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Peter moved forward slightly to slap Stiles parted cheeks and hole with is heavy, cum slicked cock causing his cum to splatter loudly across Stiles' ass and down the back of his shredded jeans, a small pool cooling on the back of his balls as he stayed leaned over the sink boneless and satiated with tears running down his cheeks.
"Aren't you glad you stayed? Juicing does a body good," Peter leaned over and licked a tear-stained cheek.
Stiles went to look back at him but was surprised as Peter gripped him by his collar and pulled him up quickly from the sink and turned him around to face him, their faces inches apart.
"Now you can stay here ruined and bare assed to wait for Derek, or we can go finish what we started and get you cleaned up, what do you say?"
Stiles drained balls allowed him to have the clarity that he had sorely been missing this entire encounter, "Uhhh."
Peter bent his head down to nip at the flesh of Stiles' exposed neck.
"As fun as that sounds, I need to get home," Stiles placed his hands on Peter's chest and raised the wolf from his neck, "big paper due on the historical significance of toothpaste."
Peter scrunched his face up as he straightened, "Is that what you came to talk to Derek about?"
Stiles raised his brows skeptically, "Uhh yep, I figured with those teeth, he has his finger on the pulse of the dental hygiene industry you know?"
Peter's face darkened, " Don't lie to me Stiles."
"I'm not," Stiles denied.
"I can hear your heart, you're lying to me, I just don't know why," Peter frowned menacingly and stepped towards Stiles again, his chest pressing the boy backwards to the kitchen entryway.
"You know that's like an invasion of privacy, my lies are my business," Stiles rebuffed as he stepped farther back awkwardly, his ass still exposed and softening cock still pulled out from beneath his jockstrap.
Peter cornered him, caging him in between two heavily muscled arms.
Stiles gulped.
Stay or go. Stay or go. Stay or go.
Nervous sweat trickled down his temple, and Peter didn't miss it, tracking the movement with is eyes. Leaning forward he lapped at the side of Stiles' face.
"Mmmm, delicious," Peter said with a shudder that made Stiles stomach flip.
"Ok," Stiles whispered.
Peter locked eyes with him, brows raised, "Really?"
Stiles against all his better judgment nodded. As long as the jacket stayed on it would be like this never happened, just a memory, a fantasy and Peter was hot, a total creeper-wolf, but hot.
"Hmmpf," Peter breathed out ad extended his hand. Stiles took it.
Peter led him across the room and up the spiral staircase that was to the side of the main living area. Stiles felt his pulse in his ears as his spent dick started to stir.
"Nervous?" Peter laughed.
Stiles looked up at him with a weak smile but didn't say anything.
They entered the doorway at the top of the stairs and Stiles stopped. He didn't know what he expected but Peter's room was amazing, like Better Homes and Garden's amazing.
Three of the walls were painted a cool dark green and one exposed brick. Centered along one wall was a large, modern four poster bed made of wrought iron, sharply geometric. The comforter was a lush hunter's green and beige decorative pillows lined the top. There were plants along the walls adding to an atmosphere that felt somewhere between a jungle and a forest. A gold pendulum lamp hung in the corner, matching the gold accents of another smaller lamp on a bed side table and framed art on the walls of foreign movies and plays Stiles had never heard of before and couldn't begin to pronounce.
Peter pulled him to a small sitting couch that was in front of the bed, a dusty coral colour.
"Let's get you out those torn up clothes?" Peter breathed softly as he brushed his stubbled check against the bend of Stiles neck, reaching up to pull the jacket from his shoulders.
Stiles clasped to the jacket, "Not this," he said, voice tinged with panic.
Peter narrowed his eyes, "Ok," he leaned back to examine Stiles, "but its going to hard to shower in that."
Peter unbuttoned his jeans and slid them along with his jock gently down his thighs, as Stiles toed his shoes off, letting Peter hold them as he stepped out of the torn fabric. Peter looked up at him appreciatively from where he sat.
Stiles bent cock jumped happily and Peter wrapped a large warm hand around it, it responded by beginning to leak a stream of pre-cum or in this case after-cum-pre-cum.
"Sorry, I know its a bit gross," Stiles apologised reflexively.
"Nothing to be sorry for," Peter responded allowing Stiles to drip over his fingers as he squeezed him gently in his grip, "I'm sure this slides in nicely and hits all the right bumps."
Stiles swallowed audibly.
Oh god.
Peter released him and brought his hand up to part his thighs, fingers searching. In the cooling mess a long finger eased back in side of his sore and spent hole.
"What do you think about that?" Peter asked pulling a sigh from Stiles, "wanna pay Uncle Peter back for scratching the deep-deep itch in the kitchen?"
"You're not my uncle," Stiles complained around a groan.
Peter slipped in another finger, Stiles pushed back into it, "Daddy Peter?" he said dryly.
Stiles froze, regretting following him, "Ughh."
