Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/648699.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Stiles_Stilinski/Lydia_Martin
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Lydia_Martin
  Additional Tags:
      Booty_Call, Unrequited, if_you_can_call_it_that, Emotional_Hurt/Comfort,
      make_out, accidental_fluff, preslash, If_You_Squint_-_Freeform, Not_Beta
      Read, there_is_now_sex, LSD, not_the_drug, prelude_to, lydia/stiles/
      derek, mouths_meets_genitals
  Series:
      Part 2 of Dead_Heat
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-01-21 Completed: 2013-03-20 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 4651
****** Exacta ******
by ursa
Summary
     It didn’t start with Derek. It actually started with Lydia.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
It didn’t start with Derek. It actually started with Lydia. It started with
Lydia in her house in the middle of a party, maybe late last year, Stiles
doesn’t to want to remember the details. It just started, right then, that
party, one among the series of parties Lydia decidedly throws regularly in her
practically empty house, for every so-called holiday and every day in the
absence of her parents. It started when Jackson called her the day after, when
she learned Jackson knew gratitude and regret, how he told her he loved her but
he can’t, not when he died but not really, without knowing what happened, not
knowing why he’s calling her and why she was the only one who called him back.
It started with Lydia in a party during fall, her hand gripping his neck tight,
her lips pursed and her eyes glassy, and all Stiles could feel is the bile
rising at the back of his throat, as bitter as the wax on her lips. He let her
cling to him, cold palms grappling at him, breasts pushing at his chest and he
could only reciprocate. His eyes were closed the whole time and he let her,
thinking that his half-sober brain is enough to stop thinking about it and let
it run its course.
It didn’t stop there though.
Once in a while, it comes up, maybe after a class or maybe just before exams
and when it does he blanks out. He blanks out because he’d rather not keep
nursing the same line of thought he had from before, up until he hit Jackson
with his jeep. He blanks out and Lydia’s on him, eyes just as glassy as the
first time, maybe her mouth is pursed, maybe it’s half open and wanting, and
sometimes it’s just a thin line, as if he’s observing him as she splays her
body on top of him half-clothed with just the right amount of skin to keep it
going. She has delicate hands and the smell of her skin is artificial. He
doesn’t mind though- not when he knows she needs this and maybe somehow she
knows he needs it too.
And then it’s the winter formal all over again, her without a date and Stiles
has plans of staying in, maybe watch a movie, a series, or two. It’s not like
Lydia will have a hard time finding a date and it’s not like he’s looking for
one. Last year was a disaster and he’d rather not remember the shit they went
through the last time. He really doesn’t want to remember that. Scott’s going,
stag, he says, he’s doing so good being all normal and unassuming, and Stiles
likes that somehow, even with the occasional feeling of gut-wrenching fear that
seems to spike whenever they hang out. It’s hard to get over the things they
went through.
Maybe Lydia’s the same but hey, no one’s complaining with their respective ways
of handling the truth. As long as he doesn’t think it, then everything is
alright.
That is until the doorbell rings. It’s Lydia on the other side, a black coat
wrapped around her, face devoid of makeup and hair undone. It’s like a punch to
his gut seeing her like this. He wants to ask why but Lydia beat him to it with
a hand on his shoulder, eyes wide and questioning as if daring Stiles to say no
to this. He thinks he should be more adamant about it but her hand lingers and
she’s stepping forward and his dad’s not home and he hasn’t really put anything
in the DVD player. She licks her lips and keeps moving forward, halfway between
hesitation and sheer determination and he lets her in, lets her hands move, and
lets her body bump into his, chests flush to each other.
He’s taller than her by half a foot and it feels like it as her arms move to
hang off his shoulders and her face so near his. He thinks he doesn’t know what
to do but he’s moving anyway, his face tilting as she keeps moving forward.
