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From the papers of Dr. Benn Xavier on Instinctual Behaviors within Modern Were Clans , (PhD - Supernatural Studies)
Long capturing humans’ popular imagination, since medieval times werewolves have been one of the world’s most intriguing supernatural beings. In certain cases, this interest in werefolk may be attributed to the human propensity to connect virtually everything to some kind of sexual fetish. Moving beyond this base and simplistic proclivity, however, the larger part of this fascination lies in the narratives of historic lore regarding werewolves’ “horrifying” animalistic natures. These natures exemplify internal human tensions. Symbolizing the balance/struggle of dualities taken to the extreme, werewolves embody the battle of the“civilized” human individual between those tamed and feral parts of one’s creaturely drives.
The lure of the werewolf (with the evolution of contemporary lore) is that its human soul keeps the wolf essence within them grounded so they never entirely fall permanently into a truly unmitigated wildness. However, continuing from arguments laid in past papers that werewolves are not myth and exist among us, from my research of modern supernaturals encountered in current pop culture narratives (movies, tv, novels, fan “fictions”), there are some aspects of werewolf behavior and biology revealed which dominate, regardless of this “higher” human side. In this regard, just like their animal counterparts, there are clear instinctual werewolf traits that cannot be suppressed without unnatural intervention. Depending on country, region, and other affiliations, such wolfish behaviors must be carefully navigated to varying degrees by the modern “closeted” supernatural in order to pass undetected within human culture.
An example of one such instinctual drive is found in the article “A Reassessment of the Function of Scent Marking in Werewolf Territories” published in Imagined Ethnologies, 2010, by Dr. I.C. Cryos. Here, Dr. Cryos explains different scent-marking strategies used by animals to identify their territories. Expanding these in relation to werewolves, he proposes scent-marking, both geographic and corporeal, as a critical component of werewolf clan culture and details behaviors specific to these differing types of territories.
In true wolves, Dr. Cryos notes the advertising of territories to other packs through howling and scent-marking, the latter often involving different corporal fluids. "Lone wolves will rarely scent-mark, while newly bonded pairs scent-mark the most. Scent marks are generally left every 240 m (260 yd) throughout a wolf’s territory on frequently used travel ways and junctions. Such markers can last for two to three weeks and are typically placed near rocks, boulders or trees."(Cryos 2010)
From this original data, Dr. Cryos expands, delving deeply into how such markings manifest in modern werewolf societies. He writes extensively on the use of particular glandular secretions and other bodily fluids while extrapolating on aspects of territoriality through a cultural lens dictated by canine pack dominance dynamics. With no disrespect intended, some of Dr. Cryos’ ideas lean precariously toward the realm of my earlier statement on fetish. However, the core of his paper holds significant merit in proposing some form of scent-marking rituals developed in werewolves over the centuries from deep biological impulses ingrained from their lupine heritage and that these non-human behaviors continue to be enacted to degrees related to territorial dominance and the social and emotional bonding in contemporary werewolf pack/clan culture...
“You said Stiles gave that to you?”
From where he sat on the sofa in Derek’s loft wearing nothing but a crisp white “V” necked tee, periwinkle gartered socks, and a matching pair of patterned silk boxers, the creepily psychotic and unfairly handsome Peter Hale tapped the wrinkled paper on the floor with sock-clad toes.
“Yeah, he found it on one of his internet research expeditions,” Derek answered, “and printed it out to show me.”
Peter’s foot kicked out, sending the stapled, multi-page article fluttering away. “Where does he dig up this crap?”
He leaned back into the couch. Before him, seated on his lap, thick, muscular thighs straddling his own, Derek shifted uncomfortably. His nephew was even more revealed, sporting nothing beyond tight black boxer-cut briefs and an increasing red flush at the top of his plush pectorals.
“He’s just trying to understand us, Peter.”
Peter loved his nephew’s sheepish expression. However, because he loved being the cause of such a face even more, he couldn’t resist saying, “Then that curious little shit should just take the bite. That’s the only way he’ll ever really ‘get’ us.”
Derek glowered down at him, “Don’t be an asshole. It’s a nice effort.”
His nephew was so transparent, coming to Stiles’ defense. No matter what others said about his surly kin, Peter had always been able to read Derek like a book. Clearly ‘sourwolf’ was fond of the brat. He tucked this new bit of information away for a more strategic moment.
“Nice…” he snorted instead, “but useless.”
“God you’re a dick,” Derek grumbled. He made as if he was going to climb off but Peter set his hands firmly on solid thighs and was pleased when he instantly stilled.
