
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4646115.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Peter_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Sexual_Content, Rough_Sex, Claw_Play, Wolfed_Out_Sex, Top_Peter
      Hale, Bottom_Stiles_Stilinski
  Series:
      Part 1 of Play
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-08-24 Words: 3181
****** Play Night ******
by lady_emebalia_(emebalia)
Summary
     "Stiles." Peter's voice was right behind him, low around too many
     teeth. He breathed out with a rumble coming deep from his chest.
     "Run!"
Notes
     If you feel uneasy with consent issues or get triggered by them,
     please read the note at the end of the story first.
See the end of the work for more notes
Stiles parked the jeep in an alley next to the warehouse. He peered out of the
windshield to have a look at the building but it was too dark to see much. No
street lamps around here.
In this area traffic was a rare thing even in the middle of the day and at this
time of the night there was nobody around for miles. Just abandoned buildings,
the pathetic remains of Beacon Hills' short-lived industrial era.
He checked the address on his phone before he got out of the car. The night was
eerily silent like it always was after midnight when sane people were safely
sleeping in their beds.
At least his dad thought that he was spending the night at Scott's so if he
dodged the occasional deputy patrolling the area he should be fine. This was
nothing his dad needed to know about and the last thing he wanted was to
explain himself to one of his deputies.
Stiles swallowed thickly and then went to search for the entrance. Straining
his ears for any sound he squeezed himself through the half open door, the lock
had been broken a long time ago. He couldn't see the hinges but he bet that
they were rusty and hadn't seen an oil can in ages so he tried to not move the
door.
Hiding his presence was probably a lost cause but he tried to be as silent as
possible anyway.
Stiles followed the short hallway, peering into the small rooms to his left and
right but except for some broken glass and garbage in the corners they were
empty. At least he thought so, there wasn't enough light to actually see.
The hallway opened into a wide hall, supported by rows of concrete pillars but
otherwise empty. Industrial windows let in just enough light to not run into
one of the pillars but everything else was left in deep shadows.
"Hello?" Stiles asked. He turned on his heel to have a look around. His voice
echoed from the walls but except for his own footsteps it was the only sound.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught something glowing. He spun around but it
was gone. It might have been the telltale blue eyes of a certain werewolf but
he wasn't sure.
"Peter?" He made a step in that direction but stopped dead in his tracks when
he heard a growling on his left. Frozen he didn't dare to breathe while the
growling deepened. The sound of a predator and suddenly Stiles very much felt
like prey.
On instinct he backed off the way he came, slowly without sudden movements,
while he searched the shadows with his eyes.
"Stiles." Peter's voice was right behind him, low around too many teeth. He
breathed out with a rumble coming deep from his chest. "Run!"
Stiles ran.
"Shit, shit, shit." There was no way he could outrun a werewolf, he knew that,
but he had to try. Propelling himself around a pillar he changed directions,
the rabbit tactic was his only chance.
He swore that he felt claws brushing over his back.
Stiles picked up speed and took a sharp turn around another pillar.
The screeching of claws on concrete told him that Peter had made the turn the
same way and Stiles could feel him breathing down his neck.
More on instinct than anything else Stiles ducked just in time to dodge Peter's
fist which hit a pillar instead. Debris rained down on him and Stiles stumbled
over something.
For a second he saw himself on the ground with a twisted ankle, waiting for the
inevitable like a damsel in distress, but he caught himself with his hands on
the floor and was upright again two steps later.
Peter wasn't on him by then which meant that at the moment he enjoyed the hunt
more than the kill, so to speak.
"Stiles." The words still had to work their way around the fangs but that
didn't dim the patronizing tone. "You can't escape me."
"I can try." Stiles shot back and made another turn. By now he'd lost any sense
of direction. Where was the way out? His heart hammered in his chest and
Peter's amused grumble was almost lost in the rushing of his own blood in his
ears.
"You're it." Peter's voice was right in his ear, his breath brushing hot over
his neck. Then a clawed hand closed around his throat and Stiles went very
still.
