Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/965497.
  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, Derek_Hale, Jennifer_Blake, Lydia_Martin,
      Danny_Mahealani, Aiden_(Teen_Wolf), Ethan_(Teen_Wolf), Scott_McCall_(Teen
      Wolf), Allison_Argent
  Additional Tags:
      Fuck_Or_Die, Kidnapping, Knotting, Felching, Underage_Sex
  Collections:
      A_Bite_Off_Center
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-27 Words: 7881
****** When There's No Bull At Hand ******
by CinnamonLily
Summary
     Prompt: Nobody likes Peter Hale, and nobody notices when he’s just
     suddenly gone. Except for Stiles. Stiles always notices everything.
     He starts looking into it subtly, afraid Peter might be up to
     something (and reluctantly concerned) only to find he’s being held
     captive, kept from the moon for many nights. Stiles ends up in a
     locked room with him, and there’s only two ways to release some of
     Peter’s built up aggression. Stiles has always wanted to lose his
     virginity, but this isn’t exactly what he had in mind.
Notes
     In this fic, the alpha pack is gone one way or another. The twins
     stayed back because of their relationships with Lydia and Danny.
     Jennifer Blake is a regular human being who Derek is dating, much to
     Stiles's chagrin. She knows about wolves, and she's as fine with it
     as she can be.
Things went haywire—quite violently—in Beacon Hills often enough for Stiles to
get used to it. Should a teenager be used to the imminent threat to his life or
the life of his loved ones like that? Probably not. But more often than not it
also lead to Stiles being the one to spot something odd was going on. Yeah, the
wolves noticed things in the woods humans couldn't, they had their senses and
all that, but Stiles—with the other humans—had the brain power and
observational skills.
Team Human was quite good at these things by now, so it was almost funny how
they managed to miss this one thing for so long. Allison never hung out at
Derek's a lot, so she wouldn't have noticed anyway. Jennifer… well let's say
Peter had been absent a lot more ever since she came along, so yeah. Danny
wasn't part of the inner circle as much yet, and Lydia was busy with something
or other, and for once Beacon Hills seemed calm for weeks.
Those were Stiles's excuses, at least, when one evening during a pack meeting
at the loft Derek stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "You know he's gone,
but you did nothing?"
"Wait." Stiles gestured wildly with his hands. "He's your uncle and you didn't
realize he was missing until now?"
The stare turned into a glare as Derek whipped around to look at the rest of
the people in the room.
"When was the last time any of you saw Peter?" Derek demanded and tried to get
his cell phone from the table without dropping it.
It seemed awkward, because his claws were out now and the cell was tiny
and—"Gimme." Stiles held out his clawless hand for the phone.
Growl-grunting, Derek dropped the thing on Stiles's palm without taking his
glare off the rest of the quasi-pack.
Lydia, now back and less busy, leaned to a beam nearby and shrugged, since she
hadn't been around enough to know anything about Peter's whereabouts.
Stiles listened to them trying to answer Derek's question, while at the same
time pressing eight on Derek's cell for speed dialing Peter. When he'd first
heard what number Peter was under, Stiles had been in stitches. Eight, as in
double eye roll. Then he'd learned his own was under six as in six-six-six….
Yeah.
Sadly, just as he'd known it would be, Peter's phone was obviously off.
"No luck." Stiles tossed the phone on the table they usually spread maps,
blueprints and other research material on.
Isaac cleared his throat.  "I think I saw him the last."
Everyone turned to look at him, which naturally caused poor Isaac to turn
slightly pink and shuffle his feet where he stood near the large window.
"It was definitely more than a month ago," Isaac said, his tone certain.
"No, I distinctly remember seeing him after the second time I came to cook for
you guys," Jennifer preened at Isaac and Derek who were the ones officially
living at the loft. "That was our two month anniversary, and it was our fifth
month one yesterday."
Stiles wanted to groan. Was this chick even real? He looked at Derek who was
blushing lightly. Whipped. So, so whipped. Poor alpha.
"Okay, so at least three months. I noticed he might be erm, 'not here' a little
over a month ago," Stiles admitted out loud, making the air quotes in the
proper spot, and smoothly leaving out the whole truth.
"So we definitely won't find him in any of his usual haunts." Lydia tilted her
head in the way she always did while thinking hard. Once, Stiles had found it
endearing and cute. It was still cute, but….
Derek said something and looked at Stiles. Trying to concentrate, he looked
back.
"What?"
"I asked if you had any ideas, since apparently you've been thinking about this
for a while now." The expression on Derek's face was exasperated and for a
moment he fit right into the "no longer interested like that" box in Stiles's
mind right along with Lydia.
Then the moment passed and Derek went right back into his current box of
"possibly maybe, if Jennifer drops off the map."
"Yeah. Actually I do have some thoughts, but I'd rather not share them yet
before I check something else out." Another lie of omission, nothing more,
nothing less.
He pointedly ignored Lydia's slightly narrowed eyes and looked at Derek with
what he hoped was an open enough expression to fool the big guy.
