They stepped towards each other together. Stiles had his hands up and facing facing outwards, Peter with his hands up and curled into fists. The demon's first punch was deflected, slapped away. The second one almost landed on Stiles shoulder, before he went with the movement, his shoulder flowing back, his left foot stepping back, right hand coming up to grasp Peter's arm, pulling him round and over his hip. The demon landed and continued the momentum, rolling back up to his feet.
"Not bad," he praised, as they started circling each other.
"Thanks," Stiles asked, watchful eyes locked on the Demon, even as a hint of a smile broke through.
Peter feigned left, then quickly swung right. Stiles blocked again, stepped back with the force and used the power behind the blow to knock Peter off balance again. Just as he was about to do something about it, Peter shifted his weight to his back foot and kicked up, aiming for Stiles inside knee. Rolling his weight onto the knee that was going to be hit, he collapsed and rolled away, absorbing the energy, even as he limped slightly.
"But you're on the defensive," Pitkis taunted, prowling slightly closer again. "Are you scared?"
Any smile Stiles had whilst sparring faded immediately as he glared, feeling the flare on his blackthorne tattoo burning lightly. Surging forward quickly, he aimed a flurry of punches at the infuriating demon, each one blocked or deflected. Growing more frustrated, he catalogued the demons stance, he made a quick calculation, he aimed a kick at Peter's side. It was supposed to wind him, the kidney being a soft point, but Peter was quicker. The demon stepped back just in time and grasped the Sparks calf, yanking him forward and off balance. Hopping forward on his free leg, Stiles quickly took in Peter's stance again; legs slightly bent, hands holding his left leg mostly to stop is going up . A split second decision, he slammed his leg down with all the force he could from that angle, right on the side of his knee, pleased when he connected and Peter's joint made an awful cracking sound as it twisted in the wrong direction. Peter's shocked cry as the pain registered was almost music to Stiles ears. With a bloodthirsty grin, Stiles reclaimed his now-free leg and stepped forward onto it whilst ducking down, his right leg sweeping round to take Peter's feet out from under him. With a solid "Oof" Peter landed on his back, winded and looking up at the sky.
The demon stayed down, partly to see what the Spark would do next, the other because it had hurt , dammit. Bone mending hurt , no matter how quickly said broken bone could be fixed. Jesus, it had been a long time since someone had properly landed his ass in the dirt. As he got his breath back, faster than any human would, his knee straightened out, he looked up to see the smirking Sparks face leaning over him.
"You were saying?" Stiles laughed, kicking Peter's stomach playfully.
Peter just flashed a smirk of his own and moved quicker than anybody who'd just been winded had any right to, snagging Stiles ankles. He saw the flash of panicked understanding a fraction of a second before he yanked, the Sparks legs flying up as he gave a startled yelped, before landing in a heap, groaning parallel to the demon.
"Okay, I deserved that," Stiles grouched, coughing as he got his breath back. He was feeling petty, so he kicked out his foot, feeling it connect with Peter's stomach again, slightly satisfied when he heard him grunt. "Should have known demon's fought dirty."
"How do you think I stayed King of Hell?" Peter said, shoving Stiles foot off him as he sat up.
"With your charming personality?" the man-child snarked, shifting to rest on his elbows.
Peter just raised an eyebrow at him, not deigning to answer that.
It was quiet for a moment, until Stiles started jigging his leg. He still had so much pent up energy . Peter, still feeling the destructive need to hurt something radiating off Stiles, stood and offered his hand.
Stiles looked from Peter's hand to the demons arrogant smirk. A sharp smile cut across his face as he let himself be pulled up, both moving straight into their fighting stances.
Peter let Stiles start this bout; a floor sweep again. Peter stepped out of the range, quickly stepping back in to grab Stiles while he was off balance from rising back to standing. Dropping back to the floor as soon as he saw Peter's hand closing in, used the momentum to front roll past the demon. Peter huffed, amused, as he turned to face the now standing Spark again. He decided to up the anti and stop playing as much.
