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A Pleasant Surprise

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“Hey,” Danny said conversationally as he dropped into his Chem seat next to her. “So you know these murders that have been all over the news?” he asked conspiratorially. Lydia froze.


            “I just overheard Stiles talking in the locker room,” he grinned. “And you’ll never guess what,” he paused for dramatic effect. Lydia held back a grimace, wondering what Danny was going to say next. Couldn’t Stiles at least try to be subtle? If he had blown the werewolves’ cover, she didn’t think even Scott would be able to protect him. “He thinks they’re virgin sacrifices.” His eyes glinted with mirth. “You know, like some kind of pagan ritual?” he added, looking a little disappointed at Lydia’s lack of reaction. She forced a smile to her face.

            “What makes him say that?” She hadn’t known that was his theory, but at least he wasn’t talking about werewolves out in the open.

            “I dunno,” Danny shrugged, grinning again. “But he seems really worried about it, saying his virginity is a threat to his life and he needs to sleep with someone, like, right now.” He watched Lydia closely, and that glint in his eye was back again. “He seemed pretty relieved when I offered to do it.”

            “Stiles isn’t gay,” she said, too quickly. She bit her lip, unfamiliar with the tugging feeling that was unfolding in her gut. It was not possessiveness. It wasn’t.

            “I know,” Danny said, his grin widening like he’d figured something out. Lydia hated it. “I was joking, anyway. He was disappointed. It was funny.” He tilted his head, noting her pursed lips. “Maybe you had to be there.”


            “So you’re not going to have sex with him?” she asked, deciding not to question why she now felt a touch of relief.

            “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’d definitely tap that,” Danny said. “What? He’s cute!” he defended at Lydia’s glare. “But like you said, he doesn’t swing my way, and I’m not about to waste this,” he gestured up and down his body, “on some straight boy who won’t appreciate it.”

            “Hmm. Smart,” Lydia hummed, perhaps a bit more curtly than Danny deserved. She considered what he had said. Stiles was cute, she could admit, in a boy-next-door sort of way. More importantly, he wasn’t going to be sleeping with Danny. Not that she had a problem with people sleeping with Danny. After all, he was a catch and he deserved to get laid with as many cute boys as he wanted. Just, not with Stiles. “But he really is worried?” she asked, her insides knotting with sympathetic anxiety.

            “Seems that way.”

            “Oh,” she said, trying to sound like that didn’t concern her. Judging by the soft look in Danny’s eyes, she didn’t think she’d succeeded. A few months ago, she probably would have gotten defensive about it, worried about what effect caring about someone as dorky as Stiles could have on her image. Now, however, she didn’t let what other people thought bother her so much. Stiles was her friend, and if he was worried about something, then she was, too.



            “Stiles!” Lydia shouted, power walking to catch up to him in the parking lot. He spun, smiling when he spotted her in the crowd of people rushing to leave school.

            “Hey, Lyds,” he beamed. “What’s up?” It was unusual for her to be the one to seek him out, but now that they were actually friends, he was getting used to new experiences. Like, she would sometimes now study with him in the library, and have actual conversations with him, and explain stuff that he’d missed in class when his ADD flared up and he’d not been able to pay attention.

            “Can you give me a ride home?” she asked.

            “Sure, hop in!” he said as they reached his jeep, opening the passenger door for her.

            “Thanks,” she smiled, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing softly in a gesture of gratitude. The unexpected firmness she felt there cemented her plan as she climbed into the car.


She’d been thinking about it all afternoon, since her conversation with Danny. Stiles was her friend, and he was worried about becoming some psycho’s virgin sacrifice. Lydia was also worried about him becoming some psycho’s virgin sacrifice; even thinking about finding his body the same way as the other victims made her want to simultaneously cry and throw up. Solution: take his virginity, and remove the target from his back. It should be easy. Stiles had had a crush on her for years, so all she would have to do would be tell him she wanted it. And she wouldn’t even have to lie, really. Sure, he wasn’t the type of boy she usually went for, but that had its own appeal. He was softer round the edges than her usual Hollister models and jocks; handsome but less aware of it. She gazed at him fondly as he turned the ignition, and he smiled back as he reversed out of his parking space.


As he began driving in the direction of her house, Lydia took the opportunity to study Stiles from the perspective of a sexual partner, rather than a platonic friend. His hair, recently grown out, looked thick and soft, perfect for tugging on, her mind supplied. He had an excellent jawline; well defined but not as severe as Jackson’s had been. He maybe wasn’t as broad-shouldered and bulked up as some of her past conquests, but she knew, now, that his arms were lean muscle under all those layers. His eyes were big and brown, usually bright with sharp curiosity and a hint of mischief, but always filled with warmth when he looked at her.


Yeah, now that she was looking, there was a lot to be attracted to in Stiles. His easy smiles were one of her favourite things, and she wondered how his lips would feel against hers. She glanced at his hands on the steering wheel and noted, for seemingly the first time, how long his fingers were. Like a pianist’s. She imagined how they would feel stroking up her thighs, around her clit, inside her. She clenched, surprised by how easy it was to turn herself on by thinking of Stiles. Suddenly, her plan seemed like more than just helping out a friend. It had gone from something she was willing to do, to something she wanted to do.


Stiles chattered away as he drove, telling her about some article he’d read at lunch about black holes and whether the radiation they emitted could be reveal information about the objects that had been sucked in. Lydia felt a rush of fondness as he fumbled over trying to explain the scientific principles.

            “I didn’t know you were so into advanced quantum physics,” she teased. Stiles blushed deep red.

            “I, um, got lost down a Wikipedia black hole about, uh, black holes,” he confessed, almost like he was embarrassed. “I didn’t really understand most of it, but I thought maybe you’d find it interesting?”

            “Stiles,” Lydia blinked, feeling strangely touched. “That is…” she trailed off. How could she put into words how fucking adorable he was, without coming off as condescending or insincere? “You’re right, I do find it interesting,” she settled on. “You know me so well.” She watched his lips quirk into a bashful smile and she felt giddy. She’d put that smile there. “And you’re doing a good job,” she added. “I like listening to you talk about it.”

            “You do?” Stiles asked, surprised. “I’m not, like, completely butchering it?”

            “Oh, no, you are completely butchering it,” Lydia grinned. Stiles rolled his eyes and huffed out a laugh. “But you’ve got the gist. So, carry on.”




Stiles pulled up in Lydia’s drive and idled the engine. Lydia took a breath in anticipation, uncharacteristically nervous. She was never normally nervous when she invited guys inside. But this was Stiles.

            “Hey, you okay?” Stiles asked, perhaps sensing her nerves.

            “Yeah,” she said breathily. She looked up at him, and caught his earnest expression. Her heart pounded. “Will you come in with me, please?”

            “Yeah, of course,” he furrowed his brow in worry as he hastily turned off the engine.


Stiles followed her to the front door, his hand resting gently on her back as he looked at her in concern. He didn’t understand why she suddenly seemed so on edge, when she’d been fine in the car, laughing and joking with him. But if she’d asked him to come in with her, he was sure she’d tell him what was wrong.


