Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The cooking class was held in the next town over, in a rather out-of-place upscale shopping center. The class had been a birthday gift from Delia after she’d mentioned she wanted to learn how to cook, and she had immediately decided Delia was never getting a thoughtful gift again. Because being forced to go to a class two hours away through the Connecticut countryside was fucking miserable. Especially because nobody in The Middle of Nowhere knew her, so her stark black clothes and dark eyeshadow stood out among the yuppies and dinks that lived in this area. And the cooking supply store, where the classes were held, was so shiny and cheerful and Pottery Barn that she felt wildly out of place and incredibly uncomfortable stepping inside.

She wound the strap of her purse around her fingers as she put her oversized sunglasses up on the top of her head, and made her way to the back of the store. It was an eight week course, where she’d be coming every single Thursday afternoon, two until four. Maybe it wouldn’t be so awful. Maybe it would be nice to learn to cook, really learn, so her meals would be less bland. And maybe that would help, when she moved to the city after college to get a job in her field. She could remember Delia and Dad while sitting in a tiny New York apartment, utterly alone.

But when she finally got to the back of the shop, she saw that the cooking… counters…were set up in pairs. Each counter had two seats, along with a tiny fridge, a stove top, and a miniature oven. Not unlike The Great British Bake Off but with significantly less British countryside. A lot of the counters had couples at them, already, and with a little glance, she found one empty and took a seat. She sat, staring into the middle distance, eyes unseeing, waiting for class to start. Her purse was on the counter in front of her and she tried to keep thoughts of High School Chemistry class out of her mind as she waited. And then there was a man, at her elbow, and she looked up.

The man was shorter, with a mess of brown hair streaked with gray, all sticking out which way, as if he hadn’t cleaned it in a while, and he had pretty brown eyes that looked down at her, just above a horribly scruffy beard and the widest grin she’d ever seen. His clothes were rather sloppy, too, a flannel over a shirt that said Perception Check laid over a D20. His dark wash jeans were too tight, hugging his rather large thighs. He was heavy set, too, with a bit of a belly, and soft, hairy forearms. Lydia realized, belatedly, that he was talking.

”—because everyone else is with their partner.”

”What?” She said, blinking a bit. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

”Why, too busy checking me out?” He asked, and laughed as she recoiled, making a face as if she’d smelled something bad.

She had not been checking him out. And even if she had been, that he’d called her out was so annoying that she would never do it again. Not that she had been, obviously, but she definitely wasn’t going to now.

”No. What did you say?”

”I said,” He said, pleasantly, sitting beside her, amusement flicking across his broad face when she scooted away, “That I have to sit with you, since you’re the only other single person here.”

”What?”

”Where’d I lose you, Lydia?”

”How do you know my name?”

”You’re kidding.” He tapped the desk, and there was a nameplate she hadn’t put there with her name on it. “Are you okay, baby? Do you need a doctor? Guess I knocked you right out, huh?”

”God,” Lydia said, frowning, “Don’t call me ‘baby’. Who the hell are you, anyway?”

”Lawrence. See?” He set his own nameplate beside hers, so they touched. Lydia sneered and tugged hers away, earning her a little laugh.

She didn’t want any part of this man touching any part of her. Which, obviously, extended to his nameplate. She recoiled a little when he leaned over her to hook his backpack on the hooks under the table, and after he moved back she hung her purse, taking time to arrange it so they wouldn’t touch.

”You’re a bit touchy, huh.”

”Listen,” She said, simply, “I didn’t know this was a couples class.”

”Yeah, me either.”

”So I don’t— this was a gift,” She said, slowly, feeling how irrationally irritated she was by him, and trying to soothe herself into staying despite every inch of her begging to please, please just go. “I want to stay, because it would be rude to the gifter to peace out.”

”Aw, that’s so sweet.”

”But this,” She gestured between them, “Simply isn’t going to work.”

Lawrence clasped his hands together, “Don’t leave me, honey, I can change!”

Lydia gave him a long, hard look and rolled her eyes before grabbing her purse. He grabbed her wrist, and she snarled, yanking it free, whipping around to glare, cradling her hand to her chest.

“Woah, woah. I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin your time. Come on, stay. It’ll be fun.”

”Yeah? Why the fuck are you here anyway, you don’t look like the cooking type. What, fifty years old and Mommy finally stopped making your chickie tendies?” Lydia snapped.

”My Mom is dead,” He said flatly, “I’m here because my neighbors thought it was a good idea. I don’t want to ruin their gift, either. I won’t bother you, okay? Let’s just cook.”

Lydia felt bad. She was pissed that she felt bad. But the ‘his mom is dead’ reveal knocked the wind out of her sails and she sat back down, hard, and sighed deeply. After a moment she hung her purse back up.

”My Mom’s dead, too.”

”Yeah? I bet yours wasn’t a cunt bitch, though.”

Lydia gasped, and he laughed, short and mean.

”Sorry. You’re a bit young, huh?”

”I don’t think age makes a difference when it comes to language.”

”Yeah, yeah. How old are you, kid?”

”Not a ‘kid’,” Lydia snapped, “I’m twenty two. I’m almost done with college.”

”Oh, a big girl, huh?”

”You said you’d shut the fuck up.”

”I said I wouldn’t bother you.”

”You’re literally bothering me right now.”

”And I know that now,” He said, and turned, facing the front of the class, leaving her fuming and feeling stupid for feeling bad a minute prior.

But when class started, she kind of relaxed and forgot about him. At least for a little minute or two, every now and then. For some reason, she was really struggling to entirely tune him out. She could feel him sitting beside her, big and heavy, radiating heat. Every now and then she’d shift on her stool, and once her leg brushed his, making her wonder if he’d scooted closer again when she wasn’t paying attention.

They were making pasta from scratch, and she was writing down the recipe for the noodles when she had the distinct feeling of being watched. Her dark eyes didn’t leave the paper, but she could feel the heat of his gaze go slowly over her body as she realized he was still looking.

“God, what?”

”Nothing. Waiting for you so we can make some pasta, Lyds.”

”Lydia.”

”No, I’m Lawrence. Easy mistake.”

Lydia covered her eyes with her hand and fought a smile. That was so dorky, it was really very-- Oh, God. No. No way. She wasn’t thinking he was funny. He was, like, the fucking worst. And he was kind of gross, she could tell already by his unwashed hair and wrinkled clothes and the soft smell of two-day-old jeans that reached her too-sensitive nose. So there was no way she found him a little bit, no, a tiny, tiny bit funny. In like a Dad way.

”How old are you?” She asked, and he looked surprised.

”Uh, listen, I don’t— like old, okay? Yeesh.”

”No, really. How old?”

”What year is it?” He asked, and then counted on his fingers. “Thirty-seven.”

”Wow, you are old.”

”Only in years.”

”That’s what being old is, dummy.”

”Okay, okay,” He held his hands up, “I’m old, you got me. Can we make pasta now?”

”Why do you need to wait for me, anyway? Just make it.”

”You’re the one writing down the recipe.”

”Aren’t you taking notes?”

”Why would I?” He asked, staring at her, “You’re taking notes.”

”Yeah, but we aren’t together. Like, you’re going to go home alone? How are you going to do anything in your own house?”

”Uh, I’m not? I’m going to keep crashing the neighbors' dinners, duh. They’re too nice to say no, and Adam cooks too good to not eat over there, so. It’s fine.”

”Wait, wait, wait.” Lydia said, and glared at him, “So you’re telling me you want to be here to honor their gift, but you don’t actually plan on learning anything, you just plan on watching me learn things?”

Lawrence looked like he was thinking, and then snapped his fingers, “Bingo. Alright, baby, tell me what to do.”

”You’re fucking incredible. I can’t do this.”

”You’re really pretty when you’re mad.”

”You’re a big ass, and you’re twice my fucking age.”

”Uh, I know my math isn’t very good but—“

”Excuse me?” The teacher said, and tapped their counter, earning a look of delight from Lawrence and a seething glare from Lydia before she could fix her face. “It’s time to make the noodles, so you may begin now.”

”Yeah,” Lawrence said, too pleasantly, voice sickeningly sweet, “It’s time to make the noodles. Go ahead, Lydia.”

Lydia shot him an angry, hot glare, but he only smiled serenely back, leaning on his elbow on their counter, chin in his palm. Lydia inhaled, slow, counted to ten, and exhaled, slowly, slowly, counting up and up and up. She was going to strangle him. Or slam his face into the counter. Or pull his hair and tell him to shut the fuck up, because she had never been so thoroughly annoyed by anyone in her whole life so quickly. It was like he knew every button to hit until she was a raving lunatic. Annoying.

Then again, maybe she was feeling so annoyed because she wanted to—

Woah, no. No. Gross.

Still fuming, she yanked their mini fridge open and slammed the ingredients on their counter. Eggs, flour. Easy. Easy peasy. Even with stupid brown eyes watching her closely as she used a food scale to measure out the flour.

”What if we do 150 mg of flour and—“

”Shut up,” She told him firmly, “If you make the pasta, you can do it any way you want. Since I’m making the pasta, I’m doing it my way.”

”Sure.”

Lydia bit her tongue so she wouldn’t snap at him again, knowing he didn’t really earn all this ire just from being mildly annoying. Honestly, most of this was her feeling wildly out of place. Goth, young, single. Hard things to be in a class full of generic, old, couples. Not to mention the ‘single’ thing had been needling her lately, making her itch to join a dating app, again, only to give up after a week and uninstall it. Again.

And here was this guy, obnoxious and mildly annoying, and really too good looking considering how gross he was, rubbing elbows with her and making her remember how alone she was. Because there was no one to go home to and complain about it with. Just her bedroom at her Dad’s place in the middle of the countryside and her friends from high school who had already moved to the city and barely bothered to text her at all, let alone text her first.

Lydia sat the dough to the side and sighed.

“Do you smoke?”

”What?”

”Do you smoke?”

”No,” Lydia said, “What are you offering me to smoke?”

He rose his eyebrows, and she gave him a long look.

”You look like a stoner, sorry. No, I don’t smoke.”

”You probably should.”

”Funny, I usually get told the opposite.”

”Yeah, well, you’re wound really tight. So either take up smoking, or make your boyfriend give it to you more often.”

”No boyfriend,” She said absently, “Give me what? Wh—oh. God, you’re gross.”

He grinned at her, leaning in too close to be appropriate, “And here I thought you just didn’t bring the guy.”

”It hardly matters to you, Lawrence. I’d be dead before I entertained you in any way outside of this class. Now shut up, or I’ll poison your pasta.”

”As you wish.” He held his hands up and watched her, silently, even as the couples around them pleasantly chatted as they made the sauce.

There were two iterations: veggie and meat. Lydia tugged out the ingredients for the veggie one, prickly and ready to defend her dietary choices from Lawrence’s judgment. But he didn’t say anything. As requested, she thought, but also she wondered if he just…didn’t mind. Some people didn’t care if you were ‘plant based’. But some people really, really cared. Like her last ex, who had told her rather bluntly that he’d almost not dated her at all because of it. For all his faults, Lawrence hadn’t even batted an eye. Instead he’d simply watched her, curiously, as she cut up vegetables sloppily, trying her best, stressed out.

Not that she was comparing him to her ex. Of course. Because this wasn’t like that, and she wasn’t thinking of him like that, and even if she was, she didn’t think he was the serious dating type. Not that she cared. Because this wasn’t Like That. At all.

“Want help?”

”Are you going to help?”

”Yeah.”

Lydia cast him a look, but slid over the cutting board and then set the knife down so he could pick it up. Then she pulled out a second one and some tomatoes, starting to dice. They said nothing to each other while they diced and chopped, and she held her tongue when he handed her back the vegetables and they looked like a dog had torn them apart with its teeth. So he was bad at chopping, so what? She wasn’t great either, and it was pasta with a sauce. How much could it possibly matter what it looked like?

With the sauce cooking down, she smiled to herself. This wasn’t so bad, when her ‘partner’ was quiet.

”Happy?” He asked, and leaned into her space again.

”Can you cut it out? Why are you getting so close?” Lydia asked, gently pushing him back. He looked at her hand on his chest and she dropped it right away, tucking it into her lap, trying to hide her little blush. That had been awfully forward. She shouldn’t touch strangers. She ran her other hand over her palm, trying not to think about how warm and firm he’d been.

”My bad. I struggle knowing what’s ‘personal space’. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to be all over you.”

”Yeah, coulda fooled me.”

”Baby, you wish.”

Lydia scowled at him, earning a laugh. He didn’t seem offended. And he wouldn’t be, she guessed, they weren’t exactly each other’s ‘type’. Goth vs Gamer, she imagined. Though maybe tabletop gaming versus video gaming. How incredibly cringey. She bet he suggested all women should start with Azul.

“Smells great,” He told her, earnestly, and she flushed, looking at him, confused. “The food.”

Duh. He wasn’t talking about her, even if he was close enough to smell the perfume she’d sprayed in her hair that morning before leaving the house. She tossed her short curls and stuck her nose up, a little, trying to force her brain to think she was confident and comfortable.

”Thanks.”

”You’re a natural.”

Lydia looked at him, curiously, and her dark eyes met his and she bit her lip a bit. What was his game? Why was he acting like this? Why did she kind of like it? God, she had to get out of here. It had been way too long since she’d last gotten laid, and he was looking appealing despite his shitty personality.

”Thanks.”

To avoid any further conversation, she pulled her phone out and opened her ereading app. If he tried to talk to her, she pointedly ignored him. When the food was (finally) done, they each took a bite, and then she shoved hers into a container she fished out of her purse, wished him well, and bolted. The whole, stupid, two hour drive home she promised herself she never, ever had to go back. Lawrence would never see her again, if she had any say in it. She would be safe from his easy smile and his broad frame and his little sharp teeth that she thought could leave pretty marks on her pale skin.

She would never go back, he would never get his greasy little paws on her, and she would save herself from ever having to deal with his annoying ass ever again.

Easy.

Chapter Text

The week had absolutely barrelled by him. One moment it was Thursday, and then boom, Thursday again. Crazy how that worked. And for the entire week he’d thought about nothing other than his little partner. The hot, snappy, too-young-for-him, Lydia. They had sat together for all of two hours and she was now his sole thought almost every waking moment. There was something about her eyes, the hard glint they got when they cut through his many, many layers and straight into his heart. And her mouth! When she sneered at him he could basically already picture those lips right around his— well, not that he was thinking about it much. Not at the grocery store, at least. Maybe at home.

Maybe when he laid on his bed at night, staring at the ceiling of his ridiculously large house, hands on his belly. Maybe then he thought about how she really did need to get a whole lot and then maybe, maybe she’d calm the fuck down. And boy, could he give it to her. As often as she wanted. Especially if she wore some nice, black heels for him. Or kept her stockings on. Or whispered his name in his ear while moaning. Or snarled at him that he was disgusting while he ran his tongue along every inch of her chest and throat.

God, he would treat her so good, if only she’d let him. So when he finally, finally got to head back to the cooking class, he had a little swing in his step, and he was awfully eager to see the little spitfire again. Maybe he could convince her to come home with him tonight. He could even pay her. No, wait, no, that was illegal.

Okay, he could buy her dinner. A date.

That would certainly go well. She’d definitely love to go on a date with her old, creepy, gross cooking partner. Definitely. In fact, he was pretty sure she would swoon right into his arms and let him carry her out and down the road to the Olive Garden. It wasn’t as good as the one in Times Square, of course, but it was passable.

Well, okay, he didn’t really think she’d ever agree to go on a date with him. A catch like her? Go out with a schlub like him? A girl like her could have absolutely anyone she wanted, including the married men in their class. One little crook of her finger and he’d be on his knees and crawling right for her. But it wouldn’t happen, because she deserved someone better.

But when he stepped into the back of the store and saw her, beautiful, leaning over their counter scrolling on her phone, he felt all the air get sucked out of his lungs. Her soft black curls hung down as she leaned, her black dress lacy and light looking so she wouldn’t be too hot outside in the tempramental spring day. Her nails were long, almond, and dark, stark against her pale cheek as she propped her head up so she could see. Her bare legs were crossed, and they ended in closed-toe heels. God, no, really, she was wearing heels.

His perfect woman. And she hated him.

It seemed she felt his heated, desperate, self-loathing look, because suddenly those enchanting dark eyes flicked from her phone to his face. And he might have imagined it, but she shifted on her stool, so her super fine body looked even finer. Tilted, showing off that tiny waist and her subtle yet tasty-looking chest. God, what he would give to bury his face in the smooth skin there and lick her until she glistened.

She sat up, staring back, and he felt the distinct urge to get on his knees and crawl over to her, showing her he could be so, so good. Then she scoffed, tilted her head with attitude, and lifted a hand as if to say fucking what?

Lawrence jolted and lunged towards her before he slowed down again, resuming a normal walk. Trying to play it cool. Her pretty, severe face lightened considerably and she seemed to be fighting a little smile as her brown eyes glowed with begrudging amusement. Oh, he could work with that. If that’s what it was. It might not be, of course…

”Hey, Lyds.”

The light zapped out of her face and she scoffed, lifting her nose in the air, “It’s Lydia.”

”What’d I say?” He said, smiling as he joined her. He leaned over her to hang his bag, grinning when she stiffened up but didn’t move away. His stomach and chest brushed against her crossed legs, and he could smell her really good here.

In fact, he had smelled her rather easily from the jump, especially when she shook those pretty curls of hers. Whatever she doused herself in before she got here made him want to scoop her up and smell her all over. God, he’d love to rub his nose and mouth just…everywhere. With his bag hung up, he dragged himself back onto his own stool, giving her back her space. She was staring at him, eyes a little wide, looking desperately kissable. Her bottom lip was pressed a little forward, almost like a little pout. Almost like she was begging for it.

”What?” She snapped.

”Nothing, just looking.”

”At fucking what?”

”Your pretty little mouth,” Lawrence grinned when she flinched, looking incensed. It made her cheeks color and her eyes sparkle. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

”God. You’re impossible.”

”I assure you I am real.”

”That’s not what I meant, jackass.”

”Language. You kiss your uhhh, anyone, with that mouth?” He had realized about halfway through that they were both part of the ‘Dead Mom’ club, and hadn’t really known how to save the playful little jab he had been trying to make. Well, they couldn’t all be witty little winners. She’d either eat up his dorkiness or she’d roll his eyes and ignore him. Last week she seemed to kind of like when he was a touch dorky, so maybe this would do something for her.

Lydia rolled her eyes and turned to face the front of the room, but her body was stiff on her stool, as if she was very aware that his eyes roamed over her form and drank her in. She was stupid hot, sure. She’d be so small and dainty under his big meaty hands and his substantial weight. Easy to crush her, or break her wrist or something if he wasn’t careful. He’d be infinitely careful with her, incredibly tender. She wouldn’t know what hit her.

”Lydia—“ He started, and cleared his throat. She cast him a curious, hardened look, as if she was aware he was about to ask her on a stupid date at the very beginning of their second class together. It was a look that said, in very bold letters: Don’t.

Lucky for him, the teacher called for their attention, saving him from the humiliation asking her at the start of class would have brought him. When she said no, it should be at the end. So he could run home and lick his wounds before deciding whether or not he should bother to continue going to class. And deciding whether or not she’d keep going, too. Would it be worth it to keep coming if he couldn’t see those disapproving, judgmental eyes peering at him out of the hardest, meanest resting bitch face he’d ever seen?

No.

In fact, he was starting to think life wouldn’t be worth it if she said no and disappeared. Or disappeared without him even asking. It was all rather dramatic, for sure. But good God, he felt he’d found his purpose in life. To sit at her feet and hold her in his arms and make sure she wanted for nothing ever again.

They listened (okay, she listened) as the teacher described their dish today. Stuffed bell peppers. Lydia, pretty, smart, attentive, called the teacher over once he let them start, and they had a brief conversation.

“I don’t eat meat,” She said, and her cheeks tinged pink and her dark eyes flicked in his direction, briefly, as if he’d give a single shit about whether or not she ate meat. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about what she ate, as long as she didn’t mind eating his meat. “Is there an alternative..?”

”What about your partner?” The teacher asked, pleasantly, “Does he eat meat?”

”I assume he eats everything.”

Was she making fun of his weight?

”I mean,” She amended, seemingly realizing how that sounded, “I haven’t heard him say anything, and he doesn’t strike me as the type to not eat Cheetos or whatever while playing Gloomhaven with his tabletop buddies.”

Lawrence rose an eyebrow but shrugged when the teacher looked his way, “Sorry, vegetarian here, too. We’ll need another recipe, teach.”

The teacher looked between them for a moment and then walked Lydia through a recipe, describing in detail what to do, telling her to call him over when she finished the steps she knew how to do so he could help her with the cooking of the mushrooms. And when the teacher finally, finally left so he could properly check his hot little partner out again, she rounded on him, looking guilty, mouth in a firm line. He wanted to kiss her until she finally relaxed in his arms and went limp. He’d take care of her, make sure everything went well, so she could simply exist, with no worries, enjoying every moment of life. She was going to ruin him entirely, and he was going to welcome it.

”What?”

”You’re vegetarian?” She asked.

”What?” He furrowed his brow and then laughed, sharp. Her eyes narrowed, and he smiled brightly at her, “No, I’m not. But you are, right?”

”Right,” She sounded defensive, and her shoulders rode up towards her ears as she glared at him.

”He was going to fight you on it,” He said, shrugging, “But can’t fight you on it if we’re both vegetarian, unless he wants complaints in his reviews. So, for today, we’re both veggie-based. You’re welcome, princess.”

Lydia’s face morphed from tentative tenderness to rock-hard annoyance faster than he could realize where he’d tripped. But she told him a moment later, voice low and angry and nearly a growl.

”Don’t call me that.”

Oh, Jesus help him. She was so fucking hot when she was mad. He hoped she’d be furious in bed, too, digging her pretty nails into his back and snarling in his ear. Maybe biting him a bit.

“Okay, no problem. My bad.”

That sounded relatively normal, right? Not strained at all. Not like he was fighting for his life against a raging boner that could pop at any fucking minute. She’d be a tiger in bed, he could tell. And those legs, god, if she just—

“Oh, yeah, just like that,” He mumbled, when she adjusted her legs, tucking one up on the higher rung so her dress pooled up around her hip. Her legs were smooth and pretty. He wanted to run his face against them as he slid his mouth up between them. He bet her thighs were velvet and firm and he would love to feel them squishing against his cheeks while she snarled names at him.

”What?”

”What?” Lawrence pried his eyes away, but couldn’t help but notice she didn’t cover up. In fact, she only gave him a little look before going back to chopping and dumping stuff into the little pot that had been heating up on their stove top. “Let me help, baby. Hand me something.”

”Yeah, you better take the knife before I give in to the urge to stab you with it.”

”Ooh, knife play on the second date? You spoil me.”

Lydia bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her smile and short laugh, and slid over the cutting board. This week his cutting was a little bit better. Mainly because he was paying some level of attention to it, when he’d been only watching her the previous class. For whatever reason, she seemed resigned to being stuck with him. And he felt really confident she’d keep coming back. So he had six more weeks to get her to warm up to him. Six more weeks to get her to relax enough to find him funny (openly) instead of pretending to hate everything he said.

”All chopped up, Lydia, here you go.”

”Could you try to make it even?” Lydia sighed.

“That depends,” He said, playfully, leaning into her space. His stomach flipped when he realized she didn’t move back this time, and instead met his gaze with an even one of her own. “What’s in it for me if I do?”

”Wouldn’t you like to know?” She said, sweetly, leaning in a little bit, so their faces were awfully close. If he leaned forward, they would be kissing. He didn’t do that, because he was a tiny bit delusional, sure, but he wasn’t outright stupid. Most of the time.

“So it’s a surprise?” He asked, dumbly.

”Sure,” She said, lips tugging into a little smile as her eyes dropped to his mouth. “Give it a shot for me, okay?”

”Yes, yes, absolutely. Give me, uh, those mushrooms.”

”Don’t ruin them,” Lydia said, sweetly, and set a few mushrooms on his cutting board.

It was hard to chop mushrooms with his attention fully on her, even when he wasn’t looking at her. He could feel her in the space beside him, a warm, soft light, radiating out towards him, begging him to scoop her up and swallow her up. He shifted on his own stool, his leg brushing against hers subtly. She didn’t move away.

Okay, okay. He just had to keep his cool.

“Do you date guys?”

”What?’ Lydia asked, wrinkling her nose.

”Uh, I mean, like, you know, a lot of Goth girls are—“ Lawrence knew he was fucking this up, mainly from the look of utter disdain on her face, but he kept fucking going because he was really, really, really fucking stupid. “—into girls, on some level.”

“Why do you ask?”

”Uh…”

Lydia laughed, sharp, mean, and slammed her knee hard into his thigh, shoving his leg away from hers. “You’re funny, Lawrence. Keep your legs—and hands, don’t get any ideas— to yourself and chop those mushrooms.”

“Oh, you thought, yeah, no, not me, I’m not— I’m not, you know, it’s not, like, for me. I’m not interested.”

”No?”

”No,” He lied.

”Aw, too bad,” She said, mockingly sweet, “I needed a dorky guy to make me roll for initiative before he let me make out with him.”

”Well—“

Lawrence stopped dead, and turned to look at her. She felt the change in the air and turned to look at him, her eyes troubled. They’d been playing, and now he stopped, it was probably kind of odd for her. But something had only just occurred to him, and it made his heart rate pick up, and a big, stupid smile spread across his face. He couldn’t understand how he missed it before, he couldn’t believe it. Miss Cool Goth Princess over here. Yeah fucking right.

”What?” She asked, baffled.

”How do you know what rolling for initiative is? And Gloomhaven? And I saw you roll your eyes at my shirt last week,” He said, giddy, and to his utter delight her mouth clicked shut and her cheeks went pink. “Oh, my god. You’re a fucking dork, too. Oh! Oh! You almost had me! Ha! You’re a big fucking loser—“

“Oh, my God, shut up!” Lydia said, and tried to cover his mouth with her hand.

It smelled like vegetables and whatever soap she used. He fought the urge to kiss her palm and tug her close and run his tongue between her fingers while she, no doubt, squirmed. God, he could picture it so fucking clearly.

“Okay, fine, yes. My ex was into all this geeky shit, too, and we had a nasty break-up and— what?” She demanded, exasperated.

He tugged her hand away, holding it in his own, beaming, “You’re lying.”

”No.”

”Yeah. You are. You do this thing where you furrow your brow when you lie.”

”How the hell would you know?”

”’Cause it makes you look really cute.”

”God. Give me that.” Lydia yanked her hand out of his, “I’m not a fucking dork like you. Don’t get any ideas.”

”You know, we need a healer.”

”No.”

”No, I know, you didn’t know. But you know now,” He said, smiling when she glared at him, “So what if you consider it and let me know next week? The guys would fucking love you.”

”Yeah, I bet.”

”Don’t worry, you’d be there with me.”

Lydia scowled, “Yeah, that was the problem.”

”Just give it some thought, dork. Oh, relax,” Lawrence said when she opened her mouth to snarl at him, “You look stupid hot when you’re this mad at me, you know.”

”You’ve said.”

”And yet you’re still letting yourself get all riled up. Maybe you like the attention, hm?”

”God, I think I’m going to have to drop this class.”

”Uh huh,” He smiled, and as she shoved her half of their food into a container from her bag and gathered her things, hurriedly, he added, “See you next week, Lyds!”

He grinned when she snapped at him as she stormed out, muttering to herself.

“It’s Lydia you god damned bastard freak--”

This was love. No denying it. Even if it took him the rest of his life, he was going to get that girl to marry him.

He couldn't wait for next week.

Chapter Text

Lydia’s bedroom in Peaceful Pines was nice and cool, thanks to Delia’s insistence on central air conditioning. Every now and then a loud rushing sound would echo in the house and the temperature would steady. Which was nice, really, since it was a too-warm Spring morning already, the sun beating down. Soon she’d have to get ready to leave for her two hour drive to see Lawrence.

No, not Lawrence. To go to her class. Obviously. Lydia was currently seated at her dark vanity, staring into the mirror, brushing her short curls into submission, humming under her breath. A record played on her dresser, an oldie lightly filling the room and making her feel like her Mom was here with her, helping her get ready, encouraging her to ask Lawrence for his number.

”Ugh, no way,” Lydia snapped, “Back off, Mom. He’s the worst. He gets under my skin on purpose and he won’t stop looking at my body like he wants to, you know…” She shrugged, uncomfortable, her cheeks turning a rather pretty shade of pink.

She ran her hand over her cheek, staring at herself in the mirror. He really did stare her down like he wanted to shove her right over that counter and fuck her raw. Which, like, gross, but also…

No, no also. There was no fucking way. None. He wasn’t allowed to touch her. Lydia jerked her hand away from her hair, realizing she’d been winding a curl around a finger and staring dreamily into the middle distance. He was a big nerd. He smelled like he barely took care of his body. He needled her on purpose, just to get a rise out of her. He called her a loser. He looked at her body like he wanted to take a bite out of her.

And she definitely didn’t like it.

At all. Obviously.

Lydia stood up, setting her silver brush down and moving for her closet, mind carefully empty. She kept it trained on nothing, expertly tossing out thoughts and redirecting back to an empty void. Even as she tugged a short skirt out of her closet and a tight, silky little top. She’d pair it with a nice, light-weight black overshirt and maybe some tights. Oh, no, fishnets. He’d love fishnets. Not that she was dressing for anyone but herself.

“Heels,” she mumbled, tossing her chosen clothes onto her bed. She looked through all her shoes and picked out a pair of heels with an ankle strap, setting them by the door. Then she sat back at her vanity and picked up her make-up, humming along again as she started in with the eyeliner.

By the time she got to the shop, she was feeling kind of silly. She felt too exposed like this, and she wondered if he would care. Certainly she hadn’t imagined that he was staring at her legs last class, right? He’d practically slobbered all over them. And he’d made a sort of whimpering gasp when he saw her heels. Which she’d only worn because her boots were missing. But hey, she hadn’t minded his reaction, exactly.

When she strode into the classroom part of the cooking store, she was surprised to see Lawrence already seated at their counter. He was watching the entrance, waiting for her. She knew that’s what it was because as soon as he saw her his whole face lit up. He sat up, too, and it wasn’t unlike a big dog meeting you at the door, wiggling and tail wagging as they sat back and licked the air. Cute.

In a gross kind of way.

Lydia shouldered her purse and headed over, schooling her expression into a rather neutral one. Lawrence watched her for a moment, and then his eyes dropped down, and his eyebrows went up, and up as his eyes went down further, landing on her shoes. He shivered a bit on his stool and licked his lips. Actually licked his lips, the fucking degenerate. And she hadn’t even done much except head his way, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. He sat up straight, back rigid, and he didn’t look away from her legs as she made her way over. She stepped around him, amused as he whipped around to continue to stare.

Not that she was going to let him know that was amusing to her, of course, so she made a show of hanging up her bag and tucking her short skirt under her ass as she sat on her stool, redirecting his gaze to her upper legs, and delighting at how painfully obvious he was.

”Hey, Lydia.”

”Good afternoon, Lawrence.”

”Good afternoon? Yeesh, what are you, a fifty year old British lady?” Lawrence teased, and she felt her cheeks tinge pink.

”Okay, I just won’t say hello at all from now on.”

”Now come on,” Lawrence said, leaning heavily on their counter, eyes roaming over her body before settling on her face, “Don’t be like that. You look real nice today, you know. Did you pick all that out for me?”

”What? As if,” Lydia said, and willed her cheeks to calm down instead of turning the telling shade of red they were doing now. “These are my clothes.”

Lawrence looked her over again, and she fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. Boy, if he asked her to go home with him tonight, she hoped he asked really really poorly so her distaste for his personality would win out over the rush she felt in her lower belly, the one that told her she should have worn shorts under this skirt to help soak up some of the wetness this creep was causing.

”Yeah, alright, checks out. You wear this shit to boardgame meet ups?”

”Sure?”

He grinned, slowly, leaning in towards her, and she stared back, frowning.

”I bet you drive the guys fucking nuts, huh? Not a lot of girls go at all, let alone pretty ones like you.”

”All girls are pretty,” Lydia said, frowning, “They’re just different types. And anyway, I don’t know, I haven’t paid attention to that.”

”Where do you go?”

”Why, you want to stalk me?”

”It’s not stalking if we’re both into board games and there’s only one store in town.”

”I’m not into board games.”

”Yeah, fair enough. You’d probably play something like Wingspan anyway.”

”Oh, my Dad loves Wingspan,” Lydia said, excitedly, “He makes me play it every week. You don’t look like the type—“

Damn. So he was smarter than he looked, too, which was kind of (really) hot. He constantly tricked her into opening up more than she wanted. Maybe he actually wanted to get to know her, and not just fuck her. Maybe. It seemed kind of doubtful with how often his eyes roamed over her body. And she wasn’t against just fucking, either, that would be fine. But the idea that this might be more (on his end only) was really appealing.

“You need a third?” He asked, pleasantly.

So definitely not just fucking, or he wouldn’t want to meet her Dad, presumably.

”We’ve got three players already.”

”It can take up to five, so you’ve got room. I’ll behave in front of your Dad, don’t worry.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, “I don’t even know you. Why do you think I’d introduce you to my parents? That’s at least a week five sort of thing. Not week three. You’re jumping the gun.”

”So there’s a chance,” Lawrence said, beaming, “I’ll wait for you, baby, don’t worry. We’ll go at your pace. You’ll find I’m very patient when I know something good is coming my way soon.”

”You’re so stupid. I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Lydia snapped, and didn’t miss how he took a shaky breath and dug his short, flat nails into his palm, hard. Oh, boy. He liked her mean. Yeah, that made sense. No wonder he kept bothering her. Well, if he liked her mean, she could be mean. “You’re like twice my age, Lawrence. No ‘good’ is ever coming your way.”

”And yet you wore that little number here, just for me.”

”We established these are just my clothes.”

”No, you said that, but I don’t buy it. You were dressed way less sexy on the first week, and every week since you’ve been—“

”Watch your fucking language.”

”—well, uh, I guess it is spring. So like, it’s getting pretty warm, huh?”

”Good save. Yes, it’s warm. I promise I don’t think of you much at all when I’m getting ready for class.”

”But you think of me a little.”

”What?”

”Not much isn’t not at all, Lyds.”

Lydia froze and thought back over what she’d said. Had she said ‘not much’ or had she said ‘not at all’? Something told her he was lying, because if she’d admitted she did think of him, well, that was just too embarrassing. She would need to drop the class and never, ever come back.

“Anyway,” He said, and she hated that she felt grateful that he was letting her ‘get away’ with that. “I bet you’ll look even hotter in Summer. You should give me your number so we can go to the shore or something.”

“No,” Lydia said, simply.

“Your loss. Now you’ll never know if I’m a speedo guy.”

The thought was so absurd that she laughed, out loud, startling both of them. The smile on his face was large and genuine and she realized that he wasn't trying, necessarily, to annoy her. Although obviously part of it was that, too. But what it seemed he was really looking for was a reaction.

“Okay, well,” She said, after her laughter subsided, “Ask me again next week and I'll think about it.”

“Done!” He said, looking thrilled. Her stomach gave a little flip and she knew she had already decided to give it to him.

Like, the moment she got home from their previous class. Not even this moment. In fact, she was pretty sure she had decided to give him her number and let him run those big hands all over her body the moment they met. For whatever reason, God help her, she wanted him something fierce. Not that she was going to let him get her easy, because she wanted him to earn it. And once they went to bed, they would never have to speak again. He looked like he’d be awful anyway.

It was definitely more the fantasy of the situation rather than anything about him, specifically, that she was interested in. Obviously.

“You ready to cook?”

“What?”

“You’ve been kind of staring off. If you’re not feeling it, hey, I get it. We can go get dinner instead of cooking it. My treat.”

“Hm,” Lydia considered, tilting her head. She was giving him too much hope, really. It was kind of cruel. There was absolutely no way that she would go out on a date with him. “Let’s go after.”

Lawrence stared, as if he wasn’t sure she actually said yes. He mouthed her words, trying to work through them, and she smiled, close-mouthed, in amusement. Wasn’t he so funny. One moment he was all confident and cool and the next he wasn’t sure his (poorly thought out) plan had worked. Even when it had, for some reason.

“Think about what restaurant you’re going to take me to,” She added playfully. And, she had no idea what the fuck came over her, but she reached out and bopped one slender finger right on his nose, earning her a look of surprise.

“Uh,” He said.

”I haven’t heard of that one. Now shh, class is starting.”

God bless him, Lawrence didn’t bother her again all class. In fact, he was almost docile. He did what she asked him to do, and quietly, too. In fact, even when she tried to play and tease, he ignored her attempts and instead just watched her. In the end they made a rather nice three-bean chili that they tasted and then put away. And with class over, Lydia turned to look at him, only to find that he was just…staring at her. Warm brown eyes met her own and his mouth was a firm little line, as if he was certain she was going to flounce out of there and leave him behind.

”So?”

”So what?” He asked, dumbly.

