Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8803501.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Established_Relationship, Rimming, Fisting, Anal_Fisting, Multiple
      Orgasms, gape
  Series:
      Part 2 of The_Bigger_The_Better
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-10 Words: 4353
****** Not Normal ******
by frankcastles_(Deathtouch)
Summary
     ☛ in which peter shows stiles how good it feels not to be normal
     "If you want me to bend you over and fuck you like the whore you are,
     I'd be happy to oblige." He added. "I think you'll be disappointed
     that it's not as thick as my forearm, though."
     "Oh my god," Stiles uttered and his voice betrayed how completely
     turned on he was. In the next moment he was up. He stepped away in a
     hurry, putting distance between them again. "This isn't... I'm not
     normal." He tried to assert, denying the clear arousal he was
     feeling.
Notes
     thanks to the LaughingCat who was kind enough to donate to Planned
     Parenthood for the F*CK 2K16 Charity Month! and thanks to the nice
     event runners for putting this charity month together. im so happy i
     got to write something for LaughingCat for a good cause! :)
     please heed the warnings! there's no sex, only fisting, so keep that
     in mind before reading on. thanks!! this fic unbeta'd so my apologies
     for any errors or mistakes.
See the end of the work for more notes
"Dude, you can't just show up here." Stiles was literally pushing Peter out
from his bedroom door into the hallway. He might have actually succeeded if he
wasn’t so small. He had his hand firmly planted on Peter's chest, attempting to
shove him along. It wasn't quite working.

"Can't I?" Peter challenged him, cocking up an eyebrow. He paid no mind to the
incessant shoving, like it was no bother to him at all.

"Well, since half my friends want to seriously injure you, I'd say, yea, not
coming around my house all the time would be a good idea." Stiles redoubled his
efforts. He managed to make Peter budge an inch before giving up with loud
sigh. Shaking his head he stepped back. "If Scott comes over he's going to know
right away you've been here. How am I supposed to explain that? Huh?"

Peter wasn't entirely concerned about how Stiles was going to explain this to
his friends. He had a pinch of sympathy for his new play thing. For a second
there he genuinely considered helping Stiles come up a good excuse. It was
better just to change the subject. "Aren’t you glad to see me?" He asked
casually.

Stiles had his arms crossed defensively. He was trying to seem cool and
collected but his heart thrumming in his chest. “If you're gonna come over can
you at least knock?" He asked.

He went to sit down on the edge of his bed. The very same spot where Peter had
fist fucked him into oblivion not so long ago. Things had been a little
complicated since then, but Peter was determined to see this through. Stiles
was just too perfect to give up on.

Nothing much had changed since the last time Peter been in this room. The same
blue duvet covered the mattress, the laundry in the hamper still hadn't been
washed, the same pictures and posters were pinned to the cork board on the
wall. The room reminded Peter of just how young Stiles was, and he remembered
to tread lightly. He decided to be nice.

"In the future, I'll knock." He compromised graciously, as though he was truly
doing Stiles a favor here.
"I just- I don't know about all this." Stiles confessed.
"Well I know for a fact you enjoy the things I do to you, so it's not me or my
performance you're unsure about." Peter said thoughtfully.
Stiles was looking away, hiding that cute face of his and the adorable blush
coloring it. He didn't deign to confirm or deny anything.
"Is there something else on your mind?" Peter pressed him.
A silence filled up the gaps in the room. It was so quiet that Peter could
easily hear the clock ticking out in the hallway. Then with his extra senses he
could pick up bugs in the grass outside and the hum of a laptop running in the
downstairs living room. He waited very patiently, honing in on the scent of
uncertainty and anxiousness radiating off of Stiles. The poor kid was silent
but not still, shifting uncomfortably and twitching his fingers as he tried to
find the right words to say.

"I..." Stiles was surprised by the sound of his own voice as he spoke and
paused in order to continue in a different tone. "I'm still a virgin."

Peter's eyebrows went up. "I've had half my arm buried up your ass." He pointed
out rather plainly.

Stiles made a quick, self-conscious sort of a noise. He ran his hand down his
face before recovering some semblance of dignity. "Okay but like, I've never
had sex. No one has ever... Not like regular sex." He was clearly embarrassed
as he spoke. When Peter didn't offer a reply he kept talking. "I never even had
a girlfriend before. Now... with you... the stuff we do. It's- It's a lot."

