Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11423142.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Knotting, Anal_Sex, Rimming, Fingering,
      Anal_Fingering, Anal_Play, Biting, Rough_Sex, Scent_Marking, Scenting,
      Feminization, Shaving, Lingerie, Bathing/Washing, Is_there_such_a_thing
      as_sexy_bathing_without_any_actual_sex_happening?, Come_Inflation, Kinda,
      Hand_Jobs, Breeding, Overstimulation, Nipple_Play, Mating, Neck_Kissing,
      Love_Bites, Praise_Kink, Bottom_Stiles_Stilinski, Top_Peter_Hale, Clothed
      Sex, cross-dressing, Cock_Warming, Manipulation, Stiles_is_a_Sneaky_Boy,
      boys_in_lingerie
  Series:
      Part 3 of endless_curiosities
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-06 Words: 5631
****** sugar sweet (good enough to eat) ******
by sinntowin
Summary
     Stiles discovers the magic of subtle suggestion to get what he wants
     (spoiler: it's Peter Hale).
     or
     Peter Hale thinks he's in control but Stiles Stilinski knows
     otherwise.
Notes
     guess who finally posted this!! this was created due to a prompt from
     tazzlest on tumblr, somehow this became the longest oneshot i've ever
     written, sorry for taking so long lmao
     my_writing_side_blog is open for prompts, so if you'd like something
     specifically written i'll see what I can do!
     also sorry in advance for any spelling/ grammatical mistakes, I don't
     have a beta so they might happen
See the end of the work for more notes
 
It wasn’t unusual for Peter to come home to find his human catnapping on his
bed after running pack errands for his incompetent alpha - in fact, it had
become a common occurrence.
Peter had made no move to dissuade Stiles from the habit either, instead he was
very much enamored with his Stiles-scented sheets. It meant that even when his
human was out doing pack related business - which meant he wouldn't be coming
back to his bed - he would still have the memory of his scent buried in the
sheets.
It was, however, more than a little strange to find Stiles, completely nude
(not completely uncommon, but enough so to give Peter a very pleasant surprise)
in the middle of the day, nestled into his silken sheets (which were a recent
purchase he now definitely didn't regret).
The werewolf couldn’t help the low, throaty rumble that tickled his throat at
such a lovely sight.
The human’s long, slender limbs blushed a delicate peach in his sleep,
contrasting beautifully with the cream sheets, and even in his sleep Stiles was
on his back, belly bared in unconscious submission; his head tilted in a way
that flaunted his slender neck.
Peter’s teeth itched to bury themselves in that tender column of flesh.
Blazing eyes trailed their way down his chest, alighting on his human’s sweet
nipples, which had the same peachy hue as the rest of his body. They were still
toothsome with fat despite Stiles willowy stature, and would turn a lovely rosy
colour when grazed with Peter’s sharp teeth.
Ignoring the steadily rising heat that was beginning in his stomach, the ‘were
trailed his eyes down even further, eyes lingering on the taut skin of Stiles’
stomach before moving further down and coming to rest on his human's sweet
cock, resting soft and flushed in the crease of where his thigh met his groin.
Peter felt his mouth watered, and it was only the budding idea forming in the
back of his mind that kept him from waking Stiles (or maybe not) and ravishing
him until all he could remember was how to scream Peter’s name.
After another long slow look at Stiles he steeled his resolve and went back
downstairs to do some research.
And if he did happen to take a picture on his way out who was to know?
 
===============================================================================
 
Stiles stared curiously at the expensive looking bag sitting innocently on
Peter’s bed.
Peter was in the shower and had left a note on the marble island in his kitchen
to just go straight into their (their,Stiles felt pathetic by getting so
excited over such a stupid thing even after months of dating) bedroom.
When Peter left him notes like this it usually meant something interesting was
about to happen. And when Stiles said interesting, he meant sexy things. Sexy,
sexy things.
The bag was black with a matte finish and a very french name in gold that
Stiles couldn't even begin to pronounce. Another note was in front of the bag.
‘Open me’.  
“Is this what Alice felt like?” he couldn't help but mutter to himself after a
long, slow blink.
Wasting no time he quickly dropped himself down on the bed after grabbing the
bag, peering inside with interest.
