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Stiles had just finished straightening out the pamphlets at the library’s fundraising booth when Erica strode back in from her break, churro in hand.
“Your turn, squishy.” She raised the churro in his direction. “I recommend these babies, but, uh. Maybe stop by the kissing booth first.”
Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Really? They’re doing that one again? Not that I mind the kissing, but the tree costume made it really disconcerting.”
“No, no, it’s not for the Arborists’ Society this time. Different people running it. Proceeds go to the Wild Wolf Fund.” Erica beamed at him. “Seems appropriate, given the givens. It’s two rows down, three rows over. There’s a big painted cutout of a wolf, can’t miss it.”
“Fine, fine, whatever. Good cause and all.” Stiles grabbed his phone from the table, shoved it in his pocket, and left the safety of the booth.
People ranged around him, and he wondered if he was invisible, as many times as someone shouldered past him. He wasn’t even distracted by anything, they were just assholes.
He spotted the booth, and Erica hadn’t lied: that painting stood out. “Wow.” He was a little breathless at the skill it took to render that wolf so lifelike. Then he noticed the line only had six people. It was only after that that he noticed who manned the kissing booth.
With a high-pitched hiss that would make a teakettle proud, he yanked out his phone and began to tap out a furious conversation with Erica.
Stiles> HOW DARE YOU
Erica> You’re welcome.
He moved forward with the line, and responded to Erica with exclamation marks. A lot of them. He groaned when the line shifted again and again, nerves growing with his proximity to the booth, and checked for her response. It took a minute, those three dots blinking at him the whole time, and by then it was almost his turn.
Erica> You’ve been talking about sexy biker dude and his glorious tats all. day. long. Go get some of that.
Stiles> CURSE THIS SUDDEN BUT INEVITABLE BETRAYAL
Erica> ha ha, just do it jerk
“Are you here to buy a kiss, or to be on your phone?” The question came in a slightly bored, tired tone.
Stiles glanced up, and there he was. Sexy Biker Dude, SBD for short, who Stiles had spotted in the parking lot when they’d first arrived. Erica had teased him most of the day for dropping the keys to the truck--twice--in speechless wonder. It wasn’t often that Stiles forgot how to work his vocal chords, even around attractive people, but who could help it with the sheer amount of allure the man possessed?
His eyes were cataloguing the tattoos he could see, a triskelion on the right side of SBD’s neck, a semi-colon on his left wrist, and a tattoo gun peeking out of his left sleeve. The right side appeared completely blank until Stiles’ eyes adjusted and he could’ve sworn there were runes in white ink, but--a hand waved in front of his face, and he snapped back to reality.
“Aah, yeah, no, sorry, I’ll just--” he broke off and shoved his phone into his pocket, then remembered to dig out money. “Crap, no ones. Does a five work?” He held up the wrinkled bill.
“If you’re asking whether or not five will buy you five kisses…” SBD trailed off, his gaze roving over Stiles in an up-down-up that felt like a caress. Blue eyes glinting, SBD arched a brow and crooked his finger. “Sounds good to me. Now c’mere, the line behind you isn’t getting any shorter.”
When Stiles moved forward, the shelf of the booth window dug into his belly as he leaned on it. “Can, uh, what’s your name? I try not to kiss people whose names I don’t know.”
“No smooching strangers? How dull. But, if you must know, it’s Peter. Now, are you ready?” Peter hooked a finger over Stiles’ collar and tugged.
“Yeah, of course.” He was hung up on those eyes and, now that he was right up on it, that mouth, still curved in a sardonic smirk that made him want to bite it. He would’ve, too, if he hadn’t lost every thought in his head when their lips brushed.
“One,” Peter whispered, breath ghosting across Stiles’ mouth. He leaned in again, angling his head slightly, and this time their lips clung for a split second. “Two.”
Stiles gulped, eyes wide and locked on Peter’s now, breath coming a little short. Peter hummed, smugness personified, and their third kiss lasted for a full second, their mouths perfectly aligned.
“Three.” Peter’s grin was wicked. He whimpered, and Peter made a small, throaty noise of approval before tugging Stiles in for the next.
This time Peter’s lips moved, three seconds of heavenly contact, and suddenly Stiles understood mouths being called agile. Instead of a still, quiet thing, this kiss made him wish the half-wall between them would disappear.
“Four, darling. Just one left. Let’s make it count.” Peter winked, and Stiles’ jaw dropped.
Peter obviously took that as an invitation, because he swooped in and slipped Stiles some tongue.
It sounded tame in his head, the kind of thing that shouldn’t hit him like a punch to the gut, that shouldn’t take his breath away until his head spun. But it felt like a slice of decadence, the way Peter kissed. He lost himself in the experience, time ceasing to have any sort of meaning, until something inside him sparked and Peter broke the kiss with a sharp gasp.
“Five,” he growled, and Stiles felt it on his face, over his throat, as if the sound were touching him. Then the world rushed back in, and suddenly there were people milling around, laughter and shouts coming from every direction, scents of the fair, and they weren’t alone anymore.
“Well, now. That was interesting,” Peter drawled, and Stiles lost his breath for a different reason when Peter’s eyes glinted red. “You’re very tasty.”
“So’re you. An alpha, huh? What’re you doing manning a kissing booth?” Stiles cleared his throat, heat gathering in his cheeks the more Peter stared from so close.
“It’s a good cause.” Peter shrugged, then glanced behind Stiles. “I wasn’t lying about the line, though.”
