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Lydia doesn’t like to be left out of the loop, not after everything that happened because of this – and not even before that, to be honest. So she keeps her focus on everything, trying to analyze every little hint and little thing, even the apparently useless ones. It’s what she does, she watches.
It’s not hard to see the way Jackson sometimes trails off while he’s speaking when he looks at Stiles, at Stiles’s mouth; he thinks he’s very subtle but he’s really not. It’s not hard to see the way he adjust himself when Stiles licks his lips or sucks on something. But Lydia doesn’t think it’s something important; guys think with their dicks and it’s easy to understand how Stilinski almost giving a blowjob to a pen could be hot for Jackson.
Things become stranger when she notices Stiles and Scott becoming more physical than ever, and she wouldn’t have thought it could have been possible, but here they are, hugging and standing very close and almost kissing while they talk and smile at each other. But still, they’re Scott and Stiles, it’s difficult to say that there is something strange when you talk about the two of them.
The moment Lydia decides that something is happening is the moment Allison stops talking mid-word to stare at a point behind her shoulder and, turning around, she see Scott and Stiles passing by, the first with an arm around the other’s shoulders and the latter with two fingers hooked up in the loops of the other’s jeans.
“Okay, what’s happening here?” She asks and Allison blinks the daze away.
“Sorry?”
“What’s happening?” Lydia repeats. “Chip and Dale are so close I’m surprised they’re not having sex against the locker, Jackson looks at Stilinski like he doesn’t want anything more than his mouth on him, and you’re doing almost the same thing. What am I missing?”
Allison blinks again, then an almost-hysteric smile opens up on her lips.
“Oh, Lyds, you’re missing so much!” She exclaims, and then takes her arm, bringing her closer to talk with her in just a whisper. “I had sex with Stiles.”
“What?” Lydia asks, but Allison hasn’t finished yet surprising her.
“Yep, I had sex with Stiles. And. With Scott. In the same moment.”
Lydia looks at her very carefully, trying to decipher exactly what her friend is telling her, trying to read behind the blessed expression on her face. It’s not a code, and it’s not irony. It looks like she really has had sex with them. She looks down the hall, where the guys disappeared, and then at her friend again.
“You had a threesome with your ex and his bestfriend?” She still asks, because she can accept that supernatural is real, but there are things that are too much.
“Yes,” Allison confirms. “And it was so good. Scott…” she stops to look around to be sure that no one’s eavesdropping, but she also lower her voice when she keeps on talking. “Scott rode him, Lydia. It was his first time and he rode him, and I was there, looking at them, and Stiles… Stiles knew about the bladder thing and it was so good, Lydia. So. Good.”
“Really?” Lydia asks with a cocked eyebrow, her eyes again on the hall. “Have Stiles had sex with Jackson, too?”
“I’m not sure,” Allison replies thoughtfully “But Scott said something about Stiles’s mouth being ‘Whittemore approved’, so maybe they did do something?”
“So I’m the only one who hasn’t had sex with Stilinski?”
“I’m sure there a lot of people who haven’t had sex with Stiles, Lydia,” Allison giggles. “But you should totally try to do it. I didn’t know Stiles could be so good at sex, but he can!”
Well, if Allison’s so enthusiastic about this particular topic, Lydia can at least please her and try. She can admit, even though it’s just to herself, that she is quite curious about it.
Allison and she don’t use to talk about sex in a lot of details, but Allison’s never been so joyful of any sexual experience of hers.
The thought stays with her for the whole day. It’s at the front of her mind in the classes she shares with Stiles, who seems the same Stiles, the Stiles who’s not a sex God, who’s all flailing limbs and stupid grins, who bends on Scott to talk at his ear in a way that’s usual and new at the same time. It’s in her mind even when Stiles’s not there, a seed of obsession she cannot extirpate, not that she really tries: it’s nice to have a distraction during the boring hours of school.
It’s the end of the day when she sees Stiles entering the bathroom, alone. Lydia’s never been very patient, so she looks around to be sure that there’s no one who can see her, and enters the bathroom after him. Luckily, there’s no one inside and just one stall is occupied. Lydia sits on the sink ledge and just waits, letting her feet dangle.
Stiles comes out not long after, shirts ruckled up under his chin while he’s still fastening his belt. Lydia clears her voice and he jumps, flailing so hard he has to press a hand against the wall not to fall.
“Jesus Christ, Lydia!” He exclaims, then stops. “Lydia? What… what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” she explains, shrugging.
“Here? In the male bathroom?” He asks again, incredulous.
Lydia shrugs again, and Stiles just sighs and goes to the sink to rinse his hands.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“I heard you had sex with my boyfriend, Stilinski,” she says, even though she didn’t really hear anything of the sort. But if it’s true, she’ll know. And it looks like it is, because Stiles looks at her with wide eyes and mouth agape.
