Stiles knows that Peter and Chris were an item when they were younger. He doesn't know if they were dating or if it was just sex, but he knows they'd been something to each other. The rest of the pack seems completely oblivious and Chris and Peter seem intent to keep it that way, so Stiles says nothing.
Then they approach him.
They're waiting at Chris' house when Stiles comes by to drop off a book Chris had lent him. Peter opens the door wearing nothing by a pair of low slung jeans, and Stiles' brain grinds to a halt. At this point he's already slept with each of them separately, but to see Peter half-naked in Chris' doorway pretty much means only one thing, and Stiles goes from zero to hard as rocks just like that.
Peter smirks, leaning against the doorway in a way that for anyone else would seem casual, but Stiles knows Peter, and Peter never does anything without a purpose. The purpose this time happens to be showing off the impressive body Stiles had spent the day before licking and worshiping.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that you'll catch flies with your mouth hanging open?" Peter asks, sounding entirely too amused.
Stiles closes his mouth with a click, unaware it had even been opened.
"Uh, I'm just here to return this," Stiles says, holding out the book in front of him.
"Come in then," Peter says, stepping aside. "He's in the living room."
"Uh, if you guys are busy, I can come back later?" Stiles says uncertainly.
"As if we'd ever be too busy for you," Peter says with a wink.
Stiles' gulp is audible. Nevertheless, he walks past Peter, shoulder brushing his bare chest on his way by. Chris is in the living room, lounging on the couch in nothing but his boxer briefs. He doesn't look surprised to see Stiles.
"Heeey, uh, I was just bringing the book back you lent me and Peter said to come in, I didn't mean to interrupt whatever you two are, uh, doing," Stiles says. He drops the book onto the coffee table and backs up right into Peter.
"I think you know exactly what we're doing," Peter purrs, running his hands up Stiles' arms.
Stiles looks over at Chris, unsure what his reaction would be, but he's just watching them with calm interest, not anger or irritation.
"Peter wouldn't have answered if you were an interruption we minded," Chris says. He stands in one fluid movement, almost as graceful as Peter, and walks forward until he's pressed against Stiles' front. It's a position Stiles is already familiar with, but he isn't used to have Peter at his back at the same time. "You're welcome to go if you want. But we're hoping you'll stay."
Stiles swallows compulsively. Peter is hard against his ass, and Chris' own half-hard cock is pressing against Stiles' hip. Stiles has had dreams that started like this and he has to pinch himself to make sure he's awake.
"We're very real, sweetheart," Peter murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "Let us show you?"
Stiles nods, not trusting his voice. Chris grins, taking Stiles' face in his hands and kissing him. This is familiar, Chris kissing him like he's the last thing on earth. Stiles starts to lose himself in it, in the feeling of Chris' calloused hands on his face. Then Peter presses closer, reminding Stiles that he's there, too. His hands are hot on Stiles' skin, running up the back of his shirt. Stiles moans into Chris' mouth. If he's already overwhelmed just by standing between them and being kissed, how is he going to handle more? Are they going to do more? Peter and Chris certainly make it seem like they are, both hard and insistent against him.
"Relax," Chris murmurs against Stiles' lips. His hands slide down from Stiles' face to his shoulder, massaging at the tension there. "We aren't going to make you do anything you don't want to do."
"I know," Stiles says immediately, because if he knows anything about the two of them, it's that consent is essential. "I've just never done this. It's...a lot."
"We have you," Peter says, nipping at his ear. "We're going to take such good care of you, little one."
Stiles groans, always weak in the face of their pet names and promises like that.
"Come upstairs," Chris says.
Chris steps away tugs Stiles with him. Peter follows closely behind and when Stiles turns, he's staring unabashedly at his ass. Peter just shrugs, not looking the least bit sorry. Stiles can't blame him. Chris Argent in his underwear is glorious and Stiles can't tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him.
Chris' bed is unmade and the room smells like sex. The lube is still sitting on the bedside table and Stiles groans, wondering who was fucking who. Peter wraps his arms around Stiles from behind, tracing hands down his chest and torso to rest on his waistband of his jeans. Chris pulls Stiles' shirt over his head while Peter works on his pants, united in their goal of getting Stiles bare.
