Chapter Text
Stiles felt his body wake up slowly. His head was pounding and his stomach was on the edge of nausea. With a few deep breaths, he decided he could probably keep his dinner down if he sat up, and tensed his stomach in preparation. Without even opening his eyes he could tell it was Peter's broad hand on his back, helping him sit up. Stiles' body swayed a little, but he managed to keep himself upright with Peter steadying him. When he finally opened his eyes, it was to a very concerned looking werewolf who had pulled an armchair over to the side of the bed and was still holding one of his hands, face pinched as tight as his grip.
“What, no guitar?” Stiles asked, rubbing the side of his head with one quivering hand. Peter looked so confused by the question that Stiles had to laugh. “I just meant that singing a song at my bedside seems like something you would do, you big sap.”
“No, sorry, I've just been thinking,” Peter said distractedly, bringing his other hand up to clutch both of Stiles', a little lost.
"Well now you've got me worried," Stiles said, freeing one of his hands to hook a finger under Peter's chin, pulling it upward until Peter finally met his eyes. The wolf's typical crystal blue was completely bloodshot. Stiles knew he must have been crying, or at least on the verge of tears, but he couldn't think of anything that would warrant that kind of reaction, except— "I'm dying, aren't I?" Stiles asked, searching Peter's expression for an answer, in case the wolf wouldn't tell him the truth.
"No Stiles, you're not dying," Peter assured him, wiping at his eyes and attempting to put a more cheerful look on his face. "Why would you ask that?"
"Because you're looking at me the way my father looked at my mother when she was sick," Stiles told him, leaning forward until his forehead was pressed against Peter's strong shoulder. As if he were pulled by a magnet, Peter's nose immediately pressed into the side of Stiles' hairline, calming himself with the scent of his mate.
"It's not that, you're going to be fine," Peter said softly, lips brushing the side of Stiles' face with every word.
"Then what's got you so upset?" Stiles asked, still trying to place Peter's worry.
"I know that you're only 18, but it's okay, we're going to take care of this. I won't let it ruin your life," Peter said, confusing Stiles even more.
"What's ruining my life?" Stiles had to ask, pulling back to look Peter in the eye again.
"I got you pregnant," Peter admitted regretfully, like he was waiting for Stiles to start yelling abuse at him. "But don't worry, we can take care of it."
"What do you mean, 'take care of it?'" Stiles asked, seriously hoping that Peter wasn't saying what he thought he was saying.
"You're only 18, you're still in high school," Peter explained, waiting for Stiles to put the dots together. "I won't blame you if you don't want to keep it."
"Babe, could you shut up and let me wrap my mind around this for two minutes?" Stiles pleaded with his mate, bringing his hands up to rub his eyelids. Peter dutifully shut his mouth and waited for Stiles to come to terms with the news. Stiles could tell that Peter was going to be holding his breath until he spoke again.
It was completely surreal. These kinds of things just didn't happen. His dad had made a joke about it months ago and they had brushed it off. Peter had sworn to him that he couldn't get pregnant, and now here he was, a walking, talking, teenage contradiction. He was a cautionary tale. Don't sit on your werewolf boyfriend's dick for too long or you'll get knocked up . Where was the helpful pamphlet about that little nugget of information?
Stiles surprised himself with his ability to keep his breathing steady. He looked back up at Peter, who had fixed him with a worried and expectant expression. It finally dawned on Stiles; Peter was waiting for the axe to drop. Why was he so afraid? Peter knew him. He knew how much Stiles loved him. And yet he still expected Stiles to kill their unborn baby? Stiles couldn't let him live under that misapprehension for a minute longer.
"You think I would abort our child?" Stiles asked softly, shock still present in his voice. "Peter, you have to know that I would never do that to you, to us." Peter finally raised his head, looking at Stiles with fresh tears in his eyes.
"You don't have to do this," Peter told him, trying to make it perfectly clear that it was Stiles' decision. "Now that we know it's possible, we can just wait until you're older. Don't you want to go to college?" Peter asked, wondering how his mate could possibly want to give up his life for a child when he wasn't even out of high school yet.
