Stiles isn’t sure when it started. He hasn’t always been able to see the connections between people. Yeah, he knew from the moment he met Scott that they were destined to be best friends, but that was like a law of the universe, not some mystical bond. It was sometime after his mom died, after the intertwined star and vine on his dad’s wrist faded just that little bit that meant a bond had been severed. Stiles grieved for his mother, but he also grieved for his dad. He only realized what he’d been feeling, sensing, every time he touched one of his parents’ soulmate marks when he stopped feeling it. He had locked himself in his room for two days just to keep from asking his dad why he couldn’t feel his mom in the mark anymore, because the words kept coming to the tip of his tongue and nothing else could keep them in.
He didn’t make a big deal out of it when he returned to school. He didn’t talk much, but everyone had gotten used to the quieter Stiles that had shown up to school after the funeral. His teachers didn’t call on him, none of his classmates approached him except for Scott. Even Scott didn’t push Stiles to talk. Scott had had his own experience with the counselors from the Soulmate Registration and Advisement Service pushing him to talk when his parents’ bond had broken. And the counselors meant well. They reassured him that even with all the work the SRAS did, less than half of all the people in the world ever met their soulmate. And people lived perfectly normal and happy lives without ever meeting their soulmates. And people who’d lost their soulmates could be happy and have meaningful relationships. Stiles couldn’t find the words to tell them that he knew exactly what his father no longer felt. That he felt guilty every time that he saw his father wearing one of the adhesive skin-colored patches that people who didn’t buy into the whole soulmates things used to hide their soulmarks, as if the mark was something he had to protect Stiles from.
It was like that moment, feeling the absence of his dad’s bond, had woken him up. He saw things so much clearer now. He saw the connections.
In a way, he was glad that no one made him talk those first few weeks, because if he opened his mouth it probably would have all come rushing out. As it was, he could only ignore the feelings for so long. He could actually see the connections between people, and not just the adults with their soulmate marks on display, but the people his own age. The people whose marks hadn’t even appeared yet. He could see the connections and he couldn’t ignore it. He tried for years, all through junior high into high school, but the pull kept getting stronger.
The first person he actually initiated conversation with after his mom died, who wasn’t Scott, his dad, or a counselor, was Boyd. He saw him about to sit alone at one lunch table sophomore year while Erica and Isaac sat by themselves at another table and he couldn’t let it go. He got up from his own seat and snagged Boyd’s arm. Boyd was so surprised he let Stiles drag him over to the other table. Stiles pushed Boyd into the seat across from Erica.
“He likes you,” he told Erica in a low voice. She turned her shocked gaze on Stiles and in that moment, he felt her crush on him and he felt how very much it was not meant to be. He turned to Boyd. “She has a crush on someone else, but she likes you too.” He started to turn away from the table. “One of you ask the other out. You’ll be good together.” He left them there staring after him and resumed his seat with Scott.
“What did you say to them?” Scott asked in a whisper, even though they were at the end of a long table and no one else was nearby.
Stiles shrugged. “Nothing to worry about,” he said as he started back in on his lunch. “Just something they needed to hear.”
Scott gave him a long look and didn’t question him. He also didn’t seem too surprised when the newly dating Boyd and Erica dragged Isaac over to sit with them two weeks later. Boyd and Erica seemed to realize what he’d done, though. They never said anything about it, but they caught his eye and looked expectantly at Isaac. Stiles had simply nodded and accepted his mission.
Isaac was a little trickier. It wasn’t that he didn’t know who to match him up with. It just wasn’t as easy as putting two lonely people together. Isaac was reserved and very cautious around anyone who wasn’t Erica. And Cora… Cora was prickly and caustic and in an entirely separate social circle. Add in the fact that she was a werewolf and that made it ten times harder. He couldn’t just lie to her to get her into a room with Isaac. And she was completely and totally uninterested in all things related to soulmates and soulmarks, so he couldn’t just use that bomb on her. So, he waited and he studied her. He worked at it slowly, found out what she liked. He manipulated people in a couple of their classes so that Cora and Isaac ended up sitting near enough with each other that they actually had to talk to one another. Their hands brushed when passing papers up or down the rows of seating. Then, he handed Isaac two tickets to some artsy as crap movie that Cora was dying to see, but none of her friends would go see because it was in French, and that he knew Isaac would love too. It took them one week after that before they started dating.
It became a game for him after that. He’d subtly change situations, get the two people to sit next to each other or arrange for them to be alone in rooms together. He swapped out teacher’s lists of assigned partners to get two people to work together. He spilled things on people’s shirts so they had to vacate seats and the target could get manipulated into it. Some people needed bigger pushes than that, though. Some people he had to walk up to, hand them a conversation starter, and shove them at their partner. And some people he had to break up.
His biggest mistake was walking right up to Lydia and Jackson and telling her, “He’s not your soulmate.” He’d long since realized that he wasn’t her soulmate either and his crush had transformed into an admiration that he felt could one day be friendship. It was because of that friendship that he knew was coming in the future that he had to tell them. He had to break the news before they got too involved.
Jackson’s reaction was to lash out at him. Jackson shoved him hard against the lockers. His eyes blazed with anger, but Stiles sensed a deep hurt and doubt in him. “You’re just jealous because you already know you’re going to be mateless,” Jackson shouted at him. He emphasized his words with another shove that was sure to leave bruises. “You can’t stand to see Lydia happy because you know deep down that no one would ever want to be tied to a freak and a spaz like you.”
Stiles had stared in shock as Lydia and Jackson walked away from him. He looked at Lydia in surprise and almost couldn’t understand why she didn’t stick up for him. She was a smart girl, smarter than anyone else in their class. Surely she should have noticed what he’d done with the rest of their class. She should have realized he was right. But, Stiles had been too cautious in his matchmaking. After all, dating around was common in high school. No one really expected to be matched up with the soulmates yet, even if they hoped they had been.
Jackson and his friends tormented Stiles after that, like it was their personal mission to get revenge on Stiles until they graduated. Lydia refused to acknowledge his existence. It became harder to get people to listen to him, because none of the popular kids wanted to be seen talking to him. He had to be twice as sneaky about setting people up. Thankfully, Boyd, Erica, and Scott were used to him enough that when he asked them to give anonymous notes to their classmates they just went with it. By the end of junior year he had everyone in his class who had a soulmate that also went to their school sorted out. It made something inside of him relax like everything was right with the world. Then, he started on the underclassmen.
The day Kira transferred into school senior year, Stiles pounced on her before Lydia or any of the popular kids could warn her away. He’d known as soon as he’d seen her second period that she was Scott’s soulmate and he couldn’t risk letting her get away. He lurked outside the lunchroom for her and slipped into line behind her. He tapped her on her shoulder as she was lingering just past the lunch line, surveying the room for a seat.
“Hi, I’m Stiles. We have history together, come meet some people.” She looked at him, bewildered, but followed when he walked off towards his usual lunch table. Scott looked up in surprise when Stiles set his lunch tray down on the other side of Erica instead of at the spot that they’d all saved for him across from Scott. Instead, he grabbed the lunch tray from Kira’s hands and set it down in that spot before guiding her into the seat.
“Scott, this is Kira,” he said as he patted her on the shoulder. “Kira, this is Scott.” He waved his hand like he was signalling the start of a race. “Converse.”
Erica gave him a fistbump when he settled down next to her, which he accepted with a triumphant grin. Cora and Isaac simply stared at him in surprise, then stared at each other. He watched the minute the realization dawned on Isaac and it was glorious moment for him. The usually smug look Isaac had faded away into one that was for a second vulnerable before he turned to Stiles with a look of utter gratitude. Cora was a second behind him. Her eyes narrowed curiously. Her nostrils flared and then she was turning to him with a look of astonishment.
“You’re a Matchmaker!?” she whispered incredulously, leaning over Kira to stare at him. That got Scott and Kira’s attention and then they were staring at him too.
“Shh!!!” Stiles hushed them with a feeling of panic. He turned to look around them, but none of their classmates seemed to have heard Cora. “I haven’t told my dad yet,” he admitted in a whisper.
“Stiles, Matchmaker’s can’t match people before their marks appear,” Cora insisted. Her eyes were wide with awe. “I’ve seen it done. They have to touch the mark.”
Stiles shrugged as he felt his shoulders draw inward and he curled into himself. “I know,” he said. His eyes dropped down to his tray and he fiddled with a fry. “You don’t think I’ve researched this. Written papers about it?” He shrugged again and his mind helpfully supplied every time Jackson or his friends had called him a freak. “I can’t help it,” he admitted softly.
Erica punched him on the arm and startled him out of his thoughts. “Some day our little Stiles is going to grow up to be a Druid or something,” she said with pride, miming wiping a tear away from her eye. “And we can all say we knew him before he was famous.”
Stiles rolled his eyes. “I am not a Druid,” he said emphatically. “I kill houseplants, I can’t be a Druid.”
Scott leaned forward then. “He has a point. I’ve seen it in person.” Scott shot Stiles a reassuring smile when their eyes met. “Though, seriously dude, you need to tell your dad.” He forged on when Stiles grimaced. “Matchmakers are supposed to need training and Druids even more. Isn’t it supposed to be kind of dangerous for you not to be trained?” Stiles looked away because he had read something along those lines when he’d done his exhaustive research. He just didn’t know where he fell into the rankings of magic users and supernaturals. Unfortunately, Scott knew him too well. “If you don’t tell your dad, I’ll tell my mom and she’ll tell him.”
Stiles shot Scott a look of utter betrayal. He scoffed at the serious looks the whole group was shooting at him before deflating. “Fine,” he said. He waved a hand back at Scott. “Now, enough about me. Talk to your soulmate.” Scott and Kira looked at one another and blushed. Stiles grinned and finally started to eat his lunch.
That night he waited up until his dad got off shift. John seemed to know that something was wrong as soon as he came home and found the lights still on. He stuck his head into the kitchen before he’d even taken his coat off. “What are you still doing up?” he asked. John glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall before pointedly looking back at Stiles. “It’s almost midnight, kiddo, get to bed.”
Stiles turned the mug of cocoa around and around in his hands. He glanced at his dad and then back down to the mug. He used his foot to push out the chair across from him. “Can we talk?” he asked.
Something in his voice must have given him away because John’s expression softened. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Stiles waited while his dad hung up his coat and shed his boots. John went into his office and locked his gun up in the safe in there. Stiles pushed a second mug of cocoa across the table as his dad sat down across from him. He fiddled with his cup for another long minute while he tried to figure out what to say. His dad was thankfully patient. He sipped at his cocoa and waited Stiles out. The words jumbled in his head and tangled on the tip of his tongue as he tried to figure out how to tell his father that he’d been keeping this from him for a long time.
“I can see the connections between people,” Stiles blurted out when the words got to be too much.
His dad stilled with the mug halfway to his lips. He set the mug back down. “What do you mean by that?” John asked cautiously.
Stiles took a sip of his own cocoa to give himself time to actually consider his words. “I’m a Matchmaker,” he said hesitantly. “Maybe something a little stronger.” He flinched when his dad sucked in a breath.
His dad was quiet for a long moment before he reached across the table and clutched Stiles’s hand. “That’s wonderful, son,” his dad said. His voice was a little choked up. Stiles looked up in surprise and was surprised to see something like pride in his dad’s eyes. “Your mom thought you might be one.”
Stiles felt his own throat close up a bit at that revelation. His dad had never mentioned anything about that.
“We’ll take you down to the SRAS tomorrow after school.” John squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Whatever they say, I’m proud of you and I love you.” John came around the table and wrapped him into a tight hug. Some of the tension that he hadn't even realized he’d been holding in released. He sagged into his dad.
Stiles couldn't sleep that night. His dad shot him a worried look as he dropped him off, but Stiles waved him off to work. He was useless at school the next day. All he could do was count down the minutes until his dad picked him up as if he was going to his own execution, not just the SRAS. He just couldn't shake the worry that someone was going to tell him there was something wrong with him. That the feelings he’d been so sure of were wrong.
The SRAS center downtown was thankfully empty when they walked in. The woman at the information desk looked up as they passed by the social area and the library and approached her. She smiled slightly at them. “Welcome to the Soulmate Registration and Advisement Service. My name is Marin Morrell. How can I help you?”
John nudged Stiles forward until they were right in front of the desk. “My son would like to be tested for Matchmaker abilities.”
The woman’s eyes widened before narrowing in on Stiles skeptically. “It’s unusual for the ability to manifest so young,” Marin said carefully. “One moment please.” Marin pressed down a button on her phone and a speaker came on. “Amber, would you come here please?”
A moment later a young woman appeared from further into the building. Marin stepped aside for the woman to take her seat at the information desk. She gestured for Stiles and his dad to follow her into the hallway Amber had come from. Marin opened the first door on the right, which was simply marked as “Consultation”. Inside was an empty desk with three chairs in front. Marin waited until they were all seated before she held out her wrist to Stiles and gave him a gentle smile. “Tell me about my soulmate. What’s his name?”
Stiles glanced over at his dad. He hadn’t really talked to his dad about his magic or whatever it was. His dad only nodded encouragingly. Stiles looked down at the woman’s wrist. He hadn’t touched a soulmark since his mom had died. He didn’t really like the idea of doing so now. His dad seemed to sense his hesitation. His hand came down to rest on Stiles’s shoulder. “We don’t have to do this now,” John said softly. “If you’re not sure, we can talk about it more and come back.”
Stiles shook his head. He wasn’t sure how to explain his hesitation to his dad. He reached forward slowly and let his fingertips just barely touch Marin’s leaf-like mark. His breath caught in his throat as images swirled into his head. He let them fill him for one overwhelming moment until he got a name. He yanked his hand away. Stiles breathed in a shuddering breath and when he breathed out the name went with it. “Sarah.”
Marin grinned at him and pulled her hand back. She leaned forward over the desk in excitement. “What else could you tell?”
“Um…” He fidgeted with the string on his hoodie as he sorted through the images in his head. “She’s tall with curly brown hair, tanned skin. Laughs a lot. She works as an interpreter. She’s in New York right now, but you live together here in Beacon Hills.” He shrugged. The images were thankfully starting to fade away.
Marin nodded. She came around the desk to stand in front of him. “And what could you tell about me?”
Stiles shifted awkwardly. “Besides the lesbian part?” he said with a blush as the image of the two woman kissing flickered back through his mind. He bit his lip and tried to make sense of the feeling that he was getting. “You’re a Druid, I think?”
Marin’s eyes widened in surprise. She blinked at him for a minute before nodding. “That is correct, Mister …?”
Stiles jerked away from the hand that she held out to him as if it were a snake. “Stiles,” he said awkwardly.
His dad reached around him and shook the woman’s hand instead. “I’m John Stilinksi,” he said. “Stiles’s given name is a bit hard to pronounce, so everyone just uses his nickname.” He drew his hand back. His father looked at the soulmark on Marin’s wrist. “So, Stiles is a Matchmaker?”
Marin made a noncommittal sound as she waved them out of the room. “It’s a bit more than that I believe,” she said. She led them down the short hall, past more consultation offices and through an “Employees Only” door. They entered a large room that was set up as an open office area. People looked up at them as they passed. Curious murmurs spread and Stiles got the feeling the center didn’t get too many visitors. Marin led them past everyone to an office in the back. The name on the door read “Dr. Alan Deaton.” She pulled it open after one knock and then firmly shut it after them.
Dr. Deaton looked up at them curiously as Marin herded them into the seats across from him. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Marin?” he asked in a carefully neutral voice.
“I believe,” Marin said with a grin like a Cheshire cat, “that we have young Spark here.”
Stiles didn’t recognize the term, but Deaton seemed to know it. He looked up at Stiles with surprise. His eyes narrowed and then he relaxed. He leaned back with a small smile. “Can you tell me when it started?”
He glanced over at his dad before answering. “I don’t know. Freshman year?” His dad jerked in the chair next to him and Stiles flinched. “I… um… started to get these feelings. Like, I knew that Erica was meant to be with Boyd.” He shrugged. “I ignored it for awhile and then it just got to be too much and I had to hook them up.”
John sat up straighter at that. “Stiles! You can just go around hooking people up.”
Deaton leaned forward intently. “He’s right, Stiles. We take the anonymity of our Matchmakers very seriously, especially the few that are still minors. If you go around arranging couples, people are bound to notice.”
Stiles leaned back in his chair awkwardly. “Um… about that…”
John slapped a hand over his face. “How many people know?” he asked tiredly.
“Just Scott…” His father gave him a look through his fingers. “And his soulmate, Kira… And Boyd and Erica…” He paused and shot a look back over at his dad. “And Cora and Isaac, but that’s it.”
His father pulled his hand away. He looked at Stiles skeptically. “And I may have arranged for a few of my classmates to connect with their soulmates.”
“Stiles,” Deaton asked slowly. “How many of your classmates have you matched?”
Stiles hesitated for a moment before answering. “All of them?” Deaton ran a hand over his eyes in a gesture that reminded him guiltily of his father. “Well, all of the ones who had soulmates in the same school. I can’t really do much for the others because I can’t tell who they’re matched up to, just that they’re not matched up to someone nearby.” Stiles forged on over his father’s long sigh.
“I had to,” he explained. “It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch, a buzzing in my ears. So much better once everyone was properly paired up.” He shrugged.
Deaton drew his hand away from his eyes to stare at Stiles. He looked over at Marin. “And he passed the Matchmaker test?”
Marin twisted her wrist and flashed her soulmark. “He gave me name, description, job, location, and personality from a light brush.”
“Is that good?” John asked.
“That is exceptional,” Deaton explained, “especially for one so young and without any training. Most matchmakers can only give a name and maybe a description. Few can see so much from a short touch.” Deaton looked at Stiles, though he continued to address John. “Your son has a very strong gift, which means that it will likely not be limited to just Matchmaking.”
Marin stepped further into the room and leaned against Deaton’s desk. “If he were inclined towards nature, like a Druid, I would have felt it,” she said. “So, the most logical answer is that he is a Spark.”
John leaned forward in his chair. “You don’t exactly sound sure.”
Deaton shrugged. “Sparks are rare. We’ll have to do further testing to confirm. And, I would recommend that he begin Matchmaking training as soon as possible because that seems to be his strongest affinity.”
Stiles groaned and fell back into his chair. That did not sound like anything fun. John looked over at him amused, before turning back to Deaton. “Just let me know when you need him and I’ll make sure he’s here,” his dad assured. He ignored the dark look that Stiles sent him. “But, before that, what is a Spark, exactly? I’ve had shifters and magic users on my force, but I’ve never heard that term before.”
Deaton nodded. “I’m not surprised that you haven’t,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “As I said they are exceedingly rare. I don’t know any personally, though I know of about five Sparks currently living and practicing. I would guess that there are, maybe, twenty-five living Sparks around the world.”
Stiles leaned back in shock. He exchanged a look with his dad. John looked even more worried. “Is there are reason you keep emphasizing ‘living’ Sparks?”
Deaton raised an eyebrow. “You are familiar with the three different types of magic users: Matchmakers, Druids, and Witches?” he said, not at all answering the question.
“Yes,” John said warily, “what does that have to do with living Sparks?”
“All three vary in their strengths and their abilities, their affinities if you will.” Deaton held up a hand before John could interrupt with more questions. “There are strong Matchmakers and weak ones, just as there are strong Witches and weak ones. They all operate on a gradient, a hierarchy of sorts. However, Druids tend to be stronger than Matchmakers and Witches tend to be stronger than Druids. The weakest Witch is going to be as strong as the strongest Matchmaker.” He waited for Stiles and John to continue. “The weakest Spark that I know of is as strong as the strongest Witch I know.”
Stiles jerked back at that. Deaton shot a look at him, but continued before Stiles could ask any of the questions that were popping into his head. “Now, the energy force that we know as magic is the same for every user, what differs is the way that the user harnesses it. Matchmaker’s gift is entirely internal. They touch a mark and see the connections between people. The strongest ones can do as Stiles has done, matching people before the mark appears, because they are so deeply in tuned with the connections between people. It takes them decades of study and practice to be able to do so.”
Deaton waved a hand between himself and Marin. “Druids, like myself and Marin, harness the energy that comes from nature. Some of us can sense the connections between people, like a Matchmaker can, but we are more in tuned with nature. We work more with the connections between nature and living beings, both human and supernatural. We guide and advise and when our magic manifests externally it is always tied to an element. We are limited by how much we can affect the natural order of things. For example, we cannot stop a storm that is coming, only mitigate the damage.” Deaton paused again, waiting for Stiles’s nod to continue.
“Witches are limited in the ability to perform magic by their need to use spells and rituals, but that is their only limitation. They can stop a storm with no repercussions. But, they are not as connected to nature and cannot see or manipulate the connections between living beings or in nature.”
John shifted. “This is a nice history lesson and all, but what does this have to do with my son?”
Deaton raised an eyebrow. “If we are right and Stiles is a Spark,” he said slowly, “then he will have no limitations.”
Stiles sucked in a breath at that. He wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of that. He’d come today expecting to be told that he was just a really strong Matchmaker or something, not some kind of Harry Potter rare, chosen one level of magic user. “So I’m just going to get stronger?” he asked, more than a little shocked.
Marin looked at him sympathetically. “Most likely,” she said kindly. “From what I’ve read, it is not unusual for a Spark to come into their power around puberty, but they always become stronger with practice.”
“But you have to do more tests before you’re certain that Stiles is a Spark?” his dad asked. He continued at Deaton’s nod. “And then, what?”
Deaton leaned forward. “First, I suggest we have Stiles officially registered as a Matchmaker. There’s some paperwork to be done and an official training course that he’ll need to go through before the registration becomes official and able to be legally enforced.”
Stiles looked at Deaton, confused. “But I’m not actually a Matchmaker, am I?”
“No.” Deaton smiled at him. “But your Matchmaking abilities have manifested already, so they’re going to be the easiest to train.” Deaton turned to look at John. “You are familiar with the legal protections granted to Matchmakers?”
John nodded. “Their identities are legally protected unless they officially waive that right. It’s never come up in my jurisdiction, but I have heard some of the stories of stalkers and mentally ill people kidnapping Matchmakers to try to get them to force a match.”
Deaton nodded again. “Because their magic is internally focused, Matchmakers are the least able to defend themselves,” he explained. “Whereas a Druid could call on their chosen element to protect them or a Witch could summon a creature or use a talisman to protect themselves, a Matchmaker only has their own human, physical abilities to protect themselves. So, while you do have the television personalities who act publicly as Matchmakers, they also have teams of bodyguards who protect them.”
Stiles snorted. “Or Michelle Badena’s Werewolf husband,” he said. The star of To Make a Match had just been in the news because her husband had practically mauled a stalker who had tried to get into their home.
Marin smiled at him. “Exactly,” she said. Her smile faded after a minute. “However, there are some things that bodyguards and Werewolves can’t easily defend against.”
“And what exactly is that?” John asked. His cop voice was out full force.
Deaton and Marin shared an uncomfortable look. “The reason that there are so few Sparks is not only because the ability rarely manifests, but because they make extremely tempting targets for creatures that prey upon magic users and, occasionally, rogue hunters and magic users. It’s much easier to steal a Witch’s talismans that in is to kill a Witch and gain the same amount of power, because they are only conduits for the energy rather than batteries themselves. The same goes with Druids.” Deaton waved a hand at himself again. “Plus a trained Witch or Druid will have protections built up, not only to keep them from being detected by such creatures, but also to defend themselves from them. The payoff in attacking a Witch or a Druid is low compared to the risk. Probably ninety percent of the time such attacks come out in favor of the Witch or Druid.”
Deaton waved a hand towards Stiles. “Matchmakers, on the other hand, hold magical energy within them and only expend a tiny portion when they Match. The stronger the Matchmaker, the less energy they have to expend to perform a Match. There is a high payout for a low amount of risk, hence, the laws for their protection.”
Stiles rubbed a hand over his face. “So, essentially I’m going to be a walking buffet for these kind of creatures,” he said, his voice cracking under the impending panic. “Extremely high payout with little to no risk.” His father reached out and took hold of Stiles’s hand, squeezing it slightly. Stiles felt a little bit of his panic ebb, but it was replaced with guilt. If he was a walking target, then so was his dad.
“For the moment, you will be fine,” Deaton said. “Your magic hasn’t begun to manifest externally, so you’ll be under the radar for the creatures attracted to that kind of thing. The sooner we have you registered as a Matchmaker, the easier it will be to keep your identity hidden.”
“And what about the protections that you mentioned Druids and Witches have?” John asked. “I would think that would be a priority.”
Deaton grimaced slightly. “We will try, but you have to understand Druid magic works very differently than Spark magic does,” he explained. “Essentially, we’ll be like ducks trying to teach a fish how to swim.” Stiles snorted at that image. Some of the panic gripping him released.
“I think that the students at Stiles’s school should be reminded that revealing a Matchmaker’s identity is against the law,” Marin suggested. “If they haven’t already realized what Stiles is, they will soon. I volunteer there as a guidance counselor some days, so I will make sure it gets scheduled.”
John nodded. He leaned over the edge of the chair and pointed a finger at Stiles. “And you’ll tell me immediately if anyone gives you any flack about it.”
Stiles nodded and held up his hands in surrender. He knew when he was outnumbered.
Deaton nodded. “I’m going to see if I can reach out to a Spark and arrange for a teacher for Stiles, but these things have to be done delicately. As I said, I don’t know any personally, so I’ll have to reach out through contacts I trust and they will have to do the same. It can’t be seen as urgent and I can’t give the real reason I’m trying to contact the Spark or I will essentially be announcing to the magical community that there is an untrained Spark here.” Deaton looked between them to see if they understood the danger that posed.
Stiles swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. “No giant flashing neon signs, got it.”
John snorted. “How long do you think it might take?”
Deaton shrugged. “At best, a few months, at worst a year or two. It depends on the Spark, how inundated they are with requests from the various magic users and how isolated they have made themselves. There is one in New York City who is likely to be the easiest to reach, but the least likely to respond.” Deaton waved a hand to dismiss the topic.
“I would recommend we meet three times a week for now,” Deaton said. “Twice during the week and a longer session on either Saturday or Sunday, depending on your schedule.” He continued over Stiles’s groan. “It usually takes Matchmakers a full year, sometimes two, to complete the necessary training to become a Matchmaker. I want you to be registered before you leave for college.”
“Sorry, kiddo, but I’m going to have to agree with him on this one,” John said. He patted Stiles’s shoulder sympathetically. John turned to look at Deaton. “What exactly will this training entail?”
Deaton nodded. He pulled a folder out of his desk and handed over a paper. “We’ll start with the testing, just to be sure, then we’ll move on to the approved curriculum. There’s a lot of moral and ethical obligations of matching to go over, and then we’ll work on processing the images safely without becoming overwhelmed.”
Stiles sighed when his dad handed the paper over to him and he saw the long list of topics they would have to cover. He folded it up and tucked it in his pocket. A few minutes later he and his dad were being escorted out of the center with a schedule for his training.
His friends were both excited and relieved to hear that he’d be getting training. Stiles took Deaton’s advice and refrained from spontaneously hooking up anyone else at school. He kept a low profile as his classmates started to turn eighteen and their soulmarks started to appear. Naturally, the first few couples who had both their soul marks appear were pleasantly surprised when their partner turned out to be their soulmate. There were a few disappointed people who’d hooked up without Stiles’s guidance who broke up when they realized they weren’t soulmates and a few who soldiered on anyways.
Erica and Boyd were more than happy to show off their matching marks. Scott and Kira were next with a mark that look like fox tails. Cora and Isaac pretended not to be excited, but Stiles caught them looking down at their marks with soft smiles whenever they thought no one was looking. It was moments like that that made Stiles glance down at his own blank wrist with a feeling of impatience.
Jackson’s friends had forgotten about Stiles in their preoccupation with college applications and soulmate marks. It came completely out of nowhere when Jackson slammed him up against a locker. “I didn’t do anything,” Stiles squeaked out. He braced for a punch that never came. Stiles peeked an eye open and looked at Jackson. He opened his eyes fully when he saw that there was no punch coming. Lydia was standing beside him, both of them looking at Stiles curiously.
“I don’t know what you want,” he said carefully, “but please put me down.”
Surprisingly, Jackson actually did put him down. Lydia studied him for one long moment before she spoke. “You knew,” she said slowly. Stiles’s gaze went down to their wrists, both covered with patches where their soulmarks should be, and realized that it had been Lydia’s birthday the day before. Her soulmark had appeared, but she’d decided to cover it. He nodded.
Jackson ripped of his patch and thrust his wrist out at Stiles first. “Who?” he asked. Stiles looked up into his eyes and saw a bit of desperation there. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out to touch Jackson’s soulmark. “Abigail Pierce,” he said with certainty. “She lives in England. Blonde hair, but cut short, and a temper that will keep you on your toes, but fiercely loyal.” He drew his fingers away. “Take the scholarship for the school your dad wants you to go to.” He blinked up at Jackson, who was staring at him with a bit of awe. Jackson didn’t say anything, just slapped the patch back on and walked away.
When he looked back, Lydia held her wrist daintily out to him. He reached his fingers out again. “Jordan Parrish. Tall, brown hair, kind. He’s not here now, but he’ll be a Beacon Hills deputy in a few years.” He drew his fingers back. “You can seek him out now, or go and have a normal college experience and meet him when you come home for summer break in three years.” Stiles shrugged. Lydia looked down at the star on her wrist and touched it. She had a soft smile on her lips. Unlike Jackson, she didn’t just saunter away. She looked up at him, actually looked at him like he was a person for the first time in years.
“Thank you, Stiles,” she said genuinely before turning and walking away. Stiles looked around the hallway, but it was deserted. Everyone else had gone to class already. Stiles dusted himself off and headed into fifth period. He got detention for being late, but the feeling of euphoria from helping Jackson and Lydia lasted long enough that he didn’t mind at all.
Stiles expected the word to spread around school like wildfire, but neither Jackson nor Lydia appeared to say anything to anyone. People were starting to notice that an inordinate number of couples in their school had already found their soulmates, but no one seemed to be able to pinpoint how that happened. Stiles knew that they’d figure it out eventually. He’d personally hooked up enough soulmates and all of his friends had their soulmates. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, but he hoped that he could beat the rumors to graduation.
April came and with it a crippling anxiety. There had been one person in their school whose birthday had come without a soulmate mark and, granted, Tim was obviously asexual so no one was really that surprised, but Stiles was a champion worrier. Each morning he looked down at his blank wrist and worried that maybe he would be like that too. Well, he knew he wasn’t asexual. In fact, he was quite firmly in the bisexual camp, but maybe he didn’t have a soulmate. Not everyone did. And sometimes soulmates died before they found each other, or died at birth. There were even a couple famous Matchmakers who hadn’t had soulmates. Or, even worse, what if he had a soulmate and hated them? Well, more likely they would hate him.
He took to wearing the shirts with the longest sleeves possible, even to bed, just so he didn’t have to see his blank wrist. He got so used to being worried about his soulmark not being there, that he didn’t even remember to look on the morning of his birthday. His dad asked him about it at breakfast and Stiles looked at him dumbly for a second.
Stiles looked down at his wrist and thought he might have caught a hint of something silver peeking out from under his sleeve. His hand trembled as he carefully pulled the fabric down. He let out a breath in relief when he saw the silver mark there on his wrist. He traced the three whorls with his eyes, not daring to touch the mark with his father watching. He leaned closer and saw that there was a design in the center, like a burst of electricity held in by the larger pattern. Stiles couldn’t help grinning as he held his wrist out for his father to see.
John grinned back at him. “Do you know who it is yet?” he asked.
Stiles shook his head. “Deaton said that not all Matchmakers can see their own match,” he said. He shrugged off the question, not wanting to explain to his father that he had been so afraid he wouldn’t have a mark that he hadn’t quite prepared himself for finding out who his soulmate was.
And didn’t that set off a new set of worries for him. He’d already accepted a scholarship to UC Berkeley. What if his soulmate was in Japan or some weird place on the other side of the world? What if it was someone younger than him and they’d be separated for most of the year? What if it was someone older and they wouldn’t want to be seen on a college campus? His dad knew him though. He reached over and grabbed Stiles’s hand, breaking him out of his thoughts.
“I’m sure whoever your soulmate is, they’ll love you just as much as I do.” John patted his hand reassuringly. “Now go get dressed before you’re late for school.”
Stiles groaned, but complied. He dressed in long sleeves just so he wouldn’t keep looking down at his mark all day. School kept him distracted at least until lunch time when Scott demanded to see his mark before anyone but Scott and Erica had sat down at the table. He allowed them to look once and then pulled his sleeve back down to cover it, refusing to keep pulling it out every five minutes. Erica pestered him about trying to find his soulmate, but he lied and said that Matchmakers couldn’t find their own mates. Cora gave him a long look that said that she knew he was lying, but she didn’t call him on his bullshit. Sometimes, she was his favorite just because she never pressured him about the soulmate thing.
After school was dinner with his dad and then cake and presents with Melissa and his friends. It wasn’t until late in the evening, after his dad had gone to bed, that Stiles sat down on his bed and decided to try touching his own mark. His fingers were steady as he reached over. He took a deep breath and let them drop in the lightest of touches.
Stiles was flooded with images instantly. He gasped as the information rushed into his mind. There wasn’t one name, but two that popped to the tip of his tongue. “Christopher Argent,” he said with awe. He sensed an older man, not old like his dad’s age, but definitely more than one or two years older than him. He got flashes of a face, of a business. He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder and a chuckle that was warm and honest. “Peter Hale,” he said a moment later. He had to grin at the name, because Peter felt like mischief and joy. He was also older, but younger than Chris. He got an image of a well dressed man, with a big family, and power. Not just fiscal power, but supernatural strength. A werewolf, like Cora. He ripped his hand away from his wrist with a gasp. And they were already together.
To say that Stiles freaked out would have been a mild understatement. Not only was he an apparently rare magic user with a gift for Matchmaking, but also he was part of an also rare three-way soulbond. With two men who were older than him. He was essentially bond crashing and saddling two perfectly nice people with a teenage spaz. He was so stressed out by the whole idea that his Spark choose that moment to manifest with literal sparks on his fingertips. The resultant panic attack from these revelations should have surprised no one. Though it did surprise his dad, who came running into the room at Stiles’s shout and was quite surprised by his hyperventilating, sparking son.
They went to the SRAS first thing the next morning and Stiles was saddled with more magical training classes in addition to his Matchmaking classes. Deaton even called around the area near Berkeley to arrange for a teacher for him there. Stiles refused to tell Deaton or his dad what set off his panic attack disaster. They seemed to guess though, or at least his dad never mentioned him finding his soulmate again. There was a box of mark patches on his desk when he woke up the next morning.
Graduation was almost anticlimactic after that. He passed his classes with high marks, but he wasn’t any competition for Lydia. A few of the couples he hooked up discretely thanked him after the ceremony. He passed his Matchmaking certification test easily and with little fanfare. A few more of his classmates cornered him over the course of the summer, but by the time word really got around to all of his classmates he was already off to college. Only a handful of his classmates went to Berkeley with him and the campus was so large it was easy to avoid them in daily interaction. None of them sought him out anyways.
Stiles liked college. He liked being anonymous. He could nudge a couple people towards their soulmates when the itch became too overwhelming and distracting. The campus was so large that even if two couples he hooked up met and ended up comparing notes, they weren't likely to put two and two together. Even when he outright told someone “that person over there is your soulmate, go talk to them”, he was able to disappear back into the campus population before they got a good look at him.
His classes were interesting, mostly general education classes that he was required to take, but they were at least more varied that his high school classes had been. He hadn’t declared a major when he’d enrolled, so he took a few random introductory classes to see what he might like. It was a toss up whether the Human and Supernatural Rights in America class or the Cognitive Psychology class was his favorite.
Deaton’s contact, a Witch named Anastasia, turned out to be a brilliant professor in the Classics department. She hooked him up with an independent study so he got a few college credits for their weekly meetings. Anastasia guided him through learning about different supernatural creatures and tutored him in ancient languages. Together they read through tome after tome, trying to find something that explained how Spark magic worked. The most interesting part for him was when she let him perform magic with her. He apparently didn’t need the rituals and spell components like she did, but he could still use them to some degree and he found it fascinating all the same. Unfortunately, the talismans only did him good if he remembered to wear them.
They experimented with Stiles’s magic, trying to apply the concepts of Witch's magic to the way his Spark worked, but it didn’t work much better than Deaton trying to teach him about Druid magic did. He was able to work the spells that she worked and he had some success with shields against external magic, but shields against physical attacks were harder for him to grasp. He didn’t understand how they were supposed to work. He couldn’t even believe it was possible. He had the same frustration with a lot of the things Deaton and Anastasia were trying to teach him. He just couldn’t believe his Spark was just supposed to make these things happen. He left the magic lessons aggravated more often than not.
Between his heavy course load and the magic training, he didn’t have a chance to freak out about his soulmates or missing his dad. He had friends to keep him occupied, too. Erica, Boyd, and Cora had all come to Berkeley with him. Scott and Isaac had chosen the local community college in Beacon Hills, but they came up on weekends to visit him and Cora. Kira had gone to Stanford, which nearly broke Scott’s heart, but she still kept in contact with them all via Skype. Stiles even made a couple friends in his classes.
His roommate, Greg, was a heavy partier and Stiles let Greg drag him along to fraternity parties and clubs. Greg introduced him to people. Stiles went out on dates with guys and girls who were also single and kept their soulmarks patched. He enjoyed the dancing and making out and socializing. He never let any of them get past second base, though. It felt too much like cheating. Some of the breakups were amicable, some not so much so. The bad ones ended in shouting and thrown objects, being called names and having all the secrets he had shared thrown back in his face.
Those were the days he took the fake ID Greg got him and hid away in a club until the pounding of music and adrenaline convinced him to do stupid things. Erica and Cora found it hilarious when he did what they called ‘match ninja-ing’. He would feel two soulmates in the same club, slip up to one or both of them and point them out to the other, and then slip away. Sometimes he felt guilty about it when he was sober, just springing the knowledge on them, but they were always delighted to find one another. Very rarely, they would find him in the club, dragging along friends who weren’t matched. Stiles always read for anyone who asked, though he never accepted thanks or told anyone his name. Those nights were always his favorite though, when he was drunk on alcohol and the ecstasy that came with matching. Sometimes he would touch his soulmark and revel in the feeling of his soulmates. Those little flashes of their love, their happiness, were enough for him.
“But Boyd hasn’t even gotten here yet!” Erica pouted. “We were all going to go to the diner together.”
Stiles smiled at her. “Give my love to your boo, but I’d rather go spend some quality time with my bed. Finals are going to be coming up and I want to get in my sleep while I can.”
Cora looked at him critically. “Do you want me to walk you home? Maybe call you a cab?” She started to rise, but Stiles waved her back down.
“Nah,” he replied. “It’s a nice night out. I kind of want to enjoy the Spring air.” He smiled at their disbelieving looks. “It’s only a couple blocks back to campus. I’ll be fine.”
Cora eventually relented and let him go. Stiles caught sight of Diedre, the girl he’d set up earlier that night, coming towards their table with yet another friend to match. He swore and ducked out the club. That girl must have called in every one of her single friends because they kept coming in waves. Stiles might have to change clubs for a while.
Stiles took a deep breath of the night air as he stepped out of the club. The air was cool and clean and refreshing after the press and heat of bodies in the club. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, but his long sleeve shirt was perfect for this weather. The streets were quiet and empty. Stiles was pleasantly drunk, more from magic than from alcohol. He smiled as he started in the direction of the campus.
A noise behind him made him turn and look over his shoulder. There was a man walking about a block away. He was steadily approaching Stiles, his pace much quicker than Stiles’s slow meandering. Stiles frowned as he turned back around. There was something odd about the man. Something not right. He turned to look again and the man was only half a block away. His eyes flashed yellow as the streetlight hit them. Stiles shuddered. His magic did not like the man at all. Stiles hurried and turned the first corner he came to, hoping to get out of the stranger’s path. The man followed.
Stiles sped up a little. He took the next turn at random, heading back towards to club. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the man turn the same corner. He smiled when he saw Stiles was watching. There were way too many teeth in his mouth. Wendigo, his brain supplied.
Stiles took off at a run. He could hear the wendigo behind him. It sounded like it was getting closer. Stiles felt a gust of air as the wendigo tried to grab him and missed. He turned quickly and ducked down an alley. Stiles felt panic build as he looked around for anything to help him. He pulled over garbage cans as he passed, anything to draw some attention. He pulled out his phone as he turned into another alley. He couldn’t remember which way the club was anymore. Stiles had hit the 9 and 1 when the wendigo tackled him.
They fell to the ground hard. Stiles brought his arm up to brace himself, for a brief second relieved for all the years of lacrosse that had given him practice falling. He lost his grip on his phone as he landed and it went skittering away.
Stiles screamed as the wendigo’s claws started to bite into his leg. He kicked backwards with his free leg. His foot connected with the wendigo’s face with a crack. Stiles had a brief flash of relief as it let go. He scrambled away. Stiles snatched up his phone as he passed. He limped away as fast as he could while he finished dialing. Stiles heard the 911 operator's voice. He opened his mouth as hope filled him.
The wendigo slashed at his back, catching his shirt and grazing the skin on his back. Stiles shouted as the movement unbalanced him. He twisted, stumbling a bit and lost his grip on the phone. It fell somewhere in a pile of garbage. Stiles didn’t spare it a second glance as he backed away from the wendigo. Panic bubbled in his chest. The wendigo’s face was bloody from what looked like a broken nose, but it’s focus remained on Stiles. The wendigo stalked forward. Stiles let out a little whimper as his injured leg caught on an uneven patch of concrete. He held up his hands and tried to think of some way to get away from the wendigo. He didn’t think it really cared who it’s soulmate was. He’d let Erica convince him to leave his talismans at home in favor of something more club appropriate. There weren’t any trees nearby to use the bit of Druid magic he’d learned. His hands sparked. The wendigo did not seem impressed. The wendigo wiped the blood away from his nose, which seemed to be healing already.