There was no denying how good-looking his broody nephew had become, but when Derek’s frown and bushy brows’ furrow deepened at his words, he didn’t see a man nearing thirty, Peter saw, instead, the quiet, socially awkward boy who’d always been too easy to rile.
Pulling out a line he’d used for years, he teased, “I know an easy way to get rid of that pout.” Then he grinned wickedly. “Ph.D. in Supernatural Studies, my balls. Let’s get back to some real scent-marking!”
Derek bristled and blushed but didn’t fight it when a hand clasped around the back of his neck and pulled him down into an equally wicked kiss.
This was what they’d been doing, make out-marking, when Derek had stopped them to take a text from Stiles. It bruised Peter’s ego his nephew thought the kid important enough to interrupt their bonding. Then, while Derek was clumsily tapping on his phone, he’d discovered the article, boredly scanning the papers and open pages from all Derek’s own research, set in semi-organized piles around the couch.
Slicking their tongues together Peter sighed into Derek’s mouth. Handsome as he was, there was no denying his blood was a hopeless nerd at heart. But at least he was an attractive nerd, one blessed with an athlete’s body and an aptitude for kissing. It made these rare familial re-bonding times so much easier.
Derek’s lips were remarkably soft, a wonderful contrast to the prickle of his stubble. And in the nonverbal conversation of kisses, his normally reluctant tongue was exceedingly agile. Aroused, Peter‘s initial kiss of placation quickly shifted into something fiercer. Derek responded in kind to the challenge and soon they were making out madly again. The sounds of sucking lips, huffed breaths, and the occasional clack of teeth echoed in the loft’s quiet. Knees dug into the leather cushions on either side of Peter’s sturdy bare thighs, Derek’s hips began to hump, his near-naked form rocking back and forth.
“Fuck… I’d forgotten how good this feels,” Peter mumbled at the thrilling rub, frotting their covered cocks against each other in an initial mixing of their muskiest parts. This masculine pleasure was heightened with a raspy scrape of stubble as Derek shifted his kisses away from his mouth. The light, prickling burn this left behind on Peter’s lips and cheeks delighted him.
“It’s been a while since we did this,” Derek grumbled out between sucking nips along his sharp jawline.
Peter chuckled, bucking his hips upward. There was something so stimulating in the rub of their thickening dicks. He loved the heft of Derek’s weighty sac against the base of his cock and his own balls. Heavy, potent, and yet also vulnerable.
His hands moved reflexively, smoothing up the length of Derek’s bare, hairy thighs. “You know, we should do this more often.”
Derek hummed, “Yeah, we should,” scent-marking Peter’s neck with alternating brushes of coarse stubble and soft, wet tongue. Then he stopped and sat back, gazing into clear blue eyes. “Course, it’s easier to do when you’re not locked up, comatose, or killing people.”
Peter caught beard-shadowed cheeks between his hands and stared back into Derek's solemn gaze. “You always get so hung up on trivial details, Nephew.” He gave him a wink. “How about we just enjoy this?”
Before he could reply, Peter lunged forward to take his mouth again in another savage kiss. Under this fresh attack, Derek made a wanton, pup-ish noise he quickly tried to cover with a growl. His hips resumed their rocking more fiercely in what was obvious ‘compensation’ mounting.
For Peter, that tiny truncated whine was pure gold. When it came to touch, his nephew had always been the neediest of the Hale clan and he hated for this to be noticed. However, Peter pushed down the urge to rib Derek about it and instead, dropped his hands and embraced him.
After all, while he was an asshole at his core, it was nice to know his attentions had been missed.
He was rewarded for his restraint with a soft, low sigh and Derek nuzzling up behind his left ear. A hot spot for marking, Peter’s ears were also one of his top erogenous zones. And when Derek’s rabbit-ish teeth latched onto his earlobe and pulled, he had to stifle a needy sound of his own.
They continued making out and Peter’s hands slid down Derek's back and snuck beneath the tight-stretched black fabric of his shorts to gather handfuls of bubbled nephew ass. Despite its muscle, Derek’s fuzzy cheeks were wonderfully soft and supple. At the feel of them Peter couldn’t help but edge out his claws to dig lightly into this sweet flesh.
"Fuck!" Derek gasped out at the pinch. Precum pulsed from his cock and Peter’s sharp nose caught the scent.
“Wet already? You always were such an eager bitch, Nephew,” he teased, unable to resist this time. “I see that hasn’t changed.”
Derek’s response to this surprised him, immediately grasping his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his neck. A hot mouth pressed to Peter’s throat.
“Some things have changed though, Uncle.”
