"What're you thinking about?'' Lydia mused, turning her head in time to see Stiles place the last gummy worm on her arm.
She smiled and dropped it into her mouth happily.
"Whether my dad would notice if we built a fort in here''.
"I think he would".
"You'd be surprised… he's pretty out of it when he gets in from the nightshift''. Stiles shuffled on their pillow mattress, the living room floor becoming slightly uncomfortable. He rolled onto his side, facing the girl and getting a face full of auburn hair.
He blew stray strands out of his way as he asked in turn, "What're you thinking about?''
"That time we kissed''.
The girl didn't take her eyes off of the ceiling as the words slipped through her ruby lips without hesitation.
Stiles stilled for a moment, shifting once more out of nerves and anticipation. He liked his lips and shuffled closer, ever so slightly. The empty bottle of vodka slipped from between the pillows and rolled to the floor.
''Yeah?''His voice was quiet.
Lydia nodded, a small smile etched onto her lips as she finally turned her head to face him. Their eyes met and neither dared to look away.
"What're you thinking about that for?'' Nerves disappeared from the boys voice and instead his question was full of honest curiosity.
Lydia let out a breath that washed over his face and fell upon his parted lips. She was a deadly mix of vodka, strawberries and cherry gummy worms.
He was intoxicated - and the alcohol was just the beginning of it.
"I was thinking about doing it again'', Lydia's eyes were as big and wide as ever, except now they were full of hope, curiosity and lust - an emotion that Stiles had only seen a few times before.

"You want to kiss me again? You want us to kiss like last time in-''
"Actually, I was hoping that maybe this time, you would kiss me''.
It wasn't a question, it was a statement - a confession that fell from Lydia's lips and graced Stiles' ears like a prayer.
He didn't need much time to process her words, he had made his decision quickly and thanks to his vodka warmed brain, he didn't think too much about the consequences of her words and his actions.
Despite his fast resolution, his movements were slow and precise - almost calculated - as he raised one hand to her face.
They still lay parallel to one another, his lips to her eyes and her forehead to his chin. He moved slightly, reaching her lips and curling into her. His long fingers knotted their way into her loose curls of hair and his nervous breath ghosted across her lips. She held her own as their noses brushed, his fingers tracing patterns into her neck.

His lips found her cheekbone and she sighed.

They trailed electricity across her jaw and she whimpered.

He reached her lips with his own and in the sweetest moment, the grazed each other tortuously. Stiles hesitated, pausing beside her, holding himself back until he knew that she wanted this too.
Lydia made a noise of quiet protest and nudged his top lip with the tip of nose. Stiles placed a kiss there.
His thumb stroked gently in the spot underneath her earlobe. She melted, falling into him and grasping the material of his shirt in her hands - waiting impatiently and preparing for the sensations about to come.

Liquid gold looked back at her as she stared into Stiles' eyes with complete awe and wonder, her body unable to hold back all the emotions she felt. Impatience, frustration, excitement - lust.
Lydia was on the edge of murmuring ''please'' and she parted her lips to speak. In that moment, Stiles placed his lips on her own, his bottom lip melting in between hers in a strange and wonderful angle that she had never experienced.
She gasped into his mouth and he took the opportunity to run his tongue along her full, bottom lip.

