Night Time Ritual, a teen wolf fanfic

Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf || Night Time Ritual || Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf

Title: Night Time Ritual – Peeperwolf and Needy Red Hood

Tags: m/m, Spark Stiles, hurt/comfort, fluff, BDSM, voyeurism/exhibitionism, explicit intercourse, masturbation, anal, knotting, dildos, butt plugs, collars, orgasm control, cock warming, kneeling

Main Pairing: Peter/Stiles

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale

Summary: Stiles comes home one night to find a very unusual present (it's a dildo) and a very unusual observer (it's Peter, letting him know he's watching from outside). Stiles finds himself weirdly into it and it becomes a nightly ritual, until it becomes… so much more.

Night Time Ritual

Peeperwolf and Needy Red Hood

Stiles had noticed a couple days ago that someone must have been in his room. Nothing was missing and nothing was majorly out of place, but after being part of a pack of 'doors? What are doors? We come in through the windows without announcing ourselves' werewolves, Stiles had developed a keen sense for when someone had been in his room.

Since nothing was disturbed, he dismissed it as someone yet again seeking either advise (Derek. Most of the time Derek. But also Scott, sometimes Jackson when him and Lydia had a fight yet again) or comfort (mostly Boyd and Erica, ever since the three of them had been captured by Argents, but also Isaac whenever he missed his mom, on occasion even Jackson when he had nightmares of the kanima), just to find Stiles not home so they must have left again.

He got the same feeling a couple days later, when he came home from their weekly pack meeting at Derek's loft. Horny, as he was after most pack meetings because damn Peter Hale and his utterly obscene v-neck shirts, that man showed more cleavage than Erica, he headed straight for the lowest drawer of his nightstand, where he kept his lube and his dildo. Once he pulled the drawer open, he froze. There was a box laying in the drawer, a box he hadn't put there. Mortified that someone had been in his sex drawer, he took the box out. There was a post-it note attached to it.

Seeing the one you have made me sad. You deserve something bigger. - P

Removing the post-it note, he saw what kind of box it was. A dildo. Stiles' face turned beet red as he opened the box and took the toy out. Oh, this was definitely bigger than the one he owned. Then again, looking back at it, he had often regretted getting such a small one. He'd been fifteen, bi-curious, nervous and never had anything bigger than his little finger inside of him so even the size of the dildo he bought seemed overwhelming. It became… less satisfying with time. But he hadn't dared return to the sex shop to buy a bigger one, far too mortified by the idea. Rationally speaking, he knew the guy behind the counter hadn't judged him, it was literally his job to sell sex toys, and yet there had been that terrifyingly embarrassing feeling to buying the thing and Stiles was not looking forward to repeating that experience, so he made due with the one he owned.

Now, apparently, he owned a bigger one. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, worrying it slowly as he turned the dildo over in his hand. It was a light blue color, a little smaller than his own dick but still bigger than his other dildo. His eyes found the note again, reading it three more times even though that wasn't necessary. Him and Peter had been working on their bestiary for months at this point, Stiles knew how to recognize Peter's handwriting from all the notes they shared.

His heartbeat picked up at the thought of Peter having gone through his room a few days ago, finding his dildo and deciding that Stiles needed a bigger one, just to actually buy one for him. His slowly growing erection was fully hard at that thought, as unreal as it felt.

A light flashing outside in the dark night caught his attention and he froze yet again like a deer in the headlights, which seemed appropriate because the two beta-blue eyes shining in the dark did feel like headlights. From the position, the wolf must be crouched on the tree opposite Stiles' bedroom window, with a perfect view inside. Peter was still there. Peter was watching him.

Yet, what seemed more important, Peter was letting him know that he was still there and that he was watching. Leaving the decision fully in Stiles' hands. He could just roll over and sleep. He could open his window and throw the damn dildo at Peter's head. Or he could… masturbate. Using the dildo Peter had just gifted him. Now that thought made his dick jerk violently.

Okay. Okay, okay, okay. New, weird kink unlocked. Mh. Interesting. Confusing. Damn.

The blue eyes were still there. Still watching. Stiles was still worrying his lower lip. With his heart racing like a jackrabbit set on breaking out of his rib-cage, Stiles got up and put the dildo down. Slowly, he grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it off over his chest, still facing the window. Usually, he'd just crawl into his bed and kick his boxers down to his ankles, but there was something so thrilling to knowing that Peter was watching. He wanted to put on a show for the wolf, as awkward as he felt about it. His fingers went for his fly, opening his pants and pushing them down, together with his boxers, leaving him fully naked in view of Peter. For a brief moment, he wondered what Peter thought, if he approved, if he liked what he saw. Stiles knew he wasn't ugly, but compared to the ridiculously jacked werewolf supermodels he surrounded himself with, he did feel inadequate a lot. It didn't help that most of them were happily paired up while Stiles felt as though nobody was even interested in him. Then again, Peter's eyes were still staring at him. The fact that Peter was interested in him was thrilling and exciting.

When he sat down on his bed, Stiles felt daring. He leaned back against the wall, facing the window, his feet set apart and legs bent. Giving Peter a real view. It was ridiculous how much that turned Stiles on, knowing that Peter was watching, putting himself on display for the wolf. Grabbing his lube, he slicked his fingers up and gently prodding himself with two fingers. He hissed at the burn when he pushed them in, loving when it hurt a little. His eyelids fluttered shut and he leaned his head back against the wall while fingering himself open. Once he was satisfied enough, he grabbed his new, shiny dildo and pushed it against his hole. Oh yeah, this was definitely bigger than his old one. He didn't hold back the moan when it breached him, safe in the knowledge that his dad was working the night-shift and it was only Stiles in the house. The stretch of the unfamiliar size was just that side of painful, making him shudder in want.

