Chapter Text
Peter was feeling bored and listless, tired of high school and everything associated as he drove back to the house he shared with his sister and her annoying brood, already annoyed at the thought of the high school party he was expected to go to that evening; drunk teenagers playing spin the bottle and throwing up in bushes. He’d already fucked the ones worth it, and was sick of the way the rest of them fawned around him.
He stomped into the house, thinking maybe he’d skip the party and go pick up at the drag club. Find some twink who’d beg him to rail him. Boring, but better than spending a few hours listening to pointless gossip and watching white boys who were convinced they were the shit utterly fail at dancing.
He grabbed his bag from his car and stomped into the house, only to pause at the sight of the boy perched on the couch, long neck on display as he laughed with unrestrained glee.
Stiles. Peter stood there for he didn’t know how long staring at the boy. He’d had a growth spurt over the summer, Peter noticed with appreciation, had lost the baby-fat he’d had the year before. Peter had seen him in school a few times, tripping over his newly long legs. Adorable, like a baby fawn. He’d had his mind on other things, hadn’t looked at Stiles closely and now wondered how the hell he’d missed this. Stiles was smart and awkward and desperate for attention– he used to follow Peter around, babbling about whatever his special interests were at the moment. And now he was beautiful, all long white neck and gawky limbs.
Peter swallowed, mind quickly calculating.
“What are you staring at, perv?” Derek muttered from where he was sitting on the floor beside Stiles, their textbooks spread out on the coffee table before them.
Peter smiled his most charming smile. “Is that how you talk to your favorite uncle, Derek?” he asked, dropping his bag by the stairs and coming to sit on the couch, close enough to Stiles that his calf brushed against the boy’s back. Stiles’ pale neck began to grow pink. Awwww.
“You’re my only uncle,” Derek muttered. “Thank god– I can’t imagine having two of you around.”
Peter ignored Derek. “How are you doing, Stiles?” he asked, leaning forward to invade the boy’s personal space a little more. “I haven’t seen you around much.”
“Uh, yeah,” Stiles said, as adorably awkward as ever. “Busy, I guess. I joined the lacrosse team, and high school has a lot of homework, so.”
“You should come over to dinner more,” Peter said, lowering his voice so it would seem more personal. “Talia was just commenting the other day she never sees you anymore.”
“You’re never at dinner!” Derek pointed out.
“I didn’t say I was coming,” Peter replied mildly. “Although I wouldn’t mind seeing Stiles more often either. Lacrosse, huh? I should come see you play.”
“Don’t come to any of our games then,” Stiles said, a little sadly. “I never get to leave the bench.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Peter said, sympathetically.
That must have been too much for Derek– he got up, bumping into the coffee table and sending papers flying. “I’m going to get something to drink,” he said. “Stiles, you want something?”
“Coke, please,” Stiles said.
“One for me as well,” Peter added.
Derek paused in the doorway to glare at him. “I wasn’t asking you,” he said, and huffed off.
Peter nudged Stiles’ leg with his foot. “Come up here and talk to me.”
Stiles looked up at him, face red, and then lifted himself up onto the couch, scooting over so he wasn’t too close to Peter.
The boy scratched at the back of his neck, self-consciously. Could he possibly have any idea how attractive he was? Stiles looked up at him, peering through his long lashes. Peter suddenly wanted nothing more than to take him apart.
“You going to the party tonight?” Peter asked, surprised at how husky his voice came out.
Stiles shook his head, laughed self-deprecatingly. “You really think someone would invite me?”
“No?” Peter asked, with a frown. Could no one else see how beautiful this boy was? Not surprising, considering how idiotic his classmates were. Good– I get him all to myself.
Stiles bit his lip. “I’m not popular enough.”
Peter wanted to touch his face, to tug his lip out from between his teeth, but he held himself back. “People are stupid,” he said, instead.
Stiles blushed a little more red and looked down. “I’m too awkward,” he muttered. “And I talk too much. And my sense of humor is weird.”
“They just can’t see how amazing you are,” Peter said.
