Archive of Our Own

It was a near thing his phone didn’t clatter to the floor when his hand grew slack from shock. The caller continued speaking, unaware that she wasn’t heard anymore. He could still hear her talking, but none of it made any sense to him. Only two words registered in his brain; two words he never wanted to hear in the same sentence, at least not without a negative – a father and a hospital. His father was in hospital.

“Mister Stilinski? Are you still there?”

Startling out of his sudden stupor, Stiles realized the nurse was still on the line.

“Huh? Oh, sorry! I’m here,” Stiles said, willing himself to concentrate. “Could you… Could you repeat that, please?”

“Of course,” the nurse answered, sounding deeply sympathetic. “I am calling to inform you that your father has just been admitted into St. Mary’s Hospital. He was moved straight into surgery after suffering two bullet wounds. Unfortunately, there is currently no further information available on his condition, but the surgery is expected to last from three to five hours. You are welcome to come and wait until he is out of surgery, but it is highly unlikely you will be able to see him straight away.”

Images – memories – from the time his mother was dying in the hospital kept surfacing one after another; same things that still plagued his dreams regularly. White halls, people in hospital clothes, the smell of sickness and disinfectant, the heaviness in the air… The proximity of death everywhere.

Stiles didn’t remember finishing the call, but he must have, because his phone was resting against his thigh, the call no longer connected. He fleetingly hoped he hadn’t just rudely hung up on the nurse, but then the complete irrelevancy of the thought in his current situation struck him. His chuckling wasn’t that far from turning into hysterical laughter.

His faster had been shot. His father. Shot.

Stiles realized he wasn’t standing anymore but collapsed into the closest chair. His hands were shaking, but he felt strangely disconnected from everything. It all just felt so unreal. It was supposed to be unreal. This was never supposed to happen. Not outside his nightmares.

A few wandering students gave him curious looks, but thankfully nobody approached him. He had left in the middle of his lecture on Positive Psychology to answer his phone, so all his stuff was still in the classroom. There was no chance Stiles would actually return to retrieve them. His face most definitely showed the state of his mind right now, and he had no intention of explaining himself. He’d just have to come later to get his books and notes.

After the initial shock started to fade, the fog that had taken over his mind became thinner. It didn’t leave completely, not that Stiles expected it to. He knew the symptoms of acute stress reaction well enough. He had been through it before, and even if he hadn’t, he was majoring in Psychology. It would be embarrassing to not recognize the symptoms.

No matter how much he’d rather list in his mind the symptoms of emotional shock and the ways to treat it, Stiles knew he had to do something. He couldn’t just sit there and wait for it all to be a dream. That was something he had done as a child after learning about his mother’s death, and he liked to think he had learned better ways of coping now that he was older.

His father was in hospital. That was a fact that wasn’t changing any time soon. His father had been shot and was undergoing surgery at this exact moment, fighting for his life.

A sob slipped past Stiles’ lips against his wishes, and he slammed his hand over his mouth to block any more noises. What should he do? How was he supposed to handle this situation? As a future psychologist, what would he say to a patient in his situation? How could he help himself?

The answer was fairly simple when he thought about what he needed, and that was Derek. Derek always knew how to calm him down. Besides, Derek was a police officer like his dad – the pair actually worked together, Derek being the sheriff’s deputy – so there was a good chance he’d know more about what happened.

Shaky fingers found the right contact information and pressed the call button. The time between each beep of the waiting tone felt thrice longer than normal. Concentrating on keeping his breathing calm, Stiles anxiously waited for the call to connect. It never did.

Feeling a new worry awakening, Stiles tried again and waited. When the call ended again with no one answering, Stiles temporarily lost the rhythm of his breathing. It took a lot to force himself to keep calm, because all his body and mind wanted to do was crumble with a panic attack. A terrible hunch led Stiles into checking the local news site. He hoped to God he was just paranoid, but on some level he already knew he wouldn’t find any comfort from there. And there it was. A shootout at Beacon Hills’ police station – two dead and several injured.

Stiles felt like he was falling.

Stiles forced himself to stand up and to start walking. The impending panic attack was churning under his skin, just waiting for a chance to take over. And it would, sooner than later. There was no evading it. He just needed to find some private place, where he could fall apart without anyone seeing. He thought about Scott, but his best friend was out of town, and while he didn’t stop calling Derek, he had already lost hope of reaching his boyfriend.

Deep breaths, Stilinski. Slowly. No panicking on campus.

Wetness on Stiles’ cheeks revealed his eyes could no longer hold back the tears. His father was dying and Derek might already be dead. It didn’t matter to Stiles that the latter was highly unlikely, Derek being a werewolf. It wasn’t impossible for the Hunters to be behind the shootout, and if they were…

It didn’t surprise Stiles that with tears came sobbing. He couldn’t do this alone. He didn’t want to do this alone. He could have tried calling Lydia, but she was studying on the other side of the country, so there really was only one person he could think of reaching out to. One person who might be able to keep him from completely falling apart.

Now that Erica would be starting her maternity leave in a few weeks’ time, Peter was forced to look for a temporary replacement. As a co-manager, Boyd was in charge of hiring new employees, but the final word would always be Peter’s. In the light of that, the two of them were at the moment going through a list of the most promising candidates for the soon-to-be vacated position of Midas’ bartender. It was ridiculous how many of the applicants were clearly clueless they were applying for a job at a BDSM club, so a huge part of the applications had gone straight to the bin. Neither Boyd nor Peter had time to entertain those who didn’t even bother getting acquitted with the place they wanted to get a job from. Hiring an employee to a BDSM club was much harder than to normal bars or clubs. The person needed to be open-minded with all kinds of things and people, in addition to being a professional, of course. Being involved in the scene was a bonus but not a requirement. Boyd actually already knew who he wanted to hire, but he kept quiet while Peter went through the five best applications.

