Disclaimer: Don't own Teen Wolf

It's Acually Normal

The way he was sprawled over the bed did things to Peter. The room was a good 60 degrees and yet the thick comforter was nowhere to be seen and the thin sheet was kicked down to his knees. He could see all the scars collected from over the years, littering Stiles' body like a permanent brand. The scar that stood out most amongst the others, placed on his back, was from him. He remembers the day it happened like it was yesterday. It was a mark that showed and reminded everyone that Stiles belonged to him and only him.

The slow rise of his breaths were lulling him, encouraging him to fall into slumber like the man on the bed. Peter refused the pull, content with sitting on the window seat and just watching Stiles sleep like he had no care in the world. He probably didn't have a care, plenty satisfied with the knowledge that his own personal werewolf guard was protecting him. Stiles wasn't supposed to know, but of course, the man was too smart for his own good and figured Peter was stalking him within a couple of days him being followed. That was years ago though, and now Peter was fine with tagging along with him in plain view, always amused by their discussions and witty banter.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." The sleepy voice pierced through Peter's trance, making him grin.

"Already did, multiple times in multiple positions on multiple occasions." He humored. "My favorite is always the one where you're pleasuring yourself to my image."

Stiles snorted, shifting to snuggle closer against his pillow.

"How do you know it was to you and not someone else?"

"Because you screamed my name when you came."

"You do know I know about 4 other Peter's right?"

Peter grinned. Even while half asleep, Stiles still managed to snark back. It's one of the things that drew Peter to him, like a moth to a flame. Stiles could take Peter head on in a verbal engagement, match him par-to-par in challenge. He got up from his perch and stalked towards the bed, like a predator to his prey. He carefully climbed over Stiles, resting his body along the length of him, settling down to lick a strip up the back of his neck. His teeth, already fangs by this point, lightly scrape the pale flesh there, causing goose bumps to erupt.

"All of which are dead. Unless that's one of your kinks?" He nibbled, making a small bruise there. "I can work with that. I died once didn't I?"

"Hm, I always knew you were some sort of zombie." His breath hitched as Peter's teeth traced their way down to his shoulder and pressed until indentions of them were left on his skin.

"I'm not a zombie and you know it." His lips brushed teasing behind Stiles' ear, making him shiver.

Peter smirked when the scent of arousal drifted into his nose. Stiles was always more agreeable to sex when he was half asleep. Peter reached his hand between his boyfriend and the bed, roughly palmed his semi-hard cock through his boxers. Stiles moaned, moving his hips closer to get more friction. Peter busied himself licking a trail down his spine, to the curve of his lower back, biting a bit to the side in one of Stiles' many erogenous zones.

"Nng, cheater!" He panted, reaching a hand down to tug at Peter's hair to get him to let up on the abuse.

" 'M not. My teeth happen to have slipped there."

"Slipped there my ass."

"Hmm, and what a lovely ass it is indeed." He pulled the boxers down to his knees, too impatient to even get them fully off.

Without the fabric barrier, Peter's hand wound around the young man's cock, pumping him to a full erection. His tongue dove further down, its goal being Stiles' puckered hole. He twirled around it, his free hand pushing the globes of Stiles' ass apart for better access. He pushed his tongue in, drawing out moans and stuttered versions of his name. Stiles' hips rocking back against the wet appendage, trying to get more within him.

Peter's hand pumped and twisted Stiles' dick like he knew his boyfriend liked, straying a few more seconds to tease the head before sliding back down the shaft and repeat. Pre-come gathered at the tip and was smeared by Peter's fingers, making the hand job go a little more smoothly. The werewolf grabbed the bottle of lube stashed under the extra pillow not being used by Stiles, and slicked his fingers up to add to his tongue action. He took his time easing Stiles open (loved to see how wrecked he could make him, panting and blushing and moaning) and searching for his prostate. Halfway through, he found the pleasure knob, making sure to hit it when he pulled his figure out.

