Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/815508.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Anal_Sex, Barebacking, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-05-24 Words: 2690
****** Older Love ******
by GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary
     Then again, he assumed there was only so many ways one could end up
     with their legs above their head, laid back across the counter of a
     bar, with Peter Hale slowly brushing kisses to their left ankle at
     two in the morning in the early summer.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
While, yes, Stiles knew how he got here (it wasn’t as if he blacked out and
then magically appeared in this position), he didn’t really know how he got
here. It was a mystery to him how, exactly, one could live their life as he
did, and go through their normal routine, and still end up like this. What had
he done, what small actions had added up, that led him here? How did this
happen?
Then again, he assumed there was only so many ways one could end up with their
legs above their head, laid back across the counter of a bar, with Peter Hale
slowly brushing kisses to their left ankle at two in the morning in the early
summer.
Stiles had gone into The Jungle on a whim. Scott was with Allison, of course.
Lydia was in Europe. Isaac was working the night shift at wherever it was he
was working now. Derek was at home, brooding and probably sublimating through
even more exercise (quick! somebody buy that guy a beer! and some
psychoanalytic therapy!). Even Danny, who Stiles had thought he might run into,
was AWOL.
Regardless, he had grabbed his fake ID, put on something nice (or nice-ish),
and driven down. And, that was when something he never thought could possibly
ever happen happened.
See, he’d heard from Isaac that Peter had gotten a job as a bartender
somewhere. It was a little odd, Stiles thought, that Isaac had left out the
detail that it was at the gay bar he sometimes snuck into.
The moment Stiles saw him, he was ready to turn on his heel and run for the
hills. However, Peter looked up an saw him. And if that wasn’t enough - if the
humiliating reality of Peter knowing that Stiles had come to The Jungle wasn’t
enough to satisfy the universe that was obviously out to get Stiles Stilinski -
the smug bastard waved. Stiles found himself making his way over to the bar.
“Stiles,” he had said, “What a lovely surprise. Last place I thought I’d see
you.”
“Can’t say I feel much different. I thought bartenders at gay clubs had to be
hot, young guys in tank tops.”
“Well, I can’t say anything about young or my own apparel, but, when you’ve
been on fire as much as I have, I think you’re allowed to formally declare
yourself as ‘hot.’” And he smiled, a sticky-sweet twist of the lips which
really just highlighted how not funny that was.
“Really, though, Stiles, what are you doing here?” The man seemed a little more
serious. “This doesn’t seem like the place for you.”
“I could be gay.” Stiles said, a little defensively.
Peter smirked. “I mean you’re under-age.”
“Oh.” Stiles said, his whole face heating up. “Oh my God. Wow. Are you gonna
kick me out?”
Peter pretended to consider it and then declared, “No, I suppose not.”
Stiles perked up. “Great, then, can I have a beer?”
And Peter, the bastard, laughed at him. “No, you can not, Stiles. I’ll get you
a coke.”
So, Stiles spent the night talking to Peter, which was beyond weird. There
weren’t many people there that night. Peter had told Stiles there was some sort
of event - a concert or be-in or bible group (Stiles hadn’t really committed it
to memory) - that had taken the fun-loving, gay crowd out of the club and put
them elsewhere. Despite how dead it was, Stile had stayed until closing.
“Shouldn’t you go home? Won’t you father be worried?” Peter asked, as he wiped
down the counter. He made a small gesture to another employee as he left,
leaving Stiles and Peter alone as he closed up.
“Nah,” Stiles shook his head. “He got called in to work late and he’ll probably
sleep in the office so he can get right to work in the morning. New case or
something.”
“Oh? Anything interesting?” Peter asked.
Stiles shrugged. “Dunno. Me and Scott woulda been all over this a year ago
but... You know, Allison.”
“Yes, young love can be all-consuming.”
“Is older love any better?” Stiles asked, genuinely curious.
Peter grinned. “It can be.”
“Sounds nice.” Stiles sighed. And when his eyes flickered up, he saw that Peter
had paused and was staring at him, as if trying to figure it all out. He licked
his lips and watched Peter Hale’s eyes follow the movement and the mimic it
with his own mouth. Meeting the boy’s eyes, Peter flat out smiled at him. He
placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward.
“Doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice low, only for Stiles, but seemingly loud in
the quiet of the club. Stiles swallowed hard, unable to look away. He could
hardly remember what they had been talking about, as he parted his lips ever so
slightly.
Peter reached across the counter and placed his hand under the boy’s chin. His
thumb brushed just under his bottom lip, always teasing but never daring to
swipe across the pink open softness or, better yet, dip inside to see just how
warm it was.
“Do you want to kiss me?” Stiles asked, and it felt like a stupid question,
must have sounded so young and childish to the man behind the counter. But,
Peter nodded.
“If that would be acceptable to you.” he said.
