A/N: ***SPOILER ALERT*** Again, like the previous two chapters you must have seen "Chaos Rising" to get a lot of what is discussed here. I could write it in a way to make it incidental, but I find I enjoy picking up the subtleties of the episode and interpreting it my way. And once again I lifted dialogue though I did cut some of it (really Stiles, a "wolf den?" I had to agree with Peter on that one). Oh and this chapter makes the rating go way up, just FYI.

"This is bad idea, Derek."

"Stiles, for the last time, I know what I'm doing!"

Stiles faced down the Alpha, his palm still stinging with the force of his punch. He didn't doubt Derek was serious in his belief about his superiority, but Stiles had seen too much in the past year or so to believe so blindly. Derek had almost died too many times for Stiles to willingly let him go.

"It's okay, I'll be with him."

Scott. Of course Scott could go with him because he was useful, at least according to Derek. And Stiles wasn't bitter about being left behind. Again.

"Yeah, that makes me feel better."

Scott clapped him on the shoulder and left the room, apparently never picking up on his sarcasm. Derek did though and didn't follow the other wolf right away.

"What's this about?"

Stiles wished he could explain the dread swimming in his stomach and the sense Derek needed him there. HIs fingers itched and he unconsciously brought them up to Derek's chest, something that had the wolf widening his eyes in shock. They just didn't do that, touch for no apparent reason. Touch was only permissible in cases of danger or near-death, not like this.

Why not? Stiles touched Scott all the time with no reprecussions. Why couldn't he touch Derek?

Taking advantage of Derek's shock, Stiles lightly caressed the hard pecs beneath his hands and pushed. The Alpha didn't move of course, and Stiles dropped his touch to the hem of his green t-shirt and placed his palms directly to his belly. Better, a small voice sighed, easier to do it this way. The rush of heat didn't surprise Stiles anymore, and he remembered one of the sigils he'd traced over and over, imagining it against Derek's bare flesh laced with protection and gold. He wasn't sure exactly why he was doing it, but he knew he had to if he wanted the wolf to come back in one piece.

"What. The. Fuck?"

Stiles drew away with a shaky breath, staring at his hands to avoid looking the Alpha in the eye. "Be careful, Derek, I'm serious."

"I will."

"You better come back."

A sigh. "I promised you nothing would happen to Scott, didn't I? I swear I won't let him get hurt."

Stiles looked up into slightly red-tinted eyes. That wasn't what he meant at all. In fact, he hadn't even thought to worry about his best friend or give him a protection ward.

"That's not what I meant -"

"Look, I gotta go. Just stay here and we'll be here soon."

Derek stalked out of the room without looking back, Stiles staring after him in confusion.

"So, how long you and Derek been fucking?"

Stiles turned away from the door and gaped at Peter.

"Huh? Wha-?"

The older wolf opened his eyes and smirked. "I must admit, Derek doesn't usually have good taste when it comes to his bed companions, but you, you are very tasty." He raised a clawed finger to his own lips and traced it lightly. "Your mouth alone must be heavenly."

A blush worked its way down Stiles' cheeks towards his chest at the innuendo. There was nothing going on between him and Derek, but he couldn't deny he sometimes had to hide an erection whenever the older man came near him. What? Sue him for being attracted to beauty.

"Uh, ew, and no. We're not like that."

"But you want to be," Peter purred, dropping his hand to his chest where he rubbed his nipple through his thin cotton shirt. There was enough light in the room for Stiles to see Peter's pants were tented at the crotch and he blanched at the sight, though a small treacherous part of him enjoyed causing the reaction. The wolf spread his thighs wider from his position on the couch to make room for his heavy erection.

"You think I can't smell your attraction? Hell, you smell almost like you're in heat."

Stiles twitched by the window, a strange warmth crawling through him when he noticed burning blue eyes staring at him. Wolves' eyes only changed colors with heightened emotions, and it was obvious which one was currently motivating Peter. The wolf wasn't helping any with the obscene lip-licking and the hand venturing lower and lower until it reached his zipper.

"You want this, don't you?"