Black tissue paper obscured his view of whatever that was inside and the teen
eagerly jammed his hands into the bag, tongue sticking out as he rummaged
around before his hand encountered something unexpectedly… silky.
Stiles slowly brought his hand out, his fingers still wrapped in the
gratifyingly soft fabric and promptly froze.
He held the garment up with both hands to get a better image of what he was
holding.
A flustered blush slowly rose in his cheeks and his embarrassment only worsened
when his libido raised an interested eyebrow.
It was a… dress? No, too short… too see-through to be a dress. As far as Stiles
could tell it was some kind of babydoll as he held it up by its thin straps.
The skirt was made of ruffled, transparent white silk with delicate lace trim
adorning the very bottom, that when Stiles hesitantly held it up to his own
body only came to the very tops of his thighs. An equally white satin ribbon
wrapped around where his ribs would be, tied in a delicate bow. The top half of
the babydoll were what Stiles could only describe as half cups, the plush but
lightly padded material would stop just above his nipples - then gave way into
more lovely creamy transparent lace in what he thought he had heard Lydia refer
to as a ‘sweetheart neckline’ before while talking to Allison about prom
dresses (completely by chance by the way, not like he was listening in or
anything).
The teen tried to silence his brain from running away with itself as he peeked
into the back bag again and saw something else hiding in the back tissue paper.
This time he couldn’t quite silence his ‘eep’ when he pulled out what could
only be a pair of glossy panties (decorated with another delicate satin bow
front and centre) with a garterbelt and stockings to match. The stockings would
come all the way up to the middle of his thighs, much more opaque than the
babydoll however still slightly transparent, and ended in the same beautifully
detailed lace at the tops where they would fasten to the garterbelt.
Stiles’ eyes then caught on another innocent looking note that must have fallen
out of the bag when he was rummaging through it.
This time the message read ‘Come into the bathroom’.
After carefully placing the silken lingerie on the equally silken bed-sheets
(gently and spread out as to not crease the silk), he treaded as quietly as
possible over to the door despite knowing that the werewolf could probably hear
him and pushed the door open.
He blinked into the room twice in confusion as he saw Peter reclining on the
plush ottoman he kept next to the freestanding tub (Stiles still can’t come to
terms with how loaded his boyfriend is) with his usual casual black v neck and
lounge pants, a battered copy of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War sat next to him.
“You weren’t even showering,” the teen narrowed his eyes, a blush still high on
his cheeks.  
“No,” the smug smile was irritating as Peter offered no explanation and instead
seemed to be intently studying Stiles.
The teen couldn't help but shuffle a little, nervous, under the werewolf’s
close scrutiny.
“So... what’s up with the present?” he finally made himself ask, bright eyes
focusing sharply on the ‘weres.
“Just a little something I thought of the other day. Do you not like it?” a
toothy grin - the wolf will have smelt exactly what Stiles had felt about the
lingerie even from the other side of the door, he was just teasing him now.
However Stiles knew exactly what Peter’s game was and only raised a single
eyebrow in response, not satisfying him with an answer before asking “So,
what’s the real reason for you luring me into the bathroom? Since you’re
clearly not using it for it’s actual intended purpose,” Amber eyes lingered on
the cover of the book next to Peter with amusement.
“I figured we ought to make you extra pretty so you can match your special
gift.” the ‘were leered at the spark in a way that had Stiles fighting not to
blush and had to fight his first impulse to flail a little.
“Oh yeah?” He tried to sound challenging but he was pretty sure he just sounded
confused.
“Mmhmm,” Peter’s eyes watched him knowingly, no doubt noticing how his heart
rate had picked up. Slowly, deliberately, the ‘were leaned over to turn one of
the tub taps and the sound of running water filled the empty air of the
bathroom and - Stiles was pretty damn sure he shouldn't find that so arousing.
What was he? Was he a newly awakended watersexual? Would he get a H2Boner?  
Thankfully Peter interrupted that train of thought, “Will you let me bathe
you?”
Without even thinking Stiles gave a dumb nod. It wasn't the first time for
something like this to happen, and the human even found it kind of arousing -
for Peter it was a scent marking thing, covering Stiles completely with his
scent so nobody could confuse who he belonged to.    
And yes, it was also a sex thing. A sexy, sexy sex thing.
Who in their right mind would turn down their hot werewolf boyfriend lavishing
attention on their naked bodies with very expensive shower lotion? Not Stiles
Stilinski that’s who.
