“Peee-eter,” Stiles shrieks quietly, squirming away from the big hands curling around his hips. There's only two other customers in the store, neither of them paying any attention to the college student or his boss standing - or well, groping - behind the counter.
However, despite landing himself in trouble on numerous occasions for being places he shouldn't, public indecency never made the list and he is intent on keeping it that way.
If only he could convince his lover the same.
Peter Hale has no shame when it comes to basically anything and everything he feels like doing. Owning a lewdly themed, twenty-one plus dessert shop, dating a much younger man, sharing openly that he unflinchingly spends a decent amount of money on mentioned younger man for no other reason than to pamper and spoil….
Yeah, no shame whatsoever.
Anybody and everybody (except Stiles father, holy shit) knows that romantic relationship and all, Peter Hale is one hundred percent Stiles Sugar Daddy. Trademark and everything.
“What color are they today, darling?” Peter growls lowly, nibbling along the side of Stiles neck, thumbs dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans and stroking along the waistline of his panties.
Stiles can feel his cheeks flame at the affection, at the question being asked of him.in public no less. In the corner, a relatively handsome probable senior is grinning at them knowingly, giving Stiles an appreciative once over.
“Red,” he replies, catching his tongue between his teeth, shooting a flirty look while managing to shove his boyfriend away from him at the same time, “of the darker shade. Now go do some work, you lecherous creep.”
Snapping his teeth playfully, Peter backs around the counter with his hands held up in mock surrender.
“Until further notice,” he warns, wagging his finger scoldingly as Stiles makes sure he still has the customers attention while he gives a cute little shimmy that always has Peter panting.
As expected, Peter gives him a wicked look and a wink to the observing customer before retreating to the office.
- - -
“Ohh, Peter, yes, yes!”
Hands braced on the bed frame at the foot of Peter's bed, Stiles rocks back onto his lovers cock vigorously. Over and over, as he casts a coy smile over his shoulder while Peter palms his ass, spreading his asscheeks to get a better view of the way Stiles is riding him.
“That's it, baby,” Peter croons, “just like that. Look at that ass.”
Giggling, Stiles stops his rocking to bounce his ass, just a little, clenching tightly as he does.
There's a hint of a laugh in Peter's appreciative groan, but not the kind that makes Stiles feel embarrassed and young like he sometimes does around his boyfriend. More like the kind that makes him feel empowered and sexy, that maybe in some ways he has more pull over Peter than Peter seems to have over him.
“So cute,” he praises, “such a cute, tight little thing, aren't you?”
“Yeaah,” Stiles agrees, breathy and high pitched, “yeah it's for you.”
“For me?” Peter echoes, smug and stealing whatever power Stiles earned right from well, under him as - in a show of clearly superior strength and skill - he rolls to his knees and forces Stiles onto all fours, leaving him still gripping the bed frame now helplessly.
“Yeah,” Peter continues, exhaling roughly around the word as he grips the back of his lovers thighs tightly and angles his ass upwards more, arching his back, “yeah this is for me, just for me.”
“Uh huh!” Stiles cries out, nodding eagerly, “uh huh, it's for you daddy!”
This time, Peter outright laughs, pleased and gleeful as he fucks harder into Stiles, rolling his hips relentlessly.
Peter is sure Stiles next door neighbors can hear them, hear the way their flesh smacks together, the way his boys shitty, springy mattress creaks and thuds against the walls it's pushed against.
Peter knows one of Stiles next door neighbors is the man from the shop earlier. The one who comes in three times a week and watches Stiles for precisely two hours every time.
Peter hopes he's listening.