That Derek was Hale alpha now went unsaid, not that he needed to. The vibrations of his snarl against Peter’s jugular sent his heart rate skyward. He remained still, submitting. Besides, it wasn’t like Derek was easily going to let him up anyway, not given the strength of the grip of the hand in his hair and the thick thighs clamped tight around his own.
Derek pulled his mouth back just enough to extend his broad tongue and lap at Peter’s visibly pounding pulse line. It was his turn to provoke. “Is that excitement I’m tasting or something else? Fear, maybe?” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead returning to his languid licking and the occasional sucking nip.
“You’re the one with the neck kink,” Peter retorted, despite his unease. “And given your own propensity for ripping out throats, you’re going to have to forgive my apprehensions.”
"Shut up!" Derek growled and latched on, sucking a vicious hickey forth next to Peter's Adam’s apple. “You deserved that,” he huffed when he pulled away.
Peter wasn’t sure if Derek was referring to the hickey or the time he’d all but decapitated him with his fangs. Truthfully, the punishment was fair in both situations. But they’d agreed to reconcile and push past such things now. That was the whole point of this get-together.
Clearly, things were getting off track and something needed to be done to relieve the current level of tension. Carefully, Peter retracted his claws and shifted one hand from Derek's ass. Bringing it around to the front of the black boxers, he pulled Derek's big cock free and worked the waistband down until it was tucked behind a fat pair of dark, hairy balls.
With this, the pull on his bangs lightened and he took the opportunity to free his own dick from the silk that confined it. Just over nine-inches each, they were a pretty perfectly matched pair.
“Hale genes,” he murmured, smirking when this drew Derek’s attention away from his throat.
Eying their two big cocks laid out, fat and red with need, Derek’s face lost some of its fierceness. He let go of Peter’s hair completely, reaching down to take them both in his hand. Held together, their twin rods were too thick for him to completely close his fingers.
While his own dick steadily drooled precum, at his touch, a drop of clear fluid appeared at the slit of Peter’s dick too. Now it was Derek’s turn to smirk.
“Looks like I’m not the only eager one.”
With his free hand, he gathered the glossy strand hanging from his dick and mixed this into the pearl at Peter’s tip, coating the fat head with their combined essence. The moment these mingled the tang of wolf grew thick in the air and both their dicks pulsed more pre-fuck juice in tandem.
Swirling this up, Derek pressed glistening fingertips to Peter’s lips.
Nostrils flaring, Peter sucked them into his mouth. The chemistry of melded “Pack” burst on his tongue so potent it dizzied.
“Tasty,” he said when his mouth was free of fingers again. His balls hitched, watching Derek hungrily lick these same fingers, sloppy with saliva and dick-spit, before sucking them into his own mouth. Anything “Pack” was more potent for alphas and the way his nephew’s dark lashes fluttered drunkenly for a moment at their combined flavor was gorgeous to behold.
“Don’t get lost there. You’ve got responsibilities, remember?”
Eyes heavy-lidded from the hit of double Hale elixir, Derek gave an annoyed grunt. Even so, his hand around their dicks began to move.
Peter made a pleased sound. It felt good, Derek stroking their dicks, the rub of soft foreskins wrinkling and stretching together. But it could feel even better. “Maybe add a little more to that glide…”
From his intense focus on stripping their dicks, Derek glanced up. The tops of his ears turned red-hot when he caught on to what he was being asked for. Even so, he made a vulgar hawking sound at the back of his throat and tipped his head down. A moment later a thick rope of spit dangled from his lips to tie itself to the tips of their flush cocks.
Honestly, Derek was such a leaker there was already enough slick for a good slide, but the sight of him spitting on their dicks looked so filthy. Peter loved it. And the addition of this new alpha essence to their mix heightened the potency of the pheromones swirling around them.
“Ummm. Smell that? So good, Derek...”
Peter didn’t miss the way this small praise sent a slight shiver through his nephew’s muscular frame. With a dirty smirk, he reached up and broke the string of spit where it was still tethered to Derek’s bottom lip with his thumb. The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. But instead of giving in to it, he nipped at Peter’s thumb before latching fully onto it, suckling.
Hot, wet alpha mouth surrounding his thumb, warm, sticky palm working his dick. That he could potentially access this kind of titillation on a regular basis again was almost enough for Peter to see the potential merits of, if not good, at least better behavior. The idea made him laugh.
Derek slipped off his thumb and leaned forward to lightly bite at his chuckling lips, persisting until they opened and allowed him to lick inside again. Peter submitted to this for a moment but flooded with bonding hormones his wolf was now fully woken. The scent in the room grew stronger with their aroused sweat and blended fluids and he couldn’t resist the pull of his animalistic desires.
