Title: Lydia the Desired
Pairings: Lydia/Chris, Lydia/Peter, Lydia/Derek
Word Count: 1700
Warnings: Non-con, Dub-con, Explicit Sex, Character Death,
Summary: Everyone wants a piece of Lydia. How many slivers will she be left with.
Author's Notes: Thank you to Karolina who came through as a beta at the 11th hour.
It started with a girl. A very strange enchanted girl. Or was that a movie? Something overheard from some movie his Wife had rented and watched with his daughter. There was a redhead who died trying to be free. It seemed appropriate enough. Fairy tales all need some child on the cusp of becoming an adult. That child was Lydia Martin.
Chris watched her as she came out of school, the girl was beautiful, red hair and cupid's bow mouth meant for the cover of magazines. When she had befriended Allison she had been the most popular girl on campus. He watched her now walking alone. He wondered if her parents had ever bothered to warn her about the things that lurk in the night and not to hang out with the wrong kind of boys.
"Hello, Mr. Argent." Lydia's lips were full as she offered him what he was sure she believed was a sultry pout. It made her look even younger and possibly more sweet.
"Hello, Miss Martin. I hear you are having a girl's night with Allison." He motioned her toward his car.
"That's what I hear. We're redoing her wardrobe. Try to get her out of her funk." She looked away, knowing the unspoken hung heavy between them. His wife's death laid like a pallor over his house. He wondered if Lydia's own darkness would feel comfortable here.
"I'm here to give you a ride to the house. Allison's at archery for an hour. Ever since she got her car she hasn't wanted dad picking her up so I thought you could hang out while we wait for her to get home."
"Sure thing, Mr. Argent." She slid her eyes over his body before sliding into the passenger seat. Before he would have ignored it. She was the same age as his daughter and something about her was so much more and less innocent than Allison.
He wasn't sure how it happened. She was flirting again, opening that pretty mouth and jutting out that round hip and suddenly he was on her. She opened perfectly, took his savageness. Her body arched as his weapon pounded into her. Her eyes were glassy, distant even as he enacted the most primal of acts over his family couch.
He used to do this, feel this savagery build in him. Lydia's hips were marked by red lines from his nails. His wife's hips were much the same when he came home from a hunt. She would scream, meet his motions thrust for thrust. They both needed to know they still lived and breathed. Lydia's sounds were soft in comparison. Almost fragile. She was fragile.
His loneliness dripped from her swollen sex and onto the cushion she leaned against. He legs were shaking, but she stayed obediently open. Like she had been trained to take this sort of touch before.
"You look tired. Why don't you go use the upstairs shower before Allison comes home. I'll order some pizza for you girls." His voice was gentle, as he tucked himself back in his pants and the shaking child's skirt fell back down to hide her sex.
When he came back up with the pizza the red-haired child was smiling, gossiping about fashion or boys with his daughter looking every inch the perfect teen girl. She would make an excellent hunter if she could hide so easily. Her felt a tremor through her shoulder only when he touched it. Such a strong girl.
She really was beautiful. In a model sort of way. She had perfect pursed lips, perfect pale skin, perfect round hips that looked good in almost anything. Peter would wrap her in reds and purples and golds and watch her skin glow. Of course he had a fondness for her. She was his prince charming who woke him from the grave with a kiss.
He could smell Argent on her the second she walked through the decrepit Hale-house doors. Something inside rose up, wishing nothing more than to rip the hunter apart. He tutted at her and himself. Jealousy suited no one.
"Have you been playing at Allison's, or should I say at her father's? How does Hunter feel inside? I've always wanted to ask Derek how good of a screw Kate was but it never seemed like quite the right moment." Peter kept his smile as the sarcasm ripped a shard of Lydia's control away.
"Peter." She tried to give him the calm disregard that she offered all of the other boys sniffing around her ginger locks. He could hear her heart trip and pulse up. In a few steps he was wrapping a hand around her wrist and kissing her pulse.
"You are such a little slut. My brilliant, beautiful whore. You didn't give away any secrets did you?" His fangs caressed her pale wrist.
