Going into the glove store is an impulse for Lydia. It's not that she needs new gloves, the ones she bought a few years ago still do their job in keeping her warm and fashionable, but once she's in the store and looking around she finds she wants another pair; an idea reaching out from the recesses of her brain and taking root in her conscious mind.
It's also a little stress relief shopping, since school had started back up again –the rest of spring break had been fantastic lots of sex and going out on an actual date with Jordan– things had felt, tense and it also felt like someone was trying to speak to her through a foot of concrete. Overall it bugged her so it'd be nice to blow off some steam.
Hearing someone moving around back, she goes up to the counter and hits the little call bell. A man who looks better suited for a biker gang than running a glove shop emerges from the back and smiles a little, "afternoon. How can I help you?"
She smiles. "I'd like to order a pair of fitted gloves."
The next fifteen minutes are spent measuring her hands –a process more detailed than she thought it would be, and picking out just the right texture and color –black– of leather. While the man start tallying everything up another thought occurs to her. "You wouldn't happen to have a pale blue leather would you?"
He does, and after she inspects –not too powdery with a nice purple tint– it she orders a second pair.
When she hears the price she blanches a little, and gingerly pulls out her new debit card; she's had it tucked away in her wallet for the past week, but she has yet to use it. The transaction goes through, much to her relief, and the man tells her her gloves should be done in about a week.
As she walks out of the store the idea blooms into wondrous anticipation, one week.
000
Stiles gracelessly flops onto the bench next to Scott, "how's it hanging Scotty?" At least everyone's so used to him that he doesn't get strange looks; but Scott rolls his eyes as he tries to take a bite of his over processed burger.
"Dude, you saw me like, ten minutes ago," Scott's voice is full of affection though. "What's up with you?"
His leg bounces as he spears a french fry with his fork. "Well," he pops his french fry into his mouth and decides fuck it, he needs to say it; though at least he remembers to swallow before talking "Has Lydia seemed strange to you lately?" It's kind of been bugging him how she's avoiding them all.
Across the table Kira smiles, "well she and Parrish are dating now," which is still so weird for him to contemplate; he may have well and truly given up on any hope of being with Lydia himself, but still. "Maybe she's just happy."
Scott return his girlfriend's smile, and Stiles turns slightly to make a gross face at Liam and Malia, because seriously, sometimes their dorkiness is just too much. Malia, in true fashion, rolls her eyes, but Liam kind of mimics him and it's cute. "She's got a lot on her plate Stiles," Scott's reminder pulls his attention back to his bro.
"Yeah, but still. I mean she hardly seems freaked out over Peter going off with Malia."
Under the table Malia kicks him, hard enough that he might have a bruise. "That was my choice Stiles, no matter what any of you were going to say to me I was going to go." Her words are accompanied by a low rumble, though at least her eyes aren't flashing. "So that's not her fault."
"And it's not like Peter and Lydia have all that much interaction right?" Kira asks.
Scott nods. "Yeah, I mean the last time they saw each other was at the station with Meredith," Stiles doesn't bother suppressing his shudder. "And your dad and Parrish was there the whole time. So maybe she's not really worried about him because they don't really interact. I mean it's not all that cool that she might be forgetting him, but it also is, you know?"
Wrinkling his nose Stiles gives a grudging nod, if anyone has a right to forget Peter it's Lydia; though he kind of misses doing research with her –though it'd be nice to have a session that isn't accompanied by the usual 'we might die' panic. "Yeah, still kind of sure she's avoiding us."
Lightly, Scott punches his arm. Though it's a little ruined by the fact he blinks rapidly and yawns. Stiles frowns, "dude, you okay?" At his words everyone else kind of stares at Scott, Liam most intently of all –which is only about half cute really.
"Yeah Stiles, just been having trouble sleeping lately."
He opens his mouth to tell Scott he knows how he feels, but instead comes out: "well maybe you should lay off on that 'howling at the moon' stuff. I'm surprised Mrs. Jenkins hasn't called in to file a noise complaint yet." Which he knows is something he would say, but that's not what he'd wanted to say at all.
Still, Scott laughs. "Yeah, maybe."
