"I'm pretty sure you do things specifically because people tell you not to," he comments with a flick of his green eyes over the teenager. Then their lips touch, and it's brief, but it's warm and it reaffirms that tentative feeling that just maybe he can stay. That Stiles is right, and that he can help, he can at least try and make up for his mistakes.
He knows that he shouldn't be doing this, that there are laws about teenagers and older men, and that the Sheriff would very possibly shoot him. There's a low rumble in his chest as Stiles' hands slip down from around his neck, trailing over his chest before fingers curl at his waist.
He smirks with a shake of his head as Stiles admits it's a bad idea, but says he wants to anyway. He shifts his hand, stroking his thumb under the teenager's chin. He should be the adult here, should list all the reasons for why this is wrong and a terrible idea, but instead he's tilting his head up a little and then kissing him again.
It's slow, lingering, and punctuated with a slight nip of teeth at Stiles' bottom lip. His eyelashes flutter as his eyes look into the teen's. "I don't see you as a child." It does occur to him that they should stop kissing in the middle of a parking lot anyone could drive by, so he pulls back a little, dragging knuckles against the boy's cheekbone.
"You want to come up? I suppose I should put my things back."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-08-24 10:04 pm (UTC)He knows that he shouldn't be doing this, that there are laws about teenagers and older men, and that the Sheriff would very possibly shoot him. There's a low rumble in his chest as Stiles' hands slip down from around his neck, trailing over his chest before fingers curl at his waist.
He smirks with a shake of his head as Stiles admits it's a bad idea, but says he wants to anyway. He shifts his hand, stroking his thumb under the teenager's chin. He should be the adult here, should list all the reasons for why this is wrong and a terrible idea, but instead he's tilting his head up a little and then kissing him again.
It's slow, lingering, and punctuated with a slight nip of teeth at Stiles' bottom lip. His eyelashes flutter as his eyes look into the teen's. "I don't see you as a child." It does occur to him that they should stop kissing in the middle of a parking lot anyone could drive by, so he pulls back a little, dragging knuckles against the boy's cheekbone.
"You want to come up? I suppose I should put my things back."