Stiles was watching closely for Peter's next move when he saw the shadows convulsing at the demons back, drawing his attention. That second of distraction was enough for Peter to sneak forward and get within Stiles defences. A swift uppercut to the man-childs jaw, followed by a grasping his arm and dragging the off balance Spark closer. Just as Stiles stumbled close enough to be thrown over Peter's hip, ready to follow him down to put him into a choke hold, Stiles sidestepped to the right, just enough that the maneuver didn't work as planned. Instead, Stiles had just enough leverage to pop his hip own out and knock Peter off kilter. Turning his hands in the demon's grip, getting a good enough hold of one the cold forearms to pull and draw the demon flush against his back. The cool burn of Peter flush against him was only a moment before he slammed his head backwards, straight into Peter's nose. The profusive Latin swear words were imaginary, causing Stiles to laugh as he quickly stepped away and faced the bleeding demon. One of the first things Stiles had learnt in Latin was how to swear, and he was getting a refresher course listening to Peter.
"Did you have to break my nose?" Peter asked, once the bleeding had stopped and he could breath without it aching enough to make him want to eviscerate small child. He wiped his shockingly dark red almost black blood on his shirt, not caring about adding to the already ruined shirt.
"Are you ever going to stop going easy on me?" Stiles returned, blunt and still in a fighting stance. He was finally getting there was no rules in demon sparring and was wary of being caught off guard again.
Peter grinned, a gruesome sight when he had dried blood in and around his mouth. "How'd you figure I'm going easy?"
"You're an all powerful demon king," Stiles scoffed without taking his eyes off Pitkis. "You're healing all your injuries in a fraction of the time. You have super senses and it's not a huge jump to assume that you are much stronger than me. Honestly, I shouldn't be able to land a hit."
Peter pursed his lips, before suddenly bowing slightly, a reminder of a past time. Again, a bloody smile graced his face. "All truth, my dear Sparkling. Shall I play on my level then?"
Stiles watched the shadows dancing behind Pitkis. He felt his Spark flare up inside him, answering the cold call of Pitkis' Magik. Stiles didn't reel it back, he let it bounce between his fingers. He watched the bright red sparks dancing between his fingers for a moment. Peter let him play with it, feeling the waves of fascination through the bond. The smell of petrichor and electricity invaded their space.
"Much better," Peter purred, letting some of his power play with the shadows behind him again. "Let's have some fun on my level then."
And with that, Peter moved faster than he had before, smoothly moving into Stiles space. Moving too fast for the Spark to follow, he gut punched him, and as he folded forward, he let his shadows curls around Stiles' feet locking them in place, causing him to trip as he stepped back instinctively. Just as Stiles threw his hands out to break his fall, Peter grabbed one of his forearms and yanked viciously. It was with a sickening pop that Stiles then jolted forward, right onto a pillow of shadows.
It was a few minutes where Stiles just laid there trying to get his breath back. Peter stood to the side, hands in pockets, the perfect picture of disinterest as he kept his gaze on his Bonded. He didn't feel any pain in their bond that would indicate he needed to think about healing Magik. He just had to wait for the man-child's brain to catch up with those few seconds of being thrown about.
"... Ow," Stoles finally groaned, flopping onto his back. He glared balefully at the demon standing over him. "I take it back, go easy on me. I'm not an all powerful being." Stiles winced as he felt the pulled muscles in his should. " Fuck , that wasn't fun."
"Not yet," Peter said.
"Not yet what? Make sense, my brain hurts as much as my dignity."
"You're not an all powerful being yet ."
Stiles stared at Peter. Peter stared at Stiles.
"Why you always gotta be cryptic, you ass," Stiles finally grouched.
Peter shrugged and smirked. "More fun."
"Whatever," Stiles said, throwing his hand out towards the demon. "Help me up."
Peter's smirk grew as he slid his hand into the prickling heat of Stiles, the Sparks from earlier coming back to play along his skin. Petrichor and electricity still hung heavy in the air.
"I promise to go easy-" At Stiles half hearted glare, he amended. "-not as hard as I could, if you wanted to continue sparring."
As an answer, when Stiles was upright, he immediately balanced on his feet and hands up and with tiny flames dancing around his fingers. They both shared a bloodthirsty smile as they stepped into each other again.