Not even five minutes later the teen was undressed and climbing into faintly
rose-scented, pink water trying his best not to feel to self-conscious even
though his back was turned to the ‘were and the water was all the way up to his
hips; cloudy enough not to be seen easily through.
There was something in the way that Peter was looking at him today, it felt -
different.It felt more reverent than just admiring and the goosebumps that rose
on his pale flesh were more than just a faint chill on his skin.
Peter leaned over Stiles from his perch on the ottoman and flicked on the
shower-head attached to the taps and waited for the water to warm before
turning it on Stiles. Deft fingers scraped pleasantly against his scalp, making
sure the water thoroughly wetted his hair before setting it aside. Then came
the shampoo, and conditioner, this time something sweeter, more fruity than
Peter’s usual brand - it smelt like peaches - and Stiles hummed happily.
A gentle, soothing rumble had started in the ‘weres chest, making Stiles want
to go boneless in satisfaction. When Peter started to speak Stiles almost
didn’t register it, almost.
“Such a sweet boy for me,” a sigh.  
“Sitting so prettily for me, like a lovely little doll.” Satisfaction coated
every syllable of Peter’s words and Stiles could almost feel his spine start to
go liquid at the praise; a creeping kind of arousal beginning to spread through
his veins.
Being called pretty was a novelty concept to Stiles, it has always felt like
people dismissed him before they had even glanced in his direction, the only
attention he’d ever gotten before the whole werewolf fiasco was the negative
kind; the obligatory kind as the sheriff's kid.
But with Peter it was something so much different - the older ‘were doted on
him, treated him like he was something to be cherished - had witty, sarcastic
conversations that stimulated him rather than leaving his mind to stagnate with
the lack of intelligent, willing conversationalists.
And Stiles adored the ‘were right back, accepted his flaws and celebrated his
assets.
They worked well together.
Now Peter was talking a soft cloth which had been covered with another dainty
smelling soap; reverently rubbing it across the human’s skin in firm motions -
over the sharp protrusions of his collarbones, down his chest, briskly over his
nipples (much to Stiles’ dismay), back up again to his shoulders; arms…
Stiles felt like he was royalty, being held so tightly in his boyfriend’s arms,
being gently cleaned - loved.
He was kinda getting emotional, sue him.
Until that warm soapy cloth reached his lower abdomen, because then, hooooo
boy- having a sappy, cutesy lovefest was pushed so far down his to-do list it
might as well have been in an alternate universe.
The spark couldn’t quite help the sharp gasp that escaped his lips when Peter’s
flannel wrapped hand gently grasped his dick, his hips twitching upwards in
little motions.
The ‘were’s gentle hushing had Stiles’ head falling back to rest on his
shoulder, little shuddering breaths washing against the older man’s jawline.
Stiles was at a loss at how sensitive he was, he was used to things between him
and Peter being intense, but not this intense.
A couple of achingly slow pumps later he was let go, and the spark couldn't
stop the despairing keen that escaped his open lips.  
Deft hands continued to clean Stiles’ hips, legs, feet - yet his erection was
still apparent, his body unable to quell the mounting arousal that lingered
from the gentle, adoring touches that graced his quivering flesh.
When Peter brought out a newly bought, expensive looking razor, Stiles nearly
nearly up and got out right then, but something about the look on Peter’s face
kept him still. After a few more moments of nothing, Peter staring at him
patiently and waiting for any sign of unwillingness, the human managed a small
huff before twisting himself so that he could place the sole of one foot on the
edge of the tub and started at the werewolf impatiently.
The pleased hum that Peter gave in response was enough of a reward in itself,
but as the razor was gently dragged across his legs Stiles couldn't quite deny
the strange feeling of arousal that came with it. The drag of the razor was
almost velvety against his skin (how expensive was this thing? ), and even
while Stiles wasn’t a particularly hairy guy, it was pretty satisfying to see
all the smooth skin that was under the hair that he did have, and was excited
for the extra sensitivity that came with it ( because yes, he had shaved his
legs before dammit it’s called human curiosity. Also rubbing smooth legs
together in bed was very, very , nice thank you very much).