He made quick work, feeling impossibly horny – Peter was watching him, Peter was interested in him, the new toy inside him, the new, larger stretch. His other hand was jerking himself off in crude strokes, moans and gasps falling from his lips until he came. He came with Peter's name on his lips, knowing full well that the werewolf could hear him outside.

Gasping breathlessly, he grabbed some tissues to clean the mess on his stomach up but, after short consideration, kept the dildo inside himself when he curled into his bed. He liked the full feeling. He liked the thought of it being Peter, staying inside Stiles after fucking him, spooning him from behind. With that mental image in his mind did Stiles drift off into an unusually peaceful sleep.

/break\

It became their night time ritual. Stiles got home and checked through the window, getting confirmation in the form of flashes of blue, and then he'd masturbate. Granted, he had to bite down hard on his lips to keep from making noises on the nights that his dad was not working and it was a little torturous because hey, turned out he liked being noisy when he knew he had an audience.

This went down for four days before Stiles came home and paused reluctantly at his own bedroom door. He had an essay due tomorrow and he really needed to finish it. He hadn't had time for it yet, the monster of the week and consequent research about it had made him postpone the stupid essay for over a week now and then this thing with Peter started. But tomorrow was the due day. And his grades were already dropping as was thanks to all the research for the pack and fighting evil with the pack and trying to have a social life with the pack. Not that anybody knew, he didn't want them to worry or worse yet, to try and help by making him take a step back. They wouldn't understand just how desperately he needed them and needed to be needed by them. Some days, it felt like his pack and knowing that they trusted him and relied on him was the only thing that kept him from breaking down and crumbling on the floor from all the pressure.

And Stiles knew that he didn't owe this to Peter, knew that he had no obligations to do this every night, heck, he didn't even think that Peter expected him to masturbate every night. Still, a stupid part of Stiles was afraid that if he told Peter no, if he didn't entertain Peter and keep the wolf's attention, then Peter would leave and may not come back and that was frightening to Stiles.

Taking a last, deep breath, Stiles steeled himself as he entered his own bedroom. Grades came first. There was no going to college if he didn't have good enough grades to justify a scholarship. He couldn't let his dad down. He couldn't let the pack down either, he knew they had high expectations of him, were acutely aware of how intelligent him and Lydia were and were hyping both of them up like they were going to get the science equivalent of an EGOT.

Once inside his room, he tossed his bag onto the desk and then instinctively turned toward his window. Blue eyes. Stiles' heart jumped into his throat as he shook his head unsure before sitting down at his desk. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, pushing any anxiety and worry that he might have chased Peter off by saying no out of his mind so he could concentrate on his essay. He managed to latch onto the topic with an ADHD fueled hyperfixation that let time simply melt away as he worked relentlessly, not sparing another thought to Peter until he was done and collapsed face first in his bed, not even getting changed. It was 3AM and his alarm was going to go off in three hours, he virtually had no time to worry about Peter at the moment.

/break\

When he woke up in the morning, he was exhausted and not even remotely well-rested, but at least he had a finished ten page essay that was actually about the assigned topic. Coach was going to be so proud that he didn't have to read about the history of chess (the thing his brain had latched onto for a couple days and his fingers had itched to write about instead, even though it was fully unrelated but he was not the boss of his hyperfixations, he was merely the vessel. It was, quite frankly, a miracle he had never handed in an essay about any of the supernatural he researched).

Tired, Stiles zombie-walked into the kitchen to get the coffee started. He didn't even remember getting out of his jeans last night, but evidently he must have. He absolutely did not have the energy to make himself breakfast, even the act of making toast seemed excruciating even though his stomach was rumbling in protest because he hadn't eaten last night while writing either. Oh well, he knew he'd be fine, he often skipped meals due to not noticing the passage of time because of a hyperfixation. All he needed was three to five cups of coffee and then he'd be good to go.

When he walked into the kitchen, he paused. The scent of coffee and food were in the air and for a moment, he wondered if he'd missed that his dad had a day off. But then he saw the French toast and scrambled eggs with ham on a plate at his place, both still steaming, and no, his dad absolutely did not know how to make French toast. With furrowed brows did Stiles sit down and grab the coffee mug, downing half of it without putting it down. Feeling a little clearer, he looked at his breakfast again, just to notice a post-it note attached to a glass of orange juice.

I'm very proud of you for prioritizing your studies over your pleasure. - P

Oh. Stiles' cheeks blushed furiously, which seemed ridiculous to Stiles considering he could strip and masturbate in front of Peter without blushing but an act of kindness from Peter had him flustered? What the fuck was wrong with him. A giddy grin took over his face as he dug into the food. He genuinely couldn't remember when he'd last eaten something home cooked that he hadn't prepared himself. Don't get him wrong, he loved cooking, next to his research binges quite frankly his favorite pastime and food was how he showed love, he made sure his dad ate right, he loved cooking during pack nights, loved how much his pack appreciated it and loved his cooking. It was something he enjoyed a lot, but the thought that someone else had taken the time to cook for him? It made him feel warm and cherished and stupidly happy in a way that had him kick his feet.

/break\

So their routine changed a little. Stiles grew comfortable with telling Peter no. Either because he had school work to do, research for the pack to finish, or knew that one of the pups would come by – and yes, after whatever he had with Peter started, he had set clear boundaries with the betas and told them in no uncertain terms that they had to text him before they came by, no more surprise night-time visits. He cited his studies, his research and his need for the semblance of a regulated sleeping schedule as his reasons and none of that was technically a lie, they were just secondary reasons after 'I really don't want you guys to walk in on me masturbating for Peter'.

And every morning after he told Peter no, he'd wake up to delicious coffee, breakfast and a note that praised him either for focusing on his academics, for taking the rest he needed, for being so valuable and helpful to the pack, or for being such a caring pack-mate to the pups.