"I know it's not exactly what we planned. I mean we haven't even really discussed having a family yet, I thought it was years away, a decade even," Stiles started to ramble, mouth finally having caught up to his mind. "But to have something that's half me, half you? That's amazing. How could I not want that?"
"I want it too, Stiles, but not when you have your whole life ahead of you," Peter tried to get Stiles to focus on himself, but he was just getting more and more irritated the more Peter pushed the point.
"Well what if this was just a one-time thing?" he shot back, hoping logic would prevail this time. "What if we can never get me pregnant again and this is our only chance for a biological child? Don't you want a baby that's ours? One that could be a wolf?"
"Yes, of course I do, but I'm trying to think about you here," Peter argued, pulling Stiles' hands into his lap once more.
"And I'm trying to think about you!" Stiles shouted at him as he pulled his hands back, trying to knock some sense into his mate’s thick head. "Why do you not think you deserve this? Why are you not allowed to have a happy ending?"
"Because it won't be a happy ending, Stiles," Peter told him candidly, standing up and turning his back on Stiles.
"If this is something I can give you, I want to," Stiles told him, lurching off the bed on unsteady legs, barely reaching Peter's shoulders before his knees gave out. Peter caught him easily, turning immediately and lifting him up in two arms. Stiles only had a minute to appreciate the way his face was tucked into Peter's firm chest before he was being placed back on the bed. Peter made to back away again, afraid of what else Stiles might say.
"Nu-uh mister," Stiles said, raising a tired arm to crook a long finger at Peter. "Get over here, we are not done talking about this."
"You need to rest," Peter protested, eyes darting to the bedroom door.
"And you can rest with me," Stiles said easily, rubbing his palm in a circle on the bed next to him. Admitting defeat, Peter kicked off his shoes and laid down next to Stiles, keeping his interlocked fingers on top of his stomach. He wasn't about to get distracted by Stiles' body before he had won their argument, even if the extra heartbeat coming from his mate had him longing to lay his head against Stiles' stomach.
"It's dangerous," Peter told him, and it was no trouble for Stiles to hear the fear in his voice. He turned over on his pillow until he was resting on his side, looking at Peter's profile. “Men aren’t meant to carry pups.”
"Our lives are always dangerous," Stiles said, "at least this time we might get a gift along with the scars." Stiles thought for a moment before adding, "I'm assuming we can cut this baby out of me through the wonders of modern medicine?"
"Yes, I'm sure we can do that," Peter relented, turning over to look at Stiles. "You really want to do this?" Stiles could hear the with me that Peter had left out of his question.
"I want everything with you," Stiles said honestly, bringing one palm up to rest on Peter's chest, and the other up to fiddle with his triskelion pendant. "Now tell me more about our baby," he said, smile spreading across his tired face.
Peter let out a long breath, trying to relax and feel secure in the fact that Stiles wanted to have a family with him. He wasn't sure how long it was going to take him to really believe it, but right then he just wanted to forget about everything except the way Stiles' hand was slowly rubbing his body.
"I don't know much about them," Peter said quietly, bringing his hand up to rest on top of Stiles', rubbing his thumb along Stiles' fingers lovingly.
"Well you know more than me," Stiles said, taking a quick look at the alarm clock to check the time. "You've known him or her for five hours longer than I have, so what do you know?" he asked, smiling softly and closing his eyes, relaxing into the sensation of Peter's soothing touch.
"Well they are about six weeks old," Peter said, humoring his mate. "And their heart just started beating. I didn't even notice it at first," Peter said, moving his hand from his chest to Stiles' stomach, slipping his palm underneath Stiles' shirt to press against his happy trail.
"You can hear it?" Stiles asked, a little jealous, but mostly excited. He had been walking around pregnant for six weeks and no one had noticed. In a pack of wolves where everyone knew everything, it was kind of incredible that they had a secret for once. He was sure it wouldn't last long, but there was a little bit of a thrill to having the information to themselves. They could live in a happy little baby bubble for a few days before they had to deal with bringing anyone else in.
