I always saw spring as a time of year when the weather's not as warm as I'd like it to be, and still kind of a little too chilly to leave the house without a jacket. Other people saw spring as a time of rebirth, the world coming back into itself after a long cold winter. Animals come home from the south and others come out of hibernation. It's all supposed to be so...refreshing. But given my current situation, I don't think even I can laugh at the irony of what I'm going through. Rebirth my ass; it's as if I've been submerged into this neverending black tunnel, and the walls keep getting closer and closer to me, but never actually touch me. It's like false compression, or an illusion. I can see the light, but no matter how far or fast I try to run it never gets closer. Dying and coming back to life was never supposed to be easy, but I never knew it was going to make me feel trapped, like some bear caught in a trap. Or an even more cruel joke; a spider caught in it's own web, because honestly I got myself into this mess.
Lydia was on birth control. It's been months since I gave her my flower, and thankfully the birth control was effective and no little sunflowers grew from her secret garden. We've made love countless times after that, explored our physical boundaries, and even celebrated our six month anniversary. In private. Nobody knows that Lydia and I are in love, and cling to each other like moths to a light every chance we get, if even for a moment. The few agonizing minutes she held me under the water, though, something changed in us.
You can't go back to being passionate lovers with little problems after one purposely takes the others life, if even for the greater good. It just doesn't work that way... I wish now that she'd held down Allison, and Scott had held me down, because I can afford to have mixed feelings towards Scott. But Lydia was my world, I can't even put my finger on it, it just seems so harsh to me now. It's off whenever I look at her; I feel like I want to cry, drained of energy and in desperate need of a few years' sleep. Then there are other times where when I look at her I think, "damn, if I don't have her now I'll fall over and break my nose." Then I'll have to beg her into the janitors closet at lunchtime. But once, today, for this first time ever, I had both of those feelings at once, and both of them were so strong it could probably rip a hole through my chest. It was her fault that I was so aroused, she kept rubbing my leg in Chemistry class under the table.
My breathing hitched and I tugged on my hair, giving her the kind of look that would scare anybody else. She doesn't look at me, she keeps looking at the front of the room, at the board. I could finally read again, so that was a plus, and a double plus because now I could write too. I flipped open my notebook to a blank page and scrawled out my message sloppily, sliding it over to her and trying to avoid eye contact. She glances down. It says 'Are you trying to get raped?' She doesn't respond, she simply pushes the notebook back over to me and slides her hand further up my thigh, so close to her presumed target. I'm sweating profusely, breathing uneven and fists clenched, nails digging into my palm. I'd seen Scott do the exact same thing, said it made him human. Maybe pain can help my situation too.
She moves her hand up and presses her palm onto my manhood, and it's so unexpected that I can't help but gasp and groan out loud, mouth falling open. As soon as I realized what I did her hand is gone and I've gone cold, eyes wide as if I had a gun pointed at my face. The teacher turns and looks at me, as does the rest of my peers. Lydia has concern on her face, not nearly good enough because all I should see is guilt.
"Uh, s-sorry, I..." I stuttered nervously, silently cursing myself for being such an easy wimp.
"This is the third time this week Stilinski, you need to leave school right now and see a doctor! You can't keep pushing yourself through class like this," he says with concern, and I quickly understand that he doesn't think that it was a sexual sort of noise that I made, he's thinking that I'm going to pass out again. And yes, I've passed out once or twice this week, because he keeps thinking it's a good idea to have me read things on the board for the rest of the class. But as far as he knows I still can't read and I'm just feeling light headed again.
"I'll drive him," Lydia says, snatching our things up and throwing our bags over her shoulder before he can object. She grabs me roughly by the arm and leads me out the door while I touch my head and pretend to act dizzy and disoriented. As soon as we're out the door she turns to say something to me but I've covered her mouth with mine, our things falling out of her arms and I'm shoving her up against the lockers. I picked her up and wrapped her legs around my waist, grinding myself into her with heated need, kissing her like it was the first and last time. It was as if I was being possessed by some insane hormone driven animal and I needed her right here right now in the middle of the hallway.
She shoves me away and falls to her feet, slapping me across the face. I look at her, stunned. I can understand what I did was a bit much, but to slap me? That's not like Lydia.
"Christ, Stilinski," Danny mutters from behind me. I turn around in a haze, seeing him standing there with his arms crossed, looking at me with disapproval. He then looks at Lydia as she picks up the stuff she dropped. Well, the stuff that I dropped. "Do you need me to take you anywhere?" he asks her, eyeing me. But I can tell he doesn't suspect me of anything. He knows me too well. I just look down and pretend to be disoriented again.
"No, I got it," she murmurs faintly. "I took a self defense class...he won't catch me off guard again. He's not feeling very well right now, he won't try anything again," she assures, softly smiling to him. He nods and pats my shoulder, wishing me well, but when he walks away I can see the confusion. As soon as he rounds the corner I sigh with relief.
"Please don't slap me again," I whisper.
"Sorry," she says, leading me away from the door, "I only did it to throw off Danny." Of course, she doesn't want anyone to know we're together.
