Chapter Text
Peter had much to do outside the factory, much to his chagrin. There were treaties to reaffirm, land boundaries to set up, betas to find, helping Alan from the business side of things like getting clients, and some mundane things like getting food and going off to watch tv because he just couldn't handle the bickering of the alpha's that wanted to make sure their monsters would be treated fairly.
But he guessed that was what made visiting all the sweeter.
The offices in the back were now furnished with desks, and Alan hadn't just taken the ones from his old clinic. He had decided to splurge when they set up for this job. Now they looked professional, and the warehouses in the back were clean and boring enough from the outside that no one was going to look twice at them. Alan was sitting there, idly flipping through a magazine, behind him, security screens switched viewings through on his laptop. Peter could see some of the pens housing their new merchandise: three Hippogriffs playing around happily in the straw and wheat that lined the bottom of the enclosure. There was a trough in the far corner, which was almost filled with their food of meat and milk. "I'm glad to see they have settled in," he said, settling down across from him.
Alan had to look over his shoulder to see what he was talking about. "Oh, yes. They are coming along nicely. They are even showing signs of initiating mating rituals, so we have that to look forward to." He pressed a button on the computer, and the screen switched views. "The Garmr, however, will need to be taken out soon." The red-tinged dogs on the screen were circling each other, pacing stiffly and ignoring the meat around them. "There aren't many in captivity, I'm honestly impressed they lasted this long."
Peter nodded, Garmr were protectors, they lived to serve, but they hadn't been able to get them to bond to anything they had thrown at them. "well, I'll lead them around tomorrow night, hopefully they'll find something worthy of them. Pretentious little mutts," he said fondly. Then a thought occurred to him. "Wait, wouldn't Stiles work?"
Alan shook his head. "It wouldn't work, Garmr are... shall we say territorial. Nothing else would be able to get near him, even with Stiles' enthusiastic consent," he explained. "That's why I've been keeping them separate."
"Well damn," Peter said, snapping his fingers. "Well, The Anderson's from Europe have started talking to me again. Do you think we have the space for any Kelpie's?"
Alan tapped his chin. "Not with the Ahuizotl here. They will have to wait a few weeks until they breed."
"More bad news," Peter grossed.
"Well," Alan drawled, searching through the screens. "We have almost finished with the temperature controlled areas. And that means that will be able to house a whole host of goods there. And that means that we might want to start looking into another milker."
Peter took a pause at this statement, two sensations warring in his head. He had greatly enjoyed watching Stiles go through the process, but that was probably because he was Stiles. The one that was overriding everything else was that it would be a hunt, an actual challenge, and he hadn't had one of those in a while. "I'll start sniffing around. In the meantime, I'd like to check on our little cow."
Alan snorted, getting up from his chair and grabbing some keys. "He's probably in his room," he said before heading out.
The door leading to Stiles' room wasn't locked. They had kept a close eye on him for the first couple weeks, but they had slowly eased off as time went on. It was clear that he had no interest in leaving. Sometimes Peter would see him just wandering around the hallways, and his hackles would rise, remembering that this was the smart one. But then he would just turn into the break room, or the boy would completely ignore him in favor of tugging Alan toward a door to unlock it. Peter didn't think he'd seen outside the pens in months, and it was entirely by choice.
Stiles was facing away from the door when they stepped inside. This place had become his permanent room, and Stiles rarely left it unless prompted. The room was easily accessed through the other entrance on the far side, which lead to the warehouse where most of the more tame creatures resided. The room itself was fairly luxurious, with a large, soft bed, as well as a desk with books, and a tv on a dresser, though Stiles rarely wore anything. There wasn't much of a point.
The boy was kneeling on the floor beside his bed, slowly moving himself up and down on shaking thighs, a huge dildo moving in his ass. He turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes bright with the supernatural glow that they had given them, seemingly unconcerned with being caught in such a compromising position. "Hi," he said, out of breath, then turned back around to focus on what he was doing.
Peter chuckled, making his way further into the room. He sat down on the mattress, getting a front row seat to what Stiles was doing to himself. His cock was bobbing in front of him, completely neglected. His hands were working on his nipples. Peter was very proud of the way they had turned out. They were now rounded out, a perfect cup shape standing out from his chest. Where the skin around them was firm and smooth, the nipples themselves were fat, almost taking up the entirety of his breast. His thumbs and forefingers played with the buds, twisting and pinching at them absentmindedly. His eyes were glazed over, half-lidded and sleepy looking, drool clung to his gorgeously red lips.
