Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2568464.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall, Derek_Hale, Jackson
      Whittemore
  Additional Tags:
      Omega_Stiles_Stilinski, True_Alpha_Scott_McCall, Beta_Derek, Beta_Peter,
      Stiles_Stilinski_in_Heat, Heat_Sex, Teasing, Fluff_and_Smut, PWP, No
      Plot/Plotless, Drabble, Nonsense, Vaginal_Fingering, Vaginal_Fisting,
      Oral_Sex, Rough_Kissing, Off-screen_Relationship(s), mentioned_sterek_-
      Freeform, Mentioned_Stackson
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-05 Words: 2249
****** Stiles Stilinski And His Anal Sex-Free Life ******
by kestra_troi
Summary
     Stiles is an Omega in Scotts Pack. He likes to tease. He teases
     Peter. Sex ensues.
     -or-
     The one where Stiles complains that everyone is only ever interested
     in his pussy, but he doesnt do anything about it.
Notes
     This is utter and complete nonsense. I dont know where this came
     from, but I literally just typed it up two seconds ago, so...I
     apologize for the lack of eloquence or editing.
 
Stiles was wiggling his ass in what he considered a teasing, seductive way
right in front of Peter’s face. Scott had made a rule three months ago about
this very thing: “When in heat Stiles… STILES!...When in heat don’t antagonize
the Betas.”
That was the rule. That was the rule that Scott came up with and that the rest
of the Pack eagerly agreed upon, but the one Stiles couldn’t help but break.
He’s an Omega who goes into heat and heats make him feisty. They make him do
ridiculous things. Things that could get him in trouble not only with Scott but
also with the law. Heats make Stiles run out buck naked through the streets of
Beacon Hills near dawn. Heats make him loud and rowdy in public places, punch-
drunk and egging random dudes into fights for no good reason. Derek had tried
to explain to the Pack that as an Omega Stiles had the unconscious urge to
provoke others to either try and claim him or fight someone else for the right
to claim him; “Its not completely his fault that he’s a total asshole when he’s
in heat. He can’t help it…though the rest of the time yeah he’s a tool.”
Which leads to Stiles’ current heat-induced, erratic behavior: wiggling his
ass, gyrating wildly in Peter’s face repeatedly hollering, “Pop that tuckus!
Pop that tuckus! Pop that tuckus!”
The fact that it took all of five minutes for Peter to react was a testament to
his lack of patience and Stiles’ truly delectable scent. Having that fertile
Omega smell shoved in your face would be enough to provoke anybody. Since this
particular heat had started two days earlier Peter had been subjected to this
treatment every other minute. But knowing it was going to happen could never
prepare one for the actual happening.
Peter’s eyes were flashing blue, his claws slowly edging out, a rumbling low
and predatory in his chest. He wanted to grab Stiles by the hips and bite that
annoying, enticing ass; just once sinking his teeth into that supple flesh
before he flipped Stiles around and sniffed the poor Omega’s crotch for an
hour, drowning in the scent of pure Heaven. The urge to take and claim was an
instinct in every wolf but in Peter it was doubly so. And he had the lack of
morals to act on it too. He lunged—
And he was stopped by his nephew in mid-pounce. Derek stood between his uncle
and Stiles like the brick wall that Stiles said he often impersonated. He kept
his uncle at bay calmly requesting, “Stiles stop. This is the thousandth time
you’ve done this. Stop egging him on!”
Derek shoved his uncle back into his seat on the couch as Stiles snickered and
stayed put ready to start over as soon as Derek stepped away. But Derek didn’t
move. Instead he called on a higher power, “Scott? Are you gonna do something
about your Omega?”
“He’s not my  Omega, Derek.” Scott argued. “I don’t own him.”
“Yeah, but you’re the Alpha. He’s your responsibility.” Derek countered. Stiles
began to jiggle again, humming a hah-hah under his breath at Derek’s futile
attempt to get him to stop. Peter’s eyes were still trained on Stiles as he
growled and lunged again. Derek stood firm holding him back. “Scott!”
“STILES, STOP!” Scott yelled in his Alpha voice, his eyes flashing an unearthly
red. Instantly Stiles stilled blinking in shock at Scott’s command. Scott
hardly ever used his Alpha voice and certainly never on his best friend. Stiles
let out a whimper as he sank onto the coffee table belly-up. He bared his
throat, his pussy clenching at the show of dominance suddenly felt a thousand
times more empty. Stiles got wetter and every wolf could smell it. The
prostrate Omega whined in embarrassment, blushing, even as his hands went south
in some puerile attempt to either hide his wetness or touch himself. With
Stiles in the midst of heat it really could’ve been either.
