Disclaimer: It's a bit NSFW near the end. But not in the way you expect. ;)

CHAPTER FIVE:

As the days turn into weeks, Stiles finds himself growing more and more anxious. Every day consists of school and homework. Weekends he spends catching up with his friends, Scott especially. It's a normal existence. Like how every other teenager in the world lives. Like how his days went before Scott was bitten. Before he changed.

Well, when everything changed, Stiles thought.

The only thing that was not the same as before: Lydia. As in, he spent practically every night with her. More precisely, he dragged her out of bed somewhere around midnight at least three nights a week. Sometimes they checked up on possible supernatural related leads. Other times he took her to an all-night waffle house where they always ended up in some kind debate. About anything. Lydia, he noticed, had a knack for turning any conversation into a debate.

He didn't know what he was doing.

But he couldn't stay away from her. And for some reason, she never said no to the late night excursions. Something like hope had taken root inside of his chest, and he was having a hell of a time talking himself of it.

For some reason, he didn't tell Scott about any of it. Stiles suspected that his best friend knew something was up, but he never brought it up. Stiles knew he should tell him something. Anything, really. But whatever was happening with Lydia, well, he wanted to keep it to himself until he knew for sure what it was.

As for the moment, he was about to get caught by a security guard that was currently patrolling the hallway he was at the end of. There was a door in front of him to his left, and one behind him on the right. His only hope was the door in front of him. The others he'd tried had been locked.

With a quick glance behind him to make sure the guard hadn't turned the corner, Stiles rushed to what he hoped was his saving grace.

When he tried the handle, he felt a wave a relief wash over him as it completed its job and let him inside. Hurrying, he pushed the door closed and made it quiet. Still holding his breath, he took in the room he now found himself in. It was a small office. A woman's. There was a desk that was littered with picture frames of small children and a few of a black labrador. A few filing cabinets took up space in the corner near him. A fern stood the other corner near the door. He eyes flitting at the other end of the room and noticed another door.

When he opened it, he discovered a closet littered with boxes. Forcing his way to the back, he quickly stacked boxes in front of him and then crouched down, hoping like hell he wouldn't get caught.

As seconds ticked by, his heart calmed to a steady rhythm. He'd lost track of how long he was there when he felt his pocket vibrating.

All clear.

Lydia.

Thank God. He'd been waiting for her.

Still cautious, he made his way back to the office and into the hall, treading down it as quickly-and quietly-as he could. When he neared the stairwell that leads to the first floor where Lydia was, he pushed open the door and finally saw the strawberry blonde curls he was looking for.

She turned around at the sound of the door being propped open and her sea foam eyes locked onto his, relief evident.

"Stiles!" she whispered. "What the hell? Wait, no. Just come on!" And she reached for his hand and tugged him forward, leading him all the way down the stairs and out of the exit at the bottom. The two of them made it to his jeep a block away without any conversation, only the sound of dogs barking in the distance and their heaving breath between them. When they finally were in the comfort and safety of his jeep's cabin, Lydia finally rounded on him.

The glare in her eyes could level mountains. Or me, he thought, still fighting to capture his breath. "I leave you for one second… One second! And you're nearly caught by a guard! Do you have any idea how much trouble we could have gotten into by breaking into this place?"

"We needed to see what they knew about the disappearances."

"They knew nothing. Like everyone else. I'm not even sure people are disappearing, Stiles. I'm not sure what we've been doing for past month. This has to end. You're pulling at strings."

"Come on, Lydia. There's something here; I know it. I just need a new lead."

"We've been to how many of these crime scenes and nothing? I don't get anything, Stiles. The papers aren't reporting anything. Your Dad hasn't said anything. I'm honestly starting to think you can't accept that maybe there is no supernatural threat coming." He doesn't say anything. There's been a voice inside his head for a while now-something similar to her voice-telling him the same thing. And lately, he's been wondering if he's going crazy. It wouldn't be the first time, the voice says. Shut up, he thinks.

Great. Now he was talking to himself.

Lydia's gaze searches his face, contemplative and earnest, making something pool low in his belly. He doesn't deserve the look. After a moment, he says, "I'll take you home."