After his legs were finished Peter immediately moved on a little higher up, and
Stiles, as he was now pliant with warm, hazy pleasure, didn’t mind all that
much, and stretched himself out obligingly. Luckily he still wasn't at full
mast, rather at some degree of half boned up, so that his own dick didn't get
in the way of Peter shaving the well-managed hair at his crotch.
Stiles was so zoned out that he almost wasn't listening to the sweet, gentle
words of praise that Peter was murmuring to him, instead he just let them wash
over him. Eventually, almost all the hair other than the hair on his head and
arms was gone.
Peter used the shower attachment to wash the suds and any remaining hair from
Stiles’ milky skin, then proceeded to help him out of the bath, quickly
wrapping a fluffy cream towel the teen to protect him against the slight chill
of the bathroom; making him sit on the ottoman again.
The ‘were pulled the towel over Stiles’ head and continued to dry his hair
thoroughly, then patted the rest of his body down.
Stiles then clung onto Peter for dear life as the werewolf suddenly hauled him
up into his arms when he was deemed fully dry and proceeded to carry the teen
into the bedroom.
Stiles felt his breath catch again when he caught sight of the bag still sat
innocently on the bed, and after a glance at his boyfriend saw the criminal
curl of his lips staring at the same bag.
“So, what’s the big idea?” Stiles tried to puff himself up the best he could
while being cradled like a pretty princess in Peter’s arms, but even he could
tell he was about as intimidating at as a wet kitten.  
Stiles was placed on the side of the bed and Peter loomed over him with that
naughty grin still in place.
“I wanted to confirm something,” there was something hungry curling in the
undertones of that cultured tenor that made Stiles all the more aware of the
predator that Peter could be; was.
“Which is?” Stiles’ eyes were lit, mahogany glowing amber from within with the
anticipation pressing up under his skin.
“If you’ll be even more of a pretty little bitch under me if you’re dressed
like one,” hot breath against his ear.
Something that wasn't just impatience was building under Stiles’ skin, causing
the sparse hair on his arms to lift and tremble with a barely there crackle of
electricity that his spark produced. Peter’s nostrils flared as the smell of
ozone amalgamated to the heady Stiles-smell of wood smoke and pine - tinted
with edge of rose from the scented water from the bath and peach shampoo in a
way that was far from unpleasant - and knew he better get the show on the road
before he just pinned his human down and his wicked way with him, surprise or
no surprise.
Leaning over his human’s bare body, Peter reached for the bag containing his
newest purchase and placed it beside him. Stiles’ breath caught as the werewolf
knelt before him, watched as his wide hands contrasted wonderfully with the
delicate, glossy fabric of the stockings.
Wordlessly, the werewolf began to dress Stiles, sliding the expensive feeling
fabric over the teen’s smooth and newly sensitive legs, attentatively making
sure that there were no creases in the fine fabric and positioning the lacey
top of the stockings perfectly, the creamy lace ending mid-thigh, the closeness
of this hands to Stiles’ plump cock a cruel tease, so close but not nearly
close enough.
After the second stocking was positioned, next came the panties, which were
another horrible tease as the slid smoothly up his bare thighs, Peter urging
him to stand up so that they could be pulled up all the way. They were much
more sheer than Stiles had first thought, but still decorated with pretty white
lace at the bottom, the fabric was so clingy and silky against his needy cock
that he couldn't quite contain the desperate whine that escaped his lips.
The panties pressed his erection up and against his abdomen, the thin elastic
band around his hips not fully covering his cock, leaving roughly a third
exposed. In the light of the bedroom Stiles could see the sticky-wet tip of his
cock glisten and his blush was so hot it burned his face, only getting worse
when his cock jumped as Peter kissed his hipbone just above his new underwear,
nuzzing the delicate flesh there.
Then came the garter belt, pulled gently up to his waist, not sparing his
oversensitive erection and swiftly fastening the clasps to the top of his
stockings.
In between Peter reaching for the babydoll and fastening the clasps, Stiles
definitely saw those hungry eyes sweep over him, and he was probably quite the
sight - a gangly teenager in lingerie, what could be better?
However, that seemed to be Peter’s type, and since Stiles was the one who found
a excruciatingly pedantic, murdering werewolf with a knot on his dick right up
his alley he didn't think he was one to judge.  