Right fist aimed at Stiles face, blocked. Left leg stamped forward towards insole, dodged. Shadows playing around Stiles peripheral vision, so he sends a bolt of flames towards it, scattering the shadows for a moment. There was no time to stop and think, both Peter and Stiles aiming to incapacitate the other, both by physical or magical means. An opening not easily won with a flurry of embers thrown into Pitkis' eyes. A quickly dodged punch followed by an elbow, Peter folding slightly, taking the blow to the side of his face.
He was enjoying the visceral pain that the hits brought as well as the fact that Stiles didn't hold back. He didn't have to. He was Bonded and Contracted and Stiles had zero reason not to put all his weight behind his punches and Peter loved it. There was no demur, petty fights, fearing to punch their King in the face. Even Laura and Derek did it, to an extent. It was refreshing to just take the hits cause someone wasn't afraid to dole them out.
Stiles body was right up near his after elbowing him in the head. Quickly, he pulled the Spark flush against his front as he side-stepped around the man-child, hands moving quickly up to put his arm around Stiles neck in a chokehold. He barely put any pressure behind it, just let it be a solid presence that would stay there till the Spark said Uncle. He felt his shadows starting to dance up Stiles legs, leaving a deadly cold behind as they climbed slowly higher. Instinctively, Stiles reached up to try and pull the arm away from his neck, kicking out with his feet at the thing constricting them.
"Stop holding back, Spark." Peter growled as he tightened his hold a miniscule amount. He could feel the potential, it just had to-
Flames danced along Peter skin, burning him, reaching deep within and scorching they're way through him. It felt like his blood in his arm was on fire. The shadows reluctantly slithered back down the Spark, away from the golden bright flames searing the skin of their master. Peter bore them for a full minute before even he couldn't stand it. Growling as he finally released Stiles, he stared at the hand shaped burns on his arms, even as they started to heal and fade.
"I-uh… I-I'm sor-" Stiles started to say, hands flapping as he panicked at how bad the burn was.
"Well done Stiles," Peter cut him off, looking up from the healing burns. He smiled sharply at his Bonded. "But you can do better. Let's go again."
Cautious acceptance spread across Stiles face, but even so, it took Stiles another bout where he blew an ecstatic Peter off his feet by blowing up the ground beneath him that Stiles seemed get it and to let loose even more.
Peter smiled as he watched the Spark let the flames play under his skin. He seemed to glow slightly, an amber light that was barely there; you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it. The scent of petrichor was almost overpowering. Peter relished in it.
Stiles waited for Peter to step his right foot forward and, when he did, quick as he could, grabbed Peter's shirt as he hooked his foot around Peter's, swiping it out of position and pushing at the demon's shoulders. Peter instinctively grabbed the Spark as he dropped his weight down onto the leg he still had, dragging him down with him. As soon as he could free his right leg, he planted it in Stiles stomach and used the momentum to push Stiles over his head and crashing to the floor. As he flew over Peter's head, Stiles released a burst of fire along where he was holding Peter's shirt, setting it on fire and burning his neck in the process. This gave Stiles precious few seconds to regain his breath enough to be standing by the time Peter had put out the fire on his t-shirt. Ignoring the mild burns, already healing, Peter pressed his advantage on the out of breath Spark. Rushing forward, Peter grabbed Stiles hand and twisted it behind his back in an extremely painful hold. His other arm was wound around the Sparks neck to keep him close, so he couldn't get the leverage to free himself. Well. It worked, for a minute until Stiles was able to hook his foot around one of Peter's. Stiles yanked the foot forward, causing the demon to fall to have to let go of his prize and catch himself or he would have ended up with a well aimed elbow straight to his privates. He fell to one knee, feeling his thigh muscles pull from being yanked forwarded. Stiles followed through by turning and kneeing Peter in the face, stepping away as dark red blood spurted out of the demons broken nose again, covering the grass and his already ruined shirt as he fell back.
Stiles took the momentary reprieve to check his arm, the twinging pain causing his to sharply breath in as he rolled his shoulder. It would do, it would just hurt for a bit, no lasting damage done.