Stiles shook his head, his blush deepening until he was bright red. “I’m not.”
“I think I’m a pretty good judge of character,” Peter contradicted. “And I’ve known you for a few years, right?’
“Yeah,” Stiles admitted.
Peter looked away, then, like he was suddenly coming to a realization, looked back at Stiles. “Why don’t you come with me tonight?” he asked.
“What?” Stiles asked. “No– you wouldn’t want me to…”
Peter smirked at him. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want it,” he said. He leaned back against the arm of the couch. “I don’t do a lot of things I don’t want, besides putting up with Mr. Harris.”
Stiles laughed. “I’m just gonna drag you down,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Peter asked, dropping a hand on his shoulder. Stiles flinched a little, but didn’t shrug him off. “I’m popular enough for the both of us, aren’t I?”
Stiles bit his lip again. “I guess so?”
“Come with me,” Peter said again. “These things are so boring without good company.”
“Oh,” Stiles looked up at him, wide-eyed. God, this kid. “You think I’m good company?”
Peter leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I think you’re the best company,” he said softly. He could see Stiles’ resolution crumble. Delicious.
“I’m not dressed for it,” was Stiles’ last line of defense.
“No problem,” Peter said. “Come on.” He jumped to his feet. “I’ve got some clothes that don’t fit me anymore.”
“Are you sure?”
Peter sighed and turned back to him. “Stiles, you’ve got to learn to stop second-guessing me. I’m always sure.”
“I don’t want you to do it because you’re just being nice.”
Peter snorted. “Have you ever known me to ‘just be nice’?”
“Yeah,” Stiles said. “You’re nice to me a lot.”
And now it’s paying off, Peter thought. Huh. Maybe you did catch more flies with honey.
“That’s ‘cause I like you,” Peter said with a wink.
Impossibly, Stiles went more red. Peter wanted to undress him to see how far down that redness went.
Peter grabbed his bag. “Come on,” he said again, and this time Stiles followed.
Peter slung the bag in a corner of his bedroom, then looked Stiles up and down. Stiles nervously kept moving his hands from his pockets to behind his back to his side, back to his pockets.
He walked around Stiles, grabbing the boy’s shoulder and ordering him to ‘stay still’ when he began turning to follow him. He dipped his fingers into the back of Stiles’ pants.
“Just checking the tag,” he said, when Stiles started and turned to look at him. Regretfully, he slipped his fingers out of Stile’s waistband and went to his closet and pulled out a box of clothes he’d outgrown but couldn’t bear to part with, rummaging through it until he found a pair of skinny black jeans and a silky green long sleeve v-neck. “Try these on,” he said, gesturing towards the ensuite, still looking through the box.
He shouldn’t have second guessed himself, because Stiles came out looking like a ripe peach, the dark green doing amazing things to his blushing cheeks. The pants though– Peter frowned.
“Are you wearing boxers?” he asked.
Stiles’ hands went to his ass. “Yeah?”
Peter shook his head. “Those pants aren’t meant to be worn with boxers.”
“Oh, uh, I don’t have any briefs with me.”
“I always wore them commando,” Peter said casually.
Stiles actually gasped.
Peter stepped out of the closet and stepped up behind him, running his hands over Stiles’ ass. “See how they’re bunching up? It must be uncomfortable.”
“Kinda, yeah,” Stiles said.
Peter smoothed his hands on Stiles’ ass again. “They look really good on you. Are you uncomfortable going without underwear?”
Stiles swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his long white throat. He nodded.
Peter made a humming sound. “I could lend you some…?” he suggested.
Stiles looked like he was on the verge of having a panic attack.
“I mean some I never wore before,” he said. “My sister bought them, but they’re too small.” He grabbed a pair of white panties from the back of a drawer, the tag still on them, and tossed them to Stiles.
He frowned down at them. “They’re girl’s panties,” he said.
“What?” Peter repeated, sounding as confused as he could.
“There’s a pink lace on the top,” Stiles pointed out.
“Men can wear pink,” Peter said.