"It's really fast," Peter told him, the wonder in his voice making Stiles smile even more. "Nearly twice as fast as yours is when you're sleeping," He said, using two of his fingers to tap out the rhythm on Stiles' stomach. It was clear to Stiles that his mate had been sitting up listening to it the whole time he was asleep.
"That's incredible," Stiles said, wondering when the fear was going to set in. As the planner of the group, he found it pretty worrisome that he didn't have any information about the situation. He had never come across it in any of his extensive research into werewolf folklore. "Has this ever happened before?" Stiles asked, wondering how they had even known what was wrong with him.
"Deaton seemed to recognize it pretty quickly," Peter told him, tone still bitter like he was upset that the Druid had been able to detect his own child before he could. "But I don't know that we have any other information about it. It's based on your magic primarily, not my wolf. I'm sure there aren't many Fire Mages out there mating with Alpha werewolves. Maybe you're the first one ever."
"Legendary," Stiles muttered, being lulled to sleep by Peter's gentle movements. "Just like you always wanted." He was so tired. The baby really was taking a lot out of him already.
"I have everything I've ever wanted," Peter said, listening to Stiles' heartbeat even out as he fell asleep once more.
Stiles was having the most amazing dream. Hot hands roamed over his sweat covered body, leaving trails of fire on his skin wherever they moved. He moaned as his body rocked forward, being pushed in a slow, even rhythm by Peter's cock thrusting in and out of him. It was quiet in their bedroom, the light of day hadn't even made its way through the window yet. There was nothing but the sound of their hot, heavy breaths and skin slapping against skin.
"Stiles," Peter called out, breaking the silence. Stiles just moaned louder, rocking his body down into the mattress, seeking friction. "Stiles!" Peter called again.
Stiles woke abruptly, jerking off the bed when he felt Peter run a cool hand through his sweat-damp hair. He moaned again, pressing into the touch. Peter just chuckled, rubbing the back of his hand against Stiles’ flushed cheek. "Peter," Stiles whined, letting his eyes fall open and then squeezing them shut again when the bright morning light hit his face.
"Sit up," Peter requested, tapping Stiles' blanket-covered knee. "I made you breakfast." Stiles groaned, rolling his head on his shoulders like he was trying to roll his eyes at Peter but refused to open them. "You need a lot of fluids and rest, and you need energy, so I made you an omelette." Peter told him, undeterred by Stiles' lack of enthusiasm.
"I don't want an omelette, Peter," Stiles whined again, voice low and scratchy from sleep.
"Well what do you want?" Peter asked him, setting the glass of orange juice he had picked up back on the breakfast tray. "Do you want pancakes instead?"
Stiles opened his eyes just long enough to snatch Peter's hand out of the air and drag it down his hot, sweaty chest, all the way down to where his hard cock was tenting his boxers.
"You need to keep your strength up. You should really eat something first," Peter protested, trying to pull his hand back but finding Stiles' sleepy grip much more persistent than he anticipated.
"Sex first, food second," Stiles argued, grabbing Peter by the wrist and yanking hard until his mate fell to the bed on top of him.
"Careful," Peter hissed, worried about the way his body weight had fallen on Stiles' stomach. "I don't want to hurt the baby."
"Yeah, yeah, alright," Stiles agreed, pulling at the bottom of Peter's V-neck as if he could remove the garment through sheer force of will. "Sex doesn't hurt though, does it?" Stiles needled him, pawing aggressively at Peter's torso until the wolf pulled back to take his shirt off.
"It shouldn't," Peter admitted, rubbing quickly-warming palms against Stiles' stomach as he pushed the sweat-damp shirt up and over Stiles' head.
"Then fuck me," Stiles panted, shaking his head to free some of the sweat that had accumulated on his brow. Peter wasn't sure if it was pregnancy hormones or if Stiles was delirious from fever, but either way he wanted Stiles to have another checkup as soon as possible. “Been dreaming about you,” Stiles said, words cutting off on a moan. “Then I woke up empty, it’s so wrong,” he mumbled.