Stiles whimpered when he felt the claws pressing into his skin and he tried to
back off but Peter was a solid wall behind him.
He breathed as shallowly as possible but his chest was still heaving in his
need for oxygen.
"Peter, please." He closed his hands around Peter's wrist but the werewolf
didn't budge. Stiles felt the claws on his throat every time he swallowed and
he had no other change than to lean into Peter, head on his shoulder and body
flush against his.
Peter canted his hips and Stiles felt the hard outline of his erection against
his butt.
A shudder went through Stiles and he closed his eyes.
Peter laid his other hand flat on Stiles' chest, the little pinpricks of his
claws an uneven circle around his rapidly beating heart. Peter rolled his hips,
grinding against him.
"You like this, don't you?"
"Sure." Stiles bit out. "Getting chased down by a horny werewolf, who doesn't
like it? Bring the family, it's fun."
Peter chuckled, his fangs scraping over the soft skin right behind Stiles ear.
His hand traveled down and slipped under his shirt. Stiles tried to squirm away
from the claws running over his stomach but there was nowhere to go. He didn't
dare to breathe when Peter found his nipple and started circling it with a
sharp tip. The flesh pebbled under Peter's finger and Stiles could feel him
grinning into his neck.
"Asshole."
Instead of an answer Peter ran a sharp line across his hard nipple. Stiles
cried out in pain and almost impaled himself on Peter's hand still firmly
around his throat.
By the time he'd caught his breath Peter had found his other nipple which
instantly hardened under his attention.
"So sensitive." Peter observed and flicked his clawed thumb over the hard nub.
Stiles bit back a scream.
He had a second to catch his breath while Peter worked his way back down over
his stomach, claws ghosting over his skin. Then his hand came to a halt on the
front of Stiles' jeans, the heel of his hand grinding down on his cock.
"You're hard." Peter said almost in awe.
"I'm a seventeen year old teenager." Stiles grit out and fought the urge to
push into the touch. "Everything gets me hard."
He was rock hard and he was leaking precome which was kind of embarrassing.
Especially since he knew that Peter could smell how aroused he was.
Peter scratched over his groin without ripping his jeans before he slipped back
under his shirt to let his hand rest on Stiles' stomach.
"Take it out." Peter whispered in his ear. Tapping his clawed index finger on
Stiles' throat he made clear that it wasn't a suggestion.
Letting go of Peter's wrist meant to give up the last illusion that he had any
control over the situation. Stiles closed his eyes in defeat and uncramped his
fingers.
He fumbled with the fly but then he had his jeans shoved down and the waistband
of his briefs tucked behind his balls. The cool air on his heated flesh made
him shudder.
Behind him Peter shifted to peer over his shoulder. He reached down and ran a
single claw along the underside of his cock from base to tip, dipping into the
slit. Stiles had to clench his fists and bite his lip to not come from that
alone.
Catching on Peter hummed into his ear, fangs nipping at his neck but he put his
hand back on Stiles' stomach without teasing him farther.
"Now be a good boy and get yourself off." Peter ordered. With one layer of
denim less between them, Stiles felt his hard cock riding his ass more
prominent now and he knew this was just the beginning.
Stiles was a pro at jerking off. If it had been Olympic he would deserve a
goddamn gold medal for it. On edge as he already was, he was about to set a new
world record.
Without a thought his hands found his cock, one cradling his balls, the other
one giving his shaft a few experimental tugs to warm up. Seconds later he was
fucking his own fist, hips stuttering and head lolling on Peter's neck.
What pushed him over, and he would never admit that but he had the suspicion
that Peter knew, were the deadly claws on his most vulnerable parts, throat and
stomach.
He came with a cry, spilling his release over his fist and shirt.
"What a sight to see." Peter held him while he rode out the aftershocks. Then,
finally, the hand left his throat. Only to turn him around so that he was
facing Peter.
He was still shifted, eyes glowing blue, ghosting an eerie light on his fangs.
