He disappeared somewhere behind her, some part of her told her not to move, but she could just see his reflection in her mirror. He was rooting around in her closet, but she couldn't see what he chose. His breath was all of a sudden on he back of her neck, he pushed her hair aside and began tracing a line from her hair line with his fingertip. She visibly shivered, and he laughed as his finger came to a halt between her shoulder blades. Fox's smirk in place, he whispered to her,

"Close your eyes, and put your hands in front of you, crossed at the wrist." She did as instructed, still unable to comprehend her inability to break the spell. It had been a while since she'd been alone with a boy like this, but there was something more to it. Something in the air, a heady blanket of lust that she had so unexpectedly found herself smothered by. And there was him. The lithe way he had moved around her, the electricity that was sparking through his fingertips and into her skin, that dark new note to his being that made her feel more vulnerable than she ever had. He was no longer behind her, and she felt something cool and smooth wrap around her wrists a few times, then a sharp tug.

"Open." He stood before her, her wrists were tied with her thin black belt, and she had to admit she didn't mind it as much as she'd thought she would. In fact it stoked the fire within her so much so that she had to bite back an unexpected moan of approval. Her reaction did not go unnoticed, and he grinned at her. The kitsune cupped her chin and lifted her face to his, finally capturing her lips in a kiss that made her head swim, despite it's gentleness.

"We knew you'd be dirty, darling." He murmured to her, and she rose to his words, seeking another taste of his lips, which he gave her gladly. This kiss was deeper, he twisted his fingers through her hair and sought her tongue with his. For a moment he was more man than monster, the feeling of her harmonizing with his own humanity. But the moment was snatched away by the darkness, which did not intend on losing control of it's host again. He had already planned this out, the demon loved having such a quick-thinking mind at it's disposal. As he kissed her he pulled from his back pocket a scarf he'd taken from her closet, and tied it around the belt.

"Now," he said, "close them." Lydia shut her eyes again, and found herself being led to what she judged to be roughly the centre of the room. She heard him climb onto her bed, and her arms were raised above her. She peeked upwards, and felt a flutter of fear. He'd found the hoop in the ceiling from which a frilly pink bed curtain had hung in her youth. The scarf he had tightly tied through it, leaving her strung up and at his mercy.

"I thought I'd told you to close your eyes." He said, hopping off the bed and stepping back to admire his handy work.

"Stiles, I-" She began, but he tutted at her.

"Are you afraid? I'm sure you are. I told you that you needn't be. Don't you trust us? Well, I know you trust him. You mustn't trust me. But something tells me you don't mind that so much. But I won't hurt you, not really."

"Stiles, what are you talking about?!"

He just laughed, both of them noticing that despite her confusion she made no attempt to fight her bonds. It wasn't as if she had anyone to rescue her if this did go sour. Her mother was on a three day spa retreat and she had the house to herself for the rest of the week. But this was, after all, Stiles, wasn't it? Sweet, generous, Stiles who worshiped the ground she walked upon. Though this certainly wasn't the kind of behaviour she expected of him. He left the room, humming to himself as if this were the most normal thing in the world. She heard him go down the stairs, and into the kitchen.

When he was out of sight she tested the ties, but they were solid. She wondered if there was a boy scout patch for this kind of knotting, and had to fight the hysterical urge to giggle at how odd the entire situation was. She had had no idea how very easily she could be turned on until this night. He hadn't even really touched her yet and her pulse was racing, her face flushed. And this was Stiles, as in: Definitely a virgin Stiles. Even so, she couldn't help but wait for his arrival with bated breath.

He re-entered without the hum, and when she saw him she gasped. He twirled a knife between his fingers, one of the ornate, and razor sharp, cooking knives her mother had gotten as a "40th" birthday gift about three years after she actually turned 40.
"No! Stiles, no. What the hell is that for!" Lydia panicked, pulling at the scarf desperately. He slid the knife into his back pocket and caught her in his arms, holding her still.

"Hush." He said, pressing his finger to her lips, "I told you I'm not going to hurt you, he wouldn't let me anyway, as much as I may like to. But if you don't stay very fucking still I may not be as precise as you'd like. Now, don't move." The last he growled between gritted teeth, and she was still. He kept an arm around her, his hand on her backside, retrieving the knife with the other. She couldn't help but whimper when he oh so carefully touched the tip to the hollow of her throat, but he trailed it down between her breasts, halting at her bra. She wasn't expecting him to suddenly slip the blade beneath it and slice it apart.

Both Kitsune and human grinned at the sight of her breasts bouncing free of their coverings, and he dropped the knife, so as to take them in his hands. She moaned at the contact, pushing her chest against his palms.

"Sweet, sweet human girls." The fox whispered to himself, running his fingertips around her hardening nipples. "Did you ever wonder how often he imagines this? Well, perhaps not quite as fun as this. I have added my own personal flair, don't you think?" He said out loud, shocking her by leaning in to flick his tongue over her nipple. She cried out at the wet heat against her sensitive peak. He pulled away almost immediately, and began rubbing his thumbs over both, almost roughly. She tried to squirm away from him, so sensitive to his touch that the pleasure approached pain. He was mercilessly unrelenting however, her moans only driving him on. "Don't think I'll stop when you think it's too much, gorgeous. I'll stop when I am done. I'll stop when I've made you come so many times you can't see straight. I'll stop when I know you'll never be able to be touched again without remembering me. I'll stop when I am satisfied." She wasn't sure what turned her on more, his course words or the rough calluses on his hands as they rubbed over her soft skin.