
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1144780.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Peter_Hale, Scott_McCall, Isaac_Lahey
  Additional Tags:
      Semi-Public_Sex, Car_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-20 Words: 2301
****** Lunch Hour ******
by startwithsparks
Summary
     Peter has a bad habit of hanging out around the highschool, but this
     time he takes it one step further...
Hunched over, Stiles shouldered his way through the crowded hallway, like a
fish swimming against the tide. Scott and Isaac were supposed to meet him at
the doors to the parking lot, but he was trying to get there first so he didn't
have to stand there and wait for them to stop being overly-affectionate. He'd
never been one for patience, and it was worse when he felt like the consummate
third-wheel. He leaned his weight against the door, squinting slightly as
sunlight replaced harsh fluorescent lights.
The air hung a bit heavy, the way it did right before it rained, with the crisp
scent of ozone slicing through. Stiles inhaled deep, but all he could smell was
that cloying scent of an impending storm. Were he Scott, had he accepted the
bite that had once been offered to him, he was sure he could sense every little
nuance that lingered in the air around him. He scuffed at the gravel as he
waited, rolling the sole of his shoe over a larger rock.
The door behind him clicked open and Stiles quickly sidestepped out of the way,
anticipating Scott and Isaac, but watching a small cluster of girls walk
through instead. He rubbed at the back of his neck, slowly pivoting back around
on his heel, only to be confronted by Peter Hale not two feet away from him.
"Jesus, fuck!" he flailed, staggering back a step. "Would you not do that to
me."
Peter just quirked an eyebrow casually and shrugged, the shoulders on his
jacket crinkling a bit as he did. "Why?" he asked, "It's funny."
"No," Stiles shook his head. "No, it's not."
Peter rolled his eyes, head tipping to the side. "I take it you weren't waiting
for me?"
"Why would I be-" he started, then frowned. "I'm waiting for Scott and Isaac so
we can go to lunch."
"Convenient," he drawled. "I was going to offer to take you to lunch myself."
Stiles' face flushed and his face scrunched up as he furtively glanced around.
"You can't just say that."
"I just did."
"Someone's going to hear!"
"So?"
Stiles rubbed at his forehead. "You really have no concept of how much trouble
I'd get into if anyone found out about this."
"Found out about what?" He heard Isaac say from behind him.
Stiles whirled around the other way and socked Scott in the arm - only because
he and Isaac weren't really at the stage in their friendship where they could
punch each other and not take offense, which was likely due to the fact that he
and Isaac weren't friends at all. "I really wish you guys would stop doing that
to me."
Isaac grinned, though the expression dimmed slightly as he shifted his gaze to
Peter. "What do you want?"
"To borrow Stiles."
Scott furrowed his brows. "Why?"
But Peter offered no more explanation than a shrug as he stepped off the top
stair and started back towards where his car was idling in a parking spot out
front. "Are you coming?"
Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically, reeling down the stairs after
him. "I'll see you guys in class," he said over his shoulder, his tone a bit
defeated.
It wasn't that he didn't want to leave with Peter, or that he wasn't a little
bit excited that Peter had shown up for him for a change, it was just that the
weight of their clandestine relationship weighed pretty heavy on him. Not only
was his father the sheriff - and would be more than happy for a reason to toss
Peter in prison and throw away the key - but part of him felt like he was
betraying Scott, just a bit, by going behind his back like this. He didn't
think that Scott would make a big deal of it, but at the same time he didn't
think that he would understand it either. It would be one thing if it was
Derek, who was slightly closer to their own age, but Peter seemed to encompass
this untouchable sort of thing that made him more than forbidden; it made him a
bit dirty as well.
It would probably come as no surprise that it was part of the appeal of being
with him. Stiles had pushed the boundaries of teenage rebellion pretty far, but
this seemed so far past the proverbial line that it had become something else
entirely.
He cringed a bit as Peter opened his door for him, twisting around to see that
Scott and Isaac were still watching them carefully, then offered an awkward
wave as he slipped into the passenger's seat. Peter was in the other side a
little too quickly to be natural, shifting the car into gear and pulling easily
out of the space. Stiles waited until they were at least five blocks away
before he turned and flailed anxiously at him.
"Oh my god," he wheezed. "Could you quite possibly never do that again?"
Peter grinned, "I thought it was romantic."
"It was, but-" he rubbed his hand over his face. "I'm going to kill you."
"I believe you already tried, and look where that got us." Peter cast a glance
over to Stiles, saw him flushed and wide-eyed, and sighed softly. He reached
over and settled his hand on Stiles' thigh. "Alright," he continued, "I will
endeavor to be more subtle in the future if that's what you would like me to
do."
"I would," Stiles nodded, shifting awkwardly in his seat and sliding down a
little. "I would appreciate that a lot, actually, because I'd rather that you
not get arrested and that my dad not look at me like I had murdered a puppy or
something. If we can avoid that, at all costs, that would be great."
Peter snorted, his gaze focused back on the road, but he felt Stiles' hand
slide on top of his own and nudge it a bit further up his thigh. He didn't
hesitate for a moment to slide his fingers further inward, gently teasing in a
strange sort of apology. Stiles could be annoyed with him as much as he wanted,
but there was always one thing that would bring him around again.
"I have forty-five minutes and counting," Stiles said, reaching down to flick
open the button on his jeans.
"You're not afraid Scott will smell me on you?"
"I'm in your car," he shrugged, "he's going to smell you on me anyhow."
"There's the spirit," Peter purred, turning down a bumpy gravel road and
towards the forest.
They didn't make it much further, not that they ever had, before Peter pulled
just off the road and threw the car into park. His seat belt snapped free and
he reached over to release Stiles' as well.