"Take this off." He tugged at Stiles' hoodie. When it dropped to the ground
Stiles felt naked in only his t-shirt and undone jeans.
"What now?" Stiles asked, trying to sound braver than he felt.
Peter's hands landed on his shoulders. The pressure was answer enough. Stiles
sank down to his knees.
At least he had his hoodie to kneel on, very thoughtful of Peter.
The sarcastic comment died on his lips when Peter shoved his crotch in his
face. The denim was rough on his skin when Peter rubbed against him but he had
his hands still on Stiles' shoulders so there was no getting away.
Peter backed off and for a moment he just stood there.
"Do you need written instructions?" He asked and Stiles knew he would arch an
eyebrow at him if he had any at the moment.
Stiles glared up at him but reached for the button of his jeans.
Peter's cock was full and heavy in his hand and Stiles mouth watered at the
sight.
He leaned in and gave it a slow lick with the flat of his tongue. He dipped
into the slit and circled around the head with only the tip of his tongue
before he closed his lips over the head and gave it a hard suck.
Above him Peter groaned, his claws digging into his shoulders and Stiles
couldn't help but grin.
He did it again, closed his lips around just the tip and sucked.
Peter keened.
More confident now he let Peter's cock slip deeper into his mouth. He tried to
get him as deep as possible but he was far from taking all of him. So Stiles
covered the part he couldn't reach with his hand, pumping in rhythm with the
ups and downs of his mouth.
Peter let him do what he wanted for a while but then his hands left his
shoulders and a second later his claws were digging into Stiles' scalp.
"I'm going to fuck your mouth now." Peter informed him and snapped his hips
forward. His cock hit the back of Stiles throat, making him gag.
Peter was fucking his mouth in earnest now and all Stiles could do was to
slacken his jaw, focus on breathing whenever he had the chance and just hang on
to the ride with his hands clutching Peter's ass.
Stiles lost track of time, it felt like an eternity, but eventually Peter
stilled and slipped out of Stiles mouth.
"I don't want to come in your mouth." Peter growled, clearly fighting to not
come right then. Stiles was tempted to just lean in and suck him to completion
but before he could make up his mind, Peter hauled him to his feet.
"Strip."
A second later Stiles was kneeling naked on his discharged clothes, weight
resting on his forearms and ass up in the air.
Peter ran sharp lines down his back, making Stiles whimper. When he reached his
ass, he kneaded the globes with a mixture of a firm grip and pricks of claws.
The feeling went straight to Stiles' cock.
Peter circled his hole with the tip of a finger, the sharp claw catching on the
wrinkled skin. Stiles sucked in a breath and tried to squirm away but Peter had
him in an iron grip.
"If you ask nicely you can prep yourself." He said and pressed the claw against
his entrance, making clear what the alternative was.
"Please let me do it myself. Please, Peter. Please." Stiles begged long gone
past the point of dignity.
"How can I say no to that?" Peter leaned in and bit down on the meat of his
neck. Stiles cried out in pain and Peter backed off before he broke the skin.
Something hit the floor next to him and Stiles sobbed in relief when he saw the
small bottle of lube.
He didn't know how patient Peter was, wolfed out like this not very, he
guessed, so he went through the prep as quickly as possible. He made it up to
three before Peter ripped his fingers out of his ass. Stiles had only a second
to brace himself before Peter shoved his cock in.
In one long thrust Peter was in balls deep and he didn't give Stiles time to
adjust to the stretch. He grabbed his hips, claws digging into the tender
flesh, and immediately set a brutal pace.
Stiles bit his lip and tasted blood but he didn't scream. He screwed his eyes
shut and focused on breathing and after a few thrusts it became more bearable.
Peter hit his prostate more often than not and by now Stiles was hard again. He
ached for a touch but he needed both arms to brace himself if he didn't want
road rash on his face from the dirty concrete floor.
Peter didn't last long. His thrusts became more erratic and then he threw his
head back in a howl when he spurted his semen deep into Stiles.
