Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1293973.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Sheriff_Stilinski, Alan_Deaton, Scott
      McCall
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Soul_Bond, Mating_Bond, Dubious_Consent
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-10 Chapters: 1/? Words: 3928
****** The Third Option ******
by ladyoneill
Summary
     To get rid of the nogitsune they can turn Stiles into a werewolf,
     kill him, or...
     Peter, playing the long con, with all his plans and manipulations,
     with the young man he's wanted for a long time trapped and desperate,
     chooses the 'or'.
Notes
     *sigh* I told myself I'd write all of this before posting any of it,
     but I'm weak! The last thing I need is another WIP. *sigh* For those
     of you wondering about "Giving Over", I'm actually working on the
     next chapter and I know what I want for chapter two here.
     This will have alternating POVs--Peter and Stiles. The dubious
     consent is that the bond drives them to have sex to cement it and
     Peter didn't give Stiles a choice before forming it. Lydia may seem
     OOC but I see her as a pragmatist. The Sheriff just wants his kid
     alive and sane.
     Oh, and my usual backstory for Peter with Marta as his late mate and
     Grace, their daughter. I've made Peter younger than normal, though. I
     like the idea of him aging prematurely due to the fire and catatonia.
     Someone else used that in a fic and I wish I could remember who so I
     could thank them for the idea, though I doubt it's unique--nothing
     really is anymore.
As the Pack bickers, as the True Alpha tries futilely to maintain order, as,
katana trembling in her hand, the young kitsune fights her own instincts, and
as the nogitsune chuckles darkly as it pushes at the invisible rowan barrier,
Peter eyes them all with seeming indifference. They've trapped the thing in
Stiles within a circle of mountain ash but it's not going to last long. He's
too strong. Both demon fox and human.
Peter always knew he was strong. The idiots he surrounds himself with, even
Peter's own nephew, think he's weak, but they're so wrong about him.
He'd like to let his eyes linger on the young man's for once confident looking
face, but he can't give himself away just let, so he drifts them across the
Pack. Scott is trying to order them to do anything but kill Stiles. The Argent
brat is crying that they don't have any other options. Derek's looking
constipated and torn. There are actual tears on the Sheriff's cheeks as his
knuckles turn white on the grip of his holstered gun. Deaton's frowning and not
being at all helpful.
Lydia's giving him a calculated look.
And the nogitsune chuckles and chuckles.
When the subject returns once again to Scott turning Stiles into a werewolf and
the thing mockingly howls, Lydia walks over to him.
"He doesn't want to be a wolf."
No, he really doesn't. In the garage that night Peter lied to him just to throw
him off balance, make him doubt himself, but Stiles' denial had been solid.
"He'd make a magnificent wolf."
Her shoulders shrug and their eyes meet then she murmurs, "If you hurt him,
I'll bury you in a hole so deeply you'll spend eternity trying to crawl your
way out," before turning and brushing her foot through the ash, her immunity
allowing her to break the barrier with ease.
And Peter takes advantage of the sudden chaos to lunge, grabbing the surprised
fox by the throat and shoving the body it possesses against the back wall,
before dragging Stiles' wrist to his mouth and biting.
Stiles, not the nogitsune, screams in shock and pain and, using his body now to
pin him, Peter shoves his own wrist into that open mouth where the boy
instinctively bites in retaliation.
Yelling at him, Derek drags Peter away. His claws dig deeply into his shoulders
as he shakes him, but Peter just licks the blood from his lips and gives him a
nasty grin, because he can feel it already, and his wolf is howling in joy.
"What have you done?" Derek demands, eyes wide in horror, but Peter ignores
him, his eyes on Stiles curled on the floor, sobbing in his best friend's arms
even as the twins try to pull their Alpha back, as Allison tries to reestablish
the mountain ash circle, as the Sheriff threatens to shoot him, until Lydia's
voice snaps clearly above the cacophony in the room.
"It's not necessary. The nogitsune is dead."
Everyone stares at her, some like Stiles' father with hope in his eyes, others
like Scott confused.
"But, Peter can't turn him."
"There was always another option, Scott," is her brisk reply, before she
brushes her hand over Derek's arm. "Let him go, Derek."
Snarling, Derek still obeys, though he nearly tosses Peter to the floor. Peter
rolls his eyes and straightens the stretched collar of his sweater.
