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Peter considered himself to be very straightforward. The very moment he saw Stiles’ bright bambi eyes widen in fear at his bestial form and then proceed to fight back anyway, he knew what he wanted. In the same breath, he also realized that he didn’t always get what he wanted. This thought made its way into his head in the coming days, weeks, and, hell, even years, until he was finally accepted into Derek’s so-called pack.
Derek must have finally understood that his uncle was that much more beneficial to have in the pack than to cast him to the side. He didn’t need to know that a smart-mouthed human was Peter’s main reason for wiggling his way into their ranks. He didn’t need to know about how Peter would look at the teenager like he was studying his moles into barely-there constellations. He didn’t need to know about how Peter would allow Stiles access to the Hale Vault, just to see his whisky-colored eyes light up in mischievous wonder.
His alpha would never know, because, for the first time in Peter’s life, the werewolf didn’t have a plan.
During all of Peter’s daydreaming and waiting for Stiles to become of age (he wasn’t about to get a few bullets in his ass from the Sheriff), the lanky and awkward teenager grew into a handsome and charismatic young man. He was even smart enough to get a full ride at the local university, the one that Peter was dropping him off at now. Soon, Stiles would be busy with a full term of college, his unpaid internship at the Beacon Hills Police Department, and the new friends he was sure to make. No time to deal with the pack like he used to and certainly no time for Peter.
Peter’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles turning white. The black plastic and leather creaked under supernatural pressure.
“You know, Roscoe wasn’t in that bad of shape. I could have driven myself,” Stiles huffed as soon as Peter rolled his sleek car to a stop near the entrance to his building, unaware that he brought his packmate back down to the land of the living.
“I wouldn’t let you break down on your way to your first day of college, no matter how much amusement the image brings me,” Peter said, looking at Stiles over the top of his way too expensive designer sunglasses.
Stiles responded with a grin as if he caught the bluff before ducking out of the car with his nerdy superhero backpack that Peter almost begged him not to buy and a wave goodbye.
*
Peter was right; Stiles did get busier in the coming weeks. That wasn’t the only change he noticed. When Peter first joined the pack of supernatural teenagers, Stiles would huff and puff about having him at pack events like meetings or just so-called bonding nights. Now, the young man only went to those events if Peter decided to show up.
In fact, every single one of his packmates has been acting odd lately. They kept watching him, especially when he was next to Stiles like they were waiting for something. It was unnerving. If Peter didn’t have his ‘I-give-zero-fucks’ personality down pat, he would have caved on day one and screamed in frustration. He also didn’t want the attention from Stiles to stop. The attention, which was currently in the form of long legs in his lap, was addicting.
Lazy cuddling on the couch somehow became a thing for them. Every Wednesday afternoon, Stiles researched essay sources on his laptop while Peter tried (and usually failed) to focus on reading whichever book piqued his interest that week.
Peter swore he re-read the same page in the shitty fantasy novel at least ten times before a groan and the shifting of legs moved the book he was resting on them. Looking up in mock offense, he was greeted with the sight of Stiles with his neck exposed, head dropping back onto the leather couch’s armrest.
“Why does every scientific study have to be behind a huge paywall?” Stiles muttered, probably mainly to himself. That didn’t stop Peter from answering him.
Without bothering to use a bookmark, the werewolf closed his novel and devoted his attention to where he actually wanted it to be, pestering the human. “If you wanted me to pay for it, you just had to ask nicely, Stiles.”
The man in question popped his head up to look at Peter, mouth agape in slight shock. “I don’t need a sugar daddy!”
Peter grinned, showing off his canines, too sharp to be considered human. Just the response he wanted in order to tease Stiles more. “Why, Stiles. I didn’t know you were into those types of kinks.”
“Oh, please. As if you would have to pay me to fuck you,” Stiles quickly said as he cut Peter off before he could continue with his teasing.
The living room fell silent. Not even the old grandfather clock near the stairs dared to tick or tock. If Peter wasn’t a bonafide werewolf, he would have questioned if he heard the younger man correctly. He opened his mouth to respond, not sure what words he would use when Stiles snapped his laptop shut and placed it on the coffee table.
“It’s not like I have been subtle with what I want. And,” Stiles paused, looking to where his legs were still in Peter’s lap, “You haven’t really been subtle either.” He looked up with a smug half-grin as the werewolf grabbed one of his exposed ankles, sharp claws slightly digging into the flesh.
A deep warning growl tumbled from deep in his chest before he said, “And what do you think I want, brat?”
“Anything you could get. You’ve been eyeing me up like a rare steak for years, dude.”
Well, two could play that game.
Peter released the ankle and drew back in his half-formed beta shift claws and fangs. Then he pointedly opened his book up again and started to read. “If you say so,” he said, trying not to think about how his heart was hammering in his chest or about how he was so close to getting what he wanted that he could almost taste it.
When Stiles responded with his name, somewhere between a whine and a whisper, Peter was very thankful that they spent their Wednesday afternoons at his personal apartment and not at the pack house where anyone could hear them. Still, he ignored the tantalizing whine and made a show of licking his thumb to turn a page.
