Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/961729.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Forced_Bonding, Mating, Biting, Rough_Sex, Dubious_Consent
  Series:
      Part 6 of Dark_Side_Of_The_Moon
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-10 Words: 2876
****** One Bite Changes Everything ******
by ladyoneill
Summary
     Peter's been an Alpha for three days and Stiles is quite happy to
     spend some time after their first Pack meeting having sex with him.
     He doesn't expect what actually happens.
Notes
     A couple people requested the mating scene so here it is. It's
     darkish. I've tagged it "rape" but the sex is completely consensual.
     It's the mating that's not. There's no tag for that. Also, Stiles
     doesn't exactly enjoy himself in the end.
See the end of the work for more notes
The first pack meeting of the renewed Hale Pack is winding down. Only listening
with half an ear as he flip through his notes, Stiles doesn't realize silence
has fallen until he hears the loft door close. Glancing up he notices that
Derek and Cora are gone, then sees Lydia looking at him from where she stands
near the door, her eyes narrowed but thoughtful. Then she, too, leaves. Peter's
leaning one hip on the table, arms loosely crossed over his chest, eyeing him
with a look that makes him want both to flee and squirm.
Gathering his notes, he stuffs them in his bag, then stands. "I should head
out..."
"No."
"Huh?"
There's a feral smile crossing Peter's face and a shiver goes through Stiles,
part fear, part desire.
Peter became Alpha three nights ago. It's been six since they've been together.
"Here?" Derek's place?
"Let's Christen the pack den," Peter suggests, his smile growing wider, his
teeth looking just a bit sharp.
"I don't think Derek'll appreciate that," Stiles mutters, because while he's up
for sex, something about this situation is making him uncomfortable.
"Well, he doesn't have any say in that, does he."
How easily Derek's fallen to Beta status under his uncle is one of a long list
of things Stiles needs to talk to the younger Hale about. Despite trying to
protect Stiles that night Peter was revealed as the Alpha the first time, Derek
seemed to accept him way too easily then and he's done it again.
But...later, because he's a horny teenager and Peter's stripping off his shirt
and kicking off his shoes.
Dumping his bag on the floor, Stiles nearly trips over his feet as he wrestles
with his own clothes. "Where?" he asks as, wearing only his jeans, he presses
up against Peter who's down to his jeans as well. "Not the bed. That's too
weird."
Peter huffs, but nods in agreement before kissing him. "He'll smell it
regardless."
Stiles makes a face but his cock is already hard and aching and he's not going
to risk blue balls just too drive to Peter's apartment. He watches Peter's eyes
dart quickly around the minimally furhished room, but he's surprised when he's
spun and bent over the table. There is a perfectly good couch.
"Um...okay? Foreplay?" He tries to lift his head to look over his shoulder only
to have Peter's hand wrap around the back of his neck and hold him down as he
leans over him.
"If your father hadn't been injured I would have had you that night," he growls
low into Stiles' ear, sending a shiver through him. "Would have celebrated by
fucking you for hours." Thrusting his hips forward, his cock hard against
Stiles' ass, he continues, "But that was three days ago and I don't have the
patience."
The mild threat, the nip of human teeth on his shoulder, neither cause his
erection to soften and Stiles squirms back, moaning softly as Peter rotates his
hips.
Then the pinning hand, the hard body, are gone.
"Stay put."
Looking over his shoulder, watching Peter strip completely and stroke his hard
dick as he strolls into the bathroom, Stiles realizes he's panting and tries to
calm down. Jesus, he's so hard and leaking into his boxer shorts, and the
friction of the table beneath him, the smooth, curved edge pushing right againt
his balls isn't helping.
Peter returns and a bottle of lube is tossed down next to Stiles, then he's
lifted enough for his jeans to be unfastened and tugged down, the shorts going
with them. Kicking them aside, he braces his feet on the floor and hears the
snap of the cap. A hand caresses his ass, then a slick finger parts the cheeks
and pushes inside.