Not that impulse control had ever really been one of his strong points anyway.
Adding his hand to Derek’s, Peter ground their cocks together and fucked up into their clasped fingers.
Both growled loudly now into their bruising kisses, their volume steadily increasing to match their wolves’ passions. Amid the snarls and slurps, their tongues battled like ninjas. They were so immersed in each other neither noticed when the loft's metal door rolled open and someone stepped in.
Their pheromone-induced spell only broke at the crash of something hitting the floor. However, if that hadn’t been loud enough to get their attention, Stiles’ loud yell-screech certainly would have.
"Holy motherfucking shit!"
Both Peter and Derek jerked their heads apart and stared up to find him wide-eye before them, sitting on his ass amid a toppled book pile.
Stiles scrambled back up onto his feet. A rough strangled sound issued from Derek’s throat and he tried to rise too, but Peter re-popped his claws on the hand still gripping his buttcheek so there was no way he could bolt without losing a good chunk of ass.
With his nephew immobilized, ignoring Derek’s death glare, he focused his attention on Stiles.
The teen hadn’t fled. Instead, he seemed rooted where he stood. Hands covering his post-exclamation mouth, what was visible of Stiles’ face contorted in shock. Peter thought the expression fitting considering he had come upon two blood-related men, engaged in their own incestuous variation of some Dutch-rudder action while devouring each other’s mouths in the most sinful way.
It was frankly hilarious, how Stiles couldn’t stop staring at them. Not that Peter blamed him. He’d smelled the funk of the teen’s arousal before around his nephew (who remained obliviously nose-blind to it for some odd reason). So, of course, it would be all but impossible for Stiles to divert his eyes from Derek, sitting there practically naked, with his big dick out and all his werewolf and workout enhanced muscles on display.
Peter knew too he was no slouch in the looks department himself. Considering the alluring contrast between their bodies, they must have made quite the picture: with Derek’s fat ass, plump pectorals, and naturally tanned skin set against his own paler, leaner physique, one that still managed despite incarcerations and comas, to stretch his trademark V-Neck t-shirts in only the best of ways.
He also heartily suspected the Stilinski kid had some deep-seated ‘daddy’ issues. So whether Stiles fancied him as well, or not, the picture of him and his nephew together, dicks hard and leaking, Derek grinding away on a practically paternal lap...
It was no doubt the stuff of fantasy. So hot. And now burned into Stiles' brain in such a way that not even decades of therapy would extinguish it.
"Hello, Stiles. I wasn’t aware Derek was expecting any additional company."
Though it seemed impossible, Stiles' eyes bulged even bigger at the nonchalance of this greeting. Derek, meanwhile, made a soft choking sound before he leaned forward as though to cover their bare dicks, head down and turned away.
For extra insurance, Peter popped his claws where their hands were joined around their cocks too, despite his own risk. Derek’s mortification was so delightful he couldn’t help but give a playful nibble to the nearest bright-red earlobe before chiding in his most cultured voice, “Come now, Nephew. I know you were raised better.”
Heat radiated off Derek’s skin but there was no denying the scent of arousal poured off him too. “Why don’t you greet Stiles properly?”
As he asked this question, he retracted his talons and tightened his fingers around their dicks to make up for Derek’s loosed grip. Then he resumed stroking both their cocks together. It was a dangerous thing he was doing, goading like this, especially when they were both all hopped up on marking hormones. But he’d been “Uncle” far longer than Derek had been “Alpha.”
“Go on…”
With his head all but resting on Peter's shoulder now, Derek turned his head at last to face an increasingly stunned Stiles.
"Stiles... What… What are you doing here?" Derek asked. He didn't look angered or even particularly ashamed anymore. Petulantly aroused though? Oh, very much indeed.
Peter fought not to laugh. Both Stiles and his nephew’s faces were freshly flushed and the glorious reek of their dual want filling the room made him giddy. Sweat drops appeared on Stiles’ and Derek’s brows and their eyes looked increasingly drugged.
The sound of Stiles’ heart was like a humming bird’s wings. Between the sight of fornicating Hales, werewolf pheromones, and his own teenage biology, his dick had gone from limp noodle to steel rod in a matter of seconds, made clear by the outline of the cock trapped in his skinny jeans.
Peter watched Derek’s eyes drop and fix on the more than decently sized bulge at Stiles’ crotch. Pupils dilating, a slivered ring of red surrounded them. Unconsciously Derek hips twitched. In seconds they were rocking minutely, a slow, bucking fuck into his hold on him.
“Tsk.” Peter rolled his eyes. An underage crush was one thing, this was another completely. He should have guessed along with all his other issues Derek would have a fetish for twink dick.
