The doorbell rang again, twice in quick succession, and Chris picked up his pace, “I’m coming!” he yelled to whomever was on the other side of the door. Who ever it was had quite the gall, waking him up at 4:30 in the morning; it had better be an emergency.
He opened the door and got a good look at the offender, “Lydia”
“Mr. Argent! Good, you’re up” she responded far too pleasantly for the hour.
She waved his comment aside with her hand, blustering past him into his house, her arms filled with bags and boxes. She knew his apartment like the back of her hand, proving it as she headed straight for the dining room and turning on every light she came across without trouble.
She’d left him standing in the entranceway, door still wide open. He groaned inwardly, and briefly thought about leaving Lydia to her own devices and going back to bed, but he knew better. He was probably not going to get anymore sleep tonight.
“You could have woken Allison,” he said, walking the short distance into his dining room. They’d all encouraged his daughter to get a good night’s rest for the big day, and she’d even taken a small sleeping aid to ensure she did.
An indescribable expression passed over Lydia’s face, but she seemed unconcerned with the prospect of waking her up. Putting that into the ‘interesting quirks of Lydia’ file in his head – something he was actively in denial about accumulating, he finally focused on what she was doing.
He was astonished at the amount of stuff the woman was able to carry. His dining table was completely buried in a sea of multicoloured fabrics, papers, and boxes.
“Lydia, what –“ he asked still partially asleep, gesturing to the stuff.
“Well it is your daughter’s wedding,” she said, obviously.
“I meant why are you doing it here. Surely there are places with more space” it was true, his small two-bedroom apartment was cozy, just enough space for him and Allison when she still lived here. Since college though, the place had started to seem almost a bit big, empty; he’d been glad to have her home for the past few weeks, even if it was temporary.
“Nope. Would have used my house, but it just went into escrow so cluttering it up is antithetical. Can’t use Scott’s place because that’s ‘man central’” she said the term with a funny imitation of Scott “and Derek’s place is big enough, but really, he’s always getting attacked, I don’t want to risk ruining anything”
“And besides, you have the best coffee” she teased, a smirk on her face
She finished setting out the items in the boxes, and put her hands on her hips in determination. “So, how about you go and make us some of that fabulous coffee and I’ll get the rest of the stuff from the car”
“The rest?” he said, but she was already walking out the door.
Twenty minutes later, Chris found himself conscripted into helping Lydia assemble the gift bags for the wedding guests. He figured it must be a ridiculous sight, him a man in his 50s still in his pajamas, delicately handling little spoons, tealeaves, and lace at 5 in the morning.
“Oh, the park and gazebo should be all set for tomorrow,” he said, tying little bows of purple around a sachet.
“How’d that go?” she asked.
“Good. Deaton and I laid the foundation spells, we’ll have to do some more later today – some of the short-lived stuff, but we got the majority done” he replied, hands going for the tea. He was pretty good at this stuff.
“….took most of the night. Didn’t get to bed until almost 2” he hedged, not-so-subtly hinting that he was exhausted.
Lydia, for her part, had the good grace to at least look ashamed for waking him up so early, “poor baby” she said jokingly, giving him a patronizing pat on the head.
“You can go back to bed if you want to”
He looked at her skeptically, “really?”
“But only if you want company”
He looked up to see a wicked gleam in her eye, daring him to take her up on the offer. But as quickly as it was there, it was gone. A beat passed and she returned her attention to the small tea satchels, resuming the conversation about the spells.
It was one of the things he found most alluring about her and the most frustrating. Over the past few years she’d made a handful of suggestive comments; nothing vulgar, but nothing innocuous either. And in recent months the frequency of them had increased, as did the little wink she'd add at the end. What he found most contradictory was how she would say something, and there would be an unmistakable heat in her eyes and intent in her voice that he was sure she meant it. But she never let the moment linger, never let him think about it for a second too long because she reverted back to ‘normal’, making him question whether the intent he read was actually there or not
The extremes in duality was something that attracted him, always attracted him; it was one of the things he loved most about Victoria – this cold, calculating exterior with a decisive, brilliant mind, but if you were one of the lucky few to be granted permission, you were able to see the warm, highly emotional and kind person she was as well.
In many ways Lydia reminded him of her.
Which is one of the reasons he’d denied the possibility of something between them, regardless of how remote it was. There were the obvious reasons of their age differences and Allison, but he’d also wondered if part of his noticing her was because he was still grieving; still a widow
“What is this anyways?” he asked, bringing the conversation to safer ground, smelling the large carton of tea he was currently spooning into smaller woven bags.
“Earl Grey infused with wolfsbane and gunpowder – I thought it was appropriate. And you have no idea how hard it was to track down that much pure wolfsbane. Every where I looked for it, it was always infused with something else – to poison people or whatever, but pure, pulled-right-out-of-the-ground wolfsbane….I ended up having to import it from Germany.” she explained.