It's a little worrying to Stiles, but who knows; maybe it's just his brain to mouth filter finally kicking in.
000
The problem with Beacon Hills, Lydia thinks as she drives over to Eureka, is that it's still small enough that the grapevine/gossip chain will still bite you in the ass. Case in point: going to any of the design firms in town is a surefire way for her mother, the one who raised her, to realize that maybe the lake house didn't change hands as much as she thought; and there's no good way to explain the fact that she got it as a birthday gift from a lover.
Luckily Eureka's only a fifteen minute drive, or only about ten if you're at the lake house itself; meaning no firm in Eureka will find it strange that she's going to one of them, instead of one in Beacon Hills; though she's sure the fact she's got a million dollar budget will help too.
Though she won't be doing much 'shopping around' anyways, she's got her choice and two backups just in case, but all the reviews she's found suggest number one will work out just fine.
She finds parking easily enough and after climbing out of her car takes a deep breath, this is the first step. Towards what she's isn't quite sure but what she is sure of is that this is the path she wants.
As she walks into the firm's office she thinks she hears a voice whisper 'independence' but she could be wrong.
000
It's actually easier than Mason thought it would be to find Lydia in the crowded cafeteria. Holding his own lunch in his hands like it might ward off all sorts of evils he goes over to her, the only other person at the table he recognizes is Danny so he's not feeling all that confident as he steps up next to her. "Hey, Lydia."
She turns and gives him the brightest, most vapid smile he's ever seen. "Mason!" She glares at the guy currently sitting next to her hard enough Mason's surprised that his head doesn't burst into flames; the guy gets the hint though and gets up. "Have a seat."
A little anxiously he does, these are the popular people after all and he's always kind of been just. . .there. "Thanks, uh, how are you?" That's something popular people still ask right? It's also a little unnerving how different knows-about-supernatural Lydia is from popular Lydia.
"Oh I'm just fantastic. But hey, let me introduce you to everyone." Almost rapidly she points to people and rattles off names, after a minute they start to sort of blur in his head. "Everyone this is Mason." . . .Was he just made popular? She gives him another fake smile. "I'm glad you decided to join us Mason," he hopes she knows that sounds like something out of a creepy sci-fi horror movie.
He gives her the best smile he can in return, which granted it probably too awkward to be real but they're just going to have to deal. "No problem." Since it's obvious he won't be able to ask her outright if they can meet up to talk about supernatural stuff –he's got about a million questions he wants to ask, he'll have to try and think of a sneaky way; maybe they could both learn Morse code.
Eating while he thinks he lets the babble of conversation was over him mostly, trying to be as non-committal as possible when asked questions; it's not like he really wants to be popular, though Danny and Lydia seem to enjoy being in the full thick of it.
As surreptitiously as possible he pulls out a scrap of paper from his notebook and jots down: want to meet to talk about things. Pulling it onto his lap he crumples it into a ball and hoping it doesn't go anywhere too inappropriate does his best to flick it onto her lap.
She twitches, which he hopes means she felt it and not something else, and keeps right on talking with Elsie? Eve? Ellie?
The rest of lunch is kind of a decent into surrealism, so he's relieved when the warning bell rings; barely even hesitating when Lydia's hand lands on his arm to stop him getting up. "Do you get picked up or take the bus home after school?"
"Bus," neither of his parents have the time really to come get him anymore.
She gives a deft little nod, "meet me at the front doors after school and we'll head over to my place to chat."
"Alright," this time she doesn't stop him when he gets up to head to class.
...
Mason actually finds himself jumping a little when Lydia wraps her arm around his. "Uh," he somehow manages to both not mind and still find it weird.
But she lets go right away, "sorry." She blushes a little –which at least manages to erase any lingering traces of the 'creepy sci-fi bot' vibe from earlier, "habit."
There's really nothing he can say in response to that so he just follows as she walks to her car. The radio blares Ke$ha at them as the car rumbles into life; Lydia quickly turns it down though in favor of actual conversation. "So have you told Liam yet?"