"What did you do, Peter?" Scott barks, eyes blazing red.
"So ignorant of your own nature," Peter tsks, then drops into a crouch in front
of the two young men who are still clutching at each other. "Stiles knows."
Tear-filled amber eyes snap to him and Stiles snarls as he tries to scramble
out of Scott's embrace, fingers twisted into a mockery of claws. Grabbing one
flailing hand, entwining their fingers, Peter drains him of his fury, leaving
Stiles gaping at him in shock.
"Get out of my head, out of my head," he croaks, free hand going up to pull on
his hair as his eyes go wild.
"No." Delving deep into long dormant memories, Peter finds what he needs and
sends a balm through the forming bond. Stiles calms and his fingers tighten on
Peter's. Only when John Stilinski drops down to his knees next to him and
growls at him to let go of his son, does he do so, watching as father and son
tightly embrace as he himself rises to face the livid Alpha.
"What's going on? What did the bite do?"
Peter looks around the room. About half of them know, but he's quite happy to
explain to the ignorant, when a wave of guilt overwhelms him and he grabs his
head, bending over nearly in half. It's not his own.
Damn, he'd forgotten how open this made you at first.
As he forces the emotion aside and stands again, he hears Stiles begging his
father for forgiveness, outlining all his sins, the murders, as the older man
tries to soothe him, and catches a glimpse of the suddenly smug look on Derek's
face which sends a sour feeling through him, so he subtly lashes out.
"I'm surprised at you, Derek, that you didn't step up. You're usually first in
line to become a martyr."
It doesn't work. Derek snorts in derision. "Is that what you are now, Peter?"
So, he tries again. "Oh, no. This is not at all a sacrifice for me." His
leering grin succeeds in wiping the look off his nephew's face.
"Will someone tell me what the Hell is going on?" Scott demands again,
advancing on Peter, eyes red and fangs bared.
"Perhaps we should leave the Sheriff and Stiles alone for a few minutes and we
can talk in the outer room," Deaton says, attempting to be conciliatory.
Scott growls in frustration and Peter is amused to see Kira approach him from
one side and Allison from the other while Isaac's eyes flit between his Alpha
and the huntress.
The one to finally answer, bleeding wrist cradled against his chest, as he
stands swaying against his father, is Stiles, and his voice is drained of
emotion. "It's a mating bite."
The cacaphony of sound bursts out again and Peter's not surprised when he's
confronted by both a furious Alpha and a confused and angry father. Narrowly
avoiding their outreached fists, he ducks between them to reach Stiles who's
leaning on the wall, fingers pressed to the bloody holes in his other wrist,
staring blankly at the floor. Scott's claws rake Peter's arm, but it's Stiles
who cries out in pain.
The flow of emotion along with pain can easily be blocked, but Peter's not
above using it for his own gain, so he just shoots Scott a wounded look. "When
you hurt me, you hurt him," and ignores Derek's glower and Lydia's sharp
warning of his name.
Shocked, Scott falls back, but Peter's not surprised when Stilinski gets in his
face, his own florid.
"Explain this to me and why I shouldn't put a bullet in your head."
Peter smirks and opens his mouth to say something snarky, but then Stiles'
fingers dig into his arm and a cold fury smashes through his pleasure at this
tense moment. Their eyes meet and Peter feels a flicker of pride. "You learn
fast."
"I'm the smart one, remember?"
"Which is why I chose you so very long ago."
Nothing but anger flickers in those golden brown eyes, but Peter can feel the
bond deepening and with it the kindling need.
In both of them.
An hour--maybe--is all they have to explain before the bond, and their bodies,
will need consummation.
"Stiles?" Scott asks helplessly. "What do you want us to do?"
"I need to talk to my dad. Can you all just leave?" There's exhaustion in his
voice, no longer a young voice. He's been ridden hard for over a week by the
fox.
His friends argue, but Deaton begins to herd them out. Scott's the last one to
leave with a look of confusion and worry on his face turned towards Stiles.
When the door closes leaving them alone in the larger exam room, Peter turns
back to where the Sheriff is helping his son into the one chair in the room.
For a moment he wonders if Stiles will have the strength for what's to come
tonight, but then blazing eyes shoot to him and he bites back a chuckle.