Next thing I know the same feeling of need washes over me, her blouse unbuttoned on the top and her milky white breasts suddenly looking a thousand times better than they ever had before. She's so sexy I could cry, and that's when the lump starts rising in my throat. I'm so conflicted. Eventually though, there's only enough blood down south for me to think with one head. The janitors closet it at the other side of the school, I'll never make it there in time. I squeeze her hand and as soon as we're through the doors and the sunlight hits my face I sigh with relief.
"Lydia," I say with heavy breaths, "why would you do that to me?" She looks at me, guilt in her eyes. We're getting closer to my car.
"I'm so sorry, but Danny..." she trails off. She's not getting it.
"Why would you keep touching me when I told you I couldn't take it?" I nearly growl, my jeans growing increasingly painful; she was oblivious to my arousal.
"Oh," she responds, surprised. "Well, you never actually told me to stop." She shrugs innocently. Oh, so she wants to play that game.
I shove her roughly against the passenger door of my jeep in a hurry, taking her by surprise. I'm biting her lip and resuming our last position, her legs around my waist as I held her against the door, grinding into her, finding pleasure immediately. I squeeze my eyes shut, groaning, letting loose. My blood is hot and boiling, and she kisses me back. Her lips are sticky from her lip gloss, they taste like peaches. My tongue finds its way into the cavern of her mouth, the one that has yet to object to this public display of, well, physical intensity.
Before I can realize what my own hands are doing, my belt buckle is undone and I'm pulling my jeans down. It falls out and Lydia whimpers in protest, nails digging into the back of my neck.
"Stiles no! We could get in so much trouble!" she shudders, heels digging sharply into my bare ass. My manhood throbs and I can feel precum dripping onto her skirt as I kiss her neck. My hands squeeze her thighs, hitching her legs higher against my waist as I push her harder into the car.
"It's okay baby," I murmur against her lips with animalistic need, "I got you." I move her underwear to the side before she can say anymore, and slide into her with ease. She's so wet. "Fuck, Lydia, you're so fucking amazing," I grunt, thrusting hard and deep. She's gasping, nearly screaming.
"Stop! This isn't right, we- oh god, Stiles..." she trails off, her nails sliding down into the collar of my shirt, scraping my back. It's such a sharp pain, and it's so sudden, I throw my head back and wince, crying out in ecstasy.
"You don't want me to stop," I moan into her lips, "you want me to go harder don't you?" I don't recognize the sound of my own voice anymore. This isn't me. I usually make love to Lydia slowly and passionately, not that this wasn't passionate. But this was animalistic! I wasn't a werewolf! I breifly wondered if this is what Scott was like with Allison. That part of us guys that we didn't know we had is kind of scary, but oh christ it's the most intense and amazing thing I've ever felt in my life.
"Yes," she whimpers, "please!" She's scraping my back harder, nails finding their way up to my neck, my hair, pulling violently.
"Say it baby," I urge, pushing harder and faster, that familiar coil in my stomach already starting to quiver. We've been at this for fifteen seconds, I can't believe I'm already there at my peak. "Say it!"
"Harder Stiles!" she cries, holding on to me so tightly that I can barely move anymore, but it doesn't matter because I'm already there.
"Fuck, oh god Lydia I'm coming," I shudder, "Lydia!" I'm buried in her to the hilt, vision white, trembling and falling apart in her arms.
Somehow I manage to stay on my feet, though my knees fought the urge to buckle and drop us both. I was still buried in her, panting, sweat dripping down my face. I pull back and look at her. She smiles softly and tries to regain her breath, then shes touching my face softly. It's such a different feeling; she was tearing me a apart a moment ago. She's wiping the tears off my face, the tears I didn't know had come out. Then I remember there's still a lump in my throat. The tears come harder, and it's overwhelming. I kiss her, and that's when it takes me. I start sobbing, burying my face into her neck. She wraps her arms around me, and gently tries to untangle us.
"I love you," she whispers as she finishes doing up my belt buckle, then returning her hands to my shoulders, gently stroking my face. That only makes me cry harder and hold her tighter.
/
"So, the elephant in the room," I murmur once we're safely at my house.
"Are you calling me fat?" she places her hands on her hips, cocking her head to the side in that adorable way that I love. I can't help but smile at her tiredly and sit down on my bed, elbows falling on my knees to support myself. She sighs. "I think it's a good elephant. That was the best experience of my life." She sits besides me and nudges my shoulder. "I just hope nobody saw us. Or, heard us...like any werewolves with superhuman hearing abilities..."
"Oh man I didn't even think about that," I rub my face with my hands. Then I realize something. "Really...? The best? I mean...yeah me too, definitely, but wow, I..." I'm not sure what to say. Six months and I'm still in shock that I even have her in the first place.
"Yeah," she kisses my cheek. "I think it was the talk, that was," she pauses, then whispers, "so sexy." I chuckle.
"You like when I talk to you baby?" I murmur, turning and kissing her softly but passionately, more like my old self than before.
"Call me baby and I'll have to rape you this time," she whispers, rubbing my neck. We can barely get into it before the door bursts open.
"Since when do people use the word rape causally? Guys, people who AREN'T werewolves could probably hear you two!" Scott shrieks, looking at us like we've murdered somebody. Oh shit.