"No-no-no," he stuttered in reply, his heart beat loud in his ears. He couldn't tell if he was lying or not. The same feeling that nearly overwhelmed him at the clinic was wending through him now; except Peter wasn't the same as Isaac. He was infinitely more dangerous.

"I bet if I pulled out my cock now, you'd go to your knees for me. Wouldn't you, pup?"

Until this moment, Stiles was positive the only emotions he felt toward Peter were hatred and fear, but the lust pooling through his veins belied that thought. The erection he'd felt earlier when Derek brushed against him returned now with startlingly force, his precome blurting out the tip and dampening his boxers in an obvious and embarrassing way.

The sound of metal teeth parting was loud in the silence and it became clear Peter wasn't a boxer or a brief man.

"God, the look on your face. You're still a virgin, aren't you?"

Peter rubbed himself through the parting in his jeans as his gaze never wavered from Stiles. Stiles, for his part, refused to glance down and give Peter the satisfaction of looking, but found he was chewing on his lips while clamping his hands on the sill behind him.

"Hmm, I think I like you better over there, helpless against your own lust and inhibited by shyness. I bet you'd spread so prettily for me, wouldn't you? Face down, ass in the air, presenting like a bitch in heat. You needing dick so badly, you'd wag and beg and hump the air for it." Slick sounds began in earnest as Peter's fist started pumping faster. "Tucked into your little bed at home you probably start touching yourself with a pretty girl in mind, like that redhead I almost had. But when you're straining to come, it's not a female who gets you off, is it? It's being held down and fucked hard by someone stronger, rougher, and bigger, isn't it?"

Stiles was dying over there, his body flushed with a caustic mixture of shame and desire because it was true what Peter was saying. So often he would start fantasizing about being with Lydia, her small soft hands touching him while he kissed her sweetly. It was nice and would work when he was feeling languid and lazy, but the times when he needed to get off fast, it was male hands hold his head down while a large dick fucked his mouth, choking him as cum poured down his throat. He never saw a face, but Stiles knew, he knew who it was using him like a fucktoy, and he always came with the name bitten off at the last. He could pretend he didn't have a weird twisted crush on the guy if he didn't say the name.

"Or maybe you want to be used by all of us, is that it? I bet Isaac would rim you so gently, licking and lapping to get you loose and ready for the Alpha. He's a beta, but fuck if he doesn't act like an Omega, needy and pliant to the least order. I've wanted to plow that ass myself, but know I can't until the Alpha does." Peter slowed his masturbating at Stiles' inhalation. "Oh, you didn't know that? An Alpha gets first pick of viable mates in the pack; doesn't matter if they're male or female. I bet Erica thought she was going to get tapped, but Derek doesn't really swing that way, Kate nonwithstanding."

"Wha-?"

"Another little secret your lover kept from you, eh? Erica wanted Derek badddd and not in a "oh my knight in shining armor" way but more of a "daddy spank me harder 'cause I've been a bad girl" kind of thing. She was kinky and was so screwed in the head that she would take it anyway she could get it." Peter winked. "Trust me."

A week ago and the thought of Erica fucking Peter would've grossed Stiles out and made him wonder if she needed mental help, but now, here in this moment, it merely served as lighter fluid on the conflagration of his lust. His jeans got even tighter and Stiles yearned to unzip and finish himself off, maybe spray all over Peter so the wolf was marked with his seed.

"If you want to lose your pesky virginity, Stiles, stick to dirty girls like Erica and leave prissy ones like Lydia to the Jacksons of the world. Lydias look like firecrackers and lots of fun, but really they're looking for control over you. Ericas will get down in the dirt and let you be an animal!"

Stiles incredulously listened to Peter talk and wondered how his life had spiraled to this: being given sex advice by a man nearly as old as his father while he masturbated. And actually be turned on by it.

"Hmm, I hope they do find her alive. I haven't had any pussy since she left."

And just like that, Stiles' erection wilted as he was reminded of why he was here. Erica and Boyd were gone, taken by interlopers, and Derek was out there in the dark with Scott as his backup. It galled Stiles to be left behind when the two wolves were going up against a whole pack of Alphas.