"Yes," and it had been about a billion times more awkward than the coming out/sex talk he'd had with his parents in middle school. "He was kind of surprised, but I think he was also just glad he didn't have to hide from me anymore." Liam had also let slip that Brett was a werewolf too –and what did that say about Mason that it made Brett even hotter? Not that he would tell Lydia any of that, unless she managed to get him drunk.
She smiles as she pulls onto a residential street. "That's good, I'm glad it went well for you." She makes a little face. "Though Scott might tell him to hide things from you." It's hard to miss the way her grip on the steering wheel tightens, or her unhappy tone –and the implication that that was what happened to her is unmistakable. "If you feel that might be happening come to me, and I can at least tell you everything I know."
Her words cause a warm lump in his chest; since he found out he's been doing some research on his own –though he doesn't know how much of it is true or not– and if she really is part of Scott's pack as the situation has implied, the fact that she's willing to go against him for Mason is kind of huge. "Thanks," though that word feels really inadequate all of the sudden.
The smile she gives him this time is much larger than the last. "No problem."
000
With a pained groan, Scott awakes from another nightmare. Rolling over a little he half-buries his face in a still chilly pillow. This time he can't remember anything about the dream, except a feeling of menace and Peter.
Tell me something I don't know, he thinks ruefully. Everything about Peter just rubs Scott the wrong way, and the fact he didn't do anything to save Kate from Peter still grates on him even nearly two weeks on. How can anyone think just killing someone is a good idea?
Granted, everyone except his pack had seemed to think that; he shivers a little remembering the scent of relief on Derek –who could turn into a full-wolf now when Scott still couldn't.
He'd asked Deaton about that and the older man had just told him that when the time came it would happen to him; which made it sound a lot like puberty, which was weird. Still Scott found himself worried about it, despite what Peter had said he wasn't afraid of his werewolf self. But the idea of becoming an animal like that was. . .unnerving. Maybe he just needed to go and talk to Derek about it.
Yeah, that sounded good.
000
"Are you alright?" Kira asks as she takes her usual seat behind Lydia.
Lydia turns a little in her seat and frowns. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" She sounds like the mere idea of not being alright is inconceivable. Which maybe from Lydia's point of view it is; but for Kira she's just worried, she knows that Lydia has kind of clashed with Scott recently, especially concerning Malia, and it doesn't really seem like the Lydia Kira's known.
Kira shrugs and finds herself hoping Lydia doesn't take this the wrong way. "I don't know, you just seem out of it sometimes."
Malia flops gracelessly into seat. "Out of what?"
She has no idea how to explain that really, trying to teach Malia how people. . .are, for lack of a better term, has kind of shown Kira how weird some idioms and sayings are.
"My surroundings," Lydia wrinkles her nose a little as if implying that's not quite right. "Kira's worried my minds on other things, distracted, when I should be focused on here and now."
Clearly Kira needs to borrow Lydia's brain the next time she has an argument with her parents, because that's kind of it exactly.
Malia's eyes narrow a bit, "well you do smell more like. . .sex? than you usually do."
Wow, way to be blunt, but Lydia takes it in stride, yet something else Kira wishes she could borrow from time to time. "That would be because I happen to be having more sex, though that's not exactly something you should be mentioning out of the blue Malia."
Malia's thinking frown slots into place and shortly thereafter she nods. "Alright, but when should I bring up sex?"
At the moment Kira's pretty sure she's suffering from the biggest case of second-hand embarrassment; granted it's not like Malia seems to feel that specific emotion. Lydia laughs, "that depends on the people you're with."
Before Malia can ask for elaboration on that subject Mrs. Jones comes in and promptly dives into the roll call. Leaving Kira to stew a little in her worry, despite Lydia's reassurance she still thinks something is wrong with the other girl.
000
After school Lydia heads over to Jordan's house, they don't have anything planned, but so far they haven't done anything close to resembling glamour training and she's decided enough is enough. Even though she has a key now she still knocks on the door, if he's not home then she'll let herself in.
He soon answers though, clearly taken aback a little to see her there. "Lydia? Something wrong? I didn't think we had anything planned for today."
"We don't," she pushes herself onto her tippy-toes to give him a brief kiss. "I was actually hoping we could do some glamour practice," it's not like he can teach her banshee stuff after all; so she might as well learn what she can.