“I… I didn’t know you were together again,” he murmurs. “Fuck, Lydia… Lydia, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I swear, he didn’t tell me you were together again!”
“I’m not angry about it,” she says, interrupting his pleas and ‘sorry’s. It’s true that Jackson and she are not together, so it would also be senseless for him to be sorry, or for her to be jealous. “I just wanted to know if it was true, and I guess it is.”
“Yeah…” Stiles confirms, his attention fixed on washing his hands clearer than ever. “Well, we didn’t have sex, I just… I just gave him a blowjob.”
That surely explains why Jackson’s brain electrocutes every time Stiles has something in his mouth.
“And I heard that you had sex with Scott and Allison, too,” she goes on.
“I also had sex only with Scott,” he adds with a smile. “And it was awesome. It was great, the threesome with Scott and Allison, but when I was alone with Scott it was…” he trails off, thinking about it. “Different in a good way.”
“So you’re in a close relationship, now?” Lydia asks.
She’s not disappointed, really, she’s not. Stiles just laughs.
“What? No! We’re not even a couple! We just have sex, sometimes alone, sometimes with Allison, but it’s still just sex.” And then he must notice that he’s still washing his hands, because he finally turns off the water. “Why are you so interested in this?”
“I want to have sex, too,” she confesses simply, suppressing a smile at the way Stiles’s jaw drops at those words.
“Like… like…” he stutters, flailing around. He may be good at sex, if what Allison says it’s true, but he’s still dear old Stiles. “Generally speaking?”
Lydia sighs long-suffering, getting down from the ledge and coming near Stiles. The boy backs off like she’s some kind a predator and he a little lamb, eyes still wide and wet hands in mid-hair. When she puts a hand on his chest and presses lightly, he crash against the wall behind him with a gasp.
“I want to have sex with you, Stilinski.”
“I… I thought… I thought you didn’t want…?”
“It was before,” she just says, staring intently at him, at his body. The many layers he has make difficult to understand exactly how he’s made, but the muscles under her hand are firm. “Now I just want you on your knees, Stilinski.”
Stiles gulps noisily, looking incredulously at her. And then, just like that, he goes down on his knees. Lydia cannot suffocate the surprise gasp that the move elicits in her.
“I didn’t mean now,” she says, even though now it’s even better than later, above all because Stiles’s looking at her with such an adoring and awed expression on his face that it’s quite hard to think.
“I couldn’t wait,” he admits, his voice already hoarse with arousal even though they haven’t done anything yet. He tries to rest his hand on her leg, but she stops him.
“Don’t,” she commands, regaining control, and he doesn’t, but looks at her in surprise. “You’re hands are still wet.” Stiles looks at her and then at his hands, and then he crosses them behind his back. “Good boy,” she coos, and he scoffs, but seems to appreciate nonetheless. “And tell me, Stiles, what are you going to do, now that you’re on your knees?”
Stiles lick his lips, a slow movement that catches her attention and makes arousal stir inside of her.
“They say I’m quite good with my mouth,” he says.
Lydia can imagine it, she can picture perfectly Stiles giving head, stretching his lips around a thick cock and hollowing his cheeks while he sucks. She really believes that Stiles would be so good at blowjobs, because he has an oral fixation. But blowjobs are quite different than what she’s thinking about.
“Are you really sure you are, Stilinski?” She asks, tugging his hair, and Stiles lets her bend his head backward, looking at her with half-closed eyes. “A vagina is really different from a penis.”
He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. He shakes his head a little bit, but not enough to move away her hand, it’s clear that it’s not what he wants to do.
“Jesus, Lydia… you’re the only one who can use this kind of words and make them sound hot.”
“It’s a gift I have,” Lydia confirms with a smile. “But you didn’t answer.”
He moves his head again, rubbing his cheek against her wrist. His eyes are closed, but then he opens them up to look at her, his pupils dark and blown.
“I’ll try my best,” he says, voice hoarse and deep and almost pornographic.
Lydia feels a shiver running up her spine, but she doesn’t let it show it. She keeps her gaze fixed on Stiles’s eyes, looking for what, she’s not sure. But then she nods, letting his head go. She bends a little to strip of her underwear, balling it up and putting it in Stiles’s breast pocket. The boy doesn’t even look at it, just keep looking at Lydia.
“Well then, let’s see what you can do,” she whispers on his lips, before standing up again.
Stiles cocks his head, like he’s thinking about it, looking at Lydia clothes. He spreads his legs, sinking lower so that it’s easier for him to reach under her short skirts. He noses a little at the hem, glancing upward to look at her for a moment, then moves his head to hide it under the clothes.
“And, Stiles,” Lydia stops him, smirking when he looks at her again. “Try not to come in you pants, all right, sweetie?”
Stiles inhales deeply, moving again on his knees – and it’s not hard to see the bulge in his pants – but nods without hesitation.
“Yeah.”
“Good boy,” she says, patting him on the cheek. “Now do your job.”
