The other hunters did not show up. And the Argents didn't do anything interesting either. They were still settling in and more busy unpacking boxes than meeting with hunters or doing anything else that would give Peter a hint.
Peter didn't stay for long over the day, Chris was a trained hunter and with that paranoid by nature and would get suspicious rather quickly, but he placed a small camera in a tree next to the house. It didn't overlook the whole area and didn't get audio from inside but it was enough to give Peter an impression of what the Argents were doing over the day. Once it was dark, he was back on his observation post just to listen in on them while they were watching a movie.
All in all, the weekend was wasted.
On top of that, John was working the early shift all week, meaning that he would be home in the evenings so no movie night with Stiles either. It was frustrating and by Monday Peter was ready to explode. He was snapping at pack members and Talia even told him to go for a run to get rid of his bad mood. He snapped at her too.
Even his texts with Stiles were clipped.
Come over to the cabin, Stiles wrote out of the blue. It was Monday evening, most of the pack had gathered in the living room like usual but today Peter couldn't stand the noises so he'd retreated to the library. He wanted to do some more research on the hunters or Derek or whatever but he did not have the patience for any of that.
He didn't know where this was coming from, usually, Peter was more patient but today frustration was grinding on him. He had the suspicion that the main reason wasn't the wasted weekend, it had only been two days, what did he expect, but rather the canceled date with Stiles. Not that he would admit that to anybody, he was not a horny teenager.
So when he read Stiles' message, Peter didn't ask what this was about, he just answered that he was on his way. Half an hour later he parked the car in the usual spot not far from where Stiles was hiding his jeep when he wasn't using it.
Suddenly a car came down the road, catching him in the headlights. It came to a halt behind him and a deputy stepped out.
"What are you doing out here, sir?" The deputy asked. If Peter was not mistaken, this was the same deputy he'd been hiding from the other day. At least today he didn't have a body with him.
"Just stretching my legs," Peter answered and tried for a winning smile which felt too forced to look natural.
"This is private property."
"I didn't know that." Peter faked innocence but he wasn't winning any Oscars today. "I'm sorry, I'll be on my way, deputy."
Of course, the deputy stayed until Peter actually left. This was not his day.
Peter parked his car a mile away from the path and made sure that it wasn't easily spotted from the road. Then he went straight into the woods. He didn't know these parts of the woods but the lake should be hard to miss and since he wasn't carrying a dead body, he could move more freely.
He did come out at the lake but far off and he had to walk along the shore for quite a while to get to Stiles' cabin.
"What took you so long?" Stiles asked when he finally entered the cabin.
"Don't ask," Peter gritted out.
Having a look around, Peter realized that he'd never been in here with the lights on. There were only a few, illuminating the room with a warm light. It was quite cozy, especially with the rustic charm of the wooden cabin.
Stiles was lying on his bed with his laptop but he'd rolled to his side to face Peter when he'd entered.
"I got your message," Peter filled the silence when Stiles just kept looking at him. "What do you want?"
"Company," Stiles said. He closed the laptop and set it aside. "And it looks like you need some distraction."
"I have to warn you, I'm not good company at the moment." He plucked a twig off his sleeve. Since he'd taken the rough route here there were more twigs and leaves stuck to him. Among other things. His dry cleaner would have a word with him tomorrow.
"I said company, not good company." Stiles patted the blanket next to him.
Peter shook his head at him but followed the invitation.
"Is this a booty call?" Peter stretched out next to him.
"Only if you want it to be." Stiles reached over and traced along the line of his v-neck.
"I don't know what I want right now," Peter admitted with a frustrated huff. Sex would release some of his tension, that was for sure, but he didn't know if he was in the mood for that. At the moment he wasn't in the mood for anything. He was just angry and frustrated and he got even more frustrated over the fact that he didn't really have a reason to be frustrated in the first place.
Stiles kissed him on the mouth.
It was just a soft brush of dry lips over dry lips but it broke through the thoughts running circles in his head.
"Want me to blow you?" Stiles asked, looking down on him with a mischievous smirk. His tongue darted out to lick over his lips.
"Go ahead." Peter waved at the general direction of his lower body. Maybe if he just lay here and let Stiles take care of him, his head would clear.
Stiles didn't have to be asked twice and a second later he was yanking down Peter's pants. He tucked the waistband of his boxers behind Peter's balls and then the wet heat of Stiles' mouth surrounded him. Peter was still soft and didn't even feel aroused at the moment but Stiles' mouth on him would fix that soon.
Peter closed his eyes and just enjoyed what Stiles was doing down there.
Patiently Stiles was sucking him to full hardness before he even started with his special moves. The way he was able to curl his tongue around the head of Peter's cock was unbelievable.
Stiles never took him too deep but he licked and nibbled his way up and down the shaft before he dove in again, lips stretched around him.
It didn't take long for Peter's frustration to turn into another kind of frustration. He didn't know how Stiles did it, his mouth was constantly working him over one way or the other, but he kept him on edge for what felt like hours. Every time Peter was close to coming, Stiles switched tactics.
