His head was spinning, he wondered how he had managed to keep his voice so calm and collected when inside everything was being tossed about.

But he found himself faced with a problem: On the path he was on, he'd soon find himself somewhere fantastic and... rather intimidating. He pondered this as he pressed chaste kissed along her chest, and gave her left breast the same treatment as her right. Her resulting moans almost totally erased all his doubts.

She wrapped her legs tighter around him and twisted the collar of his jacket around her fingers, arching her back beautifully.

He couldn't help but grin, and she gasped as his sharp teeth brushed her skin. So he bit down on the pebbled peak of her nipple as gently as he could, and enjoyed the resulting buck of her hips and squirm of desperation.

They felt unsure, both of them, of just how far this would go. They both wanted the same thing, yet were both so afraid of getting it. He battled with the thoughts that told him: "It's wrong, she's all loopy, she doesn't know what she's doing."

His smaller brain insisted that it was fine, "She wants it, or she'd stop you, and those don't exactly sound like moans of discomfort."

He continued his path downwards, his hot mouth coming to rest at the waistline of her thong. She groaned and bucked her hips,

"Oh God, please, Stiles." She begged, and he smiled, pressing his tongue to the outside of her underwear. She moaned at the heat.

Jackson no longer possessed her mind. It was just Stiles. Only Stiles.

His fingers hooked over the waistband of her underwear, and he gazed up at her. She looked down at him nervously. He smirked, and leaned in again, pressing his hot tongue against the damp cloth again. Her nerves evaporated, and she nodded.

He pulled them off as quickly as possible, throwing them over his shoulder and grinning at the sight of her.

She felt herself blushing, and grimaced. But lay her head back and closed her eyes. So what if he was the second guy ever to see that part of her? Guys tend to be fans of such things.

He was nervous and unsure, but he'd spent a few nights on google, researching such actions "just in case". Maybe it was fate, or maybe he was just suddenly really lucky.

It wasn't long until she was begging, and the combination of his fingers and tongue had her squirming. Perhaps the medication sped things up, the way it seemed to set her nerve ends alight. Her hips bucked off the bed, and she gasped. It was an explosion of sorts within her, and she let out a quiet, breathless scream. Squirming as it traveled through her, she was sure it felt far too good to be natural. he decreased his actions gradually, letting her ride it out, before stopping completely.

She was breathless, shaky, and so fantastically ready for more.

He reached down, and scrambled with the suddenly very difficult buttons and zip on his jeans. And pulled them off as soon as he'd figured out how through his haze of lust. Lydia sat up, and began tugging on his jacket, removing it for him when he gave her the chance. His shirt he removed himself, tossing it aside to join his jeans. He settled himself between her legs again, and they began to kiss with a harsh fever, passionate desperation.

She bent her legs, and began to push his boxers down with her feet, he helped, and soon she was staring wide eyed at what they'd revealed. He got on all fours over her, and looked her in the eyes,
"Are you sure?" He said, and she wrapped her legs around him again, pulling him down until his tip pressed against her soaking entrance. She moaned at the anticipation, and he grinned, "I'll take that as a yes."

He held it there for a while, teasingly, enjoying her resulting gasps and begs. She needed it badly, and he could tell. He began moving his hips, causing his tip to move back up her slit, brush against her clit, then back down to her entrance. She dug her nails into his back, and he continued until he saw tears in her eyes. It felt so good, it hurt. She was aching for him to push into her, and finally, he did.

But when he pushed in, he only did so an inch or so, until pulling back, then doing so again. She began lifting her hips, attempting to force him in deeper, to no avail.

"Please, please." She gasped, the only word she could form in her state of delicious distress. He thrust in a little deeper, then a little more, each thrust going deeper until finally he filled her. She threw her head back and cried out, it set her off again, and he groaned at the sudden feeling of her convulsing and constricting around him.

He began to build up a rhythm, which she met with the rock of her own hips. Her moans continue, pushing him further and further towards his finish. The rhythm increased, harder and faster until she clenched and convulsed around him one last time, and finally he emptied within her. They lay there for a moment, catching their breath.

"Wow." Lydia finally gasped out, and he could only nod in reply, rolling over onto his back. They lay in panting silence for a few minutes, until Lydia turned to look at him, biting her swollen lip and furrowing her brow in worry,

"Please, Stiles, don't tell anyone about this. I don't know what to do about.. about Jackson right now. I don't know what to do about what we just did."

"I promise, I won't tell anyone. I just want you to know that I don't like the way he treats you, and for me, this meant a lot more to me than you know."

She stared at him for a while, the two of them locking in that post-sex haze of wonderment at just how delicious the feelings another human could give them were. She searched her mind for the right response, but could come up with none.

He watched the walls behind her eyes come up, and had to bite back frustration and upset, but knew there was no arguing with her when they were in place. He knew her better than anything in the world. He wasn't surprised when she asked him calmly to get dressed, and see himself out. He was just pulling on his jacket when her cellphone beeped, and she (dressing herself) asked him to answer it for her.

The End