lashings | cora + derek.

That's not an answer, [ she pushes cheekily, even as he demands as leave again. they're of the same mind; in agreement that if he really wanted her gone, he'd remove her bodily. and she'd struggle and scratch and her eyes would flash beta yellow, but then she'd leave because that'd be a sure sign he didn't want her there. until then he might still subconsciously want her company — want someone to talk to, someone to yell at him, or comfort him, or whatever he needed. help him. help him.

they're not the palest complexioned family, and any blush she has barely colors her ears. ]

Do you like it better when other people touch it?

[ he can't believe they're talking about this, scrubs a hand over his face while he tries to come to terms with it. ]

Yes.

[ he admits, because the sensation of a hand on his cock is a good one, just not something he likes to replicate himself. ]

[ she's admittedly confused. she does not share his complex and does not know how deep it goes, nor can she hazard guesses as to how it manifested. she could probably ask how he feels about it, but no longer trusts him to be honest with her. she is not impressed with his emotional constipation, either, but has gotten over most of her disappointment with her brother at this point and is looking to accept him on a more personal level. a family one.

though maybe not the conventional family way. not judging by how her mouth goes a little dry and she must put conscious effort into making her tone businesslike. ]

Is that what you need?

[ something small shifts in their conversation here; a weight settles into her words and blankets her chest like heavy anticipation. ]

[ derek turns then, looks at her, startled and vulnerable like he was when she first walked in on him. ]

You're my sister.

[ he points out, which is nowhere near a no. but he can tell what she's offering, can hear it in her tone and the way her heartbeat speeds up. his own is matching it, and he clenches and unclenches his hands. ]

I can take care of it, Cora.

By fucking a pillow? [ it's half taunt, half defensive because that sounds a lot like the beginning of a rejection that he doesn't mean and is just going to end up hurting both of their feelings. he's thrown sister at her, and she throws pillow fucker right back, but it's not hard to determine which one of those is less socially acceptable.

she's too graceful to scramble, even conversationally. but there's something of a backtrack. ] I know you can. I was just asking if you... — wanted to. It's different.

[ of course he does. but what derek wants doesn't really matter much to derek. ]

Do you want to?

[ it's an intense question. he has no idea why she would — can't ascribe the motivations to her that he would someone else, someone not pack. if she was a stranger he'd think she wanted to use him, or was attracted to his looks, both of which are turn-offs. but cora just... wants to be in his space. wants to help. he remembers the way she'd stared at him. ]

I'd rather touch you.

[ he admits. somehow that seems a little less worse to him. the idea of pleasuring her, cora praising him, his dick incidental and neglected. ]

[ she just wants to help; to help and be close and touch (she always wants to touch in one way or another now a days; this is just a different sort of touch). and this was one way to get that. his question is more weighted than hers, and cora stares him in the eye for a good long time before nodding.

belatedly, she realizes she's agreed, and is in this now, and doesn't think him far enough out of denial or whatever river he was swimming in to move it much past talk; to make an actual move. so she does.

the shirt she'd wanted laundered was still wet and dirty, and it's a relief to strip it off over her head with a perfunctional, business air about her movements. they're quick, a little nervous, and in a second her shirt is crumpled on the floor. beneath she's a thin, plain grey bra, and without the hem of the tee-shirt obscuring the view, he can see just how low on her hips her sweatpants ride. it's suddenly cold in the room, and she stands up straighter in response to the chill. ] It can go both ways, [ she announced boldly. the reality if what they're thinking of doing is setting in, and her pupils dilate in arousal, and her nipples threaten to perk through the material of her bra. excitement thrums in her veins, intensified in knowing it's not supposed to be there. ] It's supposed to.

Okay.

