physically showing her instead.

It is her language, after all. And he may forget the English language from time to time, but he’s always fluent in loving her. He knows the sound she makes when he lets his tongue dart out, flicking over that bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. He knows the feeling of her fingers when they pull roughly on his hair, and then her claws when those same hands move to his shoulders. He sucks on that same spot until she swears, his own fingers curling into her thigh. And then her hand is back in his hair, pulling harder. It’s half of the reason why he settled on this over slow and soft on the bed. There’s something primal about her in that moment.

She’s the closest to a coyote she comes in this form, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t incredibly turned on.

It’s hard not to reach for himself in that moment, palming his dick as he licks and sucks at that sensitive spot. Instead, though, he moves two of his fingers inside of her, starting a slow rhythm as her hand pulls harder at his hair. He can feel the way her body trembles as her hips rock against his mouth. And Stiles has never been power hungry (he likes to be in control, not in power), but there’s also something that’s turning him on in that moment when he feels the power he holds over her. He picks up the pace with his hand, hooking his fingers as his teeth graze over her again. She cries out sharply then as her core tightens around his fingers, and he knows she’s close. He sucks at that sensitive skin harder, pumping his hand a little faster until she’s crying out in regular intervals.

When she comes, her body contracts hard around his hand as she says his name again. He keeps his fingers moving as she rides out her orgasm, gently stroking her with his tongue until he feels the way her leg begins to tremble. He realizes it’s going to give out on her the second before it happens, but he’s still only able to half catch her as she half falls. She lands somewhere in the vicinity of his lap, but the force of her fall pushes him back until he’s flat on his back, her body straddling hers. Her eyes are wide in surprise, probably a mirror of his own, and he can’t help but laugh. Only to be cut off when she pounces, her mouth immediately on his own as she tastes herself on his lips.

[malia]

He knows her body so well at this point it’s almost like he’s playing an instrument. The way he strokes her, caresses her legs, the way his fingers seem to move deftly inside of her like he’s known her body his entire life. He’s an expert. An expert at her.

Nobody has ever made her feel the way that he does. Nobody had ever even come close.

Everything else seems to fade away around her as she focuses solely on the way he works her body. The combination of his tongue, his lips, his teeth, his fingers, even the feel of his hair as it brushes against her skin…right there where her thigh rests over his shoulder. If he weren’t holding her up like that in this moment, she’s not sure she’d even be able to stay on her feet. She continues to gently press her claws against one shoulder as she lifts her other hand above her head, grasping on to the pole that she’s resting her back against. It’s rough, the patterns of the wood rubbing against the skin of her back a stark contrast to the gentle way that he moves against her.

He doesn’t waste any time. He knows what the wants to do, and he doesn’t go about it slowly. She’s already close when he begins to move more quickly, his mouth around her as he sucks against her sensitive center. He lets his tongue stroke her over and over again and she can’t help the way her hips move against him searching for more. She can feel her belly tighten, her mouth open as she cries out, and even if she wanted to stop it, she couldn’t, as she climaxes around his fingers. She gasps for breath, a smile on her lips as she finally opens her eyes again. He doesn’t stop working her over until she feels week in the knees and begins to go limp. He smiles, his cheeks flushed as he falls back with her. She moves to straddle his waist, his cock hard against her ass as she leans down to kiss him hungrily. She’s still breathless and she moans as she tastes herself there on his lips.

“You’re really good at that,” she mumbles against his lips, a smile on her face, her hands splayed against his chest. “How can I ever repay you?”

She pulls back so she can look down at him playfully, moving her backside against his dick. “I’m pretty good at a few things too.”

She continues to move her hips, letting her backside stroke him a she leans down to kiss him again.

[stiles]

Malia moans against his lips, and he bucks his hips involuntarily. Heat radiates from her center and her claws dig into his chest and her ass is so firm against his cock. And if it weren’t for Round One that morning, he might come right then and there. She knows - she has to know from the way she slowly rises up and then lowers her body so every part of her lower back touches his cock. It’s torturously slow. His hips rise with her that second time, wanting more friction from her body, and he groans at the sound of her voice. His fingers curl into her hips, trying to take over and guide her body where he wants it. God, yes, she’s good. His eyes nearly roll back in his head when she brings her lips back down to his, licking his bottom lip again where he probably still tastes like her. And all he wants in that moment is hers.