They were about two months into this and they hadn't spoken about it at all so far. The first pack meeting after this had started, Stiles hadn't known how to behave around Peter, but the wolf gave nothing away, treated Stiles just the same as he always did. With snark and attention and respect. So Stiles chose to not bring it up either. It was their night time game, separate from their real life.

Until things changed, again. Two months in, after a fight that had gone bad. A flock of harpies had been nesting in the preserve and the pack had gone after it. Half the betas had been ripped open, Peter, Isaac and Cora so badly hurt that for a while, the pack feared they'd lose them. Stiles had poured so much of his magic into healing them that he'd blacked out for a couple minutes, just to come to it at the center of a worried puppy pile. Derek had rested a hand in his neck, looked at him concerned and told him that he should stay at the loft tonight, rest. It was a kind offer, Derek had grown into a good Alpha and Stiles was so proud of him for it, but Stiles also felt his anxiety build up and he knew he was going to crash hard tonight. The last thing he needed was for his pack to witness him have a full-blown panic attack about what had happened today.

When he stood in front of his bedroom, a hand on the door-handle, he felt incredibly foolish for his pride. He knew his pack loved him, knew they would support him, wouldn't judge him – heck, Scott knew about his panic-attacks and he was fairly sure that Derek and Peter knew too. But he had spent all his life taking care of others and not worrying them. The concept of having people who worried about him and might want to take care of him was still foreign and weird to him and he couldn't shake a life-long habit just like that. So he chose to go home and be alone with it.

For a moment, he closed his eyes and hoped that Peter would be outside, at least and that the wolf may stay, even if Stiles shook his head. To be honest, Stiles had no idea what Peter actually did when Stiles told him no. Did he stay? For just a bit? For the whole night? Did he leave immediately because he wasn't going to get a show so why stick around? Stiles had no clue, but he desperately hoped that Peter would stay outside and watch over him because he'd really need it tonight. But then Peter might not be here at all tonight, after all the wolf had just nearly died. He was probably at home, resting and recovering from the near-death experience himself. It was stupid and selfish of Stiles to expect Peter to be here at all tonight, much less to watch over him.

A small, self-deprivating smile twisted his lips as he opened his door and resigned himself to a lonely night and to fighting through the inevitable crash that was buzzing beneath his skin.

He froze in his doorway when he turned on the light and came face to face with Peter, casually leaning against the desk. The wolf looked at him with an unfathomably soft expression that took Stiles' breath away. Stiles' hands were shaking a little as he closed the door behind himself.

"I know this isn't how our little… arrangement works," Peter spoke softly, and it was the first time either of them admitted to the something between them. "But I didn't feel comfortable leaving you alone tonight. If you don't want me here, tell me and I'll go, but-"

The wolf didn't get to finish his sentence because Stiles threw himself at him full force, burying his face in Peter's chest and clinging onto the man's shirt. "Please don't go."

He knew he was shaking, he knew he was breathing too fast and he could feel the tears building in the corners of his eyes, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. This was it, he had reached his breaking point and he knew there was no going back anymore, no amount of compartmentalizing and sheer force of will could hold it back at this point. The shaking got worse as sobs wrecked his body and he could feel his legs giving in. He didn't go down though, because strong arms around his waist kept him upright, kept him pressed against Peter's chest.

"It's alright, sweetheart," Peter whispered gently, his voice so soothing. "You're safe, Stiles."

"You," Stiles pressed out between hiccuped breaths, fingers curled so tightly into Peter's certainly ridiculously expensive shirt that his knuckles turned white. "You nearly died, you nearly died, I could feel how little life-force was in you when I brought you back, ten minutes longer and you would have been dead, you can't die, you can't leave me."

For a moment, Peter went tense as though he was surprised by that, that what rattled Stiles wasn't his own near-death experience after draining his magic, but the fact that Peter had nearly died.

"N… Not just you," Stiles added after a moment, still sobbing. "Our pack. None of you are allowed to die on me. I'll give up all my magic and burn this town to the ground before I'll allow that."

That earned him a soft chuckle from Peter before the wolf continued caressing his back soothingly. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm very much alive. And so are Isaac and Cora. They were huddled up on the couch when I left the loft, Derek force-feeding them hot chocolate with little marshmallows."

The mental image startled a laugh from Stiles. He could feel his heartbeat slowing down the longer Peter held him and whispered gentle reassurances into his ear. By the time he felt like he could breath freely again, he had his cheek resting comfortably on Peter's chest, his arms loosely around the wolf's neck. His nose was pressed against Peter's collarbone, inhaling the man's soothing scent.

"Are you with me again, darling?" Peter asked carefully.

"Mhmh," Stiles blinked a couple of times, his eyes finding the clock.

Fuck. Considering when he'd gotten out of Roscoe, he must have been standing in Peter's arms for at least an hour. He took a careful, shaky step away from Peter. He'd panicked, but he hadn't slipped into a full panic-attack. Peter's presence had grounded him somewhat. Distracted him. Distraction always worked the best at breaking his panic-attacks. Nothing more distracting than Peter Hale whispering sweet reassurances and offering warm, safe hugs.

"Thank you," Stiles croaked out, voice raw from crying.

"I'll go and get you a glass of water," Peter frowned at him. "Anything else? I don't know what you require after… what just happened. Tell me if I should get you anything."

Stiles just shook his head. Usually, these things evolved into full panic-attacks that left him so bone-crushingly exhausted that all he could do was crawl into his bed and pass out. With a short nod did Peter leave the room and return moments later with a glass of water. Stiles took small sips, noting that his hands were still a little shaky. He tried breathing deep and slow, but he knew this was going to last a little longer either way. With equally shaky steps did he walk to his bed to sit down.

"I'd like to stay," Peter said after a moment. "If that is okay with you."