"Still so tight," the Alpha murmurs as Stiles rocks back onto the finger,
dragging his cock along the table, the pleasure already so intense he can only
moan in response. "Some day I'm going to make you wear a plug so you'll be open
and ready for me, all slick and loose."
"Fuck." The image is enough to make him buck back, fingers digging into the
edge of the table.
A second finger glides in, scissoring inside him, and Peter leans down to press
biting kisses along his spine. "Or maybe some day I'll barely prep you at all,
fuck you raw until you scream."
"Not a masochist," Stiles gasps out, but, at the thought, his cock twitches,
precum dripping from the slit.
Peter hums and pushes a third finger into him, making him arch off the table at
the sudden burst of pain.
But, fuck, it feels good, too.
As does Peter mouthing kisses over the back of his neck and around his exposed
throat. The pleasure building in him is so intense he barely notices the
fingers slip from him to be replaced by the head of Peter's cock until it
thrusts in, driving the air from his lungs. Fingers tightening to the point of
numbness around the table's edge, toes curling in painful pleasure, Stiles
rocks with each thrust, which drives his cock forward and back along the slick
wood and his equally slick stomach.
Behind him, half draped over him, Peter's thrusting hard and fast, breathing
heavily against his back, and Stiles loves that he can affect him like this.
Arching his back and bumping his hips against the driving pelvis, he urges him
to lose control. The dick inside him rubs his prostate and Stiles cries out.
"Jesus, Peter. Harder. Fuck me harder," he babbles, flailing his hands back to
touch the wolf's hot skin wherever he can reach. His nerves stretched taut, his
whole body shaking, he barely notices when his right hand is caught and pinned
against the middle of his back. Barely feels the breath on his arm, the lips
dragging down from his elbow.
But he feels the fangs pierce the thin skin of his wrist.
Shocked to the core, Stiles shrieks in pain and confusion, and tries to rip his
wrist away, but the Alpha's jaw tightens, the fangs dig deeper. Twisting his
head around, he yells at Peter to stop, but the crimson eyes so full of
satisfaction pin him as readily as the pounding hips do.
Terror floods him. His erection vanishes. All pleasure gone.
"It hurts," is all he manages to gasp out and Peter lifts his head, licking
bright red blood from his lips, and howls as he comes.
Closing his eyes, Stiles buries his face in the table, panting in pain and fear
and slowly churning anger.
With a sigh of pleasure, Peter pulls out of him and is no longer touching him.
Slowly Stiles pulls his good arm up for leverage, pushes himself to his feet,
but his legs are wobbly and his knees buckle, driving him down to the floor. He
tries to catch himself on his right hand and the bite marks send a burst of
agony up his arm to his shoulder, making him fall hard onto his side.
Biting back another scream, he lays there panting for a minute before slowly
pushing up to his knees. Cradling his wrist, he stares dumbly at the four
bleeding holes, then lifts his head to find Peter.
Dressed again in his jeans, the button and belt open, he's lounging on the
couch, arms stretched along the back, a smug, satisfied look on his face.
There's still a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth.
Something warm unfurls inside Stiles and it horrifies him.
He never wanted to be a werewolf. Never, despite Peter's belief on the night of
the dance. And he can't...He can't...Emissaries, mages, can't be turned or they
lose their magic.
"You bastard," he chokes out, shivering in shock.
"Come here."
His wrist throbs, something aches in his chest, something tight and new, and he
staggers to his feet. As he does so, realizing he's doing so, his eyes go wide
in horror.
Peter's eyes flash red and, before he can stop himself, Stiles is on the couch,
curled beneath one of those outstretched arms. The arm lowers, wraps around
him, tugging, until his head is pressed to Peter's muscular chest. "Calm down,"
he encourages softly. "Your heart's racing and you're about to start
hyperventilating.