Stiles blindly raised his arms as the werewolf began to slide the babydoll over
his head. It was pulled gently into place and then he wasn't being touched at
all. The teen blinked with hazy eyes up at his lover, his mind suddenly going
quiet with all but the heady throbbing of arousal lighting up  his body and the
desperate desire to display himself before Peter, to entice him to touch his
needy body.
There was a sharp bite of recognition when the flash of a phone camera broke
him slightly out of his stupor, a heated blush taking over his body even as he
stretched his limbs out to give the camera a better view, unable to stop
himself from giving Peter what he wanted.
“You better keep those private,” Stiles eventually managed, tongue feeling
thick even though all of his blood was surely pooling in other places than his
head.
“And you should know better that I am a very possessive man, and you are very
much mine ,” the last word was spoken in such a way that it made the teen’s
cock twitch.
Dear Lord, he was so fucking gone on Peter Hale.
The teen made no move to resist as the ‘were pushed him back on the plush
bedding, only watching meekly as the older man snapped a couple more photos on
his way.
Eventually the expensive smartphone was thrown carelessly over Peter’s shoulder
and landing with a thump on the floor, and Stiles’ neck was being aggressively
scented by a purring ‘were.
“I’m thinking about making that my phone wallpaper,” the conversational tone of
the statement surprised a laugh out of Stiles - that Peter could act so
unnaffected in situations like this really was a testament to how much self-
control he has. The man could bullshit his way out of anything, and the teen
would be lying if he said that he didn't find that hot as hell.
However, Stiles could also feel something that definitely wasn't cell phone
pressing against his thigh, so maybe Peter wasn't so unaffected after all.
Then, suddenly before the teen could form an answer (probably on purpose, the
dick), Stiles’ limbs twitched spastically at an unexpected bite at the
collarbone, then the hot, soothing tongue that followed.
“Shithead,” Stiles gasped, his hindbrain revelling in the dark chuckle it drew
from the man on top of him.
“Hush sweetheart, let me take care of you, hmm?” Strong arms slid under Stiles’
slender hips and fluidly brought him to sit in Peter’s lap, who’s back was
leaning the bed’s headboard.
The human looked down at Peter through his lashes, breathing audibly; watching
as the ‘weres gaze caught on the tongue that darted out to wet his lips.
“I was wrong.” Peter confirmed as if he was speaking to himself.
“Hmm?” the human asked dazedly.
“You look just as much of a pretty little bitch when you're dressed like that
on top of me too,” a wicked flash of teeth. Stiles snorted a sound that quickly
turned into a gasp as the ‘were tugged down the lacy top of the babydoll to
catch one of his nipples between his fingers.
“I love how sensitive you are here, just like a pretty little girl,” the older
man’s voice was closer to a coo than Stiles had ever heard it and he couldn't
help but preen at the praise. He didn't miss Peter’s indulgent smile as he
leant in to catch his other nipple between his teeth, biting slowly down until
Stiles hissed a little with the mixed pleasurepain from abusing such a
sensitive part of his body.
The ‘were nuzzled close and placed slow, loving licks across the rosy little
nipple, his other hand gently twisting the other as he listened to his human’s
laboured breathing, inhaled the thick scent of their combined arousal that
threatened to make his dizzy.
Peter settled in, almost playing with the sweet little bud on his tongue,
rolling it, scraping it against his teeth and delighting in the way Stiles’
hips twitched because of it. Suckling soft and slow and then meanly, eventually
pulling back to observe his work and nothing in satisfaction the cherry red
colour that was all his doing then moving onto the other - Peter wouldn't be
surprised if Stiles’ nipples were sore for a couple days after this, and even
knowing all the bitching he would receive from it he couldn't quite bring
himself to care.
Peter let his human bury his long, clever hands in his hair, wrapping the locks
around his fingers and pulling his closer, listened in satisfaction as Stiles
gasped and moaned under his breath and in turn brought a hand down to the front
of his mate’s pretty panties, feeling up the plump length hidden under the
silk, lightly rubbing his fingertips over the sensitive and leaking head.
“Peter, fuck,” Stiles managed through clenched teeth, feeling ridiculously
aware of his body all at once.
A “Soon, sweetheart,” was murmured against his raw nipple, the little
vibrations enough to make him hiccup a sob and tug the ‘weres head even closer
in desperation for something.