Stiles managed a nod and then ran his fingers through his hair. Fuck, he felt like such a mess. But there was no judgment on Peter's face, only concern and… affection. Stiles blinked at him.

When he got up again to get changed for bed, he noted the way Peter subtly turned away, under the pretense of putting his own jacket over Stiles' desk chair. It was weird, considering Peter had seen him strip with purpose and watched him masturbate so often Stiles had lost count, yet in this very moment, Stiles found himself eternally grateful for the privacy, because this moment right now, it wasn't sexual, it was vulnerable, and not in the fun way either. Once he was changed into a soft, worn pair of pajamas, Stiles crawled into his bed. His eyes found Peter, who had gotten comfortable on the desk chair like he was fully prepared to spend all night sitting in it. It made Stiles frown.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Peter asked softly. "Do you need something?"

Curling together tighter, Stiles scooted all the way to the edge of the bed, his face flushing crimson red as he nodded. "C… Can you… Can you just hold me?"

Peter's eyes softened as he nodded. He took off his pants, something that would under normal circumstances be an absolute turn on considering how often Stiles had fantasized about it, but again, there was nothing sexual about this. And Stiles was fairly sure that his body was too exhausted and drained to even get hard at the moment. Carefully did Peter slip into the bed, behind Stiles. His arms wrapped around the boy and pulled him up against a firm chest.

"Anything you need, darling," Peter promised, placing a gentle kiss on Stiles' neck. "Good night."

"Night, Peter," Stiles mumbled sleepily, yawning wide. "Thank you."

/break\

Peter was still there when Stiles woke up in the morning and Stiles wasn't entirely sure what to do with that. Or with anything, really. However, his brain was also still mush from last night, so he gave himself a pass on trying to figure it out and instead just enjoyed it. While Stiles was in the bathroom to shower and regain a semblance of feeling normal, Peter went ahead to start breakfast. By the time Stiles was done and joined him, Peter was still working on the pancakes.

It was one thing to walk into the kitchen to a set table with ready breakfast but it was something inherently different to walk in on Peter actually preparing the meal. It was so painfully domestic and heartwarming that Stiles spent a couple moments simply staring at the man.

"How do you feel today?" Peter asked while piling pancakes on a place.

"Better," Stiles replied after some consideration, twisting his wrist until there were sparks flying between his fingers. "Magic's returning too, which is… faster than expected. Guess I regenerate faster if I don't have a three hour panic-attack after draining it. Good to know."

A small, displeased growl came from the wolf at that, but Peter didn't comment on it. He knew he couldn't push Stiles, knew Stiles wasn't used to receiving help, to asking for help. Last night had been a huge, huge step for Stiles – asking Peter to stay, asking Peter to hold him – and Stiles was glad that Peter seemed aware of how big of a deal it really was.

"Eat up. Your body is going to need the energy," Peter prompted as he put down the plates.

They ate together and it felt so frighteningly normal, as though they were slipping into old habits, had been doing this for years. It was so easy to be with Peter. Had been for months, even before whatever they had had started. Doing research with the wolf, working on the bestiary, bouncing ideas for whatever plan they were working on to take down whatever big bad was attacking them.

Still, Stiles couldn't shake one thing. Last night, Peter had admitted to the something between them and now that it had been brought up, it was suddenly like an itch Stiles needed to scratch. He'd successfully ignored it for months but now he couldn't ignore it anymore.

"What…" Stiles swallowed the last bite of his pancake. "What am I to you?"

Peter regarded him curiously at the question and tilted his head. "You're mine."

And. Mh. That was somehow both an answer that explained everything while simultaneously being a total non-answer because it didn't define what they were. Still, it appeased something inside Stiles and made him feel so warm. It felt… right. So he accepted it as an answer.

/break\

The next day, when Stiles got back from school, he found a package on his desk. Frowning curiously, he picked the blue box up and opened it. Not a sex toy. Inside was a pendant, silver, circular, engraved with the Hale triskele, hanging off a long leather band. Tilting his head, he picked the pendant up and turned it around a couple times, until he flipped it and saw the engraving on the backside. A capital P. Stiles flushed, wrapping his fingers around the pendant. There was a note at the bottom of the jewelry box and Stiles picked it up to read.

I'd love to put a real collar on you, alas society might frown upon that. As it stands, this will do nicely. To everyone else, it will be your claim of being part of the Hale Pack. To you and me, it will be my claim that you are mine. - P

A shudder went down his spine, leaving a pleasant tingle at Peter's possessiveness. Grinning to himself, Stiles took the pendant and laid it around his neck, standing in front of his mirror. The leather band was long enough for him to wrap it around his neck three times, looping it through the pendant each time, until it sat nice and snug against his throat. Simple, normal jewelry. Yet the tightness, the round shape of the pendant, the leather now thicker in its three layers, it did give him the illusion of a collar and that alone made him rock-hard. Well, fuck him, there went another kink.

Near instinctively did Stiles go to his drawer and reach for his dildo, just to pause. It was daytime. Peter wasn't there. In that moment, Stiles realized that he had not once masturbated alone, for himself, in the past two months. Only when Peter was watching. He furrowed his brows, staring down at his hard dick and at his dildo. Was he… allowed to do it when Peter wasn't watching?

That was stupid. At no point had Peter told him that he couldn't masturbate on his own. Yet it felt weirdly wrong to do it without Peter, felt wrong to do it without Peter's permission. Annoyed by his own brain, he tossed the dildo back into the drawer and closed it with maybe a little too much force before stalking over to his laptop and sitting down to update their bestiary's section on harpies.