The office door slamming open surprised them both.

Now those who worked for Peter knew – or should have known – better than to just charge inside the club owner’s office without knocking, it being one of the man’s pet peeves, so sharp words of irritation were already on Peter’s lips when he turned to face whoever had dared to interrupt his meeting with Boyd so crudely.

“What have I said about –“ Peter started, voice laced with annoyance, but the words died in his mouth when he recognized his uninvited and highly unexpected guest. “Stiles?”

Peter rarely saw his nephew’s boyfriend without Derek being present, mostly because they were all aware that Peter was yearning to bed Stiles and would do it if the younger man gave any indication he was willing, so it wasn’t surprising that Stiles and Peter rarely spent any time alone together. However, this time Derek was nowhere to be found, and the panicked look in Stiles’ eyes was alarming enough to make Peter forget any intentions of trying to seduce the boy like he normally would have done.

“What’s wrong?”

Stiles’ eyes flickered from Peter to Boyd and back. It didn’t take a genius to understand Stiles was bothered by the audience. “Boyd, could you leave us for a minute?”

The bouncer slash co-manager nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. Those few seconds gave Peter some time to regard Stiles more closely, to note the light shaking of his limbs and the way his fingernails were burrowed deeply into his palms. Yet the most worrying sign was the shallow, quickened breathing and the anxious look in the young man’s eyes. Peter had never seen him this upset.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” he repeated, moving his chair a little sideways so he would be able to leave his desk more easily. What he didn’t expect was for Stiles to walk past his desk and suddenly fall to his knees between Peter’s legs.

The sight caused a completely inappropriate flare of arousal as Peter watched the younger man rest his head against Peter’s thigh. It wasn’t often that the club owner was unsure of how to react, but this was definitely one of those times, and it didn’t exactly help seeing submission from someone he had wanted to dominate for some time now. The timing was, however, definitely wrong to even entertain those kinds of thoughts. The young man was clearly distraught.

Seeing that Stiles was very close to hyperventilating and dipping into a full-blown panic attack, Peter slipped his hand around the younger man’s neck and took a firm hold.

“Breathe with me, Stiles. In… hold,” Peter directed and applied some pressure to the front of Stiles’ windpipe, “and out. Again. Deep breath.”

Peter patiently guided Stiles’ breathing to slow down, never truly hindering the submissive’s breathing, the soft pressure of his thumb merely meant to emphasize his words and offer Stiles something else to concentrate on than his anxiety-inducing thoughts. It didn’t take that long for Stiles to start adapting to the new, slower breathing rhythm.

“Good boy. That’s it.”

Even though Stiles seemed to have finally gotten his breathing under control, it was clear his body was still thrumming with anxiety and that another panic attack wouldn’t be far behind – not if he was left alone to deal with it. Not that Peter intended to do anything like that. He was far too concerned about what could have caused this kind of behavior in the first place.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Peter asked when he deemed Stiles calm enough to actually communicate with words. “Tell me.”

“Please…”

A pathetic sob left the sub, and Peter immediately started to massage Stiles’ stiff neck muscles.

“What do you need, child?”

A few shaky breaths left Stiles. “G-ground me.”

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, because the request was more than a little unexpected. Watching Stiles and Derek from the sidelines had taught Peter that the submission Stiles craved was purely sexual, so for him to ask something like that from Peter was startling. To be fair, it wasn’t that Peter didn’t want to. He very much did. He just wasn’t enough of an asshole – regardless of what everyone thought – to do something like that without knowing the reason behind the younger man’s plea.

Taking a strong hold of the sub’s chin, Peter forced him to meet his eyes.

“Where’s Derek?”

The words made such intense pain flare in Stiles’ eyes that Peter wasn’t surprised when the sub hid his face against Peter’s thigh, trying to hide the few tears that fell down his cheeks.

“I don’t know.” The broken sob was heartbreaking and so very alarming, especially when followed by uncontrollable crying. It became clear to Peter that he wouldn’t be able to get any more information out of Stiles without calming him down first, and that seemed to be possible only by doing what he had asked him to do.

So be it then.

Peter had always found it amazing to watch experienced submissives sense the change in atmosphere almost immediately, even if they were scening with unfamiliar Doms. Even wrapped in his grief Stiles reacted quickly to the slight change in Peter’s touch, realizing the intention behind the contact had changed.

A quiet gasp left Stiles’ lips, and he opened his eyes to give Peter a look mixed with relief and gratitude.

“Hands behind your back, sweetheart,” Peter instructed, smiling at the younger man. “Now turn around for me. Head to the floor.”

One of the drawers of his mahogany desk hid inside a few meters of rope that Peter started wrapping around Stiles’ wrists. The idea of using Stiles as a shibari model was very alluring, but at the moment a very basic knot work was more than enough.

The time spent tying Stiles’ wrists together gave Peter a moment to decide how to proceed from there, although it also gave him time to worry. He very much wanted to call his nephew, but if Stiles hadn’t been able to reach him and Derek still hadn’t called his boyfriend back, it was very unlikely Peter would be successful.

