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“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” Chris deadpanned as he paused in the doorway of his shared bedroom with Peter and Stiles. The latter of which had taken residence in their bed with nothing but a thin, old, sheet, that Chris hadn’t known they owned. The bedding that usually occupied the bed was in crumpled heap on the floor.
“I think the reason is obvious.” Stiles fluttered his eyelashes mockingly then scowled. “Some weird green acidic blob eroded all of my clothing with its spit. Or at least, I hope it was spit it shot at me.” Stiles shuddered.
Chris’ brain stalled at the imagery. He quickly rebooted his brain and sifted through memories of the many creatures he’d read about in the bestiary, but nothing matched the description of a green acidic blob. “By ‘blob’ do you mean—”
The adjoining master bathroom opened and clouds of steam rolled out from it. Peter strutted out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, the steam billowing around him like an effect from a rock concert. “He means ‘blob.’”
Stiles nodded. “More Sci-fi creature than our typical creatures of the night variety. I think we got a mad scientist on our hands. It’s the only explanation. How else could something that looks like it belongs in a Star Trek The Original Series episode be terrorizing Beacon Hills?”
Peter rolled his eyes, grabbed the sheet covering Stiles, and yanked the young man up and off the bed. “You still reek of the creature. Wash yourself again.”
“I spent almost an hour in there last time,” Stiles whined.
“’Acidic’ is one the descriptors for that creature, Stiles. Need I remind you?” Peter ushered Stiles toward the bathroom.
Chris turned to go. “Where did you see it, and how long ago? If I hurry, I can set up a few traps to—”
Chris was yanked backwards before he was out of the room. The thickness of the fingers and the strength of the hold told Chris it was Peter who had grabbed him before the werewolf had finished whirling Chris around to face him. The exasperation and irritation that shone in Peter’s eyes told Chris without words that he wasn’t going anywhere, even if Peter had to tie him to a chair to make it so.
The moment of unguarded emotion was swept away and replaced with Peter’s patented smirk. His hold on Chris’ arm loosened, becoming a teasing touch. His fingers glided down Chris’ arm as he took one step back. Peter retreated another step, and Chris found himself drawn in by that wicked grin feather-soft touch. Without thinking he followed Peter step for step until he stood at the edge of the bathroom next to Stiles.
Stiles watched the interaction with intrigue. The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.
Peter reached out and gripped Stiles’ arm.
“I think it more pertinent that we make sure Stiles is thoroughly washed. Don’t you agree, Chris?” Peter’s voice was smooth and falsely sweet—the tone that promised many pleasurable things to come.
Suddenly, tracking down the strange creature Stiles and Peter had come across didn’t seem to matter as much.
Stiles shook his head. “No way. I don’t care how much sex you two promise me. My fingertips are still wrinkled from the last shower; I am not going to—”
Peter cut Stiles off with a deep kiss that had Chris more on board with the idea of a shower every second he spent watching the two. When Stiles and Peter pulled apart, Stiles’ pale as moonlight skin was a cherry hue and his lips puffy from abuse.
Peter sauntered into the bathroom and let his towel drop, showing off his well toned backside. He glanced over his shoulder and arched one eyebrow. “Well?”
Chris and Stiles shared a look.
Chris would be devastated if any acidic remains on Stiles caused the young man any harm. Also, with Peter’s wild temperament, who knew how Peter would respond if the youngest member of their trio ended up seriously hurt because of a lack of attentiveness on their part? It was more irresponsible for Chris to risk Peter going feral again over Stiles than it was to find a blob that Chris knew Stiles had already informed Scott about (Stiles would have texted Scott the second he was safely away from the acidic creature). Scott should already be—
“Fine, if only so Chris won’t go out there on his own and confront the damn thing without any back up.” Stiles threw off his sheet and joined Peter in the bathroom. There were rash-like, red splotches across his skin where the acid had clearly started to seep through the thin protection of his clothes.
“If Peter says you smell like that creature still then we have to make certain all of the acid has been removed from you. Even a tiny bit can cause permanent damage.” Chris stripped off his shirt and threw it into the corner of the room.
Peter rolled his eyes and slipped into the shower. “Now that you two have made your excuses, let’s hurry this along. That creature’s stench is sickening.”