Stiles felt conflicted over his abrupt departure. On one hand, he was proud of himself for not jumping Peter's bones on the spot. The man was so gorgeous that it should've been illegal, and Stiles had fucked other people for less reason than that. On the other hand, that was the longest conversation he had ever had with a bar patron that didn't immediately dissolve into "So, your place or mine?" (Hint: he never took any of his partners back to his, Allison and Scott's place. That was their home, and he wasn't going to dirty it up with his sexual exploitations. Plus, it was better that these people knew as little about him as possible.) He enjoyed their banter, even though it had been so brief. The way he left was, frankly, very rude of him.

He then remembered Peter's hand on his knee, and his body would freeze up.

Confiding in Scott could sometimes be a hit-or-miss situation. The two have been best friends since kindergarten, so they knew everything about each other. Scott even knew Stiles' real name, but held back from ever using it out of respect.

Scott's reaction to Peter was wary at best. The huge age difference had his brow creasing in that Scott-like way when he worried. He nearly flipped when Stiles told him about Peter's subtle advances. "What if he was just trying to soften you up?" Scott said frantically. "I mean, the guy was like forty, right?"

"I wanna say closer to thirty-seven."

Scott sighed heavily. "Stiles," he asked, "Did you watch your drink the whole time?"

"It was in a sealed bottle," Stiles protested. He gave Scott's hands a firm squeeze. "I was careful, don't worry."

"Did you look away for a split second?"

"Scott—"

"Did you?" his friend insisted. Scott's voice raised an octave, and he was now making gasping little sounds. Stiles quickly reached behind him, grabbing Scott's inhaler from the side table. He handed it to Scott, who took a short spurt of the medicine.

Guilt roiled in Stiles' stomach. "I'm sorry," he said. Scott was always a nervous wreck when it came to Stiles' safety, and Stiles blamed his own carelessness from when they were fifteen.

Old habits die hard. Stiles wasn't the only one that had them.

"I know that the world's not all out to get you," Scott said, breaking into Stiles' thoughts. "But I keep having these what-if scenarios floating around in my head all the time. What if we slip up, and history repeats itself? What if I can't save you this time?"

Stiles leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. Scott breathed deeply, threading their fingers together. This practice was common between the two when one of them felt like they were ready to fall apart. Touching each other was a reassurance. Besides their parents (one dead, the other a dead-beat), they were all they had growing up.

"Am I going to ruin the moment if I join in?"

Both Scott and Stiles looked up to see Allison giving them a small smile. She had left the room ten minutes earlier to get ready for bed, and was now in her soft pink pajamas. The boys broke apart, scooting over on the couch to make room for her. She took the empty space in between them and then gave Scott a quick kiss on the mouth. Her fingers began to card through Stiles' hair and he melted into the gesture. (Having someone else playing with your hair was the greatest feeling in the world, in Stiles' opinion.) Scott shot her an exasperated look that said, "He's not our cat, you know."

"You're home early," Allison said, gently scraping her nails across Stiles' scalp. "The way Scott was freaking out—"

"I wasn't freaking out," Scott protested.

"Totally freaking," Stiles hummed happily, shooting Scott a wicked grin.

"—I thought maybe the world had ended," Allison continued as if she had never been interrupted. "Did something happen?" she asked Stiles.

Stiles shrugged, trying to shake away the memory of how hot Peter's hand felt on his knee. If he hadn't balked, Stiles would've let his hand travel upward to his thigh, and probably more. He went red at the thought.

"This total creeper—" Scott began.

"This gentleman—" Stiles corrected, winking at Scott. Scott gave him a look before rolling his eyes. Allison, meanwhile, pursed her lips, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

"Honey, let Stiles tell the story before you go all knight-in-shining-armour on him," she said pleasantly. Scott huffed, but stayed silent as Stiles hastily went through the details of his evening. Allison hummed thoughtfully throughout all of it, mussing with his hair. It had a fully debauched look by the time she pulled out of the comforting gesture.

"It sounds like it holds some promise," she said, ignoring Scott's protesting look. "But he is older, so I want you to be careful if you do meet with him again."

"It's highly doubtful at this point," Stiles replied. "That I'll ever see him again, I mean. I probably didn't leave that great of an impression anyway. I mean, I left him with the fucking tab."

"You said that it was on him," Scott argued, jumping back in. "He offered to buy them, so you don't owe him a damn thing."

Allison sighed, giving Scott a pat on the cheek. "Honey…"

"But it's true!" Scott exclaimed. He looked over at Stiles, giving him his best puppy eyes. Stiles looked away; he couldn't resist that look when Scott used it on him.

"I wasn't going to argue with your point," Allison continued smoothly, "and we both know that Stiles has never felt obligated to meet up with former partners in the past. But if he wants to find this Peter again then we shouldn't discourage him. Do you want to see him again?" she asked, looking at Stiles.

