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“No,” Peter said, standing in his doorway, half asleep, staring at the frustratingly awake annoyance in front of him.
“One, you don’t even know why I’m here yet, two, we could play the ‘Stiles. I don't care what the reason is, get out’ ‘Nah, it’s a pretty good reason and you’ll like it’ game or we could skip the theatrics and get to the point. I have like ten energy drinks and a bottle of adderall in my backpack so we can skip the whole you being a monster in the morning bit too.” Stiles tried to first shoulder his way past Peter, then when that failed, attempted to maneuver his way under Peter’s arms.
“Stiles, I don’t care what the reason is, get out.”
“By being difficult you realize you’re just prolonging this, right?” Stiles gave up on trying to get under Peter and pulled off his backpack to rummage around it and pull out a Java Monster and a bottle of adderall that absolutely wasn’t from the pharmacy. “Peace offering, take this shit and stop acting like ten o’clock is ungodly early.”
“I was up until seven.”
Stiles made a face. “What the fuck do you even do? I know you’re unemployed but Jesus.”
“I’m not unemployed, I’m an investor.” Peter attempted to shut the door on Stiles, but Stiles wedged his way between the door and the frame.
“Wow, what a perfect segue into my business pitch.” The last word was followed by a pained wheeze as Peter tried to force the door shut on Stiles. “Dude, seriously, stop being a bitch and let me in, I know you sell supernatural shit and I found something nuts.”
“Give me the fucking adderall, you better not be wasting my time.” Peter released the pressure of the door and Stiles nearly fell on his face as he was freed from his particle board prison.
Stiles handed Peter the bottle of adderall and the energy drink and watched in horror as Peter shook out about half the bottle and swallowed it dry before cracking open the Monster and chugging it.
“Dude, what the fuck? That was like sixty bucks you just wasted. Christ, I thought you were going to take like four pills.”
“What did you find?” Peter asked, ignoring Stiles’ indignation as he slid the bottle of pills into his back pocket.
“Give me my— ugh, whatever.” Stiles rolled his eyes and flopped down onto Peter’s couch, shoes still on in a small, petty form of revenge. “Basic summary; I keep an eye on people interested in the supernatural who show too much of an interest in Beacon Hills. Some fucker with too much money is a collector of supernatural things and he’s been poking around forums and whatnot about Nemetons. Apparently he found out about the Nemeton here, specifically the little jar that’s gay baby jail for the Nogitstune. I have a vested interest in making sure that the dude doesn’t get his hands on that because he seems like a fucking moron and I don’t want to deal with the revenge of the fly.”
“Too much detail for a brief summary, next time skip your backstory because I don’t care,” Peter said. He reached into Stiles’ backpack and grabbed a few more Monsters before he sat down. “You want me to kill this man, then I can steal his shit and sell it?”
“I mean, I wasn’t going to say kill —“
Peter raised a finger and cut Stiles off, “If you wanted someone to nicely talk to him or just incapacitate him you would have asked Argent or your best friend for help. You came to me which means you want him dead.” He cracked the top of a can of Monster as he leaned forward and stared at Stiles, eyes dark. “You don’t have to lie to me, Stiles. You take care of threats, I respect it. You don’t have the stomach to bloody your own hands, your reaction to Donovan proved that enough, but you still recognize when someone’s too much of a danger to be allowed to live.”
Fuck , this is why he shouldn’t have gone to Peter. The dude was one monologue away from telling Stiles that he should embrace the dark side and become a sith or some shit. “Okay, this? This is why I stopped sleeping with you. Shit, man, why do you have to be such a creep? Like, you’re fucking Palpatine over here for no good reason. I already called Chris, he’s out of the country, and Scott’s busy with vet school. You’re literally my last option because the asshole’s coming to town in like two days.”
Peter paused and the can crumpled in his fist. “I see how it is,” he sniffed and set his lips in a thin line. “So then why should I help you?”
