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I Know I'm a Mess You Don't Want to Clean Up

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Her mother is not impressed with her sudden interest in makeup or her new hairdo or the change in her wardrobe, but Erica doesn't give a flying fuck because everyone else in the world is impressed by it. And, while she loves her mother, really, the rest of the world wins. So Erica teases her hair into big, rowdy waves, goes a little heavy handed with the eyeliner and slips into a pair of fuck-me leopard print heels she never would have had the nerve to look at, let alone buy, before the bite.

When she steps back to look at her reflection, she likes what she sees. Long, long, legs, flat stomach, and a rack she never knew she had. She adds a final coat of glossy red to her lips and blows a kiss to herself.

Then she's off to school with a glint in her eye and a swagger in her step.

Look out, bitches. She's Erica fucking Reyes she going to rule that pathetic school.


Her teacher doesn't recognize her when she slides into her seat, but he certainly notices her. The smell he gives off is something dark and smoky, something that makes her think of hot nights filled with sex. She crosses her legs and watches him go a little cross-eyed, lust coming off him in waves.

"Oh no, I didn't do my homework," she tells him, leaning forward a bit too so that he has a clear shot down her shirt, "I was in the hospital pretty late." She gives him a sad little look and bites her bottom lip. He licks his lips in response and then awkwardly clears his throat.

"Understandable," he says, tugging at his tie. "Perfectly understandable. Just have it for me tomorrow, Erica." And then he's turning towards the whiteboard, scribbling something on it, his shoulders tense and his body putting out sex scent like it is going out of style.

Erica smirks at his back, fluffing her hair, and ignores the death glares the rest of the girls are giving her. They're just jealous. Not that Erica blames them. The sad, pathetic person she was yesterday would be jealous of her too.



When she walks into the lunch room, all eyes are instantly on her and Erica can't help but put a little extra sway in her step. She instantly clues in on Scott and the show she puts on is solely for his benefit.

Derek had told her that her main job was to get the omega onto their side and Erica is fairly certain she knows exactly how to do that. So she leans over some random boy, steals his apple and sends a rush of her own sex smell in Scott's direction as she bites down.

He just blinks at her and asks his side kick a question, bringing the kid to Erica's attention. Stiles Stilinski. Stupid name for a stupid kid. Erica's never been interested in being his friend, no matter how far down on the social scale she might be, she's still above that. But Derek mentioned Stiles specifically, told Erica to keep an eye out for him, that Scott won't do anything without the loser's say so. Well, Erica certainly has caught his eye now, and she's going to just keep on catching it until he convinces his best bud to join the pack like a good little beta. She takes another bite of the apple as she straightens up, gives both of them a steamy look and then saunters away.

The pounding of their feet behind her is like music to her ears.


Erica, Erica, Erica, she sings to herself as she walks down the hall. That's right, bitches. I’m Erica. The biggest, baddest wolf of them all. She takes another bite out of her apple, crunching down hard into the sweet, juicy fruit. She moans a little around her mouthful, an exaggerated sound which earns her a noseful of arousal from the clump of freshmen boys standing by the lockers. Erica grins, pleased with their response. Doubly pleased, because she knows that none of them would have looked twice at her yesterday.

God, this is amazing. The best feeling on Earth. She's strong, so fucking strong, and fast and her senses are, like, ten thousand times more powerful. And she's hot. Fucking smoking. So hot that no one would even think to question why she's riding shotgun in Derek Hale's sweet ass car.

Derek Hale. Her Alpha. Erica goes a little swoony just at the thought of him, releasing a cloud of her own sex scent. Hot damn, is he ever fine. And he's hers. All hers.

She smiles to herself some more and sings Erica, Erica, Erica, that's right bitches, I'm Erica in her head as she walks out the front door.


Erica doesn't want to leave Derek's den, but he snarls at her and tells her he didn't give her the bite because he was desperate for a new roommate. She whines a little at that, edging away from him on the couch with her head lowered in submission. He gives her a half-smile in response, to show her she is forgiven, then gestures to the door.

"I wasn't joking, you need to go home," he tells her, but his voice is much less aggressive this time around. "I'll see you when I pick you up after school."

She nods, to show him how obedient she is, then slinks closer, shy and hesitant. He doesn't snap his teeth at her. Hell, he doesn't even growl. So she takes a chance, decides to be brave. She darts in and rubs her face against his shoulder, marking herself with his scent. Derek chuckles a little as he pushes her face away.

"Go home," he repeats, a full smile on his face.

It's not the response she was hoping for, but he didn't shoot her down outright either. So Erica just smiles back at him. She pops up from the couch, smile still firmly in place, and gathers her belongings.

Derek will be hers, she thinks with happy satisfaction. All she needs is time.


Erica's not what you would called pleased at the thought of having a new pack member already. She's not pleased at all. But Boyd is a boy, not a girl, and so she isn't really all that threatened.

Now, if they ever find out what is up with Lydia, that will be a whole different story. Because Lydia is already hot and amazing without the bite at all and well... Erica's wolf howls at the idea of Lydia joining their pack. It flat out howls.

So yeah. Here's hoping she's just a special kind of crazy and nothing more.