“That’s hardly a greeting Derek.”
Derek ignored him, eyes flickering from spot to spot on Stiles’ lanky teen body. The motion of his rocking kicked up a notch. The teen’s introduction into the chemical cloud of their scent-marking ceremony had apparently pushed him into a semi-fugued state.
“You’ll have to excuse Derek, Stiles. He’s a little preoccupied at the moment, though clearly happy to see you.”
Derek’s nostrils puffed heavily sucking in scent and his sharp jaw dropped enough to allow him to pant.
“Let me reiterate his question a little more politely. To what do we owe the pleasure of your appearance?”
Peter didn't get any better response from Stiles than he had with Derek.
Though most were immune, some humans showed sensitivity to werewolf pheromones. Maybe the result of his supernatural ‘sparkness’, whatever the reason, Stiles was clearly just as affected by the moment as his nephew. His large, bony hands had dropped and worked their way into his skinny jean’s front pockets, a useless attempt to camouflage him touching his dick. His dark eyes kept darting back and forth from Derek’s mouth to the handful of Hale hardons.
"Stiles?
“Stiles?!!" Peter growled out at last losing a bit of his previous polish. It worked though, the gruffness of his voice finally broke Stiles’ stunned stupor.
"What are you doing here?" He asked again, reducing the words to Derek’s coarse level in hopes of communicating with the lust-induced idiot.
Even so, it was painful to watch the full minute it took Stiles to process what he’d been asked.
"I-I came to.. Grab some incantation books I-I’m studying…"
Stiles blanched when, at the sound of his voice, Derek started more visibly bucking into Peter's hand.
“Derek… He told me to come at 11:00.”
“But I guess he kinda forgot.”
“I said one…” Derek’s words were sluggish and ended with a light moan as Peter’s thumb found the sensitive underside of his cockhead and began rubbing.
Stiles reluctantly removed a hand from his pocket-pool party to pull his phone from the pouch of his hoodie. His normally nimble fingers fumbled until he flashed the screen at them. “No. See! You texted 11:00.”
Derek was too busy biting his bottom lip to keep quiet at the glorious friction against one of his most sensitive spots to reply, so Peter answered for him.
“Must have been a mistype on his part. You see, we were already engaged when you texted, so Derek was a little distracted.”
Stiles pulled his phone back and frowned at it furiously. Peter had no doubt he was wondering if it was possible to surreptitiously switch it to record. At least, that would have been his impulse if he'd been in Stiles’ position. He felt oddly disappointed in the boy when he slipped the phone back into its pocket.
“Well, pick up what you need to and go!” Maybe it was a reaction to Stiles’ show of good morals but Peter’s voice came out harsher than he intended.
Deep in alpha-bonding state now this pulled a soft whine from Derek: any pique among pack distressing him.
"Easy,” Peter soothed, letting go of Derek’s ass to shift his hand up to the small of his back and urge him closer. Claws still out, he scratched lightly as Derek leaned forward and extended his neck for a nuzzle.
“Shit, look at those claws! Does it hurt?” Stiles' eyes fixed on the tiny red lines appearing on Derek’s broad back only to immediately heal over.
“We don’t have time for your questions, Stiles. Go away. Obviously we’re busy.”
“Busy?” Derek echoed Peter. Semi-feral in this state he’d apparently lost most of his words but there was a petition in his tone. His mouth sought Peter’s for another lip bruising kiss.
“Very busy,” came Peter’s reminder, mumbled around ardent kisses. “Unless you want Stiles to stay?”
At this, there was no mistaking a similar beg in Stiles’ long-suffering whine from their sidelines where he continued to stand, watching Derek cradle Peter's sharp jaw licking and nipping, almost like he was putting on a show.
Derek’s eyes flashed full-red at the question. The combination of blush beneath his beard and the alpha blood in his gaze as it flickered over to Stiles was a fantastic contradiction. His stubble-burned, pink tongue licked over swollen lips hungrily.
“You did say earlier Stiles was trying to understand us, maybe you’d like to help him?”
Later Derek might rip his throat out again for taking such advantage of his pheromone induced state. But getting to witness him like this, plus the thrill of the manipulation… Peter figured it'd be worth it.
“Would you like Stiles to stay, Derek? Maybe show him some real scent-marking in action?”
Derek fixed his gaze on Stiles. Creosote notes of newly surging testosterone sharpened the loft’s musky air. All shyness stripped from his stare, an animalistic rumble started deep in his chest.
“Stay,” he growled out in a tone that was pure alpha.