“Because you love making money and this dude has some insane shit in his collection, duh.” Stiles didn’t add ‘and you’re a nutcase who gets off on killing people’ because he figured it would make Peter go into some other villainous monologue about how something something he does what needs to be done and if anyone stands in his way, blah blah blah. Stiles was like ninety percent sure half of those speeches were just so Peter could pretend to be tougher and more callous than he actually was, but he didn’t particularly want to pick apart all of the layers of insanity that contained.
“His house is south of Crater Lake, so like three and a half hours away. You get to drive since you’re apparently going to be taking the adderall I paid good money for.” Seriously, that bottle was over a hundred bucks and Peter didn’t seem like he wanted to give it back to him. Asshole, there wasn’t even a lunar eclipse coming up so he could get any effect out of the pills beyond a quick burst of energy.
Peter looked like he wanted to argue so Stiles tensed up, prepared to have to fight for this. But when Peter opened his mouth, instead of saying something fully inane, he responded with, “Fine. Let me get a shower and shave then we’ll head out.”
——
About an hour and a half into the drive, Stiles turned to Peter. “Can we listen to, like, literally anything else? I have Spotify and a bunch of playlists, so just plug me into the bluetooth and we’ll be good to jam.”
Peter quirked a brow and his eyes flicked to Stiles. “Isn’t the rule that the driver controls the music? I like ABBA, we’re listening to them.”
“I can only handle so much European disco and that limit is rapidly approaching.”
“Do you have something against the Swedish, Stiles? Do you have some deep seated xenophobic issues you have to work through?”
“Holy shit. This was a terrible idea.”
“You’re just now realizing that?” Peter’s lips twitched in a sly smirk. God, Stiles was certain that the asshole probably didn’t even like ABBA.
Okay, the best course of action was just to ignore Peter’s attempts to annoy him. Peter would eventually give up — and probably switch tactics, but Stiles didn’t want to think about that — after a bit. So instead of responding to that, Stiles said, “From what I was able to figure out, the dude has a couple of guards posted around his house. By house I mean compound by the way. I swear to god, the person who buys the house after he dies is going to be a cult leader.”
“How big is the place?”
Stiles shrugged and stared out the window to the trees flying past. “From what I could tell from listings online, the main building’s 6k square feet and there’s several other buildings totaling maybe 15k over twenty acres. I don’t know if he’s built on top of it since it was last listed but I wouldn’t be surprised honestly.”
Peter hummed. “Anything on security details?”
“He’s hired some werewolves, I don’t know the full number but I followed his trail throughout a few sites and saw him looking into those.” Seriously, the dude’s online trail was almost painfully easy to follow. It was funny, honestly, how bad people could be at being subtle online. Stiles had different usernames on all of the sites and used VPNs on them all as well just so he couldn’t be easily traced back to being the same guy. The collector probably used the same password on all the sites he was on.
“I’ll take care of them.” Peter pulled off the highway into a small gas station and stepped out of his car to refuel. “Anything else?”
Stiles shrugged. “I didn’t see any more listings from him on that site, so I’m assuming he’s got a few omegas and that’s it. Maybe security cams and stuff but that short of shit’s harder to track from the web since he could have gone through legitimate channels for that.”
While Peter was busy refueling, Stiles took the time to go ahead and connect his phone to Peter’s car’s bluetooth. He briefly considered putting on some hyperpop in order to continue their game of snarky bullshit back and forth, but he also had his own sanity to reckon with. At least ABBA was genuinely good music, but he was nowhere near high enough to be able to handle hyperpop for an extended length of time and he was certain that Peter would force him to listen to more just to reign victorious.
Instead, Stiles put on a post-punk revival playlist of his. There, now he could plan a break and enter while listening to The Strokes and Franz Ferdinand. Much better.
“I told you not to fuck with my music.” Peter slid back into the car and fixed Stiles with a look.
“Unfortunately I hate all Swedes and am horribly xenophobic when it comes to blonde Europeans from the seventies,” Stiles replied dryly. “But real talk, if you can scout out the place while you handle his guards, I can probably deal with whatever security systems he has in place.”
