Chapter Text
Stiles is wearing flowers in his hair. Everything else is immaterial next to that fact. Peter wants to pull him close and nuzzle his cheek, then strip him bare and scent him all over.
Beside him, Derek whines high and soft. Peter almost does the same.
Stiles is walking toward them, his hand tucked in the crook of his father's arm, and Peter's never felt so full and happy in his life.
He barely takes note of the tuxedo jacket and trousers Stiles has paired with a thin lace shirt, though he's sure Derek can't look away. Derek loves lace. But Peter is stuck on the flowers, and the smile in Stiles's honey-brown eyes. He looks as happy as Peter feels, as happy as Derek smells.
Derek and Peter hold out their hands to him when he gets close, and John gives Stiles a kiss on the forehead before letting him go. Stiles wipes his hands on his pants before taking theirs, making an apologetic face. Peter doesn't mind. Stiles's slightly clammy hand in his makes this even more real to him.
He looks from Stiles to Derek and realizes he can't stop smiling. His vows come to him in a rush, and he knows he chose the right words. Now he just has to get through this to share them.
Alan Deaton clears his throat, and Peter reluctantly pays attention to him, even though he'd much rather focus entirely on his mates.
"Friends and family, thank you for gathering together today to share an important moment in the lives of Derek, Peter, and Stiles," Deaton says. "These three have found a great love in each other, a profound depth of feeling, and after careful consideration have decided to bind themselves together as mates."
Deaton looks at them holding hands and smiles. "As a three-strand rope is stronger than a single or double strand, so is a triad is stronger together than apart."
With those words, they know it's time to exchange vows. Peter is up first. He pats his pocket and takes out the carefully written words. He doesn't need to look at them, but it's good to have them just in case he stumbles.
He clears his throat and looks at his mates. "Because of both of you, I smile and mean it. Because of you, my laugh isn't bitter anymore. And because of you, I've learned to dream again and to work to see those dreams realized. I'm not just a pessimistic asshole now, because you've taught me there are good things left in the world. You've done this for me, shown me true happiness, and I want to spend the rest of my life sharing that happiness with you." His voice breaks on this for some reason, and he has to clear his throat to go on. "I vow to be there by your sides to care for you, and to nurture your dreams and talents. I vow to be your shelter, your lover, and your friend, no matter what our lives have in store."
Peter looks at his paper, making sure he didn't miss anything, and then he folds it and puts it back in his pocket. When he picks his head up again, Derek and Stiles are looking at him with their hearts in their eyes. He gives them a soft smile and waits for Derek to go.
"Right," Derek says. Then, "I don't know how you expect me to follow that, but I'll try. I think I left my paper in the car. But let's see if I can remember my vows."
Peter huffs a laugh and Stiles snorts. Derek beams at them.
"That. Um, that's what I want to do for the rest of my life. I want to see you both laugh. I want to see you be happy. I want to make you happy, because now that I have you, I think that's my job. My calling." He clears his throat. "And I want to make you both feel safe. I want to be your port in a storm, I want to be the anchor that holds you when the world feels out of control. And I vow… I vow to always treasure you, and to treat you well, and to love you as long as the moon keeps shining."
It's not time to kiss yet, but Peter wants to kiss him so badly. He mouths 'I love you' at him, then turns to Stiles.
"My turn!" Stiles says, and grins nervously. He pulls folded paper out of his inside pocket, but he doesn't look at it. He looks at Peter and Derek, instead. "Traditional vows go something like…I promise to love, honor, and obey, but I'm not very traditional. Obviously. Our courtship, like our relationship, was highly unusual, wildly unconventional, and the best idea we ever had. But the vows… it's hard to come up with them, you know? To put all your feelings into words is… it's damn near impossible. Nothing is ever going to be enough to say what I mean or how much I love you both." He smiles then and goes on with, "But both of you did a really good job and I don't know if I can come close to saying it that good, but I'm gonna try. So these are my vows: I will be honest with you, even when it's hard. I'll listen when you need to talk, and always have a hug for you when you need one. There's going to be ups and downs, but I'll be with you through all of it. I'm going to love you both, and accept your love as the gift it is. Because Deaton's right and we're stronger together, and we're going to stay strong. Because you, Derek, and you, Peter — you're my forever."