Lydia had never loved the sound of her own name so much until she discovered what it sounded like when mixed with the moans of Stiles Stilinski.
He whispered it into her parted lips like a prayer and a curse and he cupped her face as he kissed her like he would lose her forever if he let go.
The kiss went from new and exciting to frustrating and too much in a matter of minutes. With a muttered 'fuck', Lydia parted from the boy with immediate regret. She sat up and exhaled heavily, watching as the boy scrambled up from the floor to face her.
His lips were swollen from her own and his shirt had creases from where she had been grabbing at him, pulling him closer than possible.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched the girl and wondered if he had went too far.
Her hair was a disaster and he adored it. Her full lips were puffy from his kisses and her eyes were wild as they looked at him with unanswered questions and new emotions.
Before Stiles could ask with dejection and worry, if he had done something wrong; Lydia crawled over to him, clambering into his lap with as much grace as she could and placed her lips firmly back onto his.
Stiles groaned into her lips, her fingers and nails doing wonderful things to the nape of his neck.
"Shit, Lydia, is this okay?''
"It's very much 'okay', Stiles'', her voice was breathy and hoarse - and she murmured her confirmation between his lips and he crushed his own to hers.
Between kisses and moans, the boy continued to speak - his mind full of questions that needed answered.
"Lydia, mmm, should we be doing this? Are we drunk?''
The girl let her head drop back in response, allowing his hungry lips to place kisses there.
"We are drunk. But it's Valentines Day and we're together and we're special friends and… oh God, I want this''.
"I want this too''.

Stiles fell back into the sofa, the girl still straddling his lap and for the first time, he allowed himself to take in the marvellous sight before him.
Lydia was a nine hundred, thousand word novel and cinematic masterpiece. She was a breathtaking photograph and a dream brought to was a strawberry blonde galaxy, the brightest star and she was the delicate piece of string that kept him grounded in this fucked up world.
And she was sat before him in his lacrosse jersey, looking like sin and waiting for his lips to meet hers.

"Special friends, huh?" He breathed into the night air as the girl nipped at his jaw.
Lydia nodded, her eyes sincere as their noses nuzzled each others and she leant forward - their foreheads touching.
She let out a shaky breath as Stiles gazed at her from his close proximity. Lydia shifted in anticipation of what the night was going to bring them and she bit her lip at the sensation of his denim jeans underneath her bare thighs.
She closed her eyes as she leant into the boy further - his familiar scent, his comforting warmth, surrounding her.
Their lips brushed as she spoke, the electricity of the new sensations sending her body into high alert. She was drunk on Stiles, his kisses tasted of vodka and his teeth nipped at her bottom lip tortuously.
"We're really special friends, Stiles, aren't we?'' Lydia asked, her voice a murmur and full of questioning and doubt.
The boy nodded and groaned as she found his hands with her own smaller ones, placing his rough palms on the bare skin of her thighs.
Stiles' voice was hoarse as he agreed with her, "I wouldn't be doing this with any of my other friends''.
She chuckled through a moan that threatened to slip out as Stiles hands mapped out the insides of her thighs. Her porcelain skin was smooth and was spread out like a wonderland on top of the boys lap.

"Only me, Stiles?''
"Only you, Lydia''.

Their lips crushed together with an urgency that had renewed itself from before. Her hands found their way to his face and Lydia marvelled at the feeling of rough stubbled their. Her thumbs rubbed tender circles on his cheeks - her mind flashing back to kisses of before. She was drowning in him and the only way to breath was to pull away.
She didn't - and when Stiles' arms wrapped their around her waist to pull her closer she could only kiss him deeper.
The boy was delirious from her lips that tasted like cherries and left him speechless. His hands trailed their way from her legs to her tiny waist that was hidden beneath the mass of his jersey. He pulled her closer to him than he ever thought would be possible - lips met lips and chests were crushed together.
She ground herself down onto this lap in a way that Stiles was sure was illegal and the boy could only moan into her parted lips - he had no sense to still her, to ask himself what the situation would be like tomorrow when they were sober.

His hands roamed from their safe place on her waist and back down to her legs. Her skin called to him and Lydia curled into him at his touch.
When Stiles paused at the hem of his jersey, he let his fingers brush the material once, twice, before Lydia encouraged him with a subtle nod and wiggle of her hips.
He cursed under his breath.