"No." She gasped and turned her neck to the side. What an invitation.
"Good." His teeth went to that throat. They grazed her artery before biting just enough to seek a trickle of her blood. He locked it back up as he smiled.
"I know my memories are still rattling inside your lovely head. Do you still see me? The younger, less... world weary boy. You would have liked him I think. I was much cooler, an again, you probably would have passed me by. Lydia Martin can have anyone she wants. You are worth so much more than anyone in that school or this town." He gently tucked a strand of strawberry blond hair behind her ear.
"I still see you." She admitted with a frustrated huff. "You are still there. Young and acting like you go to the school. You still sit in my classes."
"Do you flirt back?"
"How sweet." He chuckled and took her lips against his own. She couldn't fight, if she did the pieces of his fractured personality would torture her. So she fell to him.
She woke hours later with a scowling alpha hovering over the dirty mattress in the hale house.
"Get dressed." He growled.
"Don't you want to get on this too? I am apparently one hot commodity." Lydia looked at Derek like a queen on a throne despite being naked and covered in Peter's marks.
"I'm not one for sloppy seconds. Now get dressed." Derek's voice took on that horrible sarcastic hint.
Lydia looked down at him through her lashes and he looked away. She counted it as a win against the alpha. She didn't know what put him off. It might be her nakedness, she was a very beautiful woman. Or perhaps the scent of Peter that lingered on her skin and within her womb. The older were liked marking his territory.
Derek said nothing. Lydia never expected him to. It wasn't the first time he drove her home in her own car after one of Peter's sessions. It wouldn't be the last time she woke naked and alone in the horrible wreck of a mansion.
"If you need... if you need help." Derek gritted out the offer, like it physically ailed him.
"I'll ask someone who might be able to do something. In fact, I'll ask Mr. Argent." She watched Derek's eyes go red. "Or can't you smell it anymore?"
"Peter is thorough."
"Indeed." Lydia stared at her house out of the window of Derek's camaro. "You know I wonder what they would think. I mean I'm already on enough pills. My mom will probably give me more. I could just... not be here anymore."
"Peter wouldn't like that."
"Yeah... I know."
"Stiles would be devastated."
"I don't really care. I never have." She flicked her hair of her shoulder. "I guess that makes me a bitch. But it's not like it matters. He never cared enough to let me in on the wolf thing that was slowly destroying my life."
"What good is that? Sorry. Everyone says it. No one means it. You're sorry. How about owning up to it."
"How?" Derek looked at her with those multicolored eyes.
He looked broken.
She liked broken. It was familiar, like the cracks right under her skin barely holding her together. He looked like her.
"I don't know. Kiss me or something?"
"No. I can't risk..."
"Being hurt?" She snapped at him. "Having everything you know and love go up in flames? Too bad. It already did. What's there to risk? Peter attacking you? We both know he's too much of a coward. So kiss me, scent me, wipe it away. And you can get rid of that guilt. Come now, Derek. You know you want to use me too. They all use me for something. You can use me to pretend you are a protector. That you can say you saved someone."
Derek stared, just held her eyes. She couldn't tell if it was horror or pity. She didn't want to know.
"Go home, Lydia."
"I'll stop Peter. But you don't want me. I don't think you really want anyone."
"No. I don't. It won't stop them. I made myself desirable for me, not for men like you. To be liked and wanted by real people, you know, the ones with full personalities instead of fractured fear pieced together by sarcasm. Too bad. No one ever wants to like me. No one wants me. Not really. Not psycho Lydia. Not second child Lydia. Not broken but still going Lydia. But, you know, whatever. I can change. I can be anything they want."
Lydia walked away from the alpha. She walked slowly up the stairs past her mother's absent voice. She walked past her father whispering sex on the phone to his secretary. She walked to the broken mirror and smiled.
"Which slice of Lydia shall I leave them this time?"
She cut into her image and made it match the fractured and jagged mirror. As she grew cold she smiled. She was going to leave them everything. Everything they wanted. And she was taking away what no one liked about her. Her mind.
She wondered if she knew who would cry. Peter... only Peter would cry.
She never knew if she was right.