It's the most Stiles-ish speech Peter could ever have imagined, and he's smiling so hard by the end that his cheeks hurt. He doesn't care.
They aren't exchanging rings, but they do say some words after Deaton, and then he says, "I pronounce you bonded. You may kiss each other," and they do.
On the way to the reception across town, they stop off at city hall and get the legalities out of the way. On paper, Derek and Stiles are alpha and omega, legally bonded to one another. It took some time to decide who it should be, but the one thing that cinched it was the wording of Derek's grandparents' wills. Derek doesn't get his trust fund until and unless he legally bonds with an omega. In the end, it was just practical. Peter signs as Derek's witness, and John signs as Stiles's.
As soon as they leave city hall, they put it out of their minds. A piece of paper doesn't mean a damn thing when it comes to their feelings. They're a triad now and from this day forward.
They leave the reception early. They stick around long enough for a few dances, and for Stiles's dad to give a speech. Stiles is a little shocked to see Natalie's date is actually his father, but he gets over it quickly. He vehemently wants his father to find love again, to be as happy as he is, and he loves Natalie enough to want the same for her.
But all three of them are eager to get home. Stiles doesn't think he's the only one who's nervous, either.
They get to the house. It's not the first time Stiles has seen it, but it's the first time he's come home. If he stops to think about it too much, he's going to cry. His emotions are already right at the surface. He grabs his bag and follows them to the front door.
As he's about to walk in, he says, "We need a welcome mat. Maybe one that says 'wipe your paws'." He turns back and smiles. "Okay, one of you carry me over the threshold," he says, but doesn't wait for them. He jumps on Peter for a piggy-back ride and lets out a whoop.
Peter carries him in. "Straight upstairs?"
Stiles wiggles to get down. "Wait, no. You two wait a minute, I'm gonna… I gotta change really quick." He feels his face heat. He hopes they like what he's chosen for his bonding night.
"Call us when you're ready," Derek says. His eyes are doing something Stiles can only classify as 'smoldering with desire'. It makes his heart speed up.
Stiles holds his bag close and runs up the stairs to the master suite. He takes his phone out and sets up the Bluetooth for his little Bose speaker, and sets the speaker on top of the dresser. He pulls up the playlist he and Kira made for the occasion, and the first strains of Etta James come out — much too loud.
"Shit, shit," he whispers, then turns it down to the right volume. Not too loud, but not so quiet he can't hear it. Mood music.
Then he takes out the light, lacy pieces of clothing he spent weeks choosing. It's not what he was going to pick at first, but once he found it online, he fell in love. His first choice had been a short, flirty chemise nightgown, with thin straps and an edge of lace. But then he found this. He unfolds the lace and lays it on the bed, taking a moment to admire the embroidery. Then he strips down. It takes a little longer to get out of his tux than he'd like because his fingers fumble and tremble. He swallows and walks across the room to his closet, then takes out hangers for his tuxedo and shirt. He's stalling, he knows. This is just such a big deal, for all three of them. Besides, he reasons, building up the tension a little won't hurt.
After he hangs his clothes up, he gets out of his briefs and socks, then looks at the lace on the bed. The panties are just a scrap, really, but once he puts them on and looks in the mirror, he can see how they'll appeal. The ivory lace stretches, but not too much. His ass looks perfectly round, and the way the lace stretches across his front leaves little to the imagination.
He figures they won't last long, but they're not the star of the show.
The embroidered lace gown goes on next. It's more of a robe than a gown, really, since the only thing keeping it on is the satin tie in the front. Everything about the gown is long: the sleeves reach his wrists with a flourish of fine scalloped lace, and the length of it falls around his legs all the way to the floor. When he walks back to the mirror, the material swirls around his smooth skin.