Stiles raised his eyebrows at him. Peter smirked. “Fine, you got me; they’re panties.”
Stiles looked hurt. “Were you going to try to trick me into wearing these and pantsing me in front of everyone at the party?” he asked, sounding like he was on the verge of tears.
“What?” Peter asked, honestly surprised this time. “No! Honestly, the truth is those are the only unworn underwear I have that would fit with those pants.”
“Why do you even have them? Your sister didn’t buy them.”
“She did,” Peter said. “For Laura. But they ended up in my shopping bag by accident and then I thought they could come in useful. If, you know, I had someone over and they needed clean panties or something.”
“Oh,” Stiles said. “You really weren’t planning on embarrassing me?”
“Stiles,” Peter said, stepping closer to the boy and wrapping his arms around him from the back. “I would never do that.” He lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to see you in them.”
Stiles turned around in his arms, staring up at him through his eyelashes. “What do you mean?”
Peter slid his hands down Stiles’ ass. “I mean I think you’d look very cute wearing them and I wouldn’t want anyone else to see that.”
Stiles licked his lips, wriggling a little in Peter’s grasp. “You think I’m cute? You mean… when you asked me to the party… you meant as like a date?”
Peter made a show of hesitating. “Is that okay? It doesn’t have to be. If you want to go as friends, I’ll still take you. I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”
“But…” Stiles looked down at the panties in his hands again. “You’d really want to date me?”
Peter let go of Stiles’ ass with one hand and tipped his face up. “Is that okay?” he whispered.
Stiles’ eyes were so wide. He swallowed and nodded.
Peter bent down to kiss him lightly on the mouth. “I’m so happy to hear that,” he said. “You’re going to have a great time at the party, I promise.” He squeezed Stiles’ ass. “Now go and get changed. If you’re okay with the panties. You can just wear your own jeans, of course.”
Stiles looked down at them again. “You really think they’d look good on me?”
“I think you’d look super hot in them.”
Stiles took a deep breath. “Okay, then, I guess it’s okay.”
Peter changed his top while Stiles was in the bathroom, exchanging the thin sweater for a v-neck t-shirt that would be more comfortable under his leather jacket, then played with his phone until Stiles came out, walking like he was trying to get used to the fit of the panties.
Peter jumped up and grabbed Stiles by the shoulder, turning him around. “Much better,” he said, turning Stiles to face him.
“Yeah,” Stiles asked, like he was starved for compliments. Peter felt a bubble of glee rise up through him.
“They fit you so well,” Peter said. “You look great.”
“Th-thanks,” Stiles actually stuttered.
Peter checked his watch, surprised it was actually late enough to go.
“Ready?’ he asked.
Stiles looked at his clothes. He’d folded them neatly like a good boy. “Should I just leave them here?”
“No ones’ gonna steal them,” Peter joked. “And you know where I live.”
“Oh yeah,” Stiles said. “Right.”
He bent down and kissed Stiles again, a less chaste kiss this time, but still brief. When he pulled away Stiles was looking up at him in awe. Peter resisted the impulse to smirk, and instead smoothed back Stiles’ hair. “Everyone is going to be so jealous of me,” he teased, and Stiles blushed and turned away.
Derek looked at them with surprise when they came downstairs. “Where did you two go?” he asked, and then he took in what Stiles was wearing.
“I’m going to take Stiles to Jason Chao’s party,” Peter said, resisting the urge to wrap an arm around Stiles’ waist.
Derek narrowed his eyes at Peter. “Stiles…” he began, but Stiles ignored him, looking up at Peter. “Can we go now?”
“Of course, darling,” Peter said. “See you later, Derek.”
“All your school stuff is here!” Derek called after them.
“I’ll come back for it later,” Stiles said over his shoulder.
Peter pressed a hand against the small of his back and ushered him out the door to his car, opening the passenger door and gesturing him in.
Stiles fiddled with the seatbelt while he drove. “So this is like… a date?”
Peter glanced at him. “Didn’t we already discuss that?