The woes of a teenager. Peter supposed he understood where Stiles was coming
from. It must be very odd indeed to jump headlong into the type of sex they
were having while still being so young. That didn't mean Stiles wasn't cut out
for it, though. At the risk of being pushed away again, literally and
figuratively, Peter went to comfort Stiles a little. He sat down beside him on
the bed and the mattress dipped under his weight. His thighs and shoulders met
Stiles’, their bodies touching in two different places.

"Stiles... you've spent your spare time trying, and succeeding, to insert a
baseball bat into your ass. Did you ever consider you're not meant for typical
romance? That you're better served as a fuck toy, because that's all your
sloppy hole is good for?"

Peter didn't think it was possible but Stiles blushed harder still. His
heartbeat quickened as well. It was only a hunch, but Peter didn't think these
responses were entirely out of shame. He was sure if he reached across and
palmed those tight jeans Stiles was wearing, he'd find a half hard cock hidden
under the fabric. He somehow managed to keep his hands to himself.

"If you want me to bend you over and fuck you like the whore you are, I'd be
happy to oblige." He added. "I think you'll be disappointed that it's not as
thick as my forearm, though."

"Oh my god," Stiles uttered and his voice betrayed how completely turned on he
was. In the next moment he was up. He stepped away in a hurry, putting distance
between them again. "This isn't... I'm not normal." He tried to assert, denying
the clear arousal he was feeling.

Peter had to laugh, and he knew laughing at Stiles wasn't very nice but that
didn't stop him. "Normal? I'm a werewolf. Your best friend is a werewolf. The
girl you've had a crush on since you were a kindergartner has a scream that
could wake the dead and this is what you consider not normal?"

"That's supernatural stuff!" Stiles gestured wildly with his hands. "I'm
talking about sex stuff!"

Peter stared at him for a long moment. He sighed finally and decided he ought
to offer some genuine reassurance. "I know other boys your age are kissing
girls and having prom night sex but is that what you really want?"

Stiles chewed his lip and shrugged.

"Or do you want me to lay you over my lap and stuff four fingers in your ass
right now."

The kid all but moaned.

"Normal isn't going to make you feel half as good as I can." Peter promised
him. "And it's okay. It's okay to want to feel good."

Stiles' resolve was crumbling. He sighed and gave in. "I mean, like, I guess
you're right."

Peter scoffed. "Of course I'm right."

For a split second a different emotion flashed onto Stiles' face. Instead of
being embarrassed he fixed Peter with an unimpressed sort of glare. It only
lasted a moment before he was back to looking uncertain. Thankfully Stiles
wasn’t quite as unsure anymore. This little pep talk was definitely working on
him.

"You're right but-“ emphasis on the ‘but’ because God forbid Peter be flat out
right about anything. “I spent so much time being afraid. Afraid of not being
normal, or afraid of what would happen if someone ever found out. And then
you…” He made another vague gesture, an inexplicable motion that could mean
anything. “You come in out of nowhere and, I don’t know. I like being with you
and I like the things we do but my fear doesn't just go away because you’re
right."

"Stiles, there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore." Peter promised him. He rose
from where he was sitting on the bed. Again he closed the distance between the
two of them. He wasn't going to let Stiles push him away. He sweetly pressing
their foreheads together. "I know your deepest, darkest secret and it's my
favorite thing about you." He whispered.

Stiles closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath, clearly affected by that
statement.

Peter let him breathe for a moment before planting a quick, possessive kiss on
Stiles’ lips. “Now as romantic as all of this is, I’d quite like to go back to
treating you like the fuck toy you are. Is that alright with you, kiddo?”

Stiles shivered and nodded.

“Good,” Peter smiled. After all this was where Stiles really excelled, at
taking orders and taking fists up his ass “Now take off your clothes.”

Stiles’ hands went to the bottom button of his flannel shirt, doing as he was
told before he even opened his eyes. His nervous fingers hurried their way up
each button and soon enough he was shoving his shirt off his shoulders.

Peter stepped back, giving him room to undress. He watched carefully, eyes
taking in each new inch of bare flesh as it was revealed. Even after all they
had done together, Stiles was still a little shy when it came to being naked.
As soon as he was completely nude he held his hands awkwardly in front of
himself, trying to hide his stiffening cock. It was likely meant to seem like a
casual gesture, but Peter knew better.

He also knew that the best way to take Stiles’ mind off his nudity was to
provide a good distraction. “Get on the bed.” He ordered, tipping his head
towards it. “I want you on your elbows and knees.”

