Stydia one-shots

31. Colleague

"You going out today?" Stiles' lips met Lydia's bare shoulder in the afternoon sun, the room hot despite the numerous fans and drawn shades in an attempt to keep the summer heat out. His comforter only wrapped around their bodies enough to cover certain parts but other than that it only caused unnecessary sweating.
"Yeah I think I'm gonna meet up with Benny later." She sat up and slipped off of his bed to retrieve her clothes.
"Benny. . . Jasmine?"
"No, Benny Hunting." She corrected. Stiles gave a small nod, rolling on his side, grabbing a fresh drag from his stash on the window sill. He lit it.
"So you two are dating." He asked, drawing in a breath deeply and holding the smoke in his lungs for a while.

Lydia shrugs, a smile lighting her face. She stood, taking the blunt from between his lips before placing it between her own, pulling up her pants in the process. Stiles leans on his side, watching the puff of smoke slither out of her mouth sweetly. "What's with all the questions, curious George?" Her statement makes him laugh as she hands him back the blunt. He lays back against the sheets, closing his eyes and like almost every time Lydia came to visit he began to think of ways to profess his love. I love you, you're perfect, you shouldn't be with anyone but me. He took a hit from the smoke.

But it was nothing more than that. He only opened his eyes when he felt her legs on either side of his abdomen, her breath on his face. A smile lit across his face and she lent down to kiss it off of him.
"I'll come by later tonight." She whispered. He stretched his neck to reach her lips again.
"Twice in a day?" He grinned and she chuckled. They kissed again, her hands on either side of his face, holding him against her even if he wanted to move away. He didn't want to. "You could just skip the whole Benny thing. Stay with me? It'll be fun." He drew out the word fun in a sing-song way.
"Pass." She laughed again, beginning to get a bit bubbly from the weed. "Have you seen my shirt?" The girl questioned, searching his dirty floor for her clothes. "Screw it, I'll be late. See you tonight." Then she left, jeans and a sports bra, his heart in her pocket.

You're probably confused, so allow me to explain. Stiles and Lydia are of the subtle type. They've never been one for long, sappy relationships but also agreed on the common fact that most hookups were not as pleasurable as others. So it was a deal: friends with benefits. Best friends with benefits. That was the problem, sex can make a human more emotionally attached, implying to the heart that the love is much more than in a friendly way. Stiles, despite all efforts, caught on first.

As promised, Lydia returned to his apartment later that night, Stiles right where she left him wrapped in linen sheets. She kicked off her heels and peeled a lace-lined top from her torso before climbing over the sleeping boy. He woke to her kiss, soft bites along his neck and beginning to lead to his collar bone.
He inhaled sharply. "How's Benny?" His voice was rough with sleep and Lydia hummed at that, watching his closed eyes flutter when her fingertips stopped at the band of his boxers before returning upwards to his chest. Answering into his ear, she whispered, "no talking" while he helped pull down her jeans. He didn't dare say another word, moaning softly when her lips met his slowly.

Some moments later, exhaustion struck the two and Lydia fell against his chest while trying to control her breathing as he did the same, both desperate for the air they now lacked.
"Again?"
"Shit, Lydia, was the date really that bad?" Stiles laughed and wrapped his arms around her back, hugging her loosely. Of course she ignored the comment, instead choosing to nip at his chest, avoiding the little purple bruises she had made earlier as well as a few accidental scratches. "Babe," it was a nickname, something he'd called and stuck to her ages ago but nothing that gave either of them titles. It was a friend thing. Stiles sat up on his elbows and watched as the girl went for another hickey, his voice not affecting her. "Lydia. . . Talk to me." He almost begged. She lifted her head to gaze at him warily and upon seeing his worried expression, sat up completely. With both legs still on either side of him, she shifted further up on his body, sitting on his torso rather than his legs. He lay back down and immediately grabbed her hands in his, waiting for her to speak while he played with her fingers.

"Benny Hunting is not good at sex." She said bluntly, and with a sigh as though she expected him to be. "And he's also kind of a dick."
"Kind of?"
"Okay, he's the definition of a dick."
Stiles fought to hide his grin, kissing her fingertips. "After we ate he took me back to his apartment and we made out but then we were about to have sex and–" she stopped. Stiles shifted his eyes from where he was messing with her hands and up to her own emerald beauties. She looked miserable. "And I started crying." Lydia broke, a tear streaming down her cheek.

Stiles couldn't have sat up any faster, his chest bumping into hers and their faces too close for them to actually look at each other. Comforting the girl, Stiles rubbed her arm and drew circles on her lower back and kissed away at her tears as Lydia wept for reasons he didn't even know. "What's wrong, what happened? Talk to me, please, Lydia, talk?" His voice was smooth and ran along side the line he drew down her spine with his index finger.
"I don't want to mess up."
"You won't, I promise. tell me? Please?" He assured her, wiping away anything left on her cheeks before kissing them as well. She sniffled. "Why did you cry? Why are you crying, please, I can help."

"He wasn't you." She whispered. I'm sure they both felt his breath catch. "I was sitting in his apartment and he wasn't you so I started crying and I told him to take me home but I gave him your address when he asked me where. And he wasn't you." She sounded like she might start up again.
"What do you mean?"
She held onto his shoulders to stable herself. "I mean that I've been seeing all these boys then coming here at night to get drunk and high and mess around but it all isn't right. I've been seeing boys who treat me like shit and I come back to you so you can hold me and ask me what's wrong like you did tonight. And all these boys press the wrong buttons and order me the wrong coffee and take me to fucking art museums when I'd rather go to a bar. . . All these shitty boys who aren't you."

He was listening but had to wipe at her cheeks again because she had started to cry while explaining. He tucked hair behind her ear. "I want it to be you." She whispered so softly she wasn't sure he had heard so she repeated herself. Cautiously, he captured her lips, something full of passion and care. "Cause you already know everything about me. You know how to take care of me. I'm tired of all these boys, what I really want is you." Hell he almost cried, kissing her again to thank her for confessing something he was always too scared to.
"Really?" He double checked.
"Really." She confirmed.
He grinned and wrapped his arms tighter around the girl, burying his face in her neck. "You have no idea how long I've imagined you saying that." He whispered.
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Authors note:

Wow another update? That's the third one in two days!
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe