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“Allison?”

It’s soft spoken, quiet and obviously non threatening, but Allison jumps anyway. Her hand drops from her chin to press against her heart when her pulse hops, and the fingers of her other hand, resting against her thigh, dig blunt nails into her leg.

“Sorry,” Erica apologizes immediately, and it’s awkward the moment the call for adrenalin dissipates. Allison lifts her hand and waves it dismissively, shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” but her voice is hoarse and cracking, and she’s been sitting in the dark long enough that her eyes have adjusted so she can see the way Erica’s expression changes.

Her brow furrows, she pulls her lip between her teeth and, well - she looks a lot less aggressive when she’s just rolled out of bed, as opposed to the heels, and the skirts, and the lipstick. Allison’s only been a part of the pack for a while - well, no, she’s been a part of it since she and Scott took up, but she’s only given over to the pull of it recently. Still, she’s accustomed enough to the habits of the wolves to be able to tell that the way Erica has her arms crossed over her chest like restraints, looking like she’s trapped behind some sort of glass wall, expression somewhere between pained and concerned, is a tell to her natural instinct to touch.

They all touch, constantly; casual brushes to reinforce ‘pack’ and scent and it’s how they communicate, sometimes, so Allison nods and pats her hand against the cushion next to her. Erica hesitates, but she comes to sit down, obviously working to keep space between them, definitively not touching despite basic instinct. It speaks to the fractured friendship that was never really a friendship that hangs between them. “It’s four am,” Erica says, and Allison lets out a dry, humourless sort of laugh and nods.

“I know,” she does; she’s been watching the LEDs on the clock on the satellite box dance for the last hour and a half, but hasn’t been able to convince herself to try and go back to sleep. Why would she? All that unconsciousness has for her is nightmares. “Are you-” Allison knows that Erica’s not good at this. Really, this whole comforting thing is not her area and it’s actually a relatively constant point of teasing within the pack, the fact that the only girl wolf can’t get in touch with her feelings and it’s Boyd who has the sensitivity thing down pat. Isaac’s good at hugs. Nonetheless, Allison lets her try - if only because she doesn't have the energy or will to do anything but sit there. “Are you okay?” Erica manages, obviously uncomfortable but also trying, and Allison smiles, turns her head to look at the girl.

Erica’s spine is set rigid and straight, hands pressed palms down to her thighs and her shoulders are sort of tucked up to her ears and in on herself, like she’s trying to be small and inconspicuous. Her head is tilted, so she can look down at Allison, and blonde curls are twisted into a loose ponytail that falls over her shoulder. Allison’s taller than her, but she’s hunched over herself in a way that puts Erica above her and she offers a sad smile up at the younger girl, who returns it tentatively. “Are you?” Erica persists, and Allison gives a single shouldered shrug and then shivers. Erica’s immediate, without thought reaction is to wrap an arm around her torso and Allison’s immediate, without thought response is to straighten enough to wrap both hers around Erica. It’s not awkward anymore; Erica hugs her, close and running at a body temperature a few degrees above human but Allison still shivers again, and presses her face into Erica’s neck to hide it when the tears decide they’re not done yet.

She’s tired. She’s absolutely fucking exhausted, but she can’t get any sleep, and all the sleep she does get is punctuated by ‘can we talk’ and her echoes of her own casual dismissal, and screaming and begging and funerals and Kate’s blood. And, finally, ‘Allison, stop, please!’ and Allison breaks away, shaking her head and pressing her hand to her mouth and muffling apologies into her palm. “I’m sorry, Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she manages, and Erica looks at her, wide eyed and confused and then shakes her head - maybe because she won't forgive Allison, maybe because she does; either way, fingers come up to curl around Allison’s wrists and pin her hands down to the couch, and Erica tries to meet her eyes, but Allison just can’t and keeps a blurry gaze on her knees. “I’m sorry,” she insists.

“Allison, stop,” Erica urges softly, and Allison shakes her head and gives it again because it’s all she has; “I’m sorry,” she repeats it, like she’s throwing a lifeline out when really she’s grasping for her own but just can’t get a goddamn hold - and maybe it’s Erica’s way of shutting her up, of making her be quiet, since she won’t just do it on her own. Whatever it is, Erica kisses her, and for whatever reason, Allison kisses her back.

Everything shifts.

Erica releases her grip on Allison’s wrist in favour of holding her at her hips, thumbs pressing against the indentation of the bone and with newfound freedom Allison splays her fingers on Erica’s neck. It’s different. Well, obviously it’s different, but Allison can’t help the comparison she makes to Scott, who’s all open mouthed and heat and fast and fumbly in a good sort of way, always overexcited and unsure of where to go first. Erica is softer. Shockingly, Erica is soft, and sort of slow and careful in a way that throws Allison for a farther loop than the whole kissing thing already has.

Allison doesn’t move her hands when they break; Erica doesn’t either. She holds her tighter, even, like she’s trying to make sure Allison won’t get away, and their foreheads press together as they catch their breaths and Allison opens her eyes to find that Erica has not. She watches Erica graze her teeth across her lip, run her tongue between them and let her mouth fall open with the movement before closing it again. Erica still doesn’t open her eyes, but she brings a hand up from Allison’s hip to press her knuckle against Allison’s chin and tilt her head back, which Allison allows without protest.

