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As a werewolf, scents became old habit very fast. Peter was fairly certain that there was a whole portion of his brain dedicated to the recognition of, and subsequent needed reaction to, certain smells. Growing up in a household full of people with preternaturally good senses meant typical teenage things like masturbation and menstrual cycles were even more embarrassing than normal, though the inability to ignore the scents meant werewolves were typically more open with one another about such things.
Which was a plus, he supposed.
But there was one scent firmly, and he hated this descriptor but it was the best available, burned into his mind. One scent that had Peter’s inner wolf howling just below the surface, snarling and clawing in a fit of primal fury.
A scent that was currently winding it’s way around his head and firmly planting itself in his chest, tilting his world to the point where Peter reached out blindly and braced a hand on the doorframe, sagging under the smell.
“Derek?”
A low moan drifted down the hall from the room Derek had claimed in his apartment, the sound doing nothing to help the steady thickening of Peter’s cock in his pants. He couldn’t help but reach down and adjust himself, hissing at the pleasant friction and yanking his hand away by sheer force of will.
Kicking the door shut behind him, Peter deposited the groceries he’d ran to grab on a nearby side table, swallowing hard as he made his way towards Derek’s door. The scent was thicker here, so much so Peter could almost taste it, sinking into his very bones. He leaned his forehead against the door, trying to get enough control to speak in something other than a snarl, scraping elongated nails against the wood as he twitched with the need to do….something.
“D-Derek? Are you alright?”
“I—I…Peter, help. Pl-Please.”
Peter heaved in a breath, which proved to be a fucking awful decision as the scent seemed to take up permanent residence in his chest at the action, and pushed the door open. The sight that met him had Peter sagging against the doorframe once more, claws digging into the wood in much the same was his fangs were digging into his lower lip, preventing him from even fully closing his mouth. It left him panting like a dog and Peter, for once, couldn’t even be bothered to be annoyed by the comparison.
Derek was writhing on his sheets, on all fours with his back arched past what Peter knew had to be comfortable, completely naked. Peter growled at the sight of slick shining on Derek’s thighs, leaking from the tight hole that was completely exposed by his position.
“Sonofabitch.” Peter snarled, stalking in and slamming the door behind him, Derek jumping at the loud sound, whipping his head around.
The boy’s—and Peter supposed he really couldn’t call him that anymore, could he?—eyes were wide and bloodshot, the glowing blue so bright it cast shadows on the sheets beneath him. He looked wrecked, mouth flushed and cheeks pale, his skin glistening with sweat, hair sticking up like he’d jammed his dick into a light socket once or twice.
“Peter, Peter, help—you gotta—I need—“
“Tell me who I need to get.” Peter snapped out, shoving his instincts to the back by sheer force of will and practice, focusing on the task at hand.
He needed to help his nephew. Out of everything that had changed in the world, he was still Derek’s uncle, and he still had a responsibility to help the younger wolf.
Regardless of how much he wanted to help himself at the moment.
Peter refocused on Derek in time to catch the boy sliding a hand around behind himself, teasing at his hole with thick fingers, whining at the touch. He bit back a whine of his own, tearing his eyes away from where Derek was knuckle deep inside himself and focusing on his face, meeting those same wild eyes.
“Derek!” He snapped, injecting just enough snarl into his voice that Derek yanked his hand away and sat up on the bed, turning to face him, eyes wide and startled. “Tell me who I need to get you. You’re in heat, firmly in it at this point. You need someone to—“
“Fuck me.” Derek breathed out, crawling across the mattress towards him and perching with his hands curled over the edge, claws punching holes in the flimsy material. “I need someone to fuck me. Peter, ple—“
“Who?” Peter gets the word out on a gasp, flexing his hands and resisting the urge to dig his claws into his palms to ground himself. He’s not there quite yet, but it’s damn close, with Derek’s scent curling around him like a familiar lover, something buried deep in his brain sparking. “Who do you need, Derek? Lydia? Erica? Stiles?”
“You.” Derek whines out, ripping on hand away from the mattress to reach out to him, eyes wide and shining, innocent like he wasn’t begging the man who’d given him bubble baths as a child to fuck him. “Need you, Peter. Want you.”
“No.” Peter pants, shaking his head and swallowing tightly when his wolf rebels at the word, wanting nothing more than to pin the boy under him. “No, Derek, that’s the heat talking. You don’t want me.”
“I do! God, I do! W-Want you to take me again.”
The last word sends lightening through Peter’s body, something deep in his mind clawing to the surface, almost breaking into the memory bank of things he can recall. But it just…stops. Like there’s something there, something hiding the memory completely.