“Such a delicious smelling treat,” the wendigo said as he paced forward. “I’ve never smelled prey like you before. What are you?”
“None of your business,” Stiles spluttered. A surge of fear spiked through him, giving him the burst of energy he needed to dodge when the wendigo grabbed for him. He kept backing up.
“No matter.” The wendigo shrugged. “I don't need to know what I'm eating.”
Stiles dodged when the wendigo swung its right arm at him, claws out. The wendigo growled and came at him again. Stiles realized too late that it was a feint and the wendigo slammed into him. Stiles shouted as the cuts on his back came in contact with the dirty wall of the alley. He felt the breath rush out of him at the impact.
The wendigo shifted backwards for one brief second. Stiles brought his hands up between their bodies and shocked the wendigo with his sparks. The wendigo jerked backwards a step. Stiles pushed past him and began to run, but the wendigo was too fast in close quarters. It had Stiles pinned to the wall again in a flash. Stiles struggled as fear gripped him. He tried to shock the wendigo again, but the wendigo pinned Stiles’s arms out to the side. Stiles twisted his wrists, but he couldn’t reach anything.
The wendigo bit into Stiles’s shoulder and Stiles screamed. “You were worth waiting outside the club for hours for,” the wendigo said. Stiles gagged at the smell of blood on the creature’s breath. “I’ve never tasted anything like you before.” Stiles breath hitched in a sob as the creature leaned in again to lap at the wound. “Such a rare and delicious treat.” Stiles closed his eyes as the wendigo’s mouth opened wide.
A shot rang though the air and Stiles felt the splash of something hot and wet on his face and upper body. The wendigo’s weight fell away from him. Stiles kept his eyes squeezed closed as he carefully reached up and used his dirty sleeve to wipe whatever was on him off his eyes and mouth. He blinked his eyes open. Stiles let out a low whimper when he looked down and saw that he was covered in blood. His eyes trailed over to the body at his feet. The wendigo had been shot through the head. Stiles stumbled a few steps away and promptly threw up.
“It doesn’t look like the boy is that grateful for our help, Kali,” a woman said. Stiles could hear the clack of heels on pavement. He turned and looked at the two figures approaching him. One was a woman with a large shotgun, which she had pointed at him. The other was a werewolf, walking barefoot down the alley with claws on her fingers and toes.
“He really doesn’t,” Kali replied. She took a deep whiff of the air. “Now, what are you,” she asked as she stepped closer, “that a wendigo considers you rare?”
Stiles stumbled backwards, but Kali pinned him to the alley wall, arms braced on either side of him. She leaned in close, smelling his neck. “You smell human,” she said, “but just a little bit different.” She wrinkled her nose. “You smell like magic.” She turned to her partner. “Come here, Jennifer, this one might be yours.”
Jennifer slung her shotgun into a holster over her back. She stepped forward until she was shoulder to shoulder with Kali. Jennifer’s hand shot out, grasping Stiles’s chin so hard that her nails dug in. She turned Stiles’s head so that he was looking at her. Her eyes held his and flashed. Stiles felt his fright melt away as her magic washed into him. He sagged docilely in Jennifer’s grip. Her eyes lit up in triumph.
“This is a rare catch,” Jennifer said. She leaned over and planted a heated kiss on Kali’s lips as if Stiles wasn’t even there. “There’s so much power in the boy,” she said when she pulled away. “I’ll have magic for years after draining him.”
Stiles had enough brain power left to whimper at that. The threat made his heart rate climb. His fear helped him shake off Jennifer’s magic. He raised his hands and pushed his magic into his sparks. Kali and Jennifer both fell away, twitching from the shock. Stiles shoved past them. He raced towards the entrance to the alley as fast as he could.
“Get back here,” Kali roared.
He heard the cock of the shotgun and ducked to the side. Stiles tucked himself behind a dumpster just as the shot released. He curled up so that none of his limbs were exposed. He heard the click of Jennifer’s heals approaching. Stiles felt tears prick his eyes and he tried to frantically think of some way to get away. He couldn’t run, but he couldn’t stay either. Kali jumped onto the top of the dumpster and Stiles screamed.
“What are you doing down there?” a voice yelled from the entrance to the alley. All three of them looked in that direction instinctively. Stiles sagged with relief when he saw the flashing of police lights. The officer was already speaking into his radio as he ran towards them. Stiles recognized the call for backup.
“Shit,” Kali swore. She and Jennifer turned and raced towards the other end of the alley. The cop hesitated when he got to Stiles. His partner appeared at that instant. The first cop, a werewolf by the glow of his eyes, raced off after Kali and Jennifer.
“Hey,” the other cop said. He crouched down so that he was at Stiles’s level and inched forward slowly. “I’m here to help. Are you hurt?”
Stiles’s breath caught in his chest. He could feel the panic attack coming on now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He forced himself to nod.
The officer inched closer. He reached a hand out carefully, not making any sudden movements. His fingers pulled the fabric away from the bite on Stiles’s shoulder. Stiles hissed. His breath came in pants. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision.
“Hey, hey,” the officer’s voice caught his attention. “Breathe with me. In and out. Nice big breaths.” Stiles focused on the other man’s voice, letting it guide him through the panic attack. Eventually his breathing became even. Stiles blinked as the world came back to him in a cacophony of sounds and lights.
He looked over at the entrance to the alley and saw that at least one other car had joined the first. There were several police officers and an EMT hovering nearby. He heard movement further up the alley but the dumpster blocked his view.
“My name is Jordan, by the way,” the officer said. “What’s yours?”
Stiles stared at the officer numbly. He forced himself to take another deep breath. “Stiles,” he managed to choke out.
“It’s nice to meet you, Stiles,” Jordan said. He held out a hand. “How about we get you out of there?”
Stiles nodded and accepted his hand. The EMT rushed over immediately, ducking under his shoulder to help him limp towards an ambulance parked with the police cars. The woman made him sit down on the back gate while she got out her supplies. The EMT glared at a policewoman who tried to document Stiles’s injuries and got in the EMT’s way. The policewoman found somewhere else to be. The EMT shoved her way forward and handed Stiles a wet cloth, nodding towards his face. Stiles raised a shaky hand and started to wipe the wendigo’s blood off. “Where all are you hurt?” the EMT asked as she carefully examined the bite on his shoulder.
“I got bit on the shoulder,” he said. “And claws on the back and my leg.” He leaned forward slightly to point out the spot on his lower left leg for her. He let out a shaky breath as he leaned back upright. Stiles looked down at his hands, still holding the bloody cloth. They were shaking. He couldn’t seem to stop staring at the blood. Jordan carefully took the cloth from him and set it somewhere out of Stiles’s line of sight.
The EMT looked up from where she was cutting away the fabric of his shirt. “It doesn’t look like you’re going to need stitches,” she said. She patted his arm reassuringly. “Just hold still while I get these wounds cleaned and then I’ll know for sure.”
“It was a wendigo,” Stiles said. “If that makes any difference.”
The EMT nodded and reached for a different bottle of disinfectant. Stiles hissed as she rinsed out the scratches on his leg. He had to look away when it started bubbling. Jordan caught his eye with a sympathetic smile. “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked. He held a pad and pen, ready to take notes. His partner, the werewolf, was hovering nearby, but appeared to be watching the other cops more than Stiles.
“I was walking home,” Stiles began, “and I noticed a guy following me. I made a couple turns and he was still following me. That’s when I noticed he was a wendigo. I took off running and he started chasing after me. He clawed my leg and I fell, but I managed to kick him in the face and break his nose. That’s when I was able to call 911, but then he tackled me and I lost my phone somewhere. He had me pinned the the wall and had just bitten my shoulder when the other two came and one of them shot him with her shotgun.” He waved a hand at the blood splattering him.
Jordan nodded sympathetically. He whispered something about a phone to his partner, who wandered off. Jordan nodded for Stiles to continue.
“The women called each other Jennifer and Kali,” he said. “Kali’s a werewolf. I’m not sure what Jennifer is. She was the one using the shotgun, but she said something about draining me of my magic… I essentially tazed them and was running away, but then Jennifer shot at me and I had to duck behind the dumpster and that’s when you guys showed up.” Stiles let out his breath in a whoosh.
The EMT gave him the side eye and moved back in towards his wound. It was only then that he realized she’d had to duck out of the way of his flailing while he’d talked. Stiles smiled apologetically at her. He pointedly set his hands down by his sides. The werewolf partner jogged up a moment later with Stiles’s phone. Stiles made grabby hands at it and received a glare from the EMT. He smiled at her sheepishly as he lowered one of his hands, holding the other out to the werewolf
The werewolf looked to Jordan for confirmation before handing over the phone. “We’re going to need to take you back to the station for a full statement,” the werewolf said. “Is there anyone you’d like us to call?”
“Oh, yeah.” Stiles hadn’t even thought about that part. He was so used to cops knowing him and shoving him off on his dad he’d almost forgotten what normal police procedure was. He thought for a minute about who to call. His dad was too far away to be much help for hours and Stiles didn’t see the point in waking him up and panicking him just for a police statement. He thumbed through his contacts until he found Anastasia’s cell number. He held the phone back out to the werewolf. “My teacher, Anastasia,” he explained. The werewolf looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but accepted the phone and wandered off.
A few minutes later the werewolf returned. He looked at Stiles curiously, but handed the phone back without comment. Jordan and his partner waited with him while the EMT finished patching him up. Jordan helped him down from the ambulance and over to a police car. The door shut behind him and Stiles sagged against the seat. He felt a little bit of relief as the alley fell away behind them.
The police station was quiet as they entered. There were a couple cops sitting at the desks and one or two people waiting on the benches, but nowhere near the bustle of activity that it probably was during the day. Jordan led him over to his desk and pulled up an incident form on his computer. Stiles looked over Jordan’s desk while the officer started to fill out the top part. His eyes fell on the nameplate and he paused. Jordan Parrish. The name sounded familiar. He looked at the spot where Jordan’s soulmark would be. It looked familiar too. That’s when he remembered. Lydia’s Jordan.
“Stiles?” Jordan asked and Stiles startled. He looked over at the officer, who had apparently been trying to get his attention.
“Sorry,” he apologized. Stiles rubbed a hand over his face. “What was the question?”
Jordan smiled at him. “I asked what your full name is.”
Stiles mouthed “Oh” at him. He reached over and motioned for Jordan to move aside so he could type. “Trust me,” he said when Jordan stared at him, “it’s easier this way.” Jordan looked dubious. They stared at one another before eventually Jordan moved aside so Stiles could sit in his chair. Stiles took a moment to check over the form before writing the monstrosity that was his name in the appropriate spot. He filled out the rest of the pertinent information on autopilot and then started in on his statement. He looked over the statement once he was done, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.
Jordan looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Filled out many of these, have you Mie… Myc…” Jordan looked down at his name and squinted at it. “Mr. Stilinski.”
“Stiles is fine,” he said hurriedly before Jordan could try and butcher the pronunciation of his first name any further. “And, yes.” He got up and let Jordan have his chair back.
Stiles looked around the room as he waited for Jordan to read over and then print the statement. It looked like all the officers were back at this point. Jordan’s partner wandered over and handed him a new t-shirt. Stiles gratefully accepted it, trading his torn one for a generic Berkeley Police Department one. Stiles old shirt went into an evidence bag and was tossed into a box with what looked like other things from the alley.
“Stiles?” Jordan asked, drawing his attention back. He held out the printed copy for Stiles to sign. Stiles accepted it and quickly signed at the bottom.
“In your statement you said you shocked the women, but before you said you tazed them. Would you mind handing over your taser?”
Stiles raised an eyebrow quizzically. “I don’t have a taser.”
“Then how did you shock them?” Jordan asked.
Stiles held up his fingers and wiggled them. Jordan just stared at him. Stiles pushed a little magic into his fingers and they sparked. Everyone around him jerked back with a start. Stiles hastily put his hands down and stopped sparking. The police officers looked at him with surprise for a minute. One of them huffed out a laugh. “Like that would be enough to stop a werewolf,” he said with a sneer.
“I put a bit more juice behind it than that,” Stiles said defensively. He blushed when the office just gave him a disbelieving look.
Jordan’s partner, Office Norwood according to his nameplate, held out his hand to Stiles. “Would you demonstrate please?”
Stiles looked from the hand up to the officer’s face. “Are you sure?” he asked uncertainly. “I’d really rather not…”
The werewolf just rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Stiles let out a long breath. He slowly raised his hand. Stiles closed his eyes for a second, calling up his magic and thinking back to the panic and fear that had powered the shock. His breath caught in his chest. His hand started to spark violently. He opened his eyes and touched Officer Norwood’s arm. The werewolf fell backwards with a jerk. Stiles pulled his hand backwards, curling up small as the officers in the room shot to their feet. More than one of them had their guns free of their holsters and half raised before Norwood waved them down. Stiles stared out at the room with wide eyes, afraid for a minute to move.
“That does pack quite a punch,” Norwood said, shaking out his arm. “What did you say you were again?”
“I didn’t,” Stiles said. He licked his lips nervously. He looked around the room at the officers watching him. “I’m a Spark.”
The room fell quiet for a long moment. Jordan cleared his throat and drew Stiles’s attention back to him, but Stiles could hear the other officers muttering to each other. Words like “impossible” and “not natural” stuck out in the jumble of noise. Stiles looked towards the speakers and saw them draw away from him as if they were afraid of what he might do if they looked at him wrong. Stiles shrank in on himself. He curled his hands into his elbows where they couldn’t be seen if he started sparking. He regretted not calling his father right then. He really wanted to go home.
Jordan patted Stiles reassuringly on the shoulder. “Don’t pay them any attention,” he said in a whisper. “Unfortunately night shift tends to get the newbies like me, but also the old farts who nobody else wants to work with. We just have one or two more questions and then you can go home.”
“Stiles!” A voice called from the doorway. Stiles looked up as Anastasia and her wife, Natalie, burst into the police station. Anastasia rushed over and pulled Stiles into a hug. “We were so worried about you.” Stiles sank into the hug with relief.
Natalie stepped up and glared around at the police station. “Who’s in charge here?” One of the officers nodded towards a closed door. Natalie marched over. “Anastasia, make sure no one leaves,” she called over her shoulder. Natalie pulled the door open, then slammed it shut again. Anastasia shifted and pulled a pouch out of her pocket. Stiles felt the whoosh of magic settling around the building as the ash spread to contain the building. There was silence for a minute and then Stiles heard shouting behind the closed door. Stiles winced. He did not envy whoever was on the other side of the door. Natalie was a fierce woman. He’d gone to dinner with her and Anastasia once and had the joy of listening to her tear into someone from her law firm who’d called to interrupt dinner because they couldn’t find a subpoena they needed.
“Anastasia Blackwood?” Jordan asked with a bit of awe in his voice.
Anastasia reached around Stiles to hold out a hand to him. Stiles pulled away as they shook hands. He slumped back down in his seat and kept his gaze fixed to the floor. He kind of hoped it would swallow him up right then.
Natalie came back a moment later with a red-faced, older man. “Are all the officers from tonight here?” he barked out. Most of the officers just stared at their captain.
Jordan looked around for a second then answered. “Yes, sir, looks like it.”
Natalie stepped forward then. “That boy is a registered Matchmaker,” she said. The officers in the room turned to stare at Stiles again. “As such, his identity is protected. If any one of you so much as breathe his name to anyone, I will see you all sued into poverty.” She turned her glare around the room before sweeping over to Jordan. Her eyes settled onto the statement on the desk. Natalie marched over and snatched up the document. She pulled out a black marker from somewhere and quickly redacted the document. “I’ll need to see every document related to this case, both current documents and any documents generated in the future.”
Natalie turned to Stiles. Her expression softened. “Stiles, honey,” she said softly, getting his attention. “Did they take any pictures of you?”
Stiles swallowed and nodded. “They documented my injuries,” he said. “I don’t know if there were any others.” He blushed and looked away.
Natalie patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. She turned to snap at the room. “I’ll need to see those pictures. Now!”
The officers burst to action, scrambling to bring Natalie all the items she asked for. Jordan took one look at Stiles and held out a hand to him. “Why don’t we get you something to drink and you and Mrs. Blackwood can wait in one of the other rooms while we get this sorted?”
Stiles nodded. He accepted the hand and the help hobbling over to the one of the conference rooms. Jordan left him and Anastasia for minute before coming back with two bottles of water. “I know it’s late, but we just have a few more questions,” he said apologetically. “I’m assuming you’re going to want your lawyer present for them?” He continued at Anastasia’s nod. “I’ll be back as soon as she’s free, but if you need anything just call.”
The door closed behind Parrish, blocking out a little bit of the sound of the station. Anastasia laid a hand on Stiles’s uninjured shoulder. “What happened?” she asked. “The officer only said that you were hurt and being brought into the station.”
Stiles fidgeted with the sleeve over his soulmark. He was really tempted to touch it and maybe get a little flash of comfort from Chris and Peter, but with how shitty he was feeling that might backfire in his face and make him feel even more depressed. “A wendigo was waiting for me outside the club,” he said. “Said it could smell me. Apparently I’m a delicacy.” He snorted darkly. “Then two women came and shot it. Then the one said she was going to drain me of magic.” Stiles shuddered. He could not imagine that was a pleasant feeling. He could imagine quite a few horrifying ways they could have killed him though… “I shocked her and got away, but then she tried to shoot me and was chased off by the cops.”
“Oh, Stiles,” Anastasia said pulling him into a hug. “I’m so glad that you’re safe.” She let him go after a few minutes. Anastasia held his hand and looked at him seriously. “I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you for this,” she said honestly. Stiles blinked up at her. “Sparks are rare and I’d hoped that they would be so rare that no one would know about them enough to identify you as one. I’d hoped that ignorance would protect you, but it looks like I was wrong.” She patted Stiles’s hand. “I know you’re tired now, but after you get some sleep, we’re going to start really focusing on your defenses. I want you to be able to hide your scent and your heartbeat from other supernatural creatures before you go home.” Anastasia smiled at him when Stiles groaned. She knew how frustrated trying to muddle through his magic made him.
“I’d love it if we could just focus on your matching and translating old books,” she said, “but I think this changes things.” Anastasia paused for a moment. She gave a pointed look to Stiles’s wrist and neck, where he usually wore the charms they had made. “You need to be able to duplicate the protections I use talismans for. Until then, you are never going anywhere without one of your talismans again.”
Stiles sighed and nodded. He slumped back into the chair. Stiles drew back his hands, tracing the patch over his mark and he swung the chair back and forth. He started to doze off for a bit, but then Natalie came strolling in with Parrish and Norwood in tow. Stiles jerked upright in his chair. Parrish looked over apologetically as he sat down across the table from Stiles. Natalie sat down on Stiles’s other side. She rested a hand on Stiles’s back.
“Go ahead,” Natalie said once everyone was settled.
Jordan nodded over to her. He opened the folder he had sat on the table and slid two sheets of pictures over to Stiles. “Can you point out the women who attacked you?”
Stiles looked down at the two sheets. He picked out Jennifer on one page and Kali on another. Jordan handed over a pen and asked him to circle and initial the pictures. Stiles looked over at Natalie and then did so when she nodded. He slid the pages back over to Jordan.
“Should we be worried about these women coming after Stiles?” Anastasia asked.
Jordan shook his head as he slipped the papers back into the file. “I don't think so,” he said. “They're unsanctioned hunters and were probably after the wendigo in the first place. They’ve used a few different aliases over the years, but we have managed to piece together their histories. Their previous pattern has always been to move on as soon as they start to attract too much attention.” Jordan turned to look at Stiles. “Unless you think they have some reason to come after you personally?”
Stiles looked away and shrugged. “Jennifer wanted to drain my magic.”
Anastasia turned to the officers. “Do you have something of theirs?” she asked. “Something with their essence?”
Jordan looked over at Norwood. The werewolf thought for a moment. He left the room and came back with two swabs of blood in sealed bags. “They nicked themselves on another dumpster when they ran.”
“If you’ll permit me to borrow those for a day I can block them from the territory, probably get Deaton to do the same for Beacon Hills for when you go home,” Anastasia said.
Norwood shrugged and handed them over. “We have other samples. Don't think the Captain is going to put too much effort into finding them anyways. He’s certain they’ve already fled the state.”
Natalie narrowed her eyes. “Are we done here?” She rose when Jordan nodded. “Then I think it’s time we leave. Stiles, you can stay with us tonight. “
Stiles nodded and let Anastasia and Natalie lead him out of the station. He paused and turned to Jordan as Anastasia released the spell sealing the station. “If you ever feel like a change of pace,” he said. “The Beacon Hills Sheriff's department could use people like you. Your partner too if he wants. You can use me as a reference.”
Norwood snorted. “You have a lot of pull with the Sheriff?”
Stiles looked over at him. “Yeah,” he said evenly. “He’s my father.” Norwood blinked at him in surprise. Stiles turned to Jordan. “Look me up when you move,” he said. “There's a brilliant redhead who is looking forward to meeting you.” Stiles smiled at Jordan’s startled expression and walked out the door.
He and Chris had talked about the idea. They both had quite healthy sex drives, and Peter had a werewolf’s refractory period. It was a running joke to them that they needed another partner to keep up with him. Peter thought about it sometimes, in the quiet midnight hours. What it would be like to have a third person in bed to fulfill the kinks they didn't have in common. What it would be like to have someone to cool them down when their tempers got hot. What it would be like to have someone who bridged their interests, who would discuss obscure books with him, or did better at being enthusiastic about Chris’s latest addition to his gun collection.
It wasn't that he wasn't happy with Chris. There was no question that they loved each other. They had been together for seven years. His family accepted them. They had a nice, big house at the edge of the forest. They even talked about getting a dog together one day. It was just that sometimes, when the moon was full, his wolf wasn't satisfied with just Chris. It called him to hunt and search and claim.
So, when he was out with his family at the town’s Fourth of July festival, he was surprised to pick up a scent that was utterly intoxicating. A scent that screamed mate to him, but wasn't Chris. Chris wasn’t even supposed to be in town today. Peter took another deep breath. He let his sister and her brood wander on ahead. Peter turned and retraced his steps. His nose twitched as he picked up the faint scent. He followed it as it wandered through the different stalls and shops. He stopped paying attention to anything else except for the soundtrack in his mind of Mate!, Mate!, Mate!
His dad had to come to the festival to represent the Sheriff’s department and Scott and Kira had wanted to meet up with him there and he’d needed an excuse to take a day off from everything. But, he’d forgotten what it was like to be around people who knew about him. He kept running into people that he’d gone to school with. Even when he ducked into stores or weaved through booths he couldn’t avoid them. Then, he saw Cora and Jackson coming at him from different directions with looks of determination on their faces. He froze like a deer in headlights. Cora and Jackson saw each other at the same time. They looked from each other to him and back and then nodded. They each grabbed one of his arms and practically carried him over to the high school’s match booth.
He’d seen booths like that all throughout high school at the town festivals and at the campus-wide events at Berkeley, but unless they were actually sponsored by the SRAS everyone knew that they were just meant in good fun. Someone would sit at the booth and look at your soulmark and make guesses about what your soulmate would be like. The money always went to charity. It was harmless fun.
Except, this booth had a line of his classmates waiting patiently off to one side. The poor girl who was manning the booth shrank under the combined stares of Cora and Jackson. She quickly abandoned her post. Stiles was unceremoniously shoved inside the booth and the rear door slammed shut on his protests. He looked out at the line of people who’d all shifted into place in front of the booth and sighed. Jackson was right at the front of the line, glaring at him impatiently. Stiles righted the stool the girl manning the booth had knocked over in her haste to leave. He eyed the collection jar that was set up on the counter warily. He carefully lifted it off the counter and tucked it underneath for the girl to collect later.
Jackson pushed Danny forward as soon as Stiles sat down. Danny rolled his eyes at Jackson, but stepped forward. “Danny hasn’t found his soulmate yet,” Jackson explained.
Stiles shared a long suffering look with Danny. He held out his hand. Danny looked skeptical for a moment, but let Stiles turn his wrist. Stiles took a deep breath. He hadn’t touched someone else’s soulmark in a few months. His fingers brushed the mark. Images flooded into his mind. “Ethan,” he said. He looked up and met Danny’s surprised eyes. He gave a description of Ethan and where and when to find him. Danny nodded and called his thanks as Jackson led him away.
He barely had a chance to blink before Cora was there. She pulled along a brooding, dark haired man who looked familiar. “This is my brother Derek, who is hopeless.” The young man shot a glare at Cora and crossed his arms.
Stiles resisted the urge to swear. He’d forgotten that Cora was related to Peter somehow and that coming back to Beacon Hills meant risking coming in contact with all the Hales, including his soulmates. He felt a moment of panic as he looked down the long line of people, but he didn’t see any more Hales lingering nearby. “Are you here with your family?” he asked in what he hoped was a conversational tone.
Cora nodded. “I dragged him away while mom was taking the cousins to the carnival rides section,” she said. “Uncle Peter had already slipped away, so I figured that was my chance before mom noticed and told us to stick together.” Stiles bit his lip to cover the spike of anxiety at Peter’s name. Thankfully, Cora wasn’t paying too much attention to him. She nudged Derek forward. “Give him your arm or I’ll go get Laura.”
Derek huffed, but unfolded his arms and held out his wrist to Stiles. Stiles hesitated with his fingers over the mark. “Are you really okay with this?” he asked Derek. Derek huffed again. He looked over at Stiles with a carefully blank expression, but Stiles could see a bit of worry hidden there. Derek nodded.
His fingertips rested on the three claw-like slash marks on Derek’s wrist. “Braeden,” he said instantly. “Dark skin and hair, claw marks on her neck.” His free hand mimicked the marks along his own neck. “Hunter, works for the government.” He pulled his hand free with a shock. “She knows Chris Argent. He can put you in contact.”
Derek’s face lit up into a smile. Cora slung her arm over his with an expression of glee. “That works out wonderfully,” she said. “Let’s go find uncle Peter so we can bug him to bug Chris.” Cora blew a kiss at him in thanks as she dragged Derek away.
Stiles shook his head and turned to the next classmate who’d brought a friend or family member for him to find their soulmate. He had to admit that it was kind of nice. Not only did he get the rush of euphoria that came with touching someone’s soulmark, but there was also the honest joy in helping people. People kept leaving the booth happy and there was no end to the line in sight.
“Really, Scott?” he had to ask when he looked up and found Scott standing in front of him with a kid that was clearly under eighteen.
Scott didn’t look repentant at all. He beamed at Stiles and pulled the kid forward. “This is Liam,” he introduced. “His dad works with my mom. I thought you could help him out like you did Kira and I.”
Liam did not look at all convinced. He looked apologetically at Stiles. “I tried to tell him Matchmaking doesn’t work until your soulmark appears, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Would you please tell him so he’ll let me go?”
Stiles grinned at the boy and held out his hand. “Let me give it a try.”
Scott nudged Liam as if to say “I told you so”. Liam sighed, sounding entirely put upon, but his expression was a little bit vulnerable as he held his hand out.
Stiles touched the spot where Liam’s soulmark would appear. He didn’t get a strong, instant impression flooding into him like usual, but he had learned how to Match long before he had that easy help. “Hayden,” he said with a soft smile. Liam jerked his hand away. “You two know each other, but she’s mad at you for that thing you did. Apologize, become her friend.” He looked at Liam seriously. “Like, really become her friend, without any other motives for now. Do that and she’ll accept you when your marks appear.”
Liam looked poleaxed. “How did you…?” He turned to Scott with awe in his eyes. “How did he…?”
Scott just chuckled and held his hand out to Stiles for a fistbump. Stiles didn’t leave him hanging. “I told you Stiles was awesome,” Scott said as he pulled Liam away.
Stiles shook his head. He had a grin on his face as he looked down at the next wrist and then the next. Stiles sat there for what felt like hours. His jaw cracked with a yawn. He stopped paying attention to the surrounding area, just focusing on the soulmarks. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes as another person left. He didn’t even pay attention as another wrist was held in front of him. His fingertips touched the mark without even really looking to see what it was.
He jolted with a shock and looked up into the face of Peter Hale. Images of Chris flew into his head, making his heart ache with the love that he felt there. He caught a little hint of himself there too. He jerked his fingers away. His words caught in his throat as he stared into Peter’s eyes.
Peter took a deep breath and his grin grew impossibly wider. He leaned forward slightly into the booth. “And what is the name of my soulmate?” Peter asked. His voice was low and sultry, everything that Stiles had imagined from the images in his head.
“Chris Argent,” Stiles forced out over the lump in his throat.
Peter’s eyes grew a little mysterious. He reached forward and ran a single finger up and down Stiles’s arm. “Are you sure that’s it?” Peter asked.
Stiles felt a moment of panic. Peter knew. “Yes,” Stiles said. Peter’s eyes narrowed with annoyance. Stiles tried to pull his arm away, but Peter moved faster that he could. His grip tightened, holding him in place. Stiles watched in growing horror as Peter pulled back the fabric of his long sleeve and revealed his patch. He reached out and peeled back the patch in one smooth motion. Stiles tried to yank his arm away, but Peter had a very firm grip. Peter’s eyes lit up in satisfaction. His fingers traced over the mark, sending sparks of desire through Stiles. Peter looked up at him and Stiles panicked. He sent a spark of electric along his arm, startling Peter into letting go. As soon as he did, Stiles burst out the door in the back of the booth and ran. He only barely had enough sense left to mask his scent and all sound around him before he took off like there was a werewolf chasing him. Because there was a werewolf chasing him. Stiles used another spark of magic to roll a cart into Peter’s path. He ducked down the first break in the path he found and then squeezed through a barely there break between two stalls. He ducked down low and made his way through the crowd. He crossed the street and ducked into the electronics shop there.
He hid there for a few minutes while he waited for the bus that stopped in front of the building. As soon as it pulled up he darted out and in. Stiles hunched down in the seat so that he couldn’t be seen from the windows. He was really glad he’d let his dad drive him this morning, because he would not have wanted to have to go back to the festival to get his Jeep. He was also really grateful that Anastasia had spent so long making sure he could mask his scent and heartbeat, though he hadn’t expected to need to use it so soon. He got off the bus at the next stop and then hopped onto the one that would actually take him close to his house. Stiles hurried down the street from the bus stop, almost half afraid that Peter would have beaten him home. He considered for one minute seeing if he could get ahold of some mountain ash, but he was sure his dad would question a ring of ash around their house.
Stiles locked the door behind him and then proceeded to make sure that every door and window in the house was locked. He even locked the door to his bedroom as if Peter would break into his house and break down the door. Stiles wedged himself in the space between his bed and the wall and fought down the panic attack he felt coming on. He let his head fall back against the wall and forced himself to breath deeply and evenly.
His phone beeped and Stiles shifted just enough to dig it out of his back pocket. He relaxed just slightly when he saw that it was only Scott. He flipped open the phone.
where’d u go
Stiles let out a slow breath. He waited until his heartbeat returned to normal and then typed out his reply.
Feeling tired. Raincheck?
The reply came back almost instantly.
:( :( :(
No prob bro. lunch w/ me & kira fri?
Stiles felt a smile stretch onto his lips. His body relaxed just a little bit more. He could practically picture the puppy dog eyes Scott would turn on him if he said no.
gr8! will pick u up
Stiles let his phone fall onto the floor beside him. He hugged his knees to his chest. His sleeve hitched up when he moved and his mark flashed at him. Stiles tugged his sleeve back into place. He let his head fall back against the wall and banged it in frustration a couple times.
He had been fine before. This year had proved that he could go through life just fine without his soulmates. They were happy. He was happy-ish. Everything had been fine. Then he had to go and sit in the middle of a festival and match people up and help them to find happiness and fuck up everything for himself and somehow Peter had known! Cora and Jackson were officially his least favorite people right now.
Stiles swore as another thought occurred to him. Cora! If by some miracle Peter didn’t know who he was, then all he had to do was ask Cora and she would provide his name, address, phone number, and any other information Peter wanted. He wouldn’t be surprised if she grabbed him, wrapped him up in a bow, and handed him to Peter if she found out they were soulmates. He should have chosen his friends better.
Eventually it became clear that he wasn’t going to have a werewolf busting through his door and Stiles forced himself to come out of his hiding spot. He wasn’t ready to unlock his door just yet, but he at least crawled up onto his bed so he could stretch out and distract himself with YouTube videos.
By the next morning, he was beginning to hope that either Peter didn’t know who he was or he wasn’t that interested in finding Stiles. The thought hurt, but it was much less panic inducing than facing Peter and the eventual rejection when Chris and Peter realized they didn’t really want a spastic boy messing up their perfect lives. It at least gave him enough security to unlock his bedroom door and join his father for breakfast.
His father looked up from the paper he was reading when Stiles settled down at the table. He looked back down at the paper in a move of such forced indifference that Stiles knew something was us. “So,” his father said after another long minute. “I heard there was a real Matchmaker at the high school booth for a while yesterday. Anything you want to say about that?”
Stiles flinched. He set the milk he’d been holding down and stared down at his cheerios. His father continued after a moment when Stiles didn’t say anything. “Luckily they all seem to be mature enough to remember the law and no one would say who had been doing the matching.”
Stiles let out a long sigh of relief. Maybe that would keep Cora and Derek from spilling to their uncle, though he really doubted Cora would hold back if pressed. She probably wouldn’t see any harm in it, just like she hadn’t seen any harm in kidnapping and forcing her brother at him.
“I also heard a few people say that you ran out of the festival like your hair was on fire,” his dad said after another long minute. “Anything you want to tell me about that?”
“Nope,” Stiles replied when it seemed like his father was expecting an answer.
John sighed. “Am I going to have a complaint in the next few day?” he asked wearily.
Stiles relaxed just a little bit. “No, nothing like that,” he reassured. His father raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. “Seriously, I did nothing illegal or even morally grey.” John gave Stiles one more look before letting the matter drop.
His father headed out to work and Stiles considered his options for the day. He was feeling a little bit more confident that Peter wasn’t going to come after him. He puttered around the house for a while, playing video games and goofing off on the computer. He went into the kitchen for a snack and realized that he’d meant to go grocery shopping the day before.
The grocery store wasn’t too crowded for the day after a holiday. He only ran into two people he knew on his way into the store. He was looking through the cereal selection and happened to glance up just in time to see Peter Hale walking past the end of the aisle. Stiles shoved the cereals he’d been comparing back on the shelf. He grabbed his cart and quickly headed in the direction opposite where he’d seen Peter go. He heard a noise behind him. He turned just in time to meet Peter’s eyes from across the store. Stiles looked down at the groceries and came to the quick decision that he could live without them. He ditched his cart and ran out of the store. He was in his Jeep and turning the corner before Peter even made it out of the building.
He drove to the grocery store in the next town over just in case Peter was waiting for him to come back. His dad didn’t comment on the different brands.
Stiles didn’t leave the house again until it was time to meet with Scott and Kira on Friday. It was a gorgeous day out, not too hot and with a nice breeze, so they wandered the park a little bit before heading to the restaurant where they were going to have lunch. Stiles was actually feeling pretty content with life when they settled down at the booth. He had missed Scott and Kira while he was away at school and Scott had been busy volunteering at the veterinarian clinic, so he didn’t have a lot of free time over the summer. Kira had just gotten back from visiting her family in Japan, so Scott’s time was going to be even more taken up. Luckily, Stiles was perfectly fine hanging out with both of them at the same time.
“We should see if Erica, Boyd, and Isaac want to get together sometime,” he suggested. “I haven’t seen them at all this summer.”
Kira laughed. “What about Cora?”
Stiles snorted. “I just saw her and I’m still mad at her,” Stiles announced. “I’m on a Hale-free kick for a while.” Stiles happened to glance out the window across the restaurant at that moment. He swore when he saw Peter Hale step out of the park, following the exact path that they’d taken earlier. He sent out a burst of his magic, clearing his scent from the immediate area and hiding his heartbeat. “I’m not here,” he told Kira and Scott emphatically before ducking under the table and hiding behind the table cloth.
He heard the bell over the door jingle. Stiles pushed himself back until he was between Scott’s legs and the wall. He drew his legs in so that nothing of him could be seen from under the table. He heard Peter walk through the room. He stopped not far from them and let out a low growl that sent a surge of guilt through Stiles. Peter stepped closer to the table.
“Did you see a tall, skinny young man come in here not long ago? Dark hair with moles?” Peter asked Scott and Kira.
It seemed like they both shook their head. Peter growled again. Stiles held his breath until he heard Peter move away. He kept holding his breath until he heard the bell ring. Only then did he let out his breath in a slow exhale. He let his legs relax.
“He’s gone,” Scott said, bumping him with a leg.
Stiles breathed out a sigh of relief and crawled out from under the table. He wiped his hands off on his pants. He considered the merits of going to the bathroom to wash, but he didn't really want his food anymore so there wasn't much point. He’d lost his appetite. When he looked up, Scott and Kira were both staring at him.
“Who was that?” Scott asked. “And why are you hiding from him?”
“Someone I don't want to talk to,” Stiles answered. He continued on when Scott opened his mouth again. “And I don't want to talk about it. Not here.”
Scott looked around them and seemed to suddenly remember where they were. He turned to Kira and they had a silent conversation with their eyes. Scott flagged down the waitress while Kira pulled him out of the restaurant and pushed him into the back of her car. Stiles tried to open the door, but Kira was faster than him. She put on the child safety locks. Stiles shot a pout at her as they waited for Scott to come out. His hand rested on the latch, but instead of using the unlock button Kira reached over and flicked the manual switch on the passenger side door for Scott. Stiles would have been proud if she weren’t using her powers of evil against him.
Kira drove them back to Stiles’s house. She and Scott bracketed Stiles as they made their way inside and up to his room. Stiles pouted when Kira plopped down in his desk chair and Scott leaned against the door. They both looked at him expectantly. “Spill, Stiles,” Scott said. “Who was the guy at the restaurant?”
Stiles sank down onto his bed with a sigh. His fingers worried at the sleeve covering his patch. “His name is Peter Hale,” he said after another minute. “He’s my soulmate.”
“What!?” Scott startled forwards, almost tripping over his own feet. “Why are you hiding from your soulmate? Is he in the mob or something?” Scott turned to look at Kira and then back at Stiles. “Is he a bad guy?”
“No,” Stiles protested. There was something just wrong about someone saying anything bad about Peter. “No,” he said again, softer. “He’s a nice guy. I think he has a job in finance or something. Makes a lot of money, has a nice house.”
Scott moved over to sit on the bed next to Stiles. “Then what’s the problem?” he asked. “I mean, you’ve always been all about making sure people meet up with their soulmates and you know who yours is and he obviously wants to meet you, so…”
Stiles looked down at his patch. His fingers picked at the edges, not quite pulling it off. “He… um… He’s not my only soulmate…”
Kira sucked in a breath. “You’re in a triad?” She smiled at him when Stiles looked up. “That’s really rare.”
Scott leaned into Stiles until their arms brushed. “So, is it the other soulmate you don’t like?”
“No…” Stiles shook his head. “Chris is a really nice guy too.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Stiles looked up at them. He hadn’t talked to anyone about it, but Scott had known him for years. He’d understand. “They’re already together. They’re happy.” He looked down again at the sad look Scott gave him. “I don’t want to ruin that.”
Scott threw an arm around his shoulder. “Dude, you’re awesome,” he said. He answered the one doubt that Stiles hadn’t even said out loud. “They’re both going to like you. They’ll both love you.” Scott squeezed him into a hug. “They’re your soulmates. They’re, like, destined to love you.”
Stiles snorted at that, but couldn’t help but smile a little bit at the certainty in Scott’s voice. “Obviously Peter at least wants to get to know you if he’s spending that much energy trying to track you down,” Scott pointed out. “How’d he find out anyways?”
“He found me at the matching booth at the faire,” Stiles said. He flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. “I didn’t tell him, but he somehow already knew. Werewolf instincts or something like that.” Stiles shrugged. “He pressed the issue and I panicked. I ran. Then he ran into me at the grocery store the other day and I ran again. Then there was today.” Stiles sighed.
Scott looked down at him with his judgey Scott face. “That seems like a lot of effort for someone to go through if they don’t like you just a bit,” he pointed out.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not still a bad idea,” Stiles said. “They’re going to get sick of me really quick. They’re successful and settled and they don’t need a spastic college kid coming in and ruining things.”
For a moment they were all quiet and Stiles could practically feel the silent conversation going on between Scott and Kira. Eventually Kira spoke up. “Don’t you think they deserve to decide that for themselves?”
That caused a new wave a guilt to wash through him. Sure, he was probably annoying Peter by dodging him, but had he told Chris too? Were they both mad at him for ducking him? Or, was Peter just hunting him down out of a sense of curiosity? Maybe Chris was really relieved that Peter wasn’t having any success catching him. Maybe he didn’t want to share Peter. Stiles rolled over on his side and contemplated the merits of smothering himself with his pillow.
Scott clutched and his shoulder and dragged him up. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go downstairs and watch some movies. We can order a pizza later or something.”
Stiles let himself be led downstairs. He curled up on the chair and let Scott and Kira have the couch. Eventually he relaxed enough to stretch out again. He fell asleep sometime between putting on the Avengers and Kira leaving. He woke up when his father came home. He got up long enough to shuffle up the stairs and collapse in his bed. Stiles stared at the calendar for a few minutes and wondered if he could just not leave the house again until it was time to head back to Berkeley for college.