"Fine. You have until tomorrow evening. After that you're spilling every
detail, because it's full moon tomorrow. He's been gone for long enough to be
dead, having disappeared voluntarily, or being held captive somewhere for
whatever reason. In any case, one day won't change a thing, but the moon sets
some restrictions." Derek dismissed them all with a wave of his hand, and
everyone except his girlfriend and Isaac filed out of the loft.
Stiles tried to use his natural quickness to get out before Lydia caught him,
but since the elevator held easily all of them—Stiles, Lydia, Scott, Allison,
the twins and Danny—he couldn't prevent it when she sidled up next to him and
got hold of the back of his button down shirt.
The twins were chatting with Danny, and Scott and Allison were ignoring
everything but the way they were trying to not show the others they were
throwing glances at one another, so that pretty much meant Stiles was screwed.
When they got to the street, Stiles tried to get away from Lydia's grip and
ended up flailing a little.
"I'll catch up with you three at Danny's," Lydia told the trio and looked at
Allison. "And I'll ride with Stiles, so you don't have to take me home."
"Uh, okay," Allison answered eloquently and shuffled awkwardly when she tried
to ignore Scott's puppy eyes while not turning her back to the twins who she
still didn't trust at all.
"Okay. Fine. Hop in," Stiles told Lydia and marched to his jeep. He waved at
Scott who didn't even notice, and rolled his eyes. What was it with these
lovesick people around him?
He got in the car and waited for Lydia to buckle up before starting the engine.
"Spill," she snapped the word out as soon as they were out of the hearing range
of any possible wolves.
"I think he pissed someone off on the internet," Stiles said casually.
The silence from Lydia was deafening over the roar of the Jeep.
Stiles could feel her stare and took a peek at her just to see her mouth
hanging open in a very unladylike way.
For a mile or two she said nothing, then suddenly shut her mouth with an
audible smack—lip gloss, and why did that suddenly kind of disgust Stiles
instead of being cute and girly?—and promptly hit him on the forearm with a
surprisingly hard even if dainty fist.
"Explain."
"Deaton showed me this website that's a bit of a secret thing, sort of. You
need to be in the know and get someone important to accept you as a member.
Deaton vouched for me and so I got in. I made sure nobody would recognize me
there, I'm not stupid, you know," Stiles explained as he drove.
Nodding, Lydia seemed thoughtful for a moment before looking at him in a way
that let Stiles know it would be easier to actually tell her everything he
knew. And he might be able to keep his balls that way too.
"I accidentally stumbled on a conversation there, something about some
mythological creatures that might or might not be actually real and there was
Peter, trying to piss some witch off. Turns out he followed her to another
thread and then another…." Stiles gestured a little wildly.
"When did you notice he was gone?"
"Four moons ago."
"What?" Lydia barked the word and Stiles caught a whiff of her perfume when her
hair flipped as she turned her head sharply.
"I wasn't sure, of course. It took me a few weeks to figure out the witch was
behind it. It honestly escaped me to actually go check that board. When I got
there, I saw an earlier post by the witch, telling that the yapping puppy had
been chained to a wall somewhere and wouldn't be bothering her anymore."
"Peter."
"Yes. And before you think I left him rot somewhere without trying to help him,
I didn't, exactly."
"Explain some more?"
"It took me a while to figure out who the witch is. I asked Deaton if the
people who run the website would give anyone's information away and he said no,
not in any circumstances. I didn't even try. Besides I don't want to out Peter
either, let alone myself."
"Too much of a risk, I get it. How did you figure out who she was?" Lydia
seemed much calmer, less homicidal, for the moment.
"A little bit of Stiles magic…."
Lydia's left hand shot out and she dug her nails into his jean-covered thigh.
"Ow, ow, okay!" The car swerved and Stiles yelped again when she gave his
thigh, upper thigh, another squeeze.
"I talked to her. For a few months, actually. Got her to trust me enough to
slip some details. I still don't know who she is exactly and it's not like I
could outright ask, but I know where she has Peter. Just found out last night,
actually."
"Were you going to tell Derek if he hadn't realized Peter was missing himself?"
Lydia extracted her as-good-as-claws and Stiles's whole body shuddered with
relief, although he wasn't sure his balls would descend from inside his body
anytime soon.
"Yes! Absolutely! I was just trying to figure out how to get Peter out without
anyone getting hurt. He's been hidden in this crypt for four moons, Lydia. He's
not exactly sane right now."
"Right…. So what are you going to do?"
For a moment, Stiles's brain grasped at what she was saying, then something
clicked into place. "Wait, what am Igoing to do? You're not going to insist I
take the cavalry or at least you with me?"
"No. What he did to me…." Lydia whipped her hair to her other shoulder and
stared out of the car window.
"Oh, right. Sorry! I don't… I mean of course I knew that and all but I've been
thinking about this from the pack's point of view and I'm not—"
"No, it's fine. Don't worry. Just…. If you can do it safely by yourself, then
I'd really prefer that, Stiles." She turned her huge eyes at him and batted her
lashes. "So that he doesn't hurt anyone else, even indirectly."