Stiles felt his body get even hotter as Peter hooked his fingers in his waistband and slipped the boxers down Stiles' legs, freeing his erection. The movement of his dick slapping against his taut stomach had Stiles tossing his head back and forth on his pillow, already closer to orgasm than he had any reason to be. But Stiles didn't care how easy he looked, the phantom feeling of Peter moving inside him was enough to have him near the edge.
Sensing Stiles' need, Peter left the bed to tug off his own jeans, revealing the fact that he rarely wore underwear when he was just hanging around the house. He pulled a bottle of lube from the bedside table and knee-walked back across the mattress until he could settle between Stiles' parted thighs. Peter ran a hand over Stiles' stomach, for now still tight and toned, but he couldn't help but imagine how his mate would look when he was full and round with his child. The thought turned him on like he never could have imagined, and he could feel his dick twitching with anticipation.
"Gonna fuck me, Peter?" Stiles asked, voice husky, breath coming out in hot pants. "Already filled me up, fucked me so full of you. Wanna stuff me full even more? Breed me on your big, fat knot?"
Peter knew he shouldn't be so turned on by Stiles' baiting dirty talk, but he couldn't help it. Stiles knew just how to push his buttons and get him to give in to his wolf. And his wolf wanted to do exactly what Stiles was saying. It didn't matter that Stiles was already pregnant, it didn't matter that there was no way he could fuck another baby into him, it didn't stop his wolf from wanting to try.
"Fuck yes," Peter growled, taking a deep breath through his nose to center himself when he felt his claws itching to extend. No matter how strongly his wolf was fighting to pull to the surface, he couldn't give in, not if he was going to hurt Stiles or the baby in the process. Too bad his anchor was the one who was taunting him, teasing the wolf to come out and play.
A few deep inhales from the base of Stiles' neck, and he was finally able to see straight. Stiles was all but purring, rolling his body into the touch with pleased little noises that went straight to Peter's dick.
"Please Peter," Stiles asked him again, in no way deterred by the way his eyes kept flashing their Alpha red, "I need you to fill me up. Want you to cover me in your come, drench me in it, paint me with it, please."
If this was what Peter had to look forward to in the way of pregnancy hormones, he didn't know if he would survive the next nine months. His fangs were dying to drop into his mouth and he was all but drooling at the way Stiles' body was moving, undulating on the bed in the most obscene way. Peter didn't think he could take much more of it. With one quick check of his fingers to make sure his claws weren't peeking out, Peter opened the lube and covered his fingers in it, not caring that he was probably staining their new sheets in the process.
Seeing what Peter was doing through half-lidded eyes, Stiles immediately turned himself over, thrusting his ass in the air in invitation. Peter almost choked on the saliva in his mouth at the sight. He had never had the pleasure of seeing Stiles in that position, having only ever fucked the man once before, and what a sight it was. Stiles inched up on his elbows and arched his back, pushing his ass even further into the air until Peter's slick fingers were right in front of his hole. He was fucking presenting for Peter and it was the hottest thing Peter had ever seen. He wiped his mouth with the back of his clean hand and groaned.
Before he could get distracted again, Peter brought his fingers up to Stiles' hole, lovingly caressing it with his fingertips and then tapping on it. Stiles keened, enjoying the sensation of a little roughness on his most sensitive place. Reading Stiles' body language loud and clear, Peter tapped a little harder, all but smacking Stiles’ pucker with three stiff fingers.
"Oh God, Peter," Stiles moaned, turning his face back to look over his shoulder. Peter lost himself for a minute looking at that beautiful face. Mole-framed mouth open and panting, eyes wide and bright, Peter's cock throbbed harder, reminding him of his own need. He hoped his fingers would be enough to prep Stiles for his knot. He had rimmed him for a good twenty minutes before this point the last time, and he wasn't sure how much Stiles' body really needed before he was ready to take everything Peter had to give. Normally he wouldn't even assume he was going to be on top, let alone give Stiles his knot, but the way his mate had been begging for it, he doubted he would make it out of the room alive without making good on the request.