"Peter, Peter please!" He whimpered, hands fisted tightly in his sheets. "Stop, stop! I'm ready, I'm so totally ready!"

"Ready for what?" Peter asked, because let's face it. He's always going to have an evil part of him somewhere in his body, and it just so happens to enjoy teasing the shit out of Stiles amongst other things.

"You! In me, just-please!" Stiles reverted into single words as Peter mercilessly kept rubbing his figures against his prostate. "Peter! Peter Peter Peter! Just-fuck! Fuck just do me already!"

The older man chuckled. "Not good enough Stiles. Come on; use those words you're always so fond of."

Stiles sobbed from the abuse of his prostate. "Fuck me already damnit! Claim me, mark me whatever! I'm close, I'm so close! I need…your cock…in me-now!" He managed to choke out.

That was enough for Peter to get a move on; he was impatient this time too. He pushed his sweat pants down enough to free his erection. "As you wish." He lubed up his cock in a couple of strokes before placing his head at Stiles' entrance ready to push in.

A knock on the door sounded, and Stiles was close to wailing in despair. He even went as far as telling Peter to ignore whoever was there and just freaking give it to him and make him come already. And Peter was all for that plan, really he was, so close to saying fuck it and fucking Stiles, but he knew he couldn't. Not with who was standing outside their door. Not with the sense he was getting from beyond the door. Sighing out his loss, Peter pulled away from the wrecked looking man and whispered for him to go take a cold shower and get dressed while tugging his own pants back on properly.

He made sure to close the bedroom door before he could see Stiles get up and renew his already deflated dick back to life with the temptation that was Stiles' body. The door was opened before the guest could knock again. An old man stood there, donning a black suit and a typical cut diamond tipped cane in front of him. Peter recognized the man immediately and stepped back to invite him in. He did so with a nod, walking to the couch with familiar ease. Peter held the urge to wrinkle his nose at the scent that wafted from the old gentleman. It was an elusive scent that couldn't be described in words, but if Peter had to name it, it'd be that of Death.

The werewolf didn't bother with offering anything to drink or food, it wasn't his place to, and the creature before him didn't require it. Instead, he listened in to what Stiles was doing; from the sound of it he was putting on some clothes. Not a second later, the bedroom door opened and he padded out in sweatpants and one of Peter's t-shirts. Peter had to hold back a smirk at that, taking up his place at Stiles' side. He did, however, take a whiff of the mixed scent of him and Stiles, a low inaudible rumble of satisfaction vibrated within his chest.

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, face set in seriousness. "To what do we own this visit?"

The smile the old man gave was cold, calculating, and cruel. It set both of them on edge just seeing it. Peter's wolf growled, a curl of protectiveness echoing through his body to stand in front of Stiles and hide him from the predator before them. But he didn't out of respect to his boyfriend. He's had the rant about that one too many times before it sunk in that only when the creature is going to attack can he push Stiles behind him. He hated it but he was willing to give this much to Stiles.

"I have another favor to ask of you."

"Favor?" Stiles raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

Peter wondered about his tone. And what was this about another request? This guy had come to Stiles once before? Where the hell was he? For 10 years, following the events of Beacon Hills, he's always been with Stiles so then when…? Peter didn't let his confusion and frustration show, keeping his face carefully blank.

"You've yet to repay your first favor, why would I take another?" Stiles asked.

The man smiled predatorily, making Peter's hackles rise. He had to look away before his flickering eyes could give him away how little control he was having. "I've paid my debt, Young One, you just didn't know it." He tilted his head to the side.

Peter thought nothing of it other than to make the creature look more human it paraded around to be. But Stiles seized up, shoulders as tense as a bow and fingers digging into his arm and side. "What do you want?" His tone became hostile and said through clenched teeth. Stiles didn't have his advantage (whatever it was) anymore. After this was all done and over with, Peter was going to get some answers out of his boyfriend one way or another.

"Are you accepting?" The old man seemed to be enjoying their discomfort. Peter'll show him discomfort when he can sink his claws into that mother fucker's neck and-

"Depends."

