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In hindsight, I should have seen it coming.
It was a well-known fact, happiness doesn't stay long with people like him.
No one stays long with people like Stiles.
The poor and naive Stiles.
So hungry for love.
So in need of affection.
So desperate to belong. To someone. To something. To anywhere.
He believed he was his and that Stiles belonged to him in turn. He believed they were destined and that the moon blessed them. He believed they were waiting to make their first time something special. He believed that once marked, he could tell others. He believed so many of his lies, that he had none left. Finally, he could see the truth.
There he found them, in Derek's bed. Where less than a month ago they slept embraced, wrapped in the promise of waiting for their eighteenth birthday. Under soft sheets and comforting arms, sweet whispers swore to make him feel special. And he couldn't lie, Derek had kept his promise. Stiles felt special, but especially stupid for falling for empty promises.
And there was Stiles at the door, with his bag full of midnight snacks and some medications he had bought to welcome his boyfriend who had just returned from a dangerous solo mission. Instead of a tired smile and a couple of bruises, he was greeted by Jennifer's moans and Derek's naked figure completely on top of her. Inside her. Kissing her. Panting her name. Thrusting his hips.
Coming inside her.
It was too much.
It was humiliating.
Then she looked him straight in the eyes and smiled.
It was unbearable.
Stiles ran out, regardless of Derek finally noticing his presence. Who cared if he now shouted his name, when it was Jennifer's that wouldn't stop moaning.
" Stop! "
It wasn't a plea.
It wasn't a desperate cry.
It was an order.
His alpha's order
.
For a moment, he was tempted to obey, to stay anchored at the elevator entrance and allow Derek to catch up with him. To let the alpha fix things, but memories of past conversations coiled in his ears with venom.
" You're not a wolf, Stiles, you're a human, nothing more. "
What he once justified as veiled concern soon revealed genuine disdain.
He was about to vomit.
Stiles didn't stop, not when he got on the elevator, not when he reached the parking lot, not even when he started driving. But Derek did. As if they had been given the same order, Derek froze. Stiles didn't need shouts or commands, just Derek's icy eyes making contact as the elevator doors closed.
Stiles didn't feel powerful, or strong. He was just a pathetic kid crumbling on the side of the road. Just another Friday night being suffocated by disappointment.
That triumphant smile.
The passionate tenderness with which he held her.
Those unrepentant eyes.
Stiles couldn't breathe.
He was panicking. Everything repeated in a loop inside his head, as if someone had hit the rewind button.
He tried calling Scott to ask him to take him home, but he never answered.
Sleepover at Allison's probably.
He thought of his dad working overtime at the station and his heart squeezed, increasing his
anxiety.
He couldn't be a burden to him.
He decided to go back home, or so he thought, until he found himself parking in one of the city's most expensive buildings.
He had been impulsive.
All of this was stupid.
He probably wasn't even home.
And yet, he found himself getting out of the car, entering the lobby, nodding to the receptionist, and taking the elevator to the penthouse. By the time he reached the door, Peter was already waiting for him at the entrance.
"But look who we have here, little Red Riding Hood. What brings you to the wolf's den, honey? Have you finally tired of playing with Derek?"
Before, he would have ignored his mocking comment or come up with a witty response to shut him up. Before, he would have responded with a humorless laugh, followed by a " You'll have to try harder to get into my pants. "
Before, he didn't know it was Derek who was playing with him.
Stiles couldn't help it, the flood of emotions he had been holding back since his visit to the loft overflowed. Tears flowed uncontrollably, almost choking him. He couldn't see beyond his tumultuous anguish, but it wasn't necessary. Peter immediately ran to hold him against his chest and cradle him in his arms. With one hand, he began to massage his hair to the tune of soft whispers, and with the other, he stroked his back to the rhythm of his breathing.
"Calm down, honey. Breathe with me. Inhale. Exhale. One more time. That's it. Well done, little one."