Stiles was happy to comply. He crawled onto the center of his mattress on all
fours as Peter had asked. It was the perfect position for him. Down on his
elbows, his ass ended up higher in the air than the rest of him. There was a
perfect dip in the small of his back. Peter circled the bed and reached out,
running his fingertips along the gentle curve of Stiles’ spine. His fingers
soon slid over the round curve of Stiles’ ass. His skin was so soft and smooth,
just perfect for the touching.

“Widen your thighs.” Peter ordered casually.

Stiles did, bed frame creaking as he shifted on the mattress.

Although he was already rather exposed, Peter made a point of spreading Stiles’
cheeks apart to see between them. His hole was looking much healthier these
days. It wasn't as puffy or swollen red as the first time Peter had seen it. It
was a nice loose slit, just begging to be finger fucked.

This was no doubt because of the strict rules Peter had laid down. Stiles
wasn't supposed to put anything inside himself without Peter's permission, he
was supposed to clean himself with witch hazel on a regular basis, and he had
exercises he was supposed to do too. Exercises that consisted of a lot of
clenching up. He was allowed to masturbate whenever he wanted, but only if he
was touching his cock.

Peter had claimed ownership of Stiles’ ass by shoving his fist deep inside and
he was taking much better care of it than Stiles ever had. Although he wasn't
around often enough to know for sure if Stiles was following the rules, he
could clearly see the results.

“What a beautiful hole.” Peter groaned happily, a pang of pleasure traveling
right down from the pit of his belly to his own hardening cock. “It almost
looks good enough to eat.”

Stiles made a noise half between a whimper and a moan.

Although it would have been quite fun to tease him, to kiss his soft skin and
tickle his bare backside with warm breath, Peter didn't exactly have the
patience for such foreplay. Instead he dove right in, burying his face between
Stiles’ spread cheeks. His hole tasted deliciously salty, a delightfully earthy
taste. It accepted Peter’s warm tongue with ease.

Stiles cried out gently, more in surprise than anything. While he was
incredibly loose, he was still sensitive. The feeling of a wet tongue was far
different than lube slicked fingers or forceful knuckles. He responded to the
sensation of being licked by arching his back and pushing back to meet Peter’s
hungry mouth.

It was so easy to eat Stiles out. His body was open and accepting. Peter could
easily thrust the length of his tongue inside. He did, again and again. He
tongue fucked Stiles until his hole was sloppy with wet saliva, and even then
he was loathe to pull away.

After standing back Peter hissed out a groan. He was far too turned on by the
sight of Stiles’ glistening hole. Already it was oscillating for him, winking
open easily to show a dark space just waiting to be filled. Peter eagerly
shoved both thumbs in, unable to stop himself.

This earned him a low cry of pain from Stiles. His thumbs had pushed inside
with little resistance and even now as he pulled them apart, stretching that
loose hole nice and wide, he felt no clenching or tension. Poor Stiles cried
out again, louder this time. The pain in his voice was quickly melting away
though and it was starting to sound much more like pleasure.

The pink ring of muscle stretched taut between Peter’s two thumbs was wide
enough that he would have no trouble at all ramming his thick cock inside, but
that wasn't quite what he wanted to do. “I think you ought to be able to take
my elbow today.” He said definitively.

Stiles moaned. He had a hard time finding his words during times like these. If
it wasn't inarticulate moans it was inarticulate babbling. Peter didn't
actually mind either. Both meant he was on the right track to make Stiles come
all over himself, untouched.

Eventually he pulled his hands back. While his thumbs were no longer in Stiles’
ass, the boy’s hole still gaped wide. It needed to be filled. Peter knew he
needed lube if he was going to continue, though. As luck would have it he
brought a bottle of KY along with him.

He smartly removed his blazer so that his arms were bare of fabric. Then he
retrieved the lube from his back pocket. The sound of Peter uncapping the
bottle made Stiles shiver. He widened his knees further still, pushing his ass
out, forcing Peter to pay attention.

“I’m ready.” He insisted, even though all he had was spit to grease the way.

“Now, now.” Peter laughed sharply. “No need to be greedy. I’ll fill you up in
my own due time.”

He squeezed out a massive amount of clear white lubricant into his palm. He
warmed the slippery wet lube with his hands, coating them with it in the
process. As soon as he was slick up to his wrist he turned his attention to
Stiles’ hole and began coating that with lube as well.

Stiles was so slack that three fingers went in easily. The boy didn't even
utter a noise in response. Three fingers were nothing to him. Peter felt
remarkably like a bartender wiping out the inside of a highball glass at the
end of the night. He spread lube in circular motions around the rim he’d just
been licking a few moments ago.