Stiles swallowed and nodded. “Not just a hook-up?” he clarified. “You… everyone knows you… uh… get around.”
How polite of him not to just come out and say Peter was a man-whore.
“I have… gotten around,” Peter agreed. “But sometimes I have relationships too.”
“And you want to have a… a relationship with me?” Stiles asked, shyly.
Peter wanted to wreck him. To own him.
He smiled at the boy instead. “It’s just a first date,” he said. “Why don’t we see how it goes first?”
Stiles looked out the window. He seemed disappointed. Peter reached over and squeezed his hand where it was resting on his thigh. “I hope it goes well,” Peter murmured. “I hope we have more dates after this one.”
Stiles looked back at him, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. “Yeah?” he asked.
Peter squeezed his hand again.
He pulled over on the side of the road around the corner from the party, where it would be easier to get away if the cops were called. They could hear the noise of the party and the flashing of lights through the trees. Idiots.
Peter’s hand was still around Stiles’ on his thigh. He squeezed it again. “I’ll stick by you the whole time.”
“I… uh…” Stiles licked his lips. Peter reached over and kissed where he had just licked.
“I want you by my side,” he whispered into Stiles’ ear. Stiles shivered.
“Uh, okay.”
Peter smiled at him and kissed him again, lightly on the corner of his mouth. It had been so long since he had done this, strung someone along.
He got out of the car and wrapped his arm around Stiles’ shoulder possessively, and still had it there when he opened the door to the house.
“Hey man!” Shauny called when he saw him come in. He was flopped on the couch playing video games with some other of the boys, girls tucked under their arms or seated on the arms of the chair. “Hey, Andy, Peter’s here.”
“Peter!” Andy cried, and jumped up. “And friend,” he added in a salacious tone, checking Stiles out. Peter’s clothes did wonders for the skinny boy, usually so hidden behind layers of shirts and baggy jeans. “Where did you find this morsel?”
“This is Stiles,” Peter said, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder.
“Nice to meet you, Stiles,” Andy said smoothly, holding out his hand.
“You’re in my math class,” Stiles said, a little coldly.
The other boys hooted at Andy, but Andy just grinned and shrugged.
“Drinks are in the kitchen,” Andy said. “There’s something horrible and pink mixed up in the sink. I wouldn’t go near it. Everyone who has has vomited in the rose bushes outside. They’re calling it ‘blowsé.”
“Noted,” said Peter, who never drank the vile concoctions his teammates whipped up. He tightened his grip on Stiles’ shoulder and steered him out of the room. Stiles looked back at the group on the couch.
“That was Mario Kart!” Stiles protested. “I could have taken them all.”
“I’m sure you could have,” Peter said. “But you could have played Mario Kart with Derek. This is supposed to be a new experience for you.”
He got Stiles and himself each a can of the least offensive beer then went out to the backyard, where kids were awkwardly dancing or chatting in groups. They all called out when they saw Peter, made room for Peter on the patio furniture. He sat and pulled Stiles into his lap, then kissed the boy lightly on the mouth again. “Is this okay?” he murmured into Stiles’ ear. “It’s just that there’s not a lot of space.”
“Yeah,” Stiles said, even though he was clearly a little uncomfortable. It warmed Peter’s heart.
Stiles took a sip of his beer and made a face.
“Never had beer before?” Peter asked.
Stiles shook his head.
“Is it too bitter for you?” Peter ran his hand over the boy’s buzzed head.
“No,” Stiles said, clearly planning on manning up and drinking it. Good– Peter was more than comfortable, the boy’s restless motions rubbing pleasantly against Peter’s cock, and Peter wanted him tipsy before he pushed his agenda.
Peter kept an ear on the conversation around him– as stupid as he’d expected– but mostly spoke to Stiles, drawing him out to blabber about his current interests– infrastructure, Medieval warcraft, and Spiderman, it seemed. It was more interesting than what the bozos around them were talking about– mainly how they were going to convince various girls to sleep with them– and if it made Stiles like and trust him more, all the better.
