Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9004549.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Chris_Argent/Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Chris_Argent, Peter_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Dubious_Consent, Underage_Sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Mating_Cycles/
      In_Heat, Dirty_Talk, Pseudo-Incest, Daddy_Kink, Adoption
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-24 Words: 2638
****** Daddies' Boy ******
by Udunie
Summary
     “Alright, Stiles. Would you come down? Me and my mate would like to
     talk to you.”
     Stiles shook his head, looking almost remorseful.
     “Why not?” Chris asked, realizing with every second spent interacting
     with the boy, that he was just what they needed. Hopefully they were
     what Stiles needed too.
     “I don’t know how to climb down,” the boy admitted after a second of
     hesitation, his grip on one of the branches tightening.
     Peter laughed, but not in a mean way. He opened his arms.
     “Come on, I will catch you.”
     Stiles blinked, looking between them for what felt like an eternity.
     Then he took a deep breath and jumped.
Notes
     This was written for the dear sparkledrop who prompted me for FUCK
     2016 Charity Month :D
     Thank you so much, I hope you will like it!
     Also, PLEASE READ THE TAGS.
See the end of the work for more notes
Two Alphas getting mated wasn’t exactly normal, but nowadays nobody really
raised an eyebrow about it - at least it was a lot more accepted than omega-
omega matches though even those were getting there.
Still, it had been almost five years after Peter and Chris got together that
the final, discriminatory laws in their state changed, and they were able to
adopt. It had been both an exciting and scary decision to make. Of course,
Chris knew that the spiel about how only beta women and omegas were able to
provide adequate care for a child were wrong, but well. They - and especially
him - were raised with those believes, and it was hard to break away from them.
They thought long and hard about what dynamic they should adopt. Not like they
wouldn’t have been happy with any child, but they had to think about what they
could offer to one first, there were a lot of things to consider.
In the end, they went to an open day of the local orphanage. It had been a
bitch to register for it, but it was a lot better than looking at staged photos
on a website.
“Well, this is depressing,” Peter said a few minutes in. There weren’t many
couples in the large yard of the orphanage, and the children were all sort of
scattered in small groups, looking at the adults with hope or distrust. Chris
smacked his arm. Of course, nothing would happen if they didn’t found a child
today, but he wanted to at least try.
They walked around for a bit - some of the older kids whispering behind their
backs.
It was Peter who spotted the lone child sitting in a tree. He nudged Chris,
nodding towards the boy. He must have been around twelve, a beta, from the
looks of him.
Chris waved one of the employees closer.
“Sorry, could you tell us about him,” he asked. The boy must have noticed them
talking about him, because he looked upwards nervously, like he was considering
climbing higher. In the end he stayed put.
“Oh, that’s Maciej,” she answered, looking surprised that they were asking
about him. “He’s thirteen, been with us since he was nine.”
She hesitated for a second before continuing.
“He’d been to a few families, but always ended up back; he has ADHD and
anxiety.”
Peter hummed under his breath, but never took his eyes off the boy. Chris
didn’t know what he was thinking. Were they fit to care for a child like that?
He wasn’t sure, but Peter always listened to his instincts, and though Chris
didn’t like to admit it, he was usually right.
“Come on,” Peter said, pulling him towards the tree.
The boy had huge, honey brown eyes and an upturned nose that made him look
adorable. His hair was shaved close to his head, and his fingernails were
painfully chewed. He watched them approach warily.
“Hey there, Maciej,” Peter said, making Chris wince a bit because he was pretty
sure his mate just completely butchered that name.
The boy likcked his lips.
“Don’t call me that,” he said, making Peter raise an eyebrow.
“What should I call you then?”
The boy thought for a second.
“Stiles.”
For some reason Chris had to grin, because that name fit just perfectly.
“Alright, Stiles. Would you come down? Me and my mate would like to talk to
you.”
Stiles shook his head, looking almost remorseful.
“Why not?” Chris asked, realizing with every second spent interacting with the
boy, that he was just what they needed. Hopefully they were what Stiles needed
too.
“I don’t know how to climb down,” the boy admitted after a second of
hesitation, his grip on one of the branches tightening. Peter laughed, but not
in a mean way. He opened his arms.
“Come on, I will catch you.”
Stiles blinked, looking between them for what felt like an eternity.
Then he took a deep breath and jumped.
***
At first, their life had been a bit rocky after Stiles became a part of it. He
was distrustful and nervous around them, always on edge, throwing tantrums on
occasion. Testing his boundaries.
They took him to a shrink, who confirmed what they’ve already known. Stiles got
meds for his ADHD and he got meds for his anxiety. According to the
psychologist the last one was the result of Stiles being passed around so much
and the boy would ‘grow out’ of it, with enough care and stability in his life.