Lydia gave him a curious look, “What, you don’t want to go out for dinner? Too bad. Maybe next time. Have a nice night, Lawrence.”

She stood up and brushed her skirt down. Then she picked up her purse and cupped his chin, rubbing her thumb over the scruff under his slack mouth, his eyes blown wide from the contact.

”See you next week.”

He let out a noise like a strangled yelp, and she knew she had him even as she strode away. Which she did, because a moment later she heard heavy footsteps, quickly catching up to her. When he finally got to her, right as she pushed the doors open into the parking lot, he was out of breath and still wide eyed.

“Wait, wait. Sorry, yeah no, I know place! To take you! A place,” He said, clearing his throat and trying to collect himself, “You're gonna love it, promise. Greatest cheese fries in the state.”

Lydia hadn’t expected anything even mildly fancy, so cheese fries were about right. Maybe watching him shovel shitty food into his maw would finally turn off the raging inferno in her lower belly. Maybe reminding herself how gross he was would help her stop thinking about him and his teasing mouth and giant hands while she laid in bed at night. Which was a totally normal thing to think about! Especially at the rate she thought about it.

For a moment she thought he was going to put his hand on her lower back. His palm hovered for a moment before he put it back down, letting her walk entirely on her own. She didn't mind. It made sense he wouldn't touch her. She might lash out at him or leave. So it made sense! And it definitely didn't make her body ache for his touch, not at all. Because that would mean this meant something on some level to her and it really didn't, obviously. He led her, by way of simply walking beside her, to a rather old car. It was gold, and was the clearest case of an Old Lady car that she’d ever seen.

Lydia opened her mouth to tease him, and then she remembered his dead Mom, and closed it. But she hadn’t been subtle, it seemed, and he snorted.

“Yeah, the crazy bitch forgot to set up a will. So I got her shit. It runs good, so I’m gonna run it into the ground before I get what I really want.”

“What, a…Jeep?”

“God, no. I don’t go outside much,” He said, and ignored her little snort as she covered her mouth to keep back a teasing laugh. “No, I want a classic car: a 2010 PT Cruiser.”

Lydia wasn’t sure if he was joking. Something told her he probably wasn’t. He opened the passenger door for her and she blushed like an idiot and rolled her eyes angrily at herself as she sat in the front seat. It was cleaner than she’d expected, but dirtier than she hoped. At least there wasn’t a pile of trash at her feet, though there was a pair of sneakers, which she subtly nudged away. Lawrence got into the driver seat beside her and beamed at her, as if he was surprised she was still there. That made two of them, really.

”Ready for some cheese fries, baby?”

”Sure,” Lydia said, wondering why she was going at all. This was dumb. He was dumb.

He slammed the car into drive, as if he could sense her desire to flee, and they jolted forward, too fast. Lydia gasped as the car lunged, and the tires caught the pavement with a shrill scream as he peeled out of the parking lot, cutting off two other drivers with a cackle. Lydia’s nails dug into the beige leather of her seat and she clenched her knees together to have some sense of control and stability as the car wobbled under her, threatening to take control from Lawrence’s hands.

Then he managed to wrest control back, and they went a not-comfortable-but-definitely-bearable 65 on a 45 stretch of road. Lydia exhaled slowly, and turned to stare at him.

”Are you trying to kill us?”

”What, before I get to take you home? No way, babe.”

”Oh, please. You’re never going to take me home.”

”I’m sure you said the same about dinner, too.” Lawrence grinned, “And now look at you.”

”Fries isn’t dinner.”

”So you want a full meal?” He asked, “I can buy you breakfast, then.”

”What?” Lydia narrowed her eyes and then scoffed, rolling them and giving him a look. “Lawrence.”

”Worth a shot. Hold on, babe.”

The car jerked hard to the side, slamming her against the window as he turned down a side street. The car in the other lane blared their horn at them, and Lydia screamed, certain she was going to die. There was the screeching, screaming sound of the tires barely clinging to the ground, and then everything stopped, suddenly, so Lydia’s seat belt tightened on her and gagged her. She sat, stunned, as her senses finally picked up on the fact that he’d parked the car.

Lawrence clapped his hands and said, “Let me get your door.”

She made a strangled sound, but then her door opened and he reached in for her. One of her shaking hands undid the seat belt just as his hand took hers, tugging her to her feet. But her legs gave out, and she stumbled a bit, so he wrapped one of his thick arms around her waist, hand on her low hip, steadying her. Her arms had instinctively reached out and wrapped around his neck, and they were staring at each other, very close. Ugh, this was stupid. Like something out of a romance movie. His thumb grazed over her hip, dragging up her skirt a little as he rubbed her, and she felt a jolt right between her legs, making her shove him rather forcefully away.

“Thanks, I got it.”

Lawrence looked amused and held his hands up, which only annoyed her further, “My bad. Ready?”

”Please tell me,” She peered at the sign and squinted, “Ginger’s Diner and Bar? And bar? Thank God.”

”Oh, you’re gonna let me buy you a drink?”

”I wasn’t going to, but now, yeah. Let’s go get a fucking drink and some cheese fries so I can wonder where I went wrong in this life.”

”You got it, what do you drink?”

”Do you think Mama raised an idiot? I’ll order from the waitress or the bartender myself. You won’t be touching my drink, creep.”

”Woah, girl. I was making conversation, yeesh. I was gonna let you order it yourself. Contrary to what you may think, I like my women enjoying themselves in my bed. If you’re not pissing off the neighbors, you’re not coming properly. Drugged up girls aren’t my type.”

”Okay, okay,” Lydia said, and reached to cover his mouth, and he grinned again, catching her wrist and pressing her hand to his mouth in a kiss.

”Oh, are you embarrassed?”

”Yes,” Lydia said, and pinched his cheek, earning her a sharp laugh. She hated that her heart leapt from the sound and her lips curled into a smile despite herself. God, he was so…so… “You’re impossible.”

”I know, but you like it.”

”Ugh, shut up,” Lydia said, shoving him again, but he tugged her with him, causing them both to stumble. She laughed, and he caught them both, righting them. “Ugh, you’re the worst.”

”I know, and I only get worse.” He said, and for a second she thought he might kiss her.

And for a second she thought she might let him.

But he realized last minute what he was doing, and pulled back, though she could tell it took some effort. God, he was trying so, so hard. She kind of wondered if that was because he wanted more, too. No, wait, not too. She didn’t want to keep him. One night stand, maybe, at the very end of class so she could simply disappear and never see him again. This wasn’t going to be a thing. Though, boy, would Daddy be pissed if she brought him home…

Not that she’d use him to get to her Dad, of course. That would be cruel. And anyway, dating someone just to get back at Dad was silly. Not that she was planning on dating him. Lydia sighed, out loud, and his eyes darted to her, concern spreading over his sweet face, and her chest panged with guilt. He deserved something more than she could give him, probably. Most people deserved to be loved, right? So he probably deserved it too. Just because being alive meant you deserved specific things. Like being loved and being a part of a group.

“Fries and a vodka tonic?”

”God, a vodka tonic? You’re hardcore, baby. You got it, let’s fucking go.”

The diner was clean and well cared for. The waitress that greeted them was a rather chipper, older lady who sat them at a booth that looked over the smoky doorway that led into the ‘And Bar’ part of the Diner and Bar. Lydia wasn’t sure if she should be surprised or not, because it seemed odd to have a bar attached to a diner, but she figured the sign did say it had both.

When the waitress left them, Lydia found herself seated across from Lawrence and she missed his warmth, as the diner was a little chilly, and she wasn’t wearing a whole lot. So she simply stood up, and slid into his side of the booth. Their thighs bumped as he faltered, surprised, not expecting her to join him.

“What—“

”I can’t hear you from over there,” Lydia said, and when he scooted away, she scooted closer, pressing her thigh tight against his, nearly sighing from how warm he was. Like a delicious space heater. But, poor Lawrence, he really didn’t seem to be used to being touched, and he shied away, until he was pressed up against the wall and had nowhere to run.

Now that he was realizing he might actually ‘have’ her, he wasn’t sure what to do with her. Not that he had her. And not that he was allowed to touch, really. But some part of her knew he could probably shove her on this table right here and she’d let him. Something about him, whether she understood it or not, made her needy in a deeply primal way. It wasn’t something she had control over, and it wasn’t something she understood, but she knew she had to get this out of her system at some point so she could resume life normally. Without him. Forever.

Boy, did that sound…

”Where are you going, Lawrence?”

”Uh, giving you your space, that’s all? I kind of assumed you’d want some.”

”If I wanted space, I would be on that side.” She tapped the empty space where he’d been sitting only a moment ago, “Here, boy.”

Lawrence shuddered, and his eyes closed for a moment while he took a deep, slow breath. Oh, he liked her a little demanding, maybe. Or maybe he liked being told what to do. Or maybe he just liked that she wanted him. Whatever it was, it was going right to his dick, and she could see the effort he was putting in to keep this a ‘date’ (not that it was) instead of a hook up (not that it would ever be). But he did move back, swallowing hard as her fishnets brushed against his dirty jeans.

God, she could smell him from here. Had he smelled all day? Wait, wait, why did she find it comforting? Why was she kind of into it? Was this why she was so fucking wet and they hadn’t even done anything?

“So, I’m assuming you’ve been here a lot.”

”Best place right outside Winter River, yeah.”

”Wait, we’re outside Winter River?”

”Yeah. Why?”

”What, why? God, how long we were driving?”

”Dunno, a while. Why?”

”Like an hour??”

”Nah, what? It doesn’t take an hour to drive to Winter River from class.”

”Uh, yeah, it does.”

”No, honey, it only takes that long if you do the speed limit. Which, I’m sure you’re aware, we were going much faster.”

”I’m from Peaceful Pines.”

”Ooh, neighbors!” Lawrence said, head empty.

They could carpool. She could have this smelly, lumbering, silly man in her car every single week for an extra two hours, and she would— what? Get to know him? Get a fucking grip, she couldn’t possibly—

“And a big order of your cheesy fries for us to split, and do you think you could bring the lady a vodka tonic from the bar? She’s had a bit of a shock. Also I know you guys have one of those protein bowls for vegetarians, yeah? Yeah, one of those. Thanks, doll, you’re the best.”

Lawrence winked at their waitress and peered after her as she walked away. Lydia wrinkled her nose.

”You’re not supposed to call other women ‘doll’ and check out their asses on a date, Lawrence.”

”This— wait, this is a date? Like a real date?”

”As opposed to what, a fake date?” Lydia asked, being obtuse on purpose.

Lawrence’s jaw worked and he said, too loudly, drawing attention before he dropped his voice again, “Woah, fucking— you’re serious? You’re on a date with me? I mean, of course you are! I’m the fucking best. You’re not going to regret this, baby.”

”Hmm,” Lydia hummed, “That remains to be seen, I guess.”

The food looked good, but the vodka tonic looked better. She took a couple of big gulps of it, which made her hands steady out and her nerves were replaced with the warm, relaxed feeling of alcohol. Lydia relaxed beside him, her body pressing lightly along his, and he let her, but he didn’t wrap his arm around her, and he didn’t rest a hand on her thigh, no matter how much she nudged against him trying to get him to do something.

The bar attached to the restaurant had old arcade games tucked into the corner by the restrooms, and a couple of billiards tables. It was clearly old, and dingy, and stained with smoke of a million cigarettes over the years. The two vodka tonics she’d had with her dinner of fries and a ‘veggie power bowl’ had made her loose and easy, and they were standing in front of a Pac Man game, now, a new drink in her hand, her warm and floating and really, really enjoying herself.

Fuck.

”No, you’re going to love this,” Lawrence was saying, three beers in, face a splotchy red from the alcohol. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her once. He hadn’t rubbed a hand over her back. He hadn’t even drooled over her, now that he was used to her.

Maybe they weren’t going to make it back to his place, after all.

“I don’t know how impressive this can possibly be, Lawrence.”

”What, you’ve never seen a fucking perfect Pac Man run? I’ll have you know this will take hours out of your life and the only thing that will happen is my name will join the leaderboard…with the rest of my names. Okay, so I come here a lot. Whatever.”

”Alone?”

Lawrence looked confused, and then mildly amused, “No other girl, if that’s what you’er asking.”

She blushed, “No, why do I care what you’re doing what with who.”

”What?” He asked, and then laughed, “Oh, is my little princess jealous?”

”There’s no one to be jealous of.”

”No, there isn’t. Just you, baby, you’re kind of it, for me. Uh, not, like, not—you know, no pressure.”

Lydia didn’t know what that meant, but it felt super meaningful, and it made her heart swell and it made her irrationally feel the urge to run away. But then, even now, she knew if she ran away she’d want him to chase. Getting away wasn’t really her goal, she just wanted to say this thing between them wasn’t her fault. Not that there was anything there. Not that she was pretty sure he was ‘it’ for her, too. There was no way. No fucking way out of all the men on this planet she was going to fall, disgustingly fucking hard, for this mess of a creature of a man.

”Oh,” She said, “But you haven’t even kissed me.”

”That’s an option?” He asked, eyes wide.

Before she could answer he’d grabbed her, too hard, and jerked her body against his, catching the back of her head and kissing her. He was warm, he smelled stronger when his mouth was pressed to hers, and he was a little too eager to be as gentle as she thought she might like. But he was Lawrence, and his big hands were finally on her, and she wanted it so, so bad, it felt like a faucet was turned on between her legs.

“How far do you live from here?”

”What? Oh my fucking god, are you serious?”

”Stop asking me or I might change my mind. How far? Can you drive?”

”No, I can’t drive, sorry, I’m— I can call my neighbors. Hold on. God, don’t fucking leave, here, finish your drink. Don’t leave. Don’t think. Just stand here and keep this energy.”

”You know, if you have to tell a lady not to think, you probably shouldn’t take her home with you.”

”Lydia, honey, let’s argue morals later. For now, just know, I’m an insanely generous lover. Wait here, don’t leave. God, please, don’t fucking leave.”

”Go, you animal.”

Lawrence whined, as if he was sure she’d be gone when he got back, and kept glancing at her nervously as he ran for the bar phone. Lydia finished her drink and leaned on a talk table, trying not to think about what an awfully bad idea this was.

Luckily for them both, Lawrence came tearing out of the hall where the phone was, less than a few minutes after he left. He paused when he saw her, and his gaze started at her feet and dragged slowly up her legs, then her torso, his eyes wide and his breathing kind of hard. She tossed her hair and crooked a finger, and he was running for her. Scooping her up in his thick arms, holding her tight against him as their mouths clashed together.

“Is he coming?” She asked, when he broke the kiss to drag his hands over her sides, whimpering.

“God, yeah, fuck. You’re so hot.”

“Thank you,” She said, and made a sound when he shoved his face into her neck, licking a wet trail up the side of it, before sucking gently where her jaw met her throat. “Don’t you fucking mark me up.”

“Ugh, yeah, now pull my hair a little bit,” He mumbled, mouth still on her skin.

“Not in public. Have some decency.” Lydia glanced around and then said, “Let’s wait outside, huh? You can kiss me again out there.”

“Pretty sure you’d let me here, too,” He said, teeth grazing the side of her throat. Why that worked, she didn’t know, but her knees wobbled and he steadied her, as if she weighed nothing.

Hot.

“Outside. Now.”

“As you wish,” He purred, and dragged her outside.

The cool air washed both of their heated bodies in a brisk, wet, cold darkness. Lydia was tugged down some stairs and around the corner into the darkness that the lights couldn’t reach. She gasped when he shoved her bodily against the rough bricks, and moaned like a loser when he shoved a leg between hers, grinding one of his thick thighs right up against her desperately wet panties. His mouth crashed against hers too, lips shoving open, his tongue delving into her mouth without waiting for input. He was clearly very inexperienced, but she wasn’t super aware of how to help him, since she was also pretty inexperienced. This was definitely not right, but she gripped his shoulders with both hands as he rubbed his thigh against her, grinding between her legs and making her moan into his mouth. Thankfully his mouth was large and sufficiently covering hers, because otherwise this would be even more obscene than it was now. And it was pretty obscene, as she was really rather quickly approaching orgasm, even grinding back against him, rolling her hips against his leg.

They were a mess of grinding, moaning, and slobbery kisses, his hands desperately roaming all over her body while she stroked his cheeks and ran her fingers through his graying hair. God, this was filthy. And so stupidly hot.

There was a little honk, and Lydia startled, jerking away. Well, trying to, Lawrence had her pinned against the wall by his leg, her tiptoes barely touching the ground, her pussy throbbing desperately against the pressure between her legs. She had been so close to coming on his leg, outside the little diner, in public. She still was close. If he—

“God,” She gasped, desperately, as he lifted his thigh, rubbing her clit through her soaked, useless panties. “Lawrence.”

”It’s okay, baby, it’s just Adam.”

”Adam?” Lydia jolted, suddenly, “Wait, Adam Maitland?”

”What? Yeah? Why— oh.”

”Yeah, oh,” She hissed, and shoved him off her, straightening her tiny little skirt, cringing at the streak of wetness she left on Lawrence’s dirty pants. “I only go to his stupid shop every week!”

”I forgot you live in Peaceful Pines, baby, you don’t need to worry. He judges, but he’s not one to hold a grudge.”

Lydia groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. But Adam was leaning out his very sensible station wagon’s window, waving. Though when he saw her, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, making her turn so red she could feel the heat of it. So could Lawrence, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

”Hey, Adam!” He said, walking her towards the car even as her heels dug into the ground, trying to stop this from happening even as she whimpered a little and stumbled forward. They smelled like sex, or rather, they smelled like her. God.

”Hi, Mr. Maitland.”

”L-Lydia?” He gaped, “Sweetheart, what…? Lawrence, I’m shocked that you actually had a girl with you. And Lydia, of all girls.”

”I get plenty of ladies, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do you?” Lydia asked, “And here I thought I was special.”

”You’re so special,” He backtracked immediately, “Nobody will ever compare to you, Lyds. Don’t be like this. You’re so pretty.”

”He only had three beers,” Lydia told Adam, as she gently eased Lawrence into the back seat. She slid in beside him, surprised to find a hand on her knee immediately, dragging thick, rough fingers over her fishnets. Her breath caught in her throat and she laid her hand over his to stop his hand from sliding right up under her skirt. But nothing could deter him, it seemed, and she made a soft noise when his fingers brushed the soaked crotch of her black, lacy panties.

”For me?” He gasped, and before she could answer he was hauling her into his lap, forcing her to straddle him, both hands rubbing her thighs as he attempted to kiss her. It was desperate and kind of questionable in the whole ‘consenting’ thing, and it was really, really hot.

Jesus Christ, she was going to soak them both at this rate.

”Hands to yourselves,” Adam said, alarmed. “She’s a kid, Lawrence!”

“I can drink,” Lydia said, breaking their kiss even as one of his thumbs tried to rub against her clit. He missed, but the effort was there. She couldn’t really blame him, the car was bumping them around and it was pitch black and he’d had, apparently, enough to drink to make him sloppy.

”Yeah, Adam, she can drink. So she’s at least twenty-one. Right?” He looked up at her with dark eyes, not only from their natural coloring, but also because he was ridiculously turned on.

”Right,” Lydia said, amused.

“So how did you two meet?” Adam asked, seemingly realizing if he kept them talking their mouths couldn’t be doing anything else. Well, Lydia’s couldn’t, as Lawrence kissed her throat as she answered.

”We got paired up at a cooking class we’re taking.”

”Cooking class? That sounds fun! You should have told us, Lawrence. We would have loved to join you.”

”Well, you bought it for him, right?” Lydia laughed, and Lawrence froze, tongue on her collarbone, both of his hands digging into her, gripping her too tightly, one on her inner thigh, one on her waist. “He said it was his neighbor, and you’re who he called so…?”

”What? No,” Adam laughed, “Lawrence isn’t the type to go to a class! Oh, wait, but he did ask me the other day—“

”Thank you, Adam!” Lawrence said, and tossed Lydia off him, lunging for Adam, going to cover his mouth. With the hand that had been stroking her a minute ago. Lydia made a strangled, horrified sound and grabbed his wrist, stopping him short. “Baby, let go, I’m just going to—“

”—about, oh, hey! That was Lydia, wasn’t it? I think it was! How funny, small world. Lydia told me all about her new cooking class and then you asked me about it! I wonder…oh. Lawrence.” He sounded so infinitely disappointed, and Lydia’s brain was struggling to understand the implication.

”Wait, what? So he, what, overheard me at your shop? And you told him about me when he asked? And then, wait, sorry, he stalked me?” Lydia asked, feeling like three vodka tonics was three too many when finding out that her date was actually with a stalker. Her stalker, to be precise.

”Whaaat, no! That’s totally not what stupid sexy Adam is saying, Adam, shut your pretty mouth now,” Lawrence hissed, as Lydia scooted away from him, into the corner. “No, wait, baby, don’t move away! Everything’s exactly the same as it was three minutes ago. Remember how close you were?”

”Uh,” Lydia said, and shoved a heel into his thigh, cowering away from him as he moved to grab her. “You stalked me?”

”No! No, Lydia, come on, look at me! I’m crazy about you!”

”Yeah, stalking crazy!” Lydia said, and cried out when he grabbed her ankle, shoving her leg aside to grab her up into his arms. “Let me fucking go, Lawrence. You’re scaring me!”

”Lawrence,” Adam said, “Let her go right now, or I’ll pull over and you’ll have to walk.”

”I have to explain, you’ve got to let me explain!” Lawrence babbled, his face too close to hers, his arms wrapping around her waist, so tight it was uncomfortable. “Lydia, come on, I didn’t even ask you out, really! You’re the one who asked me! This was all your doing! Come on, don’t punish me just because I thought your class sounded like a good idea!”

”Did you take the class so you could talk to me?” Lydia asked, and Lawrence whimpered, all wide-eyed and pleading, and she knew her answer.

Well, she was a fucking idiot.

”Hands off, or I’ll cut them off,” Lydia snapped, digging her nails into his shoulders and squirming, trying to get away. He dragged her body against his and pressed his face into her neck, making her hysterical, “Lawrence! Stop!”

”God, please, Lydia, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t disappear!”

The car jerked to the side of the road and Adam turned around, looking disapprovingly at the scene in the back seat. Lydia was in Lawrence’s lap, with both his arms wound tightly around her, holding her fast against his body with his face buried into her throat. She was shoving at him and near-hysterical, eyes glassy, heart pounding, and nails digging into his shoulders.

”Lawrence, buddy? She wants you to let go. If you want any chance at salvaging this, you’re going to need to listen to what she wants right now. So let her go, okay?”

Lawrence let out one short, pained sob, and let her go, hands out. Lydia shoved past him, climbing into the front seat, kicking her heels off in the process, so she could cower beside Adam, the alcohol making her fuzzy and confused and probably (maybe) making her more scared than she would be normally.

”There you go,” Adam said, warmly, and pulled back onto the road. Lawrence slumped in the back seat and buried his face into the crook of his own arm, shakily trying to breathe as he clearly suffered some kind of breakdown.

Lydia said nothing else, just sat in the front seat and stared, numb and confused, at the road in front of them. Adam drove them up to a rather large, expensive looking house and Lawrence stumbled out, looking longingly back at Lydia, who didn’t look at him at all. Instead, she crossed her arms and tearfully asked Adam if she could crash at his place. They left him there, staring sadly after Adam’s car.

Well, fuck. First guy in five years she actually wanted and he was a fucking stalker. What did that say about her? Nothing good, that was for sure.

”I’m so stupid.”

”No, honey, you’re just very young. You’ll be okay. Barbara will know what to say, okay? Let’s get home, and we’ll drive you back to your car in the morning.”

”Thanks, Mr. Maitland,” Lydia said, miserable but thankful he was there. And that he hadn’t mentioned how strongly the car smelled of almost-drunken-sex.

God, what a fucking night.

Chapter Text

This Thursday was colder than last week, which was actually a blessing. It meant she could wear more clothing without it being a personal slight against her stalker. Not that she really cared what he thought of her, of course, because he was a stalker. And that meant she should stay very, very far away and not let him touch her ever again. Even though he’d been so eager to do so. And so good at it, in a kind of gross, grungy way. And even though she’d spent the last week wildly swinging between ‘oh my god he was going to wear my skin’ and ‘god damn it why did Adam have to tell me’.

Lydia slammed her forehead against her steering wheel and made a noise not unlike the yowl of a cat, a sort of pained, desperate scream. Because she knew, in her heart, that she was going to end up on Unsolved Mysteries. Well, hopefully he killed her fast, and after he put that stupid face between her stupid legs. She didn’t know if she could handle torture, but she wasn’t against being killed quickly and painlessly for some really good dicking, apparently.

”I’m so fucking stupid,” She groaned, “Adam would be so disappointed. Dad’s going to be disappointed. Delia will drag him to therapy, finally, because his stupid fucking daughter died for some mediocre dick. Mediocre smelly dick. This is so fucking dumb.”

And then she sighed, deeply, and picked up her purse, and headed across the parking lot to the cooking store.

But Lawrence wasn’t there waiting for her. She didn’t know what she’d expected, really. Maybe a guilty little puppy dog look. Maybe him on his knees begging her to give him another shot. Maybe a shit-eating grin and asking her if she just couldn’t stay away. Whatever she’d expected, gone wasn’t on the list at all. Not even the bottom of it. It had just simply never, ever occurred to her that he would simply not show up.

At first she’d thought maybe he’d be late. Maybe there was traffic. Maybe he wanted to see if she came first. Maybe he was shy and worried and guilty, because he fucking stalked her and then tricked her onto a date. But no. She sat alone all class, feeling more and more angry and upset, until finally she tossed her tofu tacos in the trash and stormed out to her car.

So, what? He got to stalk her, trick her into maybe liking him, get her an inch from a dirty, seedy little orgasm outside a shitty bar in the middle of the night, and now he was just out of her life? As if. The asshole. How fucking dare he leave her alone in that class as if she had done something wrong. Lydia tore the door of her car open, flung her purse too hard into the passenger seat, and hit the gas before she’d even finished buckling in, peeling out of the parking lot and racing dangerously along the road, absolutely fuming out of her mind while Bauhaus blared over her speakers at a volume loud enough to shatter eardrums.

She needed it loud enough to drown out her thoughts, because she couldn’t stop to think. If she did, she’d start to think this was a super bad idea. Which it was.

The bar looked different in the early evening, and she was surprised she’d made it there before the sun had fully set. That meant she’d been really booking it. She parked her car close enough that she could flee, and scanned the parking lot. No gold car. But he came here all the time, he’d said, and he wasn’t at class…so she’d kind of assumed. But maybe she could have a single drink and wait and see if he came in.

Lydia sighed, rubbed her face, and grabbed her purse again, walking decisively towards the small, nondescript door that led directly into the bar. This was stupid. What was she even doing? What did she want? What was the goal? But her mind was flicking anxiously between everything he could say, or do, or if he was even here, and it all came back to one thing, over and over and over again:

Lawrence.

Fuck.

”Stupid,” She mumbled, tugging the door open.

The bar was relatively empty, which made some sense, as it was around five in the evening on a Thursday. The only people that would be here were people with odd work schedules, alcoholics, and—

“Lawrence.”

There he was, laying on the bar, arms dangled over it, so his hands dipped behind where they should be. He had a large beer in the crook of his arm, and his face was pressed against it, eyes half-closed, mumbling something that she thought might be the lyrics for the song playing out of the tinny jukebox. He looked awful. Like he hadn’t showered in a week. All greasy and gross, his hair in thick clumps on his head, his face tired and drawn. There was a plate of nearly-finished nachos beside him, too, and she wondered if he’d eaten real food recently. His face twisted up in pain and he blinked a bit, sitting up when he saw her.

Lydia wasn’t sure, now that they were in the same room, what to do. On one hand she had a million questions, like how long, exactly, was he stalking her. And on the other hand she felt…bad. He looked awful. Miserable. Like she’d been feeling all week, which was super stupid. This whole thing was stupid. She’d been alive for twenty-two years and she’d never met anyone who made her so willing to drop all the common sense her parents instilled in her. All she’d thought about all week was Lawrence, wondering how much stalking was too much stalking, and actually how it was kind of flattering that he was so, so into her that he paid for an eight week class just to maybe talk to her.

And how he’d been gentle and eager and paid for everything. And yeah, he’d gotten kind of crazy in the car, but he seemed desperate and lonely and she was totally freaked out. She could understand how much it sucked to have dreams and hopes be torn from you. At one point she’d wanted to do photography professionally, and she’d learned pretty quick that would do nothing for her in the long run.

”Lydia,” He said, softly, rubbing his eyes, “You’re back.”

The bartender glanced over and looked surprised, but didn’t say anything to either of them. Lydia sighed, and stepped up closer to Lawrence, wrinkling her nose when his smell overtook her. He smelled horrendous. Like stale beer and unwashed everything and meat sweat.

“You stood me up to do this?”

“Mm,” Lawrence said, and his hand came up, coasting up her thigh, before grabbing her ass. “You look so pretty.”

Lydia slapped his hand, hard, and he flinched, pulling his hand to his chest, before his eyes went wide and he sat straight up, nearly knocking the beer over, shooting the bartender a desperate, wild look. He shrugged, and nodded, and Lawrence turned back to her, gaping, trying to smooth his clothes out.

”Lydia!”

”Yeah, jackass,” Lydia snapped, “Who the fuck else would come get you?”

He ran his hands over his hair and winced at the feeling of it, stammering out, “Not— maybe Adam, but not you.”

”You stood me up.”

”Never,” He said, sounding desperate, “No way. We didn’t have plans, I would never stand you up.”

”Cooking class?” Lydia demanded, crossing her arms.

“Cooking class? What? It’s like, Tuesday, maybe.”

”It’s Thursday.”

Lawrence’s mouth worked for a moment and he looked back, desperately, at the bartender. In response, he nodded, and Lawrence rounded back on her, eyes wide.

”Oh, baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—“

”So, what, I’m supposed to believe you’ve been in here for a week?”

”We’re twenty four hours,” The bartender said, “So he’s been here a while. We didn’t want to call the cops again, so we’ve just been letting him sit in that booth over there.”

Lydia turned to look, and the bartender continued, voice even and neutral, as if this was a common thing in Winter River.

”But we had to clean it, so I moved him up here with me.”

”You came and found me?” Lawrence asked, and she heard the soft note of hope in his voice. “After…after last week?”

”Yeah, because I’m really fucking stupid. This is not a good look.”

”Better or worse than the stalking?”

”I’m gonna close your tab, Lawrence,” The bartender said, and left them alone, eyes wide. Fair.

”I don’t know,” Lydia admitted.

”But you came for me.”

”Yeah, we’ve established I’m an idiot. Where’s your car?”

”Mm, ah, I don’t know. Ditch, maybe.”

”You drove it drunk?”

”Who am I gonna hit? There’s like six people in this town.”

Lydia inhaled, slowly, and then tapped his half-eaten nacho plate, “Have you only been eating shitty diner food this whole time?”

”Their food is great.”

”Lawrence.”

”Yeah, so what? Who cares? I’m going to die alone anyway. Nobody’s going to find my stupid rotting body until the smell’s so bad they can smell it off the street. Or until the Maitland’s realize I haven’t bothered them in weeks and Adam insists they call the cops because he’s sexy and responsible, he’s the whole package. That’s why he’s got a wife and I’ve got a pint of warm beer.” Lawrence slumped back on the bar, and Lydia rolled her eyes.

”You could have, I dunno, said ‘hi’ to me at the board game store and been done with it,” Lydia said, tone casual, as if she hadn’t been wondering why he went through all this trouble the whole week.

Lawrence scoffed, ”As if you would ever talk to me.”

”Well, not if you looked like this, no. But if you looked like your normal self…maybe also no. Not at first, anyway. But I go there all the time, Lawrence. You could have worn me down.”

”Only girl that’s open to me making a move and I’d have to ‘wear her down’. It’s great being me.”

“So you come off a little revolting, so what? I come off like a bitch.”

”You are a bitch.”

”Then why do you want me so bad?” Lydia snapped, “You like mean girls?”

”A little, yeah.”

“Oh.”

Well, that hurt. Which was stupid, because she did come off like a bitch. That wasn’t news to her. No amount of therapy had helped, mainly because she hated therapy and generally refused to engage in it. But it hurt that he saw her that way, like she didn’t have layers. For some stupid reason she’d thought they saw each other better than that. That he saw who she was, deep inside, like she thought she saw him. Well, she supposed fairytale love was a lie, anyway. No point in whining about it now. Either he’d like her when he got to know her, or he’d dump her because she wasn’t mean enough.

Not that she was here to keep this thing going, because that would be insane. She just wanted to yell at him a little bit. Nothing more. She wasn’t going to help him clean this mess up. She wasn’t going to kiss him and tell him she forgave him for stalking her. She was going to yell at him and leave him here to kill his liver and strangle his heart with sodium. Definitely.

”You need a shower.”

”Yeah, whatever.”

”No, like, come on. I’m taking you home. Are we good to go?” She asked the bartender, lifting her voice so he’d know she was talking to him. When he gave her a thumbs up she tugged on Lawrence’s arm, “Come on. My car’s right outside.”

”You’re taking me home?” He laughed, sharp and bitter, “Yeah, great. No thanks, I’ll stay where the booze is. Another, please!”

”No,” Lydia told him, and tugged him sharply, “Come on. No more booze. You need coffee and vegetables and a shower.”

”God, vegetables? Are you trying to fucking kill me? Punish me?”

”Do you want to make out with me or not? It’s like pulling fucking teeth. Read the damn room, Lawrence.”

”Wait, what?”

That got him to sit up and really look at her, all slack jawed and wide eyed. Lydia crossed her arms and then dropped them, sighing dramatically, turning around to head for the door, making sure her hips swayed a little more than usual.

”Well, alright, if you’re really not interested…”

”Woah, wait, wait—“ Lawrence stumbled off the bar stool, clambering after her, heavy and clumsy, so she had to turn and catch him with both arms. He leaned heavily on her, though he seemed to have learned his lesson and was keeping his hands to himself. For now. She couldn’t imagine that would last.

“God, you smell.”

Lawrence stared down at her, as if he couldn’t believe she was really there. “God, you’re so fucking pretty. Please don’t be fucking with me, I can’t take anymore.”

”We need to have a pretty serious talk. When you’re sober. So come on, let’s get you there.”

He nodded enthusiastically, so his greasy clumps of hair waggled, and she felt the urge to cup his face and tell him he was a big idiot, and that she wanted him to promise her he’d never let himself get this bad again. He deserved more than this, even if he was alone. But she thought if she suggested she might leave he’d collapse in on himself like a dying star.

So instead, she pulled his arm around her shoulders and led him out. Lawrence was incredibly unsteady, and it was a miracle she made it to her car with him leaning so heavily on her, but she did. And with him laying across her back seat, she drove him home. Or, rather, she tried to remember how to get there, since it was much lighter out and Adam wasn’t driving and she wasn’t keyed up to an eleven both from fear and the desire to ride him until morning. Lawrence was sleeping, snoring loudly, and so she was left to get lost alone.

But eventually she spotted his car in the long, winding driveway of a very nice, incredibly historic house. The outside had been nice, anyway. An insanely large, rich looking place, with sprawling grounds and finely manicured lawns. But the outside, which had once been a soft, historic green, was splattered with bright, lime green and purple. There was no other way to describe the color other than purple, as in the most purple she’d ever seen purple be, before. The door was painted, sloppily, a black, as were all the trimmings. The porch had a few chairs and a hammock, and there was one of those cheap little plastic kiddie pools propped up against the fence, as if the wind had blown it there and he hadn’t bothered to clean up. She made a noise as she pulled up, floored by how insanely nice it was.

There was zero fucking chance he lived here.

”Lawrence,” Lydia said, parking, and leaning over the middle of her car to shake him, “I can’t find your place. Where do I go?”

Lawrence jerked, hard, and sat up, slamming his head against the roof of the car as he tried to stand up. Lydia winced and he whined, in his throat, rubbing his head while he blearily peered out the window.

”’s it. You did it, baby, we’re home.”

”No,” Lydia said, “I know we’re at a house, but I don’t know where your house is.”

”This is it. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Lydia clicked her mouth shut and turned the car off, going to get him out of the back seat. But it seemed his nap had revived him, at least a little bit, and he was able to walk on his own. Unsteadily, but he managed. He fished in his pockets for a minute and then unlocked the door, slumping inside. Lydia followed behind him, feeling like they were somewhere they weren’t meant to be.

”Lawrence…are you sure?”

”Yeah, baby, lived here for a whole year and nobody’s kicked me out yet. Relax. Come on.”

The inside was decorated richly, with thick carpets and big curtains and lots of really nice, old wood. But Lawrence peeked out here and there: gaming books on the coffee table, a flat screen television on an antique table in a side room, comics strewn about the house, empty soda cans scattered here and there, with no coasters. Adam would kill him, as he was really into antiques, and even she knew that you should use a coaster on wood. But either Lawrence didn’t care or he didn’t know, as every single table had little rings from his drinks on it. She followed him mutely through the house, eyes roaming wildly as they walked.

