Despite the fact that I still have three uncompleted stories and absolutely no time to write, I couldn't help myself. Stiles is simply too adorably delicious to resist! So here it is - a Stiles mini-series. It'll only be five parts but each chapter is relatively long in length.

WARNING: This story includes…wait for it…sex. That's right, kiddies, cause guess what? Teenagers do have sex. Not all of them. Not even most of them. But a few do and Stiles is one of those few. You're welcome. It's nothing too graphic so don't worry. If you're not into that kinda thing feel free to move along, I'll stroke my wounded ego later.

SUMMARY: Stiles is running from the cops – it's Derek's fault, as usual. Another poorly planned mission gone wrong and Stiles is in for it as a result. Enter Samantha Brown, a cute, independent brunette that Stiles has known since second grade. While helping him evade the police, Sam can't help but notice just how cute Stiles has gotten recently. Things quickly begin to heat up and Stiles starts to wonder just what it was he saw in Lydia. Follow Sam and Stiles as they try to work out a relationship in this short, quirky mini-series. Enjoy.

PART UNO

I'd lived in Beacon Hills for nearly nine years and there was still one thing I could not bring myself to get used to: the twenty-four hour ice cream shoppe. Perched on a bench outside the Corner Cone Creamery, I polished off my strawberry cone and dumped the wrapper in the trash bin beside the take-out window. The wail of distant sirens pierced my ears suddenly. I raised a delicate brow and spun on my heels to begin the trek home.

As the screeching sirens grew louder a chill ran down my spine. Strange occurrences had been popping up quite frequently in Beacon Hills for the past several weeks. Animal attacks…disappearances…freak things that no one could explain. With that chilling thought I tugged the zipper on my hoodie higher and tucked my hands into my jean pockets. I stopped, however, upon hearing a terrified shriek behind me.

Rather than some rabid beast ravaging a civilian, I saw a teenage boy crouched on the sidewalk, apologies rapidly spilling from his lips as he helped a woman collect her groceries that littered the pavement. The boy with short hair glanced over his shoulders and bolted.

As he grew closer, my brow furrowed. I recognized him instantly. "Stiles?"

The squeak of the boy's Chuck Taylors slowed. "H-hey, Sam."

His face was flushed as he awkwardly flailed his arms in a failed attempted to look casual. Smiling tentatively, he glanced back once more and panted. "I, uh, I have to go…but I'll catch you later, okay?"

"Stiles, are they after you?" I jerked my chin in a silent acknowledgement of the police cars now zooming down the avenue.

"Uh…yeah. Kind of. Yes."

"Isn't your dad the sheriff?"

He nodded. "Yep."

"Awesome," I snorted. A grin split my face as I held out an open palm to him. "C'mon."

"Uh," Stiles hesitated before accepting my outstretched hand. I tugged him along, dragging him through a back alley on Canal Street. "W-where are you taking me? Please tell me you aren't some serial killer who's going to rape me and leave me in the sewer."

"Yes, Stiles. I'm going to force you to have sex with me, which honestly, I don't think would take much force, and then murder you. Have you made peace with Jesus?"

"Have I made peace…ha, oh, about that," he laughed, gasping for breath as we jogged to a slow walk. The alley emptied by a drug store on Vincent Drive. I instructed the out of breath boy to act casual and led him to a restaurant with outdoor seating. I requested a table for two and we immediately took our seats. Stiles snatched up a menu and ducked behind it.

"You've got some real skill there, Stilinsky. You must be a pro at hide-and-seek."

He blushed, shrugging nonchalantly. "Yeah, I know." He dropped the menu and twitched. Nervously, he looked over his shoulder.

"Relax."

A pair of honey warm brown eyes flickered to mine. "Why do I get the feeling you've done this before?"

Crimson flushed my cheeks. "We all have pasts," I gave a shy smile.

His lips tightened. He nodded thoughtfully. "That's hot."