She inhales sharply when Erica’s lips press against her jugular, cutting into the silence that’s only been punctuated by the sound of their movements. She's overly aware of how easily Erica could rip her throat out right now - but, again, Erica is slow, and careful, and brushes her lips over the column of Allison’s throat as she shifts her hand so it’s her thumb against Allison’s chin, forcing her head back and cupping her neck with her fingers.

“What are you doing?” Allison asks finally, breathless and voice catching against all the spots Erica’s kissed, and she feels Erica hesitate. “I don’t know,” Erica brushes out over her skin, the conjunction of her neck and shoulder, and fuck that. Erica definitely knows what she’s doing; at least, she knows what she's doing with her lips, and her hands. Allison believes that the blonde might not actually have definitive motives but she definitely knows what she’s doing to Allison’s body, and Allison’s not going to fight it. She's done fighting, she's tired, so she drops her hands from Erica’s neck to rest against her shoulders and Erica moves her hand, too; smoothing it, palm flat from Allison’s hip, along her thigh to hook her fingers under Allison’s knee and tug. It pulls her from the sitting position, forces her to readjust, back against the arm of the couch and she pulls one leg up onto the couch, letting her knee fall to the back cushions of it. Her other leg is still draped over the edge of the couch and Allison realizes, idly as Erica traces her thumb along the seam of her pyjama pants that she’s spreading her legs for Erica Reyes.

There’s something so ridiculous about the concept that Allison wants to laugh, but she also doesn’t want Erica to stop so instead she drops her hands to her waist and grabs at the edge of her own shirt, tugging it up over herself before tossing it away. When she looks back up, Erica’s wearing an expression that edges on pouting, and Allison raises an eyebrow. “What?” She asks, and Erica heaves a little sigh and shakes her head then smiles, inclining to press her lips to Allison’s collarbone. “I wanted to do that,” she presses out, and now Allison does laugh, the sound quiet in her chest and somehow appropriate for a situation that's not appropriate in any stretch.

She drapes an arm back around Erica’s shoulders, and her laughter breaks, catches and shifts to a whimper, Erica's teeth grazing dangerously against her pulse. Erica’s still sitting up, sort of, leaning over her, and Allison watches when she pulls back to readjust. The girl brings both legs up onto the couch to kneel, fitting herself between Allison’s legs, but instead of lying down on top of her she curls so she can press her lips to Allison’s hip. Allison holds her breath, completely unable to decide if she’s ready for this or not. Thankfully, Erica doesn’t make her choose and trails upwards instead of down, lips brushing up over Allison’s abdomen and ribcage.

She doesn’t know what to do with her hands.

It’s stupid to be thinking about right now but Allison has no idea to do with her hands, her immediate instinct to thread fingers in Erica’s hair like she would Scott, but it’s up, and she doesn’t want to tangle it and hurt her, so she makes a snap decision and tugs at the elastic, pulling it free and spreading her fingers to let it roll onto her wrist. One hand goes into her hair; fingers pull carefully into blonde curls as Erica’s lips move over the curve of Allison’s breast and it sort of seems like the other girl just knows. Knows Allison isn’t okay with taking her bra off; there’s probably a lot of weird psychology behind it but she just isn’t, and Erica doesn’t even try, just kisses every inch of skin she can get at. Knows Allison doesn’t know what to do with her other hand, because Erica’s got one curled around Allison’s side, running idly along her torso as she continues kissing up, but she balances on her knees and one elbow and uses her free hand to grab Allison’s, linking their fingers decisively. Knows Allison’s body, because damn, she’s good at this, and as soon as she’s not worrying about what to grab at Allison has no problem giving over to it and she arches off the couch, the pull of it starting in the base of her spine and the back of her head pressing hard on the arm of the couch. Erica’s hand moves from her side to her lower back, fingers splaying with the arch and when Allison lies back down she digs her nails, blunt and careful, into her skin.

Erica presses her lips back to the underside of Allison’s jaw and that’s when she decides she can’t stand it anymore and uses the grip she has in the girl’s hair to get her to kiss her again, and Erica is really good at kissing. She’s careful about it, like every single thing she does is to garner a reaction. Hell, knowing Erica, maybe it is - pretty much everything she does is to earn herself a reaction, after all. The way she dresses and walks and talks and acts is all to force other people into seeing her, into responding, and Allison gives the best response she can, here. She squeezes Erica’s hand and brings her leg up from where it’s dangling, resting her foot against the dip in the cushions and moving both her knees to press against Erica’s sides, whimpering quietly against the girl’s lips.

When she rocks up, it’s involuntary; she grinds against the other girl’s body and Erica gives her own sort of sound, higher pitched than the soft whimperings Allison is making, and thicker - heavy, like it's almost painful. She rolls her hips down, an erratic, jerky sort of movement that doesn't quite match up with the steadier rock of Allison's, messing with every other carefully executed movement. Allison wants more of it. It's a rigid, sudden realization - but she wants more of it, more of the messiness, because it feels real, instead of a facade. Allison's tired of people pretending.

It's four am, and they're dry humping on Lydia's couch while the redhead sleeps upstairs, and her mother is god-knows-where and it's so appropriately abnormal for them that Allison lets out a quiet laugh, breaking from the kiss and letting her head fall to the side to do it and Erica, ever persistent, already has her lips back on Allison’s neck when she asks; “What?”