“You’re good at a lot of things,” he agrees against her lips. His hands slide into her hair and he pulls gently. His hips rise again to meet hers, and he can feel the way Malia smiles against his lips. She knows that he’s desperate for her now. Because even though it’s been less than 12 hours since they were together, he feels like it’s been weeks. Months. Maybe a year, judging from the way his body can’t stop moving against hers. Luckily, though he hasn’t lost all of his brain capacity yet. The next time she lifts her hips, she presses down harder on his chest, adjusting herself to drop back down on the other side of his length. His cock slides against the warm skin of her belly this time, and he hisses.

“Fuck, Mal,” he says, eyes closed as he tries to stay in control. Her hand wraps around the base of his cock firmly, and he gently grabs her wrist to stop her. “I left the condom on the bed,” he says apologetically. He tips his own head back, staring at the bed where he knows he tossed the condom just before she undressed him. He wears that same apology on his face when he looks back up at her.

If Malia is annoyed, she doesn’t let on. Her palms press against his chest again as she moves to her feet and crosses the room. Stiles finds himself sitting up so he can watch her. The way her hips sway. The way her hair swishes across her back. The way he can see that her skin is still slick from his mouth or her own arousal. She has no business looking as good as she does with a ten week old baby at home, and he tries to file that thought safely away, where he can remember to tell her that later. He’s not sure he’ll ever forget how insecure she became immediately after Ava’s birth, and it feels like something she should know. But right now, in the moment, he’s like a moth drawn to a flame. She bends slightly to pick up the condom, and he rises to his feet. By the time she turns around, he’s right there.

Her eyes flash blue for a second, a mixture of arousal and surprise. He wraps his arm around her waist tugging her closer. “You said to surprise you,” he tells her as he leans in to kiss her again, his cock hard against her thigh. “And I think we should put this bed to good use.”

[malia]

She doesn’t have to think twice about what she’s going to do when he mentions the condom. She knows they need it. She knows that they’d be stupid to go any further without it. They’d already been stupid enough, they were probably pressing their luck. So even though his body is warm beneath her, and his cock is hard in her hand, and she desperately wants him inside of her; she follows his gaze back to the bed. She reluctantly lets go of him and climbs off of his incredibly desirable body and makes her way to the bed where she has to look only briefly before she locates the small foil wrapper. She leans over the bed, careful that her claws don’t tear through the wrapper and its contents before she turns back around.

As if he can read her mind, or sense her desire, he’s right there in front of her as soon as she turns. Her heart races, her center aching, as she takes in his naked body there before her. She smiles as he pulls her closer, her body humming against his as he kisses her.

He doesn’t have to tell her twice. That is what she asked for. And she likes it when he takes control…sometimes.

She lets her hands move to his firm backside, pulling him closer as she lets her fingers gently press into the warm skin there. She bites his bottom lip as she pulls away from his grasp, handing him the condom as she turns to climb into the bed. She lies there in front of him, her body spread out, her arms over her head. She wants him.

“Put it on,” she tells him, biting her bottom lip as she watches him unwrap the condom and she moans quietly as he rolls it down his length, his breathing ragged as he finishes the task. She almost doesn’t even realize she’s doing it as she pulls one of her arms from above her head and lets it snake down her belly and between her legs. She’s still hot and incredibly wet from what he’d just done to her with his mouth and the fact that she’s so sensitive only makes her whimper slightly when she touches herself.

[stiles]

He takes the condom from her hand, briefly scanning her hand for any sign of her claws. But he’s quickly distracted by the sight of her as she lowers herself to the bed. Her hair fans out around her as she lays down in the middle of the bed. Her knees are bent and her legs fall open, exposing all of her to all of him, and his cock twitches in anticipation just looking at her. There’s a warmth deep in his belly when she tells him to put on the condom. One that probably shows on his face as he unwraps it and slides it down his length. He never breaks eye contact with. At least, not until he catches her hand gliding down her body out of the corner of his eye. And then his eyes are on that hand, watching it slide between her legs.

