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Allison is tired of everyone but Lydia, but Lydia is talking to boys. And it’s fine, it’s totally fine, except it isn’t. And really Allison just wants to sit her down and point her eyes and tell her, “Stop doing this thing where you have sex people who aren’t me.” But she’d probably think that was out of the blue, even with how much time they’re spending together, but it’s like, well, Allison doesn’t know how to safely cross the line she wants to cross. Maybe there isn’t a safe way to do it. She should know there isn’t a safe way to do it, because when she thinks of Lydia at night, it’s never in a nice way. It’s not in a way that someone would want to be loved. But Lydia doesn’t seem to want love lately, anyway.
So one day while Lydia is throwing dresses at her, Allison says, “You still looking for a distraction?”
Which is a terrible way to start, because Lydia just shrugs one shoulder and looks at this too-dull cream-colored dress and says, “I’ve got a few now.”
And she puts it back in the closet, and Allison’s stomach does this nauseous flip (not too different from what it did around Scott just after their breakup), but she has to push through or she’ll never get what she wants. And she does want Lydia. Allison shoots werewolves and goes into Alpha dens by herself. Allison can tell her best friend something important.
She does this looking-down laugh that isn’t really even possible while she’s holding all these dresses. She wants to tell Lydia that she can dress herself for a party, but that’s a discussion for another time. “Okay, but I was thinking I could be a distraction too.”
Lydia looks up, does that closed-off thing she does nearly all the time. Her expression is tight; so is her voice. “You are. You’ve been great.”
“Yeah, but that’s…not what I mean.” She says it gently, smiles again. She goes and sets the pile of dresses on the bed and looks at herself in the mirror. Lydia won’t say anything if she goes how she’s dressed, and that’s probably what she’ll do. Leather jacket, black jeans. T-shirt.
Lydia brings a hot pink dress made of sequins over and holds it over Allison’s front. In the mirror, she catches her eyes. “So what do you mean?”
Allison can feel her warmth against her back, and it makes it hard, being in the mirror like this. On display. Allison can’t help how her face scrunches up when she’s nervous. She’s always in pain when that happens, but all she can do is look like she’s watching something cute. “Well it’s just, I like you, but I don’t like anyone else.”
“You don’t like boys?”
The “s” in “boys” is sharp against Allison’s ear. “Not really. Just Scott.”
“You still like Scott?”
“No! I just. I’ve only ever really liked Scott.”
“And me.”
Allison looks down at the dress. “And you.”
Lydia raises a brow noncommittally.
“But if you want me to be one of your distractions, I have conditions.”
Lydia laughs. “Oh?” She brings a hand around and presses it flat to Allison’s stomach, holding the dress there. Allison wants to think that it’s on purpose, that this dress doesn’t even look good, and Lydia has been holding it here for a long time.
“I’m kind of into some weird stuff but Scott didn’t like it.”
“How weird?” Lydia asks it like she wouldn’t be surprised by anything.
“I like it kind of violent? I mean, not really violent. I mean, specifically, I…” The nerves form a hard ball at the base of Allison’s throat, but she tries to talk past them. “I want to spank you.”
Lydia smiles, her eyes twinkling in the mirror. “Oh really,” she says, low and teasing. “Have I been bad?”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not.” She pulls the dress away and groups it with the others, but then she dips down and wraps her arms around the bunch of them, tossing them onto the floor. “Do you want to do it now? The party’s at 10, but I mean, how long does spanking someone take?”
Allison laughs in a stunted way and watches Lydia in the mirror. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” And she lies down on the bed on her stomach.
Allison drags her eyes down her spine and the curve of her bottom under her skirt, and really, she ought to take that off so she doesn’t get it wrinkled before the party, but Allison wants it on. She wants to yank it up and get her barely naked. And she doesn’t know why that’s a kink, but it hits her between the legs and she hasn’t even touched her.
“You have to be on top of my lap. You can’t just lay across the bed like that.”
Lydia looks at Allison over her shoulder. “Then put me where you want me.”
Allison licks her bottom lip, but then she moves, finally, not feeling any more comfortable, but if Lydia’s going to offer her ass up like that, Allison isn’t going to chicken out. She sits near the pillows and pats at her thighs.