“I’ve wanted you for years, too.”
At this confession, Peter’s calm demeanor faded away. He slammed the book shut, tossed it next to the abandoned laptop, and faced Stiles again with a cocked eyebrow. “Seriously?”
Stiles pouted and threw his hands up. “Of course! Have you seen yourself?! You’re one of the hottest men in the town. I have wanted to ride your dick since I've first saw your stupidly handsome face—werewolf or not.” He finished his rant with a huff and a slight blush dusting his high cheekbones.
Peter’s grin deepened throughout the rambling until he looked ready to eat the human alive, much like the rare steak analogy. “And what do you want me to do about that, Stiles,” he drawled out as his hand replaced itself onto Stiles’ ankle.
“Anything.” Stiles barely had time to whisper before the werewolf was dragging him closer by his ankle and then moving him like a rag doll to sit in his lap.
Peter wasted no time in putting his lips on Stiles’. They kissed like they were making up for lost time. Realistically, Peter knew that the world didn’t freeze as they made out with each other. But still, it felt like it did. Just like all of those shitty romance movies his sister used to make him watch with her when they were young.
“Come on, big guy, fuck me,” Stiles said. Both let out soft groans when Stiles slowly ground his hips up into Peter, pushing their erections together.
After slowly sucking Stiles’ bottom lip, teasing out soft whimpers, he pulled away, allowing the human to breathe properly. “I’m not fucking you on a couch for our first time.” He was a romantic at heart. Sue him.
Peter was sure things happened between him carrying Stiles from the living room towards his master bedroom across the apartment, but the next thing he knew they were both on his king-sized bed, missing shirts.
Once Stiles’ thin white band shirt was off, Peter occupied himself with something he had been thinking about for years. Stiles’ soft pink nipples. He slowly played with them with the palms of his hands, sitting back with his legs between Stiles’.
The soft, cool skin started to warm and flush under his hands, spurring his quest further. Peter licked his lips at the sight. He drew little soft gasps and moans from the young man under him. In all the times he had imagined this, Peter never thought that Stiles would be so sensitive. Not that he was complaining.
Stiles tried to bite his lip to muffle the sounds but Peter quickly ended that movement by grabbing both of the thin wrists with one hand and holding them down to the bed.
The werewolf was caught in an internal battle; a battle Peter thought he was destined to lose no matter which side won. The rational, human side of him knew that it was likely Stiles’ first time or at least somewhere near it. The other, more animalistic side of him wanted to go feral and claim what was his.
Stopping the caressing, Peter looked down at Stiles, really looking at him. Half-lidded eyes, a blush high on his cheekbones, and all. “Have you heard of the stoplight system, baby?” He didn’t want to hurt the frail human after all. Well, too much.
Stiles’ eyes lost some of their glaze as if he had to take in the question before he sharply nodded. “Yeah. I’ve had unlimited access to the internet since I was thirteen.”
“Fair enough,” Peter chuckled as he reached to remove his pants. Once Stiles’ own hands were free from Peter’s he made a bee-line to quickly take off his jeans. After pushing the crumbled lump of clothes to the other end of the bed, Peter glanced back to see…
“X-men boxers. Seriously, Stiles?”
“I didn’t expect for you or anyone else to see them today!”
For some reason, those words made Peter realize that the situation the two of them found themselves in was very much real. “Are you sure you want this,” he asked, face now serious.
“I needed you in me like yesterday.”
“Who knew you would be such a brat?” Peter muttered back, all restraint leaving his tense body. Leaning over, he opened the nearest bedside table and ruffled around in it. He grabbed his lube and a spare condom.
Stiles’ jaw dropped when he saw the items. “No. No condoms.”
Peter raised an eyebrow and considered stopping everything to give Stiles a lecture on safe sex. What were they teaching teenagers at the high school nowadays?
“It's not like you can carry STDs, wolfy.”
He had a point and the condom was probably expired anyway, so Peter tossed it towards his bedside table, not caring when he heard it land on the floor.
Smirking slightly, Peter teased the pale skin around the hem of the nerdy boxers. Stiles only whined once before Peter ripped the fabric off of him and spread his legs wide with supernatural speed.
God, he wanted to devour the cute pink hole in front of him that was twitching and asking to be debauched. He wanted Stiles to cum all over himself, again and again until he was begging for mercy. Maybe tomorrow morning, he mused to himself.
“How often do you finger yourself,” Peter asked as he squeezed a dollop of lube on his pointer finger.
“Enough,” Stiles said. “Why? Are you jeal—h-holy shit,” his snarky question tapered off into a breathy shudder from Peter’s thick finger slowly entering him. One finger soon turned into two and Stiles soon started groaning at the feeling.
More lube was carelessly poured over the moving fingers, dirtying the light sheets further and causing loud wet sounds to echo around the room. So far, Peter was taking great care to not bump into the prostate out of fear that their romp would come to an end sooner. Only one slight problem. Peter was never a man of patience. After a few pumps, he wanted to hear more and curled up his fingers with pinpoint, experienced accuracy.