It didn't affect him like she probably thought, but Stiles played along.
Because he had a plan and he had something to gain from this too.
"Yeah. Okay. But you can't tell anyone, and I have to do it tonight.
Otherwise…." His plan would be screwed and all that. "And it won't be
dangerous, I found a way that should work with calming him and if it doesn't,
well I'll just call in the cavalry instead."
"Good. Promise you will, Stiles, okay?" She looked at him earnestly, and Stiles
swallowed hard.
Hoping to fool her or at least placate her enough to let him do this alone, he
nodded. "Promise."
Lydia nodded and pointed at a house they were going to pass. "Leave me here. Go
get him. I may not like him, but he's an asset and Derek needs his family, no
matter how rotten that particular part might be."
Stiles dropped her off and headed toward the old cemetery in the next town
over. He'd planned this, after realizing where Peter was, and lying to everyone
had been the trickiest part, he hoped.
He'd done research while getting the witch to slip some details. The only ways
to release energy from a wolf that had been denied the shift for a time like
this were simple. You either let him fight something big long enough for the
excess destructive energy to drain out—one of the ancient texts he'd found had
suggested stealing the village's biggest, meanest bull.
"No bulls here…." Stiles grunted at the sign that guided him to the next exit
towards his destination.
The other reason…. Well, plainly speaking, one had to make the wolf orgasm.
Quite a few times. Fighting or sexing, those were the options and frankly
Stiles had his own agenda here so….
He hoped the witch had been smart enough to conveniently tie Peter down
somehow. Otherwise Stiles might lose some appendixes he quite liked intact.
He'd assumed she'd built some sort of a system like the vault where Boyd and
Cora had been kept prisoner.
Turns out he was a little bit right and a whole lot wrong. The cemetery was old
enough to have some pretty neat things hidden underground. Like graves where
vampires couldn't escape on one part of the area and such, and naturally there
were werewolf proof crypts as well.
From what he could find, Stiles was pretty sure there were several types of
tombs for wolves in there, but he knew that the one where he'd pinpointed
Peter's location would be trickier than the most.
Long story short, the walls had several types of protective qualities in them.
Moonstone was just the beginning.
"Mountain aaaassssh!" Stiles hissed his best geriatric bad guy imitation and
chuckled. "Man I'm hilarious…."
The good news was, Peter would still be human. A bit wolfed out human, but a
human nonetheless. He might be able to reason with the guy. The bad news? Well,
if he got Peter out of the inner chamber into the outer one with the moonlight
reflecting off everything, he needed to be much, much less angry for Stiles to
get away with his blood and guts still inside his body.
The inner chamber kept the wolf from shifting, the outer one was kind of…
faulty.
"Should've hired a better architect for the job."
The other bit of good news was that the witch hadn't known about the fault. At
least Stiles was pretty sure she hadn't. If she had, she'd wolf-proofed the
entire thing.
"Exit room one if you're lucky, but not number two. But the stupid bitch didn't
check her research and now it's exit the first one, wolf the fuck out in the
second one instead." Stiles frowned. "Why am I talking to myself? Psyching
myself up?"
He reached for the protein bar he had on the dash and tore the wrapping open
with his teeth. "Wait, condoms? Do we need those? Do wolves have STDs?" He
munched on half of the snack while thinking.
When he had the other half left, he tossed it into his mouth and used his cell
to call Derek.
"What?" Derek answered, clearly out of breath and annoyed.
"Oh my God you were sexing her up, weren't you?" Actually it didn't quite sound
like that, more like a garbled version since his mouth was half full, but he
was sure Derek could understand him by now.
"What is it, Stiles?" Derek growled.
Stiles swallowed the disgusting mush and asked, "Do werewolves need condoms
while having sex with humans?"
"I'm not talking about my sex—"
"Oh no, not you! I was thinking in general. Gods, Derek! Like I want to know
about your…." Stiles made a very elaborate sound of disgust.
"No, not for diseases. We don't have those."
"Okay, thanks, tell Jenn—" There was a sudden telltale click of the call being
disconnected, and Stiles tossed the phone on the seat next to him. "Rude."
 
Half an hour later he was parking his Jeep around the corner from the cemetery.
If there had been an actual "corner" that was. Instead, he parked by the road
that he assumed was used by some maintenance type folks.
Opening the door, he prepared to jump down. Then the panic suddenly hit him,
out of the blue, although maybe he should've seen it coming.
"Holy Christ!" He panted through the nausea and gripped the steering wheel with
his hands.
Was he really going to do this? Alone? Going into a mausoleum, if he could even
find it, where a moon deprived werewolf that was actually the king of sass
Peter Hale would be kept against his will in some way? Oh and not to mention
the fact that if Peter was actually loose in the inner room and Stiles opened
the door, the wolf would burst out and tear him apart.
If he wasn't… well, nothing like losing your virginity by quasi-raping a tied
down wolfman. Actually, he suddenly thought, tied down Peter Hale…. Stiles
tilted his head and grinned. The man was old and had probably done it with
Scott's mom, but damn he was good looking. Could be a worse candidate for some
cherry popping action for sure.