She sighs, reaching for his hand. "I know. I'm not used to this either. But I'm not driving myself nuts worrying about all the what-ifs. How about we just enjoy our last few months in high school? No supernatural threats. No more waking me up in the middle of night." The last sentence is said with a touch of amusement. He gives her a small smile. It's not a promise, but it's all he can give her. She doesn't say anything else.

Three weeks go by and not once has Stiles interrupted her sleep. They are past the point of him earning her forgiveness. She doesn't know when or how it happened, but at some point, she forgot completely about the night of her party. She forgot about her plan. What she didn't forget was her end goal. Not that she had made any progress.

Without those nightly trips, she and Stiles don't see much of each other outside of school and Pack meetings. It's like he's been avoiding her, except he still meets her in the mornings and walks her to class. Lunch is spent going over homework that always ends up in a heated discussion. She's noticed, albeit slightly, that her friends have started to watch them with something akin to fascination. Not that it's completely on her radar. She does have a lot that's keeping her mind occupied.

College acceptance letters are piling up-she's yet to make a decision, not sure what she's waiting for-and there's graduation and the Pack and of course, Stiles. Lately, she's noticed the bag under his eyes, his frequent yawning, and her mind is racing with deductions and conclusions.

One morning when he doesn't show up at their usual meeting spot, she does something she's never done before.

She skips school.

She doesn't even knock before entering the Stilinskis' home. There's no sign of the Sheriff when she makes her way to his son's bedroom. Not that she expected him to be there.

Pausing outside of the door, she has a moment of oh my god what am I doing, but then brings herself to knock softly on the door. When she doesn't get an answer, she makes a decision. When she twists the knob and slides it open, she discovers Stiles laying shirtless on his belly, one arm hanging off the side of the bed, his face turned the opposite way toward the window. His blanket is on the floor, obviously kicked there. The sheet is wrapped around his abdomen and one bare leg is peeking out of it.

All Lydia can think about is the high probability of his being naked under that thin sheet. Cheeks flaming, though not from embarrassment, she hurriedly retreats to her car.

Once inside, she finally let out her breath.

Her traitorous brain flashes through different scenarios that make her heart speed up and cheeks warm even more.

To say that she had let her worry get the better of her would have been an understatement. She's never been so off-kilter in her life. Lydia was never one to make hasty decisions.

Ever.

But something about Stiles Stilinski got under her skin and tempted her far more than it should. So much so that she was, even now, contemplating going back inside to see what would happen if she closed the door and woke him up.

Oh come on, what do you think he's going to do? Fuck your brains out? Just the thought of that had her shaking and on edge.

Damn it! She couldn't believe how much the sight of him had affected her. Glancing at the clock on her dash, she realized how early is still was. Not even ten in the morning. There was no way in hell she was going back to school. No way she could face her classmates or… Yeah, no way in hell was she facing a bunch of werewolves like she was now.

Feeling oddly out of control, Lydia let her hand trail down her thighs while she imagined Stiles pulling her onto his bed and moving his hand up her thigh. Gooseflesh rose under her fingertips as they moved unconsciously where she saw Stiles's. Her eyes closed, she pictured him leaning down to kiss her, letting his hand fall between her legs, rubbing over her panties.

Fuck, she was so wet just from the thought of this.

She bit her lips to stop a moan from escaping as she let herself picture that it was Stiles's hand slipping beneath her panties and stroking her clit in circles, imagining his mouth moving over her neck and collarbone.

Heat poured over her face as she slipped a finger into herself and began to pump. She let her fantasy play out in her mind. Every move of her finger felt like a thrust of his cock. Her breath came out in puffs. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Warmth began to build at the center of her, and she wasn't in a mood for teasing it out of herself. She wanted it hard, and she wanted it now.

Lydia began to move her fingers faster, and harder, and felt that crescendo all the way to the top. As she climaxed, his name slipped out between her lips.

Holy fuck. She rode her orgasm for a couple moments and stilled, letting her breathing fall normally.

When she peeled her eyes open, she couldn't stop the redoubling of heat that crept into her face as she realized what she had just done in broad daylight. In her car. In front of Stiles's house.

Oh, my God. Eyes wide, she sat there for another moment as her world adjusted and her mind processed what happened.

It took her a few tries to get her hand to stay still long enough for her to start her car. As soon as she managed, she pulled out and drove home.

Notes:

Hi there! Yes, I know. It's been a while. I hope this makes up for it! This turned out better than I expected. As always, feel free to leave feedback!