Chapter Text
Things changed a bit after that fateful Monday - in Peter’s honest opinion to the better. Of course, Stiles had to first work through his moral dilemmas; not like it took him too much time, Peter has long since learned that the boy was almost as much of a pragmatic as himself. He needed some reassurance, that was all, and Peter was happy to provide it.
He was never shy about getting hard, waiting patiently until Stiles finished getting off himself before rolling to his back to show off his aching cock. Stiles hesitated less and less, and after a time it was their routine.
Peter would have felt bad for using the boy - well, no, he probably wouldn’t have felt bad, let’s be honest - but he didn’t need to, considering he could smell the delectable scent of arousal whenever the boy put his hands around him.
Really, watching Stiles flushed face, the way he parted his lips slightly, eyes never leaving Peter’s cock… it was half of the pleasure.
He also took up permanent residence in the boy’s bed. He didn’t do anything untoward, but Peter was never one to deny himself, and the way their scents blended together under the soft covers was something that he particularly enjoyed.
Peter also found other ways to amuse himself. It needed some very careful set up, but he managed to get away while Stiles was in the showers after PE and meticulously chewed through every single tire on Harris’ car.
Of course, he wasn’t stupid, so he managed to stage the unavoidable confrontation right on the route principal Davis took when he headed to the gym to watch the cheerleader practice. Davis was kind of a pervert, but what neither Stiles, nor Harris knew, was that the man also liked to watch the boys during PE - the only class where Peter didn’t have to shadow Stiles. Naturally, he spent that time getting into the principal’s good graces; Peter worked on him for weeks, getting to the point that the guy was carrying dog treats in his pocket for when they would meet.
And so, when Harris started on spewing some bullshit about how he will have Peter removed from the premises and possibly put down he didn’t expect his boss to tell him to basically fuck off.
Peter was sure that he would never forget Harris’ face as he watched the principal feed Peter some snacks right then and there while hinting that he was actually considering promoting him to school mascot.
Afterwards, on the way home Stiles kept sneaking awed glances at him.
Peter didn’t particularly mind.
Of course, weekends were the best.
The Sheriff wasn’t the kind of sadistic parent who would demand his child to be up early, so mornings were usually spent with lazing around.
Once his nightmares were taken care of, Stiles was actually a champion sleeper. Not only could he sleep in incredibly ridiculous positions, he could also keep at it for twelve hours straight.
Peter - being both an adult and a werewolf - didn’t need far that much shut eye, so he just passed the time laying in bed, enveloped in their combined scent. It was kind of addictive. A better man would have probably realized how creepy it was to spend hours watching a sleeping teenager, but Peter was certainly not one of those.
Stiles was controversial even when he wasn’t awake; his face looked both younger, all smooth and relaxed and more mature in the stillness.
The times when Stiles had morning wood were torture. The scent of sleep and arousal radiating from his skin was maddening, especially when he was only wearing loose boxers. Peter really couldn’t be faulted for being unable to control himself.
So far, Stiles was the one to physically initiate their sexual encounters, but that was about to change.
The boy was on his back, so Peter shuffled closer without trouble, first just burying his nose in his neck and taking short, delicious sniffs of the soft skin there, then he started licking carefully. Stiles tasted amazing. He never had the chance before to do this, the only time he licked the boy was when he was in - or on the verge of - a panic attack, and the bitter, heavy flavor of distress overpowered everything.
But not now. Now, Peter could really taste him, admiring every single note in his sweat without disturbance.
It didn’t take long for Stiles to start shifting on the bed, one of his hands came up, grasping Peter’s thick fur and pulling his head closer. Even though it was completely unintentional, it still felt like a victory.
Peter stood and gently maneuvered himself until he was laying on Stiles, bathing his neck and chin in sloppy doggy kisses. His cock was hard, just as hard as the boy’s and the friction of them together was better than anything he felt since he became a service dog.
He shifted his hips, chasing the sensation, unable to keep a little growl from escaping at the pleasure, and just like that, Stiles eyes fluttered open. He was confused for a few seconds, but Peter didn’t want to give him a chance to withdraw, so he thrust again.
Stiles eyes widened but at the same time his lips formed a perfect, tiny ‘o’ on a silent moan. Peter licked the corner of his mouth, and with the next nudge of his cock he managed to slip his dick up the leg of Stiles boxers.
“P-Pet.. shit…”
He could barely think after that, rutting against the boy’s own erection.
Thankfully Stiles wasn’t far behind, he fisted his hands in Peter’s fur where it was the longest at the back of his neck.
Peter could have howled when he felt the boy’s hips moving to meet him, pushing up against him, back trying to arch of the bed even with him holding his body down.
They came like that, almost together, making a giant mess of the inside of Stiles’ underwear. Peter kept licking at Stiles face afterwards, basking in the aftershocks as much as he did in the ecstatic expression on the boy’s face.
It became a thing. Peter had a pretty punctual internal clock, meaning that he was usually awake before the alarm. The Sheriff was rarely home in the mornings, so he didn’t even have to be careful.
As much as Stiles was gobsmacked by the development as first, he was always, always so eager, clutching at him and whining so sweetly. Peter didn’t always pop a knot - he couldn’t come as fast when he did - but on those occasions the boy always took care of him after his own orgasm, taking him into his hands and squeezing down just right until Peter spilled over those elegant, pale fingers.
