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“I’m sorry… she what?”
Theo chuckles, leaning against the counter. “She was nice to me.” A smirk curls around his lips, almost as if he’s enjoying the whole situation. He probably does enjoy everything happening right now. Everything. The asshole probably couldn’t wait to come home and tell him about how Tracy kept touching his shoulders and back and arms, about how she touched him as if she owns him.
Stiles grinds his teeth and continues cutting the vegetables. “And you just let her?”
“I was supposed to stop her?” Theo asks ever so innocently.
No. No, Theo will not get a rise out of him. He will not. Stiles is highly aware that his idiot boyfriend is just trying to prove a point. Clearly, he does not understand the difference between being overly possessive as well as the most jealous person on this side of the universe and having an issue with Tracy, who has the most obvious crush on Theo, touching him.
Theo hums and shifts closer.
Stiles slams the knife into the kitchen counter, feeling a small sense of relief when it sinks into the marble without any resistance. “You don’t wanna get close to me while I’m handling something sharp.” His nogitsune is a fickle beast, but Theo keeps pushing and pushing it. He doesn’t care about the consequences. He wants Stiles to snap.
Unsurprisingly, Theo is amused by his threat. He chuckles and wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist, kissing a line from his shoulder to his neck to right behind his ear. “I thought you aren’t jealous?” he whispers, biting his earlobe as if they aren’t in the middle of a brewing argument. This is all fun and games for him.
“I’m not jealous,” Stiles says in a low voice. He can feel his anger vibrating just underneath his skin. “But I have a problem with that fucking bitch being all over you all the fucking time.” Taking a deep breath, Stiles curls his hands around the edge of the counter. He closes his eyes, feeling the marble give way under his grip. Good. Stiles wants to break something. Theo’s kitchen is the better option than Theo’s face, although the second option seems more enticing.
Soft lips brush over the nape of Stiles’ neck. Theo chuckles soundless, fingers dancing just above the hem of his sweatpants. “Babe—“
“I’m not jealous,” Stiles interrupts, grinding his teeth as the marble cracks under his fingers, “because I trust you, but you just want to prove a point. So what’s the next move? Let her suck you off?” He elbows Theo in the ribs and pushes him off. Distance. He needs distance, or he is going to use that knife for something Theo is not going to enjoy. “I need some air.”
“Baby,” Theo says, still sounding as if the whole situation is nothing but a fucking joke to him, “what are you doing?”
Stiles walks out of the kitchen, heading for the stairs and his shoes. “I’m either going out for ice cream or to commit a heinous crime.” Maybe he should stab Tracy instead of Theo, that way he’s finally getting rid of her and the biggest issue in their fucking relationship. This bitch doesn’t understand boundaries and acts as if Stiles and Theo haven’t been dating for almost two years. “I’ll decide in the car.” But he knows, he knows, Tracy is not going to survive this night if he actually does leave this house.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit dramatic?” Theo leans against the door frame, watching him with a small smirk.
Stiles slips into his shoes, curling his hand around the doorknob. If he opens this door, Tracy is dead. He can feel the anger bubbling to the surface, he can feel the nogitsune pacing in the back of his mind, can feel his control slipping with every passing second. His knuckles turn white. “Maybe I should call Brett while I’m at it.”
Fingers curl into his hoodie. Before Stiles knows it, Theo has him pinned against the front door, eyes burning red. “I told you to lose his number.”
“And I told you to put Tracy in her place,” Stiles snarls, trying to push Theo off him, but his boyfriend doesn’t budge. “The difference is that Brett is just a friend while Tracy has been trying to get you to fuck her since she first met you. I’ve been patient, but maybe I should cut off her fingers one by one to get my point across.” The nogitsune rejoices at the idea. Its excitement makes him almost dizzy.
Theo growls.
They’re pushing each other’s buttons all the time. They’re too fucked up to function with each other, too in love to stay away. Stiles needs Theo like he needs air to breathe. Theo gets him. Theo adores him. Theo keeps the nogitsune under control. But Theo drives him up the wall like nobody else. Theo makes him angrier than he’s ever been before.
“You’re mine.” Snarling, Theo curls a hand around Stiles’ throat, thumb pressing into his skin right above his furious pulse.
Stiles licks his lips. “Yes, I am,” he says in a low voice. His anger slowly ebbs away slowly, and he grabs Theo’s shirt, holding onto it as if his life depends on it. “So, tell your beta,” he spits, voice trembling with frustration, “that the next time she even thinks about touching you, she is going to regret it — and so will you.”
For the flicker of a second, the hand on his throat tightens, cutting off his air. Theo isn’t good with taking orders, never has been, and probably never will be. “Fine,” he says, and his eyes turn blue, shoulders and grip relaxing. “I’ll make sure she gets the message.”
“Good.”
“Good.” Theo’s lips twitch, and his amusement returns as if it’s a fucking roly-poly.
Stiles still has the urge to smack him. “You’re lucky I love you, asshole.”
Theo moves his hand to the nape of Stiles’ neck and pulls him in for a mind-melting kiss.