Malia whimpers, and Stiles’s jaw clenches involuntarily. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, Mal,” he mutters as he finally moves towards the bed. Her legs open farther in invitation, and he positions himself in between them. Her thighs are warm against his sides, her belly soft where his torso brushes against his. He brings his hand to her hip, holding her steady as he slowly enters her. He watches her as her head tips back, exposing her throat as she gasps. It’s one of a hundred moments when he marvels at how well they fit together. He’s never been with anyone else like her before, and now, thanks to that ring on her finger, he’ll never be with anyone else but her. It’s a forever he spent months fearing. Now, it’s a forever that feels welcoming.

He stays just like that until her legs tighten around him in a silent plea. Her hand is pinned between their bodies, and he brings his hand to her wrist when he finally does begin to move. “Keep your hand there,” he tells as he begins a steady pace. Her fingers brush his own body when she circles her hand, and she whimpers again. Her eyes are closed, neck still exposed in that same vulnerable way, and he finds himself mesmerized by her as continues to rock his hips against her. She cries out a little louder on his next thrust. Her body clenches tightly around him and he groans as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. He nips gently at the skin there as her hands come up to dig into his shoulders. Her thighs tighten again as her hips rock, pulling him closer still.

He can feel how close he is, that tension building in his own abdomen. But he wants her to come undone first. He wants to feel her shatter beneath him before he lets himself come. He picks up his pace as he lifts his head again, watching her. Her fingers draw a sharper circle, picking up the pace so that her nails scrape against his skin. She contracts around him a little longer, and he knows that she’s close, too. “Come on, Mal,” he whispers, bringing his hand to her cheek and watching as her eyes open, flashing that brilliant blue. “Come for me.”

[malia]

She’s more than ready for him when he finally climbs on to that large bed, settling between her waiting legs as she feels his cock stretch her and fill her completely. It’s such a welcome feeling, the warmth spreading from the place where their bodies meet to the very tips of her fingers and toes. He doesn’t even have to tell her to keep her hand where it is, she had no intention of moving it. With their bodies together the way they are, movement doesn’t come easy, but she finds a way. She arches her back, her fingers keeping pace with his thrusts as she lets her other hand come to his ass. She feels the way his muscles tense every time he moves his hips and she smiles at the thought of it. She closes her eyes and gets lost of the feeling of being with him, of him.

His lips are warm against her neck and her heart races as her fingers insistently stroke her center. The combination of his movements mixed with her own is almost overstimulating. She can already feel herself on the verge of her second orgasm in the short time that they’ve been there. She tightens her legs around his body, pulling him deeper and closer as she lets her muscles contract around him, making him groan as he pulls his lips away from her neck.

She opens her eyes when she hears him speak, his pleading evident in the flush on his cheeks and the desire in his hazel eyes. She turns her head when he presses his hand to her cheek, letting her lips brush against his palm before looking at him again. She locks her blue eyes with his, her hips moving like they have a mind of their own as her body takes over. It doesn’t take long, and as he hits her deeper and her hand moves faster, she’s quick to cry out as she comes beneath him.

“Fuck Stiles,” She cries as she arches her back and her body contracts around him. He groans, and within seconds, she can feel him reach his own climax. He grinds against her, seeking out every last big of friction he can find as they ride out their orgasms together, breaths mingled in the same way that their bodies are. She finally pulls her hand from between their bodies, moving it to his backside where her other hand still lingers. She pulls him closer, pulling him in deeper as their movements slow and he buries his face against her neck again.

He’s looking down at her when she opens her eyes again and she reaches up so she can capture his lips with her own, kissing him hard and deep as her tongue finds his. She didn’t want this moment to end, didn’t want this connection with him to end. This had been the best birthday of her life.

