“You do realize that curiosity killed the cat, don’t you?” The lazy drawl is surprising, yet actually isn’t that unexpected. Stiles stops picking the lock in front of him but doesn’t turn to face Peter.
“Maybe so, but satisfaction brought him back,” Stiles quips, finally looking over and smirking at Peter. He’s been caught with his lock picks in hand, so there’s not really anyway he can lie his way out of this one.
“Ah, but are you satisfied, Stiles?” Peter’s much better at smirking that Stiles, and he’s got this uncanny ability to make everything he says sound like a dirty innuendo. The husky tone to his voice just drips sex in a way that makes Stiles’ body react even as his mind is screaming ‘danger Will Robinson’. Peter takes a step forward, gaze moving over Stiles deliberately. “I don’t think you are. Perhaps that’s why you’ve come here tonight, though.”
“I came here because I want to know what you’re hiding,” Stiles tells him bluntly. Sure, he might have wild fantasies about Peter naked and begging beneath him, but Stiles is barely eighteen and horny all the time. He has fantasies about all kinds of things that don’t affect his judgement or need to protect his pack. While the ones about Peter are happening more often in recent weeks, he blames close proximity and his semi-obsession with finding out what Peter’s up to this time. Because Stiles knows he’s got to be up to something. He just doesn’t know what.
Ever since Peter got released from Eichen, after that whole Beast mess and Lydia almost dying, he’s been creepier than ever, which Stiles hadn’t even thought possible. He’s always there, everywhere Stiles goes, at the grocery store or the coffee shop or the diner. Lurking around and watching, listening, smirking and being ridiculously sexy for a dude his age. It’s irritating, really. Especially because he’s sneaking around, too. He spends hours doing something in a locked garage at the house he bought right after getting his freedom back.
That’s actually another huge red flag to Stiles, even if Scott is trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Only Scott would buy the guy who turned him against his will, who tried killing him numerous times, and who is a creepy creeper who creeps a housewarming gift, but that’s why Scott needs Stiles because Stiles isn’t so optimistic and accepting of people. It’s weird that Peter bought a house, but it’s even worse because it’s a quaint two bedroom historical type of cottage that isn’t shiny and sparkly and expensive. That right there tells Stiles something is going on, and he needs to make sure it isn’t going to be yet another attempt to kill Scott or plot to take over the pack.
“You know, if someone knows what to look for, your pretty face is so easy to read, Stiles,” Peter informs him, still talking in that sexy tone that makes Stiles think about husky pleas for more and post-orgasm whispers. Judging by the slight quirk of Peter’s lips, Stiles must stink of arousal. Damn werewolves with their supernatural senses. Peter walks up to him, close enough that he’s definitely intruding in Stiles’ personal space. “You’re incredibly predictable, too.”
“Pretty face?” Stiles snorts even as he has to resist the urge to take a step back so Peter isn’t so close. “You’re full of it, Peter. Quit trying to distract me from my objective. I might be predictable, but so are you. You’ve probably got some creature you’re trying to control hidden away in this garage, or you’re cultivating some evil magical ingredients.”
Peter touches his heart and gives Stiles a look of mock hurt. “Your doubts wound me greatly, Stiles. Have I not proven myself trustworthy in recent months? I nearly died saving that ridiculous puppy Scott turned, after all. I have different priorities after my time in Eichen. Why is that so difficult to believe?” Peter smiles sly and leans forward, face so close Stiles can feel his body heat, his breath a warm puff of air against Stiles’ ear. “I think you’re attracted to me, and the only way you can justify it to yourself is if you blame it on being suspicious of me. That gives you the excuse to watch me, to stay around me, to want me.”
“I’m eighteen and surrounded by people who look like they should be modeling in magazines. Even the old dudes like you and Chris Argent are hot, so, yes, I’m always horny. Don’t take it personal, Peter,” he mutters, watching the way Peter’s eyes flash blue when he mentions Chris. Stiles slowly smiles. “You don’t like that, do you? Realizing you aren’t the only one I’ve jerked off to? I could tell you some of the fantasies I’ve had, if that’s what gets you off, but not until after I see what’s in this garage.”
“Stay away from Argent,” Peter growls softly, sneering as he stares into Stiles’ eyes in a way that’s possessive yet needy. Stiles can’t really explain it, but the look makes his dick twitch and his stomach feel strange. “He’s bad news. He’ll use you up then toss you away.”
“What if all I want to do is use him then toss him aside?” Stiles challenges, leaning into Peter’s space this time. “You sound jealous, Peter. Threatened. Worried I’ll go around to his place and ask him if I can call him daddy?” Stiles feels slightly powerful, in a way, and it’s really getting him off because Peter is usually so in control and unaffected that it’s frustrating. Seeing him react to something is a rush, and it’s giving Stiles confidence he normally lacks. He leans in closer, ghosting his lips against Peter’s jaw. “The thing is, I’d want him to call me daddy because I’m no one’s boy.”