Stiles - even though he was the only one who found it hard to believe - acquired some friends. Erica was the first, after her epilepsy attach, she would sometimes stop to chat and give a very nice belly rub to Peter. With Erica came her boyfriend Boyd. He wasn’t exactly the chatty type, but he had a deadpan humor that wasn’t lost on Stiles.
Soon enough, they were eating lunch together.
Of course, in the delicate hierarchy of high school, their table inevitably became the 'loser’ table, and that was when Isaac joined them. He was living with his aunt after some messy shit that happened with his father and nobody liked to talk about.
Peter didn’t mind.
Stiles having friends meant that he wasn’t so twitchy - well, not after he got used to socializing again - and that the bullies mostly quit harassing him.
Losers in numbers were harder prey, apparently.
Peter wasn’t sure what happened, but one day he found himself locked out of Stiles’ room. His first reaction - though he definitely wasn’t proud of it - was panic. He strained his hears, trying to hear anything out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. He could only hear Stiles heartbeat, a little faster than usual, but still steady. That was good. Not being able to see Stiles? Not so good.
He stood on his hind legs and scratched at the door, but all he got was a muffled 'Wait a minute!’.
Peter was seriously considering just shifting back to human, but before he could come to a decision, the door finally opened.
He strolled in, looking around, just to make sure that everything was okay before he turned to Stiles.
And then he stopped, ears twitching with barely concealed excitement.
Stiles was naked. His back was tensed as he locked the door behind Peter.
“So.”
He didn’t dare hope that this was what he thought he was, but some careful sniffing told him that Stiles had used quite a bit of lube recently…
“I… have no ida what I’m doing. Oh my god,” the boy said, closing his eyes.
Peter wanted to taste the bright blush on his face and neck.
Stiles was hard, though his embarrassment made him flag a bit. Well, that just wouldn’t do.
Peter walked up to him, keeping eye contact, and licked his cock slowly.
The boy moaned, curling over him, but pushed his head away after a minute.
“Stop, shit…”
Peter backed up obediently, he didn’t want to scare the boy after all.
Stiles just breathed for a few seconds, trying to regain his composure.
“Okay. Okay fuck.” He kneeled down, hugging Peter to him and murmuring into his fur. “This. This absolutely stupid. But… I won’t make you do it, okay? I will just… have to see if you want to…”
Stiles let go of him and shuffled to the bed, resting his chest on it with his ass jutting out in invitation. He was looking back at Peter uncertainly, biting his lips, but true to his words didn’t try call him closer or further encourage him.
Not like Peter needed encouragement.
He stood, walking up behind Stiles, listening to the fast drumming of his heart. He was so hard that it almost hurt, but he wasn’t about to just climb on without any foreplay. He was a gentleman.
The boy jumped a bit when he felt Peter’s cold nose nudging between his cheeks, then moaned when he started licking at him. Peter could taste lube - not his favorite, though he was happy that the boy prepared himself - and underneath it lust and… Stiles. It was a heady combination.
After he made sure that the boy wasn’t stupid enough to start this without getting ready, he hopped on.
Stiles’ breath hitched, and Peter stilled, waiting to see if everything was okay. Apparently it was, because the boy fisted his hands in the sheets and pushed his ass back.
Alright, then.
Peter bent down to lick at the back of his neck as he poked his cock forward. It was a bit difficult to aim without his hands to guide him, but he managed, and when he finally found his mark, he slid in in one easy thrust.
Stiles cried out, body tensing, but the overpowering smell of his lust didn’t dampen, so Peter took that as his clue to move.
Stiles wanted to be fucked by a dog, so Peter was going to give him exactly that.
He didn’t hold himself back as his hips started moving, lurching forward with enough force behind them to jar Stiles’ whole body.
It was amazing. The boy had closed his eyes, biting into the sheets to keep himself quiet, shivering under Peter’s thrusts. It took an embarrassingly short time for his knot to start forming and finally being able to bury it in a hot, wet hole was like heaven. Peter really couldn’t help himself; he had to bite down on the back of Stiles neck - careful not to bruise or break skin, just holding him down like his instincts dictated.
Feeling the growing knot catching on his rim made Stiles wild. His eyes snapped open and he didn’t try to keep quiet anymore, moaning and gasping for breath on every push.
Peter wished he could tell him how good he was doing, how well he was taking it, but he had to make do with licking at his skin between gentle bites.
His cock stuck on the next thrust, filling rapidly inside the boy’s soft, velvety hole. Stiles’ eyes rolled back to his head and he just panted, soft pink lips open and puffy. The stretch must have been painful, but he didn’t seem to feel it. As soon as Peter stilled the boy reached a hand down under himself and started jerking of.
It took about two pulls for him to come, body clenching down hard on Peter’s knot, making him want to howl in pleasure.
Stiles’ aftershocks milked his dick until he was coming too, spurting thick jets of come into his pliant body.
The boy lay under him unmoving, chest heaving with exhaustion. He reached up, patting Peter’s head.
“G… g-good boy,” he murmured.
Peter would have chuckled if he could. He wanted to say the same thing.