Now, if Jackson were to suddenly go beta on them... now there’s a happy thought. Erica smiles a little, toying with her hair. All those pretty, pretty boys: Jackson, Isaac, Scott, and Derek. Derek. Erica's wolf practically purs.

Derek picked her. Of all the girls at the school, Derek wanted her.

And Jackson, but that didn’t quite turn out the way either of them had planned.

And Isaac.

And now Boyd.

Can't forget him.

Even though Erica sort of totally wishes Derek would.

But still, she’s the only girl. That’s gotta mean something, right?


Erica's plan to seduce Scott into joining their pack is going just peachy. She leans in close, lets him get a big whiff of the pheromones she's pumping out, and then gives him a knowing smirk. He might make cow eyes at the Hunter bitch for now, but sooner or later, Scott's going to come when Erica calls.


"Keep Stiles away from the rink tonight," Derek tells her, his eyes glowing red, and Erica nods to show that she will do her part.

This is a wolves-only event, no stupid, useless humans allowed.

She sets off at an easy lope, tracing Stiles all the way to Boyd's house. She disables his car while he's walking up to the front door and then watches him as he bangs on it, shouting about just wanting to talk. She's supposed to be getting him on their side too, Derek made a big stink about it when she pointed out that just because they needed Scott doesn't mean they also wanted Stiles around too.

Erica still doesn't get what the deal with that is. Stiles is weedy and spastic and annoying as hell. He always thinks that he's right and he never shuts up. But, whatever. Derek said he's an asset to the pack or something and she's got her orders.

So she makes her way up the walk and takes extra pleasure is scaring the shit out of him when she says hello.

Stiles starts babbling at her, talking out his ass like always, but Erica can barely pay attention because Stiles smells like he's fucking bathed in Derek.

No one else stinks that strongly of the Alpha. Not even Isaac, and he's practically living with Derek now.

Erica's stomach cramps and she narrows her eyes, noticing for the first time that Stiles is barely putting off any sex scent at all. And he's not looking at her cleavage. What the fuck. Everyone looks at her cleavage. Even Little Miss Perfect Lydia.

Erica breathes in deep, rolling his scent on her tongue and is not pleased with the results.

Stiles doesn't want her. Sure, he's a bit aroused by her, but that's it. And the longer she stands there, the more stale that scent becomes, until it's barely there at all.

Fuck. How the hell is she supposed to seduce him into joining the pack he if doesn't want her?

Derek told her to convince him, damn it. He gave her that task. And now she's not going to be able to do it and fuck.

Rage flashes through her and before she even knows what she's doing, she's slamming the broken bit of his car into the side of his head and shit, shit, shit.

Derek is going to be pissed as hell.

She panics, tossing the car part aside. Erica bends down and then hoists Stiles up over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Then she's off, running as fast as her legs can carry her, looking for a spot to dump his limp body.

Her lips curl in vicious pleasure as she spots the trash can. She veers towards it, pushes up the lid, and drops Stiles inside. Then she's off like a shot, rushing home to wash his scent off of her before she has to meet up with Derek. Because the last thing she wants is Derek to start asking any awkward questions.


Derek is beyond pissed at her. So far beyond it. He's gone full out Alpha, which is scary as fuck and not even close to sexy.

Erica is cowering on the ground in front of him, belly pressed to the floor and a steady stream of whimpers pouring out of her throat.

"Are you fucking insane?" Derek roars, his claws slashing at the air.

"I," Erica whines, "I didn't really hurt him. He's fine. Really, all he had was a lump on the head, just a little bit of a headache, is all. I swear Derek. He wouldn't listen to me. He was going to come and you told me to make sure he didn't."

Derek gives her a disgusted look and shakes his head, morphing back into his human self. "I should have gone myself," he says, his voice still filled with fury. "I should have known better than to trust it to you. You've only got one trick up your sleeve and Stiles isn't interested in playing that game."

Erica whines again, embarrassed that Derek knows how miserably she's failed. "I'm sorry," she says, over and over. "I'll do better, I swear."

Derek runs a hand over his face, the anger draining out of him. "Have a little self respect," he tells her. "You've got a good mind. That's why I picked you. Why don’t you try using it?"

She nods, frantic to try to win back some of his approval. "I'll be much more clever, next time."

"There's not going to be a next time," Derek snaps, his eyes flashing red. "I thought I just told you to use your fucking brain, Erica. What part of the way you handled this situation makes you think I would ever let you near my mate again?"

Erica lets out a mournful howl at that, her whole body going rigid. His mate? That loser is Derek's mate? But he's never around. He's not even Derek's friend. How can he possibly be Derek's mate?

She howls again, wolfing out completely and Derek just sighs. "Come here," he says, gathering her up off the floor and manhandling her over to the couch. He sits down, tugging her along with him, then he’s rubbing at her shoulders. Derek scents her and then blows hot breath on her neck. "Calm down," he soothes, running a hand in tight circles on her back.

Erica burrows into his side, only half listening as he starts to explain the complicated dynamics of their pack.


Even though Derek gave her a crash course in how he thinks things are supposed to work, Erica still can’t seem to figure out what her role in the pack is. If she's not Derek's mate, what the fuck is she?