After checking the rope wasn’t too tight, Peter slid his hand from Stiles’ bound wrists to his neck, following the slight bumps of vertebrae until he could wrap his fingers around the throat. A gentle pull was enough to guide the sub up to a sitting position between the older man’s legs, and a flick of Peter’s wrist was enough to make Stiles bend his head and bare his neck.

Not willing to deny himself the pleasure, Peter bent to nose along the line of Stiles’ neck, breathing in the younger man’s distinct smell. Oh, he was very much enjoying this, regardless of the circumstances. No reason to not seize the chance. This might very well be the only time he’d ever have a chance to touch Stiles this way.

“Is that better?” Peter asked, tugging the ropes binding the sub’s wrists and getting an affirming if a little shaky nod in answer. “But it’s not enough, is it?”

---

Stiles didn’t have to see to know Peter was smirking. No, it’s not enough, he wanted to say, but words still had trouble getting past his lips, so he merely nodded. No doubt the older man would soon get fed up with his inability to convey his thoughts through words; it was already unusual that the Dom had let him get away with as much as he had. Peter was one of those who greatly valued communication during scenes, and he had no patience for brats. Not that Stiles was a brat. Well, at least not when scening. Most of the time. Sometimes the situation just called for a little brattiness.

Peter’s hand had stayed where he had left it when pulling Stiles up, still cupping the younger man’s throat firmly and keeping his head bent slightly backwards. It was hard to say if the man knew how sensitive Stiles’ neck was or how essential touching it was in pulling him into submission, but it was not unlikely that Peter had picked up on it while observing Stiles with Derek. Or perhaps it was just his experience as a Dom showing. Whatever it was, Stiles already felt himself slipping under the calm haze of submissive mindset. It wasn’t as hard as he had thought to give up control to someone else than Derek.

“How do you want me to ground you?”

The question shouldn’t have been surprising, Peter not possessing the skills of a mind reader – thank god for that – but it still caught Stiles off-guard. He opened his mouth, hoping that something would come out this time. His failure to answer once again ended up with a frustrated whimper, but this time Peter wasn’t having any of that.

“Face me.”

Hearing the displeasure in the Dom’s voice made Stiles feel like shit, and he turned around as quickly as he could while still on his knees and without the help of his hands.

“Look at me,” Peter ordered, his voice now clearly demanding.

Light brown eyes met blue, and the intensity in Peter’s eyes took Stiles by surprise. He wanted to lower his eyes just a little bit more, so he wouldn’t have to meet the Dom’s eyes straight on, but he didn’t dare; Peter looked like he had reached his capacity with avoidance.

“Stiles, I do not know you well enough to help you,” he admonished. “You need to tell me what you need.”

But what did he need? It was always harder to think about that than the shoulds, woulds, or coulds, but what he needed was to give up control; to calm down so that he wouldn’t panic. And honestly, he did know how to get there. It just never got any easier to ask for it out loud.

“U-use me?” It took a few tries opening his mouth with no sound coming out, but he did finally cough up the words. Peter’s irises dilated slightly with lust, but that was the only indication that the words had any kind of effect on him. Well, along with the change in his voice.

“Is that what you need, Stiles?” Peter purred sinfully, making Stiles gasp as his arousal spiked. Sure, Peter had used that exact tone with him before, but mostly just to tease him. It was completely different to hear it in a context where something was actually going to happen between them.

The fingers that snapped right in front of Stiles’ face pulled him quickly back to the present. Blushing, Stiles tried to lower his head, but Peter’s fingers were quick to tilt his head back up again. This time Stiles couldn’t bring himself to meet Peter’s gaze, and luckily for him, the Dom didn’t demand that of him.

When a thumb saved his lip from his teeth, Stiles realized he had been biting it in his nervousness.

“Stiles, I don’t want you to think later that I took advantage of you, so I need one last confirmation. I’ll take over after that,” Peter promised. “What do you need? Use your words.”

Peter’s thumb never left Stiles’ lips, caressing them gently. A quick dip inside the mouth and a swipe of his finger were enough for Peter to wet Stiles’ lower lip with spit. The action was highly distractive, but in a good way, as it helped him not get too self-conscious about the words that finally tumbled past his lips.

“P-please, Peter. Use me. I need it so much. I-I can’t…”

The words got stuck there, the thought of how much he truly needed this and why almost making Stiles hyperventilate again.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You did good,” Peter crooned. “Breathe, love.”

The praise and endearments were enough to calm Stiles, and when Peter moved his hand to cup one side of his face, Stiles gladly nuzzled against the hand, closing his eyes contently. He couldn’t stop wondering if Peter had also caught that Stiles had a bit of a praise kink from watching Derek and Stiles interact with each other.

“Red for stop and yellow for slow down or discuss,” Peter reminded. “Repeat it if you understand.”

Stiles did. It raised a small smile on his lips to realize how careful Peter was with safe words even though the traffic lights system was quite universally known and used.

“Good boy. You can let go now. Let me take care of you.”

The relief of knowing Stiles could leave all to Peter for a moment was exactly what he needed. For now, he could just concentrate on serving the Dom and not think about anything else.

Stiles let his neck be bent slightly backwards, keeping all his muscles relaxed and trusting Peter to take care of him. The hand behind his neck was firm and felt like safety. Not even the sudden prick of sharp werewolf nails could make him change his opinion on the matter, instead it just strengthened it. Knowing that someone who could easily snap his neck or cut his throat was caring for him made it seem like nothing could hurt him at that moment.