Peter then hooked his three fingers and yanked downwards, towards the snug pair
of fuzzy balls dangling between Stiles’ legs. The kid yelped in surprise, and
then again when Peter squeezed a fat gob of lube directly into him.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “Stretch me wider, Peter. Please.”

Arousal washed over Peter like a tide. All of this was hot, no doubt. He loved
even the preparation. Hearing Stiles moan obscenities with an eagerness
unmatched by even porn stars… well, that was something else. Those words had a
direct line to Peter’s cock and it filled at once turning stiff in his pants.

There was no point in denying Stiles. He was good and slick now. A few of
Peter’s fingertips were still resting just within the boy’s gaping hole. He
formed the rest into a neat cone. In he pushed, in and in and in. This time he
was actually met with a little resistance where his knuckles were the widest.

Stiles moaned openly, pushing back, forcing himself to take it. It took some
pressure but Peter’s hand popped inside. Stiles’ moan tapered into a short,
sharp cry. His hole clenched reflexively around Peter’s wrist. His insides, hot
and wet and velvet soft, squeezed at Peter’s hand.

“Good.” Peter uttered, a husky whisper of pleasure. He eased his hand back out,
the pink’ hole bulging slightly as he did. It took a little work to ease his
knuckles passed that ring of muscle again but he managed. As soon as his
fingers were free he began shoving them back inside.

In no time at all he found it perfectly easy to punch his hand in and out of
Stiles’ sloppy wet hole. Delicious wet squelching sounds accompanied each
movement, but they were barely audible over Stiles’ incessant moaning. This was
Stiles’ favorite part. He wasn't feeling unsure or doubting his normalcy now,
he was loving every second of this.

“I think I’m gonna… I’m..!” Stiles’ moans were already high in pitch but his
voice actually cracked with desperation, unable to get the words out. That was
just fine. Peter knew what he was trying to say, and he didn't quite think that
now was the best time.

“Ah-ah.” He said, shoving his hand in once more and burying it as deep as it
would go. “Not just yet.”

Stiles groaned pitifully, hanging his head.

Fucking Stiles with his fist was easy, of course. It was fitting the rest of
his arm inside that took effort. Effort, and much more lube. They would run
through the entire bottle by the time they were done but it would be worth it.

Peter used his free hand to uncap the bottle again and squirt more on his wrist
and forearm. He then discarded the lube onto the bed by Stiles’ knee. He placed
his free hand on the small of Stiles’ back. His skin was clammy with sweat.

Slowly, Peter eased his arm back an inch or two before shoving in again as deep
as he could. Stiles uttered a guttural noise. This wasn't much deeper than he’d
been a second ago, but he could feel his wrist slipping in further.

“Straighten your back.” Peter ordered.

Stiles did it. He was so good as doing as he was told.

This made it a little easier and gave Peter more room to continue. Inch by
inch, he worked. His fingers and hand and wrist were enveloped all around by
Stiles’ warm insides. It felt like heaven.

Peter didn't have to tell Stiles to relax, because the boy knew to do that all
on his own. That's what made him so perfect for this. He wanted it as much as
Peter wanted to do it to him, and he had already figured out all the right ways
to make this easy on himself. All Peter had to do now was slowly work him over.

It was easy to get lost in the rhythmic motions of sliding in and out. The wet
noises of squelching lube mixed with Stiles’ usual breathy grunt after each
push made a hypnotic song. Peter watched carefully as Stiles’ stretched hole
slid further and further up his glistening arm. He imagined it was his cockhead
being squeezed tight, not his fingers, and tried not to get lost in the
delicious sensation of it all.

Time bled together and he was enjoying himself so much he hadn't even realize
how far along they were. Not until he felt Stiles’ body shift. Peter’s eyes
snapped up, glancing away from the boy’s ass for the first time since they’d
started. Stiles was holding his weight up with one wobbly arm, and the other he
was reaching towards his cock. No. Not his cock, his belly.

“I…” he was closed to tears, voice breaking. “I can feel... your hand.”

Peter didn't have the best view of Stiles’ stomach but he already knew what was
happening. His fist was buried in so deep it was causing Stiles’ flat belly to
bulge outward.

“Fuck, Peter.” Stiles surprised him entirely by pushing back against him with
his entire body. It was only a little push, but it was enough. Another quarter
inch of Peter’s arm slipped inside, disappearing into Stiles’ body. Stiles
cried out all at once and then it was happening.

He was coming.