"Get in the back."
"Yes, sir!" Stiles replied, as enthusiastic as ever.
Maybe the concerns of before hadn't been eased away but the boy knew and
opportunity when he saw it and wasn't about to pass it up. He ambled into the
back seat, dropping onto his knees and squirming around, his legs dangling
between the two front seats. As he shuffed his jeans down, Peter tugged them
and his shoes off, leaving them in a rumpled pile in the passenger's seat. For
his part, he actually managed to get out of the car, shrugging out of his
jacket and pulling his shirt loose from where it had been tucked in. His belt
dangled loose when he crawled into the back, and Stiles' hands went straight
for the buttons down the front of his shirt.
For a moment they were a tangle of clothes and limbs, until Stiles got his
underwear off and his teeshirt dragged over his head, Peter's pants around his
thighs and his shirt hanging open across his shoulders. Stiles slid down and
reached under the passenger's seat for the small canvas bag he knew lingered
there, fingers hooking around the strap so he could free it. He tossed it at
Peter, using the moment it took him to fumble out the necessary details to
drape his legs around the man's hips. Every second had to be pushed as far as
it could go, to save time for the part that really mattered.
While Peter's hands fumbled between them - with the condom, with the bottle of
lube that had rolled somewhere between Peter's knee and the back of Stiles'
thigh - Stiles dragged him down into a messy, breathless kiss. He felt Peter's
hands stall as he growled against Stiles' mouth and dragged his teeth against
the boy's bottom lip, but only as long as it took for him to brace a hand on
the door behind Stiles' head and slide the other between his legs.
Stiles huffed into the kiss, squirming down on Peter's fingers and dragging his
body closer with his heels. "Fuck," he whined between kisses, "hurry up."
He felt Peter chuckle and trail away from his mouth, rough stubble sliding
against his skin as biting kisses wound their way up his throat and towards his
head. "Shh," Peter whispered softly, "patience. It'll be worth it."
Stiles tossed his head back against the seat, burying another muffled moan in
the upholstery until he heard the tear of a wrapper and Peter's fingers slipped
out of him. But nothing came next, not the hard press he'd been waiting for.
Instead Peter grabbed him by the back of the neck hauled him up, his other hand
at the back of Stiles' thigh to draw him over and onto his lap as he settled
down on the seat. Stiles felt the knot in his gut lurch deeper and he tangled
his hands in Peter's hair as the man lined up beneath him.
It was absolutely shameful how loud he moaned as he slid down, and he needed a
moment just for his brain to start communicating with his body again once he
was settled. Peter watched him, eyes half-lidded, with amusement, only broken
the moment Stiles curiously rolled his hips. Peter sucked in a sharp breath,
teeth bared, and dug his fingertips into the back of Stiles' thighs, coaxing
him further, settling him into the rhythm that he wanted. Something in the back
of his mind warned Stiles that this had the potential to be embarrassingly
short-lived, but he couldn't be bothered to care. It was the first time he and
Peter had done this, face to face like this, where he felt like he had more
than just a token amount of control.
But Peter gave as well as he ever had; Stiles could feel the muscles in his
thighs as they tensed with a barely-restrained power, nails digging into his
skin, breath hot against the curve of his collarbone. Every time the vague
thought of how much time they had left started to creep into his mind, Peter
thrust up a little harder, and all Stiles could think about was how
overwhelming the feeling of being pressed into this unforgivingly tight space
made him feel like every nerve in his body was alight.
Afterwards he watched Peter dress with an exhausted kind of charm, still laid
out and half-dressed across the back seat. The steady change of the radio clock
barely bothered him, though he knew if he didn't get back on time Scott would
automatically jump to the most horrifically bloody conclusion. Still, it was
easy to lie there and watch while Peter put himself together again - just
moments ago sweaty and mussed and now carefully sliding his hair perfectly back
into place. He tossed Stiles' jeans at him and waited until he got them on
before crouching down at the open door and sliding shoes onto Stiles' feet as
they dangled there in front of him. He offered a hand, nudged the door closed
with his hip, and waited until Stiles had gotten back in the passenger's seat
before he climbed in as well.
As they made their way back towards the main road, the two merely sat in easy
silence, until Peter reached over and flipped open the glovebox.
A grin stretched across Stiles' face as he saw the brown paper bag inside. "I'm
sure this won't help your case any," he said - getting only a brief chuckle as
reply - as he pulled the bag out and nudged the glove box closed with his knee.
He'd know this bag anywhere, and what it contained as well. Stiles sighed in
contentment as he pulled the contents out of the bag: obscenely over-fried
curly fries and a bacon cheeseburger loaded with everything. He devoured it
with all the enthusiasm of a teenage boy, finishing just as they pulled up in
front of the school.
Stiles quickly leaned across the front seat for a kiss, laughing as Peter wiped
the residual taste of fast food from his lips and shook his head.
"I'll see you tonight."
"I'm counting on it," Peter purred. "I want to be able to take my time, after
all. Now shoo."
Stiles put on his best annoyed face and grabbed his bag from between his feet,
sliding out and slamming the door behind him. He gave the most dramatic face of
derision that he had as he spotted Scott and Isaac rounding the other side of
the building from the parking lot.
"So," Isaac asked holding the door open, "what did he want."
Stiles shrugged, "He wanted to talk about Derek, what else? He thought I could
be bribed with fries."
Scott laughed, "You can be bribed with fries, though - I've done it. My mom has
done it."
"Yeah, well…" Stiles waved dismissively, "he doesn't need to know that."
"You took the fries, didn't you?" Isaac asked.
"Of course, do I look like I'm going to miss lunch for that?"
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