Frozen in place well before this command, brain locked on the erotic scene before him, Stiles seemed to have lost control of all but his most basic motor functions. Derek’s order somehow broke this spell.
“Really? I can stay?” he squeaked out, adjusting his aching hardon inside his jeans. "Fuck yeah! This is hot!” Like normal, his words spun out ahead of his thoughts and Stiles tried to reel them back in. “I mean, this is research, of course!... It'll be just like I'm watching Animal Planet in real life. On steroids though."
Peter chuckled at this while Derek’s brow furrowed in confusion. It was amazing, despite their clear attraction for each other, Stiles was obviously not on the same page. But of course, he was an uninitiated human, not a werewolf (yet), so he wouldn’t have understood the true significance of Derek’s invitation.
"Animal Planet, Derek!” Stiles shouted trying to clarify things for the lust-addled alpha. “The Mating Season series. This is too much for me, I…" unceremoniously, he popped open his jeans and shoved a hand inside to grope himself.
"Stiles, are you?... Do you really intend to jerk off in the middle of my nephew’s loft?" Peter asked, pretending incredulity.
“You guys invited me to stay!” Stiles huffed. "And scientific observation or not, you can’t think I’m just going to stand here! Especially now I know Derek’s not going to kill me for catching him like this. Besides, who are you to judge? A psychotic, mentally unstable uncle, who is also sexing it up in the middle of his nephew’s loft. With his nephew!"
Peter rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you kids. Psychotic? Just when it's needed. Mentally unstable? Only 20%. And I'm in total control of my sanity right now." Though he sounded offended, secretly he was delighted Stiles lost his inhibitions so quickly. This discovery held so much potential.
"Alright, Mr. Sane. Use your newfound sanity and keep abusing your own nephew.” As Stiles spoke he shimmied his tight jeans down until they pooled at his ankles. “Meanwhile, I’ll keep abusing myself.” Underneath he was commando. Straightening, he immediately resumed pulling at his erection.
"Peter is not abusing me, Stiles," Derek choked out, his hips bucking back and forth reflexively when Peter tightened his grip around their hard cocks.
"Come on, Nephew. Let's give Stiles here a little demonstration of what claiming clan territory looks like." Peter’s white tee had ridden up and both their cocks dripped sticky precum onto his flat abs.
"Oh, Yeah!” Stiles grinned. “Don't mind me, guys. Get on with your animal selves. You can pretend I'm not even here!" He stroked his decently-sized seven and a half-inch cock with the skill of a practiced masturbater. His mole-dotted face glowed gleeful and expectant.
Modesty lost to his need, Derek wasted no time now everything was settled. He fisted Peter’s hair and tipped his head back again, much more tenderly this time. Exposing his strong neck, he licked up the length of Peter's windpipe, reached his scruffy chin, and claimed his mouth in another feverish kiss.
"Fuck, clearly not abusing you..." Stiles groaned while fisting his cock. It was undoubtedly one of the hottest scenes he’d ever seen. In the mathematics of it, Hot Hale + Hot Hale - clothes + make out + handjobs all around = fast heartbeat, body temperature above normal, and the most aching, rock-hard boner he’d experienced. "This is so much better than porn..."
Peter pushed his back off of the sofa rest, sitting straight and arranging Derek on his lap but never breaking their ferocious kissing or his hold on their dicks. Derek however dropped their cocks completely in this shifting to wrap both powerful arms around his back and lock legs around his waist like some massively-muscled koala.
Seeing this needy behavior from a guy so masculine and usually standoffish, Stiles grunted. Precum drooled from his dick onto the pages at his feet of the article he’d given Derek earlier.
Missing the feel of his nephew’s addictive ass Peter’s free hand slid down Derek’s back again. Being tucked under his balls had stretched the waistband of Derek’s shorts and it had slipped down revealing the perky fuzzed slope of his well-rounded cheeks. Pushing the waistband lower still to bare more skin, Peter slipped his finger down into the damp crease of Derek’s crack. He found his pucker and rubbed, stimulating the ring of muscle and releasing the darker musk from the scent glands here.
How he’d missed the ripe, earthy scent of Derek’s needy hole. He hadn’t fucked him since he’d become alpha and he hoped this little reconciliation of theirs might change this. At the brush of his entrance, Derek gave a low warning growl. Still, Peter didn’t stop what he was doing. Instead, he broke from their kiss to roughly whisper, “Do you really want me to stop? I mean, look at Stiles, Nephew. I bet he’d give anything for a glimpse of your sweet wolf-cunt.”