The howl echoed from the walls and then there was silence except for their
harsh breathing.
Peter dropped on Stiles' back and bit down on the already abused spot on his
neck.
And with that Stiles came untouched.
He must have zoned out after that because when he came to, he was lying on an
open sleeping bag and Peter, back to human and now equally naked, was cleaning
him up with wet wipes.
"Here." He offered Stiles a bottle of water which he took greedily. "Are you
hurt?"
"I'm good." Stiles mumbled but rolled to his stomach to let Peter work ointment
into the scratches on his back and the bite mark on his neck. Peter respected
the no drawing blood rule but he liked to push the limits. Under Peter's gentle
hands Stiles almost drifted off to sleep.
When he was done with his back Peter rolled him over to take care of his front.
Stiles lifted his head to have a look himself. A few scratches but nothing
serious. The worst was probably his throat but that was nothing new. Peter took
care of every scratch and welt, working his way from his throat down to his
knees.
"Why do I always end up with scraped knees when it's your turn to pick?" Stiles
asked, head dropping back into the soft padding of the sleeping bag.
"You like it." Peter shrugged and capped the tube.
"I do."
Peter stretched out next to him and closed the sleeping bag around them.
Content Stiles snuggled up to him and was asleep in Peter's safe arms a second
later.
A week later Stiles stepped out of the shower, toweled off and then wiped the
mirror to have a look at the fading bruises. Especially his throat was a bitch
to hide but by now his father had more or less accepted that he had taken some
fashion advices from Isaac.
His father wasn't an idiot, though, he was the sheriff, noticing things was
kind of his job. So there had been this one awkward conversation.
"I don't want to know who it is or what you're doing." His dad had said,
probably thinking of Derek. It made sense, in some way, and Stiles would be the
last one to tell him that he was looking at the wrong generation of Hales.
However, as long as his dad didn't know, he didn't have to arrest anybody for
statutory rape.
"But is it …" His dad had cleared his throat. "You know … safe?"
"Safe, sane and consensual." Stiles had completed the question and even today
he wasn't sure if his father had been relieved or horrified by that. "We've
talked about everything. I can tap out whenever I want."
"And he respects that?"
"Yes." Stiles hadn't hesitated at that. He trusted Peter. In fact, he had
tapped out once in the beginning when they had still been figuring things out.
Peter had stopped immediately and had made sure that he was okay.
"I just want you to be safe." His dad had said and Stiles had hugged him for
that.
Stiles didn't have a look at his father's search history for his own mental
health, though.
The pack pretended to not notice what was going on between him and Peter and if
Scott and Derek sniffed him more now than they used to just to make sure that
he was alright, he didn't call them out on it.
Stiles leaned in to have a better look at his neck and chest. The week old
bruises had faded to yellow but there were newer ones as well. Partly from the
two werewolves they had fought earlier that week, partly from the "thank god,
you're still alive" quickie they had in his jeep right outside Derek's loft.
His dad was working the night shift so Stiles just padded over to his room
naked where he put on the tight pants which brought out his ass quite nicely
without bothering with underwear.
Then he checked the time on his phone. Like usually he'd texted Peter time and
location and now it would be only minutes before the werewolf would crawl
through his window.
Stiles had one last look around his room to check if everything was ready for
their night and then sat down at his desk. He grinned when he thought about his
plans for the night.
His dick was already hardening in his tight pants and he licked his lips in
anticipation. Just to give his hands something to do other than to jerk off, he
reached for the handcuffs he had put on his desk earlier. He would need them
later.
Stiles let the wolfsbane laced handcuffs swirl around his finger.
Normal couples had date nights, he and Peter had play nights.
End Notes
     It doesn't look like it at first but the sex in this story is
     completely consensual. A wolfed-out Peter is chasing Stiles and
     forces him to sexual acts. Later it turns out to be consensual
     roleplay.
     Peter and Stiles are in an established relationship and there have
     been kink negotiations beforehand.
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