This is the first time they kiss sober and he thinks it should taste like candy
just like he used to imagine it would be but it isn’t; it’s as bitter as the
first time, as if there’s still vodka in her mouth with a barely there hint of
raspberry. He doesn’t close his eyes this time and he feels her pushing forward
and there’s a click and that’s the door she closed with her foot and maybe this
is happening the way he used to imagine it happening.
She pushes and she pushes and he can only take, her arms locking around him and
he could only wrap his arms around her to respond, their breaths mingling and
it’s wet and he doesn’t know why she’s here but he’s not complaining. He leans
back and she tips forward, trying to hitch on to him, scrabbling to get at his
face and somewhere at the back of his mind, it’s freaking him out but Lydia’s
relentless and he thinks it’s not just spit between them anymore.
They break it off and her forehead settles on his cheek and he holds her close,
she’s tiptoeing and she’s clinging and her breaths are staggered. He breathes
her in, her hair scrunching at his face and it’s awkward. He feels it though,
feels the slight tremor in her frame, like she’s keeping herself from crying
completely and it hits him that tonight’s the winter formal and it’s a disaster
like last year and it feels like he shouldn’t be doing this just to preserve
some of his dignity. He stamps it down.
Her head moves and he can feel her cheek brushing on his jaw, her lips hovering
on the hollow of his throat and he continues to hold her tight, and she’s still
clinging. He wants to think that he’s being a good friend because he knows he
can’t be a boyfriend much less a good one, not for her, especially not for
Lydia. There’s too much in between them and actually nothing at all, just the
silence of the night hanging heavy with the reality that this is as far as they
could be. And he’ll take it anyway; he’ll take it because it’s better this way
than to be like Scott who’s lost, the moment his eyes land on Allison at the
other side of the cafeteria.
He feels her mouthing against his collarbone now and he stops himself from
whimpering and he’s hard. It doesn’t take much time at all, with his body
easily less concerned about what his brain is telling him. His arms loosen and
he finds himself gripping her waist, one hand brushing her hair away as he
brushes his lips on her temple, across the skin between her cheek and ear and
just smelling the underside of her jaw. She pulls her arms back forcing him to
move and he cups her face with her hands but she’s not looking at him, she’s
looking at his lips and she looks like she’s thinking and Stiles can’t take
that look so he swoops and kisses her again. She doesn’t stop him even as she
let out a startled gasp and he just kisses and he closes his eyes.
He licks into her mouth, across her teeth and into the roof of her mouth and
she moans. Her hands are on his hair now mussing it up, he hasn’t bothered
cutting it for a while now and she’s pulling at it and this is actually good,
being lost in the sensation and not the words running through his head. He’s
hunched over her, his hands moving from his tight grip on her waist to the
small of her back and up and back down and she clings to him and that is her
ass on his hands and it’s nice, feeling like his age, making out in his house a
foot away from the front door.
It feels like a first time, like he’s never really done it before; maybe
because he’s stone cold sober right now, maybe because she is, or maybe because
he never really got over loving her and this is probably the only true way he
can love her. And it’s such shit and he couldn’t help the snicker that escapes
him as he parts from her mouth and she’s wide eyed in disbelief and he looks
down and chuckles, never looking in her eyes because as real as the body he has
in his arms right now, there’s always the truth that this is what it is, a
fucking booty call because he’s pathetic like that. He lets go.
She looks halfway into getting fucked, lips red, cheeks pink; she looks like
the girl he found naked on the outskirts of the forest a year ago. He steps
back, unaware with what to do with his hands and he can’t look her straight in
the eye and he lets out a loose chuckle more like a sharp exhale and he thinks
he wants to cry with her tonight instead of fucking her, getting fucked by her.
He grits his teeth, trying to piece together what to say to her until he hears
her titter, and he looks at her and Lydia’s smiling sheepishly. She’s wrapped
her arms around her, legs twisting slightly, a coy stance as if she was caught
making out with a boy. Stiles is looking at her from beneath his eyelashes, a
small smile forming slowly into awkward half-grin.
