Stydia Oneshots - Teen Wolf.

His First Kiss.

Summary: Stiles and Lydia are best friends. Their little fourteen-year-old hearts take the lead on a warm summer's day.

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The sky overhead was a blindingly pure blue, the California sun felt like butterfly wings on his skin, and Lydia Martin looked like a literal angel in a pristine, fluttery white dress.

They were lying on Lydia's ancient trampoline, soaking up the summer sun. Soft, dreamy music floated over to them from her little pink boom box, and her innocent, barely-fourteen features caught the light and made her eyes seem like pools of crystal-green seawater.

"Lyds?" Stiles kept his voice low, not wanting to disturb his best friend. She looked so peaceful.

"Mmm?" She turned to lie on her side, newly forming curves catching the dress and stealing Stiles' attention for a moment. Since when did Lydia, his gawky, angles-and-knees Lydia, have hips?

Lydia smiled at him so trustingly, and Stiles felt his heart speed up. This reaction was a recent development, he knew that much.

It might have happened when Lydia stopped getting changed in front of him, or when the other boys at school started looking at her like she was a slice of cake on a passing trolley; that look of marked interest that made Stiles walk a little closer to her. It had become more than just a feeling of brotherly protectiveness.

"Ahm... I was just wondering... is it true that... you kissed Isaac? Because Vernon told me..."

"Oh, that." Lydia laughed, sweet and high. "That was just a dare. Allison dared me to kiss the first boy I saw... so I did." She shrugged one shoulder. "No big deal."

"Oh..." Stiles looked away, a horrible sinking feeling in his chest as he tried to keep his expression neutral. "Right."

He felt Lydia's eyes on him, watching his reaction curiously.

"Why does it matter, Stiles?" she asked in her soft, light voice.

"It doesn't. Just wondering." His words came out clipped and formal. She frowned.

"Seems like it matters to you."

He looked up at her without thinking, and Lydia's eyes stayed on his, emerald on topaz, until he had to look away.

"Stiles, what's the problem?" she asked, frustrated. "It was a kiss. I mean, you've..."

Stiles shifted self consciously, avoiding her eyes.

"Oh..." Lydia breathed. "Stiles... have you ever kissed anyone before?"

Still refusing to look at her, Stiles shook his head minutely, scowling at the perfectly blue sky. Lydia didn't say anything for a while.

"Do you want to?" she eventually asked.

Stiles snapped his head around to look at her. Disbelief, doubt... cautious hope all danced in his eyes.

"What?"

"Do you want to kiss someone? Like, do you want to know how it feels?" Something was off about Lydia's tone. It was too nonchalant, too I-couldn't-care-less-either-way. She was entirely still, every muscle in her small body tensed.

"I- Uh... I h-hadn't really... Um..." Stiles floundered about nervously, searching for an acceptable answer. "I guess... yeah. I mean, sure, doesn't everyone?"

"I suppose." Lydia let out a nervous huff of breath. "But... doyouwannakissme?" Her words fell out in an anxious tangle, and she squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment.

"W-what d-did you just say?" Stiles stammered incredulously.

"Do... you... want to kiss me." Lydia half-opened one eye to peek at Stiles.

"I- uh. Wow." He gave a shock-filled laugh. "I mean..." He watched her carefully, struggling to find the right words.

"You don't have to," Lydia reassured him quickly. "I just... For your first time- We're best friends. And I thought..."

"Okay," Stiles interrupted her ramblings, feeling scared to his core. "Okay," he said again, nodding slowly as he crawled to his knees. Lydia looked stunned, until her self-confidence kicked in and she shook her head at him.

"Not like that," she said quietly, pushing on his chest to indicate to him to lay back. She was as nervous as he was, Stiles could tell. Lydia's small frame shifted, and suddenly she was against him, all soft, wonderful new curves and smooth, controlled movements.

"Breathing helps," she reminded him. Stiles took a shaking, terrified breath. "Good," she murmured in approval.

Lydia leaned in, unsure for a moment. Then her soft lips were on his and Stiles was sure that Heaven would seem mediocre after kissing Lydia Martin. She tasted like strawberries, her skin was warm, and his hands found those new curves under her dress, his touch feather-light and tentative.

Lydia pressed against him insistently, lips, chest, stomach, hips, her legs tangled around his. Her tongue swept his bottom lip curiously, and soon they were nothing more than lips and tongues and heat and summer sunlight, trapped in an endless kiss.

Until Lydia pulled away just enough to breathe, her gaze falling onto his swollen lips. Stiles looked up at her in awe and she smiled softly.

"That's what a kiss feels like."

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