Stiles nodded slightly, not wanting to dislodge Peter’s hand. “Yes. That sounds
acceptable.” But the last word was hushed, as Peter bent forward, over the
counter, and brushed one kiss onto Stiles’s open mouth. Before he could pull
back, Stiles stood and reached forward to lace his fingers into Peter’s hair,
moving towards the man so he wouldn’t be at such an awkward angle and kissing
his back.
The way Peter kissed him held something soft and unhurried. It was as if
nothing could make him happier than kissing Stiles all morning. It was light
and unobtrusive until Stiles opened his mouth even more for the man, who
gracefully began to run his tongue over the boy’s. Stiles was struck by the
thought that, of course, Peter Hale could stick his tongue into someone’s mouth
gracefully.
As Peter sucked on his tongue, making Stiles moan into his mouth way too loudly
for it to be anything but embarrassing, he shifted his hand, so they were more
pulling at the back of Stiles’s neck. He urged him forward until he was nearly
bent in half over the bar, leaning forward towards Peter at an uncomfortable
angle. Peter broke away and helped Stiles clamor over the counter, which Stiles
tried to do with some poise but ended up flailing through in his rush to get
over.
Kissing him again, Peter’s hands found the hem of Stiles’s shirt and slowly
worked their way under. One hand dipped down his back to grope his ass while
the other came up to his chest to flick over the boy’s nipple.
Stiles groaned with a new sense of urgency. Peter broke away form his mouth and
started to attack his neck. He pressed the boy against the bar, rubbing himself
all up the front of him. Stiles’s breath hitched when Peter bit down a little
too hard and started to suck an apology onto his skin.
Hooking his hands under the boy’s ass, Peter lifted him up onto the counter,
only breaking away from his neck long enough to push him back, so he was
propping himself up with his elbows. Peter started to tug at Stiles’s jeans,
ripping off the button instead of undoing it.
Stiles was about to protest when Peter left his neck and brought his mouth to
the triangle of pale skin exposed by unzipping the boy’s pants. One hand stayed
on the boy’s chest, keeping him from fulling sitting up, as he kissed him just
inches above where Stiles really wanted to be kissed. Peter resurfaced after
licking a strip up Stiles’s stomach where his shirt had been rucked up. In one
swift, sinfully fluid motion, he pulled down Stiles boxers and jeans.
If Stiles hadn’t felt flushed and overheated before this, being so naked with
Peter pushed him over that edge.
Quite suddenly, Peter pulled one leg up to wrap around his waist and brushed
over the rim of the boy’s hole with his thumb. Stiles couldn’t keep himself
from gasping.
“Ever touch yourself here before?”Peter asked, and damn him if he didn’t sound
calm, untouched by any sort of excitement. It was only looking up at Peter’s
lust-blown eyes that showed Stiles just how affected he was. Not trusting his
voice, Stiles shook his head. Peter hummed thoughtfully, nudging the tip of his
thumb into Stiles.
“Do you-” Stiles panted, then stopped himself. “I mean, have you got any-” He
cut himself off again but this time it solely had to do with Peter swiping his
forefinger over him.
Peter, one hand still holding his leg around his waist, moved his other hand
below the bar and fumbled around for a moment. He apparently found what he was
looking for and Stiles heard the surprisingly loud click.
“Of course,” the boy laughed, though it was a hushed and breathless noise. “You
do this often.”
“Can’t say I do.” Peter admitted, bringing his other hand away from where he
had been lightly touching Stiles and pouring a generous amount of lube over his
fingers. “But I am nothing if not optimistic.”
“Looking for any jailbait losers with low standards and even lower
inhibitions?”
Peter grinned and ran one wet finger over the boy’s crack as his other hand
came down to hoist the boy’s leg over his shoulder. Stiles gasped, being held
up only by Peter’s strength and the bar under his back.
“Maybe I was waiting for you.” Peter said, and in a much smoother and paced
motion, he brought Stiles’s leg around his waist up to his shoulder as well.
Stiles scoffed, though the gesture seemed funny with his legs above his head
and Peter Hale between them. “Bet you say that to all the boys.”
“No, just you.” Peter said offhandedly, pushing his first finger in slowly,
causing Stiles to hold his breath. “You’re the only boy.”
He started to move the one finger around, feeling all around the inside of
Stiles. He slowly added a second and his free hand came up to hold on of
Stiles’s leg in place. Scissoring him, Peter began to search for something.
Stiles would have been lying if he said he didn’t know what Peter seemed to be
looking for. However, for all the depraved and indecent things he had seen,
Stiles had never expected his first time to be like this. He hadn’t expected it
to be on a bar counter or at some ungodly hour in the morning. He had really
figured he would have at least had his shirt off. Of course, it wasn’t
necessary, but there was something almost unbearably slutty to being naked only
from the waist down with another, fully clothed person. And he certainly hadn’t
figured it would be Peter Hale, no matter how many wank fantasies the man might
have starred in.