Peter reached out to run his fingers gently over those cheekbones, and the boy pushed into the touch, not altering his pace at all. "How are you doing today, darling? Just having a lazy ride?"
Stiles hummed in agreement, his gaze trailing over Peter and licking his lips like he was looking at a meal. Peter guessed that was true, especially when it lingered on his cock. Peter chuckled, his hands going to his fly almost on instinct. Before he could get his boxers off, Stiles was leaning in, nosing around, rubbing himself against it like a cat. "Why haven't you come sooner?" he whined. One of his hands reached out so that he could pull Peter's cock out himself, and with no build up, fed it passed his lips.
Peter groaned, fingers tangling in his hair on their own, pulling on those soft locks as Stiles' tongue swirled around him. He had gotten quite good at this, his gag reflex disappearing with his new nature coming to light. Succubi couldn't afford to choke on dick, after all. Stiles bobbed his head, taking Peter down to the root, his throat bulging as his hips sped up just a fraction.
Alan made his way across the room, grabbing Peter's attention. He rolled his eyes in clear exasperation, but didn't comment as he unlocked the other door. Peter shrugged unashamed, starting to thrust forward and fuck the boy's face, encouraged by the pleased moans vibrating his cock. He came almost leisurely, Stiles swallowing around him and milking out the come, sighing happily.
*****
Stiles pulled away from Peter's cock with a wet pop. He had always liked the way that his come sat in his belly. Peter took unabashed pleasure in his body, and it tasted divine, and it had been a while since he had visited. Deaton was never so loose, so he wasn't as fun, but Stiles stuck around because he knew how to make the machines work, and no matter how hard he focused, Stiles just couldn't figure out how to do it himself.
Most of the time, his thoughts were really fuzzy, and then sometimes he would know with conviction where someone was, a client Deaton was showing around. Images would flash in his mind on what to say, how to move the right way to get them out of their clothes and fuck him. He wouldn't be able to leave his room at those times. The door would be locked, or he would make his way across the factory only to see that they had left already. When he was thinking more clearly, he suspected that Deaton was tracking him somehow, but then he would start craving a milking, and he didn't mind so much after that.
Peter stood after tucking himself back into his pants, and Stiles almost whined at the loss. He remembered that he was still on the horse dildo, and once his focus was back on his body, he could feel his... tits filling up again. It was amazing how quickly they filled. Which was good, because Stiles could never get enough.
There was some clinking behind him, and he turned when he saw that Peter's attention was on it as well. Alan was holding the keys to the other door, the one that Stiles wasn't allowed to go through by himself. And he had tried to break in several times, to no avail. Stiles pushed himself off the fake horse cock. It wasn’t doing much for him anyway. Peter helped him to his feet, then followed him into the other room.
This where the monsters lived. If they would let him, Stiles would never leave there. They were in pens, but it was more like a zoo than a warehouse, with different environments for each of the different animals in there. The one they were walking toward was the plain one, with thin cable fencing holding in their latest acquisition. It was boring, and not very fun place for Stiles to be, but after whining about that, Deaton had put in a few large pillows that he could kneel on.
His mind short-circuited when he saw what was waiting for him. The creature was huge, about the size of a deer, but with bulky, intimidating muscles. Its sleek black hair was clumped together to make spiny points along its back, and there was water dripping down from its belly. Its muzzle was long, and yellowed teeth poked out. Its paws were more like raccoon hands. When they got close, it stood up, arching its back like a cat, its tail came out in front of it, like protection, and there was another hand at the tip. It growled high and chattery in its throat, throwing itself against the fence without care. The fence bent, but pushed back into place, flinging the creature back to the other wall. Which did not cull its rage.
"This," Deaton said calmly. "Is an Ahuizotl, Stiles, originating from Central America." He paused as the creature got to its feet, already snarling at them. "This one is a bit wilder than the others that we got. We were hoping that you could get him to calm down."
Stiles looked over the beast with now hungry eyes. He stepped out to stand in front of the fence. The Ahuizotl charged again, by only batted at the place where Stiles was standing. He didn't flinch, instead looking down his sleek body to between his legs. Stiles relaxed, imagining what he would do with such a big beast. After a moment, he could feel the Ahuizotl, his basic emotions, the anger and the isolation he was feeling at being moved out of his territory against his will. He wrapped himself in calm, letting it reach out to the Ahuizotl mind, and he felt the beast start to calm. He sat down on his haunches, his jaw relaxing, and eventually, his tongue started to loll out of his mouth.