Peter’s never dealt very well with things that hide from him.
“Ag-again? Derek, what do you mean? Derek!” Peter snaps out the last word when Derek hangs his head, whining at the bedspread, drawing his hand back and curling in on himself.
“C-Can’t. Made a promise that I wouldn’t say—But Peter, I need you. Only you. A-Always you.”
Peter snarls, an honest to god snarl that a human throat could never form, and stalks forward, seizing Derek’s hair and yanking his head up so the Beta’s eyes meet his, ignoring the throb of his cock at the way Derek so easily complies. And god, does he comply. Even stretches his head back further, baring his throat, submitting…
Peter cuts the line of rambling thoughts off sharply, shaking his head to physically throw it off. He needs Derek to explain. Needs to know what in the hell’s going on. Needs to know what memory is lingering below the surface, what Derek ‘promised’ to keep a secret.
“Tell me.” His voice is soft, softer than it should be given the blood boiling just below the surface, and Derek purrs at the sound of it, eyes going hazy with pleasure.
But the boy shakes his head against Peter’s hold, hips moving in Peter’s peripheral, desperate little thrusts that aren’t gaining him anything. Peter moves his hand to cup Derek’s jaw, smoothing a thumb over the swollen flesh of Derek’s lower lip, tracing the teeth marks there. He reigns his instincts in enough to draw his claws back when Derek sucks his thumb into the wet heat of his mouth, looking up at him from below his lashes in a way that should be overrated, should be so cliché and yet…
“So sweet.” Peter murmurs, scratching his nails against Derek’s scalp and reveling in the soft sound that leaks out around where Derek is still suckling his thumb. “Such a sweet boy. You’re my sweet boy, aren’t you, Derek?”
Derek nods furiously, nearly dislodging Peter’s hand, nipping at Peter’s thumb with a teasing bite. Everything about his body screamed submission and compliance, something that made Peter’s wolf calm enough for him to think rationally despite the pheromones in the air. It was almost enough for him to access the memory but not quite, something still blocking him.
“Tell me, Derek. Tell me what you promised not to. Be a sweet boy and tell your Uncle Peter.”
Derek whined and leaned forward at the reminder of their familial bond, nuzzling into Peter’s stomach, hands scrabbling at his shirt to shove it out of the way. His tongue licking at the skin right above Peter’s pants had him fisting desperate hands in Derek’s inky locks, tugging his head up so he could meet his eyes.
“Tell me, Derek. Tell me what happened before.”
“Can’t—“
“Tell me.” Peter felt manic now, like he had so many moons ago when his body had finally healed. “Tell me, Derek, or I’ll leave. Leave you begging and wet and unsatisfied.”
“No!” Derek howls, throwing himself at Peter, clinging to his shoulders like Peter’s the only solid thing in existence at the moment. “No, please! No, no, no. Don’t l-leave. Don’t, god, I’ll do anything just—“
“Then tell me.” Peter strokes a slow hand down Derek’s back, tracing the bumps of his spine to his tailbone, letting one finger brush just a bit lower, hissing at the slick there. “Tell me and I’ll stay here and wreck you. Fuck you open and fill you up, breed you like the sweet little bitch you are.”
Derek’s breath is hot and damp on his neck when he curls into him at the words, hips jutting forwards and bumping his cock into Peter’s stomach. Peter lets a smile curl his lips as Derek heaves a breath, knowing he’s won. A smile that quickly disappears when the boy starts to talk.
“Last time, last time I was in heat you…you fucked me. God, so good, Peter. So good. Filled me and fucked me raw and I—“
“Last time? Last time you were in heat I was…I was…” Peter’s voice drifts out as a sharp pain lances through his temples, that same part of his brain that was trying to shore up the memory practically sparking at the pain.
“You were there.” Derek insists, drawing back and running frantic hands over Peter’s form, begging with his eyes. “I was sixteen, remember? You found me in the woods and you fucked me. You were so rough, so fucking rough with me, I thought you were gonna break me. But I loved it. Begged for it. Oh god, you made me beg for it. Made me beg to suck you off, beg for you to knot me.”
“Why? Why don’t I remember?” Peter asked softly, trailing his fingers down Derek’s sides in a touch that’s too hard to be a caress, too soft to be a claim. “I can’t remember that, Derek.”
“M-Mom.” Derek gasped out, burying his face into Peter’s throat, licking out at the skin there, undulating against him. “She—She found us afterwards. Took the memories from you. She wasn’t—wasn’t mad, but she said I needed to be older. Before you…before you…”
“Before I claimed you.” The words broke something in Peter, his mind spilling open. It wasn’t unheard of for a wolf to be able to break an Alpha’s removal of memories, especially ones so connected to their primal instincts.