Another smooth transition had Stiles on his back under the ‘were, writhing as
he got his mouth on the sweet tip of the teen’s dick, lapping interestedly at
the weeping head and revelling in the desperate sounds it drew out of the
spark’s contracting throat.
Stiles felt like he was going to crawl out of his own body, even with only the
hot, wet touch of Peter’s mouth to his body he felt fucked out.
Stiles was worked over for what felt like hours but could have only been twenty
minutes, enduring the sweet gentle caresses of Peter’s hands over his flushed
skin; sharp teeth against pulse points, before Peter finally flipped him onto
his stomach, pulling his panties down just enough to get to the soft furl of
pink in between his cheeks.
Stiles trembled in delight when he felt the ‘were spread him open, arching into
the touch hungrily and listening dazedly to the gentle murmurings behind him.
“What apretty little pussy you have, hmm sweetheart? Pink like candy, such a
prettybaby,” the coos threatened to make the teen’s spine go more liquid than
it already was, but he fought to keep his hips up and presented to the ‘were,
waiting with a rising sense of impatience for Peter to put his mouth right
where Stiles wanted it.
Stiles almost sobbed at the first brush of Peter’s lips against his contracting
rim, the stinging rasp of his five o’clock shadow against his perineum, the
first touch of a hungry wet tongue, the sloppy press of it against his
entrance.
Stiles could barely breathe through the sudden onslaught of sensation, it was
all he could do to sink his teeth into a cushion by his face to keep his
embarrassing noises in.
Peter’s tongue was relentless, pressing and pressing, warming up his clenching
entrance until it was sweet and flexible, so slick inside because of excess
saliva; making absolutely filthy wet noises as the ‘were ate him out
thoroughly.
The teen couldn't help a wet cry as Peter suddenly pressed a long, thick finger
into his cramping heat, pressing in and in until he found that something that
made his spine bow and legs kick in shock.
Although Stiles guessed it shouldn't be so much of a surprise now that Peter
could find his prostate so quickly even after a bit more than a handful of
months together, the ‘were was a quick learner… And they both had a veryhealthy
sexual appetite.
“Peter,Peter holy fuck,” the teen gasped breathlessly, pressing back onto the
exquisite pressure on his prostate, keenly aware that his cock was dripping
onto the expensive sheets below, knowing it was gonna stain them, before
thinking with a filthy thrill that he didn't really mind.
“I know sweetheart, you’re panting for it, aren't you?” the tone did little to
really soothe Stiles as he only arched his back harder in demand to be mounted.
“Please,” a keen.
“Soon,”
Stiles was forced to lay there was Peter slowly stretched him, determined to
take his time, even if taking his time was exactly the last thing on Stiles’
list of things to be doing.
He felt like his entrance was almost gaping with how relaxed Peter’s fingers
had made it, soft and tender and open.
Stiles heart jumped when he heard the distinctive jingle of a belt being
undone, already eagerly pressing further back, trying to get that fat length
inside him already.
The thick wet heat of Peter’s cock dragged directly across the sticky sweet
centre of him, once, twice, enough for him to fling a couple of breathless
curse words at the ‘were for testing his patience even further only get a
tender stroke of a hand at his hip in response.
As soon as Stiles had resolved to wait Peter’s cruel teasing out, knowing for a
fact the bastard got off on it (that Stiles did too didn’t matter here, shut up
inner monologue), the ‘were suddenly notched the thick head of his dick into
his sweet little gape, causing Stiles mind to go almost completely quiet.
Small hiccupping breaths fluttered in the teens lungs, his teeth had released
the expensive bed sheets and his eyes stared blindly as his body went into
hyper focus on the intensity of Peter splitting him on his cock, slowly and
gently pulling Stiles’ slender waist back into the cradle of his hips.
“That’s it sweetheart, breathe for me,” and as much as Peter sounded
unaffected, through his haze Stiles was able to hear the underlying tension
that was hidden there.
Not so unaffected after all, then.Stiles thought to himself with heavy
satisfaction.
These thoughts, however soon evaporated as Peter began fucking him at a
tortuously slow pace, pulling out unhurriedly and pressing back in just the
same, rubbing along Stiles’ insides in a way that made him want to cry with how
intimate it felt.
That they were both still pretty much fully clothed (in Stiles’ case, as fully
clothed as you could be in full lingerie) added a naughty edge to the
atmosphere, the teen’s hindbrain still taking great pleasure in the feeling of
the silky underwear against his skin.