He looks… good. He turns this way and that, enjoying the way the lace feels against his body, and noticing how very much the sheer lace shows off of his body. It's a beautiful tease, which is exactly as he'd hoped. His dad's words from the beginning of the season come back to him: You're gonna drive those alphas crazy. He smiles at his reflection, hoping it's true.
"Okay," he says to himself, and dims the lights. In the background, the music is syrupy slow, a proper torch song. Stiles opens the bedroom door to call down to his mates. "Okay, you can come up now!"
They don't come running, but it's very close. Stiles stands in the middle of the room, his heart pounding when they come into view.
Peter's lost his tie and jacket, and his shirt is unbuttoned. Derek's missing his shirt entirely. When they see him, their eyes flash and they both growl, sounding extremely appreciative. But they seem to be frozen in place.
Stiles licks his lips nervously. "I hope you're not just gonna stand and look at me all night."
That gets them moving, and soon he has one mate on each side of him. Peter kisses his shoulder through the lace. "You look exquisite."
Derek looks like he's not sure if he's allowed to touch. "Stiles. Can I… I want to paint you."
Peter huffs a laugh. He dips his head to kiss Stiles's hair. "Now is not the time, pup."
Even in the dim light, Stiles can see Derek's blush. "Not now. But some other time," he says. His hand grips Stiles's hip, and he smooths his thumb over lace. "You're so beautiful."
He's grateful they're going slow, he really is. But do they have to go this slow? It's killing him. He's about to complain when Peter pulls him close and kisses him.
Stiles feels hot, and the hands roaming over his body make him even hotter.
"You smell delicious," Peter says when he pulls away. "Do you remember your safewords?"
Stiles blinks at him, then it clicks into place. They're waiting to make sure he's comfortable, that he feels safe. They don't want to rush him. Otherwise, they'd both be all over him already.
He nods. "Red for stop, yellow for slow down." He presses against Derek's side and pulls Peter in close. "But I'm saying green for go. I'll let you know if you do something I don't like."
Peter gives him a pleased smile. "Good."
"I've never seen anything as beautiful as you are right now," Derek says, reaching out to trace a nipple through the lace. Stiles's lips part on a soft gasp, feeling oversensitized. Every touch sends him spiraling higher. Derek notices and reaches out with another hand to thumb over his other nipple, while Peter walks around to stand behind him and kiss his neck.
Stiles reaches behind him and threads a hand through Peter's hair, holding him close. Their pheromones are starting to hit him, arousing him even more and making him slightly dizzy. It's not a bad thing, though, not when they're there to hold him up if and when his knees start to buckle.
He reaches out with his free hand to pull Derek in closer, and to keep his balance. He's never gotten to touch Derek like this before, and he's a little amazed by the muscle definition he's showing now that he's lost his shirt.
"You're not so bad yourself," Stiles says, a little belatedly.
Peter presses against him and Stiles can feel how hard he is. His cock feels massive through their clothes, and Stiles is caught between feeling anxious about the size and anticipatory because yes, he wants that inside him.
"Pinch his nipples," Peter says, and Derek does, light at first and then rolling them harder between his fingers.
Stiles nearly comes apart at that, and his knees really do buckle. But Peter's there to make sure he doesn't fall, holding him securely with an arm around his waist.
"Okay?" Peter asks, and Stiles nods.
"It's just so good," Stiles says, and then watches with wide eyes as Derek bows his head to suckle him through the ivory lace. It feels exquisite, sending a jolt of pleasure right between his legs. He can feel himself getting wetter, and knows they can smell it, too.
Derek takes a deep breath and backs off. He keeps his eyes on Stiles like he can't look away, and then he starts to strip out of the rest of his clothes. His shoes are already gone, left downstairs, maybe. Stiles is struck by the beauty of his body, the easy strength his muscles imply. Stiles likes the dark hair on his body, too, and the way his cock juts out proudly, hard and mouth-watering.
And when Derek presses against him again, totally nude, Stiles is fully aware of their contrasts. Stiles is lithe and smooth and small, in certain areas, while Derek is just the opposite.
"You're gorgeous, sweet boy," Peter says, clearly speaking to Derek. "I think you've rendered our mate speechless."