That in mind, and the fact there were virgins dying left and right, Stiles
grabbed the bag of tools from underneath the seat. Okay. Now or never.
Even if it wasn't going to be full moon tomorrow night, it was close enough to
make this pretty damn dangerous if it went awry. He wondered if he should've
told his dad to come look for him if he didn't come back before the morning.
Maybe not, the man would just worry sick and Stiles didn't really want to lie
to him more than he already had.
He took the flashlight he had in the glove box and got out of the car. The way
to the cemetery's other side seemed long and bumpy. He kept tripping over his
own feet, over more than half-buried headstones and other stuff that was just
lying there.
Suddenly he could see a few really run down, half-collapsed entrances to
underground places. What kind of places? He'd rather not think.
"Okay, he mumbled to himself, took a fortifying breath and exhaled slowly.
"Triquetra, where are you…?"
Stiles began to try and find the symbol from the tops of the entrances to the
marble tombs. Finally he found it, half-buried under the rubble from another
mausoleum nearby. How anyone would've gotten Peter inside other than
unconscious beat him. Then again, unconscious was probably safer, so maybe….
Suddenly he was sure he heard something. Like a yell or a scream, but almost
like….
"Shit! He is there!" Stiles managed to get his gangly frame inside the doorway
and made his way down the steps to the entrance of the first chamber. "Peter?"
he called out.
A growly something answered him from inside.
"Are you chained to something?" Stiles asked, taking the bolt cutter out, ready
to cut the chains keeping people out. "I won't come in until I know you're
chained!" He wasn't above threatening the man, and finally he could hear
something that sounded vaguely affirmative.
Great. He began to cut the chains one by one, and soon—maybe too soon, the part
of him that still had some sort of survival instinct left commented—the padlock
hit the floor.
Stiles took another deep breath. "Not a better time to do this…." He wrenched
the doors open.
Nothing happened. The musty darkness inside was quiet. Wait…?
Then a fierce growl from somewhere deeper underground.
"Peter it's me! Stop growling!"
He walked in, pointing at the first chamber with the flashlight, trying to
figure out how to get light there. He did have a few glow sticks, but those
wouldn't burn forever and candles had seemed risky.
Not to the witch, though. At least he had a lighter with him. Walking around
the little room, Stiles lit all the candles he could find, which was literally
a couple of dozen. On stone shelves, a marble table, and on sconces on the
wall.
"There."
The door to the inner chamber seemed to be made of stone. It would probably be
heavy, but to his knowledge the witch hadn't had much help.
He rummaged through his back for the bag of mountain ash powder and sprinkled
it liberally in the doorway leading outside. Then he made an arch around the
doorway to the inner chamber.
"Well, here goes nothing." He pulled the rope the witch had conveniently
attached to the metal handles of the stone door.
It wasn't as heavy as he'd thought, but he struggled with it, taking breaks
every now and then, and finally after several minutes of working his ass off,
he managed to crack it open.
A half-howl, half-groan sounded from inside. Stiles, happily still very much
alive, took a glow stick and lit it, then tossed it inside the room.
"Peter?"
The room had gone quiet, but since it wasn't a very big room, maybe ten steps
from the door to the other side or even less, he could look inside and see
pretty much everything.
Including Peter Hale, chained to the back wall.
The man looked… well, not good. He'd struggled, but obviously the witch had
come back to feed him or toss him food at least.
"I'm pretty glad the witch decided to keep you alive for this long. Took me
time to figure out where you were," Stiles said in a conversational tone while
sprinkling more mountain ash in the doorway, just in case.
Then he picked up a few candles from the other room and went to place them
inside the inner room.
He examined the situation, the growling man on the wall, and wondered what
would be the safest option.
"Now, you think I don't know what I'm doing, but I do. I know how to get you to
calm down, so try to relax. Or something." Stiles grinned wickedly. He was
actually enjoying this, who would've thunk it?
Peter was listening to him now, eyes glowing slightly, intent gaze fixed on
Stiles. The man struggled to control himself, and maybe it was the nutrition or
Peter just had enough willpower to do it, but he spat out actual words.
"You c-can't be serious!"
"Oh but I am. See, you need to get out, but it's almost full moon and frankly I
don't want to let you go like this. You'll kill me and what will you explain
Derek and Scott if you do? Even if you didn't, you're a liability, you'll kill
someone else for sure or try to, and Derek will then hunt you down. Or my Dad
will. Anyway, I thought this would be a good compromise," Stiles kept talking
as he put a bottle of lube and a towel on the marble ledge on one side of the
chamber.
He tried not to think that the stone slabs forming doors on the opposite side
held in actual werewolf or human or whatever remains. Dead bodies, anyway.
"So I figured, why not come to your rescue by myself and…." He grinned.
Peter groaned, dropped his head and panted for a moment, struggling with
control.