He pressed kiss-bruised lips to Derek’s ear. “Can’t you smell the honey leaking from his dick for you. I can. He wants to fuck you. Badly. You reek of wanting that too
“Do you think about him at night, Derek? Lying alone in that big bed of yours. Fingers in your ass maybe? Dreaming about beta twink dick.”
“Fuck,” Derek breathed, responding to these words, pushing back against the teasing finger. “I hate you…”
“Mmmm…” Peter took hold of Derek’s earlobe and sucked it, humming, “You hate me but you love me too. And you need your pack. That’s why we’re here. Forging bonds...” Peter’s finger breached Derek’s puckered ring. “Claiming Territories…
“There’s room enough in this particular real estate for dual-occupancy. I know from experience. Just think about it...”
“Fuck, Peter!” Derek moaned.
It didn’t matter to Stiles that he couldn’t hear what they were whisper-arguing about. His mind was already overloaded trying to decide exactly which werewolf to look at, despite both Hales being almost fused into one being by such intense proximity.
With a huff from Derek that seemed to signal defeat, their hushed debate ended. Derek and Peter resumed their synchronized tilting of heads in more fierce, well-matched kissing. Stiles could have watched their oral choreography for hours, especially as it was accompanied by their fucking hot werewolf physiques.
Then Derek sat up, growled, “More skin!” and broke Peter’s grip on their cocks for a moment, gripping the hem of the white tee-shirt and stripping it off over his Uncle’s head. Stiles stared in awe at the perfection of their sweat-slick musculature as they returned to frictioning against each other. Peter’s hand viciously stroking their massive cocks couldn’t have been as easy as he made it seem.
Both Peter and Derek were grunting and gasping unashamedly now. Every new deep growl made Stiles skin prickle and sent fresh blood rushing to his cock. Stiles never saw Derek so raw and unguarded before, especially for another wolf. The clinging hands, stubble scent-marking, the excessive snuffling, kissing, and slobbered licking. Derek and Peter looked almost like a mated pair.
Then, Peter claimed, “More skin!” too. Only he didn’t bother breaking their bond-fest to allow Derek time to slip out of his briefs. Instead, he shredded Derek's Under Armour boxers with a flick of claws and tossed the ruined shorts toward Stiles.
“Here, a souvenir for you. To commemorate your first uncensored scent-marking experience.”
"Damn it, Peter! That was one of my favorites!" Derek protested, pulling Peter’s bottom lips with his teeth.
“Fuck that’s so hot!” Stiles shouted unable to rein in his excitement as he bent and picked up the tattered briefs while still furiously choking his dick. “It’s only fair now if you claw off Peter’s underwear, Derek!”
"Don't worry, nephew. I'll buy you five more," Peter assured, ignoring Stiles' charge. Then he murmured nowhere near as softly as before. “Besides, just picture Stiles’ nose deep in those torn panties of your, sniffing your scent and sucking on your dried alpha slut juice while he beats off.” As he painted this picture, Peter carefully used his claws to spread his nephew’s bare, round cheeks apart and flash his twitching hole at Stiles.
There it was again, Derek’s needy puppy whimper, only this time Stiles was there to hear it too.
The sound and sight were too much. Stiles yelled, “Oh shit!” He pressed Derek’s ‘panties’ to his prick and emptied his balls into the damp fabric, still warm from heated skin.
“Stiles!” Derek whined out when the combined scent of their dicks’ leaking exploded into the room. A moment later he moaned Peter’s name too only slightly lower.
Peter obliged these wanton cries. He scraped his stubble on Derek’s neck, dragging his nose along sweaty skin and mouthing at his throat.
“Hey guys,” Stiles called a minute later now that blood was being rerouted to his brain again. “I was wondering. Is this a normal kind of werewolfy thing or something else? I mean, I never saw Scott behaving like this with any wolf in the Pack before. And certainly not the whole incestuous part. Honestly, I’ve never seen you guys act remotely like this either. You’re barely cordial normally...”
Lust momentarily spent, Stiles’ quick mind leapt from bliss to concern. Still, Peter noted this didn’t prevent him from stuffing Derek’s ruined underwear into his hoodie’s front pocket while asking, “Are you under the influence of a rare moon phase or some kind of magical wolfsbane pollen? I read an article a while back that said there is a-”
“Great, he’s started babbling,” Peter sighed, not truly exasperated. “Stiles, do you really want to discuss this right now?” He flashed another glimpse of Derek’s hole at him again and pushed a clawless forefinger into it.
Stiles’ dick hadn’t deflated and, at the sight, it twitched in revival. Peter smirked at the power of pheromones and youth.