/break\

Something had shifted between them, two nights ago when Peter had dared enter Stiles' bedroom. He hadn't been sure he was allowed to. He still wasn't entirely sure what it was they were doing. When he'd first broken into Stiles' bedroom, he had done so searching for one of his own books that had went missing the last time the Spark had been over for their research session. Not that he was accusing Stiles of stealing – Stiles was aware that he was allowed to take any book he wanted with him to read, as long as he brought them back when he was done – but Peter had needed the book himself for something, so he had simply let himself into the Stilinski home while Stiles was at school and went through the boy's things looking for it. He didn't find it, but he found a dildo.

The dildo didn't leave his mind, tormented him with beautiful pictures of Stiles, naked and flushed, a wanton expression on his face as he worked himself open on the toy. Like the boy hadn't been tempting him enough with his clever mind, quick wit, sharp tongue, unwavering loyalty and terrifying bravery. Peter's mind kept drifting to it, to Stiles fucking himself on the dildo.

It was an impulse-buy, really, when he selected a more sizable dildo on a website and bought it. It had been forward and risky to bring the toy to Stiles, but at that point, he was feverishly obsessed with the image of the Spark playing with himself and he couldn't fight it anymore.

As fine as Peter was with doing that, he drew the line at watching the boy without his knowledge. So he'd let Stiles know, the first night he was outside Stiles' bedroom window. He hadn't known what to expect. Yes, he was more than well-aware of Stiles' attraction to him – there was no hiding these things in a pack of werewolves – which had made him feel confident in buying the toy and leaving it for Stiles. But this was something else entirely and he couldn't seize how Stiles might react to it and if he was potentially ruining the fragile friendship they had cultivated.

Instead, Stiles stripped for him, specifically for him, in front of the window, and put on quite the show as he used the dildo for the first time. When he came and moaned Peter's name in such a needy voice, it took all of Peter's self-control to not leap into the room and fuck Stiles.

Knowing what a pathetically small toy his boy had been using until then though, Peter knew he'd be too much. Patience was the key here. Besides, if he played his cards right, Peter thought he could form Stiles into a beautiful sub. His eager willingness was inspiring.

And so their little game continued, until a couple nights later, Stiles seemed reluctant and tense as he entered his bedroom. When Peter flashed his eyes at the boy to let him know he was there, Stiles shook his head unsure and went to sit at his desk. He'd spent the next five hours on something that Peter later realized was an econ paper, when he went into Stiles' bedroom to at least remove Stiles' shoes and jeans so the boy would be more comfortable sleeping, considering Stiles had just crashed face first on the bed and was out like a candle as soon as he was done with the paper. He took the time to read over it and fix some minor spelling mistakes before he went downstairs and slowly started preparing breakfast for Stiles, feeling like his boy deserved a reward for his hard work.

What they had was steady and reliable and Peter wondered at which point to take the next step without spooking his boy. Fate took that decision from his hands when a flock of harpies caused trouble and one of them tore Peter's liver out. Very nasty experience, that.

The look on Stiles' face would haunt Peter's nightmares for years to come, he had looked so heartbroken and desperate as he pressed an already blood-covered hand against his injured, ripped open side, his other hand clutching Isaac's nearly fully torn-off arm, tears and despair marring Stiles' features before his eyes glowed turquoise more brightly and forcefully than anyone from the pack had ever seen. The feeling of Stiles' magic filling him was also one Peter was never going to forget, it made him feel nearly as powerful as being an Alpha had, yet at the same time it felt so impossibly warm and so much like Stiles, as though he was drowning in the Spark's essence. Which, he supposed, he was. Stiles was pouring his essence, his magic, into Peter, after all.

That night, Peter hadn't been content with watching from the outside. Because Stiles hadn't just saved his life – and Isaac and Cora's lives – he had drained his magic so much, he'd passed out and stopped breathing for multiple, agonizing seconds. Moments that felt like years, the pack thought they'd lost their Emissary. Every instinct in Peter told him to not leave his mate alone and he was rewarded for following those instincts when Stiles clung onto him like a lifeline and allowed himself to break down in a way he always denied himself when around the rest of the pack.

Stiles was so strong, Peter knew that. Knew that out of them all, including their Banshee and their Alpha, Stiles was the strongest. His magic, his potential as a Spark, were overwhelming, but it wasn't just that. Stiles was always strong for others. Even when he hadn't been able to fully grasp his magical potential yet, he'd faced Gerard Argent head on and protected Boyd and Erica from further torture. He always rather took the pain himself than see those he loved suffer. Peter, and the rest of their pack, just wished Stiles would also let them take care of him.

When Stiles asked him, in such an unusually small and fragile voice, if Peter could stay and simply hold him, the wolf was overcome with a sense of pride. His chosen mate trusted him, sought his comfort, allowed him what the pack had been denied for too long. To comfort Stiles in return.

And when Stiles asked him, in the morning, what he was to Peter, Peter couldn't find it in himself to twist any half-truths. The truth spilled from his tongue, as raw and vulnerable as it left Peter. Stiles was his. Had become his sub over these past two months somehow, had become not just a potential mate but the only choice Peter could imagine, his world and his everything. His.

Satisfyingly enough, Stiles seemed okay with that answer too. So Peter had felt bold the next day, leaving a proper courting gift for Stiles. A pendant with his family crest and his initial. The most possessive claim a wolf could lay, after the mate-bite. Mine, back off.

He was thrilled to see it around his mate's neck during that night's pack-meeting – an irregular meeting, scheduled to discuss the disastrous harpy take-down, what had gone wrong where and how they could improve. Peter, generally, approved of these meetings, thought his nephew was doing a good job as Alpha. That night, however, all Peter wanted was to corner his mate and relish in seeing him wear the pendant. However, even though his boy was wearing the pendant, something seemed… off. Stiles radiated a restlessness and a certain sense of irritation.

