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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[ 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. ]

[ he pushes her, but not hard enough to physically remove her from his personal bubble. that she does all on her own, and only after careful deliberation of his face. even then, it's just a step. cora unwraps her arms from around his torso and shuffles back. ]

Forget the sandwich, then, [ she says, dropping the facade (thin, thin, thin as it was; transparent, even) and squaring her shoulders. ] I'm not really hungry.

[ i'm horny hangs in the air much like the scent of her, and her steady stare is almost daring (begging) him to do something more than just stand there and smirk at her. ]

[ he does something: he keeps eating his sandwich. derek takes his diet seriously: werewolf metabolism means plenty of carbs and protein if he wants to bodybuild, and while he can relax a little now that he's no longer an alpha with a pack to protect, looking intimidating is still important to derek. ]

[ he blinks at her as he chews, eyes skimming over her body. he should feel guilty, checking out his sister, but a casual eyerake is the least of their sins together. ]

Want to sit on my face again?

[ like that. ]

Yes.

[ no nonsense. none of his emotional and sexual hang ups either. just wide, expectant eyes and a firm stance. she'd been prepared for this part, for having to state exactly what she wants either because her brother would delight in gentle torments, or just be too thick to understand what she was getting at. if sex was a legitimate business in this state, this country, she'd be almost business-like.

as it is, she's just demanding. and even as her confidence fades some, her body language remains casual. ]

To start with. I was thinking you could actually fuck me.

[ been thinking about it a lot. ]

No.

[ he's no angry, there's no heat in his tone, but it's an instantaneous and absolutely certain reply. he may not be her alpha anymore, but derek can still speak like he's not to be argued with. ]

Anything else. Not that.

[ he finishes the last of his sandwich, brushes his hands on his jeans instead of licking the crumbs away, and then drops heavily to his knees. he raises his eyebrows at her in challenge. ]

[ she ought to have expected that, and tries not to act too disappointed. there's a lick of her lips and a quick nod. he looks good on his knees; the very sight makes her tense with anticipation, and she doesn't want him to get up because she's uncooperative and noncompliant with his requests.

they're simple requests, for the time being, anyway. he won't fuck her, but he can work wonders with his tongue. ]

Will you kiss me, at least? After.

[ though if he says no, it won't be any more devastating. she's already invading his space again, taking that challenge he oh so blatantly expressed and shoving it. almost literally, shoving it - into her crotch. ]

Yeah.

[ he thinks he can manage that. thinking about it makes him uncomfortable, but it's not the same sick aversion he has to the idea of how much he wants to fuck her. ]

[ derek bites her there, through her jeans, opening his mouth wide and pressing teeth hard against her clit. he worries at it like a chewtoy for a moment before pulling back. ]

Take them off.

[ he has her wincing and panting before she even gets her pants off. it's ridiculous and her mind goes to that apparently forbidden place that holds the speculations about what he could do to her if he'd actually fuck her. it's tantalizing, but there's no use crying over spilled milk, or dwelling on unobtainable desires.

...temporarily unobtainable desires.

she could work on that later. she'll be coming no matter what, right now. all she has to do is shove her thumbs in her waistband and shove. impatience has her ignoring the fly and just wiggling, and excitement has her hopping from foot to foot in an attempt to kick off her pants. her underwear go with the pants, and there's a slight chill that just drives home the fact she's sopping wet and ready for him to be in her.

scaring him off is the last thing on her agenda, but it's difficult to bite her tongue and resist explaining exactly what she wanted. her wants manifest in a strangled moan instead, and renewed vigor in the way she grinds against his chin. ]

cora + derek.

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oh my god that link lmao

310% accurate, amirite?

absolutely.

Re: absolutely.

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