When his fingertips discovered the soft lace of her underwear, Lydia swore along with him. With shaking hands, he traced the outline along the tops of her thighs as if she were a painting.
Stiles kisses slowed and he kissed her reverently, so soft and tenderly that Lydia was in awe of the boy underneath her. When she parted from him, his eyes were warm and liquid gold, gazing back at her with so many emotions that she struggled to place them all.
He leant up to nuzzle her neck, placing kisses along her exposed skin as he continued to map his way across her underwear.
The lace was thin underneath his curious fingers and he swore softly and the warmth that radiated from her.
He felt a surge of pride and smugness as he mumbled into her skin, "Are you turned on, Lydia?''
Heat flooded her body at his words and Lydia wasn't sure if it was because they came from Stiles - or because what it was true.
She gasped as one single finger slipped beneath the band of delicate lace, skimming the crease of skin where her leg met her body. Her skin erupted in goosebumps.

"Shit", she hissed.

Being on top of Stiles was quickly becoming one of Lydia's favourite places to be. He was both hard and soft beneath her, his chest was broad planes of muscle and his lips were gentle and pliant under her own.

His hands were rough and so deliciously calloused from working on his jeep every weekend. He smelled like mint and fresh springs.

She nodded, answering his question and feeling his lips stretch into a smile underneath her own.

Their mouths brushed and they panted shamelessly into each other. Stiles continued his exploration of Lydia's skin that was hidden beneath his hoody and the girl coaxed his mouth open with her own lips, her tongue seeking out his own.

Her actions were met with a low groan, a rumble that resonated through his entire body and sent vibrations through her own.

Stiles bit down gently on her full, bottom lip and she moaned into his mouth - their teeth clashing as their movements became more frantic.

"Stiles, please".

"Please what?" The boy was almost breathless and his voice was strained as his best friend gyrated her hips impatiently on top of him.

"I need..." Lydia's words came out almost as a sob, a whisper so desperate that Stiles kissed her so softly, trying to soothe her frustrations.

"You need to tell me, Lydia, please..."

"Touch me, Stiles".

The boy swallowed heavily and nodded slowly, his head falling into her shoulder as he placed haphazard kisses along her neck and jaw.

Her words from before rang through him and self doubt crashed around in his mind like a tsunami. He was drowning in Lydia.

"You've, you need to - fuck, Lydia, stay still", Stiles gasped as pulled herself closer to him, the jersey she wore riding up her body and revealing the most sinister hint of lace that curved it's way around her thighs.

He grabbed her waist and held her still against him and the girl practically whimpered at the loss of his hand on her skin.

Their foreheads touched as he leant into her, one hand holding her gently against him as the other made it's way back to her bare thigh. Lydia's eyes glowed in the dim light as he stared at her in wonder.

When Stiles drew delicate circles into the skin below her underwear, they closed shut and she sighed.

The boys voice was low and hoarse as he murmured to her, his lips swollen from her kisses brushing her ear.

She shivered against him.

"I wanna make you feel good, Lydia".

She nodded against his shoulder, her face hiding against his neck as her hands made fists in his tshirt. She was melting against him, her body almost liquid and her lips warm from his own.

"You need to show me - I don't wanna poke and prod at you like those other idiots..." He grinned when he felt her body shake with silent giggles at his words. She shook her head against him, her hair tickling his cheek as it became more wild and messy with each passing kiss they'd shared.

She looked electric, dangerous and a complete goddess. Stiles tucked a curl behind her ear as she sat back up, her eyes and lips smiling back at him.
"You won't, trust me...''
"I feel like this is a ridiculous amount of pressure...''
Lydia grinned at the boy despite his almost sincere protests. Instead of responding to his doubts, she curled into him, her body molding to his perfectly. On instinct, her face found it's resting place upon his shoulder, her long lashes brushing against his neck as her lips placed gentle, soothing kisses.
Stiles' arm held her to him, the fabric of his lacrosse jersey bunched in his hand. The other hand, the hand that was already pressed against her thigh was taken in Lydia's own grasp. She intertwined their fingers and they both released breaths filled with nerves and anticipation.
She placed their joint hands between her long legs and Stiles swore at the sensation. She was warm and the lace of her underwear was damp with excitement. Stiles' hips shifted in reaction to the feeling and Lydia moaned quietly into his ear.