Peter wondered if something had happened, if Stiles had had a full panic-attack after all, without Peter there to comfort him. Worry twisted his gut and mind and he waited tensely, impatiently, for the meeting to end and for everyone to leave. He fixed his mate with a look, telling him without words to stay, until everyone, including Derek who had to hurry off to work, had left.

"What's wrong?" Peter demanded to know, approaching Stiles. "You reek of frustration."

Stiles actually blushed and avoided Peter's gaze. "It's stupid. Don't worry about it."

Peter frowned displeased and curled his fingers around Stiles' chin to force the boy to look him in the eyes. "Stiles, do not evade questions with me. Answer me."

He put enough of his dom voice into it to leave Stiles shuddering and staring at him with those wide, beautiful doe-eyes. Though the boy still looked embarrassed and frustrated. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, worrying it in a most captivating manner.

"Do you not like the pendant?" Peter asked, voice softer. "You don't have to wear it if you don't like it or if it makes you uncomfortable, you know that, right?"

Stiles stilled, staring at him warily. "I mean, how the fuck would I know that it's not like you actually talk to me about whatever the fuck it is we're doing, you just lurk and watch me jerk off, for fuck's sake. I have no idea what I'm doing or what I'm supposed to do!"

And with that, the floodgates were open and Stiles stumbled his way into an irritated rant. "I love the necklace! I love how possessive it is of you! I love the way it feels around my throat, fuck, I love it so much I got rock-hard just putting it on. So, obviously, I wanted to masturbate. But then I grew unsure because you weren't there and I just… Fuck. I didn't know if I was allowed to, so I didn't, and then I grew frustrated with myself for pretty much everything."

"You…" Peter blinked repeatedly, marveling at his boy. "You didn't know if you were allowed to touch yourself? Darling… Stiles, you do realize that I am not controlling you, right? You can do whatever you want, and not do whatever you don't want. I never meant to make you feel that way."

"No," Stiles groaned in frustration and tilted his head back. "This isn't about you. You never told me I couldn't or shouldn't or even just implied that this is something you'd want. This is about me. And how fucking much I want this, want your approval and praise, want to be good for you. That it felt wrong to me to touch myself without your permission because I wanted your permission."

Another groan and Stiles buried his face in his hands in embarrassment. Peter needed a moment to process that. And here he thought he was taking it slow to ease his boy into this. It seemed that, as always, Stiles was lengths ahead of the class and being a quick study. Gently, he cupped the Spark's face with both hands, removing Stiles' own hands and making the boy look at him again.

"You… are being incredibly good for me, Stiles," Peter promised in his most gentle voice. "I'm very proud of you. And I'm very sorry that I've been… communicating poorly. This wasn't planned, it happened, and we both stumbled into it. I thought it could be a fun game, at first, between the two of us, playing on our desire for each other, but it's… evolved into something more. Something that we should talk about. Tell me, honestly, if you're in the right headspace to do that today, because you just nearly died yesterday."

Those big, brown eyes blinked at him curiously. "So did you."

A bemused smile spread over Peter's lips. "True. And I would like to have this conversation with you, if you're also ready for it, sweetheart. So?"

To his credit, Stiles took a moment of consideration before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Smiling pleased, Peter took the boy by the waist and guided him over to the couch so they could both sit down together. He rested a hand in Stiles' neck, trying to calm the boy. Instinctively did he leech pain off of Stiles, which only made him frown.

"Stop frowning, Worrywolf," Stiles muttered even as his eyes closed in bliss. "Magic drain's painful. My magic may be recovering but the ache's gonna stick with me for a while."

"You never… told anyone that," Peter stated displeased. "We all assumed you simply recharged."

Stiles made a frustratingly dismissive gesture at that. "It doesn't matter, does it? If you know it hurts, you're just more likely to stop me from doing it. And it's not like I drain my magic for shits and giggles, I only do it when one of you is close to dying, so it's a non-negotiable anyway."

Peter heaved a sigh, but he saw a lost battle when faced with it. Stiles would always prioritize himself over others and, as much as it pained him, Peter found himself agreeing with Stiles' thought process in this case. Being in pain was better than seeing a pack-mate die.

"Thank you," Stiles sighed contently when Peter let go. "That… actually helped. I think part of the frustration was the pain. Okay. So. What… are we? You said I'm yours, but…"

"I'd… like you to be my mate," Peter admitted after a moment. "And my sub."

Stiles looked curious but not surprised. "Okay."

"Okay?" Peter echoed baffled. "You can't just-"

"Please," Stiles huffed and rolled his eyes. "You think I don't notice when a werewolf is courting me? The stalking and sex toy was one thing, but when you started making me food? That's werewolf courting 101. And then the pendant, with your family crest on it? C'mon. I just… I needed you to actually put it into words too. And the BDSM thing, you really think that fourteen year old Stiles hadn't already fallen down that research rabbit hole after too much porn?"

It startled a laugh from Peter and a shake of his head, before the wolf turned more serious again. "So you have given 'the BDSM thing' thought before?"

Stiles gave a half-shrug and tilted his head. "I mean, I figured out pretty quickly that I'm a sub, but kinks are more like… Oh sure this sounds interesting in theory but would it be fun in praxis, ya know? And, apparently, I don't even know all things that sound interesting because fuck if you didn't give me at least three new kinks I wasn't even aware of."

"Do elaborate," Peter requested, his voice a purr.

"The obvious, the exhibitionism," Stiles actually counted them off on his fingers. "Then the collar, because fuck, that… that hit unexpectedly hard. I mean, I knew I liked the idea of being marked up and having a possessive partner, but this was… intense. Also, apparently, the orgasm control thing."

A pleased smile spread over Peter's lips. "Anything you like that hasn't come up yet between us? Something you want to explore that you either know you'll like, or are curious to try – and let me make clear that anything we do, you can end at any time if you realize you don't like it."