Stiles shrugged. He was on the outs for the time being. He felt bad about aborting their conversation so early, but Scott also had a point. He didn't owe Peter anything. Most of the time people will meet by chance, make a swift connection and never bother each other again. There was nothing wrong with that.

(Stiles' indifference did little to calm Scott's nerves.)

Sometimes Stiles felt like Scott and Allison were his parents, with Scott being the overprotective father who couldn't bear to see his little princess being interested in boys and dating. Allison was, obviously, the calmer and collected mother that thought through these dilemmas on a more rational note.

Finally, Allison managed to drag Scott off to bed before he wore himself out. Stiles went off to his room, closing the door before climbing into bed. He pulled the sheets up to his chin and willed his thundering heart to slow down.

A month went by, and Stiles avoided going back to Vernon's. Every other club and pick-up hot spot was still fair game, but Stiles just wasn't into it. One time he went the entire evening without chatting up a potential partner. She had been devastatingly gorgeous too; strawberry blonde with green eyes and full red lips that intimated every guy that tried to flirt with her. At one point she and Stiles shared a glance across the club. Stiles had merely smiled, gave her a quick nod and then returned to his drink. His heart was pounding, and he told himself that it was from the amount alcohol that he'd been consuming.

Stiles told himself that the incident with Peter had been nothing, but then his brain would fight against him with compelling arguments such as, "If it was nothing, why are you avoiding that Vernon's like the plague?"

Shut up brain.

"Remember that V-neck? Holy shit, he was practically offering you a canvas to paint hickeys on!"

Shut it.

"He had gel in his hair! Just imagine that if you messed it up enough it would have no choice but to stay like that."

Shut—

"He would probably let you do it too. Yeah, he'd liked to look thoroughly fucked by you. Or is it the other way around, Stiles? He looks like the dominating type; he'd want you to beg for mercy."

…Well, fuck.

One night Stiles arrived at Erica's apartment, bearing the gift of fresh sushi and bubble tea. Erica had upgraded from co-sharing with a roommate to living in her own place. The bedroom walls were a dusty rose color (he was well-acquainted with that shade now) with the rest of the apartment in soft burgundy and chocolate browns.

Stiles knocked, awkwardly holding the drink tray and food in one hand. Erica appeared at the door, her hair damp from a recent shower and wearing her black silk robe that Stiles had bought for her twenty-second birthday. She gave him a ravenous grin, and moved aside to let him in.

"Hey there stranger," she said, closing the door behind him. "Long time no see."

"It's been a while," Stiles agreed. Erica purred happily when she noticed the food and gave him a kiss on the cheek as a way of thank-you. She took it from his hands and he followed her into the living room.

The leather couches had been rearranged since the last time Stiles had been here. A brand new flat screen TV was perched on a stand in the corner of the room.

"How did you afford that?" Stiles asked, nodding at the TV. Erica grinned mischievously as she took a sip of her bubble tea. It was pineapple and banana, her favourite. "I got a new job playing secretary," she said, giving him a wink.

"Uh…" Stiles stammered, face flushing red.

Erica laughed before brushing her lips up against his. "An actual secretary, believe it or not."

"No, I do believe it," Stiles insisted. He knew how impeccably organized Erica could be. Everything in her apartment had its place. All of her magazines had its own special spot on her sleek bookshelf; her clothes were organized by category (casual, professional, intimate). It had the look of a pristine, top-notch lifestyle and Erica never let anyone forget it. Being a secretary made sense to him, though Erica certainly had the teeth to withhold a higher position if she wanted to.

Erica took out the sushi from the take-out bag while Stiles took a sip of his own drink. He had gotten a variety pack; Dynamite, Californian, and Alaska rolls to name a few. Erica was a sucker for anything with avocado and crab. Stiles hadn't been one for raw fish until Erica had introduced it to him four years ago. They ended up burning it all off with a rigorous round of sex. (Stiles felt exhausted just thinking about it.)

"So," Erica said, picking up a salmon roll with her chopsticks, "why the sudden visit?" She popped the roll into her mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing. She licked her lips slowly, carefully watching Stiles.

Stiles sighed, placing his drink on the coffee table in front of them. "Would it be crazy if I said that I missed you?"

Erica ruffled his hair. "Awww, am I the only one that can live up to your expectations?"

"Erica…" he groaned. He gave her an exasperated look. She laughed, trailing her fingers through his hair. He melted into her touch, which made it difficult to have a serious moment with her. She knew him too well. "I mean it; I missed you."

"And?" she asked sweetly, planting a kiss on his lips. Her fingers made their way down to his neck, casually sweeping across the pale skin before reaching his collarbone.

"And I need advice," Stiles admitted. Erica blinked, giving him a small frown. It was almost a thoughtful look, full of unexpected surprise. A large part of their relationship was physical, but it's not like they never talked or did other things together. But what Stiles was about to ask her was intimate in an entirely different way, and he was terrified.

Erica pulled back, and Stiles whined at the loss of contact. "What kind of advice?"

Stiles grimaced even before he said the words. "Relationship-wise?"