"I seem to recall you telling me about a fantasy of yours," Peter murmurs in his ear, nudging him toward the bed. Stiles goes where he's steered until he's lying on the bed, Chris and Peter on either side of him.
"I told you a lot of fantasies," Stiles says, swallowing hard.
"Mm, true," Peter says, trailing fingers over the crease of Stiles' thigh, so close to his hard cock. "This one though was something your heartbeat raced at telling me, and you reeked of arousal. You said you wanted two cocks in your slutty hole."
Stiles groans, cock jerking against his belly, a drop of precome oozing out.
"You don't have to," Chris says, ghosting his fingers down Stiles' cock. Stiles whines, bucking his hips into the touch before Peter presses them back down. "But that is something we'd love to do to you."
Stiles nods quickly, mouth dry. "Please," he whines.
Peter grins sharply, twisting one of Stiles' nipples. Stiles keens, arching into the touch.
"It would be our pleasure," Peter purrs.
Stiles plays with himself a lot, has plenty of large, thick toys that he fucks himself with, but Chris' thick, slick fingers sliding into him is so much better. Stiles is on his hands and knees between Peter's spread thighs, sucking his thick cock as Chris fingers him. They want him loose and ready so he isn't hurt, which he is all on board with, but it's hard to keep himself from coming when Chris has three fingers buried in his ass, brushing his prostate.
"Mm, we could get you a cock ring if you want," Peter says, stroking his hand through Stiles' hair. Stiles groans around Peter's cock, sucking harder. "Keep you from coming until we want you to."
"He would look lovely in one," Chris agrees. He slips another finger in, up to four in Stiles' throbbing hole.
Stiles has to pull off Peter's cock, completely unable to focus with so much of Chris' hand in his hole. If he could see, he's sure his rim would be red and puffy, swollen from so much abuse. It's going to look so much worse when they're done. He can't wait. Peter cards his fingers through Stiles' hair as he whimpers into Peter's thigh, body trembling.
Stiles' cock is hard and leaking between his thighs, but Stiles doesn't touch it. He's way too close already and he wants to come with them inside him, not before. He focuses on breathing as Chris scissors his fingers inside of him, opening him up. When Chris withdraws, Stiles whines at the loss.
"It's all right sweetheart," Peter murmurs. "We're going to give you what you need."
Chris lies down next to them and tugs Stiles. Stiles goes willingly, straddling his hips. Chris positions his hard cock at Stiles' opening, letting him sink down slowly onto his length. Stiles braces himself on Chris' chest as he lowers him self down, taking that long cock in one smooth motion. It slides in easily, his ass wet and open.
"You feel so good, baby," Chris says, rolling his hips a few times.
Stiles groans, closing his eyes. Peter moves behind him and a few seconds later, slick fingers are tracing where he's stretched around Chris' cock. He gasps when Peter wiggles his fingers in next to Chris' cock, stretching him even further.
"You're almost ready, sweetheart," Peter croons. He has three fingers inside Stiles, rubbing against Chris' cock. "You're going to look so beautiful split open on us, stuffed full. Your pretty little hole is going to gape for us, leaking our come all over your thighs."
Stiles whines, arching his back and pressing back against Peter's fingers. Peter chuckles and pulls them back. A second later, the tip of his cock is pressing against Stiles' hole. Stiles' breath catches at he bites at his lip.
"Breathe, baby," Chris reminds him, rubbing soothing hands up and down his arms.
Stiles does what he says, taking slow and deep breaths, relaxing as much as he can. Peter moves slowly, spreading Stiles wide. Stiles' legs tremble as the tip breaches that ring of muscle, spreading him wider than he's ever been. It burns, but it's manageable. Stiles likes a bit of pain with his pleasure. His cock is still completely hard
"You're doing so well," Chris praises him, caressing his face. "So good for us."
Stiles just moans. Peter works his way in slowly, giving Stiles plenty of time to adjust before moving forward. When he's finally fully seated, his hips meeting Stiles' ass, Stiles feels like he's going to fly apart. He's so fucking full, neither of them exactly small. Peter pets his flanks with soothing hands, promising not to move until Stiles is ready.