Then Stiles looked down at the ratty clothing he had on. The shirt he'd been
wearing, a button down something or another—designer for sure—was in tatters
now. The jeans were dirty and stained, and Stiles frowned.
Then he noticed the growing bulge in front of the jeans. Interesting.
"Oh, so you actually want me to… touch you."
"F-fuck, Stiles…."
"We'll get to that, don't worry. First things first." Stiles took a step
closer. "Show me how much you can move in those things."
Peter demonstrated the length of the chains by lunging forward with a half-
crazed look on his face, wolfing out a little. Or maybe he just tried to rip
Stiles apart, who knows.
Stiles saw that if he kept out of the way, he could probably… do things to
Peter without having the wolf bite him. With the shackles around his wrists and
very little loose in the chains, Peter's position reminded Stiles of…
"If you were less of an asshole, I'd say you look like Jesus, hanging there.
Although you'd need a cross for that, I think."
Peter growled and his eyes glowed in the candlelight.
Stiles approached him cautiously, keeping his hands as far away as possible
from the wolfy-looking mouth and the hands that sported claws. Peter's legs
were apart, also tied to the wall with chains and cuffs that probably either
had some magic in them or some sort of natural wolf-resistant stuff.
Finally Stiles was as close as he could safely be. "Okay, let's do this. Who
knows if the bitch comes back."
To his surprise, Peter stopped moving. The only sign of the man being alive
were panting breaths and the eyes that closed firmly when Stiles looked at him.
"You're actually agreeing to this." Stiles recognized the shock in his own
tone.
Then again, maybe he wouldn't be against some fondling and sex with someone he
didn't actually want that way if he was in the same situation.
Stiles tugged Peter's jeans open, then pushed them down the man's hips with his
underwear.
So maybe Stiles had watched all sorts of porn and fantasized about all sorts of
people, but he was still a virgin in pretty much all counts and being suddenly
faced with another man's cock for the first time….
"O-okay, I… if I do something wrong, I'm sorry. Just…." Taking a deep breath,
Stiles took hold of Peter's cock and blinked a few times.
It felt hot, hard too but in a weirdly soft way. Not like his own. Similar,
because a cock is a cock is a cock, but not the same. Curiously, Stiles began
to move his hand and stared at the movement.
A sound startled him from his task and he looked up just to realize it was a
whine from Peter, mixed with the grinding of the wolf's teeth.
"Harder?" Stiles asked and got a nod in response.
He began to jerk Peter off faster, enjoying the feel of the cock in his hand
now, and the slickness of the precum flowing to slick his way.
"Damn, this is… this is actually hot." Stiles felt his own cock rise to a full
erection, as if it had been pretty sure before but was now completely certain
that this was a good idea.
"Ungh…." Peter managed to grunt, and then he was coming like a geyser, his cum
hitting Stiles's chin with how he was leaning down to look at what he was
doing.
"Oh God!" Stiles let go of the cock still spewing sticky white stuff everywhere
and backed away.
Yeah, that certainly made things more real, didn't it?
"Okay, okay…." he tried to calm himself down.
Peter slumped a little, his cock never going down more than half-mast.
"Y-you need another one? Like this? Or…."
Slowly the wolf moved his head left, then right, and left again.
"O-okay…."
Time to pony up.
Stiles went to the table and took the bottle of lube in his hand. He swallowed
hard, wondering how to actually do this safely.
"S-stiles," Peter croaked, sounding barely human. "M-maybe…. Another, then free
me? I w-won't…."
"Hurt me then?" Stiles looked at him doubtfully.
Peter nodded slowly.
"Okay, fine, give the man another orgasm and then trust he won't attack me.
Awesome…" Stiles mumbled.
He knew that if Peter maimed him here, it wouldn't take that long for Lydia to
tell Derek what was going on and surely they'd find the Jeep and then the crypt
too. Peter wouldn't be able to escape, because the walls were pretty much
werewolf proof and the mountain ash Stiles had put in the doorway.
Suddenly making up his mind, Stiles put the bottle back and marched the five or
so steps to Peter. His mind conjured an image that made him gasp and he looked
at the wolf thoughtfully.
"So this is my first time doing anything like this. With a guy, or like pretty
much anyone, so…. But I just thought…."
Peter rolled his eyes at the nervous rambling in an utterly familiar way, and
Stiles thought screw this and dropped to his knees.
The cock he was now staring at on eye-level flexed and dripped more precum.
Licking his lips nervously, Stiles listened to Peter's half-crazed moan.
"Right, right, okay…. I can do this." Stiles took hold of the cock again,
realizing now it was maybe the same size as his own, just a little thicker and
darker in color. He'd tasted his own cum before, but this too would be the
first time….
"At least the witch chick made you bathe," he said with a small one shoulder
shrug.
He had no idea how the woman had made it happen, but Peter was pretty clean and
well fed for a prisoner.
One more fortifying thought of I can do this, and Stiles leaned in to lick the
clear drop from the head of Peter's cock. The taste was… weird. Again, not
completely foreign, but not quite familiar either.