"Fuck, Stiles," Peter growled through too many teeth, his claws helplessly fisted in the blankets.
Stiles did let him come eventually but by then Peter was a writhing mess and he was close to taking matters in his own hand, to just push Stiles' head down until he would come down his throat but Peter kept that last bit of self-control and shredded the blanket instead.
He came with a strangled cry, hips bucking under Stiles who was just riding it out with him. When Stiles finally let go of him, half his face was smeared with saliva and semen, his eyes in a daze but he was grinning happily. Peter felt his cock twitch at that sight, Stiles looked fucked out just from blowing him, but at the moment all Peter could do, was to just lie there with his legs trembling, chest heaving and to slowly come down from his high. He was lying in a pool of sweat and Stiles' saliva, mixed with his own release which made it even stickier but at the moment he couldn't care less.
Stiles wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt before he stretched out next to him.
"Feeling better?" Stiles asked, studying him with an amused expression.
Peter just nodded, his brain was not cooperating right now.
"Where did you learn how to blow a man like this?" Peter wondered because damn. It had been way too long since somebody had given him head but he did not remember anybody being this good at it. Nobody should be giving head like this.
"Natural talent and practice." Stiles shrugged. He was back to tracing the line of Peter's v-neck.
"Give me a minute." Peter's features had returned to human, he felt it, but the words still came out kind of slurred.
"I'm good," Stiles assured him. "Wanna take a nap?"
Stiles didn't wait for his answer and just drew a blanket over them.
Peter wanted to protest but under the blanket Stiles tucked him back into his boxers and helped him out of his shoes and jeans before he was snuggling up to him, head resting on Peter's shoulder.
Looked like there were taking a nap. Peter hadn't slept much the last few days, that might be one of the reasons for his frustration, and his brain was still muddled, Stiles had sucked it right out of his dick, so Peter let out a breath and closed his eyes. Just for a minute.
When he opened his eyes again, the cabin was dark and it felt late at night. Stiles was sleeping next to him, in the small bed they had to lie close and Stiles had thrown an arm and a leg over him like an octopus.
After Peter had orientated himself, he rarely woke up in places not his bedroom, and had made sure that Derek wasn't standing in the door to drag Stiles back into the lake he settled back again and closed his eyes. He could sleep for a few more hours.
The next time he woke, the cabin was lit by sunlight but judging by the angle of the beams coming through the closed shutters, it was still early. Stiles was already up but he had his back to Peter while he was doing something at the stove. The smell of coffee was filling the air along with the sizzling of fried bacon.
"Morning," Stiles greeted him when he noticed that Peter was awake.
"What time is it?" Peter rubbed his face to get more alert.
"Almost seven." Stiles was focused on whatever he was doing. "Sorry, I can't offer you much, I don't do this often anymore so I don't have much lying around."
Only now Peter noticed the smell of smoke, the stove was not operating with electricity.
"What are we having?" Peter asked with a suspicious eye on Stiles who was blocking the view on what he was doing.
This was the guy who had burned popcorn in the microwave. John even had left a note, telling him to let Peter make the popcorn. Stiles was prohibited from even touching John's stove. The man knew Stiles well. And here Stiles was, cooking over fire. Peter considered himself lucky that he hadn't been burned in his sleep.
"Coffee, toast, eggs and bacon," Stiles answered, already filling the plates. "I keep some basics around but I haven't cooked here in decades."
For a second Peter wondered where Stiles had hidden the coffee maker, he had power in the cabin but so far Peter hadn't seen something like a coffee maker. Turned out that Stiles was brewing his coffee the old fashioned way with a kettle and the filter directly on the mug. He even had a wooden coffee grinder, the kind with a crank and a little drawer to collect the ground beans.
While Peter scrambled into his pants, Stiles set the table.
Peter had a skeptical look at the plate Stiles had placed in front of him but everything looked and smelled fine. Well, the coffee had kind of a burned scent and when he took his first sip, he almost spat it out again. This was not like the coffee he was usually having.
Stiles laughed at him over the rim of his mug.
Peter took another sip and he had to admit that it wasn't too bad. Just very different from what he was used to. The food had a smoke aroma, Stiles had toasted the bread over the open flames but it was good.
"I feel like I've been transported back in time," Peter admitted when he dug into his breakfast. "And I'm really glad that you didn't burn down the house." He pointed at the stove which was still radiating heat.
"That one I know but the electrical ones? We ain't gotta be friends." Stiles' voice slipped into a drawl and Peter wasn't sure if he was just goofing around or if he'd slipped into how he must have spoken a long time ago.
"Did you stay the whole night?" Peter wondered. "Didn't Derek …" He gestured in the direction of the lake.
"I can stay here, it's close enough," Stiles said around a stripe of bacon hanging out of his mouth. "But I'm going to go under soon so don't expect me to answer you for a while."
