Lydia stared down at Stiles' phone, that one name flashing insistently into the dim room. She let out the breath she hadn't know she was holding, her eyes flickering with the hurt and jealousy she felt burning inside her chest.
It seemed an age before Stiles hit the red button on his cell, ignoring the call and effectively silencing the device. He shifted from foot to foot, his body still close enough to the girls to allow her to feel the tension he held in it.
His breath was warm and it still fell in heavy gasps that caused the curls on the top of her head to flutter. Lydia tasted him on her lips, his hands left burns on the bare skin across her waist and her chest constricted every time she caught scent of his aftershave; the clean, fresh smell of him that did things to her body she would never dare admit.

The room was filled with silence and a tension so thick, that Stiles felt it press against his skin like a heavy weight. The boy saw how Lydia had frowned at the interruption, the hurt that flashed across her eyes as she saw who was calling him. She had moved away from him slightly, only by an inch. Their bodies still touched and Stiles could bend his head and place his lips on hers again, but he didn't - they needed to talk. He knew that.

Lydia didn't want to talk. She was afraid to speak. She didn't dare open her mouth in fear of more honest words spilling out. The boy in front of her was her something, she just didn't know what that something was quite yet.
Lydia was disorientated, confused and feeling totally helpless - she had no intention of letting Stiles know all of that just yet.

So with her body still burning from unresolved lust and lingering jealously, she stepped away from Stiles and moved to her bed, her fingertips skimming the cool sheets. Gazing up at him from underneath her lashes, she locked eyes with a wary looking Stiles, a smirk playing on her lips.
Slowly and sensually, she played with the waistband of her sweatpants; pulling the material away from her hipbones - just enough for Stiles to see a flash of black lace. He groaned, stepping away from the ticking bomb that was Lydia. His back hit the door that he previously had his best friend pressed up against.

Still pretending that she was wearing something sexier than comfy sweats, Lydia continued to look up at Stiles, waiting for him to stop her, to touch her, to join her. Instead, the boy stayed silent, his hands balled into fists at his sides and his brown eyes turning into liquid gold as the burned into her skin.
Skin, which she was exposing more of. With a tiny shimmy of her hips, Lydia pulled the offending fabric away from her body, the cotton slipping over her hipbones and gliding down the curve of her ass. Stiles cursed under his breath as more smooth, silky skin greeted him, and when he spoke, his voice cracked.

"Lydia, stop''.

Lydia's eyes flicked upwards, her gaze landing confidently on Stiles. The corner of her lips quirked upwards in a hidden smile as she took in the boy's appearance. One hand was splayed in the mess of his hair, his grip tightening on his locks as Lydia gave another sway of her hips. His eyes were hooded and his gaze roamed over her body, greedy for her after all the day's he spent away from her.
His adam's apple bobbed in his throat and he licked his lips, attempting to speak once more without sounding like a broken man. Which he was - Stiles was well aware of that, thank you.

"Lydia… we need to stop. You need to stop, we need to speak - to talk, like adults. We are adults'', Stiles closed his eyes as he spoke, figuring that the less naked Lydia he seen, the more sense he would make.
Lydia pursed her lips as he chattered aimlessly, his words stumbling over each other in the most adorable way.

The girl waited until Stiles opened his eyes once more and she made sure he met her gaze before she told him confidently, "I don't want to talk, Stiles, not right now''.
And with one more soft tug, the sweats fell to the floor in a puddle.
Black lace hugged Lydia's curves and Stiles was dangerously close to having an aneurysm. She stepped daintily out of the material, kicking it to the side before she took three careful steps towards Stiles.
Lydia was sure to keep some space between them, if he reached out from his spot against the door, he wouldn't be able to touch her. He would have to move, Stiles would have to give in and come to her - which is exactly what Lydia wanted. The strawberry blonde needed that tiny bit of control back in her life. Just a little - just enough to make her forget how Stiles could bring her to her knees with one touch.

Lydia swayed on the spot, her hips moving just enough to cause the hem of her t-shirt to shift - showing more skin underneath and the pretty little bow on the edge of her underwear. Stiles swallowed heavily, his teeth biting his bottom lip into his mouth as he fought a moan. Instead, his chest rumbled and Lydia's eyes lit up at the sound. She was desperate for him and rubbing her thighs together just wasn't causing enough friction.

But , the girl reminded herself, she was in control. Standing up at her full height, Lydia fought the urge to stand on her toes to make herself taller. She pulled her shoulders back and brought her hands to the hem of her top, grinning as she noticed how Stiles' dark eyes followed her every movement.

Stiles watched as Lydia's fingers grazed her stomach before capturing the hem of her shirt. She played with it for a few seconds, he teeth chewing thoughtfully on her full, bottom lip as she plotted her next move. Stiles almost dropped to his knees and prayed to a higher source - for which outcome he wasn't sure. He was still set in his ways, he knew that he needed to talk to Lydia about their relationship - Stiles was certain that Lydia needed to speak to him - she needed to stop avoiding her feelings.
But now, with five foot, three inches of strawberry blonde sin in front of him, the last thing Stiles wanted to do was talk.
And when Lydia slowly but surely peeled her top of her body, Stiles caved. In only lace underwear and a matching bra, Lydia stood in the middle of her bedroom, her auburn locks wild around her flushed face and her chest heaving with tension and nerves. With a smile that Stiles knew was real, the girl quirked one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him in an unspoken question.

"Fuck it", was Stiles' response.

Like they seemed to do every day of knowing each other, Stiles and Lydia crashed together. Before they had stumbled carelessly into the edge of the bed, Lydia had pulled Stiles' top off with a ferocious desperation. Stiles complied, shrugging out of the material whilst trying in vain to keep his lips firmly attached to the girls, his hands wandering impatiently across the expanse of Lydia's back, his rough palms mapping out the dip in her waist, the small curve of her stomach. Stiles sighed into her parted lips, Lydia's teeth nipping at his own as she tangled her arms around his neck.

This wasn't the way Stiles had intended this to go, but he was past arguing.