Stiles nodded at his words, a small blush on his face. "Well, uhm… I do really like the idea of cock-warming? I like keeping the dildo in after I masturbate to fall asleep with it in me. I… would like to do that with, you know, your cock. After you fucked me. Which, also something I want."

Peter's eyes flashed involuntarily at that. "That sounds fantastic, darling. Anything else?"

"Spanking?" Stiles flushed furiously. "I do like a certain degree of pain – I like when it hurts when I fuck myself too, so, you know, rough sex would be very much appreciated too. But yeah. I think I'd really like getting spanked and you have very, very inspiring hands."

His eyes fell to Peter's hands and the wolf had to laugh. Wasn't his boy precious.

"I'm not the biggest fan of inflicting pain on my partner," Peter said after a moment. "So we will have to negotiate the exact degree of pain, as you put it, together. But I'm not opposed to a spanking or a bit rougher sex, as long as neither leave you with actual injuries."

Stiles hummed, looking attentive and serious himself as he listened to Peter's limits. "Nothing with electricity. At all. I know that's, like, a thing some people are into. But. That's. After the basement… Absolute hard limit for me."

"Understood," Peter reached out to cup Stiles' cheek in a gentle, soothing manner.

"Kneeling," Stiles continued after a moment. "I really want to try that. The way I read about it, it sounds like it can really get a sub out of their head and sometimes… sometimes I'd really like to not be in my head because it's too loud and too full."

"Mh," Peter offered a lazy smile. "I do think I'd like the picture of you on your knees for me. How comfortable would you be with something a little… public?"

An eyebrow was arched at him. "Define that more closely."

"I bought some other toys for you," Peter's smile turned sharper. "And I'd like you to wear them in public. Nobody will be able to see or tell, only you and I will know."

"What… kind?" Stiles asked, both intrigued and wary.

"Plugs," Peter smirked at Stiles' blush. "I'd like to have you work up to being able to take my knot. That'll require a bit more prep-work than just the dildo, so I bought you a set of various sized plugs that I meant to give you once we actually talked about this."

"Okay," Stiles swallowed, his voice dry and raspy. "Yeah. That… Okay."

"We'll need a system," Peter tilted his head thoughtfully. "I would like to text you, if I have instructions for you. And you'll reply me with an emoji. Color system."

"Stoplight system?" Stiles asked curiously.

Peter gave him a pleased look at that. "With some additional colors. Green yes, red stop, orange for caution. Another color of our choice perhaps for 'not today', to differentiate from 'not at all'. I wouldn't want to distract you if you have say an exam or plans with your friends."

"Blue," Stiles offered immediately. "Blue for yes but not today."

"Blue it is," Peter nodded, looking even more pleased.

"Do we… Are you…" Stiles ducked his head. "The orgasm control thing, I mean. Are you… into that? Because I think I am a lot into it."

Peter intentionally flashed his eyes at that, caressing Stiles' cheek again. "It'd both please and honor me if you gave me that much control, darling. However, if you want to touch yourself while I'm not there? I don't want you to just deny yourself. I want you to call me. Beg for it. And if I'm satisfied with your begging, I'll allow you to come even when I'm not there."

"Holy shit," Stiles whispered beneath his breath, his heartbeat picking up. "Okay. Yeah. Okay."

"Good," Peter purred, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Stiles' lips.

"Praise," Stiles blurted out right after. "Fuck it does things to me when you praise me."

"I suspected you'd have a praise kink," Peter noted with a smirk. "I'm more than happy to indulge you on that one, as long as you're good for me, and so far, you've been very good for me."

A cute little keening noise escaped Stiles, causing the boy to look embarrassed. How endearing.

"I'm going to be in your room from now on, when you play with yourself for me," Peter whispered hotly into Stiles' ear. "And I want to give you instructions, on how to touch yourself and come."

"Complicated," Stiles noted with a frown. "Not against it! Just. Dad."

"Mh," Peter tilted his head thoughtfully. "He works a very irregular schedule. Let me know in the morning what shift he has and whether it will be okay for me to come over?"

"Compromise," Stiles nodded please.

Stiles leaned into him, relaxing, as the both of them considered what else would be important to talk about. Peter did think that the streetlight system should work best for them for now and Stiles seemed to agree with him on that. With a small smile did Peter pull his mate closer.

"I did expect some indignation or excitement about the knotting," Peter admitted lightly.

Stiles lifted his head, very slowly, and offered him the most haunted look. "Dude, my best friend is Scott 'I overshare absolutely every single detail about my relationship with Allison' McCall. Do you… Do you seriously think I am not aware that knotting is a thing werewolves can do?"

Peter winced at that though then he smoothed his expression and looked at Stiles sharply. "For the record, if you call me 'dude' during playtime, you will be spanked."

"Duly noted," Stiles offered the broadest, brattiest grin he could muster.

Oh, Peter was very curious to see how Stiles' praise kink and his bratty nature would play against each other and which one would win out in the end. This was going to be fun.

/break\

The longer they did things the right way, with set rules and boundaries and negotiated kinks, the more comfortable Stiles grew with things. He knew Peter was right, how they'd started off had been more playful and loose and it hadn't had the same implications or impact. Stiles' mindset had just put too much pressure on things already, unpromptedly. That pressure eased off now that he knew what to expect and how to ask for things, or deny things.

His phone buzzed next to him, causing him to grin broadly. He stretched wide and picked it up to check what Peter had sent him. Sometimes, it were simple, sweet good morning messages and nothing more. Other times, praise for how well he had done the night before. And the ones that had him the most eager were when there would be an order for the day.

Good morning, kitten. I want you to wear the third plug today for me. No touching yourself until you come to my place tonight and, if you are being very good for me, I'll make you come.