“Nothing, just -” Allison cuts herself off in a moan that catches in her throat and comes out in a sort of keen as Erica drags blunt nails around from her back to her abdomen and bites her, careful not to break the skin. “Yeah,” Erica responds after a moment, and then she shifts again. Her hand moves to run up along Allison’s arm and Allison drops her fingers from Erica’s hair, and Erica inclines her head to press her lips to the inside of Allison’s wrist before she flips her hair out of her face, then looks between their bodies to adjust.

It’s not smoothly done, it’s not seamless and without flaw; it’s sort of awkward and uncomfortable and Allison finds solace in that because that’s how it’s supposed to be; Erica’s not human, but she still acts human, sometimes, and it's another five seconds of messy reality from a girl that often feels fabricated. Erica straddles her thigh, and Allison’s confused for a moment in a way that’s sort of selfish but mostly just horny because the way things were going made it seem like Erica was, well... topping. Which she is, still, technically, but - “Oh,” Allison lets out when Erica presses her thigh up against Allison body, and catches the way the blonde turns her head up to watch Allison’s reaction before Allison does exactly that; reacts. She arches again, giving a breathless gasp and not getting any time to recover from the unexpected friction because Erica does it again, better this time; it was a surprise, the first time, but this time Erica presses up and down simultaneously and it forces friction against Allison’s clit too and good. Erica fits her free hand - still holding Allison’s in a clasp that makes her think she’s not going to let go anytime soon, and Allison’s okay with that - between them, pressed against the insides of both their thighs, and then lets out a sort of startled laugh and shakes her head, letting it fall breathless as she presses up to kiss Allison’s cheek.

“You would have preferred it if it were your thigh,” she mumbles out, still giggling, and Allison gives her own breathless laugh then turns her head to kiss Erica again, hand coming up to cup her jaw, thumb and fingers pressed to either side respectively. “Apparently,” Allison admits against her lips, and she feels Erica smile before she kisses her again. Harder, this time; not demanding, exactly, but Allison thinks she's trying to make some sort of point, and she does her best to understand it. Maybe it’s just that Allison’s now given what Erica considers permission - though she doesn’t really get how Erica couldn’t have gotten ‘yes’ from everything before now, but now’s not the time for talking about dubious consent - because she moves her hand up, fingers curling against the fabric of Allison’s pants and then she tucks them into the band of them and pulls down. Allison lifts her hips so she can get them down aways, to her thighs, and then Erica lets go and turns her hand, finally making skin on skin contact. Predictably, Allison gasps, and Erica’s not being slow anymore. One finger presses into her and curls moments before the heel of Erica’s hand is against her clit, and Allison digs her teeth into her lip to suppress what would absolutely be a very, very audible moan.

Erica kisses her jaw, her cheek, and Allison lets her lip go just in time for Erica to kiss her and add another finger, already starting to set a pace. “Erica,”  slips out in a catch, and - well, she hadn’t expected that, and evidently Erica hadn’t either, because she holds still a moment. Everything feels suddenly more real and Allison’s panting, eyes on the ceiling even though she can feel Erica’s on her face and it’s a very, very strange feelings to have someone’s fingers in you but not have them moving. It’s like teasing, but not really, because it’s not purposeful, but it has the same basic effect and only moments get to pass before Allison’s rolling her hips up impatiently and forgoing the momentary desire to have a panic attack or something for Erica, who’s jolted back into movement with the physical prompting and the very undignified sort of whine Allison lets out. She gets her pace back immediately and grazes her teeth along Allison’s neck and for Allison, the build up is quick. Like, really quick - embarrassingly fast, in fact. She feels like she can’t breathe, but in a good way, and it’s like there’s a knife in the base of her spine but that’s really in a good way and it’s all - well, just basically in a good way.

She doesn’t get to give the other any sort of warning because she doesn't get her own, and a high pitched sound escapes her as she comes, but Erica lets go of her hand to bring it up and clamp it over her mouth and muffle the sound, fingers still working steadily against the jerk of her hips. Allison closes her eyes, arching up again in a rocking sort of motion that’s totally involuntary and completely out of sync with the erratic way her hips are rolling and just like that, it’s over, and she’s relaxing again. Muscles release and Erica moves her hand from Allison's mouth, letting her catch her breath even as she keeps working her fingers, though she’s slowing down. “Are you okay?” It’s the same question as before, but it’s given in an entirely different context and Erica’s voice is lower, now. It catches in her throat and sounds breathless and Allison opens her eyes to find Erica’s on her face. The other’s blush is obvious even in the dark and she is breathless; Allison can hear the quick inhale, exhale. “Allison?” Erica prompts, starting to sound genuinely concerned, and Allison looks between them to find Erica still straddling her thigh, but sitting up far enough so they’re not actually touching. Also, her hand is still in Allison’s pants - fuck, she’s still inside Allison, though she’s stilled, now. The contact is still enough to give away how tense the other is, and it’s sometimes scary how still the wolves can be, but it also means Allison’s relatively well aimed when she presses her thigh up between Erica’s legs. Immediately, Erica’s body gives the involuntary response of grinding down, and both Allison’s hands move to bracket the girl’s hips and hold her up as she tries to catch her balance again.