I laughed mirthfully. A waitress came over to take our drink orders and offer us the daily specials. Stiles met my gaze. He motioned the woman with her pad and pencil. "Hungry? My treat."

I almost replied, 'No, thanks. I just had ice cream.' Fortunately my brain registered the fact that Stiles was practically asking me out on a date and destroyed the refusal before the words had a chance to form on my lips. I smiled. "Sure."

The waitress left us and Stiles shifted in the booth to drape an arm over the back of the seat. His fingertips lightly grazed my shoulder. "So, Sam, what's a pretty girl like you doing alone downtown on a Friday night?"

"What's a cute boy like you doing running from the cops?"

He paused. "Touché."

Identical grins were shared when the sudden sound of a siren flared up. Stiles stiffened. "Shit," he hissed, sliding down in the booth. I ran a hand down his surprisingly firm bicep, "Calm down, they can't see you. Even if they could there is no way they can positively I.D. you from that far."

My words fell on deaf ears. He continued to mutter dirty words, banging his head against the vinyl booth. Rolling my eyes, I shifted and threw my leg over his waist. "Wha…" His eyes grew wide, mouth falling open. I gave a coy smile, "You don't want to be seen."

I settled into his lap, my body blocking his from view. Stiles went from cussing to blushing in .02 seconds flat. As the cars grew near, I lowered my head allowing my hair to cast a curtain between Stiles and the road. "You okay?" I teased.

"I-I…uh, I'm fine. Yeah, ha, I'm great," he stammered adorably. The innocent look about him sparked something inside of me. Without thought, I slid forward on his hips and pressed my lips to his. He responded immediately, moving his mouth gently against mine. He brought a hand to my waist, gripping tightly to steady me in his lap. We remained locked in that intimate embrace until the patrol cars passed and the sirens ceased.

I reared back slightly, eyes traveling down the street. I licked my lips, my tongue accidently swiping the curve of Stiles' top lip. Our gazes locked, I murmured, "Coast is clear."

"C-cool," he whispered. His stare flickered to my lips then back to my eyes. "Cool," he repeated before capturing my lips with his own. His lips were full and warm as they smoothly scraped against my own. They parted, suddenly, the tip of his tongue licking my top lip, begging. With a breath, I divided my lips and shivered when he began exploring my mouth so expertly.

"I must say, Stilinsky, I'm impressed," I confessed. He brought a hand up to cup my face, fingers tangling in my disheveled hair. Breathing heavily he attempted to smirk, "Why?"

I didn't respond with words. Instead I shot him a small grin and continued my assault on his mouth. We didn't part again until a very impatient someone cleared there throat several times to our left. Breaking, we turned to stare at the interrupter. Our waitress stood, hands on her wide hips, glaring. "We kindly ask you to leave."

We froze, caught. "Sure thing," Stiles nodded after a beat. I slid off his lap and navigated the maze of booths and tables off the restaurant property. Now with space between Stiles and myself the gravity of the situation hit me. "Oh, God." I'd just made out with Stiles. Stiles! And I'd kissed him.

"Hey, you okay?" There was a gentle hand on my elbow. I shot the kind boy a smile and felt my worries and insecurities melting away, "I'm fine."

"So…" he mumbled, rubbing the back of his next as we made our way down the empty sidewalk. "Thanks for…um…helping…with that."

"Mind if I ask why the police were after you?"

"Do I mind? No. Can I answer? Also, no."

Giggling, I smirked, "Of course not. Because where's the fun in that?"

"Exactly," he beamed. "Um, would you like a ride home? My Jeep's parked over by the power plant. It's a bit of a walk but-"

"A ride would be lovely, Stiles."

The walk was long but not unpleasant. We talked about almost everything but the kiss and I started to feel that familiar tingle. When I first moved to Beacon Hills in the second grade Stiles had been in my class. Though my memory of the move was vague I distinctly remembered Stiles giving me one of his chocolate chip cookies at lunchtime on my first day. As a result I harbored a grade school crush on him until well into junior high. By the time we hit eighth grade I realized a relationship would never be possible with the charming boy, which basically sucked due to the fact that he got cuter, funnier, and smarter as we grew older.