Squirming, Stiles punches him in the chest with his good hand, which sends pain
up that arm and doesn't even warrant a grunt from Peter. "I hate you! I never
wanted this. What if it doesn't take, what if I die? Who's going to be your
Emissary now? Why would you take that from me?" His voice grows increasingly
strident and breathy and Peter's hand goes to his head, pressing him tightly
but also gently to him. His other hand carefully pries Stiles' wounded one away
from his chest.
"I didn't." His thumb ghosts over the still leaking holes on the inside of the
wrist, and a burst of warmth drives the shivers from Stiles. "It's not a
turning bite. I would never take your magic from you."
Pulling his head free, Stiles gives him a baffled look and Peter smiles, a
smile that renews the shivers down his spine.
"It's a mating bite."
The shivers turn to shudders and his mind whirls through all he knows about
mating, which isn't much, but everything he's read has taught him one thing--
once mated, werewolves and their partners, whether wolf or human, are
monogamous.
Until one dies.
Shaking his head wildly in denial, Stiles scrambles away--a part of him knowing
it's only because Peter lets him--and stumbles over to his clothes, for the
first time, uncomfortable being naked with the older man. As he yanks on his
jeans, breathing hard, his emotions all over the place, his control slipping,
he's aware of Peter watching him calmly, as if this was just any other day
after sex.
Stiles spins and yells, "I hate you! I hate you so fucking much and I'll find a
way to break this, I will." With shaking hands, he yanks his t-shirt over his
head, not caring that it's inside-out or that the cotton rubs on the oozing
bites.
"There's only one way to do that, Stiles, and I don't plan on dying again
anytime soon."
"I could kill you."
Peter snorts in derision and Stiles feels his face turning bright red in fury.
His control snaps and his magic, still so new and raw, lashes out. Flames burst
into being and spread across the concrete floor towards the couch. For a
moment, Peter's composure breaks, but then he shifts to his Beta form and
growls an order.
"Stop."
Physically staggering as an Alpha command rolls over him, Stiles falters. He
feels his knees giving out again, the power of that one word driving him down,
and his own power splutters out taking with it the flames.
Exhausted, scared, lost, he sinks down to the floor, head bowed, throbbing
wrist again cradled against his chest. "How...?" How did the command affect
him?
"You're my mate." Peter's reply is cold, hard, and Stiles wants to scream at
him again, but only shakes his head. "I'm your Alpha."
"I'm not a wolf."
"If you want to resist my commands, learn to react without violent emotion and,
Stiles." The sudden fury in his voice drags Stiles' eyes up. "Never, ever send
fire at me again."
Shivering again beneath those furious red eyes, Stiles nods helplessly and a
long silence falls, broken only by his heavy breathing. Finally, he drags
himself to his feet only to collapse limply into one of the hardback chairs at
the table. "I don't understand why you did this, Peter. I...I agreed to be your
Emissary, I never said I wouldn't let you fuck me. I pretty much proved that
earlier. I wasn't planning to leave...the Pack." He almost says 'you' because,
now, the only thing he wants is away from Peter forever, but he's thinking more
clearly now, and he's not going to anger the Alpha further.
"My Pack is too small. Until I can acquire more Betas, and with my reputation
that's sadly going to be difficult, I'm in a weakened position, especially
compared to Scott." He nearly snarls the name and Stiles finds a bit of
backbone, enough to glare at him in defense of his best friend. "Having a mate,
having my Emissary in that position, which is so rare it's practically unheard
of, gives me strength."
"Gives you power," Stiles bites out.
Peter shrugs and his wolf slides away. Crossing his leg over his knees, he
gives Stiles a benign look. "And pleasure. I haven't had such an exciting lover
since..." A shadow passes over his face, a true emotion, and Stiles feels a
pang of pain and longing in his chest.
There not his own emotions.
Gasping softly, he rubs his breastbone. He doesn't want this connection. It's
too much.