“Did you get off on that?” Allison doesn’t really consider the question before she asks it, but it’s out of genuine curiosity and given how they’re pressed up against each other Allison can’t really declare it inappropriate, or something. “Me?” She elaborates, and Erica smiles, ducks her head to break eye contact. She brings her hand away from Allison’s body, licking her fingers in a way that’s obviously supposed to be inconspicuous but is actually just really, surprisingly hot.

“I didn't actually come,” Erica clarifies, sounding sheepish, and even the word 'come' is totally a turn on, and Allison digs her fingertips into Erica’s sides, preemptively supporting her up before pressing her thigh up again. It’s definitely not as well executed as Erica’s earlier movements had been but Erica still lets out a quiet, caught up sort of keen and drops her forehead to Allison’s shoulder. To Allison, it feels like Erica’s actually giving in, and that makes the decision for her. “Roll over,” she offers the command softly, and Erica seems to hesitate a moment before nodding against her body. It’s more awkward, fumbly sort of movements; they each try to compensate for each other and it ends up just creating more problems. Allison almost falls off the couch - because for some reason, neither of them consider standing up - and Erica grabs her by the waist to catch her. Finally, they’re settled; Erica’s shoulders and one of Allison’s hands braced against the arm of the couch, the other pressed into the back cushions so she can hover and get her hips between Erica’s legs. She drops her knees to the couch as soon as she decides that’s good enough and her hand comes off the back of it at the same time, moving to cup Erica’s jaw as she kisses her.

She’s needy. That’s the only word Allison can think of to describe the way Erica kisses her back, and when her teeth tug at Allison’s lip and it's a new feeling. Scott is gentle, always - Erica may be careful but it’s different, it feels more precise. It feels cold, almost, whereas Scott has an inescapable heat to everything he does and Allison decides she’s going to get Erica to warm up - which is a terrible line that she should never use on anyone, ever, but nonetheless - it still feels like Erica’s holding something back and that simultaneously freaks Allison out and intrigues her, because she wants to know what it is but something tells her she’ll never be able to rewind if she does. Really, even now, she knows she could rewind. Erica would let her erase all of this, act like it never happened; she doesn’t know why she knows that, but maybe it’s the circumstances. Maybe it’s the fact that Erica didn’t seem to have any idea how to comfort her outside of sex and yes, fine, Allison’s looked before. Considered it - who hasn’t? It’s Erica Reyes and she’s gorgeous and everyone looks and thinks about it - but never seriously, not really, so it’s not like this was preemptive. There’s no feelings here; at least, Allison doesn’t think there’s any feelings here. Not right now; maybe just not yet. She doesn’t know; she has no idea what she’s doing here but she wants to try. So she does. She tries what Erica’s just done; grazes her teeth over the girl’s lip, tugs at it, and Erica whimpers and brings a hand up to the back of Allison’s neck like she’s trying to hold her there.

It’s an obvious fact, but kissing a girl is way different than kissing a boy; not that kissing boys is unpleasant or something, because it’s not, but Erica’s not trying to press her tongue in her mouth or moving her lips too fast against Allison’s, not giving a chance to let her catch up. Maybe she’s compensating, but she keeps pace with the way Allison kisses her - really, she just lets Allison kiss her, apparently without expecting anything else, like she’d be completely content just like this. Allison might believe her, if it weren’t for the way she’d pressed down every time Allison pressed up, so she breaks the kiss, grudging only because she doesn’t want to stop kissing Erica, and moves her lips to the underside of the blonde’s jaw. Erica’s thumb brushes along the nape of Allison’s neck and her fingertips dig into Allison’s skin, her other hand splaying against Allison’s abdomen with no real intent. It’s like she just wants to touch her, and of course she does. That’s how this all started, that’s what the wolves do, and momentarily Allison wonders if Erica’s freaking out a little bit. This has to challenge some deeply imbedded instinct; she’s vulnerable, open entirely to someone who’s been perceived and proven as a threat before now, and Allison presses a few open mouthed kisses against the line of Erica’s jaw before pulling back and meeting her eyes. Panic and arousal have disarmingly similar tells; fight or flight has the same rush of adrenalin sex does and Erica’s flushed and her pupils are blown and bright in the dark room and really, Allison can’t tell the difference. She decides on preemptive damage control. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she says slowly, careful and quiet, and Erica’s brow knits like she’s confused but the lines of her shoulders also relax, and she nods.

“I know,” Erica responds, and she tries to say it like she’s confident about it but she still sounds confused. Disbelieving, maybe. Allison knows Erica’s social skills are not up to par; years of being a social pariah cannot have done much good for her ability to instinctively react to social boundaries and the conventions that came automatically to everybody else. She also knows the only people Erica used to interact with on a regular basis were teachers, doctors and her mother and Erica’s usually very in control, now. She’s used to being forced into the submissive role by authority figures and now she doesn’t have to be submissive and she uses and abuses that ability - but that doesn’t make her a good liar. Especially not here, now, where Allison is pretty sure the other girl is both turned on and freaked.