”Lawrence, your house is fucking gorgeous.”

”Yeah, it sucks, sorry, baby. I haven’t had the drive to redecorate.”

”What? Why would you redecorate?”

By then they wandered into the huge fucking kitchen, and she stopped in the doorway, a mix of horrified and amused. This room he had redecorated. If ‘decorated’ was the word he was using for this mess, anyway. The cabinets had been partially dismantled, leaving all of them open, so she could see that he had stacked all the fine, pretty plates and glasses in a corner he clearly never used. The main dishware was all mismatched, clearly random plates he’d either stolen or bought piece-by-piece from thrift shops. The glasses were much the same, all stacked precariously on the edge. There was ‘art’ on the walls, but the ‘art’ was a bunch of neon signs for various beers. The fridge was upgraded, fancy and new, with a glass door so she could see that it was made up almost entirely of beer and burgers and cheese.

How he hadn’t already died from malnourishment she didn’t know. As she followed him, she tripped over dirty clothes and stepped on an (open) packet of Top Ramen.

”Sorry,” He said, but he sounded more tired than embarrassed. “Cleaner has a vacation or something for the next two weeks.”

”Cleaner..? Wait, you have staff?”

”’Staff’,” He laughed, and slumped into a chair at the table, shoving a bunch of Dungeons and Dragons stuff to the side, dice skittering off and onto the ground, little figures going flying, papers shuffling dramatically. “Just the gardener and the pool guy and the maid. Oh and some guy who goes into the basement or attic or some shit once every season to make sure…you know, I don’t know what he does, really. But I’m sure it matters, or he wouldn’t be doing it.”

”Sorry, okay, hold on. What—“ Lydia sat down with him, nudging his leg so she could sit beside him. He moved to allow it, and looked at her sideways. “You didn’t tell me you were wealthy.”

”What, you a gold digger?”

”No.”

”So then why would it matter? You wouldn’t want me even with money.”

”Because,” Lydia said, patiently, “You can’t spring a house like this on someone you’re trying to fuck.”

”You wouldn’t even remember which way was up when I was done eating you out, baby, I don’t think the house would have mattered much.”

Lydia made a surprised noise and shifted in her seat. He was gross and pathetic and this was such a bad idea. If she had any sense at all, any sense at all, she would call Adam after making Lawrence get in the shower, and wait outside until he got there so she could leave. And then she’d flee and never come back. And she’d never see him again, and she’d never have his big dirty paws on her again, and she’d never get the opportunity to see if he ate pussy like he ate cheese fries: sloppy and with passion.

”You sound super confident that you’d rock my world,” Lydia said, playful, “But I’m still not convinced. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? You go take a shower and I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Ugh. Can we put some Irish creamer in it?”

”I’ll see what you’ve got going on in this mess, okay? Go, come on, you reek.” Lydia stood up and tugged him to his feet, steadied him, and gently pushed him towards the stairs. He stumbled but went, stopping at the foot of the stairs to look back longingly at her. What an idiot.

When he came back downstairs she had managed to cook up a basic dinner and had a whole pot of hot, black coffee warm and waiting. Lawrence gagged at the smell and fell into a chair, clearly feeling it in his stomach. Lydia didn’t take it personally, she knew that a lot of food smelled like shit when the hangover hit. Poor guy.

”Okay, look. Drink this whole thing.” Lydia pushed a tall glass of cloudy water his way and he cast her a wary look, earning him an eye roll, “Yeah, it’s poison. It’s for hydration, dummy. You’re all dehydrated from the alcohol. Drink up. And I made you some coffee, and some actual food. Vegetables. It’s just a bit of pasta, I’m hoping it’ll soak up some of that beer in you.”

Lawrence took a sip of the water and then asked, “Is that…strawberry?”

”Yeah, I had it in my purse, apparently. Probably from the last time I went out with the girls.”

”You go out?”

”Yeah, why, want to follow me there, too?”

Lawrence winced but said nothing to defend himself and Lydia sat beside him, sliding a plate and a mug in front of him. He drank his water in silence, not looking at her, so she looked him over. He was shiny and clean, with wet, soaking hair, and his eyes were sad and tired and red like he’d spent the last hour crying. And maybe he had cried in the shower, some, because when he’d come back down the stairs his knees nearly gave out when he saw her in his kitchen.

Which was probably doubly weird, because she clearly had made herself at home. Her purse and keys were on the kitchen Island, in the corner, and while the food had cooked and he’d showered she’d cleaned up. His Dungeons and Dragons stuff was in a neat pile, dice on top, on his dining room table. The floor had been swept, all the dirty clothes in a little neat pile in the hallway now, all the opened food either put away or tossed if it was beyond saving. She’d adjusted his dishes so they weren’t ready to fall if looked at the wrong way. And the whole kitchen smelled really nice, like a home instead of a house.

It was, as far as she could tell, now the only room in the house that didn’t feel…uncomfortable. Because yes, she’d wandered a little before finding a broom and getting to work. And the whole house had this prickly, awful, uncomfortable feeling about it. Like great suffering had taken place here.

”Why are you still here?” He asked, finally, setting the empty glass down.

”You want me to go?”

”God, no,” He said, too quickly, grabbing her hand in his. “Please stay.”

”Okay, I will, if you eat for me. Slow, okay? No puking.”

Lawrence took a bite of his pasta and she watched as his body tried to get him to reject it. But it was clear he really, really wanted her to stay, as he gagged but kept it in his mouth. She stroked his hair and cooed softly.

”Good boy, there you go. You need to be nicer to yourself, Lawrence. You deserve better than this.”

His eyes drifted closed and he leaned into her hand, and his hair was wet but clean, so she felt confident when she scratched his scalp with her dark nails that nothing gross would get caught under them.

”So, we’ve got to talk, Lawrence…”

Lawrence sighed, softly, not opening his eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

”How long before the class did you know about me?”

”I’ve seen you in the shop a few times. You usually go in on Sunday afternoons, before the big board game meet up. I’m already there cause I like to get the table in the corner. I didn’t, like, see you go into the store and then start going because of you. I was already there, and then you came in. And then the next week. And the week after. It was coincidence, I wasn’t trying to follow you. And the time with the cooking, like when you told Adam about your class, I had been coming by to get new dice because one of mine disappeared. It was a Monday, I think, so not your usual day.”

”Uh huh,” Lydia said, gently playing with his hair. It all sounded rather normal, so far. She did go right before the meetup on Sundays, because Dad liked to play after dinner on Sunday evenings and she liked a little dose of Adam before she had to deal with a huge dose of Dad.

“And I didn’t mean to stalk you. I just thought, well, here’s my chance. I can afford a cooking class. I’ll just go and try to talk to you a little, maybe eat a dish together, hear you say my name. That sort of thing. I didn’t think you’d ever speak to me like this, Lyds. Or kiss me. Or grind your wet—“

Lydia yanked his hair, “Stop.”

But even as she told him to cut it out, he grabbed the table with both hands and moaned. Loudly. They both froze, her hand still harshly holding his graying hair, taught in her grip, and his body straining against its natural reaction.

”Lydia,” He breathed, voice raspy, “You gotta let go.”

“Sorry,” She said, and did so, blushing a soft pink, “I thought you liked it.”

Lawrence opened his mouth and closed it, then his tongue darted out to wet his lips and he said, sounding near desperate, “I do like it.”

”Do you know where I live?”

”Nearby, yeah.”

”No, like what house is mine.”

”No? Why would I know that? I’ve never been there.”

”When’s my birthday?”

”You have real Scorpio energy, so maybe…uh, November?”

”Close. When did I last have a boyfriend?”

”I don’t know? Why are you—“

”So the only stalking you’ve done is taking a class so you could try to talk to me? With no guarantee that I would speak to you? And you didn’t kiss me until I asked you to because…?”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

”That’s a good boy,” Lydia said, and grabbed his hair in her hand again, jerking his head back. He gasped loudly, and she could see the shiver run through his body. His eyes half-opened as she forced his head back, looking at her with a haziness that meant he was certainly feeling it. “I can deal with that.”

”What do you mean?” He asked, choked.

Lydia didn’t answer him, she simply stood up and leaned down, over him, soft dark curls brushing his face, creating a curtain around them, as she pressed her soft lips to his chapped ones. He let out a sob under her, and he held his hands up, like he wanted badly to touch her but was restraining himself. Lydia’s free hand took his wrist and placed one of his hands on her thin waist, earning her a desperate, raw cry against her mouth.

”Relax,” Lydia said, softly, brushing her lips against his as she spoke.

”Don’t,” Lawrence managed, voice cracking, “I can’t— Lydia, I can’t—“

”I’m sorry I freaked out. Adam scared me. But I’ve been thinking all week about you. And when I got to class and you weren’t there, ugh, I don’t know. It’s so stupid. This is really, really stupid. I know you could kill me and bury me in your yard or something. But you do something to me.”

”I’d never kill you, baby.”

”That’s what someone who would kill me would say,” Lydia laughed, softly, and Lawrence looked up at her, eyes all watery. He was so pathetic. She was so into it. “You drive me crazy. I think you’re a bit gross. This kitchen was filthy. You don’t wash your clothes enough.”

”Gee, thanks.”

”You stalked me, even if it was minor. When you could have just said ‘hi’ or asked Adam to invite me to play with you guys or asked him to suggest I join your campaign or something. It could have been really casual. Easy. But you chose the hardest, creepiest route instead. It should have made me flee and never look back.” Lydia sighed, “But I think, maybe, it’s a little…flattering. So I don’t get it. You might kill me. Your house is insane. You’re gross and weird and a stalker and I spent all week thinking about you bending me over outside that bar and shoving into me.”

”Wait, what?” Lawrence struggled to sit up, but her hand in his hair held him in his awkward position, head too far back, neck exposed. The hand on her waist tightened and flexed and his other one reached for her but his pose was so awkward he couldn’t actually make contact. Lydia’s free hand stroked his throat, scratching soft pink lines in his flesh, watching as he swallowed hard.

”Yeah, I don't get it either. But let’s have some fun, okay? Life’s short, and probably even shorter when you willingly enter a stalker’s giant mansion to try to seduce him.”

”You’re trying to seduce me?”

”Are you hard?”

”Uh—“

”Then it’s working, huh?” Lydia said, sweetly, and kissed him again. He whimpered against her, and then another sob broke free, and his hand on her waist shoved her back, making her stumble from the force of it.

”Lydia.”

”Oh, shit, I’m sorry. You’re not into it?” Lydia winced, bright red and embarrassed.

”I’m really into it,” He said, and he sat up. Her eyes darted to his crotch and then she looked up at the ceiling, shifting on her feet.

Damn, she was fucked up. Okay, so, back to therapy. This time she would actually try. Because going home with her stalker, who she sought out, to fuck his brains out was probably something she needed to unpack.

”I just— please, God, don’t leave again.”

”I’ve got to go home eventually.” She said, relieved when he grabbed her waist. Okay, so she was fucked up. Oh well, Soon she would be fucked up and dicked down.

“Eventually, okay, great,” Lawrence said, tugging her over to him. She sat down in his lap, and he moaned as she ground herself against the stiffness in his pants. “But you could also just move in. You could have a whole floor of this place, you know, and you’d never even have to see me.”

”Then what would be the point in living here?” She teased. Both of his hands were on her waist now, and his thumbs were making circles against her, sending soft, spiraling waves of pleasure through her body. Maybe she would make better decisions after he shoved her onto this table and fucked her hard.

”Any time you wanted to orgasm I’d be right there, baby, just call my name and I’ll be on my knees for you.”

”Hmm,” Lydia said, “But we don’t even know if you’re any good yet.”

”I’ll show you.”

”I think my family would be really disappointed in me if I let you kill me so we could have sex.”

”No, no, no killing,” He said, earnestly, pulling her against him, squeezing her, kissing her throat since he couldn’t reach her face. “Baby, I’d never hurt you. You’re everything to me. You drive me crazy.”

”You barely know me.”

Lawrence’s tongue dragged down her throat, dipping just under her long-sleeved shirt, and he shoved his face into the neckline, forcing it down so his tongue could drag down her upper chest, too. Gross. She moaned, softly.

“Okay, you win.”

”I do?” He asked, dazed.

”Yeah, sure, fine, here or your bedroom?”

”Wait, wait, what? Uh, no, yeah, uh, what— here.”

”Afraid I’ll change my mind by the time we get upstairs?”

”Yeah.”

”What, really?” Lydia asked, and felt kind of bad when he shrugged a little. “You’re an idiot, Lawrence.”

He hummed noncommittally, his tongue lapping at her skin. God, it felt gross. But boy was it working for her. The rush of wetness between her legs stole her breath away and everything throbbed for a brief moment. She wanted him deep in her, and for a delirious moment she thought it might have been better if they’d done this before his shower. Which was really, really gross, because he’d smelled pretty strongly. Lydia pushed his face back and leaned down, burying her nose into the nape of his neck and inhaling, deeply.

”Uh?” He said, and laughed, “You okay?”

”Mm, yeah, sorry,” Lydia said, running her nose over his neck, over his beard, and into his hair, inhaling deeply. All soap. All clean. Too bad.

”What do you want, Lyds?” He asked, squeezing her again, seemingly surprised when she covered his mouth with hers.

”You don’t have to ask me what I want,” She mumbled, trailing kisses over his cheek and down his neck, hunched over in his lap, “What do you want to do with me?”

”Everything,” He breathed, “But I really want my face between your legs.”

Of all the things he could choose, of all the acts he could think of, his first thought— the most important thought— was to pleasure her. She made a noise, soft and sharp, and kissed him again, one last time before he’d taste like her instead of him. This was crazy. She was crazy. He better be good at this, if she was risking her life for it. Lydia reached behind her and slid up onto the table. He made a noise as if he was dying, and for a moment she couldn’t understand what’d gone wrong. But his eyes snapped open and he lunged forward, grabbing her calf. He thought she was going to leave. Poor guy, she’d done an absolute number on him. In three weeks. Jesus.

“This is probably a bad idea,” She said, and took her shoes off, letting the boots fall heavily to his wooden floor. He watched the act and then those darkened brown eyes went to her face as he clearly tried to work out what she meant. “Like a really, really stupid idea. I don’t know you.”

”You can get to know me,” He said, and kicked his chair back, falling on his knees in front of her, scooting forward so her dangling feet, now only in her thigh high socks, brushed against his shoulders. She could feel her pussy sit up and beg for him: the desperate pulsing and soft aching that told her she wanted to be penetrated.

Lydia shifted on the table, leaning side to side, as she worked her calf-length skirt up over her thighs. When the tops of her socks came into view, Lawrence made a noise of pure desperation and leaned forward, brushing noise and drooling mouth over her knee. To her horror, she moaned. She liked seeing how bad he wanted her. Liked the trail of saliva on her black sock. She was a fucking degenerate.

“Okay,” She said, and ran her fingers in his hair, both hands threading through it, watching the brown and gray shift between them.

”What, really?”

”But later, okay?”

”Yeah, absolutely. Panties off, Lyds, let me in there,” Lawrence mumbled, licking at her knee.

Lydia bit her lip and then spread her legs, finally, wide enough that her thighs parted and he could see she hadn’t been wearing any.

“Holy shit. You’re so fucking hot,” Lawrence said, and yanked her to the edge of the table as he sat up on his knees, mouth meeting her as he pulled her closer for easier access.

Within seconds she knew he absolutely ate pussy like he ate cheesy fries. His whole face was buried in her, tongue lapping hungrily over everything: lips, hole, clit, just like he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to taste every inch of her, touch every single bit of her, and damn it, he was going to do it. He moved his head, dragging nose and tongue and mouth against her, his nose brushing her clit with each upwards stroke, making her gasp out loud.

She was really rather inexperienced in bed, and she didn’t really watch porn. Especially because she lived with her parents full-time. So that it could feel this good took her by surprise. Her whole body was a current of electricity, and each time he touched her clit he sent a bright white spark along her currents, making her want to pull away because it was so white-hot. But on top of that sudden sparking was a softer, slower crescendo. It built up slowly, cresting subtly within her. Lydia laid back on the table as Lawrence draped her legs over his shoulders and down his wide back and as the sounds of his slurping and licking and whimpering moans filled the room. His hands were firm on both of her thighs, holding her in place, groping and squeezing her so everything felt heightened.

Lydia moaned without care, running her hands over her clothed chest and through her short hair, biting her fingers when she felt her moaning got too high-pitched and squeal-y. But any sound she made resulted in Lawrence whimpering into her and keeping his efforts up. Too soon she gasped and everything went insanely tight. Her whole body curled up and she grabbed his hair, hard, with both hands, letting out a short, sharp scream as that wave inside her finally crested, and his nose hit her just right, and then his lips sealed around her clit and gave it a curious suck and she was gone.

Her whole body spasmed, her vision went sideways, and her left ear gave up hearing at all. Lydia collapsed, falling back onto the table with a gasp, rubbing her face with her hands. A rush of wetness had gushed out of her when she came, and he lapped it all up with hungry, desperate moans between her legs. God, he was pathetic. God, she was so fucking into it.

”Stop,” She gasped, when he licked at her clit again. It was too much for her, and she squeezed her thighs around his head, one hand grabbing his hair and yanking, hard.

Lawrence moaned louder, especially now that his face wasn’t buried in her, and she sat up so they could look at each other. His whole face was fucking soaked in her juices, and it was gross, she could smell him from here, and even as she stared he licked his lips like he’d been eating something delicious.

“Inside me.”

He was on his feet in a minute flat, fumbling with his pants, hands trembling. With him standing, his erection was a little ridiculous. He was wearing sweats that he’d, apparently, tied too tightly closed. His cock was standing at full height, straining against the pale gray of his pants, the tip having soaked them to a dark gray. She wondered if he had underwear on. But by how it bounced when he moved, she didn’t think so. She touched the wet spot with two fingers, spreading them over the head of his dick through the fabric.

”Fuck,” He growled, and jerked his hips away. “Baby, cut that shit out. You’re going to make me finish before I even get in you.”

”Just from that?”

”Girl, I’ve never been this fucking hard in my life. I think it’d be over if you pulled my hair again.”

Lydia knew she shouldn’t do it. She wanted him in her, really, she was desperate to feel him fill her up. The thought of feeling him come inside her had kept her up more than once over the last week, furiously stroking herself as she imagined what kind of sound he’d make and how it would make her feel to feel him empty his balls in her. Incredible, she imagined. She hoped beyond hope it lived up to the hype. And the idea of him coming embarrassingly quickly was also ideal. She’d imagined that, too, how he’d blush and stammer and promise to make it up to her, especially if she let him try again.

But the idea of her not even really having to touch his cock, the idea that he was that crazy about her to come in his pants like a pathetic little teenager experiencing his first handjob? That was really, really appealing. So she reached out, while he was finally unknotting his pants, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and yanked it.

Lawrence’s head jerked to the side and he moaned, a desperate, high-pitched, nearly-whine that made her instantly ready for more of it. And, to her delight, he shuddered once, then twice, and whimpered as his body went fully rigid. Lydia gently scratched his scalp, and he fell forward, hands on either side of her, body between her legs. Her eyes fell greedily to his cock, jutting over the edge of the table in his pants, as it twitched against the gray fabric, and the wet stain at its tip grew.

”Ohh,” She said, and tried to sound a little disappointed instead of really, really turned on. “Too bad.”

”Fuck,” He grunted, eyes screwed shut as his cock spent the rest of his come in his pants, “You did that on fucking purpose, you…you brat.”

”Mmm,” Lydia said, and pressed a kiss to his gaping mouth as he breathed hard, coming down from his orgasm. He looked so good like this. Pathetic, desperate, spent.

“What the hell?”

”Do you have any condoms?”

Lawrence eyes met hers and he looked shocked, as if condoms weren’t something he’d ever considered he might need. Ever. So much for any past anything on his end, she figured. It was unlikely he’d ever had a girlfriend, and now she was pretty sure he was a Grade A Virgin. That felt less safe than if he’d had other women he’d liked as much as her, because then she wouldn't be so nervous that this was kind of ‘it’ for him. And that eating her out had gotten him so close to his own orgasm also felt a bit too much. But in for a penny, in for a pound. He hadn’t killed her yet.

”No, huh? Okay, so when you’re sober enough, we’ll go get some.”

”That won’t be until tomorrow,” Lawrence mumbled, stricken. “You should go get them now without me and come back. To me. So we can do this for real. I need, uhh, I don’t know what sizes they even come in--”

”No,” Lydia said, kissing his mouth again, leaning back enough so their noses were pressed against each other and her lips brushed against his as she talked, “We’ll go together when we get up in the morning.”

”What? You want to stay?”

”Oh, sorry, it’s rude to invite myself. Lawrence, would you like me to stay the night?”

”Fuck yeah I would.”

Lydia laughed when he shoved his face into her neck and kissed it, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. It would probably be fine. And if it wasn’t, hopefully he had mercy on her dumb ass and killed her quickly.

”Can I sleep in your bed with you?”

”Baby, you can sleep wherever the fuck you want. The whole house is yours. Stay a night, stay forever, whatever. It’s all for you. Whatever you want.”

That could work for her.

Chapter Text

The dawn had woken him up for the first time in his entire life. Thank God, too, because now he had time to come to the realization that it was all real. Lydia was really in his bed, he’d really tasted her, she’d really pulled his hair until he came in his pants like a total dork. She was curled up against him now, breathing deep and even, her phone on his nightstand charging like this was normal. Like her being in his arms and in his bed and his house was totally a normal Thursday night for her.

Not Thursday night but Friday morning, now.

Lydia was beautiful, one pale hand resting on his chest, her face resting on his shoulder. Her dark hair was draped over him, resting partially on his face, filling his nose with the scent of her. He hoped that everything she touched smelled like her forever, because he just knew nobody could ever replace her. She was it. End goal. The perfect woman.

When he’d first seen her in that game shop he hadn’t expected to ever actually get to talk to her. Or that she’d like talking to him. Or that she’d totally be fine with his stalking and actually come get him. And sober him up. And clean his kitchen. And still, after all of that, let him eat her out and take her to bed to hold her and play with her hair as she slept. This girl must be completely fucked up beyond repair.

Thank God.

He ran his clean fingers in her dark curls, gently working out some tangles as she slept. She was in nothing but some of his clothes, a shirt that nearly swallowed her whole and a clean pair of boxers that he’d found in a box he hadn’t unpacked yet. The gaming shirt looked nice on her, hanging off her frame, gently hugging her curves, making her look like she belonged to him. And she did belong to him, whether or not she knew it yet. As if he’d ever let her go again now that he got her.

”Ugh,” Lydia groaned, stretching out, nuzzling her face into his neck.

Okay, good. She knew where she was. Which meant last night had been entirely consensual. Which meant…thank God, thank God, she knew she was in bed with him.

”Why’s the sun so bright?”

”Mmm, just to spite us, I think.”

”God, lame. You need curtains.”

”Yeah, okay. I’ll get right on that,” He said, making a mental note. The sun had never woken him up before, but it certainly seemed to annoy his lady, so he’d fix it for her. “Any other requests?”

”Mmm, yeah. Coasters. Adam’s going to kill you, you know.”

”He complains every week, yeah.”

”Every week?”

”Yeah, the guys come over for game night. Usually Dungeons and Dragons, but we change it up if we feel like it.”

”Who’s ‘the guys’?” Lydia asked, sounding genuinely interested.

”Uh, let’s see. It’s Me, a guy that works in your town, and Adam.”

”So you have two friends?”

”Why do you sound so surprised?”

”Mm,” Lydia hummed, and kissed his neck softly, dragging her nails over his chest, “Not surprised, don’t be so touchy.”

”Did you think I had no friends?”

”I didn’t think Adam was your friend, exactly…”

Lawrence sighed, but knew that was fair. Adam was infinitely patient with him, often did things for him, and hung out once a week. But it felt like maybe it was more politeness than actually liking him.

“Come on, lighten up. It’s okay. Adam’s like, really soft, and you’re just, uh, you know— a lot?”

”Thanks.”

Lydia clicked her tongue and sat up, leaning halfway over him so her hair draped down, and her dark eyes met his. Her makeup was smudged and her hair was messy, and she clearly had just woken up, as her eyes were gentle and sleepy and her mouth hadn’t gotten the tense, hard quality it had during the rest of the day. She looked soft, like he felt she should. At least sometimes, right? Everyone deserved to relax sometimes.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Come on, Lawrence. Don’t get all up in your head.”

”God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

”Oh, good,” Lydia said, and rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips, “Your head is empty. I shouldn’t have been worried. I’m gonna shower. Dad’ll flip if I come home smelling like you.”

Lydia pressed a kiss to his cheek and then climbed out of bed, stretching and sighing as she did so. He sat up, alarmed, and grabbed at her shirt but missed, instead ending up halfway across his bed, eyes pleading as he stared at her.

”You’re leaving?”

”Yeah? It’s morning.”

”You said you wanted to have sex.”

Even Lawrence winced at how whiny that came out, high-pitched and needy. So needy that she turned to glance at him over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. He was cringing but clearly caught, stretched out after her, hand grasping the air as if he’d only just missed grabbing her. Which he had, but she hadn't noticed until now, and now that she had, he felt embarrassed and like maybe lunging after her was a bit odd.

“So, what, I’m contractually obligated to, now?”

”Uh, no? Of course not. I just meant, like, why in a hurry? I’ll buy you breakfast. We can go to the store. You can scold me about coasters some more. Look around Mom’s house. Take some furniture. Clean out a room. Move in and never leave again. You know; normal stuff.”

He wasn’t sure what her expression meant, but he was pretty sure it was one of two things: Either she found his clingy, needy nature to be amusing, or she was desperately trying to think of how to flee without making him go crazy and smash her head in. As if he’d ever hurt her. But he couldn’t blame her for being freaked out, if she was, because, well. Yeah, that was fair. But after a moment she turned and knelt on the edge of the bed with one knee, took his face in her hands, and kissed his nose. Relieved, he sagged into her soft hands and closed his eyes.

”You’re really unstable, you know that?”

”Yeah.”

”Okay. As long as you know. Let me shower, and I’ll let you take me out for breakfast.”

”Wait, what? Really? You’re kidding. That worked?”

”Mmm, yeah, looks like I like a little unstable.” Lydia pressed her mouth to his and he nearly passed out, his heart jolted so hard. One of his hands grabbed her wrist, holding her hand to his face, and he thought he might jump up or dance or scream. Anything, absolutely anything, to get rid of all this pent up emotion and energy that was pulsing through him in horrible, overwhelming waves.

”God, you’re fucking incredible. Okay, get ready, uh, you might want to use the guest bathroom, though.”

”Yeah, this one’s pretty gross, huh.” It wasn’t a question, and he realized she must have used it the night before. Oops. “Sounds good. Get ready, yourself.”

”What, like a shower?”

”No,” She said, a little too quickly, and he looked up at her, catching her little lip bite before she could control herself and make her expression cool and collected again. Not that he knew what that meant. Did she not like his soap, maybe? “Like, get dressed, brush your teeth, run a comb in your messy hair. That kind of thing. It’s our second date, yeah? So make it good if you want more.”

”More?” He echoed, stunned, “More’s an option?”

”Depends on how good the pancakes are at this joint,” She teased (He hoped this was teasing, anyway), kissing him once more before pulling away, “They better have blueberry.”

”Uh, yeah, they will, don’t worry.”

He watched her leave, because how could he not watch her walk out of his bedroom in his clothes in his house with her hair all messy from sleeping all night in his bed in his arms. His, his, his. God, he was going to Hell, but he was never, ever letting her escape him again. He simply couldn’t live without her. Without bothering to unpack that, he jumped out of bed and raced for the bathroom.

If he made her wait, she might leave before he got a chance to rip out her car’s mass airflow sensor. Not that he googled how to disable a vehicle without hurting it permanently. That would be insane. And not that he had the schematics for her car on his phone, just in case. Because if she found those, she’d flee. Rightfully, of course. Of course.

He wasn’t crazy. He was in love. Big difference.

Lydia left after dinner. She hadn’t even meant to stay that long, she’d said, only they’d found some really old books in the attic and she’d wanted to stay and look through them all. He wasn’t sure he believed her, because looking at old books in his attic seemed like the kind of thing a pretty girl might use an excuse, but in any case, she was gone now. The house felt empty and sad without her, and he felt the sudden sense of being crushingly alone. With her gone, life seemed a little more bitter and a lot less colorful.

It was well after one in the morning, he was on his sixth beer, and he was watching Ghosbusters: Answer the Call on his television (If not for anything other than Kate McKinnon, who he found to be hot as hell). The doorbell rang and he wasn’t really sure it was real. Sometimes, when he was really, really lonely he would hallucinate. Not anything terribly scary, not medication levels, but like, a person walking in the corner of his eye or the sound of someone on the steps or the brush of a hand on his back as if someone was walking by. Normal stuff his brain grasped onto to tease him into thinking, if only for a moment, that he wasn’t utterly, utterly alone.

So he’d ignored the doorbell the first two times. Then there was a loud knock, and then he heard Lydia’s grumbling, and he was on his feet and lunging for the door faster than his brain could remind him he was holding a newly opened can of beer. So by the time he yanked his front door open, it was spilling over his hand and dripping onto his pretty hardwood floors.

But she was there, alright. Standing on his porch, with a backpack and a duffel bag and an expression that was a mix of shy and horrified. He’d take it.

”Lyds!”

”Hi,” She said, ducking her head, “Do you…want some company?”

“For how long? Yes. For how long, though? In my— here? You want? Yes. Come in,” He said, stumbling over thoughts and ideas and the image of his Lydia safe and warm and beautiful in his bed and in his house. He stumbled out of the way, and shut the door behind her when she came inside, locking it. “Take bag? Uh, I mean, you want me— your bag? Where are you wanting to sleep, baby?”

”What do you recommend?” She asked, amused.

”Me. My bed. With me,” He said, and found he was actually drooling at the prospect. Awkwardly he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, catching her attention. Luckily she simply smirked, and a little jolt shot through him, making his dick twitch in his pants already. Fuck, she drove him fucking insane.

”Oh yeah? And what do you plan on doing with me in your bed?”

Lawrence had no fucking idea. What was he planning on doing with her in his bed? Touching her, surely. But the idea of her being here, bringing a suitcase with her, her climbing into his bed with him— all willingly! Well, damn. His brain was having a really hard time processing that, and so thoughts outside of mine, she’s mine, Lydia’s mine weren’t really presenting themselves to him. And if he said what he was thinking out loud, she’d rightfully run. Or maybe she’d be into it. She seemed to be kind of a freak.

”Whatever you want.”

”Not very creative, are you?” Lydia teased, and reached out to touch his cheek before she turned on her heel and headed up his stairs. “I’ll find your room again, don’t worry. I don’t want to interrupt your fun.”

”Wh—“ Lawrence stumbled after her, hitting the stairs and landing on them on his knees and one hand, barely managing to catch his beer with his other hand, before he scrambled up after her, still stumbling. God, this girl made his brain go fucking numb. His whole body numb, actually, all primed and ready for her touch. It was insane how bad he wanted her, and if she was anyone other than this freak of a girl, he’d have no chance. But for whatever reason she was back. She was here. She wanted him, too, even if she knew, logically, that she could do way, way better. “No, I’ll come.”

”Oh good,” She said, and laughed. Her skirt was short, and if he looked up at her he could see right up it. But she was wearing tights, hiding the goods from his desperate, searching eyes. “It’s kind of a big house, huh?”

”Yeah, but you’ll get used to it. A few days and you’ll know it better than me. Here, this way.”

He led her down the hall to the front of the house, and shoved the door open. Once again he was infinitely grateful that he was delusional and had always hoped she’d come home with him. That had kept the, uh, ‘tissue issue’ from becoming an actual problem. Dirty clothes, however, were scattered around the room, and the sheets hadn’t been washed in months, and he was certain the room kind of smelled as if he never left it. He tugged a window open as she sat her duffel bag down by his dresser and put her backpack in one of the fancy, expensive chairs he’d dragged in to put in a corner. A cuck chair, he called it. Well, he called it that when his lady wasn’t present.

”You can just, uh, make yourself at home.”

”Do you want to finish that beer, or put it down?”

”Um?”

”Either chug it or set it down, Lawrence.”

Lydia tugged her sweater up over her head, revealing her skirt wasn’t a skirt but a dress. A pretty, low-cut, lacy little thing that he thought would shred up incredibly easily under his teeth or his nails. The nails that she’d told him he needed to trim. Well, he hadn’t gotten to it. Fuck. Would she even let him touch her, then? But she was moving now, distracting him, and she sat on the edge of his bed and crossed those pretty, thin, tight-clad legs, her heels shiny in the dim light. His eyes dropped right to them and he almost fell to his knees. New shoes. He could tell. Barely worn, shiny and pretty, little straps around her ankles so they couldn’t slip off, really high heel. Something he’d have picked out for her if he’d ever been given the honor of helping her pick footwear.

”Oh, do you like them?”

Lawrence opened his mouth and a garbled mess of a noise came out. Lucky for him, she seemed to like that.

”Want to take a closer look?”

The beer was slammed onto his dresser and he was on his knees before his brain could think out anything further than go fast before she changes her damn mind. And he was crawling across the floor before he realized that was a little bit much. Not that she seemed to care. Her gaze was heated and on him and when he got close, she lifted one foot up for him, a clear offer that he could as he liked. He grabbed her ankle, running his hands over the shiny patent leather and soft matte tights while he rubbed his face and nose against where her foot dipped into the shoe itself.

“God,” He breathed, and drooled a little again, wiping his mouth. “You’re so fucking hot.”

”I know,” She said, sweetly, and her other foot nudged his knees. He got the message and spread them, aware that he was already stupidly hard, and that his ridiculous sweatpants hid nothing as he jutted from between his thick thighs.

“Move in forever.”

”We’ll see.”

That wasn’t a ‘no’. He’d fucking take it.

Lawrence rubbed his nose along the edge of her shoe, inhaling the smell of her: soap, laundry detergent, new shoes, and there, softly, the smell of Lydia herself, a warm sort of thick scent that reminded him of being wrapped up in a blanket. He wondered if any woman would smell this good, or if he just got really lucky that the only woman who’d ever given him the time of day smelled insanely delicious. He dragged his tongue along the edge of her shoe, moaning softly even as she jolted and tried to pull her leg away. But it was only for a moment, and then she relaxed in his grip again. Her other foot brushed against his thigh, curiously, and he looked up at her, finding her watching him intently. God, so this was doing nothing for her at all, and she was still letting him? Fucking hell, he’d lucked out.

Nobody would ever fucking believe him.

“Do you…um..?” Lydia asked, and the toe of her shoe brushed against the tip of his straining cock and he moaned, mouth wide as his tongue was still buried between her foot and her shoe. He nodded once, sharply, and she gently, so very gently, rubbed her foot against him.

“God,” He breathed, and whimpered as her foot rubbed gingerly along his length. Without meaning to, his hips rolled forward, trying to get more friction, like a stupid little dog in heat, and her eyes widened. Oh, boy, she liked him desperate huh? Well, he liked being desperate. At least for her, anyway. It wasn't like he'd spent years fantasizing about a confident, sexy, perfect woman like her coming into his life and making him a drooling, pathetic, needy little animal. Although he hadn’t been delusional enough to think he'd ever get that lucky. If she allowed him to keep touching her, they were going to have so much fun together.

“Lean back, on your elbows.”

”Yes ma’am,” He said, at once, and saw her make a face. Okay, no ‘ma’am’ for her, got it. Leaning back, his sweatpants strained desperately against his cock, the small wet spot at the tip obscene and making him feel a little twinge of embarrassment. Not that he really should be embarrassed, because the girl on the edge of his bed was staring with a look that told him she was having some kind of sexual awakening. Wait, how old was she again? No, no, she could drink alcohol. She was legal. This was fine.

”Um, sorry, I’ve never— it won’t hurt if I…?” Lydia trailed off, but then her other foot came up and rubbed against the other side of his cock, so both of her heeled feet were pressing against his light gray sweatpants and his twitching, needy cock was pressed between them.

”Oh, God, yeah, no that’s really fucking good,” He whined, whimpering a little again when she rubbed both feet along him.

They were both, it seemed to him, new to this. Despite fantasizing about exactly this thing for years and years (and specifically her since he laid eyes on her) he’d never imagined it would feel this good. It was so infinitely better than touching himself, and her look of concentration, the careful way she moved her feet so she wouldn’t hurt him, the fire burning in her own eyes, was only emphasizing how just incredible it felt. Sharp shards of pleasure jolted down and up through him, nestling in his balls, making him want to spill after she rubbed her foot down the side of his weeping, pathetic, clothed cock just twice.

”You’re depraved, huh?” She asked.

Lawrence made a pathetic little noise and nodded furiously. She liked that, and her feet worked him, one gliding up while the other slid down, and then together, all the way to his tip, then forcing his pants to let her slide down. Thank God he bought pants a size or two too big, so there was plenty of fabric and she could get from base to tip with little effort.

