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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[ 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. ]

[ he watches her strip with — maybe a little judgement, but he's otherwise complacent, silent. he thinks his hands might be shaking a little, but he balls them up tight until they stop. ]

[ she presses her cunt up to his face again and he tips his head up and opens his mouth, obedient like this is something he's done a hundred times before. she's wet enough that he has to slurp at her, feels her slide slick across the planes of his face even as his tongue and lips work to pleasure her. ]

[ after a moment, he acknowledges the fact that she'd wanted his dick by lifting a hand, sliding two fingers straight up into her. she's tight, and it probably hurts, but he doesn't really care, just sinks them deep and lets her settle on them, gives her something else to work with as she rides his mouth. ]

[ his other hand slips into his jeans — to rearrange his erection, work it awkwardly down the seam of a thigh so that when he presses his legs together the fabric shifts over it, muscle flexing pressure over the head, making him grunt into her. ]

[ it's like driving a car; hands at ten and two, one behind her gripping the counter and the other fisted in his hair. she's trying not to pull, but he finger fucks her roughly and it's good, yes, fuck, it's so good. ] Sorry, [ cora says, but she's about the furthest thing from sorry a person can be.

a little pain edges the pleasure, but that's fine. after all, when are the hales not in some sort of anguish or another. she could lose herself a little between rutting against his face and clenching around his fingers. it's a newer feeling, and part of the reason this all feels so good. he's shifting, but she ultimately has no idea what he's doing to himself, if he's enjoying this, if he's having fun.

it's selfish, but she can and would worry about him later. when she's not slinging her knee over his shoulder and moaning loudly into the suffocatingly quiet apartment. ]

[ she moves, bracketing his head with her thigh, and he grunts at the shift in weight on his face, bringing his hand up to cora's ass to steady her. ]

[ now that he's got his dick taken care of, and she's balanced and open for him, derek flexes his wrist to fingerfuck her, a slow, steady in and out. the slick noise feels like it's the loudest thing in the room, and he speeds up to hear it, knuckles punching against her as he goes hard. ]

[ he's good at this, too. derek closes his eyes and breathes in cora, no-one else but cora, lets his guilt and shame and everything else drift somewhere away from here. there's nothing on his mind but pleasuring her, even at the expense of his own discomfort. ]

[ he's good at this.

too good at this, if that were a thing. he has her coming just as quickly as last time; quicker, actually. almost by surprise, and with a strangled sound escaping her throat because no, she hadn't wanted to come yet. there'd been so much to revel in, so much delicious arousal coiling in the pit of her stomach, and she wanted more. more and more, and all of this again and again.

but there's no staving off her orgasm with him between her legs. it's unfair and awful in the most wonderful sort of ways, and she swears revenge to herself as her eyelids flutter and her fingernails elongate and dig into the hard plastic of the counter. she needs something to root herself to the ground as he brings her to some orgasmic nirvana and back down again. ]

[ she shudders over him, convulsing around his fingers, but he doesn't stop, just fucks her through it. hard sucks slow to soft licking, lapping up the slickness of her, the come on his hand, cleaning her up even as he continues to thrust leisurely in and out of her. ]

[ cora might think it's over to soon; derek just straight up isn't done. ]

[ it's good, though, hearing her come. it makes him feel warm down to his bones, and he's riding high on the endorphins of obedience right now, too high to remember that he doesn't deserve to feel good. ]

[ their family is so off kilter, even the sex is dysfunctional. they've all got their walls up, but if she knew how high his went, how barbed it got — to the point he doesn't think he deserves to feel good at all? she'd cry. or scream at him, hug him, do anything in her admittedly limited communication arsenal to get across that he was wrong, that it wasn't true, and that he deserved this. he deserved everything he was giving her, in equal measure or if not more. ]

Derek. [ he deserved to keen like her. to shamelessly whimper, and shake like the world's ending. if she make him, reduce him to trembling right now, she should. but cora is too preoccupied clinging to the counter for dear life and squeezing her eyes shut. it's a full time job just to sort through her thoughts, to decide if she wants him to stop, or if she wants to grit her teeth and bare the overstimulation because maybe that would lead somewhere; rip an orgasm from her that was even sweeter than the last — one she never could have achieved on her own if she'd just stayed in bed and touched herself to explicit thoughts of her brother.

but there comes a point where overstimulation translates to pain and plain discomfort. it's with resignation that she reaches this point, and sighs; patting his head like she doesn't know how to touch him anymore. ] You — you can stop, alright? I can't — I just, I can't...

[ he presses one last kiss to her clit and pulls back, sliding his fingers out of her and licking them clean. his face is a mess, shiny and sticky with her juices, beard a little matted with it, and he looks up at her expectantly. ]

You could. I could lick your asshole instead.

[ it's an unabashed offer. he's not remotely ashamed of giving her pleasure- it's his own he's scared of. he's been thinking about lapping her out there, getting her wet enough that maybe he could move past his terrifying fear of getting her pregnant and fuck her there. ]

[ her whole body tenses; shoulders raise, eyebrows scrunch, and her biceps go taught. her fingers could probably crack the tile of counter if she gripped any tighter (and then either of them could make sandwiches without thinking of this instance again) but she needs something grounding as conflicting emotions flash through lust hazed eyes.

it's an enticing offer, but if she's perfectly honest (and cora's all about honesty with sex; and his inability to do that is 70% of the trouble she has sleeping with her brother) - ]

I don't know how I'd feel about that.

cora + derek.

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oh my god that link lmao

310% accurate, amirite?

absolutely.

Re: absolutely.

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