“Mr. Argent,” John greeted. He looked curiously over Chris’s shoulder. “And Mr. Hale, I believe?” He continued at Peter’s nod. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Peter slid forward beside him. His nostrils flared slightly at what was probably an overload of their soulmate’s scent. “We’re actually here to see your son, Stiles,” Peter said smoothly. His nostrils twitched again as Peter breathed deeply.
John looked from Chris’s angry face to Peter’s hungry one and sighed. “What has my son done now?”
Chris’s jaw twitched. He hadn’t even met his mate yet and he could tell he was going to be a handful. But, then, he shouldn’t be surprised considering the chase Stiles had led Peter on.
“May we come in?” Chris asked tightly.
John hesitated for a minute, but stepped aside and waved them inside. Chris followed him into the living room where Stiles was typing away at a laptop with his headphones in, old books spread out on the coffee table in front of him. John gave them a long suffering look before walking into the room and waving his hand in front of Stiles’s face.
Chris took a moment to admire the young man who was their third. He was tall and skinny with a smattering of moles along his skin. Stiles looked up at his dad in surprise and then his eyes moved past John to Chris and Peter. To say the boy was surprised would be an understatement. Stiles jerked away from them in what was close to terror.
John looked between them suspiciously. He moved just slightly forward so that he was between Stiles and Chris. “You want to tell me what this is about?” John asked. There was a clear warning in his tone.
Peter laid a reassuring hand on Chris’s arm in what was obviously meant to be a calming gesture. It worked. Chris relaxed slightly. He let Peter pull his arm forward, revealing the soulmate marks on their wrists. “Do these look familiar to you?” Peter asked.
John leaned forward slightly and looked at the marks. He jerked back and looked at Stiles. John ran a hand wearily over his face. “You have two soulmates?” he asked incredulously.
Stiles’s eyes were wide. He tore his eyes away from Peter and Chris to look over at his dad. His mouth worked for a moment and Chris’s eyes narrowed in on those lips. He had some very inappropriate ideas about what he could do with that mouth. Stiles’s eyes slipped over to Chris and Peter again and then he looked away. He nodded.
The Sheriff swore under his breath. “You said you didn’t know who your soulmate was,” John said. He sounded both confused and at the same time frustrated.
Stiles licked his lips and unconsciously took another step backwards. “That may have been inaccurate,” he said softly. His voice was wracked with emotions that Chris couldn’t quite place.
John stared at Stiles for a moment. “How long have you known?” Stiles folded his arms around himself. Chris felt the beginnings of worry chip away at his anger. Stiles wasn’t saying anything out loud, but his body language spoke volumes. The boy was scared. Stiles gripped his arms so tight he was bound to have bruises later. He looked so vulnerable that Chris couldn't help feeling like he needed to find the way to make everything better. But, he needed to actually talk to Stiles first and the boy was not cooperating with that. Stiles shifted again, not quite looking at any of them. He jumped when John let out a frustrated, “Stiles…”
“Since the mark appeared.” Stiles’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it sent a shock through Chris. He’d been angry when he thought Stiles had been avoiding them for a month, but Stiles had known for much longer and didn’t tell anyone about it. Chris looked over at Peter as the last of his anger faded away. Peter looked just as concerned.
“And you two just found out?” John asked, breaking into Chris’s thoughts. “You took the initiative to come and meet Stiles?”
Peter grinned predatorily and stepped a little bit further into the room. “Actually, we’ve met before,” he said. Peter’s attention was on John, but Chris watched Stiles. He saw the way Stiles flinched at the words.
“I met Stiles about a month ago,” Peter said. “He was at the Matching booth at the Fourth of July festival.” Peter switched his focus from John to Stiles. “He took my hand and told me my soulmate was Chris.” Peter glanced over his shoulder at John as he slowly stalked towards Stiles. “Didn’t even hint about himself,” he confided, “even when I pressed him about it. Actually outright lied to me about it.” He reach out to Stiles and gently pulled his hand away from the bruising grip he had on his own arms. Peter turned Stiles’s wrist slightly so that his sleeve fell back. He slowly pulled the patch off and brushed his fingertips along the soulmark there. Stiles jumped. Peter’s voice dropped low and gentle. He looked back over at John. “I’ve been trying to talk to him for weeks, but your son is very adept at avoiding me.”
John sighed and ran a hand over his face. He looked over at Chris. “And now?”
Chris tore his gaze from where Peter’s hands were slowly moving away from Stiles’s wrist to slide up his arms. He looked over at Stiles’s father. “I visited a Matchmaker in L.A.,” he said evenly. Stiles jerked in Peter’s grip. “She gave me his name.” He waved a hand as if to say ‘and here we are’.
The Sheriff looked between the three of them. He looked over at where Stiles was standing stiffly, where Peter was slowly stroking his arms until they relaxed just a little bit more. John looked at his watch and shook his head. “Stiles, are you going to be alright talking to them or should I ask them to leave?”
Stiles looked up from where he was staring at the ground. He looked over at John, surprised. His gaze flicked over to Chris and then Peter before going back down to the ground. Stiles’s throat worked as he swallowed. “I’ll be fine, dad. You're going to be late for work.”
John nodded. He grabbed his gun from where it had been set on the kitchen counter, probably forgotten when he went to answer the door. He grabbed his coat from a hook and hesitated. “Chris, Peter, it was nice meeting you. Stiles, call me if you need anything.” John took one more look around the room before slipping out the door.
Chris stared at Stiles for a long minute after the door shut. He tried to calculate exactly how to approach the situation. He looked over at Peter. Their eyes met and Peter nodded for Chris to take a seat. Chris strode forward and sat on the end of the couch closest to the door. He looked pointedly at the spot next to him. Peter nodded minutely.
“Why don’t we sit down, Stiles?” Peter purred. His hand continued to slide comfortingly over Stiles’s arms. “Is it okay if we talk for a little bit?”
Stiles looked up, but still wouldn't meet either of their eyes. He nodded and let Peter guide him over to the couch. Peter herded Stiles in towards the middle of the couch and crowded up behind him so that his only choice was to sit down or crawl over Chris to get to another seat. Stiles sat as far from Chris as Peter’s position would allow. Peter plastered himself up against Stiles’s other side.
“How long have you known about us, exactly?” Chris asked. He kept his voice gentle, but Stiles flinched anyways.
“Since my mark appeared when I turned eighteen,” Stiles said. His fingers moved to worry at the cuff of his flannel shirt. “Umm… A little over a year ago.”
Chris and Peter both stiffened. “Stiles,” Peter asked gently, “are you straight? Is that why you didn’t want to meet us?” Chris raised an eyebrow at that. It wasn’t entirely uncommon for soulmates to have a platonic bond, but usually it was a romantic one. Stiles was young though. He might not have come to terms with his sexuality yet. He might not have told anyone he was interested in men.
“Bisexual, actually,” Stiles said softly. His fingers turned away from his sleeve to twitch nervously against the skin of his arms. Chris watched Stiles’s hands as they flexed, digging into his arm and then releasing and repeating again and again. Chris reached over. He slid his fingers under Stiles’s before he could hurt himself.
“Is it the age difference?” Chris asked softly. “I can understand if that bothers you.”
Stiles’s hand twitched in his, but he shook his head. “No.”
Peter stiffened on the other side of them. “Is it because I’m a werewolf?” he asked. Both Chris and Stiles looked up at the hurt in Peter’s voice.
“No!” Stiles exclaimed. He pulled his hand from Chris’s as he shot to his feet. Stiles pushed past Peter and started pacing around the open area on the side of the room. “It’s not you, okay,” he said heatedly. His arms flailed for a second before going back to gripping his arms. “It’s not either of you.” The words came out softly, barely a whisper. Chris’s heart clenched at how sad Stiles sounded.
Chris regarded Stiles for a long moment. “Is it because you’re a Matchmaker?” he asked. Stiles stiffened and Chris guessed he’d hit on part of the problem. “Stiles, it doesn’t bother us.”
Peter rose from the couch and stalked over towards Stiles like he couldn’t bear letting him close himself off from them. He slowed when he reached Stiles, moving as if the boy was a spooked animal. “Stiles,” he said gently, “we don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to. We’d just like a chance to get to know you.”
“Right…” Stiles let out a long breath. He looked up at Peter, meeting his gaze for a moment before flicking over to Chris and back again. He bit into his lip. He hesitated for a moment more, but seemed to melt a little at the soothing touches Peter was running along his arms. “Do you know what a Spark is?”
Chris shook his head, but Peter lit up with interest. He looked the same way he did when he found a particularly interesting book or artifact. Peter looked Stiles up and down slowly, a grin spreading onto his lips. “Are you a Spark, Stiles?” Peter practically purred the words, leaning in close to Stiles.
“Yeah.” Stiles looked up at Peter, finally meeting and holding his gaze. He looked wary, but almost a little hopeful. His eyes followed the movement of Peter’s tongue as Peter licked his lips and Chris saw a faint hint of lust there. He felt a smile slip onto his face. Maybe this would work out after all.
Peter ran his fingertips along Stiles’s neck as he circled the boy. His fingers slid just a little bit into Stiles’s hair. Stiles’s eyes flickered closed for a brief second as he leaned into the touch. Unfortunately, it only lasted for a moment before Stiles gasped and stiffened. He shook his head a little as he came back to himself. He didn’t pull completely away from Peter though, letting the older man trail a hand soothingly up and down his back.
“That is a very rare talent indeed,” Peter purred into Stiles’s ear. He met Chris’s gaze over Stiles’s shoulder. Chris saw the hunger there and felt something similar spark in his own groin. “We are both very lucky to have you as a mate. Worth waiting for.” Peter jerked back when Stiles flinched at that. His nostrils flared and Chris could tell that his soulmate was trying to pick up Stiles’s emotional state. Peter leaned in close, breathing in heavily at the base of Stiles’s neck. Stiles shuddered as Peter’s breath ghosted over his neck and it was a delicious sight. Or it would be, if the boy wasn’t so obviously distressed.
“What about that statement bothers you so much, Stiles?” Chris asked. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Stiles looked up at him, surprised. Chris held his gaze until the boy started to squirm. Stiles tried to step back, but Peter was there, blocking his retreat.
“What is it, Stiles?” Peter asked. His lips ghosted over the edge of Stiles’s ear. Peter hovered a hair away from the tender skin. His teeth slipped out from between his lips and clamped gently onto the edge of Stiles’s ear.
Stiles jolted as if he’d been electrocuted. Peter used the movement as an excuse to tighten his hold on Stiles. He ran a hand up the boy’s front. Stiles reached up and caught Peter’s hand. He couldn’t have stopped Peter if the werewolf had really been trying, but Peter stopped. He drew back just enough for Stiles to relax.
“Why?” Stiles asked. His voice broke on that single word. Stiles took a deep breath. “You have each other,” he said. “You’ve had each other for years. Why would you want me?”
Stiles pushed free of Peter and started pacing again. He waved a hand over at Peter, but turned to address Chris. “I mean, he’s a successful businessman who probably makes more money in a year than I will ever make and he looks like that and he’s a freaking werewolf.” Stiles's voice raised up to near hysterical levels by the end of the sentence.
He whirled a gestured towards Chris without a pause. “And you’ve got your successful business selling guns to my dad and you also look like that with those muscles that are even more impressive because you're human.” Stiles whirled again. He looked back and forth between Chris and Peter as if they were the crazy ones.
“I’m just me,” Stiles said. His voice was small. “I’m gangly and awkward and clumsy and talk way too much. I play video games and stay up for days researching stupid shit that I can't get out of my head.” He looked down at his fingers, which seemed to spark slightly before he shook them. “I can’t even figure out how to control my magic.”
Chris stared at Stiles. He had not been expecting any of that. He looked over at Peter. They would have to have a long talk to plan out how to deal with their soulmate’s self esteem issues, but for now they just needed something to get through to him. He decided to tackle the issue from an angle. “Stiles,” he asked carefully. “How do you know all that about us?” Stiles flinched and drew a little further into himself. Chris held up his hand placatingly. “I don’t mind,” he said quickly. “We’re happy to share any information about us that you want. Anything at all if you ask. I’m just curious.”
Stiles fidgeted with his sleeve again. His fingers pulled back the material to reveal their mark. “I’m told Matchmakers usually get just a face and a name when they touch someone’s mark,” he said carefully. His fingers traced the edges of it, not quite touching it. “Some of the stronger ones get locations and feelings, a sense of the person’s personality.” Stiles shrugged. “The strongest get what I get. Snapshots of the person’s life. How they are connected to other people.”
“So you got all that from one touch?” Peter asked. There was a little bit of awe in his voice. Peter always had been fascinated with the magical arts. He paced forward again as if sensing something in Stiles’s scent. Stiles looked up at him and blushed. The boy’s head shook minutely.
“I liked knowing that you two were alright,” Stiles said softly. “That you were happy together. I was happy that you were happy. I was fine by myself.”
Chris fought to keep a grimace off his face. He leaned back on the couch to try to cover the reaction. He could just picture Stiles torturing himself with what he thought he couldn’t have. The boy had convinced himself that they were better off without him before they’d even met him.
Peter seemed to have a different reaction. His expression grew wicked. Peter stalked forward to breathe in Stiles’s scent. “Did you think about us when you touched yourself, Stiles?” He hummed thoughtfully at the boy’s response. “Did you use your abilities, touch your soulmark, and get those flashes in your head?” His voice dropped as he leaned in even further. “Did you see us having sex before you touched yourself?” Peter’s fingertips ghosted over Stiles’s arm, bumping it just slightly.
Stiles stiffened as his fingertips touched his soulmark. His breath caught and for one second his blush deepened. Stiles wrenched his fingers away from the mark. His blush spread all the way up to his ears. He turned to look at Chris with wide eyes. “You were mad at me today,” he said softly. “Furious. Because I lied.”
Chris met Stiles’s eyes and nodded, even though he hadn’t actually phrased it as a question. He reached out a hand towards Stiles, but the boy didn’t move for a long moment. Peter laid a hand gently onto Stiles’s back and steered him towards the couch. Chris waited until Stiles was seated before speaking.
“I was mad,” he admitted. “But, I’m not anymore.” He turned to Stiles and scooped up one of his hands into his own. “I am… sensitive… when it comes to lying and keeping secrets, especially from those I care about.” He looked over at Peter. His mate kept his hand running over Stiles’s back and arms in slow, soothing strokes. “My father and my sister were not very nice people and they lied about some very important things and hurt people, tried to hurt a lot more.”
Peter snorted from behind Stiles. “Understatement,” he said with a raised eyebrow. Chris glared over Stiles’s shoulder at Peter, but thankfully Stiles hadn't looked up.
Chris’s used his free hand to reach out and gently tip Stiles’s face up until his eyes met. Stiles’s whole body was tight with tension. “I understand why you did what you did,” he said, slowly and carefully as if he could force the acceptance into Stiles. “I’m not mad at you anymore.”
He held Stiles’s gaze until the boy finally nodded. He rubbed a thumb soothingly over the hand he still held. Peter slid in even closer until he was plastered along Stiles’s back. His arms came around to hug Stiles from behind. “I’m not mad at you either,” Peter said. He slowly lowered his lips to Stiles’s neck, giving him plenty of time to pull away. Peter pressed a kiss into the sensitive skin behind his ear. Stiles gasped and jerked slightly. “But, if you want to make it up to me, I won’t mind,” Peter whispered into Stiles’s ear.
Stiles sucked in a breath as Peter kissed his way down his neck. Stiles’s hand clenched in his. He gripped Chris as if he was the only thing keeping him grounded. Stiles looked into Chris’s eyes searchingly, as if he couldn’t quite believe they were there. Chris let the hand that was still holding Stiles’s chin slide away. He swept his hand across Stiles’s cheek and then back to bury in his hair on the opposite side from where Peter was starting to suck a rather impressive hickie in the base of Stiles’s neck. Chris let his fingers tangle in Stiles’s hair. He pulled on the short strands. Stiles’s pupils expanded and his lips parted as Chris used his grip in Stiles’s hair to tilt his head to the side. He leaned in slowly, giving Stiles plenty of time to pull away and watching for any sign of discomfort. He sealed his mouth over Stiles’s.
The kiss was chaste compared to what he was used to with Peter. It was just a simple press of lips to lips. Chris pulled back. He looked up to meet Stiles’s eyes. He saw lust there, a little bit of the uncertainty they’d been facing all afternoon, but no discomfort. Chris pressed forward again. He sucked Stiles’s bottom lip into his mouth, worrying at it for a moment before licking into Stiles’s mouth.
Chris leaned back and looked over at Peter. His mate’s eyes were dark with lust. He met Peter’s gaze and Peter grinned wickedly as if he could read Chris’s mind. Chris’s hand tightened slightly in the boy’s hair and Stiles moaned. Chris used his grip to pull Stiles backwards, tilting his head so that Peter could capture the boy’s lips. Peter rocked into the boy from behind. Stiles gasped into the kiss as Peter ground down. Chris knew from experience that Peter was probably rock hard. Chris took a deep breath and forced himself to slow down. He released his grip on Stiles’s hair. He ran a hand softly over the boy’s head, smoothing down the locks. He cleared his throat. “Peter,” he said warningly. “We should slow down.”
Peter’s eyes flashed blue at him. He let out a low growl that sent Stiles shuddering again. Peter breathed in deep and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he’d regained a bit of his control. Peter pressed one more soft kiss onto Stiles’s lips before pulling back. Stiles made a soft whimpering noise as they pulled back. His breath came out in little pants and his eyes were blown wide when he blinked up at Chris again.
“Why’d you stop?” Stiles asked breathlessly.
Chris ran a thumb over Stiles’s swollen lips. He watched in fascination as the boy’s mouth closed around it, sucking on the digit. Chris had to shift in his seat as his pants became uncomfortably tight. He pulled his thumb away reluctantly. Instead, he ran the hand along Stiles’s neck and shoulder then up and down his arm.
“He doesn’t want to get too carried away,” Peter said. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’s hair as he too shifted. Stiles looked up at Chris questioningly and the vulnerability that he saw there only reinforced his decision to slow things down. But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t reassure the boy a little.
“I don’t want our first time together to be rutting on the couch,” he said in a low voice. He met Stiles’s eyes and leaned in. “I want us to take you apart over and over until you can’t remember any of your doubts or worries, until you can’t remember your own name, until all you can remember is who you belong to.”
Stiles swallowed thickly. His mouth worked soundlessly. Chris felt a grin spread across his lips as Stiles nodded enthusiastically. “Yes,” he said. Stiles’s voice was hoarse with lust. “Please.”
Peter chuckled. He pressed another kiss to Stiles’s lips, like he just couldn’t help it. “I’m going to look forward to taking my time with you, little one.” He nuzzled into Stiles’s neck, marking him with his scent. He twisted until he was licking into Stiles’s ear. “I’m going to make you scream.”
Stiles shuddered. He took a long deep breath. Stiles blinked and took another shaking breath. “You really…?” Stiles bit his lip to keep from finishing that thought. He shook his head and licked his lips. “You said something about making it up to you? For making you mad earlier?” Stiles’s voice was hesitant. “For lying.” His hand curled into Chris’s while the other reached back for Peter. “For avoiding you.” He blushed and looked down, some of the earlier doubt hitting him.
Chris smiled at Stiles and ran a hand over his cheek. “You don't have to make it up to us,” he reassured. “Peter was just teasing.”
“Peter was not just teasing,” Peter said with mock affront. His tone softened when Stiles stiffened between them. “But I think you have more than sufficiently apologized,” he said quickly. Peter pressed a kiss to Stiles’s hair. He paused there, his nostrils flaring. Peter looked down at Stiles as if considering something. “I also think you don't believe us.” Stiles flinched. He looked up at them guiltily, then shrugged.
“I do have a suggestion to remedy that,” Peter said. His voice was hesitant. He looked up at Chris, meeting his eyes for a brief second. Stiles was looking up at them hopefully, like they had some kind of magical solution to all of Stiles’s self doubt. And, Peter… He was looking at Chris like he was trying to will a thought into Chris’s head.
It took him a moment to get what Peter was suggesting. He pulled back slightly. “I don’t know, Peter,” he said. He looked down at Stiles and had a feeling that Peter was taking things too far too fast again.
Peter ran a hand reassuringly down Stiles’s back. “I think it might help,” he said honestly. Peter looked over at him expectantly. He didn’t seem like he was going to back down about this.
Stiles looked back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything you want,” Stiles pleaded.
Peter’s eyes flashed at those words. He leaned in to kiss Stiles on the cheek. “Don’t promise that, little one,” Peter purred. “I will hold you to it.”
Stiles swallowed and turned his eyes to look up at Chris. “I really do want to make it up to you,” he said.
Chris scrubbed a hand over his eyes. He looked over at Peter and nodded. Peter’s eyes lit up. He shifted away from Stiles before bringing his hands to Stiles’s hips. Stiles squeaked as he was picked up and then pushed down across Chris’s lap. Chris’s hand came down to rest on the center of Stiles’s back, holding him in place.
Stiles turned his head and looked up at Chris. He looked slightly confused and a little bit worried. His eyes widened when Peter tugged down his pants and boxers just enough to expose the curves of Stiles’s bottom. “What…?” he asked and then stopped when Chris’s hand rested lightly on one of cheeks.
Chris had to resist the urge to kneed the sweet flesh under his hand. He looked down at Stiles and held his gaze. “We don’t have to do this,” he said. He held perfectly still, waiting for Stiles to shift away. Stiles seemed to consider for a moment. Stiles blushed deeply, but he nodded. The boy turned to look down at the carpet. Chris rubbed his hand over Stiles back in smooth, slow circles. He waited until he felt Stiles relax slightly. “If you tell me to stop, I will.”
Chris didn’t wait for Stiles to nod. He pulled his hand away and brought it down again hard against one of Stiles’s cheeks. The flesh bounced under his hands, taking on a bright red glow. Stiles jerked and gasped at the blow. Chris pressed down slightly on Stiles’s back, holding him in place. Chris brought his hand down again on the other cheek with a satisfying thwack. Stiles’s breath stuttered.
Chris felt his cock twitch at the sight of the bright red hand prints marking Stiles’s ass. He really liked that sight. He brought his hand down again, lower this time, expanding the red mark. And again on the opposite cheek. Stiles gasped, his body tensing. Chris massaged the cheek he’d just slapped and Stiles jerked at the sensation. Chris felt a smile quirk the corners of his lips. He felt Stiles tense as Chris’s hand moved away. He didn’t keep him guessing. Chris brought his hand down in a series of hard, stinging swats that made Stiles yelp and squirm over his lap.
He wasn’t gentle. Gentle wouldn’t help Stiles let go of his guilt. And Stiles did seem to respond to it. He tensed and thrashed on Chris’s lap, making Chris tighten his grip. Chris slid the arm on Stiles’s back around his side instead to better hold him in place. He shifted his leg, raising it slightly to get a better angle. Stiles’s pants slid down his legs, exposing the curve of his buttocks and the tops of his thighs. Chris couldn’t resist. Stiles choked on a breath when Chris brought his hand down on the new flesh.
Chris paused for one second, letting Stiles catch his breath. He ran his hand over every inch of Stiles’s ass, feeling the heat and admiring the redness. He wanted more. He brought his hand down again, going over the already red flesh, marking it again and again. He kept spanking until Stiles’s ass was a bright, brilliant red and the boy gasping wetly.
“Two more,” Peter said softly. He hovered just out of the way of Chris’s swings.
Chris laid one more stinging swat on the center of each cheek. There was a small broken noise from the boy. Then Stiles’s breath was hitching. Chris quickly pulled Stiles’s boxers up. He pulled Stiles into his lap, curling the boy into him just in time for the sobs to start. Stiles clutched at Chris’s shirt. He buried his face into Chris neck and sobbed out apologies. Peter was there just as quickly, a firm line along Stiles’s back. Peter pressed kisses into Stiles’s hair as Chris murmured reassuring words. Chris brought his arms up, encircling both Stiles and Peter in one tight grasp.
“You did so good for us,” Peter crooned into Stiles’s hair. “Such a good boy. So beautiful. So perfect for us.”
They kept up the soothing touches and reassuring words until Stiles’s tears slowed and then stopped. Peter pulled away long enough to fetch a glass of water and a wet cloth from the kitchen. Chris carefully urged Stiles’s head up from his shoulder. He took the glass from Peter and held it up to Stiles’s lips. Chris helped Stiles drink while Peter dabbed gently at his eyes with the wet cloth.
Once Stiles was done drinking, Chris set the glass aside on the end table. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’s temple. “Do you feel better now?” he asked. He kept his voice soft, soothing.
Stiles nodded. He sniffled slightly. Chris fought back a fond smile and pulled a tissue from the box on the table. Stiles reluctantly released his hold on Chris’s shirt to take the tissue. Once done, he tossed it into the wastebasket nearby. Peter took the opportunity to reach the other side of Stiles’s face with the cloth. He followed Chris’s example and pressed a kiss to each of Stiles eyelids. Peter leaned back, taking in Stiles’s face before tipping it up and kissing him on the lips. Chris laid a hand on Peter’s back before the werewolf could get too far into the kissing. When Peter pulled away, Stiles’s eyes were wide and there was a slight smile ticking up the corners of his lips.
“What now?” Stiles asked, his voice rough from crying. Chris had an entirely inappropriate desire to hear Stiles with his voice wrecked from other activities.
“Now,” Chris said, “we cuddle and we talk.” He pulled Stiles more firmly into his side, making more room for Peter as well. “We can talk about whatever you want.”
Peter leaned around Stiles. “Unless you want me to kiss it and make it better?” He raised an eyebrow at them. His smile turned genuine when Stiles snorted. Stiles shifted uncomfortably. He looked over at Peter and then hesitantly reached a hand to him. Peter looked pleased. Peter raised Stiles’s hand to his lips, kissing the fingertips softly before lowering it.
Chris felt a shift of tension in Stiles and waited for the question he knew was coming. “Is this something you do a lot?” Stiles asked uncertainly. He looked up at them and back down, another blush heating his cheeks. “The… um… spanking thing…”
Chris chuckled and placed a kiss on Stiles’s red cheek. “Not if you don’t want us to,” he said. He felt Stiles stiffen in his lap. He let the hand holding Stiles trail reassuringly up and down his back.
“Honestly,” Peter said, drawing Stiles’s attention. “It’s something that Chris does enjoy, but I do not. Well, I don’t mind watching...” He shot a smile at Chris before turning his attention back to Stiles. “Neither of us will be upset if you do or do not want to do it again and you don’t have to decide right now.” He pulled Stiles’s wrist up to his mouth, placing a kiss on the soulmark there.
Stiles shuddered in his arms. His mouth went slack. He shivered again when Peter drew his mouth away. His eyes were slightly glazed. Stiles clicked his mouth shut and drew in a ragged breath. “Oh.” He shivered again. “Okay.”
Chris batted at Peter playfully. “Let the boy rest,” he said. He tucked Stiles’s head into his shoulder and carded his fingers through his hair. Stiles sagged against him bonelessly. “Did you have any other questions?”
Stiles’s hand clenched in his shirt. He could see the hand that Peter held twitch as well, as if urge to fidget was returning. “What about after we have sex?” Stiles asked. His voice was deceptively even. “What happens then?”
Chris laid a hand on top of Stiles’s hand where it was gripping his shirt. He rubbed at the skin gently until Stiles relaxed his hold. “What do you want to happen?”
“I know what I would like to happen,” Peter said before Stiles could respond, “but I’ve been told it isn’t polite to tie people to beds.” He kissed at Stiles’s wrist again. “Though considering how adept you are at escaping, I may have to do that so you can never get away.”
Stiles stiffened for a second. He gasped in a breath and twitched on Chris’s lap. A moment later he sagged back down onto Chris’s shoulder. “That’s not what I meant,” Stiles said in a tight voice.
Chris pressed a kiss onto Stiles’s hair and hugged him closer. “If you would like to be a part of our lives, then we want you to be a part of it.” He kept his voice even and honest so Stiles couldn’t pick it apart later to find doubt. “I’d like us to get to know each other, to see how we work together. We can come over here if that would make you more comfortable, or meet in a public place, but you’re welcome in our home whenever you want.”
Stiles looked up at him with a mixture of hope and awe that Chris found entirely heartbreaking. He pressed a soft kiss on Stiles’s lips just to see if he could get him to smile. The first one didn’t work, but the second one did. Stiles smiled shyly up at them. Chris had a little bit of hope that they were finally getting through to him.
Peter looked around the room. His eyes lit on a cell phone on the coffee table next to Stiles’s laptop. He plucked it up and tapped away. A moment later Chris heard his own phone beep and then Peter’s beeped. “There we go,” Peter said, setting the phone into Stiles’s hand. “Now you have our numbers, so you can contact us whenever you want to. If there’s anything you want to ask, just call or text and we’ll answer.”
Stiles nodded. He leaned forward a little to set the phone on the end table beside Chris and then slumped down again. A yawn cracked his jaw as he settled. Chris shifted his arm so Stiles could snuggle closer. Peter shifted until he was on Chris’s lap too, curled around Stiles. Chris smiled over at his mate and pressed a kiss to Peter’s lips. A few minutes later, Stiles was asleep.
Stiles rolled over and then hissed when he sat up. He stood up carefully and prodded at his ass. It hurt. Stiles shuffled into the bathroom and turned his back to the mirror. He let his boxers fall down to his knees and looked over his shoulder. He expected to see marks where Chris had spanked him, but only found a little pinkness. He reached back and ran a hand over the skin and jumped at how sensitive it was. He pressed slightly.
He slammed the bathroom door shut, shed his clothes, and quickly turned on the shower. Stiles didn’t waste any time stripping his cock as soon as he stepped under the spray. He felt the phantom touch of Peter’s lips on his neck and Chris’s hand on his ass and came harder than he had in a long while.
By the time he stumbled downstairs in fresh boxers and a clean set of pajamas, his father was home and sticking his head into the refrigerator. Stiles got himself a glass of water. He sat down carefully on one of the kitchen chairs and very much wished that it wouldn’t raise questions for him to go get a cushion from the living room to sit on. “There’s stuff for BLTs in the crisper drawer,” he told his dad as he twitched to find a comfortable sitting position.
John looked over his shoulder at him, but didn’t say anything as he pulled the ingredients out. He grimaced at the turkey bacon. John sighed and started cooking it anyways. “Did you work things out with Chris and Peter?” he asked as he pulled out plates and started assembling sandwiches while the bacon cooked.
“Yeah,” Stiles said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at it. He swiped idly through his email. “We talked through some things and I apologized for being a dumbass.”
John snorted and turned to look at him. “And you sorted out whatever it was that made you avoid them for a year in the first place?”
Stiles flinched, which turned into a bit off hiss when the motion jostled his bottom. “Yeah,” he answered, “pretty much.”
John made a thoughtful noise. “And what was that exactly?”
Stiles sighed and put his phone down on the table. He spun it idly for a minute. “Just stupid insecurities,” he admitted. He shrugged. “Chris and Peter were very adamant that they would like to get to know me.”
John snorted again. “I can see that.” Stiles looked up at him questioningly. John pointed to a spot on Stiles’s neck. Stiles raised a hand but didn’t feel anything. His father turned back to pull the bacon off the heat. He spoke up to put Stiles’s curiosity to rest. “You have a very impressive hickie.”
“What!?” Stiles shot up out of the chair with a wince. He hurried into the downstairs bathroom and flicked on the lights. Sure enough, there were faint marks from his ear down his neck ending in a huge red mark when his neck met his shoulder. Stiles pressed his fingers there and was suddenly reminded that Peter had spent a good amount of time in that general area. He flushed red and marched back over to the table. Stiles snagged up his phone and shot off a text message.
To: Peter, Chris
My father saw the hickie you gave me! My FATHER!
He slammed the phone back down and would have slammed himself down in his chair, but caught himself at the last moment. He lowered himself gently down instead. Stiles looked up just in time to see his father staring at him with a raised eyebrow. John shook his head and set a plate down in front of Stiles. “Apparently you really did sort things out.”
Stiles blushed a deep red and spluttered. “No!” he said adamantly. “I am not that easy!” John gave him an unimpressed look. “Okay, maybe I am, but I am still a virgin, thank you very much.”
His father just smiled and shook his head. “As long as you’re happy and being safe, that’s all that matters.”
Stiles’s face was so hot he was worried the blush was going to become permanent. He raised a finger to point at his father. “There’s nothing to be safe about, because we ARE NOT having sex,” he said emphatically. He continued when his father opened his mouth. “Oh, look, a shiny new change of topic.”
John just closed his mouth and took a bite of his sandwich. Stiles watched him cautiously for a long moment, but his father seemed content to let the subject drop. Stiles snatched up his phone again and shot off another text.
To: Peter, Chris
And now he thinks we’ve had sex! I am never going to stop blushing.
Stiles slammed his phone back down and tore into his sandwich. It was only when he was chewing that the doubt crept in and he wondered if maybe he had offended his soulmates. Before he could worry too long, his phone beeped.
Why does your father think that?
Stiles swallowed down the lump that those words brought to his throat. He could practically picture Chris looking at him with a raised eyebrow and waiting expectantly for an answer.
To: Peter, Chris
Because I am having problems sitting comfortably…
He set his phone down and took a few bites of his sandwich. His father chuckled at him across the table. His phone beeped again, but he ignored it in favor of finishing his sandwich. He finished the sandwich and downed his water. He set the dishes in the dishwasher, gave his dad a quick hug and then headed back up to his room. Stiles pulled out his phone again once he’d flopped face down on his bed.
The offer to kiss it and make it better still stands.
Stiles’s face heated in a blush as he pictured that. He felt his cock stirring with interest and had to quickly quash that line of thinking. He buried his face in his pillow for a minute and tried to think unsexy thoughts. He looked up when his phone beeped again.
Fair warning, Peter likes to leave marks.
Also fair warning, Chris likes to leave marks too. He was very smug about the hand prints on your ass.
Peter will probably take this as a challenge and mark you whenever he can.
Stiles blinked at the rapid fire texts. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen competitive flirting before. His fingers hesitated over the keypad as he tried to think of a way to respond to that.
To: Peter, Chris
When can I see you again?
I can be there in five minutes.
Stiles felt a grin spread across his lips. He’d flirted before, made out with people before, but nothing had prepared him for the giddiness that flirting with his soulmates brought.
I work until 5 tomorrow, but Peter will be home all day. You're welcome to come over, or we could go somewhere for dinner.
Stiles thought about that for a minute. As much as little Stiles was pushing him to jump straight into bed with Chris and Peter, he knew that it was probably not the wisest idea. He picked up the phone and typed out his answer.
To: Peter, Chris
Could we get dinner? Maybe see a movie or something?
He hesitated for a minute. He considered deleting the text. Did he sound too needy? Did they want him to come over and have sex instead? Would they be disappointed? Was it too teenage crush for them? Stiles hit send and waited.
It’s a date!
We’ll pick you up at 5:30.
Stiles grinned. He pulled out the calendar app on the phone to set an alarm and saw the time. It was getting close to one in the morning. “Shit.” He opened up a new message.
To: Peter, Chris
OMG I totally did not realize how late it was. I’M SO SORRY!!!!!
The phone rang a moment later. Stiles accepted the call and rushed to explain. “I was asleep and then dad came home and he said the thing about the hickie and I just sent the text and I didn’t think about how late it was and you have to work in the morning and…”
“Stiles!” Chris’s voice cut through his litany. Stiles’s mouth clicked shut. “It’s okay,” Chris said reassuringly. Chris chuckled at the audible sigh that Stiles let out.
“We do know how to silence our phones, my dear,” Peter’s voice came over the line as well. He must be on speaker. “You can text us whenever you want, day or night.”
“Oh.” Stiles let his head thump down on the mattress. He rolled over and started to sit up. He hissed when his weight came down on his ass. Stiles flinched and hoped that he hadn’t been loud enough to be heard over the phone. He shuffled around a little more until he was in a mostly comfortable sitting position.
“Stiles, what was that?” Peter asked. Stupid werewolf hearing.
Stiles was silent for a moment as he blushed. “I forgot and sat up,” he mumbled.
Chris’s laugh was warm and hearty. Peter’s was playful. Both warmed him up in a way that made him forget about the ache in his rear. “Was I too hard on you?” Chris asked. Stiles’s stomach flipped at the low, almost seductive tone.
“No,” Stiles answered. “I’ll be fine.” He fell silent for a minute. His eyes fell onto his soulmark and he traced the edges. “Sorry for falling asleep on you, and all the crying.”
“It’s no problem,” Chris said. “It seemed like you needed to get it out.”
“And you were rather adorable curled up on Chris,” Peter added. Stiles huffed and rolled his eyes. He felt a yawn coming on and tried to stifle it. Peter must have heard anyways. “Are you going to be able to get back to sleep now?” Peter asked.
Stiles smiled. He lowered himself down on his side and curled around his pillow. “Yeah,” he said. His body relaxed. “Thank you, for everything,” he said sleepily. “I promise I’m not always this much of a spaz.”
He could almost picture the soft smiles on their faces. “Get some sleep, Stiles,” Chris said. “We’ll see you tomorrow.” Stiles wished them both goodnight and ended the call. He let the phone fall onto the bed. Within minutes he was asleep.
In the morning, he was almost afraid it had been a dream, but there was still a bit of soreness in his ass. He also had the text messages to reassure him. He went to his appointment with Deaton and tried to work on forming physical shields, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything. Deaton sent him home after half an hour because Stiles kept fidgeting and glancing at the clock every five minutes. His shields couldn't even stop the pen Deaton threw at him. His dad took one look at him when they met in the doorway and shook his head.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” John said as tied his shoes. “I expect to see Chris and Peter at lunch on Sunday.”
Stiles blushed and stammered. He didn’t have a chance to argue before his father was gone. Stiles slumped back against the wall with a groan. He could not imagine that going well for him considering his father seemed to think they'd already had their way with him. He wasn't sure if his dad was going to give them the shotgun speech or use it as an opportunity to embarrass Stiles. Or both.
By the time 5:30 rolled around, Stiles had cleaned his room, the kitchen, and the upstairs bathroom. He changed three times because he wasn't sure if Peter and Chris would want to go somewhere nice or just somewhere normal. He ended up deciding on a Henley and a pair of jeans that Erica had made him buy for when they went out clubbing. They were snug, but not uncomfortably so. He hesitated, then tucked one of Anastasia’s protection talismans into his pocket.
Stiles ducked out the door as soon as Chris and Peter pulled into the drive. Stiles was still jumping with nerves and he fumbled with his keys as he locked up. When he turned, he had to drool at the sleek black sports car that Peter was stepping out of. Stiles recognized the car as a brand new, four door Jaguar XFR-S, a beauty that surpassed even Jackson’s doucebag-mobile. He wanted to reach out and run a hand along the lines. He wanted to feel how it shifted under him as he drove, supposedly able to go from zero to 60 in under four and a half seconds. He wanted to be fucked over the hood. Stiles quickly shook his head to clear that thought away.
Peter was waiting by the car with a grin on his face. Stiles blushed as Peter’s eyes trailed down to his crotch then back up to Stiles’s blushing face. His grin widened as Stiles approached. His nostrils flared just a little bit. Peter opened the door to the front passenger seat and stepped aside, motioning for Stiles to take the front seat. Stiles rested a hand on the open door and moved to get in, but Peter’s hand caught him. Peter tugged him close. His hand fisted in Stiles's hair. Peter swung him around and pressed him back against the closed rear door as he kissed Stiles deeply, licking into his mouth with determination. Stiles gasped for air when Peter finally released him. Peter pressed one more kiss to his lips and stepped away.
Stiles’s legs were a little unsteady as he sank into front seat of the car. He looked over at Chris with wide eyes as if he could explain how that was suddenly something that happened in Stiles’s life. Chris merely chuckled. He leaned across the console to press a comparatively chaste kiss to Stiles’s lips. “We were thinking dinner first and then movie. Is that alright?” he asked as he drew away.
Stiles nodded, not sure if he could trust his voice just yet. He heard a car door close behind him and he startled. Stiles turned to pull his door closed and buckle his seatbelt. He sank back into the seat as Chris started the car and pulled out of the driveway. Stiles took in one deep breath and then another. He tried to think distinctly unsexy thoughts to get his uncomfortable boner to go down.
He glanced over at Chris and saw that he was wearing casual clothing. His button down shirt was open at the top, giving Stiles a view of his collarbone and a hint of chest hair. He had just a little bit of stubble today. Stiles hadn’t realized he’d found stubble quite so sexy until he saw it on Chris. Chris pulled up to a stop light and looked over at Stiles. He smirked when he caught Stiles watching him. Stiles quickly pulled his gaze away. He jerked a little when he felt fingers running lightly up his neck. He looked over his shoulder to find Peter smirking at him unapologetically.
Chris pulled into the parking lot of the local diner and Stiles felt a wave of relief. He didn’t know what he would have done if they’d pulled into someplace fancy, especially not with Peter constantly flirting. He could handle diner level of causal. He smiled over at Chris as they got out of the car.
The diner was pretty empty since it was Tuesday. A waitress led them to a booth and Stiles hesitated. Chris had already slid into one side and it felt a bit too presumptuous to slide in next to him if that was where Peter would want to sit. He slid into the opposite side, wincing a little at the feel of the hard plastic against his sore ass. Peter slid into the booth right next to him, pressing along his side. Stiles was somehow not surprised.