Peter inhales sharply, nostrils flaring, and his eyelashes flutter at whatever it is he smells or hears. Stiles knows his heartbeat is steady because he isn’t lying. There’d been a time when he thought about submitting to someone, jerked off thinking about baring his neck to Derek more times than he cares to remember, even Scott and Peter, Jackson a time or ten, but since the Nogitsune, the last thing he ever wants is to be under anyone’s control. It doesn’t matter how much he trusts them, he isn’t ever planning on submitting to anyone, sexually or otherwise. Instead, he jerks off now thinking about strong powerful men bowing to him, letting him dominate them, letting him take care of them, and he comes even harder than he used to.
“So maybe you want to rethink your strategy here,” Stiles continues, riding out this wave of confidence while it lasts. “Because I’m not the same scared schoolboy I was when we met. Guess I’m not that predictable after all, am I?”
“You are,” Peter whispers, voice low and even sexier than before. He licks his lips as he stares at Stiles, not moving back or trying to step away. “Do you think I’m blind? I watched you afterwards, saw the way you changed, saw you come into yourself while all your silly friends never noticed. There’s still some of him in you, isn’t there? None of them want to see it, so they don’t. They think of you as the same clumsy little boy who wants to run with wolves. They don’t realize you’re even more dangerous than the wolves are now.”
“There’s nothing left of him,” Stiles snarls, reaching out to grip Peter’s shirt. It’s soft against his fingers, luxurious material of some sort, fitting him snug and perfect. “This is all me. I was reborn, remember? Some of his memories remained, locked away in my head, and I tap into them sometimes, but I can control them. He’s gone, and I’m still here. What do you see, Peter?”
“I see a powerful young man who still hasn’t tapped into his spark because the local druid is deliberately unhelpful. I see a strong young man who will do whatever it takes to protect those he considers his, this town and his pack. I see a scared young man who hides behind masks so his friends don’t get frightened of him and who doesn’t realize his own potential.” Peter moves his head, lips barely grazing Stiles’ jaw. “I see you, Stiles, and that terrifies you, doesn’t it?”
“It takes a lot more than that to scare me,” Stiles murmurs, releasing his grip on Peter’s shirt. “You only see what I let you see, Peter. Don’t get cocky because you’ve realized something none of the others have because you wouldn’t have if I hadn’t let you.” He arches a brow and smiles when Peter blinks at him. “Testing you, of course. I wanted to know what you’d do with the information, if you’d try manipulating Scott or using me for your latest scheme. And you didn’t. You sound like you actually care, which I hate to admit isn’t something I expected.” He moves his fingers into Peter’s hair, tugging just enough to pull Peter’s head back. “I think I’ve misjudged you. What is it you really want from me? Be honest and maybe you’ll get it.”
“You know what I want.” Peter sneers slightly, but he doesn’t fight. Instead, he practically bares his neck, and Stiles almost wishes he had werewolf senses so he could inhale the sweet scent of victory in the form of Peter’s desperate needy arousal. “The same thing I’ve wanted since we met, when you were a reckless yet brave little boy trying to save your friends yet willing to reject my generous offer. So young and innocent, tempting even then. You helped kill me, and I still came back craving you even more.”
“Do you hate it?” Stiles asks curiously. Now that they’re here, like this, alone without anyone else, he’s putting things together in a different way, seeing the picture a lot more clearly. Peter wants him, which he’s always suspected yet not really thought possible, but it’s more than that. Peter is drawn to him, possibly against his will, and Stiles isn’t going to ever control anyone like that, so he has to know what Peter really wants. “Do you resent the fact that you’re attracted to a kid so many years younger than you? Or do you want it so badly that it frustrates you because you don’t think you’ll ever have it?”
Peter huffs a laugh. “The only thing I resent is that you’re so paranoid and suspicious that it’s taken you this long to realize you could have been fucking me all this time,” he says, giving Stiles a look that’s somehow arrogant and disappointed all at the same time. “Your age means nothing to me, never has, because human laws are archaic and I’ve never been one for morals especially if they get in the way of what I want. Now, the question of the day is, what are you going to do now that you know I’ve wanted you all this time? Run away and hide like a scared little boy or take what we both know you want?”
“What’s in the garage?” Stiles stares into Peter’s eyes, answering the question simply by not making an excuse to leave. “Tell me and I might finally give you a taste of what you’re craving so badly.”
“It’s a studio, not a garage. Full of art supplies,” Peter admits, smirking when Stiles can’t hide his surprise quickly enough. “Eichen was a horrible place, but I had nothing but time to think in between the torturous so called therapy. I used to enjoy drawing and painting before the fire, so I thought it would be an appropriate outlet for my emotions. Far better for my lifespan than plotting Scott’s death, don’t you think? Would you like to go inside and see my etchings, Stiles?”