Lydia steps forward, arms reaching Stiles’, the same hesitation coming back and
it confuses Stiles why she’s acting the way she is. It’s hard to understand a
girl when she doesn’t speak, when her eyes seem to say things he’s supposed to
already know. Her hand wraps around his wrist and she’s reaching forward again
and he could only follow her gaze as she eyes him from where she’s touching him
and she looks like she wants to kiss again.
She stops just before their lips touch and Stiles’ free hand spasms at his
side. He can feel his heart racing at this display. Lydia never went out of her
way to seduce him, not when each time then happened in a haze of alcohol, and
this is exhilarating and he really needs to get in over his head right now
because he can’t let Lydia have this; she’s going to break his heart all over
again and he really doesn’t want that. But her eyes are yielding now and she’s
hesitating and maybe if he just kisses her right now with wide open eyes, he
can let it happen and just stop thinking.
He snaps back but Lydia doesn’t let him, both hands now grasping his wrists and
she’s looking at him with desperation now, like she’s silently begging Stiles
to get on with the program, that she’s sorry all the same, that she needs this,
that she needs Stiles.
A beat and- fuck it.
He kisses her.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Still in the living room, on the sofa.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
They end up on the couch with Lydia straddling him, her chest heaving against
his collarbone. It’s dark out and her hair is obscuring any light that would
let him see her face fully. She’s peppering kisses on his face and he can’t see
her, except with his hands, roaming in the inside of her coat and he realizes
he never had a choice to begin with. She was naked underneath save a camisole
and her panties and Stiles doesn’t know if this is a good thing or not. But
they’re kissing again so maybe it is.
His hands find her thighs and he rubs his palms over them, under, and she’s
breathing into his mouth, a tiny groan slipping out. Her hands are on his
shoulders, sweeping to wrap around his neck and back down to palm at his
biceps. Her thighs are continuously shifting, grinding against his lap and it
feels blissfully painful as it forces the teeth of his zipper to dig against
the underside of his dick. He’s practically purring now, a stretched out groan
stuck in his throat and Lydia’s mouth is wet on his lips. She whispers
something then but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears drowns out her
sigh.
The non-reaction sends Lydia to back off a little, arching, the length of her
body stuck flush against Stiles and she pants, catching her breath. She’s
looking at him with lidded eyes, hands finding the lapels of her coat, thumbs
fingering the underside, hesitant to strip. Stiles stares back, his hands still
full of her fleshy thighs. He licks his lips and she breathes. A moment passes
and its Stiles’ hoarse voice that urges Lydia to go on, let me see.
It makes Lydia’s breath catch and she moves, body pliant to his voice and it’s
sending a strange thrill through the both of them. Lydia calls the shots. Lydia
sets the rules. Lydia commands. But then this is Lydia, camisole and a coat shy
away from Stiles, this is Lydia during the Winter Formal She Did Not Attend,
this is Lydia with no one else but Stiles. And this is Lydia, the girl that got
Stiles to face a crazed alpha, the girl that made him go through so much by
doing so little, the girl that broke his heart without meaning anything at all.
And right now, she’s on his lap, pushing him to an edge he never thought would
happen but sure did imagine.
She takes her coat off slowly, rosy skin showing inch by inch and her satin
camisole hiding nothing and everything. Stiles’ throat clicks as he swallows,
staring unabashedly as Lydia reveals herself to him. He’s gripping her thighs
harder now, all of his self-control being pried from him and she’s not doing
anything to stop it. The coat falls and Lydia breathes. There’s a hitch there
and she’s looking away, eyes finding purchase on the threadbare throw pillow
squashed by Stiles’ trembling form.
This is the first time she’s willingly presented herself to anyone besides
Jackson and she feels oddly shy of it all, as if Stiles has something to say
against how she looks. She feels inadequate somehow but then Stiles is moving,
his hands to her shoulders, towards her neck and his left thumb touching her
jaw and she looks back at him. His eyes are blown wide and his mouth is wide
open and he’s breathing through his mouth and she can smell sweet scent of cola
off of his exhales. It shouldn’t be as alluring as it should be but it is and
she’s leaning forward and he’s swooping up, kissing her.
