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Peter couldn’t say that he wasn’t excited to have Stiles back after a long - so very, very long - semester away at uni, but he was really hoping that he was covering it better than the boy.

“So, what are your plans for tonight?” John asked from across the table, taking a bite of his meatloaf.

Stiles jerked, startled out of whatever daydream he was having.

From the scent of him, Peter had a very good guess about where his mind wandered off to.

“Um… I. I think a quiet night in?” Stiles said, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence like he was a teenager again. A teenager caught masturbating.

No matter how well he was doing in his Criminal Justice studies, he was still a horrible liar when caught off guard.

John sighed.

Peter cleared his throat.

“I think we will be watching a movie,” Peter put in, looking at Stiles’ father with his best poker face. He managed to fool dozens of supernatural creatures with this face, but somehow John was still seeing right through him.

Right .”

Stiles swallowed loudly beside him, taking a gulp of water. John just rolled his eyes.

Once again, Peter had to wonder if they should tell him about Alan. Sure, the sheriff had a bit of a hard time adjusting to Peter dating his son at first, but a year later, he barely even batted an eye at the prospect of them having crazy reunion sex. Would he really mind if he found out that there was one more person in the relationship?

Peter wasn’t sure… but Stiles - as much as he loved his dad - kept freaking out about the idea. He couldn’t fault the boy for wanting to have a normal relationship with John, not after the things they both went through during his high-school years. And thankfully Alan was completely understanding.

And Alan was also waiting at home for them to finish dinner at the Stilinski house.

John rubbed his forehead.

“Dessert, anyone?” he asked, vaguely waving towards the ice-cream sadly melting on the kitchen counter.

Stiles chewed on the string of his hoodie, looking like a deer in the headlights.

“Sure, it would be lov-” Peter started, but John didn’t let him finish, cutting him off with his hand held up.

“Yeah, no. My son is giving me a headache. Okay, just go,” he said, his voice half pained and half amused. Stiles made a really unsexy squaking sound, making his father snort. “Go before I change my mind.”

“Thanks, John, we will come by tomorrow, I promise,” Peter told him. Stiles was already by the door, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Yeah we will! Bye, dad!”

“Sure, you will,” John said, smiling fondly.


Alan just sat down to pick up his book again - something from Stephen King, he couldn’t really pay attention - when he heard the door open. He stood just in time to catch Stiles throwing himself at him from across the living room.

“Hey,” he said, or tried to say, but Stiles’ mouth was already on his, kissing him. He was a bit sloppy, tasting like meatloaf and mashed potatoes, but Alan just went with it, holding him close.

He could hear Peter puttering around in the background - getting his coat off, putting his keys away… - but it was hard to concentrate with Stiles’ body pressed against him, his hands digging into Alan’s shoulders like he’d been drowning without him.

It was lovely, actually.

“Hey,” he said again with a smile when Stiles finally broke away to breathe.

“Hey yourself,” the boy said, looking at Alan with his eyes shining. “I missed you.”

“And we both missed you too,” Peter said, stepping up from behind and sandwiching Stiles between them, kissing at the nape of his neck.

The boy made a wounded little sound, rubbing himself against Alan.

“Shit… shit, please… I… I’ve been so good,” he moaned.

Peter snorted, but Alan swatted at the werewolf.

“I’m sure you have, sweetheart,” he said, rubbing the boy’s arms. “I’m sure you were very, very good for us.”

Stiles whined, shaking.

“Do you want to show us how good you are, hm?” Peter asked. Alan caught his eyes over Stiles’ shoulder. They’ve talked about this, about not teasing too much. Not after such a long time apart.

Peter grinned, holding his gaze as he licked along Stiles’ pulse, making Alan roll his eyes. Well, yeah, it didn’t look like their boy was in distress so far - didn’t even look close to safewording - so maybe a little playing couldn’t hurt.

“Yes. Yeah, please, let me…” Stiles said, eyes closed. Alan stepped back, pulling his lovers with him until the back of his knees hit the couch and he could sit down.

“Alright, sweetheart. Show us, and then you will get your reward,” Alan promised, as much for Stiles’ sake as to warn Peter.