He was supposed to be hers. That’s the way things were supposed to go down. But he’s not. He’s Stiles. Always has been or whatever. And that doesn’t make any sense at all.

If he’s always been Stiles, why did he pull her into him when offering her the bite? Why did he touch her face like that and make it all sound so... so... sexy? He seduced her into the bite, damnit. He did.

And all the while he knew that stupid fucking Stiles was his mate.

Will be his mate.

Or something.

Erica's not exactly clear on what is going on between them. Probably just Stiles cockblocking himself as per usual.

Not that it matters or anything. Not like she wants that to change. Because once it does, once they make things werewolf-official or whatever, she's going to have to accept Stiles as her secondary Alpha or some bullshit.

God. If she knew that...

No, she still would have taken the bite. She's super happy with the choices she's made, thanks. She just doesn't get what her place is anymore.

What part is Erica supposed to play?


Derek might say that Stiles is his mate, but Erica hasn’t seen any evidence of that at all. And she’s been looking. Really looking. Stiles, from what Erica can tell, can barely stand Derek. The kid goes out of his way to avoid him, constantly stinking of dislike and annoyance whenever Derek is near.

Derek, for his part, never tries to make nice with Stiles. He snaps and growls and snarls at the kid like he isn’t putting off the sharp tang of longing anytime he’s within twenty feet of Stiles. Which is probably what’s making Stiles less than pleased to be around him. But, whatever. That’s Derek’s problem. Not hers.

But still.

Derek might want Stiles, but Stiles clearly doesn’t want him. And, while Erica might not be one hundred percent clear on what being mated means, she’s pretty sure that your mate is supposed to want you back. And that, right there, is why Erica does what she does.

Sure, jumping on Derek while he’s in the middle of training them isn’t the smartest life choice she’s ever made, but he did tell her to try and surprise him. And he does kiss back. Just a little, but he does. Then he’s pushing her off him, tossing her onto the floor, and scrubbing at his lips with the back of his hand, like he can wipe away her touch as easily as he can wipe off her lipstick.

He growls something out about never doing that again and Erica almost calls him on his bullshit, but he’s her Alpha and so she just lowers her eyes and obeys.

Later, when he’s telling her how he wants her to lure Stiles to him, Erica can’t help but feel like she’s been thoroughly played.


“How many times have you saved his life?” she asks Stiles a week later, joining him by his locker like it’s something she normally does.

Stiles blinks at her, then shakes his head and returns to shoving shit into the already crammed space. “What do you want, Erica?”

She rolls her eyes. “To know how many times you have saved his life. Duh.”

“I don’t know. Three? Four? I’m not really keeping track.” He slams the door shut, zips up his backpack, and slings it over his shoulder. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, right. And I have very nice eyes too.” She crosses her arms under her chest, pressing her boobs up even higher, so that they are practically spilling out of her top.

Stiles glances once, because he’s not dead, but then he keeps his eyes to himself. “That’s right, you do.”

Then he’s moving down the hall, away from her, and Erica feels that uncomfortable feeling in her gut, the one that tells her that maybe, just maybe, she’s been reading this whole situation wrong.


"You're trying way too hard, sweetie," Little Miss Perfect Lydia says as she slaps her tray down opposite Erica, like they are friends or something.

Erica sneers at her, pretending like her heart hasn't suddenly started beating at twice its typical rate. "Who asked you?"

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Like I said, way too hard. You aren't bad ass just because you put on a leather jacket and a push-up bra."

"No, I'm bad ass because I grow a set of claws and howl in the night."

Lydia smiles. "Good one," she says as she peels the lid off of a jello cup. She picks up her spoon and neatly cuts a section out. She eats it slowly, clearly savoring the taste, and Erica does her level best to pretend like she's not staring.

But she is. God, she is. Lydia is just... Lydia.

Erica forces her eyes away, scans the room for any sign of Scott or his stupid girlfriend or his even stupider best friend.

"They aren't here," Lydia says like she can read Erica's mind. She takes a delicate sniff, and then gives Erica one of her sweetest smiles. "My, my. Don't you smell nice." She leans forward a little, moving into Erica's personal space and fuck. There goes Erica's pulse, jumping like mad.

Lydia's smile goes a bit feral and she laughs.

"Fuck you," Erica hisses at her, feeling her wolf starting to come out. "Just, fuck you."

"Oh, don't you wish," Lydia replies, pushing back from the table, her meal no where near finished. "Like I said, sweetie, you are trying too hard. You aren't going to catch anything but trouble, you keep that up." And then she winks, she fucking winks, before walking away.

And Erica, goddamn her fucking life, can't help but watch as she does.


Erica isn't trying to prove Lydia wrong. This has nothing to do with Lydia at all. Nothing. Jackson is just really, really hot, alright? And he's into her. Way into her. So why not? Why the fuck not?

So what if he's always been a big bag of dicks to her. He's not now. Now he's rubbing up on her, sending off sex scent like smoke from a camp fire. And it feels good, having someone want her like that. So she laughs a little too loud at his jokes, dances a little too close and when he asks her if she wants to find someplace a little quieter, she says yes.