"Yeah, of course," he steps aside. "Go on into the kitchen, I'll join you in a moment."
Despite the fact that it's about as empty of adornment as the rest of the house, save a garden window full of plants –most of which she probably couldn't name, she actually likes the kitchen, it feels nice and simple; though there's only a little breakfast nook for seating. Pulling herself onto the stool she starts swinging her legs, waiting for Jordan to come back.
She doesn't have long to wait though, and he takes the seat across from her; laying a dollar bill and a leaf on the table. "I know it might seem a little counter intuitive, but we're going to start with creating something complex before we move onto something simple. Being able to get down the details, no matter how small will make even your simple stuff more believable."
Lydia's seen enough crime TV shows that she's pretty sure she knows what he's getting at. But just to clarify: "so like making sure you're dressed right so no one gives you a second look?"
"Basically. Now despite the fact that it'll break once it's been touched glamours are easier to put on things, whether that be yourself, a house, or even," he taps the table in between the leaf and the dollar. "A leaf or money. So," he pushes the dollar bill closer to her. "Make that look like a leaf."
Which isn't quite the direction she thought he'd be going with this, but she can go with it. She starts to place her hand on the dollar but stops right before she touches it. "I can touch it and still place the glamour on it right?"
He nods, "it's just anyone else's touch that will break the magic. Now I'm going to close my eyes, when you think you're done tell me and we'll see if I can tell the difference between your two leaves."
But instead of setting her hand on the dollar she moves it over to the leaf, picking it up and feeling it; if this was all about details than just looking at the leaf wouldn't be enough. It's a new leaf, and not one of the old fallen ones from last year; green, springy, and completely smooth except for the veins.
Going back to the dollar bill she finally picks it up, and in her mind begins to picture the leaf: how it felt in her hand, the colors, how the veins created slight valleys in the upwards facing side. She can feel something begin to build up in her mind and she starts. . .pushing it into her hand and the dollar.
When she glances back down at her hand it looks like she's holding another leaf. So she sets it down, and just to make sure he doesn't spot it right away, swaps the two leaves' positions a few times. "Okay."
Jordan opens his eyes and looks down; he sets his hands down on the table, but doesn't reach out to touch either leaf. He does lean in a little closer though. After a tense minute he reaches out, "this one," and taps one of the leaves; the moment he touches it it becomes a dollar bill again.
She will not get angry with herself about not doing it right; overall she's brand new to this, she's bound to fail more times than she succeeds. "What'd I do wrong?"
"You overcompensated on the highlights and shadows, did more work than you had to. Light will interact with a glamoured object the same way it would a regular one, you adding in those interactions yourself makes it obvious." He picks up the dollar bill himself, rubbing it between his fingers. "Now close your eyes and we'll see if you can spot the glamour this time."
Giving a little sigh she does so.
000
Stiles collapses into the seat next to Lydia. "Hey, so, pack study session?" Apparently he didn't have that brain to mouth filter long; then again he's surprised he even had one at all, even if it was only for, like, six seconds.
"Hello to you too Stiles," but her lips twitch in that vaguely amused way that totally means she's interested. "And why, exactly?"
"Does there need to be a reason?" He shrugs. "I mean we pig out on junk food, hopefully learn, you can express resigned annoyance when the rest of us screw up something. We all bond, prosper, and hopefully excel in school. And they'll be giving us the PSAT again next month." He's pretty sure that'll convince her considering how she complained about wanting to pay attention in school before spring break started. Though he'd rather not think about why they're re-doing PSAT.
And hey, if he and Scott and find a way to subtly question her about things than so much the better.
She rolls her eyes. "Well with reasons like that, how can I say no?" Despite the sarcasm he thinks she just agreed to it. "When exactly would this be?" Yep, totally agreed.
"After school today," yeah, short notice he knows; but that's a little the point with this.
He gets her best 'bitch please' face in response. "I've got plans." Her tone brooks no arguments.
But Stiles is undaunted, and there's totally no shame in him: "aww, come on," he whines. "How are we going to be a better pack if we don't do things together?"