“Daddy,” Stiles said, the word turning into a long moan before snapping his eyes open in mortification. A bright blush bloomed on his lower cheeks and moved down to his chest, around his nipples, which were equally colored from their earlier torment.
The sight made Peter want to toy with them more, salvia forming on his tongue that he had to swallow. He twisted his fingers cruelly, barely missing the spot that caused such sweet moans. “I thought you didn’t need a sugar daddy.” He chuckled darkly as Stiles choked on sure to be a bratty response from Peter adding a third finger. “It’s okay, baby. I can be your daddy.”
“I’m ready just fuck me already,” Stiles half-shouted, pointedly ignoring the daddy comment.
Stopping his motions, Peter’s eyes snapped from his task up to Stiles’ own, the corner of his lips downcasted in a frown. “I would rather not hurt you for your first time, baby.”
“I…” Stiles swallowed thickly. “I enjoy it. The, um, the pain I mean.”
Jesus Christ this twink was going to ruin him.
Not bothering to completely take off his black boxers, Peter shuffled them down just enough to let his cock and balls free. He pressed closer to his destination, tugging on the rim of Stiles’ hole, who started using the leverage of his long legs around Peter’s waist to urge him closer.
“Behave,” the werewolf all but growled out and the human underneath him stopped squirming. “Good boy.” If he didn’t have supernatural hearing, he would have never heard the soft hitch in Stiles’ breath at the praise. He inwardly smirked to himself and filed this knowledge away for future use.
Without a second thought, Peter kissed apologies into Stiles’ sweaty neck with every twitch under him as he slowly started to bottom out. In the end, he only knew his eyes rolled into the back of their sockets from the sensation of being completely inside his lover because he stopped staring at Stiles’ already fucked out expression. He didn’t move to allow Stiles to get used to the stretch. And, honestly, he was trying to savor the feeling.
With a shaky breath, Stiles wiggled and whimpered out a “please daddy.”
Although he didn’t want to be too mean, Peter couldn’t help but to tease back. “What happened to that bratty attitude of yours? Hmm?” Not giving time for an answer, he rolled his hips.
“More.” A gasp and then a whine. “Please.”
“You’ve been such a good boy, haven’t you, Stiles? Okay. I’ll give you more.”
Snapping his hips harder, Peter licked up a bead of sweat from Stiles’s neck. A bratty look and a soft moan were all Peter had for a warning before Stiles grabbed onto his back harder, pressing blunt fingernails into the skin. Peter knew he was being almost too rough with his partner, gripping the pale hips hard enough that there would be matching bruises in the morning. The thought of marking Stiles in that way only spurred his wild side further.
So much further that he couldn’t stop his beta shift fangs and claws from suddenly appearing in the middle of a thrust. It had been years since he had lost control like this, let alone during sex. He almost removed his hands from Stiles’ hips, where the claws were marking him further when he was stopped.
“Holy shit. That’s hot,” Stiles barely managed to pant out between his soft moans.
“Color?” He asked through his fangs, the word slurring on his lips. He subconsciously slowed down his movements until he got an answer.
Stiles nodded frantically and moved his hands around Peter’s wrists to push the claws further into his flesh. “Green. Green. So fucking green.”
The fangs were making it hard for Peter to close his mouth. Leaving it open, he watched as his drool dripped down to pool on Stiles’ indent of his collarbone.
“M-more,” Stiles let out with a broken moan, his legs quivering around Peter. “P-please I can take it.”
The last thread of Peter’s resolve crumbled into a mess of love and lust at those words. Using the new leverage on Stiles’ hips he began fucking into him faster.
With a loud wail, Stiles clamped down onto Peter’s cock as he wrapped a hand around his own and started stroking. Peter knew the human was close when he chanted please over and over again as if his life depended on it.
“That’s it. Be a good boy and cum for daddy.”
It only took a few more thrusts and Stiles obeyed. Mouth open in a silent scream, he coated their chests and stomachs which added to the wet sounds of Peter still fucking him. Their scents rubbing together, combined with the clenching of that hot heat, was all it took for Peter to tumble over the edge and follow with a half growl half roar.
Both men took in loud, deep breaths while staring at each other. Peter must have shifted back to his human form at some point. With an awkward movement of his legs, he took off his boxers and pulled out. He focused on cleaning Stiles off with the fabric before the sound of laughter shifted his attention back up.
“S-sorry,” Stiles breathlessly said, face in a blissful smile. “You looked so serious.”
Peter huffed and Stiles laughed harder. Not bothering to respond, he threw his now dirty underwear to some corner of the room. Both hands now free he grabbed his partner and switched them around so that Stiles was cuddling into his chest.
It stayed silent for a few moments as both of them enjoyed the afterglow. Surprisingly, it was Peter and not Stiles that broke it.
“So, will you let me pay for that paper you need?”
Stiles rolled his eyes and snuggled closer into Peter’s chest. “If you want to,” he paused and Peter could feel the grin on his still slightly sweaty skin, “daddy.”