[ derek takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring with it. this is cora. he'd do anything for cora, and she him. there's nothing to fear here. ]

[ she might have thought he wasn't capable of action, but derek wants this, a sensation that's so unfamiliar to him that it pushes thoughts aside. he reaches up, almost clinical, and covers her breasts with both hands. there's something dispassionate about it, like a breast exam: he squeezes the nipples with his palms, massages them a little, watching her unblinkingly. ]

[ then his hands slide down to her hips, and he picks her up and half throws her on the bed, chasing immediately after her, quiet and intent on getting the rest of her clothes off. ]

[ it's not exactly sexy, but it's arousing. he's touching her and it's exciting, but not sexy. it's actually a little strange, especially when she keeps firm, steady eye contact with him. she sets her lips in a thin line to keep wheedling second doubts at bay (her conscious was tiny and quiet, but there even if she'd made up her mind), but that also suffocates any encouraging noises or wanton moans. the palpable prickles of anticipation that run across her skin would have to be enough; the way her nipples perk at the slightest contact, and the heavy thrum of her heart beneath his hand would have to be enough.

and he seems to take a cue just fine.

there's a sharp intake of breath and disgruntled grunt when she hits the mattress. cora twists and lands strangely, half on her stomach and half on her side, but bounces and recovers quickly enough. quickly enough to sit up and glare at him.

he's on her just as quickly, looming and curling his fingers in the waist of her sweats and tugging them off her hips. cora has absolutely no qualms with being naked. she took after their mother in that respect; had been incredibly stubborn about it as a younger child, and now doesn't mind that he strips her first. she, in turn, busies herself with kicking her legs out of her pants and siting up; sliding her hand across the very unsubtle bulge in his pants. she doesn't mind being naked, but wants to see and touch (so much touch) him too; likes the idea of pressing her shoulder blades to his chest, of running her hands along his side, too. so she makes a thin threat to his clothing. ]

If you don't take off your shirt, I'm going to shred it.

[ derek reaches behind his neck, grabs his shirt from between his shoulder-blades, and pulls it over his head without a word. he's only compliant because he doesn't have that many shirts — he tosses this one over the side of the bed, out of harm's way, and returns to his objective. ]

[ he's never done this with another werewolf, and it's nice not to have to worry about hurting her as he puts a hand on either thigh and tugs them open. he dips and nuzzles the inside of her thigh, where fine, baby-soft gold hairs brush his lips. he snuffles his way upwards, pretty intent — derek's working on instinct, here, because if he lets himself think he's going to start being disgusted with himself. ]

[ maybe it's too fast, but this is how he'd been taught sex goes: kate had trained him to be good with his mouth and fingers, to drop to his knees the moment they were alone, to eat her out before he was allowed inside her. he had to jerk himself ready while he was down there. it's as normal a start to derek as a kiss would be to others. so he presses his nose into cora's downy pubes, breathes in the mate-pack-woman good smell of her. other lovers had been turned off by how much more important smell and taste were to derek than sight and touch, but cora's a werewolf, she'll understand that he just wants to take a moment to breathe her in. ]

I've thought about this.

[ he admits, voice muffled and guilty, eyes closed. ]

[ she can't get her hand in his pants from up here, and resents him something for that. instead she contents herself with touching herself; running fingertips across her stomach and running circles around her nipples tauntingly. it's like what she would do when she was by herself, but now she's got the lovely opportunity to stare down her body and see his settled between her legs.

it's lovely; it's erotic and (bad which makes it) good, and she's wet by the time he buries his face in her pelvic mound. her hips hitch weakly. she wants to ride his face, but he speaking, and like an immoral priest, she's here to take his confession.

i've thought about this.

and maybe...not absolve him of his sins. maybe just join him in them, because she's had unwanted late night thoughts. she'd considered them along the same vein of intrusive thoughts that had her thinking about dropping babies whenever she held them, or driving along the sidewalk. if i did that i could kill all those people. derek had big arms, he could probably hold me against a wall. and intrusive or not, it'd be a lie to say she hadn't gotten off on them once or twice. not that he needs to know that, exactly. ]

Like in the shower? [ she ventures, and the hand that's not braced on the mattress reaches down to card through his hair. ]

Mm.