"Even on our best days I wouldn't exactly call us a pack Stiles," Lydia's aggrieved tone rankles a little.
His eyes narrow, no matter what she says they are a pack; sure they still don't know how best to work together but it's not like they've had the breathing room to figure it out. "You can just say no."
Which gets him a flat look. "Pretty sure I already did when I told you I had plans."
He sneers. "What with Parrish?" Who none of them really know anything about, and that's kind of not right.
She arches an unimpressed eyebrow. "Yes, so? We're dating, we're allowed to do things together. That's the way dating works."
He nearly bites out that she doesn't need to rub it in his face, but somehow he manages to keep it in. "Why don't you invite him to come too?" Maybe he and Scott could subtly question Jordan as well, and Stiles could give him the customary 'if you hurt Lydia' speech –didn't even matter if Parrish was seven years his senior.
"Yes Stiles, because a study session is exactly where I want to go on a date with a man who isn't even in college anymore." She turns her attention back to her notebook, clearly implying this conversation is over.
He bounces his leg a few times, thinking. "Well what if we did another one this weekend?"
Lydia's shoulders slump in a silent sigh. "I'm busy Sunday, but I've got nothing on Saturday."
Score. "Well I'll talk to everyone today and figure out a time that works for everyone." The subtle questions will happen, come hell or high water.
"Fine. Text me."
"Course," he flips open his own notebook and begins doodling in the margins. Lydia's mom finally comes in and starts class, though Stiles already knows all of this so he lets his mind drift a little, hand and pen still doodling.
Later, when class had finished he looked down and realized his 'doodle' is in fact an all-too-familiar tangle of roots.
000
Peter consciously takes up most of Jordan's couch as he waits for Lydia to arrive from school, Jordan will most likely arrive a short while later, but not before Lydia.
Speaking of, the sound of a car door shutting has him turning his head towards the door. Shortly after the sound of a key sliding into the lock has him focusing his attention and shifting more upright. "I'm here," Lydia calls out as she enters and drops off her bag.
"In the living room," Peter calls out.
She enters, smile on her face and hands oddly behind her back. "Hello." As she heads towards the couch he sits upright and turns so that they can kiss when she reaches the other side of the back.
This close he can smell sharp leather on her, for a moment he thinks she went to go visit Jordan earlier, but the scent is too sharp and anyways Jordan'd put his foot down and asked that they not bother him unless they absolutely had to while he was at work. Still, he's smiling a little himself when they pull apart. "Why do you smell like leather sweetheart?"
A low soft laugh leaves her and pretty much makes him rock hard. "Turn back around."
Feeling a little wary he does. There's a rustle of movement behind him and then the leather scent grows stronger as her fingers run through his hair, feeling much smoother against his skin than usual. "I got new gloves," she tells him before he can even ask.
The leather creaks a little as she tightens her grasp, pulling his hair just this side of too much; but he sits a little more upright to ease some of the tension. "And what do you plan on doing with them?" The way she hid them implies she didn't want him to know about them until she told him. He sneezes and feels certain he lost a few strands of hair in the process; the pain's good though.
"Oh, a little this, a little that." Her hands leave his hair to smooth down his neck and under his shirt, the sensation of the leather pleasant and new. The innuendo in her voice is clear and Peter's coming to the wonderful conclusion their sex life is never going to be boring.
He starts turning back around and her hands leave. "Well then," his own hands move up to start playing with her hair. "Let's get started with 'this and that' then."
Her smile is interrupted by a yelp when he pulls her over the back of the couch onto his lap. But he kisses it all better. Before he knows it his shirt is gone and Lydia is running her leather covered hands all over his chest; rubbing his nipples, playing with the trail of hair just above his pants.
Every touch makes him start a little because the texture's not at all what he's expecting; not that he dislikes it. It's just not the same sensation as usual. Lydia's fingers make quick work of undoing his pants, and he can't even find it in himself to care that she's still dressed. He arches up off the couch when one of her leather covered hands cups the head of his cock, deliciously smooth and warm. "Christ."