"Shh, I know baby, I know," Peter told him, tapping on his hole a few more times before slipping his middle finger inside. Peter longed to put his mouth there as well, but the artificial smell of the lube stopped him. He would have to prep Stiles the old fashioned way.
One finger quickly became two, but Stiles kept spurring him on, asking for Peter to just fuck him already. Peter was dying to, but he knew he had to be thorough. There was no way he was going to hurt his mate over sex, no matter how much they both needed it.
Peter twisted his fingers and reached his other hand around to start stroking Stiles' rock-hard erection. Stiles jerked in his hand like he had been electrified, back arched and head thrown back, just barely able to keep himself up on his elbows. Peter could feel the way Stiles trembled with every flick of his wrist, getting closer and closer to bursting. He couldn't decide if he wanted to let Stiles come like that, or if he wanted to make his writhing mess of a mate wait until they were tied.
Feeling a bit evil after the way Stiles had been teasing him, Peter abruptly dropped his hand from Stiles' dick, smirking at the heart-wrenching whine that the action pulled from his mate’s throat. He couldn't help but be pleased at the power he still had over Stiles' body, considering the way his mate seemed to be able to force his hand with a few well-chosen words. It wouldn’t do for Stiles to have all the fun.
"Peter, please, can you just fuck me already?" Stiles pleaded with him, turning his head to look over his shoulder once more.
"Not until you're ready," Peter shot back at him, smiling at the sassy eye roll his mate gave him. Stiles hung his head in grim acceptance, waiting for Peter to get back to his prep-work. Peter hurriedly added his third finger, spreading the digits wide in an attempt to stretch Stiles as quickly as he could.
"Just a bit more, baby," Peter crooned, adding more lube to his hand as he attempted to slide his pinky finger into Stiles' body. It was a tight fit, but he made it inside. Peter knew he would have to get his mate’s hole a lot looser before he could stuff his knot inside like Stiles kept begging him to, so he slowly rocked his hand back and forth, grazing over Stiles' prostate with every pass. He looked down at his own cock which was standing straight out from his body, as hard as he had ever been. He gave himself a quick squeeze, trying to hold himself back from the edge. In the future he would have to stretch Stiles out before he got himself so worked up.
Peter felt like his whole body was burning. He could feel the sweat dripping down his chest and off the back of his hairline, weaving through the creases of his back muscles. Now he knew how Stiles felt, waking up so needy and desperate. Why eat an omelette when you could have this? The crazy, wild feeling that had you all but crawling out of your own skin, desperate to get inside someone else's. Peter understood it, even if he thought Stiles was a little bit insane, he still understood. There was something about the man that could drive him to the edge in the best way possible, and now he was carrying Peter's pup. What had he ever done to get so lucky?
Peter slipped his hand out of Stiles' body, pulling a long, high-pitched whine from his mate. He just needed to see how stretched Stiles was before he went any further. Stiles' hole didn't close completely, but it wasn't as puffy and wide open as the last time Peter had prepped him. He wasn't sure fingers would be enough. When Stiles' whine got to a fever pitch, Peter dove back in, getting the first two fingers of each hand inside and pulling them apart. He pulled one hand back just to get a bit more lube into Stiles' body and then went back in with the first three fingers of each hand, pulling and stretching until he could see inside.
It was completely obscene. He was looking directly into his mate's core, and his cock was one good thrust away from exploding. Stiles looked wet and warm and so very pink, just waiting to be filled up. Peter thrust and pulled with his fingers, stretching Stiles' hole as wide as it would go. He looked down at his dick and pictured his knot, which he had never actually seen before, wondering if it would fit.
"For the love of God, Peter, just fucking get in me already," Stiles moaned, rocking his ass up and down, wriggling to get a bit more of Peter's fingers. "I can take it."
"Good," Peter said, hoping Stiles was telling the truth, "because I can't wait anymore."
Without another word, Peter slicked up his cock and lined himself up, thrusting in with one long, slow stroke. Peter withdrew just as slowly, watching the way Stiles' rim clung to his dick, shrinking down to fit perfectly around his cockhead. The ridge was hot, red, and raw looking, pulsing in time with his frantic heartbeat. He took a deep breath and thrust back inside, pulling a groan from Stiles, who was just barely supporting his weight.