“You can come,” Lydia told him sweetly, “Even if it’s a bit pathetic to come in your pants again with a girl right here. But, I guess you’re a little pathetic all around, huh?”

She arched her foot, so the underside of her heel gently rubbed against the head of his cock, and that combined with her calling him pathetic pushed him right over the edge. He whined and whimpered and squirmed a bit as his cock pulsed in his pants, and the wet spot at the tip of it grew, just a little, as most of his cum dripped down his length and pooled on his balls, sticky and warm. Gross.

”Aw, there you go,” She said, and her feet gently rubbed him, “Get it all out, Lawrence. There you go. Does that feel better?”

He nodded mutely, and looked up at her pleadingly.

”My turn.”

Lydia looked shy for only a moment, but then she spread her legs. Her black tights were the kind that covered up the goods, which he’d known, so he cast her a curious look.

”I’m sure between the two of us we can afford a new pair, right?” She asked, and if he hadn’t just finished coming, he’d have been hard just from that. She wanted him to tear her tights apart and get in there? By all fucking means.

”Tongue okay?”

”The rest of you’s spent, I think. Too bad, if you’d kept it together longer, you could have been inside me.”

Oh, God. She was going to kill him. His limp cock gave an interested twitch, and the pleasure from the mere idea of being balls deep in his pretty little houseguest was nearly painful due to his sensitivity. She was so stupid hot, and seemingly just naturally so, because she clearly had no idea what she was doing and she was still driving him batshit insane.

”Fuck,” He groaned, and sat up, sliding his face up between her thighs, big brown eyes staring up at her face as he did so. Her hand came up to run his hair through her fingers, gently stroking his head as if he really was a dog. He loved it. He wanted more. Maybe she’d pet him and call him a good boy when he was done.

Lydia smiled a little at him, as if she wasn’t sure what he was doing. Which was fair, because what he was doing was looking up at her like he needed her more than anything in the world. Which he did. He had to keep her. She had to stay forever. If she left him, he’d wither away into nothing. He’d die. He’d simply lose the will to live and cease to exist. People sometimes died from a broken heart, right? Well, if she left, that would be him. He’d never met anyone or seen anything in his entire life that made him sit up and say that’s it, that’s my purpose for living, but he had now.

It was Lydia or death. There was no alternative. So he had to be good for her, be exactly what she wanted, or she might leave, and with her would go his last shot at life.

“Sorry, baby, got distracted by how pretty you are,” He mumbled, kissing her knee. “Now let’s see how pretty I can make you sound.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, but ruffled his hair, and encouraged by that, he slid his face up her thighs and under her skirt. He pressed his nose and mouth against the crotch of her tights and inhaled deeply, pressing tongue to them, feeling how silky and soft they were. Her smell filled him up, a warm, musky kind of scent that was fully Lydia, and he absolutely wanted that smell all over his face as soon as possible. He licked at the crotch of her taut tights, moaning softly, just enjoying being this close, when her hand gently scratched at the fabric beside him, trying to get him started.

Didn’t she know he was savoring her? He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted to enjoy her. But he got the hint, and gently pulled her hand away. And then his bit the crotch of her tights, carefully so he didn’t catch any of her skin. She made a noise of surprise, and then he caught his right two canines (he had two on each side of his mouth) on the fabric and tore, jerking his head so a hole ripped loudly in them. Lydia gasped, and her hand gripped his hair. He shoved his face into the hole he created, sniffing loudly, making her squirm and shift on the bed, thighs gently pressing against him.

“You smell so good,” He moaned, and dribbled a little drool between her legs.

Lydia sounded rather embarrassed when she asked, “Yeah? You’re a freak, you know that?”

”Says the girl who came over in the middle of the night to rub her new heels all over my cock.”

”Do you want me to go?” She snapped.

”I never, ever, ever want you to go,” He said, too earnestly, so she froze up under him. Too much. Whoops.

Before she could wise up, he reached between her legs, tugged her black panties to the side, and shoved his whole face into her pussy. For a second she tensed up, and then with a soft sigh she sagged into the bed, falling onto her back, legs coming up to rest on his back, her heels lightly scratching him through his thin shirt.

If he kept a diary, he’d write pages on how she smelled, how she tasted on his tongue, how her soft thighs shifted and rubbed against his scruffy cheeks as she sighed dreamily above him, pressing down into his mouth needily. He wanted to memorize every inch of her, every experience she deemed him worthy to have, because at any moment she could decide that he wasn’t worth it. At any moment she could get up and leave and destroy him. And he wanted to remember her, to remember what life could be, when she finally got wise. But for now he made himself focus on the taste of her on his tongue and the smell of her filling up his throat and nose, and the feel of how soft she was under his hands and against his cheeks.

And bless her, she was so expressive. Every flick of his tongue made her move or make a noise or exhale nice and sharp. She was heaven under his tongue and mouth, and he ate her like his life depended on it.

Because it did.

She liked this, thank God, and if he performed well enough, she’d keep him. And she was so easy. Or, well, okay, maybe it wasn’t that she was easy. Maybe it was that most women liked a man who had no qualms about shoving his whole face in there, sucking and licking like she tasted divinely. Which she did. His Lydia, delicious and pretty and all his, forever. Definitely. She was definitely never going to leave him, because he ate pussy like a drowning man and would wait on her hand and foot until he died. He’d worship her properly, and she liked that. Liked him, probably despite herself.

And when she came, he lapped it all up and then let her tug him into bed so she could curl up in his arms and fall asleep while he buried his face in her hair and prayed he never, ever woke up from this dream.

They had spent Saturday lounging around the house. Lydia had helped him gather enough food to make some basic meals, and they pretty much just…talked. Hung out. She laid on his chest while he played a video game and asked him about the game he'd picked, and he laid his head in her lap while they watched a mindless cooking show on the television and she ranted about her Dad and how he’d married his second wife way too soon after her Mom died, and how it wasn’t Delia’s fault, but she couldn’t look at Dad the same way anymore.

Every single moment with her was bliss. It was like finally seeing the sun after being locked in a basement. It was like Heaven on Earth, and he couldn’t stop marveling at how absolutely fucking wonderful she was. She was smart as hell, had a sharper tongue than she should for being so young, and she knew exactly what to do to get him hard in a split second. They’d had an excellent day together, ending with them making out rather heavily, and then she’d fallen asleep before he’d finally gotten to press into her, balls deep, and watch her face as he came inside her, filling her up.

So when he woke up on Sunday and found himself in bed alone, he wasn’t immediately panicked. Nor was he panicked after he found the bathroom empty, and the kitchen. But when he’d walked around most of the house and still no Lydia, he started to feel it. The walls closed in, he felt like he was choking, and next thing he knew he was ripping through the house like a frantic, crazy man, tearing doors open so hard they shuddered on hinges, calling out for her like a child he’d lost in heavy traffic, vision blurred and skin hot. He was nearly completely out of his mind by the time he ran onto his porch, crying out for her, slamming the door so hard the glass made a horrible cracking sound as if it broke.

”Jesus fucking— what?!”

Lawrence spun on his bare heel and saw her. Lydia was curled up in one of his stupid deck chairs. The small table beside it held a little mug of coffee, still steaming, and she was still in her pajamas, though she’d tugged on one of his jackets and was wearing a pair of his slippers she must have found in a side room. They were too big on her, and her hair was kind of messy, and her makeup was all smudgy. And she was here, still here, with coffee, not dressed, not leaving him, and it was all he could do to keep from dropping to the ground and weeping at her feet.

“Oh,” He said, instead, shifting his body so he looked extremely casual, “There you are.”

Lydia stared at him, then cocked her head, “You thought I left.”

”No. No way.”

”Yeah, and instead of being normal, you totally freaked out and raced through the whole house. When if you’d looked out your window, or like, on my side of the bed, you’d see my car keys and my car.”

Lawrence glanced over his shoulder. Her practical, black car was parked behind his Mom’s tacky gold one.

“Oh, crazy. Uh, yeah.”

”No wonder your neighbors think I’m being trafficked.”

”What, who thinks that?”

”Oh, Adam and his wife came over while you were sleeping.”

”They…came over?”

”Yeah, Barbara wants us up for dinner tomorrow, I told her we’d love to.”

”Wait—“

”Also they brought some food down, said you don’t keep much in the house.”

”They did?”

”Well, she was a bit meaner about it, but yeah, basically.”

”Wait, baby, hold on, back up. Too much info. Barbara Maitland asked—no, invited us to dinner? At their house. Tonight.”

”Yeah. You said you have dinner with them all the time, so why are you surprised?”

”I have dinner with them all the time,” He clarified, “They have invited me exactly, oh, never.”

”Then how do you get inside?”

”I knock, sweetheart.”

Lydia laughed, tossing her head back and shaking her hair. And then she held out a hand for him, and he was skittering across the porch, taking it in both of his. He dropped to his knees, right by her chair, and leaned heavily on the arm of it, looking up at her with what he hoped was a normal amount of affection. If he showed her how insane he was now, she would certainly tell the Maitland’s she needed help escaping.

”You’re funny,” Lydia said, and kissed his forehead, leaning in to do so. She smelled of her soap and his soap and him, all musky and heavy. He really should wash his clothes more. “Take me grocery shopping?”

”Why?”

”You only have meat in the house.”

”Oh, right. Wait, how long are you staying?” Lawrence asked, suddenly realizing groceries implied a stay longer than one more night.

“I dunno yet,” Lydia said sweetly, kissing his mouth now, “Guess it depends on how good you are.”

”Good? Good at what? I’ll be so good, baby. Stay forever.”

”Reign it in, boy.”

”Yes— uh,” He paused, realizing ‘ma’am’ had not gone over well with her, and hesitated before saying, “Lyds?”

“Better.” She kissed him again and he leaned into it, exhaling out his nose, making her laugh and pull away. Oops, he hadn’t meant to chase her off. “I made coffee, if you want any.It’s on the counter.”

”Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

”I don’t have my keys, dummy. Where am I going to go?”

”Just stay,” He whined, and she rolled her eyes and gave him a light smile. Thank hell she was a freak, too, or she’d be concerned by how much he was begging. Well, he hoped she was a freak. He supposed when he came back she could be gone…

But she wasn’t. When he got back with his own cup of coffee and a thing of cream cheese for the bagels Adam and Barbara dropped off, she was sitting right in her chair, the early morning sun making her hair glow golden around the edges. He sat down in the chair beside hers, one that he didn’t think anyone had ever sat in. Except maybe Beetleman, maybe once. But he doubted it, since they tended to sit in the backyard.

Sunday Dinner was kind of a big deal. Well, okay, to him it wasn’t really a big deal at all. But for them it was, definitely. And Lydia seemed to understand the assignment, because when she came out of ‘her’ bathroom, she was dressed up. A nice dress, hair curled, makeup on, and in her sexy little heels. Incredible. She’d looked gorgeous in the passenger seat of her car as he drove them up the hill to the Maitland’s. It wasn’t a far walk, and she said she wouldn’t mind, but he didn’t know if going uphill in heels was fair to her, so he’d offered to drive them for her benefit.

Lydia had even grabbed a bottle of wine at the store when they’d gone earlier that day, to bring over as a gift. Almost like they were a couple in reality as well as in his mind.

“Barbara’s a bit…touchy. Especially with me.” He said in the car as they pulled easily up the hill that the Maitland house sat on. Lydia looked over at him curiously, so he continued, “So you know, don’t…say anything too weird.”

”What, like that you bought me online?”

”Uh, yeah. Jesus. She’s definitely suspicious.”

“Yeah, I know. She literally asked if I had access to my car keys and if I knew where I was and if I had anyone who would miss me if I went missing.”

“Okay, so you know you need to behave.”

Lydia gave him a long look, and he glanced over as he parked her car in the Maitland’s driveway. Something felt kind of off, but he really couldn’t put his finger on it, and when he parked her car, the back door of the house opened up right up, revealing a rather grim Barbara and a nervous-looking Adam, who waved when he saw them.

”It’ll be fine,” Lydia said, and her hand reached over and rested on his upper thigh, making him jolt and making his thoughts race to his dick and how close she was. God, if she just—

“Lydia,” He gasped, as her hand dipped between his thighs and gave him a little rub. God, this girl was going to be the death of him. His entire mind filled up with the sensation of her soft, warm hand rubbing his flaccid cock, and he panted like a dog, whining when she removed it, half-hard just from that.

“If you get through this we’ll have some fun when we get home.”

”Home,” He echoed, feeling dizzy. Not his home. Just home. Her home. Their home. How many days did they know each other? It didn’t matter. He’d known she was the one he wanted the moment he’d laid eyes on her. There was something about her that called to him. “Kiss?”

”What?” Lydia asked, surprised, and laughed when he leaned over. Mercifully she met him halfway, and her soft lips pressed to his gingerly as her pretty eyes fluttered closed. He sighed and she pulled back, cupping his chin. “Now let’s go before you get any ideas.”

”Yeah, okay.”

Any ideas were her fault, but he let her get away with it. They climbed out of her car and he tucked her keys into his pocket, running a nervous hand through his shaggy hair. To his surprise, Lydia came around to take his hand in hers. He looked at her, but she was looking at the Maitlands, and her face was soft and sweet, more than it had ever been when she was awake.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Maitland,” Lydia said, and her voice sounded sweet and nearly sing-songy. Lawrence gaped, and she nudged him, prompting him.

“Hey Adam and Babs, what's hanging?”

Barbara gave Lydia a little smile, but when Lawrence spoke out loud, it turned pained. Adam gave Lydia a little hug when she got up the stairs, and gestured for her to enter. She dropped his hand so she could maneuver inside, and he was suddenly aware of how warm she had been, reassuring and affectionate, and he felt the urge to snatch her hand back up and not let her go. For now he restrained himself, giving Adam and Barbara an awkward, tense smile back as they let him into their house.

Not that he cared what they thought of him, really. They were both huge fucking losers, and incredibly boring. Well, except the one hobby that Adam shared with him, of course. Because his interests were good interests, and Adam was allowed to have one good interest, just like Babs had one good interest. But it was getting increasingly, drastically clear that Lydia cared.

He probably should have guessed when she’d been so happy picking a wine for tonight, and when she’d been humming when she was getting ready. And how eager she was to get going, making sure they were both ready and in the car on time so they wouldn’t ‘be rude’. As if the time actually mattered. What were they going to do, eat dinner without them? But it hadn’t really occurred to him just how important their opinion of him might be when she’d rush to give them both a hug. He knew she knew Adam, and he guessed he should have known they knew each other rather well, considering how much Adam had known about her when he’d asked.

But, well, the fact that that meant this relationship was doomed hadn’t even crossed his mind until he saw her enter their house, leaving him behind, alone.

“Shit,” He mumbled. No person in the whole world hated him as much as Barbara did. Something about him just put her desperately on edge, and he could sense her discomfort and distaste. He was shocked she let Adam come out to play, honestly, that’s how much she clearly hated him. Not that she’d said anything, she was too polite for that.

”What was that?” Barbara said, tone cool, eyes hard, smile strained.

”Uh, nothing,” He said, awkwardly, and Barbara’s hard look twisted into genuine surprise. “Thanks, uh, for having us over.”

He walked past them, and as he did, he caught Barbara’s hand shoot out and grab Adam as if to steady herself. Adam nodded a little, and leaned in to whisper into her ear. He was too loud, a common problem he had (as well as being awful with secrets).

”Told you.”

Told her what? That he was a psycho that stalked a poor young lady to her cooking class and shoved himself into her space and tricked her onto a date and nearly had sex with her? Or that he was desperately, horrifically, terribly in love with her and would do anything she asked him to do, even if it was something awful like playing nice with people? Probably the latter. Awful, disgusting, ugly Lawrence with a super hot goth babe fifteen years his junior was probably a fucking shock if he had any guess. Especially because she mattered, and wasn’t just some girl he was paying.

“Lydia,” He said, and she glanced over her shoulder.

They’d moved into the living room, and Lydia had been looking at their mantle. The fireplace was a historic one, clearly the original of the house, all rich wood and tile. The mantle was a mix of toy horses and painted miniatures. But now she turned, and when her eyes met his, her face softened just a touch and her serious look turned slightly playful, and her pretty mouth twitched into a little smile. One of her hands reached out to him and he took it in his, stepping up close, pulling it up to his mouth, momentarily forgetting where they were and what they were doing and who was watching. When he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand and rubbed a thumb over her knuckles, her eyelids fluttered and she tilted her head so her hair fell over her neck just beautifully.

”You okay?” She asked, softly.

”Mm, mhm,” He mumbled, kissing her hand again before pressing her palm to his face. Lydia looked at him curiously, but her thumb brushed softly over his cheek and she leaned in and gave him a soft kiss.

Then she gently pulled away and stepped around him.

”Here, we got this for you guys. Thanks for inviting us, this will be way nicer than anything we can cook.”

”Aw,” Barbara said, and Lawrence realized belatedly she’d been there the whole time. They hadn’t interrupted them, or made any noise at all, really, so he’d completely forgotten they existed. “That’s so sweet. But you’re in class now, so I’m sure soon you’ll be incredible.”

”Maybe,” Lydia said, “But Lawrence is still really, really bad. And he already missed a class, so—“

”He’s not very consistent,” Barbara said, and Lawrence rolled his eyes, “So maybe you should think about getting a new partner. For class.”

”Unfortunately,” Lydia said, “I’m kind of into my current one. Mr. Maitland?”

He took the bottle of wine when she handed it over, and gestured for Lawrence to come with him, telling the ladies they were going to pour some glasses and come back. Something told him not to leave Lydia with Barbara, but he only cast one look at her before following Adam into their small, cozy, vintage kitchen. Adam set the bottle of wine down and handed Lawrence a corkscrew before he turned to open a cupboard. He had to lean up and in to reach the wine glasses, so Lawrence took a moment to enjoy the view.

He was tall and skinny, but he had a little bit of a round ass on him, really. And when he slightly bent over the counter, his pants went taut against it. Lawrence could practically feel the fabric under his hands from where he was standing, and he bit his lip, staring. It wasn’t fair how hot the man was, and he always got so tantalizingly close. If Lawrence took two small steps and reached, he could cup one ass cheek in his hand and give it a squeeze, maybe slide a finger along the hinge of his legs until he stroked the back of his balls.

Adam turned then, and Lawrence admired the front half of him, gripping the corkscrew rather tightly as he fantasized about brushing his nose along the zipper of his pants.

“You okay, buddy? I’m sure she’s not trying to convince Lydia to run. But you know Barbara,” He said, pleasantly, as if he hadn’t just sent Lawrence’s mind racing, “She’s very concerned.”

”Uh, wait, sorry, what? Why would she be trying to convince her to run?”

”Oh, you know,” Adam set the glasses down on the counter, painstakingly casual. “Because of the whole stalking thing, and then there was the fact that she’s suddenly at your house for days, and that she thinks she’s too young for you.”

”Uh, okay, well,” Lawrence said, voice a little snappy, “She’s fine with the stalking, if it even really counts as stalking which I think is debatable, and she came to me!”

”I mean…”

Adam had shrugged a shoulder and wouldn’t meet his gaze, looking awkward and sheepish as he lined the glasses up, making sure they were all perfectly next to one another. Lawrence felt an urge to push them to the floor and watch them all break, and maybe grab Adam by his shirt and demand to know what the fuck Barbara was getting at. Not liking him was one thing, but he deserved Lydia. She was his, now and forever, and if she was taken away cause some busybody boring—

“I think she’s just worried. But, don’t tell them I said this but, Lydia’s a very decisive girl, Lawrence. If she didn’t want to be at your place, she wouldn’t be. You can’t make her feel bad unless she likes you, and she’s pretty,” He paused to search for a word, rolling his hand in a circle before looking delighted he found the right one, “Direct.”

”Yeah, she is.”

”So, try not to worry, okay? She likes you. Or she wouldn’t be at your place for so long. I’ve smelled your room, Lawrence. She must really like you.”

”Okay, yeah, got it. Damn. Can’t a guy enjoy himself in his own fucking house?”

”Sure, but maybe less often or maybe clean up a little? I hope you at least washed your sheets.”

”Yeah, they’ve been washed.”

”This week?”

”What, no, like two months ago. Wait, how often do I need to wash sheets?”

“You know what, I’ll make you a chore chart. I think that’ll probably be more help than telling you now, okay? Let’s just get those ladies some wine and see if we can get this dinner party on the road.”

Lawrence glanced at the doorway that led into the living room, but he couldn’t see either woman from here, and couldn’t hear either of them, either. His stomach tugged and he felt the sudden need to rush back in there and make sure she hadn’t run off while he’d been talking to Adam. He patted his pocket, making sure her keys were still on him. Unless Barbara drove her, she wasn’t getting very far, regardless of if she left or not. That would give him time to try to sweet talk himself back into her good graces.

The sound of pouring wine got his attention again, and he looked over, finding that Adam was making sure they were all equal. When he set the bottle down, Lawrence poured a little more into the one on the end, ignoring Adam’s quirked brow. They both picked up two glasses and headed back into the living room. The girls were on the long couch, tucked into the bay window, and the fire in the fireplace crackled pleasantly, casting a warm orange glow over both of them. Lawrence relaxed when Lydia’s eyes flicked to him and she reached out for her glass. She tilted her head back, just a smidge, and Lawrence knew exactly what she wanted.

They both held the glass, just a touch more filled than the other three, between them as he leaned down and kissed her mouth with his own.

”Thanks.”

”I gave you a little extra,” He said, low and playful, “So maybe you’ll get drunk enough to come home with me again.”

“Ooh,” Lydia laughed, “I’ll need more than one glass for that, I think.”

”That can be arranged.”

Lydia laughed again, and then suddenly seemed to realize Barbara and Adam, both with glasses of wine in their hands, were watching them. So she pulled away, but her other hand came up to brush his, and he took the reassurance that all was fine, she just had to behave in front of these near-strangers. So Barbara hadn’t ruined the only relationship he was likely to ever have. Thank god. But there was no room on the couch for him, too, with how Barbara was seated, so he sat in an armchair across from them, and sipped his wine, eyes trained on his girl as she talked to Barbara about…god, he didn’t even know. He could barely hear her over his own thoughts.

Which were all of her. Just Lydia. Like a reel of her, that played on repeat, until she drowned out anything else.

“Are you okay?”

”Huh? What?” Lawrence jolted and then looked at Adam, who was looking at him with a kind of soft, kind of knowing smile that made his skin crawl and his stomach lurch. “What? Damn. Were you talking?”

Adam grinned a little broader, and Lawrence scrambled for something to say, anything to say that made him feel less exposed.

”I wasn’t listening,” Lawrence said, and his voice was a little too loud as he said, “I was thinking about my mouth around your cock.”

The two women went silent and Lydia turned sharply, alarmed, and Barbara looked a horrible mix of pleased and annoyed, and Adam exhaled audibly.

”What?” Lawrence asked, glancing between the three of them.

Lydia wasn’t really happy with him, and he wasn’t really entirely sure why. They had stayed for dinner, and she’d pointedly ignored him to mostly converse with Adam and Barbara, and he’d watched her longingly most of the night, wondering what he’d done. He had hoped someone would explain it to him eventually, but by the time he was on the porch waiting for Lydia, he was pretty sure everyone was going to leave him in the dark. They’d made their way, silent and tense, to her car, and he’d opened her door for her and gently closed it once she was inside, thinking it might get him brownie points.

It did not.

Instead, it got him a lovely, tense, miserable drive down the hill, and he was pretty sure she was going to leave him again when she still said nothing and headed into his house. He’d followed her upstairs to his room, fully expecting to see her packing, completely willing to drop to his knees and lay on his stomach and beg her to give him another chance.

But she wasn’t packing. She was sitting on the end of his bed, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. Lawrence stood in the doorway awkwardly, and she looked at him expectantly.

”That was really uncool, Lawrence.”

”What was?” He asked, stepping into the room, shutting the door so they could talk. Not that anyone was in their house, of course, but sometimes he felt like he had more privacy if he shut his bedroom door.

“Hitting on someone else in front of me,” Lydia said, pretty patiently considering he’d clearly pissed her off deeply. “I guess I should have guessed you had the hots for him after the stalking conversation, but I didn’t really think about it.”

”Uh, well, he’s never gonna let me smash, baby. So what’s the big deal?”

”The big deal is that I don’t fucking like it, you jackass.”

Lawrence held his hands up, “Baby, your comfort is my number one priority here, okay? I’m not trying to be an ass. I’m crazy about you. I just didn’t know you cared if I wanted to suck some cock.”

”Yeah, well. I guess I don’t really have a right to care,” Lydia said, and made a face he couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of. “But I do, as stupid as that is. So just…not in front of me, okay?”

”You got it. I’ll do my best, okay? Go easy on me, girl, I’m not used to being accountable and shit.”

”Uh huh.”

Lydia still didn’t look impressed, and her small frame was still stiff and tense on his bed. What he’d done couldn’t have been that awful. He wasn’t an awful guy, not really. Misguided, sure, stupid, absolutely, but he really did like her. And not just because she was insanely hot and very much his type, but he also liked talking to her. Which was incredibly lucky, really, because he’d been so set on marrying the girl once he’d seen her that he was certain he would have been obsessed even if she’d been the worst person on the planet.

“What can I do, baby? Tell me what you want from me and I’m happy to do it. Want to sit in our sessions?”

”I want you to strip.”

Lawrence stared. The silence between them dragged out, uncomfortably long, until finally he shook his head, shaggy hair flicking back and forth, and he rubbed his ears.

”Sorry? What?”

”Strip. Shirt first. Snap snap, don’t make me wait.”

Lawrence had never been asked to strip in his entire life. And it wasn’t that he was insecure, really, she was clearly at least semi-into him. She’d let him bury his face in her twice now, so there was that. But he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be naked in front of this super hot goth babe that he’d bagged because she was (luckily, blessedly) damaged. He fingered the edge of his shirt, a nicer one she’d pulled out for him for the dinner, and gently ran a thumb over the bottom button before he held both hands out, playful grin on his face.

”You’re joking, baby, come on. What would you do with me once I’m naked, anyway? Let me strip you, instead, and I’ll show you what else my mouth can do.”

”No thank you. I want to see what I’m working with. Come on, Lawrence. Off with it.”

Lawrence’s smile faded, and his heart beat rather hard in his chest, and he realized with a sinking feeling that he didn’t really have a choice. Well, he could say no, of course. But then she might leave. And the likelihood of her teasing him over his form was low, if he was thinking logically. She wanted to see. That was a good thing. She’d come to his house twice. She kissed him every time he wanted her to, and initiated her own kisses just as often as she seemed to please. This was good.

“Are you sure?” He asked, miserably.

”What, are you shy?”

“No, of course not,” He lied.

”Okay then? Go for it, stud.”

He winced at the pet name, knowing she was teasing, but not in the way that his brain supplied immediately. She was good teasing. Playing around. Trying to have some fun. But his brain still whispered she’s mocking you, how could she ever want you? Rude. Sometimes it almost sounded like good old Mom. Only Mom had been dead nearly a year now, and he hadn’t talked to her in something like eighteen years. After a moment he undid the buttons on his shirt and dropped it to the ground, revealing his white shirt underneath. Lydia clicked her tongue and leaned back, watching, her eyes half-lidded, her bottom lip tucked under her top teeth as she watched appreciatively.

Yet when he tugged his undershirt up, he found he was trembling, and he instinctively sucked in his gut, as if that would have any effect at all on the extra weight he carried.

”Relax,” She said, softly.

”Yeah, great, thanks.”

”Mm,” She shifted on the bed, “Now the pants.”

”Come on, baby.”

”What, you don’t want me to see what you’re going to put in me?”

The thought of actually being able to put it in her was wildly appealing. He’d never put it in anyone, although he’d lie through his teeth if asked, and he desperately wanted to be in her, specifically. Only. No, well, okay, that was a bit crazy. He’d be down for a threesome, or to sleep with Adam or Barbara. He bet the hate sex with Babsy would be fucking incredible, he could just imagine her clawing up his back and sinking her teeth into his shoulder and calling him names. And Adam, of course, would be a gentle and courteous lover. The kind to make sure his partner was deeply satisfied before he rolled over and went to bed. But Lydia didn’t like it.

“What did you mean by you don’t have a right to be upset?” He asked, realizing something suddenly.

”What?” Lydia asked, and the balance of power shifted suddenly and sharply. So sharply that even he noticed.

Lawrence was nearly giddy, and laughed, “Lydia! Spill, baby, tell me why you’re so upset. You don’t ‘have a right’, huh?”

He barely remembered he was completely bare from the waist up, and slowly approached her, grinning mischievously, enjoying the way her face shifted from surprise to unease, and how she moved one leg up, as if it would keep him at bay. When he got close enough, he grabbed her ankle and spread her leg, so he could step up between them. Lydia fell back on the bed, flat on her back, so her dark hair curled around her head, and she peered up at him as he crawled up over her.

”What’s it mean? Spell it out for daddy.”

”Ugh,” Lydia laughed, shoving at him, bringing her other knee up so he felt enclosed and safe between her legs. “Gross, don’t call yourself that.”

”But you got Daddy issues, right? Girls love that shit.”

”Uh huh. Well, I’m telling you no thanks, right? And since I’m the only girl you’ve ever gotten into your gross bed, maybe let’s default to my preferences.”

”My bed isn’t gross,” He said, defensively, and she grinned at him, making him think he missed something. Belatedly he added, “Uh, and I’ve had plenty of sexual partners, thanks.”

”Oh yeah,” Lydia said, her hands coming up to touch his bare chest. He shuddered, and she gently ran those dark nails of hers over his chest, eyes following them as she took him in. She didn’t look disappointed, but he knew she must be. “You exude the energy of a man who’s had plenty of sex.”

”Aw, thank you. And you exude the energy of someone who could use a good dicking down.”

Lydia snorted, “You have such a way with words.”

Lawrence leaned down and caught her mouth with his own, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing into the kiss. When he let her ankle go she wrapped both legs around him, too, and for a moment his only thought was in the head between his legs, which was pressing against the stiff jeans she’d forced him into, desperately trying to get him to unzip so he could shove into her instead. But something told him he was close to something super important, and he desperately wanted to know why she felt she had ‘no right’ to be possessive of him. He reached up and tugged her arms off him, and pinned them up by her head, one of his hands for each of her wrists, and he grinned down into her surprised and annoyed face.

”You’re really jealous, huh.”

”No,” She snapped, but her cheeks colored, and she shifted under him.

”You are. How embarrassing for you. You didn’t even like me last week,” Lawrence teased, and when she clicked her mouth shut he gasped, “Oh, wait, wait. You’ve liked me since you met me, haven’t you?”

”No.”

”You have!” Lawrence laughed, and kissed her, laughing again when she snarled against his mouth, “Oh, baby, you’re a big loser. God, how embarrassing for you. No wonder you’re so snappy. You like me!” He kissed her cheek, then down her neck, grinning and laughing as she squirmed under him. She hadn’t asked him to stop, and her arms weren’t straining in his grip, so he felt this was ‘playing’ struggling and not…uh, well, ‘cops called’ struggling.

”Shut up,” Lydia snapped, but she rolled her head to the side so he could kiss down her bare neck and nose her top off her shoulder, kissing there, too. She felt heavenly under his mouth, and he spread his lips so he could press his whole flat, wet tongue against the velvety, pale expanse of shoulder. She made another noise in her throat and squealed, “Gross, cut it out!”

“I think you like gross,” He said, more confidently than he had any right to be. And he was pretty confident right now, because she was lying in his dirty bed, and she’d let him climb between her legs, and she felt she had no ‘right’ to be jealous, even when she clearly was jealous. She was clearly fucking crazy for him. Thank fucking god, thank god, she was so fucking broken. He tongued her shoulder, dragging down as far as her top would let him, leaving a slimy, wet trail of saliva over her skin, drying in the cool air of the night, as she shifted uncomfortably under him.

“Ugh, you fucking suck!”

”You want to be my girlfriend, don’t you?”

She tensed up so hard under him that he thought he’d miscalculated. Actually, he hadn’t meant to ask her about it that bluntly at all. It had been his intention to ease into asking her if she wanted to be exclusive. Even though he knew he would be exclusively for her use forever, so really the only one making any kind of commitment here was her. But from how tense she was and how she wouldn’t look at him, and how her teeth worried her bottom lip, he wondered if she wasn’t willing to lock into this. Staying the night at his place for days, coming to his place twice now without him asking her to do so, well…maybe that was just because she liked making fun of him. Maybe this whole stripping thing was because she wanted to humiliate him and remind him why he couldn’t have her, not really. Because coming in his pants wasn’t having her, and she hadn’t even wrapped her hand around it yet, let alone let him put it inside any other part of her. Maybe she found him revolting, actually, but he was good enough to pleasure her. Maybe—

“Yeah.”

Lawrence gasped. Out loud. Like a total fucking idiot. He winced a little as her gaze shifted to him, and she tilted her head, jaw firm, eyes sharp and angry.

”What?”

”I didn’t— uh, I just didn’t expect that to work.”

”What to work?”

”Oh, right, right, I didn’t actually ask you. Want to be my baby girl, baby girl?”

”Ugh, no. What the fucks wrong with you?” Lydia snapped, and when she saw how he flinched and how his eyes got shiny with sudden tears, she pulled her hands free of his grip and took his face in them, looking mildly annoyed with him. “I want to be your girlfriend, Lawrence, but not your baby girl. Yeesh. And that means you can’t be telling Adam you want to suck his dick. Like, at all, ever, even if I’m not present. If I find out you’re telling people you want to do anything sexual to them at all, I’m fucking gone. That’s the line. Got it? No more hitting on Adam and Barbara. Or that Beetle-guy you mentioned.”

”You got it,” Lawrence said, “Although I’d never ask Beetleman to fuck, he’s tied up with some kid, anyway.”

”Uh, what?”

”Later, baby, let me put it in you now,” He mumbled, kissing her throat again, grinding their hips together so his boner dragged against her wet panties. He glanced down, one of his hands gliding up her thigh and shoving the skirt of her dress up, until he could see that she had some kind of thigh-high stockings on, instead of her usual tights. She was bright red when he looked back up at her face.

”Thought this would be easier than dealing with tights again. You can’t rip all of them apart with your teeth. I won’t have anything left to wear.”

“I’ll order you a hundred tights if you want,” He mumbled, shoving her dress up, moaning softly at the sigh of her legs. God, she was so impossibly hot. How he’d bagged her, damaged or not, was beyond him. How insanely lucky. “God, all the homelessness was so fucking worth it.”

”What?” Lydia asked, alarmed.

”Later, baby. Let’s fuck.”

”You’re so romantic,” She said, dryly, but let her legs fall apart, so he could see her panties, and he could see just how wet she was. Thank god she was into big idiots. He licked his lips and she laughed, “You’re never going to get to put it in if you keep eating me out, buddy. You can’t handle it.”

”I’ll build up stamina,” Lawrence said, drooling enough that he had to wipe his face with the back of his hand. “Are you sure I can’t have a snack? You taste so fucking good.”

“Kiss me,” Lydia said, and grabbed his chin firmly, forcing his attention back to her face. His dick throbbed in his pants and he whimpered as the sudden pleasure of being manhandled made him grind his hips into hers. Lydia looked surprised, and then smiled, “Oh, you’re so fucking easy, Lawrence. Poor thing, nobody ever let you touch them, huh?”

Lawrence grunted as her hips rolled forward, rubbing her soaked crotch along his. He was desperately straining in his jeans, and he moaned when she yanked him down to kiss him, so soft and fluttery light against his mouth that he tried to kiss her properly, only to find the hand on his chin was holding him at this distance. How she knew exactly what to do to drive him insane was beyond him, but he moaned again and thrust forward, like he was going to be able to get anywhere at all with them both fully clothed.

“It’s okay,” She cooed, her other hand slipping into his hair, scratching his scalp, grabbing up a fistful of his graying brown locks. “I won’t tease you if you’re a big loser and don’t manage to get it inside this time, either.”

”Fuck,” He moaned, jerking his hips back, realizing rather suddenly that she was spot on: he was about to finish in his pants. Again. Absolutely not. He would never recover emotionally.

“You know, I looked it up,” Lydia said, sounding kind of shy, “It said, uh, that some guys can…go again? Like you can finish, and then a bit later, you can get hard again.”

”Yeah, but won’t you be bored?”

”From watching you try to get hard again before I change my mind? No.”

”You’re not gonna change your mind, baby,” Lawrence said, grinning, “You’re my girlfriend now. You can’t hide that you’re crazy about me.”

Lydia didn’t answer him, and he started to feel a little anxious about it, but then she tucked her feet on his lower back. Before he could ask what she was doing, she tugged him harshly forward, and his straining, desperate cock ground up against her soaked panties, and she rolled up to meet him, moaning softly as she did so. He didn’t stand a fucking chance, the bitch. Lawrence gasped and grunted and grabbed her hips with both hands, holding her against him as he came. His eyes were screwed shut, and when he finally opened them, she was looking up at him hungrily.