“You're in college, right Stiles?” Chris asked as they settled into the booth. He handed Stiles a menu, but Stiles set it aside. He came here often enough with his dad to know what he wanted before stepping into the door.
“Yeah,” he answered. “I just finished my freshman year at UC Berkeley.”
The waitress came at that moment to take their orders. “Hello boys,” Diane greeted. She looked over at Stiles and appeared surprised. “Stiles, nice seeing you again. You'll have your usual?”
“Yeah, please.” Stiles gave her a warm smile and hoped that she didn't stick around to reminisce about embarrassing moments from his childhood like she did with his dad whenever it was slow. Thankfully, she turned to Chris and Peter instead. “And what can I get you boys today?” Chris and Peter barely looked at the menus before ordering and Stiles wondered if they came here often too. He thought he would have remembered seeing them.
“Come here often?” Peter asked once Diane moved away.
Stiles shrugged. “Dad can't cook very well,” Stiles said. He fiddled with his napkin, snapping off the paper ring and curling and uncurling it around his fingers. “My mom died when I was in junior high and my dad didn’t trust me to cook at first, so we came here a lot. It kind of became a thing and we still come once or twice a month.” He looked up at them, but there was no pity in either of their expressions. Stiles let the paper curl drop. “What about you?”
Peter shrugged. “It's one of the few decent places open all night. Sometimes we stop by after a rough… job.”
Stiles looked over at Chris and saw him watching Stiles carefully. “Hunting?” he asked. Chris nodded and seemed to be waiting for Stiles to say something further. Stiles shrugged. Chris hadn’t said anything about it, but Stiles had known about that part of Chris’s life since the first time he’d touched his soulmark and learned who his mates were. Which explained some of the family drama that Peter had hinted at, now that he thought about it. And he wasn’t exactly ignorant of what Hunters did. His father worked closely with them whenever the supernatural crossed into his jurisdiction. Deaton and Anastasia had both told him plenty of stories involving Hunters. Anastasia had outright said he would have an aptitude towards it once they figured out how his Spark worked.
“It doesn’t bother you?” Chris pressed.
“Am I worried that something might happen to you because of it?” Stiles replied. “Yes. But I also worry about my dad whenever he’s on the job too.” Stiles shrugged again. “I guess you could say I’m kind of used to it.”
Diane came at that moment and dropped off their drinks. Stiles pulled his chocolate milkshake close. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked deep. He swallowed his mouthful of delicious chocolatey goodness with a little moan. The diner had the best milkshakes he’d ever tasted. He took another mouthful and realized that Chris and Peter had gone quiet. Stiles looked up. They were both staring at him with hungry expressions. He swallowed hastily.
Stiles looked over at them, confused. “Did you want some?” he asked, nodding towards his milkshake.
Peter reached forward and ran his thumb slowly across Stiles’s bottom lip. When he pulled away there was a little dab of milkshake there. Peter held Stiles’s gaze as he brought his thumb up to his mouth. His tongue snaked out and lapped up the dollop of shake. “Delicious,” Peter purred with a smirk.
Stiles almost passed out from all his blood rushing to his face. He coughed and looked away. “Can I ask a question?” he asked when he’d regained the ability to speak.
“Of course,” Chris answered. He smiled when Stiles looked up at them. Stiles looked over at Peter as he spoke.
“How did you know?” he asked. “About the soulmates thing?”
Peter hummed as he reached out for Stiles’s wrist. He turned it so that his soulmark was displayed. “I’ve suspected we had a third for awhile,” he said, “since I met Chris and started to think about what our mark means.” Peter traced a finger along the whirls and Stiles shuddered at the pleasure that sent straight to his groin. “A triskele, the family symbol of the Hales, for me. Argent silver for Chris.” Peter moved his finger to trace the burst pattern in the middle of the mark. “But neither of us could figure out what this part meant.” Peter raised Stiles’s wrist and planted a kiss on the burst. “A spark for our Spark.” Stiles’s brain melted at the sensation. Peter chuckled as he drew his lips away. “I wonder if your magic is the reason why your mark is so incredibly sensitive.” Stiles took his hand back before Peter could test that any more. He shot Peter a stern look and put his hand under the table where it would hopefully remain unmolested.
Peter smirked as he sat back in the booth. “As for how I actually found out that you were that third,” Peter continued. “I came across your scent at the festival and my wolf recognized you as mate.” He tapped his nose. “Werewolves do have a bit of an advantage when it comes to finding our soulmates.”
Stiles snorted. “Unless you’re Derek, apparently.” He continued at the quizzical look Peter gave him. “Cora dragged him to the matchmaking booth at the festival. She and Jackson pretty much abducted me and forced me into the booth so I could match people for them.” He thought for a second. “I think they had it planned, because all of my former classmates somehow knew to show up at the booth at a certain time with their unmatched friends and relatives.”
Peter laughed. “I was a bit too distracted that day to question why you were matching,” he said. He tapped his lip thoughtfully. “You are a little young to be Matchmaking in public. And without the SRAS protections.”
Stiles shrugged. “Your niece is persistent and it’s not like it’s difficult.”
“Are you going to become a professional Matchmaker after college?” Chris asked
He was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Diane with their food. He made grabby hands as she passed over his bacon cheeseburger and curly fries. Chris and Peter both laughed at his antics as they accepted their own meals. Stiles took a big bite of his burger. He made a happy noise and moved on to some of the fries. They ate quietly for a few minutes and Stiles was beginning to hope that they’d let the topic go.
Peter’s hand rested on Stiles’s back and he jumped. Peter stroked his hand up and down in slow soothing strokes. Stiles leaned into the touch. He forgot about the food and closed his eyes. His tension melted away. Peter pressed a kiss to Stiles’s hair. His hand pulled away.
Stiles pulled in a shaky breath and picked at his food again. He took a drink of his milkshake. “What do you do exactly, Peter?” he asked. “I got some flashes, but not enough to know the details.”
He listened with interest as Peter explained the work he did in the financial sector. It didn’t sound like a career Stiles would enjoy, but Peter seemed to get a thrill out of the power that it gave him. And the money and travel. Chris told him about his own business next, not the Hunting, but his legitimate gun business. He’d had a flash of the small retail store before, but he hadn’t known about all the safety education work Chris did or the conventions that he went to.
Chris and Peter kept the conversation away from Stiles for the rest of the meal. Peter told him about his family. Chris told him about some of the interesting people he worked with, including Braeden. They asked Stiles's opinions about movies and books and talked about hobbies. They actually listened with interest when Stiles started babbling on about comic books and kept going on random tangents. He didn't even notice Peter had snagged the check until he'd gotten up to go to the register.
Stiles was a little thankful for the movie because it gave him a break from talking. Chris paid for the tickets while Peter dragged him over to the concession stand for candy and drinks. Peter herded him to a back row and arranged it so Stiles was sitting between the other two. The movie was a mindless action flick that was exactly what Stiles was in the mood for. He relaxed back into the thickly padded seats with Chris’s hand in his on one side and Peter whispering sarcastic critiques of the actors and the plot in his ear. It was the best time he’d had in a long while.
On the ride home, they talked about the movie and other movies they’d liked or didn’t like. Chris explained how they’d rigged the fake explosions and how the explosions were different than what would actually happen. Peter talked about the actors, their good roles and their weak points. Stiles added his own random trivia tidbits. Each time he went off on a tangent, he was kind of amazed that Chris and Peter just listened and let him talk. They actually seemed interested in what he had to say.
Chris parked the car in Stiles's driveway and they all got out. Stiles only had a moment to wonder about if they were going to do the awkward walking to the door thing. Before he had a chance to worry, Peter pulled him into a kiss. Peter licked into Stiles’s mouth and he couldn’t hold back a moan. Just as quickly, Peter was pulling away with a smirk on his lips. Stiles had one moment to pull in a shaky breath before Chris was there. Chris’s hand buried in his hair as Chris licked into his mouth. Chris’s free hand slid low, massaging the sore flesh of Stiles’s ass. Stiles gasped at the mixture of pain and pleasure. He’d never felt anything like it before. He wanted more. Stiles’s hips bucked forward with each squeeze. Chris pressed him back against the car, which was the only thing keeping Stiles upright. His knees went weak and he wrapped his arms around Chris’s neck. He was debating the merits of just wrapping his legs around Chris, but then Chris was pulling away. Chris placed one more soft kiss on Stiles’s lips and took a step back.
Stiles let out a small whine as he released his hold on Chris. He leaned back against the car for a minute as he caught his breath. Peter and Chris seemed to be entirely too pleased with themselves as they watched him. Stiles took two steadying breaths, then pushed himself off the car. He started to walk over toward the house and hesitated. “I had a really good time,” he said with a shy smile.
Chris reached out a hand and smoothed it over Stiles’s hair. “So did we,” he said. “Have a good night.”
Stiles nodded. He turned to the house and walked a few steps away before a thought occurred to him. “Oh,” he called out as Peter and Chris moved to get into the car. “Dad wanted you to come to lunch on Sunday, if that’s alright.”
Peter nodded. “We’ll see you then,” he said as he slid into the passenger seat of the car.
Stiles turned then and forced himself not to look over his shoulder as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. He heard the car start to pull away as he shut the door. He sagged back against the closed door. Stiles took a couple slow breaths to calm his nerves. He resisted the urge to pull out his phone and ask when he could see them again. Stiles was not going to be a clingy teenager.
Instead he went upstairs to see if Scott was online. He wasn’t, but Kira was. Stiles hesitated for a minute. He wanted to talk to someone about his soulmate angst, but this was one of those things that he felt like he was obligated to tell Scott about first or risk losing best friend status. He texted Scott instead, asking if he was free to talk. A minute later a Skype call came in from Kira. When he accepted it, he found both Scott and Kira staring at him expectantly.
“What’s up?” Scott asked. It looked like he and Kira had been sitting on her bed watching a movie. He could see the wall of her room behind them.
“So, you know how I was hiding from Peter because I was freaking out about the soulmates thing?” he began. Scott raised an eyebrow and waited for Stiles to continue. “They kind of tracked me down yesterday.”
Scott’s brow furrowed. “Were they pissed?” Scott asked. “What happened?”
Stiles winced as he remembered the very thorough spanking Chris had given him. He shifted slightly as his brain helpfully reminded him how sore his ass still was. “Yeah,” he replied. “They were a bit pissed, but we worked it out. They forgave me for being a dumbass.” He smiled at them through the computer. “We just had a date.”
“Oh my god!” Kira sent the computer flying as she leapt up from the bed. Stiles laughed as he heard her yelling, and what sounded like bouncing around the room. A moment later Scott was picking up the laptop from where it had fallen on the floor and placed it back on the bed, adjusting the camera so that Stiles could see him again. Kira flopped back down on the bed a moment later, rocking the camera. “Tell us everything!”
Stiles laughed. He told them about the date and about some of the things they’d talked about, though he left out the more personal bits. He didn’t really feel like rehashing his insecurities when he in such a good mood.
“What’s proper date protocol?” he asked when their questions stopped. “Am I going to seem too needy if I ask when I can see them again?”
Scott smiled at him reassuringly. “Dude, I’m sure whatever you do will be fine.”
Kira leaned her head on Scott’s shoulder. “Yeah, if you really want to be proactive you can set up another date or if you want to play it cool you can wait for them to suggest something.” She shrugged. “Just don’t put it off more than two or three days or you’re going to drive yourself mad with worrying,” she pointed out.
Stiles nodded. He really probably would. “Have any date suggestions for me? All the people I dated in college either wanted to go to clubs or frat parties, neither of which seem to be Peter or Chris’s style.”
Kira shrugged. “You could ask Cora what kind of things Peter likes,” she suggested. “He’s her uncle, right?”
Stiles groaned at that reminder. “She’s going to kill me when she finds out I knew and didn’t tell her.”
Scott chuckled. “I’ll be sure to hide your porn collection and say something nice at your funeral.”
Stiles shot him a glare. His phone beeped. He smiled when he saw the message. “Peter wants to go to a bookstore tomorrow afternoon,” he announced.
Kira and Scott smiled back at him. “See,” Kira said. “Nothing to worry about. They love you already.”
Stiles blushed. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll let you get back to your movie or whatever you were doing.”
“Anytime, bro,” Scott said at the same time that Kira said, “Keep us updated!”
Stiles chuckled and ended the call. He spun around in his desk chair for a minute before pushing himself up to find one of the books that he’d been working on translating for Anastasia and Deaton. He could probably get a couple more pages done tonight and maybe Deaton wouldn’t still be mad at him on Thursday.
Wednesday afternoon, Peter picked him up in the sleek black sports car. Together they drove to the next town over, where Peter introduced him to his favorite bookstore. Stiles breathed deep as soon as he got inside, reveling in the smell of old books. He and Peter wandered the stacks for nearly two hours. Stiles spent long minutes distracted by the way Peter would caress the spines, treating the old books with care as he picked through the selection. He found himself just as interested in seeing what books Peter chose as he was picking out books for himself. Stiles made sure to grab one of the store’s business cards so he could come back. It had an excellent selection of books on magic and the supernatural that he was going to have to slowly procure.
Peter’s chin rested on his shoulder as Stiles flipped through a book on shifters. “I’ve got a copy of that one you can borrow,” Peter said. “Unless you’d like your own copy?”
Stiles pulled away slightly to look at Peter. He seemed genuine. He put the book back on the shelf and indicated the stack he’d set aside. “Do you have any of those as well?” he asked.
Peter crouched down and looked at the titles. He handed two back to Stiles. Stiles checked the titles and stuck them back on the shelves. Peter rose again and placed a soft kiss on Stiles’s cheek. “Interesting selections,” he said. Peter wrapped his arms around Stiles as they both looked at the magic and supernatural section. “You’ll have to come over and see our library sometime, or the one at the Hale house.”
Stiles made a noise of agreement as he leaned back into Peter’s arms. His whole body relaxed. His eyes drifted closed for a second. Behind him Peter chuckled. One arm held him close as Peter leaned forward and pulled a book off of the shelf. Stiles blinked his eyes open and looked down at the title. It was an old book on magical theory. “You might be interested in this one,” Peter whispered into his ear. Peter held the book open for him to look through. Stiles nodded and Peter added it to the pile at Stiles’s feet. Peter placed another kiss on his cheek and then wandered away to look at another section.
Peter tried to pay for Stiles’s books in addition to his own, but Stiles put his foot down. They stopped for fast food on their way back into town, eating across from each other at a booth with Peter’s foot trailing up and down his leg. When they got back to Stiles’s place, his father was still at work. Peter insisted on carrying Stiles’s books inside and up to his bedroom. While Stiles unpacked the bag of books, setting some aside for further study and shoving others on his bookshelves, Peter trailed around the room, inspecting everything. He leafed through the old books on magic on Stiles’s desk and the novels on his bookshelf with equal interest.
Once the bag was unpacked and shoved in the garbage, Stiles turned to Peter. “Thank you again for taking me to that store,” he said. He looked over at Peter with a smile, which was all the warning he got before the werewolf literally pounced him onto the bed.
Stiles looked up at Peter in surprise. Peter braced himself on top of Stiles, straddling his hips. He placed a gentle kiss on Stiles’s mouth and then licked at Stiles’s lips. Stiles opened his mouth, letting Peter in. Peter didn’t need any more invitation. Peter’s tongue dipped into his mouth and his hands slid just under the edge of Stiles’s shirt. Stiles tensed as one of Peter’s hands ran along the top of Stiles’s pants.
Peter pulled back just enough to be able to speak. “Relax,” murmured, rubbing his hands up Stiles’s sides. “I’m not going to do anything more than make out without Chris here.” Peter pressed a gentle kiss onto Stiles’s cheek. “Is that okay?”
Stiles blinked up at Peter for a minute. He licked his lips and saw Peter’s eyes tracking the motion. “Yeah,” he said. “Making out is good.”
Peter gave him a pleased smile before lowering his head to Stiles’s neck. Stiles turned his head to the side, giving Peter better access to kiss and nip and lick. Peter’s teeth pressed down over the hickie he’d left and he sucked hard. Stiles bucked up with a gasp. Peter chuckled and ground his hips down once before pulling away. It took Stiles’s brain a moment to recover, but when it did, he realized that he was missing a prime opportunity to grope Peter as much as he wanted. His hands came up to slide up Peter’s back and the other man made an appreciative noise. Peter released his neck only to capture Stiles’s lips again.
Stiles relaxed into the kissing. He let Peter control their pace and instead focused on mapping Peter’s body with his hands. He ran his hands through Peter’s hair and down his neck. He traced the muscles in his arms and his abs, the broad plane of his back down to his hips and back up again. By an unspoken agreement neither of them touched below the waist except for the occasional buck or grind of hips. Peter kept Stiles on the edge, never allowing things to get too far before he pulled back and slowed things down.
All too soon a phone alarm beeped. Peter pulled away. He pulled out his phone and checked a message. Peter pulled away with one last lingering kiss to Stiles’s lips. “I’m afraid I’ve got a business call to make soon,” he said as he drew away. Peter reached out a hand to him and helped Stiles to his feet. They walked downstairs together. Peter pulled him in for one last, dirty kiss, grinding his hips against Stiles’s until Stiles was moaning. His eyes were lit with pure mischief as he pulled away. “See you soon,” Peter called as he slipped out the door.
Stiles barely waited until he heard the car start to pull away before he locked the door and ran up the stairs. He slammed his bedroom door shut behind him. Stiles scrambled onto the bed, pushing down his pants and boxers and fumbling for the lube he kept in his nightstand. It didn’t take long at all before he was coming all over his stomach to the memory of Peter holding him down.
Thursday brought his usual meeting with Deaton. He was able to show him a few more pages in the book he’d been translating, but so far none of it had been very useful in helping him figure out his Spark magic. He looked around the mostly empty room they were using for his magical lessons for a moment before turning to Deaton. “Have you had any luck getting ahold of a Spark?” he asked hopefully. “Maybe there’s some step we’re missing that would make my magic a little more reliable?”
Deaton looked over at him from where he was sorting through things in a cabinet he usually kept locked. He pulled out a bag and then shut the cabinet doors again. “I have some hope that we’ll hear from one soon,” he said. “But, like I said, I’ve had to be very discreet about my inquiries.”
Stiles sighed and nodded. Deaton handed him the bag, which turned out to be filled with mountain ash. “Make a circle around yourself with that,” Deaton instructed.
Stiles gave Deaton a dubious look, but dipped his hand through the dust. He felt the ash run through his fingers as he pulled out a handful and turned in a circle. The ash kept pouring out without him needing to dip his hand back in, even though he knew he hadn’t picked up that much. It ran out only when the circle was completed. He handed the bag back to Deaton. “Pretty sure even I can manage to make a mountain ash circle to keep werewolves out, doc,” he said with a raised eyebrow.
Deaton gave him an unamused look back. “I’m hoping that it will help you by acting as a focus for your shields.”
Stiles nodded. That made sense. The mountain ash was inherently a barrier. All he had to do was change its use to keep everything out. He closed his eyes and focused on his magic. He took a deep breath, pulling the magic to the surface of his skin then slipping it out into the dust. He told the dust to become a barrier. He imagined the barrier able to stop anything. He opened his eyes and nodded to Deaton.
Deaton stepped forward. He held out a hand and slowly leaned into the barrier. It held. Stiles let out a whoop of joy. It worked. Deaton pushed harder and the barrier held. Deaton stepped back while Stiles did a dance of joy. A pen hit him in the back of the head. Stiles felt his joy die. The barrier fell. He picked up the pen and looked over at Deaton.
“Why didn’t it stop the pen?” he asked, his good mood destroyed.
Deaton accepted the pen back and put it in his pocket. “My guess is that you still need to concentrate to stop anything with the barrier.” He nodded at the mountain ash. “Let’s keep practicing and maybe you can work out how to make the shields automatic.”
Stiles groaned, but channeled his magic again. By the time Deaton called a halt Stiles could stop anything coming at the mountain ash shield that he saw. Deaton even had one of the werewolves on staff come and try to force their way through with no effect. He even stopped the pen twice. However, he couldn’t manage the same success without the mountain ash. Without the barrier as a focus, he was able to stop Deaton most of the time, but ended up flinching away when the pen came at him. He left the lesson with a lot of frustration and a bag of mountain ash to practice with and a small pouch that Deaton wanted him to keep on him at all times for protection. Stiles tucked both into his backpack to deal with later.
He got in his jeep and drove around downtown, but couldn't seem to settle on a location. He didn't want to go home because no one was there and the books he bought with Peter would just remind him how frustrated he was with magic and himself. He didn't want to go visit his dad at the station, because that just reminded him that Chris and Peter were having lunch with his dad on Sunday and that stressed him out. Scott was at work and Kira was off on some family vacation for the next few days. He ended up turning into the parking lot of the coffee shop where Erica was working.
The coffee shop was quiet for a Thursday afternoon. There was a guy writing off in a corner with his headphones jacked in. A couple of old women sat in the opposite corner, gossiping and watching people go by in the street. The bell over the door chimed and Erica looked up from where she was leaning on the counter playing with her phone. She grinned when she spotted Stiles. “Hey Batman,” she called. “Long time no see.”
Stiles grinned back at Erica. He hopped up on the counter with her after she made him a coffee and they caught up on all the gossip from their friends. Erica was just as excited as Kira had been to learn that Stiles had finally gotten together with his soulmates. She wanted to hear everything.
The door chimed and Stiles hopped off the counter. He snagged his cup and moved off to the side while a group of teenagers gave Erica their orders. Stiles sipped his coffee and wandered over to a seat by the windows. He looked across the street and startled. He recognized the shop across the street. Stiles grinned. He pulled out his phone.
How do you take your coffee?
He waited while the teenagers got their drinks and settled at a big table in the corner. His phone beeped.
Two sugars, one cream. Why?
Stiles smiled. “Can I get a refill and a large coffee with two sugars and one cream to go?”
Erica raised an eyebrow. She took one look between him and the shop across the street and smiled. “Go get him, tiger,” she said as she handed over the drinks.
Stiles chuckled. He looked both ways, but the streets were deserted. Only when he stepped through the door did he pause to wonder if maybe Chris wouldn't want to be bothered at work. But then the door chimed and the woman watching the counter looked up.
“Can I help you?” she asked with the look of someone who had dealt with way too many idiots. He recognized it from being around law enforcement officers after any holiday or event that involved drunk people.
Stiles hesitated. The shop was empty, but if Chris was busy he could always just drop off the coffee then leave. “Is Chris in?”
The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “He’s on a call right now,” she said. She leaned forward across the counter. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Oh. No, thank you though. I can come back some other time.” He held up the cup. “Would you be able to give this to him though?”
The woman eyed him curiously for a long moment. “He should be done in fifteen minutes or so if you want to wait.”
Stiles looked over at her, surprised. She didn’t really seem to be the type to like people just hanging around when they weren’t going to buy anything. He wasn’t going to argue with her though. He moved over to an out of the way corner of the counter. “Is it okay if I set these down here?” he asked. “I don’t want to risk spilling on anything.”
The woman nodded. She didn’t say anything as Stiles wandered around the shop. Chris had a very nice arrangement of anything a Hunter or someone in law enforcement would need. Along the back wall were tactical vests, infrared goggles, and a couple different types of traps. There were bows and crossbows on racks in the center of the store along with a variety of different types of arrows. There was a whole display of batons made out of different types of woods. Stiles traced his fingers along the hilts, naming the woods in his head. There were rowan and oak, even one that he was pretty sure had a mountain ash core.
The whole wall across from the doors displayed different types of rifles and shot guns. Stiles wandered over and saw that the long glass cases that served as the counters along that wall were full of different types of pistols. He took a moment to admire the impressive collection before moving over to the third wall where the woman was leaning. He raised an eyebrow in surprise as he drew closer. Not only was there a nice selection of knives on display, but there was a whole section of the display that had magic enhanced weapons. Stiles knelt down in front of the case and had to keep from drooling. In addition to a nice selection of charms, there were some really high quality rune engraved daggers. He saw one with a handle that looked like it was made from mountain ash and had to wonder if the wood worked the same was as the ash itself did. Would a werewolf be unable to touch a dagger like that?
Stiles shifted over to look at some of the ammo in the case. He squinted his eyes at the bullets. “You’ve got some regular ammo mixed in with your magical ammo,” he pointed out.
“I’ll have to take that up with the owner,” Chris said from behind him.
Stiles shot to his feet with a yelp. Chris’s arm came around him, steadying him when he wobbled. Chris smiled down at him. He leaned forward and gave Stiles a warm kiss. Stiles couldn’t resist smiling up at Chris when he pulled away. He nodded over to the counter. “I brought you a coffee,” he said.
“Do I need to pretend I didn’t see that the next time I see Peter?” the woman behind the counter asked. Stiles jumped. He felt a blush start to heat his cheeks.
Chris only snorted. “From what I hear, Peter did much worse with him yesterday,” Chris said. “Tamara, this is Peter and my third soulmate, Stiles.” He put a hand reassuringly on Stiles’s back as the woman looked at him curiously. “Stiles, this is Tamara McIntosh.”
“Nice to meet you,” Stiles said. He stepped forward and accepted the hand that she held out to him.
Chris took a sip of his coffee and smiled. He nodded to the display case. “Which bullets are wrong?”
Stiles tapped the glass in front of one of the shelves. The tag labeled them as magically reinforced bullets, able to piece through glamours and magical protections. Tamara pulled the whole display out and set them in front of Stiles. Stiles shifted through the open top boxes. He set aside a few. “These are fine,” he said as he pushed them over towards Tamara. He pulled aside another box. “No magic on these.” He pulled a bullet out and sniffed it. It smelled distinctly like dirt. He replaced the bullet and raised an eyebrow at Chris. “Graveyard dirt?”
Chris shrugged. “It’s useful for hunting certain creatures.” Chris closed the package and set it aside. He nodded to the two others. “And those?”
“Mostly magic,” he said. He reached in a plucked one bullet out of one pack and two bullets out of another. He sniffed them, then held them out to Chris. “These are normal though.”
Chris accepted them. He raised an eyebrow as he considered the bullets. “I think I’m going to have you come in next time we get a shipment of those,” he said. “I think our supplier might be trying to cheat us.”
Stiles shrugged. “No problem.”
Tamara whistled. “A werewolf and a Druid,” she said. She looked at Chris, clearly impressed. “Damn. You certainly like the wild ones.”
Chris chuckled, but Stiles couldn’t help blushing. He turned and hid his face in Chris’s shoulder. Chris’s arms came around him, squeezing tight for a minute before letting go. “What do you think of the shop?” he asked.
Stiles smiled up at him. “It’s really nice.” He nodded towards the display case of handguns. “My dad has always been a fan of the Glocks and Rugers, but I’m more of a Colt man myself.”
Tamara raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve shot a gun before?” she asked. Her tone held a distinct note of disbelief.
Stiles raised an eyebrow right back at her. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “My dad’s the Sheriff. It would have been pretty irresponsible of him to keep guns in the house with a hyperactive kid and not teach him gun safety.” He shrugged as her eyes went wide with surprise. “I used to be a pretty good shot, but haven’t really had time to go down to the range with him in the last couple years.”
Chris hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe you and I could go sometime.” Chris snagged their coffees off the counter, handing Stiles his, and headed back into the shop. “Let me show you around.”
Stiles grinned and followed after him. He looked around with interest as Chris showed him the stock area right inside the Employees Only section. He pointed out the locked section that was for law enforcement and licensed Hunters only. Next to the stock area was an enclosed room with reinforced walls. There was a bench off to one side, in line with some targets. Beyond that was an area with several workbenches and machinery. There were several guns in the process of being repaired or customized. Chris wisely kept between Stiles and any of the sharp equipment. He rested a hand on Stiles’s lower back, steering him towards the back offices.
“And this is my office,” Chris said as he led Stiles inside. Chris took Stiles’s coffee cup from him and set it and his own on the desk. He reached around Stiles and pulled the door closed. Stiles only had a moment to look around the office, taking note of the neat organization, the pictures on the desk. Then the door closed and Chris was pressing Stiles up against it. He bit at Stiles’s lips. Stiles moaned and Chris took the opportunity to plunge into his mouth. Chris’s hands pushed up Stiles’s arms, raising them until they were pinned above Stiles’s head. Stiles moaned as Chris rocked into him. He was half tempted to wrap his legs around Chris’s waist to see if Chris could hold him up. Stiles was pretty sure he could.
Stiles panted when Chris broke away to kiss down his neck. Stiles was amused to note it was the side opposite the one that Peter favored. Then, the reason became clear. Chris’s mouth latched onto the join where his shoulder met his neck and Stiles’s hips bucked forward. Chris’s free hand came to rest at Stiles’s hip, holding him still while he bit and sucked. Stiles squirmed, but Chris seemed to be very determined to mark him. Chris rolled his hips forward and Stiles gasped. His breath hitched. Then, Chris was pulling away until the only points of contact were his hands holding Stiles in place.
Chris smirked down at him when Stiles finally regained the brain power to look up. Stiles let his head thunk back against the door as he panted. Chris pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He held Stiles in place for one long moment before stepping away. “Now Peter and I are even,” Chris said with a grin.
Stiles groaned. He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. “You’re going to kill me when we finally have sex, aren’t you?” He let his head thunk back again. “Between the two of you, I’m just not going to survive the experience.”
Chris chuckled. He reached over and took a sip of his coffee before handing Stiles his. “There are worse ways to go.”
Stiles took a long drag of his coffee. He moved away from the wall to slump into one of the chairs in front of Chris’s desk. His mind wandered as they drank in silence for a few minutes. He thought back to the display case in the front. “Would it be really awkward if I wanted to buy something from your shop?” He looked over at Chris, gauging his reaction.
Chris raised an eyebrow. He perched on the corner of his desk. “It would depend on what you wanted,” he said carefully. “I can’t legally sell you a handgun.”
Stiles started. He flailed a little to keep from spilling his coffee on himself. He waved a hand to dismiss the idea. “No, no,” he said urgently. “Nothing like that.” He carefully set his cup aside before he could spill it. His fingers went to his sleeve, worrying the fabric between them. “I… um… kinda would like to get one of the rune carved knives,” he said uncertainly. He looked over at Chris, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. “If that’s alright with you? I mean, if it’s too weird, then that’s okay…”
Chris set his own coffee aside. “Stiles, why do you want a knife?”
“Protection?” he answered. He looked away again, not sure how much he wanted to get into the wendigo thing. Chris waited him out. Stiles sighed. “I’m not very good with protective magic,” he admitted. “For some reason I just can’t wrap my head around how it’s supposed to work and Deaton and Anastasia have been trying to teach me, but it’s like a duck trying to teach a fish to swim. Deaton’s words, not mine, by the way. And…” Stiles clamped his mouth shut. He held the words in for a minute and then let his breath out in a sigh. “I have like talismans and mountain ash and stuff that are supposed to help, but those only work so long as my magic holds…” Stiles shrugged.
Chris regarded him for a long minute. “I have one condition.” Stiles looked up at him, surprised. Chris held his gaze. “I’ll put it aside for you, but I want you to practice with either Peter or I until I know that you can handle it safely.”
Stiles grimaced. “Probably should use a different knife,” he pointed out. “I don’t think the mountain ash would be good for Peter.”
Chris nodded. “Why don’t you show me which one you wanted?” He stood with Stiles, his hand coming to rest of Stiles’s back as they walked back through the shop. Stiles set his cup on the counter and moved to stand on the customer side of the counter again. Tamara watched them with interest as Chris pulled out the knife he indicated. Chris handed it over to Stiles and leaned on the counter.
As soon as Stiles’s hand gripped the wooden hilt, he felt a sense of rightness, as if the knife belonged in his hand. The hilt was a perfect fit to his hand. He reached his magic out, feeling for the protections built into the blade. His magic surged in a way that felt warm and welcoming. Tamara gasped and jerked back. Stiles hastily dropped the knife onto the counter and pulled his hand away.
Chris hummed thoughtfully. He pulled out a long white box and set the knife inside. Chris pulled out a sharpie and wrote Stiles’s name on the box. He capped the pen and tossed it back in the cup by the register. Chris set the box to one side, near the door back into the building. He came around the counter. Stiles flinched when Chris drew near, but Chris’s arms just wrapped around him. Chris pulled him close and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “I’ll keep that safe for you until you’re ready for it,” he promised.
Stiles nodded and melted into the embrace. He allowed himself one minute to get his nerves in check before pulling away. He tilted his face upwards and was a little bit relieved when Chris didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss him. Stiles smiled into the kiss until Tamara gave a wolf whistle. Stiles turned and stuck his tongue out at her. “I should be getting home,” he said. “Say hi to Peter for me.”
“Will do,” Chris said with an answering smile.
Stiles grabbed his coffee and then jogged across the street to his car. He waved at Erica through the window as he climbed into his Jeep. He felt quite a bit more energized than he had before he’d seen Chris. He turned his Jeep homewards and resolved to dive into some more translating. One of these days he was going to come across something that would help him with his spark.
On Friday, Peter and Chris picked him up for a late lunch. Peter and Chris let Stiles decide the restaurant, so he chose the cafe near the park that Stiles, Scott and Kira frequented. This time they sat around a round table in the center of the room. Stiles was a little relieved not to have to worry about Peter cornering him in a booth again.
Peter looked around the place as they sat down. “I think I’ve been in here before.”
Stiles blushed. “Yeah…” he said. He pointed over at the booth where he’d had lunch with Scott and Kira. “A couple days after the Fourth of July Festival, you tracked me from the park and I hid under that table.”
Chris burst into laughter at the confused look on Peter’s face. Peter looked over at the table then back at Stiles. A smile spread onto his face. Peter leaned forward. He looked at Stiles like he was the most interesting puzzle in the world. “How did you manage to hide your scent from me? I should have been able to scent you under the table, or at least hear your heartbeat.”
Stiles waited while the waitress took their orders and moved away. Once they were alone again he answered. “Anastasia wouldn’t let me come home for the summer until I was able to mask my scent and hide my heartbeat.” He continued when Peter gave him a curious look. “She’s the Witch in Berkeley who’s been teaching me magic. I train with her at college and Deaton when I’m home.”
Peter leaned forward and rested his chin on his intertwined fingers. “Shouldn’t you be learning from another Spark?”
Stiles sighed and slumped back in his chair. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Apparently we’re rare and Deaton’s having a hard time finding one to teach me.” He shrugged. Stiles felt tension build in his shoulders like it always did when he talked about his magic with someone who wasn’t his dad, Scott, Deaton, or Anastasia. He waited for the awkward questions to come, the fear.
Instead, Chris’s hand rested over the back of his neck. His thumb slid up and down, soothing the tension out of Stiles. Stiles let his eyes drift closed for a second. He wondered idly if Chris had found some kind of off-switch for his anxiety or perhaps Chris was the off-switch. “You never did say what your plans were after college,” Chris said.
Stiles groaned. He slid forward until his head hit the table. Peter chuckled at his theatrics and Stiles forced himself to sit up and just spit it all out. “Deaton really wants me to work under him at the SRAS because I have a really strong Matchmaking gift and he thinks that I could do a lot of good that way. Make lots of love connections of something.” He waved his hands in jazz hands. “Anastasia wants me to use my Spark more proactively, like become a Hunter or something. Apparently the talismans I’ve made for her are really strong and she said I could probably make a lot of money just sitting around and enchanting things all day.” His hands moved of their own accord, gesturing as he spoke. “My dad hasn’t outright said it, but he’s pretty heavily hinted that he doesn’t want me to become a Matchmaker because of all the crazies they can draw in when they go public. And, let’s face it, anonymity is not exactly my strong suit, so I probably would be one of the Matchmakers who ended up with crazy stalkers following them around.” He sighed and rubbed and hand over his face as his words lost a bit of their steam. His voice grew quieter as he drew in on himself a little. “I was thinking about going into forensics or something like my dad before all the magic stuff started, but Deaton and Anastasia keep talking to me about my responsibility to use my gift…” Stiles’s tirade petered out with a bit of a frustrated whine. “I just have no idea what I want…”
Peter grabbed one of his hands while Chris grabbed the other. Stiles took a deep breath and let his hands relax into their hold. “No one says you have to decide right now,” Chris reassured. “You still have three more years of college to go through. Whatever you decide to do, I’m sure your dad and your teachers will support you.”
“Besides,” Peter said as he squeezed Stiles’s hand gently. “It’s not like you can’t change your mind. Your job doesn’t have to be forever. You already have the skills for Matchmaking and enchanting it sounds like. You could start or stop those whenever you wanted, or do them part-time.” He leaned forward to place a kiss on their clasped hands. “There is no right or wrong answer.”
Stiles nodded. He felt some of the tension he’d been holding onto for months fade away. They were both right. He just had to not freak out about it so much. Stiles smiled over at them. He spotted the waitress coming with their food and pulled his hands away. “Thanks,” he said softly.
I’m outside in the car. Get down here.
Stiles sighed. He looked down at his pajamas then over at his phone again. He mentally debated the merits of arguing with Cora. She’d probably just come up and drag him out to be interrogated anyways.
Down in five.
Stiles threw on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt and hopped down the stairs. He snagged his keys off the counter. “I’m going out with Cora,” he called over his shoulder to his dad.
Cora was waiting in the driveway in her brother’s Camaro. She leaned over and pushed open the door as he approached. “Get in, loser,” she called with a teasing grin.
Stiles rolled his eyes, but got in the car. As soon as the door was closed, Cora peeled out of the driveway. Stiles swore and hastily buckled his seatbelt. He settled back in his seat and waited for Cora to launch into him. Surprisingly, she didn’t. Cora drove them towards the edge of town, out toward the preserve. She took one of the winding roads that didn’t really lead anywhere. They drove in silence for a few minutes before she spoke.
“Why didn’t you tell me Peter was your soulmate?”
Stiles winced. Cora’s voice was carefully neutral, but he could tell she was hurt. He ran a hand over his hair. “Because you would have told him,” Stiles said honestly. “I know it sounds stupid, and probably a little hypocritical coming from me, but I’ve never actually forced someone to find their soulmate if they didn’t want to. All I did was arrange for them to be in the same place at the same time. I let people know they have the option, but they’re the ones who get to decide if they take it or not. I knew I had an option, I just decided not to take it.” He looked over at Cora. She raised an eyebrow at him in judgement.
“And it’s not like he would have suffered for it,” he continued. “He had Chris. They were perfectly happy as they were. They had their house together and their jobs. They didn’t need me.”
Cora snorted. “And you didn’t need them?”
“No,” he said, but she probably could tell he didn’t believe it any more than she did. “I was fine by myself. There are plenty of people who never meet their soulmates, and they live perfectly happy lives. I knew they were happy and that was all I needed.”
He could practically feel the unimpressed glare Cora was giving him. He looked over. Yup. Stiles looked away again. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to know, or I didn’t trust you, or anything like that,” he said. “I just didn’t want anyone to know, especially not them. And then Peter found out because of his werewolf nose and basically stalked me around town and I am still a bit surprised he didn’t think to ask you, but I was really kind of glad at the time.” He let out his breath in a whoosh. “I probably still wouldn’t have told anyone if Chris and Peter hadn’t shown up on my doorstep.”
“Because you were being chickenshit,” Cora said definitively.
Stiles snorted out a laugh. “Because I was being chickenshit,” he agreed.
Cora slowed down the car as she made a turn. “And now?” she asked. “You’re not going to run away from them again?”
Stiles laughed. “I think if I tried, Peter would find me and go through with his threat to tie me to the bed and never let me leave. Chris would probably be angry enough to let him, too.”
Cora made a face. “Ewww. I do not want to know about Peter’s sex life, especially now that you may or may not be involved.”
“But, seriously,” she said. “You know they just want to make you happy, right?” She looked over at him briefly. “I know you don’t know them very well yet, but I can tell they really care about you.”
Stiles blushed. He looked down at his wrist and the soulmark there. The symbols for Chris and Peter wrapped around his own, protecting and sheltering him. He smiled. “Yeah. I care about them too.”
Cora cackled. She slowed down the car and put it in park. “Good, now come meet the family.”
Stiles looked up in surprise. He hadn’t really been paying attention to where they were going, but sure enough there was the huge Hale house in front of them. A house full of werewolves, who probably had just heard what he said. Stiles blushed. He turned pleading eyes onto Cora, but she just pulled the keys out of the ignition and walked away. He looked over at the house and wondered how long it would take for her to tackle him if he tried to run away. Probably not long at all.
He swallowed down his nervousness and stepped out of the car. He could do this. He’d met some of the Hales before. He’d gone to school with a few of them and seen the rest around town. They hadn’t changed just because he was Peter’s soulmate. Right? He pulled out his phone.
Cora kidnapped me to meet your family. Help!
He shoved his phone into his pocket and reluctantly got out of the car. His phone beeped as he mounted the steps, but Cora was waiting for him at the door. She held it open and followed him inside. As soon as he was inside, he realized why she was keeping so close behind him. The entire family was waiting for him in the living room, minus Peter and Chris. Stiles turned and smacked into Cora in his attempt to flee. Cora’s hands were firm on his shoulders as she turned him back to face the room. She marched him forward, only releasing him when Talia stepped forward to hug him.
“It’s good to see you again, Stiles,” Talia said. “Peter and Chris are very lucky to have you as a mate.”
Stiles blushed and stammered at that. Before he could think of anything to say, he was being passed from Hale to Hale. Laura and Cora both gave him hugs that left him breathless. Derek and his father both gave him firm handshakes, but also patted him on the shoulder. Derek introduced him to Braeden, who gave him a hug as well and thanked him for pointing Derek in her direction. He stammered out what he hoped was an acceptable response before he was passed on to the next Hale, one of the cousins he thought. Eventually the entire pack had touched him and in some subtle ways, or less than subtle on the part of some of the werewolves, scented him. Only then was he released.