Scenting his unease Peter retrieved his finger and rose to his feet, leaning in close enough to share breath with Stiles, "Let's forget that, shall we?"
Stiles blinked.
"Instead how about you follow me into that shower with your werewolf seeking dick and fuck me up against a wall?" Peter indicated a closed door.
Stiles looked into his eyes, that currently were lit electric blue, like bottled lightning. He felt the small voice of dissent at the back of his mind still as he jerked forward and wrapped his arms around Peter's middle, pulling his neck up to kiss him.
Peter's kiss was savage. Instantly teeth and tongue and hot breath. They clacked teeth, but Peter was undeterred and forced his tongue inside Stiles' mouth claiming everything within it's limited reach. Stiles groaned as Peter chewed at his bottom lip, making his naked hips buck forward into Peter's clothed crotch, desperate to find friction.
They broke apart breakfast.
Stiles rested his head against Peter's, "Do you have some sort of werewolf mind control you've been saving for this?"
"Nope," Peter replied popping his 'p'.
"Everything you are doing is because you want to," Peter said, tracing Stile's lips with a single finger.
Stiles blushed, did he want this?
Peter stood and pulled off his shirt, followed by his pants and boxers, "Besides," he beamed in naked glory, "I'm irresistible."
Peter sauntered past Stiles towards the bathroom and left the door opened, Stiles heard the shower turn on.
Stiles stood frozen, but mesmerized as he watched Peter disappear behind the door. He really was walking sex, all confidence and broad muscle and body hair neatly trimmed. His dick twitched, painfully tight and ignored.
Like a zombie, lead by his dick Stiles walked toward the room as steam started to pour from the door. He stepped inside.
Peter was under the spray behind a glass divider giving Stiles a clear view as he soaped himself up. He watched as Peter ran a trail of suds down his chest and cupped his impossibly heavy cock. Hard it was probably six inches long, but almost the same in width. It was an odd cock, but still incredibly impressive, blunt and dark like the sawed off limb of a tree. Stiles watched as Peter pulled back his foreskin and swirled two fingers under his hood, his cock head disappearing in a blur of suds.
Mindlessly Stiles stepped forward and removed his jacket followed by his shirt. He stepped over the threshold and into the spray closing his eyes. Peter wrapped him into his arms and pulled him against his soapy body. He was incredibly firm and tight, his body felt...predatory, ready to break into action at a moments notice. It was exhilarating.
Peter trapped his mouth in another brutal kiss, this time he was more prepared. Stiles gave as good as he got, biting, licking and moaning into the older man, which seemed to spur him on more. It felt dangerous and exciting.
Peter broke the kiss and turned him around, running a soapy hand down his back. Peter cupped his ass and spread his cheeks, gently scrubbing their earlier mess from his body in the warm water. Stiles purred appreciatively as Peter soaped and cleaned his whole body. He enjoyed the feel of his large hands that even in the hot spray felt warmer. Blunt nails traced up his sides and Stiles felt a smile slip to his face.
They stayed like this for several long moments, Peter worshiping the flat planes and soft curves that Stiles body offered, but never once coming close to his dick tat bobbed gently with Stiles small motions as he twisted and turned when Peter found a sensitive spot or a ticklish patch of flesh.
Finally, unable to stand another moment of being painfully hard and ignored Stiles turned about eyes blown dark and lips parted in a pant.
"Turn around," he instructed.
With a glint in his eye Peter turned, a wicked grin playing at the corner of his mouth as he did.
"Bossy," He commented.
Stiles stepped forward and placed his cock in the part of Peter's ass, two impressive cheeks made of heavy muscle that still wobbled softly as he spread his legs to shoulder's width.
"Is this what you want?" Stiles asked, rocking his hips softly.
Peter growled in response reaching up to grab a bottle of silicone lube from the shelf next to the shower head.
Stiles took the bottle and popped it open, squeezing a small amount into his hand. He palmed it into the space between Peter's cheeks, gliding along the entirety of it and not focusing it in any one spot.
Peter, arched his back making his hole protrude more directly at Stiles.
Roughly Stiles sank his right thumb into him, twisting as he went.
Peter whined, slapping his hands onto the wall as he became a little jelly legged.
"Is this what you want?" Stiles asked again, replacing his thumb with the tip of his cock, balanced just outside Peter's entrance.
"Yes," Peter replied gruffly, "but more importantly, it's what YOU want. Now sink that crooked dick in my ass and show me what a little werewolf fucker you really are."
Taking the bait Stiles did just that, angling his hips he slammed his body forward sinking all the way in feeling his bent cock straighten in the tight channel of Peter's ass.
The sound of Peter's claws scratching down the marble wall filled the shower stall, "FUCK!" he cried out.
Stiles reached up and ripped his head backward with a fist in his hair, "What do you think? Is it hitting all the right bumps as you said," Stiles teased, slamming hard into the man again.