Lydia's laugh is low again as she lets go and begins trying to shove down his pants and boxers, he helps as much as he can, feeling only a little hurt when she starts batting away his attempts to help. Soon enough though he's naked and she's kneeling above him a wonderfully wicked smile on her lips as her gloved hands return to his cock.
They wrap around him tightly, tight enough that he's nearly tricked into thinking he's inside her, his hips jerk. For the longest time they just remain there, holding him but not doing anything else. If this keeps up he has no idea what he'll do. "Lydia," he doesn't think she'll miss the warning in his tone.
"Peter," she chides back. "You don't get much of a say in this dear," her voice and tone are saccharine sweet and he shudders. He might prefer, on the whole, to be the one in control; but right now with Lydia's leather covered hands on him and her kneeling above him looking very much like a naughty librarian? He finds he's willing to hand over the reins for a while.
So he makes his body relax, be loose and unresisting beneath her; and knowing she's staring at him intently bares his neck, just enough. The expression that blooms over Lydia's face does something to his insides and he grunts when she leans down and sets her teeth lightly on the muscles there.
Keeping her teeth at his neck she pumps her hands again, the movements becoming smoother as she gathers up some of his pre-come. She stops when she lets go; he feels her breath move up to his ear. "Thank you."
He shivers, then bites back a sound of disappointment when she lets go of him. "Lydia?"
She shifts over a little and gives him a brief kiss. "We're gonna move to the dining room table, I want to try something." She climbs off him in the most enticing way possible and he manages a huff of amusement.
Which earns him a twitch of a smile, "well?" She sways her hips as she walks backwards towards the dining room.
"Aren't you afraid we might break the table?" Jordan's table is solid oak; it'd take a lot to break it. Standing up he starts to follow her.
He gets a laugh in response. "Well, then maybe you'll just have to buy him a new one in apology." Reaching out she pinches him lightly on his hip, "come on, up on the table."
Climbing up he does his best to settle the curl of nerves rising from his stomach; sort of nerves he gets when someone else is basically in complete control, but he trusts Lydia.
As if she can sense his emotions –and maybe she can it's not like he's gone out of his way to fully explore the bond he created between them– her hands glide up his legs in a stroking manner, and she leans down to lay a kiss on the inside of his knee. Her hands stop on his hips, and he finds himself actually spreading his legs a little to give her better access to do whatever she has planned.
"I want to try something?" She steps up to the edge of the table, inside the vee of his legs.
"What?" He jumps a little when one of her thumbs begins rubbing a soothing circle.
She stares at a spot on his chest for a little while before looking him in the eye again. "I was thinking maybe I could. . .finger you?" Her blush implies she's slightly embarrassed over having just asked that.
Oh, he finds himself staring at a spot over her shoulder, it's rare for him to agree to penetration –a statement he's sure more than a few Freudian psychologists could get years of study out of; but right now with the sensations of Lydia's gloved fingers resting on his hips? And realizing what they might feel like inside him? "Alright."
Lydia smiles like the sun and gives his cock a firm pump, "then I'll be right back. And don't move." She lays a brief kiss on his chest then leaves the dining room.
Which is about when Jordan comes home; either monumentally good timing or some variation of fate. "Hello?"
To answer or not to answer? Well it isn't like Jordan wouldn't find him eventually. "In the dining room."
Jordan soon enters, then stops later. "Why are you naked on my table?"
But before Peter can come up with an answer Lydia returns. "Hi Jordan," her voice is innocently cheerful.
He turns to look at Lydia and stops again, Peter off handedly wondering if Jordan's mouth is watering as much as Peter's at Lydia's slight change in dress.
From the waist down she's still fully clothed. But while finding lube she'd gotten rid of her blouse, leaving her in only a dark green bra and those devious black gloves. It's a delectable sight, one that makes him want to get off the table and fuck her into a wall.
"Lydia. . .?" Jordan looks bewildered, though not in a bad way.
She smiles deviously at him, "well you can have a seat and watch the show. Unless you want to join Peter on the table. . ." she drifts off suggestively, and Jordan flushes. You'd think a being over a thousand years old would be better at hiding his emotions than Jordan is; though Peter finds himself hoping he never learns how.
Jordan steps around the table so he's by Peter's head, "I'll, uh, sit."