The door clicked and he followed her inside.

            “Shoes,” she said automatically, as she shrugged hers off and put them on the rack by the door.

            “Okay,” Stiles mumbled in assent, following suit. She watched him with an inscrutable expression that softened into a slight smile as he placed his sneakers next to her flats.

            “Come upstairs,” she said, ushering him along with her. They trod the familiar path up to her room, and Lydia gestured for him to sit on her bed. He paused for a moment, biting the inside of his lip as Lydia sat in her desk chair. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he hastily took a seat on the edge of her bed. They observed each other in silence. Stiles fidgeted, desperate to ask her what was going on, but not wanting to push her if she wasn’t ready to speak.


            “Okay,” Lydia sighed, more to herself than to Stiles. He stopped fidgeting immediately, fixing her with his whole attention. “Is it true you think the murders are virgin sacrifices?” she asked. She just wanted to go through everything one more time before she took any steps that could potentially alter her friendship with Stiles forever.

            “Yeah,” Stiles said, furrowing his brows. He wasn’t sure if this was what was worrying Lydia, or if she was building up to it. But if this was what she wanted to talk about, he could do that. “Um, the victims so far have all been virgins and the, uh, method… of murder… it’s like some kind of ritual.” He looked at the floor intently and scratched the back of his neck. “It makes sense.”

            “Okay,” Lydia said, swallowing thickly. Stiles looked up in surprise. Nobody else had taken him seriously, but Lydia was looking at him with complete faith. “So,” she said, picking a non-existent speck of lint off her skirt. “Somebody’s going around killing virgins, and we have no idea why, or how they’re picking their targets?”

            “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” Stiles sighed dejectedly.


            “You’re a virgin,” Lydia said, bluntly. Stiles froze and looked at her with wide eyes. He could feel a prickling blush crawling up his neck, and cheeks, and ears. He formed a wordless ‘O’ with his mouth as his brain short-circuited. “Oh,” Lydia took pity on his deer-in-the-headlights expression. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Stiles,” she assured him. “We’re still at school, lots of people don’t have sex until college, or maybe even later.”

            “Um…” Stiles searched his mind for something intelligent to say, but he was finding it difficult to focus on any one thought.

            “The thing is,” Lydia continued, “I know you’re worried about being a target.” She bit her lip. Her stomach fluttered nervously. “I’m worried about you being a target, too.”

            “Uh, thanks,” Stiles said, finally able to force some words out. He felt his heart blossom with warmth at Lydia’s admission that she worried about him. That she cared.


            “Stiles,” Lydia said, her voice a raspy almost-whisper. “If you lose your virginity, you’ll be safe.”

            “Yeah, um” Stiles’ voice was rough as he sensed the atmosphere change. “It kinda takes two to tango,” he said, aborting a crude gesture with his fingers. “I’m not exactly inundated with offers.”

            “Stiles,” she smiled fondly at him, and felt the butterflies in her belly settle as if they realised that this was right. “I’ll have sex with you.”


Stiles felt his mouth go dry.


            “What?” he croaked, sure he’d misheard.

            “I’ll have sex with you,” Lydia repeated, sounding more sure of herself this time.

            “I, uh…” Stiles cleared his throat and ran his palms across his pant legs. “I can’t tell if you’re joking,” he said uncertainly.

            “I’m not joking, Stiles,” she assured him, rising from her desk chair. Stiles’ big brown eyes followed her movements as she came to sit next to him on the edge of her bed. She locked her gaze with his, so that he could see her sincerity and affection. “I want you to be safe,” she said, interlocking their little fingers where they rested on the bedsheets. Stiles’ eyes dropped to her lips, and his tongue nipped out to wet his own lips.

            “Lydia,” he said, sounding pained, and looking back into her eyes. Their faces were so close, they could feel each other’s breath. “I can’t… I can’t ask you to do that.” He looked away.

            “You’re not asking me,” Lydia said softly. She studied him, trying to figure out what was wrong. She’d thought he’d be excited by the offer. She knew he wanted her, and she’d seen a smoulder in his gaze before he’d put the shutters up. So why was he refusing her? “Let me do this for you.”

            “No!” Stiles insisted, with surprising force. He yanked his hand away from hers and stood, an unexpected flash of frustration in his eyes. Lydia jumped in shock, and Stiles’ expression immediately morphed into one of contrition. “Lyds, I…” he ran his hands anxiously through his hair. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he muttered to himself. “Lyds, I’m not gonna have sex with you.” He looked almost apologetic, and Lydia felt kind of endeared, even as she felt a surge of indignance.

            “And why not?” she asked primly.

            “Because,” he swallowed. “I don’t want you to have sex with me just because you think it might save my life.”


Oh. That explained it.


Lydia relaxed. Stiles wasn’t rejecting her because he didn’t want to have sex with her. He was rejecting her because he thought that her offer came from some sense of obligation. And, okay, he wasn’t entirely wrong, but he also didn’t have all the information. She could work with this.

            “Stiles,” she said, rising and walking towards him slowly. She didn’t want to scare him off. She stopped in front of him and reached out to take his hands in hers, brushing her thumbs across his knuckles soothingly. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it.” She looked up at him, and he was transfixed. She squeezed his fingers reassuringly. “I don’t want you to die, and I don’t want to find your body like the others,” she admitted, because Stiles deserved the whole truth. “But I still wouldn’t offer unless I wanted to have sex with you.”

            “Lydia,” Stiles murmured, his resolve breaking. “You’re… you’re just telling me what I want to hear,” he said, but he didn’t sound sure.

            “Is it so hard to believe,” Lydia purred, stepping closer so that their bodies almost touched. “That I find you attractive?” She tilted her head, exposing her neck seductively as she breathed the words against his jaw. This close, she could hear the hitch of his breath as he shivered.

            “You do?” he asked, his voice shaky. He stepped back a pace, still holding her hands, so that he could look her in the eye again. Lydia melted at the vulnerable expression on his face.


            “I do,” she confirmed. She let go of his fingers with her right hand, bringing it up to his face. “I like your eyes,” she said, brushing across the edge of his eyebrow with the pad of her thumb. Stiles’ eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and she smiled at his adorability. “And your cheekbones,” she swept her thumb across them, and he opened his eyes as he pressed his cheek almost imperceptibly into her palm. She had him, and they both knew it. “I like your nose, and your mouth,” she said, tracing her thumb down his face to brush against his bottom lip. “I like your jawline,” she whispered, moving her hand to caress the back of his neck as she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. Stiles released a breathy moan that bordered on a whimper as she lingered there. “I like your arms, and your hands,” she said, pulling back.

            “My hands?” he croaked, squinting and tilting his head dubiously.

            “Your fingers,” she confessed, reaching for his hand again and gently curling his fingers, so that only his index finger was still extended. She brought it to her mouth and softly licked the pad, before closing her lips around it and sucking his finger in almost to the first knuckle. She watched him intently, relishing the way his pupils blew with arousal and his jaw dropped as she sucked lightly on his finger before slowly drawing it out of her mouth.


            “Stiles,” she said, her voice somewhere between a sigh and a moan. She hadn’t expected that she would have to talk him into having sex with her, and she definitely hadn’t expected that it would get her so worked up. But watching him get so turned on as she teased him made a pressure coil in her loins. “Let me have sex with you.” It dawned on her, after she’d said it, how desperate that sounded, but she couldn’t feel self-conscious with the way Stiles looked at her; his lust-filled gaze was both tender and piercing, and it cut through any embarrassment she might have felt.

            “Okay,” Stiles swallowed raspily.


Lydia surged upwards to pull him into a kiss, running her fingers through his hair and tugging when she found purchase. It felt like a release. Stiles’ lips were soft, and the surprised sound he made when she pushed against them with her own made a delicious shiver run through to her core. She ran her tongue against his bottom lip, and then gently held it between her teeth as Stiles moaned.

            “Kiss me back,” she instructed, as she paused to take a breath.

            “Sorry,” he panted. Lydia leaned back to take him in, noting the pink blush on his cheeks and the slightly nervous look in his eyes, and she remembered that the reason they were even doing this in the first place was because he was a virgin. He’d never done this before, and that sent an unexpected thrill down her spine.

            “It’s okay,” she reassured him, leaning up for another kiss, slower this time. She trailed her hands across his shoulders, down the firm muscle of his arms, and grabbed his hands where they hovered uncertainly a few inches above her waist. “Touch me,” she whispered against his lips.

            “Where?” he asked, his voice cracking.

            “Where do you want to?”

            “Here?” he suggested, gently placing a hand above her hip. Lydia smiled into another kiss at the heavy, reassuring warmth of his palm against her side. “And here?” he brushed his other hand through her hair and let it rest at the back of her neck, while his thumb rubbed against her jaw.

            “That’s nice,” Lydia agreed, relaxing into his touch as she kissed him again. He probably needed to work up his courage before he touched her tits or her ass. And there was something sweet about him taking it slow. She moved her hands to cradle his face as he started kissing back. He was a good kisser, if a little chaste, as he followed her lead with soft licks and caresses of their lips.


Lydia pressed her body closer to his, gauging whether he was ready to move things up a notch. She felt him gasp as her breasts pressed up against his chest, and she used the opportunity to push her tongue into his mouth as she massaged her fingers into his scalp. Stiles hummed contentedly as Lydia entwined her tongue with his, breathing heavily. The vibration made her throb, and Stiles’ hand tightened almost imperceptibly on her waist, before he started softly tracing a pattern up and down her side.


Lydia felt her legs suddenly grow unsteady, and she pulled herself off Stiles’ face. He looked flushed, his lips a brighter shade of pink than usual and his pupils dilated.

            “Was that okay?” he asked, a hint of nerves creeping through the haze of lust.

            “That was more than okay,” she said, her heart trembling at the pleased but bashful smile that crossed his face. “Let’s go lie down.” She led him by the hand to her bed. They paused at the edge, Stiles looking to her for the lead. With any other guy, she might have either splayed herself across the bed for him, or pushed him backwards onto the bed and climbed onto his lap. But with Stiles, tender and inexperienced, still just finding his feet with all of this, she wanted to take things at his pace; give him the first time that she wished she’d had.


She sat herself down and scooched over to the middle of the bed, beckoning for Stiles to follow. When he was next to her, she reclined, pulling him with her so that they both laid on their sides, face to face. Lydia leaned forward so that the tips of their noses brushed, while Stiles absent-mindedly ghosted his fingers up her arm. They stayed that way for a moment, breathing each other in, before Lydia leaned in further and kissed him again.


There was something different about making out on her bed. Something more charged. Stiles pushed back a little as her tongue wrestled with his, and Lydia melted into the sensation as her ability to keep track of her thoughts abandoned her. Stiles laid his hand on her side, just over her ribs, and Lydia clenched her thighs at the heat that rushed through her, shuffling closer to him so that their bodies were flush against each other. Stiles moaned at the pressure against his dick as Lydia pressed herself to him, his semi-hard-on growing with arousal and straining against the confines of his underwear. He inched his hand up Lydia’s side, desperate to feel more, and he paused just beneath her breast, pulling away from a kiss to watch her reaction.


Lydia panted at the pause, opening eyes she didn’t even remember closing to catch Stiles’ burning gaze. She could feel his hand, trembling, so close but not close enough to her breast. The unmistakeable hardness of his dick pressed into her thigh and she was slick with want, coiled so tightly that she quivered with anticipation. Lydia folded her own hand around Stiles’. They watched each other intently as she brought his hand upwards, placing it to cup around her breast. Stiles swallowed as Lydia whimpered. She needed more.


She flipped Stiles onto his back, almost crying out as she straddled him, feeling the delicious friction against her core. Stiles choked through a strangled moan as Lydia settled over his dick. He could feel the hot wetness of pre-come smearing against the inside of his boxers as his dick grew so hard it ached under Lydia’s weight.

            “Are you okay?” Lydia asked breathlessly, arching her back in pleasure.

            “Uh huh,” Stiles confirmed, his voice a little higher than usual and his chest heaving.

            “Good,” she sighed happily, reaching down to the hem of her shirt and pulling it over to her head, flinging it to one side and leaving only the plain white cotton of her bra to cover her modesty. “How about now?” she grinned mischievously as Stiles’ wide eyes roamed over her bare flesh, burning with desire. He looked back up at her, almost pleadingly, as his hands settled on her hips.

            “Can I…?” he paused, struggling to find words for what he wanted to ask.

            “Do you want to touch me?” she prompted gently. Stiles nodded wordlessly, not trusting his ability to speak coherent English. Lydia leaned down, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Then touch me,” she whispered, and then pressed a kiss into the corner of his jaw. Stiles whimpered, bucking his hips, and the breath was punched out of Lydia at the surge of ecstasy as he nudged her pussy through the layers of clothing between them.


Stiles trailed one hand up Lydia’s back, mesmerised by her warm, soft skin as he reached up to grip her shoulder. His other hand went down, finding the swell of her ass and squeezing as he quivered with the effort of holding back from jerking his hips again. Lydia had no such reservations, and she ground into his lap as she tangled her fingers into his hair and pressed hot, wet kisses into his neck.

            “Lydia,” Stiles gulped, as she pushed his collar aside and started sucking into the skin there. The sensations of her fingers on his scalp, her hot breath and tongue on his neck and collarbone, the delicate softness of her skin beneath his fingers, and her hips rutting against his, were almost orgasmic. He could feel it building; the pressure beneath his navel and the sensitive head of his dick, and he didn’t want to blow his load before he’d even taken any clothes off, but he also didn’t want to stop. “Lyds,” he said, more insistently.

            “What is it?” Lydia moaned against his throat, lost in the feel of him beneath her.

            “Can we flip over?” he managed to gasp as she dragged her teeth against his skin.

            “Mhmm,” Lydia assented, wrapping her legs around his and smoothly flipping them over, so that she was now on her back and Stiles hovered over her. “Is this better?”

            “Yeah,” Stiles agreed in relief, pulling his hips slightly back and relieving the pressure as his impending orgasm receded. Lydia whimpered in frustration at the loss of contact as her core throbbed. Her panties were soaked, and she was desperate for release.