“And then of course I had to dry it myself.”
“Well I’m sure they’ll appreciate it,” he said
“I hope so. It’s also in the cupcakes and there’s a cordial stock of it behind the bar if any of the guests want it added to their drinks. Damn werewolves. Can’t just drink vodka like the rest of us”
Chris laughed at that, “I’m more of a whisky man myself”
“Now that does not surprise me” she responded with a wink and a click of her tongue, letting her gaze linger on him longer than he was comfortable with.
“Have you ever tried wolfsbane?” he asked, clearing his throat, trying to end the heated moment.
“I sampled it when I was making the tea blend. Odd stuff,” she said, returning her attention to the task.
A wry smile came on his face; remember just how ‘odd’ wolfsbane could be.
“What?” she asked, seeing his expression, the wistful look on his face.
“It’s nothing,” he said, grabbing another lace baggie.
She kept staring at him with that look of hers and he knew he was going to be in deeper trouble then just telling an old story. This woman had a ways of getting exactly what she wanted from him.
“Fine,” he sighed. “When Victoria and I were younger…” he was pleased to see she didn’t flinch at the mention of his wife’s name, “…when we would go camping or come back from a hunt…” he trailed off.
“Ahhh I see,” she said smiling wickedly.
He grinned, “it can be quite the aphrodisiac for humans.”
He should have regretted saying that, he knew that she’d been flirting with him; this was dangerous territory if he was going to stay away from her.
Her mouth gaped open a tad, and arousal surged through him. An image of him having her right now on the table burned into his mind. His eyes focused on her lips, slightly open, plump and he wondered (not for the first time) what it would be like to have those beautiful lips wrapped around him. If he hadn’t had 40 years experience handling these sorts of urges he would have acted on it.
“Well, we’ll have to try that sometime. I bet you’re quite the ride, Mr. Argent” she said, voice slightly heavier than it was earlier.
He paused, just staring at her. She was gorgeous and he was flattered and he wanted to so much….wanted.
“You really ought to be calling me Chris. Especially if you’re going to keep saying things like that,” he said, coughing lightly, forcing himself to stop looking at her, to stop being tempted.
She stood up, stepping the few steps between them at the table, putting her hands on his face, leaning down to kiss him. Her lips were soft and warm, undemanding but confident. He barely had time to decide whether to kiss her back before she was stepping away.
“Well, Mr. Argent,” she said, emphasizing his more proper title, “you better get off to bed then,” she said, sitting back down, not forcing the issue.
He was pleased she was letting him go to bed; he was exhausted and not twenty-three and able to function on three hours sleep. He put down the lace and moved to stand up, silently hoping she’d follow him to his bedroom.
“I have better ways of exhausting you than tea sachets,” she added as he was about to leave the room.
He paused, but forced himself not to turn around. He was so screwed.
Lydia was exhausted. She was hungry, her feet hurt and she wanted to get out of this damn dress. But she was happy. The ceremony had gone off beautifully, all her hard work paid off – she hoped Allison and Scott were as happy with it as she was. No one had died, both hunters and wolves behaved themselves and no humans embarrassed the happy couple.
She leaned against the closed door, happy to be done and happy to be alone. Well not quite alone. Chris was here – it was his place after all. Allison said Lydia could stay in her room, her and Scott had taken the Honeymoon suite at the best five-star hotel in town (courtesy of Lydia) and she had planned to make the most of it. She was going to have him.
She’d been flirting with him all night, enjoying watching him squirm under her attentions; she’d even managed to get a few dances with him. She knew he was attracted to her; she was worried at first that he wouldn’t be, that he would be unable to see her as the woman she was, always just the teenaged best friend of his daughter. Lydia had wanted to seduce him since she was that sixteen year old girl, since that day she’d come across him working out; all sweaty and masculine. And now she had her chance. He was single, she was single…and staying in his house.
She’d made her intentions known months ago; she wasn’t the most subtle of women at the best of times and this slow seduction had been painfully boring for her. She’d just as rather jump him and have her way with him. But she knew he didn’t work that way, so she’d started leaving hints for a while now; innuendo, heated glances, touching him unnecessarily.
Her and Chris had come back to the little apartment together, he’d insisted on staying behind to help her with cleanup, ever the gentleman. She’d left her hand on his thigh the entire drive back while they talked about how well the day had gone, and he hadn’t asked her to remove it. He’d shifted ever so slightly when she let her fingers trail higher up his thigh, moving inwards. Not close enough to touch anything good but close enough to be very clear in her desires. And apparently for him as well; his pants tightening in the darkened car. She’d grinned. Pleased. She needed to be direct, but ultimately it had to be his decision; it would be weirder for him than it would be for her.