Peter was kneeling now so that he almost covered his lover head to toe,
pressing his body under his own, keeping Stiles right where he wanted him - at
just the right angle to press as deep as possible.
Stiles was shuddering, thighs clenching and unclenching with every other
thrust, the beginning of the filthy, slick sounds of getting pounded into the
mattress, the ‘weres now heavily flowing precome slicking Stiles’ insides to
the point of overflowing.
Peter rutted almost desperately into the give of his body, pressing and
pressing and pressing, stuffing the teen so full it felt like he could barely
breathe.
The ‘were was hardly pulling out now.
Their fucking was now grind dirty enough to make Stiles’ vision turn a little
black around the edges - his prostate was tapped so hard it felt like he was
being bruised on the inside.
Peter’s teeth itched to sink themselves into the delicate skin at Stiles neck
and groaned in heavy satisfaction when he did, listening to the sweet
submissive sound it drew from the teen under him.
The base of the Peter’s cock had become tender and itchy hot, and his entire
body was growing taut in primal need with the onset of orgasm.
“Fuck,” the ‘were gritted desperately, hips stuttering as his knot started to
swell, his hands clutching Stiles hips too hard, knowing it was going to leave
bruises and revelling in it.
Stiles’ breath was wild and gasping, and he couldn’t help but stare glassily
ahead as his hips pressed back of their own accord.
Stiles didn’t know when he’d started to get off on the sensation of being
overfull, maybe during the first couple months of being with Peter, but now he
didn’t think it was something he could live without.
The feeling of being fucked open, stuffed full, left dripping and crying from
the overstimulation was a high that the teen couldn't get enough of, and he
felt it now as he hung off Peter’s knot like a bitch in heat, hands gripping
weakly into the expensive sheets and the sweat on his skin seeping into
lingerie that probably cost more than he cared to think about.
Stiles was shocked out his stupor as one of Peter’s too warm, wide hands
pressed firmly into his abdomen, forcing him to feel just how full he was. The
teen could even feel the strong pulses of Peter against his insides as he came,
drenching Stiles’ insides and filling him to way past the brim only for it to
be forced deeper with no way past the ‘were’s knot.
Stiles muscles started to twitch as like was being electrocuted when Peter’s
spare hand closed around his erection, gripping it tightly and stroking slow -
hissing in pleasure when it caused the teen to reflexively tighten up around
him, pulling another strong wave of pleasure through his veins.
Sobs wracked the teen’s slender frame as he finally reached his climax, seizing
and contracting around Peter’s cock sporadically, listening to Peter’s frantic
cussing, only muffled by the ‘were’s teeth in his neck.
Stiles was still trembling as Peter gently maneuvered them onto their sides so
that they could lay comfortably while they were knotted together, holding him
tenderly as they both came down from the high of sex together.
The ‘were was now regretting not completely stripping as his clothes were
getting uncomfortable but didn't want to risk shifting and ruining their
comfortable position, so he settled in for the long haul, listening to the
steady breathing of his human as he drifted into sleep.
 
===============================================================================
 
Stiles awoke the next morning to sun warming his skin and his sometimes
homicidal werewolf boyfriend sleeping soundly next to him, looking unfairly
attractive even in sleep.
His muscles ached beautifully as he stretched, his lithe limbs arching rather
gracefully across the fresh sheets - Peter must have changed them while he was
sleeping.
The human also took note of the distinct lack of stickiness he’d expected to
wake up to, Peter must have cleaned him up too.
Overwhelming affection clogged the teen’s throat for a few seconds as he
watched his boyfriend sleep before his ADHD brain jumped to the apparently
cleaned lingerie hung neatly on the door to the bedroom.
(Seriously, no wonder Peter was sleeping if he managed to do all this before
Stiles woke up)
The glossy lace and silky material gave him pleasant shivers from the night
before, and the teen couldn't help the sly grin that overtook his kiss bruised
mouth.
His Lydia approved plan of leaving the blonde’s lingerie catalogues on the
den’s mahogany coffee tables and Stiles lounging naked on Peter’s expensive
sheets had worked a treat.
He wondered if he could get that ancient bestiary he’d been lusting after for
months that way?
Probably.
End Notes
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