The boy fell to his knees easily, in one fluid motion, his hands already busy with Alan’s fly. It always amazed him; how graceful he could be in these moments, like he was born for this. Born for them.

Peter stayed out of the way, sitting down beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, but not to disrupt what Stiles was doing.

Alan appreciated the gesture. He didn’t really mind that he was… left out of some of the things Peter and Stiles did as a ‘couple’. He was capable of compromises, thank you very much, but he couldn’t deny feeling a bit lonely from time to time.

But now, Peter was letting him have this, the complete, single-focused attention of their boy; on his knees and eager to please.

Stiles didn’t fool around, losing even the little patience he usually had with a cock in front of him, trying to swallow Alan to the root on the first try.

It didn’t work, of course.

“Easy now, sweetheart,” he said, combing his fingers through Stiles hair when he had to jerk back, gagging. “Warm up to it, we have all the time in the world.”

Stiles licked his lips then rubbed them against the head of his cock. They felt hot and soft and for a second, Alan had to close his eyes from the simple pleasure of it.

“Okay,” Stiles said against his skin, trying again, slower this time. He was still too rushed, but Alan couldn’t really fault him. Instead he just pulled on his hair when he was starting to go too fast again.

“Sweetheart, I thought this was about showing us what a good boy you are?” he chided, hoping that he didn’t look as frayed at the edges as he felt. God, he missed him.

Stiles looked up at him, his big, amber eyes apologetic, his mouth stretched around his length.

Alan traced the corner of his jaw.

“Hm? I said easy , didn’t I? Are you ready to be a good boy now?”

Stiles hummed around his cock, eyes fluttering closed. Alan took it as the agreement it was meant to be.

He could practically see as Stiles’ focus shifted, turned deeper, where it should be. Away from his need to get Alan off as fast as possible and towards his place; on his knees, serving. The last of the tension melted out of the boy’s body, leaving him loose limbed and flushed. Beautiful.

“That’s it. Nice and slow, you know how I like it.”

Oh, and did Stiles know. He swallowed, working his tongue around the crown of Alan’s cock before sucking him deeper, inch by inch, his lips gentling around him.

He kept petting Stiles’ face, running his thumb over the line of his nose, over his cheeks and where his lashes brushed against his skin. He imagined Peter could see it - and probably found it amusing - that he had been just as starved for their boy as Stiles was for them.

“You are doing so good, sweetheart,” he said.

Peter hummed beside him, finally leaning in to nuzzle Alan’s neck.

“He is doing well,” Peter admitted. “Do you think he’s doing well enough ?”

Stiles’ movements stuttered for a split second, and Alan swatted at Peter. Always with the teasing.

“Yes, he is, don’t act stupid, it doesn’t suit you,” he said, stroking his hand down the side of Stiles’ throat to calm him. “Now go and get your key.”

Peter laughed.

“I would rather get yours,” he whispered against his ear, his clever fingers running along the collar of Alan’s shirt in search of the thin, silver chain. The touch made him shiver, and when he glanced down, he caught Stiles watching them from under hooded eyes.

Peter unclasped the chain carefully, pulling the small key off it.

“And what should I do with it?” he asked with a grin. “Since it looks like you’re running the show tonight.”

Alan huffed out a breath.

“I trust that you will work it out yourself. It wouldn’t be polite if only Stiles and I had all the fun,” he said.

Peter kissed the corner of his lips and slid off the couch, kneeling behind Stiles.

The boy choked when Peter put his arms around him.

“Hush, darling. I’m just unwrapping my present,” Peter said, zipping down his hoodie and carefully working it off his shoulders.

Stiles whined in the back of his throat, the sound of it vibrating against Alan's cock, making him swallow.

The boy was only wearing a tanktop underneath, an overwashed, flimsy thing. Peter pushed his hands under it, stroking up his front to tweak his nipples.

“You like that, darling?” he asked, smiling when Stiles wiggled a bit, pressing his chest against his palms. “Oh, yeah, I see you do… But try to concentrate on Alan, he’d been waiting so very long for you.”

Stiles moaned, doubling his efforts and swallowing the cock in his mouth the root, making the muscles in Alan’s thighs bunch up.