There is tongue and the slide of her lips against his makes it wet and they’re
breathing each other in. It’s sloppy at best, Stiles’ experience focused solely
on what he had been doing with Lydia before, and it burns deep in her to know
that it was always her, have been till now, Stiles’ girl.
He doesn’t stop even after he breaks off the kiss, continues to lap against her
skin, on her jaw, open-mouthed as he keeps tracing a path down to her neck,
across her collarbones, her chest. He breathes in and groans and her hands are
grasping at his shirt, knuckles grinding against his spine. And he breathes and
his hands slide inside her camisole, scratching at her ribs.
Lydia’s head is thrown back and her thighs open wider to get closer at Stiles.
She’s grinding down and the awkward set of her legs is making her cramp up and
she’s whining.
She suddenly finds herself falling to her side, Stiles manhandling her to lie
on the couch, his hands grabbing the backs of her knees and pulling upwards,
and he’s above her, eyes suddenly intense. This is not the first time he’s made
Lydia feel vulnerable but this is definitely the first time she’s made him feel
in control.
It is exhilarating.
It’s as if Stiles filled out whatever space he used to compensate for with his
spastic movements with his body, his broad shoulders more pronounced and his
arms caging her against the couch. He’s looming and she realizes how much
taller Stiles is than Jackson, how much more imposing Stiles could be if he
wants to.
And somehow he carries this very well even as unknowing he could be of himself
most of the time. It makes Lydia’s heartbeat quicken, focusing on what she
ignored before. Her hand shoots out, clutching at the fabric on Stiles’
shoulder, pulling and Stiles pulls along, ridding himself of his shirt.
Her hands move, touching every inch of Stiles’ torso, scratching lightly at his
belly and he grunts, head lolling forward as he watches her hands slip downward
between them. Cheek to cheek, they watch as Lydia traces the trail of coarse
hairs from his navel towards where it disappears into his jeans. She thumbs at
the metal button, the rest of her fingers going inside his pants and he groans
at the sensation.
She huffs at him and she bites her lip as she teases out the button, unzipping
him, prying the teeth one at a time. She pulls down, exposing his stained boxer
briefs and she giggles lightly as he shimmies out of the pants completely. He
brings his mouth back to her face, nipping at her nose before sucking at her
mouth vigorously. It makes her breath hitch as he crowds into her more,
bringing his crotch against hers. He’s curled above her, back arched to
maintain contact, and there’s a sort of aggression in this that she’s never
seen Stiles as, making a burn so deep in her gut that she feels like taking
over and make this fast, inelegant, animal. It scares her a bit, realizing that
even with all the times she’s spent in Jackson’s bed, she’s never thought of
him like she would this boy right here.
It doesn’t stop her from swinging her leg over Stiles’ waist, though. The
position gives her that ample space to thrust up and meet Stiles’ grinding
down. They rub against each other and she’s whining again and he’s making these
deep moans that make his chest rattle against hers and his hands are fisting
the side of the couch now, and she’s pushing up and that’s his mouth on her
neck and she’s wailing. Her hands are scrabbling at his back, and they’re just
rocking at each other, the springs of the sofa squeaking under them. She
whimpers out his name and her eyes are blown wide when she arches up and Stiles
is grabbing her by the waist, pushing her upwards, and the arm of the sofa is
digging at her back as he just rips off the camisole without any preamble.
She’s still trembling as he finds his way across the expanse of her body,
between her breasts, under them, her ribs, her navel, and his mouth is making
these languid kisses just a few inches shy from the garter of her panties. She
feels so wet and she’s stuttering out, gasping.