And she keeps on saying yes, even when that part of her from before the bite is sort of saying no.

But it feels good. It feels really good. His body pressed tight on top of hers. His mouth moving across her skin. His fingers. Oh god, his fingers. Pushing inside just right, making her back arch and her fingers turn into claws and damn.

It feels so good.

"Do it again," she begs, pressing up into his hand. "Do it again." And he laughs, not meanly or nastily at all. Just happy, a proud smile on his face.

"I'll do something better," he promises in her ear. Then he's sliding down her body, his tongue dipping into her navel and oh my fucking god.

She likes it. She likes it so much. Even when he's pushing inside her, tearing her open, it still feels wonderful. Like something amazing. Like something she wants to do again and again and again.

It's not till the next day that she feels terrible. Not till then that a hollow, empty sort of ache blooms to life in her stomach.

An ache that nothing seems to be able to cure.


Erica doesn't regret anything. She doesn't. She just... It was her first time, is all. And everyone sort of daydreams about what their first time is going to be like and yeah it felt like fucking heaven and she had a very, very good time and all. It just... wasn't what she had dreamed about, is all.

But, whatever. She's a big girl and having sex on a bed strewn with rose petals is stupid and childish and no one actually does that.

Still. When he asks her if she wants to hang out again, Erica just gives him her best bitch face and tells him that he doesn't rate a repeat performance. Which might be bitchy, but so is Erica. And Jackson's not asking her on a date. He's asking to take her back to his place to fuck.

And, surprise, Erica's not interested in that.


"You're not so hopeless after all," Lydia says, appearing like magic at Erica's locker. Well, not really like magic. Erica smelled her coming a long way off, but she didn't expect the other girl to stop and chat. They aren't friends.

“Whatever,” she says, slamming her locker shut.

Lydia gives her a hard look that is only a little softened by her smile. “No, really. Most girls fall all over themselves for Jackson. And that’s without even knowing how amazing he is in bed. You, on the other hand, had a little one on one with him and still were able to respect yourself enough to tell him no in the morning. Go you.”

Erica snarls at her and Lydia just laughs. Then she’s sauntering down the hall, her hips swinging in a way that makes Erica’s stupid fucking heart race and her throat go dry.


Derek squats down next to Erica, his mouth a thin line, his brows furrowed. “You aren’t even trying. Damn it. Either put in the effort or accept that you are just going to keep on ending flat on your back,” he tells her and Erica wishes she could believe it was a come on. She wishes so bad.

But she knows it’s just a comment on her still shity fighting skills, so she just pushes off the ground with a roll of the eyes and a snippy. “Whatever.”

Derek raises himself to standing, his arms loose at his sides. “You want to know why I picked you?” he asks.

“Because I wasn’t about to turn you down?”

He snarls at her, his eyes flashing red. “No. Because you don’t give up. You don’t back down. That day, you had a panic attack on the wall. You freaked out in front of everyone. But did you go home and cry about it? No. You fucking powered through. Then you came back when everyone was gone and tried to do it again, on your own, like a boss. That,” Derek smiles, “is why I picked you.”

He reaches out, gives her shoulder a squeeze. “So snap back all you want, Erica. Be the feisty bitch you naturally are. Be sexy and hard as fucking nails too, if that’s what you want, but don’t let that be all you are. Don’t let that define you. I want you for my lead beta. You’ve got twice the brains, hell, twice the balls, of any of my other betas. That includes Jackson and Scott.”

Erica feels her jaw drop, her head buzzing with what he just said. “Seriously?” she asks, because she can’t help but feel like he’s jerking her around.

“Seriously.” He squeezes her shoulder again. “Now how about you pull your head out of your ass and focus more on your fighting skills and less on your makeup skills. Oh, and stop trying to flirt your way through school. It’s not cute and it’s not going to get you into a good college.”

Erica slaps his hand away, more embarrassed than pissed because how did he even know about that? “Whatever,” she says again, lowering herself into a crouch. This time she goes full out, barrels into him and gets one good slash in before he’s tossing her aside.

“Better!” he praises, a grin lighting up his face.

Erica tosses her hair and preens a bit, then puts her game face on and gets her ass in gear.


Erica is in her room with her music turned up way too loud for comfort, but it's either that or listen to her mom fight with her latest boyfriend on the telephone and, yeah, Erica would rather go deaf than do that. She's studying, or at least attempting to, what with the music and all, because as much as she would rather fuck off and do nothing the rest of her high school career, Derek has impressed on her that she still needs to think about her future. And he has a point. She doesn't want to be auditioning for the cast of Boxcar Kids: The Next Generation at all.

So, yeah. She's studying. Which isn't anything new. Or at least it wouldn't be for the old her. The old her spent more hours per week hitting the books than anything else. And, while it's not as cool as being super fast and super strong and, let's not forget, super sexy, being super smart is something that she can claim as just her own, something she had going for her back when everything else about her sucked.

She just wishes she could turn the music down, is all. It's much easier to study when you aren't giving yourself a headache.

Erica sighs and closes her eyes for a moment while she rubs at her temples.