She’s usually not great with her words, but she feels the need in that moment to tell him. She lets her hands move from his ass up his back, stroking the familiar lines of his muscles as they make their way up to his shoulder blades. “Thank you,” she mumbles against his lips, never pulling them far enough away so she losses contact. “For all of this. This has been the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

[stiles]

The force of Malia’s orgasm is what pushes him over the edge. He groans as he spills himself inside of her, his pace never slowing. He can’t get enough of her in that moment. And that feeling feels mutual when she pulls him closer, kissing him hard. Her legs are still wrapped tightly around him, and his cock twitches inside of her when her tongue slides against his own. It has to be some kind of personal record, that his body can still be so sensitive to her touch after touching her so much in a single day. But that’s how being with her has been. It’s like he’s 17 again, thinking with his dick far more than he thinks with his brain, and she can just look at him and leave him stiff in his jeans. He had expected it to fade at some point. Maybe when she had settled in and it was clear she wasn’t leaving. Or when she was pregnant and there were suddenly a million things to worry about aside from when he would be able to touch her again. Or when they were settling into this life together as new parents, sleep deprived and overwhelmed. But now, almost a year later, he’s pretty sure he only wants her more.

Her eyes have returned to their normal shade of brown when she opens them to stare up at him. Her claws are noticeably gone when she brings her hands back to his shoulders. His own hand skims down her side, moving up and down from her hip to the swell of her breast. He laughs at her words before catching her mouth in another quick kiss. “Because I’ve made you come four times so far?” He raises his brow and gives her a crooked smile as he teases her, but already, he’s moving his lips back to her neck. Again, he can’t get enough of her.

“I’m glad it’s your best birthday, Mal,” he murmurs against her skin. She doesn’t wear her own trauma on her sleeve, so sometimes, it’s easy to forget that there’s a lot of birthdays in her life that probably aren’t worth remembering. It hadn’t been a conscious effort on his part to try to make up on that, but now, it feels like maybe he had known that on some subconscious level. This was her first birthday as his fiance and the mother of his child, and that felt important.

She tastes like salt as he runs his lips down her neck and kisses his way across her collarbone. He’s still inside her as he makes his way to her breast. Above him, she sighs contentedly, her hand running lazily through his hair. Her chest is sticky with milk, more milk than he’s become accustomed to. When he presses his lips to the swell of her white breast, the skin is warm to the touch, and Malia hisses. He lifts his head at the sound. “Do you need to pump?” he asks her.

She nods reluctantly, and he feels that same reluctance as he pulls his mouth away from her skin. He slowly pulls out of her before moving to his feet. He digs around in their shared toiletry bag for a minute before finding the wipes that have become a staple since Ava’s birth. He hands them to he so she can clean herself up without the added pressure of his mouth as he asks, "Are you hungry?"

[malia]

She shrugs at his comment with a sly smile. She can’t say that he’s wrong, so instead she just kisses him again as if she just has to get one more thank you in before the moment is over. As if he wants to stay right there with her, he lets his lips move along her jaw, all the way to her collar bone. HIs touch is tender as he strokes her side and she lets her fingers make their way to his hair. She tangles them in the short strands and she’s beginning to get lost in his ouch again.

Until she feels his lips press against her breast. She can’t help it as she sucks in sharply, the ache and soreness palpable as he kisses her. She hasn’t realized how swollen and engorged with milk her breasts had become and as she looks down at the sticky mess, she realizes that she probably should have taken the time to pump as soon as they got to the campground. Ava still ate every two or three hours during the day and every three or four hours at night, so she rarely went very long without nursing. She’d almost forgotten how painful it could be when she waited too long. But now she had and the need was as urgent as having to pee with no bathroom around for miles.

She immediately nods in response to his question. “I didn’t realize how long it had been,” she tells him as he’s already climbing away from her body. She doesn’t like the fact that he has to pull away, that the moment is ruined by the undeniable needs of her postpartum body, but she’s also relieved when he hands her the wipes and the pump, along with a couple of small nursing bottles to fill with her milk. She cleans herself up before attaching the pump to her breasts. She hates the way it looks, hates the way it feels even more, such a stark contrast to the quiet moments she spends with their baby when she eats. But there were times when she didn’t have a choice and this was one of them.