With a grunt, Lydia moves and crawls over, lowering herself slowly over Allison’s legs. “This isn’t very comfortable,” she says.
“If you’re uncomfortable now, maybe we should stop.” Allison slides her hand up Lydia’s skirt. “This is going to hurt.”
“No, no, I can take it.”
So Allison continues moving her hand, her fingertips skating over the top of Lydia’s panties and running down the curve of her ass. Her fingers even dip a little in the crease, gliding over the cotton smoothly, and Lydia shifts.
“Come on.”
Allison laughs. “If it gets to be too much, tell me to stop.”
“But what if I want you to keep going if I say stop?”
“Then say…”
Lydia cranes her neck to look at Allison. “Werewolf.”
Allison isn’t particularly happy about the choice, so she gives Lydia a look, but nods. Doesn’t matter what the word is, really, and Lydia will be the one saying it. But Allison doesn’t want to hurt her so bad that she’ll have to. Her fingers start to shake against the fabric of Lydia’s underwear, but she steadies it. That happens sometimes with her bow and arrow, but shaky hands make for misfired arrows, so she’s learned to curb her nerves. She pushes up the fabric of Lydia’s skirt properly and slides down her underwear, the fabric bunching just under the curve of her ass. Lydia makes a nearly inaudible sound when Allison’s hand slides against her skin.
“Come on,” she says.
“Be quiet, Lydia.”
“Well if you don’t hurry up, I’ll just get up and we won’t do this at all.” Her last word breaks.
Allison’s lifts her hand and brings it down hard. Maybe a little too hard, because the skin goes red instantly, though it fades. Allison has never spanked someone, but she’s watched videos of spankings online. The good ones are hard to find, but they always show the skin, reddening before it bruises. She doesn’t know if Lydia will allow her to bruise her. Might be uncomfortable at the party, later, if Lydia wants to hook up with a guy.
“You okay?” says Allison.
“I didn’t say ‘werewolf,’ did I?”
Lydia sounds so confident, just like she always does, and Allison just wants to hear her voice break again. She wants to hear her whine and cry. Maybe she’ll get to see something real, something that isn’t an, “Allison, I love you,” but only as a justification for some bitchy thing she’s about to say. Allison loves Lydia too. But sometimes she feels like she doesn’t really know her.
She hits her again, on the other side, and doesn’t stop. One, two, three, four. Lydia’s body moves under her, but she doesn’t say much, doesn’t make much noise. The loudest noise in the room is the snapping of skin on skin, and Allison’s feels a rush of power. It brings back the way her body felt when she hit Boyd over and over with her arrows, and maybe that was bad, but so is this. Guilty. It’s a good feeling, just now, because it’s okay. It’s okay for her to be bad and wrong because Lydia is letting her. Lydia loves her.
Allison hits her until Lydia whines and reaches back to try and stop it, her fingers helpless over Allison’s wrist.
“Lydia, don’t.” She slaps her hand away.
“But I—“ Lydia shifts, and Allison isn’t sure if she wants up or if she’s trying to rub herself over Allison’s legs. She doesn’t mind either scenario.
“You want me to touch you? Are you wet?”
Lydia whines.
Allison smirks and hits her again, her hand slapping against the cheek closest to her. The skin is turning red now, and the red isn’t fading, and Allison likes that. She slides her hand over the skin and then slips her middle finger between Lydia’s legs.
She swallows hard. She didn’t know that she was going to touch her like this when this started. And she doesn’t know if Lydia wants it, but Lydia isn’t saying anything; she’s just making sounds. And she’s bending a little, sort of humping Allison’s hand, so Allison moves her finger farther, feeling Lydia’s clit slide against her finger pad.
“Allison—“
“You don’t want this?” But she doesn’t move her finger. “I’m sorry, it’s just… You’re wet, I can feel it. I can hear it.” She starts moving her finger in circles over Lydia’s clit, being gentle because she knows how guys do it sometimes, so rough. But you can’t be rough with a girl. They’re so sensitive.