Peter and Chris were set to make sure that he felt loved and cared for, to let
him know that they weren’t going to just give him back like a pair of shoes
that doesn’t quite fit.
It took a long time for Stiles to start to believe it.
***
Their son turned out to be brilliant, if a bit unfocused. If he wanted to be
honest, it just made Chris love him more. Sure, Stiles would hand in a ten page
essay about circumcision for his economics class, but that still meant that he
wrote  a ten page essay about circumcision  in the first place. At fourteen.
Without any hardship whatsoever.
Stiles also had a stubborn streak a mile wide and after opening up, it became
clear that he had a cutting sense of humor. It made Peter puff up with pride,
like it was any achievement of his own.
***
Stiles rarely called them ‘dad’ or anything of the sort. Or at least not into
their faces, but one time - when they were called to the school in the middle
of the day, because their boy got into a fight - they arrived to find Stiles
screaming at another kid in the principal’s office.
So what if they are both Alphas!? My dads are still better than a dozen of
yours!
Chris gave his son a stern talk right then and there about getting into fights,
and getting suspended in the process.
Then the three of them stopped at the best ice cream place in town on the way
home.
***
“So,” Stiles said, halting in the door of the living room with a carton of milk
in his hand and a white mustache above his lips. Chris told him time and time
again that glasses were invented for a reason, but somehow it never stuck.
“Will you guys, like, never mate an omega?”
Peter chocked a bit on the vine he was sipping to go with his evening reading,
and Chris turned the volume down on the tv.
“What? Why? How did this come up?” Peter asked after coughing up a lung, but
Chris lifted a hand to stop him.
“If we meet the right person, we might,” he said. The question was quite out of
the blue, but by now Chris knew to expect the unexpected where Stiles and his
curiosity were concerned. “There aren’t a lot of people willing to join an
Alpha/Alpha pair.”
“Huh,” the boy said, chugging from the milk and then shrugging with all the
boney nonchalance of a fifteen year old. “Okay.”
Peter was blinking after him long after he disappeared up the stairs.
“What the hell was that about?” he asked, shaking his hand fondly and finally
returning to his book.
Chris shook his head.
“Beats me. Maybe he’s worried about getting siblings.”
***
It happened not long after Stiles started coming off his anxiety meds. At
sixteen, after living for years in a stable home, he didn’t need them as much
anymore, and doctor Deaton decided that it was time to start lowering his
dosage.
It was just a regular Friday night, with Stiles staying up late, playing with
one of his classmates online in his room. Peter and Chris got home late - it
being date night, and went to bed shortly after, reminding their son not to be
up till dawn.
That should have been the end of it.
Instead Chris woke in the middle of the night to someone grabbing his shoulder,
whispering into his ear hotly.
“...ris, Chris! Help me…”
He bolted up, almost dislodging Stiles, because he could only remember a
handful of times in the last years when their boy wake them in the middle of
night - panic attacks mostly.
“Stiles? Love, what’s wrong?” He tried to turn on the bedside lamp, but his son
grabbed his hand. He was breathing hard and his touch felt searing on Chris’
skin.
“No, no, no, no… it… it hurts my head, something’s wrong with me,” the boy
said, sounding feverish and desperate. Okay, that was different.
“Alright, alright, no light. What’s wrong? What happened?”
Finally even Peter was slowly coming awake.
“I don’t know,” Stiles said. Chris could hear the tears in his voice.
“Everything… everything feels wrong… I need…”
He ended up sobbing, falling against Chris’ chest. It was then that the smell
really hit his nose.
Heat.
Omega heat.
Chris didn’t know what to do, frozen in indecision. On one hand; this was his
boy - even if not by blood, but on the other… His instincts were screaming at
him to help him, to give him what his body craved. It was almost jarring how
smoothly those two things aligned in his sleep addled brain.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked as he sat up, going rigid beside them, and Chris
knew that he could smell it too.
It didn’t make any sense. Most kids presented between the ages of eight and
twelve, and Stiles was way too old for that.
“Something is wrong with me,” Stiles said, clutching at him. Chris rubbed his
back, trying to figure out what to do.
“We have to take him… take him to a hospital,” Peter blurted out, for once
coming up with something actually useful, and not one of his outlandish,
backwards plans.
Stiles didn’t agree.
The boy started crying harder, grabbing onto Peter and pulling him close too.
“No! Please, please don’t send me away! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t…”
Chris swore under his breath, because this was  not  the impression they needed
to make right now.
“No, love, you didn’t do anything wrong. Stiles, you’re in heat. You need help,
okay? We’re not giving you up, but we can’t…”
They could though, a part of him whispered. They very much could. Stiles was
over sixteen, and that meant he was old enough to be mated in the eyes of the
law - even though most people waited quite a bit longer to finalize things.
