
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/504929.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Peter_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Blow_Jobs, Hand_Jobs, Biting, Marking
  Series:
      Part 5 of Steter_Short_Stories
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-09-05 Words: 2207
****** It's been you all the time... ******
by Daughter_of_Scotland
Summary
     With Peter being back, Stiles remembers feelings he thought he’d
     burned along with the older man.
Notes
     For the prompt "You’re the sun, you’re the only one"
“Fuck,” was all Stiles could say when he finally, finally realized what had
happened. Peter was back.
After everything had cleared up with Jackson, Stiles stared at the older man,
feeling his blood drain from his face. And when their eyes met, Peter smirking
at him, he remembered, with startling clarity, that night in the car park and a
whispered question that still haunted his nightmares.
Stiles swallowed and moved to the driver side of his jeep.
“I need to go home,” he said, clearing his throat. “My, uhm. My dad’s gonna
freak if he finds out I’m gone again. He’s a bit on the over protective side
right now, so…”
He trailed off as he realized that no one paid him any attention so he
shrugged, started the car and left.
He shivered as he looked into the rearview mirror and saw Peter staring after
him.
 
***
 
That night, while his dad was at work, Stiles sat on his bed, clad only in
boxers and a shirt, trying in vain to clear his mind.
All he could see were Peter’s eyes, feel Peter’s hand on his wrist, shiver
under his breath and –
“Can’t sleep?”
Stiles let out a loud yelp and stared at the window. Peter casually closed it
behind himself after getting fully into the room and turned around, lifting an
eyebrow at Stiles.
”It’s late. Shouldn’t you try to rest, after your run-in with the Argents?”
Stiles couldn’t answer. He blanched again and his hands curled into fists on
his legs as he tried his best to not give into his flight instinct.
“What are you doing here?” he croaked. “Can’t you werewolves use a front door?”
Peter chuckled. “You wouldn’t have let me in if I’d rang the bell, right?”
Stiles rolled his eyes and didn’t answer, it was a rhetorical question.
Peter leaned against the window sill, his whole stance relaxed and comfortable.
“I wanted to talk to you,” the older man said. “Alone, I mean. I don’t need
Derek and his little pups overhearing. Though, now it’s just pup, I suppose.”
Stiles flinched. After Scott’s declaration and Erica and Boyd still being on
the run, Derek had only Isaac left. And Peter, apparently.
“How can you be back?” Stiles asked, hearing the desperation in his voice. “I
saw you. We burned you and Derek killed you. How can you be back?”
Peter was quiet for a moment. “Yes, burning a fire victim… not very nice, but
smart. It was your idea, I’m guessing?”
He didn’t wait for an answer and continued. “As for how… Let’s say, Ms. Martin
will feel considerably more alone in her head from now on. Not my finest
moment, I admit, but I needed a backup plan and she worked beautifully.”
Stiles grit his teeth. “You’re a monster,” he spat. “Using a girl like that…”
Peter chuckled again. “Well, I wasn’t really in my right mind at the time now,
was I? But I’m better now.”
Suddenly he was standing in front of Stiles and the boy jerked back, falling on
his back and scrambling up on his elbows, moving up the bed.
Peter’s eyes gleamed yellow. “I’m actually here to talk to you about something
else though,” he said, stepping between Stiles’ legs that were still hanging
off the bed. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”
Stiles couldn’t help it, he nodded. Right. The car park. “You can’t turn me
anymore,” he said desperately. “You’re not the Alpha.”
Peter nodded slowly. “That is true. Though I wonder why Derek hasn’t done it
yet… You would be the perfect wolf, Stiles, I didn’t lie when I said that.
You’re loyal and smart but also cunning and ready to do what the situation
requieres. You’re already a great addition to a pack, even as a human. As a
wolf you’d be magnificent.”
Stiles couldn’t help the warm feeling that washed over him at these words. He
wasn’t often told that he was good for something other than research.
“Well, Derek apparently doesn’t share you opinion,” he said, trying to keep his
voice light. “He never offered to bite me. And even if he did – I don’t want
it.”
Peter smiled and leaned forward. He was now kneeling on the bed with one leg,
his knee dangerously close to Stiles’ crotch and the boy scooped up further.
“Ah, but see,” the man practically purred. “I can still hear your heartbeat and
it’s still off when you say that. You’re lying, Stiles… Just as you were lying
when I first offered.”
He grabbed Stiles’ hand and pulled him closer. Stiles gasped as his wrist was
as close to Peter’s mouth as it had been once before.
“Don’t,” he cried but his breathing sped up.
Peter’s smile widened. “You don’t want to become a werewolf,” he said slowly,
in understanding. “But you do want a bite… Isn’t that right, Stiles?”
 