“No, Erica,” Allison says, harder this time, with a defined edge to her words because she needs to get this point across. She reaches between them, gets her hand between her body and Erica’s palm and curls their fingers together, making Erica drop her hand to her own abdomen and leaving them clasped there. She runs her thumb along the back of Erica’s hand and holds eye contact the best she can, trying not to focus on the way she can feel Erica’s pulse in her entire body. Specifically against her hip, angled to press between Erica’s legs where there's not really much between them. Erica’s only in a tanktop and underwear, and since it’s Erica it’s lacy, and thin. “I’m not going to hurt you again,” She tells her, and Erica holds her gaze a moment longer before responding. She doesn’t say anything, just slides her fingers from Allison’s neck to her hair and pulls her back down to kiss her again. She’s being careful again, but the needy still shows through; beyond that, it’s almost sort of desperate, and Allison responds in kind. She kisses the other harder, drops her hand from the arm of the couch to rest her forearm along the cushions so their bodies are pressed flush together. Erica gets more confident. Well, no; Erica is confident, and Allison knows that. Sex is her thing. At least, she acts like sex is her thing and she seems very comfortable in her own body - past comfortable, really; she knows how ridiculously hot she is. She’s not in the heels and the lipstick and the skirt right now, though, and Allison wonders if it’s that or dregs of sleep still left in her mind that had made Erica so tentative, but even that is starting to dissipate.

Legs come around Allison’s waist and ankles hook together against the small of her back and it sort of traps her, and Allison grinds down because she wants to and because she has nowhere else to go. She rolls against Erica, blindly trying to rock against the right spots and evidently she does it well because Erica whimpers again and it’s so hot. Allison hadn’t expected it. She hadn’t expected to be so ridiculously turned on by the sounds Erica’s making but God, is she ever. They’re all high pitched and needy and edge on desperation, but they’re quiet, too. Allison breaks the kiss and moves her lips back to Erica’s neck again so she can hear them better and she can feel the way the air catches up in Erica’s vocal chords and comes out in a soft cry.

She doesn’t know why she’s so surprised by how vocal Erica is; it shouldn’t be surprising at all, really, everything else about her personality is loud, but maybe it’s more that she’s not moaning in a way that feels like overcompensation. She’s just making sounds, ones that seem entirely involuntary, and that has to be it; none of this is on purpose or calculated or purposely executed. Erica just is, and it’s new and different and Allison feels like she’s currently privy to something very, very important about the blonde.

She lets go of the other's hand to gets hers under Erica’s tanktop, smoothing her palm over the girl’s abdomen. She’s not ripped or anything, but the muscles are definitely there, and experimentally Allison grinds down against her again. Everything pulls taut and the lines of Erica’s abs are revealed under her skin and Allison runs her hand over them, just touching. She moves her hand higher, the edge of the black fabric caught around her wrist and coming up with her hand, and then she turns it and grabs the fabric and pulls it up. Erica has to shift and arch to let Allison get it off but once it’s gone she relaxes again. Well, sort of; she’s still panting, the rise and fall of her chest quick and catching and her nails drag lightly over Allison’s scalp as she rests her forehead on Erica’s collarbone. 

Allison has no idea what she’s doing.

The realization hits her full force only now that Erica’s next to naked and that’s completely infuriating but Allison tries to keep the panic suppressed, pressing her lips against Erica’s skin more fervently than before. Of course, however, Erica can tell. If Allison could tell before, even without those ridiculously irritating wolfy senses, Erica can totally tell, and fingertips drag up along Allison’s arm to rest against her shoulder, then pull higher to force Allison to lift her head and tilt her chin up. Erica’s tongue comes out between her lips again, touching over them as they part and then they press back together and she raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side a little bit. “You don’t have to,” she says, offers it like the lifeline Allison needed half an hour ago. Admittedly, it’s sort of a relief; usually she doesn’t have to worry about Scott because guys always get theirs but it’s harder with girls, she knows that for a fact with experience from her own body. She feels bad, sort of; she felt bad, before, that she had gotten off and Erica hadn’t and she’s not going to lie and say that wasn’t part of her motivation, but that’s definitely not all of it. “Really, Allison, I’m fine,” Erica adds, and no, she’s not. Allison can feel the tension in her hips as she tries not to press up again and the way the girl’s finger tips are digging into her scalp and she can see Erica holding onto the cushion, knuckles near white as she fights the urge to touch. That’s an urge Allison understands entirely and no, feeling bad definitely isn’t all of it, because she wants to touch Erica, too. She wants to do this and wants to hear more of those noises and feel the way Erica arches and she wants to see Erica come, so she says as much.

“I want you to come,” well, she tries to say as much; it’s not her most eloquent line ever but it was an effort and Erica lets out a soft sort of laugh. Allison breaks into a grin, brings her hand up to press fingertips against the other’s neck and run her thumb the length of her jaw and just smile at her, then continues; “So shutup, and just let me make you feel good,” again, Erica laughs, her head falling back from the arm of the couch with it and her chest sort of coming up and she’s giggling, but she nods and Allison presses a kiss to her jugular and then the dip before her sternum, and moves lower.

