Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/778172.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Peter_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Voyeurism, Sexual_Fantasy, One-sided_Peter/Stiles
  Series:
      Part 3 of Mating_Games_-_2013
  Collections:
      Mating_Games:_The_Teen_Wolf_Pornation_Weekly_Challenges_Revealed
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-29 Words: 1035
****** Sight Unseen ******
by OnTheTurningAway
Summary
     Relegated to the sidelines, Peter takes matters into his own hands
     and sees more than he ever expected.
Notes
     Originally written for the first Mating_Games challenge. Thanks to
     ArcadianMaggie for the beta.
     See end note for (spoilery) additional info on Peter's actions in
     this fic.
See the end of the work for more notes
"These children truly have no idea what they're doing," Peter says, tossing his
headphones to the side, hand outstretched to close the lid of his laptop.
It's been over a year since his re-birth, but he's still banned from pack
meetings when Lydia Martin is in attendance. Instead, he has to sit in his
apartment across the hall from Derek's, trying to eavesdrop, waiting for his
nephew to include him in their plans, as if he doesn't have a lifetime of
knowledge and experience that could be useful against their latest foe.
But Peter has never been one to sit idly by. He hoped the camera he'd hidden in
Derek's living room would give him insight into the inner workings of Derek's
motley band of misfits, but this inaugural run has proven to be anything but
fruitful.
Only the sight of Stiles lingering by Derek's couch gives him pause. He watches
the group shuffle out of sight, hears the heavy steel door to Derek's loft slam
closed and several sets of footsteps shuffle past his apartment and down the
stairs. When they've all gone and it's quiet except for ambient noise, Peter
refocuses on the activity on his screen.
Putting his earbuds back in, he turns the sound all the way up, relieved he's
finally going to get some potentially useful information. Peter wonders what
Stiles has dug up that he didn't want to share with the rest of the pack. What
he doesn't expect to see is Stiles stalk over to Derek, pull him close and
practically attack his mouth with his own.
"Well, well," Peter says, scooting down on the couch into a more comfortable
position.
Stiles kisses like Peter's always thought he would, in a frenzy of movement,
hands everywhere, as if he can't decide what to kiss or touch or taste first.
The way Derek immediately wraps his arms around Stiles lets Peter know this
isn't a new development, and he wonders how he never noticed before. But then
Derek's pack is made up of horny, attractive teenagers, so a cloud of lust
perpetually hangs in the air in Derek's loft; Peter's just failed to realize
who's responsible for it.
He can barely hear little moans and grunts, a sharp intake of breath when
Stiles pushes Derek down onto the couch, settling on the floor in front of him,
but imagination is a wonderful thing and Peter lets his mind fill in the gaps.
Derek is surprisingly passive, though Peter can't fault him for letting Stiles
take whatever he wants and knows he'd do the same if given the chance.
Mimicking Stiles' actions, Peter unzips his jeans as Stiles undoes Derek's,
tugging open the button, then dragging the zipper down slowly. He pulls them
down his thighs just far enough to get his hardening cock out, spreading his
legs as wide as his jeans will allow, and the pungent scent of want fills the
air. He spits into his palm and imagines Stiles' warm hand on his cock, those
long fingers wrapping tightly around his length. Peter settles into a quick
rhythm to match Stiles' movements, giving his balls a rough squeeze when he
hears Derek gasp.
Even from a distance, Peter can see that Stiles' cheeks are flushed as he bites
into kiss swollen lips. It seems like an almost unconscious gesture when Stiles
repositions himself to straddle Derek's shin, rutting against Derek's leg in
perfect synchronization with the rhythm of his fist, entirely focused on the
task at hand.
Peter imagines hot bursts of breath hitting his own overheated skin and he
inhales deeply, recalling the sharp tang of Stiles' scent from all those months
ago in the parking garage, a heady mix of what he imagines was the perfect
combination of fear and lust. Heat coils in his belly when he sees Derek's hips
begin to jerk upward.
"Come on, come on," Stiles says, twisting his wrist around the head of Derek's
cock, picking up speed. Derek spreads his legs wider when Stiles sucks two
fingers into his mouth, then dips them lower, between Derek's legs and out of
sight of Peter's camera. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what Stiles is
doing when Derek grips the edge of the couch cushions. Peter follows suit,
trailing his fingers lightly down his inner thighs and then back up, squeezing
his balls and trailing down again to press one dry fingertip against his
asshole, circling, teasing, just barely pressing in.
Derek shouts when he comes a minute later, Peter following closely behind,
spilling over his fist when Stiles dips his head and takes the head of Derek's
dick between his lips.
Eyes squeezed shut, Peter's head falls against the back of the couch and he
gives himself a moment to imagine the warm, wet heaven of Stiles' mouth around
his cock. He knows Stiles would be eager for it, lips stretching wide around
him, taking Peter deep, then deeper still with a gentle push against the back
of his head. Stiles' eyes would be wet at the corners from the strain, looking
up at him just the way Peter likes, while Peter held him there and came down
his throat.
His cock gives one last, feeble jerk at the thought and Peter drags his fingers
through his come, rubbing it into his skin. He's still catching his breath when
Stiles unzips himself and climbs into Derek's lap.
"Okay, my turn, and make it quick. I still have a curfew, you know," Stiles
says, leaning in and baring his neck to Derek.
Peter watches his nephew rub his face against Stiles' neck and throat, biting
at his collarbones, then dragging Stiles down into a slow, deep kiss as his
hand begins to move.
Lacking the recovery time of a teenager and lazy with his own orgasm, Peter
puts his laptop aside, content to watch this time. He's certain he'll put the
recording to good use later.
He congratulates himself on the success of his surveillance setup and makes a
mental note to get a second camera for Derek's bedroom. Peter may not have
gotten the information he expected but the evening's events have been
enlightening, to say the least.
End Notes
     Peter watches an intimate moment between Derek and Stiles and gets
     off on it, imagining Stiles is with him instead.
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