"Might be the werewolf diet. Don't you guys hunt for fun?" he murmured, then
licked his lips again to make them wet and slid his mouth over the straining
erection.
He found that he liked it this way too. The weight of Peter on his tongue like
this, and the pulse he could feel from the cock if he held it in his fist
tightly enough—something Peter seemed to like. The taste was earthy, clean and…
nice. He could learn to like doing this a lot. With the right guy, naturally.
Not Peter Hale. Peter was just a practice piece.
He chuckled at the thought of having some practice meat in his mouth, and the
vibrations made Peter jerk and groan. Despite the fact that Stiles was holding
the cock with one fist, Peter's hips snapping forward caused him to almost
choke on it.
"Jesus, man, try to control yourself!" Stiles complained, then dove back in
with enthusiasm he was surprised to feel.
It didn't take long. And there was very little warning.
Suddenly the cock pulsed in his mouth and just as he was halfway into the
thought of "spit or swallow, let him come in my mouth or not?" his mouth
flooded with jet after jet of bitter cum.
Peter's cock seemed to be one of those gifts that just kept on giving, because
when Stiles pulled away, he got a spurt almost into his eye and he was already
having trouble swallowing what was in his mouth.
He backed away instinctively once again, fell on his butt and wiped his mouth
and face with his hand. The scent of sex was everywhere, and he realized he
liked it a lot.
"Okay, okay, now…. I suppose I should let you free," Stiles said, recognizing
the indecision in his voice as he said the words.
"Feet first, just in case." Stiles kept the monologue up for a while,
describing what he was doing as he used the bolt cutters to get through the
chains and the loops and the locks in the cuffs. It took a moment, but he
managed to get Peter's feet free.
When he straightened his back and looked at Peter's face, he was shocked to see
how much more there the man seemed to be.
"Wow, the sex actually works this well?" So maybe Stiles hadn't completely
believed in what he'd found out while doing his research.
"Still not safe," Peter croaked. "Anything to drink?"
"Yeah, sure, sorry." Stiles dropped the tool next to Peter's feet and went to
get the bottle of water from his bag.
"'M not safe out there, yet," Peter said, sounding almost ashamed. "In here,
sure. With… with what you offer."
"Oh believe me, I'm using you just as much as you're going to be using me,"
Stiles stated, then cringed at the thought of being used like that.
He opened the bottle and held it to Peter's lips, letting the man drink his
fill before tossing the empty bottle into a corner.
"Right… hands next?" Rhetorical, but Peter nodded and closed his eyes,
concentrating on something, probably keeping himself in check.
Now that Stiles had struggled with one pair of cuffs and chains, the second
pair was easier. He freed the left hand first, then managed to get the right
one free before noticing Peter was shaking.
"Wa-huh?" Stiles had time to say, before he was suddenly crushed into the wall
next to the marble ledge.
I don't want to die like this! The thought was loud and clear as he cringed and
closed his eyes, waiting for the claws.
No claws came, at least not like he'd expected. Instead, he was kept against
the wall with one hand, claws feeling like pinpricks on his neck, and the other
hand….
Stiles's eyes flew open when he felt Peter's claws on the front of his jeans.
"Wait, wait! Let me, don't… not with the claws, I like my privates where they
are!"
Peter grunted, sounding disturbingly like Derek for a second, but moved his
hand away from Stiles's nether regions.
Stiles struggled to open the fly, but managed to get it open soon enough. For
him. Not for Peter. Because by the time Stiles smiled proudly, he was already
being moved, manhandled and turned around and pushed face down on the ledge.
Ass up, cheek against the cold, dusty marble. Awesome.
"Lube!" He called out reflexively.
On another day, in a whole other situation it might have been funny to see how
Peter grabbed the bottle in his clawed hand and promptly pierced it with at
least two of his wolfy nails.
Stiles barked out a surprised laughter that died as soon as it appeared, when
the growling wolf man dumped what felt like half the bottle of cold slick stuff
on his ass.
"Holy fuck!"
Stiles's inner monologue was complementing him on the fact of having had sense
of buying a set of butt plugs—dare from Scott, don't ask—and working his way up
to the largest one just recently. Even more he appreciated the fact that he'd
held the plug in most of that day, because while he was pretty brazen a lot of
time, he was careful in stuff that came to sex, especially his first t—a blunt
pressure against his hole, a sharp, hard thrust, and Peter's cock was sliding
in.
The pain wasn't unexpected, Stiles was smarter than that, but the howl from the
man behind him surprised him a little. Stiles concentrated on the cool marble,
the flickering candlelight around them, the fact that Peter was obviously
trying to make this less like a forced situation than it had to be.
The hand, claws spread on Stiles's back between his shoulder blades, kept him
still while Peter tried to keep himself in check and give Stiles's body time to
adjust.
It didn't matter. He'd already be sore tomorrow as it was, and he told that to
Peter too.
"So move, man!"
And Peter did. The hips snapping back and forth, forcing the thick cock deeper
into Stiles's body than felt possible and then out and back in, and the steady
growly stream of expletives from Peter's lips….