Gradually, the air began to circulate through his lungs, and his vision finally cleared. There was Peter, in his silk pajama pants, hair tousled from sleep, and his gaze, always mocking, disturbed by genuine concern. Sweetly consoling his untimely guest.
"Have you come back to me? I was worried we'd have to spend the night in the hallway. I admit this wasn't how I imagined the first time I held you in my arms, but what can I say, I'm a flexible man."
The gentle caress on his cheek, followed by a playful wink and his stupid jokes, managed to ease the painful knot in his chest. When the anguish finally passed, Stiles couldn't help but laugh.
It was more of a snort than a laugh.
More of a grimace than a smile.
It was a promise.
He would soon be better.
"What do you say, little one, will you keep crying on my doorstep or let me make you comfortable?"
Stiles only needed a gentle nod for Peter to lift him like a koala. Stiles squealed when the sudden movement forced him to wrap his legs around Peter's waist. Embarrassment rose in his neck, coloring his ears. Avoiding further scrutiny, he buried his face in the wolf's neck. It didn't help much, if the mocking snort he received in response meant anything. Peter entered with Stiles in his arms and closed the door effortlessly with his foot. He took his sweet boy to the most comfortable couch and proceeded to sit with him on his lap. This only made a completely embarrassed Stiles move closer to him. That little one, with his nose on his neck, his lips on his collarbone, and his hands clinging to his back, was playing with his instincts.
"I certainly can't complain about this outcome, but I admit I'd like to know what brought you here. Was it Derek?"
Stiles didn't respond, he just held on tighter. If Peter had been a good person, he would have recognized the topic as delicate and left it alone, but luckily Peter didn't have those inhibitions.
"Don't tell me he forgot the anniversary of the day we 'didn't start dating.' Or is he still insisting on waiting for the perfect moment to clarify things? Six months isn't enough of an extension, is it? How long will you give my nephew to find his balls? I really don't think it's a good deal. Can he even satisfy someone like that?"
Peter hoped his provocations would annoy his boy enough to take the bait and spill the beans. Certainly, he wasn't ready for the broken whisper he received.
"It seems so. Too bad that 'someone' isn't me."
Peter's hands froze in place. This had to be a mistake, he probably didn't understand his little one correctly. Because how else would he explain that his stupid nephew, having a majestic angel at his disposal, chose to be with someone else.
How dare he show such contempt?
Peter growled.
Stiles shivered.
Peter hugged him tighter.
Stiles sighed in relief.
"I went to the loft to welcome him after his search for the whereabouts of the remnants of the Alpha pack, but he was busy. Apparently, he had already received a better welcome."
Finally, anger manages to bring his beautiful face out of hiding. Undoubtedly a monumental loss for Peter, but perfectly bearable if it meant seeing the fury ignite in his beloved's eyes.
"He was with that bitch in our bed. Kissing her, fucking her, giving her everything that, according to him, 'I wasn't ready for.' How many times did he give her what was meant for me? How many times did he leave my side to warm his bed?"
His boy growls the last words with anger like a true wolf.
"You were right, this was just a game. Derek Hale's new pastime. I was just his little stupid personal toy to chew on. You know what was the worst?"
Now there are tears unshed in his boy's eyes.
"He told me he wanted to wait to make our first time a special occasion, and like a fool, I believed him. I believed him because I thought what we had meant something, that I mattered to him, that I was valuable to him, that I was his damn destined mate."
The next growl has Peter's wolf on the surface. Furrowed brow, thick sideburns, sharp teeth, and eyes red as embers are his only greeting. Stiles freezes in place at such a reception.
"You... your eyes... it can't be... Deucalion?"
"That damn son of a bitch. How dare he? I'll kill him."
The words get stuck in his inhuman dentition, deforming them to come out.
"I don't understand, Peter. Why are you so upset? What's..."
His boy looks agitated and insecure, not knowing what he said to upset Peter so much.
Oh, poor and sweet thing, who doesn't yet know his place. Peter will have to teach him.
"You're mine, Stiles. You belong to me. You have since the moment my eyes had the pleasure of falling on you. Even before."
