Title: I Became The Color

Genre: Television

Series: Teen Wolf

Characters: Lydia Martin, Isaac Lahey

Spoilers: S3b

Rating: Mature

Summary: It's been ten years since high school, but Lydia hasn't changed too much. She still goes after what she wants.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Note: I inspired myself with that bit of fanart I put on tumblr a few days ago. My muse wouldn't let it go.

She had her small fingers wrapped around his tie, a smirk on her face, and a plan as she walked backwards toward a shadowed corner like no one could see them. She was three martinis into a good buzz but two short of impaired judgment and there was a look on her face that evoked the memories of the bad girl she used to be. She'd been hunting her prey all night and as far as she was concerned, it was time to pounce.

"I like the short hair, Lahey. Suits those sharp cheekbones," she complimented glibly, biting her tongue as she leered up at him.

"I like the short skirt, Martin, suits your...your..."

She leaned up and breathed a smile against the strong line of his jaw. "The word you're looking for is legs."

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'ass', but I didn't want to be crude."

Lydia giggled, leaning back and emitting a soft squeak as she miscalculated and walked them right into the wall. "By all means, say exactly what you like."

"The pack is staring at us," Isaac commented, a soft flush working its way up his neck as Cora let out a taunting whistle.

"Then let's get out of sight."

They stumbled into the hall outside the ballroom of the hotel, and though they could've gotten a room it was easier to duck into the linens closet around the corner. The music of the reunion was loud enough that though they couldn't hear it through the closed door, they could feel it throbbing in the walls and the floor.

"You've been flirting with me all night."

"You've been flirting back," she pointed out, tapping slick red nails against the buttons of his shirt. She undid a few for her own enjoyment, every inch of skin she revealed causing an anticipatory shiver to blossom on her skin.

"I don't know any man who wouldn't."

Lydia shrugged that compliment off and pressed her nose gently into the curve of his neck. The scent of patchouli lingered in the small curls behind his ear and she liked it. The idea of waking up in the morning to the soft scent hidden in the shadows of her sheets was enticing and she had never been very good at denying herself what she wanted.

"Allison tells me you race cars for a living," she announced, her hands skimming down his sleeves and briefly lacing her fingers with his. She positioned them against the shelf behind him and waited for him to stop looking down her dress long enough to meet her eyes. "That's good," she assured him, years of experience and sheer determination meant he didn't even feel her unzip his pants, "because I like it fast." He grunted against her mouth as she pressed her lips to his and her hand inside his briefs. She suckled his bottom lip before releasing it with a soft nip. "Though I also like to drive, so we'll have to compromise."

Isaac's eyes slid closed, his hands clenching with supernatural strength and splintering the wooden shelf where she'd braced them. "You're going to be the death of me."

"I am a harbinger, you know," she replied cheekily.

It was her turn to grunt ignominiously when he pushed forward without warning and lifted her against the opposite wall. Her silk skirt slid up her hips as she settled against him, her hips rocking against his and sending a delightful frisson of pleasure lancing through her.

"Take your pants off, Isaac."

"Take your panties off, Lydia."

Her smile was half malicious and half invitation. "I'm not wearing any. This is silk, it shows every line."

He said her name like it was a curse and a benediction before dropping to his knees before her, and slipping one of her legs over his shoulder.

"Hey, I kinda liked you where you wer-oh!" Lydia's head fell back against the wall with a thump as Isaac put his witty tongue to work. "Oh! On the other hand-...holy moly...-that's a really good...really good...place to be, too. Oh, wow...yeah...yeah. Oh!"

Lydia came with a soft sigh and felt herself melt against the wall, her strength escaping her as Isaac eased her leg off his shoulder and stood. He held her against him and Lydia graced him with a sensual smile of thanks; she didn't have the stamina to stand on her own just yet. Isaac gripped her hair and tilted her head back, pressing kisses against the smooth slope of her neck and unconsciously grinding against her as his own need reasserted itself. She appreciated him taking the time to make sure her body was ready, since he couldn't know that she'd been wet for him since he'd driven up to the reunion in an Audi F13 wearing a slim leather jacket and a smirk. Confidence suited him well, and he had a lot more presence now than he had in high school. Lydia liked men who knew their worth and what they wanted.