He doesn’t wait even just a moment longer, bending down under her skirt.
The first swipe of his tongue is broad and curious, almost experimental, and it’s followed by a sound that’s almost a sigh, even though it’s hard to say, being muffled by the skirt around his head. The second, and the ones that follow it, is more set on giving her pleasure. He licks her from bottom to top, the point of his tongue barely past her lips, flatting it again against her clit.
Lydia almost let a sigh escape her control, but reigns herself in. She takes the hem of her skirt to uncover Stiles, who looks up at her with blown eyes.
“Okay?” He rasps.
“Okay,” she answers as blandly as she can. “Go on.”
He doesn’t wait to do it.
It’s so erotic watching him while he’s taking care of her, looking at him pressing his face against her and nosing her curls, seeing and sensing his tongue licking her and inside of her. Stiles can say it’s his first time doing something like that, but it’s impossible – his movements aren’t unsure or hesitant, like the ones of a first-timer ought to be.
Not that Lydia cares, she’s never quite appreciated first-timers shy and uncertain.
But then she doesn’t think about it anymore, because Stiles starts sucking on her clit, making her gasp in surprise and pleasure, just shy of too hard, and it’s so natural to run her free hand through his hairs, and grasp them, and tug. Stiles moans against her, his breath tickling her and making her shiver.
“Don’t enjoy it too much,” Lydia says, almost breathless, tugging again. “Remember that you can’t come,” she goes on.
Stiles sighs and nods, his eyes fluttering close like he has to just take a moment and concentrate just not to come. He moves on his knees, the bulge in his pants so evident it must be almost painful. Lydia has a strong self-control, she knows it and she likes it, but her foot moves almost against her will, pressing against Stiles’s covered erection. Stiles moans again, his hips jerking up, and Lydia should probably worry about being heard by someone passing by, but she doesn’t care.
“Go on, I don’t think you have finished your job.”
Stiles shakes his head, taking a shaky breath, and then he almost lunges forward, pressing again his face against her crotch. This time he starts right away to work on her clit, licking it and taking it between his lips to suck it, his eyes closed and his brown furrowed in concentration. He releases her just to press the flat of his tongue against her lips and then push inside with the tip. It’s clear, in the way he moves on his knees and raises his head, that being without hands makes everything a little bit difficult, and for a moment Lydia thinks about telling him he can use them; but then she looks down at him, at the tense line of his neck and shoulder where he’s trying to stretch his neck, at the way he tries not to slouch on his knees even though he’s looking for space for his erection, at the way his hands twitch behind his back. It’s too much a beautiful picture to stop it.
The boy backs off to take a deep breath, and his mouth is glimmering with spit and fluids. It’s just a moment, so short Lydia can’t even say anything to him, and then he’s again pressing his mouth to her lips, licking in her like he’s done it one hundred times more.
Lydia lets the skirt fall so that she has a free hand to clutch Stiles’s shoulder, because she can feel shivers running up and down her spine and her knees wobbling, and heels are not the best footwear when you’re risking losing your equilibrium. She sighs, glad she’s never been very vocal during sex because she doesn’t really think she could have controlled herself if she were.
She would have never thought something like that could happen, but Stiles is good. She hasn’t been with a lot of guy who liked to eat her, but even the ones who did weren’t so good at it.
“Stiles,” she murmurs, sighing deeply, her nails digging in his shoulder and his scalp. Stiles moans again, the vibration of his voice making her shiver again.
She can feel pure electricity run in her nerves, making her muscles twitch and spasm. The climax hits her hard, not harder than when she’s alone but surely harder that with every other sexual partner she’s ever had. She gasps and then keeps her breath while the shock of the orgasm washes over her – and still Stiles keeps on licking.
Lydia lets him keep on going while she comes down from the high, but then she makes him back off, too over-sensitized to receive other stimuli. Stiles looks at her, cheeks flushed and lips and chin glistening.
“You can stand up,” she murmurs, and he does, trying to kiss her and frowning when she stops him. “I’m not going to kiss you, you’re all dirty.”
“It’s your stuff,” he answers with a laugh, but he recedes nonetheless, bowing on one of the sinks to wash his face.
Lydia keeps breathing, her heart still hammering in her chest, looking carefully at him. Stiles seems the same Stiles as always: skinny, geeky, flailing. Virgin. But he has proved enough that he really knows how to move with a girl.
“Now can I have a kiss?” He asks her with a toothy grin.
The same Stiles who’s been in love with her for years, the same Stiles she’s never been interested in.
She takes a deep breath, straightening her skirt.
“No, I don’t think so,” she answers with a smile. “Have a good day,” she singsongs, reaching the door.
“Wait!” Stiles stops her, even though he doesn’t follow her. “I still have your underwear…”
Lydia stops to think about it, looking at Stiles above her shoulder. Then she just shrugs.
“Keep it,” she says.
She can hear Stiles flailing while she closes her door.