About an hour in Stiles was beginning to get tipsy from a beer and a half, and Peter had edged his cock enough on the boy’s pert round ass and little wiggling motions.
“Come on,” he whispered in his ear and led him into the house. He’d been to enough of Chao’s parties to know that he always locked his parent’s and little sister’s bedrooms in fear of people trashing them, but also enough to know that the keys to the room were hidden on the top of the doorframe. He fumbled for a moment, unlocking the door.
“Should we be doing this?” Stiles asked, as Peter gestured him into little Emily’s room, sweet and princessy with its lavender walls and frilly pink curtains and bed covered in stuffed animals.
“I wanted a little time alone with you,” Peter said, moving closer so he could pull Stiles into a devouring kiss, sucking on his lips and plundering him with his tongue until Stiles was moaning and making sweet little rutting motions against him.
Peter pulled back. “Take off your clothes,” he said.
“What?” Stiles asked, blurrily, leaning forward like he was trying to reach Peter’s mouth.
Peter didn’t repeat himself, just leaned forward and grabbed the hem of the shirt he had loaned Stiles, pulling it over his head without much resistance.
“What?” Stiles asked again, tipsy enough to be confused. Perfect.
Peter undid the button on the pants and pulled the zipper down.
“Peter,” Stiles said, stepping away. “What are you doing?”
“I want to see you wearing those little girl panties.”
“Why?” Stiles whined.
Peter dropped to his knees in front of him, savoring the sight of the skinny, hairless chest. He leaned forward and licked on little pink nipple.
“Peter!” Stiles exclaimed again.
“Because you look so cute in them,” Peter said, wrapping a hand around him and holding his waist so he would stand still, then licking the other nipple.
Stiles wriggled in his grasp.
“Please, baby,” Peter said. “I bet you’re all hard. You want me to take care of it?”
He pressed his other hand against the opened flies of Stiles’ pants, feeling the hardness there.
“Does your little cock ache, baby?” Peter cooed. “You need some help?”
Stiles wiggled again, this time pressing closer to Peter.
“Oh, you do,” Peter said and grabbed the waistband of Stiles’ borrowed pants and pulled it down.
Stiles stepped out of the pants, blushing crimson but without another protest.
He looked just as cute as Peter had imagined, little cock straining against the fabric of the panties, the pink lace matching his blushing skin.
“So cute,” Peter praised. “I could just lick you up.” He leaned forward and licked a line across Stiles’ trapped cock.
Stiles moaned and swayed where he stood.
Peter stood up again and maneuvered Stiles back until his legs hit the little girl’s bed, then gave him another push so he fell down onto it, then stared down at the boy in growing hunger, splayed out from his fall, legs open for Peter, arms akimbo, on the unicorn-rainbow comforter, head nestled among the pile of stuffed animals, the perfect little girl for Peter.
(If he played this right.)
Peter grabbed a bottle of lotion– bubblegum scented– and knelt in front of Stiles, grabbing his hips to pull him to the edge of the bed, quieting Stiles’ protests by mouthing at his trapped cock, wetting the thin cotton enough for it to cling to him, sliding his other hand down to fondle the boy’s balls before slipping it under the hem of the panties so he could press against the boy’s perineum.
He was moaning now, hips rocking in cute little motions.
“You like that, baby?” Peter asked, his own voice guttural now. He mouthed up the length of the boy’s cock until he reached the top, where the head was peaking out among the pink lace. He licked the slit and Stiles moaned louder.
“You like it?” Peter repeated, and pulled off. “You want me to do that again?”
Stiles’ hips rocked up, but Peter kept them pinned down with an arm braced on Stiles’ thigh.
“Use your words.”
“Yes,” Stiles said. “Yes, Peter, please.” Peter rewarded this by licking at the tip again, then sucking it into his mouth.
“Such a pretty little cock,” Peter cooed, licking down the panty-covered shaft again.