            “Stiles,” Lydia demanded. “Take your shirt off.” Stiles obediently shrugged his plaid shirt off and threw it to one side. Lydia narrowed her eyes. He was still wearing a graphic tee, which hung loosely from his broad shoulders. “You’re a little shit,” she huffed, reaching up and tweaking where she guessed his left nipple would be. Stiles laughed in disbelief, twisting out of her grasp. “Take this off as well,” she insisted, tugging at his tee for emphasis.

            “Okay,” he held up his hands placatingly and tugged the tee over his head. Lydia drank in the sight of his body, licking her lips in surprise.

            “Oh my God,” she breathed wantonly. Stiles shyly crossed his arms over himself. “No,” Lydia stopped him, grabbing his hands and pulling them back to his side so that she could appreciate the view. He was beautiful. She’d already figured that his arms were more firmly muscled than she ever would have thought, but this was definitive proof. His skin was soft, but stretched taut over the solid meat of his biceps. The tendons and veins in his forearms were well-defined. His shoulders and pecs were bound with strong, lean muscle; his nipples were small, dusky pink ovals, the nubs perked to attention. His stomach was flat, a hint of abdominal muscle peeking to the surface, and his waist was narrow with a sharp v-line pointing downwards from his hip bones. Beneath his belly button, a trail of dark curls led to his waistband. Lydia rubbed her thighs together.


            “Stiles,” she murmured, in awe. “Who would have guessed that underneath all those baggy layers, you looked like this?” she asked, trailing her knuckles up and down his happy trail. Her mouth watered as he startled and flexed at her touch.

            “Um,” Stiles shrugged self-consciously, avoiding her eyes.

            “Stiles,” Lydia reached up and turned his jaw, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t be embarrassed. You don’t even realise how beautiful you are, do you? What you’re doing to me?”

            “Lyds,” Stiles blushed. “I don’t… is this part of foreplay?” he asked uncertainly. Lydia felt like her heart might burst from the flood of adoration that rushed through her.

            “I’m just being honest,” she smiled. “But it could be part of foreplay. If it feels good.” She tilted her head curiously, still stroking her fingers through his happy trail absent-mindedly. “Does it?”

            “Yeah,” Stiles admitted, ducking his head.

            “Hmm,” Lydia hummed in contemplation. “Do you want to try something?”


            “Perfect,” She sat up slightly, reaching behind her back to undo the clasp of her bra, and then discarding it to one side. Stiles watched wide-eyed as her breasts spilled free. He bit his lip as Lydia started playing with her nipples, unable to tear his eyes away. “This feels good for me,” she said, smirking at his reaction. “I want you to do it for me.”


Stiles didn’t need any encouragement. He looked her in the eyes for a moment, nodding when he realised she was serious. He swallowed thickly.

            “Okay,” he muttered to himself. He rested back on his haunches and took in the sight of Lydia laying before him. Her skirt was shucked high up her thighs from when she’d straddled him earlier, so the mechanics of this should be easy. He placed his hands on her hips, fingers stretching around to her back, and tugged her into his lap.

            “Oh!” Lydia grinned in delight, wrapping her legs around his waist. She laid back down, smiling up at him as her back arched, and raising an eyebrow in challenge.


Stiles licked his lips and slowly, ever so slowly, ran his hands upwards from Lydia’s hips, brushing soft caresses across her ribs and then across to the full curve of her breasts. Lydia sighed contentedly and withdrew her fingers as Stiles gently massaged the underside of her boobs, swiping his thumb across her pebbled nipples. She felt her arousal building with every pass over her sensitive nubs.

            “A little harder,” she breathed, arching her back so that she could press her breasts further into his hands. Stiles complied with her direction, applying more pressure to her nipples and tweaking them between his thumb and forefinger. “Yes! Like that!” Lydia gasped. “Stiles,” she moaned his name. “Your fingers feel so good. So much better than my own,” she gasped, her nipples tingling with pleasure as Stiles pinched and rubbed at the sensitive peaks. “Your fingers give me such dirty thoughts. I bet you can’t wait to have them inside me, can you? I can’t wait, either.”

            “Lydia,” Stiles said shakily, looking wrecked. Lydia smiled. She had him all figured out.

            “Try it with your mouth,” she instructed breathlessly. “You’re so clever with your mouth, you’ll be so good at it.”

            “Okay,” Stiles croaked, his mouth watering as he took in Lydia’s bright eyes, flushed face and heaving breasts. “With my mouth. I can do this.”


Stiles leaned down, hovering over Lydia. His breath hitched as she arched, pressing their hot, bare flesh against each other.

            “Use your mouth,” Lydia whispered. She put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him into a wet, desperate kiss. Her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck as his tongue dipped into her mouth. Stiles hummed, and the vibration pulsed through her. Lydia sighed with pleasure as Stiles moved down and pressed a kiss to her throat, still teasing her nipples with his fingers. Her fist tightened in his hair as he trailed down her right breast with sucks and licks, finally reaching her nipple after a tortuously long journey. “Please, Stiles,” she moaned. Pleaded. “Show me what you can do… With that pretty mouth. That wicked tongue. Please.”


Stiles felt like fire was burning through his veins as he flicked his tongue out, drawing circles onto Lydia’s areola. Lydia’s gasps and tugs on his hair sent tingles through his whole body. He could feel how turned on she was, as she squeezed her thighs around his waist and undulated into his touch; he could hear it in her sighs and moans as she begged and praised him. He sucked lightly against her nipple, pinching the other one in unison, and then released, pressing the flat of his tongue against it as Lydia panted encouragements.

            “Don’t stop,” she begged. “You’re so good. Making me so wet,” she shuddered as he dragged his teeth gently against her sensitive peak, sending waves of bliss crashing through her. Stiles moaned into her skin, her words going straight to his dick. He was so hard it was almost painful, and he had to reach down into his pants to rearrange, giving his shaft a firm squeeze to try to relieve some of the ache.


Lydia moaned and writhed beneath him as Stiles lavished her sensitive breasts with attention, pinching and sucking and kneading. She pressed a sweaty arm to her forehead as he grazed her nipple with his teeth again, unable to keep a cry from spilling out of her mouth as the shock of ecstasy rippled through to her throbbing core.

            “Oh,” Stiles murmured, his voice rough with arousal. “You like that.”

            “Yes,” Lydia panted as he switched his mouth to her other nipple. She bucked her hips as he sucked harshly, whimpering with need and frustration; her legs were wide open, wrapped around his waist, and she was slick – practically dripping – with lust, yearning to be touched, stretched and filled. She was so tightly wound, desperate for friction and some kind of release. She quivered as Stiles wound her even tighter with his tongue, tightening her fingers in his thick hair. He mumbled something unintelligible around her breast, and that was it. Her restraint went out the window. The familiar cadence of Stiles’ voice, sounding so debauched as he hummed vibrations against her skin, sent her hand trailing beneath the waistline of her skirt and into her panties.


Lydia sighed in relief as she pressed against her clit, easily slipping a finger inside her eager pussy. Stiles looked up at her, his eyes comically wide.