Allison’s a B cup - she wears it well, she knows she does, but she’s tall and lanky and thin. She’s okay with it; she likes it, likes her body and understands it. Erica is a whole different playing field; she’s definitely not a B cup and her curves are a lot softer, sort of like Lydia. Erica’s sort of built, however; again, she’s not ripped, but her stomach is hard even though she’s not flexing and it’s sort of a weird combination, for a moment; curves that are so definitively feminine contrasted by a body type Allison involuntarily identifies with boys, but she likes it. Yeah, she definitely likes it, she just has no idea how to approach it and decides to just go for it, allowing herself to put some trust in Erica and believing the other girl won’t judge her if she does something wrong. Admittedly, Allison’s not sure there's a wrong way to do any of this - but still. She shifts so she’s kneeling, the tops of her thighs pressed up along the backs of Erica’s and allowing her to use both hands, not having to balance anymore. She spans them against Erica’s hips and then runs them higher, trying to smooth over all the skin she can get to as she presses her lips up along the curve of Erica’s breast, pausing when she reaches the fabric of her bra and then moving between and back up again. They’re not planned movements, she just moves however she decides she wants to in the moment and runs her nails over the skin just before Erica’s bra. She contemplates, for a moment, taking it off, but she isn’t sure Erica’s good with that and isn’t even sure she’s good with that - which is dumb, considering the direction she’s decided to head in, but whatever - and decides to leave it up to the blonde.

Erica’s breathing is picking up again, and Allison runs her hands back down the girl’s torso to hook her fingers into the band of the stupidly lacy, stupidly attractive underwear and pull at it. Erica lifts her hips obediently and Allison sits up, tugging the fabric over Erica’s thighs, her knees, and getting to her ankles and removing them entirely instead of just letting Erica kick them off. When she lets go of Erica’s feet they drop back to the cushions and the girl presses her knees against Allison’s hips, like she’s trying to close her legs. Like maybe, she's uncomfortable so totally exposed like this, and Allison gets that and does her best to make it better. She turns, curls her fingers around Erica’s calf and spreads her other hand against the inside of her thigh then bends to press her lips to the inside of Erica’s knee. She runs her thumb in circles against the girl’s calf and moves her other hand higher. She can’t see it, but she can feel Erica’s hips working with the need for contact, and Allison grins and moves her lips higher, smiling all the while into Erica’s skin. Except, she still doesn’t really know what she’s doing. She knows what she likes, but she has no idea what Erica or any other girl (save Lydia, due to ‘tell every detail’ conversations) likes, and that strikes Allison as a potential problem. She turns her head, still half sitting up and resting her cheek against Erica’s knee, and raises an eyebrow at the girl. At this point, the blonde has pushed up on her elbows and is looking at Allison in a way that totally screams ‘please’ even though Erica definitely isn’t going to say it. “Show me,” Allison requests carefully, and Erica has looked confused a surprising amount of times tonight. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Allison admits in explanation, and realization dawns on Erica’s expression but something tells Allison it’s the wrong realization, because she also looks disappointed and Allison doesn’t at all intend to switch gears and leave Erica out to dry. She just needs some instruction. Demonstration, specifically. Allison sits up, moves her hand from Erica’s thigh to her hip and runs the fingers still curled around her calf up, to cup around her thigh instead. “Touch yourself. Show me how,” she elaborates, and then Erica gets it and that stupid tongue of hers darts out over her lips again before she nods.

“Okay,” she agrees, and Allison bends to kiss the skin pulled taut over Erica’s hipbone as Erica lays back again and presses one hand between them. She’s totally unashamed and unabashed about it and Allison smiles because hey, she’s gotten Erica this far, and that’s an accomplishment in her books. It’s essentially the exact same thing she’d done to Allison; she presses two fingers into herself and Allison watches as the other arches, just in her lower back, with the intrusion. There’s nothing particularly complicated or difficult about the way Erica presses the heel of her hand against her clit, but she cries out audibly with it and arches up again and Allison looks up. It’s like there’s a hook protruding from the girl’s sternum, with a string tied to it and pulling her up from that spot, the rest of her body falling in a curve away from it. Erica’s other hand is gripping at her own thigh, and both her upper arms are against the sides of her breasts, making impossible cleavage even more impossible. Allison looks down again, and without really deciding to do so, brings a hand up to fit two fingers under Erica’s palm in the rhythmic pull away she allows herself, pressing the pads of both against her clit. Erica gasps. She sounds surprised and when she tries to exhale again it comes out in another whimpering sort of cry, and Allison pulls her hand away just to tug her hair up in a ponytail, tying it off and out of her face with the elastic she’d stolen from Erica before. That done, she moves her hand back under Erica’s, waiting for Erica to pull her own hand away before replacing the other girl’s fingers with her own. Again, Erica gasps, gives a sort of whine and her hand moves to hold onto the couch again. Allison doesn’t even think about it before she does it; she turns her hand out of the way and presses her tongue against Erica’s clit. It earns her another surprised noise and this is all just an experiment so Allison keeps true and tries whatever she can think of, trying to figure out where the best reaction is.

Erica’s apparently super fucking sensitive, because when Allison curls her fingers and moves her tongue in a way she knows Scott has against her before, Erica jerks away. “Too much,” she offers, breathless and sounding sort of apologetic and Allison files the piece of information away for later and tries again, with the relaxed sort of run of her tongue and easy pace of her fingers and immediately Erica’s okay again. “Better?” Allison allows herself to break to ask, pressing her lips against Erica’s thigh and then looking up at her, and Erica offers a nod and Allison smiles and repeats the movement. She moves her hand from where it is, splayed flat against the couch cushion, to pull Erica’s fingers away from where they’re digging into her thigh and lacing them together. Erica’s nails dig into the back of Allison’s hand and it should probably hurt, but Allison’s relatively distracted at the moment and curls her fingers again - this time without breaking the pace she’s set with her tongue. Erica’s whimpering again; she’s been whimpering this entire time, but it’s a new sort of sound and Allison presses a little bit harder, a little bit longer. “Allison,” she breathes it out, airy and high pitched and caught in her throat, and her thumb runs along the top of Allison’s hand. “Please, don’t stop,” the begging request is disarmingly close to one she’d given months ago. It’s the same words, with one change, but it’s totally different and Allison is almost thrown because the request’s companion is bouncing in her thoughts but it was so hot and desperate and needy, and she wants to make good on her words, the expressed desire to make Erica feel good.