Stiles whimpered. He couldn’t help himself, all his buried emotions crashed
back onto him all at once.
How he’d felt when Peter had grabbed him the first time, the rush of something
he only later recognized as arousal when those teeth had been so close to his
tender flesh… He remembered how he’d jerked off that night, disgusted with
himself but with images of Peter haunting him. When he came, he’d bitten his
own arm so hard he drew blood to keep from crying out the older man’s name and
it made him orgasm even harder.
He’d tried to forget about it after they’d killed Peter, but the man returned
in his dreams almost every night and when he did Stiles always woke up hard and
aching.
After a while he just accepted it, stopped being disgusted by himself when he
jerked off to the memory of Peter, or fantasies involving the man. He was gone
and no one would ever know and some day it would stop on it’s own.
But now Peter was back and so were his fantasies.
 
“Oh, Stiles,” Peter breathed and Stiles found himself on his back, the older
man leaning above him, one leg still between his own. “I’m sorry I didn’t
realize it back then,” he continued, nosing along Stiles’ chin and jaw. “But
your smell… It’s intoxicating.”
Stiles whimpered again and pushed against Peter’s chest. “Get off,” he said but
even in his own ears it sounded weak. “I don’t… I don’t want this, I –“
“You’re lying again,” Peter interrupted him and bit down on Stiles’ neck.
The boy cried out as his hips bucked up. Heat flared through him and he stared
at Peter who’d drawn back almost immediately, a triumphant smirk on his face.
“See,” he said, pressing his leg against Stiles’ hardening cock through his
boxers. “You do want a bite. But maybe it’s not mine? Do you think of Derek
biting you when you’re alone at night? Or maybe one of the pups?”
Stiles swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. His hands fisted into Peter’s
shirt and he could feel his resolve and arguments crumbling, the bite on his
neck throbbing in time with his heart beat.
“No,” he said, barely audible even for Peter. “I want… I want you to bite me.”
He looked back up at the man, licking his lips. “In my head… it’s always been
you.”
 
Lips crashed down on his, biting and licking and Stiles could only open his
mouth, letting Peter’s tongue invade his mouth, devouringhim, as the man’s leg
nudged and rubbed against his cock. Hands were running up and down his throat
and under his shirt, scratching the skin there.
After what felt like ages Peter pulled back. His eyes were bright yellow but
the rest of his face was completely human.
“You can’t imagine how often I’ve thought about this since I’ve been back,” he
growled, kissing his way down to Stiles’ neck. “Marking you as mine… show Derek
how worthy you are… I discovered you, Stiles. You belong to me. You’re mine.”
He bit down again, harder this time, sucking a deep bruise into the skin while
Stiles could only moan.
“Answer me,” Peter snapped. “You belong to me, am I right?”
“Yes,” Stiles answered without thinking. “I’m yours – oh god. I’m yours.”
 