"I've lost you, haven't I? That's rude, my boy, to leave me hanging like that."

"Oh shut up, Peter. I'm not your boy and you can get off without me."

"But I'd rather get off with you." The words rolled across the narrow space between them, the silky promise rubbing against Stiles' skin like a cat looking to be scratched. He darted a look at the sofa again and saw Peter's head thrown back against the cushions, his dick fully exposed as his hand blurred up and down its length. Curiousity and prurient interest kept his eyes glued to the sight and he nearly sighed with the older man when white finally spurted from the tip and dripped down.

"Want a taste? I won't tell Derek if you won't," Peter lured, his come-covered hand held out to Stiles. Stiles nearly took a step forward before common sense yanked back the controls and he stopped.

"Pity. I wanted my semen to be the first you tasted, but I guess I'll have to wait my turn."

A quick tug and tuck and Peter was decently dressed again as if the past few minutes had never happened. He even produced a hankerchief from his pocket to wipe himself clean.

Stiles refused to comment and whipped around to stare out the window towards the cold looking moon. Peter refrained from speaking and silence descended upon the apartment again. Without the wolf's interference, Stiles couldn't help but think of all the things that could go wrong for his friends, and dread once again pooled in his stomach.

After interminable minutes later, Stiles finally cracked and croaked, "I can't take waiting around like this, it's nerve-wracking. My nerves are wracked. They're severely wracked."

"I could beat you unconscious and wake you when its over." There was a certain glee threading his tone and Stiles didn't doubt the waking part of it would involve more than a simple slap to the cheeks.

"Do you think Erica is really dead?"

"Do you think I really care?"

Yes! You're supposed to care, even a little, about a girl you took to your bed! Or, hell, what about the fact she's Pack.

Yet none of those words passed Stiles' lips because he knew pack bonds didn't extend to Peter, at least not in a normal way. His death and resurrection was a thing of magic, but a darker kind and couldn't integrate the simpler cleaner magic inherent in bonds. Hell, he probably sheared it away himself the minute he killed Laura; sure there was precedence of Alphas being taken down by their own pack for the power, but her death wasn't due strictly to a dominance war and therefore it was different. Stiles didn't know or understand how he knew this other than it was knowledge pulsing quietly in his mind.

Instead he glossed over Peter's question and responded with, "I just don't understand the bank though. Why wouldn't they chain them up in some underground lair, or something? They're an Alpha pack, shouldn't they have a lair?"

Indignation and a sense of fair play was working through Stiles as he ground his teeth in frustration. Of course he knew villains never worked like they did in stories, having a convenient lair situated so the hero(es) could stumble across, but it was frustrating being the one stuck here with no knowledge of what was going on or why. Especially not know the whys and whatfores. He could (almost) handle sending Derek off to a deadly situation except the lack of knowledge about anything made the prospect so much scarier. Knowledge was half the battle, or so he learned early.

"They're werewolves, not Bond villains."

"Okay fine, that just proves there's something up with the bank. And why wait around for the full moon? Huh? Why not just kill them whenever they want to?"

"Maybe they think its poetic." Peter's words were slower now, almost sluggish like he was about to fall asleep. Stiles stilled his restless pacing to glare at the nearly comatose werewolf. Geebus, one little orgasm and he's ready to nap. Guess it really was a myth about werewolf stamina - or Allison being really really kind to Scott.

"They've already had three full moons to be poetic," Stiles sneered.

"And here you've only had one full hour to be so annoying -" Peter stopped, his head snapping upright as an idea occurred to him. The teen was miffed at his words and missed the alertness raging through the wolf's body.

"No, go ahead, finish what you were saying. I'm annoying -"

Peter ignored him now, intent on the idea welling up. "What are the walls made of?"

"What? I dunno, wood and brick."

"No the vault, the walls what are they made of?" Peter had vaulted from the couch and gone to the table covered with blueprints, hastily thumbing through them in his search for the answer.