The knock on the door startles her, causing her to accidentally claw at the temples she was just soothing. "Fuck," she hisses, yanking her hands away. Her fingers have gone human again, thank god, and when she glances at her reflection in her mirrored closet doors she sees that the shallow scratches are already starting to heal. The knock comes again with a high pitched "Erica?" coming along with it.

She fumbles with the volume on the music and then calls out "What's up, mom?"

Her mom cracks the door open and sticks her head in. "You've got a visitor," she says, an excited expression on her face.

Erica frowns, her brow wrinkling. She doesn't have any friends who would come to the front door and ask her mom to let them in. She sucks in a deep breath, scenting out the identity of her mystery guest and then freezes because... Lydia.

Her mom is looking at her expectantly so Erica gives her a weak smile. "Um, sure. I'll be right down." She stands and eyes herself a bit desperately in the mirror. She chews on her lower lip, wishing she had time to change into something other than the pre-bite look she's got on: baggy sweats, a faded slogan tee and her hair scraped back into a messy ponytail.

Whatever. It's Lydia. No matter what Erica had on, she still would look like shit next to her. She sighs a little, then straightens her shoulders. She's a wolf now, damn it. And Lydia, for all she's so damn hot and smart and fucking perfect in everyway, is not.

Her confidence back in place, Erica heads out of her room and down the hall. Her mom is making awkward chit-chat with Lydia in their living room, perched on the edge of a couch like she's not sure she belongs. Lydia, for her part, is dressed in what is clearly supposed to be some take on sexy librarian, in a light grey pencil skirt and a white button down shirt with cap sleeves. She’s sitting on the dumpy old loveseat like it is a throne, her legs crossed and her hands resting delicately on her knees.

"Erica!" Lydia trills, like she is so fucking pleased to see her.

Erica's heart races and she feels like growling, but she forces a smile. "Wanna come up to my room?" she asks, because there is no way in hell she is talking to Little Miss Perfect Lydia in front of her mom.

Lydia beams at her. "Oh, definitely." She uncrosses her legs slowly before standing and Erica's skin suddenly feels too tight. She doesn’t avert her eyes because she’s a wolf, damn it, never mind that Lydia’s eyes have gone dark and heated and that the room is filling up with Lydia's sex scent. Oh god, and her own sex scent as well, because Lydia is Lydia and fuck. Stupid, stupid body. Why does it have to give her away like that? And why can Lydia , who is not a wolf, smell it? "Delicious," she murmurs too soft for Erica's mom to hear as her smile takes on a feral edge.

Erica rolls her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, honey," she replies at a similar volume, then turns on her heel and makes her way back to her room.

Lydia hums under her breath as they climb the stairs, then speeds up so that she is a little too close for comfort as they walk down the halls. Erica grits her teeth and refuses to increase her pace, letting the other girl walk close enough that they almost brush against each other.

"You have a reason for visiting me?" Erica asks when they are safely inside her room with the door shut behind them.

Lydia smiles that feral smiles of hers and crowds into Erica's space, the air around them filling with a fresh batch of her particular brand of cinnamon and spice sex scent. "What do you think?" she asks, her voice breathy.

Erica rolls her eyes and snorts. It's not a very sexy sound, but she's not trying to be sexy here. "I know what you are trying," she says as she twists a curl around her finger, "and it's not going to work."

"Oh?" Lydia shifts half a step closer, her eyes going half lidded as her tongue darts out to lick her lower lip.

"Whatever." Erica crosses the room and plops down in her desk chair. "I have homework. If you want to sit there and simmer in my direction, feel free."

She expects Lydia to pout or sulk or do something cutesy, but Lydia just smiles at her, a real smile for once, that shows her slightly crooked side tooth. The tooth you never see when she's doing one of her practiced smiles. Not that Erica has taken the time to notice something like that or anything.

Except for the part where of course she has. And of course the sight of that slightly crooked tooth catches her somewhere behind her navel and makes her melt a little inside.

She scowls in response and mutters, "Whatever," again, bending her head to her textbook.

"I'm glad it was you," Lydia says a little while later, yanking Erica's attention off of Trig and firmly back on the redhead.

"Do you have to sprawl across my bed like that?" she asks, because really. Her bedding is going to reek of Lydia.

Lydia flashes another one of those for real smiles and cuddles up with Erica's favorite pillow. "Yes. I do. And don't act like you don't like it."

Erica narrows her at that, but doesn't respond. Just keeps on keeping on with the stare they've got going on. Lydia maintaines eye contact as she rolls up to sitting, tossing the pillow aside.

"Wanna know why I'm glad it was you?" she asks as she stands.

"No, but you want to tell me, so go right ahead." Erica is proud of how steady her voice is, given that her heart is freaking racing and her palms are sweating and how does Lydia always manage to do that to her?

Lydia slowly sucks her lower lip into her mouth and ducks her head a little, looking at Erica through her lashes and fuck. That's just not fair.

"That," Lydia purrs as she crosses the room to stand in front of Erica's chair. "That right there." She reaches out and turns the chair so that Erica is fully facing her, then nudges Erica's legs apart and steps between them. She puts a hand on Erica's shoulder, bends down and, god, for a moment Erica thinks she's going for a kiss, but she doesn't. Instead her lips brush against Erica's ear as she says, "Do you know how sexy it is, the way you are able to blow me off even when you want me?"