Stiles takes a deep breath and rolls his hips experimentally. They all moan, the drag of the two cocks in side him too perfect. He pushes back again, trying to get more of them inside him, but he has almost no leverage. He whines, high and needy, unable to articulate what he needs. Peter seems to know though, his grip tightening on his waist. Peter withdraws almost all the way and pushes back in slowly, his thick cock dragging against Chris', pressing against Stiles' inner walls.
"Fuck," Chris groans. "You feel so good, baby. Taking your daddies so well."
Stiles' cock jerks at that, fingers tightening on Chris' shoulders.
"He's right," Peter says, voice low and rumbling. "Such a good boy for us, letting us fuck your slutty little hole."
"Please fuck me," Stiles begs. He rolls his hips again, their cocks sliding inside him. "Daddy, please..."
Peter places a kiss to Stiles' spine and says, "All you had to do is ask."
At first, it's just Peter that's moving, thrusting slowly into Stiles' stretched hole. Once he gets a good, hard pace going, Stiles rocking forward on each thrust, Chris starts in, bucking his hips up whenever Peter pulls back. They get a hard rhythm going, making sure he always has a cock filling him up completely.
Stiles is completely raw, a crying mess of need and desire. His hard cock is rubbing against Chris' stomach, drooling precome between them. It's incredible being this full, having his body pushed to its limits. Peter and Chris' hands are everywhere, roaming his back and torso, pinching his nipples, brushing his cock. He can't tells who's who anymore, everything is just sensation.
Peter tugs Stiles up so he's on his knees, his back pressed to Peter's chest, one of Peter's hands wrapped around his throat. It makes him sink down even farther on their cocks, spreading him impossibly wider. Stiles lets out a strangled noise, his thighs shaking. Chris takes hold of his hips and thrusts up into him, the drag of his cock delicious inside him.
"I'm gonna come," Stiles manages to whimper. "Daddy...Daddy I need..."
"We have you, sweetheart," Peter murmurs, nipping at Stiles' neck.
Peter wraps his hand around Stiles' cock, stroking just how Stiles likes, all while grinding his cock into Stiles. It doesn't take long until Stiles is orgasming, pleasure bursting through his senses as he comes, overwhelmed with sensation. His hole clenches around the two cocks filling him, spasming as they keep fucking into him.
His body is limp and pliant, only upright because Peter is holding him. Chris and Peter chase their pleasure, pounding into his abused hole until Peter is growling, sinking his teeth into Stiles shoulder as he comes, cock jerking as he fills Stiles up. Chris follows soon after, fucking up into Stiles with desperation until he too stills, pumping his come deep into Stiles' wrecked hole.
Peter pulls out first, slowly, but Stiles still groans at the sensation. He feels empty, even with Chris' impressive cock still nestled inside of him. When they gently roll him onto the bed, Chris slipping from his body, Stiles mourns the loss, hating how empty his hole feels.
He doesn't even have time to voice this before Peter is kneeling between his thighs, spreading his legs wide. His hole is hot to the touch, puffy and swollen. Peter circles his rim gently, scooping up the come leaking out of him and pressing it back into his gaping hole. Stiles mewls at the touch, so oversensitive, but grateful to have something in him again, even if it's just a few of Peter's fingers.
"You were wonderful, baby," Chris says, draping an arm over Stiles' waist. "So perfect for us. We couldn't have asked for better."
"It's true," Peter says, placing a kiss to Stiles' thigh, right next to his limp cock. "Your daddies are so proud of you."
Stiles hums happily, nuzzling against Chris' throat. Chris chuckles, kissing his forehead. Peter stays between his legs, playing with Stiles' loose hole until Stiles tugs him up, needing him up here with him. Peter wraps around Stiles, hand resting on Chris' hip. He presses a kiss to the bite mark on Stiles' shoulder.
"You've ruined me," Stiles says. "My higher brain function will never come back, oh my god."
"Mm, good," Peter mumbles. "I like you in our bed."
Chris hums his agreement, sleepy and sated. Stiles should shower soon, he really is going to be leaking their come for hours, but he's content where he is, sandwiched between two hot as fuck daddies, and he isn't going anywhere.