And then he’s tracing kisses back towards her neck and she finds herself being
embraced, straddling Stiles again and her forehead is against his and their
faces are slick with sweat. She can feel Stiles’ erection against the inside of
her right thigh and it’s warm and still hard even as he’s planting these kisses
on her naked body. Stiles hands are large, grabbing at her ass and digging his
fingers in and it’s making her keen against his cheek. She can’t stop her hips
from grinding down and squeezing him between their thighs.
She’s naked on Stiles’ couch and she’s wet from her first orgasm and Stiles’
eyes are shut as he mouths at her chest. He’s grown his hair long this past
year and it tickles the underside of her jaw and she tries to get herself
together again, all heaving breaths and caressing hands.
Lydia.
She looks down at him and she sees his eyes glazed, lips red and wet mouth
open. She can see it, how much he wants. But he’s not taking it and it’s weird
and frustrating as she remembers how she loomed over her minutes prior. She
licks down, from his chin, across his open mouth where his tongue licks back,
to the tip of his nose. She cradles his face, thumbing at that mole and she
smiles.
Oh.
Stiles’ reaction makes her smile wider and she moves her hands down back,
palming his crotch. It’s tight between them, hot, and there’s a bigger stain on
his boxers now and she thinks that’s her fault. It makes her giggle a bit and
Stiles smiles dopily before his face scrunches and he moans as Lydia grips his
cock around the fabric. He’s awfully hard.
Lydia, c’mon.
She kisses him again, tongue moving in sync with her stroking. He curses under
his breath before grunting just as she slips her hands inside his boxers and
gripping at the head of his cock tight. He’s wet as she is, precum copiously
covering her delicate fingers and he’s trying to thrust up to continue the
slide of her grip around his dick. She breathes out a word into his lips before
devouring him again and kisses back and groaning an affirmative. She lets go
and she’s suddenly being lifted, her legs automatically wrapping around his
hips and his hands supporting her upright. She keep kissing him, messing up his
hair as he moves them around the sofa and towards his bedroom.
Chapter End Notes
     who knew porn could be dragged on like this.
     penetrative sex coming up next.
     PS: i am also very sorry i ran out of synonyms for some words.
     PPS: i really need a beta. my eyes are not enough.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     And suddenly in the bedroom-
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
They keep hitting the walls of the hallway and she giggles every time they do
and he huffs at her, smiling small against her lips. They reach his bedroom and
they fall into the bed before Stiles is scrambling off of her to find that long
forgotten stash of seminar condoms inside one of his drawers. Lydia watches
him, hands grazing across the bedspread, waiting for him to find at least a
packet.
Stiles lets out a noise of success before scrambling back into the bed,
bouncing Lydia slightly off and it shoots a thrill in her, seeing Stiles like
this, halfway manic, halfway determined. There’s a slight tremor in his
movements and she can see the flush of his skin spreading across his shoulder
and neck. He’s fumbling at the packet and she crawls towards him, face lowered
and ass up, elbows supporting her frame and her hands slide across his thighs
and her fingers hooking at his boxers. It makes him stop and look at her and
she smirks at him before pulling down and freeing his swollen cock. She licks a
stripe from the root to the tip and she feels him shudder above her.
His boxers are a tangled mess around his thighs and he’s trying his best not to
topple over as Lydia begins taking him in her mouth and the packet crumples in
his fist, his other hand shooting to hold Lydia’s head. It’s one of Lydia’s
least favorite things to do and yet, with Stiles clumsy reaction, a too tight
grip on her hair and that continuous groan he’s letting out, it’s very hard not
to keep going. She was not kidding when she told Allison she does a lot of
sucking for Jackson’s benefit.
Just as the tip of his cock meets the back of her throat, he’s pulling her by
the hair away, eliciting a hiss out of his mouth as his dick slicks out of
hers. He’s kissing her suddenly, drawing her up by the back of her head and she
settles her forehead on his shoulder. He’s trying to open the crumpled packet
and the condom falls off and she stifles a giggle as he chuffs at his
clumsiness. She lets her hands roam, rubbing her palms against his thighs and
he’s trembling and quite unsure how to just slip the damn rubber on.
