Stiles was feeling good tonight. While it wasn't a surprise for him to be dressed in something maybe less than work appropriate, he did like going overboard sometimes, even if he wasn't going anywhere particularly fancy. So that's how he found himself opening the door to the pack meeting(an actual one, not movie night) wearing short shorts and thigh highs, and a shirt that basically almost hid the shorts. He looked cute, and he was feeling good.
Apparently, the other pack members thought he looked good, too, because Derek barks," Kitchen." with the beginning of a flush at the top of his cheek, met with muttering agreements from the rest of the sheepish looking wolves.
"Oh my god, you can't just banish me every time you think my outfits indecent! Lydia's dress is just as short as this!" Stiles complains, indignantly waving to Lydia, who is shamelessly checking his thighs out.
"She's not.. um... wearing thigh highs, buddy." Scott remarks, resolutely keeping his eyes locked on a section behind his friend when Stiles glances over. Stiles huffs, and crosses his arms as he walks to the kitchen. Some would call it stomping, but Stiles will not. Semantics.
It so isn't fair! While he knows he isn't missing anything remotely important (full moon briefing) it's still a little annoying, but not worth taking off the thigh highs yet. Anyway, it's not as if he'll be completely lonely in the kitchen. Peter's usually lurking around, baking something that he'll claim isn't stress related, but the increase of production near the full moon? Kind of gives it away. Unless, Stiles supposes, it's a werewolf thing. Maybe werewolves just like being more productive near the full moon. Wait, scratch that, Scott's room is even messier than usual when it's that time of the month, so maybe it's just Peter.
Who is rocking a baking apron. It looks kinda cute on the man, weirdly fitting the v neck shirt and jeans he's sporting. Peter looks up when Stiles says a hey, glancing at the boy before looking back at the bowl he's mixing. Stiles waits another second before opening his mouth and sees Peter's eyes snap back to the clothes he's wearing.
"Well. " Peter gets out. "A warning would have been.. nice, perhaps." He's death gripping the poor spoon, and Stiles sends out a silent prayer for its poor little spoon soul.
"You realize you have supernatural hearing, right?" Stiles says leaning over the island counter, before moving back to find a seat on the counter behind him, facing Peter and the stove, but being right next the the fridge for quick access to a soda if he wants one later. Strategy. If it also gives him a good view of Peter's ass while he's turned away, well, who has to know except himself and his memories.
Peter snorts,"What, you think I listen?" he questions, turning around to stir the bowl, and in the process give Stiles the penthouse view. He draws a leg up to rest his chin on.
"I always thought you were a creeper wolf, but I guess the truth comes out. The only think you listen to is your recipe book." Stiles fake sighs, and he feels a rumble from a quiet laugh Peter gives.
"Here, try this," Peter starts, turning around and shoving the spoon in Stile's face. Stiles drops his mouth open and envelops the spoon, letting a little moan at the sweet taste.
"Oh, wow, that's really good!" Stiles exclaims after Peter tugs the spoon back, "Is that triple chocolate?"
Peter doesn't answer, just frowns at the spoon. Oh well, Stiles thinks. The dude's still a couple screws loose. Before Stiles can say anything more of the taste, however, he is answers with a very small yes from the wolf in question.
"Well, its good. Hey, do we have any cream soda?" Stiles asks, already jumping off the counter and rooting through the fridge. He hears Peter disassembling the mixer behind him, but no answer to his question. Luckily after a bit of rooting around Stiles finds a can, lets out a "Hell yeah!", and turns around to find Peter right behind him, brandishing mixer blades.
Stiles wouldn't say he let out a squeak, but for lack of a better word that's what he'll go with, twitching backwards and almost falling if not for the hand Peter shoots out, steadying him.
"Sorry, did I spook you? Total accident, Scout's Honor. " Peter lets out a shit-eating grin. Dick.
" All of you are so mean to the poor defenceless human," Stiles fake whines, trailing back to sit on the counter with his newly acquired soda, Peter following to crowd him just a little. Werewolf thing. "Anyways, are those for me? They totally should be." Stiles makes grabby hands at them but Peter gracefully moves them out of the warpath of Stile's chocolate decimating habit.
"Oh, presumptuous little human, are you? Maybe these are for me." Peter teases, moving them to point at the boy. Stiles pouts, and refrains from making the dog joke he thought of, because he knows that will only earn him a growl and longer time wasted before getting that chocolatey goodness. " Maybe Ill just rinse them off—" Peter begins but is cut off by Stiles grabbing his wrist and licking it, letting off a tiny moan. There is silence for a moment, and Stiles tugs the blades out of Peter's hand and into his own, already licking at them.
Stiles moans at the flavor exploding on his tongue. Peter should start a bakery, or maybe just stay in the kitchen 24/7 and make Stiles chocolate. Yeah, that sounds good. Stiles glances up at the man, not pausing in his cleaning, and yeah, that's a blush on his cheek, and dilated eyes, and an expression Stiles has only a second to ponder before Peter is stepping into the space between his legs, grabbing and subsequently tossing the blades in the sink, and covering Stiles mouth with his own.
Now, Stiles hasn't been kissed that much, prior to commonly held belief(he can acknowledge that his outfits get flirting, but not much else), so he's not going to look a hot gift wolf in the mouth. Much. He really has to say something, though, so after at least a minute of really hot kissing, he goes through the effort of tugging back and for his efforts gets to see Peter with kissed pink lips. Hot. He was already a little hard but damn. Now his shorts are getting a bit uncomfortable.
"You taste better than the chocolate." Stiles blurts out, before turning bright red and burying his face in Peter's (well built) chest. He can feel the bastard laugh, what a jerk. But against his own will he starts giggling too, and reaches up for another kiss, this one slower and interrupted every once in a while by Stile's giggles. After one particular bout, Peter decides to take his kisses elsewhere, starting at Stile's jaw and down to his neck, changing Stile's giggles into gasps. When he gets to his collarbone, however, he bites, a sharp contrast to the gentle kisses before. Stiles twitches, smacking Peter a little, and feels Peter grin against his skin.
Peter comes back to Stiles mouth and makes an appreciative noise, pulling Stiles closer to the edge of the counter by his thighs. Stiles moans, low and very happy sounding. "If this is, ah, gonna happen, every time I" Stiles gets out, before being cut off.
"This will definitely be happening again." Peter assures, grinding forward and making Stiles see stars. He forgets where he was going, with promises of this in the horizon again.
"Yeah, ok." Stiles pants, letting out a whine when Peter tugs him forward against the man.
Sadly, all good things have to pause sometimes, like when a best friend appears nervously at the edge of the kitchen, looking anywhere but at the dude who's ravishing Stiles against a counter, and says, loudly, "We can't focus with... this..going on.. so Derek says you guys need to 'shut up or take this elsewhere '. So..." Stiles lets out a groan and throws his head back, only being prevented from hitting his head on the cabinet by Peter's hand cushioning it.
"Dude, you could have prevented this by not getting distracted by my outfit!" Stiles says, loudly, annoyed, and in the direction of the living room. Peter snorts, and pulls Stiles to him again, and Stiles registers Scott leaving quickly in the back of his mind. He has more important things to focus on, however. Like Peter opening his mouth to talk.
"I was distracted by your outfit." Peter murmurs in his ear, before sliding a hand up Stile's thigh. "So."
"Point taken. Wanna put that mix in the fridge and take me away to ravish me?" Stiles asks, sliding hands passed the apron strings and into Peter's back pockets. Peter took a deep breath before answering.
"My place or yours?"