“Works for me.” Peter put the car into drive and turned the stereo up. “If you fuck with the music again I am going to rip your throat out, just so you know.”
Yeah, yeah, nice empty threat dickhead.
——
Wow, yeah Stiles really expected the security system of the compound to be a lot more advanced. Seriously, the rich fuck paid millions of dollars for werewolf security guards but and managed to take out the guards on his own in under two hours while Stiles got the lock on the main door picked fairly easily. It was actually embarrassing, how poor the security ended up being.
“People get cocky,” Peter said as Stiles explained this to him. “Plus I doubt he wanted to risk a human security company getting involved in any of this.”
“Aren’t there any supernatural companies?” Stiles asked as he opened the door, tensed up waiting for an alarm to ring out, but that sound never came.
“Nope.” Peter walked past him into the house and cocked his head as he listened for any sounds. Already his hands were covered with the blood of the guards he had killed while Stiles had to stay behind in the car. Stiles had wanted to come along, he had a pistol with wolfsbane bullets in them courtesy of Argent, but Peter had said fuck no to that.
Apparently he didn’t trust Stiles’ aim well enough. Dick.
“This way.” Peter quickly started to walk and Stiles scrambled up to follow after him. “He’s alone upstairs.”
“How do you know it’s him?” Stiles asked.
“Because I have the ability to tell exactly who a person is just by the sound of their breathing, just like a fingerprint.” Scathing sarcasm dripped from Peter’s words. “Dumbass, think before you ask a question next time. It’s just that it’s the heart rate of a human — a very out of shape human — and I doubt the dude has much company over when he has millions of dollars worth of supernatural artifacts in his house.”
“Jeez, I was just asking.” Stiles rolled his eyes and stuck his hands in his pockets as he followed Peter through the house. “You’d think rich people would have better taste than this.”
“When you get to a certain level of obscenely rich, you lose all taste,” Peter said dismissively.
“Nice glass house there, sure looks dangerous to toss stones around in,” Stiles replied. He paused and inspected a small skeleton in a jar. “That a pixie?” He asked with a frown. “Seems a little fucked up to keep the skeleton like that.”
“Pretty certain the entire colony died for that.” Peter’s lips thinned as he stared at the jar. “As hard as it is to believe, even I wouldn’t be killing entire hives of pixies to make a fucking diaroma out of.”
And that’s the problem with humans who got involved with the supernatural. Most ended up being either hunters or collectors, both ruthless enough to kill whatever. As loathe as Stiles was to admit, he knew the collecting and selling of parts Peter took part in didn’t tend to be the insane bloodbaths that came from human collectors.
The supernatural to supernatural market had more respect in it. Creatures like pixies, normally small and peaceful but kill one and the entire hive would come after the murderer, were usually off limits. Their pieces had no real value in spells aside from shed scales from their wings, and those scales were easy enough to get non-lethally. Fangs from vampires regrew and their venom could be milked and bartered for. Mindless beasts could be hunted in ways that didn’t affect their populations.
Supernaturals understood the fine balance that kept them afloat. Humans didn’t, even Stiles was unfamiliar with most species. He wasn’t born into this world and found out most of it by trial and error.
“Do you think he did it?” Stiles asked, though he already had a feeling for the answer. Men like the collector didn’t have the guts to involve themselves directly.
“No, but I’m going to find out who did and spread their guts across their entire house while they’re still alive.”
Stiles winced, yeesh. But then again, he couldn’t exactly blame Peter for his rage. The pixie skeleton didn’t even have any value within the supernatural community. It was just entirely a waste unless he wanted to extend his sales to humans, but Stiles knew Peter well enough to know that the man would never deign to sell to humans.
Honestly, he was pretty certain that Peter would have been perfectly happy to never deal with a single human again.