She kisses him again, this time well and prepared and she’s moving onto his lap
and he bites his lip when their crotches meet. She slides her hand down and
guides him in and he’s whimpering at her grip, his hands on her thighs suddenly
clasping and tightening as she sinks down. Stiles may not be well acquainted
with how these things go on a face-to-face level but when she sits reassuringly
on his thighs he knows this is just it.
Lydia is still, silent save from her heavy breathing and she smiles at his
mouth when he moves his hands to cup her ass. Stiles, though, Lydia’s pretty
sure he’ll be biting the red out of his lips by the end of this.
And then she moves and Stiles couldn’t stop himself from tumbling forwards when
he tries to thrust up and now she’s on her back and Stiles just hit that spot
that makes her moan out so loud and Stiles kisses her-
Oh my god.
They don’t mean to say it out loud at the same time and it makes Lydia laugh
breathlessly at the sheer comedy of this situation. Stiles is muffling his own
reaction on her chest and Lydia can’t bring herself to pull his face to kiss
him. He just keeps hiccupping between her breasts and she retaliates with a
squeeze and he moans. Come on, Stiles.
He breathes in, taking in the smell of her before moving, slowly at first,
dragging his hips forwards and back and Lydia’s dragging her nails across his
arms. It feels incredibly hot between the both of them and Stiles is too punch-
drunk with lust to think more than the tight squeeze around his dick and the
slick slide of Lydia no less. They keep moving, trying to pace themselves but
Stiles’ hips are stuttering on their own accord and Lydia’s hands are
everywhere.
Two, three more before Stiles suddenly arches his back, choking onto Lydia’s
collarbone and cumming. It’s anti-climactic for her and Stiles doesn’t know any
better when his eyes are rolling over the back of his head and his hips just
stop. Lydia doesn’t get off until she shoves her hand between them, rubbing at
her crotch and she’s suddenly meeting Stiles shoulder with a bruising bite.
They’re both trembling at the end of it and Stiles is heavy against her. His
panting is tapering off and he’s making no effort to roll over and Lydia feels
sore and sticky and the fact that this happened is suddenly crashing into a
pretty big realization for her.
Her breathing is still rapid and there’s a random spasm trailing on her right
leg and she can feel Stiles’ finger thumbing circles on her hip. It doesn’t
make her any more comfortable.
Stiles.
He looks at her under his lashes, lips still red, and it looks like he’s not
thinking at all with his small smile and pink skin. She can’t bring herself to
smile back at him because he’s heavy and she purses her lips before Stiles
you’re heavy.
His eyes suddenly flicker, the smile thinning out and he moves onto his back,
opting to stare at the ceiling. She lies beside him, breathing quietly, trying
to assess what to do next. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
There’s a crack in his voice when he says it and Lydia knows it’s more than
anything he’s ever gotten from her but he’s choosing to give her the easy way
out because it’s true, it doesn’t have to mean anything not when there was
nothing between them in the first place. A nothing that may be due to the fact
that Lydia’s into someone else and Stiles-
I should go.
He closes his eyes and breathes. Okay.
Chapter End Notes
     I AM SO SORRY.
     If it's bad sex fic please do tell me. Just tell me.
     Typos- game.
     Grammar- game.
     I'm trying this thing called learning and I really do not want to
     fuck up the next part of the series.
     Although I AM VERY MUCH SORRY FOR THE ANGST.
     Please do read Parlay if you want more of an insight as to what
     Stiles is to Lydia and back.
     And this is the grueling end of my trying desperately to write het
     sex and stydia. And bow.
End Notes
     Basically a prequel. Might be OOC. Also, take note of italics. I
     don't use quotation marks.
     PS: You might be wondering why the titles. I do too.
     PPS: Feel free to call me out for all the mistakes. I'm bad at
     grammar.
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