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.

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Peter growled at the cry, his eyes still glowing a bit. The bite of her nails was a background pleasure, sparking through him. He didn't give her time to adjust this time, just moved, short, hard thrusts that stayed deep inside of her and demanded she adjust and catch up. It wasn't about hurting her...but it had never been about that. Her pain had been a regrettable necessity. Now, it wasn't even that--he'd prefer she enjoy it--but instinct that wasn't fully human, if at all, screamed to take her, make her his, as if somehow he'd only been playing at it before.

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She did enjoy it though. She new there was a good chance she wouldn't be walking for a little while after, that the pleasant ache between her thighs would ache more but she didn't care. It would be another reminder of him just like the ache in her side where his scar existed.

Pressing her shoulders back against the wall, she angled her hips towards his own, letting gravity pull her down onto his thrusts as she matched his movements, catching up and matching him.

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And that was why he'd chosen her. Because she was strong enough to take it, to take him in all his fucked up glory. He told her she'd pull through fine, and she was doing better than he'd expected even. There was a glow of pride at that which was probably a little sick, but it was there nonetheless.

He watched her as they moved, kept the hard pace and smiled when she met it. One hand tangled in her hair, capturing her again before he kissed her, tongue pressing in to her as surely as his cock did.

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Slowly but surely Lydia was understanding now why he had chosen her and the consequences of that choice, the good and the bad ones.

Her lips parted beneath his, accepting his tongue as readily as she accepted the rest of him, her tongue sliding over his as she clenched around his cock every time he pushed deep. One hand slid beneath the neckline of his shirt, glad for his love of the ones with the v-neck, making it easier to scrape her nails over the back of his shoulder almost hard enough to draw blood.

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He wished they could all be good, but...he was too broken, himself, for that.

He growled at the bite of her nails, the flash of pain almost grounding in many ways. It certainly wasn't a sound meant to be discouraging. Nothing with this much intensity could last long, much as he might wish otherwise. Holding on to her hard, his fingers bit into skin and he pushed them both harder and higher until his body couldn't hold on anymore and he exploded inside of her, crying out hoarsely as his cock jerked and he spilled inside of her.

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But the fact that it was so rough and fast right there up against the wall made it exciting and new to her. She felt like he had set her on fire from the inside out, the need consuming her as he pushed her higher and further than she had ever gone before till she was chasing him right over the edge. She clenched, shuddered and trembled as her inner walls seemed to flutter to milk his release from him even as she came with a loud cry, her head bumping against the wall as she threw her head back and let her eyes fall closed. God, it was like she couldn't stop...

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Peter pulled back just enough to watch her, even as his vision was white around the edges from his own orgasm. He needed to see her as much as hear, feel and smell her. Her fluttering around him seemed to pull even more out of him, and his hips jerked again, and again, sliding him in and out of her, keeping it going as long as he could.

When he didn't think his knees could hold him anymore, he pulled her away from the wall, just to tumble them both to the bed, him on his back, her atop him.

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She didn't hold back as her release tire over her, earning him his name let out on another shaky moan as he continued moving till her entire body was screaming from overstimulation.

As it was, she was trembling like a leaf by the time they collapsed on the bed all tangled up in one another. Panting as she tried to catch her breath, she turned her head to press her lips to his forehead, merely staying the way as she waited for her body to calm though she felt like it never would.

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Peter's heart was racing, his breath uneven, as well, though he was recovering pretty fast. It was more emotion than the physical, at this point. His arms were tight around her, though, as he turned his head to nuzzle at her cheek, gentle now that the storm had passed.

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Truthfully, Lydia was reeling just a bit about what had happened. In seconds he has managed to turn things around and upside down on her again but she was starting to understand things a little bit better. Just as she understood that being involved with him in any way would never be dull.

"Better?" She asked softly.

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The question causes the tiniest flicker of conscience, but just that tiny one. His fingers tangle in, then smooth down, her hair, and he brushes a kiss over her temple. "Much." The word is soft, though the flicker has him asking, still soft, "Are you all right?"

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There was a first: Peter Hale asking if she was okay.

"Besides feeling like I was struck by a tornado, I'm fine." She turned her head to lean up enough that she could brush her lips over his. But then she was smirking as she pulled back. "You were jealous."

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His gaze narrowed a little and he made a face, but he didn't even try to narrow it. "Is that so strange?"

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"Maybe." She admitted, a brief flick in her gaze as she looked down at his chest but she was never one to hide for long as she looked up at him again with a vague smug look. "It was nice. Except for the whole scaring and hurting me."

Already there was a bruise forming on her arm from where he had grabbed her.

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"I didn't mean to hurt you," he murmured, his fingers wrapping more lightly around her wrist and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "Or scare you."

Whether either of those had been true in the moment, when he'd wanted to mark her, make her think twice about looking at the boy, he was sincere now.

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"Maybe not now that you're calm." She replied, watching him as he pressed a kiss to her wrist, causing her pulse to flutter again.

"What would you have done if something had been going on?"

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He focused on the flutter of her pulse more than the part where she knew him a little too well already. Granted, she'd dealt with him in her head, and he'd hurt her badly, both physically and mentally, so. He could only protest so much.

His gaze met hers, both serious and a little troubled. "I don't know."

Gone after Aiden, for sure, and probably gotten himself hurt or worse, given his loss of power.

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Lydia met his gaze, noting the troubled and serious look as he considered her question. Shifting closer, she tucked herself against his chest as she pressed her face to his neck and closed her eyes.

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He wasn't completely sure what to make of her move, but he tightened his arms around her, cradling her against him. There were things he wanted to say, to explain, but if Derek hadn't bought his reasons, he couldn't expect her to.

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"Penny for your thoughts?" She asked soft a moment later, resting her forehead against his neck while brushing her fingers over his chest.

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He was silent for a few moments longer, playing with the ends of her hair. When he spoke, his tone was a little wry. "I was just thinking how...I wasn't always like this. I'd still have been jealous, six years ago, but I wouldn't have leapt to violence so quickly." He paused, them grimaced. "Not that this would have happened six years ago, obviously." She'd been eleven. He wasn't a pedophile, whatever else you said about him. "But if you'd been grown or near, and I'd just been...who I was."

He paused, then shook his head. "No. Who I was wouldn't have touched you, even if he wanted to. Not until you'd at least gotten out of high school."

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"I probably would have still pursued you." She informed him, something in her tone saying that he wouldn't have been able to resist her if she had really put her mind to it. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what he would have been like if the fire hadn't happened and she had to wonder if she would have been drawn to him the same way.

"Or maybe not." She lifted her head to look at him finally. "If things had happened differently, you wouldn't have needed me the way you did. I might not have even been on your radar."

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It was hard to think of her not in his radar, but he had to admit she was probably right. Unless Cora had brought her home, he might not have laid eyes on her for a while. He wouldn't have been the Alpha, so wouldn't have turned Scott and been pulled into their world.

"I probably wouldn't have been on yours, either," he pointed out with a wry smile.

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"Maybe, maybe not." She would have been attracted to him if she had ever seen him and she figured she would have eventually in a place like Beacon Hills. But maybe he would have been married by then, to a woman his age.

The idea made her frown as she watched her fingers drifting over his chest. Strange, she felt possessive now too.

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"Doubtful," he murmured, to the thought in her head more than the words she said. "My brother was the Alpha, already with children. I wasn't in a hurry to find a mate and be more than an uncle." It likely would have meant breaking off and forming another pack--allied, but independent. They'd grow too large, otherwise. Often, second sons never took mates, just helping to raise the young of the pack, as wolves in the wild did.