Erica can’t help but shiver, can’t help but reach out and touch, her hand resting lightly on Lydia’s forearm. “Please,” she hears herself say and she doesn’t even know what she’s asking for, just that she wants so damn bad.

“Can I have a taste?” Lydia asks, pulling back and staring at Erica’s mouth.

Eric doesn’t say anything, just nods, and then Lydia’s mouth is pressing against hers, gentle at first, but then demanding. She nips at Erica’s lips, causing her to gasp. Then her tongue is sliding inside and her hands are coming up to cup Erica’s face, her thumbs brushing along her cheekbones.

Lydia moans and hitches herself up until she is straddling Erica’s lap on the chair, rucking her skirt up about her hips. She rubs her breasts against Erica and rolls her hips and holy shit, that feels good. Erica’s hands slip up Lydia’s sides until her fingers just barely graze the undersides of Lydia’s breasts.

Lydia breaks the kiss and leans back a little, her breath coming in ragged pants. “Touch me,” she says, her eyes half-lidded and her lips swollen from Erica’s kisses. “For fuck’s sake, Erica, don’t be a tease.”

Erica sucks on her bottom lip, hesitant and eager at the same time, then she nods, more to herself than anything, and lets her hands slide up. Lydia’s breasts are heavy and soft, her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her shirt. Erica rubs her thumb across one of them and Lydia sighs.

“Do that again,” she says, arching up into the touch. “Oh, fuck, do it again now.”

Erica does, because Lydia is even hotter when she’s being a demanding bitch. She pinches them between her thumb and forefinger, giving a little twist the way she likes it herself and Lydia fucking sobs.

“Like that?” Erica asks, tugging a little as she twists. “I know you do. You would like it a little rough, wouldn’t you? You’re the type of girl who goes wild for it, claws and scratches and begs for more.”

Lydia tosses her head back, rocking her hips against Erica’s as she bites her lips. She whimpers when Erica releases her nipples, moans a little when Erica palms her breasts.

“Want me to taste them?” Erica asks, her mouth going dry at the thought.

”Yes,” Lydia hisses, her hands grasping the back of Erica’s head, pulling it down.

Erica swats at them, “Give me a sec.” She tugs the hem of Lydia’s shirt free from her skirt, then starts undoing the buttons and this is why girls wear this shit, because it’s so damn hot taking them out of it. She’s only undone two buttons and can just barely see the lavender lace on Lydia’s bra and she’s damp as hell between her legs, shifting in her seat because she’s desperate for friction.

“Why are you going so slow?” Lydia slaps her hands away and quickly undoes the rest of the buttons, then she’s slipping off her shirt and tossing it onto the floor.

She reaches behind to unhook her bra, but Erica stops her with an almost panicked, “Wait!”

Lydia frowns at her. “What?”

“Just,” Erica trails off, runs her finger along the top of Lydia’s bra and then sighs. “Let me do this.”

Then she’s ducking her head, leaning down and taking one of Lydia’s nipples between her lips. The lace is slightly scratchy and tastes like ass, but the way that Lydia whimpers and arches into her mouth is worth it. Erica relaxes her jaw, opening her mouth as wide as she can and then sucks hard as she rubs her tongue across Lydia’s nipple and the girl keens. There is no other word for it.

Erica smiles to herself, then bites down a bit, figuring if Lydia liked it when her nipples got pinched, she’ll probably like this too. And, hot fucking damn, Erica is right because Lydia starts twisting her hands in Erica’s hair and babbling about how good it feels and to please, please do it harder and who the fuck say no to that?

Erica does as she’s told, biting down while Lydia moans, then pulls back a little. She lets her lips brush against the damp fabric of Lydia’s bra, then noses at her nipple before giving it a little kiss. Erica flicks it once with her tongue, then moves on to Lydia’s poor, neglected other breast.

She sucks and licks at the sides, running her tongue along the bottom before moving up and taking the nipple into her mouth. Erica worries at it between her teeth until Lydia is a quivering mass in her lap, then she pulls back and grins up at the other girl.

“Now you can take it off,” she says and Lydia’s eyes widen, her body just pouring off that cinnamon spice smell of hers as she reaches back and unhooks it.

And damn. Lydia’s breasts are amazing. Full with pink nipples, gone puffy and slick from Erica’s mouth. Erica cups them in her palms, lifting them up as she runs her thumbs over the red marks left by her teeth. Lydia shivers at the touch, her tongue darting out to lick at her lips.

“You’re beautiful,” Erica tells her, because it’s true. Lydia is the most beautiful thing Erica has ever seen.

“So are you,” Lydia returns, leaning in for a wet, open mouth kiss.

When she pulls back, her mouth is curved up in a mischievous smile. “I want another taste,” she says, and she swings herself off of Erica’s lap.

Erica gives her a confused look, then gasps when Lydia pushes Erica’s legs apart and sinks to her knees between them. “Are you,” she starts, but then Lydia pushing her face forward, mouthing at the sides of Erica’s thighs and somehow Erica can’t form words anymore. All she can do is suck in breath after breath as Lydia licks at her through her sweats.