Stiles huffs a laugh and nods, then squeezes the nape of Peter's neck. "You too."
"I think you'll find I'm not quite up to Derek's standard of beauty," Peter says, but Stiles can hear the movements, the rasp of material as he unbuttons and shrugs out of his shirt.
"Don't do that," Derek says, and Stiles agrees. "You're beautiful."
Stiles turns to face Peter, to get a good look at his other alpha for the first time, and he's anything but disappointed. His muscles are thicker, broader, than Derek's. His neck and shoulders especially make Stiles feel weak. He's vaguely aware of the scars that run down to the top of Peter's ribs, but they're just character, more of Peter to explore if he'll allow it. Stiles reaches out to touch, fingertips trailing over the cords of Peter's neck. "I want to bite you," he says, then blushes at the audacity.
But Peter's eyes flash and he moves closer. "I give you standing permission to bite me, darling," he says. "You and Derek both."
Stiles smirks. "Good to know." He places his palms on Peter's pecs, then slowly moves down, his fingertips trailing all the way to Peter's belt. "Let me do this," he says, suddenly wanting to undress Peter the rest of the way, to unwrap him like a present, to see.
Behind him, Derek slides his gown from one shoulder, then sucks and bites and kisses the revealed skin. It's going to leave a mark, a bruise no one will mistake for anything else, and Stiles finds he doesn't mind. Plus he knows it won't be the only one.
He unbuckles Peter's belt, though it takes longer than it should. He's so excited and full of anticipation that his fingers tremble and make it difficult to do what he wants.
But Peter's patient and doesn't call him out on it. Stiles smiles when he gets Peter unbuckled and unzipped. He pushes Peter's pants off his hips and sucks in air. Peter's big, too.
"None of my toys are as big as you two," Stiles says, hoping he doesn't sound as nervous as he suddenly is.
"We'll go slow, stretch you out just right for us," Derek whispers against his neck.
Stiles is suddenly reminded of Peter's perfectly thick fingers, and how he knows exactly what to do with them. He made him come over and over with his just fingers and tongue that night, and Stiles's body goes fever-hot at the memory and the desire for a repeat performance.
He wraps his hand around Peter's thick cock. Slides it down to the base and listens to Peter's indrawn breath. It's big enough like this, he can't imagine how much larger his knot will be when it swells.
"Your heart is racing," Derek says. "Are you okay, baby?"
"Mmm," Stiles says, nodding. "Just… thinking."
Peter smiles. "And what has you smelling so delicious, darling?"
"I… I was thinking about your knot," Stiles says, and his voice is raspy-low all of a sudden.
Peter's eyes flash. "Is that so?"
"What about it, baby?" Derek asks, clearly leading him into talking more. He presses against his back harder, his cock lining up right up with the cleft of his ass.
"You're just both so big," Stiles says, and while he knows that should make him anxious, he's actually swaying back and forth between them in pure anticipation. He's wet between his legs, as wet as he's ever been while in heat, and they've barely started. Will it always be this way with them? Will they always make him want so much?
"I think you like that," Peter says, and wraps his hand around Stiles's, squeezing his cock with Stiles's hand.
"I do," Stiles moans. "I want you both so much."
"But you have us at a disadvantage now, darling," Peter says, reaching out to touch the satin bow holding Stiles's gown together.
Stiles suddenly wants to be naked with them. He wants to roll all over them, taste them and be tasted in return. He wants everything, and now this stupid gown is getting in the way.
"Take it off me?" Stiles asks, trying to keep the demand out of his voice. But god, he does want to demand, until they give him what he so desperately needs.
Peter smiles as though he can read his mind. He twirls one of the loose ends of the satin string around his finger and then tugs sharply.
Behind him, Derek reaches up and pulls the robe off Stiles's shoulders until the lace swishes to the floor all at once. Stiles is just wearing the panties now, the rest of him bare.
"I do love how smooth you are after you wax," Peter murmurs, his eyes trailing up and down Stiles's body. Stiles feels as though he's about to be devoured.
