For we all are caught in the middle / Of one long treacherous riddle (For Lydia)

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It was quite possible that Lydia was not flirting with the Alpha twin. Possible Aiden was hitting on her and being gently shut down. Possible Stiles was wrong. The rational side of Peter's brain told him that's what it was as he lurked outside the school, watching Lydia in a way that was not at all creepy or stalkery. Really.

He was just checking on her, given her repeated trances and her fear of what was going on. He was looking out for her, making sure she was okay. It was concern, not territorial marking. Really.

He'd already done that.

A faint growl escaped his throat and the Alpha boy's head snapped toward the woods, but Peter was already gone.

Peter followed her the rest of the afternoon, into the evening, watched her with her friends. Watched as Aiden followed her, too, though far more openly. Pity, when the boy came back out, his tires had been slashed, and Peter didn't much care if he thought Scott or Isaac had done it. He had no proof and reason enough to already go after them. What were a couple of tires?

He was at her home before her. After determining her mother wasn't home--a far too usual occurrence for his idea of decent parenting, but highly convenient--he leaped to the tree by her window, then let himself in through it. He didn't sprawl out on her bed to wait, this time. He paced in the darkness instead, moving to the far corner of the room when he heard her car, out of her line of sight when she'd come in. Leaning against the wall there, he waited.

Comments

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He gave her a smile. "When we're sleeping, I don't really have any control, but it seems easier. Like something's pulling me to you."

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"Maybe that mark." Even as she said it, she moved her hand to touch her side lightly, feeling the scars that marred her side.

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"Probably," he agreed quietly, reaching to trace his fingers slowly over the scars.

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A little shiver worked through her at the feel of his fingers sliding over her scars. "I should hate you for those." She murmured without much heat.

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"You should hate me for a lot of things," he agreed quietly. "Why don't you?"

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"I don't know." She admitted honestly, shaking her head slowly before glancing up at him again. "I should but I don't want to anymore. Somehow it feels better, easier, not to."

As though hating and resisting him was like waging a battle upon herself.

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He didn't have an answer for that but to be grateful. One hand slid to her chin to lightly tilt her head up farther before he leaned down to kiss her gently.

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Lydia figured there wasn't really anything else that needed to be said as she leaned up to kiss him back, her fingers trailing over his hand and up his arm slowly.

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Peter tightened his arm around her and nipped at her lower lip. His tongue soothed the sting away, and he deliberately tried to temper his kisses into something softer, gentler than the storm he'd brought in with him.

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It was a definite change from just an hour before. Shivering at the nip, she chased his tongue with her own as the gentle kisses made her blood hum anew. Sliding her hand around to his back, she trailed her nails lightly across the back of his shoulders, caressing, as she brushed a leg into between his in another form of caressing.

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Her touches reminded him how much he needed to lose his clothes, but he was distracted enough by the slide of her leg to shudder and moan into the kiss rather than doing anything about it.

[wantadistraction]

Even with all the touches, Lydia didn't seem to be in a rush to really do anything about it besides kissing him and letting her fingers wander all over him like she was learning his body anew. Her lips tingled, her body was humming but she was quite content.

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Peter was still fairly emotionally drained, upset in some ways by his own upset--implications and actual feeling both. He returned the touches, though he did pause to pull off his shirt, just to feel her against more of his skin.

[wantadistraction]

Lydia tool the opportunity to get rid of her skirt, the only article of clothing she had left, before shifting close to him again. Then she moved one last time to get rid of the rest of his clothes, wanting to feel him fully as she slid her arms around him to draw him close.

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Peter helped her in ridding himself of his clothes, then shifted to tuck himself back in her arms. She fit there well, and he nuzzled lightly at her temple, breathing her in. "It was Stiles," he admitted after a moment. "Stiles told me Aiden was after you."

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Her eyes drifted close at the feel of him nuzzling her temple till his admission had her pulling back to look at him, confused. "Excuse me....when and how did you talk to Stiles?"

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He shrugged a little. "I ran into him yesterday..."

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"And he just happened to tell you about Aiden?" She looked at him somewhat skeptically.

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Another shrug. "It came up."

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"Peter." She said his name firmly, giving him a look.

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"What?" He looked at her innocently.

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"Oh, don't give me that look." She laid back against her pillow, still watching him.

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"I didn't go seeking him out. And he brought up Aiden," Peter protested.

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She considered him for a moment longer before shrugging. "Well, I've already told you there was nothing going on." She replied neutrally.

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"And I believe you," he said immediately. "But you asked where I got the idea..."

A while ago, true, but he was going back, in the aftermath.