But what Stiles was interested in was what was happening between his legs. His cock was an angry red, poking out of its sheath, large and imposing. Stiles suddenly felt incredibly empty looking at it. There was no protest when he reached for the handle of the door. The lock was already unfastened, so he stepped inside. He could feel Peter's arousal behind him, but that was an afterthought, perhaps he could go home with him and have him eat him out.
The Ahuizotl sniffed at him curiously, then licked up his arm with a thick, black tongue. It was smooth, and felt nice against his skin, so Stiles let him keep doing it. It was the start of the feedback loop, where his pleasure fed into the other’s and circled back around, multiplying exponentially.
He saw the Ahuizotl's hip start to hump, the cock all the way out and leaking. Stiles turned around, bending over and tangling his fingers in the chain links. He was already out of breath. His ass was loose and open from his time on the horse dildo, and it felt like he would die if he didn't get something inside him right that instant. The Ahuizotl placed one front paw over his own hands, and the other curled around his shoulder. He felt the tip of the cock rubbing against his loose hole, and he pressed his hips back to make his intention clear. The beast missed on the first thrust, but on the second try, he knocked the wind out of Stiles with the force of it. His cock was long rather than thick, and it felt like it was pushing into his stomach. He didn't hold anything back, letting his moans out when he could catch his breath.
He felt something furry moving up his belly, and he looked down surprised to see that the tail had wrapped around his torso. He braced himself under those strong legs and just rode it out. It felt amazing, his own dick was bouncing against his stomach, leaving little dots of precome with him.
He was keenly aware of his nipples, how heavy they were getting, and he whined. He couldn't let go of the fence, or he would be crushed into it, but he wanted to touch them so badly. Without it, he was teetering near the high point. The pleasure and satisfaction were exponential, he could never come unless something was pulling at his tits.
There was movement and talking in front of him, and soon after, there was a separate rattling of the fence, and then there was a hand cupping his breast. He opened his eyes to see Peter standing on the other side, his fingers reaching through the holes to pinch at his nipples. It sent lightning traveling through his spine. It always felt amazing, better than fucking ever did. It was so much more fulfilling, having his body make something useful, and so delicious that it tamed wild monsters, and it felt so good when he was emptied.
The gate was opened again, but Stiles was too enraptured to look at what Deaton was doing. He had to focus. Peter was smiling down at him with a glint in his eye. He tried to say something witty and biting, but he couldn't catch his breath long enough. Stiles reached out and added his arousal to the mix, and all rational thought left his brain, his nerves overdosing on the dopamine and oxytocin.
His head hung down, totally lacking the will to keep it up. There, he could see all the hands working him over. Peter's fingers pinching and tugging of his nipples, pulling them down, milk was trickling out slowly, beading at the tip and dropping down to the floor. Deaton was now in the cage, and even though the Ahuizotl growled, the beast did not stop what he was doing for a moment. Deaton wasn't bold enough to get close, but he slid a bucket underneath them, ever the pragmatist. Stiles couldn't exactly blame him. He would have felt bad later if they had been wasteful.
The Ahuizotl's tail-paw was rubbing idly against his stomach, roaming upward to meet with what Peter was doing. It felt around curiously, and when Stiles moaned and pressed into the touch it started squeezing at his chest. It made the milk flow out in a stream, making Stiles scream loud enough to echo off the warehouse walls. His orgasm hit him hard, come shooting out and actually landing in the bucket, the sound ringing around in the metal tin. His body went limp, his legs trembling so hard the only thing holding him up was the Ahuizotl. He thought that he was saying something, a litany of 'pleases' and 'harder' falling from his lips. It didn't do any good, the Ahuizotl couldn't understand him, but it felt nice to Stiles.
He heard Peter chuckle in front of him, his arousal spiking, making Stiles physically jump with it. "Jesus kid, it was only an hour ago," he said, twisting his right nipple and flinging some milk around. "How did you get to be such a needy little thing?"
Stiles wasn't going to respond to that. The Ahuizotl was starting to pick up speed, his hips becoming erratic and jerky, thrusting into him with enough force to lift him off the ground. The weightlessness was incredible, and it let Stiles focus on the way his chest was being played with. The tail moved onto his other nipple, and he came again, his dick not having time to get hard.
The Ahuizotl became frantic. It didn't knot like he was used to, but his cock gave a violent spasm, shooting come into his twitching channel. It filled him more than any meal he'd ever had, and he could feel it sit heavy in his stomach, thick and tacky, even as the creature pulled out.
Without the support, he slid to his knees, his thighs bracketing the bucket. There was a hand in his hair, he was too blissed out to know who's it was, or care enough to look.
A little later, he looked in the bucket and determined that there wasn't enough in there. He called Peter back over to fix that.