            “Are you…?” he gulped, glancing down. “Can I?” he asked, holding up two long, dextrous fingers for her to see.

            “God, yes,” Lydia agreed breathlessly. She withdrew her hand and unwrapped herself from Stiles’ waist, quickly shucking her skirt and underwear off in one go. Stiles had to remind himself to breathe as he watched her, drinking in her soft, supple body. His mouth watered as she laid herself down and opened her legs for him, her bright pink labia slick and glistening.

            “Oh my God,” Stiles felt weak, horny, and a little bit out of his depth as she stretched out for him. He suddenly realised that porn had not prepared him for real life. “Can you show me what you like?”

            “Yeah,” Lydia smiled, biting her lip. She brought her hand back down and started to play with herself. Watching Stiles watch her, was a lot more erotic than she ever would have thought. As she fell into the familiar rhythm of strokes up her labia, circling her clit with her thumb, Stiles’ gaze was molten, and his mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ shape. She couldn’t help noticing the prominent bulge pressing against the crotch of his khakis and she clenched in anticipation. “Get undressed, Stiles,” she instructed.

            “Huh?” His eyes flickered up to meet hers, his mouth still agape.

            “Tit for tat,” she gestured up and down at her naked form. “And keep watching.”

            “Yeah,” Stiles nodded, his eyes falling back to her pussy as she stretched her labia apart and slowly pushed a finger inside her opening.

            “Stiles,” Lydia prompted gently as he looked to be slipping back into his captivated state, making no move to undress. “Take off your pants.”


“Sorry,” Stiles grinned at her in embarrassment, quickly unbuttoning and wriggling out of his pants. He paused, pulling a face as he debated whether to remove his socks, before he tugged those off, as well.

“Boxers, too,” Lydia insisted, looking pointedly at his grey boxer-briefs.

            “Oh,” Stiles blushed, glancing down. Lydia wasn’t sure why he seemed hesitant. After all, the whole point of this was that they were going to be having sex soon. And it’s not like his underwear left much to the imagination, with the insistent outline of his boner standing out firmly against the pale material.

            “Stiles,” she complained. “I want to see your dick.”

            “Okay,” he exhaled heavily, and yanked them down, kicking them off to the side. He clenched his fists against his thighs awkwardly, like he was waiting for her judgement.

            “Mhmm,” Lydia moaned in appreciation. For the life of her, she couldn’t think why he hadn’t wanted to fully undress. He had what could only be described as a beautiful dick. It was a good size, probably a little bigger than average if she was judging accurately, and well-proportioned, with a slight curve that sent shivers of lust down her spine as she imagined what it would feel like inside her. The head was bright pink – the same pink as his lips, she noticed – engorged with arousal and leaking clear pre-come. Even his circumcision scar was just a faint, even demarcation of pale pink. At the base of his dick were soft, dark curls in beautiful contrast against his milky skin, and just below, his balls were a perfect handful.


            “Why didn’t you want to show me?” Lydia asked softly.

            “Oh, um,” Stiles stuttered. “It’s just… I didn’t expect that anything like this was going to happen, you know? And you’ve, like, shaved or waxed or something, and I’ve never had to think about, uh, shaving my junk before, so… I guess I’m just a little embarrassed,” He said, blushing.

            “Oh.” She knew, of course, that guys could be nervous and insecure about their bodies, but she’d never been with a guy who had admitted it before. It made her feel warm – a different kind of heat to the arousal that raced through her body – to know that Stiles trusted her enough to be honest about his anxieties. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed, Stiles,” she said softly. “You look good.”

            “Yeah?” he asked, smiling self-consciously.

            “Mm-hmm,” she purred. “Every inch of you,” she bit her lip coyly, enjoying the grin that broke out on Stiles’ face.

            “Okay, okay,” he laughed, settling on his haunches between her legs. “Thanks,” he said after a moment, with an achingly sweet smile.

            “No. Thank you.” Lydia smiled back, a glint in her eye.

            “What for?”

            “Well,” she said in a low, conspiratorial voice. “This is the part where you get me off with your fingers.”


She leaned back, bringing her hands back up to play with her nipples again, leaving her dripping pussy exposed. Lydia didn’t think it would take much to make her come; she’d worked herself up almost to the edge, conscious of Stiles’ inexperience and wanting to give him the ego boost of drawing an orgasm out of her.

            “Okay, I can do this,” Stiles muttered to himself, taking in her slick, eager folds. “I’m gonna get you off,” he assured her with a look of concentration.

            “Yeah, you are,” Lydia encouraged. She gasped and shivered in delight at Stiles’ first touch. It wasn’t tentative, like she’d been expecting. It was firm, and purposeful, as he dragged his knuckles up the swollen lips of her pussy, adding a little pressure as he reached the flesh on either side of her clit. “Oh, fuck!” Lydia whimpered, pinching her nipples tightly as Stiles circled her sensitive nub with his thumb. “Don’t fucking stop!” she commanded, as Stiles stilled and sent her a concerned glance.

            “Oh, okay.” Stiles blushed, unable to help a pleased smile from forming as Lydia fell apart. He brushed his thumb over her clit and she gasped, bucking her hips. Lydia moaned breathless encouragements and instructions to him as he found a rhythm, swirling his thumb and fingers through her slick arousal and drawing patterns on her bright, flushed sex. He twisted his wrist, tracing tight circles around her clit as he took a steadying breath. “Can I… go inside?” he asked hesitantly, unsure how to word the question delicately.

            “Yes!” Lydia breathed desperately. “Yes! Stiles, I’m so ready. Make me come on your fingers.”

            “Yeah,” Stiles vibrated with tension, more turned on than he’d ever been in his life. He grazed over her clit and slowly pushed his middle finger inside her, gripping his dick tightly in his other hand as Lydia cried out and ground onto him, sucking his finger all the way in. Her walls were hot and firm around his finger, and they pulsed as he bent the knuckle, drawing a shuddering sigh out of Lydia’s mouth.

            “Another finger, Stiles,” she panted. “I need you; I need more!”

            “Uh-huh,” he murmured, pulling his finger almost all the way out so that he could add another.


“Stiles!” she cried his name as he pushed in again, his index finger joining his middle one. “Oh, God! Kiss me!” she begged as his fingers curled inside her, sending tingles racing through her core. She reached out as he leaned forwards, threading her fingers through the thick hair at the back of his head and pulling him down into a searing, sloppy kiss. Stiles whimpered as the sensitive head of his dick brushed against her hip, and Lydia sighed tremulously into his mouth. “I’m so close,” she whispered against his lips. “You’re so good; so beautiful,” she murmured. Stiles scissored his fingers, tracing a pattern over her clit with his thumb, and she cried out in bliss as she toppled over the edge, pulling him flush against her and biting his bottom lip. She rutted into him as she shuddered and trembled, passionate moans falling from her mouth into his. Stiles kept up his pace as her walls pulsated around his fingers, knowing, inherently, that she would kill him if he stopped.