Inner strength can do wonders.
"Explain," Stilinski barks, one hand on Stiles' slumped shoulder, the other on
the butt of his gun.
Time to be serious.
Arms crossed loosely over his chest, Peter leans back against the counter and
nods at Stiles. "Your son doesn't want to be werewolf. He's no use to anyone
dead. Though I'm surprised Deaton didn't mention it, there was a third option,
a way to change the body enough to force out the nogitsune without turning
Stiles."
"A mating bite. If that implies what I think it implies..."
Trying not to smile at the threat from his father-in-law, Peter states, "It
implies just that. It is just that." The explosion of anger directed towards
him doesn't come as a surprise. Stiles' hand on his father's arm to calm him
down is.
"How do we break it?" Stilinski bites out.
"We don't," Stiles replies dully.
"But..." Anger is replaced by concern and Stiles just pats his dad's arm before
turning back to Peter, his face blank of emotion, but Peter can feel the fear
and upset in him. He doesn't bother blocking it. "Why you?" the Sheriff demands
to know.
"Experience," Peter replies. "No teenagers should go into a mating, not with
hormones and emotions running rampant in them. Stiles didn't have a choice, but
his partner needs to be in control of himself in order to control the bond."
"Control?" Watery blue eyes harden.
Sometimes concession is necessary, though Peter's never happy about it.
"Probably not a good choice of words." If he has his way, the right one,
though.
"Dad, there's an emotional and physical bond between us. It's wide open right
now. It'll settle and I'll be able to block him out, but..." Stiles give him a
helpless look and the bond makes Peter care. He's not happy about that either.
"The bond will break only when one of us dies. I don't plan to die anytime
soon," he warns, eyes narrowing slightly, because the Sheriff's free hand still
rests on his gun. "Instantaneous death can actually happen to the other as
well. If not that sometimes psychosis, depression, suicide. Not always, though.
Some survivors go on to mate again." He has, though he's pretty sure only his
severe burns and inability to move for weeks kept him from suiciding after
Marta died.
"Why did you do this to Stiles? Why you? He's a kid and you're...what? Upper
thirties? Forty?"
"Thirty three. The fire aged me prematurely." His first look at himself after
healing had come as a shock. Not that he's not still handsome.
"Twice his age!"
"The only other viable option was Derek, but when it became obvious he wasn't
going to step up, I did. Your son will live, hopefully a long life, Sheriff.
You should be grateful."
He avoids the lunge with ease, retreating towards the door, hands up in
placation.
"Dad, don't bother," Stiles says tiredly. "Peter has plans, he always has
plans. Undoubtedly I've been in them since he met me."
Smart boy.
"If you lay a finger on him..."
"Dad, it's a mating bite. Sex," he stutters out the word, "is part of that. I
can feel the bond tugging me towards him. There's no stopping it. Just...please
don't be mad at me about it." As Stiles breaks down again, Stilinski whole
composure changes to compassion and love and he drops back down in front of
Stiles to pull him into his arms.
"Oh, kiddo, I'm not. I'm so thankful you're alive. It's just...I'm scared for
you."
"Me, too." Stiles sniffles and his arms around his father shake.
He's exhausted and Peter needs to get him home, get this over with so the young
man can sleep. He hasn't slept right for months. "Sheriff, I won't hurt him. I
can't hurt him. The bond is supposed to be meant for lovers, the bite coming
during a ceremony to unite them. We don't have that, but that doesn't mean I
don't care for him. I didn't do this out of some perverse kink for a teenage
boy. Stiles needs to live, to have his mind intact, his emotions under control,
and as a human. He is important." Peter doesn't really want to reveal all of
that, but there is the unvarnished truth, and they need to get out of here
before his antsy wolf claims its mate on the floor of Deaton's clinic.
Slowly the Sheriff looks over his shoulder with wet eyes. There's still anger
there and Peter can understand that. He'd been a father and the thought of an
older man touching his Gracie... Yes, he can understand, but there's no choice
but to proceed.
And Stiles isn't a boy or a child. Legally he might be underage, but in the
eyes of Peter's wolf, he's an adult. All he's experienced in the last six
months have forced him to grow up. He can handle Peter. Peter just hopes he can
handle Stiles the way he wants.