The Spark felt the colddark shadows curling around his feet again. Without thinking, he set the ground around his feet on fire, instinctively knowing his fires wouldn't harm him this time. The fireheatbright chased the darkcoldblack away. Just in time to brace himself for the next flurry of attacks from Peter. The demon's hands and feet were shrouded in shadows, the darkness convulsing as it hit Stiles skin, little dots of darkest night landing and latching onto him. It took a few minutes, it was only when Stiles started stuttering in his defences and retaliation, when he began to think something was inhibiting him. Peter didn't give him anytime to think, he was too busy stopping the demon from getting too close again. He was starting to get sleepy, but not natural sleep, it felt like someone was slowly turning down the lights in his mind whilst he was wide awake and screaming.
Panicked, he felt his inner Spark respond. Within a few second, he was lit up, glowing, burning from the inside out. Shocked, Peter stumbled a few steps away, staring at his Bonded. A small smile started to break across his face as he took in the sheer amount of power that little stunt took in the early stages of manifestation. With a bigger grin, sheer delight at knowing he didn't have to hold back as much, he stepped back in to kick the still glowing Spark in the stomach. Before his foot connected, a burning hand grasped his ankle, fire dancing along his skin as the fingers contracted around the brittle bones. Peter beamed, letting his shadows cowl around, giving his strength. Stiles seemed to be in shock, still as a statue and immovable, as he processed the new power in his control and almost overwhelming him. Peter kept his blood covered grin as he jumped up on Stiles braced knee, twisting his still burning leg in the Sparks now broken grip. With the extra height, he was able to wrap his leg around Stiles shoulders, legs either side of his neck, using his weight by leaning back to drag the Spark down with him, continuing with the flow to move round the frozen neck to land on Stiles chest as he fell back. It ended with a slowly going out Spark sprawled underneath a smirking demon sitting on the younger stomach, hands pinned beneath knees to stop him from moving and legs immovable by well placed feet trapping them, both panting as they settled.
"That… was a lot of fun." Stiles panted, finally releasing all excess tension trapped under the demon's body.
Peter's smile had a satisfied edge as he settled more comfortably on top of the Spark. "Are you feeling better now?"
Stiles took stock. He was aching, bruises making themselves known and he was magically spent, not even able to make a tiny ember dance in his hand. He was dead tired, he felt like he could sleep for days and he was pinned underneath a ridiculously powerful demon. Overall, he was… completely relaxed. All of his excess energy spent and all of his frustrations and anger beaten into his sparring partner and out of him.
"Yeah, much," Stiles finally said. He wiggled his arms in Peter's grip. "Gunna let me up now?"
"Oh, I don't know. I quite like you like this," Peter purred, unable not to take such a golden opportunity when it was handed to him on a silver platter. "You look all… helped and vulnerable."
Stiles gave the demon a sardonic glare, causing Peter to laugh and heave himself upright. He put his hand out to help his Bonded up as well, anticipating the dizziness that made Stiles sway as soon was he was standing. Stiles grimaced as he felt his stomach lurch and had no problems using Pitkis has a support until his mind stopped feeling like he was on a merry-go-round.
As they started walking back into the house to let Stiles rest, they took in the damage of the garden. Peter was vividly reminded of the aftermath of his niece and nephews bouts. Some of the grass was still on fire, others were just bald spots that were still smoking slightly. Some of the shadows had taken chunks out of the ground of their own accords, driven by the joyful destruction thriving in their master. Their clothes were ruined as well; covered in dirt, grass and blood
"I have no idea how to explain this to my dad," Stiles finally said, still leaning heavily on Peter as they walked, even when his head was better. He was just epically tired now.
"You won't need to," Peter replied. And he clicked his fingers, shadows converged across the lawn, leaving it just as it was in just a few milliseconds. Stiles shivered as the shadows flowed over the two of them and the darkcoldblack Magik broke over them. When Stiles opened his a second later, his clothes were as clean as before the fights, as was Peter's. No more dark red demon blood stained Peter's v-neck, turning the soft grey to a more horrific colour. The scorch marks had disappeared and the burn away cloth had reappeared, no worse for wear.
"You think you're so impressive."
"I know I'm so impressive."