Lydia sighed as the last aftershock from her orgasm pulsed through her. Stiles slowed the thrust of his fingers to a stop as she relaxed, boneless, and released his bottom lip.

            “Was that an orgasm?” he asked, his eyes wide as he pulled away from her.

            “Yeah,” Lydia said breathlessly. She let out an involuntary whine as Stiles drew his fingers out of her and sat back on the bed between her legs.

            “Oh,” he said, feeling a little overwhelmed. He stared at her slick arousal dripping down his fingers, glancing around before wiping it off on his thigh. “Well, that’s good!” he grinned, warmth flooding through him as he took in Lydia’s flushed skin and lazy smile, and realised that he’d done that.

            “Good?” she asked incredulously. “Stiles, I don’t want this to go to your head, but you just gave me one of the most intense orgasms of my life.”

            “Really?” he beamed, flushing with pride even as his rational brain tried to convince him that she was just being generous because they were friends.

            “Really,” she smiled at him. She was being completely honest with him, without any need to exaggerate. His fingers were magical, and the way he’d coaxed her through her orgasm, dragging it out until she could hardly stand it, was divine. Nobody had ever made her come as hard as that; the only comparisons she had were the times when she’d used a vibrator.

            “Oh, well, I’m glad,” Stiles said, seeming flustered.

            “In fact,” Lydia sat up and stretched. “You’ve definitely earned this,” she said, running her tongue over her lips.

            “Earned wha- oh, my God!” Stiles exclaimed as Lydia leaned into his lap and wrapped her lips around his dick.


Lydia ran her tongue over the tip, relishing the salty taste of pre-come as she licked around the head of his penis. She cupped his balls in her hand and massaged gently, tugging softly on the silky-smooth skin at the back of his ball sack.

            “Oh, holy shit!” Stiles keened, his hands crumpling her bedsheets in his fists at the sensation. He’d never experienced anything like this before. He felt like his brain was melting as heat enveloped his dick, and Lydia stimulated the sensitive tip in ways he’d never even imagined.

            “Mmm,” Lydia hummed around him, and he twitched as it vibrated through his loins. The taste of him, the weight against her tongue, relit the embers of her arousal. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” she pulled off him so she could speak, smacking her lips appreciatively at his full, quivering erection.

            “Lyds – oh fuck!” he babbled, leaning back on the bed like she’d told him as she took him in all the way. “Oh my God, holy fucking shit!” his mouth ran away with him. The new angle had tightened the muscles in his groin, and everything seemed a thousand times more intense as Lydia pressed her tongue against the underside of his dick. “Lyds – fuck – I’m not gonna last very long,” he whimpered as she drew back with a wet pop.

            “Good,” she smiled dangerously, taking in the sight before her. Stiles’ chest heaved with exertion, a sheen of sweat covering his flushed skin. His lean muscles were tense, his knuckles white where he gripped her sheets. “I want to taste you,” she said, eyeing his dick hungrily; straining taut and firm, fat with arousal, glistening with spit. “Here,” she said, reaching behind her for a pillow. “Put it under your head. I want to see your face when I make you come.”


She passed the pillow over, and squeezed the base of his dick teasingly as he positioned it behind his head. He moaned breathily as she pumped a couple of times, twisting her fingers around the engorged head of his dick as he leaked more slick pre-come.

            “Okay,” Stiles’ voice trembled as he settled against the pillow. It lifted him just enough that he could see Lydia laying languidly between his thighs as she jacked him off, a victorious glint in her eye as she met his gaze. Slowly, tortuously, holding his captivated stare every step of the way, she lowered her mouth back around his dick. She pulled at his base, drawing the skin tight as she sucked and licked circles around the sensitive rim of his head. Stiles moaned and bucked his hips reflexively as Lydia hollowed her cheeks, sucking insistently as she went all the way down, burying her nose in the thick curls of his pubic hair. She relaxed the back of her throat as she sucked him all the way in, spit leaking from the corner of her mouth as she accommodated to his girth. She watched the way he scrunched up his eyes and bared his throat as he got closer to the edge, and she swallowed, drawing a heady mix of saliva and pre-come down her throat, knowing the contraction around the head of his dick would turn him into a mess.


She was right.


            “Oh, fuck, Lyds,” he gasped desperately. She drew back slightly, so that he wasn’t pressing into the back of her throat anymore, but she upped the intensity with her tongue as she bobbed and sucked. “Fuck! Lydia…” he whined, almost sobbing as he ground his hips involuntarily. The flickering flames of Lydia’s arousal roared to life, with Stiles at her mercy. He tapped at her shoulder insistently. “Lyds, I’m – fuck – Lyds, I’m gonna come!” he babbled. Lydia hummed around him, declining his implied invitation to pull away, and he let out a strangled moan at the vibration. She could feel him growing fuller in her mouth as he thrusted, so close to bursting. With one hand, she cupped his balls and pressed two fingers into the soft flesh of his perineum, and with the other she gripped his base tightly and jerked quick movements with her wrist.


Stiles came with a desperate, shuddering cry, filling Lydia’s mouth as he pumped out hot, thick spurts of salty-sweet come. Lydia twisted her wrist around the base of his dick and sucked, drunk on the taste of him and overcome with need. She never took her eyes off him, entranced as his beautiful face tensed with the release, his eyebrows pulled together in pleasure as his mouth dropped into a debauched ‘o’. His sloppy thrusts slowed to a stop and she released his dick, still semi-hard and slick, when he opened his eyes and whimpered at the overstimulation from her eager tongue, making a show of it as she swallowed his load. He watched intently, those big brown eyes glazed with post-orgasmic bliss, as she licked her lips and smiled with satisfaction.


            “How was that?” she asked, crawling up to his side so that she could lay next to him. Stiles seemed unable to speak for a moment, staring at her in startled silence before he huffed out a laugh.

            “Um, I don’t exactly have anything to compare it to, but that was pretty freaking incredible!” he grinned.

            “Well, it’s only going to get better,” she replied, smiling fondly at him as he reached down to lace their fingers together. She leaned in close to his face. “How long do you need to get it up again? Because I’m going to rock your world,” she promised.

            “You always rock my world,” Stiles said, looking at her tenderly. She felt her heart swoop unexpectedly, and realised she was in trouble. Stiles – dorky, clumsy, sarcastic Stiles – had somehow mastered the transformation from ‘theoretically, unthreateningly attractive’ to ‘simultaneously sexy and sweet,’ and it had obliterated everything she thought she knew about boys, and her taste in them.


Stiles still had that warm, adoring look on his face when he slowly closed the distance between them and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Lydia made a surprised sound, because Jackson had always refused to make out after she blew him, and she’d never tried with any other guy. But Stiles clearly had no problem with it and she relaxed into his kiss.

            “I really like kissing you,” Stiles sighed dreamily, licking into her mouth as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Wait,” he said, suddenly remembering that they hadn’t actually discussed what this meant for them. If Lydia wasn’t as into this as he was, just wanted sex and nothing more, the last thing he wanted was to ruin their friendship by crossing some unspoken, invisible line. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to make it weird.”