[ it's sort of agreement. he hadn't thought of this in the shower specifically, or not until he'd turned and saw her there. it had been when he'd stolen her vibrator, breathed it in before he'd touched it to his dick, imagining what it would be like to get his face in her. the answer is: overwhelming. it's insane how good and safe he feels, especially when she pets his hair. ]

[ he slides his hands up and down her inner thighs, soothing the muscles, relaxing them so he can spread her legs further. and then his hands stop at the top, framing her pussy, before he uses his thumbs to gently ease her folds apart. she's beautiful here, but she's a hale: she's beautiful everywhere. ]

[ he considers asking permission, and then doesn't, just leans in and seals his mouth to her cunt, lapping softly. ]

[ he finally gets his mouth on her, and it's a flood. not a literal one, though she's definitely wet, but one of sensation and general relief. the sexual tension that had been amassing between them in the last few minutes (longer than that, cora realizes. way longer) is manifesting in gentle suction and the rasp of his tongue along her sex, sending shivers every which way through her nervous system every time he comes anywhere near her clit.

she's sensitive. hyperaware. and all that careful work he'd put into spreading her legs was useless because she draws them right back in around his ears. what sounds like it could be a moan is strangled in the back of her mouth as her throat constricts, and that hand in his hair ends up pulling at his hair before she realizes what she's doing.

there's nothing keeping her from grinding against his face now, and cora finds if he lays back on the bed, arches her back just so, and rolls her hips in small undulations, she can rock to his pace without completely setting it, and without completely smothering him. ]

[ for someone supposedly so repressed, derek's good at this. he just about worships her: spends a long time overstimulating her clit and then returns to everywhere else, stubble scraping against her thighs as he puts his whole face to work. ]

[ she starts to grind and derek lets her, though a part of him wants her to pull harder, squeeze tighter, fuck over his face so he can't breathe, leave him claimed by her sticky juices. ]

[ that thought's so appealing that he stops tonguing down towards her asshole and pulls back. he looks wrecked already and his dick's barely been touched. ]

You on top.

[ he rolls onto his back on the bed, reaches down to adjust his dick in his jeans without actually opening them. his eyes are closed again, tongue tracing the smear of her come on his lower lip, chasing her taste. ]

[ she'd been edging toward coming under his ministrations - coming quick and hard and fast and way, way too soon for her liking, so perhaps it's a good thing he stops and urges her to sit on his face instead. there's a brief moment of confusion, her tongue dry from all that heavy mouth breathing that bordered on moaning, and the disoriented what that was half formed by her lips dies in her throat. she counts that as a good thing, though; she knows what she's doing and wouldn't have him think otherwise, wouldn't have a brief moment set the tone for this evening.

he rolls over and after taking a brief moment to get her bearings, cora sits up as well.

though...

derek should have guessed by now that she's not the best at doing what she's told. not even very good at taking suggestions, and while he's eager to get his mouth on her again, she's torturously slow. and equally taste oriented. and while she's not fond of her own taste, she thinks she could like it mingled with his. so she takes her sweet time, and looms over him to place a swift but heavy kiss on his lips.

then she acquiesces; moves up his body to get her knees on either side of his face again. ]

[ she kisses him, and it shocks the breath out of him for a moment. his mouth turns unhappy under hers, even if the knowledge that she's lapping herself from his mouth makes his dick twitch. they shouldn't kiss. she's his sister. they're just helping each other out right now (or that's the excuse he's using as he puts strong hands on her thighs and tugs her exactly where he wants her.) they shouldn't kiss. ]

[ after about five seconds he pushes her up. ]

Turn around.