"I...I can feel what you're feeling." As soon as he says it, the extraneous
emotions disappear and Peter's face closes down again.
"A...side effect of the bond forming between us. It can be controlled."
"You had a mate. You were in love," Stiles whispers because that was what he
felt coming from Peter.
Love.
At the dark look Peter sends him, he bites his lower lip and looks away. "I
think you should go home, Stiles."
"What?" That shakes him. He has too many questions. "No, wait. What happens
now?"
"For now? Nothing much changes. I won't force you to live with me or tell your
father. You are still a minor, after all. We'll let the relationship develop
organically."
"What if I don't want a relationship with you?" Stiles yells in frustration,
once again glaring at Peter who continues to look too pleased. "Why didn't you
ask me, you asshole?"
"Go home."
Snarling, Stiles grabs up his backpack, socks and shoes and stomps towards the
door, only stopping to yank it open, wincing as his wrist throbs again. He
notices the cuff of his long sleeve shirt is soaked with blood. Great, maybe
he'll die. Turning, he snarls at Peter. "I'd say something melodramatic like
'I'll never forgive you', but I'm not one for melodrama. Oh, wait, I am. I'll
never forgive you!" Storming through the door, he slams it shut the best he can
and lets his anger carry him down the elevator and out of the building,
stopping only long enough to shove his feet into his shoes, before making for
his jeep in the small parking lot.
Cursing under his breath, he's nearly to it before he notices Derek leaning
against the driver's side, head down, hands stuffed in the pockets of his
jacket. Stiles stumbles to a stop and stares at him in sudden distress.
"We felt the pack bond form." Slowly he lifts his eyes and they're sad and
worried and Stiles can feel that, too because he's wide open and the bond
between he and Peter is expanding to the others. Derek is open, too, projecting
his emotions. Somehow Stiles knows this and it drives him down onto the curb
where he buries his face in his hands, shaking again from too much emotion.
He can tell when Derek reels his own back in. "Sorry. I...I think you feel it
so much more strongly than a normal human mate because you're our Emissary.
You're already bound to us and now..."
"Did you know he was going to do this?" Stiles chokes out, his anger gone,
replaced again by fear and loss.
He feels Derek sit next to him.
"No."
"Would you have tried to stop him."
He knows the answer before Derek softly admits it. "No."
Stiles bites back a bitter response. He's pretty sure he knows the many reasons
Derek wouldn't have stopped Peter, but they're still going to have that long
talk soon. Just, not now. He just wants to go home and bury his head beneath
his pillow.
Fingers brush over the back of his right hand, then carefully peel it away from
his face. "You're still bleeding. Come on. I'll drive you home, bandage that
up."
Slowly Stiles lifts his head and turns towards Derek whose showing more
compassion to him than he's ever shown anyone as far as he knows. "Are you
being nice to me because I'm Peter's mate?"
Derek's lips twitch slightly. "Maybe. Or maybe because you're sixteen and he
shouldn't have done this and I'm...sorry."
"Wow, alert the media. Derek Hale apologized and for something that's not even
his fault." Oh, look, his sarcasm has returned.
Now he gets a scowl and that actually makes him feel better, more normal.
For a few minutes anyway, but he can repress like the best of them, and he just
isn't going to deal with any of this for a while.
With a fake smile on his face, Stiles stands and reluctantly hands over his
keys to the once again brooding werewolf, babbling about being a careful and
cautious driver until Derek basically tosses him into the passenger side with a
growl and flash of blue eyes.
Normal.
Repress.
Until he can't any more.
End
End Notes
     I'm aware that Derek seems out of character, but there are reasons,
     all having to do with his true nature being a Beta. Hopefully he and
     Stiles will have that talk.
     Also, for those who have read later fics in the series obviously
     Peter is keeping a lot from Stiles because, at this point, he's very
     much a bastard out for himself. That will change.
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