---

Tracing the skin over the biggest veins on Stiles’ neck with his sharp nails, Peter mulled over where to take things from there. Without usual conversations about limits and triggers, it ruled out a lot of things Peter felt comfortable doing with Stiles. He wouldn’t have liked anything more than to fuck the young man kneeling between his knees, but that would mean betraying both Stiles and Derek’s trust. The sub was in no condition to give his full consent to anything – he probably wouldn’t even object to being fucked. The lifestyle they were living might consist of playing, but it was nothing one could take carelessly.

Finally coming to a decision, Peter pulled Stiles back up, taking note how glazed the sub’s eyes already looked; the poor boy must have really needed to go under if he could let go so quickly with an unfamiliar Dom.

“You’re doing great. I’ve got you.” The small smile that appeared at the corners of Stiles’ mouth was truly breathtakingly beautiful.

“I was thinking about filling that sweet mouth of yours with something else,” Peter said conversationally while returning his thumb to caress Stiles’ soft lips. He took close notice how his proposition was received.

“Please,” Stiles sighed, daring to slip Peter’s thumb inside his mouth and teasingly suck on it.

Red colored the Dom’s eyes for a fraction of a second. “Show me how much you want it.”

Apparently not needing any more encouragement, Stiles moved to nuzzle Peter’s groin, trying to coach the Dom’s cock towards hardness. It was amusing to see the younger man struggling without the help of his hands, but after a while Peter took pity on him – for both of their sakes, really. Peter moved to unzip his jeans and to release himself from his boxers. A werewolf’s quick reflexes came handy when he had to grab a hold of Stiles’ hair and pull to prevent the younger man from getting to his cock yet. A disappointed groan made Peter chuckle.

“Patience, sweetheart. You’ll get your chance soon.”

It had always been entertaining for Peter to watch the different ways people reacted to his piercing the first time they saw it. Most were horrified or turned on by his Prince Albert piercing as they saw the curved barbell going through the urethra and exiting through the top of the glans. Stiles was no exception, the look on his face slightly horrified and also fascinated.

One of the perks Peter appreciated about being a werewolf was that there was no danger of getting or transmitting STIs; a werewolf had to use a condom only to prevent pregnancy. That combined with being gay should have guaranteed Peter a very condom-free sex life, but unfortunately not many of Peter’s partners knew of his supernatural inheritance, so condoms it was. But with Stiles there was no need.

Stiles whined, clearly frustrated the cock he was desperate to lick was just a few centimeters from his mouth. A painful groan followed his try to shorten that distance, but Peter’s hold of his hair was relentless.

“You are a lovely sight, so desperate for my cock.”

Most of the subs blushed after hearing something like that, but Stiles seemed to feel no shame in showing his need now that he had gotten over his initial shyness.

“Peter, please!”

And who was he to deny such a pretty plea?

“Tongue out.”

Obeying immediately, Stiles pushed his tongue out and hummed contently when Peter touched it with the tip of his cock. However, the pleasure was short-lived, when the sub got too greedy and tried to lick.

Peter tutted. “Keep still.”

Stiles whimpered, but this time kept his tongue still, letting Peter use his body the way the Dom wanted. Peter smiled at the eagerness in the younger man’s eyes. He had always thought Stiles and oral fetish were synonyms.

Peter waited until the sub’s tongue started twitching with strain before plunging into the waiting mouth, but only after telling the younger man to tap his thigh thrice if he wanted to stop. They both groaned in pleasure, both finally getting what they wanted. Stiles’ mouth felt heavenly, and so did his throat, when it constricted around the head of Peter’s cock.

It took a few tries to get Stiles’ gag reflex under control, the piercing probably making it a foreign experience for the younger man. When he was able to take the whole length, Peter forced Stiles to stay on his cock for a few seconds longer than the sub was clearly used to, pulling out only just before the panic of suffocating settled in. Peter repeated this a few times, to make it clear to the sub that he had all the control and it was his choice when to pull out and how long to stay inside. Any kind of breath play was always a risk if not negotiated beforehand, but taking control of something as essential as one’s breathing was a sure way to test a sub’s trust. For Stiles it didn’t take long to accept and trust that Peter wouldn’t cause him any harm. One couldn’t give up the control of their reflexes just like that, the instinct to struggle to breathe too strong, but to see Stiles calming down and trusting the Dom to look after his well-being despite the task being physically challenging… It was beautiful.

It had always been both humbling and empowering to see someone trust so much that they were willing and able to give up all control to Peter. It was something he would always cherish. Those dominants who thought that submissives were in some way weaker than them couldn’t have been more wrong. It was much harder to give up the control than to take it. That alone was enough to reveal which one was the strongest.

“Good boy,” Peter cooed. “You should see yourself. Absolutely perfect for me.”

A quick glance at Stiles’ groin revealed a noticeable bulge, and Peter was glad the sub was able to get pleasure from getting his throat fucked. Peter pondered for a moment if he should just use Stiles like the boy had asked to or would it be okay to give him a little more free rein. In the end, the choice wasn’t that hard. He was a selfish man, after all. There was no denying that.

Enjoying for a moment longer how Stiles struggled to give up the control of his breathing, Peter finally pulled the sub completely off his cock. “You are doing so good, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”

Stiles hummed contently, resting his cheek against Peter’s thigh again and enjoying the fingers petting his head. It was only fair to give the sub a chance to catch his breath again.

