Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf || Steter || Red Rope || Steter || Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf

Title: Red Rope – Stiles' Cherrytober

TW Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Jeff Davis and MTV. This fanfiction on the other hand is entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.

Tags: m/m, established relationship, bondage, BDSM, hurt/comfort, PTSD

Main Pairing: Peter/Stiles

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

Cherrytober Prompt: Restraint

Summary: They had a routine, for after a close call. They both needed it, it grounded them.

Red Rope

Stiles' Cherrytober

They had a routine that they went through after close calls. It differed depending on what kind of close call it was. Softer and gentler if there had been injury, more indulgent on one's kinks than the other depending on who needed it more desperately. Harsh, painful, leaving marks all over when it was a close call that Stiles may or may not have brought upon himself by being too reckless. The rare occasion that found the Alpha on his knees for his Emissary, with Stiles' fingers buried in his hair and fucking Peter's throat if it'd been Peter who had been too cocky or reckless.

Today, it was about reassurance of where Stiles belonged, where he stood in life. He'd been taken by a coven of witches, abducted out of the university library. They'd wanted his magic. He was too damn powerful to be bested by three witches, but they'd knocked him out and brought him to a basement for the ritual and more so than the abduction or attempt at stealing his magic, it had been that damn basement that did it. Five years, since Gerard, but Stiles still got flashbacks and nightmares about it when he found himself kidnapped and stuck in a basement.

When the pack found them, even before Peter could get to him, Boyd and Erica had pushed past and gotten Stiles down and hugged him like their lives depended on hugging him. To his credit, Peter had let them. He'd put his own hand in Stiles' neck, holding him, making sure Stiles was okay, but he had let them hug Stiles as long as all three of them needed it.

Peter got his reassurance tonight, with Stiles on his knees in the center of the bed, the rope taunt around Peter's hands as he measured it. It was red, Alpha red, like Peter's eyes. An additional layer of claim. They both loved to see Stiles in red, see him as the Alpha's. A reassurance for Peter, that he still had his Stiles, that Stiles was alright, was here, was his.

The same kind of reassurance for Stiles though. He was no longer that helpless fifteen year old kid in that basement, no real pack, nobody coming for him, no control over his magic yet to defend himself. He was twenty years old, on his way to becoming a lawyer and work at his boyfriend and mate's law-firm, he was the Emissary of the Hale Pack, he was a badass Spark who would be able to kick Gerard's ass six ways to Sunday. The red rope against his skin, the soft whispered words of reassurance from Peter, they reminded him of who he was and where he was in his life.

"Gorgeous," Peter whispered, lips gently dragging along Stiles' shoulders as he laid the rope around Stiles' body in a tempting diamond pattern. "My beautiful mate, my strong Emissary, mine."

The rope sat tight, tight enough so Stiles could feel it, feel it bind him to Peter and to reality and to the present, but never too tight to cause damage or pain. Peter knew exactly what he was doing. Stiles' eyes were shut and he sat relaxed, feeling free and unrestrained in his restraints. There was freedom in giving up control, at least for him. Because he knew he could trust his mate. He could just let go in his bonds.

~*~ The End ~*~


Author's note: A short one but honestly I conveyed all I wanted to with this. Sweet, soft reassurance through BDSM, gentle and caring and loving dom Peter just means the world to me. Also I will never pass up the opportunity to bring up basement trauma~