Peter could tell by the way Stiles’ insides clenched. It was hard to get his
hole to cinch up at all but during an orgasm Stiles always squeezed up so damn
tight around him. Like a vice it gripped his arm as the rest of his body
shuddered and trembled. A tang of salt spiced the air, the scent of come.
Stiles sobbed with pleasure.

Stiles nearly fell on his face trying to hold himself up with one arm. His hand
left his stomach after a moment and he went back to holding himself up on his
elbows properly. Aftershocks of his orgasm rippled through him, little tremors
of clenching muscles.

“Keep going.” He begged through his tears. Even after a perfect climax like
that he wanted more. Peter was in no position to deny him. The air was heavy
with the scent of sex and he was even more determined than before to continue.

He managed another few inches. Slowly, methodically, he forced as much of his
arm in as possible. He was closer to fitting his elbow into Stiles than ever
before. Except the guttural noises Stiles’ was making had turned sharp with
pain and his breathing was uneven. It was much more of a struggle to make
progress now. Peter’s hand was just flat out running out of room, no more
places to go.

“One more big push.” He encouraged, waiting for Stiles to take a deep breath.

He slid his arm out halfway before ramming it back in again. Stiles shouted,
body jerking. Peter had managed to shove even deeper still but he was an inch
short of the goal. It wouldn't be wise to ram his arm in again. They had made
good progress but this was it for the day. This was as far as they could go.

“Alright, Stiles.” He conceded happily, rather satisfied with the entire
experience.

“No, wait.” Stiles struggled to speak. Who could blame him? He had half an arm
up his ass. He took short, choppy breaths attempting to find words. “I- I- I
can… I can.. I can come again.”

Oh? Could he now? Peter would quite like to see that. He thought he would be
kind enough to reach around and give the kid an assist. He found Stiles’ cock
was half hard, the head wet with drying come from his last orgasm. Stiles
gasped as soon as he was being touched and from there it was easy to turn his
gasps into choked moans. All it took was a few strokes.

Peter even attempted to twist his fingers that were hidden deep within Stiles’s
body. There wasn't much room to do it, but he managed to move a little. Stiles’
response was electric. His body stiffened, his muscles tightened, and in a few
more strokes he was indeed coming again. He clenched and shuddered like he
always did, and the same sweet sobs escaped his throat.

Stiles was utterly weak during the long process of extraction. He barely held
himself up. Tears were dripping off his nose onto his blue pillow case. Tears
of pleasure, of course. He loved this. He lived for this.

The hardest part was easing Peter’s knuckles back out. When they had started
Stiles was relaxed and eager and actually pushing back to help him. Now he was
exhausted and weak. He whimpered pathetically as Peter forced it. His reddened
hole bulged outward, widening immensely before those big knuckles finally
slipped free.

Stiles’ hole was a complete wreck now. It would be a puffy mess tomorrow. It
was loose and slack like a stretched out rubber band. Peter could see
impossibly deep within him, red inner walls glistening with lube and visible in
just the bedroom light. It was a beautiful sight to behold

He couldn't resist unbuttoning his pants and unzipping his fly. He whipped out
his thick cock and gave it a stroke. His hand was still wet with lube and it
was warm from being inside Stiles’ body. He was so keyed up that it took was a
few rough jerks and then he was coming. In his mind Peter relived the sensation
of Stiles’ orgasming and squeezing tight around his arm. He hissed with
pleasure, shooting a thick rope of come into that gaping wide hole. Stiles was
to spent to notice.

It was a short but intense climax and when he was done Peter dutifully tucked
himself away. He was still a mess with drying lube coating one arm but he
wasn't worried about that in that moment. He knew he had to take care of
Stiles.

Stiles’ face was flushed red. He was exhausted. He had his eyes closed, wet
tears on his lashes. Though he seemed near to collapse his joints were still
locked in place. Peter had to physically move him, lifting the boy into his
arms with practiced ease.

“That’s enough, now.” Peter told him kindly. “Just relax, Stiles. I have you.”

Stiles did relax, slowly but surely. His arms and legs went limp. A crease of
concern pinched his brows together. With a weak arm he reached down to cradle
his belly as if it was aching him. Considering Peter had turned the damn thing
convex with his efforts, it was no surprise it hurt. He leaned down to press a
sweet kiss to Stiles’ forehead as a distraction.

“You were right.” Stiles whispered weakly.

“Hmm?” Peter stared down at him curiously, rather impressed that the boy could
even speak after all that.  

A ghost of a smile found Stiles’ lips. “This feels much better than being
normal.”
End Notes
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