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Peter was in his office when there was a knock on the door. Erica peeked in, rolling her eyes when she saw Stiles between his legs.
“Deucalion is here,” she said, throwing her blond locks over her shoulder. She was wearing a nice, red one-piece. Boyd must have been good lately.
Peter nodded, burying his fingers in his boy’s hair and pulling him off with a painful tug.
Stiles moaned, hard cock dribbling out a drop of precome to the floor between his legs.
“Come on, baby doll, we have a visitor,” he said, getting up. He lit a cigarette while Stiles got on his feet, taking the leash attached to his collar and leading him out of the office.
Nobody really looked up at them entering the bar - the patrons of the Moonshine long since learned not to look too closely at Peter or the company he kept.
Their new crooner - Kira - was singing something sweet and oriental, Isaac at the piano playing along subtly. That bird was going to make them a fortune. The whole room was listening, the booths filled mostly with queer couples. That was their speciality - even the places that sold booze didn’t often welcome the people in his cliente.
Deucalion was sitting in the corner that was reserved for special guests, with his henchmen - a pair of twins - guarding the table. He was just putting his stetson down, eyes catching Peter and widening just a fraction when he noticed Stiles. He was a good guy though, and quickly got his pokerface back in place. Nobody came to the Moonshine and insulted Peter.
“Deucalion, nice to see you,” he greeted, not acknowledging the goons who were giving Stiles the side eye. He knew they probably wanted a piece of his kitten, but thankfully were not foolish enough to try.
“Peter,” the man said, standing to shake his hand.
They sat, Stiles kneeling at Peter’s feet. It was a bit chilly, so he pulled him up, arranging the boy in his lap. He couldn’t help his hands from wandering down to play with the fat plug in that sweet little ass.
“What can I help you with?” he asked, smirking at the way Deucalion had a hard time looking away from the smooth expanse of Stiles’ skin. He took a long drag of his cigarette while he waited for the other man to get his thoughts together.
“I want to ask for a favor,” Deuc finally told him, face going serious.
“Hm, is that so? You are not one to come begging easily,” he said, just to get a reaction. Deucalion only barely kept himself from bristling, but managed. He lit a smoke too.
“I’m not exactly begging.”
Peter pulled out the plug a bit and then let it get sucked back into Stiles’ needy little bottom, making the boy moan. Deucalion swallowed.
“Not yet, but the fact that you’re even here means that you’re ready to,” he said nonchalantly. “We’re not exactly friends; those speakeasies you manage are competition, and I don’t like competition very much.”
Deuc leaned back, watching them with a calculating look.
“Maybe, but I’m staying on my side, and you’re staying on your side. It’s not something that has to cause bad blood between us.”
Peter nodded, slowly inching a finger in beside the plug. Stiles was trembling, holding onto him tight. He knew his boy loved that little extra stretch.
“So what do you want?”
Deucalion rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.
“Can’t you stop that for a minute?” he asked with a sigh, but Peter didn’t even deem the question worthy of a reply. He will do what he wants, thank you.
“It’s the Calaveras,” Deucalion said finally, realizing that the distraction wouldn’t cease anytime soon.
Now that grabbed Peter’s interest.
“What about them?” They were a southern family, and so far didn’t cause too many problems, but it was always smart to keep one’s eyes on the upstarts.
Stiles whined when he kept fucking his finger into him. Peter was good at multitasking, and his doll deserved all the attention.
“Severo and a few of his henchmen have been spotted around the city. Some little birds told me they are looking to expand. Or branch out.” Deucalion told him, more in his element now that they were talking shop.
“Here?” Peter asked doubtfully. The Hale name alone should have been enough to keep such things at bay. Peter kept most of the city’s underbelly under his control while Talia took care of high society. It was a good division of labor.
Deuc nodded.
“I think they want to take over my territory first, but, you know how those things go.”
He did. Once the Calaveras had a foothold in the city, they would start stirring things up, trying to topple the status-quo. That wasn’t something Peter wanted to see.
“Let's say I’m willing to help, what do you want? We can’t exactly go all out against them. They are a big family, and killing Severo would be a clear declaration of war.”
Stiles bit his lip, looking up at Peter and opening his mouth for the first time that night.
“I’m close,” he whispered, voice barely audible but still filled with desperation.
Peter tutted, pulling his hand back.
“Well, we can’t have that, kitten, can we?” he said with a grin, making the boy moan. “You haven’t earned a good time yet.”
Deucalion cleared his throat.
“I heard that you have a hitman.”
“I have many,” Peter told him, glancing around the crowded room. None of the guests were assassins - at least not on his paycheck - but he loved making people nervous.
Deucalion acted like he didn’t notice, but Peter could see him subtly check the gun under his arm. Amateur.
“Yeah, well, you know the one I’m talking about. The one who got the police chief.”
Peter chuckled.
“My, my. I heard poor Gerard had a heart attack. In his own home. Behind locked doors.”
Deucalion leaned forward, eyes narrowed.
“Exactly,” he hissed. “Everybody knows you got him killed somehow, but nobody can figure out how or who did it.”
Stiles started nipping on his earlobe and it was getting distracting. Peter yanked on his leash.
“Get under the table, baby doll, and let the men talk,” he said. The boy gave him a little grin and slipped off his lap, kneeling between his legs and nuzzling his cock. He was still hard, having been interrupted by Deucalion. Thankfully, his kitten knew how much was enough - keeping him interested without tying down all his attention.
“And the attorney? Harris? The one who started digging around your sister?” Deucalion asked, watching Peter like a hawk.
Oh, that had been fun.
“To the best of my knowledge he overdosed himself on valium and whiskey after enjoying the company of some unsavory ladies,” Peter told him deadpan. “It’s amazing how a man’s whole reputation can be ruined, even in his death.”
Deucalion huffed.
“Sure. Keep up the charade all you want. But… if something like that would befall Araya Calavera, I’m sure her little boy would rush home to sort out the inheritance with his dear brothers, and only god knows how long that would take them.”
That was true. As much as an iron fisted matrone Araya was, her children were just a bunch of idiots. All muscle and no brain. It was safe to assume that they would jump on each-other’s throats when she passed away.
Stiles mouthed at his clothed erection, slowly but surely soaking the fabric with his saliva. It wasn’t the first suit they’ve ruined this week.
“Alright. I think that could be arranged, but I will have to talk to my man to see if he’s willing.”
Deucalion raised an eyebrow.
Peter smiled.
“Oh, believe me, even I don’t want to yank on the whiskers of that cat,” he said. He lifted Stiles’ face with a finger under his chin.
“What do you say, kitten, fancy a little trip to Mexico?”
Stiles grinned, eyes sharp and glinting with excitement.
“It would be my pleasure, boss.”