Stiles caught his exitement and pawed through the briefcase holding the rest of the information he'd gathered earlier. "Here, it's gotta be in there." Forgotten was everything that had gone before; in its place was the familiar tingling sensation Stiles always felt when pieces of a puzzle were coming into focus. Had he looked in a mirror in that exact moment, he might've recognized his father staring back at him from the glass.

Peter grasped it, his eyes speeding over the paper, fingers greedily discarding the unimportant pages as he sought the confirmation of his suspicions. "I'm right, I know I'm right."

Stiles, reading just as rapidly, spots the information before he does. "There, that's it!" Of course, Stiles has no clue what exactly it means to Peter, but feels triumphant anyway.

Peter mumbled words beneath his breath, each syllable sounding darker and darker until Stiles can't stand it any more. "That sounds awful! What does it mean?"

"Get them on the phone," the wolf ordered, for once innuendo missing from his words. "Boyd and that girl are going to kill each other. They're going to kill Derek and Scott."

Stiles froze at Peter's dire proclamation, the voice in his head starting to gibber again with no, not our Alpha. Not the Alpha! His fingers trembled as he tried to tap out Scott's phone number, finally remembering his best friend was #2 on his speed dial.

"Stiles now isn't the best time!"

And despite the severity of the situation, Stiles rolled his eyes as he fought the urge to laugh in disbelief This wasn't the first time Scott had tried to hang up on him during a tense moment, when it was imperative he listened to Stiles. There was a reason he wasn't truly a part of the Hale Pack, and stupidity was the least of his problems.

"Scott! Scott! Listen to me, you gotta get out of there!" Stiles held the phone away from him, pressing the speaker button so Peter could speak if necessary. "The walls of the vault are made with of a mineral called Hecatolite; it scatters the moonlight."

"What does that mean?"

Panic filled Stiles as he heard Derek's voice rumbling in the background, accompanied by deep growls. Obviously his bone-headed Alpha was trying to talk down a moon-ridden wolf. "It keeps the moonlight out okay. They haven't the full moonlight in months!"

Peter chimes in when the horror overwhelms Stiles and stills his tongue. "Think of it like the gladiators of the Roman Coliseum. They used to starve the lions for three days to make them more viscious, more out of control. Deucalion kept them from shifting for three full moons, diminishing their tolerance to it."

Stiles drew a deep breath then picked up the thread, "Scott they're going to be stronger."

Peter exclaimed in tandem, "More savage, more bloodthirsty. Scott, they're the lions. The starved lions and you and Derek just stepped into the Coliseum."

Both of them hear Scott speaking then, though obviously not to them. "Derek we have a big problem -"

Silence only broken up by growls, then Derek's voice waveringly speaking one word: "Cora? Cora?"

Peter gripped Stiles' arm abruptly, shock whitening his face as his claws dug into Stiles' skin. Stiles winced with pain and tried to draw away but stopped when the tips merely slid in deeper.

A female voice, the strange girl-wolf from Isaac's memories, floated from the tinny speakers of Stiles' phone. "Derek, get out. Get out now!"

Oh god, she's warning him away. It should be a good thing she retained enough of her senses to warn him off, except Stiles had a really bad feeling Derek wouldn't back off. Not if he knew her.

"Scott! Scott!"

There was no response then his best friend screamed, "No! No wait!" And then the growls were louder as if the wolves had come closer where Derek and Scott stood.

Peter and Stiles stared at the phone in his hand when the sound was cut off completely.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God."

"There is no God here, " Peter whispered, his claws finally releasing Stiles. "There is only death and destruction and lies."

"Who was that girl -" Stiles started to ask before a pulsing bolt of pain went through his body, his hands, arms, chest, and stomach. He screamed in fear and shock, the pain coming over him in waves until he fell unthinkingly to his knees, then all fours, body writhing with agony as red fire traced its blazing path across his skin, blood spurting from slashes that mysteriously appeared.

A/N: Sooo...yeah, that happened. I swear my Muse is a dirty-minded one because she took one look at Peter's sprawl on the couch and concluded it looked like he was thoroughly debauched. And since Stiles was hyper and jittery, not sex-slowed, it was obvious Peter had just finished on his own. But why? And thus this part was born.