Cora pushed him down onto the end of a couch and sat down beside him. Some of the Hales dispersed then, mostly the younger ones who had better things to do. The adults arranged themselves around the living room for what he could only guess was the impending interrogation session.
“So, Stiles,” Talia began, “how are you liking Berkeley? Cora said that you had some classes with her?”
Stiles nodded. “Yeah, we took the same math and science gen ed classes. It’s a good school.”
“What’s your major?” Talia asked.
Stiles hesitated. “I haven’t decided yet,” he said awkwardly. “I was thinking, maybe, Psychology?”
Talia hummed thoughtfully and leaned back. “An admirable field,” she said with a smile. “Peter was always fond of psychology courses in college. Have you talked to him about it?” Stiles shook his head.
“You’re also training under Deaton at the SRAS,” Laura asked curiously.
Stiles blinked. He’d forgotten that Laura sometimes worked with the SRAS to provide legal counseling. He had noticed her a few times when he was there, but hadn’t really thought about it. “Yeah,” he said hesitantly. Technically what he was doing with Deaton was Matchmaking and Deaton frowned on him outing himself, but if they already knew it wouldn’t hurt anything, right? Derek, Braeden, Cora, and Laura apparently all knew already. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t have anything to fidget with. Stupid short sleeves. “He… um… He’s been working with me on my Matchmaking abilities,” Stiles explained eventually. “Well, not the actual Matchmaking, cause I’ve got that down, though he does like to monitor how strong it is every now and then, but we work on other stuff too…” Stiles clamped his mouth shut before he could babble too much information. The Hales around him varied between confused and intrigued.
“What kind of stuff?” Talia’s husband, Mark, asked. He was firmly in the intrigued camp.
Stiles’s mouth opened and closed. He stared at Mark and Talia as he tried to figure out how to answer that without having to get into the whole Spark thing. It was an innocent enough of question, but he had never had to answer it before. He’d barely even talked about the Spark thing with Chris and Peter. He just didn’t usually talk to people about his magic. He didn’t even talk to Cora much about the Spark stuff and she’d known almost as long as he had. He’d just been lucky to have friends who understood that he didn’t like to talk about it and respected that.
“What he means is his Spark abilities,” Peter announced. Stiles’s head whipped around to find Peter and Chris in the doorway to the living room. Stiles was up out of his seat in a flash. He launched himself at Peter, who caught him with a laugh. Stiles clutched Peter like a lifeline. One of Peter’s hands began to run up and down Stiles’s back in what he was coming to think of as Peter’s automatic Stiles-anxiety-detection response. Stiles breathed a little easier when Chris came up beside them, catching the fingers of one of his hands where they were wrapped around Peter. Stiles sank into the embrace and closed his eyes. Maybe he could become invisible and he wouldn’t have to talk about magic anymore.
“Sparks are a very rare type of magic user,” Peter explained. “Rather than drawing on nature like Druids or ritual like Witches, Sparks can perform magic using only their will. From what I’ve read, it’s rather intuitive, which would explain why Sparks tend to be so attuned to the connections between people. Does that sound about right, Stiles?”
Stiles drew back to stare at Peter with wide eyes and nodded. He didn’t think even he could explain it that well. He took a deep, steadying breath and let go of Peter and Chris. He turned to face the rest of the Hales. Chris’s arms slid around him and a little bit more of his anxiety evaporated. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Mostly Deaton shows me how to do things from a Druid’s perspective and my teacher at Berkeley, Anastasia, shows me how Witches do things and we kind of muddle through experiments.” He shrugged.
Cora smiled over at him excitedly. She and Scott were probably the most curious about his magic. “Show them your sparks, Stiles,” she urged. Stiles tensed but Cora either didn't notice or decided to bulldoze right over his anxiety. She turned to address her family. “When Stiles gets really stressed, he sparks. And this one time, he got a little drunk at a party and this guy was getting handsy with me and Stiles shocked him. He was so adorable, defending my honor.”
Stiles blushed. That was not a story he had wanted anyone to hear. Peter’s chuckle pulled his attention. “He’s used that trick on me, too.” And there came the wave of guilt at the memory of the weeks he’d spent avoiding his soulmates when they could have been cuddling and making out. And apparently Peter's whole family knew about it because they didn't seem at all surprised by Peter's revelation. Stiles felt his anxiety spike. His fingers started to spark without him trying.
Chris’s arms tightened around him. Stiles leaned back into the hold. He took in a deep, shuddering breath. Peter’s hand slid into his, pulling it up to examine the sparks at the tips of his fingers. Peter looked up to meet his eyes. He brought the hand he held slowly up to his lips and kissed it. The sparks stopped.
“Would you show me your magic, Stiles?” Peter’s voice was a soft purr. It made him feel like only the three of them were in the room.
Stiles’s magic bubbled up in response to Peter’s voice. He held up his free hand. He turned it so the palm was up. It only took a thought to cause a flame to spring to life. Cora gave a surprised giggle. Stiles looked over at the Hales, who were staring at him. His breath hitched a little in his chest. Uncertainty crept in when he saw them all watching. The flame wavered.
Chris squeezed him and Stiles relaxed a little. He concentrated to hold the flame as Peter leaned in to examine it. Peter reached out a finger to touch the flame and Stiles jerked his hand away. He curled his hand at his side and the flame disappeared.
“Very impressive, Stiles,” Talia praised. She hesitated for a minute. Her voice was slightly worried. Stiles tensed for another probing question. “That seems like a very formidable talent. I can imagine it would be difficult to control. Has either of your teachers talked to you about anchors?”
“Oh,” Stiles said. He relaxed a little. “Yeah. Deaton taught me about that like a year ago.”
“So you have an anchor?” Talia pressed. She continued when Stiles nodded. “Do you mind if I ask what it is?”
Stiles blushed. He looked away. His fingers twitched and the urge to fidget with something grew. “It’s okay,” Chris said low in his ear. “You don’t have to answer.” That just made Stiles blush more. He took a deep breath and braced himself to answer. It would reassure Talia and it was something he thought Chris and Peter should know. He just needed to man up, which was not an easy thing to do in a room full of werewolves he barely knew.
“Chris and Peter,” he mumbled.
Talia cocked her head to the side. She smiled and nodded approvingly. “Love is a strong anchor,” she said softly. Stiles blushed at the implication of her words. He shifted in Chris’s grip, not sure if he would have phrased it quite like that. He really, really liked them, and had cared about them since he’d first touched his soulmark, had found peace in their love for each other. But, he’d only really known them a week. Talia’s voice broke in before Stiles could work himself into a panic. “What was it before you met them?”
Stiles blinked. He didn’t quite understand what Talia meant by that. “Chris and Peter,” he answered slowly. Talia just looked back at him, confused.
Peter reached over and caught Stiles’s hand. “Stiles, how long have Chris and I been your anchor?”
Stiles looked over at Peter. He blushed at how serious Peter looked. It was not an expression he was very familiar with on Peter’s face, especially not directed at him. It was very intense. He couldn’t seem to look away. “Since my mark appeared,” he admitted.
Peter stared at him for a second. He leaned forward and placed a heartbreakingly gentle kiss on Stiles’s lips. “I’m honored,” Peter whispered.
Chris placed a kiss on Stiles’s hair. “I think it’s probably time to leave,” Chris said. His arms loosened as he stepped back and Stiles mourned the loss.
“Wait!” Cora said, bringing Stiles's attention back to the room. “The cousins were hoping you might Match them.” She turned her puppy dog eyes on Stiles.
Stiles sighed, but nodded. A shout from Cora brought three of the younger Hales running back into the room. Stiles held out his hand and the oldest one came forward. The young woman was closer to Laura’s age than his own. He had been introduced to all the extended Hales when he arrived, but had lost track of their names. He tried to remember the woman’s name, but came up blank. Stiles smiled at her as he touched a fingertip to her mark. “Jonathan Cartwright. Average height, light brown hair, werewolf. He’s getting his Master's at Columbia. You go to the same coffee shop. Run about 15 minutes late on a Thursday and you’ll meet him.”
The young woman blinked at him for a moment. A smile split across her face. Stiles grunted when she squeezed him in a hug. He took a deep breath as she moved away. The boy that came next was only a few years older than Stiles was. Trey? Trevor? He stopped trying to figure out names and took the boy’s wrist. “Sean Baker. Tall, dark hair, Hispanic, human but his mom’s a Witch. You and your friends are planning a trip to Disneyland. They'll be a couple of kids rushing to get on Space Mountain. Let them get ahead of you and he’ll be behind you.”
Stiles let his fingers move away. Trevor looked quite pleased. He gave Stiles a friendly pat on the shoulder then moved away. The final boy looked like he had just turned 18. He stared at his mark like he couldn't believe it was really there. He hesitated before holding out his arm.
“Are you sure?” Stiles asked quietly. “You don't have to. Peter can bring me over anytime if you change your mind.”
The boy shook his head. “Please?” he said as he held his arm towards Stiles.
Stiles touched the mark. “Elizabeth Halverson. Red hair, tall, human. She’ll be in your physics class next semester. Good at it too, try and get some studying in in between making out.” Stiles pulled his fingers away. The boy broke out in a grin. He held his fist out and Stiles bumped it with his own. He shook his head and caught a girl looking on enviously from the side of the room. She didn’t look old enough, but Stiles was riding the euphoria high of his magic.
“Jackie, right?” She nodded and he held out a hand to her. “Do you want me to Match you too?”
The girl looked ecstatic as she raced over. Stiles reached for her wrist but Peter stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Stiles, she’s only seventeen.” The girl’s face fell and Stiles decided he couldn’t stand for that. He shrugged off Peter’s touch.
“It’s okay,” he told Jackie. He looked into her eyes and placed his palm over the spot where her mark would be. The images came. “You already like the girl, Ivy, the senior who sits with you at the library?” Jackie nodded, her eyes going wide. “She has a crush on you too,” he confided in a whisper. “She’s working up the courage to ask you out, but if you want to ask her out, she’ll say yes.” Jackie looked close to tears. She hugged Stiles firmly before running off. Stiles grinned after her.
He looked back at the rest of the room and his stomach dropped. Everyone but Cora was looking at him with surprise and awe. Because he’d done something that no one else could do. Because he was a magical anomaly. “Right…,” he said, his voice hollow. “I’m just going to…” He turned quickly and pushed past Chris and Peter. He was out the door before anyone could stop him. For a minute he contemplated using his magic to hide his scent and heartbeat and just disappearing into the woods. Then he heard Peter’s voice call out to him from the doorway. Stiles hurried over to Chris’s car, opened the door to the back seat, crawled in and pulled it shut behind him. He wedged himself into the far corner with his knees pulled into his chest and tried to keep the panic attack at bay.
He heard the doors open and shut and the car engine start, but he couldn’t bring himself to uncurl enough to put on a seatbelt. The car shifted as it turned then started down the long driveway away from the Hale house. A hand rested on his, rubbing slowly back and forth across his knuckles and fingers until his hands unclenched from where they were gripping his upper arms. Hands soothed up his arms next. He let his arms go slack under the touch. The hand worked along his legs until they uncurled enough for an arm to snake around his back. He was lifted easily and set down in Peter’s lap. Peter guided him until Stiles was curled against Peter’s chest. Peter’s arms came around him, holding him tight as the car bumped along the back roads.
Gradually he became aware of the words Peter was murmuring in between gentle presses of his lips to Stiles’s hair. His breathing slowed. His muscles relaxed. Stiles turned and buried his face in Peter's neck.
Peter chuckled softly. “That was quite impressive,” Peter said. The hand not holding him in place came up to run through Stiles's hair. “I had heard rumors that it was possible but never seen it done.”
Stiles tensed. His body tried to curl inward again, but Peter kept him in place. “How long have you been able to match people without marks?” Chris asked.
“Dunno,” he said. “First time I did was sophomore year of high school. I got Erica and Boyd together. Cora and Isaac were next.” His hand came up to trace the lines of Peter’s shirt. “I had all the soulmates in my year matched up by the end of junior year. Deaton was kind of pissed about that.”
Peter laughed and Stiles felt the movement through his whole body. “I can imagine,” Peter said. Peter’s hand moved from Stiles’s hair to tilt his chin up. He pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’s lips. “You are a rare and unique treasure.” Another kiss. “Something to be cherished.” Peter ran his tongue over Stiles’s lips. Stiles’s lips parted for him. “Beautiful.” Peter licked into his mouth.
Stiles’s arms came up to wrap around Peter’s neck. He moaned into the kiss as Peter repositioned him so that he was straddling Peter’s waist. He barely even noticed the car pulling over, just heard the distant sound of the engine turning off. Peter’s hands were all over his body, tugging in his hair, trailing down his neck, sliding up under his shirt, down the back of his pants to squeeze at his ass. He didn’t even notice Peter unbuttoning his jeans. Just felt the fabric loosen as Peter’s hand slid down the back of his pants, squeezing his ass over top of his boxers. Stiles rocked into the touches. Peter released his lips to attack Stiles’s neck. Stiles moaned as Peter bit down hard, working at the spot he’d left hickies in before, renewing the mark. Stiles’s hands clenched and unclenched in Peter’s hair as his brain fried.
Peter’s hand slipped into the front his boxers, wrapping firmly around him, and Stiles shouted. He thrust up into Peter’s fist. Peter’s mouth drew away from his neck. His other hand moved to rest on the small of Stiles’s back and then Peter was moving them. Peter sat him down with his back against the far door. Stiles couldn’t hold back the whine that escaped his throat when Peter took his hand away. Peter leaned in for another kiss. His hands slid down to Stiles’s hips and pulled down his jeans and boxers. Stiles only had a second to gasp at the feeling of cool air on his hardening cock before Peter was moving again.
Stiles shouted as Peter swallowed him down. His head thunked back against the window. Peter took Stiles all the way in, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked. Stiles’s hips thrust up of their own accord, but Peter’s hands kept him still. Peter’s grip on his hips was gentle, but firm in a way that should not have been as sexy as it was. Stiles moaned at the combined feeling of being held down and the moist, wet heat of Peter’s mouth. Peter bobbed his head up and down, sucking and licking like Stiles’s cock was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Stiles was helpless to do anything besides watch as Peter quickly pulled him closer and closer to an orgasm. Stiles reached up to run a shaky hand through Peter’s hair. His fingers tightened when Peter’s tongue swirled around the head of his penis. Peter hummed his approval as he moved back down. The vibrations ran through him like a shock. Stiles’s vision went white as he came in Peter’s mouth.
When he came back to himself, he’d been laid out across the back seat. Peter straddled his waist, tugging at his own cock. His motions were quick, like he couldn’t wait for the release. Peter's free hand pushed Stiles's shirt up to bunch around his shoulders. Stiles watched Peter's hand move on his cock with wide eyes. His mind supplied images of that cock filling his mouth, of it pounding into him. Peter met his gaze like he could sense Stiles's thoughts. His nostrils flared and Stiles could only imagine the scents that Peter was picking up. Peter’s eyes flashed blue as he came all over Stiles's stomach and chest.
Peter sagged forward, catching himself just before he collapsed fully onto Stiles. Peter grinned down at him. His hand came up to rub his come into Stiles's skin. Peter held Stiles’s gaze. “Mine,” he growled. There was a hint of fang peeking out from between Peter’s lips.
Stiles nodded mutely. A chuckle from the front seat startled him. He turned to see Chris watching them. “I think you mean ‘ours’,” Chris corrected with a grin.
Peter huffed. He sat up and surveyed his work. Seemingly satisfied, he held his hand up to Stiles's mouth. Stiles looked over at Chris, then back at Peter. He hesitantly lapped at the come covering Peter’s hand. It didn’t taste bad, just a little weird and kind of salty. He ran his tongue up the palm until it was clean. Peter slipped his fingers into Stiles's mouth one by one. Stiles obediently closed his lips around each in turn and laved them with his tongue. Peter’s eyes flashed again as Stiles felt a spike of desire. His cock was making a valiant effort to get hard again. Peter pulled his fingers free and ran his thumb over Stiles’s lower lip. He turned to Chris with a smirk. “I suppose I can share.”
Chris looked over at them hungrily. He bit off his own growl and turned in his seat. Stiles heard the car start again. Peter smirked down at him as he buttoned up Stiles’s jeans and pulled down his shirt. Stiles grimaced a little at the feeling of come sticking to his chest and shirt when Peter helped him buckle in. Peter looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Stiles looked out the window and saw that they were on some remote road in the preserve. He blushed when he realized he hadn’t even thought about their surroundings when Peter had been going down on him. Peter didn’t seem to mind, but Stiles would not have been surprised if Peter was an exhibitionist. Thankfully, Chris seemed to understand the value of privacy. Or he just didn’t want Stiles’s dad to arrest them.
Peter reached out to hold his hand, slowly stroking his thumb up and down. Stiles smiled at the touch. He really wanted to curl up on Peter’s chest again, but they were heading back into town. He watched the town roll by until they were pulling up to his house. Stiles unbuckled himself, but hesitated before reaching for the door handle. His father’s cruiser was gone, which meant he’d left for work at some point after Cora had kidnapped him. He turned to look between Chris and Peter. “Do you want to come in?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ve got the house to myself for the night and I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Chris considered it for a long minute before nodding. Stiles grinned as they all climbed out of the car. He snagged Chris and Peter’s hands as he rounded the car and didn’t let go until he had to fish out his keys. He unlocked the door and stepped aside to let Chris and Peter in. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled the door closed behind him.
He barely had a chance to set his keys down on the little table by the door before he was pulled forward. Peter kissed him, slow and deep. He pulled away almost as quickly as he’d started. Stiles had a second to blink up at Peter before he was being turned and presented to Chris. “I think you need to show our boy how much you want him,” Peter said. He stepped forward, moving Stiles in front of him until he was caught in between the two men.
Chris smiled down at him. His hands came up to softly cup Stiles’s face. Chris leaned forward. His lips ghosted over Stiles’s in a soft, gentle kiss. Stiles closed his eyes with a sigh as Chris kissed him reverently. Peter was a warm line at his back, not pushing, but just holding him steady. Peter’s hands ran soothingly up his arms, his stomach, his chest. He gasped when Peter’s finger flicked over a nipple. Chris took advantage of the gasp, pressing forward to lick into Stiles’s mouth.
Stiles moaned when Chris’s hands started moving over his body. One wrapped in his hair, holding him in place so Chris could devour his mouth. The other hand moved lower. It latched onto his ass, pulling him forward to grind their hips together. Stiles felt the hard line of Chris’s erection, probably still hard from watching him and Peter get off earlier. A little whine escaped his mouth when Chris pulled away. Stiles opened his eyes when Chris chuckled down at him. “Definitely beautiful,” Chris said, leaning in for a kiss again.
Stiles melted into the kiss for a moment. He let go of Chris’s shirt and pulled away. Stiles licked his lips as he gathered his courage. “Can I…” His words cut off in a gasp when Peter’s fingers tweaked his nipples again. He reached back and swatted at Peter, but the other man only chuckled, warm and low in his ear. Stiles sucked in a breath and tried again. “Can I give you a blowjob?”
Chris looked surprised, but also very, very interested. He licked his lips once and let out a long breath. “You don’t have to,” Chris said softly. “I don’t expect you to...”
Stiles leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Chris’s lips, cutting off what he was going to say. “I want to.” He waited until Chris nodded before gently urging Peter back. Stiles sank down to his knees in front of Chris. His hands shook a little as he reached for Chris’s belt. Peter’s hands ran through his hair, soothing a little bit of his nerves. Stiles pulled down the zipper of Chris’s pants and nudged them down until they fell around his ankles. He had to stop to appreciate the view of Chris tenting his boxers for a moment before gently pulling them down as well. Chris was bigger than he’d expected, wider than Peter but maybe not as long. Stiles licked his lips.
He’d never given a blow job before, but he’d seen enough porn to have the general idea of how they worked. Stiles looked up at Chris. His mate was watching him intently. Stiles watched Chris as he leaned forward to lick slowly up Chris’s dick from base to the tip. Chris let out a small noise of appreciation that turned into a moan when Stiles let his tongue swirl around the tip. Stiles felt a small thrill go through him at the sound. He leaned forward slightly, letting the tip slide into his mouth. He knew better than to take Chris down in one go like Peter did. Instead, he slowly moved forward, wrapping his lips around Chris’s cock. He stopped about halfway to adjust to the feeling of a warm weight on his tongue, filling his mouth. He liked it.
His hands came up to rest on Chris’s hips, not holding him still, just using him for balance as he pulled back slightly. He let his tongue trace the length as he moved back, swirling it around the tip of his tongue before sliding forward again. He took a little more in this time, then slid back. He pushed forward until he could feel Chris touching the back of his throat. Stiles moaned at the feeling. He bobbed his head forwards and back, swirling his tongue. His tongue slid along the slit at the head of Chris’s penis and he caught a taste similar to the come he’d licked off Peter’s hand.
Stiles let his eyes close as he worked at the cock in his mouth. He let himself get accustomed to the feel, the weight of it. He listened for the sounds of Chris’s moans, the hitches in his breathing. Peter’s voice came to him, murmuring soft words of encouragement. “You’re doing so good,” he said as he stroked Stiles’s hair. “So beautiful. So perfect. Like your mouth was made for this.”
Stiles moaned. He felt himself growing hard again at Peter’s encouragement. It made him want more. Stiles pulled back, pulling all the way off for one brief moment He took a deep breath, letting his body relax. He slid forward again, slowly. He felt a flash of nervousness, but pushed it down. He focused on Chris and Peter, letting them relax him. He relaxed his throat and took Chris all the way to the base. Chris’s hand came up to fist in his hair with a choked off sound. Stiles groaned around the cock in his mouth. Chris’s hand tugged at his hair and Stiles practically melted. His fingers tightened on Chris’s hips like that point of contact was the only thing keeping him anchored. He tried to keep up a slow and steady rhythm, but the little tugs Chris was giving his hair were distracting.
“Stiles, can I…” Chris asked, his voice low and rough. Stiles hummed his agreement. He didn’t even need to know what Chris wanted. He’d give him anything.
Chris’s hand tightened in his hair, holding him in place. Stiles stopped moving. He held still while Chris slowly moved his hips forward, fucking into his mouth. Stiles’s mind went a little fuzzy. He’d thought he liked just having Chris’s cock in his mouth, but this was even better. He was at the same time incredibly turned on and also never wanted the feeling to stop. His body relaxed, giving Chris complete control. Chris fucked into his mouth with a few slow, deep strokes before pulling back. His hips pistoned forward faster, but shallow. Stiles took the chance to lap at Chris’s cock, swirling his tongue as much he could, flattening it against the underside so he could feel every bit of movement.
Stiles opened his eyes again as he felt a hand move to cup his cheek. He blinked up at Peter and moaned at the look of hunger there. Chris moved so that the tip of his penis was hitting Stiles’s cheek right under Peter’s hand. He repeated the movement twice more before resuming the long, slow thrusts down Stiles’s throat. Peter’s other hand reached forward to stroke and caress Chris’s balls. Chris’s hips hitched. Peter leaned forward, kissing Chris filthily. Stiles groaned at the sight. Peter looked down at him and smirked. Peter’s hand slid down his cheek until he was tracing Stiles’s lips where they wrapped around Chris.
“You looks so good like this,” Peter told him. He turned to Chris, leaning forward to purr into his ear. “Look at him, so greedy to be filled. So eager to please. He’s just waiting to be filled up with our come.” Chris groaned. His eyes closed as his head thunked back to hit the wall. His hips stuttered as if he was having trouble keeping control of his movements. Peter’s thumb tugged at the corner of Stiles’s mouth before running down his neck to his throat. “You just can’t wait to swallow down some come, can you, baby?”
Stiles moaned, his throat swallowing involuntarily at the thought. Chris shouted. His hips stuttered forward twice more. His body tensed. Stiles pulled back as much as Chris’s grip would allow, swallowing as best he could as Chris came in his mouth. Chris sagged back against the wall. His fingers flexed and then released, petting down Stiles’s hair. Stiles pulled back. He let Chris fall from his sore lips before leaning in again to lap at his softening cock. His tongue flicked out to catch every last bit of come, swallowing it down. He licked his lips clean. Stiles leaned forward to rest his head in the curve of Chris’s hip. He was achingly hard, but his mind was cloudy and his body relaxed. All he wanted was to cuddle up against Chris and Peter. He let his eyes close and listened as Chris’s breathing evened out.
Hands came under his armpits, pulling him up Chris's body. His legs felt like jelly, but more hands supported him, keeping him upright when his legs wanted him to sag back down to the floor. He blinked his eyes open just as Chris leaned in to kiss him thoroughly. Stiles smiled into the kiss. Chris’s hands slid down his body. One wrapped around his hip. The other slid slowly down his front. Chris’s hand pressed against the bulge in his jeans. Stiles shouted as his hips jerked forward, following the movement.
Peter chuckled and placed a kiss on Stiles’s lips. He grit his teeth as his body reminded him how painfully hard he was. Then, he yelped as he was literally swept off his feet. His arms came to wrap around Peter’s neck as Peter carried him over to the couch. Peter set him down on his feet for a second while Peter sat down on the couch. Stiles jumped when Chris slid into place behind him. His hands slid around Stiles’s waist and down. Peter leaned back and watched with a grin as Chris unbuttoned Stiles’s jeans. Chris slid the zipper down slowly. He pulled down Stiles’s pants, as if giving Peter a show. Stiles felt himself blush at the hunger in Peter’s eyes. Chris let his jeans fall and then slid his hands slowly back up before working Stiles’s boxers down. He helped Stiles step out of the fabric and then nudged him forward towards Peter.
Peter caught him, lifting and turning Stiles until his back was resting against Peter’s chest. Peter’s hand teased up under his shirt and Stiles tensed. Peter seemed to sense his hesitation. His hands slid away, leaving Stiles’s shirt in place. Instead, Peter kissed and nipped at Stiles’s neck and his hands slid down Stiles’s legs. Stiles gasped as Peter bit at the join of Stiles’s neck. He bucked his hips at the sensation. Peter slid his hands further down, pulling apart Stiles’s thighs until he was straddling Peter’s lap. Stiles shifted. He tried to close his legs, but Peter held him in place.
“No need to be shy,” Peter purred. His teeth caught the lobe of Stiles’s ear and pulled. Stiles gasped. “Relax,” Peter said. “I’ll take care of you.” His hands soothed up and down Stiles’s thighs, moving higher and higher. His fingers teased Stiles cock with the lightest of touch before pulling away. Peter touched him again, fingers barely there. Stiles’s hips tried to chase after the touch, but Peter held him still. Peter’s hands skimmed down his thighs and back up again. One hand reached down, skipping over his cock to play with his balls. Peter rolled them in his hand. Stiles moaned at the sensation. Peter’s fingers dipped lower. He circled a finger around Stiles’s rim for one brief touch before pulling away. Stiles whined.
“Don’t tease the boy,” Chris said. Stiles pulled his gaze over to see that Chris had settled into the chair nearby. He leaned back, the picture of relaxation as he watched them. Stiles blushed at the attention.
Peter chuckled. One hand came up to Stiles’s face. “Lick,” he ordered. Stiles leaned forward to lick at Peter’s hand, covering it with a layer of saliva. Once Peter was satisfied, he moved his hand down and grasped Stiles. Stiles thrust up into the touch. Peter’s free hand came around his waist, holding him in place as he set a fast pace. Stiles let his head fall back against Peter’s shoulder. “That’s it,” Peter said. His hand felt so much different than Stiles’s own hand. His grip was firmer, warmer. It was perfect. Stiles gasped and moaned as the pleasure built. Peter nosed at his throat. He nudged Stiles’s head to the side. Stiles turned his head, exposing his throat. Peter murmured his approval before biting down hard. Stiles screamed as he came.
He floated in a haze of pleasure. He gasped as he felt a cool, wet cloth cleaning him off. Stiles blinked down at Chris kneeling between his legs. Chris set the cloth aside and helped him stand on shaky legs, then step into his boxers. Peter pulled Stiles back down onto the couch next to him. Stiles curled into his side without any further prompting. Peter's hand came around his shoulder, holding him close.
“Where did you learn to deep throat like that?” Peter asked.
Stiles flushed with embarrassment. He coughed to clear his throat. “Erica is a bad influence when we're all drunk,” he said. Stiles winced at how wrecked his voice sounded. “She decided to have a competition with me, her, and Cora and a couple bananas. Then, when I couldn't do it, she decided it was her life’s mission to teach me. She kind of got belligerent drunk about it…” Stiles shrugged. “I won the next time she brought it up.”
Chris came back and handed Stiles a glass of water. Stiles accepted it gratefully. He gulped down half in one long swallow. “Remind me to thank this girl if I ever meet her,” Chris said as he sat down on the couch beside them. Chris grabbed Stiles’s ankles and pulled until Stiles had slid down Peter’s chest to lie with his head in Peter’s lap and his legs in Chris’s.
Stiles shot an amused glance at Chris. “You two enjoy manhandling me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Chris and Peter answered at the same time. They shot each other amused glances before leaning over Stiles for a quick kiss. Peter’s hand started to card through Stiles’s hair as Chris’s petted up and down Stiles’s bare legs. Stiles melted.
“You’re probably already met Erica,” he said. He looked over at Chris. “She works in the coffee shop across the street from your shop. I was visiting with her the other day when I brought you coffee.”
Chris chuckled. “I think I know who you mean. She’s a feisty one. I’ll have to thank her next time I see her.” His hand kept up its soothing strokes up and down. “That reminds me. Are you still interested in the knife?”
“Oh, yeah, please.” Stiles started to sit up, but Peter’s hand urged him back down again. Stiles turned to look up at Peter, but the werewolf merely smiled down at him and resumed playing with his hair. Stiles stuck his tongue out at him, then turned to look at Chris again. “You said you wanted me to practice with you first?”
“Yes. Do you have a particular time that would work best?”
Stiles shrugged. “I’m meeting with Deaton Tuesdays and Thursdays until about one and then also on Sundays mornings. Other than that, I don’t really have anything set in stone.”
Chris nodded. “Then how about Wednesdays with me and Saturdays with Peter?”
Stiles nodded, then looked up at Peter, who also nodded. “Did you find a regular knife for me to use?” he asked. He nuzzled his face into Peter’s side when the werewolf scoffed. “I know I can’t actually hurt you, but I’m a klutz and I don’t trust myself not to fuck something up with a magical mountain ash dagger…”
Chris patted Stiles’s leg reassuringly. “I found a normal blade that’s about the same size and weight, so we’ll use that.”
Stiles smiled slightly. He turned again so he was curled on his side. “Thank you,” he said. He felt a little bit of hope at that. He could trust in the dagger to protect him more than he could his own lackluster shields.
“There’s a gym a few doors down from my shop that I usually run my self defense classes at. They have a room that we can use. We’ll say one on Wednesday and noon on Saturday?”
“I certainly don’t mind rolling around on the mats with you as much as you want,” Peter said, his voice was deceptively light. Warning bells started to go off in Stiles’s mind. “Chris neglected to mention what exactly you needed protection from. Care to enlighten me?”
Stiles cringed. His hand went immediately to rub at the bite scar on his shoulder. He bit down on his lip as he tried to think of an answer. He really didn’t want to get into the wendigo thing, not when he was riding on the comfortable, post-orgasm relaxation. He shifted, his limbs curling inward until Chris’s hands caught him, soothing his legs back out. Peter’s hand moved to start slowly rubbing up and down his shoulders and back. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Peter leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Stiles’s forehead. “Okay, love,” he said reluctantly. “But I’m going to ask again another day, and I expect an answer then.”
Stiles nodded. He let out a slow, shuddering breath and relaxed into the couch. Chris squeezed his leg, massaging the muscle for a moment before he shifted Stiles’s legs. His fingers trailed over the claw mark scars on Stiles’s calf. Stiles tensed. He waited for the question. Chris didn’t say anything, just rubbed at the mark until Stiles relaxed. Between Peter’s fingers carding through his hair and Chris massaging his legs, Stiles couldn’t help melting into the couch. His hand relaxed away from the scar on his shoulder to land on Peter’s knee. He trailed his fingers up and down the soft fabric of Peter’s pants.
He wasn’t sure how long they sat there before Peter started talking. His voice was soft, as if afraid to break the relaxing atmosphere. He told Stiles stories about his family, giving Stiles more information about the people he’d met today. Peter told him about Laura training to be an alpha after Talia, about how she’d had a hard time deciding exactly which branch of law she wanted to practice. He told him about their weekly dinners at Talia’s house, the movie marathons that the younger kids looked forward to and the full moon runs where the adults let loose.
Eventually the sun began to set. Stiles’s stomach growled and he realized he still had to go to the store to get the ingredients for lunch tomorrow. He groaned as he reluctantly sat up. Chris and Peter seemed to take that as their sign to head home. They each gave Stiles a last, lingering kiss before heading home. Stiles couldn’t stop smiling as he grabbed a quick shower and the whole time that he was at the store. He was even looking forward to talking to Deaton in the morning, if only because it meant that he’d see Peter and Chris again afterwards for their lunch with his dad.
“Hey doc,” he called, when thinking of Peter reminded him of something he wanted to tell Deaton. He looked over at where Deaton was looking through his books. “You know how when we did the work with elements, I always had a problem with calling a flame?” He held out his palm and thought about how easy it had been to show Peter. The flame sprang to life. “I was showing Peter and Chris my magic the other day and it just came to me.” He wiggled his fingers and the flame moved with them. “It seems so easy now. I don’t know why I was having so much problem last year.”
Deaton set aside the book he was holding. He studied the flame intently. “Chris and Peter are your anchor, am I correct?”
Stiles shrugged. “Yeah,” he said. “They always have been.” He let the flame die out as his hand fell limply back to his side.
Deaton hummed thoughtfully. “Would you see if one of them would mind joining us on Tuesday? I have an experiment I’d like to try.”
Stiles raised an eyebrow, but the doctor wasn’t forthcoming with any more information. Stiles hated it when Deaton got all cryptic. He shrugged again. “I can ask.” He let his head fall against the back of the chair. “They’re actually going to be training me on knife fighting,” he said after a minute of resting. “I found a rune blade with a mountain ash hilt in Chris’s shop and he said he’d let me buy it once I proved to him I could use it safely.”
“Not a bad idea,” Deaton said approvingly. “If you wouldn’t mind bringing it to me when you get it, I’d like to check it over before you start carrying it around, but that would definitely be the kind of thing you should have on you at all times. It would have served you well against the wendigo or that rogue magic user.”
Stiles’s hand automatically went to rub at the scar from the wendigo bite. “Yeah,” he said. “Not exactly an experience I’d care to repeat.” Deaton gave him a long look, but didn't comment. Stiles let out a long sigh and then pushed himself upright. He took a second to determine if he was recovered enough to drive. “I’ve got to get home,” he said as he slowly made his way to the door. “See you Tuesday, doc.” Stiles waved over his shoulder as he left.
The employee area was thankfully empty as Stiles walked through. He smiled at the girl manning the information desk, but didn’t stop to chat. He rarely ever did. He was still nervous about outing himself as a Matchmaker, so he always worried that he would run into someone that he knew and then have to explain why he was there. Thankfully, the SRAS was usually empty on Sunday mornings and when there were people, it was easy for him to avoid them. Stiles spotted two people having a conversation off to one side of the open seating area, but neither looked up as he exited the building.
He relaxed once he was in his Jeep. He took a second to rest, then started the vehicle and started home. He waited impatiently at each stop sign and red light, unable to resist checking the time. Stiles rushed out of the Jeep as soon as he’d parked and hurried into the kitchen. He called a quick hello to his dad and then dived headfirst into the refrigerator to start pulling out ingredients. Both Chris and Peter had said that they liked Italian food, so he’d decided to do fettuccine in cream sauce with pancetta and peas. Stiles pulled out pots for the pasta and pans for the sauce. He pushed his tired muscles to dice the pancetta and chop the ingredients for the salad, all while keeping an eye on the time. He was going to be cutting it close.
Stiles set the salad on the table. He quickly pulled out plates and utensils, setting the table. He looked at the time again. “Hey dad,” he called. “Can you watch the sauce for a second while I go change?”
His dad grinned at him as he walked into the kitchen. “Go,” he said with a shooing motion. “I think I can manage to stir a pan without burning something.”
Stiles smiled back and then raced up the stairs. Then, he had to pause at the top of the stairs when his legs wanted to give out. Stiles grit his teeth and pushed himself to get into the bedroom. He slumped down on the bed to rest for one second before standing to shed his shirt and pants. He wished he had time to take a shower, but settled for changing into fresh clothes and slapping on some fresh deodorant.
The doorbell rang and Stiles shot out of his room. “I’ll get it,” he called. He raced down the stairs, tripping halfway when his legs tried to give out. Stiles caught hold of the banister. He wobbled for a second, but regained his balance quickly enough. Stiles took a deep breath and continued down the stairs at a more sedate pace, keeping a firm grip on the banister.
Stiles pulled open the door and smiled at his soulmates. Chris and Peter were both dressed in nice shirts and slacks. Chris carried a bottle of wine and Peter held a small bouquet of flowers. Peter held the flowers out to Stiles as he stepped forward. Stiles accepted the flowers and stepped aside to let them in, but Peter moved with him, pressing into his space. One hand came up to tip Stiles’s chin up. Peter pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’s lips. Stiles felt his knees go weak at the touch. All too soon Peter was pulling away. Before Stiles could protest Chris had taken his place. He kissed Stiles just as softly. Stiles’s knees almost did buckle at that. Chris’s arms wrapped around him quickly. Chris pulled back with a worried expression.
“Are you feeling alright?” Chris asked. He passed the bottle over to Peter and adjusted his grip to support Stiles better.
Stiles groaned. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against Chris’s chest. “Just tired,” he said honestly. “I had training with Deaton this morning and it wore me out. I’ll be fine in an hour or two.”
“Stiles, did you need me to do somethings with this sauce?” his dad called from the kitchen.
Stiles jerked away. He murmured an apology to Chris as he hurried into the kitchen. He looked down at the flowers in his hand and tried to remember if they had a vase somewhere. His father just chuckled. John held out a hand.
“Here, I’ll take those,” his dad said. He held out the stirring spoon to trade with Stiles. Stiles turned to the stove, turning off the burner. He moved the pan to a cool burner and started to mix in the pasta that had been set aside.
Behind him, he heard his father accept the wine and start up a conversation with Chris. A moment later arms wrapped around him from behind and Peter’s chin rested on his shoulder. “That smells lovely,” Peter said. He rubbed his cheek against Stiles’s, scenting him. “You never mentioned that you cook.”
Stiles shrugged as best he could without dislodging Peter. “It started out as self-preservation,” he said. He added more pasta gradually to the sauce, mixing so that each new addition was thoroughly coated. “I needed a way to keep dad from fast food and high cholesterol foods. But I found that I actually kind of liked it.” He tried to grab the bowl he’d set aside, but couldn’t quite reach it with Peter wrapped around him. Peter reached around him, snagging the bowl and placing it in front of Stiles before wrapping around him again. Stiles grinned as he lifted the pan and poured the contents into the bowl. He turned to look over his shoulder at Peter. “I kind of need to move now.”
Peter smirked. He held on for one more moment before pressing a kiss to Stiles’s cheek and pulling away. Stiles shook his head and moved to set the pasta on the table. He went back to the stove to pull out the bread he’d put in there to keep warm. He quickly transferred the bread to a waiting basket. He set that on the table and then looked around. His dad had already popped open the wine and poured glasses for himself, Chris, and Peter. Stiles snagged his glass and poured himself some tea. “Okay,” he said. “All set.”
Chris and Peter shuffled him around until he was seated between them, across from his dad. He rolled his eyes. His dad raised an eyebrow, but a hint of a smile quirked his lips. For a few minutes there was only the sound of the clinking of silverware as they passed the dishes around and served themselves. Stiles felt a bit of nervousness build as he waited for Chris and Peter to take their first bites. Peter hummed his approval and Chris looked pleasantly surprised. Stiles smiled a little as he relaxed and took his own first bite.
“This is very good, Stiles,” Chris said. He smiled over at Stiles and Stiles blushed. He looked down at his plate as he waited for his face to cool. Peter’s hand reached over, gently squeezing his knee once before moving away.
“So, Peter,” his dad said once they’d had a few minutes to relax, “how is business going?”
Peter smiled, turning his charm on Stiles’s father. “Very well, thank you,” Peter answered. “It keeps me busy and I enjoy it, which is all I can ask for.” His tone was humble, but Stiles saw the glitter of humor in his eyes. Peter loved the power and prestige his position gave him, he just didn’t want to admit to it.
John turned to Chris then. He had on his best poker face. “Stiles mentioned you were training him to fight with a knife?”
Chris glanced over at Stiles and nodded. “He found a runed blade at my shop that he wanted and I agreed to sell it to him on the condition that he learn to use it safely.”
John smiled and nodded approvingly. “The world is a dangerous place, especially for those in the supernatural set,” John said. He looked at Stiles with a bit of regret. “I wish we'd kept up on your firearms practice, but a knife can be just as effective. I'm not going to say I like the idea of you going around armed, but it makes me worry a little less about a repeat of the thing with the… “
“Dad!” Stiles shouted. He gave his father a pointed look.
John looked at Chris and Peter. “You didn't tell them about the…”
Stiles covered his ears with his hands and started repeating “LA LA LA” over and over until John raised his hands in surrender.
“That thing we will never talk about again…” Stiles gave him a pointed look. John sighed and continued, “ever again or you’re going to put me in the bad nursing home when I get older. Do I have that right?”
