Teen Wolf Imagines #Wattys2017

Not So Much Acting

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"Take one! Action!" the director yelled.

I was already in character as Dylan crouched over my cowering figure that was lying on the bed. This scene I wasn't particularly excited for, nor was I planning to worry about it. We agreed we should get it done and over with, but with him this close. . . You start to notice things.

You notice the mischievous gleam in his brown eyes, and how they seem to hold you in their unfathomable gaze. You notice the brown locks that stick out from his head look visibly soft to the point you want to run your hands in them. You also seem to notice how his dark eyelashes contrasted nicely against his eyes.

My breath catches as he glides a tantalizing finger tip along my jaw line. At least my breath catching was not out of character.

His eyes were dark and hooded as he mused, "My dear, you don't know how much of a seductress you are. You don't even realize it." Dylan's hands slips down, dragging across the skin of my neck, to the seams of my trench coat, and finally to the knot that tied the coat together. His eyes never left mine as he pulled the end of the strap slowly. I swallow as the knot is undone and he goes for the buttons.

"I beg to differ," I said with a strain, "shy and clumsy isn't attractive."

It's amazing how I can still remember the lines while being this flustered. How I can even stay in character is lost on me. Then again, the character is supposed to be turned on and in shock to the point of speech impairment; in which I am also. The director so predicted this.

Dylan chuckled, "You don't know how wrong you are." His fingers undo the buttons one by one, "Obliviously submissive and weak are attractive traits. Even turn ons." All the buttons are unbuttoned and my green eyes are glued to his.

At this point, I remember: The character turns somewhat indignant, acting less submissive on purpose.

I instinctively lift myself out, leaving the trench coat behind as I wrapped my arms around his neck. My fingertips play with the little hairs at his neck lightly, and I feel a shiver run up his spine. I smirk at this, "Am I really that submissive?" Something like lust burned in his eyes, slightly cutting me off guard. I know the next part, but I'm still shocked.

"Everything about you is a turn on," he murmured, suddenly pushing me down against the pillows and smashing his lips against mine.

Oh my God.

His hand trails up the side of my thigh, lifting my leg slightly before it hitches itself around him. The trench coat is discarded to the floor forgotten. I lift my hands to fumble with the buttons of his dress shirt before just ripping it open, which I was told to do anyways. I part away, marveling at his lean but muscular chest before he catches my lips again.

I gasp as his tongue snakes through my lips, brushing against my own playfully. This wasn't part of the script at all, but I wasn't complaining. As I ripped away his shirt and threw it to the side, our tongues danced and tangled. A small moan left my lips, in which I paused for a millisecond and blushed deeply. My abrupt stop seemed to go unnoticed by the director as Dylan's hands roamed around me.

I tried to breathe steadily as he kissed me, resisting the urge to moan. Fortunately, he parted away and kissed down my neck and back up again. "Just let it out," he whispered into my ear when he started lifting my shirt, "if you don't moan, it's going to be unrealistic."

I inhale sharply as he goes down and leaves a searing trail of kisses up my body as he slides up my shirt. "There you go," he murmurs as my shirt falls to the floor. I connect our lips again, letting out a whimper as he nibbles my lip.

Oh God, what are we doing? We're literally having sex on set, and we both are not minding it.

I pull away, nipping at the skin of his collarbone and scraping my fingernails lights down the planes of his abdomen. A guttural groan leaves his lips as I drag my tongue up his neck and my fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. I never get to get them off, because he pins my hands over my head and slips off mine instead.