Stiles flushed in excitement. They'd slowly worked their way up through the plugs. Peter praised him for doing well but also gave him sharp looks whenever Stiles tried to rush things. As much as Stiles liked the burn, Peter didn't want to risk him tearing something. Fussy wolf.

Stiles sent a green circle emoji, grabbing his plug and the lube. Tonight was another night of Stiles and Peter working on the bestiary. Twice a week, they met up at Peter's place – no longer at Derek's loft – to do so, and they also always turned these nights into sessions. Only after work was done though. They were Stiles' favorite nights. He loved being at Peter's place and he loved just how taken care of he felt when he was there, in the wolf's territory. It gave everything a certain thrill.

Looking forward to it [green heart emoji] have a good day at work!

Because Stiles was dating a successful lawyer. Hell yeah. Stiles grinned broadly as he went ahead to prep himself and ease the nicely sized plug into himself. A content little sigh escaped him when the plug settled into him. He'd come to think of the plugs as very grounding, they helped him during stressful days, allowing him something to focus on.

/break\

Peter loved when his boy came over to work on the bestiary with him. He'd loved that even before Tuesday and Thursday became their play nights too, on top of it. They'd worked for three hours before Peter noticed Stiles' attention slipping, so they switched gears.

Stiles was naked, kneeling on a large, fluffy pillow by Peter's feet, his head leaning against Peter's thigh while the wolf ran his fingers through soft hair. He loved how serene and pliant kneeling made Stiles and, according to his boy, it did help him let his mind relax. Peter was proud to be able to provide his mate with such a sanctuary.

"Kitten," Peter spoke as he closed his book. "Would you like to play some?"

Stiles blinked sluggishly and tilted his head to look up at him. "Yes, please."

Kneeling was all fun and games, but Peter also knew that if his day was spent doing research and kneeling, Stiles would be too restless to sleep. He needed the physical exhaustion. And Peter was more than happy to provide it. Grasping Stiles' neck, he guided his boy up and toward the bedroom. Stiles was more than happy to be pushed onto the bed and he sprawled out on it like he owned it.

"Beautiful," Peter whispered in appreciation, eyes on Stiles' plugged hole. "You were very good for me, so you deserve a reward, kitten. You have two choices. Either I fuck you, or I suck you off."

A frustrated noise came from Stiles. "Both."

"That was not an option," Peter pointed out unimpressed, raising his eyebrows.

He did so love tormenting his mate. Stiles worried his lip, glaring at him with a calculating gaze. Weighting his options. But Peter knew that two orgasms – and if Peter sucked him off first and then fucked him, then Stiles was absolutely going to come twice, Peter had yet to knot the boy without Stiles coming hard just from being knotted – were too much for a school night. It'd leave him too out of it to concentrate on class the next day and that was a big no no.

"Fuck me," Stiles decided after a moment. "I want your cock, I've had the plug in all day and all I can think about is how much bigger and better you feel. Please."

A hungry smile spread over Peter's lips as he leaned down to kiss his mate. While he kissed Stiles, he reached down to play with the plug. Twisting it, pulling it nearly out just to thrust it back in, until Stiles was keening and whining beneath him. The noises he could draw out from his boy were delectable. Only when sweet pleas started spilling from Stiles' lips did Peter pull the plug out fully. And while Stiles whined in protest, Peter lubed his hard cock up.

"Kitten, you are too tempting," Peter whispered as he kissed Stiles' neck.

He nibbled around the leather band that held his mark in place around that pale neck. It really did give the illusion of a collar and the image made Peter painfully hard.

"Then take me," Stiles groaned, spreading his legs more. "Please?"

The please came a little belated, but Peter was too desperate himself to berate or spank his sub for it right now. So instead, he pushed into Stiles. Quick and deep, the way he knew Stiles loved but could handle. It'd taken them a couple tries to figure out what pace worked best, because if given the choice, Stiles did pick being reckless and greedy over careful.

Peter groaned darkly as he set a hard pace, fucking deep into him until Stiles was a moaning mess beneath him. His fingers wrapped around Stiles' cock to jerk him off in rhythm. He'd watched his boy masturbate often enough, he knew exactly how Stiles liked to be touched. Stiles moaned and pleaded desperately, his hands clinging onto Peter as he tried to both buck up into Peter's hand and down onto Peter's cock, driving himself into utter despair with it. Peter smiled and kissed him.

"You were being so good for me," Peter murmured. "You deserve to come, kitten. Come for me."

The order was enough to make Stiles come hard, shooting his load up over both their chests. Peter chuckled softly, lapping the cum off his mate while riding out Stiles' orgasm, enjoying the way he tightened around Peter's cock. It forced an orgasm out of Peter, deep inside his boy, his knot catching and spreading Stiles' rim wide, earning him a desperate, needy sound from Stiles. His boy really did love getting knotted. Smiling amused, Peter kissed Stiles' temple in gentle praise. His breath was labored as Peter collapsed on the bed with Stiles, pulling his boy close.

"Good," Stiles hummed, content with Peter's knot and his cock inside him. "So good."

The fondest smile spread over Peter's lips as he watched his mate drift off to sleep, sated, content and safe in the knowledge that Peter would hold and protect him.

~*~ The End ~*~

Author's note: AND WE ARE OFFICIALLY BACK TO OUR REGULAR SCHEDULE (for all my new readers who came for the TW: I used to have a regular updating schedule, multiple chapter stories are updated on rotation on Saturdays and Wednesdays belong to oneshots. Which is how things are going to be again from hereon out; you CAN find my updating schedule, with titles/ships/summaries of upcoming stories on my profile page!)

I wasn't lying when I said that Steter stirs my filthy mind again (bless them. I have been writing waaay too vanilla last year). And yet still. Consent. With Peter, consent really matters a lot to me. So this was a fun thing to put together, I hope you enjoyed it too and if you did, let me know in the comment section ;)