Stiles nodded. He glanced nervously over at Chris. He felt the weight of the secret between them. Chris reached out and squeezed his hand. Stiles relaxed a little bit. He let out a long breath.
“How did training with Deaton go?” his dad asked, changing the subject.
Stiles groaned. He rubbed a hand over his face. “It sucked, as usual.” He looked over at Peter then Chris. Stiles licked his lips and tried to gain the courage to pass along Deaton’s request. “He… um… Deaton wanted me to ask if either of you would be willing to help with a training session,” he said hesitantly. Stiles looked at his soulmates. They looked curious. “He said he wanted to try something with one of my anchors present?” Stiles shrugged. “He didn’t really explain it.”
Chris and Peter exchanged a glance. “Tuesday morning?” Peter asked. He grimaced when Stiles nodded. “I’m afraid I have a meeting that day that I can’t get out of.” Peter looked genuinely disappointed. “I am very fascinated by your magic,” Peter continued at Stiles’s curious look. “If Deaton wants a continued presence, I’d love to come.”
“I can be free on Tuesday,” Chris said. Stiles started to protest, but Chris cut him off with a look. “If it’s important enough for Deaton to ask, then I don’t mind. Tamara can watch the shop and if need be, Braeden is always willing to take a shift when she’s in town.” Chris leaned over and kissed Stiles on the cheek. “I don’t mind.” Stiles regarded Chris skeptically for a second, but nodded. Chris smiled at him reassuringly. “Just let me know what time and I’ll pick you up.”
Sitles relaxed back in his chair. He was a bit too keyed up to eat, so he mostly just picked at his food while Chris and his father talked for a few minutes about mutual acquaintances, which apparently included Braeden. Peter squeezed Stiles’s knee and Stiles looked up at him. Peter gave a pointed glance at Stiles mostly full plate. Stiles rolled his eyes, but picked up his fork. Peter gave him a smug look. Every so often, the conversation would turn back to Stiles. They talked about the classes he’d taken the past year and ones he was signed up for next year. As Talia had said, Peter was quite interested in the psychology courses and offered his help.
Chris and Peter didn’t linger too long after lunch. They each gave Stiles a kiss that left him weak in the knees before heading out the door. His father gave Stiles an amused glance when he returned to the kitchen. “I’m glad you’re happy,” John said as he placed the dishes in the dishwasher. “I think they’re going to be good for you.”
“Yeah,” Stiles said with a soft smile. He wrapped up the leftovers and placed them in the fridge. “I think so too.”
Deaton paused in the doorway. “Stiles would you mind waiting out here for a moment while I talk to Chris?” Stiles looked at the doctor skeptically, but nodded. He leaned back against the opposite wall as Deaton closed the door. Stiles opened his phone and saw a text message waiting for him.
Just relax and believe in yourself and your magic will respond. Chris and I believe in you.
Stiles blushed. He stared at his phone, not sure how he was supposed to respond to that. The door opened and Stiles shoved his phone in his pocket. Chris was sitting in one of the chairs when Stiles followed Deaton into the room. He gave Stiles a curious look, which only made Stiles blush more. “Peter,” Stiles said softly. Apparently that was explanation enough, because Chris smiled and nodded.
“Stiles, if you would sit down facing Chris,” Deaton said. “We’re going to try shields again today, without the mountain ash.”
Stiles groaned but sat down in the chair. Chris immediately reach out and took Stiles’s hands in his. “Look at me. Focus on me,” Chris instructed. Stiles blushed, but focused his eyes on Chris’s. “Good.” A flush of warmth filled Stiles. “Now, create your shield around us. Nothing can get in or out. There’s just the two of us.” Stiles’s magic responded. It surged to the surface of Stiles’s skin and spread out in a wave of warmth, like it too wanted to do anything and everything that Chris asked.
Stiles heard movement behind him. He started to turn. Chris’s hands squeezed his, drawing his attention back. “Just focus on me,” Chris’s voice was calm. “Focus on me and remember that your shields are strong. They’re not going to let anything in. You don’t have to think about them to keep them up. Just think about me.” Chris leaned forward. He drew Stiles’s wrists towards him and placed a kiss on Stiles’s soulmark. Stiles was filled with a wave of lust, love, warmth, and calm.
Chris drew back with a grin and Stiles couldn’t help smiling back. He heard the door open and close and looked up with a start. He recognized Hector, the werewolf who worked at the SRAS and sometimes helped him and Deaton with his shield work. Hector crossed the room towards Deaton, nodding at Stiles in passing. Stiles’s head turned to follow the movement, but Chris’s hand rested lightly on his cheek guiding his eyes back to the front of the room. Chris scooted his chair forward until their knees were brushing. His hand slid down from Stiles’s cheek to rest of the back of Stiles neck. “Focus on me,” Chris ordered. “Focus on me and your shields.”
Stiles nodded. He looked down at the hand that Chris still held. He tangled their fingers together and smiled. Chris smiled back at him. Chris rubbed his thumb over the back of Stiles’s neck and Stiles melted. He wished he could climb in Chris’s lap and curl up against his chest, but he remembered Deaton and Hector were there somewhere behind them. Then again, Deaton probably wouldn’t care. Stiles mentally shrugged and crawled onto Chris’s lap. Chris chuckled, but didn’t complain as he curled his arms around Stiles. Stiles closed his eyes and leaned his head against Chris’s shoulder. His mind relaxed and he drifted a little. Stiles opened his eyes again when he heard Deaton calling his name. He looked around the room to find Deaton standing just beyond the shields. “How much longer do you want me to hold the shields, doc?” Stiles asked around a yawn.
“I think that’s long enough,” Deaton said. He smiled at Stiles. “If you wouldn’t mind showing Chris to my office and waiting there, I’ll be in shortly.”
Stiles sagged forward as he let go of his shields. He yawned again and scooted off of Chris and onto his own chair. Stiles rubbed at his face, a little surprised at how tired he was. He wasn’t usually this exhausted until after hours of constructing and reconstructing shields. Stiles shook his head and started to stand, only to sag back down into his chair. Chris’s arm came around him, supporting him as he stood again. He had to lean most of his weight onto Chris as they made their way down the hall and into Deaton’s office. Stiles gratefully slumped down in one of the plush chairs. He looked over at the clock on the wall and swore.
“It’s been four hours!?” he asked. He pulled out his cellphone and sure enough. It had been. He looked over at Chris with wide eyes. “Your legs must have been going numb. I totally did not mean to sit on you for that long.”
Chris chuckled. “I can think of worse ways to spend time,” he said. “And Peter’s meeting finished an hour and a half ago, so he’s been keeping me occupied.” Chris pulled out his phone and showed Stiles a picture that he’d taken of Stiles curled up in his lap, practically asleep. “Peter rather enjoyed the picture. Apparently it’s now his phone’s wallpaper.”
Stiles felt his face heat to bright red. “You…” He pulled out his own phone, which had several messages from Peter, each with increasingly lewd suggestions about what he would do if he had Stiles curled up in his lap. He shoved the phone back in his pocket with a strangled sound.
Thankfully Deaton came into the office at that moment. He carried a disc with him. Deaton settled behind his desk. He turned the monitor to face Stiles. “I recorded today’s training session,” Deaton said, “because I thought you might need to see the results.”
The recording started with Chris and Stiles settling into the chairs. He heard Chris’s instructions to him and saw the shimmer of his shields springing into place. He watched Deaton push against the shields. He threw his pen and it just bounced off. Knives, balls, water, mountain ash, everything Deaton threw just slid off. Stiles watched with wide eyes as Hector came in. He saw himself crawl into Chris’s lap and still the shields held. The werewolf had no success. Maria, the Alpha who was visiting the SRAS, came in. He watched Deaton speed up the tape through Maria’s repeated efforts to push through the shields. She had no effect, not even when she and Hector shifted and pushed with all their strength. Deaton kept fast forwarding. Stiles watched Chris flinch at the wave of fire that Deaton cast at the shields. Deaton cast spell after spell, but Stiles’s shields held.
The tape stopped and Stiles sat back in his chair. He looked up at Deaton with wide eyes. “I did that?” he asked, his voice small. He looked over at Chris for confirmation. Chris just smiled and nodded.
“I finally heard back from the Spark in New York,” Deaton said. He turned his monitor back around, then leaned forward to regard Stiles seriously. “Apparently the key to a Spark’s powers is as simple as belief. You didn’t believe that your shields could stop something when you weren’t concentrating, so they didn’t. With Chris there to anchor you, your belief didn’t waver and neither did your shields.”
“Oh.” Stiles didn’t know what more to say to that. He and Deaton and Anastasia had been muddling through trying to figure out his magic for over a year and all he’d needed was a hug and some self-confidence? It seemed impossible, but there was the proof on tape for him. He looked at the clock again. He’d been able to hold solid shields without really thinking about it for four hours.
Deaton turned to Chris. “If you or Peter are willing, I’d be grateful if you sat in on a few more sessions to anchor Stiles through a few more experiments. And, Stiles, I want you to keep practicing your shields in your free time when Chris and Peter aren’t around.”
Chris nodded. “Peter and I are more than happy to help.” He paused for a second. Chris glanced over at Stiles as he spoke. “If it’s alright with you and Stiles, Peter was hoping to borrow the copy of the tape from today. He’s always been somewhat of a scholar of all things arcane and supernatural.”
Deaton raised an eyebrow but nodded. “As long as he keeps a very careful guard over it, I don’t see a problem. Stiles, is that okay with you?”
Stiles considered for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, I trust Peter.”
Deaton nodded. He pulled the disc out and slipped it into a case. Deaton hesitated before handing it over. “Please be sure to stress that it’s of the utmost importance to Stiles’s safety that this disc not fall into anyone else’s hands. Don’t make a copy. Don’t leave it unguarded.”
Chris raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “You have my word.” He accepted the disc. Chris stood and held out a hand to Stiles. “Are you ready to go home?”
Stiles yawned and nodded. “See you Thursday, doc,” he called over his shoulder. He didn’t have to lean on Chris on their way out of the building, but he was glad that Chris stayed close, just in case. He settled into the passenger seat of Chris’s black SUV with a sigh of relief. His eyes drifted closed for a minute. When he blinked, his door was opening. Stiles caught himself before he could slide out of the seat. He blinked out the window and saw that they were already back at his house.
He fumbled with his seat belt for a second before Chris batted his hand away and depressed the button. Stiles grumbled a protest as Chris pulled him into his arms and carried him to the front door. Chris set him down on his feet, supporting him with an arm around the waist while Stiles unlocked the front door. Chris followed Stiles inside, herding him up the stairs and into Stiles’s bedroom. Stiles didn’t protest when Chris gently pushed him towards the bed. He sat down on edge and got his shoes off with Chris’s help. Chris unbuttoned Stiles’s pants and helped him pull them down. Stiles had a brief flash of sexy thoughts, but Chris simply pulled back the covers and settled Stiles in bed. Stiles yawned again as soon as his head hit the pillow
Stiles blinked and tried to stay awake. He reached out a hand to Chris. “Can you stay for a little bit?” he asked.
Chris smiled down at him and nodded. He slid off his own shoes and climbed onto the bed to lie beside Stiles. Chris’s arms wrapped around Stiles, pulling him close.
“Thank you,” Stiles said as he rested his head on Chris’s chest. “Not just for, you know, spending four hours sitting in a room being bored, but also for not freaking out about the magic thing.” Chris pressed a kiss to Stiles’s forehead. “My magic kind of freaks people out sometimes,” he admitted. “But you didn’t freak out even when Deaton started throwing fireballs.” He yawned again. “You had faith my shields would hold when I wouldn’t have had that much faith in them.” He looked up at Chris with wide eyes. Stiles slowly leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Chris’s lips. “It means a lot to me.”
Chris kissed Stiles back, soft and slow. “Deaton said that all I had to do was believe in you and keep you focused so you didn’t doubt yourself. It’s pretty easy to believe in you.”
Stiles smiled. His eyelids were growing heavy, so he let them close. “Still, thank you.” He snuggled into Chris’s neck as his breathing slowed. “I just need to take a little nap now,” he said before promptly falling asleep.
Chris was gone by the time Stiles woke up several hours later. Stiles reached for his phone and saw that he had several missed messages. One was from his father, saying that he’d pick up dinner on the way home. Two were from Scott asking if he was up for some Call of Duty tonight. Stiles checked the time and then responded with an affirmative. The rest were from Chris and Peter.
You looked like you needed your rest, so I didn’t want to wake you up when I had to go.
Make sure to eat something when you get up.
If you’re still tired tomorrow, let me know and we can reschedule our session at the gym.
Thank you for allowing me to watch your training session, darling.
You looked quite adorable curling up with Chris.
Your magic is quite impressive. I look forward to seeing what Thursday has in store.
I’m feeling better already. I should be good to go tomorrow. Thank you again!
Stop making me blush!
Stiles set his phone aside. He pulled on a pair of pajama pants and wandered downstairs. He grabbed a couple slices of pizza from the box on the kitchen table and joined his dad on the couch to watch TV until Scott got back to him. Stiles set an alarm on his phone for midnight so he wouldn’t stay up too late. He didn’t need to bother. He was falling asleep even with Scott’s voice in his ear and the sound of gunfire from the game. Scott gave up on him at eleven and told Stiles to just go to bed. Stiles didn’t protest.
The next morning he woke up early, feeling refreshed. He cast his shields a few times, holding them for a couple minutes. He concentrated on believing that the would hold and they did. Stiles was in a pretty good mood by the time he left to go meet Chris. He dressed in a fitted T-shirt and a pair of pants that were comfortable, not so loose that they’d fall off, but loose enough for him to move in.
Chris and Peter were waiting for him outside of Chris’s shop when he pulled up. They walked together down the street to the gym. The guy at the counter gave Chris a bored wave and didn’t comment as they walked down a back hallway to a private room. The room was moderately sized with padding on the floors and halfway up the walls. Chris set the gym bag he’d been carrying by the door. He kicked off his shoes and motioned for Stiles to do the same. Stiles walked around the room while Chris was sorting through the bag, amused by the feel of squishy foam under his feet. He watched as Chris pulled out several towels and set them aside. Chris pulled out two different knives and walked over to Stiles.
“We’ll use this one later, after you’ve got the basics,” he said, holding up a knife that looked almost identical in shape to the runed dagger Stiles had picked out. Chris tucked that knife away in a sheath. He held a second knife out to Stiles. “This is what we’ll be using for now.”
Stiles took the blade curiously. The hilt was the same as the other knife, but the blade itself was a hard rubber. Stiles ran a finger along the tip and was relieved to feel that it had no edge. Stiles nodded. Chris held out his hand, so Stiles handed the knife back. Chris walked back over to the bag and put both knives away.
“First, we’re going to go over basic self defense moves,” Chris said. “Once you’re familiar with those, we’ll add in the fake knife. Okay?” Chris came to stand in front of Stiles while Peter settled down along one of the walls, watching.
“Normally, I’d tell you not to draw your knife unless you’re sure your opponent is armed,” Chris advised. “But if your opponent is a werewolf or another supernatural creature, then you should assume they’re armed.” Chris nodded over to Peter, who waved a clawed hand. Stiles just shook his head and smiled at Peter.
“Let’s get started,” Chris said, drawing Stiles’s attention back to him. For the next hour, Chris showed him different holds and ways of falling. Some of it his dad had taught him years ago, other stuff was new. Chris called for a break after an hour. He pulled bottles of water out of his bag and handed one to Stiles. Stiles drank it slowly while he caught his breath. He accepted one of the towels and wiped the sweat off of his face.
“If you’re hot, you can take your shirt off,” Peter pointed out with a smile. “It’s a private room and Chris and I certainly won’t mind.”
Stiles blushed. He looked down at his shirt, but it wasn’t too sweaty. He’d have to remember a change of clothes next time. He tugged the hem of his shift down and tucked it into his pants for good measure. “I’m fine,” he replied defensively.
Peter shrugged. He rose and pulled his own shirt off. “If you’re sure,” Peter said. He stepped forward to take Chris’s spot on the center of the mat.
Stiles looked over at Chris, who nodded. “Peter’s going to show you some takedowns, so you can practice falling and rolling.” Stiles nodded.
He turned back to Peter and a second later found himself falling backwards. Peter’s arms slipped around him, his hand bracing Stiles’s head against the fall. Stiles let out a small grunt as they landed on the mat. He glared up at Peter, who seemed to enjoy pressing his weight down on top of Stiles. “You could have warned me,” Stiles pointed out as Peter drew back.
Peter smirked, but held out a hand to help Stiles back to his feet. The next time Peter moved, Stiles was able to anticipate it. Peter still took him down, but Stiles was able to roll with it. After a few more tries, he was able to dodge a bit. He was able to roll with it and get back on his feet. Chris called a break after another hour.
Peter grinned. He pounced on Stiles. Stiles squeaked in surprise. He relaxed into the fall, but Peter didn't move away like he had when practicing. Instead, Peter pressed him down into the mats and buried his face in Stiles's neck. Peter bit and licked until Stiles was squirming underneath him. Peter rocked his hips into Stiles's and Stiles gasped. His hands came up to Peter’s hips. He tried to pull Peter down on him again, but the werewolf resisted. He lifted his head from Stiles’s neck to smirk at him. “Patience, pet,” Peter purred before leaning in to lick at Stiles’s lips.
Stiles groaned, but opened his mouth to let Peter in. He was very much beginning to love the way that Peter kissed, passionately and thoroughly. He felt the mats near his head shift. He looked up to see Chris standing over them, amused. “There’ll be time for that later,” Chris said.
Peter smirked again as he drew away. Stiles had to take a second to regain his breath and will his hardon down. He accepted Chris’s hand to help him to his feet. Chris handed Stiles the rubber knife and they got to work on his grip. Chris showed him how someone might try knock the knife from his hand. For a long while, they worked on simple movements and disarm attempts. Then Peter tagged in again and Stiles had to practice falling, this time while not losing the knife or stabbing himself.
By the end of the third hour, his muscles were sore and he was realizing how entirely out of shape he was. Chris barely looked winded and Peter didn’t look affected at all. Meanwhile, Stiles sagged against the wall as he drank some more water. He was practically daydreaming about a shower.
“I was going to suggest dinner,” Chris said, “but I don’t think you want to go anywhere right now. How about we pick up something and meet you back at your place later?”
Stiles nodded tiredly. “I’d like that, thank you.” He took another minute to regain his strength before he pushed off the wall. “I’m going to go get that shower now.” Chris gave him a soft kiss on the cheek as Stiles walked out of the room.
He was really glad it was only a short walk back to his car. He sagged down into the seat. After a few minutes of just enjoying sitting down, he started up the car and drove back to his house. He managed to push himself to climb the stairs. He stripped off his sweaty clothes and walked naked through the hall to the bathroom. The feeling of cool water made him sigh in relief. He took his time scrubbing thoroughly and washing his hair. He was sorting through his clean clothes deciding on something to wear when the doorbell rang. Stiles grabbed the first clean shirt he found and shoved it on. He didn’t bother with socks. He grinned at Chris and Peter as he opened the door.
“We weren’t sure what you liked, so we grabbed a few different things,” Chris said, holding up a bag of takeout Chinese.
“Oh, I’ll eat pretty much anything,” Stiles said honestly. His stomach growled at the smell as he followed Chris and Peter into the dining room. He grabbed a handful of napkins and some utensils. Peter scoffed at the forks and pulled a pair of chopsticks out of the bag instead. Stiles rolled his eyes and grabbed a fork just to be contrary. Chris went over their training session while they ate. He let Stiles know what he needed to work on, but also made sure to point out the things that Stiles did well. Chris gave him a general timeline of what he wanted to cover in the weeks before Stiles returned to school.
Once they were done eating, the dishes were put away and the leftovers packed up, Stiles hesitated. He really wanted to continue what Peter had started on the mats, but he wasn’t sure how to go about asking. Before he could even ask, Peter had taken him by the hand and was leading him up the stairs to Stiles’s bedroom. Peter stopped in the middle of the room and pulled Stiles into a kiss. Stiles wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck. He moaned when he felt Chris come up behind him. Chris’s hands wrapped around Stiles’s hips, pulling him backwards. Stiles moaned into the kiss when Chris ground his erection into Stiles’s ass.
Peter broke the kiss when Stiles was panting and his brain was fogged with lust. Peter held Stiles’s hands as he walked backwards towards the bed. Peter sat down on the edge of the bed. He pulled Stiles down beside him and then turned, pushing Stiles down on the bed with Peter on top of him. “Is this okay?” Peter asked as his knee slid between Stiles’s thighs.
Stiles nodded. The bed dipped on his other side as Chris climbed up to lay beside them. Chris leaned forward to capture Stiles’s lips as Peter ground down with his hips. Stiles moaned into the kiss. His hips jerked upright, thrusting against Peter. That only seemed to encourage Peter, who set a steady pace, rocking back and forth in a way that provided just enough pressure on Stiles’s erection. Stiles whined when Peter moved away. Then he felt Peter’s fingers undoing the buttons of his jeans. Peter pushed the jeans and Stiles’s boxers down out of the way.
“Do you have lube?” Peter asked into Stiles’s ear.
Stiles moaned. He pulled away from Chris to stretch a hand out to his nightstand. He fished around inside the top drawer for a second before coming back with a small bottle, which he handed to Peter. Peter grinned at him as he squirted a little bit into his palm. A moment later Stiles felt the hand on his cock, rubbing some of the lube in. He gave a startled shout at the sensation , which only turned into a whine as Peter’s hand drew away. Stiles looked down to see Peter rubbing the rest of the lube onto his own cock. Then Peter leaned forward and lined them up, his hand wrapping around both of them as he began to thrust. Stiles’s eyes rolled back at the sensation.
Chris grinned as he leaned in to bite at Stiles’s lips. He kissed a trail down Stiles’s cheek before biting at his ear and then leaving a trail of bites down Stiles’s neck. Stiles ran one hand through Chris’s hair while the other one rested on Peter’s hips. He tried to match Peter’s rhythm, but it was getting hard for him to concentrate. One of Chris’s hands slid across Stiles’s stomach, pushing up his shirt just enough to run along the muscles there before sliding down. Chris’s hand slid down Stiles’s hip, teasing along the base of his cock and then sliding lower to massage his balls. One of Chris’s fingers pressed against Stiles’s hole and Stiles came with a surprised shout.
Peter took his hand away from Stiles before he became over sensitive. Peter leaned back, still working a hand over his cock. He looked down at Stiles for permission as he slowly inched Stiles’s shirt upwards. Stiles’s hand stopped the movement before the scar on his shoulder would be visible, but Peter didn’t seem to mind. His free hand slid up and down Stiles’s stomach as he pumped his cock. Chris knelt beside Peter. His hand came up to settle on top of Peter’s guiding the movements. Chris leaned in to kiss Peter’s neck.
“Look at him, just waiting for you to mark him with your come,” Chris whispered into Peter’s ear. Peter growled as he came on Stiles’s stomach.
Stiles smiled sleepily as Peter collapsed down on the bed beside him. His fingers curled into Peter’s hair. “This is going to be a thing for you, isn’t it?” he asked. Peter just grinned up at him. Stiles resisted commenting on the weird sexual behavior of werewolves in favor of reaching for Chris.
Chris helped Stiles unbutton his jeans and slid them down so that Stiles could get a hand around Chris’s cock. Stiles explored the head and shaft with his hand before pulling away. He laid a hand on Chris’s hips pulling him forward. Peter helped Stiles pile pillows under his head until he had the right angle for Chris to slide into his mouth. Chris made an appreciative noise. Stiles flattened his tongue along the underside of Chris’s cock as Chris began to thrust into his mouth. It didn’t take long at all before Chris was coming as well. Stiles swallowed around him. He licked at Chris as he drew back, gathering up every last drop on his tongue.
Stiles smiled as Chris settled down on the bed on his other side. He pulled his shirt down and curled into Peter. He reached behind him, grabbing one of Chris’s arms to pull Chris towards him. Chris chuckled, but spooned in close behind Stiles. Stiles rested his head on Peter’s shoulder. His eyes drifted closed. His body relaxed into sleep.
Chris gently shook him awake a little while later. “We should be heading home,” Chris said softly. Stiles blinked up at him for a moment before sitting up so that Peter could get up. He yawned as he straightened his clothing. Stiles followed Chris and Peter down the stairs. He shared a gentle kiss with each of them before they left. Stiles locked the door behind them and then climbed up to the bathroom to clean up. He changed into clean boxers and some pajamas. For a minute, he debated doing some of the reading Deaton had given him, but in the end he just flopped face down on the bed and went back to sleep.
Thursday morning Peter picked him up in the Jaguar. Peter was practically vibrating with excitement as they drove to the SRAS. Stiles gave him the side eye as they parked. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone so excited to sit in a room with me for hours,” he said.
Peter just leaned over the console to kiss Stiles. He pulled back when Stiles was breathless. “Even if there weren’t magic involved, I’d be more than happy to sit with you for hours, dear.” Peter’s grin turned into a smirk. “We could make our own magic.”
Stiles rolled his eyes at the obvious line and got out of the car. He took Peter’s hand and walked into the SRAS. Amber was a little bit too obvious in checking Peter out. She shot Stiles a jealous glance as they walked past. The people in the open office looked up at him, but didn’t react any differently than they had when he’d brought Chris on Tuesday. Stiles spotted Deaton waiting down the hall. Peter was looking around the employee area with open curiosity, but didn’t complain when Stiles pulled him down the hall towards the training room.
He stopped in the doorway to stare at the odd assortment of things in the room. Deaton had brought in some mannequins, which were arranged in a line in front of the far wall. There were also several fire extinguishers along the wall near the door. Stiles eyed the extinguishers, then the mannequins with dawning realization. “Oh, no.” He tried to back up but Peter was blocking the doorway behind him. “No, no, no, no, no. I don’t work well with fire.”
Deaton just smiled at him reassuringly. “If you believe you can do it, then you will. But, we can start with other elements, if you’d prefer.” He motioned for them to come further into the room. Stiles reluctantly stepped forward so that Peter could close the door. He walked over to Deaton. The doctor handed him a lightbulb.
“I want you to focus electricity into your fingertips to light the bulb,” Deaton said. “You’ve had success with creating sparks before, so just imagine a constant steady flow of electricity.”
Stiles took the light bulb with a skeptical look. He held the metal end in his fingertips. He took a deep breath and concentrated on his magic. He felt it jump to attention, ready to be used. Stiles concentrated on his fingertips and the warm buzz of electricity. He pushed his sparks out of his fingertips and into the light bulb. He opened his eyes. The bulb sparked. He could see little surges of energy pass through it, but it didn’t stay on. Stiles frowned as he concentrated. The light flickered.
Peter’s hand rested on the small of his back. The werewolf leaned in to whisper into Stiles’s ear. “Relax.”
Stiles took a deep breath and let his body relax. He stopped trying to force his magic. Instead, he just believed that the bulb would light. He startled when it did. He turned to look over his shoulder at Peter with wide eyes. Peter grinned back at him.
Stiles turned to look at Deaton. He held the light out. When Deaton took the bulb, it stayed on. As soon as Stiles told his magic to stop, it did. The light went off.
“Very good,” Deaton said. He set the bulb aside on a small table. Deaton motioned towards the mannequins. “I want you to try moving one of the mannequins, bring it forward into the room.”
Stiles turned and nodded. He took a deep breath and pictured one of the mannequins sliding forward. He could see it happening in his mind. He believed it would happen. He jumped back when it actually did. Deaton nodded. Following Deaton’s instructions, Stiles moved first one mannequin around the room, then the second one. After he got the hang of that, Deaton had him add the third one. Once Deaton was satisfied with Stiles’s ability to move objects, he had Stiles put the mannequins back in line.
“Now, I want you to lite one of the mannequins on fire,” Deaton said. “Any one.”
Stiles grimaced. He moved to the center of the room so that he was facing the mannequins. He concentrated on the middle one. He thought about how he’d called fire, how it had sprang to life over his palm. He tried to imagine the same thing, but on the mannequin. Nothing happened. He tried to picture the mannequin bursting into flames. A tiny flame sprung up near the mannequin’s chest, but quickly turned to a puff of smoke and died. Stiles felt his frustration mount.
Arms slid around him from behind, pulling him back towards Peter’s chest. “You can do it,” Peter said softly into Stiles’s ear. Stiles relaxed into his hold. “Remember the heat of the flame, the sound of it crackling over logs, the smell of it. Picture the mannequin surrounded by flames. Picture the heat coming off of the fire.”
Stiles closed his eyes and pictured the fire. When he opened them again the mannequin was smoking. “Put a little more strength into it,” Peter suggested.
Stiles pushed more of his magic into the flames. A few little bursts of flame sprang up around the mannequin. He pushed even more magic at it. The whole thing lit on fire. Peter pressed a kiss to Stiles’s neck. “Good boy,” he murmured. The flame shot up. Peter chuckled in Stiles’s ear and Stiles blushed.
Peter stayed wrapped around Stiles and he lit the other two mannequins on fire one at a time. Then Deaton had Stiles snuff out the fires one at a time, which turned out to be just as hard as starting the fires. Once all three were out, Deaton had him calling flames again, this time weaving them around the mannequins without catching the mannequins on fire. By the time he was able to control the fire enough to keep a moving ball of it going between the mannequins, he was sagging against Peter and stifling yawns. His vision went a little fuzzy and Stiles quickly cut off his magic. He wobbled with a wave of dizziness.
“Stiles, are you alright?” Peter asked worriedly. Peter wrapped his arms more firmly around him as Stiles turned and sagged into him.
“Tired,” Stiles said, which was a bit of an understatement as Stiles felt his eyes closing against their own will.
Deaton appeared in front of Stiles. He pulled one of Stiles’s eyelids open to check his pupils. Stiles blinked his eyes open as the doctor felt his pulse. Deaton drew back after a moment. “I think you overdid it a little bit today, Stiles.” The doctor took a step back. “Next time, let’s stop when you start to feel tired, not when you’re about to pass out.”
Stiles nodded. “Should have said something,” he mumbled into Peter’s chest.
“That you should have,” Peter said softly. Peter shifted his grip, then bent down to wrap an arm under Stiles’s knees. He lifted Stiles up easily. “How about we get you home for a nice long nap?”
Stiles murmured an affirmative. He let his eyes drift closed as he curled his head into Peter’s shoulder. Peter made a rather comfortable pillow, even when he was moving. He heard the door open and close, but didn’t think too much of it.
“Peter!? What are you doing here?” The voice snapped Stiles out of his daze. He looked up to see that they were still in the SRAS hallway, not too far from the employee door. He turned when Peter turned and there was Laura, jogging up the hallway from somewhere further in the building. She stopped short as she spotted Stiles. “Stiles? Are you alright?”
“Just tired,” Stiles answered. He tried to lift his head off of Peter’s shoulder, but it was too much work and Peter was too comfortable. He settled for turning to look at Laura instead.
“Chris and I are going to be helping anchor Stiles in his Spark training for a little while,” Peter said softly. He cast a glance over at the employee area. Laura took the hint and lowered the volume of her voice.
“Do you need a hand getting home?” she asked. She looked between Stiles and Peter.
Peter shook his head. “We’ll be fine.” Peter started to turn away. “I should get Stiles home soon though.”
Stiles weakly waved to Laura as they turned away. He ignored the murmur of conversation that passed through the room as Peter carried him out of the SRAS. He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them again they were pulling into the driveway of his house. Stiles fumbled in his pockets for his keys. He held them out to Peter as the werewolf scooped him up to carry him into the house. He was glad for werewolf strength and the fact that he didn’t weigh that much anyways, because Peter simply held him with one arm while he unlocked the door. Peter carried him straight up the stairs to his bedroom. He helped Stiles undress, much like Chris had two days before. Peter didn’t even have to be asked before he crawled into the bed with Stiles. Stiles murmured a thank you as he rolled over on top of Peter to use him as a warm pillow.
He woke a few hours later to an empty bed. Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn’t exhausted anymore but he was still pretty tired. He shuffled his way downstairs to put together a sandwich. He ate standing at the counter. By the time he was finished with the sandwich, he was yawning again. He pulled out his phone.
To: Chris, Peter
Sorry I keep falling asleep on you guys! I think that will be a thing for a while…
The reply came a few minutes later after Stiles had managed to climb the stairs and was about to settle into bed again.
No problem. We enjoy cuddling just as much as other things.
No worries. Just let us know if we’re pushing too hard. We can always cancel one of your lessons if you need more rest.
The next lesson with Chris and Peter left him just as tired afterwards, but he didn’t regret a single moment that he got to spend with them. They fell into the new routine easily. Stiles resigned himself to being exhausted four days out of the week. But, he kept looking at the calendar and remembered how little time he had left before he went to school. It added a sense of urgency to every minute he spent with Chris and Peter, as if he had to cram as much contact in as possible before they were out of reach.
To: Chris, Peter
Are you busy?
He slumped back in his seat and waited for the reply. He fingers curled and uncurled around the steering wheel. If the steering wheel wasn’t in the way, he probably would have given in to the urge to curl his knees up to his chest. He had spent weeks getting to know them, but even though Peter made flirting comments about getting him in their bed, neither Chris nor Peter had ever outright invited him over to their house. Granted, he probably wouldn’t have gone, especially that first week before he’d met Peter’s family, but he’d gotten a lot more comfortable with them since. He thought that he’d finally be able to handle letting them see him without his shirt on, letting them see the scars that he hadn’t shown anyone but his dad and Deaton since the wendigo had attacked him near the end of the school year. Not even Scott had seen them. His phone beeped.
Never too busy for you, my dear.
Stiles smiled a little at that. He took a deep breath. He typed out a message.
To: Chris, Peter
Would it be alright if I came over?
He hesitated. What if he was interrupting something? What if they said no? He brought his hand to his mouth and bit at his thumb as he thought. He had to go back to school in a week, so this was his last chance to spend a weekend with his soulmates. He took another deep breath to gather his courage and hit send.
He almost immediately regretted it. He sounded needy and clingy. Stiles glanced into the back of the Jeep. He’d packed a bag earlier, just in case Chris and Peter wanted him to spend the night. He suddenly felt like that had been a stupid idea, like he was just assuming that Chris and Peter would want him there. The dates they’d been on had been fun so far and his soulmates were always eager and free with affection, but Chris had been very careful not to push the sex stuff too far too fast. And more often than not lately, Stiles had been too tired to do anything more than cuddle after a training session. He also had to wonder if maybe him being a virgin made him somehow unappealing. Peter seemed to get off on it, but Stiles couldn’t help being nervous. He felt like he was finally ready for sex. He’d really kind of hoped that Chris and Peter would jump on the opportunity to do all the things they’d talked about before he was several hours away from them.
Certainly! You’re welcome whenever you’d like. One moment and I’ll text you the address.
Stiles blushed. He felt a bit like a creepy stalker. He couldn’t really think of a good reason why he was already there. He quickly typed out a message, trying to sound casual.
Not necessary. I’m actually in your neighborhood already. Is it okay if I head over now?
Of course. See you soon.
Stiles hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until it all gusted out in one long breath. He took a minute to steady his nerves and then turned his Jeep back on. He checked over his shoulder, then pulled back onto the road. He tried to keep his breathing even as he drove the last few feet to Chris and Peter’s driveway and then up through the trees that shielded the property from the street.
The driveway was a lot shorter than the one that led to the Hale house, but Chris and Peter’s house was nearly as large. Stiles pulled his car up next to the Jaguar and Chris’s large black SUV. He hesitated for a moment, but decided to leave his bag in the car for now. He could always come back and get it later if he stayed. He didn’t want to seem overeager in addition to his apparent stalker tendencies.
Stiles studied the house as he slowly walked up the path to the front door. It was a large, two story building with a wide porch circling the front. There were well-trimmed shrubs along the sides of the building. In front of the building was a moderately-sized front yard with a larger yard in the rear that blended into the preserve. Stiles felt his nerves skyrocket as he climbed the porch stairs. Peter opened the door before Stiles could even raise a hand to knock.
Peter looked Stiles up and down critically. His head tilted to the side, studying him and Stiles cringed. He hesitated, wondering if maybe he had imposed after all. Then, Peter reached out and pulled Stiles into his body. He turned them, pulling Stiles inside the house and shutting the door after them. Peter looked down at him, worried. One of his hands started to rub up and down Stiles’s back. “What’s wrong, love? It sounds like you’re about to have a heart attack.”
“It’s nothing,” Stiles said. He let out a long breath and sank into Peter’s embrace. His eyes closed and he realized his heart really had been beating pretty fast. He’d been halfway to a panic attack.
“What’s nothing?” Chris asked. Stiles looked over to see Chris coming down the stairs, toweling off his hair. He looked like he’d just gotten out of the shower. His hair was soft and fluffy and he had on a soft looking shirt and flannel pants. Chris came over and kissed Peter and then Stiles. Stiles melted a little bit further into the kiss.
Peter pressed a kiss to Stiles’s lips then. He smiled slightly as he pulled back, but he also looked determined. “I was asking what had Stiles’s heart rate up,” Peter said, glancing over at Chris and then back to Stiles. “I’m surprised I didn’t hear it from wherever you were parked when you texted us.”
Stiles flinched. He started to pull back, but Peter’s arms kept him in place. “I wanted to see you, but didn’t want to just barge in uninvited,” he mumbled into Peter’s chest.
Chris’s hand came to rest on the small of Stiles’s back. “Consider this an open invite to stop by whenever you want, even when we’re not home. Our home is your home.” Chris pressed a kiss to the back of Stiles’s head. He came up to bracket Stiles from behind. Stiles melted into the feeling of being surrounded. “Did you have any problems finding the place? Peter give you good directions?”
Stiles froze in place. Peter pulled back. “I thought you had,” he said slowly to Chris. They both looked down at Stiles curiously. He felt himself drawing inward and had to force his muscles to relax.
“I kind of looked up your address when I was hiding from Peter,” he admitted. “So I knew what section of town to avoid.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “While I certainly don't mind you knowing where we live, I’m not sure I like the idea of our address being one Google search away from every idiot out there.”
“Oh, it’s not,” he said before he thought about what he was saying.
Chris stepped back to look at Stiles. His hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Stiles, how exactly did you get our address?” Chris asked with a pained expression.
Stiles wrapped his arms around himself. He shifted backwards a half step. “From the Sheriff’s department database.”
Chris sighed softly. “I'm guessing that you aren't supposed to have access to this database, but somehow do?” Stiles didn't look up from the floor when he nodded. Chris was silent for a long minute. Stiles’s hands tightened as he shifted another step towards the door. Chris sighed again, but stepped forward to wrap Stiles into his arms. “We'll talk about this more later,” he said. He pressed a soft kiss to Stiles's forehead before leading him into the living room.
Chris settled on the middle of the couch. He pulled Stiles onto his lap and curled him into his chest. A moment later Stiles felt Peter settle behind him. He relaxed his grip on his arms, moving his hands to grip Chris's shirt instead. Peter leaned into him, wrapping himself around Stiles’s back. His tension started to drain away and he couldn’t remember why he’d been so nervous about coming over in the first place, not when Chris and Peter held him like he belonged there.
“What had you so worked up, my dear?” Peter asked, his voice barely more than a whisper in Stiles’s ear.
Stiles burrowed his face into Chris’s neck. “I leave for college next week,” he said softly. A little hint of sadness must have crept into his voice because Chris and Peter’s arms tightened around him. “I thought it might be nice to spend some time together this weekend and I started to drive over, but then I realized I’d never actually asked you about coming over and I couldn’t remember if you’d said you had plans…” He bit his lip to keep the rest of his worries from spilling out. He realized now that they were stupid. He slid one of his hands over Peter’s instead, wrapping their fingers together as he snuggled with Chris. “I thought…” He paused, drawing a deep breath. Chris and Peter were quiet, waiting for him to get out what he needed to. “I thought it might be nice to… that maybe we could… that you might want to…”
Peter chuckled behind him. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’s neck. “You want to have sex with us before you go.”
Stiles relaxed as the tension drained out of him. “Yes,” he answered, even though it hadn’t been a question.
Chris’s hand came to tilt his chin upwards. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’s lips. As soon as he let go, Peter was there, turning Stiles’s head to the side so Peter could kiss him, deep and filthy. Stiles closed his eyes and relaxed into the kiss. He couldn’t help whimpering a little bit when Peter finally pulled away. Chris’s hand came up to run through Stiles’s hair and he sagged bonelessly against Chris’s chest. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want,” Chris said. “We don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex if you’re not ready. Peter and I are very much interested in having sex with you, but we can wait.”
Stiles forced himself to sit up straight in Chris’s lap. He looked up at Chris and met his gaze. “I am ready,” he said with a small smile. He felt a burst of warmth at the hunger in Chris’s eyes. He held up a hand before Chris could lean in to kiss him again. “But, there is one thing I have to do first.” He shimmied off of Chris’s lap and onto the open couch seat next to him. He turned to look at Chris and Peter. “Promise you won’t flip out?” he asked hesitantly.
Peter and Chris both raised eyebrows at him. They exchanged a worried glance before looking back at him. “Well, that’s not a very reassuring start, so I’m not sure we can promise that,” Chris said, “but we’ll certainly try.” Peter leaned back against the far arm of the couch and nodded.
Stiles considered them for a long minute. His stomach twisted in knots, but he forced himself to turn his back towards them. He slid off the flannel shirt he wore first, setting it aside on the coffee table. His hands hesitated at the hem of his t-shirt. Stiles took a deep, calming breath. He looked out the wide picture window across the room at the forest that surrounded the house. He pulled the shirt up like pulling off a band-aid.