That first ‘yes’ had opened a floodgate; Stiles was panting and begging now, “Please, please, Peter, yes, oh!” as Peter mouthed up and down his leaking cock. He rubbed at Stiles’ perineum with his other hand and then slipped his fingers higher, into his cleft, until they found the tight furl of his anus, Stiles’ hips jerking at the touch.
“You like that?” Peter asked, tonguing at Stiles’ slit between questions. “You like my fingers on your tight little hole?”
Stiles didn’t respond, only panted and jerked beneath him, so Peter drew off a little, moving his fingers to the side so Stiles could feel them near his hole but not quite touching it.
“Please, Peter, please,” Stiles cried.
“Answer my question, baby,” Peter said, then lowered his head to suck at Stiles’ thigh. “Do you like my fingers rubbing at your tight little hole?”
“Yes, yes,” Stiles begged. “Please.”
“You want me to touch your little hole more?” Peter asked.
“Yes, please, Peter, please touch me more,” Stiles begged.
It was good enough– Peter rewarded him by moving the panties to the side and pulling Stiles’ cock out of them, then slicking his fingers up with the bubblegum lotion and sliding them up Stiles’ crack.
Stiles moaned at the touch of a fingertip against his hole and then against the feeling of the finger slipping in. Peter reached down and sucked his cock into his mouth, smiling at the shout Stiles gave when his whole cock was surrounded.
He pressed his finger further in at the same time, matched the movements of his mouth on Stiles’ cock and his finger in Stiles’ hole.
The boy’s panting was increasing, the little jerks of his hips growing faster, so he pulled off the boy’s cock– he didn’t want him to come too soon.
Stiles lifted his head up enough so he could look at Peter, pouting a little. Peter pumped his finger in and out of Stiles’ hole. “You like that?” he asked.
Stiles hesitated, then nodded. “It feels weird,” he admitted. “But maybe good.”
Peter nodded at him, licked his cock as a reward, mouthed down the length of it while the boy’s hole loosened around his finger until he thought it was time for another.
The boy moaned as Peter slid another finger into him, his little hips wiggling adorably. “Feels good?” Peter asked, moving his fingers deeper into Stiles’ body.
“Yeah,” Stiles moaned.
“You ever play with yourself like this?” Peter asked, sliding his fingers in and out, crooking them.
“No,” the boy said. “I wanted to, but I didn’t, ugh, know how!” He gasped and his back arched, his ass pressing down on Peter’s hands.
Peter rubbed his prostate a little, still mouthing a bit on the boy’s cock. He didn’t want him to come too soon. He pulled his fingers out a little and began to scissor them, stretching his pink little hole.
Stiles moaned and thrust again. “Please, please, Peter,” he begged.
Peter swiped across his prostate again and licked at the tip of his cock, then scissored his fingers again.
“You look so pretty like this,” Peter said. “All pink and begging. My pretty little boy.”
“Oh!” Stiles exclaimed, hips jerking.
Peter lubed up another finger and slipped it in, making the boy shudder, then began to fuck him with his fingers, slowly until he was more stretched out, then faster, fingers rubbing circles over his prostate, sucking on the tip of his cock.
“Oh, Peter, yes!” Stiles cried, loud enough Peter was sure some of the party guests had heard it, and then he came in Peter’s mouth.
Peter milked him until he was coming down from his orgasm, then slipped the butt plug he’d brought for this exact reason, slicked it up with lube from a packet he’d had in his pocket and pushed it in.
“What was that?” Stiles asked, muzzily.
“Wanna play with you again, baby,” Peter said, wiping his hands on a towel in the little girl’s laundry, then standing up. “Gotta keep you open until then.”
Stiles stared up at him, so pretty, his face and chest all blotchy red, his shrinking dick tucked back into his panties.
Peter bent down to kiss him, making sure to press some of his cum into his mouth. Stiles winced, but didn’t object.
He pulled the boy to his feet and dressed him, then tugged him downstairs, grabbing two more beers and taking up his spot on the couch, pulling Stiles into his lap again.
Around him his teammates gave him knowing smirks. Stiles, tipsy and dazed, just sunk deeper into his arms.