They worked together to push his briefs out of the way, waiting for the feeling of skin on skin before entwining again. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heels pinching his skin though neither noticed. He braced his forearm above her head and joined their bodies, sliding into her with an exhalation that she felt against her face even as the sensation of having him inside her caused a gasp. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so full, the sensation pulsing through her body and arching her away from the wall until she was a taut curve against him that he surrounded with long limbs and unnaturally high body heat.

Then he moved and she never got the chance to catch her breath. Lydia couldn't tell whether he was deliberately or unconsciously matching the bass beat that throbbed in the walls, but it was just the way she liked it, fast and hard. She'd probably be sore in the morning, but for now she dragged her nails down his back and wished she'd thought to take off more of his clothes. Isaac had a long lanky body that she could spend days memorizing with her tongue, but she probably wouldn't get the opportunity. At the very least she wanted a mental picture to take back to cold rainy Seattle to keep her warm at night.

The small orgasm he'd already given her had made her sensitive, luckily for Isaac because she was notoriously hard to please. Already the coil of pleasure in her abdomen was snaking through her body, flooding her legs with tension and her hips with speed. She ground against him chasing the high that she knew lay just out of reach. She wasn't being as mouthy as before but Isaac knew what she needed anyways. He hitched her up a bit higher on the wall with a particularly hard thrust and then kept her there, changing the angle of his hips just enough that each new slide pressed against a very particular bundle of nerves inside her that made her eyes cross and her blood pressure soar. She closed her eyes against the blackness threatening the edge of her vision as her body began to tremble with impending orgasm.

Isaac's breath was heavy against her face and she could hear his nails scraping the wall just above her head. He was close too and she didn't need to see the glowing amber of his eyes to know that his control was at its limits. She cupped his face in her hands, using it to pull him closer and fuse their lips together until she could taste him. She clenched a fist in the hair at the back of his neck and reached out blindly with the other, finding the smooth edge of the shelf beside them and clasping it tightly. Then slowly and deliberately, she bore down on him, tightening all her inner muscles until his smooth movements stuttered and jerked against her. She wanted his control not at its limits but gone entirely.

Then she was screaming, pleasure racing through her veins like molten lava and her muscles shaking with relief from the terrible tension that had tightened them to their breaking point. Isaac moved inside of her, her body soft and pliant around him and rhythmically milking him until he too came, pressing their bodies so tightly together that she could feel his hip bones scraping her own through her thin skin.

They sat in the linens closet for almost ten minutes before either could find the strength to even attempt to fix their clothing. Her silk skirt was ruined, not just wrinkled but also stained; Lydia couldn't find it in herself to care. Isaac's shirt had mysteriously lost two of its buttons and he had a goofy grin on his face that refused to leave no matter how many snarky comments she directed his way.

"I'm going to have to change before I can go back to the reunion," Lydia announced, finally back on her feet though still not steady.

"You look beautiful," Isaac told her, gazing up at her from where he still sat against the wall, pants open though he'd managed to at least pull his briefs up.

"And you looked debauched, Mr. Lahey," she decided, reaching down to wipe away the smear of L'oreal red that stained the corner of his mouth. "It's getting kind of late. Maybe I'll just go to bed."

He looked disappointed but didn't say anything, just stood and tried to erase the signs of ravaging she'd left on him. The love bites on his neck had already disappeared but the lipstick on his collar wasn't going anywhere without a long soak in bleach. Lydia waited until he'd made himself mostly presentable before reaching for the door handle and stepping out of their closet of spontaneous conjugation. She turned to head for the lobby and could hear him step towards the ballroom, likely to disappear in the crowd and try not to think about what had just happened for the rest of the night, but that seemed like a waste.

"I already know you're good with your tongue, Isaac, but are you good with your hands?" She called out to him, mindful that while there didn't appear to be anyone around it wasn't a guarantee.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, turning back with an adorably confused look on his face.

"I was thinking you could come wash my back for me. I think I have some plaster dust under my dress from where you went Wolverine on the wall. You do a good enough job with that, I might let you put your hands other places, too," Lydia explained, refusing to even mentally acknowledge the trepidation the twisted her fingers in the folds of her dress.

"Just my hands?"

She grinned, biting her tongue as she let her gaze wander down to his shoes and back to his face. "Maybe other things too."