"Sam?"

"Huh?" I snapped back to reality. Stiles shot me a cute grin and I realized we'd arrived at the power plant. I withheld a snarky comment about the shady location of his car and thanked him when he opened the passenger door. Sliding between him and the open door, I sucked in a quick breath when my breasts brushed his arm. We froze, our eyes finding each other's. Our lips met and suddenly he was all around me. He pinned me to the side of the Jeep and consumed every sense I possessed.

He smelled like vanilla. For some reason this pleased me greatly and I smiled into the kiss. Nipping at my bottom lip, Stiles leant his forehead on mine. "You taste like sugar."

"Hmm, like ice cream?" I pecked his lips, my hands finding their way to his hips. They rested there naturally, looping in the hoops of his jeans, fingertips brushing the skin of his flat stomach as his shirt rode up.

"Sam…"

"Yes, Stiles?" I murmured. The corner of his lips twitched upward and he grazed my mouth tenderly. He pressed the full length of his body against mine. I revealed in the sensation and gripped him tighter. Slender fingers caressed my neck and cheeks as his lips nursed mine in a superb fashion. Locking one hand around the back of my neck, he asked if I wanted to get out of there. I couldn't respond fast enough.

We stumbled up the stairs of the Stilinsky home and into his bedroom like two drunken idiots. He peeled off his shirt, kicking the door shut. I took a moment to appreciate his body. His chest was flat, settling into a nice four pack - a four pack with potential to be a six. Licking my lips I crooked a finger in his direction. A grin split his face as he obliged.

In a messy tangle we fell back onto his bed. He placed his arms on either side of me, bracing himself. "Let me know if I hurt you," he told me, nibbling my neck. I arched my back, fingers digging into his bare back. I managed a breathy, "Okay."

When I felt his hands begin to creep up my shirt I shoved him off of me. His eyes widened in alarm, "Sor…"

I slipped off my hoodie, lifting my tank top to show off a lacy caramel bra. Again, his lips broke out into a grin as he drank in my half naked self. Slowly, I reached behind me to unclasp my bra. "Oh, God," he gasped, biting his knuckle. I grinned at his boyish ways and allowed the bra to fall from my shoulders. Stiles squeaked. Willing myself not to blush, I tugged him back down.

He felt damn good. Every little thing he did, the kisses and caresses, the tender nips and bites, set my skin on fire. My body instinctively responded to his touch, my mind was just along for the amazing ride. Trailing down his abs my fingers tackled the button his jeans. I unzipped his pants and wiggled them. I could feel him smile against my breast. It didn't take long for Stiles to remove the rest of his clothing and then help with mine.

Lying naked beneath him I couldn't help but feel exposed and unsure of myself. Two brown eyes swept over my physique, lapping up the female glory. When he got to my feet, his eyes traveled back up, halting when our gazes met. He moved one of his braced arms, lowering himself. The freed arm came to rest on my face tenderly. "You're beautiful."

This caused my furious blush to deepen. I bit my lip, feigning confidence. "Yeah. I know."

Stiles laughed quietly before suddenly sobering. "We don't…have to do this, you know."

I allowed a beat to lapse, my heart calming. I could feel every ounce of his body on mine. My hand ran up his bicep, over his shoulder blade, to his neck. His jaw line was smooth. I stroked my thumb over the shaved skin and nodded my head, "Yes, we do." I pulled his mouth to mine. His erection brushed my inner thigh. A moan bubbled up my throat.

Stiles suckled a path down the column of my neck over the ample mounds of my breasts to my stomach. He pressed several kisses to the sensitive area, licking it once the skin reddened. My back arching, I hissed, the low sound drawing out longer and louder when his tongue hit the most foreign part of me. "Stiles!"

Disclaimer: I owe nothing. At all. Seriously. I'm broke.

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