"You know how I work Stiles. Either you accept or don't."

It was moments like these that Stiles cursed his own curiosity and the burning desire to 'need to know'. He didn't have to accept the offer, and he knew it. Knew it was in his and Peter's best interest to decline and kick the old geezer out of their apartment. So he knew nothing good could come from this. So he was hating himself to hell and back when he found himself muttering "I Accept".

The human-like creature smiled all teeth. "Perfect." His dead blue eyes tore themselves from Stiles and fixated on the werewolf.

With narrowed eyes, Stiles hissed, "He stays" drawing those blue eyes back onto him.

"As you wish." Even without his supernatural hearing, Peter could hear his boyfriend's teeth grind together at the phrase. The scent of anger dripped from every one of Stiles' pores, oozing a dark aura about him. Only a few short minutes ago, that was Peter whispering those three words into his skin.

"I have a devil problem I need you to take care of."

"I'm not a hunter. I have perfectly good hunter friends you can go to."

"My problem's not that simple and you know they can't handle it." He said matter of fact.

"I don't know, I think they can. You may have even met them once." From the smirk Stiles was sporting, it wasn't hard for Peter to guess he was talking about those two crazy ass brothers. Hopefully they won't ever run into them again.

"My deal's with you and it'll stay that way." The old man's smile turned thin and tight, annoyance empowering his tone.

A low growl sounded as Peter stepped forward with all intent and purposes to rip the geezer apart but an arm stopped him. Stiles gently pushed him back, not once taking his eyes off their guest. He squeezed Peter's side, silently telling him to calm down and keep under control. He did as suggested, letting the growl die off.

"What do you want?" The young man asked again seeing as he didn't get an actual answer to his earlier question.

The man smiled at the demand like he was politely asked if he wanted some tea. Like he was glad Stiles asked him again.

"One of the right hands have something of mine that I want back."

"Why can't you get it back yourself?"

His smile goes thin and tense and Peter was tempted to grin at his discomfort like he did them.

"If I could I wouldn't have come to you."

Stiles nodded his fair point. "Fair enough. What is it we're getting?" Because of course Peter was going to tag along, and it's sweet of Stiles to remember that fact.

Their guest says nothing at the 'we' and ignores it to answer. "A ring."

"A ring?" The guy was going through all this trouble for a mere ring? What was his problem?

"Yes."

"A description would be nice." Because God forbid, they didn't get the right one.

"You'll know it when you see it." What complete crap was that!? "I want it before the end of next month."

Seriously?

"Seriously? You're putting on a time limit?" Stiles couldn't believe it, neither could the werewolf. He was coming to them, not the other way around here!

"It's important."

Stiles rolled his eyes, just about done with this conversation.

"Any other helpful information you may have forgotten to tell me?" Because they both know this motherfucker was fine holding out on them. Maybe to give them grief and frustration he could laugh at behind their backs. Stiles wouldn't put it passed him.

"I'd start with Axel."

Stiles opens his mouth, probably to complain, when half of the old geezer's face dissolves into transparency, showing off a skull for a face. The shadows in the living room darken and seemed to be pulled towards the creature on the couch. Peter immediately shoved Stiles behind him, eyes changed and claws out, growling at the sight before them. The darkness spiraled around the couch, making it impossible for even Peter's werewolf sight to see the old man before, in a blink of an eye, they dissipated and their guest was gone.

Peter almost jumped when he felt Stiles' head fall between his shoulder blades, he was that tense. He felt the hot breath of his lover as he sighed out and relaxed now that the threat was gone from their home. Stiles' fingers dug into the werewolf's exposed back, leaving bloody trails down as he clawed, letting himself go slack and unguarded. The shallow marks faded quickly, leaving only the dots of blood to remain.

Stiles sighed. "I hate that guy."

Peter couldn't agree more.

So something new, this is one of my free time stories, meaning this will be updated when i have free time. If i get a lot of response to this, i'll make an effort to post every Monday.

Thanks to my beta for editing this!

Let me know what you think ~