            “Shhh,” Lydia shushed into his lips. “It’s not weird,” she assured him. “And,” she bit her lip coquettishly as she traced her fingers down his jaw. “I really like kissing you, too.”

            “Oh,” Stiles beamed, relieved, and she could tell that he was trying to hide how happy he was, but he was like an open book. She’d made him smile like that, and it felt pretty damn good. “Well,” he said with false nonchalance. “Do you wanna make out some more?”

            “Hmm,” she tilted her head, pretending to think. “I guess I’m not opposed to that idea,” she said, planting a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “Let’s make out.”


Stiles seemed more confident as they kissed again, cupping her cheek in his hand and brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. Lydia closed her eyes as their noses squished together, opening her mouth to let his tongue inside. That fire inside her whirled brighter and hotter as he deepened the kiss, their tongues pushing and dancing together. She let herself give in to her instincts and rolled Stiles onto his back, ignoring his questioning murmur and following closely so that she straddled him, their bare flesh pressing against each other. She pressed herself close, her breasts pushing up against his chest as they continued to make out. She could feel him growing hard again beneath her, his length hot and firm between her thighs as she ground their hips together.


She throbbed with need for him. In this moment, as she held him close and ran her fingers through his soft, thick hair; as he cradled her jaw and ran his other hand down her back to squeeze her ass… as they stole each other’s breath with desperate kisses… she forgot about the outside world. All that mattered was Stiles. How sweet he was. How warm, and firm, and eager he felt beneath her. How good he made her feel. And how good she wanted to make him feel.

            “Do you have any condoms?” she asked breathlessly, as Stiles pressed his searing lips to her throat. “I need you,” she rutted against him, aching for him to fill her. “I need you inside me.”

            “Oh, God,” Stiles moaned, overwhelmed at the press of Lydia’s hot skin and the sound of her desperate, breathy voice. “Yeah. Uh, I have one. In my pocket.”

            “Then get it,” Lydia instructed, pressing a demanding kiss to his lips before rolling off him.


Stiles didn’t waste any time and leapt up like a shot. Lydia watched with a satisfied smile as he flung himself over to the other side of the bed and leaned over the side to rummage through his discarded clothes, giving her a prime view of his peachy ass. She crawled to his side, unable to resist the thrum of mischief that surged through her.

            “You have a nice ass,” she murmured in his ear, giving his left butt cheek a firm squeeze. Stiles gave a surprised yelp and twisted to face her with a startled expression, a bright blush prickling his cheeks.

            “I do?” he swallowed.

            “Mm-hmm,” she confirmed, running an appreciative hand across his broad shoulders, down the smooth planes of his back, returning to his ass for another squeeze. “Very nice,” she leaned in for a kiss, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth. “But not as nice as this,” she smiled against his lips as she trailed her hand around his waist and ran her knuckles up the underside of his dick. It twitched at the contact and Stiles let out a shuddering breath that bordered on a whimper. Lydia grinned. “Did you find the condom yet?”

            “Y-yeah. It’s right here,” he held up a foil square, which prominently displayed the letters ‘XXL’. Lydia stared at it, and bit her lip – hard – to try and control her expression.

            “Stiles,” she said, keeping her voice neutral.


            “You-” she paused, torn between amusement and not wanting to offend him. Stiles must have seen something in her face, lowering the packet with a wry grin.

            “Yeah, I know,” he grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “It’s not gonna fit properly, is it?”

            “No,” Lydia agreed, reaching down to grasp his hand. She brushed her thumb over his knuckles fondly.

            “For the record, there is a story behind this. I didn’t go to the store and buy it,” he said, bashfully flicking his gaze between her and the condom packet.

            “That’s okay,” Lydia smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. She knew the kind of guy Stiles was, and that wasn’t the kind who felt the need to prove his masculinity by buying XXL condoms. She was admittedly disappointed that this left them without any condoms, but she didn’t want Stiles to feel bad. It wasn’t his fault, really. He hadn’t exactly had any advance warning that this was how she planned for them to spend the afternoon. She chewed the inside of her cheek, taking in Stiles’ embarrassed, apologetic expression and his lean, naked body. Such a shame, she mused, because Stiles was sweet and caring, and so much more attractive than she’d ever realised. And he’d given her one of the best orgasms she’d ever had, just with his fingers, and she’d blown him and actually enjoyed the taste and the weight of him in her mouth, instead of just pretending to. She wanted more. Her eyes strayed to his dick, still erect, and her mouth watered. Fuck it. “We should still have sex,” she decided.


            “We don’t need the condom,” she said, meeting his gaze. “We’re both clean, and I’m on the pill.” Saying it out loud cemented her decision. Yes, it broke her self-made promise never to have unprotected sex, but Stiles was worth breaking it for. She trusted him.

            “Wh- are you sure?” Stiles asked. “You’re not just saying this because you’re worried about the virgin-murderer, are you?” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

            “Oh!” Lydia’s jaw dropped. In the haze of lust that had descended on her, she’d forgotten that she wasn’t just doing this because she wanted to. “No,” she assured him. “That’s not why.” Her eyes flicked to his dick again, because it really was a very nice dick and she couldn’t help herself. “I want this, Stiles. I want you.”


Maybe it was something he heard in her voice, or maybe he had just noticed the fact that she couldn’t keep her eyes off him, but Stiles’ suspicion melted away.

            “Oh,” he said softly. Tenderly. “I want you, too.” He leaned in, and Lydia opened her mouth to the kiss, granting his tongue entry.

            “Good,” she hummed contentedly, rolling onto her back. She held his hand as he climbed to hover over her. “Just so you know,” she murmured, looking earnestly into his eyes as she trailed her hand through the soft curls of his treasure trail. “I’m glad you’re not extra-extra-large,” she said, reaching his dick, gripping it firmly and giving a couple of slow, tortuous pumps. Stiles gasped and trembled in her hold. “I wouldn’t change anything about you.” She ran her thumb over his sensitive head, smearing the bead of pre-come that had gathered there around his tip. Stiles breathed heavily, tremulously, above her, his eyes like liquid gold as they held her gaze. “You’re perfect,” she said, drinking in the way his eyes widened slightly and filled with some emotion she didn’t quite have the brain power to decipher right now. “Just the way you are.”

            “That is so sweet,” he murmured. Lydia was struck with the realisation that it was a good job she was lying down, because the look he was giving her made her weak at the knees.


            “Are you ready?” she breathed, lining him up against her, the head of his dick pressing against her entrance. It took all of her self-control not to rut down onto him; she ached to feel him inside her.

            “Yeah,” Stiles nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Yeah, I think so.”

            “Don’t overthink, okay?” Lydia instructed gently. “Just follow your instincts. Enjoy it.”

            “Okay,” he promised, glancing down to where their bodies were almost joined. He raised his eyes back to hers, asking an unspoken question, and she nodded her encouragement. “Okay,” he said again, taking a calming breath. He gently removed Lydia’s hand from his dick, replacing it with his own firm, familiar grasp. He took in the sight of Lydia’s slick folds, swollen with arousal, and dragged the tip of his dick in a line upwards, the way he’d explored her with his fingers earlier. His breath hitched at the hot sensation against his sensitive flesh, and Lydia let out a shuddering, whining sigh. “Okay,” he said a third time, finding the courage to take the plunge. To commit. He brought his dick back to her entrance, the head glistening with the combined fluid of Lydia’s arousal and his own pre-come, and then he pushed inside her.