Peter just grunted, a satisfied smile on his mouth.
Stiles kept his hand in the taller man's hair, forcing him to arch his back in a sharp curve. Stiles leaned back using said hand for leverage and began to pump into his ass.
The satisfy sound of wet skin slapping wet skin bounced around them. Peter with his neck wrench upward simply panted and whined wordlessly, as Stiles did his best to work a punishing pace.
"Is this what you like? Getting fucked up the ass like the little Beta bitch you are?" Stiles asked his tone rough and mocking.
Peter chuckled weakly, "Beta?"
Stiles yanked on his hair in his hand.
"I may be a Beta and I may have been stripped of my rightful title and my strength, but I will always fuck like an ALPHA!"
Stiles rising to his toes, slammed as quickly and as hard as he could into Peter's ass, intent on breaking the wolf.
The sound of his pistoning dick squelching in and out of Peter's now loosened hole adding to the sinful cacophony around them.
"Do you think you're in control?" Peter asked.
Stiles pulled at his hair and brutally slapped his left ass cheek in response.
"Ha, you do. You think just because you're seven inches deep in my guts, hand in my hair with me bent over that you have control?" Peter mocked.
"Boy I have been in control this entire night. All you have or have ever had since you came in those doors is your choice, but not the power, not control. Of me or this moment," Peter continued through gritted teeth as Stiles seethed and fucked him still as hard as he could muster.
"You're such a smug bastard," Stiles gritted out.
"Shall I prove it?" Peter asked, still locked firmly in Stiles fingers, feet planted firmly as Stiles ploughed him like a fresh field.
"Go for it," Stiles panted, sarcasm dripping from his lips.
Peter stayed as he was, but Stiles felt it immediately. Peter's anal canal tightened around him like a fist. Grabbing at him, an undulating, pulsing tube of pleasure. Stiles couldn't help it, not even if he tired.
He pumped once.
Twice.
And BAM!
He was emptying himself inside of Peter as he continued to do whatever the fuck it was that he was doing to constrict his ass. In the truest sense of the words Peter milked the cum from his body.
Stiles cried out in pleasure as he dropped his arm, resting his hands of Peter's firm round ass as he weakly rode out the end of his orgasm. All his rage and vengeance transformed to jelly boned legs and tightened balls as he emptied them for the second time that night.
Peter laughed, not harshly but genuinely as his released head was allowed to slump against the wall in front of them.
Peter turned and with a gentle hand pushed Stiles to his knees.
Stiles allowed it, too weak to fight it even if he wanted to.
Peter pumped himself furiously inches form Stiles face, working his foreskin back and forth, causing the dribbling pre-cum that rested in his hood to lather into a foamy white coating. His knees bent, hips pressed forward, Stiles slid out his flattened tongue just as Peter threw his neck back.
Ropes of thick hot werewolf seed arched over Stiles head, into his hair, across his face and finally into his mouth. He sucked at his lips, lapping the tangy mess that clung to his face.
Peter bent down and kissed him, smearing the mess between their faces as he smashed into him.
"So tell me now who was in control?" Peter teased he helped Stiles to his feet and allowed him to wash his face in the quickly cooling water.
They stepped out of the shower as the water fully turned to cold, debatably 'clean'.
Peter left the room and returned, still naked but holding a pair of sweatpants, "Here take these."
Shocked at the display of care, Stiles took them, stepping into them with still damp skin. They felt amazingly soft and comfortable. Peter reached down to hand him his shirt which he slipped on and his jock which he placed wordlessly in his pocket.
"Uh, am I supposed to say thank you?" Stile asked sheepishly, "That's only the second time I, you know."
"In that case you're welcome," Peter gave an uncomfortably warm smile that made Stiles stomach flip.
He turned to leave hand on the door handle, taking in Peter's still naked form.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Peter asked.
Stiles dragged his eyes up to Peter's face a confused look on his own.
Peter turned pointing behind him, "You're uh, magic sex jacket."
Stiles froze. The jacket.
THE JACKET!
Oh my fucking god, I took of the jacket.
"Uhhhhhhhhhh," Stiles drawled out a look of absolute horror painting his face.
Peter retrieved the jacked form beside he toilet and handed it to Stiles with a snarky grin.
"So, this whole time?" Stiles asked.
"The whole time," Peter grinned.
Stiles backed out the door, his face numb and blood cold in his veins.
Peter laughed watching him turn and cross the bedroom.
Peter let him leave but walked out the stairs as Stiles crossed the living area below him.
"Told you I was in control," Peter called down.
"Fuck you!"
"And you did, brilliantly, I might add," Peter said wagging his brows.
Stiles just groaned in response as he stopped to force his feet in his shoes and open the door tot he loft.
"I'll make sure to tell Derek you stopped by, don't worry."
"Extra fuck you!" Stiles called out as he slammed the door.
"God I hope so," Peter said to himself as he retired to his room and closed the door.