She immediately sighs with relief as the pump begins to relieve some of the pressure that’s been building for the last hour or so, milk quickly beginning to fill the bottles that the’d brought. She watches him as he pulls a pair of shorts on, followed by a t-shirt. She doesn’t bother to try to cover herself up as he moves to pick up some of their discarded clothing. She hadn’t really thought about food at all, and her stomach turns a little at the thought of it when he asks.

But that’s probably just because she’s so hungry. She hadn’t eaten since that morning when he’d made breakfast for her birthday.

“I could eat,” She tells him. “But did you bring food?” If he hadn’t, she’s sure she could hunt and catch them something.

[stiles]

While Malia cleans herself up, Stiles does the same, tossing the condom before grabbing her pump from the corner of the tent where he had left all of their things. He knows her relationship with the pump is a tense one that’s only just recently moved to a stage of tolerance. Stiles had been the one to research pumps while she was pregnant because every time he had suggested they go look at some, she had made the same face as she insisted they didn’t need one. As it is, the one she holds in her hands now had been a gift from Melissa. But she had been grateful to have it the first time her nipples had been cracked and bleeding as her body adjusted to feeding Ava. And lately, it’s allowed Stiles to help more with feedings. So as much as Malia wants to loath it and shove it in a corner of their closet, it’s her savior in this moment.

He smirks to himself at the sound of his question. The hum of the pump fills the small space as he moves around the tent, retrieving his clothes. It feels inevitable that they’ll just come off again at this point, but he’s also not about to set foot outside those canvas flaps in his birthday suit. “Did I bring food?” he scoffs as he collects her own discarded clothing and puts it in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. “What? Would you just go catch something if I didn’t?” He asks the question playfully, but her expression is the equivalent of deadpan. His own eyes widen in surprise for a second before he laughs. Like a moth to a flame, he’s drawn to her again, cupping the nape of her neck as he leans in to kiss her again. “God, I love you,” he says when he finally pulls away. “But yes, I brought food.”

Stiles leaves her alone with the pump as he slips quickly out of the tent. Outside, it’s still just as quiet as it was when they first arrived. Quiet enough to make him feel like maybe they might be the only two people left in the world. At the thought, his heart aches sharply, and he reaches for his phone, texting his dad to check in on the baby. And then he tries to busy himself with starting the grill on the veranda and unpacking the contents of the cooler bag. Normally, their camping meals are quick and easy. But this trip had been planned for both her birthday and his proposal, so it’s venison steaks he throws on the grill just before his dad texts back, letting him know that Ava’s fine, along with a picture of her doing tummy time. Again, his heart aches a little in response.

It can’t be much more than ten minutes before he hears the canvas of the tent unzip again, and Malia slips out. She’s in one of his shirts, which he’s both surprised and grateful for, even if he’s willing to bet she’s not wearing anything underneath. She doesn’t say a word as she makes her way across the veranda and then drops down into one of the adirondacks near the grill. Her knees come up to her chest as she lets her head fall back against the back of the chair, eyes closed. Not for the first time, Stiles is struck by just how much she seems to belong here, like this is truly her element. “I texted my dad,” he tells her as he steals another glance in her direction. He unpockets his phone and sets it on the arm of her chair while her eyes stay closed. “He said Ava’s great. And he sent a picture.”

[malia]

She’s actually not as miserable as she normally is as she sits cross legged on the bed with the pump attached to her nipples. Granted, she hasn’t had to use it terribly much, but it does let Stiles take care of some of the night time feedings and it has helped when she’s been in pain, but when she doesn’t she usually scowls the entire time. Now she sits contentedly, listening protectively as he moves around outside of the tent. All of her senses are on alert, out of curiosity and an undeniable need to always make sure that he’s safe. By the time she’s almost filled two full bottles she can begin to smell the scent of what he’s cooking on the grill.