Lydia makes little whiny sounds, like she’s being hurt. Her hands are tense over the fabric of the comforter, and she has her head turned so her face is hidden.
Allison moves her free hand into Lydia’s hair. She strokes her scalp in a way she hopes is soothing, but she likes this. She likes that Lydia doesn’t have a snarky set of words to offer up. “It’s okay, Lydia. Shh, it’s okay.”
But halfway through the second set of words, she slides her hand out from between Lydia’s legs and spanks her again, making the skin angry. And it’s so hard to stop. She hits her again and again, until the skin starts to bruise, and it’s like she’s gone altogether for a second. Because when she comes back to reality, Lydia is screaming “stop” and she’s twisting against Allison’s lap like a wolf in a trap. Allison blinks and slides her hand over the skin. She needs to stop. She’s taking it too far.
“Shh. Shh.” She slides her hand back between Lydia’s legs, and she’s soaking now, the moisture leaking a little onto her thighs. Allison’s wet too. It’s starting to throb. She doesn’t think Lydia will touch her back, but that’s okay.
“I love being a girl, but I hate it sometimes,” she tells Lydia, but hopefully Lydia isn’t listening. It’s just that she’s so angry. And she wants Lydia to bleed, kind of, which scares her. “If I was a guy, you’d like me more I bet, but I don’t know, maybe not. Everybody’s always fawning over you, and I hate being one of them, it’s so stupid. I’m not Stiles, you know, I’m not like Stiles.” She slips a finger inside Lydia, and Lydia moans.
“I don’t—“ One of Lydia’s hands reaches to clutch at Allison’s elbow. The gesture catches Allison a little off guard, and she stops to watch it. Lydia says, “I don’t want you to be a—a guy. I just want you to—to—“ Allison adds a second finger and shoves them in fast. “Yes, that.”
And Lydia’s so wet; it’s all so easy. She pumps her fingers in and out, pushing them in hard and curling them once Lydia starts breathing, heavy, her hand gripping harder at Allison’s elbow.
“Give me permission,” says Lydia.
“What?”
“I won’t—I won’t finish without permission.”
The words send a throb so violent between Allison’s legs that she makes a sound herself, pumping her fingers harder. She positions the pad of her thumb over Lydia’s clit, haphazard, really, but at least she manages to touch her in both places. “Not yet.”
Lydia whines, doing the humping motion again, one of her legs bending up and then falling straight again when her knee slips. Allison grips her hair and bends her head back, forces her to look at her.
“You liked being spanked, didn’t you?”
Lydia smiles with her mouth open. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t say ‘werewolf’ even though you’re bruised. I’m glad, though. Do you know why?”
Lydia shakes her head, her brows drawing together as Allison pumps her fingers almost violently.
“Because now if you fuck someone tonight at this stupid party I don’t want to go to, they’ll know that somebody else was here first.”
Lydia keens, her expression pained, but Allison won’t let her head go. She wants to watch her expression when she comes.
“Please,” says Lydia. “Please, Allison.”
And Allison has what she wants now. She’s made Lydia Martin beg. So she says, “Come for me,” and it’s only a moment longer before Lydia is shaking.
Allison lets her head fall and keeps her hand moving between Lydia’s legs until the tremors are over, until Lydia falls limp over Allison’s thighs and knees.
When she slides her hand out, her fingers are glistening. “Get up.”
And though it takes a moment, Lydia does, repositioning herself laboriously until her legs are around Allison’s waist. She hides her face against Allison’s neck and hardly bothers to pull up her underwear or adjust her skirt.
When she speaks, her voice is muffled, but Allison hears it all perfectly, her senses attuned to Lydia while she still throbs, steadily, under her jeans. She can feel the heat of Lydia’s mouth against the skin of her neck. “I don’t wanna go to the party either. I want to stay here with you.”
“Okay. Okay.” Allison is breathless, but she just rubs a hand over Lydia’s back, her head in a space she doesn’t quite know how to navigate. She doesn’t feel violent anymore, but she feels tight, like if Lydia wasn’t against her like this, she’d fall to pieces. “Please don’t move, though. Please don’t move away from me until I say you can.”
“Anything you want, Allison. I love you.”