“Now, you should know that I will come fucking your throat, but before that, I’d like to find out what else that mouth of yours can do,” Peter told. “Show me how you suck cock, beautiful. Show me how you’d please me.”

When those puffed lips wrapped around him and took his cock slowly to the hilt, Peter groaned, eyes flashing red. Letting Stiles do whatever he wanted had absolutely been the best decision, because the sub’s mouth was sinful. Stiles took some time playing with the piercing, clearly fascinated by it, and didn’t forget to pay some attention to the Dom’s balls too.

All the sounds Stiles was making were driving Peter crazy. Not all subs liked giving head, but it clearly was something Stiles enjoyed doing. Derek was without doubt a very satisfied boyfriend.

Peter let Stiles bring him to the edge of orgasm before taking the reins back, fucking the willing mouth just the way he wanted and coming down the sub’s throat with a ‘Fuck!’ and a loud groan.

Peter took a moment to steady his breathing, enjoying the way Stiles suckled him dry, making pleasurable after-shocks travel through his body. A look to his lap showed a very satisfied-looking Stiles gently nuzzling Peter’s softening cock, seemingly entirely content to just be there and breathe in the scent of the older man. The sight appealed to Peter’s wolf strongly.

“How are you feeling?” Peter chuckled when he got a satisfied hum in answer. “Good. Do you need to come?”

“Nah.”

The poor boy’s voice sounded absolutely wrecked, and Peter moved to gently massage the abused throat. He wouldn’t have minded helping Stiles with his erection, but he’d just have to live without it. The fact that the sub was calm enough to say no was a promising sign.

“Alright. Take a moment. You did good.”

---

It took a while for Stiles to feel clear-headed again. He was exhausted and his throat hurt, but he had gotten exactly what he had wanted. He felt calmer, more in control. Although if he hadn’t been too tired to feel shy, he would have blushed when he realized how near his face was to Peter’s unclothed cock.

Stiles’ hands were free again, Peter having freed them a while ago, and the Dom had made him sip from a water bottle. In all honesty, Stiles didn’t really want to move. That would alert Peter, and that in turn would be followed by questions he could no longer escape. Not that he could evade reality forever. It was just that the fingers massaging his scalp felt amazing and kept him lulled in a hazy state of satisfaction, and Stiles wasn’t quite willing to put a stop to that yet.

“Tell me what brought this on.”

Damn it.

Trying to delay answering, Stiles pulled back a little and cracked his stiff neck. Peter’s fingers immediately dropped from his hair to massage the kinks in his neck. The older man’s voice had been soft and undemanding, so Stiles entertained the possibility that he could still get away without answering. No such luck.

“Tell me what happened.”

This time the tone was clearly demanding, so Stiles finally gave up and let out a trembling sigh. “The police HQ was attacked. My father is in surgery and I couldn’t get hold of Derek.”

Peter’s hand had stilled against his neck. Stiles didn’t know how to read the silence that followed, so he continued with a broken tone. “It was on the news. Two dead and many injured.”

It was slightly unreal how safe Stiles felt when Peter’s grip tightened around his neck.

“I am sorry about your father, but I wouldn’t worry too much about Derek. He’s a werewolf, after all.”

“What if the attackers were Hunters? Some of them must know there are were-creatures in the police force.”

Basically all Hunters knew the Hales of Beacon Hills. If one of them realized a Hale worked as a policeman, they’d presume Derek was there to hide all crimes made by werewolves and to mislead the police when necessary.

“It’s possible, but I highly doubt that,” Peter said. “I’d imagine the station is in a bit of a chaos right now. He probably just wasn’t able to answer his phone.”

Peter sounded so sure it actually calmed some of Stiles’ fears. He was more thankful for the older man than he would ever be able to express.

“Do you know anything about your father’s injuries?”

“Just that he was shot twice.”

“Nothing about where he was hit?”

Stiles shook his head.

“So you have no reason to expect the worst,” Peter pointed out. “Give those two some credit. They are both excellent policemen. We will just have to wait until the situation calms down to hear more.”

Stiles sighed – and then choked down another sigh. It felt like sighing was turning out to be a permanent trait while communicating with Peter who instead was always so eloquent with his words. Talk about feeling inferior. Thankfully, it was easier to think rationally now that he wasn’t so close to panicking anymore, although the anxiety and the impromptu scene with Peter had left him exhausted. A yawn was a proof of that.

Peter chuckled. “Do you want to go rest upstairs for a while?”

He did, but not alone. “Will you come?”

“I’d like to, but I can’t. I have some business to take care of.”

Stiles just barely kept from whining. He wasn’t ready to let the Dom go just yet, not if he had a choice. And then coldness spread abruptly through Stiles, making him freeze. Oh god, I just barged in here and threw myself at him. He must have had more important things to do than listening to a whiny kid in the middle of his work day!

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” Stiles choked and tried to get up. He didn’t want to be any more of a selfish little shit than he had already been.

A strong hold of his neck prevented him from pulling away.

“Whatever ridiculous things you are thinking about, stop it,” Peter scolded, taking hold of Stiles’ chin and forcing him to meet his eyes. “You did exactly what Derek, your father, and I would have wanted you to do.” A pause. “Well, perhaps not your father.”

Stiles couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped him. No, his father probably wouldn’t have appreciated his chosen method of stress relief. So Peter wasn’t annoyed with him for interrupting his day. That was good.

“Can I stay a bit longer?”