With a wistful glance over at the churro stand, Stiles refused to look at the people behind him, all waiting for their chance to kiss Peter, too. He heaved a sigh, then met Peter’s gaze head-on as he pushed away from the opening. “Well, I guess my break is over. Nice to meet you, Peter.”
“Nice to kiss you, sweet boy. But I didn’t get your name. It’s only fair that you return the favor.” Peter seemed to fill the space, the world fading again.
“Stiles.” He shook his head, trying to dispel the odd sense of unreality.
“See you around, Stiles,” Peter said with a hungry look, then turned his attention to his next kissee.
Stiles wandered back to the library’s booth in a haze, where Erica took one look at him and laughed.
“So, was it everything you hoped?” she asked, guiding him to one of the chairs they had in their booth. “You look like someone hit you with a brick.”
“At least it wasn’t an engine block,” Stiles quipped, then shook his head when Erica rolled her eyes. “Did you know he was an alpha?”
“An alpha? No, no, I didn’t know that. I mean, I figured he was a werewolf, but he doesn’t send out the signals--shit. You okay?” Erica patted him down, and Stiles didn’t even want to fight it.
He bit his lip. “I think something happened. Like, magically. No idea what yet, but that last kiss--”
“Last kiss? There was more than one?” Erica reared back, balancing on her toes in a crouch.
“I only had a five!” Stiles flailed, the movement sharp and a little frantic.
“You do realize you could’ve asked for change?” She stood and ran her hand through his hair, petting him until the tension melted away.
“I--hadn’t thought of that, but he offered five kisses and he’s hot like burning, so I wasn’t going to turn him down.” Stiles took a few deep breaths. “Anyway, we have to get back to work. And I didn’t get a churro, so that sucks. He’s a fantastic kisser, though.”
“Sorry about the churro. I’d offer you mine, but I finished it two minutes after you left.” Erica dug around in her bag and handed him a bag of SunChips. “It’s all I’ve got.”
“Always looking out for me, huh?” He grabbed her hand and gave the back of it a smacking kiss. “My knight in shining armor.”
“Hey, any comparison to Brienne of Tarth is one I’ll accept without a problem. Of course I look out for you, squishy. I love you. Now, enough feelings.” She thumped him on the arm, then went to deal with another fairgoer ready to make a purchase while Stiles finished up his chips.
He draped an arm across her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You’re the best.”
“Yeah, I really am. Hey, it’s the home stretch. Another hour, and then we can blow this pop stand. We’ve done some good work here.” Erica tapped on the cash box with a satisfied smile.
Sixty minutes passed so quickly that Stiles was surprised when Erica nudged him, saying, “Time to pack up. I’ll carry everything to the truck, we just need the leftovers in boxes. Shouldn’t be too much, they picked off almost everything we had to sell.”
“Yeah, of course.” He caught the empty box she threw his way and set it on the chair. He was old hat at packing up by now, so he knew it wouldn’t take long. It was hard to believe he’d been doing this for three years, and with Erica for two.
“The library, huh?” He startled, spinning in place.
“Peter! How’d you find me?” Heat prickled in his cheeks and lightning sparked at the base of his spine, but Peter wasn’t looking at him. He’d locked onto Erica, whose eyes gleamed yellow and claws pricked the cardboard box she held. His eyes glowed a deep red, but then he did the unthinkable and...turned to the side?
Stiles stepped back in shock at the display, but Peter finally answered him. “Not many people named Stiles here. Or anywhere, I’m thinking.”
“No, not really. Uh, so, what are you doing here?” Stiles glanced back at Erica, who’d resumed packing as if nothing had happened, then turned his attention back to Peter.
“You’re interesting. I’d like to take you out to dinner, if you’re up for it.” Peter tilted his chin like he was offering a challenge and dangled a helmet by the strap. Stiles felt a pull in his belly, wanting to accept so badly, but…
“Go!” Stiles huffed out a laugh when Erica pushed at his shoulder. “He’s hot, and apparently into you enough to kiss you five times, so. Yeah. Get ‘im, squishy.”
“Thanks ever so much, harpy,” Stiles snarked, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “See you tomorrow.”
Peter tapped two fingers to his forehead in a salute aimed at Erica, then held out his elbow for Stiles.
“A gentleman biker?” Stiles slid his hand into the crook of Peter’s arm and let himself be led, happiness bubbling in his chest like champagne.
“A gentleman in the streets, at least.” Peter shot him a saucy grin, stopping by his motorcycle, a beautiful machine with leather seats, shiny chrome, and a silver triskelion against a forest green paint job.
Stiles could swoon, but he settled for blushing furiously. “Oh my god, you are completely ridiculous.”
“Likely.” Rather than waiting, he unbuckled the helmet and put it on Stiles’s head. “Now, let me show you the world. Or at least the road that leads to food.”
“Yeah, I’m starving. I seem to have spent my last five on kisses with someone I’ve never met before.” Stiles watched avidly as Peter put his own helmet on, then tried not to whimper when Peter swung his leg over the bike, settling into place.
“All your future kisses are free. Now hop on.” Peter got the bike going and the kickstand up in no time at all. "Put your feet on those pegs after you get on."
Stiles shivered, bracing one hand on Peter’s shoulder for balance as he swung himself onto the rumbling machine. He relished being able to wrap his arms around Peter’s waist and press against his back, wiggling to settle and patting at Peter’s stomach. He could neither confirm nor deny copping an extra feel of those abs.
“I’m ready!” Stiles said, raising his voice to be heard over the engine.
Peter threw a sly smirk over his shoulder and revved the engine. “I hope so--I’m a wild ride!”
And then he took off, Stiles' whoop of laughter snatched by the wind as they rode towards the setting sun.