"Sweetie, I can't help you there," Erica said. "I've never had a serious relationship. I dated a boy for a month back in high school and that was it. It didn't mean much to either of us, so it was a bust." Erica threaded her fingers through Stiles', and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Did you meet someone?"

"Yes," Stiles said, "and no? I mean, it was for about ten minutes. He bought me my drinks."

"Ah," Erica hummed sarcastically, "the ultimate pick-up line." She grabbed her bubble tea and took a long sip from it before asking, "So, was he hot?"

Stiles' breath hitched. "To be honest, holy Christ. Yes, yes he was. He wore this V-neck—"

"I'm surprised you didn't fuck him right then and there," Erica sighed, as if she was disappointed by Stiles' self-restraint. "Lemme guess, a fancy drink without trying too hard?"

"Wine," Stiles replied.

Erica raised an eyebrow. "Oh my, what a cultured fellow."

"He saw some asshole harass me, and offered to break in his kneecaps."

"That's practically a marriage proposal right there," Erica giggled. "I bet he had the ring on his person when he said that."

Stiles ducked his head. His face was burning. "That was all a month ago, and I haven't seen him since. I didn't bother getting his number. I've been avoiding the bar that I met him in, and I don't know why. He didn't ask me out, but he touched me and I ran off. I don't know why, and it's driving me crazy. Allison always tells me to be true to myself and Scott—well, he's Scott. He'll go apeshit on anyone who'd hurt me." Stiles threw his free hand up in the air. "Fuck, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore."

"Well in my personal opinion," Erica said fondly, "I think you're infatuated."

"Infatuated?" Stiles repeated in disbelief. "No, I don't get infatuated with people. I get horny when someone gives me bedroom eyes. Like the ones you're giving me now," he added. He felt all of the blood in his body draining out of his veins and straight into his dick. Erica was smiling at him in that way that was only reserved for him. Her eyes were dark and lusty, and she tilted her head as she looked at him.

"I think you're falling for someone that you barely know," Erica said, kissing Stiles' throat. Stiles shivered as he undid her robe's drawstring. He pushed the silky material off of her shoulders, revealing her matching bra. Erica grinned against his neck. "You're a walking contradiction, Stilinski. You're avoiding this guy but you want to see him again? You're confusing yourself, sweetie." She shucked out of her robe completely, naked except for her lacy lingerie. Stiles' hands automatically reached for her sides. He ran his slender fingers down them and held her hips as she crawled into his lap.

His lips locked onto hers, and harsh, breathless kisses followed. Erica's hands found their way into Stiles' hair, and she tugged playfully at it. Stiles' head snapped back, and Erica resumed her attack on his neck with her mouth. She sucked and nibbled at the skin, causing a low moan to escape from Stiles.

"I am… confused," Stiles gasped out. His grip on her hips tightened. Erica began to grind down on his lap. One of her hands had slipped underneath his shirt, palming the small, muscular form that he had acquired over the years since meeting her. Stiles released her temporarily so that she could pull his shirt up over his head. "Because right now I don't feel guilty about what's going on right now."

"You know," Erica said breathily, "this doesn't count as adultery. Until he asks you out for coffee you're as free as a bird."

"You mean I'll still be yours," Stiles realized. He pushed Erica down on the couch, earning a high-pitched laugh from her. He hovered over her, bracketing her in with his arms as he pressed kisses onto her stomach.

"Of course," Erica replied, lifting her hips. Stiles slid her panties down her legs, throwing them over his shoulder. "I've grown attached, and I can get jealous like everyone else."

"Good," Stiles growled. He was leaning down again, spreading Erica's legs open. She lifted them up eagerly and hooked them over Stiles' shoulders. She placed a possessive hand on his head, shoving his face down into her pussy.

Her moans and pleading was pornographic as he sucked and licked. He added a finger, then a second, and finally a third before Erica screamed in delight and came into his mouth.

The sushi lay forgotten.

"I'm going to miss this," Stiles said, breathing heavily. The two of them had finally found their way into Erica's bed, now naked, strung out and thoroughly exhausted. The bed sheets were twisted and strewn out around them, reflecting the debauched state of the bed's occupants.

Erica was half on top of him, her breasts pressed against his chest from where she lay. She was lazily tracing spirals into his skin. "It doesn't have to end, you know."

Stiles gut twisted painfully. "But wouldn't that make you a… um…?"

"A mistress?" Erica finished quietly. "Nah, that's impossible, because I was here first." He could hear the small pout in her words, and he smiled weakly. "He doesn't have you yet."

Stiles ran his fingers through her long, blonde hair. "Maybe not ever," he said. "If he ever found out about the competition he would be scared shitless."

That earned him a playful bite on the ear. "That's right," she said smugly. Erica then whispered into his ear, "I'm sticky with sweat and come. Want to join me in the shower?"

Stiles' response was to roll on top of her and pepper her with kisses. She laughed in between them. "Geez, who's the dominant one now?"