She took her hand away slowly, eventually placing it on the back of his neck and playing with the longer hairs that curled at the back.
He leant into her touch, his nose nudging at her cheek until she turned to him and he captured her lips with his own.
This kiss was different from the rest. It was full of purpose, promises and curiosity. It was tongues and teeth and lips and hands.
Stiles kissed her with the same determination she had kissed him with in the boys locker room. And it took her breath away.

His touch lingered on the band of her underwear before he swore into her swollen lips and gave a gentle tug. It was a question and a leap of faith rolled into one.
Lydia pulled away only slightly, her eyes hooded and a dark emerald green as she gazed back at the boy. Stiles quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Special friends do this right?''
Lydia nodded, her lips closing and opening as she searched for the words to use. She couldn't find any - and when she looked back at the swollen, pink mouth of Stiles Stilinski, she realised where she had lost them.

The girl stood suddenly and Stiles hands fell away from her body. She missed them instantly. Standing tall above him left Lydia feeling utterly exposed. As she looked down, she saw the same boy she had ordered pizza with hours before, looking back up.
And he gazed at her with adoration and lust and anticipation and nerves. All the emotions she expected to find in a horny, teenage boys eyes and then some more, that she did not.
With heavy eyes and shaking breaths, her hands delved into her mane of hair and pulled roughly at the band that held it on top of her head. It fell free, wild and strawberry blonde. It curled down to her waist as clashed horribly with the maroon jersey she wore.
Stiles smiled fondly.
Then her hands disappeared under the mountain of the same fabric. When they came back into Stiles' line of sight, black lace trailed along with them like liquid sin. They dropped to the floor like a bomb and so did Lydia.

She fell into him, pushing and pulling at his welcoming lips with her own as she mumbled to him.
"I want this".
"I need this".
"I trust you".
"Special friends…"
"Special friends do this all the time".
"Stiles, please…"
The last word on her lips was stolen from her with a stutter and a gasp before her moan was silenced with hot lips and talented fingers.
His hand wrapped around her tiny waist, holding her to him as he navigated his way through the abundance of oversized jersey fabric.
The other cupped her and he marvelled in the warmth he discovered under the tauntingly thin lace. Stiles groaned into her parted lips and smiled as she moaned back.
His fingers stroked over her sensitive skin and he listened in awe at the sounds he was emitting from her.
Her small hands fisted in his shirt, grabbed at his hair - her breath short and kisses clumsy on his neck and collarbone.
She wriggled in his grasp and Stiles forehead met her own with a soft thud as his eyes squeezed closed and he openly moaned her name. She almost sobbed at the sound.
When Lydia lifted her hands and held his face to hers, the boy's eyes reopened and the intensity in them made Lydia still.
The room was silent as Stiles rubbed circles into her soft skin, her lips pouted and parted as they almost, but not quite, grazed his own.
He nuzzled into her, their noses brushing, their lips seeking out each others.

The boy shifted slightly on the floor, holding Lydia on his lap as his fingers danced across her wetness with more determination.
"Let go, Lydia''.
She cried out into his neck, her body falling into his for the countless time that night. She groaned his name like a curse and a prayer as his finger slipped inside of her.
She was desperate for him and her hands roamed across his lean frame over and over, her greedy hands unable to settle on a place to hold, to grab, to tether herself to.
Lydia was floating, and Stiles Stilinski was the one holding onto her by the tiniest piece of string.
"C'mon sweetheart...''
The string snapped and she saw red. Pure bliss, fireworks, the smell of mint, the rough hand on the delicate curve of her waist. Long, curious fingers curling into her, pulling tidal waves of utter ecstasy from her body.
Quiet murmurs, silent smiles, eyes filled with awe. Kisses filled with pleasure, exhaustion and surprise.
Stiles.