“I like boys,” Stiles blurted out, and immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. Shit. “I think.”
“Yeah, that’s really not new information,” Lydia mused as she turned a page of the grimoire from Peter’s private library.
“I still like girls though,” he added. It was true, and the strawberry blonde beauty in front of him was proof.
“I know that better than anyone, Stiles. Why the sudden need to explicitly confess?” Lydia rested her chin on her hand and turned another page.
“Lydia, princess, where is the tome on ancient Greek mythology?” Peter walked in, shirtless, and swooped down on Lydia for a kiss. It was deep and wet and Stiles squirmed until it was over.
“Call me princess one more time, Peter, I dare you,” she responded in a sweet voice, her nails dug into the side of his neck. Peter cocked his head and sniffed, and Stiles sent up a prayer to whatever gods would listen that he wouldn’t comment on anything he scented.
He just stared at Stiles with amused blue eyes while Lydia kept her eyes on the book in…was that Aramaic? Stiles tilted his head to try and see.
“It’s in your office, under the other books on Roman, Celtic, and Egyptian mythology, dear. Which you wouldn’t have had to ask about if you’d just put the books where they belong when you’re done.” Lydia lectured in a sing-song voice, and Peter’s gaze finally left Stiles as he pouted at his girlfriend.
Peter walked away, and Lydia asked again. “So, spill. Why the sudden need to confess your feelings when–
“Feelings?” Peter popped his head in. “Stiles, fond as I am of you, Lydia is only available for worship from afar.”
“Excuse you, I can speak for myself. And if I want my worship up close, you have nothing to say about it. Got it?” Lydia glared at him.
“No, no, it wasn’t abou–” Stiles began, his hands held out.
“My wolf tends to be possessive, as you well know, Lydia.” Peter strode to them and stood there with hands on his hips.
“God, Peter, you are such a dramatic prima donna. I wasn’t talking about Lydia,” Stiles sneered. “And she can do whatever she likes. She’s the queen.”
“Thank you, Stiles. Nice to know that some people understand.” She nodded at him, then raised a brow at Peter. “We’ve discussed this before. You can be possessive, but I’m my own woman. I choose to be here, our little connection through the death link notwithstanding.” She waggled her fingers between them.
The werewolf huffed. “Yes, I know. I’m just making sure that he knows.” He gestured at Stiles.
“Yes, he knows, Peter.” Stiles flipped him off. “And he is right here, and available to clarify any statements.”
“Really?” Peter pounced onto the opportunity, veering away from his argument with Lydia. “So, when you say you like boys, was there a particular boy in mind?”
“I-wha-if you were listening the whole time, then what was this big production?” Stiles flailed and caught his chair before it toppled backwards with him in it.
“All of life’s a stage. And you didn’t clarify, dear boy, as you promised you would.” Peter’s silky voice was enough to just…
Stiles cleared his throat. “No, I said I was available. It wasn’t a promise.”
“Hmm, available.” Peter played with the word and Stiles sighed.
“Peter, stop toying with him. If you break him, I’m going to have a rough time fixing him.” Lydia smirked. “Though that could be fun.” She tapped one shoe beneath the table. Tap tap tap tap tap.
“Okay, guys, what the hell is going on here?” Stiles felt more weirded out than usual, from his own confession to their very odd behavior.
“Well, there might be a rune circle surrounding this room which encourages honesty. And the disclosing of secrets,” Peter added, and examined his nails. He meandered around the table until he positioned himself very close to Stiles. “Lydia had an idea. I suggested subterfuge.”
She slammed the grimoire shut and they jumped. “Damn it, Peter! I wanted to go slowly, not just blurt out our plans like a silly fictional villain does before they slay the hero.”
“Are you comparing me to a villain? Why, I’m hurt, nay, devastated.” Peter held a dramatic hand to his chest. “Given the scent of his arousal filling the room, I thought I might cut to the chase. It’s…enticing, my love.”
“I. I don’t. Okay, skipping over the other stuff, what happened to I’m-possessive-worship-her-from-afar?” Stiles shook his head, and wondered if he was hallucinating.
“I’m possessive over what’s mine. If you were mine too, it becomes a moot point.” Peter shrugged. “Doesn’t that work out nicely?”
“I’m very confused.” Stiles held his hands down by his sides and stares with wide eyes at the predatory glances they both sent his way.
“For such a smart guy, you can be obtuse. You like boys. You like girls. You definitely like me,” Lydia pointed out. “And apparently you like me and Peter together. All that said, we would welcome you into our bed.”
“Uh-huh.” Stiles blinked. A lot. Nope, not hallucinating. He wasn’t sure whether to be really excited to really disappointed about that. Probably excited, from the way Peter started sniffing the air again, his eyes lit up like blue strobes.
Peter solved that problem by threading his fingers through Stiles’ hair, tugging his head back, and dominating his mouth. His firm lips contrasted with the prickle of his goatee, and when his tongue slid into Stiles’ mouth, he melted into the experience. May as well give in.
Peter tasted like tea, and a little bit like Lydia’s strawberry lip gloss. He led the kiss, pushing and pulling in a rhythm that Stiles kept up with easily. When he finally pulled away, lips swollen and shiny with spit, Lydia took his place.
Her mouth was soft, her skin smooth, and her plush lips held a stronger strawberry flavor. Kissing her was like a dream, a dream where she took control like an iron fist in a velvet glove. Her nails scraped at his neck and he shivered.
He panted with an open mouth when she leaned back. Yes. Yes, this would definitely work.
Lydia smirked. “I figured it would.” He blinked, confused. “You said that out loud, Stiles.”
“Oh.” He closed his mouth, wiped his still tingling lips. “Okay. Yeah. Um.” He grasped for something to say.
Peter rolled his eyes and grabbed Stiles by the wrist. “You’re going to have to pull your own weight eventually, but for tonight, we’ll lead the way. Come to bed, Stiles.”
With a burst of husky laughter, Lydia followed them down the hallway to the open door that beckoned at the end.