“You never saw Scott doing this because this is a born-werewolf thing,” Peter said.“More specifically, a Derek and Peter Hale thing,” he completed with a smirk, watching Derek’s eye roll shift from annoyance to bliss and he pushed his finger in deeper. “And you’re not going to find anything about this in your research.”
Stiles’ gaze never left Derek’s ass but a quizzical arch of eyebrows joined his aroused expression. Peter thought it possible the kid could quickly grow on him.
“Derek and I, we are more than Pack. We’re family. Always have been despite our occasional… er… differences... When werewolves of any kind, especially born-werewolves spend too much time apart from each other, our inner wolves get restless. They start scratching their way to the surface seeking familiar contact. Their feelings affect our human sides too. It’s unhealthy to go too long without bonding and marking,” Peter said as calmly as he could while Derek mouthed hungrily along his neck. “It creates a weird sense of emptiness and eagerness,”
“Yeah. Clearly.” Stiles snorted, eyes fixed on Derek riding two of Peter’s fingers now. He rubbed his re-chubbed dick. “So, this is bonding time I walked in on? You guys are bonding?
“And lone wolf went too long or something?” Stiles concluded based on what had been said.
“You can put it that way. Derek has more needs as an alpha. Not to mention, he and I have been doing this since he was fifteen. And there’s been quite a gap recently between our tie.”
“Fifteen? No shit?!” Stiles shouted, his mind conjuring up pictures of young Derek and a younger Peter having sexy bonding times.
“Contrary to human mores, this behavior is more common among werewolves than you would imagine, Stiles.”
“Oh, I’m surely going to imagine. I’m going to imagine that a lot!”
“Peter, stop talking like I’m not here!” Derek growled out finally, turning Peter’s attention back to him. He was frustratedly thrusting in an effort to get off on fingers or fisted dick. “Keep going, I need to cum!”
Picking up the rhythm of his stroke again Peter tossed his head back and laughed as Derek nuzzled his red face into the curve of his neck. He pulled his fingers from Derek’s asshole and shifted his hand’s position from over to under to get better access and worked his fingers inside again, feeling for his nephew’s prostate. The sounds Derek made when he found it were animal and desperate. Their hips bucked up together, adding more fiction to the explosive rhythm.
With a shout, Derek ejaculated onto Peter’s heaving belly simultaneously sinking his fangs into the taut muscle of his neck.
Peter roared out, at the sudden pain and his own climax. His fat cock spat equally thick ropes of cum over his and Derek’s abs. No sooner had Derek released his bite then he clamped his own fangs on Derek’s tanned neck as well. The pain and power of this returned beta-kin bite sent a jolt through Derek’s body that made his cock gush out a second round of semen.
“Fucking shit! That was awesome!” Stiles gasped out, breathless. “I mean, talk about a second cumming!”
The image of two handsome werewolves, their muscled bodies convulsing in animalistic orgasms and all the bloody biting was too much for Stiles’ brain to deal with.
“Oh my god,” he yelled, vigorously pumping his abraded cock. Long, white jets shot over the scent-marking article below him and painted sticky stripes across the loft’s dark wood floor.
Balls and bonding bites released, Derek and Peter took turns lapping each other’s bloody wounds clean. Settling back, Peter drew the fingers he’d had in Derek’s ass over the planes of his belly, marking himself with scent and mingling their juices. His nephew’s gaze flickered uneasily from watching the skate of his fingers, over to where Stiles was hiking his jeans back up.
Knowing how long Derek had gone without marking or bonding, Peter bet heavily that if Stiles hung around long enough, he might get to witness the rest of their post-marking grooming. Reclining back deeper into the sofa, Peter brought Derek along. He doubted it would really take too much coaxing to get his nephew to lick his ass juice and their combined cum from his stomach in front of Stiles, but a little strategic snuggling wouldn’t hurt either in paving the way.
Derek climbed off his lap and under his arm with barely any urging. He pressed to Peter's sweaty, sticky chest and rumbled softly as Peter nuzzled his sweaty dark head with something akin to tenderness.
Stiles glanced from stuffing himself back into his jeans, grinning as he zipped up, at the two werewolves basking in the afterglow orgasmic endorphins. Noticing Derek's glassy eyes and Peter's loose smile, he asked.
"So, when’s your next bonding time scheduled for? I’d like to watch it again. For scientific purposes, of course."
"Never, Stiles… Shut up," Derek growled tiredly, closing his eyes and turning his face into Peter’s chest. There was no hint of threat in his voice however, instead, he sounded more like a grumbling pup.
Sneaking his arms around Derek, Peter grinned. He lifted his eyes and met Stiles’ eager dark gaze. “Come back in an hour,” he silently mouthed over Derek’s sleepily nodding head.