She leaned more into the door, trying to make the relaxed position look sexy. She had picked out this dress specifically with him in mind; it clung to everything, showing off her considerable assets. Mid thigh length, and with enough cleavage to feed an army; Allison had approved of it, teasing her about being the slutty one at her wedding, trying to get Lydia to confess about who exactly she was trying to impress. If she only knew…
He’d walked into the apartment ahead of her, and she took a moment to appreciate the view of him from this angle. The suit was tailored perfectly, and she loved a man in a good suit. He’d left the jacket open after the party ended, and it hung loosely around him now, seemingly billowing in the non-existent breeze.
“Mr Argent,” she said normally. She hated ‘porn voice’ and she wasn’t going to use it now.
He turned slightly to look at her, “yes?”
She didn’t say anything, just stood there, looking at him, expectation on her face.
“Lydia,” he said, a bit of resigned warning in his voice. He leaned against the counter, eyes downcast.
She stood where she was; he’d have to come to her, be the one to decide. She wasn’t going to force it on him or look desperate. She’d offered and she’d give him a minute to decide whether to take the offer or she’d rescind it, no harm no foul.
He’d come to her. She was confident.
“Lydia,” he said again, pushing off the counter and pacing slightly. He came and stood in front of her, careful to not touch her, but leaning in, hand on the door next to her head.
“I’m not….I’m too old for you,” he stuttered.
She brought her hand up to carefully play with his tie which had been halfway undone, hanging loosely around his neck and sexy as all hell. She stayed quiet, making a noncommittal ‘meh’ noise.
“Well, you’re too young for me,” he countered weakly. She knew then she had him.
She made the same noncommittal noise, her other hand grazing along the top edge of his pants.
“I know what I want,” she stated as a fact, fisting the tie in her hand, pulling slightly.
He pressed her fully against the door, his weight settling against her and she could feel his arousal. He leaned down and kissed her neck, tentative as if he still hadn’t made the decision.
Lydia was getting impatient. And irritatingly aroused. She’d wanted him for years now, she was this close and she was loosing her steely resolve. She pushed her hand lower, taking matters into her own hands to speed this along, grasping him through his expensive trousers.
“And I can feel what you want,” she said in a hushed tone into his ear, biting the lobe lightly.
He moaned at the contact, hips pushing against hers.
It seemed to have forced him into a decision, cause he lifted his head and attacked her lips, kissing her fiercely. She relaxed, free from the stress of his indecision. Her hands went for his shirt, swiftly undoing all the buttons and pushing it and the jacket off him, landing heavily on the floor. Hands searched for skin, touching him everywhere she could find; feeling the taughtness of his muscles under the warm skin. He might be older, but he was in better shape than most of the guys in her program.
He was also much more proficient, Lydia gasping as he expertly found his way between her legs, fingers rubbing her clit through her wetness. He pushed a finger inside her, a second quickly following; pumping in and out of her as he circled her clit with his thumb. Her legs went weak as she hit her fastest orgasm ever, head falling back as the pleasure took over.
She came back to her body, seeing the smug look on his face, pleased with his work. Oh, there was a definite bonus to being with an older man; he knew what he was doing; she was still fully dressed and she’d already been off once. She pulled his mouth to hers, wiping the look off his face. Hands went to his pants, unbuckling the belt, pushing them down, hands wrapping around his hardness. It was his turn to gasp, breaking the kiss. She let her hands move up and down his cock, thumb rubbing at the tip; she knew what she was doing too. She fell to her knees and took him in her mouth, slicking him with spit; the smell of him filling her senses.
His hips bucked into her mouth, his hands pushing against the door. She continued her slow rhythm with her mouth; she didn’t want to suck him off – she’d do that later, but tonight she wanted him inside her. She could sense him getting close and she pulled off, resting on her knees as he collected himself. Dark lidded eyes looked down at her from above; she smile wickedly, pleased she’d brought such a powerful man to this state.
She placed a kiss on his cock before standing up, fitting in the space between his outstretched arms against the door. She kissed him; realizing she was still fully dressed and he was almost completely naked.
He turned her around so she was facing the door. Her dress was pushed up from earlier and his hard cock rested against her ass. She wiggled it, hell, she was into this too; if he wanted to pound her against the door, she was more than game. Instead his hands went to the top of the zipper of her dress, pulling it down, exposing her carefully purchased undergarments. He stepped back long enough to allow the dress to fall to the ground; coming back to push his hardness between her legs, not entering her, just enough friction to drive her crazy; her legs spreading for him. His hands roamed everywhere; over her stomach, palming her breasts, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her panties.
“Bedroom,” he said gruffly, pausing in his actions.
She arched her back away from him, pushing her breasts into his hands and her ass further into his hips. He sucked in a sharp breath. She turned, grabbing him by the hand, leading him away from the entryway and towards the bedroom.
“I did say you’d be fun to ride,” she said.