“Alpha…” Stiles whispered in a mix of desire and helplessness. Scott sighed,
rising tensely from his seat and cautiously stepping towards his overheated
best friend. He never bedded Stiles, that was the unspoken rule between them.
They’re friendship meant too much to them to let biology interfere. As
appealing as Stiles’ Omega pheromones are to an Alpha like Scott, who has no
mate and no heirs and a still-new-ish Pack that needed some serious bonding,
Scott couldn’t get passed their friendship. An Omega like Stiles could find
themselves being bred on the regular in Packs like theirs, but Stiles and Scott
never went there, even when Stiles’ wolf begged to be mounted by his Alpha.
Making grabby hands to his Alpha Stiles whined softly until Scott scooped him
up into his arms. Stiles hummed contentedly scenting his Alpha. Scott turned
towards the stairs, “Alright time to go to your room, Stiles.”
Up the stairs they went. Scott ever so lovingly placed Stiles in bed and helped
him change into his heat sweats. This was the third day of Stiles’ heat, which
meant it was kicking into high gear, but Scott’s show of dominance would only
help in pushing it on harder. Knowing all this Scott soothed Stiles to sleep, a
brief nap before the storm, and then he quietly retreated back downstairs.
“Who wants to go see a movie?” Scott cheerfully asked. Everyone grumbled in
affirmation except Peter. Movies were the Pack’s standard ‘we need to get away
from Stiles while he’s in heat or we’ll all mount him’ strategy.
“Fine.” Jackson groused. “Anything but Maze Runner.”
Peter rose to his feet, bumping chests with his nephew in the process. He
announced to no one in particular, “I’m going home.”
Derek stepped to one side as Peter stepped the other way and Derek watched as
his uncle went towards the backyard. Apparently he was going to run home
instead of drive, no doubt to run through his excess frustrated energy. Derek
didn’t join the others leaving by the front door until he heard the back door
slam shut, only then did he hurry out the front making sure to lock it behind
him. He knew what was up and knew it was time to stay out of the way.
                                       *
Peter ran halfway to his apartment before it dawned on him that his apartment
wasn’t his home anymore. At some point the Pack’s house had become his home,
where he spent the majority of his time. His apartment was the place he went to
on weekends when the Pack would have one of their ‘We’re Not Dead’ parties; it
was where he went when he needed time alone to plot and scheme; it was where he
went when he wanted sex. But otherwise the Pack house was his home. Stopping
mid-stride Peter breathed in the chilly autumn air, making the snap decision to
run back where he came.
He reached the house quickly. Unsure of what to do he began walking upstairs to
his assigned room, which at one point had been the attic space. He was halfway
up the stairs when Stiles toddled into view. He was bare-chested and wearing
only a thin pair of cotton sweatpants, his eyes glazed over in heat. Peter
stopped dead in his tracks as Stiles unsteadily made his way down the stairs.
“Where is everyone?” Stiles asked in a quiet, childlike voice.
“They went to the movies.”
“Why?” Stiles whined, seemingly confused by their lack of presence.
“Because you’re in heat you little minx.” Peter explained with a certain
irritated-slash-husky tone of voice. 
“Oh?” Stiles muttered as he reached the landing where Peter stood. “Good.”
“Good?” Peter questioned.
“I’m glad.” Stiles stated assuredly.
“Why?” Peter was suspicious.
“Means I get you all to myself.” Stiles confessed turning around on his heels
to grind his ass against Peter’s crotch. Stunned Peter just let the heated
Omega do as he wished, his mind taking a backseat to the physical pleasure.
“Mount that tuckus. Mount that tuckus. Mount that tuckus.”
Free to do as he wished and being so blatantly spurred on Peter roughly grabbed
Stiles by the waist and slammed him against the wall. Peter sniffed Stiles’
face trying to decipher any kind of emotion, but all he got was a nose-ful of
aroused Stiles.
“No one ever wants me for my ass.” Stiles whined bumping his nose against
Peter’s. “And its such a nice, little ass. Everyone just wants my front: my
wet, hot pussy.”
Growling as his wolf came out to play Peter snapped, “That’s what you’re meant
for you little minx! Meant to be bred!”