”Alright, good job,” She said, voice catching in her throat. She shifted under him, and he winced as she rubbed against his spent cock. “Now let’s see how long it takes for you to be ready again.”

”Great. And until then, what, we stare at each other?”

”Sure,” Lydia said, and let her legs relax so they weren’t pinning him in place. She stretched her arms up over her head and looked up at him, half-lidded and sultry. “Don’t you want to look?”

”At what?”

”Me, dummy. Go ahead. Strip me.”

”What, like, all of your clothes? Off?”

”Yep.”

Lawrence didn’t need to be told twice. He sat up on his knees and yanked her a little too hard up into a sitting position, startling her into complete compliance. And then he was tugging her dress up and over her head and tossing it over his shoulder, taking her in. Her black panties matched her black bra. He didn’t know much about women or their underthings, but he did know there seemed to be three main types: pretty, practical, straight sexy time only. These were pretty. Lacy, sheer, and she’d artfully made sure the flimsy lacy top of the cups were gently embracing her breasts. Her panties were the same, lacy and pretty, but satin instead of sheer. He wanted to run his tongue all along her bare skin.

And there was plenty to taste, right now. Her thin body was pale on his dark sheets, and she was all stretched out for his viewing pleasure. And view her he did, he let his dark eyes roam over every inch of her. Without thinking he reached for his phone, realizing he needed to capture this moment, since it was unlikely to ever happen again, but stopped himself short. Instead he dropped both of his hands to her hip bones, and then ran his hands over her flat stomach and up towards her breasts, breathing rather hard.

By the time he was skating his hands gently, so very gently, over her perky little breasts, he was rock hard again. Well, shit.

”Good boy,” She said, softly, “Now get a condom and let’s fuck.”

Lawrence scrambled for the side table, and he unzipped his pants as he went, kicking his shoes off, slamming one into the dresser against the wall, while the other went flying into his bathroom with a loud clatter. He was tugging his pants down, then, and glanced over to see his pretty goth princess sitting up on her elbows, legged crossed, one heeled foot bouncing as she watched him, biting her lip. Could she be…enjoying this? Looking at him floundering around, stripping off the remainder of his clothes?

All signs pointed to ‘yes’, because as soon as he peeled off his wet, sticky boxers, she was spreading her legs and crooking a finger at him. He stumbled over, barely even aware of the bounce of his hard cock as he ran for her, stumbling, tripping over something on the ground, knees hitting the edge of his bed, panting out loud as he slid up between her legs.

Lydia’s hand cupped his cheek and he paused to look at her.

”I’m not going anywhere. Relax, okay? I want this just as bad as you do.”

”You do?”

”Yeah, you big fucking idiot.”

”Okay,” He said, feeling a little relieved. He leaned down and she rose to meet him, so their mouths slotted together nicely, and then she slid her tongue into his mouth and he was lost for a second in the taste of her.

She tasted of wine, and of the dinner Barbara and Adam had made special just for his veggie baby girl, and then there was her, under all of it, the taste that Lydia just had by nature of being Lydia. He wondered if he had a taste, too. He hoped it wasn’t revolting. Their kiss was too slobbery, too wet, but he didn’t care, and it seemed Lydia was kind of into him when he was messy.

She reached down between them and took the condom wrapper out of his hand, and he leaned on his hands on either side of her, breaking their kiss so he could watch her skilled hands slide the condom on. It looked like she’d had practice, and when he cast her a curious look she blushed really prettily, prompting him to kiss her throat and down her chest until she fell back down again, black curls pooling around her pretty, pink face.

”Delia made me learn. Long story.”

”Oh, so she thought you were a little slut?”

”Nah, she has a past, and she said that I’d be really grateful to know how to do this if I ever found myself in my rich stalker’s smelly bedroom.”

Lawrence stared. “You’re kidding.”

”Yeah.”

”Oh,” He said, and laughed, relieved. Then he tugged her panties down over her stockings, and gently lifted her legs up so he could pull them free of her shoes, and tossed them behind him. And, bless her, she undid her bra, letting it fall off the side of the bed. His cock throbbed and twitched and bounced between his legs and he wasn’t sure how long he’d last even with him having only just came, and with the dull sensation that the condom allowed.

He pressed into her, slowly, moaning loudly when the sensation of her wrapped around the head of his dick, and then eased himself deeper into her so her slick, hot walls closed around his shaft, too. He pressed in, gently but steadily, until he was balls deep, and then he had to stop to pant over her, trying to control himself.

”That good, huh?” Lydia teased, “You’re not going to last anyway. Poor Lawrence.”

”No, wait, just— a minute, I need a minute,” Lawrence moaned again when she tightened around him, squeezing him. “Fuck, Lydia, cut that out!”

”Why? You gonna come prematurely?” Her tone was mocking, and he tried to think of anything else than her face.

Because even with his eyes closed, he could picture the devilish smirk on her pretty mouth, the mean glint in her eyes, the way she tilted her head down when she was doing something naughty on purpose. And she was naked, and beautiful, and all his, all his, forever and ever, no escape, just for him.

”Baby, please. I want to do this right.”

Lydia relaxed under him, and he shuddered and thought of his Mom so he wouldn't come immediately anyway. Mean in the bad way, dead as hell, and the reason he was even in the position to have Lydia under him, in his bed, surrounded by her expensive, historic, awful house. Lydia who he’d have move in and they’d tear the whole thing apart and build it back up just for them. Striped wallpaper. Black carpet. Funky, artistic furniture that cost too much and was somewhat impractical but looked fucking awesome. Pictures of them on the wall. Lydia, his Lydia, his future wife, his other half, and his entire world and universe and everything, all tied up in a little black bow. He’d been waiting for her for his whole life, and here she was.

”You good?” She asked, and her hand brushed his face.

”Yeah. Yeah. Just thinking about you,” Lawrence said, and leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him back, and laughed.

”I’m already here, dummy.”

”Ready? I’m gonna move.”

”Thank God. Not that I don’t love seeing you on the edge like this, but I need you to lube up a bit more before it feels good. Just kind of ease out and back in a few times,” She said, bringing her knees up on either side of him. Lawrence grunted at the shift, and did as instructed.

He inched back out, then eased back in, and then again, and again, and then he picked up the pace. She was gripping his shoulders and moaning softly, face flushed, eyes on his face. It seemed she was enjoying this much better now that she’d slicked him up, and each thrust into her filled the room with a delightfully obscene squelch. He shifted his hips to get a better position, and suddenly she cried out and clamped down around him, making him gasp and moan loudly, nearly pushed over the edge as she cried, rather frantically:

”Oh, God, right there— fuck, Lawrence, no, do it again!”

She didn’t need to ask him twice, he pulled back out and then thrust back into her again, hitting that spot, moaning when she dug her nails into him and let out a sharp, desperate gasp that caught in her throat before she managed to get the rest out. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she curled up towards him, and he got the feeling she wanted a lot more than just those two thrusts.

In the future he was sure he’d have better stamina, but for now he had to look up and away from her face and think, hard, about his Mom, taxes, and whether or not he was still in trouble with the State of Maine’s police force, so he didn’t come too quickly as she squeezed him with every thrust. He had to keep his hips nice and squared so he kept right on target, making her cry out and dig her nails into his back. After a moment he had an idea and reached between them, thumb brushing over her clit as he humped her.

The reaction was nearly-immediate, and when he shoved back into her one final time, she tightened up like a coil. She curled in sharp, nails dug so deeply into his back he wondered if he would have marks, and her pussy squeezed him mercilessly. He might have been able to recover, but she tossed her head back, and he caught her expression, and he was lost. He grabbed her hips, held her down against the bed while he pressed tight against her, and came, rather hard.

He tended to beat off at least twice a day when he didn’t have plans. But he’d noticed that whenever Lydia was involved, everything felt way, way better. Heightened, almost. Whether that was because it was Lydia or because it was the added pleasure of someone else touching him, he wasn’t entirely sure. He guessed it was probably a mix, at least for him. So this orgasm had him seeing stars, and his mind scrambled all over the place, flashing images and fragments of thought that were abstract and might have been confusing if he wasn’t so pleasantly removed from everything. Just a soft cloud of pleasure and nothing as he grunted and filled the condom inside his girl.

And then one of those thoughts solidified rather boldly: if I get her pregnant, she’ll be stuck with me forever.

”Oh,” Lydia sighed, falling back, looking like she was on the brink of sleep. “That was fun.”

”You sound surprised,” Lawrence said, still buried in her, not willing to pull out and end this. What if it was his only time? Ever? He wanted to hold onto it. That his mind was picturing the condom breaking was irrelevant. But if it was an accident she couldn’t even be mad with him.

“Off,” Lydia said, and patted his shoulder, “I gotta clean up.”

Lawrence hesitated, but his brain won out, and he rolled off her, sighing. She sat up and stretched, then kissed his stomach before she stood up. Without bothering to grab a shirt or literally anything to cover herself up, she strode across the room and out into the hallway.

Maybe later he’d worry about all of his strange thoughts about her, but for now he wondered if he gave it until she was done freshening up if he could possibly go again. He’d heard that the third time’s the charm, anyway.

Chapter Text

Lydia hadn’t really meant to spend a whole fucking week with him. Even though she’d packed enough for a week or so, it had been a precaution. So she’d have enough clothes to pick from. Not a promise or a plan to actually use every piece of clothing she’d brought. And it hadn’t been her plan to sleep every night in bed with Lawrence, wrapped up in his arms with her head on his chest. This whole thing had really gotten away from her. She didn’t know what she was doing. Really, it felt like she was careening wildly out of control and about to pitch over the side of a cliff. Even more so when she’d woken up to twenty text messages from her Dad. She must’ve turned off airplane mode at some point. Oops. She sighed audibly, and she felt Lawrence shift under her cheek. One of his big hands rubbed her back, and then ran up through her hair.

”Morning, baby.” His voice was rough and gravelly, and rumbled in his chest under her. She tossed her phone away and curled up against him, closing her eyes and rubbing her face over him.

”I’ve got to go home today,” She said, and the hand on her back stilled for a moment.

”Uh, okay…”

“What?”

”Did I do something wrong?”

Lydia laughed, soft and airy, and gently raked her nails down his chest, before pinching his nipple through his shirt, earning her a little gasp. “No, dummy. I have to go home eventually, that’s all. And my, uh, my Dad texted me a bit. He found out I’ve been here and he’s kind of losing his shit.”

”What? Why?”

”He’s kind of pissed I’ve been at your house this long. Not like, pissed because it’s you. I don’t think he even knows who you are. But that I’ve been at a guy’s house for a week has really got him worked up.”

Lawrence laughed, “Yeah, I didn’t think it was personal. I don’t think we run in the same circles, babe.”

”Yeah, so I’ve got to go home and check in with him and stuff.” Lydia kissed his chest and then sat up, so she could look down at him. He looked back up at her, face twisted up in concern. She was pretty sure he was anxious she’d skip town. Still. Despite her sleeping in his bed every night for a whole fucking week. He was an idiot, and a little bit toxic, but he was absolutely nuts for her. Lydia leaned down and pressed her mouth to his, smiling a little when he relaxed and kissed her back.

”I’ll see you tonight?”

”This afternoon,” Lydia told him, leaning down to kiss him again. He sighed against her, and she felt him relax. The hand on her back moved to playing with her hair, and she leaned heavily into him. “But, you know, this week’s going to be different.”

”Different how?”

”I can’t sleep over every single night.”

”Why not?” He whined, “You don’t like my house?”

”Your house is fine,” Lydia rolled her eyes, “Even if it’s definitely haunted.”

”Haunted?”

”It’s that we should probably spend some time apart,” Lydia squeezed his cheek with one hand when he looked up at her pathetically. “It’s not personal, Lawrence. A whole week after our first date is a bit, uh, extreme.”

Lawrence looked miserable, but nodded, “Yeah, okay. Makes sense.”

”But we can text. Here.” She unlocked her phone and handed it to him. “Give me your number.”

When he was done he handed it back and she tossed it to the side table, rolling onto her back beside him. He slept in sweats a shirt, and they didn’t quite fit him right. A little too big, so when she slid her hand under the covers, her fingers could feel the bare divet of his hips. Lawrence inhaled sharply next to her, And she slid her hand over his hip, under the fabric, so her fingers brushed against the side of his dick.

“I think I can spare a few minutes before I head out,” She said, and he made a noise in his throat as her hand wrapped around him.

Charles and Delia’s house was a rather modern nightmare on the outskirts of Peaceful Pines. Lydia hadn’t really been thrilled about living at home, but she was even less thrilled now that it was clear Charles thought he had any say over her personal activities. If she wanted to stay at her stalker’s house for a week straight, that was her own personal decision. He didn’t get to tell her ‘no’. She was twenty-two. She was a full adult.

So how she found herself sitting on the couch, being scolded like a child, she wasn’t really quite sure. Delia stood a little ways off, hands clasped, watching them nervously. She wasn’t one for fighting, and any time Lydia and Charles got into it, she hovered, worried, until things smoothed out again. While Charles seemed to assume they’d work everything out, regardless of how bad the fight got, Delia seemed to think any slight disagreement would lead to never seeing one or both of them ever again. Her anxiety over familial disputes was so bad, actually, that Lydia had been playing nice for months now in an attempt to keep the poor lady from stressing out.

“You simply aren’t allowed to go back. I won’t allow it.”

Lydia had been tuning him out, but now he had her attention. She scoffed.

”Yeah, okay.”

”I mean it, Lydia,” Charles said, voice dangerously low, “You aren’t going to be spending weeks at a time at strange men’s houses. Especially not a man who’s so old he’s got gray hair.”

”And how do you know what he looks like?”

“I told you,” He said impatiently, “The Maitland’s called me. They said they got a new game they thought I’d like and, more importantly, they asked if you were bringing a Lawrence to game night.”

Lydia had gotten the feeling at their dinner with the Maitland’s, and also from Barbara’s very thinly-veiled distaste for Lawrence in literally every interaction they’d had since the morning on the porch, that they would rather she not be hanging around their neighbor. But calling her Dad and telling on her seemed rather shitty.

”Daddy,” Lydia said, trying very, very hard to be patient for Delia’s sake, “I won’t stop seeing him just because you’ve prematurely decided to dislike him.”

“You will not see him,” Charles said, as if the discussion was over, “Or you will not live here.”

Lydia wasn’t really the type to be told what to do. Lawrence had figured this out pretty quick, it had seemed, much faster than her only Father, who still thought he had any sway at all over anything she did. Maybe if, for whatever reason, Lawrence didn’t make her go absolutely batshit insane, she would be able to be reasoned with. But he did. There was no good explanation for it. Lawrence wasn’t anything special. He was a dorky, old, chubby guy who didn’t understand basic boundaries or what personal space was.

Her phone lit up and her eyes dropped down to see a notification pop up.

Lawrence ❤️

”What a dork.” He had to have input his own name with a stupid heart emoji after it. She flipped her phone over, to hide the message from her Dad’s prying, bugged-out eyes. Let his imagination run wild, he didn’t deserve to know his text had simply been a picture and a ‘hey girl’. Because he was an idiot, and clearly didn’t know how to text. At least it hadn’t been a dick pic.

”I mean it, Lydia.”

”Okay,” Lydia said, and stood up, startling Charles, who seemed to puff himself up in an attempt to be more intimidating.

“Okay?”

”Yeah, sure. No problem. Sorry, Daddy.” Lydia patted his arm and stood up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll sort it all out, okay?”

”Uh, sure.” Charles watched her as she headed for the stairs, one of her hands gently touching Delia’s elbow as she walked by, reassuring her that all was well. Delia relaxed a little. “Thank you, Lydia. I’m sure you’ll understand one day.”

With her bedroom door shut behind her, she sent Lawrence a reply, and smiled a little when he texted back immediately. God, he was so needy. They’d been apart maybe an hour or so. Not long enough to be texting each other, and sending photos was a touch (okay, helplessly) clingy. But she found him charming, for some reason.

not desperate

Lydia rolled her eyes, smiling a bit.

idk seems desperate to send a pic an hour after i left

didnt want u to froget

youre stupid

But when he asked her to send a picture, she complied, even if she rolled her eyes.

By the time she was pulling into his driveway, she was entirely worked up. She’d sent him a text explaining she was skipping class, and he’d sent back quite a few over the past few hours, getting more and more anxious the longer she’d not responded. Finally, an hour ago, she’d asked him if she could come over to talk about something serious. And when he said she could, she’d put her phone in her purse and hadn’t checked it again. So she’d missed the twenty text messages asking if they were okay, and the ten phone calls. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise that her needy, desperate boyfriend would lose his fucking mind over a ‘lets talk’ text after she asked for space and went home and skipped class.

But it was still a surprise when she parked her car and noticed he was standing on the porch, arms crossed, all shrunk in on himself.

”Hey, Lydia.”

”Hey,” Lydia said, and realized from the look on his face that she’d stressed him out. For a moment she wasn’t sure how to get him to calm down, and then she leaned on her car door, shutting it gently behind her. “Don’t I get a kiss hello?”

Lawrence faltered on the steps, but then he was bounding across the yard and scooping her up, holding her too tight, pressing their mouths together too hard, so her lips felt like they might bruise. She brought her hands up and ran them through his slightly greasy hair, and when he pulled back to stare at her she tried to soften her tense expression.

”Missed me, huh? Yeesh, what are we gonna do with you?”

”You missed class,” He said, pressing his face into her neck. “And you said you wanted to talk.”

”Yeah, sorry, my Dad was pretty peeved.”

“Yeah? Don’t you have to go home?”

”That’s, uh, kind of what I needed to talk to you about. Can we go inside?”

He squeezed her tighter, until it was hard to breathe, and she patted his back, gently, trying to get him to ease up, and pressed a kiss to his head. Something had happened to this man. She didn’t know what, exactly, but he was deeply unwell and incredibly clingy. Any other woman would have fled and never come back. Any other woman would know this was dangerous.

Lydia squeezed him gently and tried to pull free, “Want to help me with something?”

”What?” He asked, sounding miserable, and she rolled her eyes despite herself.

”Come on, let go, big dummy. Let me show you.”

He did as requested, but it took him a moment, and when she was free he watched her with big, miserable eyes. Ugh, he was so stupid. She turned and opened her car door, and he whined, the idiot, and she handed him her car keys, behind her back. There. Now he knew she wasn’t trying to leave. The move startled him, but she felt his grubby hand pluck them from her, and a moment later he slipped them into his pocket. His misery seemed to lift, minimally, and shift into quiet curiosity. And when she popped the trunk, she felt him turn to look.

”What?”

”Yeah, I told you…I need some help. Come here.”

Lydia, trying not to panic herself, led him to the back of her sleek, black car. The trunk was filled to the brim with boxes. All sorts of storage boxes, and a huge pile of clothes still on their hangers. Lawrence stared, absently, for a long time, and she shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

”Okay,” He said, slowly, “Walk me through what I’m looking at here.”

”Daddy said if I want to date you, I can’t stay at home.”

”Uh, what? He hasn’t even fucking met me and he already hates me?”

Lydia reached out, hand touching his forearm, sliding down until their fingers laced together. He seemed startled, and stared down at their hands.

“So…I left.”

”You left?”

”My home. I left.”

”Where are you going to go?” He asked, and his voice took on a note that sounded odd and stilted, sharp and unsure. As if he was really, deeply concerned for her. Of course she knew Charles was full of shit. He’d never kick her out, even if she brought Lawrence home and fucked him in her room with the door open. She wouldn’t do that, obviously, but she was Charles’ only child, so far, and she was all that remained of her late Mother, Emily.

“Well, see, that’s what I kind of wanted to talk to you about. This is insane, I know, but, um, I was kind of thinking, you know, because things have been…fine…”

”Fine?” He echoed, sounding far away.

”Yeah. Between us.”

”Us.”

”Lawrence, please. If you keep repeating everything I say I’m never going to be able to get this out.”

”Sorry, go ahead.”

”Okay, so I know it’s been like a week and this is insane and really I should probably listen to my Dad, and the Maitlands, and like, my gut instinct. But I’m not, so I should definitely get some therapy, but, well…Dad said dump you or move out. I moved out. And I’m hoping you’ll let me, maybe, uh, move in.”

Lawrence stared at her, mouth slack. Lydia looked back up at him, tense. Finally, she tried to take her hand back, and reached for the trunk. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were glassy and she felt really, really stupid. Of course he wasn’t actually all that crazy about her! Because moving into someone’s house after one week and one date was certifiable. Like checking into a hospital levels of bad idea. Like emergency therapy session to unpack whatever daddy issues got her to this point.

But Lawrence grabbed her wrist, and tugged her back, away from the trunk, dark eyes wide as he looked between her stuff and her.

”You want to move in? With me? So you don’t have to dump me?”

”Yeah, it was dumb, my bad, I’ll go tell Dad I’m sorry.”

”And you missed class because you were packing? The thing you wanted to talk about was moving in? With me? Because you don’t want to dump me.”

Lydia was uncomfortable, and tried to twist her wrist away, “Yeah, okay, yeah, I hear it now.”

”No, wait, baby, hold on, no, I didn’t mean— I mean, yeah,” He said, hastily, dragging her against him, one hand wrapping around her waist so he could press his face into the back of her neck, inhaling deeply, kissing her there, over and over, just on the bare skin that peeked between her hair and the back of her shirt.

“Yeah what?”

”Yeah, move in. I wasn’t joking when I asked you the first time. I have a key for you.”

Lydia’s skin prickled. Fear, maybe, the last dregs of normalcy. She stamped it down. “Yeah?”

”It’s black and everything, just for my goth queen.”

”Oh, my god. You’re so dumb,” She laughed, and sagged into his arms, leaning back, twisting her head so he could kiss her mouth. Which he did, promptly wrapping both arms around her waist, squeezing her so, so gently. “Where am I going to sleep?”

”My bed, obviously,” He said, eagerly.

”You don’t have an extra room?”

”You don’t want to sleep with me?” He asked, surprised, and then said, “Did Adam tell you about the sheets?”

”No. What about the sheets should Adam have told me about?”

”Nothing,” He said, quickly, and kissed her again. She was not easily distracted, usually, but let him have it this time.

”Uh huh, okay, well. We’ll be washing those, I guess.”

”Mmm, mhm. We can wash them after. Welcome home, baby, let’s uhhh…what’s that thing where you have sex in every room of the house when you buy it?”

”Christening the house,” Lydia said, amused. “We can’t have sex in every room of this place.”

”Why not? It’s just us, baby, we can do whatever the fuck we want.”

”Not just us,” Lydia said, glancing at one of the windows, “I won’t be going in your back living room ever again.”

”Okay, well, let’s unpack whatever nightmares you’re trying to give me later, once we’re in bed for the night. Come on, baby, I cleared out a dresser for you.”

”What? But you didn’t even know I wanted to stay,” Lydia said, watching as he stepped around her, scooping up her clothes in his arms. She grabbed a box, light, probably full of more clothes, and followed him up the front steps of the house.

It was large and foreboding now that she was going to stay, and she worried her bottom lip. This was infinitely stupid. He was unbalanced. He was dangerous. He was clingy and weird for clearing out space for her and making her a key to his place when they’d only known each other for one week. Okay, more like a month. And they’d spent a whole week wrapped up in each other and he’d done nothing super worrying. He’d let her go, anyway, wasn’t that something?

He led her up to his bedroom, and it looked like he’d cleaned. The dresser tops were cleared off, save for a few things she must have left behind. And the bigger dresser, pressed against the wall at the foot of the bed, had a little dish on top with a singular black key in it. He gestured a little as he came in, and kept walking, tugging a door open. Walk-in closet. Nice.

”This is for you. And we’ll make room for these, too.”

Make room was more of a phrase than anything that held actual meaning. The closet only had two suits hanging in it, and two pairs of shoes tucked on a top shelf. The rest was entirely empty. Lydia wrinkled her nose at the suits. One was garishly striped, and one was a deep red. They both looked like something dragged out of a giggolo’s closet from the mid-seventies.

”Yeah, Mom hated them, too,” He laughed, “It’s cool, baby, I’ll wear whatever you want.”

”Slow your roll,” Lydia said, amused, “You should be you, or else how will we know this is going to work long-term?”

”You want to be long-term?” He asked, ignoring the first part.

”Well—“

”Fuck,” He said, and slammed her stuff onto a shelf in the closet, lunging for her, yanking her too roughly against him. One hand gripped her wrist, the other grabbed the back of her head, and before she could gasp out a wait, his mouth was covering hers. For a moment she was tense, and then she thought:

Aw, fuck it.

And she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, letting him lift her into the air and pull her towards the bed. For a moment, at least, everything felt really, really good. And then she remembered her trunk was open, and she pulled back, cupping his face with both hands as he stared longingly at her.

”Okay. Let’s get the rest of my stuff and then I’ll let you christen the place with me. You pick the room. Deal?”

”Fuck yes, baby, deal.”

Lydia squirmed out of his grip, even as he tried to hold onto her. He made a little, playful, growling sound, and lunged after her as she moved for the door, and she laughed, startled, before running out of the room. Lawrence followed after her, but he was larger and clumsier, and clearly had no care about what he did to his own things, because he barrelled after her, slamming into the wall and knocking over a vase as he did so. On one hand, she knew he wasn’t going to hurt her. On the other hand, being chased by a man easily twice her size had her fight or flight kick in, hard.

Similar to if she ran down the stairs in the dark, the mere act had her mind racing, and her heart pumping. She raced down the stairs, laughing as she hit the banister, and he raced after her, sliding into the wall, nearly knocking a framed painting down. Right as she reached the (open) front door, he managed to grab her, big hands grabbing her waist, so she cried out in surprise before letting out a sharp, nearly-hysterical laugh as he yanked her up into the air and onto his chest.

”Got you,” He growled, and rubbed his face against her neck.

Lydia gasped out loud and grabbed his hands with hers, pulling her legs up so her whole weight was rested on his chest and stomach. He didn’t even seem to notice. God, he was strong.

”You okay?” He asked, sounding concerned, “I, uh, thought we were doing a bit.”

”What? Oh, yeah,” Lydia laughed, “Sorry. I got distracted.”

”Oh yeah?”

”Yeah, it’s not everyday someone lifts me up like I weigh nothing.”

“Bad distracted? Good distracted? Help a guy out, Lyds.”

”Good distracted,” Lydia laughed, “God, you’re a mess. What happened to you? Why do you think I’m gonna dump you over nothing?”

”No reason,” He said, hastily, “Just didn’t know my girl liked being tossed around. I can make this work, though, don’t you worry.”

”Oh yeah? How about you haul in all my shit and then you haul me back upstairs?”

”How about I haul in all your stuff and then haul you to the ground and we christen this entrance way?” Lawrence growled, kissing her neck, “Then I’ll think of you every time I come home.”

”You’re going to think of me nonstop, anyway,” Lydia teased, and he tensed up behind her before he dragged his tongue over her throat, making her squeal and squirm, squeezing her legs up to her chest as she cringed away from him. “God, gross! Cut it out, you freak!”

“Mmm, you taste so good, though.” He made an obscene slurping sound and gave her a squeeze, and she laughed again. “Just want to take a bite out of you.”

”Later! Lawrence, come on! My trunk is open! The door is open! The Maitland’s are gonna kill you!”

”Yeah, yeah,” Lawrence smiled against her throat, so she could feel his teeth, and she let out a breathy little gasp, which seemed to pique his interest. He opened his mouth and dragged his teeth on her neck, nice and light, tentative and nervous. Before she could think it through, and wanting to encourage him, she moaned, softly.

“Lawrence,” She said, reaching back to grab his hair, “My car.”

”Yeah, okay, yeah, yep, mmhm,” Lawrence said, and set her gingerly on the ground. But he pressed into her back, forcing her to bend awkwardly over, arms still around her middle, as he gently bit her neck, tongue lapping at her skin, making her whimper like an animal in heat. Jesus.

”Lawrence, the door.”

He groaned, and she could feel him shift behind her, hard already. God, he was easy. Well, okay, that wasn’t fair. They were both easy. But he did let her go, begrudgingly. When she stumbled away and turned around, he had his usual stupid, horny expression of half-lidded eyes and a slack mouth. Lydia wasn’t sure why she found it so desperately appealing, but she did. So much so that she was struggling to get herself to go back outside, too. Why go get the rest of her stuff at all when they didn’t need clothes for their preferred activity?

But after a moment of looking back at him, just as hungry for him as he was for her, she sighed and turned to go outside. But right as she was getting to the trunk of her car, thinking about all the ways she was going to explore her new home, she noticed the Maitlands up the hill, watching her from their porch. The Matiland’s who had ratted her out to her Dad. They’d betrayed her and shoved her into this.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t very fair. They hadn’t really done much, and it was kind of on her that she hadn’t told her Dad where she was and what she was doing. And she knew that she could stay with Lawrence and keep living at her Dad’s place if she really wanted to. She’d have to listen to him complain, of course, completely oblivious to the idea that he was a horrible hypocrite.

After all, he’d gotten with Delia and married her all within less than a year after her Mom had passed. So fuck him.

Lydia turned around, surprising Lawrence, and flung her arms around his neck, yanking him down into a kiss. Not for the benefit of the Maitland’s, of course. She was definitely not trying to show them that they couldn’t control her. That any meddling would be met with her making even worse decisions just to spite everyone who knew her. Not that moving in with Lawrence was entirely spite-driven. As crazy as it was, well…

She really, really just liked him.

A stupid amount. Too much. The kind of liking that felt like she was dying when she was apart from him for even a little. The obsessive kind that would either lead to a long-lasting, steady sort of love or end in a fiery explosion of hurt feelings and lashing out. Really, it could go either way. And maybe she was a little paranoid, but something told her that Lawrence was the type of guy to be on Unsolved Mysteries on suspicion of killing his girlfriend in a fit of passion. So hopefully she could balance him out, and not drive him to murdering her because she tried to leave.

It didn’t really matter, though, because she was still here. Stupid.

”Thanks,” She said, pulling away, “For letting me stay.”

”Stay as long as you want,” Lawrence said, hands resting on her hips, leaning in to kiss her again, “I’m crazy about you. You can have the whole fucking place to do with as you want, baby.”

”Yeah, I guess we’re both kind of fucked, huh.”

”We will be, yeah,” He grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

It took twenty minutes to move everything out of her car and into the house. Lydia kept things neat, stacking her boxes by the base of the stairs, wondering what the plan was. But right as she was thinking maybe it would be better to turn and run home, Lawrence was sliding up behind her, mouth already on her neck. Oh, he was getting bold.

”Lawrence.”

”Lydia,” He breathed, “Can’t believe you’re here forever.”

”Uh huh.”

”Your Dad’s gonna be so worried when you don’t come home tonight.”

”Yeah, he will be, you should have seen how bad he flipped out when I shoved that shit in my trunk. He was practically begging me to stay.”

”But you chose me.”

”Yeah,” Lydia said, skin prickling when he made a growling noise in his throat and yanked her, hard, against him. His lips parted and he dragged teeth and tongue gently over her neck again, making her moan softly. He was deeply unstable. He was much bigger than she was. He had her in such a vulnerable position. This was a really bad idea, and she should probably go home now.

Lawrence gently bit her neck, and she moaned, again, louder this time. His tongue rasped over her skin, where he’d bit down, and he pressed tight against her back, making her bend over a little bit again. He was a fast learner and incredibly attentive. Every sound she made, every breath she took, every movement of her body, and he was cataloging it and memorizing it. One of his feet nudged her own, forcing her to spread her legs just a bit, and he bent her over more, so her ass rubbed against his crotch, and she inhaled sharply at the feel of him, hard, brushing up against her.

”You’re so fucking hot,” He mumbled, rubbing his face on her neck, dragging his teeth up, then down, leaving marks on her skin, his tongue trailing behind, leaving a wet trail, too.

“Fuck,” Lydia gasped, shifting uncomfortably from being bent over. There was something hot about being kind of uncomfortable. But there was something really hot about being drooled over the moment they got the front door shut. He wanted her so bad that he could barely stand keeping his hands to himself.

He bit and licked her neck, getting the little reward of her moans, while he ground his hips against hers, hard, dragging rough jeans over her thighs and between her legs. She shifted, spreading her legs a bit more, trying to lean forward and put her hands on something so she wasn’t trembling from lack of support. But they were in the middle of his foyer, and there was nothing for her to lean on or to hold onto besides his hands around her waist.

”Lawrence,” She gasped, as he thrust against her. Dry humping, really?

“Yeah?” He asked, muffled from having his mouth stretched over her throat. “You can relax, baby, I got you.”

”My whole weight? Indefinitely?”

”Sure, you weigh like three pounds.”

”I do not.”

”You complain a lot,” Lawrence said, simply, and she flushed. She was opening her mouth to snap something at him when he added, “It’s hot. But relax, okay? I got you. I like holding you.”

”Oh.”

Well, she did like being held. So she relaxed, a little, letting him hold her tight in his arms, her body limply in half, so they were tilting dangerously forward. Every now and then she’d still tense up, still have the urge to right herself, because it felt awfully precarious, but true to his word, he held her nice and firmly against him, even adjusting his hands. One moved to cradle her chest so she felt more stable, and that it just so happened to cup one of her breasts was certainly a coincidence. A coincidence he was going to capitalize on, clearly, as he slid his hand into her shirt and under her bra, tweaking her nipple not unlike she’d done to him that morning. Lydia gasped, her hands gripping both his wrists, trying to stand up instinctively, only to find that he had her quite firmly where he wanted her.

Which was dangerously hot, really.

He kissed and sucked her neck, grazed his teeth there, marked her up as ‘taken’, all while she moaned and panted under him and his hand kneaded her breast, rolled her nipple between his fingers, and he ground his hard cock up against her. Until finally, when she thought she would start to beg him to give her more, he paused to unzip his pants. He hiked her skirt up, so that the only thing separating them was her thin underwear, and he dragged his bare cock between her legs, his head brushing her clit before sliding up towards her ass. It felt weird, and vulnerable, and she wasn’t sure how she liked it.

Well, no, she was certain she liked it. Even as her stomach twisted and her mind warned her this was something she should stop and think through, her pussy was soaking fucking wet and her mouth was open and panting like a dog. So, well, fuck.

”Lawrence, fuck, come on.”

He kissed the back of her neck, and the hand not squeezing her breast tugged her panties to the side. They moaned together when he pushed inside of her, hers significantly higher pitched than his. He eased himself in, slowly so her slick would make it enjoyable for both of them, and gently rocked into her, her legs spread wide, his feet holding her in place, and she was suddenly acutely aware that they were in the foyer, and she wasn’t seeing what he was seeing, and god, the hand that had been holding her panties to the side to allow access was now rubbing her ass cheek, and then dragging down to grab her thigh. He’d learned awfully quick she liked him grabbing and rubbing her thighs, and she let out an embarrassingly loud keening sound when he grabbed it now.

One of her hands covered her mouth, and he laughed softly against her back, kissing by her ear. He felt incredible inside her, soft but rigid, smooth as he pulled out and pressed in, until he finally connected with the spot inside her that made her cry out and jerk forward, trying to escape the sudden, piercing pleasure.

”There you go,” Lawrence mumbled, yanking her leg up, so she was barely able to stand now, only one leg on the ground. He pulled her leg up behind her, and to her delighted dismay, it heightened everything.

”Oh, no, wait—“ She gasped, but it was an empty plea, and thank God he knew it, because he ignored it entirely, and drove into her. One of her hands clung to the hand on her chest, and the other reached back behind her, gripping his hair, trying to get some control over her own body.

There was no point in covering her mouth, she was getting too loud to stifle with one hand, anyway. She’d been wanting him all day, and with him getting bolder, she was getting worse at controlling herself. She liked that he wanted her. She liked that he was learning. She liked being spread out in the entrance of the old, historic, stupid mansion that he owned. It felt like she belonged here, and whether that ‘here’ was under Lawrence or in his home, she wasn’t sure. Each breath of air she managed to draw in left her in a gravelly moan, low in her chest, and he tore at her shirt, pulling her breasts out so he could grope between them, shoving her shirt down so he had access.

At some point he’d started to tremble, and now she was being lowered hastily to the ground, so she was on her knees,and he was slipping out of her with a rather wet schlick. Lydia winced at the feeling of suddenly being empty, and from the sound, but she was rather out of her mind, and she was twisting around now, so she was on her ass, and she was pulling her legs up, so her knees were up by her shoulders.

“Lawrence,” She said, too breathily, her voice sounding alien to her own ears, and she pulled her panties to the side.

Lawrence was on his knees, too, and crawling between her legs, shoving into her again, this time less carefully, until he bottomed out, and she tried to wrap her legs around him, but his hands grabbed up under her knees and spread her legs out, so when he leaned back he could see. Lydia scrunched up her face and laid back, letting him, aware that although she felt a twinge of horrific embarrassment, she was absolutely throbbing and dripping from it. He was so into her, it was hard not to be into anything he did.