Peter pulled back at that. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered and Stiles
scrambled to obey while the man pulled off his own shirt.
Stiles hesitated at his boxers and looked up carefully. “I, uhm… I’ve never
actually done this,” he said, blushing in embarrassment. “I’m not… I mean,
uhm…”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Relax,” he told him, opening his belt and pushing down
his pants along with his boxers. “I’m not gonna deflower you tonight, Stiles.”
He grinned. “I will make you scream my name though.”
With that he pulled off his pants and leaned back, letting Stiles stare at him
for a while, lazily stroking his own cock until it was fully hard.
Stiles swallowed and finally got rid of his own boxers, precome already
dampening the fabric.
Peter looked him up and down slowly, making Stiles squirm and wanted to hide
himself but he gripped the sheets instead.
“You done leering?” he mumbled and Peter looked back at his face.
“You’re mine,” he repeated calmly. “I can leer at you whenever I want.”
Stiles shivered but didn’t get a chance to answer as Peter bend back down and
kissed him again, slower than before but just as dirty. His hands moved over
Stiles’ chest before they reached his nipples and rubbed, making Stiles arch of
the bed, his hands scrambling at Peter’s shoulders.
For a while, Peter continued doing this, rubbing and pinching Stiles’ nipples
while he swallowed each gasp and moan with his mouth, before moving down to
suck more marks into his neck.
Stiles lost track of time as Peter moved down his body, biting various points
of his chest, leaving marks all over him. He felt dizzy and his cock throbbed
almost painfully.
”Please,” he whimpered. “Please, I need… I need to…”
Peter looked at him from where he was sucking at his hip bone. “You need what?”
he asked, scraping his teeth over the flesh.
Stiles flushed even more. “I – I need to come… Please, I can’t… I need it,
please…”
He cut himself off with a cry when Peter swallowed his cock, hollowed his
cheeks and sucked.
“Oh my god,” Stiles cried, one hand fisting in Peter’s hair and the other in
the sheets. Peter’s arm went over his stomach to hold him still as he tried to
buck up and push even deeper into Peter’s mouth.
“Oh god, fuck, I can’t – Peter!”
Peter pulled back before Stiles could come though and the boy cried out again
in desperation.
“Relax,” the older man said and grabbed Stiles’ cock as he moved up the bed
again. “I’m not letting you stay like this…”
Stiles gasped as he felt Peter grasping his own cock alongside Stiles’, his
saliva and the precome of the both of them providing a nice slide.
Peter moved his hand up and down slowly a few times and Stiles sobbed at the
feeling of Peter’s head catching under his own.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” he babbled, pulling Peter down for another, desperate
kiss. “Please,” he mumbled against his lips. “Oh, please, please please!”
Peter groaned as he sped up his movements, jerking them fast and hard. He was
very close himself, Stiles’ pleas turning him on more than he’d imagined.
“You’re mine,” he repeated, growling into Stiles’ skin. “No one else can have
you.”
Stiles nodded frantically. “Yours,” he gasped out, digging his nails into
Peter’s back, knowing the scratches would heal within seconds and hating it.
“But you’re mine, too.”
Peter came with a low howl at those words, losing some of his controls during
his orgasm and sinking his fangs deep into Stiles’ shoulder.
The boy screamed,just as Peter had promised, and his body stilled as he reached
his own orgasm, adding his semen to Peter’s, coating the man’s hand and Stiles’
stomach and chest.
 
They both breathed heavily as they calmed down, Peter retracting his fangs and
lapping over the wounds, tasting Stiles’ blood with a moan.
”Does it need stitches?” the boy asked tiredly but Peter shook his head.
“No. It will heal on its own.” He traced the mark with his fingers, making
Stiles shudder. Then he let go of them both, reaching for the Kleenex he’d seen
on the nightstand to clean them both up.
“So…” Stiles said after a while, turning his head to look at Peter. “That
whole… possession thing. Was that just because of the sex or…?”
Peter held his eyes and shook his head. “No. You’re mine now, Stiles.” He
smirked. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily again.”
Stiles swallowed. “But… why me? I mean, I’m just… Just a human.”
Peter’s eyes softened and he traced the bite mark again. “I told you,” he
answered. “You’re special.” He smiled, a truly warm and open smile. “To me,
you’re perfect.”
Stiles couldn’t help but return the smile as he moved his body around so he
could pillow his head on Peter’s chest, closing his eyes.
That night he slept without dreams.
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