If the choices were resting on a bed alone or kneeling for Peter, Stiles very much knew which he preferred. Luckily, the older man didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Of course, take as long as you need,” he promised. “Do you want to stay kneeling?”

“Please.”

“Alright. Go grab that pillow from the couch and put it under your knees.”

---

While Stiles retrieved the pillow, Peter fastened his jeans. After checking the ropes hadn’t chafed the sub’s wrists too badly, he then guided the young man back to his earlier position, letting him rest his head against Peter’s thigh. The Dom reached for the job applications he had been going through before Stiles came, scanning them absentmindedly while keeping a calming hand on the sub’s neck, petting him lazily. Not that he could concentrate on work quite yet.

Peter took a moment to just watch the young man between his legs. Stiles had raised his other hand on Peter’s thigh to cushion his head better. The boy looked quite content, dozing in Peter’s lap. It was impossible to not feel slightly smug. Stiles could have chosen to deal with this all alone or to go to one of his friends, but instead he had come to find Peter. The young man had been emotionally distraught when he came, but now he just looked exhausted; he didn’t exactly look peaceful, but he was calm and no longer in danger of having a panic attack.

Making sure Stiles didn’t notice, Peter picked up his phone and tried to call his nephew. He would never admit being concerned about his relative, but it was slightly worrisome Derek still wasn’t answering his phone. Waking up his computer, Peter checked the news, reading about the accident more closely. There was still no word about who had been killed or injured, but the attackers had been identified as former convicts, so at least they weren’t Hunters. Derek should be just fine.

Picking up his phone again, Peter turned on the camera app after making sure the sound was off and took a picture of the dozing sub in his lap.

To Derek:

Found something of yours. If you’re dead, I’ll keep him.

The smirk turned to a gentler smile only after putting the phone away and observing closely the younger man. He wasn’t used to feeling this much affection for anyone. Not after he had lost his family in the fire.

“Do you mind if I call Boyd back inside?” Peter asked after a while, and Stiles answered with a hum, not bothering to open his eyes.

The boy fell asleep soon after that.

The next time Peter saw his nephew, the latter looked like shit. Derek’s clothes were partly covered in blood, but most of it didn’t seem to be his own. It might have very well been the fact that he was a werewolf that had saved Derek’s life, but it was hard to say without closer inspection. Something that was not likely to happen, taking into consideration the expression the younger Hale was wearing.

“Where is he?” Derek immediately demanded after stepping into the office. He hadn’t knocked either.

“Oh, so you are alive,” Peter said sarcastically, still taking in the appearance of his relative and then grinned. “A shame, really. I wouldn’t have minded keeping him.”

Derek growled in warning, flashing his red eyes. “Fuck you, Peter. Where –”

The hushing and the annoyed look in Peter’s eyes was enough to silence Derek, although he did it grudgingly and wasn’t afraid to show that. He followed Peter’s gaze to the man’s lap and took a few steps further into the room, only then noticing his sleeping boyfriend kneeling between his uncle’s thighs.

“Why is he here?” The look on Derek’s face was both suspicious and bemused, not to mention jealous. Peter would have very much liked to use the situation to tease his nephew, but he took pity on the younger man who looked like he could use a shower and two nights’ sleep.

“In short? He heard his father was shot and in surgery, you didn’t answer his calls, and then he found out about the shooting. What do you think he’s doing here?”

A flicker of shame and sadness visited Derek’s face but faded away soon. “How bad was it?”

“What was?”

“The panic attack.” Derek’s eyes hadn’t moved from Stiles since he had seen him.

“I don’t think he actually had a proper one. He held himself together until he got here.”

The following growl was very clearly a sound from a possessive wolf. “What did you do?”

“Nothing he didn’t ask for.”

If he had been a nicer man, he might have said something to lay Derek’s fears to rest, but he wasn’t. Peter’s voice was firm and the look in his eyes challenging – he wasn’t going to reveal anything. For a while the pair just tried to stare each other down, neither of them budging. Not until Stiles grunted in his sleep, changing his position to a more comfortable one. Both of their eyes were once again directed at the youngest man in the room.

“He’s exhausted. Take the room upstairs and make sure he drinks something.”

“I know how to take care of my boyfriend,” Derek scoffed but was already gently prying Stiles away from Peter and lifting him against his chest.

“Of course you do,” Peter deadpanned, and for his own state of mind Derek refused to try interpreting his uncle’s tone which could have meant anything from sarcastic ‘Sure you do’ to outright denial or agreement of Derek’s statement. He was far too tired to rise to the bait.

By some miracle Derek did succeed in carrying Stiles to the upstairs bedroom without waking him up. The room was mostly used by employees who were too tired to go home after work or just needed a nap at some point. Derek laid the smaller man gently on the bed, tucking him in before using the adjoining bathroom for a quick shower to get rid of the sweat and blood he was covered in. After he was finished, it took less than two minutes for him to fall asleep after pulling his mate tightly against himself, something Stiles used to teasingly call aggressive cuddling. If there ever was a situation that called for something like that, Derek thought that this would be it.

Stiles woke up with no pain in his knees, which meant someone must have carried him to a bed or a couch at some point. The warm body spooning him from behind and the arm draped over his middle-section felt familiar, giving him a feeling of safety.

“Derek?” Stiles mumbled sleepily, not even half-awake yet.

“I’m here.” The drowsy answer was accompanied by a warm puff of air against the back of Stiles’ neck. Their position was very typical for them to wake up from, not least of all because its possessive nature strongly appealed to Derek’s wolf.