“Stop.” Peter held out an arm and stopped Stiles in his tracks. He narrowed his eyes as he listened to something beyond Stiles’ hearing.
“What is it?”
“He’s coming downstairs, follow me.” Peter didn’t give Stiles any time to process what he just said before he grabbed Stiles by the back of his neck and dragged him into a side room off of the main hallway.
“Are we gonna ambush him or something?” Stiles asked, voice barely a whisper.
Peter shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. “Just wait,” he mouthed.
The side room was really more of just a hall closet and Stiles could feel Peter’s body heat radiating in the small room. His heart pounded in his chest as he heard footsteps start to ring out in the hallway, close enough for his human hearing to pick up on.
“What do we do?” Stiles mouthed, hand reaching for his gun.
Peter grabbed his wrist and shook his head. “I said wait, dumbass,” he mouthed back. He pulled Stiles against himself and pressed his ear to the door.
For several long moments they stayed like that. Peter’s arm was firmly wrapped around Stiles’ chest to keep him in place as he listened to the door.
“He knows something’s wrong,” Peter finally said, letting go of Stiles. “The guards didn’t respond to the check-in call.”
“So what do we do?” Stiles asked.
“It sounded like he headed downstairs to a basement. I didn’t see any stairs as we were walking which makes me think they’re hidden.”
“Oh shit, are we looking for hidden bookshelf stairs? Fuck yeah, Scott’ll be thrilled to hear about that when I talk to him next. He’ll be so pissed that he couldn’t come along.”
Peter raised his brows as he stared at Stiles and waited for him to finish. “I don’t know if it’s secret bookshelf stairs, or maybe he opened a door that led to a path downstairs. One of those is much more likely than the other.”
“Uh, yeah, the secret bookshelf stairs are much more likely. If I was a nutcase supernatural collector with more dollars than sense, I’d have like twenty secret pathways hidden by bookshelves and shit.”
In lieu of responding, Peter just rolled his eyes and opened the door. “Come on, Nancy Drew,” he called as he walked down the hall. To someone unfamiliar with Peter, they would have looked at the way he was walking and thought him to be the picture of perfect nonchalance. But Stiles knew the man, knew him much better than he probably would have liked to, and he could see the tense line in his shoulders and the way his head moved almost imperceptibly as he listened to every small noise in the compound.
Stiles power walked across the hall to meet up with Peter, eyes stuck on the werewolf, watching him carefully. Peter was the canary in the coal mine here, he’d hear and react to anything first so Stiles needed to pay attention to him.
“Should I start rapping on the walls to see if any of them are hollow?” Stiles asked, striding over to a spot on the wall that wasn’t covered in paintings. “Or maybe pull on any suspicious looking candelabras?”
“Are there any candelabras here?” Peter raised a brow and knelt down onto the floor. Stiles was half tempted to make a joke about bloodhounds and sniffing for clues, but knew that his insides might no longer remain that way if he let that joke fly. Instead he watched as Peter pressed an ear to the floor and knocked on it a few times before slamming his fist into it.
Stiles winced as the collision between fist and floor made a brutal noise. He fully expected Peter to pull back with a broken hand and was surprised to see that not only was Peter’s fist fully intact but a large hole in the floor.
“Looking for secret stairways is a waste of time,” Peter said before he punched at the floor a few more times to widen up the hole he created. “Much easier to just get to the root of things.”
“Yeah, sure, but the secret staircase thing is a lot more fun.” Stiles rolled his eyes as Peter hopped through the gaping hole in the floor. “But fine, whatever, we’ll do it your way.”
Cautiously, he let himself fall through the hole after Peter. He briefly thought about how bad an idea it was to follow Peter down a hole to god knows where, without knowing how long the fall was. But he figured that either Peter would catch him or deal with the mess his splattered body parts made.
Thankfully, Peter did catch him. It wasn’t tender and he wasn’t gentle when he released Stiles. Stiles barely stopped himself from landing straight on his ass and he rolled his eyes once again. The perils of working with Peter.