She's been doing pretty good so far, apparently, and forces flashbacks away to continue what she’s doing, drawing more cries from the other, and then she falls silent entirely. The hook in her ribcage pulling up again and her grip tightening on Allison’s hand as she comes. Her hips rock up once and then it’s like she makes the conscious decision not to do that again, pressing hard down into the cushions as her legs spasm and it runs from the base of her spine up her back. Allison doesn’t stop; or, she tries not to; it’s kind of hard with the new sudden movements to keep rhythm, and she wants to watch but looking up makes it sort of difficult to continue with her tongue - she manages not to stop her fingers, though, and the stimulation seems to sustain. The shiver comes back down Erica’s body and Allison focuses on moving her tongue again, trying to get Erica to rock up the way she had before, but doesn’t manage to succeed before she hears Erica exhale again. She starts to slow down, trying to bring Erica down from it properly, but after a moment the girl jerks again and Allison realizes that if she was sensitive before then it probably just hurts, now, and pulls away. She does what Erica had done; cleans her fingers with her tongue, then wipes her hand against the back of her mouth. She presses her palm into the cushions to push herself up and runs her thumb along the back of Erica’s hand, looking up at her. She’s trying really hard to catch her breath, eyes closed, and her free hand comes up to pull her hair from her forehead and then run fingers through it before she opens them and looks down, breaking into a smile.

“Hey,” she says, and Allison has to let go of her hand so she can move back up her body to hover over her. Erica pushes up on her elbows to meet Allison for the kiss and it’s not careful, or slow, or precise, but it’s also not hard - it’s just nice. It’s just enough Erica, with teeth and pull, and Allison thinks she’s got enough of herself in it too, relaxed and languid. “Hey,” Allison returns when they break, her hand cupping Erica’s jaw and her forehead against the other’s, and she licks her lips and opens her eyes to find Erica’s still shut, just like before. Allison tilts her chin to press her lips, chaste and light, against Erica’s, then settles to the side. Erica shifts to move farther into the couch and make room, doing it blind, and Allison fits one leg under Erica’s and the other over top, ankle hooking around Erica’s far one so they’re tangled. Erica’s still wearing socks. Allison had noticed before, obviously, when she was taking off her underwear, but it didn’t really click until right now and Allison remembers a line from some movie; ‘I don’t take my socks off, intimacy issues’ and finds it ridiculously appropriate because Erica’s still not looking at her.

She’s looking at the ceiling; well, actually, she’s not even looking at the ceiling, her face is just upturned and her eyes are still closed and Allison sits up, sort of. She sets her elbow on the couch cushion and the side of her head against her hand and raises an eyebrow, watching Erica’s definitively blank expression. Her free hand moves to splay on Erica’s stomach again and she traces idly over smooth skin, fingertips falling into the indentation of Erica’s hipbones and then a little bit lower, but coming back up before going too far. “Why’d you stop?” Allison asks quietly, and Erica turns her head and opens her eyes and gives Allison a look of judgment.

“I definitely didn’t stop. Like, at all,” she states, and Allison shakes her head and moves her hand to curl fingers around Erica’s hip, tugging up and forcing the girl to recreate the movement she’d made with the first spasm of her orgasm. “Why’d you stop doing that?” Allison clarifies, and Erica rolls her eyes, gives a little shake of the head and turns it to look back up at the ceiling. “Erica,” Allison prompts, and Erica gives a sigh and a rueful smile.

“I didn’t want to smother you and freak you out,” she sighs, running her fingers through her hair again and lifting her head to pull it all back and out of the way. “More than you already were,” she elaborates, and Allison gives an involuntary sort of scoff. “I wasn’t freaked out,” she argues, and Erica’s head turns again to give Allison another withering sort of look. No makeup, hair’s a mess and she’s still flushed from an orgasm - but her bitch stare rivals Lydia’s, anyway. Allison rolls her eyes. “Fine, but only because I didn’t know what I was doing,” Erica laughs in a dry, scoffing sort of way, and breaks into a grin.

“You were good at it, though,” she tells her, and Allison feels herself blush and ducks her head a little bit, trying to hide it but not really because honestly, what’s the point?

“You were freaked,” Allison points out, pressing her lips to Erica’s shoulder and then looking up again.

“That’s different,” Erica says, flat about it, and Allison gives her own scoff, hand turning up to the ceiling where it rests on Erica’s stomach in a ‘the fuck?’ gesture.

“How is that different?” Erica sighs and moves down the couch, grabbing blindly at the pillow by her knee and shoving it behind her head before she rests back against the arm, now below Allison. Allison looks down at her, her fingers trailing between the girl's hips and obviously not dropping the subject, and Erica runs both her hands down her face, making a sound of irritated defeat. “You had me on my back, stomach to you, and made me bear my neck,” it clicks for Allison only seconds before Erica says it; “You made me submit."