He was moaning, now, and their moans mixed together, echoing off the high ceiling. Lawrence leaned down, caught her mouth with his, and shoved his tongue into her, making her cringe from it, but only for a moment before some weird, dark, broken part of her made her moan deliriously and grab his head with both hands, fingers slipping up into his hair. One of his hands slid between them and his thumb found her clit, rubbing tight little circles there. Lydia dug her nails into his scalp and moaned, loud, around his tongue in her mouth, as she clamped down on him. That seemed to push him over the edge, and he pressed as deep as he could go, and grunted as he came.

They stayed like that for a moment, Lydia rubbing his scalp and running her fingers in his hair, kissing his face softly as he came down, breathing hard, still buried as deep as he could be in her. He seemed to like staying inside as long as he could, because so far he’d done that every time. Which was kind of a surprise, because she’d read a lot of shitty stories about lazy men who left as soon as they were finished. But she’d also heard stories of men not liking to make their girls orgasm, and Lawrence loved to make her come.

Like too much, really, he was going to get a pavlovian response out of her if he kept this shit up.

”Good?” He asked, a touch of neediness in his voice.

”What part made you wonder?” She asked, “The part where I finished or the part where you had me so wet we’re going to need to mop the floor?”

“You liked it?” He asked, again.

Lydia sighed, scratching his scalp, “Yes, Lawrence. You’re so dumb. I promise you, I’ll tell you if you piss me off or if you don’t satisfy me. Okay?”

”I don’t want you to leave.”

”I gathered.”

”Ever.”

Lydia brushed their noses together, let him meet her mouth in a soft kiss, and let her eyes close so she could savor her needy, pathetic, broken man for just a moment longer. And then a horrible thought occurred to her, and she wiggled back, so he fell out of her, and her eyes dropped down to see—

“Oh.”

He was wearing a condom. Relief flooded her and she fell back onto the floor, running a hand through her own hair as she let out a nervous laugh. It had felt so much better than the last time, and she didn’t remember him putting it on so she’d had a weird, horrible feeling that he might be trying to…well, that wouldn’t make any sense.

“What?” He asked, and then said, sheepishly, “Sorry, I went out and got my own. I didn’t really like the ones we used last time.”

”Yeah, me either.”

“You’re not allergic or anything, are you? I should have asked, I didn’t even think about it.”

”No,” Lydia said, and made a little face, “I just got worried that, uh, you know, you forgot.”

Lawrence looked…odd. She wasn’t really sure what his expression meant, or what he was thinking, but he looked caught. Clearly he was wearing a condom. So what she could have caught him doing, to the point he was looking like a kid with his hands in a cookie jar, was beyond her. She reached down between them and rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock, making him yelp and jerk away. She brought her thumb to her mouth and licked it as he watched, wide-eyed, breathing hard.

”What..?”

”Hm, nothing,” Lydia said, but something still felt off despite the fact that she didn’t think he’d put a hole in it. “That was really good, good job, you did well.”

”I did?”

”You did,” Lydia told him, and sat up so she could kiss him, rubbing his cheek with one hand, “Now let’s clean up, huh?”

”Good idea,” He said, sounding a bit dazed, “Cause the guys will flip if I cancel DnD night again.”

”You canceled?”

”You were over. But now that you’re staying forever, I can introduce you to the guys.”

”Oh, goodie.”

’The Guys’ were only two men, one of which was Adam. The other man was, well, Lydia wasn’t sure what to make of him. Beetleman was old and really, really rough looking. He had a lot of yellow(ing?) hair, but he had the most severe widow's peak she’d ever seen, his eyes were a stunning, startling green that took your breath away, but his teeth were crooked and rotten-looking. He smelled, too, like he didn’t shower enough, and Lydia wondered if anyone Lawrence knew was hygienic at all.

Lydia hadn’t even meant to meet him. She’d been holed up in one of the guest rooms, digging through a box labeled Lawrence, when she heard the conversation in the kitchen float up through the vent. A mocking, teasing voice she didn’t know, and Lawrence’s guarded, defensive voice that felt like he was on the brink of snapping something in half or threatening someone with a knife. Not that she’d seen him threaten anyone with a knife, yet.

”Oh, as if. Suddenly Lawrence has a ‘super hot’ girlfriend? Not buying it, buddy, can’t fool me.”

”I do have a super hot girlfriend. She asked to move in, even!”

”Yeah, okay. So over the course of a week you found a woman who can tolerate you and she asked to move in? If she’s real, and that’s a big if, why would she want to move in after a week? Is she stupid? A gold digger? Homeless?”

”No,” Lawrence had said, sounding wounded, “Man, why can’t you just be happy for me? I’ve been nothing but nice about you and your dumbass turning down that poor girl you led on for years.”

”I haven’t led her on!”

”Then why is she still fucking pursuing you? You either fucked her up good or you’re lying!”

”I don’t know! She has awful taste, I guess! At least she’s not fake—“

Lydia had heard enough at that point and had headed downstairs. Especially because there had been a loud scraping of chairs and grunts as Lawrence, presumably, grabbed the other man by his shirt to defend her honor. Or however they were trying to spin it now that she was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, staring at the three of them.

”Explain it to me again,” She said, simply.

”We could really use a healer,” Adam told her, cheerfully, seemingly immune to whatever bullshit the other two had been pulling. “So if you want to join, we can slide you right in.”

”No, not that part,” Lydia said, waving a hand, “How you ‘slipped’, Lawrence.”

She uncrossed her arms and took his chin in her hand, turning his head to look at the small bruise by his eye. As far as she could tell, he had slipped, and Beetleman hadn’t hit him. But Beetleman still was looking kind of guilty, so the jury was still out. Her thumb rubbed her man’s face, gently, and she cupped his other cheek with her other hand.

”We were, uh, playing around,” Lawrence said, sheepishly, “And I forgot the chair was there, and I tripped, and hit my face. No biggie, baby.”

”Mmm,” Lydia shook her head, and leaned down to kiss him, softly, right on the little mark, “You’ve got to be careful. What will I want with you if you ruin your good looks?”

Lawrence looked stricken for a second, and then he quirked his head and smiled, a little at first, until it finally broke into a grin. He was learning, it seemed. Thank God. She liked him sad and pathetic, but worrying about her leaving constantly had to be exhausting for him. She wanted more for him than what he got. And, well, if she did finally see reason and run for the hills, she wanted to be certain he wouldn’t jump in front of a train or let the presence in his back living room influence him.

”You’re only with me for my body.”

”Absolutely,” Lydia said, and smiled a little when he laughed, “So better keep it pretty. Okay?”

”Anything to keep you around, baby. This is Beetleman, by the way. Beetleman, this is Lydia.”

Lydia looked down at his face for just a moment longer, before finally turning her full attention on the new guy. Lawrence wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her close, pressing a cheek into her side, seemingly eager to remind everyone that she was with him. Or maybe it was to show Beetleman she actually did like him and not his mansion. She rested a hand on his head, fingers in his hair, and tried not to think about how she’d never shown this much affection in public in her entire life, and especially not in front of someone like Adam.

It wasn’t like he was her Dad, of course. She had a Dad. Adam was better than her Dad.

“Hey,” Lydia said, trying to be neutral for Lawrence’s sake, although now that she was looking at Beetleman, there was a fire in her belly. He had not been kind, to put it lightly. “Nice to meet you. He talks a lot about you.”

”Yeah? Weird, can’t say the same about you,” Beetleman replied, not kindly.

”Sure he does,” Adam said, seemingly without giving it any thought. Lawrence stiffened up beside her and made a noise implying he would really, really like Adam to shut up now. Adam either didn’t notice or didn’t care, “He talks about her constantly.”

Beetleman looked confused and then laughed, sharp and ugly, “Wait, wait, you’re the smoking hot Goth girl that he was ‘never ever’ going to bag because she was ‘way out of his league’ and ‘didn’t even glance his way’ when she came into the game shop?”

”Okay, Beetleman!” Lawrence growled.

”Yep,” Lydia said, and scratched his scalp a little, gently tugging on his hair, feeling him relax against her. “How long has he been talking about me?”

”Dunno. Months,” Beetleman shrugged, “Been a solid month since he really started talking about you.”

”Hopefully good stuff.”

Beetleman cast Lawrence a funny look and then said, slowly, “Yeah, kid, sure.”

”Months, huh?” She asked Lawrence, winding some of his hair around one of her fingers. If they were alone, she could do more for her poor, nervous man. But for now, her playing with his hair seemed to soothe him enough.

”Yeah, you knew that.”

”Not really, you were kind of vague.”

”So you guys been dating for a month?” Beetleman asked.

”No. About two weeks, I think,” Lydia said, thoughtfully.

”And you’re moving in.”

”It’s really hard to—“ Lydia was going to say something really out of pocket, annoyed with this ugly man who bullied her pathetic Lawrence while she was busy snooping through his stuff. Now she’d never know what grades he had in middle school English. But Adam’s presence saved them all, and she said, stilted, “—be with him when I’m in Peaceful Pines.”

Beetleman flinched, and just as she was gearing up to ask about it, he said, “I didn’t know you lived in Peaceful Pines.”

”Oh yeah! That’s where his jailbait girlfriend lives!” Lawrence laughed, “Maybe she babysat her.”

”Ha ha,” Beetleman snapped, “Drop it. She’s not my girlfriend, and she’s technically not jailbait and hasn’t been for years.”

”Yeah, because you’re acutely aware of the age of consent in Connecticut!”

”Because she told me!”

“Was that before or after she climbed into your lap?”

”You know what, I’m not having this conversation with you.”

”So she’s, what, nineteen? I might have babysat her, what’s her name?”

”Here’s the thing,” Beetleman said, awkwardly, as Lawrence laughed and said, at the same time: ”Lydia.”

”Yeah? What?”

”No, baby, her name is also Lydia.”

”You’re kidding,” Lydia said.

”Yeah, we thought we were talking about the same girl at first,” Lawrence said, “You should have seen how jealous he was when he thought we were into the same Lydia. I had to explain to him that my girl is a real adult.”

”Jealous, huh?” Lydia laughed, “Aw.”

”I wasn’t jealous!” Beetleman whined, “I can’t be jealous, she’s a kid!”

”That’s why you spend all your free time thinking about—“

”Lawrence,” Adam said, suddenly, and all three of them turned to look. “That’s enough, there’s a lady present. Sorry, Lydia.”

”That’s okay,” Lydia told him, a little stiffly. She liked Adam. But she also knew that it was the Maitland’s meddling that had forced her hand, and resulted in her doing a lot of stupid, reckless things like moving in with her creep boyfriend. Not that she minded, entirely, yet. She knew her Mom wouldn't be against Lawrence. It wasn’t a hunch, it wasn’t a feeling, it was a deep and sure knowing. But why she knew it, she wasn’t sure.

“Wanna stay?” Lawrence asked, his hand on her waist rubbed a thumb over her, and she ruffled his hair.

”Yeah, fine. If I don’t, you’ll die.”

Lawrence stared at her for a minute, and then he laughed, “Oh, in the game. Absolutely. Here, pick some dice, let’s get rolling.”

Lawrence was sprawled out on the bed when she came in, dressed in loose sweats and a raggedy old shirt that said California, Long and Hangs to the Left in faded script. The house was dark, except for their room, where one lamp on his side of the bed was glowing warmly, bathing him in orange light as he scrolled absently on his phone, one arm behind his head. As she stepped into the bedroom from the bathroom, the floor creaked and he flinched. Then he looked over, saw it was her, and he relaxed again. Odd. It made her skin tingle and her hair stand on end. She glanced at the bedroom door, then headed over to shut it.

”Nobody’s here but us.”

”So you say,” Lydia said, cryptically, and she saw him make a face when she turned around.

”You’re freaking me out a bit, baby. Come here.”

He held out his arms and she smiled, a little. Her pajamas were the opposite of his: little shorts, a loose Bauhaus shirt, and soft socks. When she got to the edge of the bed he tossed his phone to the side to wrap his arms around her, dragging her easily onto his lap, so she was straddling him, knees on the bed on either side of him. One of her hands slid up his forearm and she bit her lip again. This was certainly playing house. There was no way she could stay forever, and there was no way this was going to last more than a few weeks.

But for now she enjoyed how strong he was, and the look on his face that screamed, loudly, that he worshiped her.

“Sorry,” Lydia said, “Your house is super fucking haunted, that’s all,”

His hands stilled on her body and his face twisted up. Not everyone believed in ghosts, obviously, and she wasn’t sure he believed in them, either. Her previous comments had been deftly brushed to the side. But she was clearly starting to wear on him, because his eyes were a teeny, tiny bit concerned now.

”Yeah? But not in here, right?”

”No, not in here.”

”Too bad,” Lawrence said, grinning suddenly, leaning his chin on her chest so she had to crane her neck to look down at him, “An audience would be fun.”

”I bet you’d love that,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes, but smiling despite herself. He kissed her collarbone, the only piece of skin showing above her t-shirt, and she sighed from the contact. “Hey, Lawrence?”

”Mm?” He mumbled, tongue slipping from between his lips to taste her skin.

”Thanks.”

That got his attention and he pulled back, puzzled. “For what?”

”Letting me stay.”

”I offered to move you in the moment you set foot in here.”

”Well, yeah, but not like, for real, right?”

”Uh, no, of course not. Because that would be…weird?”

”Oh, Lawrence,” Lydia said, “What happened to you?”

”You want the bullet points or the whole book?”

”Mmm, does it have anything to do with the woman in the back room?”

Lawrence froze up again, hands tightening dangerously on her, and he glanced at the bedroom door. She’d only seen her once, really. Before today she had felt her more than seen her, but today while she’d been moving her last box up the stairs, she’d finally caught sight of her. Short, scowling, dressed in a garish red color, hair piled on her head. Lydia had pretended not to see her. It was easier that way. Sometimes, if you noticed a ghost, the ghost noticed you, too.

”So it does,” Lydia said, when he still hadn’t said anything.

”Uh, what,” Lawrence laughed, nervously, “You’re fucking with me, right?”

”I probably should have mentioned it earlier, but I wasn’t really sure until today.”

”What did she look like?”

”Uh, well…”

”A bitch?”

Lydia wouldn’t have used that word, but she nodded, and he held her tighter against him, pulling her legs so she was held in his arms like a bride, head against his shoulder. He was cradling her protectively against him, and his breathing was a little funny as he kept glancing at the door. Lydia’s one free hand, the one not tucked under his arm, stroked his chest.

“Stupid hag couldn’t even fucking leave me alone in death,” He snapped, “Years of ignoring me and for fucking what, to leave me this fucking nightmare of a house and bother me anyway.”

”She’s locked to the house,” Lydia told him, trying to comfort him, “So if you leave, she can’t follow you.”

”Yeah, well, great. Except I like this place. Not the house, fuck the house. Every fucking room looks and smells like that cunt. But the location is good, and I don’t want to leave again. She can leave. Can you make her leave?”

”Maybe. What do you mean ‘again’, cause you moved out?”

”Sure.”

”Lawrence,” Lydia said, softly, kissing his cheek, “Come on. Share with me.”

”Backstory is more of a week, uh, seven thing. Not a week six thing. So maybe on Thursday, baby. If you’re still here.”

”Where else will I go?”

“Maitland’s.”

”No, they ratted me out,” Lydia said, wrinkling her nose, “I’m mad at them.”

Lawrence snorted, “Yeah, you seemed real mad at Adam when you sat right next to him and asked him if he needed anything every time you got up.”

”Aw, is somebody jealous?” Lydia deflected, a little pink. She would have to work on being much less obvious about how much she loved her Game Store Dad, Adam.

”No way,” Lawrence pressed a sloppy kiss to her face, grinning when she cringed and wiped the spit away, “You never offered him my favorite snack, so who cares?”

”And what’s your favorite?”

”You.”

Lydia was going to make fun of him for that, frankly awful, pickup line, but he tossed her back onto her back, surprising her. The bed was soft enough that it didn’t hurt, and before she even had a chance to sit back up, he was pouncing on her. His hands were on either side of her head, and he crowded her, essentially trapping her between him and his (now clean) bed.

”Glad my bitch of a Mom didn’t scare you off,” He said, grinning, “Good thing Goth babes like ghosts, huh?”

”What, you think your house being haunted is your biggest deal-breaker for normal girls?”

”Nah, my general lack of hygiene and my best friend being Beetleman are probably the big deal breakers.”

Lydia wrinkled her nose, “Yeah, your sheets were pretty gross.”

“Adam made me a chore chart, though, baby, so I can get better. I’ll change for you.”

”Yeah, no woman’s ever heard that before.”

Lawrence kissed her mouth, and then down her neck, and she wondered how often he’d want sex. Twice a day seemed a bit much, didn’t it? Irresponsible. But then, again, her body was already responding, and she shifted her legs so he could press between them. One of his big hands rested on her knee, then dragged up her thigh, shoving her shorts up allowing his thumb to rub circles right below where her leg became hip, making her shudder under him. He kissed down her clothed body, before skipping right down to her bare knee. He dragged his big, wet, flat tongue up from her knee, up her thigh, and her clit throbbed, knowing exactly what he wanted to do, eagerly anticipating how good he was going to make her feel.

But just as he nosed the crotch of her shorts, she grabbed his face in both hands, stopping him. When he sat up, he looked put out.

”Wait,” She said, “Let me try something.”

”What?” He asked, and she pushed him back so he sat on his knees. He whined out loud when she scooted out of his grip, but he allowed it, even when she let his face go so she could get up on her own knees.

It felt a little silly to both be sitting on their knees, on his big bed, staring at each other. But there was a comfort in knowing that while it was silly, and while they were both fairly inexperienced, they were in this together. He wasn’t going to really tease her because she didn’t know how to gracefully move between positions. The guy was just happy she was bothering with him at all.

”Sit,” She said, and, cheating a little, shoved him rather hard. Lawrence huffed and fell back with absolutely no grace. And with him looking at her, kind of annoyed, she dropped down on all fours before him.

”Oh, fuck,” He breathed, as her small hands ran up his thighs, and she mirrored what he’d done to her, brushing her nose and mouth against the crotch of his sweats. He had been half-hard already, but one hot breath on him through the cotton and polyester blend had him springing right up. Someday he’d get better at not being so easy, she was sure. In fact, he’d lasted a rather long time that day already.

”Can I, you know…?” Lydia asked, and he nodded, breathing already labored. Easy.

She tugged his pants down and he sprang right out. No boxers, no briefs, just bare Lawrence, already shiny at the tip, already hard enough that it made her want him inside her. She throbbed between her legs and she very nearly decided to climb into his lap and take him that way instead. But he was watching her with such rapt attention that she’d feel like she’d disappointed him if she changed the plan now. And, well, she wanted to know what he tasted like.

Bad, probably.

Lydia shoved his shirt up, exposing his stomach, and he shifted, a flicker of anxiety crossing his face, and he tried to suck it in (he’d done that before, when she’d made him strip, poor guy). It didn’t really do much besides look uncomfortable, and she kissed just under his belly button, trying to tell him without being explicit that she liked his body.

”Cute,” She said, softly, and then kissed the head of his cock, too, just to get a feel.

Lawrence jerked under her, hissing, and her tongue darted out, tasting him for the first time. He moaned and his cock bounced, both of his hands digging into the blankets around him.

”Condom, baby.”

”I think it’ll be okay,” Lydia said, “Unless you think you’ll finish too fast without one.”

”Uh,” Lawrence said, and she laughed, a little meanly. Just to see what he’d do, really. His cock twitched again, and she ran her tongue over the head, smiling as he whimpered.

So he did like mean. Good, she could work with that. Her tongue lapped at his head as she got used to the feel of him. He was kind of thick, and she’d never done this, so she wasn’t sure how much she could take in her mouth before she would gag. Only one way to find out.

The taste wasn’t awful. It wasn’t good, either, but at least he smelled somewhat fresh down here, even if what he was leaking tasted like straight sodium. She’d expected as much, when she saw how he ate. Lydia eased him into her mouth, being very very careful. Which meant she went slow, which meant he groaned desperately and struggled under her not to thrust up into her mouth while it eased down his shaft. Her gaze was on his face, and her hands held his hips down in case he got too eager and stupid to control himself. Lawrence’s eyes were trained on her face, too, and if he wasn’t so very clearly out of his mind, she might be embarrassed to be watched while doing this.

At least for the first time, because she wasn’t really sure what the fuck she was doing. No teeth, looking it up had really emphasized that. And from her own experience, wetter was better, so she was trying to slick him up with her tongue, as best she could. One of Lawrence’s big hands came up to rest on her head, and she hoped he didn’t try to shove her down, because she knew she’d throw up if he made her take too much, and she really wasn’t up for the conversation that would have to follow.

But he didn’t shove her, he just ran his fingers in her hair and petted her, short, soft gasps coming out of his slack mouth, all wet and pink. Every time she bobbed her head down, he moaned, softly, and each swirl of her tongue made it pitch into a sharper cry, and she found that she fucking loved it. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sounds he was making, focusing on taking as much of him into her soft, small mouth. She shifted her body so she could bob her head better, and after a moment she peeked back up at him, one eye half-opening, as she made a loud, horrible slurping sound.

Lawrence moaned, and tossed his head back. The hand in her hair tightened, and she grunted at the tug, feeling rather annoyed. But he noticed and he loosened up right away. As a reward, she sucked in, hard, swallowed him as far as she dared, and, testing a theory, she moaned around him.

”Oh, fuck, Lydia—“

He jerked forward, and before she realized what was happening, he was flooding her mouth, all salty and awful, and she gagged. Under her, he moaned again, even as she yanked back, mouth open, spilling his load all over his legs and his bed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she made a sound of pure distaste.

“Ugh,” She said, and started to climb off the bed, but he snatched her around her waist and yanked her into his lap, wincing as her legs brushed his softening dick. His mouth covered hers, and she thought maybe he’d react to the taste of him on her tongue, but no.

Well, maybe. She had expected a negative reaction, but what he did was not that. His tongue slipped right into her mouth and he panted against her, just for a moment, as his tongue swiped over hers, and then he was sucking her tongue into his mouth, and Lydia squirmed in his lap, making a startled noise followed by one of protest. When he finally pulled away, he was licking his lips and staring at her with starry eyes.

”You’re perfect,” He said, and then pressed his face into the nape of her neck, “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

”Hardly.”

”No, really, god, damn, I never, ever thought you’d be so fucking incredible. Maybe to look at, but you’re just, fuck me, you’re the whole fucking package, baby. You’re it. The best thing that’ll ever fucking happen to me.”

”Okay,” Lydia said, panic pressing on her heart, making her throat close up, her body stiffening and begging her to run, run away, before he changed his mind and this whole stupid thing blew up and left her feeling (even more) alone and (even more) broken. “Too much, Lawrence.”

”Mm,” He purred against her skin, kissing her there, not a single intelligent thought in his big stupid head, “My turn?”

What could it hurt? She was already here. This train had already left the station. She didn’t think he’d take kindly to her bailing now. Now that she’d ‘moved in’. Now that they were clearly both deeply attached to the other in a scary, codependent kind of way. If this thing was going to blow up, which it would, it was going to do so regardless of whether or not she let him eat her out again. And she was really wet, again, somehow. Maybe she needed to be studied. She’d never been this consistently horny in her whole fucking life, and she had been a teenager at one point.

”Might as well,” She said, and tried to convince herself she would be fine as he laid her down on their bed and took one of her ankles in his hand, tugging her sock off with his teeth. This would be fine. It would be fine.

Or she’d simply jump off the mansion’s roof, and none of this would be her problem anymore.

Chapter Text

The last few days had been a fucking treat. In his whole fucking life he’d never guessed that happiness like this could be possible. It made those years of slugging through shit totally worth it. Although, well, now that she’d been living in his place full-time for a few days (after staying over for a week straight) he was beginning to get a little worried. Not that he wouldn’t like her anymore, because he really didn’t think anything would change that, but that she would leave and take all that happiness with her. Which sounded really healthy, for sure.

In the mornings she usually sat on the porch, in one of his old hoodies, and drank black coffee while staring out at the day. The appeal was lost on him, because he didn’t particularly like Winter River. Not that he hated it, that’s where his stupid house was and he sure did appreciate the stability of that, but he wasn’t super into it either. Although he did like that the stupid Maitland’s had to see his beautiful Goth Girlfriend out on the porch every morning. Their meddling had resulted in her moving in, not dumping him. Take that, assholes.

The thing was, though, that she always woke up before him. Even if he tried to wake up first, or set an alarm, or sat up until he passed out in an attempt to stay up all night, the girl was out of bed when he woke up. And every day, without fail, he’d panic. It was lessening, now that he knew they were both mutually into the other. But it was still there, and it was still there today, as he forced himself to walk down the stairs at a normal pace and not tear through the house in a blind panic. He wanted to be better for her. He didn’t want to smother her. She’d done nothing to cause him to panic.

So when he got onto the porch and found her empty mug but no Lydia, he tried to remind himself (very firmly) that she definitely didn’t leave. And he checked to see if her car was there, as she’d told him to do previously. Which it was, of course, because she wouldn’t just up and leave him after everything they’d been through together (in their two weeks of being together). No, no, there had to be a better explanation. Like that the Maitland’s had insisted she go to breakfast. Or maybe Beetleman came by and she went with him. Or maybe his Mother’s ghost murdered her and buried the body where he’d never find it so he’d never get any closure and he’d spend the rest of his life wandering aimlessly until he finally took pity on himself and ended it once and for all.

Something logical. Something reasonable. Something—

“Hey,” Lydia said, behind him, and he jumped. When he spun around she looked up at him, amused, all sweet and beautiful in his (stained) red hoodie.

”You scared me,” He mumbled, and wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her close, kissing her rather soundly. Too soundly, really, for six in the morning on his front lawn where both of them were barely dressed. But she didn’t seem to mind, as her small arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed him back.

”Yeah, I could tell. Good job checking for my car. Looks like you can be taught.” Lydia kissed his cheek, which soothed him after her prickly words. ”Can I ask about the van?”

”The van?” He asked, knowing what she meant but not really wanting to talk about it. He kissed her neck, nosing her hair out of the way.

”Lawrence.”

”Mm?”

”The van..?” Lydia ran her fingers in his hair and scratched his scalp affectionately, “It looks cool. I like the color.”

”Green?”

“So you do know what van.”

Fuck.

”Uh, yeah, sure, the one in the carriage house or whatever the fuck rich people call it.”

”Detached garage, you weirdo,” Lydia laughed, “The ‘carriage house’. Yeesh.”

”Sue me, Adam loves playing Clue Master Detective,” Lawrence mumbled, “Why do you care about some smelly old van?”

”Why don’t you want to tell me about some smelly old van?”

“Baby, please, the whole house is open to you. Except that weird locked room, but we don’t need to talk about that.”

”Yeah, about that, too, uh—“

”I don’t know where the key is. There aren’t any bodies in it.”

”Yeah, no, I know that. But you know: saying there aren’t bodies in a locked room makes people think there are bodies in a locked room.”

”I can’t be any clearer. No bodies on the property, as far as I’m aware. They did a walk through and I’ve been here a year and no weird rotting-corpse-smells so I think we’re good.”

”What a relief.”

He kissed her neck, happy that he’d managed to distract her attention away from the sad, rundown green van in his ‘detached garage’, and gently tugged her towards his perfectly fine, clean house that he’d been actually taking care of just for her. Surely she’d noticed his efforts and surely she was plenty happy with it. After all, she’d moved in. Of course she hadn’t felt like she’d had a choice (although she had, she’d definitely had lots of choices, and he knew that) when it came down to it. And of course eventually she’d move back home, probably, leaving him alone with himself and his stupid dead Mom’s big fucking house. But for now he was actually cleaning up after himself, in an attempt to keep his type-A babygirl happy enough to stay.

At least until he could trap her more permanently.

”Lawrence,” Lydia said, patiently, and kissed his cheek, by his ear, before whispering, “I know there’s something fishy going on. Either you tell me, or I’ll snoop while you’re sleeping, and if I don’t like what I find, you might not find me.”

He squeezed her involuntarily, pulling her tightly against him. Not fair. She knew what to say to get her way. Lawrence rubbed his face in her hair, smelling her, and the hands on her body shifted so he could feel the texture of his old hoodie slide over her black pajamas.

”Fine. Come on.”

When he let her go, she slipped her hand into his, and he glanced back at her, trying to look the picture of hurt. But she didn’t seem to care if he was hurt, or if he wanted to keep this a secret, and although he thought she was bluffing about abandoning him, he didn’t want to risk it. He had insisted she was allowed anywhere. Anywhere included the garage.

The garage door was unlocked, a lone key in the lock from when Lydia had gotten inside earlier, and he clicked on a light. It was clean but cluttered, clearly his housekeeper dusted out here, too. There were boxes all along the walls and in the rafters, all labeled with different rooms or names of people. A small stack behind the van was labeled Lawrence in haphazard sharpie. The van was locked, but clean, and he wondered if they cleaned this, too, or if the dim lighting made it look cleaner than it was.

The van itself was definitely old. The paint was worn in spots from the sun, and there was some rust around the back tires. Lydia squeezed his hand, and then slipped hers free so she could walk up and peer in the window.

“You want to see inside?”

”Well, yeah. But I couldn’t find the key. What kind of van is it? Is it yours? This tracks better than that old lady car you’ve got.”

”Yeah, Mom’s car runs better, go figure. It’s mine, yeah, I think.”

”You think?”

”I paid five hundred cash for it and he handed me the title but I wasn’t really in the position to pay taxes on a car so I don’t remember if I ever got it registered like, uh, legally.”

”Montana plates?”

”They’ve got a thing there, where like, if you pay once for a really old car to be registered, you never have to pay again.”

”Why do you know that?” Lydia cast him a curious glance.

Lawrence wished they were in clothes. Not in sloppy pajamas and tousled hair but looking kind of presentable. Maybe she wouldn’t be too weirded out by him if he looked better. Then again, how much better could he even look? This was the story that would wake her up from whatever weird spell he’d cast over her, certainly. She was out of his league when he was wealthy and secure. She was so far out of his league when he was poor and homeless that she would certainly laugh and skip out of here the moment she knew about his past. Not that he was in danger of reliving it, as far as he could tell.

Maybe he’d call his ‘guy’ today and double check.

”Because that’s why it’s registered in Montana, so I don’t have to worry about that. He did it before he sold it to me, I think he lives there. Or, well, the government thinks he lives there— I didn’t really ask questions, Lydia. I just took the van and left and didn’t think about it again.”

”Okay,” She said, slowly, “But why?”

”Why the van?”

”You aren’t this stupid. Stop jerking me around. Tell me about your mysterious Montana van or I’m gone. Not kidding. You’re making me worry.”

Her face was hard and her jaw was doing the jutting-out-thing she did when she was furious and stressed, and he felt a little pang of sympathy. It wasn’t what she thought it was. Well, okay he couldn’t guarantee it wasn’t what she thought it was, because he didn’t really know what she thought it was. But he was pretty sure it wasn’t whatever thoughts she was having.

”Okay, okay,” He mumbled, and reached under the back tire, pulling out a plain key. No alarm system on this baby, just a dream and a prayer. He unlocked it and slid the side door all the way open, wincing as he did so.

Lydia blinked, glanced at him, and then looked back at the car.

”What the hell is this?”

”Uh…home,” Lawrence cringed.

”Home?” She looked horrified, which was fair.

The inside of the van was as well-cared-for as it could be. The back was mostly a giant bed, propped up on the crates that grocery stores sometimes set out by the dumpsters. There were sheets on it, and a pile of folded blankets and pillows in a nice little stack against the wall of the van. Against the far wall was a bunch of crates, empty now, on their side. On top was a battery-operated alarm clock (long since dead) and a battery-operated CD player. On the wall of the van where the door was a calendar, still open to the month he got the call that his Mom had died and left him everything.

”Lawrence..?” Lydia asked, gently, and slipped her hand into his again. “Can you tell me more?”

”Nothing more to tell. This is home. I wasn’t sure if they’d let me stay. I thought they’d figure out that Mom would’ve never left me all her shit, and they’d tell me to fuck off. So I kept it.”

”Just in case.”

”Yeah.”

”Why did you live in a van?”

”Mom told me to fuck off when I turned eighteen, told me I ‘wasn’t her problem anymore’ and ‘legally I don’t have to keep you around now’. So I fucked off.”

”To Montana.”

”No, upstate New York. Uh, like, the woods and shit. Because cops bother you if you’re too obviously living out of your car. So I did a lot of, like, ‘camping’ sites and shit like music festivals.”

”How’d you eat?” Lydia asked, and he shrugged. “Sorry. I guess it’s really not any of my business.”

”It’s okay,” He said, and tugged her against him, pressing a kiss to her head. “You can ask questions. I’m not hiding anything from you it’s just—“

”Hard.”

”Yeah.”

”I get it. My Dad moved in my step-mom three months after my Mom died. They were married within a year.”

”Yeesh. Guess we’re in the shitty parents club.”

”My Mom was great,” Lydia said, and then saw how he flinched and pressed her face to his, kissing him softly, wrapping her arms around him, “But she died. I miss her all the time. I think she would have loved you.”

”Yeah?”

”Yeah. So let’s say we both have a good dead Mom. And yours can roll in her grave, because it’s your house now.”

”Our house now.”

”Hmm…how do you feel about some renovations?” Lydia asked, and her mouth quirked into a playful smile.

Lawrence grinned back, “There’s sledgehammers in the corner.”

”Gosh,” Lydia said, “You sure do know how to show a girl a good time.”

“Okay, walk me through it one more fucking time. Just for my sake. Just so I know I haven’t lost my fucking mind here.”

”Language, Beetleman,” Lawrence said, “There’s a lady present.”

Beetleman snorted, and gestured around the back room. Chunks of wall had been ripped out, and were scattered on the floor. The coffee table had been broken into shards of wood. The television, against one wall, had a broken screen now, and the couch had one of their sledgehammers sticking out of it. Lydia was sitting on the arm of the couch, looking rather pleased, and kept glancing to the side with a smug, angry kind of smile that made Lawrence’s hair stand on end when he noticed. So he’d sat in front of her, head on her knee, so she could play with his graying hair and he didn’t have to look at what she was up to.

“It’s okay,” Lydia said, soothingly, and Lawrence sighed dreamily.

The back living room had been her immediate choice of room to ‘renovate’. She’d walked right through their house and slammed the couch with such force that he’d yelped out loud. And then they’d…well, they’d gone fucking insane. It was when she slammed the television and it sparked that they’d thought to hold on and call someone who may have a better idea of what they were doing.

”We don’t like this room,” Lawrence supplied.

”Yeah, I noticed that. Are you kidding me with this? Sorry, girl, how long have you been with this guy?”

”Uh, two weeks, maybe?” Lydia shrugged.

”Two weeks. You’re letting a woman move into your house and slam a sledgehammer through your walls in two weeks.” Beetleman pinched his nose, “Please, make it make sense. What can you possibly—“

”She can slam a sledgehammer through the whole house if she wants. She can take it to me, if she wants.”

”I would never,” Lydia wrinkled her nose, “That would kill you.”

”Baby, you could kill me, and it wouldn’t make a fucking difference. You’re it, this is it, it’s her house. I don’t care what she does with it.”

”It was his idea,” Lydia said, “And, uh, my family isn’t exactly poor. I’m not, like, a gold digger.”

”Unfortunately,” Lawrence said, squeezing her leg. “If she needed my money, at least she’d never leave me.”

”You’re such an idiot,” Lydia said, and bent over to kiss his head. Lawrence closed his eyes and smiled, earning him a little ruffle of his hair.

”You guys are disgusting,” Beetleman said, “Look, I can help you clean this up. I need blueprints, and I need you to take me to the basement. I can’t keep track of which door in this nightmare leads where. But all of this has to happen later because I’m kind of busy.”

”Kind of?”

All three of them turned at the new voice, and Lydia made a noise in the back of her throat. Beetleman’s Lydia was a softer, sweeter version of any soft and sweet girl anyone had ever met. She had a spine to her, certainly, but she only pulled it out when necessary. Most of the time she was completely patient and more kind than any of them deserved. Lawrence was a big fan and had been pestering Beetleman to go for it forever. It wasn’t very surprising that she and Beetleman were together, because they were more often together than they really had any right being, but it was a surprise that he’d brought her to his house.

”Uh, babes, I told you to wait in the car, I was only going to be a minute.”

”Yeah, but I like Lawrence. Hi, Lawrence. Is this your new girl?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lawrence said, recovering faster than Lydia did. He hopped to his feet and tugged Lydia to hers, too. “Lydia, uh, meet Lydia. Weird, huh?”

”Small world,” Lydia said, one arm around him. Maybe she was staking her claim? She was letting the smaller, daintier Lydia know he was taken. He wasn’t up for grabs. As if she was reading his mind, she leaned her head against him, too, so her soft black hair fell over his shoulder. Lawrence giddily wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her nice and close like she clearly craved to be held. He felt her relax a little.

So she was jealous.

”It’s so nice to meet you,” Beetleman’s Lydia said, cheerily. “Lawrence has talked so highly of you! Why don’t we let the boys talk about how they’re going to ruin this room more, and you can show me how you’ve cleaned up his act?”