“Which way is he?” Stiles asked, brushing wood and plaster particles off of his clothes.
“Down the hall, he heard us and is scared.” Peter’s eyes flashed blue in some primal form of excitement the hunt brought him. His prey was close and he was going to rip flesh from bone.
God, he’s such a fucking freak , Stiles thought to himself. He was really wishing Scott could have come along instead. Still, as absolutely fucking insane as Peter was, at least he was effective and would handle the problem. Probably with a lot more murder than was technically necessary, but Stiles would take what he could get.
“Follow behind me,” Peter ordered. His words were slurred thanks to the fangs that jutted from his gums and clawed fingers twitched. Although his shifted form was far more monstrous than the beta shift of any other werewolf Stiles knew, the way he changed from human to werewolf was smooth to the point where it was almost beautiful.
Stiles pulled his gun from its holster as he followed behind Peter. Peter might not have approved of bringing a weapon along but Stiles wasn’t about to be vulnerable and unprepared. He had enough of that throughout high school.
Peter stopped in front of a steel door and let out an amused huff. “Really?” He asked and his lips twitched. “Does he seriously think that can keep me out?”
In one, two, three kicks, the door started to buckle. At five kicks, it seemed to barely be hanging on. Seven kicks in and the door crumpled. “This is why humans who stick their noses where they don’t belong are so pitiful.”
Peter strode into the room, growling deep in his throat. It was animalistic, the way his head turned as he inspected the panic room that the collector locked himself away in.
Stiles followed behind Peter and followed his gaze to where it landed on the collector. He looked to be a white man in his late fifties, maybe early sixties and while not fit, he wasn’t doughy and soft either. Overall, he was perfectly average looking, the type of older guy you’d expect to see in Whole Foods maybe, not exactly the type Stiles would have pegged as a collector of the supernatural.
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but you need to get out of here.” The quiver in the man’s voice worked against his attempt to gain control of the situation. Stiles didn’t need to be a werewolf to see that the man was one step away from pissing himself.
Peter laughed and stepped forward, one slow step at a time. He was fucking with the dude, Stiles realized. It was like he was some big cat, playing with his prey before going in for the kill.
“I’m warning you, you need to get back.”
“You’re not in any position to make orders here,” Peter replied. His tone was dark and he hunched over, hands spread wide and clawed fingers curled. “You’ve been playing with fire for quite a while, haven’t you? Gotten a little bit cocky?”
“Who sent you? Was it Ashford? Cassidy?” The collector’s shaking hands lowered and Stiles furrowed his brows as he watched him. What the hell was he doing?
“Oh holy shit, Peter watch out — he has a gun,” Stiles called out as realization dawned on him.
That moment of realization dawned too late as the collector drew the pistol and aimed it. Peter tensed up as he saw where the gun was aimed and tried to bolt to the side as the gun fired.
Peter snarled in pain as the bullet meant for Stiles ripped through his shoulder. “Are you fucking kidding me?” The wound was already knitting itself back together as he took a step forward. “You’re bringing out a gun?”
What the fuck? Peter took a bullet for him?
Before Stiles had any time to ruminate on that, two more shots rang out, each piercing Peter’s abdomen but neither stopped him. He kept moving forward until he was inches away from the man’s face and he let out a near feral growl.
From across the room, Stiles could hear bones snap as Peter grabbed the man’s wrist and squeezed. The collector’s scream followed shortly after as the agony traversed the nerves up to his brain. If he hadn’t been a nutcase planning on stealing the Nogitsune’s prison jar, Stiles would have felt bad for him.
As it was, Stiles had to look away as Peter ripped out the man’s throat.
“Moron,” Peter spat as he threw the man to the ground. Blood coated his face and arms and a wild look was in his eyes. “Go look through the house and start collecting whatever artifacts you can find. You know what’s valuable, right?”
“I mean I’m no expert but I keep an eye on the forums enough to have an idea as to what sells,” Stiles replied. “You can do a more thorough look when you’re done with the shower.”