His eyes met Peter’s over their son’s head, the light of the streetlamps coming
through the window was just enough for him to see that his husband was thinking
the same thing.
“Stiles,” Peter said peeling him away from Chris’ chest and cupping his flushed
face. “Love, listen. We either have to take you to a hospital or you have to
mate with someone. You’re not going to get better otherwise, do you
understand?”
The boy nodded, sniffing. Somehow he looked both pitiful and beautiful. From
somewhere Chris gathered enough strength to add:
“Is there- Is there an Alpha you want us to call?”
Stiles paled, shaking his head with enough force to dislodge Peter’s hands.
“No! No there is… there’s nobody,” he said, sounding so fucking earnest that it
made Chris’ chest ache with it. Stiles swallowed, pale throat working. His eyes
were starting to loose focus, pupils growing large and swallowing up his iris,
but he still looked lucid enough.
“I just… Please help me, I don’t want to leave, I only want to be with you,” he
said finally, breaking down, his face crumpling as more of his tears started to
fall.
Chris shot another look at Peter, wanting to see if… If he was feeling it too,
the pull, the sense of rightness coiled in his belly, that told him that Stiles
was… that Stiles was  theirs .
Peter licked his lips, nodding. He pulled Stiles over to him, slowly dragging
his sweat soaked shirt up and over his head. His scent was getting stronger.
The boy went boneless as soon as he felt their touch on his naked skin - the
pheromones, most likely - and Chris helped Peter undress him. Stiles was still
thin, never quite managing to get some meat on his bones despite their best
efforts, but there was also tone to his body, making him look like a nymph in
the low light.
Stiles jerked when Chris carefully touched him between his asscheeks.
“Shh, it’s okay love, we are going to take good care of you, I promise, we
always do, don’t we?”
The boy whined.
“Y-yes, daddy. Please… just anything I- I want…”
Peter groaned at the name, holding Stiles closer to himself as Chris started to
rub at his opening. It was slick, his whole crack drenched in his fragrant
juices, making his mouth water.
He could easily slip in a finger, adding a second without any effort. Stiles
went quiet, with only small, hiccupping moans that he tried to hide in Peter’s
chest.
That was okay.
Out of the two of them, Chris had more experience with omegas, and he was
planning to use every single drop of it.
“Peter, get on your back and keep him laying on you,” Chris said after a while,
and his husband obeyed, pulling the boy along, until Stiles was sprawled over
him, his pert little ass on proud display.
Chris returned to stretching him, working up to four fingers slowly despite
Stiles more-and-more desperate pleas for more.
“It’s okay, love,” Peter told him. “Chris knows his way around an omega pussy,
he will get you there, you just have to be a bit patient…”
Stiles barely heard any of that, he was already under the thick haze of heat,
and slowly but surely he was dragging his Alphas along too.
Chris hissed out a curse when he finally sank his cock in that perfect, hot
little hole, that felt like it was molded just for him. Just for them.
Peter was watching him, his hands never stopping as he rubbed Stiles’ back.
“You are doing so good, baby,” Chris said, pulling a loud, broken moan out of
the boy’s slack mouth. He looked like he was completely gone the second he had
a cock in him, but that was only natural. “I’m going to move now, love, are you
ready?”
Stiles huffed, frustrated tears gathering under his lashes.
“Yes! Yes, daddy, please, do it, I need you, I’m going to die… I need you
both…”
Peter closed his eyes, the words almost too much for him to take, and Chris
started moving, slow at first, but picking up speed with every little whine of
pleasure their son made.
It took an embarrassingly short time for his knot to form, catching on Stiles’
untried rim fast, and growing fat inside him.
Stiles was breathing hard, lips worrying on Peter’s jaw.
“You did so well, love. Are you feeling better?” Chris asked, blind with
pleasure.
Stiles made a tiny noside of agreement, and he circled his hips to get him
louder.
“You’re so good, baby, your daddy is very proud of you,” Peter added, chuckling
when that got him a shudder from the boy. “You like that, don’t you? You like
having your daddy’s big cock locked in your wet pussy, you like to know it’s
him…”
Stiles sobbed. It didn’t sound distressed, just overwhelmed. His hole was
pulsing around Chris’ knot, the low-key, but long lasting waves of omega-orgasm
already hitting him.
“Y-yes, daddy. I like it… I want to… I want to be yours. Th- ah… the both of
yours,” Stiles muttered, hiding his face in Peter’s neck.
They met each other’s eyes over Stiles and saw the same commitment there.
“Yes, you will have us both, little omega, as long as you want.”



End Notes
     Leave a comment if you liked it, you can find me at udunie.tumblr.com
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