It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. Oh, god, it is.

She pushing her hips up into the contact and making noises that are downright embarrassing. Hell, she’s begging for it, her hands on the back of Lydia’s head, shoving her face closer. Lydia turns her head to the side, breathing heavy. She bites at Erica’s thigh, then leans back so that she can look Erica in the eye.

“Let me take them off,” she wheedles, her fingers catching in the top of Erica’s sweats. “You’ll like it, I swear.”

Erica laughs. “You don’t have to convince me,” she says, lifting her hips so that Lydia can slide the sweats down.

It’s a little awkward when they are bunched about her knees, Lydia has to sort of scuttle back a bit and then tug at them before they come all the way off, and then they have to repeat the process for her painties, but Lydia’s smiling the whole time and it never feels weird. Just, you know, kind of awkward and funny but still hot because Lydia’s breasts sway in a way that is sort of mesmerizing every time she moves and her hair is completely thrashed from Erica’s hands and yeah. Totally fucking hot, actually. Especially when Lydia moves back between Erica’s legs, slides her hands up Erica’s thighs, leans in so close that her nose is brushing against Erica’s damp curls and breaths in.

Then she edging in closer, her mouth hot and damp and her tongue. Her fucking tongue. Licking around the edges, driving Ercia mad because it’s so good and so wonderful and still not enough.

“Please,” she begs, her voice breaking on the word. “Please.”

And then Lydia’s spreading her wide and licking inside, her thumb rubbing frantic little circles around Erica’s clit and fuck. She’s coming. Just like that. And Lydia just moans, sucking at Erica’s inner lips while she slips two fingers inside.

“You’re so tight,” Lydia says, her voice raw. “God, you are squeezing my fingers. I bet Jackson loved you, I bet your walls just clung to his fat dick, didn’t they?”

Erica squirms at the words, her nipples feeling tight and hot. She sucks on her lips to keep from crying out, and when that isn’t enough, she bites down hard on the meaty part of the palm of her hand.

Lydia makes a displeased sound. “No, I want to hear you.”

“My mom,” Erica pants, shaking her head. “I don’t want,” she trails off, shaking her head again.

Lydia smiles at her, that sly, knowing smile. “Your mom won’t hear a thing. She’s downstairs watching her shows. And when they are down, she’s going to go out for dinner with her boyfriend. She told me all about it while we were waiting for you to come down. Now stop stifling yourself, I want to hear you. God, I want to make you scream for me.”

“You want to hear me scream?” Erica says, her eyebrow raising. “How about what I want?”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “You want it too, don’t even play like you don’t.”

Erica arches her back a little and gives a breathy moan, watching with satisfaction as Lydia’s eyes darken. “Yeah, I would like it. But there’s something I would like more.” She pushes her chair back and stands, smiling down at Lydia, sitting back on her knees. “You’ll like it better too,” she promises, holding out a hand.

Lydia takes it, bracing against Erica as she gets to her feet. She gives Erica a questioning look as she smooths her skirt back down.

“Hum. That’s the first thing that needs to happen,” Erica says, stepping forward to slide her arms around Lydia’s waist to unclasp her skirt. Lydia sucks in a breath as Erica tugs the zipper down, her heart beating fast. “Look at you,” Erica says when the grey material is pooling on the floor and Lydia is standing in her lavender panties and nothing else.

Lydia glances down at her body, then back up at Erica, a confident smile in place. “Like it?” she asks, doing a half turn in place. She flashes Erica a coy smile over her shoulder, the hooks her fingers in the tops of her panties and slides them down her hips.

“Lovely,” Erica compliments, reaching out to touch the small of her back. “Just lovely. Not that I’m at all surprised. You are Little Miss Perfect Lydia. Makes sense that your ass is as perfect as the rest of you.”

“You think I’m perfect?” Lydia asks with a laugh. “Oh sister, have I ever got you fooled.”

Erica narrows her eyes at that, then jerks her head in the direction of the bed. “Get on it.”


“And bitchy too. Get your perfect little ass on the bed, Lydia.” Erica lets a little bit of growl into her voice and Lydia responds by filling the air with cinnamon and spice.

“Like this?” Lydia positions herself on her hands and knees, presenting her ass to Erica. Erica catches her lower lip between her teeth to keep back a howl of satisfaction because yes. Just like that.

She moves forward to the bed, leaning on it with one knee, reaching forward to stroke the soft skin of Lydia’s inner thigh. She lets her hand wander back and forth, close but not touching. “What do you want?” she asks, even though she already knows.

Lydia rolls her hips back, pushing towards Erica. “Touch me,” she says, her voice tight with need. “Oh, god, touch me you fucking tease. Run your fingers all over me, push them inside, then lick the juices off. Lick my pussy, Erica. Make me come. Do it now.”

Erica pulls her hand back with a laugh and slaps Lydia’s ass. “Don’t make demands.”

“Don’t be a bitch,” Lydia pants.

“I can’t help it, it’s just how I naturally am,” Erica replies, but she relents, sliding her hand up between Lydia’s legs.