“Good, start grabbing shit while I get a shower.”
——
The collector really had a boatload of shit in his compound. In the thirty minutes it took for Peter to get a shower, he had amassed a massive pile of shit in the collector’s office and he hadn’t even covered a quarter of the main building.
Hell, he hadn’t even grabbed half of the shit he saw. There were a lot of tasteless items strung up on various walls. Probably the most repulsive was the taxidermied head of an alpha werewolf. When walking past it, it just looked like a regular taxidermy wolf’s head, but the inscription below it detailed the pack name and date of death.
Stiles really didn’t feel all that bad about letting Peter kill the guy anymore.
Still, along with all the horrible shit, there were plenty of actually interesting items. There was a book on Banshees that he made certain to grab because it seemed old and had some really cool history in it that he knew Lydia would be interested in.
There were several bestiaries too, different from the one the Argents had. Some were in Japanese, others Spanish, and still others in Russian and various other languages. He figured there was a lot of value he personally could get from those if he could get them translated, so into the pile for him they went.
For Peter, he grabbed jars of powder and vials of thick liquid. He vaguely recognized the ingredients in the jars as things useful for spells and figured Peter would have a better idea of their worth. There were some other things he grabbed too, the claws of an alpha that he wanted to find the pack of to return them to, scales from a dragon, and more old books. Overall, he bet from this initial pass through, he had a few hundred thousand bucks worth of shit.
He was flipping through the pages of a grimoire when he heard soft footsteps coming his way.
“What did you find?” Peter leaned in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.
Stiles looked from Peter, back to the grimoire, and then when he fully parsed what he saw, his eyes shot right back up.
“Peter, where the hell are your clothes?” Stiles asked, eye twitching. “For the love of god, please put something on.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Relax, it’s not like this is nothing you’ve seen before.” He strode across the room until he was behind Stiles and leaned over him, naked chest pressed against Stiles’ shoulders.
The fucker was doing this on purpose.
“Bet I could get fifty grand for this from the right person.” Peter grabbed the book from Stiles’ hands and flipped through it himself. “Dark magic, nice, these are pretty hard to find. You think there’s any summoning rituals in here?”
Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “If you want to put pants on, we can start looking through the rest of the place.”
Peter hummed and grabbed Stiles by the back of his neck, pulling him up and out of the chair. “Come with me, I found something you’d think is interesting in one of the bedrooms here.”
“Interesting how?” Stiles asked. He tried to pull free from Peter, but the werewolf had a firm grip on his neck. “Fuck dude, let go of me, I’ll follow, I’ll follow.”
“You’ll see.” Peter led him down the hall. Stiles actually hadn’t made it to this side of the hallway and he felt vaguely discomforted by the leering masks that lined the walls. They didn’t seem supernatural in origin, but Stiles did have a feeling they were taken from their original owners just as legitimately and reputedly as the supernatural items were.
That is, they were taken European style.
It was almost a relief when Peter opened the door to the guest bedroom and led Stiles in.
To his confusion, the bedroom was pretty much empty of any sort of items beyond mid century furniture. Like sure, that wardrobe probably cost a couple thousand bucks but unless it was made from the wood of a Nemeton, he didn’t see what Peter thought was so interesting.
“Uh, Peter?” Stiles asked. “You sure you got the right room?”
“Yup.” Peter let go of Stiles and when Stiles looked at him, he had a smug look on his face.
“He’s got a perfectly good bed right here in a room that doesn’t have a fuckton of weird shit in it and I think we should celebrate our successful mission before we ransack his house further.” Peter cocked a brow and brought a hand to Stiles’ jaw. “What do you think?”
Suddenly, all of the puzzle pieces fit together in Stiles’ mind.
“We’re not fucking on the bed of the guy we just killed,” Stiles protested half-heartedly as Peter pushed him onto the bed.
