lashings | cora + derek.

cora + derek.

[ it starts in their bathroom. ]

[ derek doesn't jerk off much, and when he does, he doesn't use his hands. it's too — he doesn't like it, doesn't want to be touched, even by himself. he presses his dick between his thighs as he lays on his stomach and squeezes 'til it pops, or mounts the corner of his bed, fucks a pillow with gritted teeth. once he stole cora's vibrator, sniffing it out in her little bedroom, mouth going wet with the scent of it. ]

[ this time it's in the shower, eyes closed as he holds the detachable shower head over his groin, feet shifting apart a little so he can aim the hard spray behind his balls, then back to his dick again. the water is scalding, firm as a physical touch, and derek breathes hard, leans his forehead against the cool tile and closes his eyes, giving into the sensation. ]

[ he doesn't hear the bathroom door. but he hears cora's heartbeat pick up, scents her, and even as he turns with a slack mouth to see her standing there, he comes, streaking his hand and the shower head and the wall with creamy ropes. ]

Shit.

[ he whispers, stares at her, dazed, chest heaving and flushed from neck to navel, not sure what to do or say. he's humiliated, but he associates that with sex. ]

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[ 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?

So.

[ derek snaps. ]

That's —

[ he wants to say disgusting, but doesn't. ]

I'm not an animal.

[ despite the fact that he's gagging to mount his sister, which is pretty wolflike. he doesn't look at her, but his body language, his scent, screams that he's hurt and embarrassed and ashamed, and he can't even pretend to be detached from this anymore, can't get away from it. ]

Were you going to help me or not?

[ this had been the secondary part of flash that had briefly and embarrassingly been covered by their parents. cora'd been 10 and mimed vomiting in her cheerios the entire time because they told her over breakfast, and then actually lost her taste for them because nothing like the sex talk ruined an appetite.

but that didn't mean it was unnatural. or disgusting. or wrong.

just different.

as is apparently, their approach to this subject. to this entire event. because just a few minutes ago she'd wanted to taste his come on her tongue, and now all she wants to do is hug him and make him feel better.

in the end she compromises; starts off slow because he hadn't reacted well the last few times she'd tried to touch him. she closes the space between them and worms one arm around his chest. ] Yeah, I will. [ it's like a partial hug, but instead of putting her other arm around his torso, her hand dips into his lap and she grasps his cock. he's hot and hard, and she relishes the feeling of him in her palm in case derek swats her hand away again. ]

Just... let me do this for a while. [ i won't look, she thinks to say. but decides showing is better than telling, and presses her forehead against his back, and closes her eyes. ]

[ derek makes a quiet noise, like a whimper, and though his own hands ball into fists he doesn't push her away. she's holding him close, and after a moment a little of the tension goes out of him as he allows himself to sink back into her embrace. ]

Yeah.

[ he agrees. his dick is almost painfully sensitive, and unused to this kind of stimulation. her firm grip is nice, but when she moves it he groans roughly and jerks his hips. ]

Cora.

[ her name tastes good on his tongue. he thinks this might not take long. ]

I'm right here, [ she tells him matter of factly, breath ghosting between his shoulder blades.

she doesn't need her eyes to be open to tell she's nosing his tattoo, nor to give him an adequate handjob. it's not as graceful as had she been facing him and staring, but it's not awful. she goes slowly because she decides that's what he needs; drags back his foreskin delicately and presses her forehead so hard into him that there's no way he can forget she's here, like this explicit of skin on skin contact would allow him to take on some of her ease, and she to bear some of his tension. ]

[ it's nice. it's really nice, and derek grunts softly and rocks his hips a little into her gentle hand. ]

I'm close.

[ he tells her, has to resist folding his hand over her own to get her to speed up. his breath is already rapid, chest flushing. when he licks his lips he can taste her, and it makes his mouth wet. ]

Speed up.

[ he instructs. he can already feel the swell of it, dick convinced it's got something to fuck into, and he's starting to hump at her hand. sometimes it does this when he mounts pillows, too, and he always has to— ]

[ he drops his own hand, makes a circle around the base of his cock with his thumb and forefinger, squeezes it up against his knot to let his body think it's ties. his voice has gone high, frantic. ]

Keep going. Fuck.

[ and then, shuddering, he comes all over her hand and his thigh and the bed. it's a huge load, and he continues to squeeze himself and whimper as it drools from him. everything is bright and oversensitive, and he hasn't come like this in — years and years. ]

Keep going.

[ faster she can do.

cora tightens her grip just so and begins to pump her arm almost in time with her heartbeat. he arches into her hand and lydia decides this is plenty sexy, if not a little unconventional. it doesn't even feel weird anymore, though she's perplexed for all of a moment when her hand starts bumping against his on the downstroke.

she wants to look, but had made the unspoken promise to him and sworn to herself that she wouldn't. so she doesn't, but can't help thinking she'd quite like to see his face next time he comes.

it's the smell that hits her first; hot and musky and thick. it's like the bathroom all over again, except this time it's all over her hand instead of the tiled shower wall. it's not awful; just hot, and promising a little sticky if she lets it dry. keep going he implores again, and cora's got no problem squeezing him through every second of his orgasm. even once she thinks he's done, she loosens her grip and keeps stroking at a slow, almost lethargic pace. ]

Do you feel better? [ she asks his shoulder blades, even as her ears tune more for his heartbeat than his voice. ]

[ derek's just panting, trembling little shudders going all through his body as his dick attempts to breed their hands. he has no higher brain functions left, there's just pleasure as everything slowly winds down. his knot finally starts to deflate; he lets go of himself, softening into her still-moving hand, making the occasional noise of enjoyment. ]

Mm.