[ and when she's settled again, the other way around, it's easier for him to nose into her folds, hold his tongue out for her to grind the wet throb of her clit onto. he groans, a deep, growling rumble, and lets go of her ass to unzip his jeans, lift his hips, kick them off. ]

[ she'd got an eyeful before, but here it is again. he's no less ashamed of having a hard-on in front of his sister, heavy flesh smacking back into the curve of his hip as he frees it, but he needed out of the painfully tight constriction of his jeans. he doesn't touch it, though, just lets it dribble clear precome over his skin as he returns his hands, and his focus, to her. ]

[ he's so bossy, and childish petulance wills her to say no, just make me come already. but she was here on the pretext of helpful, and that clashed with all helpful ideals. so she rearranges her legs, careful not to knee him in the nose or mouth. this is just as good, really. just as wet, and that moan sends pleasurable shivers all over her body that originate from her cunt.

it's good, it's good, it's so good, and she closes her eyes; comes close to losing herself in his mouth and leans over his body so she can grip the bedsheets on either side of his hips. she needs an anchor of some sort here, and thin fabric between her fingers does wonders even when she thinks she might rip it. her hair is in a low ponytail and tickles between her shoulder blades; falls down when she allows her head to flop forward and trails across his skin. cora's so self absorbed that it takes her a split-second longer than it usually would to realize he'd just divested himself of his pants, and even longer to realize she was biting her tongue.

it takes her no time, however, to theorize what she could do to him, and even less to actually jump into action. it's impulsive, and he hadn't asked permission so neither would she, but one clenched hand releases the sheets to wrap around his dick instead, stroking disjointedly and distractedly. the little circles her hips had been moving in cease too, as cora favors her concentration towards him. she ghosts her lips across the dark swollen head, closing her eyes again and taking a nice, long sniff. it's amazing how scent based their perceptions can be; how incredibly and overwhelmingly strong the smell of sex is, how even with her eyes closed, all other senses scream derek to her. there's the little bit of precome that reminds her vividly of the bathroom incident, but they've come this far; the embarrassment seems null and void when he's got his face buried in her pussy and she's breathing hotly around his dick (fuck, derek, she starts to moan; mumble; groan and writhe). and if he won't touch himself, she certainly will. ]

[ there's a hand on his dick. derek doesn't know whether he wants to push her off and leave, or start begging. she's smothering him, his belly is completely bared to her, and her fingers around his erection make his hips jolt. ]

[ after a moment, a long moment in which he lets her hold him, stroke him clumsily, he reaches down and takes a firm hold of her wrist, an unspoken no. and to emphasize his point he endeavors to distract her, sucking in hard pulses at her clit, head following her whenever she writhes or tries to arch away, determined to keep it in his mouth until she comes. ]

[ he says no and she wants to scream no at his no.

it goes both ways, she'd said, and now he's denying her any fair shot at making him come too; making him feel good, better than just when he did it himself, or when he did it without touching himself.

she's so angry, but she's also so wet; so close to coming. so angry that he's making her come, and grits her teeth in an attempt to stave off her climax. it doesn't work. the haphazard little jerk of her hips doesn't work to dislodge him, either; he's insistent and ruthless, and all but rips an orgasm from her hips. cora shudders, shakes, and while she doesn't scream no, she screams. it's ripped from her throat much the same way her climax is and sounds brutal, pained, and a bit too much like a howl.

and she sort of hates him for it. ]

God - fuck you, Derek.

[ he pushes her off his face, slides out from underneath and sits up. he didn't really expect a fuck you so much as a good boy, and he looks visibly confused that he didn't get it. but he takes in her heaving form and the vulnerability in his eyes softens into something less upset. ]

Is that what you want?

[ he asks meanly, grabbing her leg and dragging her a little closer, sliding his other hand between her thighs to feel where he's made a mess of her, tweaking her overstimulated clit. ]

[ for all he's acting disaffected, the idea of actually penetrating her makes something unhappy curl in his gut. he wants it, and he doesn't. he can't bring himself to kiss her again, so he pushes his face up against her neck where she can't see him. ]

Cora...

[ he murmurs it as he breathes her in. now, more than ever, he feels like a disappointment of a brother. ]

I want to make you come again.