Behind him, Chris made a small noise of surprise. He heard someone move. Fingers touched his back, ghosting over the scars from where the wendigo had clawed him. Neither man said anything as they studied his back with hesitant touches. One of the hands slid down to settle at his hip. Stiles started to turn, but then he felt the hand on his back move. Fingers pressed into the marks, tracing down them with a line of pressure. He could feel the gentle scrape of fingernails, barely there but still rough. The sensation brought the feeling of claws digging into his skin back to his mind like it had just happened. Stiles gagged and jerked away. He squeezed his eyes shut when he felt a panic attack rising, much like it had that night.
He gasped as he was lifted and turned. He curled into a chest and tried to stop his body from shuddering. Stiles forced himself to take a series of slow deep breaths. He opened his eyes. Peter’s shirt was in front of him. He wasn’t in the alley. There was no dumpster, no smell of garbage and terror and blood. Stiles let out a long, shuddering breath. “Sorry,” he said, when he felt like his voice wasn’t going to break. “Still kind of a sensitive area, I guess.”
“I’m the one who should apologize,” Peter said. He pressed soft kisses to Stiles’s hair. “I didn’t mean to cause you any distress.” He rubbed up and down Stiles’s back soothingly. His other hand came up to rub at the jagged bite mark on Stiles’s shoulder. “Would you be willing to tell us what happened?”
Stiles pulled back a little bit. He didn’t move from where he’d been pulled half on Chris and half on Peter. He looked from Chris to Peter. They were worried, concerned about him, but there was no revulsion, no anger. He licked his lips. “A wendigo chased me down an alley near school and tried to eat me,” he said in a rush. He flinched when Peter’s eyes flashed blue and a look of fury crossed his face. Peter recovered quickly. He lifted a hand up to rub along Stiles face, cheek, and neck. Stiles had to smile a bit at the blatant scent-marking.
“It’s dead,” he said. Peter looked smugly satisfied.
“You killed a wendigo?” Chris asked. He sounded almost proud.
Stiles snorted. He shook his head. “No, I haven’t really had much success with getting that kind of stuff to work until recently. Anastasia made sure I could cover my scent and heartbeat though, so I could get away if something like that ever happened again.” He shrugged. Stiles took a deep breath before he told them the second half of the story. “Two Hunters showed up and killed it before it could do anything worse than this.” He waved his hand at his shoulder.
Chris’s arms came around Stiles. He was pulled backwards into a reassuring hug. He smiled slightly, but let Chris manhandle him into a better position. He gathered his courage. “The thing is that one of them was kind of a dark Druid,” he said. “Deaton thought she might be something called a Darach, but he wasn’t really sure.” His hand reached out to twine with Peter’s. He looked down at their joined hands, at Chris’s arms firmly wrapped around him. “She… um… kind of tried to kill me too,” he said slowly, then backtracked. “Well, steal my magic at least. I’m not sure if it would have actually killed me, but she kind of implied that it would. The police came and they ran off. Anastasia warded the entirety of Berkeley so the Hunters couldn’t come back and Deaton did the same to Beacon Hills, so I think they were kind of worried that the lady might try again, but she never did.” He let out his breath in a sigh.
“So, ah… that’s why I wanted the knife. I mean, I know my shields have gotten really good lately, but that night kind of scared the crap out of me…” Stiles shrugged. He turned to look at Chris, who was watching him as if waiting for even more surprises. Stiles felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He leaned in and rested his head on Chris’s shoulder. “That’s it,” he said softly. “I don’t have any more secrets.”
That made Chris hum in approval. Stiles smiled. He remembered Chris saying he had a problem with lies and secrets from his family, so it was probably a big thing for him that Stiles didn’t have any secrets anymore. Stiles felt like a weight was lifted off his chest. He’d been so worried that they were going to pull away from him because of the wendigo thing. It was just another bit of weirdness on top of all the other weird things about Stiles. Neither man pulled away though. If anything, they looked even more fiercely protective than they had before.
Peter’s eyes flashed again. He leaned in towards Stiles. Peter licked at Stiles’s lips until Stiles opened for him. “Mine,” Peter growled before leaning back in. Peter kissed him thoroughly, licking into Stiles’s mouth like he couldn’t get enough of the taste. Stiles moaned into the kiss. His eyes closed as he relaxed into the kiss. He felt hands trail up and down his sides. Other hands moved feather light over his back, down until they grabbed his ass. Stiles felt himself grow hard under the attention. He panted when Peter finally pulled back.
He took a second to catch his breath, then turned to kiss Chris. Chris’s hand came up to grip Stiles’s hair. Chris’s fingers tightened, holding him in place as he bit and licked Stiles’s lips. Stiles shifted until he was straddling Chris’s lap. One of his hands buried in Chris’s hair. Chris shifted and the movement caused delicious friction against the front of Stiles’s jeans. He moaned and rocked his hips, chasing after the sensation.
Peter chuckled in his ear as his mouth latched onto Stiles’s neck. Stiles bucked at the feel of teeth on his neck. Peter’s hands rested on his hips. He pulled Stiles back away from Chris and the lovely friction. Stiles’s whine turned into a moan when he felt what could only be Peter’s hard length against his backside. He pulled away as much as Chris’s grip would let him. “Please,” he begged. “I want… I need…” His words cut off in a whimper when Peter bit down on his neck.
Peter’s hands slid forward to the button of Stiles’s jeans and flicked them open. He ran a hand along the bulge in Stiles pants and squeezed. Stiles shouted at the feeling. His whole body bucked. He sagged backwards, his head resting against Peter’s shoulder. Peter’s hands slid down Stiles’s thighs, massaging them. His fingers dragged back up. Peter moved his hands teasingly close, just barely brushing Stiles’s covered cock before drifting up again to move along Stiles’s chest.
Stiles’s mouth fell open with a gasp when Peter’s fingers found his nipples. Peter lightly brushed the nubs, rolling his fingers back and forth over them for a moment. His hand moved suddenly, pinching and twisting. Stiles cried out at the lightning jolt of pleasure and pain that ran through him. He panted as Peter’s hands moved away. Peter’s hands came down to Stiles’s fly again and he felt a surge of hope. Chris grabbed Peter’s hands, stilling the movement. Stiles whined.
Chris chuckled. Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but Chris put a finger on his lip. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you,” Chris assured. His voice was deep and rough with lust. Stiles dick twitched at the sound. “Just one thing to take care of first.”
Stiles looked at Chris in confusion. He whined when he felt Peter draw away. Then he was being lifted. Peter set him down on his feet near the end of the couch. Stiles stumbled a little, as his legs recovered from the jelly that Peter had turned them too. Peter grinned at him wickedly as he sank to his knees in front of Stiles. Peter gently pushed Stiles back to lean against the arm of the couch. Instead of moving towards his fly, Peter leaned down and started to untie Stiles’s shoes. Chris appeared beside him. He reached forward and undid the fly of Stiles’s jeans. Stiles shifted as Peter lifted one of his feet then the other. As soon as his shoes were off, Chris pushed down the fabric of Stiles’s jeans and boxers.
A shiver ran through him. Stiles looked up at Chris and Peter, both still fully dressed while he was naked. Peter gave him a reassuring look as he stepped away. Stiles had one second to wonder about that and then he was being turned. Chris maneuvered him so that he was bent, his feet flat on the floor, his forearms braced on the arm of the couch and his ass prominently in the air. Stiles swallowed thickly as he realized what this position meant. He flinched when Chris’s hand rested on his hip, but Chris only rubbed his hand over the flesh of Stiles’s ass.
“Do you understand why you’re being punished?” Chris asked, his voice warm but firm.
Stiles had to swallow twice before he could get his voice to work. “Because I hacked into the Sheriff department’s system,” he answered.
Chris’s hand moved and he tensed. Chris shifted to stand beside him. One hand rested on Stiles lower back. “And?” Chris prompted.
Stiles hesitated. “Keeping secrets?” he guessed.
“Good boy.” Something in Stiles warmed at those words. He didn't have a chance to enjoy the feeling before the first smack came. Stiles jerked forward with the impact. He braced his arms a little better against the couch, but the second swat still rocked him forward. Stiles gasped at the sting. He squeezed his eyes shut as the third strike fell. It hurt. The fourth was just as hard, making him bite his lip to hold back a whimper.
Chris spanked him slowly and methodically. Left then right, no two strokes in the exact same spot. He rocked forward when Chris swatted him where his ass met his thighs. He fell forward, but caught himself quickly and rested his palms on the seat cushion. Chris's free hand slid down Stiles’s back. It curled in Stiles hair, pulling backwards until Stiles had to arch his back.
Something about the position, being completely at Chris’s mercy, made him achingly hard. His ass hurt. Each new swat landed on already stinging flesh and he cried out. He felt tears burning at the corners of his eyes. But, there was a pleasure there, just out of reach, but starting to come closer. He whimpered. Then, the spanking stopped.
Chris's hand released his hair. He let Stiles slump forward, still braced over the arm of the couch. Stiles didn't know if he was relieved or frustrated. He let his head hang between his arms as he caught his breath.
The couch in front of him sagged as Chris sat down in front of him. Chris ran his fingers through Stiles's hair. “You did so well,” Chris praised as he rubbed at Stiles tense arms. He ran a hand lightly over Stiles's back. “You were so good for us. So beautiful.”
Stiles felt hands run over the tender flesh of his rear and jerked forward with a hiss. Peter chuckled somewhere behind him. Peter’s hands massaged the flesh of his ass. Stiles winced at the burn, then gasped when Peter pressed a kiss on first one cheek then the other. Peter’s hands smoothed over his ass, pulling and rubbing. He jerked forward with a shout when he felt something wet brush over his hole. Peter chuckled again. “Just relax,” he said.
Peter placed another kiss on the sore flesh of Stiles’s ass before his tongue was back, licking in a broad stroke. Stiles jerked, but Chris’s hand on his back kept him from moving too far. Peter’s tongue circled once, then a second time. He pulled back, his breath ghosting over Stiles’s hole. Stiles whimpered when Peter licked again, his tongue catching at Stiles’s rim and pulling just slightly. Peter’s tongue swirled around the edges. It tapped against his hole, pressing slightly but not quite sinking in. All the while, Chris’s hands stroked up and down his back and sides, over his neck and shoulders to smooth out his tension.
Stiles sagged under their hands. His forehead rested on Chris’s thigh. Peter’s tongue pressed inside of him as soon as he relaxed. It felt weird, but also really, really good. He’d fingered himself before, but Peter’s tongue was thicker, the angle better. Stiles moaned when Peter slipped the tip of a finger in beside his tongue. He felt like he could come just from this, but he wanted more. “Please,” he begged. His voice choked off in a shout when Peter thrust his tongue in hard and fast. “I want… I need…” Stiles panted. His finger clutched in the couch. He whined.
Chris’s hand smoothed the hair back from Stiles’s forehead. “What do you need?” His voice was warm and reassuring.
Stiles clenched his eyes shut. His hips jerked just a little bit forward with each thrust of Peter’s tongue. “Fuck me,” he begged. “Please... I need more.”
Peter hummed his approval and the vibration nearly made him come. Stiles bit back a cry when Peter pulled away. He didn’t even have time to protest before he was scooped up into Peter’s arms. Peter took the stairs two at a time. “Unfortunately, the lube is upstairs,” Peter explained. Peter turned to look over his shoulder. “Remind me to stash some around the house again. I have a feeling we’re going to want to fuck Stiles over every available surface.”
Stiles groaned. He pressed his face into Peter’s shoulder to hide the blush that was sure to be spreading across his face. Peter’s stride evened out as the reached the top of the stairs. They passed down a short hallway and then he was gently lowered onto a huge bed. Stiles took a second to look around Peter and Chris’s bedroom, but was quickly distracted by Peter shedding his clothing. He’d seen Peter’s dick before, been up close and personal with it, but he’d never seen Peter fully naked. He wasn’t disappointed. The werewolf had muscles to spare. Chris was only a minute behind him and just as quick to shed his clothes. Stiles reached a hand up to his lips to make sure he wasn’t drooling.
Peter smirked as he came closer. He leaned over Stiles, kissing him deeply and thoroughly. Peter pulled away, leaving Stiles breathless. Peter reached over to fish for something in the nightstand, but Stiles was distracted by Chris crawling onto the bed. Chris pressed soft kisses to Stiles’s neck. His mouth traced upwards, biting at Stiles’s earlobe and then kissing a line across Stiles’s cheek to his mouth. His kissed Stiles soft and slow. Stiles couldn’t help melting under Chris. He gasped when he felt a finger at his hole. It circled, spreading something wet around the rim before pressing inside in a slow and steady glide. Stiles moaned into Chris’s lips.
Chris pulled away. He looked down at Stiles, watching the emotions play over Stiles’s face as Peter methodically fucked him with a finger. Stiles’s head fell back with a moan as a second finger pushed in. Chris shifted away and Stiles whined. He turned to see Chris settling with his back to the headboard. Chris’s hand reached forward to pet Stiles’s hair. “Don’t worry, I’m not going far. I want to watch Peter take you apart.”
Stiles blushed at that. He felt his brain clouding over with lust already. His hips started to jerk upwards, meeting each of Peter’s slow thrusts and trying to urge him to go faster. Peter’s free hand came to rest on Stiles’s hips. He didn’t even have to try hard to hold Stiles in place. Stiles’s whine turned into a shout when Peter crooked his fingers. They dragged slowly back and forth over something wonderful inside of him. Peter added a third finger.
“We should probably have a serious discussion about kinks and safewords later,” Chris said. His hand pet Stiles’s cheek and then moved forward until his fingers traced over Stiles’s lips. Stiles opened his mouth under Chris touch, sucking in the fingers that Chris gave him. Chris’s eyes were focused on Stiles’s mouth, watching his fingers slide in and out. Chris drew his fingers away. He looked over at Peter and nodded. “If you need us to stop, or slow down,” Chris said. “Just say the word and we will. Okay?”
Chris seemed to be waiting for a response, so Stiles nodded. He didn’t think he would need to though. He’d never felt more cared for than when he was with Chris and Peter. He just wanted more and more.
Stiles whined when Peter’s fingers pulled out of him. Peter’s hands rested on Stiles’s hips, lifting and turning him until Stiles was on his hands and knees. Chris’s hands hooked under Stiles’s arms, dragging him forward until Stiles’s head was in Chris’s lap. Chris’s hand came to rest in Stiles’s hair, but he didn’t push Stiles towards his cock. Chris looked just as hard as Stiles was though. There was a little bead of precome leaking out the top. Stiles smiled as he leaned forward to lick the tip. Chris’s hand tightened, but didn’t push him down. Not that Stiles would have minded. He wrapped his lips around Chris and sank forward as far as he could go, sucking Chris down his throat.
Stiles felt the bed shift behind him. He heard the sound of the lube being popped open again. Then something slick and hard pressed against his entrance. Stiles moaned around Chris’s cock as Peter slowly slid into him. He had to shut his eyes and force his body to relax against the pressure. Then Peter was fully inside, his hips pressed against Stiles’s sore ass, which was way more of a turn on that Stiles expected. It was a weird sensation, full and stretched and complete. It took him a minute for his body to adjust. His muscles relaxed. Peter pulled out slowly before pushing back in. Stiles moaned again and forced himself to start bobbing his head. He licked and sucked at Chris the best he could while he was being split apart by Peter’s thick cock.
Peter kept his motions slow and steady, which was nice, but not what Stiles wanted. Stiles canted his hips backwards, trying to meet Peter thrust for thrust. Peter chuckled. “So eager, aren’t you, Stiles?” Peter shifted. His hands came to rest on Stiles’s hips, holding him firmly. Stiles whined when Peter held him still. “Don’t worry,” Peter said. “I can take a hint.”
Stiles only had a second to wonder what Peter meant before Peter’s hips snapped forward. Stiles shouted and almost choked on Chris’s cock. Thankfully, Chris pulled him off. His fingers stayed tight in Stiles hair, holding his head in place on Chris’s thigh. Stiles’s hands fisted in the sheets as Peter slammed into him. He couldn’t stop the gasps and shouts that each stroke tore out of his throat. Chris’s hand released his hair. Instead, Chris grabbed Stiles’s wrists, pinning him in place. It was perfect. His body relaxed in Peter and Chris’s hold. “Yes,” he murmured. His brain went fuzzy and then he was coming with a shout.
Peter’s movements slowed, no longer quite so brutal, but still deep and steady. Stiles floated on a cloud of pleasure. His body shuddered each time Peter brushed against his prostate. Peter seemed to be aiming for it on each stroke. Chris released Stiles’s wrists. He stroked up and down Stiles arms and back, murmured words of praise as Stiles turned into a pile of jelly on him. Only Peter’s firm grip on Stiles’s hips kept him upright. There were going to be bruises there tomorrow. He kind of liked that thought.
Peter’s thrusts stuttered and slowed. Stiles felt the barest hints of claws on his hips. He moaned. That seemed to set Peter off. The claws dug in, just the tiniest bit of the tips, and Peter was coming with a shout. Stiles felt something warm flood inside of him. Peter bent forward over Stiles’s back. He pressed kisses along Stiles’s shoulder blades and up his neck as Peter’s hips stilled. “Doing alright?” Peter asked against Stiles’s back.
Stiles nodded. They panted together for a moment and then Peter pulled out. Stiles moaned. His hole clenched around nothing. He wanted Peter back in him.
Chris’s hands slid down to Stiles’s arms again, hauling him forward. Peter guided Stiles’s hips until Stiles was straddling Chris’s lap. He heard the pop of the lube again, but was distracted by Chris’s arms around his shoulders, hugging him close as he kissed Stiles. He felt hands on his hips again and he was being lowered. Stiles gasped as he felt himself sink onto Chris’s cock. He broke away from the kiss with a moan. Gravity pushed him down and down. Stiles wrapped his arms around Chris’s shoulders as his head slumped forward. He gritted his teeth as Chris filled him deeper than even Peter had.
He panted as his body adjusted. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Two sets of hands rubbed up and down his back and arms. Neither Chris nor Peter urged him to move, though he could imagine that Chris must be painfully hard by now. Stiles sucked in a breath. He forced his shaky leg muscles to lift up. Stiles moaned at the feeling of Chris moving inside of him. His muscles relaxed and he slid back down. Stiles’s mouth fell open at the pleasure of it. He slid up slowly again and then back down fast. Up and down he bobbed, reveling in the feel of it. His dick brushed against Chris’s stomach with each motion and Stiles felt himself getting hard again. He moaned and forced himself to keep up a steady pace.
“Stiles,” Chris panted, his voice hoarse. “Can I…?”
Stiles nodded his head against Chris’s shoulder. His legs trembled with the effort of moving up and down. Chris’s hands slid down his back. He grabbed Stiles’s ass, his fingers digging into the sore flesh. Stiles shouted at the sensation. Chris’s grip tightened. He pulled Stiles up and pushed him down. Chris’s hips snapped up to meet each downward slide. Stiles’s brain melted. His mouth opened and he let out a long, unending stream of moans and groans.
“Beautiful,” Peter said. Stiles lifted his head to look over at Peter. The werewolf was kneeling on the bed next to them, watching them intently. Peter leaned over Stiles to kiss Chris. Stiles almost came from that sight alone. Peter pulled away and turned to look at Stiles with a knowing smirk. Peter’s hand came forward between Stiles and Chris to grab Stiles’s cock. Stiles moaned and bucked his hips up into Peter’s grip. He let his head fall back as little sounds fell from his lips. Peter moved with Chris in perfect harmony, meeting each stroke as if it were Peter fucking up into Stiles. It didn’t take long at all before Stiles was screaming through his climax, clenching down on Chris as he saw stars. He felt Chris tensing under him, coming with a grunt.
Stiles sagged against Chris’s chest. He let his legs stretch out so he was lying fully on Chris. Chris didn’t seem to mind the weight. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, just listening to Chris and Peter breathe. Chris’s held him close. His fingers ran lazily through Stiles’s hair. Peter was sprawled across the bed somewhere beside them. Stiles couldn’t see him, but every so often he would feel fingertips tracing along his hip or back, moving down to trail along Chris’s legs as well. Stiles closed his eyes and just relaxed.
After a while, he felt Peter moving beside them. Stiles picked his head up from where it was resting on Chris’s shoulder to look back at Peter. The werewolf was slowly trailing kisses and nipping bites down Stiles’s back. He jumped at a particularly hard nip on his hip and felt Chris’s softening cock slide out of him just a little bit. He felt a little whine come from his lips at the loss. Under him, Chris chuckled. Stiles felt his face heat in a blush and buried his face in Chris’s shoulder.
Behind him, Peter chuckled. “Don’t worry, dear boy,” Peter said as he raised his head from where he’d probably just left a spectacular hickie on Stiles’s hip, “we won’t leave you empty for long.”
Stiles shook his head against Chris’s neck. “Is he always like this after sex?” he asked.
Chris chuckled again and the movement shifted things inside of him again. Stiles bit back a moan. “After, during, before,” Chris answered. Chris shrugged. “Peter does like to tease.”
“Oh, there’s nothing teasing about it,” Peter said. He sounded way too perky for someone who’d just fucked the life out of Stiles. Stupid werewolf refractory periods.
He must have said the last bit out loud because both Chris and Peter chuckled again. He felt Peter move lower on the bed. Peter’s hands came to rest on either side of his hips, holding him in place. That was all the warning he got before Peter’s tongue began tracing around where Chris’s cock still filled him. Stiles jerked forward with a shout, but Peter’s grip held him in place. Peter’s tongue was relentless. It traced around the base of Chris’s cock, making Chris shift a little inside him. Then it pushed in alongside. Peter thrust his tongue in and out as Stiles thrashed.
After a few more licks, Chris shifted, pulling out entirely. Stiles only had a second to mourn the lost before Peter was shifting his grip. He picked up Stiles’s hips, pushing his knees forward until Stiles was kneeling over Chris again. All the while his tongue kept filling Stiles, plunging in deeper and deeper as if seeking out every last bit of come that was still inside of him. Stiles felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes from the overstimulation. He didn’t realize he was shaking until Chris’s hands came up to run soothingly along his sides and he heard a soft string of encouragement come from the other man.
“Peter,” he choked out the name, but he wasn’t sure if he was asking for more or less stimulation. He couldn’t think over the sensation of Peter’s tongue fucking into him.
Stiles whined when Peter moved away. “I’m right here,” Peter reassured. Chris’s hands trailed up and down Stiles’s thighs as Peter shifted on the bed. Stiles’s hips were pulled backwards and then he felt the tip of Peter’s cock pushing against his rim. Stiles moaned as Peter pushed forward steadily. Stiles clutched at Chris’s arms like they were the only thing grounding him to reality. Peter was a firm line of pressure inside of him, relentless as he moved in and out. Peter picked up speed, surprising gasps out of Stiles. Stiles buried his face in Chris’s chest.
Chris’s fingers buried in Stiles’s hair, pulling with just the right amount of pressure. Stiles’s body went limp. His mind went fuzzy with pleasure. He could still feel Peter thrusting steadily inside of him, each drag hitting that little bundle of nerves inside of him that caused him to see stars. But, there was no urgency, no rush. Slowly, he started to get hard again. Peter kept up his steady pace, in and out. He pressed kisses to Stiles’s back and neck. Chris’s hand stayed in his hair, holding for a while before letting go. Chris massaged his scalp. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect,” Chris murmured as he petted Stiles’s hair. “You love it, don’t you? Love being filled up.” Chris’s hand tightened in his hair again. “Well?” Chris said as he gave a little tug.
“Yes,” Stiles gasped out. “Don’t stop.” Chris’s hand relaxed.
“I won’t,” Peter purred. Peter leaned over Stiles’s back and nipped at his neck. Peter’s thrusts sped up. Stiles heard little noises fall from his lips at each thrust. He had no control over his mouth as he moaned and gasped. He felt one of Peter’s hands slide around his waist, wrapping around his cock. Stiles bucked into Peter’s fist with a shout. It felt so good, too good. Peter chuckled in Stiles’s ear. His hips picked up the fast, deep pace that Stiles was beginning to love. Chris’s hand tightened in his hair and Stiles screamed out his climax. He heard Peter grunt behind him, felt his hips still, but his eyes were already falling closed. He sagged in Chris’s grasp. He felt Peter pulling away and whined. The whine turned into a yawn and then his eyes slipped closed as he fell asleep.
Soft kisses on his back and shoulders woke him up. Stiles groaned. He reached back to bat ineffectually at whoever it was. He heard Peter chuckle behind him. Gentle hands turned him onto his back. Stiles blinked his eyes open to find Peter smiling down at him. He smiled back sleepily.
“Is your dad expecting you home tonight?” Peter asked. His fingers trailed up and down Stiles’s chest.
Stiles blushed. “No,” he said softly. “I… uh… kind of told him I might not be home at all this weekend?” He felt his nerves rise as he waited for Peter’s reaction to that.
Peter’s eyes widened and a grin spread across his face. “Excellent.” Peter sounded delighted. He leaned down to kiss along Stiles’s jaw and neck. “I don’t think I’m going to let you leave the bed all weekend.” Peter bit at the spot where Stiles’s neck met his shoulder and Stiles shouted. He was becoming very glad that Peter loved that spot. He melted into the bed, tilting his neck to the side to give Peter better access. Peter made an appreciative growl before leaning back in to lick and nip at Stiles’s neck.
“Enough of that,” Chris said. Stiles hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes, but when he opened them he found Chris standing beside the bed fully dressed. Chris swatted at Peter. “Dinner’s ready,” Chris said.
Peter leaned back, admiring his handiwork for a second before pulling away. Stiles couldn’t resist admiring Peter’s naked form as he climbed out of bed. Peter held out a hand to Stiles to help him sit up. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Stiles’s lips before moving away.
Chris looked Stiles up and down as Stiles rose from the bed. Stiles stretched with a groan. He was sore, but couldn’t bring himself to complain about it. Chris smirked at him as if he knew exactly what Stiles was thinking. “Do you want to borrow some clothes?” Chris asked.
Stiles nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind,” he said softly.
Chris moved to a dresser on one side of the room, pulling out a soft pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and a pair of boxers. “These should fit you,” he said. Chris leaned in to press a kiss to Stiles’s hair before leaving the room.
Stiles quickly pulled on the boxers and pants. He was a little surprised to find that he’d been cleaned up while he slept, but also rather appreciative. The pants and shirt were a little loose on him, but they’d do until he could run out to the Jeep to grab his bag. Peter had already headed downstairs, so Stiles took a second to look around the room. In addition to the huge bed and two dressers there was a plush chair in the corner and two nightstands, one on either side of the bed. There was a door to one side that was open, leading into a large bathroom. There was another door on the opposite wall that he guessed would probably lead to a closet.
When he stepped out into the hallway, he found four closed doors. He was tempted to snoop around, but decided not to. The stairs led down into the living room, with its wide picture window. Stiles felt his face heat as he looked at the couch and his clothes, neatly folded on the coffee table. He didn’t think he could look at the couch for a while without remembering being bent over it. Stiles quickly pulled his eyes away. He was surprised to see a rather large flat-screen TV on the wall opposite the couch. It looked insanely expensive. He looked around and noted a surround sound system with speakers around the room.
The sound of voices drew him through the dining room and into a large kitchen. The kitchen was the kind he’d always dreamed about with lots of counter space and a wide center island. Peter was sitting at a small table set for three while Chris was filling glasses with iced tea. Someone had already dished out servings of chicken, some kind of seasoned rice, and broccoli onto the three plates. Stiles slid into the chair that Chris indicated, wincing a little at the lingering soreness in his ass. He shifted slightly until he could get comfortable. When he looked up Chris and Peter were both smirking at him. Stiles rolled his eyes.
Stiles made an appreciative noise as he bit into the chicken. He wasn’t used to other people cooking for him, but he could get used to it. He looked over at Chris. “Did you cook?” He continued at Chris’s nod. “It’s really good.”
Chris smiled at him, but it was Peter who spoke up. “Make sure to eat up, you’ll need your strength for the rest of the weekend.” His hand slid up Stiles’s thigh in a feather light touch. Stiles blushed and looked down at his plate.
“The rest of the weekend?” Chris asked. Stiles felt his blush heat even further.
“Mmmhmm,” Peter purred. “He’s all ours. I vote for not letting him out of the bed again.”
Stiles shot a look over at Peter. He turned to Chris instead. “If it’s alright with you,” he said hesitantly.
Chris reached over and squeezed Stiles knee. “I certainly won’t complain,” Chris said with a smile. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”
Stiles nodded. He looked down at his plate while he waited for his blush to fade. They talked about simple things while they ate. Chris told him about the different features of the house and the changes they’d made since they moved in. Peter told him stories about growing up in the big Hale house with everyone and how he’d been glad to move out on his own with Chris. Stiles occasionally chimed in with improvements he and his father had made to their home or stories about Cora from school. It was the kind of meal he could get used to after so many dinners spent alone while his dad was working.
After dinner he insisted on helping Peter clean the dishes and put away the leftovers. Once that was done, Chris grabbed his hand and pulled him into the living room. The three of them sprawled on the couch, though Stiles couldn’t help blushing any time he looked at the arm that he’d been recently bent over. Chris arranged them so that Stiles was curled in his lap while Peter curled into Chris’s side. Peter’s hand rested on Stiles’s knee. For awhile they just sat and watched reruns on TV while they digested.
Stiles felt himself relax completely in Chris’s lap. Chris’s arm curled around his back, holding him in place, while Peter’s fingers lazily moved back and forth on his knee. He drifted for a bit, not really paying attention to the TV so much as using it as background noise while he shamelessly cuddled his two soulmates. Eventually he felt Peter’s hand move away from his knee, brushing up his thigh. Stiles squirmed as Peter’s hand brushed higher and higher on his thigh. He felt his cock stirring with interest. Chris’s arm moved from around Peter’s shoulder to grab Peter’s wrist stilling the movement.
Chris pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’s lips before speaking. “Before we do anything more, I think it might be a good idea to talk about limits and the kinds of things you are and aren’t okay with.”
Stiles blushed. “Oh,” he said. He’d done quite a bit of research on kinks when he realized that Chris and Peter’s interests tended towards that area. “You mean like safewords and such?”
“Yes, exactly.” Chris looked a little surprised, but pleased. He smiled at Stiles in a way that made warmth spread through Stiles. “Do you have a safeword picked out?” Chris asked.
“Um… I read about the stoplight system,” Stiles began hesitantly, “with green for go, yellow for pause and discuss, and red for stop? I thought that might work.”
Peter smiled at him. He freed his hand from Chris’s grasp to twine his fingers with Stiles. “That’s perfect, pet.”
Chris picked Stiles up and sat him down on Peter’s lap. Peter distracted him with kisses while Chris moved away. Stiles distantly heard a door open and then close, but Peter’s hands were steadily massaging the flesh of his ass and Stiles couldn’t process anything but the lingering feeling of ache from the spanking. One of Peter’s fingers teased at his hole through the fabric of the pants and Stiles bucked with a shout.
Hands came under his armpits, lifting him and setting him on the far side of the couch. Chris nudged Peter aside, forming a buffer between the two of them. Stiles blinked as his mind cleared of lust. He was surprised to see that Chris held clipboard with a blank sheet of paper. Chris turned to Stiles. “I’m going to go over a couple things that Peter and I like and you can tell us if you’re also interested in them, just a simple ‘Yes’, ‘No’, or ‘Maybe’ is fine.” Chris waited for Stiles to nod. “I’m just going to write it down so that we remember, but you can change your mind at any time, Stiles. Neither Peter or I want you to feel like you have to do something you’re uncomfortable with just because we might like it. Okay?”
Stiles bit his lip. He felt the urge to just say yes to everything to make them happy, but resolved to actually think about things before answering. He turned so that he was facing Chris and Peter, his back braced up against the couch. He nodded.
Peter hooked his chin on Chris’s shoulder and they both gave him reassuring smiles. Chris clicked his pen and drew three lines down the paper, one for Yes, one for No and one for Maybe. Chris looked up at Stiles, his pen poised. “First of all, is there anything that you absolutely do not want us to do? Anything at all?”
Stiles blinked and thought about that for a second. “Nothing with bodily functions,” he said, wrinkling his nose. He thought over the things he’d come across when he went down the kink porn rabbit hole. “No breath play or things like that.” Chris marked things down in the No column as he spoke. “Um.. nothing that involves cutting my skin,” Stiles said with a shudder. He waved a hand at Peter. “I don’t mind a little bit of your claws,” he said before indicating his back, “but I don’t think I could handle anything more than a light scratch.” Peter nodded and Chris marked that down on the sheet. Stiles thought for a minute, but couldn’t think of too much that he wouldn’t be willing to at least try. He was pretty adventurous. Then, something occurred to him. “Oh, and sounding. That fucking terrifies me.”
Peter chuckled. He reached across Chris to pat Stiles’s hand reassuringly. “Neither of us are interested in that.”
Chris watched Stiles expectantly for a few more minutes before speaking again. “Anything you absolutely do want us to do to or with you?”
Stiles felt his cheeks heat. There were so many things. He licked his lips and Peter tracked the movement. He took a deep breath and gathered his courage. “I really like when you fuck my mouth,” he blurted out. He felt like his blush was going to become permanent with how hot his face felt. “And the hair pulling. And pretty much any time when you’re… you know…”
“Dominant?” Chris supplied. Stiles nodded. “So you like Submission in general. Anything in particular you liked or wanted to try?”
Stiles looked down at where Peter’s hand was still resting over his. He looked back up at Chris. “I really liked when you held me down while Peter fucked me,” he said in a voice that went towards breathless at the end. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, maybe bondage?” Chris and Peter both looked particularly interested in that. He thought for another moment. “I’d kind of like to try blindfolds… Maybe gags?”
He lifted one of his hands and ran it nervously through his hair. He kind of wished he’d made a list when he’d done his online research. It was hard to remember what had really turned him on. He just remembered having a raging hardon the entire time, despite several… breaks. “Pretty much any kind of toy would be okay,” he said with a shrug. “Biting and marks are okay.” He turned his head, trying to think. His eyes caught on the window and he blushed again. He looked down at his hands and hesitated. “I’d kinda like to be fucked bent over the Jaguar.”
His eyes snapped up as Peter let out a sound at that. Peter’s eyes flashed blue for a second. He looked at Stiles like a particularly tasty treat. “I’d like that very much,” Peter purred.
“Spanking?” Chris asked. Stiles looked over at him as his blush started to spread down his neck. He nodded, unable to even form words. Chris smiled at him before adding to the growing list. “What about with something other than my hand?” Chris asked. “A paddle or a flogger?”
Stiles swallowed nervously. “Maybe?” he answered. He tried to picture that and his brain short circuited. “Probably? I don’t know.”
Chris chuckled. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’s cheek. “We can discuss it again later.”
“Rimming we’ve tried,” Peter said. “Did you enjoy that?” Stiles nodded. “And we can add deep throating to the list,” Peter continued. He waited for Stiles’s nod again. “What about edging?”
Stiles blinked. “I’m not sure I know that that is,” he admitted softly.
Peter grinned predatorily. His voice went low and sultry as he leaned forward, his eyes holding Stiles’s. “That would be when I bring you to the point of orgasm, then stop. I’ll draw it out until you’re panting, begging for release. Until the only thing you can think about is the sensations of my hands and mouth on you. And then, if you’ve been good, I’ll let you come.”
Stiles’s brain melted. “Oh,” he said. He tried to consider what that would be like, but if it was Peter he was pretty sure it would be amazing. “Yes,” he decided. “I’m good with that.”
“Fisting?” Chris suggested. Again, Stiles just nodded. He’d really liked the feel of Chris and Peter’s fingers in him, stretching him. He couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like with more in him.
“Double penetration?” Peter asked with a grin. Stiles’ brain really did short circuit at that. His mouth opened and closed but no noises came out. He snapped his jaw closed and finally just nodded. Chris and Peter both looked turned on by the prospect.
“Definitely something to work up to.” Chris set the list aside on the coffee table. “I think that’s enough for now,” Chris said. Stiles squawked as he was lifted and turned. He found himself on the center of the couch with Peter in front of him and Chris behind.
Peter surged forward, kissing Stiles hard. Chris was a warm line at his back. Stiles moaned into Peter’s mouth as he felt Chris’s mouth latch onto his neck. Stiles let his eyes fall closed. Hands were all over him, running up under his shirt, down over his thighs. Stiles panted when Peter pulled away. He opened his eyes to see Peter lean back, his lips red and puffy from kissing. Peter’s hands slid under Stiles’s shirt. He lifted the fabric and Stiles lifted his arms to let Peter pull the shirt free. Peter’s hands came down to Stiles’s hips, lifting as Chris’s hands slid the loose pants down Stiles’s thighs.
Stiles’s hands rested on Peter’s shoulders as he fell forward. Peter’s hand wrapped around Stiles’s neck, pulling him forward into another kiss. Stiles sank into the kiss. Chris’s hands rubbed up and down his back. The hands moved away and Stiles heard a drawer opening. He heard a small pop and then a wet finger pressed against his hole. Stiles’s hands clenched on Peter’s shoulder. He moaned as the finger slipped inside. Stiles pulled free of the kiss. His head slumped onto Peter’s shoulder as he rocked back into Chris’s finger.
“So eager,” Chris said. He added a second finger, scissoring them briefly before pulling away. Stiles whined when the fingers pulled away.
Peter leaned back against the arm of the couch and Stiles slid down his chest. Peter’s hands drifted down to his own pants, pulling them down to free Peter’s cock. One of Peter’s hands came up to twine in Stiles’s hair. He guided Stiles’s head downwards. Stiles licked his lips. He pressed a kiss to the head of Peter’s penis, moaning as he felt Chris press into him from behind. Stiles gasped at the feeling of Chris sliding into him. His breath ghosted over Peter’s cock, making it twitch in front of him.
Stiles opened his mouth and swallowed Peter down. His eyes closed again as he sank into the feeling of being filled from both ends. Peter was a perfect weight on his tongue while Chris filled him perfectly. Chris rocked back and forward with smooth, slow strokes almost matching Stiles’s bobbing motions. Each stroke hit deep within him before sliding slowly outward. It felt wonderful, but at the same time, not enough.
Peter’s fingers tightened in Stiles’s hair and Stiles moaned. He swirled his tongue around the head of Peter’s cock. Peter groaned above him. Peter’s hips began to cant upwards and Stiles relaxed his jaw. He let his tongue drag along the underside of Peter’s cock. Chris’s thrusts picked up and Stiles hummed his approval.
“Give me your hands,” Chris ordered suddenly.
Stiles shifted his weight fully onto his knees. He reached one arm and then the other behind his back. Chris’s hands slid down his arms until he had Stiles’s hands in a tight grip. Chris pulled backwards on Stiles’s wrists until they were trapped in the middle of his back. Peter’s hand fisted in his hair and Stiles felt his body go limp in their hands. Peter thrust up into his mouth while Chris thrust into him from behind. Stiles let his mind go numb with the pleasure, only concentrating on keeping up the perfect suction of his mouth.
He felt Peter hit the back of his throat and his jaw relaxed further. He floated in a haze of pleasure as Peter fucked into his mouth. Peter’s free hand wrapped around the base, working it in time with Stiles’s mouth. All the while, Chris kept up his slow, lazy pace. Stiles couldn’t tell if it was an eternity later or only a few thrusts before Peter’s movements stuttered. Peter’s grip tightened to just this side of painful. Stiles moaned around Peter’s cock. Peter groaned as he came down Stiles’s throat. Stiles had just enough time to swallow before Peter was pulling him off.
Chris took that as his cue to pick up his momentum. Stiles was flooded with pleasure as Chris started to thrust into him deep and hard. Chris’s grip on his wrists tightened. He pulled Stiles backwards with each thrust. Stiles gasped and moaned as Chris pounded into him. Each thrust made Stiles see stars. Peter’s fingers flexed in Stiles’s hair. The tugging was both pleasant and painful, just enough pressure to make something in Stiles relax and submit. Stiles felt his orgasm start to build. He was so close. Chris pounded into him hard and fast, hitting his prostate on each thrust. The room was filled with the sound of flesh on flesh and soft gasps and moans. Stiles was painfully hard, so close but not quite there. He tried to move his arms to reach his cock, but they were trapped in Chris’s firm grip. He whimpered and rolled his forehead where it rested on Peter’s thigh. Peter let out an amused noise before tugging sharply on Stiles’s hair. That was all that Stiles needed. He came with a shout.
Stiles’s vision went white and he floated. Distantly, he felt Chris’s movements still. He felt hands rubbing up and down his arms, soft words as he was lifted and carried, a wet cloth. Stiles surfaced briefly as he was settled into bed. His hand flailed out, trying to feel for another body, but the bed was empty. He heard a chuckle, then the bed dipped on either side of him. Warm bodies bracketed him, wrapping him between them. Stiles sighed happily and let himself drift off to sleep.
John squeezed him tight for a long minute before pulling back. Something behind Stiles caught his dad’s attention and John stepped back, smiling. Stiles turned curiously. His face split into a grin as he spotted Chris and Peter stepping out of the Jaguar. He stashed the travel mug in the Jeep and then jogged over. “Hi!” he said happily. “You didn’t say you were coming today.” He smiled as first Chris and then Peter pulled him into long lingering kisses.
“What kind of soulmates would we be if we didn’t come to see you off,” Peter said with a smile.
“Besides, we had some things to give you before you go,” Chris said.
Stiles looked between them with excitement. “My knife?” he asked hopefully.
Chris smiled at him as he handed over the thin box with Stiles name on it. Stiles lifted the lid and was surprised to find there was a sheath in there as well. Stiles looked up at Chris. “I haven’t paid you for a sheath,” he said, confused.