And it was much easier, sad as it was to say, when the Alpha in question was dead.
Flashes of memories careened into his brain, wiping out all logical thought, breaking through the thin control he’d held onto for so long. Memories of Derek—sweet, young, innocent Derek—arching and moaning beneath him. Memories of sinking into a heat so slick and tight he’d nearly spilled instantly. Memories of fucking Derek until he knotted, sinking teeth into the boy’s thin neck in claim, feeling that same heat clench around him as he’d come onto the forest floor beneath them.
Peter lost himself in the memories, only distantly aware of Derek sobbing in triumph, yanking at his clothes, fabric ripping and tearing beneath clumsy claws until they were both skin to skin. He only came out of his own mind when Derek wrapped a tight hand around his cock, desperate in his movements as he jerked him roughly, too needy and impatient to worry about being gentle. A smooth movement had Derek pinned under him on all fours again, Peter kneeling behind him and panting as he watched Derek’s hips arch and roll, showing teasing glimpses of his sopping hole.
Peter reached out, palming the thick flesh of Derek’s ass in either hand, grinning when it made the boy freeze in his movements.
“W-What are you—Are you gonna fuck me? Please, Peter, please fu—“
“Shush. I will, I swear. I’ll take care of you, sweet boy. But first, I want something for myself.”
Peter could just see the confused tilt of Derek’s head as he leant down, his grip spreading the boy wide for him, and it made him grin even as his tongue flickered out, just barely brushing the clenching muscle. Oh god, the taste was better than the scent, something almost too sweet on his tongue and Peter gave up all pretenses of civility, diving into the task, more frenzy than coordination. All he wanted was to bathe in the scent, cover himself in it so everyone who saw him, everyone who even scented him, would be acutely aware of just who he owned.
“Ah! Fucking—Peter! Oh, god, you’re gonna make me…I’m gonna….Peter!”
“You can come if you need to,” Peter murmured, gently sinking claws into the flesh beneath his fingertips, just enough to smell the luscious scent of Derek’s blood mixing with his slick.
Derek shifted, upper body collapsing onto the mattress below them, opening himself to Peter’s ministrations and Peter gave a low hum of approval, going back to the task at hand with newfound enthusiasm.
“Don’…I don’t wanna. Wanna come on your cock. On your knot. But you—you did this before and I—I didn’t…”
“You came then, didn’t you?” Peter pulled back just enough to sink two fingers into Derek, swallowing at the molten heat inside him. “Back when you were young. Back when you let me take you on a filthy forest floor. You came on my tongue.”
“Y-Yeah.” Derek gasped, thrusting back onto his fingers, desperation tinging every harsh line of muscle in his body. “You-You laughed. Called me a desperate s-slut for it. But I…I just couldn’t. Couldn’t hold back.”
“Ah, I was harsh and cruel then.” Peter murmured, trailing kisses up Derek’s spine as he shifted forwards, nipping at the base of his neck where it was so exposed. “I should have appreciated the gift more. Such rude words, I am sorry for that, Derek. Let me make it up to you?”
Derek’s nod was almost imperceptible, like the boy didn’t have the strength to lift his head up very far, but the shiver that ran along his spine when Peter pulled his fingers free with an obscene sound was obvious…and mouthwatering. He gripped himself, smearing Derek’s slick over the head of his cock once, twice, before shifting forwards just a bit more.
“Ready, sweet boy?”
Derek murmured something, something desperate and whining, but it was lost to the roar of blood in Peter’s ears as he thrust forward, sliding deep with the amount of slick to ease his way. Derek’s howl brought him back to his senses, the younger wolf’s claws ripping at the mattress and sheets as he writhed under him, thrusting back wildly. Peter shushed him softly, running comforting hands down his sides, recalling what it was like to be in heat.
It stripped everything out of you, until you could barely breathe, until you thought you would die from want. And satisfying it felt like nothing else in the world, like nothing Peter could ever find words to describe.
“P-Peter, please. I need to…can you…touch me.”
Peter thrust a few times, mindless movements of his hips, the wolf inside him straining for completion even as he fought it down. The last heat he’d helped Derek through was tainted with memories of Talia’s interference.
He would not allow this to be anything less than perfect.
Jerking Derek upright, the boy’s back colliding with his chest, Peter grinned at the way Derek wailed at the change in position. A wail that was abruptly cut off when Peter wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping quickly, dragging the tips of his canines over the heavy muscle near Derek’s neck.
