Lydia is a very good hostess for the most part, in the way that she seldom cared when people crashed her party as long as they were having a good time, and she cared even less when things got broken because the insurance would take care of it.

She has also been drinking, but like Stiles she's been a bit more cautious about doing and is perhaps nowhere near as drunk as her slightly staggering steps would suggest.

The part's so loud and full of people that she needs a few minutes to herself. The solution is obvious, as she manages to slip her way into one of the bathrooms and close and lock the door behind her, all without realizing there's a Stilinski in the tub.

She starts a little when she hears a voice she didn't expect and turns so she can lean against the bathroom door. There's a Stiles in her bathtub. Why is there a Stiles in her bathtub?

"Stiles?" she's a little incredulous as she takes a few steps forward. "Why are you in my bathtub?"

For some inexplicable reason, Lydia slips out of her high heeled shoes, and starts to climb in. Possibly with the slightly inebriated logic that this is in fact, her bathtub, so she can get in it any time she wants.

Why not? It's her bathtub, Stiles. God.

She's not having any of this shifting around thing. Lydia plants one foot on one side of him and then sits down. Right on him, resting on her shins. She seems to be contemplating him thoughtfully.

"Hi."

Clearly Stiles is inebriated because even when he's at his dorkiest with her, he's usually at least somewhat articulate. For some reason the word that flutters into her thoughts as she considers this is droll.

She seems to think there's nothing wrong with sitting on Stiles. In a bathtub. With the door locked. Fully clothed.

Her eyes dart to the bottle. "What are you drinking?" She holds out her hand expectantly.

She's still regarding him like she's thinking of Terrible Wonderful Things, and then suddenly she shoves the bottle into his hands. "Drink some." she orders insistently, waiting to see if he obeys.

"Hmmm." she makes that little back her throat noise again, takes his jaw in both hands, and leans in to lick his lips, getting the taste of the fireball off them before straightening and dropping her hands.

"Chemicals reacting." she says with a smile. "It tastes different when it comes into contact with human skin and nobody's skin is the same."

She reaches out to grab the bottle, fingers briefly touching his. "Don't waste all of my good booze." she chides him, and then with her eyes still on his face, takes a swig, then lowers the bottle. She continues to eye him, as if waiting for something.

Ironically, Lydia is actually well aware of how smart Stiles is.

Which is part of why she gets so exasperated when he's so dumb sometimes.

Giving him an impatient look, she taps her lips.

"Chemical reactions." she says again, as if this explains what she expects.

She tastes like Fireball and Lydia, and there may be some argument that the two are not mutually exclusive.

After he licks her lips, she does the same to her own, because now it's her and Fireball and Stiles, and she's curious about that.

Other things are happening of course, and it's not that she hasn't noticed. She was just distracted by chemical reactions.

"You seem to be having a problem." she can't help but remark with a smile on her face.

Her hand reaches down, tugs his away. "It's just chemical reactions." she tells him. Lydia hasn't felt this in control for a long time. She's more drunk with the feeling of it than she is with actual alcohol.

She braces her hands on the sides of the bathtub, using them to push herself forward, so suddenly she's sort of on top of Stiles, halfway pinning him in place.

"Why are you ashamed of it?"

"You didn't?" Her head tilts to one side, and then the other, as if she's studying him in entire new light. Or has just discovered a new alien species she's trying to get the measure of. It may be hard to tell.

"Why not? Don't you like me?" Yeah, she already knows the answer to that, but God, Stiles being so helpless and hapless? It's actually turning her on.

"You didn't mean to. What do you think would happen when I climbed in with you and sat on your lap and made you drink Fireball off my mouth?" she asks, the aforementioned mouth starting to curve into a smile.

Just because she's not a werewolf doesn't mean Lydia Martin can't be predatory.