When you came in the air went out (for wantadistraction)

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New Orleans was vibrant and alive--admittedly with problematic elements, like all the dead things walking around undead. Peter had watched them for his first few nights in the Quarter and caught a few of them watching back. They hadn't made any moves toward him though, either considering him not a threat or not knowing what to make of him. If they weren't going to bother him, then he resolved to not bother them, either.

There weren't any other wolves, though, and he wasn't sure if that was good--no one to challenge or treat with over territory--or bad--where were they? Granted, it was a big city, and wolves traditionally liked to live closer to somewhere they could easily run, and for the moment he'd filed it away as that and been grateful. Since he intended to stay for a while, making nice in someone else's territory would have been awkward.

Better to just claim it as his own.

He bought a house in the Garden District, with enough trees around it for privacy, and a certain mysterious charm, wanting to be close to the Quarter, but not right in the midst of the noise. Besides--the Garden District was where Tulane was. And Tulane? 

Well, that was where Lydia was.

By careful observation, he'd worked out most of her schedule, knew which dorm she was in, which room, which window. The campus was lovely with lots of shaded areas and overhanging trees and he'd managed to find a bench under one with a perfect view--if you had a wolf's vision. Jeans, a broken in blazer and a leather messenger bag and anyone catching him reading there figured he was a professor. At night, he found it easy to blend in to the shadows, watching until she closed her blinds.

He didn't spend every night there, of course. Really. Just enough to know she was all right, that no one was bothering her. Enough to snarl at every boy who walked her home or he suspected of doing more. Interestingly...a couple of them seemed to drop out of school, disappear, shortly after any such encounter. Not that he had anything to do with that. Really.

She was his. He'd marked her, chosen her, bonded with her. He'd only been waiting for her to grow up before coming to claim her.

Now she had; and here he was.

He hadn't approached her, yet. The perfect time hadn't come. But he'd been in her room, breathing in her scent, leaving his though only another wolf or one of the dead things would catch it, know she belonged to someone.  He never took anything, but he left a long stem rose on her pillow each visit. Blood red, thorns still on. He came at different times, always careful to vary them, to stick to the shadows in case she'd left a camera running. Usually he did it when she was out, but once he'd slipped in, leaving it for her while she showered, and another morning she would have awakened to it next to her, like a token from a lover.

Which it was.

Tonight, she'd gone down to the Quarter with friends, and Peter followed. Watched the boys who bought her drinks, watched her dancing, laughing, followed her along crowded streets. Eventually she'd separate from the pack, and he'd follow, then, too.

He was tired of waiting.

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Peter tilted his head and listened to her breath, her heartbeat, hearing how erratic they were with a smile. The scent of her was intoxicating, though, and pulled his gaze back to the amazingly beautiful sight before him.

Leaning in, he ran a finger over her again, then nuzzled at her curls, breathing her in. For a few moments, that was all he did, before he finally pressed closer and tasted her with a flick of his tongue.

That first taste had him moaning, and then he was running his tongue over her repeatedly, tasting her and sucking at her clit now and then.

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Touching him would probably only encourage the fascination further but she couldn't stop herself from sliding a hand into his hair as he pressed his nose against her, almost nuzzling till suddenly his tongue was sliding against her and causing her to moan again.

Then her legs were trembling as he continued, the pleasure twisting inside of her in sharp spikes as she tipped her head back against the statue and let it all pull her under. It wasn't long before each flick of his tongue brought forth some kind of soft noise and the feel of her fingers twisting in his hair.

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Peter watched her face from under his eyelashes, tongue running through her folds, curling around her clit, flicking, wanting to keep her making hose sounds. He loved her fingers in his hair, tugged against them a little to make her tighten more.

His hands slid back to her thighs, parting them more, tilting her hips forward. His fingers slid back into her, slicking again, then his tongue replaced them, pressing into her. It wasn't the right angle to go exceptionally deep, but enough that he was still fucking her with his tongue, moaning against her.

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She moaned again as his tongue curled inside of her, replacing his fingers that had her trembling again in a position where she felt like she could go tumbling over at any moment.

"Oh god, oh god..." She murmured it over and over as she looked down at him again, feeling like she couldn't stay still as he continued. It wasn't long before she felt like she was on the edge, whimpering. "Close...I'm close..."

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Whimpers, murmurs and calling for god were all well and good, but he wanted something more. He eased back, lips moving to her thigh and nuzzling and nipping there while his fingers slid to her hip.

The scent of her had blocked out the magnolia trees and other floral scents normally so heavy in the warm night air. He was aching in his jeans, but he ignored it in favor of glancing up at her, still nuzzling.