Derek puts a hand on his hip and thumbs the top of Stiles's panties. "Are you smooth everywhere?" he asks, then moves his hands to cup his hard dick and balls through the lace. "Everywhere?"
Stiles nods quickly, bucking into the sensation, and Derek growls low in his throat. Stiles's knees go weak at the sound.
"Let's take this to the bed," Peter suggests and pulls Stiles along. He can do nothing but follow.
They don't manhandle him, not yet at least. They lower him gently, climbing on the bed with him, and then Derek somehow ends up between his legs. Stiles licks his lips nervously.
"How're you doing?" Derek asks.
Stiles swallows hard. "Really good. Really, really good. Green. Keep going."
Derek and Peter both smile. Peter lowers his head to kiss Stiles's nipples, then starts slowly licking and nibbling at them. It feels so good he nearly misses it when Derek lowers his head. But then there's the hot rasp of his tongue through the lace of his panties, right over his dick.
Stiles cries out, though he's not sure whose mouth feels better. They're both exquisite pleasure, slowly building and stoking the fire inside him.
"Please," he manages to whimper.
"What do you need, sweetheart?" Peter asks him.
Stiles shakes his head. "You. Both of you. And… more. I need so much more." He reaches down and pushes his panties down his hips. Derek helps him get them off the rest of the way. Stiles spreads his legs.
His hole clenches around nothing and he groans, needing it filled. He's slick enough that when he reaches back he can easily press two fingers inside himself.
It's a temporary relief. First, because it's a tease and he needs so much more. And second, because Peter pulls his hand away, a loose grip on his wrist.
"Wha?" Stiles asks, frustrated and confused. Peter smiles and sucks Stiles's wet fingers into his mouth.
"Let us do that, baby," Derek says, and substitutes with his own fingers. They aren't as thick as Peter's but he gives him two, deep and twisting, and for the moment that's just what Stiles needs.
But no, he needs so much more. Moment over. He needs to be filled for real and tries to say that. The words come out a little backwards, but Derek seems to understand.
"Not until we prep you, baby," he says.
Peter gives him a hungry kiss, probably to distract him. It works. Peter's tongue is slick in his mouth, demanding, and Stiles gives himself up to it. He moans into it, and Peter's hands return to his body, touching him in places he never knew were erogenous.
And Derek adds another finger, stretching him out, but it's still not enough. Stiles is starting to suspect he won't be satisfied without a knot. Which leads him to a question.
"Who's knotting me first?"
Derek looks at him, eyes glowing. "Me." Then he ducks his head again and takes Stiles's dick into his mouth, engulfing it completely with wet heat and sucking. Derek is merciless, and Stiles knows he's going to come soon. He tries to say something, to warn him, but Derek keeps on until Stiles's body goes stiff and he is spurting into Derek's waiting mouth.
"He likes that," Peter whispers, and Stiles can't think, his brain is broken.
Derek pulls off, licking the corner of his mouth. "You taste good everywhere, baby."
"Nngh," Stiles replies.
They give him a few seconds to get his breath back, and then Peter is helping him roll over.
"On your knees, sweetheart," Peter directs. "It'll be easier for both of you like this."
Stiles gets on his knees but rests his head on Peter's thigh. It puts his ass up in the air, and Derek seems to like that if his satisfied alpha growl is any indication.
Derek teases him a little, rubbing the blunt head of his cock against Stiles's wet, waiting hole. Stiles's rim is sensitive now, and he knows it'll only get worse. Or better.
"Inside me," he whines. "Derek, please."
And Derek does. He gives a few shallow thrusts and then he's in, deep and filling Stiles up just like he wants. He stops for a moment, to get Stiles used to it. Stiles mouths at Peter's thigh, then his balls. Peter lets out a low, satisfied noise.
Stiles's body feels hot, like it does at the beginning of his heat. Hot and needy, and all he can think of is how he can get more of this, more heat, more fullness.
"Derek, please, fuck me," he says, pushing his ass back on Derek's cock. God, it feels so thick, and yet it's still not enough.