Peter gave a few more hard thrusts but realized he wasn't at the right angle. He didn't want to just fuck Stiles, he wanted to rock his world. Looking down quickly to assess the situation, Peter lowered his body down to the bed, easing himself slowly as to not pull out. He settled in on his elbows, threading his arms under his mate and linking his fingers at the nape of Stiles' neck, pressing him down into the mattress.
"Oh fuck," Stiles murmured, unable to turn his head to the side by the way Peter was holding him down. Resigned to being unable to catch his breath, Stiles gasped in as much as he could as Peter thrust into him fiercely. He built up a punishing rhythm, snapping his hips against Stiles' ass, angling them just right until he was nailing his mate’s prostate with every stroke. Stiles cried out, voice still muffled by the bedding.
Peter grit his teeth, trying to hold on a bit longer, but he could feel his orgasm approaching, dick beginning to swell at the base. He thrust harder, trying his best to bring Stiles off before he completely lost it. Stiles’ moans had given way to incoherent babbling. Peter caught every fifth word, things like knot , and fuck , and harder , that only served to spur Peter on, hips driving faster and hands clenching tighter. Stiles hissed when his dick rubbed harder on the comforter, giving him barely enough friction to get off. He was dying for Peter to put a hand on him, but somehow, he knew his mate could get him there without laying a finger on his dick.
Peter was loathe to leave his current position, but knowing Stiles needed something more, he unclasped his hands, keeping one on the back of Stiles' neck but bringing the other one up to take both of Stiles' wrists and press them down into the bed, abruptly taking any leverage that Stiles had away from him. With a few more powerful thrusts, Peter could feel Stiles' hole clench and flutter around him as he reached his climax, all but screaming into his pillow. Peter was thankful that he had put extra soundproofing in their bedroom as that noise might have brought Derek running if he had heard it.
Stiles' hole squeezed him rhythmically with every rope of come he spurted onto the mattress. He was going to need to do some serious laundry when they were finished. The way Stiles clenched down on his dick had him worried. He needed his mate to be more relaxed than that if he was going to take his knot, and the throbbing at the base of his cock told him that he was just seconds away from tying them together.
Peter abruptly released Stiles' head and arms from the bed and pulled back up onto his knees. Grabbing the lube that was just barely in reach, Peter poured a bit more onto his thrusting cock and brought his hand back up to Stiles' hole. On his next thrust inward, Peter slipped two of his fingers in alongside his cock, pulling another scream from Stiles. Thankfully his nose told him that it was a pleased noise instead of a painful one, and he continued stretching Stiles out around himself.
"Come on Peter, I'm ready," Stiles panted, finally able to catch his breath by turning his head to the side. "Knot me, fill me up, make me yours."
"Mine!" Peter growled out, feeling his eyes flash as he removed his fingers and buried himself in Stiles' ass, knot swelling at the slur of filthy words that fell from Stiles’ lips.
"That's it baby, stretch me wide, I wanna feel you for days," Stiles said, heart rate ratcheting up a bit once Peter was pushing against his inner walls. "Fill me up, Peter. Until it's dripping out over my thighs. Soak the sheets. Make them smell like us."
Peter couldn't handle the words, they had his head swimming and his nose twitching, excited at the visual Stiles' description was giving him. "Yes, fuck, yes," he answered, pushing his knot even further into Stiles, swiveling his hips when he was in as far as he could go. With a deep exhale, Peter's body relaxed. His knees felt weak, and he used his last bit of energy to pull Stiles' back against his chest and lay them down on their sides.
Peter whined high in his throat, enjoying the almost painful way his orgasm was pulled out of him, going on for long minutes. He could tell when Stiles' breath evened out in sleep, and waited him out, rolling his hips in gentle motions as he continued to fill up his mate. About twenty minutes went by before he heard Stiles’ voice again.
"You know we're going to have to stop doing this once the baby is born," Stiles mumbled sleepily, pushing his ass back into Peter's thighs in a gentle motion. "I don't think a condom is going to be able to stand up to what you have going on back there."