Her favorite. Deer meat. She’d recognize the scent anywhere. And her mouth immediately begins to water at the thought of it. So maybe she had been hungry after all. She quickly sets the bottles aside and packs the pump up, pulling on one of his shirts (that he had probably packed to wear on this trip at some point) and pulls it over her head so she can go out and join him on the small deck outside the tent. She admires him for a moment, watching as he stands there with her back to him, flipping the meat over the flames….smoke rising above his brown hair. She wanders easily to sit down in one of the comfortable looking chairs, pulling her knees up as she watches him work. He was a good cook. She’s glad at least one of them is.

She doesn’t open her eyes when she hears him speak, but as soon as he recognizes the sound of his phone settling onto the arm of the chair, she reaches for it. Her heart races, eager to see the baby. She smiles at the picture of Ava resting on her belly on the floor. She’s on one of her favorite blankets, toys scattered in front of her that she seems to be staring at intently. Malia’s heart aches. She misses her desperately. He moves her fingers to the screen of Stiles’s phone, tracing the lines of the baby’s cheek.

“Do you think she’s okay?” She asks Stiles as he continues to grill. She knows she’s okay. She’s not really sure why she asks. She looks fine in the picture. In fact, she looks more than fine…she looks completely content. It’s probably the exact same thing she’d be doing if she were with them anyways. But it’s been hours since she’s had the baby in her arms, hours since she’s kissed her sweet face, or scented her to make sure everything was okay. Stiles doesn’t hesitate, assuring her that Noah says she’s doing just fine and they’re having a great time with her. She slept well for her morning nap, and she’s been eating like a champ. Which makes Malia feel slightly resentful in a strange way, as if she should be the only one capable of giving Ava what she wants when it comes to food.

She needs to distract herself, so she stands up, moving behind him and resting her chin on his shoulder so she can look over to the grill and see what he’s doing and how close the food is to be finished. She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her lips against his neck softly as she mumbles against his skin. “Smells good. Can I help?”

[stiles]

“She’s fine, Mal,” he says without looking away from the grill. Mostly because he can already picture her worrying her bottom lip without seeing her. Time and distance has made it feel a little easier for Stiles, but he knows that Malia probably feels like one of her limbs is back in Beacon Hills, and having to pump could only have made her more aware of that feeling. “My dad said they’re having a great time with her,” he adds. “He said she went down nice and easy for her nap, and she’s taking her bottles like a champ.” He pauses for a second before adding, “I really think this is harder for us than it is for her.”

He does steal a glance at her then, and it’s a complicated mix of emotions on her face. Her brows are furrowed as she stares at the screen of his phone, but there’s also a softness there, too. She brings her finger to the screen, gently stroking it, and he knows she’s not swiping through the conversation. It’s one of those times when he desperately wishes he could scent her the way she can everyone else. If he asks her, she’ll just tell him she’s fine, but even his human senses know it’s more complicated than that. Still, he knows better than to ask, especially on her birthday.

As if to prove she’s fine, Malia’s arms wrap around his waist a minute later. She’s warm and soft behind him, and he’s tempted to wrap his arms around her. But that would lead to pulling her back inside the tent and a ruined dinner, so he resists that urge. Instead, he lets his hand come over hers lacing their fingers together and giving her hand a squeeze. The kind of physical reassurance he had wanted to give her a moment ago. “There’s a salad in there if you want to toss it together,” he says with a nod towards the cooler. “And there’s plates and stuff in a bag inside.”

Malia presses a kiss to his shoulder before pulling away. She roots through the cooler until she finds the salad kit and then disappears inside the tent again. He misses her the instant she’s gone, even though she’s a few yards away at most and he’s been physically touching her most of the day. It’s just that in the year since she came back into his life, she’s been a constant there. If he’s not at work, she’s never more than a few feet away. She’s on the couch beside him or sitting at the counter while he cooks or already curled on her side in their bed when he finally lays down. She’s so present, even just not being in the same room can feel like he’s missing something. And he guesses maybe he really does know how she feels without Ava there.

Ten minutes later, she’s found the plates and a bowl for the salad, and he pulls the steaks off the grill. She’s settled back in that same Adirondack as he hands her a plate, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Happy Birthday, Mal,” he says again, as if he hasn’t said it a million times already. But he can’t help hoping every part of this day makes her as happy as she makes him.