Chris shrugged. “Consider it a gift from Peter and I,” Chris said. “You worked hard to be able to handle it. You deserve to be able to wear it.”
Stiles replaced the lid. He smiled softly at Peter and Chris. “You didn’t have to get me anything. Really.”
Peter stepped forward. “There’s something else,” he said. “From both of us.” Stiles watched curiously as Peter reached into his pocket. Peter hid whatever had been in his pocket in his hand. He motioned for Stiles to hold his palm under Peter’s hand. Stiles was surprised to feel something metal drop into his hand. He looked at the keys in his hand, confused. “Keys?” Stiles asked.
“They’re to the house,” Chris explained.
“So you can come over whenever you want,” Peter added in. “No need to ask permission. You’re welcome even if we’re not there.”
For a minute, Stiles was speechless. He looked from the keys up to Chris and Peter. Their expressions never wavered. Stiles curled his fingers around the keys. He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he surged forward to wrap them both in a hug. Chris chuckled, shifting so that Stiles was sandwiched between him and Peter. Stiles buried his face into Peter’s chest as he sniffled. Chris pressed a kiss into Stiles’s hair.
“You should get going,” Chris said after a few minutes.
Stiles nodded. He pulled back for one last kiss from each of them before stepping away. He quickly slid the keys onto his keyring and couldn’t help smiling. He gave his dad one more hug before climbing into the Jeep. He took a deep breath and backed out of the driveway. He waved at Chris, Peter, and his dad as he started down the road. He couldn’t help looking back in his rear-view mirror every few minutes until the house disappeared from sight. Stiles felt a little bit of sadness as he drove out of Beacon Hills.
It was a little over a three hour drive to Berkeley. Stiles spent the entirety of it alternately elated because of the keys and depressed that he wouldn’t be able to see Chris and Peter for weeks. He had two Monday, Wednesday and Friday classes this semester, so he couldn’t even take a long weekend. Thanksgiving break felt like it was forever away and Christmas even worse.
He greeted Greg halfheartedly when he got to the dorms. His roommate didn’t seem to be offended though, just offered to take Stiles to one of the welcome back parties to cheer him up. Stiles forced himself to smile, but could honestly say he had plans with Cora, Erica, and Boyd. He shot texts to his dad, Chris, and Peter and then spent the afternoon listening to Greg recount his adventures over the summer, including his numerous conquests, while they both unpacked and got their room set up. Stiles paused halfway through unpacking. He considered Greg for a moment. They’d been roommates all of last year and had liked each other enough to be roommates again this year. And, while he hadn’t trusted Greg with any of his secrets, they got along really well. He wanted they guy to be happy.
“If I could tell you who your soulmate was, would you want me to?” he asked softly.
Greg looked up at him, surprised. He considered Stiles for a long minute. Eventually, Greg shrugged. “Maybe sometime,” Greg said seriously, “but not right now.” He smiled at Stiles’s shocked expression. “Yes, I noticed that you tend to be around when people find their matches, and I think that’s really cool of you, bro. But… I don’t know… I just kinda want to have fun for a little while longer, sleep with girls and guys who are just looking for fun right now. I’m not ready for my one true love, and I have a feeling they’re probably not ready for me yet either.”
Stiles smiled back at Greg and nodded. Greg held his fist out and they fistbumped. “It’s cool. Let me know if you change your mind.”
“What about your soulmate? Did you find him or her yet?” Greg asked.
Stiles gave a soft smile. “Yeah,” he said. He found himself telling Greg about Peter and Chris while they finished unpacking.
“Remember, I want no details about your sex life,” Cora said as she pushed open the door to Stiles’s room. “I have the same deal with Peter.”
Greg shot Stiles a confused look. “Peter is Cora’s uncle,” he explained.
“Don’t worry, you can tell Auntie Erica all the lovely details.” Erica came in the room and draped herself along Stiles’s back. “I have seen Chris’s muscles,” she said with a smile. “And Peter’s pretty hot too.”
“Ewwwww,” Cora said, clapping her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to know.”
Stiles chuckled. He looked around. “Where’s Boyd?”
Erica pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling away. “He’s waiting in the car,” she said.
Cora raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m under strict orders from Peter to never let you walk home alone ever again,” Cora said slowly. “Want to explain what that’s about?”
“Nope,” Stiles said emphatically. He grabbed Cora and Erica’s hands and dragged them out of the room. “Let’s get going. I was promised dinner.” Erica chuckled before racing ahead to pull Stiles along after her. Stiles felt himself smiling.
He settled into a routine pretty quickly. He had a solid course load between the rest of his general education requirements and his beginning psychology courses. He was meeting with Anastasia on Tuesdays and Saturdays now. Anastasia had been thrilled to hear that he’d mastered the trick to his Spark powers, but that meant she wanted him to work twice as hard.
He texted with Peter and Chris constantly, but it wasn’t the same. He missed being able to curl up on Chris’s lap or make out like teenagers with Peter. And, he really missed being fucked into the mattress. He’d been able to tolerate not being around his soulmates last year because he didn’t know what he was missing, but now he did and it drove him crazy. He was tempted to drive down on the weekend, but his ever growing list of homework assignments kept him from being able to justify losing six hours of working time to driving.
Whenever he started to miss them too much, he called either Chris or Peter. Usually he ended up on speakerphone so that they could both talk to him at the same time, though sometimes he just kept Peter company while Chris was at work or Chris company while Peter was out for a run. He came to look forward to their regular Friday night phone calls. Greg was usually off at some party, so Stiles didn’t have to feel bad talking on the phone til late in the night.
“Your roommate out at another party?” Peter asked.
“Yeah,” Stiles said. He sat down on his bed and leaned his back against the headboard. The room was quiet. The desk lamp was the only source of light. “I’d say I worried about him failing, but the guy cranks out his work during the day like he’s on a mission.” Stiles shrugged, even though he knew they couldn’t see him.
“Can you do something for me?” Peter asked in a low purr.
Stiles perked up immediately. That was the tone Peter usually used before blowing Stiles’s mind. He licked his lips nervously. “Sure,” he agreed.
He could practically hear Peter smile. “Put us on speaker phone,” Peter ordered.
Stiles hit the button to do so and set his phone on the edge of the desk. “Okay,” he said softly.
“Good boy,” Peter said. His warm tone sent a shiver down Stiles’s spine. “Now, I want you to undress for me.”
Stiles swallowed. He hastily shed his shirt and boxers. “I’m naked,” he said with a croak.
“Good boy,” Chris’s low voice came over the phone and Stiles felt his cock twitch. “Can you pinch your nipples for us? Work at them until they’re nice and hard?” Stiles trailed his hands over his chest. His breath hitched as he pulled the sensitive flesh, rolling them between his fingers before pinching again. “Harder,” Chris’s voice ordered. Stiles’s fingers jumped to comply and Stiles gasped at the sensation.
“Next time you’re home I want to get some nipple clamps,” Peter said. “I bet I could tease and torture them until you were begging to come.”
“Yes,” Stiles breathed out. He let out a low moan as he pinched his nipples again. He heard shifting on the other end of the line, fabric rustling against fabric. He could imagine Chris and Peter making out in his mind. He moaned again.
“I want you to wrap your hand around your cock,” Chris said. Stiles jumped to comply. His hips bucked up into his hand. “Go slow,” Chris ordered and Stiles whimpered. “You know how I like to do it.” Stiles bit his lip to hold back another whimper. He forced his motions to slow to the tortuous, teasing pace that Chris liked. Slow and steady to drive Stiles mad.
He panted as his forced his hand to keep moving, to not thrust up into his fist. If Chris or Peter were here, one of them would probably be holding his hips while the other worked him. He could just imagine the tips of fingers digging into his hips. There were always faint bruises the next day.
“That’s good,” Peter said in a husky voice. His breath hitched and Stiles could only guess what Peter and Chris were doing. “Keep your grip nice and tight for me.” Peter moaned.
Stiles let his head fall back against the wall. “Please,” he begged. “More.” His free hand clenched and unclenched in the sheets.
“You can go faster,” Chris allowed. “I want you to fuck up into your hand.”
Stiles’s hips jerked up into his fist without any further prompting. His mouth fell open on a low moan. “Yes.”
“Keep going,” Chris said. His voice sounded strained. Stiles heard him grunt just a bit and the sharp slap of flesh on flesh. He twisted his grip, gasping. His hips stuttered. He was getting close.
“Stiles?” Peter’s voice broke into his concentration. “Are you close?”
“Yeah.” Stiles’s voice broke in a moan. He snapped his hips upwards.
“Touch your mark for me, Stiles,” Peter ordered. “I want you to concentrate on us.” Peter gasped and groaned.
Stiles shook his head, even though Peter couldn’t see it. His breath broke into gasps. He brought his free hand up, but hesitated before his fingers made contact. “Do it for me, Stiles,” Peter said. His fingers touched the mark.
Images flooded into his mind. He was there with Chris and Peter. Chris’s hands gripped Peter’s hips. He thrust up in a steady rhythm. Peter rode Chris’s cock with a debauched look. Peter’s head fell back with a moan that Stiles heard echoed over the phone line. Stiles came with a shout and his hand fell away. The images didn’t disappear immediately but stayed with him, filling the white space in his mind as he orgasmed. Stiles thrashed on the bed. He came back to himself with a gasp and lay panting while he heard Peter and then Chris reach their own completion.
He couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face as he heard Chris and Peter panting. If he closed his eyes, he could still almost feel them. He could feel Chris still inside Peter as if Chris was inside of him. Stiles let his eyes drift closed for a second as he caught his breath. “We are doing that again sometime,” he said.
He glanced in the rearview mirror as he turned on his blinker. He shifted lanes. Stiles smiled as he spotted the exit that would take him to Beacon Hills. He turned on his blinker again as he pulled off at the exit. Stiles merged onto the road into town. He glanced back in his rearview mirror as he shifted lanes again. Something in the mirror caught his eye. Two women in an SUV switched lanes with him. Stiles glanced up at the mirror again and his heart started to race. He recognized those faces. The werewolf and the woman who wanted his magic. Stiles swore. He pressed down on the gas petal. He swerved through the cars, but the two women stuck to his tail.
Stiles saw the Beacon Hills sign ahead in the distance. He sped up, but he heard the SUV speeding up behind him. Stiles frantically reached for his phone. He started to dial 911, but then he heard the acceleration again. His phone flew out of his hand as the SUV rear-ended him. Stiles swore as he lost control of the Jeep. The SUV pushed him off the road. He saw the tree coming and his shields sprang up as he braced for the impact. His shields hit the tree first. They slowed him down, but the force was too much. His shields buckled then collapsed. The Jeep hit the tree with a crunch. Glass shattered. Stiles flinched and a shield sprang up to protect him from the worst of the shards. He had a second to breathe before the airbags deployed, knocking him backwards. His head hit the back of the seat and his seatbelt locked, trapping him in place.
Stiles blinked hazily. He heard the SUV pull up beside him. He was dizzy, unable to focus. He pawed at the seat belt release. He pressed at it, but couldn’t seem to get it to release. He heard footsteps crunching in the gravel alongside the road. Stiles looked in the partially shattered side mirror and saw the werewolf woman, Kali, reaching for the door handle. He did the only thing he could think of. Stiles slapped his hand down on his soulmark and pushed with his mind. He sent his pain and fear and panic through the soulmark and believed that it would reach Peter and Chris. He pushed and pushed until the door was yanked off its hinges. Kali reaching for him was the last thing Stiles saw before he blacked out.
Peter startled upright on the couch as a feeling of panic surged into him. He heard a gasp from the other room. Peter clenched his fists, claws digging into the skin as he was frozen in place. He thought he heard a voice, calling his and Chris’s names. Then, the feeling cut off abruptly. He looked around the living room, already half shifted as if expecting the danger to be there with him.
Chris stumbled into the living room from his office and their eyes met. “Stiles,” Chris said.
Peter swore. He stumbled to his feet. He grabbed his cellphone and tossed a set of keys to Chris. Chris was right behind him as they headed towards the SUV. “He was supposed to be driving back into town today,” Peter said. He checked his phone. The last message from Stiles was a group text to him, Chris, Scott, and the Sheriff when the Stiles had started driving home. That had been a little over three hours ago. He should be almost to Beacon Hills by now. “Let’s start along the highway into town,” Peter suggested.
Chris nodded. He climbed into the driver’s seat, only waiting for Peter’s door to shut before he was pulling down the driveway. “Call the Sheriff,” Chris suggested. “Maybe he knows something. He can at least put an APB out.”
Peter started to dial. The Sheriff’s phone rang several times before he finally answered. “I can’t really talk right now, Peter,” John said immediately. “There was a car accident on the highway that I’ve got to head to.”
Peter’s stomach dropped. “Something happened to Stiles,” Peter said. “He sent panic through the bond, but we don’t know where he is.”
The Sheriff swore. Peter heard John’s sirens switch on. “The accident is near the Beacon Hills sign along the road that Stiles would have taken,” John said. Peter could hear John’s heart beating quickly. “I’ll meet you there.” The line clicked off.
“Car accident near the Beacon Hills sign,” Peter said. Chris sped up.
They were close to there already. Even with the Sheriff speeding through town, they’d probably make it there first. Claws sprung from Peter’s fingertips. He quickly shoved his phone in his pocket before he broke it. His eyes focused forward, watching the turns until the sign appeared in the distance. He could see two spots of color a few yards past the sign. Peter growled and Chris pushed down on the gas even further. Peter swore again when he spotted the blue of Stiles’s jeep off to the side of the road with a dark SUV not too far away from it.
Chris slowed as they approached. Thankfully there was light traffic, because Chris recklessly slung the car around to pull up along the side of the road not far from the accident. Peter was out of the SUV before it had even stopped moving. He raced to the Jeep, noting that the driver’s side door had been completely ripped off.
The smell of Stiles’s blood hit his nose and Peter snarled. He stopped short with one hand on either side of the frame, leaning into the car. There was no sign of Stiles. Chris’s hand landed on Peter’s shoulder, grounding him. “He’s not here,” Peter said through fangs.
He shook his head, trying to clear it of rage. Peter forced himself to take a step backwards and survey the scene. The Jeep had crashed into a tree, though the damage wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. He walked over to the rear of the Jeep and saw that it was damaged, as was the front of the other SUV. Peter stalked over to the stranger’s car. He smelled two scents. One of them was a werewolf. The other smelled like a Druid, but not quite the same. He looked around. There was no sign that an ambulance had been here. No other tracks off the road.
“Can you track him?” Chris asked.
Peter’s nostrils flared. He moved back to the Jeep. He smelled the three scents together. Stiles’s was full of pain and fear, but the other two were calm and determined. He heard the sound of sirens in the distance, but pushed it to the back of his mind. He took a deep breath. Stiles and the two strangers were headed off into the woods. His eyes narrowed. There was no good reason for them to head that way. He threw back his head and howled. Chris startled beside him, but moved with him as he started to run into the woods.
He moved quickly through the underbrush. He stopped every few feet, making sure he was still following the right scent. The strangers skirted the town line, never once crossing over into Beacon Hills. They moved in a straight line without wavering. Peter kept his pace steady. He wanted to rush, but he didn’t want to risk losing the scent and wasting time backtracking. Chris was silent beside him. Peter perked up when he started to hear the sound of chanting. He quickened his pace, running towards the sound.
Peter stopped short at the edge a clearing in the middle of the preserve. Stiles was tied to a tree stump in the middle of the clearing, apparently unconscious. A black haired woman chanted above him. There was a heaviness in the air, a sort of electric scent that Peter had come to associate with magic. Peter felt his face shifting as he was overcome with rage. How dare that woman harm his mate!
A growl answered his and Peter’s head whipped around to face an unfamiliar female Alpha. They snarled at each other. Peter launched himself forward. Behind him he heard Chris firing, but Peter didn’t turn to look, his entire focus on the Alpha. Their bodies clashed together. Peter and the Alpha grappled, each trying to knock the other off balance or reach flesh to rip at with claws. She had the advantage of Alpha strength, but he was faster and craftier. He let his arms relax. The Alpha smiled as she pressed forward, lured in with a false sense of confidence. Peter released her all at once, ducking under her arm. The Alpha’s momentum carried her forward and Peter raked his claws along her side. The Alpha roared in pain and anger. Peter danced back out of her reach. Across the clearing he could see Chris firing at the Druid, but she was somehow able to deflect his bullets.
Peter raised his head and howled again. He knew Talia and the rest of the family would be on the way. He just needed to hold out until the rest of the pack came, then he could take on the Druid while Talia fought this Alpha.
The woman swiped at him and Peter dodged backwards. He bounced out the way, avoiding each of her swings easily. He drew her further away from Chris and the magic user. Every time he had an opportunity, he slipped forward. He scored a cut here, a gash there. He ducked down and slashed at the Alpha’s hamstring before dancing away again. He kept her mad, focused on him.
Every few minutes he looked up the clearing. Chris was keeping the Druid distracted. She’d stopped chanting and was focused Chris instead. Peter had to smile at Chris in motion. His mate dodged every blast of force or root that the Druid sent at him. Peter hissed as the Alpha scored a lucky strike. Her claws raked down his side before he jerked away. He turned his eyes back to the Alpha, but had to look up again when Chris shouted. He watched as a blast of magic knocked Chris back into a tree. Peter roared.
Stiles wiggled his fingers. He bent his back and was just able to reach the rune carved knife in its sheath at his back. He turned on his side as much as he could in order to pull the blade free. Stiles carefully twisted his wrist. He sawed at the ropes and they fell away under the blade like butter. As soon as his hands were free, he wiggled his arm to the side to start cutting at the rope binding his feet.
A roar rang through the clearing. Stiles’s eyes snapped up just in time to watch Chris hit a tree. Chris impacted hard and slumped down at the base. Stiles’s breath stopped. Chris didn’t get up. His gaze tore over to Peter as he watched Kali sink her claws into Peter’s shoulder.
Red filled Stiles’s vision as he screamed. The knife fell from his hands. Stiles stood, the ropes around him falling away. A distant part of his mind registered the sound of howling, but he could only see Peter’s blood. He reached a hand out and yanked. Kali went flying into a tree.
Chanting sounded near him. Stiles turned to Jennifer. He felt his magic weaken and saw the tether between them. She was trying to take his magic away again. Rage filled him. “You want my magic,” he growled. “Have it!”
Stiles sent a flood of magic into the tether. Jennifer screamed. White light poured from her eyes as his magic filled her. He pushed more in, but the tether buckled then shattered. Jennifer slumped over, unconscious or dead Stiles wasn’t sure. For a moment, he stared down at her. It took a minute for his rage to clear. He heard movement and looked up, scanning for a new threat. People were running towards him. He thought he recognized them, but it was hard to think over the buzz of magic in his ears.
Distantly, he heard the sound of snarling. He turned to track the sounds. Kali was surrounded by the Hales. Talia faced her head on while Peter and some of the others danced in and out, swiping at her. Stiles’s head cocked to the side as he considered the fight. He stepped forward in a fog. His eyes focused on Kali. He saw her swipe at Talia and his rage intensified. Kali went up in a spout of flame. The Hales staggered backwards. Stiles turned away, his interest lost. His eyes roved around the clearing. There was nothing to hold him here. He started to walk away. He felt his magic cloud his senses. He felt the movement of life all around him. He turned as two sparks of life caught his interest. They were familiar. His eyes fell on Chris.
“No,” Stiles whispered as he snapped out of his haze. He rushed forward, reaching for Chris at the same time that Peter did. He didn’t even realize his hands were glowing until he saw them next to Peter’s normal skin. He hesitated. Stiles sank to his knees beside Chris. He watched numbly as Peter’s shaking hand reached forward to feel for Chris’s pulse.
Stiles sucked in a shuddering breath. He laid a glowing hand on Chris’s chest. His magic softened as he pushed it slowly into Chris. It felt like a gently lapping wave and warm sunshine on a spring day. It flowed into Chris. His magic found all the hurt and bruised places in Chris and healed them. Stiles felt his magic extend out from his body. It latched onto Peter first, filling in the gashes that Kali had made. It flowed out even further, to Talia, then Laura, then Derek. It pushed outwards even further, seeking more wounds to heal. His mind stretched outward, through the forest. He distantly recognized some of the minds he touched. He felt his father, there at the edge of the woods and moving forward. He felt Deaton, a sharp point of surprise, and Morrell, a softer spike of worry.
Sounds brushed at the edge of his awareness, sharp and jarring. His body moved, but it was a distant sensation. His magic stretched outward, further into Beacon Hills. His magic was drawn to a beacon of pain. Hospital his mind supplied.
“Stiles!” Peter’s voice was a jarring anomaly. Images flooded his mind, sensations of Chris and Peter. Feelings of worry filled him. The green healing fog shattered.
Stiles gasped in a breath. His body seized. He blinked his eyes and suddenly he saw the sky above him and Peter’s face. He turned his head weakly. He saw Chris starting to sit up. The fear and worry bled out of Stiles and with it his energy. He looked up at Peter once more before his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Stiles, honey, are you awake?” Melissa’s voice was a jackhammer in his skull. Stiles whimpered. He tried to curl into a ball, but his body wouldn’t move.
“Shh.” Melissa’s voice came softer, barely even a whisper. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Headache,” Stiles muttered pathetically. He heard Melissa move away. The door shut, dampening the noise from the rest of the hospital. Stiles’s body relaxed. He opened his eyes slowly to find that the lights had been dimmed. He could just barely make out Melissa hovering over the bed.
Melissa held up a cup of water with a straw. Her arm came around his shoulders, helping him to sit up while he drank. Stiles felt weaker than he ever had before. He could barely manage to drink. Melissa pulled the straw away after he’d drank half the water. “Do you remember what happened?” she asked softly.
Stiles had to think about that for a moment. He remembered the car crash and Jennifer and Kali. He remembered killing them. He was pretty sure some of the Hales were there, though he couldn't remember why. His chest went tight as he recalled Chris lying unconscious on the forest floor. Things after that got a little fuzzy. “Did I… heal people?”
Melissa smiled. “Honey, you healed everyone with so much as a paper cut in a mile radius.”
Stiles swore softly. “How pissed is Deaton?”
“Pretty pissed,” Melissa said with a chuckle. “I’ve got to go let people know you're awake, but I’ll be back right away. Okay?” Melissa drew away at Stiles’s nod.
The door closed. Stiles had a few minutes to rest with his eyes closed before the room was flooded with doctors and nurses. Melissa must have warned them, because they kept their voices as soft as possible and didn’t turn up the lights. They moved efficiently around the room while they checked Stiles’s vitals. One of the doctors hovered near Stiles’s bed, asking him questions. For a minute Stiles was confused by the random nature of the questions, but then he realized that they were trying to determine if he’d had a brain injury. The only question Stiles couldn’t answer was the date, mostly because he didn’t know how long he’d been out. When the doctor told him he’d been unconscious for two days, the heart monitor beeped alarmingly.
The only good thing that came out of the doctors’ visit was the nice prescription for painkillers. Melissa brought him his first set of pills and waited while he swallowed them down. “Are you up for some visitors?” she asked, as if he would say no.
He smiled weakly at his dad when he opened the door. His smile brightened a little more as Chris and Peter followed after him. They shut the door behind them. Peter stepped forward to gently take Stiles’s hand. Stiles watched curiously as the veins in Peter’s arm turned black. His headache melted away. Stiles sighed as tension he didn’t know he’d been carrying melted out of his shoulders. His smiled turned genuine. “That is the best thing ever,” Stiles said weakly. “Please don’t stop doing that.”
Peter chuckled. He drew a chair over with his free hand and sank into it. “I’ll be right here,” Peter said. His veins returned to normal, but Peter didn’t let go of his hand.
Chris pulled up a chair next to Peter while John pulled up a third chair on Stiles’s other side. “You had us a little worried there, kiddo,” John said. His dad reached forward to take Stiles’s other hand. “First the car accident then being kidnapped…”
“Not exactly how I planned to spend my break,” Stiles said. His voice was rough. His dad let go of his hand to hold the water out for Stiles to drink while Chris propped Stiles up. After a few minutes of fiddling with the bed controls so that he was sitting up in a more comfortable position, Stiles spoke. “Jennifer and Kali… did I really…” Stiles swallowed uncomfortably.
John grimaced, but nodded. “If Kali was the werewolf one, then you set her on fire while she was fighting the Hales.”
Stiles blushed. He remember that. The rage he’d felt was still clear in his mind. “She hurt Peter,” he mumbled. Peter squeezed his hand.
“And I’m not sure what happened to the other one, Jennifer,” his dad said. “Deaton said that her life force was burned out.”
Stiles blushed. He looked down at his hands, unable to meet his father’s eyes. “She hurt Chris,” he muttered. “I may have lost control for a little while.”
John squeezed his hand. “I’m not judging you, son,” he said softly. Stiles looked up at his father’s eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you’re able to protect yourself now. I just don’t want to have explain away another miracle or have you go into a coma ever again.”
“No comas, got it,” Stiles said sheepishly.
Chris’s hand rested on Stiles’s thigh. “Thank you for that, by the way,” Chris says. “Peter was under the impression that you may have saved my life.”
Stiles blushed and stammered. “It wasn’t that bad,” he protested. “You only had a concussion, maybe a few broken ribs.” Chris raised an eyebrow at him. “I remember that part pretty well, before my magic grew a mind of its own.”
Peter snorted. “It was quite impressive.”
Stiles looked over at him thoughtfully. “Were your relatives there?” he asked. “I think I remember them being there, but I can’t think of a reason why they would have been there, so I’m not quite sure if that was a hallucination or something else…”
Peter silenced him with a finger to the lips. “Yes,” Peter answered simply. “I called Talia and the others when I realized you’d been taken. Considering Kali was an Alpha, I’m rather glad that I did.”
“Oh.” Stiles considered that. He flinched. “Are they really freaked out?”
“Not overly.” Peter shrugged. “It was an impressive display of magic, but you didn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. In fact, considering that Alpha inflicted injuries take longer to heal, you saved them all days of pain.” Peter raised the hand he held and pressed a kiss to Stiles’s palm. “Though, I think we’d all prefer if you never did that again. I’d rather suffer through a few days of healing that watch you go catatonic.”
“Noted,” Stiles said with a nod. He groaned as a thought came to him. “Deaton’s going to want to work on controlling the healing, isn’t he?”
John chuckled. “It’s on your agenda for winter break,” he said. “Deaton’s been in to check on you a few times. When you’re feeling better, he wants a full breakdown of what happened. Anastasia does as well.
Stiles let his head fall back with a groan. “Great.”
Chris chuckled. “There are worse things.” Chris’s hand squeezed Stiles’s knee. Stiles looked over to smile back at his soulmates. He supposed, considering the alternatives, he was pretty lucky. If Peter and Chris hadn’t distracted Jennifer, she could have easily killed him while he was unconscious. He squeezed Peter and his dad’s hands. He’d take magic training any day over that.
Peter tisked at him. His other hand moved to rest on Stiles’s hips, holding him still. “Now now, dear boy,” Peter said. His voice was low and sultry. “You’re mine to play with.” Peter emphasized his words with an extremely slow drag of his tongue over the nipple he’d been working at. Peter swirled his tongue over it before sucking it into his mouth. He scissored his fingers again and then bit down hard. Stiles arched up with a shout.
He panted as a thought worked its way slowly through his lust fogged brain. He realized that he couldn’t move his arms, couldn’t do more than turn them a bit. Stiles looked up and found his wrists tied together by some soft ropes that were in turn tied to the headboard. He tugged at them, but found that he couldn’t pull his wrists apart and couldn’t move very far at all. He had enough slack to turn, but not enough to get out unless he used his Spark. “Peter,” he whined softly.
The fingers inside of him scissored sharply and he tried to buck. Peter held him still without any effort. Peter’s mouth moved away from Stiles’s nipple, travelling across his chest to suck the other nipple into his mouth. Peter licked and sucked, all the while keeping up an agonizingly slow pace with his fingers. Stiles couldn’t help bucking and arching, even if it didn’t get him anywhere. Peter bit down again. Stiles shouted and felt himself become achingly hard. He panted with the need to get off. “Please,” he begged. “Peter, please.”
Peter chuckled again. He leaned his weight a little more firmly onto Stiles’s hips, holding him in place as he shifted forward. Peter captured Stiles’s lips in a filthy kiss. His free hand smoothed across the skin of Stiles’s stomach before sliding down to brush feather light touches along the length of Stiles’s cock. Stiles bucked and was rewarded with a moment of delicious friction before Peter shifted away. Peter’s hand wrapped around him, stroking firmly. He released Stiles’s mouth only to lean down to nibble on Stiles’s ear. Peter’s breath ghosted along the rim for a second before he spoke.
“I wouldn’t get too hasty,” Peter warned him. He leaned back on his knees between Stiles’s spread thighs. The hand on Stiles’s cock reached lower. Stiles felt a curious sensation there, a tightness that he wasn’t used to. He looked down and found Peter’s fingers trailing along a bit of leather wrapped around the base of his cock.
“Do you know what this is, Stiles?” Peter waited for Stiles to shake his head before continuing. His fingers trailed along the leather, reaching down to circle around his balls. Peter slipped his finger under the little leather strap connecting the one ring around his cock and the one under his balls. He jerked the leather just a tiny bit upwards. Stiles gasped and jerked up in Peter’s hand. “This would be a lovely new cockring, just for you.”
Stiles moaned. He had never actually seen one, let alone worn one, but he had definitely researched kinks enough to know what they did. He closed his eyes and sucked in a steadying breath. Peter slid a hand up his chest and then neck. His fingers fisted in Stiles’s hair, tugging him back up to look at Peter. “You don’t get to come until Chris gets here,” Peter stated in a low, dangerous voice.
His mouth opened and closed, unable to find any way to respond to that. Stiles couldn’t decide if that was the hottest thing he’d ever heard or the worst. “Peter,” he begged softly. He tried to look around the room for a clock, but Peter had apparently thought ahead. The clock on the nightstand had been turned to face the wall and Stiles’s cellphone was turned face down. Stiles looked towards the windows, but he couldn’t tell whether it was afternoon or evening.
Peter’s finger continued to trace the leather. He crooked the fingers inside Stiles, milking his prostate and Stiles keened. He felt so close to coming, but the cockring was doing its job preventing his release. Peter ran a soothing hand down Stiles’s chest and the fingers inside him stilled. Stiles panted. He sank back into the mattress and tried to catch his breath. “Peter,” he whined when another finger pushed inside of him. “Please, please…” The hand on his chest moved over to pinch and twist one of Stiles’s nipples hard.
Stiles yelled, arching up off the bed. He felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. “Please!” He yanked his arms upwards, forgetting for a moment that he was tied. Stiles fell back against the bed.
He was granted a few moments of rest before Peter resumed his torture. He kept up the slow pace with three fingers, every so often crooking them to unexpectedly massage Stiles's prostate. All the while his other hand teased Stiles. Peter ran his hand up Stiles’s sides, over his hair, and down his neck. He plucked and twisted Stiles’s nipples to make him arch and gasp. He’d soothe Stiles’s panting with soft kisses up and down his chest. Then he’d reach down to stroke Stiles’s cock or play with his balls.
Stiles didn’t realize he was crying until Peter reached up to wipe at his cheeks. His breath hitched in his chest. Peter’s hand stilled for a moment, holding him open but letting him rest. Peter pressed soft kisses to Stiles’s eyelids. “You’re doing so good,” Peter praised. His kissed along Stiles’s cheeks. “You look so good like this, so beautiful.” Peter pressed soft kisses onto his lips. Stiles sighed into the kisses as his breathing relaxed. “That’s it,” Peter crooned. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”
Peter’s fingers moved inside of him, pulling a moan from Stiles's lips. He pulled his fingers out all the way. Then, Peter added a fourth finger and pushed back in. Stiles bucked with a yell. His mouth opened, but all that would come out were moans and the word ‘please’, over and over again. Peter twisted his fingers and Stiles jerked against his restraints.
A noise at the side of the room caught his attention. Stiles turned his head and looked towards the doorway. More tears slid down his cheeks at the sight of Chris there. His soulmate looked surprised, but also very hungry. Chris stripped off his tie and threw it to one side as he stalked into the room.
“Look what snuck into the house while we were out,” Peter said in a purr. He spread his fingers and Stiles shouted. Peter’s fingers were no longer slow and teasing. Instead they pushed in hard and fast. His other hand came down to rest on Stiles’s hips holding him still. Stiles bucked up, but his hips couldn’t move. He pulled on the ropes holding him. Peter’s fingers massaged his prostate again and again while Stiles choked back a sob. He turned to look at Chris pleadingly. “Please,” he begged. “P-p-lease, Ch-Chris…”
“Did you get a chance to pick up that thing I asked you about?” Peter asked evenly, as if he wasn’t pulling Stiles apart with his fingers.
Chris chuckled. He held up a black plastic bag, then set the bag down on the nightstand. Chris looked down at Stiles as he sat down at the edge of the bed. Chris leaned forward a ran two fingers teasingly over Stiles’s lower lip. He grinned when Stiles automatically opened his lips to let the digits slip inside. Stiles moaned as the fingers slipped in and out of his mouth. He arched his back when Chris’s other hand came down to play with his sore nipples.
Peter shoved his fingers in hard, making Stiles cry out around the fingers in his mouth. Peter kept up a brutal pace that left Stiles sobbing and begging into Chris’s hand. Chris chuckled down at him. His hand reached down to play with the leather cockring. “What’s this?” Chris asked. Stiles bucked when Chris pulled slightly at the leather.
Peter chuckled again. “Didn’t want you to miss anything,” he said. “But I’ve been keeping our boy occupied. Do you think he deserves to come yet?”
Chris looked down at Stiles with a quirked eyebrow. Stiles begged around the fingers in his mouth. He kept them in his mouth, sucking just the way Chris liked. Chris smiled at him. He pulled his fingers out of Stiles’s mouth to trace over his lips. Stiles panted under him. Chris’s other hand reached down and around his balls. Stiles felt a snap release. He felt a surge of relief as the binding fell away. Chris’s hand closed around his cock while Peter bent his fingers, pressing up into his prostate. Stiles screamed as he came. His vision whited out.
When Stiles came back to reality, his eyes were closed. He felt hands running over his body. They roamed over his back, down his hips. Stiles realized then that he’d been turned over. The hands soothed the shivers from his limbs. One set reached up and massaged the muscles in his arms. His wrists were still bound together, but they seemed to have been untied from the headboard. Hands guided his arms, stretching out the muscles and then setting them down to relax. Another set of hands rubbed deeply into the muscles of Stiles’s thighs and calves. Stiles moaned as he turned to putty in his lovers’ hands.
Stiles opened his eyes. He couldn’t see anything. He closed his eyes and opened them again. “Peter?” he called out. His voice was hoarse. He licked his lips and tried again. “Chris?”
“Shhh,” Chris’s voice came from somewhere to his right. Soft kisses pressed down on his shoulder blade. “We’ve got you.”
Stiles turned his head towards the sound. “I can’t see.”
Peter chuckled from somewhere on his left. “This would be your other present.” Fingers slid along the edge of something cloth-like covering his eyes. “We weren’t expecting you back this weekend though.”
Stiles turned and smiled towards where he thought Peter was. “Surprise,” he said with a laugh. The laugh turned into a moan when fingers dug deep into a knot in his thigh.
“Weren’t you supposed to be in classes today?” Chris asked. “And don’t you have a paper due tomorrow morning?” The hand on his thigh slid across his ass.
“Class was cancelled this morning,” Stiles said. He moaned as fingers teased against his still wet hole. They slipped inside easily, before sliding away again. Stiles sagged against the bed. He licked his lips. “Stayed up all night and finished my paper early. Turned it in already. Was going to surprise you. Bed was too tempting.”
Peter chuckled. “Well, I was certainly surprised.”
“What about your other two classes?” Chris asked. Stiles tensed at the warning in his voice. For a second he thought about lying. A hand ran across the curve of his ass and Stiles thought better of the idea.
“I skipped them,” he said honestly. He yelped when a sharp smack landed on his ass.
His arms were stretched forward again. He tugged against the rope, but they seemed to have been secured again. Stiles whined low in his throat. “I told the truth,” he protested as another smack landed on his other cheek. Stiles jerked against the bonds and wiggled, trying to avoid Chris’s hand. Hands latched onto his hips, Peter’s hands, holding him still as Chris landed four more sharp swats. Stiles shouted as Chris landed a particularly hard blow. “I missed you guys!”
The hands holding his hips still let go, moving forward to soothe his stinging flesh. Peter’s fingers kneaded into his skin. Stiles gasped and jerked his hips into the mattress. He realized then that he’d gotten hard again. He turned his face into the pillow. Stiles felt a blush heat his face to match the one on his ass.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t hide anything from a werewolf. He heard the faint inhale from Peter and then the low chuckle. Peter’s hands gripped his hips, lifting him up onto his knees. A hand reached under Stiles and gripped his cock firmly. Stiles jerked. He bit back a shout when Peter pulled roughly. “Look at this,” Peter purred to Chris. “Someone really liked that spanking.”
Stiles moaned and shook his head against the pillow. He stiffened when he felt someone shifting around the bed. A hand fisted in his hair, pulling it to turn his head to the side. A body leaned close, burning a hot line of skin to skin all along the right side of his body. “I like it a lot too,” Chris said into his ear. “Want me to show you just how much?”
“Yes!” Stiles shouted out as Peter’s hand twisted on his cock. Stiles panted into the kiss Chris pressed to his lips. He kept his head turned when Chris pulled away. Stiles tensed, feeling a release coming, but Peter pulled away before he could come. Stiles whimpered. He really didn’t think he could survive another round of Peter teasing him.
“Don’t worry,” Peter said with a kiss to Stiles’s back. “We’re going to take care of you.” He felt the tension on the rope tying his hands to the headboard release. Hands pulled on his hips, swinging him around until he was kneeling on the side of the bed. He felt the mattress shift around him as they drew away. He focused on the sounds in the room, clothes being shed. He tried to picture where Chris and Peter were, but they weren’t giving anything away.
Stiles jumped when the head of a cock pressed against his hole. He twisted his head, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see. There were no hands on him, no way to tell if it was Peter of Chris who was relentlessly pushing forward until they were fully seated. Stiles’s mouth fell open in a moan. He had missed this feeling. Totally worth a little spanking for the feeling of being filled by one of his mates.
Hips snapped forward, pounding into him with an increasingly rough pace. Stiles bent forward, bracing with his arms to push back into the thrusts. Each push forced a little moan out of him. The pace sped up, snapping forward until they were pushing him across the bed. Two sets of hands grabbed hold of his hips. They held him still for a few more brutal thrusts. Then, everything stopped. Whoever was in him pulled out and the hands disappeared. Stiles whined as he was left empty.
He gasped as someone pushed in him again. They kept their thrusts deep and even. Stiles’s breath hitched each time hips slapped into the sore flesh of his ass. A hand slapped down hard and Stiles jerked forward with a yell. Hands came back to grab his hips, holding him still for a few more thrusts.
“Noooo.” The word came out of him involuntarily when they pulled out and away again.
Stiles didn’t have to wait long before someone pushed back in again. All four hands were back. He felt the beginnings of bruises forming under their fingertips and Stiles moaned. He rested his forehead on his arms as he was fucked hard. Stiles shouted at a particularly rough thrust. He clenched his hands as his cock filled. He could feel himself getting close and the fact that he couldn’t tell who was pounding into him was way hotter than he’d expected. His breath caught as the hips stilled. They slammed into him hard and held him there. Stiles felt the burst of heat as one of them came inside of him. The hands on his hips clenched.
The hands released him. He whined when he was left empty. Then, someone else slammed back in. He'd thought the pace before had been hard but this was brutal. Hands held him immobile as he squirmed under the assault. Stiles forgot about wondering who was in him, forgot about everything except the feeling of the cock drilling into him. He pushed back frantically, begging wordlessly for release. There was a chuckle from behind him. One set of hands let go. Breath whispered against his ear. “Come for us.”
Stiles screamed as he came. He clenched and felt the hips behind him stutter. They stilled as they came in him.
Things went a little hazy for him for awhile. He felt a cold, wet cloth rest against the skin of his ass, cooling the fire there. Then, he was being cleaned off. His hands were untied and the muscles rubbed again. He felt himself being turned, leaned up against a solid chest. Arms came around him to hold him upright.
Stiles blinked when the blindfold was removed. His brain was still fuzzy. It took him a minute to focus on Peter’s smiling face in front of him. One of Peter’s hands came up to brush against his cheek. The other brought a glass of water to Stiles’s lips. Stiles swallowed when Peter tilted the glass. Peter watched him closely, pulling the glass away as soon as Stiles stopped drinking. Peter moved away to set the glass down. He came back into view, pressing a gentle kiss onto Stiles’s lips.
Stiles floated for a couple minutes. When he came back up he was nestled against Chris’s chest with Peter a warm line along his back. Stiles sighed. He stretched out his arm, clutching onto Peter’s hand where it was slung over him and Chris. He felt Peter’s lips curl into a smile where his face was pressed into Stiles’s neck. Peter turned his head, kissing Stiles softly. “Back with us now, little Spark?”
Stiles groaned and turned into Chris’s neck. “No,” he said tiredly. “You have finally killed me with sex.”
Chris’s chest shook while he laughed. “I think you’ll live.” Chris shifted and pressed a kiss to Stiles’s forehead. Stiles smiled as he burrowed in the comfort of his soulmates. Nothing was better than being here, wrapped in their arms. He was safe, protected, loved. A little spark protected by his wolf and his hunter.