"Hmm, no I guess not," Peter agreed, rumbling his pleasure into the back of Stiles' neck as he continued to pulse his release into his mate's body. “That and it’d probably be irresponsible of us to stay tied together while our pup was crying.”
"We'll just have to enjoy the fuck out of it for the next eight months then," Stiles told him, turning his head until he could catch Peter's face out of the corner of his eye. Peter hummed in agreement, rocking his hips forward and grinding himself against Stiles' body, curving against him as tight as possible. "How much longer you think you got?" Stiles asked, perking up a bit after his nap.
"I'm not sure," Peter said through clenched teeth, "a few minutes maybe?"
"Sounds like a challenge to me," Stiles said, thrusting his ass back hard and bringing a hand up to stroke his own cock. Peter growled, knocking Stiles' hand out of the way and taking his dick in hand himself. Stiles groaned at the touch, having missed it earlier. Suddenly at a loss with what to do with his own hands, Stiles stuck a few fingers in his mouth and sucked.
The noise of Stiles' moaning around his own fingers had Peter grinding even harder, sharply spurting a few jets of come into his mate instead of the slow pulses that he had come to expect late into his knotting. Stiles slurped on his fingers, getting them as wet as possible before reaching a long arm behind them both and rubbing against Peter's hole. Peter jerked his hips at the sensation, not expecting it at all, but the dual pressure of Stiles' tight ass around his knot and his fingers pressing in had him groaning loudly.
Stiles smirked when Peter buried his face into his neck, biting down hard on the tendon in Stiles' throat as he sped up his hand, stripping Stiles' cock as quickly as he could. Stiles wanted to give as good as he got, so he slipped in a second finger and wiggled his hand, unable to reach Peter's prostate from the angle he was at, but eager to stimulate his rim to the best of his ability.
Peter shivered at Stiles' touch, mouthing at the long line of his pale neck, running his tongue between the beauty marks as he continued to stroke Stiles' dick. With one particularly hard thrust of Stiles' hand, Peter moaned low and long, spasming into another true orgasm instead of the weak spurts he was getting before. The intensity of Peter's pulsing dick and the way he was flicking his wrist had Stiles orgasming as well, spilling his release with a long groan.
Stiles felt the way Peter continued to fill him and trailed his free hand down his body to rest over the small bulge in his stomach. Soon that bulge would actually be a baby like Peter had thought the first time they were tied, not a sperm baby like it was right now. Ew , Stiles thought. Best not to think about that too long. It definitely turned him on, but he could still admit that it sounded gross out of context.
Completely satisfied, Peter felt his knot begin to go down, thankfully not tying them together for the entire day. When it was safe to pull away, Peter let his dick slip out of Stiles' body along with a rush of wetness, which slid down Stiles' balls in a slow stream. Peter couldn't help himself, he used his fingers to gather up as much as he could and then brought them to his lips, licking and sucking at the liquid. He fingered at Stiles' loose hole a little more until his fingers were covered again and then brought them to Stiles' mouth. A sleepy Stiles didn't even protest, just stuck out his tongue and let Peter rub his fingers back and forth there before closing his lips around them and sucking.
Peter rubbed his nose along Stiles' throat, reveling in their combined scent. "You can sleep for a bit, but then you have to get up and eat something," Peter murmured.
"Okay, then I guess we need to think about what we're going to tell dad," Stiles said, wriggling until he was in a comfortable napping position.
"I think we should tell Derek when you get up. He might be able to hear the baby once you leave the room anyway."
"Okay. Then we'll invite dad over after. Derek can help ease him into it," Stiles said, pulling on Peter's arm until he could rest his head on a firm bicep.
"I'm not sure how you think Derek is going to help, but sure," Peter said, stifling a yawn with his free hand.
"Think he would take a bullet for you?" Stiles asked, smiling and letting his eyes close at the same time.
"Unlikely. Think we can make a ‘no wolfsbane in the house’ rule?" Peter countered.
"Unlikely," Stiles said, pressing a kiss to Peter's forehead before falling asleep.