“You’re an ass,” Stiles mutters. Oddly enough, he actually believes Peter, not that he isn’t going to make him show him the studio later.
“I believe you promised me a taste?” Peter drops his gaze to stare at Stiles’ lips. “I do hope you aren’t going to renege on the deal now that you’ve received your answer. After all, you’re far from satisfied yet.”
“I said maybe, never promised.” Stiles leans in, feeling that surge of power again as Peter’s breath catches and he practically presents himself because he wants Stiles so much. God, it’s such a rush, and Stiles thinks it could become addictive. “Tell me what you want, Peter. Say the words, and I’ll reward you.”
Peter clears his throat, his body trembling slightly as Stiles presses closer, forcing Peter against the door to the studio. “I want to be your boy,” he breathes out, so quiet it isn’t even a whisper. Stiles wouldn’t have heard it if it hadn’t been said right against his ear. “I want you.”
“Good boy,” he murmurs before he kisses Peter. Finally. Lips pressing against Peter’s mouth, gentle yet firm because Stiles knows now that Peter needs that, wants a strong hand to keep him in line but also needs someone to take care of him, to want him, to own him. Peter returns the kiss, fingers moving into Stiles’ hair, the other hand gripping Stiles’ shoulder as his lips move beneath Stiles’ mouth. It becomes less gentle as they kiss, tongues stroking, teeth nibbling, deepening as Stiles licks into Peter’s mouth. It’s a heated kiss, more passionate than anything Stiles has ever experienced for a first kiss, nothing innocent or uncertain about it.
As they kiss, he moves his leg between Peter’s, straddling Peter’s thigh and rutting against it. Peter starts rolling his hips, grinding against Stiles’ leg as they lick and suck at each other’s tongues, losing themselves in the kiss. Stiles is hard now, throbbing, and he can’t wait to fuck Peter’s face, but not yet. He wants to take his time when they do that, maybe tie him up and tease him, come down his throat then on his face until he’s begging to be fucked by Stiles’ huge dick. He kisses him a little harder, more possessively, and Peter seems to like it because he’s making these soft noises now, low and sexy as he rolls his hips a little more firmly.
When Stiles pulls back from the kiss, he looks at Peter, sees the flushed face, swollen lips, eyes that are dazed yet still alert, messy hair. “Beautiful boy,” he murmurs before kissing Peter again, capturing the soft growl with his mouth as Peter returns the kiss eagerly. Devouring Stiles, in a way, and it’s so good that Stiles goes with it, licking and biting as he moves his hands down to grip Peter’s ass. He pulls him forward, rutting against his leg more intently. When Peter comes, Stiles soon follows, unable to stop himself from grunting and coming in his underwear like a horny kid because he knows that’s what Peter just did. It turns him on knowing the suave and sophisticated Peter Hale just came in his pants while riding Stiles’ thigh like a needy whore.
They keep kissing as they continue to move until the wet jeans start to chafe so Stiles forces himself to take a step back. Peter looks sated and smug, like he’s finally got everything he’s been wanting, like a plan has come to a successful end. They don’t say anything. Not this time. Instead, Peter tries to smooth his hair down and straightens his shirt before walking past Stiles to go to his house. He stops after taking a dozen steps and looks over his shoulder, arching a brow and giving Stiles a look that’s also an invitation. An indication that there’s more to come if Stiles follows him.
For a moment, Stiles figures this must be what Alice felt like before she fell down the rabbit hole. Obviously, he knows what he’s going to do, but he can appreciate Peter giving him the choice, especially since everything sort of happened fast and Stiles let his confidence and that rush of sexual power sort of take control for a bit. Stiles slowly smiles as he starts walking, watching Peter’s shoulders relax minutely, losing a tension that was obviously there. If Stiles didn’t want this, he wouldn’t have gone this far, but Peter doesn’t know that. When they reach the house, Stiles follows Peter inside and shuts the door behind him.
This could be one of the stupidest things he’s ever done, getting involved with Peter sexually and most likely romantically because Stiles might be tougher than he seems, but he isn’t the type to fuck someone he isn’t dating. Peter might be older than him by a significant amount of years and a murderer back from the dead, but, well, he and Stiles have the latter bit in common. And Peter’s hot, all sassy charm and well-built with an ass Stiles can’t wait to fuck. He doesn’t really trust Peter in many ways, still figures he’s up to something even if it seems all Peter’s been scheming is how to get Stiles to fuck him, but it’ll be a lot easier to keep an eye on him if he’s in Stiles’ bed most nights. Besides, Stiles’ wants him. And, really, that’s the only thing that truly matters.