Peter fingered over the spot and Stiles keened. He canted his hips up,
thrusting into the air, at the same time trying to get the man to do it agin.
“Perfect.” Peter murmured, adding a third finger and petting over the spot,
opening him up.
Stiles couldn’t do anything but writhe and moan and whine. He clutched the edge
of the bar, unsure of what to do with his hands, needing them occupied. Peter
just kept rubbing that spot inside of him, massaging it, and Stiles didn’t
quite know how to cope. He wanted to sob, to scream at Peter to fuck him. He
was ready; he was so ready for Peter. Instead, he simply whined out a,
“Please.”
“Please, what?” Peter prompted.
“Please,” and Stiles breath hitched here as Peter swiped over that spot again,
“Fuck me. I need you.”
Stiles, had he been able to really put a thought together, would have expected
that saying this would have made Peter smug, self-satisfied. Instead, the man
looked raw suddenly and just as need-filled as Stiles.
“Of course.” Peter murmured. He made quick work of unbuckling and unzipping his
pants and pulling his cock out. He grabbed the lube and lathered up his dick.
After surveying the flushed, panting boy below him, he leaned forward to kiss
Stiles lightly, almost tenderly, on the mouth. As he did this, Peter slowly
began to push in. Stiles kissed him back until he couldn’t take it any longer
and broke away to gasp at the sensation of being filled up and pushed apart and
taken.
When Peter was all the way in, he gave his hips one little rock forward. Stiles
groaned and clutched at the edge of the bar tighter. Peter seemed to wait after
that, panting, draping himself over the boy, bending him in half.
Finally, Stiles grit out, “Goddamn it. Move.”
Not needing to be told twice, Peter straightened up and began very slowly,
never forcing anything, to fuck into the boy. One hand was placed on Stiles’s
hip, keeping him in place, while the other rested on his leg, straightening it
up. Still thrusting forward, he peppered the Stiles’s ankle with little brushed
of his lips.
The sounds coming from Stiles mouth were hushed, little murmurs of pleasure as
he was stretched and filled repeatedly. He brought one hand up from the counter
and placed it on his own cock, beginning to stroke himself in time with Peter.
He tried to keep from moaning because, in the silence of the club, it seemed
too wickedly loud.
Growling a little, Peter brought his hand down to the boy’s other hip and
pushed in particularly hard and, suddenly, Stiles’s no-moaning rule went
straight out the window. Especially when Peter changed his angle, leaning
forward again, spreading and bending Stiles even more, to hit against the boy’s
prostate.
“Ohmygod, there, there, there,” Stiles urged. Peter grinned and aimed there
there there over and over until Stiles couldn’t really think or say or feel
anything except Peter.
“You’re doing so well, Stiles.” Peter hummed, slamming in hard and fast. “So
good, so tight. Mine.” And he wrapped one of his hands around Stiles’s fingers
and the boy’s cock and helped him pump.
At this point, Stiles decided fuck it. He was his. And he came all over their
hands.
Peter smiled and praised him, told him how close he was and latched his teen
onto Stiles’s neck, biting down hard, before coming hard inside of the boy. He
rode out his orgasm with a few shallow thrusts, listening to the little pain-
pleasured whines coming from his boy.
The motion stopped, and they rested for a moment before Peter pulled out. Come
started to leak out of Stiles as Peter helped him sit up. He felt himself pull
a face.
“You didn’t use a condom.” Then he placed his fingers to the wet spot where
Peter’s mouth had been during his climax. “And you bit me. Double unprotected
werewolf sex.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll recover.”
“Nah, man, I doubt it.” Stiles said, shaking his head solemnly. “You’re gonna
have to work really hard to make this up to me.”
“Oh?” Peter raised his eyebrows, looking amused.
“Oh, yeah...” Stiles reached forward and grabbed the man’s shirt, tugging him
forward. “Let’s start with this.” Pulling Peter down to him, he kissed him
deep, but briefly.
“Am I going to owe you every time we have sex?”
“Every time? We’re gonna do it again?” Stiles couldn’t keep the excitement out
of his voice.
“Would you like to?”
“Boy, would I.” Stiles grinned.
“Good.” Peter nodded, kissing him again. Murmuring into the boy’s lips, he
said, “Because I’d love to see you take my knot.”
Stiles pulled back abruptly. “Wait, what?”
“Nothing,” Peter assured him with a smile, helping him off of the counter and
into his jeans, “Next time.”
Those two words had a new and beautiful meaning to Stiles.
End Notes
     I'm so sorry for this guys. I've just been really stressed lately and
     writing bad smut helps me calm down. I just took my finals today and
     my grandparents are coming into town in less then a week and in a
     little over a week I'm graduating and in less than twenty days I'm
     going on a study abroad. So, unfortunately, I may be inflicting a few
     more of these onto the Internet. I hope this was okay.
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