“Come for me, sweet boy. Let me taste you. Come on, Derek. Come for Uncle Peter.”
The feeling of Derek tightening around him as he came, spilling hot spurts onto his fist, had Peter giving up all pretenses of slow and steady. He shoved the boy down, Derek still shuddering in the aftershocks of orgasm, and let his hips move as they pleased. Derek was a sobbing mess under him, curled around one of the arms Peter had planted near his head for balance, licking at the cum still smeared on his hand. The sight alone had Peter snarling, but the way Derek whined when it was all gone, like a child deprived of it’s favorite treat, what was broke him.
Leaning down, his hips still moving furiously, sinking into that addicting heat again and again, Peter scraped his fangs over the back of Derek’s neck. A question. A request for permission.
“No!” Derek wailed suddenly, jerking up underneath him, Peter stiffening at the word.
Contrary to what Stiles and the other’s liked to claim, Peter wasn’t a large fan of ‘Bad Touch’. Consent was important, not receiving the correct consent from a she-wolf could get your beating heart torn from your chest, and Peter, having grown up around many she-wolves, took the matter seriously.
Derek must have sensed the stiffness in him because he was suddenly drawing forwards, flipping underneath Peter and pushing into him once more. His hands scrambled at Peter’s shoulders, his neck, as Derek pressed frantic kisses to his cheeks, mouth, throat.
“No, no, I want it. I want it so bad. But…like this? This is how you…when I was younger you…like this.” Derek threw himself onto his back, kicking his chin high and exposing the entirety of his throat, adam’s apple shifting as he panted for breath.
Peter sighed at the relief the explanation brought before Derek’s words occurred to him and he groaned, hiking the legs splayed carelessly by his sides up to wrap around his waist before thrusting inside once more.
“Like this? I took you like this? Sank my teeth into that gorgeous throat and knotted you?”
“Y-yeah! Filled me up—fuck, right there!—and it felt so good. Made me your bitch and I loved it, loved you. Again! Again, Peter, please!”
Let it never be said that Peter, for all his shortcomings as an uncle, denies his nephew anything. Especially when he begs so prettily for it.
Leaning down, bracing himself on his forearms next to Derek’s head, completely covering the boy, Peter nudged his chin just a touch higher with his nose before carefully sinking his fangs into the skin of Derek’s exposed throat. Within a few more thrusts, the situation overtook him, his knot swelling, locking them together. He rocked against the boy’s body, Derek whining under his teeth, chasing that last little bit of stimulation that would make him fall over the edge.
What finally did it, what finally threw Peter headlong into an orgasm so good for a brief second he hated Talia for depriving him of this for so many years, was Derek cupping the back of his head and forcing him in tighter against his throat, skin breaking under his teeth, blood spilling into his mouth.
Peter’s howl was muffled by the lock on Derek’s throat, but the other wolf more than made up for it by the way he screamed when Peter started to come, spilling between them, the pulse of his muscles milking every last drop of cum from his body until Peter felt weak, used, and more satisfied than he had in years. He didn’t let go of Derek as the boy shook in the aftershocks, but he did remove his fangs, licking away the traces of blood clinging to his lips even as Derek whined in protest.
“I’ll do it again.” He promised, brushing soft kisses over the stubble on Derek’s cheeks, marveling at the difference a knot made to a wolf in heat. Derek was practically drooling with pleasure, slanty-eyed and lazy as he carded fingers through Peter’s hair, mussing it from it’s style more than their rough mating had.
“Hmm? Whassat?”
“I’ll bite you again. Over and over until my claim is clear. I’m not—“ Peter cleared his throat against the sudden ball there, shaking off the pesky emotions that came from being tied with a mate. “I won’t let anyone separate us again, sweet boy. You’ll be mine, forever.”
“Like that idea,” Derek slurred, pressing sloppy kisses to his mouth and rocking gently against Peter’s knot, his scent starting to rise in the air around them once more, body aching for its mate now that they’d been reunited. “Love you. Want you to claim me, breed me. Fuck me full of your pups so everyone knows…knows who I belong to.”
Peter would deny to his dying day that the words made him shake like a pup, but the wolf, curled inside his chest, content and pleased with having claimed it’s rightful mate, merely let out a growl of satisfaction that rumbled through Peter’s chest.
“Mine.”
“Yeah, yours. Your sweet boy. Forever.”
And this time, something dark and menacing in Peter’s head whispered, slicing through the soft afterglow like claws through flesh, no one was going to take that away.