The simmer of attraction that's been between them since their first meeting
helps, too.
"What do you need, Stiles?" his father asks him softly, stroking his trembling
shoulders.
"To go with Peter. I'm sorry, dad. I can feel...I have to do this. I can't deal
with everything I've done in the last month, not yet. I need to do this and
then...I'll come home tomorrow. I'll deal then."
"Not alone," Peter swears softly.
"So, this is like a marriage?"
"I...guess?"
"We can work out the details tomorrow, but, Sheriff, we really need to go."
Peter approaches cautiously and is relieved when Stilinski rises to his feet
and steps aside. The man is practically vibrating, but he's conceded for now
and that's what matters. When Stiles tries to stand and fails, Peter catches
his arm, helps him up and guides him across the room and out the door with an
arm around his waist. The only person remaining in the reception area is Scott
who jumps to his feet, approaching them with concern on his face.
"You okay, Stiles?"
"Getting there. It's...it's okay, Scott. We're all alive." Peter frowns at the
bitter taint to Stiles' voice and emotions. "Go home and hug your mom.
Hug...hug her for me, too, and tell her I'm...I'm sorry." Turning his head, he
buries his face in Peter's shoulder and mumbles, "Get me out of here."
"Stiles?"
"Tomorrow, Scott. Let them go," the Sheriff says tiredly, gripping the Alpha's
shoulder as Peter and Stiles go past him.
"But, Sheriff...it's Peter!"
The instinctive smirk on his face is wiped out by Stiles' grunt of anger.
Dammit, the bond is completely open right now. Even Stiles' exhaustion is
affecting him as it seems to take twice as long as it should to reach his car
and tuck the kid into the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel. As he
starts the car, he glances over and sees Stiles, eyes closed, slumped
despondently, and he doesn't like it. It's the exact opposite of his usual
demeanor and he's quiet. He's never quiet.
During the ten minute drive Peter ponders what he's done. The choice was both
impulsive and not. The thought of taking Stiles as his mate had been in his
mind since that night in the garage, maybe even before, but there were no plans
to do it so soon. Never let it be said, though, that Peter Hale allowed an
opportunity to go to waste, and while Stiles would have made a wonderful,
strong werewolf, and the mating could still have occurred, this way was
simpler, faster, if not easier.
Nothing about this is going to be easy.
And Stiles needs to stay human. As supernatural creatures, werewolves are
limited in the spells they can cast, the types of magic they can use. The spark
in Stiles is strong. Bound to a wolf, he'll never be an Emissary now, but he
can be so much more, and Peter, a wolf who can use minor magic and has more
than enough esoteric knowledge stuffed in his brain, can guide him.
Use him.
Parking in his covered space behind his apartment building, Peter gets out of
the car and goes around to help Stiles out. Thankfully inside is an elevator so
he doesn't have to haul him up four flights of stairs. When they enter the
apartment, he can feel Stiles' confusion and admiration--he was the only one
with good taste in his family--and leads him directly to the master bedroom.
"No underground den?"
Amused, Peter snorts. "I told you I had an apartment downtown. We don't all
live in hovels."
"Yeah, I remember your house," Stiles softly says and Peter tamps down on the
emotional response. The Hale house in all its glory had been a place of beauty.
Letting his mate--he can think that now as his wolf paces in his mind, eager
and wanting--slump down on the bed, Peter kneels to take off his shoes and
socks, then rises to kick off his own and strip his sweater over his head.
Stiles is fully awake now, even slightly aroused, though that may be driven as
much by the bond as an attraction to Peter. He can work with that.
"Um..."
"You can feel it, the push. Get undressed." His voice is husky as he peels off
his own jeans and boxer briefs, and climbs naked onto the bed.
Stiles' cheeks are an adorable red color and his eyes keep shifting away as he
struggles with his own clothes until Peter moves to help him and lays him down
on his back. He makes no dent in the memory foam mattress.
"How much weight have you lost?" he asks softly, propped over his mate's too
thin body.
"I dunno. I don't remember eating. Peter...I've..."
"Never done this before, yes, I know. Just close your eyes, Stiles, and sink
into the bond."
His father once told him it was liking sinking into a clear, warm lake--
comfortable, welcoming.
But that was with love...
Shaking away that thought, Peter watches Stiles' eyes drift shut then leans
down to kiss him.