Lydia snaked her arms around his back as he filled her, rolling her hips as she pulled him in all the way, relishing the pressure against her walls. Their bodies pressed close together, hot and firm and smooth, and Lydia gasped in satisfaction. Stiles’ face, only inches above her own, was fixed in a slack-jawed expression of bliss as he gripped her hip tightly with one hand, propping himself up with the other. Their eyes met, and Lydia wondered if her own pupils were as blown as his.

            “You feel so good inside me, Stiles,” she whispered, not trusting her voice enough to speak properly. It was stupid; he hadn’t even moved yet. But with Stiles inside her, she felt whole in a way she never had before. Like he was a perfect fit for her, reaching parts of her that nobody else ever could.

            “Fuck,” Stiles panted, sounding wrecked. Lydia wondered if he felt it, too, this sense of rightness, of physical and emotional completeness. “Lyds, I – fuck – you’re so… Lyds, I don’t think I’ll last very long,” he babbled as he started to move experimentally, jerking his hips in close, controlled motions. He had never felt anything like this before. Lydia’s tight, wet heat enveloped him right to the hilt, pulsing and setting his nerve endings alight.

            “It doesn’t matter,” Lydia gasped, her eyes almost rolling back in pleasure as Stiles moved inside her, their bodies pressed so closely together that every time he rocked into her, her clit nudged exquisitely against him. She pressed firmly on the small of his back, desperate for the closeness as he ground into her, and she brought her other hand up to curl into his hair. She pulled him into a needy, sloppy kiss, and – “Oh!” – the change of angle was divine.

            “Is this okay?” Stiles asked desperately, panting into her mouth. “Please, Lyds, tell me what you need.”

            “Yes,” she breathed, catching his lip between her teeth. “Keep going, just like this.” Her fingernails dug into the skin on his back as he rolled his hips, pushing deep inside her, almost tipping her over the edge. “Don’t stop, Stiles… don’t stop…” She bucked her hips up to match his rhythm, drawing a sinful moan from his lips.

            “Lydia, I’m so close,” he rasped. “Do you – fuck – do you want me to pull out?” he asked, trembling with the effort of forming a full sentence.

            “No!” she insisted, gripping him harder to keep him in place. “Stay inside me. I’m close, too. I want you inside me.”


Stiles was about to blow, she could tell. She could tell by the lock of his jaw, the strain of the tendons in his neck, the shakiness of his breath and the fiery concentration in his eyes as he tried to push through the ecstasy and keep going. His thrusts became deeper and more desperate as he chased his high, and Lydia’s eyes rolled into the back of her head at the sensation of his dick dragging against her walls, again and again and again. Stiles came with a gasp, and his thrusts became choppy and erratic as the pressure in his dick released, spurting his load inside her. Lydia undulated beneath him, milking every last drop out of him as she stared transfixed at his glowing face.

            “Stiles, my clit…” she begged, and he blinked, like he was returning from an out-of-body experience. He gave a couple of slow, lazy thrusts of his hips as he reached down to brush his thumb over her clit, and that was all it took to propel her to climax. She cried out, shaking and trembling as he stroked her through it, the heat and pressure of his dick still filling her perfectly.


            “Wow,” Stiles breathed out, looking shell-shocked. He caught Lydia’s eyes, and they both stared at each other for a moment, before huffing out breathless laughs. He rested his forehead against hers as they caught their breath back, still nestled inside her. Lydia gently ran her fingers up and down his back, almost feeling like she could drift off beneath his comforting weight and warmth. “Was that okay?” Stiles asked after a short while, pulling back to look into her eyes. “I’m, uh, sorry it was probably too quick,” he added, looking sheepish.

            “Stiles,” Lydia scolded fondly. She brushed her fingers affectionately through his hair, studying his gaze. It wasn’t hard to see the flash of nerves in his eye as he waited for her answer. He always was his own worst critic. “Stop overthinking,” she said gently. “You were good. Very good at following instructions, which is a vastly underrated skill.” She grinned as Stiles blushed at the praise. “And your stamina wasn’t bad, and it’ll get better with practice,” she mused. “Oh, and don’t forget; your foreplay was excellent, and that’s the most important part.”

            “Okay,” Stiles laughed, his face bright red as he ducked his head. “Thanks,” he murmured bashfully, staring softly into her eyes before flicking his gaze down, to where their bodies were still joined. “Uh, what happens now?”

            “Now,” Lydia sighed reluctantly, “we clean up.” She ran her hand down his back and slapped his ass, lightly. “You can pull out, now,” she said, darting up to press a quick peck to his lips.

            “Oh, okay.” He pulled out with a wet sound and rolled over to her side. Lydia couldn’t help herself from glancing down, and at the sight of his dick, still half-hard and coated with the slick of their combined orgasms, she toyed with the idea of another round. But her mother would be home from work soon, and while Natalie Martin took a very laissez-faire approach to Lydia’s sex life, that might change if she walked in on it.

            “I need to go pee, there’s wet wipes on my dresser.” She leaned over for another kiss and Stiles met her lips softly, before she headed off to the bathroom to use the toilet and clean herself up.


A few minutes later, Lydia returned to find Stiles sitting on her bed in his underwear, pulling on his socks. His face broke into a beaming smile as he took her in.


            “Hey,” she smiled back, a feeling of contentment settling in her chest. She shimmied her panties on and then took a seat beside him on her bed as she slung her bra straps over her shoulders.

            “Here,” Stiles murmured. His fingers ghosted over her spine as he did up the clasp at her back.

            “Thanks,” she said, looking at him curiously. Stiles, for all of his sharp wit and prickly sarcasm, was perhaps the softest guy she had ever been with. Gentle. Generous. Attentive. And he’d made her come twice.


She watched him get dressed, biting her lip to hide a smile when he stumbled putting his pants back on. Always analytical, she ran through everything in her head before she made her decision. He was her friend. He liked her for who she was. He was funny, and smart, and loyal. He was caring, emotionally available, and attractive. He was single.

            “Hey, Stiles?” she pulled him by the hand to sit back down next to her.


            “I know that you had a crush on me for a really long time… is that still the case?” She picked an imaginary piece of lint off her bedsheet, and looked at him from under her eyelashes. She caught the look of anxiety that flashed across his face, and made a quick course-correction. “Because, if it is… if you do… you should ask me to dinner.”

            “Like…” Stiles swallowed, his throat bobbing. “Like, as a date?” His eyes shone hopefully. Lydia moved her hand on the bed, so that their little fingers touched.

            “Yeah. As a date.”

            “Okay, um,” he licked his lips nervously, looking to Lydia for encouragement. She looked back with a steady, patient gaze. “Lydia, uh, would you like to go on a date with me?”

            “Yes,” she smiled, and moved her hand over his, entwining their fingers. Once again she found that feeling of comfort and completeness. “I would like that very much.”