“Counterpoints for you. One, it’s not like he cares anymore, two, I took a bullet for you, and three, I‘m horny.” Peter crawled on top of Stiles and slid his hand under Stiles’ shirt. “Plus, I already used his shower so it’s not like his ghost hasn’t already seen my dick.”
Stiles groaned and ran his hands down his face. “God I didn’t even think about the ghost potential here. How haunted are we gonna get for killing him and then fucking not even an hour later?”
“Not haunted at all since ghosts don’t exist.” Peter unbuttoned Stiles’ jeans and slid them down over his ass.
“Shouldn’t you be a little more open minded seeing as you’re literally a werewolf?” Stiles lifted his lower body off the bed to make it easier for Peter. “Like that’s sounding a little ignorant there bud.”
“I’m stating a fact; vampires exist, werewolves exist, ghost riders exist, but ghosts don’t. The closest you get is a revenant but even that’s just a dead body reanimated and filled with all of the rage and revenge fueled thoughts of its creator.” Peter squirted lube onto his palm before he grabbed Stiles’ dick and gave it a few pumps to bring it to hardness.
“I think you’re being close minded and that you — shit please warm that up before touching my junk with it,” Stiles said with a flinch as the cold lube connected with his dick.
“Do me a favor and stop talking please.” Peter’s above-average body heat quickly warmed up the lube and Stiles felt his balls begin to unshrivel. “There’s no ghost to haunt us and this isn’t even his bed, it doesn’t even smell slept in, if that makes you feel any better about fucking me in it.”
“Fucking you in it?” Stiles eyebrows could have gone to space with how far up they rose.
“If you act weird about it, you’ll never get the chance again,” Peter warned in a low voice as he continued to casually stroke Stiles’ dick. “For once in your life, behave normally.”
“My prior problems with having sex after we just murdered a dude are now gone and you can consider me one hundred percent in this game.” Okay, sue him, he wanted to fuck Peter. Back when they used to fuck around when he was in college, Peter had never really offered to do anything but top and Stiles didn’t really have the confidence to try and broach the subject of him topping. But several years had passed since then and, while fully acknowledging that Peter was still a complete weirdo and knowing that sticking his dick in crazy was a bad idea, it was super hard to deny the appeal of finally getting a chance to fuck Peter.
“Your sudden eagerness is almost cute.” Peter rubbed a thumb along the slit of Stiles’ cockhead and Stiles had to bite back a groan. It wasn’t fair that Peter still remembered what he liked. “You realize that you could have fucked me any time you asked, right?”
“You and I both know that you’re lying.” Stiles watched with eager eyes as Peter moved his hand from Stiles’ cock and slid a finger into his own asshole instead. “You’re just trying to make me regret cutting things off with you three years ago.”
“Am I?” Peter’s look was unreadable. Actually, it might have been plenty readable but Stiles was laser focused on the way Peter’s cock twitched as he gently fucked himself on a finger.
Stiles silently cursed his own lack of self control here. He should have said no to sex and didn’t let Satan in to tempt him right back into bed with him. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him? He knew Peter was a good fuck but wasn’t good enough to forg— holy shit he just skipped right to three fingers.
“You’re drooling.” Peter said and Stiles barely heard it over the blood pounding in his ears. Holy shit he was so hard it hurt.
Stiles let out a totally manly whimper. This was a test from the heavens and he was failing.
Peter let him out of his misery and pulled his fingers from his ass and wrapped his knees around Stiles’ hips. It was hard to think about how bad of an idea this was when Peter slowly lowered himself onto his cock. The only things he could focus on were the tight heat of Peter’s hole and trying not to come in thirty seconds.
Peter’s eyes closed as he reached the base of Stiles’ dick. He let out some small, pleased noise and Stiles just about choked.
Cautiously, Stiles rolled his hips to see what Peter would do. He was half expecting Peter to press a hand to his chest and force him to still or squeeze his knees tighter around Stiles’ hips, but Peter did none of that.