Stiles shivers at the force of his claim.
"I wasn't worried about what you had with Derek. Because it was just a whim, because you deserved to explore before I devoured you forever, because I was sure that sooner or later you would come back to me. That's how sure I was of our bond. Of what we mean to each other."
Recognition shines in his boy's eyes, waiting for the confirmation of all the suspicions his brilliant mind is starting to form.
His perfect boy.
"You are my mate, little Red Riding Hood. The Moon has blessed my destiny with your existence."
Peter feels the bond with Stiles. It's thick, promising a long road ahead. It's also bright as a bonfire, making his strands shine in gold, the color of destiny. He pulls on it to make his point and does it again simply because he can. Because he had never been allowed to do it before and now he doesn't know how to stop.
The air escapes through his sweet lips as his eyes warm with tears and his hand travels to where it belongs, over his companion's heart. For the first time, Peter's wolf sings to his companion.
The tears flow, the smiles widen, and their eyes close as their foreheads meet in recognition.
Mate
Mate
Mate
When their gazes meet again, one pair, sweet as candy, and the other, electrifying as a shock. Halfway between them, their lips meet for the first time.
Silky as flower petals.
Tender as a caress.
Reverent as a prayer.
Chaste as if they were being consecrated.
That was their first kiss.
After the first one, it was as if the ties that had kept them apart were finally torn. The voracious need to consume each other was seen, for the first time, without restrictions. Soon, the wandering touches, the hungry kisses, the muffled moans, and the fiery caresses were all they could think about. Or well, almost everything.
It seems Peter will have to do a better job if he wants to silence his boy's noisy brain. At least it took two attempts and deep breaths to articulate the words.
"I can't believe I could confuse the bond with Derek for a romantic one for a moment."
Who would have thought his partner could ignite his killer instinct as easily as he aroused his libido. This time, when Peter growled, Stiles didn't even flinch.
"You have a special talent for heating a man's blood, little troublemaker. Do you want me to kill him, little rascal? Should I hunt him for what he did to you and display him for all to see?"
He could see his beloved's pupils dilate at the idea. Something to explore later.
"Don't you think it's a bit excessive to mention your homicidal plans on the first date? What will you do if I get so scared that I try to escape from you?"
They couldn't blame Peter for his smile turning predatory, it wasn't his fault that his boy insisted on pushing all his buttons.
"Oh, little Red Riding Hood. We both know it takes more than a mutilated corpse to scare you. And don't think I missed the way your excitement increases when I talk about revenge."
Stiles nervously readjusts in Peter's lap, accidentally brushing against his semi-erect member. The sudden pleasure surge that runs through him is so sudden that he can't help but let out a moan.
Peter leans in slowly to whisper hoarsely in his ear.
"You know, according to the ancient laws of the Moon, a wolf who deceives another regarding their destined mate is gutted alive by their own pack. And he who tries to steal another's destined mate will be sentenced to a death duel by the wolf and then exhibited for the pleasure of their partner. Crimes against a destined mate are considered offenses against the Goddess, and she is not one to forgive an offense without bloodshed. Do you want me to settle the score with the Goddess? I could take care of Derek on your behalf. Just for you, honey."
Peter playfully bites Stiles's earlobe, then sucks on it until his companion moans. The provocation seems enough to break him.
"I don't want to talk about him anymore. I just want to forget he ever existed. Please, make me forget him."
Oh, how wonderful his boy looked when he begged. Lips reddened by nervous bites. Cheeks flushed with lust. Eyes shining with tears shed. And that provocative smile.
And what was Peter supposed to do when such a sweet thing sought his comfort?
A better man would have refused.
Unfortunately, he was a weak man.
"Oh, little one. Let me help you forget him."
By the time they can finally separate from each other, it's Monday afternoon, and they have to go to a pack meeting. If Stiles has a mating bite matching Peter's, it's no one's business but theirs. If Derek doesn't understand, he can go to hell.