[ he offers. he wants to make her come over and over again, if he's honest, like that pleasure can make up for everything he can't give her. ]

[ she's still coming down from her orgasm while he's manhandling; twitching and overwhelmed, overstimulated, and when he touches her, she jerks bodily and moans almost unhappily. she doesn't want him touching her, both because she's so raw it hurts more than it's pleasurable, and also because she's a little mad at him.

winded, but mad. it's cora's turn to snake her hand between them and catch his wrist.

her - ] Don't. [ - is spoken aloud, at least (it's obvious which of the hale's walked away from the destruction of their childhood with superior communication skills here), even as her jugular thrums against his cheek and her breath ruffles his hair. ] Don't, [ she says again, and swallows thickly before continuing. there's more here, more to say. ] I don't want you to. I just want to touch you.

[ it goes both ways. that poorly contained agitation and annoyance bubbles to the surface as she all but whines - ]

Why won't you let me touch you.

[ he licks across her pulsing jugular before he answers, marking her with his scent, mixing it with the juices that have smeared from her cunt, to his face, to her neck. ]

[ it's a complicated question. derek avoids it. ]

You were distracting me.

[ he pulls back again to look at her. he's not really concerned by their nudity, but he's very aware of the way his erection sits, heavy and pink against his pale thigh. he reaches down, tweaks the head, eases the foreskin back. he feels all his secrets churning just below the surface. ]

This is just the way I...

[ he wants to say, i like it, but that's not true. derek has no idea what he likes. this is the way he's been trained, and he shivers a little, though not because he's cold. there's a deep, decade-old bitterness in the slant of his mouth, now. ]

She used to do it like that too. Play with it while she sat on my face. Or I could fuck her — in the ass, so she wouldn't get pregnant.

[ that's all he knows. but. but. ]

I don't want that.

[ they're going to need showers after this. separate showers, perhaps, as she can't imagine them fitting comfortably in the one shower they have, and doesn't want to watch him get off with the shower head again thinking he's more comfortable with water pressure than he is with her.

he won't kiss her, but she's got a bad taste in her mouth anyway.

especially when he mentions her.

between jennifer blake and kate argent (who she's only heard about recently, and still bears a raw, burning hate for), she can make an easy guess who he's talking about. blake had almost been good for him until she showed her true face, but argent sounds like the devil incarnate, and cora bristles. the lust that glazed her face dissipates, and her lips press into a thin line. ]

It's not fair, [ she tells him stiffly. ] ...For you to compare me to her.

[ derek's shoulders hunch, defensive and angry. he still carries so much stupid guilt. ]

Then don't do it like she did.

[ he spits. it's not even about cora so much as sex. all sex. vulnerability. the expectations derek places on himself, not knowing what's normal, not wanting what's normal, and hating himself for it. abruptly he trembles with the tension preceding getting up off the bed and leaving his own room, but doesn't quite. ]

It's not just that.

[ oh, it's not just intense ptsd cockblocking her? derek leans forwards, rests his forearms on his knees, triskelion a stark splash in the center of his muscled back. his jaw has a miserable slant to it again. ]

If I let you touch it, I'll probably knot.

[ and at last he's reached the center of his need to get off handsfree, his disgust at his own dick. ]

[ and just like that, he's off her.

it's frustrating; ridiculous and so backwards from how this is supposed to be going. cora mouthes a few expletives to the ceiling before running a hand over her face. she pulls her legs closed and sits up, perches on her knees behind him and studies the lines of his shoulders in case they divulge more than his mouth does.

but he's telling her plenty, and there's several moments of awkward silence as she tried to puzzle through his problems. she also has to assess if it bothers her to the same degree it bothers him, and ultimately it doesn't. ]

...so? [ she asks his back simply. the sheets rustle as she shuffles closer — slowly, like she'd approach a scared child (if she was any good with children), close but not close enough to be touching. ] What's your point?

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