"Ok," Lydia hooks a nearby chair with an ankle and drags it over for herself to sit on. Daintily she perches on the edge, his gaze is riveted as she pops the cap and squeezes out a dollop of lube on her middle and pointer fingers.
In part to relax himself Peter stretches out his arms, with the vague intention of 'reaching' for Jordan. Despite the fact that he looks half in a daze Jordan still notices his gesture and reaches out his own hands to grasp Peter's own, giving a light squeeze. Tilting his head back Peter can see Jordan; it's only a little disorienting that he's upside down.
The tentative encouraging smile Jordan gives him though is unmistakable and Peter barely twitches when he feels a leather covered thumb start circling his anus. Lydia's movements are slow and steady though, and he's probably the most taken aback out of all of them by the groan she gets out of him.
As soon as it came the thumb leaves, though it's soon replaced by the fingers she'd lubed moments before. "Ready?"
"Just do–ah!" Clever Lydia, pulling a page straight from his book. He'd be proud if he wasn't being constantly distracted by the sensations created by a finger steadily pushing in. His grip on Jordan's hands is probably painfully tight, but he'll make it up to Jordan later.
His cock practically bounces when she grazes his prostate and Lydia's grin is far too satisfied. "There it is."
The second time she hits it he has to close his eyes, groaning again. She relents a little and moves to tease him in other ways, clearly intending for this to last. He's not sure if he can take that. "Lydia," it comes out more like a guttural growl than anything else.
Her other hand joins in, once more wrapping around his cock. "Yes Peter?" Her voice is rough and he can smell arousal pouring off her in waves.
Opening his eyes he tilts his head down to look at her. "Stop,"–her fingers twist inside and his hips buck–"teasing."
She pouts at him. "But that's the whole point Peter," she leans in and lays a kiss on his hip, leaving a lipstick hickey behind. "Now unless you're going to tell me to stop, shush." Then the wretched woman begins adding her second lubed finger into the mix.
Baring his teeth at her, no one's told him to 'shush' since he was a pup, he spreads his legs apart even more; as if daring her to do her worst. She gives a wicked smile –one he wants to see her wear more often– and damn well does her level best.
When she finally lets him come, he's pretty sure he exemplifies 'rode hard, put away wet', though he's not sure he cares. A noise reaches his ears that might be Lydia removing her gloves; and shortly thereafter she's on the table next to him, cuddled up to his side. Almost gently she gives him a peck on his cheek. "Thank you."
Peter barely manages a nod in response, his arms sag as he feels Jordan disentangle himself and he only vaguely tracks the sounds of Jordan moving; he doesn't react when he feels one of Jordan's hands rest on his hip, but he does manage a twitch when the other man begins licking him clean. After nuzzling his jaw with her cheek Lydia scoots down and joins Jordan.
At the moment he finds he's more than happy to lay there as they clean him, the wolf inside him rumbling in approval. In between licks Peter watches the two of them trade sloppy kisses; until they've gotten every last drop, then they're both curling around him on the table –which manages to hold their weight handily.
Their faces are close enough that Peter leans into Lydia and does his own spot of grooming, licking up the stray bits of semen she missed on herself, she gives a happy hum and bares her neck enough to let him do his own bit of scent marking. When he's finished with her he does the same with Jordan.
Silence reigns between them for a little while before: "while this was all well and fun, my table isn't exactly the most comfortable place to cuddle." Jordan manages to make it sound like it's far more uncomfortable than it really is, not that Peter's going to argue.
Lydia's bare hand lands on his chest as she pushes herself up. "Well then, last one to the bedroom is a rotten egg." She leaps off the table and bounds out of the dining room.
Peter spares the briefest of moments to share and exasperated glance with Jordan before he's up like a shot, using his werewolf speed to handily catch up to Lydia; and playing dirty scooping her up and tossing her onto his shoulder.
She screeches. "Jordan! Save me!"
The only response she gets is laughter from the bottom of the stairs.
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Next week: There's something in the preserve...
Also had a total blank moment in ch. 19 and didn't put up the FC of Morana, that's fixed now and can be seen on my profile.