[ better isn't quite— but he feels good, a wash of euphoria that has him leaning further back into her arms and yawning. ]

Yeah. Thanks.

[ she doesn't sound disgusted, but he can see his guilt on the horizon, like the line of a tsunami in the distance. it's abstract right now: he's more focused on her behind him. she seems to know what she's doing where he doesn't, so he just puts himself in her hands. ]

[ she can actually feel tension leaving his body, and if she had either hand free, she might actually give herself a pat on the back. the weight he leans on her will serve as enough of a consolation prize, and she holds him tight. sharp i told you so's linger just behind her teeth, but cora swallows them down as she lifts her head and rests her chin on his shoulder.

this is nice, wholesome (by one definition, anyway), and a contenting amount of physical contact for her.

eventually, after both her hand and his dick have been liberally coated in come, she releases him - entirely. disentangles her arms and comes to sit by him at the side of the bed. ] I'm going to go take a shower, [ she announces. she's sticky, sweaty, reeks of sex and come, and doesn't know how to do post coital very well, so a shower sounds great right now. she's going...

but not before leaning over, invading his personal space (which now feels like reentering familiar territory) and stopping just an inch or two from his face. he hadn't liked it the last time she'd kissed him, so now she tests the waters, and tries to gauge if he'll push her away again if she tries. ]

[ derek reaches up instead — his own hands are come-free, though he has a dark urge to gather up a palmful and rub it into her tits, over her throat. she's going to shower anyway, who would it hurt to mark her? ]

[ but he has better control over the wolf than that. ]

[ his hands cup her face, and he kisses her softly, chastely: if it wasn't on the mouth it would almost be acceptable in polite company. he kisses cora like she's precious, and then draws her back, separates them. ]

I love you. You know that, right?

[ they don't say it much. derek doesn't like to make himself vulnerable like that. but he needs to, right now, needs to reassure the both of them that he loves her, even if it's not quite in the right way. ]

Yeah, I know.

[ she doesn't say it back because she thinks she doesn't need to. she's wide eyed and sex mussed and wouldn't be doing any of this if she didn't love him. it might have been more appropriate to stay on the sidelines and pry into his sexual hold ups through teasing and torment, but cora was an active player, and this had felt much more satisfying (in more ways than one) than remaining a third party viewer.

there's an air of accomplishment in the way she stands up and walks away. it's just a quick shower, because she likes the faintest smell of sex beneath the layer of soap, and they don't have to encounter any other werewolves at least until tomorrow, so what's the harm.

cora sleeps like a baby, and they don't talk about it for the next couple days. don't need to, from where she's standing, and when she wakes up one morning with the urge to slip a hand between her legs, she indulges for just a moment. just a few casual moments before she hones in on the sound of derek's footsteps, and picks herself up. she finds him in the kitchen with the peanut butter again, and smirks to herself.

it's practically a sign as she's concerned, and makes the way she slides up behind him, wraps her arms around his waist and presses her breasts into his back all the more fluid and natural. there's intent in the curls of her muscles, and the incredibly deliberate way she hadn't bothered to put on a bra. ]

[ he can smell her before she even reaches him — smell that she's aroused, that she's been touching herself. he finishes making his sandwich, halves it with a masterful flick of his knife and takes an unconcerned bite of it. ]

Want something?

[ as though he doesn't already know exactly what she wants. he turns in her arms, leans up against the counter. he should feel guilty, because isn't he doing the same thing to her that kate did to him? but he loves her, so he can't. ]

[ derek takes another bite of his sandwich, watches her steadily, but the thrum of his pulse and heat in his groin gives him away. ]

[ pressing her face to his shoulder blades had been nice, but she loosens her arms enough to let him turn and finds that burying her face in his chest was just as good. the thump of his heart was strong and hypnotic. even when she leans back to look him in the face, she can still hear it; feel it too, from where their pelvises press against each other.

he knows. she knows he knows, and doesn't really care. that'd been the whole reason she's come out her, flaunted it and touched him in a something-more-than-friendly way. ]

Yeah. Half your sandwich, maybe?

Keep dreaming.

[ he sounds amused, even though she's the one who's got him pinned up against the counter. he swallows another bite. he's trying not to get hard, but it's difficult when she's like this, right up against him and stinking of sex. ]

[ still, he's easier about it this time: she hasn't walked in on him rubbing himself humiliatingly against anything. he feels in control, which as always addictive. ]

If you want something, you have to ask nicely.

[ proximity is key, and cora gets right up on her tip toes; right up in his face. she thinks about kissing him for a moment, let her tongue do the talking (it will ask very nicely). but it's not often that they get playful, and she just wants to revel in it for a minute longer. ]

Please make me a sandwich, then?

[ dogs and horny teenagers alike like peanut butter! ]

And let me eat it in your bed.

[ she might actually be a little hungry. a little thirsty too... ]

[ derek puts a hand on her sternum and nudges her: harder than he would a human, but still not harder than a casual back off warrants. despite the fact that she's invading his personal space, he's smirking a little, like her trying to be forthright amuses him. it's the smirk of the alpha he isn't any longer, the one that says you're just a pup to me, and it's hard to tell how much is genuine patronizing amusement and how much is just another prickly front. ]

Make your own sandwich.

[ he takes another bite out of his own with deliberation, holding her gaze. ]

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oh my god that link lmao