”What do you mean?” Lydia asked, squinting at her.

”Beetleman’s been telling me that his house is much cleaner now. He said I wouldn’t even recognize the kitchen.”

”Oh, right, yeah, he was kind of a slob, huh? You should see him chop vegetables. It looks like a dog got into them.”

”I’ve gotten better!” Lawrence said, offended.

“Only just barely, “ Lydia told him, but she turned her face so she could smile up at him affectionately. ”Don’t worry. I like dogs.”

”I like you,” Lawrence said, smiling back, momentarily forgetting their audience and planting a rather obnoxious kiss on his girl (his girl!). Lydia kissed him back, but only briefly, and he whined when she pulled away. Beetleman made a grunting noise, and when Lawrence glanced over, the other Lydia (not his Lydia) was watching them dreamily with her little hands pressed to her chest.

”You two are so sweet. I’m so happy for you, Lawrence. Lydia?”

”Yes, Lydia?” Lydia grinned, and slipped out of Lawrence’s grip even as he lunged after her. She waved him off, “Behave. Play with Beetleman. We’ll be back later. Oh, you guys should stay for dinner!”

”Did you two already have plans?”

”Well, not yet, not exactly. You know it all started this morning when Lawrence came out—“

Lawrence had watched them walk out of the room, and stared after them until their voices faded to the soft, sweet, unfamiliar tones of women having a nice little time in his house. Beetleman’s hand clapped down on his shoulder.

”Alright. Tell me what the hell you’ve done here and why. And blueprints, bud, come on. Cough them up. I don’t usually help with stuff this destroyed. So you may need to hire contractors.”

”Yeah, that’s fine, whatever. Then she can pick wallpaper and new floors or whatever women do.”

”You’ve known her two weeks. Are you sure this is, uh…”

”Yeah. This is it. Sometimes you just know, right?” Lawrence looked at him, then grinned and shoved him, hard, startling Beetleman. “Like how you knew when you saw that little girl. How old was she when she started tagging along to work with you? Twelve?”

”Shut up,” Beetleman snapped, “It wasn’t like that. Damn, you guys give me a complex. She was just a little kid. What was I supposed to do? Be mean?”

”And now she’s a big girl, all grown up, eh?”

”I’m going to kick your ass,” Beetleman growled, “You’ve got a girlfriend for like a fucking week and you become the worst.”

”Uh, no,” Lawrence said, “I’ve always been the worst.”

”My mistake.”

Lawrence grinned, “Come on, I bet blueprints are in Mom’s locked room.”

”You don’t have a key, though, right? And the lock’s weird.”

”I know who’d love to solve that problem for us.”

”What?”

”Lydia!” He yelled, “Want to smash more shit?!”

”Can’t even stay away from her for five minutes, huh?” Beetleman mumbled, rolling his eyes, “Whatever. You’ve got the money, she’s got the money, it’s your house you’re destroying. You’re paying me for this visit, though, no more work for free. Every time you call me it’s some bullshit.”

”Yeah yeah. Hey Lydias, come on!”

”Thanks for coming,” Lawrence grumbled, standing on the porch in the dark. Beetleman lit a cigarette up and leaned on the railing, watching the two women chat excitedly at each other by the work truck.

”Thanks for dinner. She’s right, you cut vegetables like you’re tearing them apart with your teeth.” He gestured at the two Lydia’s talking, “But this is dangerous, you know.”

”What?”

“Introducing them,” Beetleman sighed, taking a drag off his cigarette. The lit end illuminated his face so Lawrence could see it a bit better.

Nothing was as dark as a Vermont night. The darkness pressed against them from all sides, and they could only make out the moving shapes of the girls and the dim glow of their phones as their hands waved about, both caught up in a lively conversation about bands. As far as Lawrence could tell, they were going on a roadtrip to see some band or another play live, and they were both very excited. The night air was warm and damp, heavy and resting on them. Too warm for spring, but then again, spring was whatever it felt like.

”Why, you afraid your girls gonna be over here all the time?”

”No,” Beetleman said, carefully, “I don’t have a girl.”

”Come off it. Don’t be taking her out for lunch and taking her to dinner parties and shit if you’re not going to commit. You know she’s down for you, god help her she has no fucking taste at all, don’t tease the poor girl.”

”I’m not.”

Lawrence scoffed. Lydia (Beetleman’s Lydia) was a total catch. A ten. A perfect girl. Just like his Lydia, of course. Nobody was better than his girl. But why Beetleman was fighting against her so hard when there was certainly no other girl half as good as his was beyond him. And it wasn’t like even the shittiest girls were willing to entertain the fucker, either. Because they weren’t.

”Okay, bud,” Lawrence shrugged, “Whatever you say.”

”I’m not,” Beetleman snapped, low and dangerous, “She deserves better. I’m never, ever giving in. I’ve told her that. She can cry and kick and threaten to never speak to me again all she fucking wants because in seven years she’s going to be so grateful I stopped her. When she’s marrying a good guy with drive and who can love her properly, she’s going to cry and thank me. So shut the fuck up and back the fuck off.”

“Yeesh,” Lawrence grumbled.

They often didn’t see eye to eye, or pushed each other too hard. But it never stuck, and even now as he waited, he could feel Beetleman slowly relaxing beside him. Then there was the familiar shift in the air as he shifted from side to side.

”Sorry.”

”I get it, no biggie.”

”Nah, that was pretty uncool. You’re not, uh, like bad. I know you don’t mean to keep pushing me.”

”Nah, I do. But, like, for your own good. She’s a good girl. You can’t do better.”

”It’s not about me.”

”Yeah. I get it.”

”Do you?” Beetleman asked, severely.

Lawrence winced, “I know. I know.”

”If you’re going to ruin her life, you better pray she fucking loves you. Hey, Lydia,” He said, putting out his cigarette on the handrail and taking the steps two at a time. “Ready to go home, babes?”

Lawrence followed him down, slower, so when he came up Beetleman already had his hand on his Lydia’s lower back and was gently steering her towards his truck. When Lawrence stepped up, (his) Lydia sidled up to him, smiling still. Instinctively he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. To his immense satisfaction, she wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned her head on him. Thank God she was clingy, too. He hoped she never moved out.

”Sure, BJ,” Beetleman’s Lydia said, “Bye Lydia. Text me!”

”You guys exchanged numbers?” Lawrence asked, surprised.

”Oh, yeah,” Lydia said, brushing him off to focus on their friends, “Drive safe, you two! See you later, Lydia. Nice seeing you again, Beetleman.”

”Likewise. Though if you’ve got any brains at all you’ll dump this loser and I’ll never see you again.”

”Sadly, I’m really quite empty-headed. So see you for next game night.”

Beetleman rolled his eyes but opened the car door, letting his Lydia slide in before he shut it behind her. She looked rather smugly out the window, and he seemed to either not notice or pretend not to notice. Lawrence waved at her and they stood and watched as the old truck drove noisily down the road.

”She’s going to fuck that man,” Lydia said, sleepily.

”Excuse me?”

”And I’m gonna fuck this man.”

”What? Who?”

Lydia laughed, and her hand slipped to his ass, giving one of his cheeks a squeeze.

”Oh, duh,” Lawrence laughed, “Me. Your boyfriend.”

”And also, like, the only guy here.”

”That you know of.”

Lydia looked amused, “Buddy, we gotta work on how you talk to me. You say the weirdest stuff, and then you wonder why you have trouble with girls.”

”I don’t have to worry about girls,” Lawrence said, simply, and scooped her up, startling her. She felt pleasantly weighty in his arms, and he grinned as she flung her arms around his neck.

She was intoxicating, and now that she was in his arms again, his mind was filled with her, and only her. Throughout their days and nights together, his need to keep her close was a dull kind of ache in the back of his mind. It was present, but he could ignore it. When he came into a room and she was already there, the ache lessened to nearly nothing. And when she came up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, it slipped from anxiety to affection so fast it stunned him. But now it grew and pushed inside him, pressing up against his skin as if it would consume them both if it could. The need to mark her up so she couldn’t leave him, the desire to make this permanent even if she wasn’t keen on it.

Not that she didn’t seem keen. In fact, if anyone had eyes at all he was pretty sure they could tell she was (shockingly) keen to stay. If not in his house, in his life. Nothing she’d done had made him think she would leave, logically. But he wasn’t usually driven by logic. Usually he was entirely driven by feeling. And what he felt like doing was finishing inside her so she’d have to stay, forever. Hopefully. Maybe he was shooting blanks, which would make for a very awkward conversation after she realized what he had tried to do. But, well, to be fair, he hadn’t actually done anything to her yet.

And he wasn’t sure he would of course. He didn’t want her mad at him. But if something were to happen. Something outside of his control…like the condom breaking. He could figure out a way to make them weaker then he could pretend to be just as upset as her.

”You still in there, Lawrence?” Lydia asked, amused, “You just want to hold me out here?”

”Mm, you’re just so pretty. Sometimes I forget what I’m doing,” Lawrence mumbled, kissing her cheek and then her neck. Lydia laughed, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

”Yeah? Back at you. You’re pretty fucking distracting, you know.”

Lawrence wasn’t sure he believed her, but it was really nice that she said it anyway. He kissed her mouth, softly at first, and then when he went back for a second one, they got a little sloppy. Not because of him, but because of her. Sometimes she got really, really into things out of the blue. For the last few days she’d come running and jump into his lap and kiss him until he’d forgotten what he was doing. Then there was that time she dragged him to the floor in the kitchen and asked if he had a condom.

Pretty Lydia, all for him. At least for now. He was going to enjoy her as long as she let him.

”Hey,” He said, suddenly, “Can we, uh, do you like stars?”

Lydia stared for a moment, “Uh? Stars? Sure? What, like as a concept?”

”No, like, looking at them?”

”You’re asking me if I want to look at the stars.”

”Sure.”

”Like in the movies.”

”Sure,” He said, suddenly feeling a little (okay a lot) fucking stupid.

”Do you have a blanket?” She asked, curiously, “Or do you want to drag the porch chairs into the grass? I think the backyard would be better, because the one light over by the Maitland’s won’t shine in our eyes. I bet we can see everything.”

”Wait, you want to?”

”Sure,” She said, and kissed him again, wiggling in his grip, “Let me go so we can get this set up.”

”I never want to let you go,” He whined, squeezing her up against his chest.

Lydia laughed, “Lawrence, I don’t mean let me go I mean, put me down. So we can do this. You want to see stars? Let me get the chairs.”

”Chair.”

”Where are you going to sit?”

”In the chair, and you’re going to be sitting in my lap,” He purred, kissing her neck, “So we can snuggle and look.”

”You want to cuddle instead of having sex?”

“You’re making me think I’m being dumb.”

”Nah, you’re dumb for other stuff. This is cute. Maybe. We’ll see how well you behave first. I don’t think you’ll be able to handle me in your lap for very long.”

She was probably right, but he didn’t care much. He sat her down on her feet gingerly, smiling against her mouth when she kissed him again. God, he loved her. If she left him, he’d crumble up into dust. Which was super healthy, for sure, his sometimes-therapist would fucking love how codependent he was about this girl. Totally normal. Nothing to be concerned about.

”I’ll get the chair, how about you go get a blanket?” Lydia asked, heading to the porch, “And you meet me out back?”

“You’re the best.”

”I know.”

When he got back outside, she was seated on one of his sad old lawn chairs. Lawrence had the requested blanket, but he also grabbed a bottle of wine for them to share. No glasses, because he didn’t think he could juggle that much glass and a blanket and seeing his girl waiting for him in their yard all at once. But whatever, she would happily drink out of a bottle with him. She looked up when he approached, barely visible in the dark night until he was basically on top of her.

”Hey,” He said, playfully, “You’re really hot. You come here often?”

”Only for the last two weeks or so. My boyfriend will be here any minute though, and he’s not one for sharing.”

”Too bad, I’d love to show you a good time.” He was grinning as he handed her the bottle of wine, and she took it, standing up so he could sit.

”Hmm,” Lydia pretended to think and sat in his lap when he sat down, so she was nestled up against him. “Well, you are kind of hot…”

”Only kind of?”

He hadn’t meant it to come out that whiny, but it was out there now. Lydia cast him a look that was somewhere between incredulity and amusement. After a moment she leaned heavily into him, wrapping an arm behind his neck, holding the bottle of wine against her thigh, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

”What am I going to do with you?”

Lawrence closed his eyes as she kissed him over and over again, soft, sweet kisses peppered to his temple and cheek. He wound an arm around her waist and squeezed her, before he draped the blanket over both of them. It was warm enough without it, but it felt cozier when they were safe and under the covers. Lydia’s nails gently scratched his scalp, and her fingers wound through his hair, lazily, as she pressed her face into his neck. He wrapped his arm around her again and leaned back, so they were nearly laying, and her weight pressed up against him.

Above them the sky was an inky black with a brilliant smattering of stars. Small town living had very little charm to him, but this was one of them.

“Before you came along I’d come out here and lay in the grass.”

Lydia made a soft noise to urge him on, her lips brushing against his throat.

”It’s hard to sleep here, sometimes.”

”Yeah, well, your Mom’s a fucking bitch. Sorry you got stuck with her.”

”That’s okay,” Lawrence said, “I got to meet you, so, worth it.”

“We could have met anyway.”

”Yeah but would you like a stable guy with a good job?”

”Oh, good point. My type is exclusively incredibly clingy, damaged men with absolutely no drive in life.”

”Yeah, thankfully,” He laughed softly, and felt her smile against him as she shifted, so her head was leaning on his shoulder and she was looking out towards the trees that lined their backyard.

“So you can’t sleep and you come out here?”

”Yeah, cause, remember, I spent all that time camping,” He said, “So it reminds me of that.”

”Of home,” Lydia said.

”Yeah.”

”And now?”

”Now you’re my home.”

“No pressure.”

”No pressure,” He agreed.

His heart was pounding rather hard in his chest, making him kind of jittery. Part of him knew this was way too much, way too fast. But she was, seemingly, okay with him being this way. For whatever reason she just seemed to like him. Lydia shifted in his lap, her feet (tucked between his spread legs) brushing against his upper, inner thigh, making his mind temporarily shift from worrying about being overbearing to how nice she’d feel when he filled her up.

”What if you’re disappointed?” She asked, finally.

”With what?”

”Me.”

Lawrence laughed, sharp and sudden, startling her. He squeezed her possessively and turned to kiss her, grinning when he pulled back and saw her soft, concerned expression.

”Baby, you can never disappoint me. Promise. You’re incredible. Smart as hell, hot as anything, cool with my bullshit, and so easy to pick up.” He jostled her playfully in his lap, earning him a little noise and a glare from her. “And talking to you is, like, the easiest fucking thing in the world. You’re fantastic. I fucking love you.”

Lydia tensed up, and for a moment he couldn’t understand why. Then he realized what he said and he tensed up, too, and that awful feeling of jitters flooded back twice as strong.

”Uh, not, like—“

”No, it’s okay,” She said, quickly, “I’m not, like, it’s okay.”

”Sorry,” He said, sheepishly. Lydia gently tugged his hair, then wound it around her finger.

”Really, Lawrence. It’s okay. I’m not lying to you. I won’t lie to you,” She added, “But I don’t know if you’re really in love with me, even if you think you are.”

”Nah, baby, I’m pretty sure. When I saw you, I thought you were the one,” He said, stupidly, not realizing she was giving him a gentle ‘out’. “But when we got to talking I knew you were the one. I want to wife you up and tear this whole house apart and build it again, just for us. I want to keep you forever, until one of us dies, and then I’ll wait until we’re on the same side of the mortal coil together again.”

”Yeah, but…what if it turns out you’re wrong?” She asked, sounding nervous. “What if we get three months from now and you’re like ‘oh actually she isn’t a bitch and I want that instead’. Or we get a year from now and one day you wake up and you realize you settled for the first girl who’d give you the time of day. Or maybe you’ll— what?”

Lawrence was grinning like an idiot at her, because whether or not she realized it, she was right there with him. They were in this together. They were in this together! He wasn’t crazy, or, okay, he was, but she was just as fucking crazy. The jittery feeling inside of him melted into giddiness and he felt the sudden, sharp urge to whoop and spin in a circle with her in his arms. Instead, he grinned broadly at her and pressed his face into the side of her head.

”A year from now?”

”Well.” She said, sounding on edge immediately.

”Baby, I promise, I promise you: this is it. You should marry me.”

”That’s a horrible proposal,” Lydia said, flatly. She always got flat when she was anxious or shy. He kissed her, and then licked the side of her face, grinning again when she made a noise of surprise followed by an annoyed growl. “Gross, what the fuck, Lawrence?”

”Mmm, you taste great. I bet other parts of you taste even better…”

”I knew you wouldn’t last,” She said, rolling her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching as she fought a smile. “Let’s drink some wine first, huh?”

”Fine, if you insist.”

Lawrence tilted his head back and opened his mouth. Lydia looked surprised for a moment and then sighed, through her nose, and tilted the bottle so the dark red liquid splashed down into his waiting mouth. He swallowed his mouthful and then kissed her on the mouth, shoving his tongue into hers, so she could taste it on him. Lydia squirmed in his lap but eventually her body relaxed and her tongue gently touched his, and then before he knew it, they were making out. She set the bottle down on the ground so she could grab his head with both hands, and he grabbed her waist with both of his. She shifted in his lap so she could hook one leg over his, her knee grazing his side, and she tugged him down so he hunched over her and his hands dragged her hips against his quickly-stiffening cock.

”Already, huh?” She asked, breaking their kiss to press her nose to his.

”You drive me fucking insane,” He mumbled, before one hand came up to force her face close enough to kiss again.

The thumbs on either side of his face brushed his temples, and she hummed gently, encouraging him, letting him know she was okay with this. Thank god, because he wasn’t sure he could stop now that they’d begun. She shifted in his lap, rubbing up against him, her soft legs and skirt sliding easily over his jeans. The zipper of his pants felt stiff and awkward against him, and he wished he could unzip and let himself be free, but he didn’t want to stop touching Lydia long enough to do that.

As if she read his mind, one of her dainty little hands let go of his face and dropped between them, and she unbuttoned his pants and gently eased the zipper down. He moaned against her mouth when her hand gently reached in and tenderly pulled his cock free. Then her thumb brushed over his exposed head, and Lawrence jerked his mouth away from hers, moaning sharply.

“This is okay?” She asked, gently.

”Baby, you can do anything with that, whenever you want. It belongs to you.” He whimpered when her hand closed around him, and yelped when her nail hit the tip, jerking them both so they almost went sprawling over the grass.

”Sorry, sorry, this is a weird angle!” Lydia said, ducking her head, “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

”It’s okay.”

”You’re making me a deviant,” She teased, “I never would have given a guy a handjob outside before this.”

”No, you’ll just let a guy grind against you until you come outside a bar.”

”Not a guy,” Lydia said, playfully defensive, “You.”

”I’m a guy.”

”You’re not a guy.”

Lawrence felt stupid, but he wasn’t understanding the distinction. Instead, he was thinking rather furiously hard, and after a minute she laughed, kissing his mouth again.

”Because you’re the guy, dummy.”

”Dummy?”

”Idiot felt a bit harsh when I’m doing this.” Her hand gently squeezed his cock, and he moaned, softly.

”God, I fucking love you.”

”Mhm,” Lydia’s hand was stroking him, and she didn’t falter or freeze up this time when he said it. A good sign, surely.

”I mean it,” He said, kissing her, thrilling when her hand kept up the steady rhythm as he added, mouth pressed against hers, “Marry me.”

”I’ll think about it, crazy.”

After a moment, Lydia let go of him, and he twitched and throbbed, bouncing up against his stomach, smearing precum all over his shirt. He winced a little from the sudden harsh feeling of cotton against his aching cock, but before he could get out a lot of complaining (really he only managed a soft, confused, what) she was sitting up, straddling him.

”Uh?” He said, surprised.

Lydia slid forward, reached between her own legs, and next thing he knew he was sliding, bare, into her. Both of his hands gripped her, hard, hard enough he was worried he would leave bruises, and he growled, gnashing his teeth together and grinding them, mind flying to anything, anything that would keep him from finishing immediately. She’d felt incredible with a condom. She felt better without one. Not only that, but his fantasies of getting her pregnant flooded him, all at once, making his cock twitch and making reason flee his tiny little brain.

“Oh, fuck,” He groaned, shoving his face into her collarbone. Lydia’s hands came up to cradle his head, both hands threading fingers in his hair, holding his face against her breast. He was breathing hard, panting, barely holding it together. Her walls squeezed around him, a soft, warm, wet pulse gripping him, and he whimpered as he desperately thought about his mom. Despite his desire to fill her up, to have her ride him raw, he managed a desperate, breathy, “No condom.”

“What was that?”

He panted against her, but only for a moment, because soon she was rocking against him. Sliding up, just a bit, and rolling forward, so he pushed back inside her, until she took him all back in, right to his balls. He moaned incoherently, trying to warn her, but he wasn’t going to last like this for very long. She rubbed his scalp and kissed his head, and he clung to her, moaning too loud for being outside.

”There you go, you’re doing great,” She mumbled, and he whined, loud and high. Her rhythm was steady, easy, and the noise of their coupling was the background to his desperate moaning and hard breathing. Her breathing was catching, too, in her throat and chest, and with his ear pressed to her, he could hear how hard her heart was beating.

“Lydi-aaah,” Her name dropped into a desperate moan as she squeezed around him, and he screwed his eyes shut.

Taxes. Beetleman. His Mom. The Maitlands watching— wait, no, not that one, that was worse. Mom. Mom. She’d hate Lydia, just because Lydia liked him. He couldn’t ruin her life. He couldn’t do this to her. If she got pregnant, if he came inside her with no condom, she might leave him for real. Or kill him. Or—

“Focus,” Lydia said, and tugged his hair with both hands. Lawrence yelped, which turned into a moan. She kissed his open mouth, softly, and then slid down, taking him all the way inside, squeezing him mercilessly as she gave him one last hard tug on his hair, “Come for me.”

Lawrence stood absolutely no fucking chance. His wide eyes stared at her determined, serious face, and his scalp smarted from her yanking, and his poor cock was buried as deep as he could be, and before he knew what was happening and before he could try to warn her one last time, he was coming with a desperate growling moan. His hands gripped her hard and held her rather firmly in his lap, so when he filled her, she wasn’t able to climb off him. And she tried, when it seemed she realized what was happening, her eyes a little wide, her mouth dropped open in a little gasp. But now that he was coming, his brain was overridden with base desire and not the logical, responsible part of him that sometimes managed to escape his general selfishness and stupidity.

“God,” He managed, finally, and one of his hands left her waist to drop between them. His cock was still buried in her, still twitching out the last drops of his cum, and his thumb rubbed sloppily at her clit for a moment before he managed to get control over his hands.

“Lawrence,” Lydia said, and he closed his eyes, hoping she wasn’t mad at him. He’d warned her, or tried to, and she’d been the one to initiate. But he’d held her down and forced her to take it. And even now one of his hands gripped her hip a bit too hard, holding her where she was, so he could rub her and sit buried in her. Making her marinate in it, essentially.

She squirmed in his lap, clearly trying to get off him, or trying to get him out of her, but he was determined, and she hadn’t actually complained. After a moment, she stopped trying to get away, and instead she played with his hair and kissed his face as her breathing hitched up from his rubbing her clit in lazy little circles.

“I wish I could taste you.”

”I probably taste mostly of you, right now.”

”God, fuck, yeah, I bet you fucking do.” If he hadn’t just finished, he would have sprung up from that alone. Or maybe from getting down there and tasting himself mixed in with her. Or maybe if he leaned her back so he could see the evidence of their fucking dripping out of her. Ah, hell.

”You’re insatiable.”

”Only for you,” He mumbled, kissing her throat, “You’re so fucking incredible.”

”Let me up.”

”When you finish for me, you can get up,” He said, grinning. Lydia moaned, surprising him. Oh? “Oh, I get it. You’re into this!”

”No,” She said, too quickly.

”You want me to pin you down and make you, baby? I can do that.”

”No.”

”Fill you up, make you a Mommy?”

”Ugh,” Lydia squirmed, “No, I don’t want to be a Mom. Not right now, anyway.”

”Uhh…?”

”It’ll be fine. I knew what I was doing. I’m not dumb, I can feel the difference. Uh, usually. But you seemed to like thinking I didn’t know, so, well, you know.”

”You played along? Just for me?”

”Yeah? I like it when you enjoy shit, sue me.”

”Marry me,” He said again, “Please, please, please, please marry me.”

She shifted in his lap again, and he redoubled his efforts, his thumb working faster now, so her breathing caught in her throat and she pressed her hips forward, pressing against him. Her mouth was open and pressed against his, so their breath mingled and their lips rubbed against each other as she shifted and moved in his lap, and she let out short, gasping moans. And then she tightened up all over, her slick walls squeezing his now-soft cock (making him wince and inhale sharply), and she let out a little cry.

And then she went limp, all over, kind of melting into his lap, and fell forward, breathing hard, with him still buried in her. He slipped his arms around her, one hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair, the other on her back, rubbing her gently.

”Okay,” She breathed, “Yeah.”

”Yeah?” He asked, hope blossoming sudden and bright in his chest. She couldn’t possibly mean…

”I’ll marry you.”

“Wait, really?”

”Yeah. Were you fucking with me?”

”No no no no no!” He said, quickly, “No! I want to keep you forever. Can’t get away if we’re legally bound.”

”Mmm, it sounded more romantic before.”

Lawrence winced, “Yeah, sorry.”

”I’d be even more stuck with you if I get pregnant, huh?”

To his horror, his cock twitched inside her, and she laughed.

”Ohhh, you’re so fucked up.”

”It’s not like that,” He began.

”You want me to be stuck with you, huh? No escape?”

”No,” He lied, as his cock gave another twitch.

”Oh, my god,” She laughed, “Lawrence, you suck.”

”Come on, baby, you know it’s not like that.”

”Explain it to me.”

Lawrence shifted under her, and she laughed again. Panic was flooding him and making it hard to think now, and he was wondering if he’d always been this volatile with his emotions or if this was because of her. If she made him a little more unstable. Or maybe she just made him feel a whole lot more than his (recently) boring life ever had.

”You can’t, because it’s fucked up,” She laughed, “Aw, Lawrence. Maybe you should try again, what if this didn’t take?”

He whimpered as his cock tried to spring to life, the pleasure and agony of it shooting up through his shaft and into his balls, painful tendrils snaking up through his body and making him shudder under her.

”Mmm, okay,” She kissed his nose, “No go, I guess. Too bad.”

”But—“

”Come on, let’s go to bed. We’ve got a wedding to plan.”

”You want a wedding? Like, with guests?”

”Isn’t that the plan?” She asked, surprised.

”You’re going to admit to people you’re going to marry me?”

”Okay,” She said, kissing his forehead as she stood up. She winced as the mix of both their liquids dripped down her thighs, and awkwardly waddled back so she was standing before him. Lawrence cringed as his wet cock hit the night air exposed now that the blanket was laying in the grass behind Lydia, where it had slipped off her shoulders. She picked it up as he tucked himself back into his pants, making a face from the feeling of soaking wet skin touching soaked boxers and jeans.

She continued, ”When we’re married, we’re getting you therapy.”

”Baby, when we’re married, I’ll do anything you want, ‘till death do us part.”

She was going to be his, and he was going to have the paper to prove it. No (easily) getting away from him once he held that little paper in his grubby little paws. Locked in. No escape. His Lydia, forever, until she died, or until she killed him. His forever.

”Yeah, I bet,” She said, heading back to the house, gently ruffling his hair as she walked past. “Want to take a shower?”

”What, together?”

”I can’t be sure you’ll do it if I don’t watch. Come on, future Mr. Deetz.”

”Oh, we’re taking your last name?” He asked, on his feet, stumbling after her, dazed and overwhelmed. He only barely remembered to go back for the bottle of wine.

”Yeah,” She said, holding the door for him and then shutting it behind him and locking it once he was in their dark kitchen. Her hand slipped into his as she tossed the blanket on the table. “My Mom would like you. You deserve a family who loves you.”

”Do you…uh, never mind.”

If she didn’t love him, he didn’t want to know. He could lie to himself really, really well. And she’d eventually love him, right? In time? She was agreeing to marry him, after all. She had to think that eventually she might fall for him. But if it was a ‘no’, well, he didn’t need to know. Because that would hurt too much. It would make him mopey and sad, even if that wasn’t fair to her. So better to just keep it in the dark, really.

”Yeah.”

”Wait, what?”

“Come on,” She said, and he could sense her blush and desperation to change the subject.

For now, he’d let her win. No need to push her. She had agreed to marry him, the crazy fucking girl. She was stuck now. Well, okay, very nearly stuck.

Following her up the stairs in the dark he asked, “How do you feel about Vegas?”

Chapter Text

The whole thing was insane. In fact, it was so insane that she’d thought she’d imagined it. All the way up until they’d gone to the grocery store and Lawrence had put some wedding magazines in their cart. So now she was sitting at their kitchen table as he tried to cook an omelette (something he’d learned the week she’d skipped, apparently), flipping through one of the bridal magazines he’d bought for them. Each was something like twenty dollars, so she’d felt kind of bad, but he hadn’t blinked at the price so, well. Who was she to turn him down?

She ran one of her hands over the two-page spread showcasing a new, large wedding dress.

“I don’t know, Lawrence.”

”What?” His tone was miserable already, the happy smile he’d had for the past two days slipping into an expression of despair. “You don’t want to anymore?”

”Not that,” She said soothingly, amused when his expression softened. “I don’t know if a white dress feels right.”

”There’s no law saying you’ve got to wear white. I’ll buy you any color you want.”

”You don’t have to buy anything, it should be my Dad.”

”You’re going to tell your parents?”

”I’ve got to, right? It would be worse if I showed up and we’d already done it.” Lawrence grinned at her and she rolled her eyes and said, “What, you want to do that?”

”Well, what if we sign the paper, and then do the actual wedding later?”

”I’d like it if you met my Dad first. But we’re going to need a ring, cause that’ll freak him out really bad.”

Lawrence gave her a side-eye and she looked innocently back at him. Sure, part of her wanted to marry him to drive her Daddy crazy. But the other part of her was very aware that even if Daddy loved him, she’d still marry him. Because she was crazy, because he was crazy, and because she wanted to be with him. As stupid as that was, as little she knew about him, whatever. She could divorce him if things went badly. But for now, well, she wanted to be locked in as badly as he wanted to lock her in. She probably loved him.

Okay, she definitely loved him, but it felt too fast.

”You want a ring?” He asked, and came over, taking her hands in his and getting on his knees beside her.

She adjusted her chair and looked at him, swallowing a bit hard. This was so silly. He’d already proposed. She’d already said yes. He’d bought her bridal magazines. He wasn’t backing down, wasn’t changing the plan, wasn’t canceling on her. But still it felt like at any moment he might change his mind and realize this was stupid and he barely knew her. Maybe he’d realize she’d been telling the truth and how bitchy she was was tied directly to her own internal pain, and the longer she was with him, the less of that there was.

“Lyds? I’ll buy you any ring you want. I’ll meet your Dad. We’ll throw a crazy wedding. Honeymoon, too. Anything you want, but first let’s sign the documents so your Daddy can’t convince you this is a bad idea.”

”It is a bad idea,” Lydia said, simply, amused.

”Well, yeah, I know.”

”Okay. Sure. Want to go get me a ring tomorrow?”

”You don’t want to come?”

”I want you to pick. No hearts.”

”You don’t look like a heart-jewelry girl,” Lawrence said, kissing her hands, and she laughed. He looked up, confused, and she smiled and leaned down, kissing him and pressing her forehead to his.

”Did you leave the omelette on the stove?”

Lawrence jolted and was on his feet in an instant, lunging for the burning eggs, “Fuck!”

Lydia waved from the porch as Lawrence pulled out of the drive, a miserable Beetleman in the seat beside him. Beetleman had told them, in blunt terms, that they were both stupid and this was a bad idea. But when Lawrence had asked him to be best man, he’d agreed, and now he was accompanying him to buy an engagement ring. They’d buy their wedding set together, maybe on the honeymoon, but she wanted the engagement ring to be his pick. If she hated the ring, she’d call off the wedding.

An easy test, she thought, a test of fate. Maybe a bit unfair, since he didn’t know their marriage relied on it, but, well, he was lucky she was into his crazy ass anyway.

Once the car was out of sight, she slipped back into the house. The air had shifted. It was heavier now, and she could feel his Mother, lurking just out of sight. Lydia ignored her, and headed up the stairs. She headed down the hall, to the busted door they’d smashed in with the help of (the future) Beetleman’s. She shoved the door open, and stepped inside.

It was an office, dusty from a year of disuse. Several large bookcases stacked with paperwork, books, and binders were pressed against one wall. Another wall had two large filing cabinets, and a large oak desk was pressed against the windows. They’d been in here for a few minutes to find blueprints for Beetleman. But that was it, really. Although something had caught Lydia’s attention when she’d been sitting on the desk as they’d torn through the filing cabinets.

So now she tugged one of the drawers open and shoved all the clutter to the side, yanking free a manilla folder and dropping it on the desk with a heavy ‘thud’. She flipped the front open and inhaled, deeply, slowly.

Last Will and Testament

”Yep,” Lydia said, softly. The office door slammed behind her, and she ignored it. Ghosts couldn’t touch unless you thought they could, so Mom could fuck off.

She flipped through the pages thoughtfully, skimming. So he had been right in thinking she would never have left it all to him. Luckily for Lawrence, the bitch died before she’d finished drafting it. Looks like she’d been writing it up herself, too, probably to take to a lawyer. So it was unlikely anyone else knew what was going on.

“You must be pissed,” She said to the empty room, and there was another shift as the room felt heavy and dark, pressing down on her. She waved a hand, brushing it off her. “Because I’m going to destroy this house and everything you loved, to love the thing you never did. I hope you rot in this house, and I hope him being happy destroys you. If you try to touch him, if you keep bothering him when he’s minding his own business, I will exorcise you from this place. So keep your filthy, awful claws to yourself, or find out what dying feels like for a second time.”

She scooped up the folder and tugged the office door open again, “Get one last look at this place. I’m gonna help him gut it. Bitch.”

Lydia sat in the backyard, seated on the chair they’d moved out there a few days prior, sipping a bottle of wine, his red hoodie wrapped around her protectively. An old fire pit had been unearthed from the garage and dragged out before her, and it was roaring pleasantly now, embers cracking off and floating into the inky black sky, a smattering of stars peeking from behind the dark clouds. The night was cooler than the past two, so the fire felt pleasant and warm. The house windows were tugged open, allowing the smell of the fire to reach Lawrence when he'd come home, and he’d come outside, looking concerned.

“Lawrence,” She breathed, and her body relaxed. “You’re back.”

”Hey, baby, what’s…going on?” He glanced at the fire, curiously.

”Wanted s’mores.”

”Can you have those?”

”Yeah, they make vegan marshmallows. How was the shopping?”

Lawrence grinned, suddenly, and dropped to his knees in front of her again. She ran her hands in his hair, looking rather grim on her end. Obviously she was happy to see him, and now that the will had been burned to a crisp, she wasn’t worried about where he stood in the world. This house and his money would belong to him forever, or until he ran through it, so he was taken care of. But he was kind of dumb, and she wasn’t sure where he’d be without her. At the moment they were together, where she could watch over him (an adult man much older than her) but when he figured out she wasn’t mean, he would leave her, and she was worried what he would do for himself.

“It went good I think! You’ll have to tell me, future Mrs. Deetz, because we were there for a while and nothing really felt right until I had this idea to go to this ‘odds and curiosities’ shop downtown.”

”We should sign a prenup,” Lydia said, barely listening, “So your assets will be protected.”

”You’re planning to divorce me? We’re not even married yet!”

”No, of course not. It’s just in case.”

Lawrence looked up at her pitifully, and she leaned down to kiss his cheek before pressing their faces together again. He smelled like fast food and soda, and she laughed softly, kissing his mouth this time.

”Did you have dinner?”

”Lunch. I did order some pizza. Pop’s does vegetarian, don’t worry, I asked. I know sometimes they slip, like, chicken stock into stuff like the pizza sauce.”

”You remembered that?” She asked, quietly.

”Yeah, baby, I don’t want to feed you stuff you don’t eat.”

”Show me the ring?”

At this point she was pretty sure it could be the most god-awful ring in the universe and she’d still say ‘yes’. No calling this off now, she was in way too deep. And not even for his sake, she thought she would keel over if she called things off for herself. He fumbled a bit, but tugged a little bag out of his pocket and opened it, dumping a ring out into his palm. And then he held it up to her, so she could see in the firelight.

It was a garnet ring, cut into a square, but tilted so it looked like a diamond. The main stone was surrounded by a bunch of small diamonds, arranged to look like sunbeams coming off the sun, and the metal of the ring itself was engraved with small tendrils and roses. Pretty, antique, and unique.

”Is it okay?” He asked, nervously.