Allison drops, moving down the couch as well and resting her head on the cushions, lying flat with her arm moving from it’s propped position to dangle off the couch. “And you’re afraid of me,” Allison adds, and Erica side-eyes her.

“Not really,” she argues, defensive and sort of fitful about it, then rolls onto her side. If Allison wanted to she could arch her neck a little bit and brush their noses together. She’s pretty sure they’re sort of fighting right now, though, so she doesn’t.

“You were,” she contests, and Erica nods and lets her have it.

“Obviously,” she says it like it doesn’t matter but to Allison it does; both because they haven’t talked about it, like, at all, and she knows it takes a lot for Erica to admit fear of anything. Boyd had let Allison in immediately; an apology was all it took and he’d accepted her without preamble and they tended to spend a lot of time together, now, just being quiet together amongst the bustle and sounds of the pack, or Allison will go over to help him get his sisters ready for their dance classes and recitals; braid their hair, help them with their outfits or whatever, or Boyd will come over when her father isn’t home just to sit in her room with her. They’ve got a quiet sort of comfortable and it’s nice and Boyd, to Allison, represents unwavering protection in a way no one has before. Erica, on the other hand, didn’t let her in. Which was unsurprising, really, and it wasn’t like Allison made a genuine effort to force her way in. They’re friends, but not really; more accurately, they’re pack, and it’s why they’re at Lydia’s house in the first place.

For the most part Lydia’s mother is too absent to care or notice that her daughter isn’t home six out of seven nights a week, and Erica’s mother is a flight attendant and rarely home herself; the arguments about constantly sleeping at Scott’s, or Derek’s apartment, come from Allison’s father. The pack prefers to sleep as a group; Allison understands the pull of it entirely and is definitely a part of it, though she’s sure it’s more intense in the wolves, but her father also isn’t the only one who demands her sleeping at home (or at least, not at Derek or Scott’s) on a relatively regular basis and this is the compromise. They split up; sometimes in pairs, sometimes in threes, and that’s what this was. ‘Girl’s night’ Lydia had called it, starkly ignoring the uncomfortable rift between Allison and Erica. Isaac and Scott were at Stiles’ for the night and Jackson and Boyd were at Derek’s apartment and Allison, Lydia and Erica were here.

“I forgive you, you know,” Erica says, cutting in and absently delivering the words in a tone she obviously wants to be casual.

Allison responds without hesitation; “I don’t,” and she doesn’t. She knows she doesn’t. She doesn’t forgive herself for any of it, she doesn’t think she ever will, and that’s why she was up in the first place. It haunts her, constantly, echoes of begging and blood and cries in the back of her thoughts even when she’s awake and dominating them entirely when she’s asleep. It’s easier when she’s with the entire pack; or more, she doesn’t wake up when she's with them, and she doesn’t wake anyone else up, save Derek and Isaac a few times. Stiles, once. She’d woken up in a cold sweat with tears on her face tonight and come downstairs immediately, leaving Lydia and Erica to the tangle of limbs and sheets that they were, gotten a glass of water and sat down on the couch and let herself cry.

That was how Erica had found her, so she’s not surprised when Erica says “I know.”

Her hand comes up, fingers brush against Allison’s cheekbone and then tuck hair that’s still loose behind her ear, and a knuckle comes to touch against her temple. It feels like a maternal movement, almost, and Allison doesn’t know if that’s the Wolf or if that’s just Erica but it makes her ache anyway. “We all forgive you,” Erica adds, and Allison closes her eyes to stop the tears. Erica’s knuckle moves to press against Allison’s chin like it had before, tilting her head, and the kiss Erica presses to her lips is soft and careful and it’s replicated on Allison’s cheek moments after.

She drops an arm over Allison’s back, curls fingers against her hip and gives a tug that pulls Allison’s side up along her front, then pulls her hair free from the elastic band and runs her fingers through it. Allison still has her eyes closed, arms tucked in on herself, and lets Erica press her lips to Allison’s shoulder. “No one’s angry, Allison,” she tells her, and Allison lets out a shaky breath and nods. Erica is two years younger than her, sixteen to Allison’s recent eighteen, but she lets Erica take care of her and maybe Erica’s better at this whole comforting thing than Allison originally thought.

Erica lies back down, one arm over Allison’s back and presses her lips to Allison’s forehead then settles, fingers tracing idly along Allison’s side. She lets it lull her; breathes in and out, rhythmic and matching Erica’s heartbeat, which she can feel pressed against her side, and is almost asleep when Erica speaks again. “Allison?” She asks, sounding sleepy and tentative, and Allison makes a hoarse sound of acknowledgement, then sits up as Erica pulls away. She opens her eyes to find Erica looking around them, obviously searching. “Where’s my underwear?” She adds, and Allison breaks into unexpected laughter and leans up to kiss Erica again, hard and easy at the same time, then rolls onto her back and reaches for the floor. Fingers catch on lacy fabric and she rolls back up, the bright pink lace dangling from her index finger. Erica smiles, takes them, presses a lazy kiss to Allison’s lips and starts to put them on. “We should go back to bed before we’re caught,” she says, not actually sounding all that worried about it, but Allison sits up anyway and looks for their shirts, tossing Erica her tanktop and starting to tug on her own.