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She whimpered when he stopped just shy of her coming and a surge of frustration had her looking down at him with a faint frown. "Why did you stop?"

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His fingers trailed slowly up her leg, then down, then up again. "Because I don't want you to come, yet." He leaned in to flick her clit with his tongue, just once.

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The flick of his tongue had her clenching again and she made a soft miserable noise as she shifted against the statue. To be do close and then denied was maddening as she tried to catch her breath. "What do you want then?"

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His teeth gently scraped over her inner thigh. "Such a complicated question, sweetheart. For tonight? More of those pleading little sounds. You wrapped around me, at some point. To make you come harder than you ever have before, screaming my name."

His tongue flicked over her another time, as he looked up at her.

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Her eyes narrowed at him even as the muscles in her thigh twitched and her breath stilled at the flick of his tongue again. "What makes you so sure you can?"

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Peter gave her a look that said how cute she was.

"Because up til now you've only had boys in your bed."

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Lydia knew it was reckless to challenge him in any sort of way but, in her mind, he deserved it. She wasn't going to crumble easily at his feet or beg. He had nearly broken her once and he wouldn't do it again, not even like this.

So she scoffed. "You're not the first one to give me that line." She let go of her skirt, letting it fall bank into place so it would purposefully land on his face.

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He chuckled a little, letting her skirt hit him before nipping her thigh more sharply. He sucked away the sting, but there was definitely going to be a mark there. The challenge wasn't something he minded, but it did trigger an answering response.

He pushed her skirt back up, holding it with one hand before slipping the fingers of his other back in her oh-so-slowly, letting his thumb circle over her clit lazily.

"Maybe not. But I'm the first who can fully back it up."

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Damn him.

That was all she could really think when his slid his fingers into her again, clenching around his fingers with a soft shuddering moan as he started tortruring her all over again. The feel of his thumb over her clit set off sparks and heat as she tipped her head back again.

"I guess we'll see, won't we?" She couldn't resist.

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Her moan was somehow even more delicious this time, and he found himself smirking a little as he pressed deeper inside of her, the rhythm slow and lazy, meant to raise her to the edge, keep her there.

He leaned back in, the hand holding her skirt pressing firmly against her as he captured her clit between his lips, tongue flicking over it, then circling, then sucking, only letting it fall into a rhythm briefly, then backing off from it, then doing it all over again.

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It was interesting wanting to come and wanting to punch him all at the same time because hitting him was exactly what she was thinking about at the moment as he took her further, closer to the edge, before pulling her back again.

It was all consuming, washing away the ability to think as the physical took over once more, leaving her breathless and panting, sometimes whining, as she yanked at his hair. She pulled him closer and then she was trying to pull his head back, her eyes dark and stormy as she glared at him again. "I swear to God, Peter..."

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She was brilliant, amazing, and torturing her was more fun than he'd had in quite some time. His own arousal was secondary--there and aching, but so ultimately unimportant. Her tug and glare had him easing back, shooting her a devilish look, all dark charm.

"Yes?"

He turned his head to nip on her other thigh, leaving another mark.

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"I swear I am seconds away from punching you in the throat." She muttered, unwittingly echoing the threat she had made to the younger version in her head long ago.

She gasped and then actually punched him in the arm. "Stop that or I'm not going to be able to wear half of my outfits tomorrow."

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"I suppose I could go higher up..." His fingers trailed over her as he gave her that wicked smirk again.

"Now...why would you want to punch me in the throat, when I'm here on my knees before you?"

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She ignored the comment about going up higher, tightening her fingers in his hair to tip his head back again. "Because....you're not letting me come."

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"Would you like to?" He let her fingers tug his head back, looking up at her, while his own fingers wandered through her folds, circled her clit, then slid back to press deep inside of her again.

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She bit back another whimper as he touched her again, causing her hips to buck against his hand as she curled forward slightly when her knees threatened to give out on her. "Yes." She gasped it then, looking at him. "I would."

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One fingertip dragged slowly over her, pressing against her clit for a moment before trailing up through her curls. "How badly?"

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She closed her eyes then, telling herself that she hated him in that moment. More than she had ever hated him before.

"It feels like I can't breathe anymore." She murmured huskily. "And like I'm going to pass out at any moment. It almost hurts, I want it so badly."

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For a heartbeat, two, he thought about making her say please, but that wasn't something he wanted to force. When she said it, he wanted it to be because she couldn't not, because of something in her that wanted him as badly as release.

"As you wish," he murmured.

His mouth moved back to her, and his fingers slid back into her. He didn't hit hard and fast, though, but started slowly. He built the pace, though, his rhythm a steady and sure combination of tongue, lips and fingers intent on having all of her.