”It’s perfect,” Lydia said, finding her throat had closed up. She gave him her left hand and he slipped it on easily. The perfect fit.

“If you don’t like it we can get you something else.”

Lydia couldn’t understand his anxiety, but then she touched her cheek and realized she was crying, and she laughed, warbly and watery, and kissed him again, before wrapping her arms around his neck and falling into his lap, kissing him over and over again.

”I love it. I love you. It’s perfect. I can’t believe you got something so perfect.” And then she pressed her face into the nape of his neck and bawled, so he was forced to hold her in his lap for a moment, stunned.

Only for a moment, though, as after that he got to his feet, cradling her in his arms, and sat in their chair. He tugged her nice and close and rested his cheek on the top of her head, letting her cry as he rubbed her leg with a palm, while his other arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close. It was all so stupid, but she was so overwhelmed, and she had suddenly realized that she was getting married and her Mom wouldn’t be there.

After a while he said teasingly, “I didn’t think you’d be so surprised I did something right.”

”Oh shut up,” She mumbled, wetly, and rubbed her soaked face on his neck, kissing him again. “How long until the pizza’s here?”

”They said forty minutes but god only knows what time that was.”

”We should go inside, then.”

”Did you have your smores?”

”Pizza’s better than smores.”

”You just want to be with me.”

”Shut up.”

”Because you’re marrying me after two weeks like a crazy person.”

”Shut up!” Lydia laughed, “You’re marrying me after two weeks like a crazy person. You won’t even sign a prenup because you’re nuts.”

”We don’t need a prenup, it’s gonna be till death do us part, baby girl. You’ll have to drive a stake through my heart to get rid of me now.”

”God, you’re lucky I find you charming,” Lydia laughed, “You sound like a crazed stalker. Well, wait…”

”You stalk a girl once, in the most mild way possible, and suddenly you’re a stalker. What is this world coming to?”

”Mm, yeah, I guess words do mean things. Crazy.”

Lawrence stood up, hoisting her with him, scooping her legs up under his arm so she was being protectively held against his body like a bride. Lydia leaned her face back so she could see his, and he grinned at her, leaning in for a proper kiss. Rolling her eyes, she complied, but she pulled away quickly, brushing her mouth against his ear to whisper:

”The pizza’s coming. No time for this now.”

”I can be fast.”

”Yeah, I know,” Lydia teased, and he laughed, bouncing her in his arms as he walked her up the back steps. “Should we leave that fire going..?”

”Oh right!” He set her down by the back door, took her hands in his, and kissed her palms. “Don’t go anywhere.”

”Where am I going to go? I live here.”

”Yeah, but any moment now you’re going to realize you’re locking into this,” He gestured at himself and the property, “And bolt into the night.”

”So the plan is to force me to stay in view until you’ve legally locked me in?”

”Uh, yeah, keep up, babe.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and tugging his hoodie tight around her small frame as he bounded back down to the fire. It took only a moment to douse it, and he put the lid on the fire pit just in case. And then he was running back to her, not unlike an over-eager puppy, scooping her up in one arm as the other tugged the back door open, and before she could let out anything other than a cry of surprise, they were in the kitchen and the back door slammed shut, locking them in almost-complete darkness. He shifted so she was over his shoulder, and her head and arms were dangling down his back, his one arm locked around her legs so she couldn’t fall, and the other gently stroked the back of her thighs.

Lydia huffed and wiggled, sitting up and pressing her hands into his shoulder in an attempt to get down. But his hand rubbing her thighs slipped between them, and she suddenly knew what his goal was.

”Lawrence,” Lydia breathed, and shifted again when his fingertips brushed against her underwear. “Come on. The pizza’s coming.”

”You look so good in my hoodie,” He mumbled, pressing a scratchy kiss to her bare thigh.

Part of this was on her. She should have been wearing more clothes in the spring evening. Not that she’d expected to be tossed over his shoulder and fondled, but, well, she hadn’t not expected to be caressed by her needy, horny fiance. One of his fingers rubbed between her legs, slipping between her lips to rub at her clit through the soft cotton of her underwear, and Lydia gasped out loud.

The angle was weird, and not being able to see what he was doing was weird, and being so helpless was really weird, because if she struggled too much, well, he might drop her. So she didn’t struggle, outside of attempting to hold her body up, and shifting back and forth, squirming lightly, as he rubbed her clit and kissed her thigh.

”Lawrence.”

”Yes, dear?” He mumbled, and his thumb pushed aside her underwear so it could press at her entrance. “You’re always so ready for me.”

”Hardly,” He said, blushing. He was right, but he didn’t need to be so cocky about it. Any hint that he’d want to have sex with her and she was wetter than she’d ever been in her pre-Lawrence lifetime. Even now his thumb slid easily inside her, slicked up with her own juice, making her cringe from the squelching sound.

”Oh yeah, the sign of disinterest.” He laughed, and bit her thigh, earning him a sharp cry and a smack on the back of his head. “Okay, okay, no biting, got it.”

”You can bite, but not where people can see, asshole.”

”Oh yeah?”

”Yeah,” She mumbled, embarrassed. His hand between her legs changed position, so now two fingers slid inside her, curling until she cried out, and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her leg as she shuddered and clamped down on his fingers, soaking them. “Oh, my god.”

”I googled some stuff,” He said, as if it was normal to google ‘how to turn your fiancee into a fire hydrant’. His fingers kept stroking inside of her, and she made a peculiar noise for the first time, like a keening moaning yelping sound, short and sweet, sharp in their dark kitchen. Her nails dug into the back of his shirt and she was tightening up rather fast.

”Wait, Lawrence,” She gasped, but even as she was about to ask him to pull back, her body pressed into his hand of its own accord, and she went very, very rigid as her first orgasm tore through her body. Both of her hands dug into his clothes, her nails scratching his back as she let out a cry against her will. His hand was soaked, now, she just knew it (even though she couldn’t see it), and his mouth was kissing and licking her thigh, his beard scruffing against her skin, no doubt leaving pink marks everywhere it touched.

She was barely able to sag against his shoulder before that cursed hand was gently stroking her again, his thumb coming up to rub at her sensitive clit, and she gasped and squirmed a little more now, trying to get free of his touch. Too much, it was too much, and she wasn’t sure she could take any more. Whatever button he’d found inside of her she’d never found it on her own. Her legs were jelly, her mind was a numb mess of that’s good and wait too much and her mouth, when she opened it, drooled and mewled like she was an animal in heat rather than a grown woman who wanted him to stop.

“Ah, wait,” She managed, wiping her mouth with her hand, smearing saliva all over herself. “Too much.”

He curled his fingers and she let out a loud, garbled moan. Even as her brain warned her a second orgasm would make her useless, her body pressed desperately back against his hand, so his moving fingers could brush over that hidden spot inside her, and she saw stars.

”I’ll stop if you want,” He mumbled, softly, pulling his fingers out slowly, “I’m not going to make you, baby.”

”No,” She cried, and let out a sob as she slammed her hips back into his hand, “More, fuck, more.”

She could feel his fanged smile against her thigh as he complied, and she cried out. They were getting really, really close to her second orgasm when there was a knock at the door.

”You’re fucking kidding,” She growled, and he laughed. “Wait, Lawrence—“

He slid his fingers from her, kissed her thigh, and set her gently on the edge of their table. Even in her semi-aware state she cringed, knowing they’d have to clean the damn thing, because she was a mess between her legs. He pressed a kiss to her mouth and her forehead and told her to wait here for him. As if she could walk. Her legs felt like wet noodles and she could barely remain seated. In fact, once he left, she collapsed into a little puddle on the table, infinitely glad she’d taken to clearing it off. If it had been up to Lawrence, she would have been resting on a bunch of junk.

At the front door she could hear the exchange, the quiet pleasantries of a teen delivery guy and her future husband, and then the front door closing as Lawrence made his way back to the kitchen. The big light overhead clicked back on and she groaned and covered her eyes.

”Sorry, baby. Want some ‘za?”

”No,” She said, flatly, “I want to come. Get over here.”

”Ooh,” He laughed, “Appetizer?”

”Whatever you want, but leaving me on the edge like this is agony.”

She let out a surprised noise when she felt hands on her ankles, because her eyes were still covered and Lawrence, for some fucking reason, was able to move incredibly silently through this old house. He spread her legs, and she flushed bright red, because she could feel how wet she was, and from the noise he made, it was apparent even at a glance. She drew her knees together, but all he did was slide his hands up to her thighs and spread them again.

”Somebody liked that, huh?” He mumbled, “You’re fucking soaked, baby.”

”Yeah, thanks,” She snapped, sitting up on her elbows to glare at him. It wasn’t very effective, since she was quite disheveled from being tossed over his shoulder and then collapsing on a table. Not only that, but her face was a pretty shade of red and her underwear and thighs were slick and shiny from how ridiculously wet she was. She hated him. She wanted more.

Lawrence didn’t seem to mind her attempt at intimidation, and instead he tugged her shoes off and dropped them to the hardwood floors with a thunk. Then he gently tugged her panties off, the slick sound of soaked fabric leaving soaked skin making her skin goosebump. One of his thumbs brushed through her wet hair and found her clit, and she fell back onto the table with a moan. Two fingers slid into her again, curling, mercifully, and she moaned again, louder, running her hands down her front, brushing over her chest and stomach before one of her own hands gripped the hair on her head and she bit down on her other hand, stifling her moans.

”Let me hear that beautiful sound,” He said, and gently tugged her hand out of her mouth.

”I hate you,” She growled, but any bite was softened by the needy little noises he was able to get out of her with the simple movement of his fingers inside her. He slipped his fingers free, and she cried out in despair, but already he was hooking his hands under her knees and dragging her ass to the edge of the table. In a moment he was shoving inside her, and it felt so good she momentarily forgot herself.

Then something pushed to the front of her mind.

”Lawrence,” She said, “Condom?”

There was no way he’d had time to put one on. She wasn’t that out of her mind that she was losing track of time (yet). And she had already consented to once without a condom, so she could see why he might think it was fine. But she also thought maybe he was trying to be a little naughty, and she could lean into that, if it made him happy.

”Hey? Condom?” She repeated, letting just a touch of urgency slip into her words. He’d been moving before this, pulling nearly out and then thrusting into her with the unpracticed kind of frenzy that he got whenever they had sex, but he faltered now and she could hear him mumbling something under his breath that almost sounded like ‘waiting in line at the grocery store’. She shifted under him, as if she was trying to get away, and the part of his brain that wanted to own her took over, as both of his hands pinned her down to the table and he frantically shoved balls-deep into her, eyes wild and unfocused as they looked at her face.

She shifted again, so his hands had to hold her down firmly, with enough force that if she struggled much harder, she’d probably bruise. She tried to close her legs, knowing she wouldn’t be able to, as they hit his sides. But the effort seemed to make him go crazier, as he nearly came just from that. He had to stop moving entirely, and he closed his eyes and was muttering again.

Lydia grinned and then said, in a mock worried voice, “Hey, don’t finish inside me though, I missed a pill.”

”Ah,” He said, and while his brain processed that, she clamped down on him. Poor guy was gone.

He leaned over her, pressing his face to her shoulder as he grunted and moaned and filled her up. Gross. She knew, now, that she’d be dripping their fluids while she waddled to the bathroom. Not that she really minded, because for some reason being mildly ‘gross’ was a turn-on for her, and being sticky and wet down there seemed to really do it for her. She ran her fingers in his hair, admiring how soft it was, and how it shifted from dark brown to light brown to gray.

Gently, she scratched his scalp and wrapped her legs around him, holding him inside her.

”You’re kind of a mess,” She said, kissing his head.

”You’re not mad,” He said, turning his head so his lips grazed her throat, “So you were playing it up. Right?”

”Mhm.”

”Fuck, you’re the perfect fucking woman. This whole time you were one town over. All I needed was to drive over there for your fucking harvest festival bullshit and I’d run into you.”

”Yep,” She said, amused, “But I would have been even younger; don’t you think you’d do the right, honest thing and let me get a little older?”

”No fucking way, and miss more time with you? I would have snatched you up at sixteen.”

”Eighteen.”

”Nah, baby, in Connecticut the legal age of consent is sixteen.”

”You’re fucked up, Lawrence.”

”I only know because Beetleman’s girl’s been telling him since she had her birthday.”

”Yeesh, poor guy. He’s doing right by her.”

”What?” Lawrence yanked back to look sharply at her, and she cupped his face with her hands. Luckily she was getting really good at reading ‘paranoid anxiety’ in him, and knew what the trouble was right away.

”I’m fine. I want to be here. I don’t think you’re tricking me. I’m older than she is and we just met, so I can’t have been crushing on you for years before finally getting a shot at you. I think she knows what she’s doing, and she’ll get him eventually, but I think making her work for it to be sure she’s sure is a good thing and will be better for them in the long-term.”

”Yeesh, baby, you been reading on the internet or something?”

”Something like that,” Lydia said, amused. “Now let me up, creep, I gotta go pee.”

”I’ll get plates,” He mumbled, kissing her neck.

“Uh huh. Wipe the table down, too, please.”

”And get rid of the evidence that you let me raw you right out in the open?” He whined, grinning and gently placing his teeth on her throat lightly, so he wasn’t really biting her.

”Ugh, why are you so gross?”

”Because my baby gets so wet when I’m gross. She’s a real fucking freak, let me tell you.”

Lydia groaned again and shoved him, little soft shoves all in a row so he laughed but gave it up, letting her sit up and cringe at their mixed liquids slipping out of her.

”You look beautiful,” He mumbled, kissing her temple.

Lydia laughed, despite herself, “Yeah, I’m sure. Clean up. I’ll be back.”

When she got back to the kitchen the table had been cleaned, but Lawrence was nowhere to be found. When she peeked into his preferred living room, he was sitting on the couch, and their pizza was on the coffee table. A cooking show was playing quietly on the television, and when he noticed her he held his arm out, and she went over, sliding into his lap and picking up her plate as she leaned back against him and relaxed.

Lawrence sat in the passenger seat beside her and jiggled his leg. He’d been jiggling his leg for the entire drive, the newest expansion of Wingspan sitting on his lap in its shrink wrap with a black and white bow on the top corner. Lydia glanced over at him and then reached over to take his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. He squeezed it and looked over at her quietly.

”You’re going to be fine.”

”They’re going to hate me,” He whined. “You’re going to leave me.”

”No,” Lydia said, reassuringly, “But Dad will definitely hate you, sorry. Tell him you hear he likes Wingspan and you want to play.”

“We’re definitely going to still get married, right?”

“Yes, you big freak. Relax. I promise I'll still marry you, no matter what Daddy says.”

He made a soft noise almost like he wasn’t sure he believed her, but bless, he dropped it. After a moment he pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it. Lydia smiled, but it was short lived, as he sucked one of her fingers into his mouth and dragged his tongue between them, causing her to groan and yank her hand free, wiping it on his pants.

”God, what are you, ten?” She snapped, and Lawrence let out a harsh laugh. “Behave, okay? Don’t make him hate you.”

”I’ll be on my best behavior.”

”You better be. If I’m satisfied with how you act,” She said, her tone lightening to playful as she pulled up the drive of her parents house, “You’ll get a little treat.”

”A treat?” Lawrence was sitting up, now, and she knew she had his full attention.

Lydia smiled pleasantly at him, putting the car in park, and tugged the strap of her dress down, showing him a bright red bra strap, all lacy and delicate.

”New lingerie?” He asked, drooling already. Her heart leapt at the sight of her big, dumb, crazy fiance going nuts over just that. Gosh, he made her feel so stupidly sexy. Like over the top, cocky kind of sexy. Her body practically vibrated with anticipation. When they got out of the car, he was going to lose his fucking mind.

”Just for you. You can even tear it off with your fangs, if you want. But that’s not all. Come on, let’s go meet the parents, and you can see the rest of it.” She leaned over the center console and kissed him, softly, right by his mouth. Lawrence twisted his head and caught her mouth with his, and she sighed against his cheek, content and happy.

”Let’s go meet my future in-laws,” He mumbled, “Before I drag you into the back seat and see what the rest of that set looks like.”

Lydia clicked her tongue, “No lingerie for bad boys. Behave, or else.”

”What are you going to do to stop me?” He asked, grinning.

”Hmm,” Lydia hummed, “Sometimes you sound rather dangerous. Maybe I should stay at my Dad’s place tonight? I can have Beetleman come get you, I bet he’s with Lydia.”

Both Lydia’s somehow lived in Peaceful Pines, which was pretty ‘small world’ of them, as far as Lydia could guess. Especially considering they’d never run into each other, at least not in any meaningful way where either of them remembered it. Lawrence shot her a terrified, wild-eyed look, and she laughed and kissed his cheek, rubbing her lipstick off his skin when she pulled back and saw she’d left a mark.

”You’re silly. Let’s go meet Daddy. Steel yourself, okay? I like you, even if he hates you.”

”Okay, baby.”

They got out of her car together, and she took his hand when he joined her at the bottom of the steps that led to the modern-styled house. Lydia took the stairs first, letting his hand go again, if only for effect. He’d made a whiny little sound when she’d let him go, but when she hit the top step and pivoted to look down at him, she saw his attention had been taken entirely by her shoes. High-heeled, black, platform sandals that let her pedicured toes be seen in what she hoped was ‘glory’ to her depraved fiance. They were strappy and Goth, with plenty of buckles and a few spikes for good measure. Dangerous and sharp and very much brand new, just for him to appreciate. She was fully willing to help him get off with them, like she had at the beginning of their relationship, or let him kiss or lick her feet as much as she wanted. So long as he behaved.

”Lawrence?”

He opened his mouth but the only thing that came out was a whimpering whine, and then he was on his knees on the bottom step, tongue out. Lydia flushed bright red and grabbed his hand, tugging him.

”Stand up, oh my God, Lawrence!” Lydia hissed, miserably flattered. She found most of what he did to be endearing, as much as she hated that she did. So even now, panicked that her Dad and Delia would find him drooling and hard over her new shoes, she was still feeling a sharp thrill shooting through her.

“You’re my dream girl, I’m absolutely the luckiest guy on this planet. Every fucking shitty day of my sad, miserable, lonely fucking life was worth it just to be able to even have a fucking chance at calling you my wife. I’m absolutely fucking insane for you, Lydia. I’ll kill anyone you want, forever, go to jail for you, set buildings on fire for you. If you leave me, I’ll just sit and wait for you. Forever. You can’t escape me, I’ll wait until the end of time. Even when I die, the moment you cross over, I’ll be there at your beck and call. I fucking love you, baby.”

Lydia opened her mouth to respond, but the door behind her opened suddenly, and she jolted. She turned, and prayed Lawrence wasn’t looking up her short skirt from his spot on the stairs.

“Dad!” She let go of Lawrence’s hand and gave him a big hug, hopefully distracting him. Charles made a noise and gently held her in his arms, right as Delia’s loud squealing came running from the back of the house, accompanied by the aggressive click click click of her heels on the wood floors.

”Lydia! Lawrence!” She cried, bursting onto the porch. Her eyes skimmed the scene before she gasped and went down the steps, wrapping her arms around one of Lawrence’s and helping him to his feet. “So sorry you fell! I’m Delia, Lydia’s step-mom.”

”Wow,” He said, and then stopped himself short, and Lydia thanked whoever was listening for helping him hold his fucking tongue. Because not only would calling her step-mom ‘hot’ ruin his relationship with Daddy, she’d be furious and scold him in front of everyone, which he would no doubt be pretty into, and then the whole night would be over before it began. “I like your rock.”

”This is a rose quartz,” Delia said sweetly, “It promotes love. I’m trying to instill some harmony into the evening.”

”Daddy,” Lydia said, letting go of him, “This is Lawrence. Lawrence, this is Charles. That’s Delia.”

”Uh, yeah, great, uh, Lawrence,” He said, quietly, looking stunned and on edge. Lydia cast him a look, not sure why he was suddenly so subdued.

”You’re much cuter than I was expecting,” Delia chattered, tugging him into the house, “Is that a board game for us? How sweet! It’s always good karma to bring a gift, you know, it really sets the tone for the relationship. When you leave we’ll have to be sure to bless your parting with a sprinkle of rosemary to really seal the higher vibrations.”

”Uh,” He said, and Lydia rolled her eyes as she trailed after them.

Charles took her hand and tugged her still.

”Are you sure?” He asked.

The rage that flooded her nearly took her out. Blood roared in her ears and for a moment she saw only red, and she was blessedly able to control her tongue even as her entire body went rigid. How dare he question her (admittedly awful) decision when he had done the same thing with Delia? Okay, granted, two weeks wasn’t three months or whatever. But at least Lawrence wasn’t hired to help her grieving daughter process her (beloved, missed) parent’s death. When she spoke it came out surprisingly measured.

”You were sure about Delia. Is there anything I could have said to change your mind about her?”

”No.”

”Then maybe you should get to know him, because he’s staying. Forever. Till death do us part.” Lydia tugged her hand free and stomped after Lawrence and Delia, who were now looking at one of her many large crystals, set up under a little display lamp with a little card describing what it did and everything. Lydia slid up to him, wrapping her arm through his and pressing into him.

Lawrence, puzzled and clearly overwhelmed, glanced at her and then, without thinking, pressed a kiss to her head and brought up a hand to pat hers. Lydia relaxed, until she caught Delia’s soft, sweet look, and then she got all tense again. Ugh.

”You got a lot of rocks here,” He said.

”Oh yes,” Delia said, excitedly, “They’re actually crystals, but yes. If you’re into these, I’ll have to show you my crystal grid. It’s set up to help boost affection at the moment. I wanted to ensure your joining our little family goes just as smoothly as it can. I, for one, am very happy that Lydia found someone who can tolerate her…unique personality and ...peculiar view on life.”

Lawrence laughed, sharp and loud, “Yeah, I really appreciate her personality and I love looking at her.”

Lydia jerked his arm and cast him a nervous, sharp glance.

”View on life,” He added, awkwardly, “Looking at how she views life, uh, obviously. She’s got such a way of it. You know. I love that thing she does where she stares down my dark hallways like a cat seeing a ghost.”

”Oh,” Delia said, pressing her hands to her chest, “You see her.”

”Great,” Charles' rough voice cut through the tender moment rather suddenly and he gestured to the dining room, “Let’s get this over with.”

”Charles,” Delia said, patient and guiding, “Lawrence brought us a gift, it would be rude not to accept.”

Lawrence held the Wingspan board game out, and Lydia cast her Dad a look that clearly said you better be gracious. To his credit, Charles gave a tight-lipped smile and took the game with both hands, looking at it. His expression softened pretty quickly when he saw it was an expansion he didn’t have yet.

”Asia,” He said, and a genuine smile flashed across his face, “Thank you. We should give it a spin after dinner.”

Lydia relaxed and squeezed Lawrence’s arm. That was the best they could have ever hoped for, really. Daddy was playing nice. Good. Kind of. If he was playing nice then it was obvious that she was dead serious about this. So either they thought she was throwing a monumental fit or, unfortunately, it was really (really) obvious that she was genuinely head-over-heels for this guy. Thankfully he cleaned up okay, even though he still had his scruffy beard (not that she’d asked him to shave) and his hair was kind of sloppy (even though she’d brushed it for him). At least his clothes were clean and he’d showered.

“Awesome,” Lawrence said, cheerily, seemingly put at ease by the offer and Lydia’s relaxed demeanor, “Y’know, if that goes well, I think they just released a spin-off game, too, so we should check that out for next time. I think it’s dragons.”

”Well,” Charles said, “I’m personally more of a bird man, but I don’t think I’d be opposed to some dragons, if that’s what Lydia prefers.”

Lydia looked up at him and caught the meaning, and she smiled, cautiously, “I think there’s room for both.”

”Great!” Lawrence said, oblivious, “Show me your rock grid, Debbie.”

The dinner had been eaten, the game had been played, and no fires had been set and nobody was hurt. Lydia literally couldn’t ask for a better outcome. Like, literally, she was so fucking relieved that Lawrence hadn’t thrown a fit and that Daddy had been gracious and kind even when Lawrence had called him ‘Chuck’ and gotten Delia’s name wrong all night long. She’d help him remember for next time, but for now she was just glad they seemed to tolerate him.

They stood on the porch, now, illuminated by the overhead light that cast long, angular shadows down the steps and over the grass. Delia was holding both of Lawrence’s hands, and Lawrence was watching her with the same attention she’d held from him all night: a mix of confusion and mild awe. Lydia wasn’t sure what that was about, they hadn’t had a moment alone all evening so she could ask, but she hated that she felt a little threatened by it. Delia’s pretty brown eyes were closed and she was inhaling deeply, exhaling sharp through her mouth so Lawrence blinked with surprise every time she did so.

”If you’re happy,” Charles said, quietly, “I’m happy. We’re here if you need us. Please don’t stay somewhere you’d rather not be just to prove to us you made a good choice. I won’t say it again, I promise, but I need you to know that we’ll help you, no questions asked, forever.”

”I know,” Lydia said, tearing up a little despite herself, “I love you, Dad. Thanks.”

”I love you, too, and I know your Mother would be happy if you’re happy.”

Lydia hugged him, burying her face in his chest like she did when she was much younger, and held him for a moment. Mom would like Lawrence. She wasn’t sure why, but she just knew it. Mom would think he was a fucking riot, actually, and love that he’d already helped her come out of her shell so much. Maybe it was Mom’s hand from the Afterlife that had gently but firmly shoved her into his path. Although it was how fucking crazy he was that really sealed the deal. When she pulled back, Delia had let Lawrence go, and now she was approaching Lydia.

”Have a safe drive home, Lydia,” Delia said warmly, and took her hands, too, giving them a squeeze as she added in a low whisper, “Good choice. He’s fun.”

”Yeah, he is,” Lydia said, blushing. “Okay, night guys. I’ll text to let you know we got home okay.”

Lawrence held his hand out and Lydia let go of her parents to step over to him, letting him lace their fingers together even as she felt a little twist in her stomach that complained this was too intimate for other people to see. He led her down to the car and opened the door for her and then skipped around to the passenger side, pausing only to call back to her parents.

”Nice meeting you! See you at the wedding!”

They’d left the foyer’s light on, so when Lawrence unlocked the front door, they were flooded with a warm, golden light. Lydia set her purse down on the little round front table, and set her keys beside it. Lawrence’s arms were around her middle as soon as the front door was closed and he was kissing her neck, hands rubbing her stomach and sides.

”Hey pretty girl, come here often?”

”Yeah, I live here,” Lydia laughed, “With my fiance.”

”Oh yeah? Do you think he’d mind if I suck on your toes a little bit?”

”Mmm, hard to say. Why don’t we find out?”

”When’d you get that pedicure?”

”Wouldn’t you like to know?”

”I’m going to do it next time.”

“You’re going to give me a pedicure?”

”Yeah,” Lawrence said, tugging her skirt up so that both his hands could slide down her bare thighs and then up again, thumbs looping the sides of her underwear and tugging them down so they were halfway down her thighs. She leaned into him, sighing.

“What did Delia give you?”

”Who the fuck is Delia?” He asked, dragging his tongue down her neck so she cringed.

”My step-mom.”

”Oh, she gave me a pink rock. Here.” He handed it to Lydia. It was small and polished, and Lydia turned it in her fingers. “She said ‘welcome to the family’ and said this would, fuck, something like…make me better at fucking or something.”

”I doubt my step-mom gave you a ‘fucking well’ rock.”

”Baby, do I look like a Geometrist?”

”Geologist.”

“What’s that?”

”Okay, we’ll talk later.”

”I was good,” He whined softly, “I get a treat now.”

”Mhm,” Lydia said, laughing softly, “Anything you want me to do with my feet I’ll do for you, my good boy.” She reached back and gently played with his hair before giving it a little tug, smiling broadly when he whimpered. God, he was easy.

“Bedroom,” He said, and before she could agree, he was already lifting her up, tugging her panties down her legs and dropping them to the ground. Instinctively she tucked her feet up so he could carry her towards the stairs, laughing a little as they went.

”I’ll walk,” Lydia said, grabbing his wrists with both hands and giving him a squeeze. “Put me down!”

“Only if I can watch,” He said, rubbing his face between her shoulders.

Lydia squirmed in his grip, “Yes of course, you freak.”

Lawrence sat her on the stairs and when she was steady enough to take a step she heard him collapse behind her. Turning, she looked down to find him on his knees, hands on the step above where he was kneeling, eyes trained on her feet. She took a step, focused entirely too much on how she held herself, and found that she really, really liked the expression he made when her foot flexed. Oh, he was going to give her a foot fetish at this point. Or maybe that was how things worked. She didn’t really know, because he was kind of her only hook up. Maybe it was entirely normal to be super into your partner being super into something.

She’d have to ask him if he felt the same in the morning, maybe. Although she wasn’t sure how much it would help her understand anything, as far as she could tell he was into everything.

Lydia realized belatedly that her thoughts had wandered so much that she was already at the top of their stairs, and when she glanced back she found that Lawrence had crawled up after her on all fours, practically drooling, and already tenting in his pants.

As soon as he reached the top step, he was scrambling to his feet and she was over his shoulder, crying out in surprise. Not that she should be too surprised, as one of his hands held her legs and the other ran a thumb over the back of her calf, stopping at the strap around her ankle. He fondled her shoe as he walked, kissing her thigh, shoving her skirt up so he could bite at her hip. She dug her hands into his back and squirmed in his grip, not sure if she was thrilled or horrified by this being the second time he’d carried her like a fucking caveman in the past few days.

Just as she began to complain (with a snippy little ‘Lawrence’) he’d tossed her onto their bed. She bounced once, stunned, and then he was on the bed, too, kicking his shoes off as he grabbed one of her ankles in both his hands and settled between her spread legs, running nose and mouth over her exposed flesh. And a whole lot of her was exposed, as he’d removed her underwear downstairs and her short little skirt was hiked up from being thrown. Maybe if she wasn’t wet she wouldn’t have been so aware of it, but she was (of course) fucking soaked, because he made her act like a teenager in heat, the fucking bastard.

Shifting, she pushed her skirt down between her legs, leaning up awkwardly on her elbows to do so. He was holding one of her feet aloft so she was struggling to do anything but lie flat on her back. Lawrence cast her an amused glance, and sat up on his knees, instead of sitting back on his heels, taking her foot with him, and forcing her to lay back unless she wanted a cramp in her leg. As soon as she laid down, he was pushing her skirt up, rubbing her glistening inner thigh, right as his tongue slipped between the arch of her foot and her shoe.

Lydia didn’t know that a cringe could be full-body until this moment. Her entire body tightened in sudden disgust. Not necessarily that she found his interest disgusting, but just the same sort of feeling stepping on a wet tissue would cause, like the sensation was new and alarming. And her toes flexed in her shoe, too, as she squirmed from the new, unpleasant feeling. Which quickly subsided into a faint distaste, until he ran his mouth over her shoe and his tongue dipped between her toes.

”Eugh,” Lydia said, jerking her foot away from him. Lawrence laughed, soft and breathy, and then sucked one of her toes into his mouth. “Lawrence!”

”You said whatever I want,” He mumbled, toe still between his lips. He sucked on it gently, and Lydia let out a squealing noise, twisting away from him.

”I changed my mind, god!”

”Oh really? Want me to call up your step-mom and tell her—“

”Tread carefully,” Lydia snarled, but she’d frozen where she was, half-twisted away, foot still in his grip, though he had mercifully gone back to rubbing lips and nose along the top of her foot instead of sucking on her. This amount of foot touching she could tolerate.

“Just teasing,” He mumbled, “You’re the only one I’ve got eyes for, baby.”

So he’d learned, that was good. He was teachable.

“Me too,” She said, relaxing a little. Lawrence jerked his head from kissing her to look at her, his eyes skirting over her body to settle on her face, making her flush bright red.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting down on his heels again, rubbing her calf absently as he watched her expression.

Lydia glanced away, “Yeah, don’t make this a thing.”

”Not a thing, got it. I’ve just never been anyone’s, uh, y’know. Type. Before.” He cleared his throat, “I like to hear it.”

”Well,” Lydia said, awkwardly, “You’re my type. I thought that was kind of obvious. You stupid or something?” She nudged him with her other foot, trying to lighten the mood, and was surprised when he glanced down between her legs. She covered her face with both hands but let him look.

”You do get pretty wet.”

”Shut up, fuck. I knew you were going to be a real weirdo about this. Just do whatever it is you’re doing down there so we can get this over with.”

”We’re just beginning, baby. I played your Dad’s stupid bird game, listened to Darlene talk about rocks and magic and shit, and ate some soy blend roast thing. I get to suck on your toes. Deal’s a deal.”

”Ugh,” Lydia said, but peeked between her fingers to look at him, anyway. His attention was back on her foot, and he was looking at it like it was the prettiest fucking thing on the planet. Unfortunately, she found it really flattering. So much so that this time when he ran his tongue between her shoe and her foot, she squirmed for an entirely different reason, and (to her horror) he noticed. One of his hands slipped up between her legs and rubbed her thigh, a motion that was surprisingly pleasurable, especially when he squeezed her a little.

His tongue on her foot still felt gross, but she seemed to find that enhanced things for her. Fuck.

”Lawrence,” She mumbled, muffled from her hands.

”Relax, baby, just enjoy.”

”Can we at least turn off the lights?”

”But your polish is so pretty.”

Lydia laid back and let him do his thing. Thankfully he was a (surprisingly) selfless lover, and after a few minutes he was dragging his tongue up her calf, up her thigh, and laying down between her legs. He grabbed her thighs in both of his hands and slid her down against his waiting mouth, and both of her hands left her face to curl up in his hair as she arched off the bed and let out a gasp of delight. God, he was fucking good with his tongue. It was only a few minutes until she was crying out loud and writhing under him as she came for the first time.

Then he was pressing into her, crawling up over her, shoving her shirt up so he could see her red lingerie. Though he looked surprised when he caught sight of it, and she laughed a little, breathless.

”Forgot?”

”God, yeah. I didn’t even get to see the whole look,” He said, breathing hard. One of this thumbs ran along the edge of her bra cup, where the lace met her pale skin.

”Next time,” She said, amused.

”Next time.”

He sounded almost like he couldn’t believe it, and his eyes darted to her face before he leaned in and kissed her, tongue and all, so her mouth was suddenly flooded with the taste of her own wetness and, presumably, her own feet. Thank god she washed them thoroughly before heading out tonight.

”God,” She gasped when he finally broke their kiss.

”You’re filthy,” He mumbled, his mouth already dragging back down her neck, sharp fangs teasing a soft pink trail as he did so, “You just turn on like a faucet when you think something’s gross, you know.”

”Do not.”

”Baby, I’m drowning down there. Filthy girl.”

”Shut the fuck up,” Lydia snapped, “You’re the gross one!”

”Mm,” He mumbled, unaffected, clearly not listening to her protests at all. He was right and he knew it. He was right and they both knew it. She liked him dirty. She’d even kind of liked when he washed his sheets less and kind of smelled. God, help her, she was fucking gross, too. “See? Soaked, baby girl. Why don’t you tell me what’s got you so riled up?”

Lydia shook her head, and he sunk his teeth into her throat, earning a cry and both of her hands to come up to grip his shoulders. Her nails dug into him as she moaned, one hand slipping into his hair to press his face into her. His mouth latched onto her sensitive skin and he sucked, and sucked, until she realized what he was doing and growled, hitting his shoulder hard.

”Off, you animal.”

He peppered her in kisses, then, licking at (presumably) the mark he’d branded her with. Ass.

“Tell me,” He mumbled, rubbing his face against her as he moved inside her, shifting around until he got a good angle and good rhythm going. Then he leaned back so he could see her face. The hand in his hair slid to his cheek, and she moaned softly as he stared down at her. God, she loved that he loved to look at her. Even when she was looking kind of stupid, like she was now with her skirt and shirt bunched up as far as they could go, and still in her pretty bra, and all marked up by his beard and his teeth.

”Ugh,” She closed her eyes, but he only pressed his forehead to hers as he thrust into her, making her whimper a little. “God. You suck.”

”Come on, baby, it can’t be that bad.”

”I kind of like it when you’re, like, a little dirty. You know. Greasy. A little.” Lydia mumbled, barely audible.

”Like skipping a shower kind of dirty?”

”Yeah. Like when we met and you had like, two day old jeans and your hair was kind of…sticky?” This was sounding worse out loud, and when she finally squinted her eyes open to see his expression, he was grinning deviously at her.

”Adam said you only let me fuck you in my dirty bed because you were fundamentally damaged.”

“What?” Lydia asked, stunned.

”Well, kind of. Later baby, we’ve got all the time in the world. The rest of our lives. Till death, yada yada. You get it.”

Lydia wasn’t particularly happy with the idea of discussing Adam’s comment later, but he reached down and his thumb found her clit, and she decided ‘later’ was perfectly acceptable in this particular scenario. He was right, they had the rest of forever to sort through what made her tick and what Adam was saying behind her back. Because she was marrying this fucking idiot, two weeks in.

Whatever happened, it was going to be one hell of a ride.