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“You never let me top,” Stiles complained, and Peter could feel a pout against the side of his jaw.
“This is the first time you’ve mentioned it,” Peter said as he rearranged them on their bed so they could have this conversation face-to-face while still cuddling.
“Nuh-uh.” The pout on Stiles’ pretty lips grew, almost distracting the werewolf from the way his pulse responded to the lie—but it gave Peter an idea.
“How about this? Don’t be a brat for… hmm… a month, and I’ll let you fuck me. Deal?”
Stiles’ eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He stayed that way, clearly expecting a punch-line. When none came, he squeaked out, “A month?!”
*
A month later, to nearly the exact second, Stiles was vibrating on one of their barstools hard enough that Peter worried the human would fall over before he was done cleaning the dishes from their dinner. But Peter would give credit where credit was due; his husband had been very good all month, and he was being good even now, although it was obvious he knew which day it was. His bundle of nervousness and excitement was cute though, so Peter kept a slow pace in the kitchen until he couldn’t take the suspense either.
“Okay, angel,” Peter said while finishing up, casting Stiles a look, “go wait for me on the bed—naked.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Stiles said as he scrambled off to the bedroom. Adorable.
Peter didn’t make his angel wait long. Making sure neither his eyes nor face gave anything away, he strolled into their room and came to a stop next to a side table where he placed his phone and watch before debating if he should take off his golden wedding band as well. The second he decided to leave it on, if only to placate his needy husband, a disgruntled whine came from his right.
‘Speaking of needy…’ Peter thought. He held back a grin as he turned to the sound, his eyes catching onto Stiles’ hard cock before shooting up toward his face, caught halfway between bratty and pleading. The expression faded as soon as Peter gave him a hard look though. It was the fastest Stiles’ innate bratty nature had ever dissipated and it left Peter wondering if he should use this reward more often.
“Please Daddy,” Stiles whispered like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak but his voice grew stronger when he wasn’t shushed. “It’s been a month and I’ve been good, right?”
“You’ve been so good,” praised Peter, relishing the flutter of Stiles’ long eyelashes. “Get the lube while I undress.”
Stiles obeyed in a flash, and when Peter tugged off his last piece of clothing, his shirt, he was greeted with the sight of his angel watching him like he was his god. It gave Peter shivers every time, scratching an insatiable itch in his brain, making him ready to worship. He crawled over Stiles’ long legs, fingertips teasing along flushed skin as he went, until he made it to the hips, straddling them.
“You’re gonna—” Stiles took a shuddering breath and licked his lips as his dilated pupils became impossibly larger “—ride me?”
“Fuck yeah, I am, angel.” Peter snatched the lube from his husband, pooled some in a hand, and tossed the bottle somewhere to find later. Stiles gasped when Peter’s hand wrapped around his dick. Once it was lubed with a few smooth pumps, he steadied it at the base, angling it toward his entrance; thick thighs were ready to drop on it.
“W-wait!” Stiles exclaimed. The outburst held enough worry that Peter thought his angel would follow it up with a safe word, but what tumbled out of his lips was, “I don’t care werewolves have enhanced healing, Peter, you need prep.”
Something that endearing shouldn’t have been sexy but Stiles was Peter’s angel. He was Daddy’s good boy; so good to worry about that even though he was mere centimeters from getting what he wanted. And Peter was more than happy to reward him for perfect behavior.
“Actually,” Peter drawled, “I prepped earlier, while you were cooking dinner.” Then, his flexing thighs dropped. Taking Stiles’ entire length in one go felt good but it had nothing on how Stiles’ shocked moan made him feel alive. It always had and always will, no matter if he topped or bottomed.
Long fingers clutched Peter’s hips as Stiles took steading breaths. His gaze was locked on where they were connected, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, like he was trying to ingrain the moment into his memory. When he had his fill, he looked up, saying, “Please move, Daddy.”
“Oh? Already greedy for more?” Peter teased, unable to stop himself. Stiles already looked wrecked from the tightness around his cock and Peter knew how much his angel loved to be bent and broken by his words alone. “And here I thought you were being my good boy.”
“Wait, no,” Stiles whined desperately, eyes becoming wet, “I’m Daddy’s good boy, I behaved—and I—I—” His bottom lip trembled as he failed to come up with examples of how he’d been good, but that was okay.
Peter’s mind flashed through memories of just how obedient Stiles had been during the past month. The memories made Peter grin. He took pity on his sweet, good little angel and began a slow pace as his hands landed on Stiles’ ribcage for balance. The slight, repetitive movement coaxed out breathy gasps from Stiles’ mouth, slacked open from pleasure—and Peter wanted nothing more than for more sounds to escape those sinful lips.
Slowly building up speed and roughness through riding instead of thrusting took a few minutes but the reactions he was getting made it worth it. Peter was distracted, focusing on Stiles’ enjoyment rather than his own; so when he adjusted his angle and Stiles’ cock-head slammed into his prostate, he couldn’t help the gravelly moan that shook him to his core.
Stiles responded with one of his own, more breathy, moans as his dick twitched against Peter’s prostate. The muscles around his stomach started twitching too—a sign he was close to cumming—and he was clearly desperate for Peter to also cum. His hands moved from Peter’s hips to wrap around his cock bouncing between them; one stroking his length while the other fondled his balls.
“Good boy,” Peter growled, going faster and harder, chasing after both of their pleasures. “Cum in me—do it, angel, now.”
With a weak wail, Stiles obeyed, trembling through his orgasm, spurting his cum deep into Peter’s abused guts. And, fuck, the warmth of it made Peter quickly follow suit, coating Stiles’ stomach and chest with his release.
They came down from their highs by kissing each other in between their panting. Although the thought of cleaning himself out made Peter grimace, there was no doubt in his mind that they would definitely be doing that again.