“I wasn’t complaining,” Alan said, voice only a little bit strained. It didn’t stop their boy from keeping at it, working his throat around his cock, burying his nose in his pubic hair.

It was maddeningly good.

“God, I love watching you two like this,” Peter said, as he popped the button on Stiles’ jeans. “Careful now, darling, I’m going to pull this down a bit.”

He pulled them off with Stiles’ boxers, and then growled, low and possessive as the boy’s cock cage was finally visible. Alan had to admit that it made his own dick jerk too.

Stiles’ whole body was trembling as Peter took it in his hand, rubbing at the swollen flesh enclosed in unyielding metal.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” Alan said, not caring how emotional he sounded. This had been the longest time they’d done this: three whole months. He could remember what a challenge it had been for Stiles to keep it on even for a few days at first.

“Yes,” Peter echoed, his eyes burning bright blue, licking and nipping at the boy’s nape, his fingers uncharacteristically gentle as he ran them over and over the cage. “Such a good boy, so good for us.”

Stiles whined, high and vulnerable, his fist clenched with his need to do something even as he swallowed and swallowed around the cock.

“Give me your hands, sweetheart, you know Peter likes to play,” Alan told him. Stiles reached up obediently, letting him take his wrists and hold them by his thighs.

Peter hummed in approval, wiping some of drool from Stiles’ chin and pushing his fingers between the boy’s asscheeks. It wasn’t enough lubrication, but it was enough to allow some playing.

Stiles was shaking, his hips rocking back towards where Peter was fingering him open.

“I’m close,” Alan warned. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, but being together with his lovers like this always managed to push him to the edge.

Peter nodded, pulling a small tube of lube from under one of the couch cushions.

“On it.”

Alan was glad he was hurrying up a bit, because he didn’t know how much longer he could take Stiles’ mouth being so perfect around him. Just like he could read his thoughts, Stiles glanced up at him, eyes shining. Alan could have looked at him for centuries.

Before he knew it, Peter was done with the stretching, coating his cock with lube and pushing slowly into Stiles’ hole.

Thankfully it made the boy come to a halt, his lips going lax around Alan as Peter entered him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Peter said, his forehead resting against Stiles’ hair.

Before he could start moving, Alan leaned over, blowing air at his ear to get his attention.

“Peter. Didn’t you forget something?”

Stiles’ hands twitched in his hold.

“No, I didn’t,” Peter said with an eyeroll. He probably did, but Alan wasn’t about to call him out on it.

The sound of the key sliding into the lock of Stiles’ cock cage was quiet, but somehow all three of them heard it loud and clear.

The boy groaned, eyes squeezed tightly as Peter worked the metal off him. His cock filled out so fast that it must have hurt.

“That’s it darling. Only a second now. Only a second and you can come,” Peter promised, stroking his length gently as his hips started moving, fucking into him.

Alan closed his eyes, knowing that he could relax finally. He let go of Stiles’ hands, cupping his face instead, holding him in place as he rocked into his mouth. Their eyes locked, and that was enough to push him over.

He came with a grunt, Stiles swallowing it all down, his face blissed.

Alan pulled him off his cock, kissing his forehead as Peter’ hips picked up speed, his hand working hard and fast over the boy’s dick.

“Hold on for a bit more, sweetheart,” Alan asked. He wouldn’t hold it against Stiles if he couldn’t do it, but they both knew that Peter should be coming first.

Good boys finish last.

Stiles bit back his moans, his whole body wound tightly as he tried to hold himself together.

“Just a bit more,” Alan promised.

Thankfully, he was right. Despite all his fronting, Peter had been on edge for at least a week as they waited for Stiles to return home; that could eat away even on a werewolf’s stamina.

Peter growled, the sound reverberating around the room, and then stilled, biting down on Stiles shoulder.

“Come,” Alan ordered immediately, not wanting to drag this out a second longer.

Stiles did with a sob, collapsing forward into Alan’s lap.

That was okay, he was there to hold him through the aftershocks. They both were.

Alan kissed Stiles’ sweaty hair, and ruffled Peter’s.

“Welcome home.”