What Stiles wanted to do was continue sleeping, but something kept nagging at him, urging him towards wakefulness. Usually not much was important enough to come between Stiles and going back to sleep, so it was extremely annoying that he felt the need to wake up enough to be able to think more clearly to figure out what was bothering him.

It took a while, but when the realization finally came, Stiles startled quickly awake and turned around. Shaky fingers mapped Derek’s face, trying to make sure the older man was uninjured. Stiles’ moving jostled Derek enough to properly shake him out of his stupor as well. Before Stiles had more time than to open his mouth to say something, another pair of lips met his own. The comforting, close-mouthed kiss was answered with desperation.

“I’m fine, just tired,” Derek promised after breaking their lip lock, moving to gently cup Stiles’ cheeks between his hands. “Are you alright?”

Completely ignoring the question, Stiles glued himself to his boyfriend’s body, hiding his face in Derek’s neck. His hold was bordering painful, but Derek didn’t complain, just pressed their bodies as closely together as physically possible.

“I was so scared…” The voice sounded broken, nearly a sob.

“I know.” Derek pressed a kiss on the top of his boyfriend’s head. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t answer your calls. I was too busy helping the injured.”

Stiles sniffed. “What happened?”

“Three ex-cons broke into a department meeting and opened fire.”

It wasn’t that Stiles was angry at Derek for being unable to answer his phone, but it didn’t change the fact that he hated being out of the loop. Perhaps there was a way to mentally link them somehow, so they’d always know if one of them was injured, or worse, dead. He’d have to talk to Deaton at some point.

“Do you know anything about my father?”

Derek pulled away to reach for his phone on the side table and flicked through all the new messages he had received. He had called the hospital before joining Stiles after his shower, but the Sheriff had still been in surgery then, so Derek had asked to be informed how it would go. Luckily, as a deputy he was entitled to the information.

“He should be alright. He got out of the surgery about an hour ago and is expected to make a full recovery.”

And just like that Derek didn’t just have an armful of Stiles but a lap full of crying and sobbing Stiles.

“Fuck, Derek,” he sobbed. “I thought I’d lose you both…”

Stiles cried for several minutes, just hanging on to Derek with all his strength. The pure relief of having the man in his arms again and knowing his father was going to be alright broke all the gates Stiles had forced up earlier. Sure, he was still worried sick about his father and wanted to see him – and grill the doctors for any information – but for now everything was alright. Expect…

“I’m sorry.”

Derek was surprised when Stiles suddenly froze and apologized, seemingly for no reason, voice clearly distressed.

Derek frowned. “What for?”

“For going to Peter.”

Ah, that explains a lot. No doubt Stiles was feeling like he had betrayed Derek somehow, but that wasn’t exactly true.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he assured, but apparently that was the wrong answer, because Stiles used his arms to lift himself up so that there was some space between them.

“Bullshit, Derek, you hate him!” There was an angry glint in his eyes. “Just imagining me with Peter disgusts you!”

Derek sighed. He could admit that he wasn’t a fan of the idea of Stiles being intimate with his uncle, and now knowing it had actually happened… It made him uncomfortable.

“I’m not disgusted, love. Just very possessive,” he explained, knowing Stiles was very familiar with how possessive werewolves were of their mates. That had actually been one of Derek’s biggest worries before they had started going steady, as he had thought Stiles – who leaned more towards polyamorous – would get fed up of how possessive a boyfriend Derek could be. To his surprise, Stiles hadn’t ever minded it that much.

“And I don’t hate Peter. We just don’t usually see eye to eye.” Well, that was an understatement if there ever was one. “He just enjoys pissing me off and is, unfortunately, very good at it.”

Stiles huffed a little in laughter, having witnessed the uncle and nephew clash at least once a week. Peter was admittedly very talented in getting under Derek’s skin. Regardless, Stiles knew Derek hated – if not his uncle – the idea of Stiles and Peter intimately together. It had become very apparent those times when Peter had flirted with Stiles openly in front of Derek.

“Look at me?”

Stiles turned his head to meet Derek’s eyes.

“I am not mad at you,” Derek emphasized. “You did what you needed to do, and I’m proud of you for that. Sure, I’d have preferred if you’d gone to someone else, but I’m glad you sought help – even if it was from my uncle.”

Stiles wanted to cry. The words were everything he wanted to hear, but they meant nothing if Derek didn’t know what had happened. He might not even realize that Peter and Stiles had done much more than a friendly hug. Stiles didn’t want to say it aloud in fear of losing him, but they had never lied to each other.

“I sucked his cock, Derek.”

This time it was Derek who froze, and Stiles was sure he had been right. Derek would either break up with him or this would drive a thorn into their relationship, and Stiles wasn’t sure that was something they could ever get over. Perhaps on an intellectual level Derek could forgive him, but his wolf was an instinctual animal, and there was no way –

“Did it help?”

Stiles blinked, completely confused. “What?”

“Did it help?”

Derek’s voice was even, and Stiles didn’t know what to make of it. Why would Derek want to know something like that? Why would he –

“There’s no right or wrong answer, Stiles,” Derek said when he saw the younger man hesitating. He lifted his hand to save the sub’s lip from gnawing teeth.

No matter how hard he tried, Stiles couldn’t see any deception in his boyfriend’s words. He still wasn’t sure why Derek would want to know something like that, but he wasn’t going to lie. Lying now would only lead to trouble later, so better to get things straight from the start.