It's a gentle kiss, brief and almost chaste, but his wolf howls and arousal
slams into him, leaving him gasping. He feels a trembling hand brush his
shoulder, then clutch at him, and he pulls back to see Stiles gaping at him.
"I can feel...Jesus, will it always be like this?"
"No," he murmurs, fighting himself for control as he suddenly wants to flip
Stiles over and mount him, drive into him until they're both screaming in
pleasure... "It'll settle." He's still panting, his own body trembling, and he
knows his eyes are flickering bright blue as the wolf inside him pushes to the
surface.
Stiles' eyes meet his bravely, then drift down his body to his cock, heavy and
uncut and brushing against his stomach with every breath.
Rolling over, Peter scrabbles in the bedside drawer for lube. When he turns
back, he finds Stiles on his stomach, pushing up to his knees and elbows.
"God, I want you," he babbles. "I don't like you, but I want you. I'm exhausted
and I want you. What the fuck is wrong with this picture, Peter?"
"Nothing." Because it's the truth. The bond won't magically make them fall in
love, but lust is another thing altogether. Legend has it that it came about to
draw males and females together to breed. It's evolved since then, broadened to
encompass same-sex relationships, but it's still a thing of desperate, driving
need.
For being too thin, Stiles has a nicely curved ass, and Peter shudders in
desire as he moves between the spread and shaking legs to dribble lube over the
crack, rubbing it in with a finger before pressing into the tight hole.
Stiles moans.
The sound goes straight to his cock and Peter fights for control. As it is,
this is going to be over quickly, but right now he'd hurt his mate. He can't do
that.
Another slick finger joins the first and Stiles whines and bucks his hips.
"Go...god, Peter, oh fuck..."
Close to coming, Peter wraps his free hand around the base of his dick and
pumps his fingers as deep as they'll go. A glance down and around shows him
that, despite his exhaustion, Stiles' own dick is hard and slick with pre-cum.
It's a nice dick. He'll enjoy spending time licking every inch of it, but not
tonight.
Tonight his wolf howls and his hips thrust uncontrollably into the air.
He pushes in a third finger, twisting and spreading them, his ears filling with
the sounds Stiles is making, his nose with the scents of lust, sweat, musk.
Barely another minute passes before he can't take it any longer and he pulls
his fingers free, replacing them with the swollen, wet head of his cock. With a
thrust of his hips, Peter pushes into the stretched hole, and Stiles groans,
the sound drawn out, nearly vibrating.
"Shiiiit..."
As the heat closes around him, squeezing the shaft of his dick, Peter's fangs
fill his mouth, his claws push out of his fingers, his wolf finally free to
fuck its mate, but his human side forces his hands off the young man's hips,
down to the bed to dig in as he leans forward and drives his hips harder until
he's all the way in.
Panting harshly, Stiles turns his head, dazed eyes meeting his, and there's no
fear there, though Peter knows he's shifted. Arousal spikes instead and Stiles'
teeth dig into his lower lip.
Lust, need, a hint of pain, but no fear pour through the bond and Peter lets
himself go, thrusting with abandon, grunting and growling, lost to the moment
and the mating. He feels Stiles' orgasm, the wild pleasure flooding them both,
and his claws pierce the mattress, his fangs cut his lips, and he howls.
Peter comes back to himself feeling warm and sated, lassitude sinking into his
bones. On his back, body trembling from an intense release, he opens his human
eyes to find Stiles curled against him, loose limbed, head on his shoulder,
eyes shut. He's deeply asleep.
Jesus, he's never lost himself like that, not even with...
A moment of grief hits and Stiles twitches, a frown crossing his lips, and
Peter pushes it aside, focusing on his new mate. The kid's definitely too thin,
but the muscles remain, broadening his shoulders and defining his arms and
flanks. His ribs and collar bones are prominent, though, and there are deep
circles beneath his eyes, speaking to his recent lack of food and sleep. Those
will right themselves with care soon enough.
And Peter will shower him with care. He needs Stiles healthy and whole for his
plans to reach fruition.
He...wants him that way, too.
Sighing, Peter closes his eyes. The bond is making him care more than he
expected, but that's something to deal with tomorrow.
Sleep pulls him under.
End Chapter 1
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