“God, yes,” Lydia hisses, pushing back against Erica’s palm.

Erica slips two finer in, lets Lydia rock against her, setting her own pace. She wants to say something about how hot Lydia looks, how tight and wet and fucking amazing she feels, but Erica can’t find the words, can only lean in close to lick around her fingers.

Lydia lets out a throaty moan, dropping from hands to elbows, arching back as she rolls her hips and Erica wants to see her face, wants to memorize her expression when she moans.

“Flip over,” she tells her, pulling her fingers free. Lydia makes a protesting sound and Erica just snorts. She grabs Lydia’s hips and turns her over, laying her flat on her back. “Look at me,” she orders, and waits until Lydia obeys before slowly licking her fingers clean.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Lydia asks, her fingers coming up to pinch at her nipples. “Do you?”

Erica gives her a smug little smile, then comes fully onto the bed, settling herself between Lydia’s things. She hooks her arms under Lydia’s legs and pulls them up over her shoulder. “Watch me,” she commands, then she lowers her head, blowing a little on Lydia’s clit before sucking it into her mouth.

Lydia makes this delicious gasping noise, burying her hands in Erica’s hands. “Finger me,” she begs, “please, I want something inside of me. I want you inside of me.”

And who says no to that?

Not Erica. No, Erica gladly complies. She slips two fingers in, curving them a little to try at hit that spot, the one that makes Erica shake and moan whenever she touches herself. And she must succeed because Lydia’s coming up off the bed, her hands clawing at Erica’s head, and she’s babbling for more.

So Erica slides a third finger inside, rubbing over and over at the spot and being a wolf is fucking awesome because it means that Erica can hear every slight hitch of breath, can smell the way Lydia’s sex scent thickens in the air as she nears orgasm.

It means that she can feel every small shiver in Lydia’s stomach, every tremor of her thighs. Can hear the way her heart beats faster as she moans, bucking up against Erica’s mouth. Then she’s clenching down hard on the fingers inside her, keening as she rides Erica’s hand and god damn. It’s amazing, watching Little Miss Perfect Lydia fall apart.

Erica sucks gently, licking a little as Lydia comes down. She pulls back just a enough to blow on Lydia’s swollen clit and is rewarded with a whine. One of Lydia’s hands unfists, fingers smoothing the bedding flat before reaching out and gently stroking the side of Erica’s cheek.

“You like that?” Erica can’t help but ask, a smile wide on her face.

Lydia gives her a half-hearted eye roll. “Don’t tell me you are the sort that needs reassurances.” The words would be bitchy, if it weren’t for the absolutely besotted look that accompanies them.

Erica laughs a little, turns her head to the side and kisses Lydia’s inner thigh. “Please, I know you loved it. I know you’ll be begging me for more, just as soon as you’re no longer in a sex stupor.”

“There’s my fierce little wolf,” Lydia croons, her hands coming down to pluck at Erica’s shoulders. “Come up here and kiss me,” she demands, a pout on her lips, though her eyes soft and inviting, and Erica willingly complies.

Erica pushes herself up onto her hands and knees, crawling up the bed until she is level with Lydia, who wraps her arms around Erica’s back, tugging her down until they are pressed against each other from chest to hip, their legs tangling together in the rucked up bedding.

Without even thinking about it, Erica buries her face in the crook of Lydia’s shoulder and neck, nipping and biting at the smooth skin. Lydia gives a delicate little shiver, moaning as Erica sucks a mark into being.

Her fingers wrap themselves in in Lydia’s curls, pulling gently. She brings a handful to her mouth and presses a kiss against the slick strands.

Lydia lets out another delicious moan, slipping her hand up under Erica’s tee-shirt, resting it against her belly. “Take this off,” she says, “I want to feel your skin pressed against mine.”

Erica reaches down and tugs it off, tossing it aside. “Better?”

“This too.” Lydia runs her finger along the bottom of Erica’s sports bra. Erica rolls her eyes, but complies.

“Got any more demands?”

“Just one,” Lydia says with a smile. “Kiss me.”

Erica leans down and nuzzles at her neck a bit instead, because she’s contrary like that.

“What, is kissing me is this terrible hardship?” Lydia pouts.

Erica moves so that she is resting fully on top of Lydia, her weight resting on her elbows. The feel of their bare skin touching sending shivers up her spine. She pushes Lydia’s hair off her face and then presses a quick kiss to the underside of her jaw. “It’s only hard in comparison to not scenting you,” she admits, because she’s still in a bit of a sex stupor herself.

“You can mark me later, promise,” Lydia replies, then she’s twisting her fingers in Erica’s hair and pulling her down for a kiss.

Lydia licks at her lips, moaning a little at the taste, and the sound of it makes Erica's nipples go tight. Then she’s working her tongue inside and holy fuck. Why did she ever think she wanted Derek? Who smells like motor oil and worn leather and kisses as aggressively as he does everything else? Or Jackson, who gives off a sweet sour tang of self-loathing and pride and kisses like he’s got something to prove? Why indeed, when she could have Lydia, who tastes fresh and clean and pure and whose cinnamon spice scent makes Erica feel like she’s found her home and whose kisses make Erica whimper and moan for more.