Stiles took that as encouragement and wrapped his hands around Peter’s muscular thighs, in the soft down of his hair. His dull nails pressed crescents into the skin as he gripped tightly. The groan he let out was absolutely dignified and in no means pathetic. It wasn’t like Peter was some godly incredible fuck, he had slept with dudes with better technique in the past, but the warmth of his body set him apart completley. It was like one of those fleshlights he always thought about buying that had heating elements in them.
“And you stopped yourself from having this for so long,” Peter whispered as he leaned forward. His hot breath ghosted along the thin skin of Stiles’ neck and he felt goosebumps raise. When he pressed his mouth to Stiles’ neck, Stiles felt the sharp points of fangs instead of dull, human canines. It made him shiver, knowing that at any point those fangs could dig into his skin and rip apart his throat.
One slip, one tiny moment of control lost, and it was all over for him.
But, for all his flaws, for how tenuous his grip with it used to be, Peter was now a master of control. The fangs did nothing but trail along skin, the lines they left thin and shallow.
A warm tongue lapped along the trails caused by fangs, clearing his skin from the tiny droplets of blood.
Stiles shuddered in pleasure as he continued to fuck into Peter and Peter sucked marks around his neck and collarbone. It was possessiveness on Peter’s part, pure and simple. He wanted everyone to know the claim he staked on Stiles. Another part of why Stiles had cut things off with him those few years ago, but he couldn’t feel any anger at the moment, not when he was balls deep in Peter’s ass and his eyes were shut in pleasure.
The noise of Peter’s hand on his dick joined the sound of skin on skin as Peter started to lazily jerk himself off as Stiles fucked into him.
“ Fuck , Peter,” Stiles groaned. His hips shuddered as he tried to keep himself from climaxing. He had far surpassed thirty seconds, but he couldn’t help but remember the way Peter could fuck him for what felt like hours back in the day. He wanted to keep going, to prove to the man that he could keep up.
It was dumb, he had nothing to prove to Peter. They weren’t anything to each other anymore, this was just a heat of the moment fuck that Stiles would likely regret in the coming days, but he couldn’t stop the irrational thought that he needed to show Peter that he was good at this.
The hitch in Peter’s breath was enough for Stiles to know that he was at least affecting him. It was small, barely there, but Peter never showed any weakness, never showed how he actually felt, so that small hitch meant something.
Fangs melted into human teeth as Peter bit the meat where Stiles’ neck met his shoulders. They dug in hard, hard enough to bruise and that was enough to fuck Stiles up he felt his dick pulse as he finally came.
Peter followed soon after, hand stilling on his cock as he painted Stiles’ stomach in cum.
“ Ngh ,” Stiles groaned as Peter pulled off of his now soft cock. That was about as coherent a thought as he could verbalize at the moment. The air on his wet dick felt almost painfully cold after the heat of Peter’s ass and all he could hear was blood rushing in his ears.
“You should get a shower now.” Peter ran a finger along the cum that coated Stiles’ stomach and Stiles felt his muscles tighten under the touch. “After sex really is a great look on you, but unfortunately we can’t bask in it for too long here. I have expensive items to collect after all.”
“Fuck.” Stiles sat up and shuddered as he looked at Peter. Although his appearance was already returning to normal thanks to werewolf shit, Peter’s face and chest were still slightly flushed and sweat beaded along the planes of his chest and stomach. Stiles had to force himself to look away and count to ten to try and return his brain to any semblance of rational thought.
They had things they needed to do, like taking care of the mess they made and getting back to Beacon Hills. Plus, Stiles really needed to not fall back into the bad habit of sleeping with Peter-fucking-Hale.
Unfortunately, when Peter said, “We can continue this back at my place.” Stiles felt himself agreeing before he could even think.
Shit, fuck, god dammit, he was falling back into the old routine like clockwork. This was a mistake.
Still, he could deal with the repercussions in the future. After he fucked Peter a few more times. He had already made plenty of bad decisions in his life, a few more wouldn’t kill him.