Then something happened and it felt good. The burn was still there, but Peter
changed the angle—probably without realizing—and the head of his cock rubbed
over Stiles's prostate.
"Holy mother of—do that again!"
Peter did.
And Stiles's cock went from limp-from-the-pain to hard-as-marble in zero point
six seconds flat.
He moaned and reached his hand down under himself, only then realizing his
other hand's palm kept him from sliding head first into the wall. At least the
ledge was like half of a table, so that there was just enough space for his
torso and head, but his cock was hanging in the air, slapping against his
stomach with every thrust.
Apparently wolves had staying power, because it seemed like Peter could go on
forever now. Stiles, on the other hand, being the novice he was, startled when
his own climax rushed over him like a lightning storm, leaving his nerves
alight and his body a relaxed heap of flesh for Peter to thrust into.
He realized Peter was coming when the wolf went still just before pumping a
serious load of cum inside his poor abused ass. Stiles could feel it, and saw
it in his head how the cum would gush out of him after Peter pulled out. The
image of something so deliciously dirty made his cock twitch, and when Peter
was about to pull away, Stiles found himself slapping his hand back, taking
hold of the first thing he could feel; the remnants of Peter's shirt.
"No, don't!" Stiles cried out.
Peter pushed fully back inside Stiles and stilled again.
"Hurtin'?" The growly word was full of almost-caring-for-real, and Stiles shook
his head.
"No, just… one more time for the road?"
The choked sound from behind him confused Stiles at first, but when he turned
his head to look back, he could see the man behind him was laughing silently.
"Hey, you're not wolfing out anymore!"
"No, just stopped." Peter was being uncharacteristically non-snarky and normal
for a change.
"So can you? Again?" Stiles asked, then clarified. "Just to be sure, you know."
"Yeah, yeah right, just to be sure." Peter rolled his eyes in such a familiar
gesture, it made Stiles's stomach clench, and he felt better for knowing the
man was still "all there."
Slowly, Peter started to rock his hips again and Stiles let go of his shirt. He
crossed his arms under his head in lieu of a pillow and just rode the feelings
coursing through his body.
He felt almost shocked that it was this good, even with someone he didn't
particularly like. Naturally he'd thought of Peter some in the same way he'd
thought of everyone in the pack. What made them tick, their strengths and
weaknesses, that sort of thing. He knew, logically, that Peter had a reason to
be a snarky asshole most of the time. It wasn't just Derek who had lost
everything in that fire, after all. Being trouble and power hungry… those
things seemed to be just part of who Peter was as a person.
Suddenly, just as it was getting really good again, Peter let out a weird
sound.
"What?" Stiles turned to look back.
"I… uh…" Peter seemed to think something pretty damn hard, then his eyes
flashed all wolflike, and he looked at Stiles seriously. "Something's
happening, there's this wolf thing…."
"What wolf thing?" Stiles tried not to panic.
Although he was speaking Peter had also kept up the even thrusts, but now he
was suddenly stopping with his hips flush with Stiles's ass.
"Give me your hand," he told Stiles who obeyed without a comment.
Peter coaxed him to reach back to where they were joined, and suddenly Stiles's
fingers were touching something that was clearly on Peter's cock.
"W-what the hell is that?"
"Use your brain, Stiles. You have such a vivid imagination and you're oh so
intelligent." Ah, there was the snark again.
For a moment Stiles's brain tried, struggled, then… "Holy shit, wolves knot?"
"That's my boy…." Peter smirked, then began to slowly push forward again.
"What are you doing?!"
"What does it feel like I'm doing?" Peter held him down against the ledge
again, hands pressing Stiles onto the marble and hips driving forward
relentlessly.
"Oh my God, what—" Stiles's words became a garbled mess when suddenly his ass
was stretched beyond some limit he was only vaguely familiar with.
Peter groaned, drove forward as slowly as he probably could, and Stiles's nerve
endings fired everywhere in his body. The stretch was impossible, too much, not
enough, then too much again and he was about to gather his voice to tell Peter
to take it out when suddenly, startlingly, the knot popped inside him.
Stiles gasped. "Holy fuuuuuuuuck…."
Peter slumped against his back, breathing rapidly, no longer holding him down
but holding onto him. Stiles's fingers were grasping the edges of the marble,
anything to keep him from falling into pieces.
For a couple of minutes they just breathed through it, and then suddenly Peter
chuckled a little bit darkly.
"I should probably thank you for coming to get me. Took you a while though…."
"You want to talk now?"
"Not really, just… decided to thank you, that's all…."
Before Stiles could ask, Peter began to push his hips against Stiles. It
couldn't be called thrusting; there just wasn't any space, but the little he
managed.... Stiles could feel the knot press against his prostate. It wasn't
much as far as touches went, but it was like someone had tossed Stiles into one
long orgasm.
He barely registered anything but the continuous nudges, the way he was
beginning to babble, and then Peter's hand reaching for his cock.
"Come on now, Stiles. Let's see how many times I can make you come before the
knot recedes again."