In front of him is Peter's cock, and he wants that, too. He's only ever given head to omegas, but he figures it's the same mechanics, just on a larger scale. He sucks the head of Peter's cock into his mouth, a gentle tease that has the alpha moaning loudly.
Derek fucks him, deep, and then harder when Stiles demands that, too. Peter soothes him, pets his hair, and that helps a little. Not as much as the pacifying effect of Peter's thick cock in his mouth, though.
It's almost perfect, he thinks. It's getting there. When he accidentally takes too much and chokes, it's even closer.
And when Derek's knot starts to swell, Stiles feels like a raging inferno of pleasure. Derek pulls out and Stiles whines around Peter's dick, and then Derek is pushing that thick, juicy knot back in him, his rim stretching impossibly around it, and Stiles comes.
Derek grinds the knot inside, and Stiles is so full. He's full in his mouth, in his throat, and he's even more full when Derek starts to pump his come inside him. It goes on, and on, and on, and Stiles squeezes around his knot as well as he can, which isn't much.
He chokes again and Peter apologizes, pulls out, but Stiles whines loudly.
"God you're so greedy, sweetheart," Peter tells him, but feeds his cock right back in as a reward.
Stiles swallows around it and then Peter makes a sound like he's choking. He floods Stiles's mouth with come, then pulls out so that some spurts over Stiles's face. Marking him.
"Wasn't expecting that," Derek grunts. He helps Stiles roll to his side with him behind, spooning him close. Peter settles on his other side and licks the come from his face.
"Mm," Peter says thoughtfully, looking into Stiles's eyes. "He's going into heat."
"I am?" Stiles asks weakly.
Derek lays a gentle hand on Stiles's forehead. "He's got a fever."
"It's a week early," Stiles mumbles.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," Peter says. "We'll take care of you."
For three days, Stiles becomes a creature of hot, aching need, and Peter and Derek do their best to make sure he's comfortable and well-fucked. It doesn't matter anymore who goes 'first', it's more a matter of who can get it up again, because Stiles is always whining for more and he's insatiable.
Afterward, all three of them are exhausted. They take a shower together and change the sheets on the bed, then collapse back into it to sleep.
The day after his heat breaks, Stiles stretches out and leaves the bed before Derek can pull him closer to scent him again. He already smells so much like them, but Derek's wolf is still grumbling for more.
He watches as Stiles walks to stand in front of the mirror. Derek hopes he sees all the bruises and love bites as evidence of a loving claim and doesn't mind. From the smile on Stiles's face, it's okay.
Peter rolls out of bed and comes to stand behind him. "Okay?"
Derek sits up and stretches. He feels good. Sated. Proud of how well they took care of their omega. He joins Peter behind Stiles and looks at the picture they make in the mirror.
Stiles smiles at them both and presses on a bruise that's formed on his neck, an oval of teeth marks. Derek has a sudden vivid memory of putting it there, of biting in with his blunt teeth as he knotted him for the third or fourth time.
"I'm better than okay," Stiles says, but he winces a little. "How do you two feel?"
"Grateful for werewolf healing," Derek says honestly, and trails a hand down Stiles's back, pulling pain from his muscles as he does.
Stiles sighs and leans his head forward. "Mmm, that feels good."
"Anywhere else, sweetheart?" Peter asks, the glint in his eye showing he knows exactly where Stiles is sore.
Stiles lifts his head and gives a mock glare.
They pull the aches and discomfort from him until he sways back into their arms.
"Hmm, maybe too much," Peter says.
"Absolutely the right amount," Stiles says, high on endorphins. He smiles and Derek smiles back helplessly.
Peter leans in and kisses them both, one after the other. "Do we want breakfast?"
"I'm starving," Stiles tells him. "I could eat a whole cow."
"I'll take care of that," Peter says, and Derek kisses him again.
"You're too good to us," he murmurs.
Stiles agrees, leaning in to kiss and suck on Peter's lower lip. He smells happy and satisfied, and so does Peter. Derek couldn't ask for a better way to wake up.
Then he remembers: they're bonded. They're going to wake up together every day for the rest of their lives.
He ducks his head and smiles to himself, profoundly happy.