Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/501462.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Lydia_Martin/Jackson_Whittemore
  Character:
      Lydia_Martin, Jackson_Whittemore
  Additional Tags:
      Community:_stop-drop-howl
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-09-01 Words: 1279
****** Spotlights Don't Do You Justice ******
by geckoholic
Summary
     Lydia’s gorgeous when she’s angry. - Jackson/Lydia, set in early S2.
Notes
     Morganoconner tagged me with the way you move. I wrote this last
     night between 2 am and 4 am because I gotta leave in a bit and won't
     be home until well after the end of my 24 hours, so sorry that this
     isn't as porny as it could be.
     Dazedrose gave this a quick read-through for G+S mistakes, and many
     thanks to evitably and maybemalapert for the brainstorming and
     nudging while I wrote this! ♥
     Title is from "Milow" by Ayo Technology.
He’s not sure coming here was a good idea. It’s not like he’s heartbroken over
it -- hah, as if -- but he’s not very much in the mood for chasing tail either.
Got other things on his mind, the disaster over the bite.... Yeah. He’s still
smarting over that one, so what? Been kinda important.
But hey, Danny insisted. And he can be pretty damn stubborn if he wants
something, even if it’s something seemingly altruistic like getting his best
friend laid. Or, well. He didn’t use the words getting laid, exactly, he said
Jackson needed to be among people, have some fun, but really, that’s what it
amounts to.
Only, now Danny’s off god-knows-where -- he met some people and they dragged
him away before Jackson could so much as call after him -- and Jackson’s on his
own. Which he doesn’t have particularly much of a problem with, per se. He’s
not the kind of guy who sits in a corner and mopes.
So, yeah. He’s gonna have fun. That’s why he’s here.
First point on the list: get drunk. It’s dark in here even at the bar, and he
figures he’s got a good chance of getting his fake ID past the bartender; the
damn thing’s been expensive enough.
The bar is even more crowded than the rest of the club, people pushing and
yelling and snapping their fingers; he has to shoulder his way to the
barkeeper. Once there, the ID earns a raised eyebrow from her, but she shrugs
and takes his order anyway. A few moments later, he’s back on the dancefloor
with his drink in hand. He takes a few sips, lets his eyes roam. There are a
few girls around that catch his attention: a skinny red-head to his left
dancing with her eyes closed, and a curvy blonde that is chatting with two
friends closer to the bar.
He decides to go for option number two. Another gulp and his drink’s gone; it's
the perfect excuse to go back to the bar. Jackson orders a refill, leans on the
bar as he waits for it to keep an eye on the blonde -- and that’s when he sees
her.
A little off the dance floor, closer to the exit and the restrooms, is Lydia.
She’s with Allison, who seems to be without her pathetic puppy of a boyfriend
for the night; he’s nowhere to be seen.
Allison spots him first. She smiles at him, but then her eyes flicker to Lydia,
probably unsure if she’d get pissed at her for waving Jackson over.
Jackson can’t say he gives a shit. He strides over, drink forgotten, with some
part if him reveling in the nasty look Lydia throws his way when she spots him.
He grins, and she twists away so that he’s left staring at her back.
Allison shrugs by way of an apology, but Jackson’s actually starting to have
fun. He taps Lydia’s shoulder and grins at her when she turns back around.
She’s shouting something at him, but he just points at his ears, to indicate
that the club is too loud for him to understand.
The glare she sends him in return makes him shiver. Lydia’s gorgeous when she’s
angry, always has been, all defiant pose, pursed full lips, and she has a way
of looking down at people even if they’re taller than her. He holds her gaze,
quirks his eyebrows, and he knows he’s gotten to her when she pushes past him
and Allison and onto the dancefloor.
He’s sure she knows exactly what she’s doing when she starts to move, too
slowly for the song that’s on, languid rolls over her hips, her arms bent above
her head. She shows him her back, but ever so often, she looks over, making
sure he’s looking.
Jackson doesn’t have any intention of taking this any further, until Allison
excuses herself. She’s holding her phone, display alight, and his money’s on
Scott when she gestures to the exit and waves.
That leaves him and Lydia. Alone. Or, okay, not actually alone, considering
they’re on a crowded dance floor, but with no one but them who has to know
about what happens from here on in.
He edges his way through the crush of people, moves in closer, enough so that
their bodies touch, chest to back. Lydia turns, tries to squirm away when she
realizes it’s him, but she doesn’t try to wriggle away when he grabs her hips
to keep her in place. They dance like that, for the length of a song or two,
until Jackson feels his cock take an interest. He doesn’t try to hide it; to
the contrary, he presses in even closer, makes sure she feels it when it fills,
grows hard. Like this, he can smell her shampoo -- lavender or something, she
bought it at a fair this spring; they went together and had sweet chestnuts
later, he remembers that -- and feel her shiver when he lets his hands wander
from her hips to her stomach, inch under her shirt, touch skin.
He leans in, nibbles at her earlobe. “Wanna get out of here, find something
more private?”
Either she’s going to go with it, or twist around to slap his face and make a
run for it. He’d be fine with both.
She stills, feels around until she gets a hand around his neck, drags his head
down so he can hear her. “Yeah. Fuck, yes, I want to.”
They part, and he takes her hand to pull her off the dancefloor, past the
restrooms to a secluded hallway. Once he’s satisfied that they’re out of
anyone’s sight he backs Lydia against the wall. She goes willingly, lets
herself be positioned and throws her head back when he pushes her skirt up,
slowly pulling the fabric of her panties to the side. At the first shallow,
teasing touch of his fingers to her pussy, she groans; she’s already wet, rolls
her hips to urge him to go deeper, get on with it.
Jackson’s happy to comply. It’s been a little while since they did this, but he
finds her clit easily. She rocks against him, tries to direct him, but the more
she scrambles the more often he pauses, takes his fingers away, doesn't start
up again until she curses. He watches as she sucks in her bottom lip, her
breath coming out in pants with her eyes closed in fervor. Eventually, he takes
pity on her and goes for it: two fingers, both of them rubbing relentlessly
about the little nub, with varying pressure. He knows how she likes it, and it
doesn't take long until she comes. She cries out, but he takes the hand he
doesn't use to get her off and puts a finger to her lips. "Hey, don't want
anyone to hear and come looking, do you?"
And yeah, she's glaring at him again, but the way her eyes are glazed over,
unfocused, pupils blown huge, takes most of the venom out of it. When he takes
the finger away and kisses her, she doesn't protest, but by the time he leans
back, takes hold of her hand to guide it to his cock -- still trapped in his
jeans, and still hard -- Lydia's gathered her wits. She pushes off the wall,
bats at his hand, and rights her skirt.
When he opens his mouth to complain about it, she cocks her head, huffs. "Don't
you dare bitch at me."
"You're gonna leave me hanging like this?"
She grins. "Breaking up was your idea, you left me hanging first." With that,
she turns around and sashays down the hallway.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!