With something akin to a howl, Stiles came. And came. And came, and then he
came some more. Later he'd wonder if he passed out at some point, because the
pleasure overwhelmed him and his body, and something inside him snapped and he
just… floated.
Eventually he felt Peter flooding his ass with even more cum, and then
gradually the knot got smaller and smaller, finally letting Peter pull out.
This time Stiles was way beyond telling him not to. He winced at the feeling,
then groaned into his arm when he felt the cum gush out just like he'd seen in
his mind.
Then something weird happened. He heard Peter move behind him and all of a
sudden Stiles's brain almost short-circuited again. He struggled to understand
what was going on, and finally his brain provided him even dirtier vision that
was actually happening; Peter was licking the cum off him.
It couldn't be anything but a tongue and hot breath running up his thigh and
higher, his balls and taint and finally to his well-used hole. He felt his body
tremble as he tried to hold still, curious, appalled, and oddly turned on at
the same time.
He didn't know how long it went on, the tongue touching him everywhere on the
outside and even inside, but eventually Peter nipped at his ass hard enough to
leave a mark there, and stood up.
Slowly Stiles straightened himself, standing next to the marble ledge and
leaned his hip to it while looking down at himself.
"Well obviously you're not dangerous anymore. Think we can go back to Beacon
Hills now?" Stiles forced himself to ask for the sake of normalcy.
Peter didn't say anything, and when Stiles looked at him, he could see the man
grinning and licking his lips.
"Oh my God could you be more suggestive? After… after all that?" He gestured at
the ledge and his ass and something about the gesturing or something else set
Peter off laughing.
Stiles stood there, jeans around one ankle, shirt a little shredded, and stared
at the only Hale he'd never really liked that much.
"I can't believe this situation," Peter finally wheezed. "You want my nephew,
but somehow he ends up with another human instead, and then you run to my
rescue like some teenaged knight in tattered plaid…."
Stiles rolled his eyes and got dressed again. He found one of his sneakers by
the wall and pulled it on.
"You seriously owe me one, man," he muttered while going back to his bag. He
tossed one of his own shirts he had as back up at Peter.
The man looked at the plaid shirt like it had the plague, but after one look at
himself, he stripped off his shredded shirt and put on Stiles's offering. He'd
pulled up his pants, and for someone in such a situation, Peter Hale looked
quite good. How unfair was that?
"We ready to go?" Stiles asked and went to the line of black powder on the
floor and scraped it away with his shoe.
He walked on, cleaning the way for Peter, and left all the candles burning
because what would they light up in a tomb anyway? Needing to get back home, he
marched out and cross the now pitch black cemetery in the light of the partial
moon, because he just didn't want to root for his flashlight from the bag. He
tripped at everything still, wondered if de-virginized people were supposed to
be more graceful, and got to his Jeep just before Peter showed up silently as
the wolf he was.
"Look, I'm sorry," the man said when they got into the car.
Stiles remained quiet, and eventually Peter started to talk again.
"I shouldn't make fun of you. Sure, you're annoying as hell and all that, but I
have to say you're the only one of the pack I don't really mind that much. And
you did do me a favor and possibly saved my life."
Snorting, Stiles glanced from the road to Peter. "That's just awesome. I'd
complain about losing my v-card to someone who 'doesn't mind me much', but I
chose to do this."
They sat in silence for the rest of the way, until Peter realized where Stiles
was going.
"You're taking me to Derek's?"
"Yes. Gotta show him you're here, he's pretty pissed off at me for not telling
I knew you were gone sooner."
"You do realize he'll know what happened?" Peter seemed serious and slightly
concerned.
"What? Am I bothered by the fact all the wolves will know you fucked me?
Actually," Stiles thought for a moment. "I'm not. Let them think whatever they
want."
"Okay…." Peter seemed to mull the thought over in his head. Then he let out a
loud bark of laughter.
"What?"
"She'll be there. I want to see her expression when she makes him tell what's
wrong with the picture."
Jennifer, yes. Neither of them liked the woman much, and the way she was always
so cheerful and oh so loving and understanding…. Yeah, this would rattle her,
and Stiles felt glad. She tried her best, but sometimes she didn't understand
as well as she thought, and this was one of those times.
"She'll freak out. I'm a minor and you're what, old?"
"Shut up, Stiles. I'm not that old and you're not that innocent." Peter
scoffed.
"I just had underage sex with you. My dad is the sheriff."
"I can rip your throat out with my claws."
Stiles considered these facts and nodded slowly. "We're even?"
Peter's voice was surprisingly casual when he answered. "Yup."
"What's the knot for?" Stiles asked when they parked in front of Derek's.
"Breeding thing." Peter shrugged and got out of the Jeep.
"Wait, there's no such thing as male pregnancy in werewolves, right? With all
this mystical shit going on around you…." He shivered delicately and followed
Peter inside and the elevator.
"Oh, who knows?" Peter smirked at him, leaving Stiles standing there inside the
elevator as he stepped out and into the loft.
"You coming? Again?" Peter called over his shoulder.
 
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