“It helped,” he admitted, voice barely louder than a whisper. The gentle smile that rose to Derek’s lips took Stiles by surprise.

A soft kiss was pressed against his forehead.

“I don’t blame you for going to Peter,” Derek assured. “You felt like you were losing control, right? It’s only natural you sought out Peter. My uncle might be an arrogant fucker, but he is a good Dom.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. It was just too much. I didn’t want to deal with that alone.”

“Not that long ago you’d have done just that, gone through it alone. I’m proud of you for seeking help. It’s okay to lean on others sometimes.”

There was hope now in Stiles’ eyes. “You’re really not mad? Or disgusted?”

Derek answered by bending to press their lips together, not caring that he now knew what the last thing in Stiles’ mouth had been. The kiss was deep and intimate and they were in no hurry to finish it. Stiles felt like he could finally relax and stop worrying about the worst possibility, because it looked like everything would be okay.

“You know I love you, right?” Stiles asked, not bothering to pull completely away from the kiss and just gently caressed Derek’s lips with his own.

“I love you too.”

Stiles sighed contently and pushed Derek on his back so he could drape himself over his boyfriend. There was still something he needed to say, and he needed to make sure he was heard.

“I know it bothers you that you can’t give me everything, but I don’t care,” Stiles started with a serious glint in his eyes. “Sure, I’d love if you shared me with others, but I can live without that. I find Peter hot, I don’t deny that, but let’s be real here… Your uncle is damn good-looking for someone his age. But you…” Stiles pushed up until he was able to lean over Derek with his hands on either side of the werewolf’s head. “You I love. I’d give anything for you, Derek. I might lust after others, but that’s just it – lust. It’s you who I need.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Stiles wanting to make sure Derek understood and believed what he heard, and Derek trying to deal with the emotions those words awakened. Stiles yelped when Derek suddenly pulled him into a passionate kiss, devouring his mouth. When they finally pulled apart, both breathing heavily, their eyes were mirroring exactly the same emotions.

“Thank you for telling me that.”

Stiles had tried to make it a habit of telling the other man aloud how he felt about him, because he knew Derek needed to hear it. Kate’s betrayal had left Derek believing he didn’t deserve happiness, or to be loved, and that was a horrible way to live.

“I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.” Stiles smiled softly.

“I believe you. It’s just… hard to accept anyone could feel that way about me,” Derek sighed, running his hands up and down his boyfriend’s sides.

Stiles scoffed and then grinned. “I might keep gifting you with control over me, but my emotions are mine. No one tells me how to feel, Officer Hale. Not even you.”

Stiles flinched and yelped, his ass tingling, courtesy of Derek spanking him once.

“Ouch, what was that for!”

“Just because I can.” Derek grinned, smoothing his palm over the stinging flesh. “And to remind you that that ass is mine.”

Stiles huffed. “Yeah, yeah, my body, your ass,” he grumbled, half-annoyed and half-amused. “I get it, I get it!”

That was enough to lift the mood somewhat from earlier, but it definitely took a turn to lighter when Derek pulled his boyfriend’s hair enough to raise Stiles’ head from his shoulder. Stiles frowned when for a moment Derek merely looked at him, a glint of mirth in his eyes.

“So…” Derek started, not able to hide his smirk. “You think my uncle is hot?”

Stiles’s eyes widened. Groaning, he tried to hide his face in Derek’s armpit, wanting the bed to swallow him and spare him from the humiliation. “Shut up! If you ever tell him I said that, I will eviscerate you!”

It was good to hear Derek actually laughing, even if it was in exchange for being teased. It was impossible to not smile in return.

“No way I’d tell him,” Derek chuckled. “He’s too smug already. He’d be unbearable if he heard that.”

Stiles grinned. “Well, you could always gloat that I chose you despite finding him hot.”

“What makes you think I’m not already doing that?”

“Oh! Is that why you get so handsy with me when he’s around?”

A hum of agreement confirmed Stiles’ suspicions.

The pair shared one last kiss before Derek sat up, pulling Stiles with him. “Come on, get your ass up. We should go visit your father, and then I need to go back to the station.”

Stiles let Derek pester him out of the bed, not that it was too hard – he really wanted to see his father was going to be okay. When the pair passed over Peter’s office and Stiles saw through the glass that the club owner was still working, he waved for Derek to wait. This time Stiles did knock and waited for permission to enter before opening the door and peeking inside. When Peter didn’t raise his eyes from the computer screen, Stiles cleared his throat.

“Yes?”

Stiles huffed. So rude.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” he said.” You know, for…”

Stiles couldn’t finish his sentence, not that Peter needed any explanation. Peter finally raised his eyes and directed a lecherous grin at Stiles.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he said with a hint of seduction in his tone. “Any time.”

It was impossible not to blush at the tone the club owner was using, so Stiles did exactly that and also lost any elegant plans he had had of ending the conversation and making his escape.

“Uh, s-sure. I think I’m just gonna go, so… Bye!”

Yes, the tactical retreat wasn’t as graceful as Stiles would have liked, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And if he decided to forget that he heard Peter chuckling softly when Stiles closed the door… Well, nobody could blame him. Honestly, he’d have to figure out how to act normally near Peter in future. It was just too much for his poor ego to keep blushing like that.

Stiles hurried back to Derek and slipped one of his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. The pair continued their way, and if Derek’s hand on Stiles’ hip was just a tad more possessive than usual, the sub really didn’t mind.