“Why?” Stiles innocently inquired, arching has back to rub his front against
Peter’s crotch.
“Why?! Why?! Why?! Why what?! Why have you been teasing me?!” Peter yelled as
his hand went to Stiles’ chest to push the writhing Omega away.
“Unnn! Peter!” A new wave of Stiles’ arousal hit Peter like a ton of bricks.
“You like being a tease. Don’t you?!” Peter rhetorically asked. Dropping to his
knees, Peter pinned Stiles unruly hips to the wall as he ducked down and loudly
sniffed Stiles’ private place. Stiles bucked against the ironclad grip Peter
had on him to no avail.
“Peter!”
Giving in to his baser instincts Peter ignored Stiles as he rubbed his nose
against the thin fabric between him and Paradise. The smell of heat and
fertility was so strong Peter would be able to smell nothing else for hours.
Eventually though smelling wasn’t enough.
Peter rose to his feet and picked Stiles off of his. Stiles wrapped his arms
around Peter’s neck as the older wolf carried him to his room. Stiles nipped at
Peter’s neck and jaw the whole way and Peter growled and nipped back in
response. Then he threw Stiles onto Stiles’ bed.
The plopping down seemed to jog some rational part of Stiles awake as he
warned: “Scott’ll kill you if you knot me.”
Ripping his sleeves off his wrists, Peter responded, “Then I won’t knot you.
I’ll fist you instead.”
Pouncing on his prey Peter attacked Stiles’ nipples with his mouth as he shoved
two of his fingers inside Stiles’ dripping pussy. Stiles gripped Peter’s head
yelping at the sudden onslaught.
“Why?! Why, Stiles?! Why all the endless teasing?!” Peter demanded to know as
he thumbed Stiles’ clit.
“You need me! You need me!” Stiles yelled in response. He liked it rough, he
liked being taken. Unhappy with Stiles’ answer Peter covered his mouth with
his, drawing Stiles into a battle of teeth and tongue and lips. Peter held the
Omega down by the throat as he bucked through his first orgasm of the day.
“PETER!”
Adding another finger Peter began biting his way down Stiles’ body starting
with the teen’s long, pale throat. Sucking love bites as he went Peter
journeyed lower to Stiles’ chest, then his belly, then his pelvis, then his
thighs before darting back up to suck on Stiles’ clit. Stiles keened in an
other orgasm. And so it went until Peter had his whole fist inside Stiles and
the overstimulated Omega squirted over the knot-facsimile.
                                       *
As Peter wobbled out of Stiles’ room towards his own he took stock of his
clothes. They were all drenched in sweat, slick, and cum; they were all ruined
and he didn’t care. He had cum staining the crotch of his pants and underwear
together, Stiles’ cum which had spurted down his arm was now dripping to the
floor and he didn’t care. Everyone in the Pack would know he had debauched
Stiles and then kill him, but he didn’t care. He was dazed. He was confused.
And he was exhausted in ways he hadn’t ever been before except that one weekend
when he went to a sex party in New Orleans. He collapsed on his own bed and was
asleep in seconds.
                                       *
Stiles’ heat passed and he stopped being such a cruel tease to Peter.
One day when they were alone again, Stiles sidled next to his Packmate and
explained. “You needed me.”
“What?”
“You’ve always been on the periphery of the Pack. Just on the outskirts ready
to jump ship if need be or skip out of town if we came after you with torches
and pitchforks like the villagers of old did. You needed me to reel you in,
reaffirm your place in the Pack. I mean reaffirm your connections to  the Pack.
I did the same thing for Jackson a couple months ago when he first came back. I
tied him down and made him eat me out for hours until he smelt like Pack again.
I did it for Derek months before that because his girlfriend again turned out
to be a mass-murdering fuckhead and he needed to know that there was pussy out
there that wasn’t attached to homicidal maniacs. I tied him down and gagged him
and threw a condom on him and rode him so many times he was crying by the end
of it. Though he might have been crying because I was also psychoanalyzing him
as I rode him. I’m pretty amazing when I’m in heat.”
“Stiles…you’re pretty amazing when you cum, but the rest of the time you’re an
asshole.”
“Maybe that’s  why no one ever gives it to me up the ass! They think that’s the
real me!” Stiles declared.
Rolling his eyes, Peter sighed, “Oh yes, Stiles that’s  the reason.”
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