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Sharp Teeth and Red Eyes

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Peter guides Stiles into the apartment with a hand on her lower back, not trusting that she won't trip. They're both exhausted and sore, a run in with the alpha pack taking it out of them. They're relatively unscathed, no one had died at least, but they're pretty beaten up. Peter had been thrown into more than one concrete wall, and Stiles had been hit hard enough that for a heart-stopping moment, Peter had expected her neck to snap.

The alphas had left, happily having injured most of Derek's pack, with the reminder that he needs to think about their offer while they still give him a choice. Peter had gone to Stiles immediately, run his fingers over her neck, checking for damage, wincing in apology when his fingers brushed what will be a truly magnificent bruise on her right cheek. Everyone had slunk off to lick their wounds in peace, and Peter had bundled Stiles into his car and driven her to his apartment.

It's not the first time she's been here, she spends more time at Peter's than she does at her own house nowadays, but she still moves slowly, looking a little lost. Peter takes her by the hand and pulls her deeper into the apartment, toward the bathroom. Stiles goes willingly, not letting go of Peter's hand. He keeps draining her pain, his veins turning black, and she doesn't pull her hand away like she normally does when he tries. If Peter weren't able to feel how much pain she's in, that itself would have been a huge clue.

Peter lets go of her hand to start the shower and she takes that as her cue to get undressed. She kicks her shoes and socks off with no trouble and lets her jeans and panties drop to the ground, but winces when she tries to take off her shirt. Peter frowns and steps into her space.

"What hurts?" he asks.

"My ribs," Stiles says through gritted teeth. "It hurts to raise my arms."

"Are you particularly attached to this shirt?" Peter asks, flicking out his claws.

"Not really," Stiles says. Peter slices the shirt off of her without another question, making her roll her eyes. "I'm going to have to put another shirt on eventually and at that point, I'll have to lift my arms."

"We'll deal with that later," Peter says.

He reaches around her and unhooks her bra, slipping it off her arms. Her torso is riddled with bruises, some days old, some new, and the only reason Peter knows her ribs aren't broken is he'd forced her to go to the ER. Just bruised. Very, very bruised. Peter touches the deep purple skin, taking the pain into himself. She sighs gratefully.

"Thanks," she mumbles.

"You're welcome," he says. "Come here."

Peter guides her into the shower stall before shucking out of his own clothes. All of their garments are dirty and soaked in blood, and he'll probably just have to throw them all away, so he doesn't bother folding anything. Peter steps in the stall behind Stiles, who's standing under the spray of hot water, her eyes closed.

Peter presses a kiss to the knob at the top of her spine before squirting out a handful of his scentless shower gel onto the loofah (Stiles had given him so much shit when she'd seen it the firs time). He works it into a lather and brings it to her skin, starting with her shoulders. He drags the loofah across her skin, moving down her back, slowly washing her.

Next are her arms, blood and dirt coating her fair skin. Peter has to rinse the loofah twice until it runs clean and her arms aren't covered anymore. He turns her under the spray so she's facing him. She keeps her eyes closed, tilting her head back into the hot water.

Peter gently washes her front, starting at her neck, moving down her chest, ignoring the way her pink nipples pebble under his touch. He can smell her getting wet, but it's a normal bodily reaction when someone's touched this way, and Peter won't make more of it until she does, not after the day they've had.

He's careful over her ribs, ghosting his touch as lightly as he can before dropping to his knees before her. Her breath hitches as she looks down at him, kneeling before her. Peter says nothing, just slowly moves the loofah over her stomach and down her thighs. He washes the swell of her ass, the backs of her thighs. He briefly, gently touches her between her legs with nothing but gentle hands and warm water, just enough to clean her, before standing.

Stiles watches him, face open and raw. Peter gently brushes wet hair from her face and leans forward, kissing her lightly. She kisses him back, like she has a hundred times before, and sighs against his lips, pressing her forehead to his.

After a few minutes, Peter pulls back, tilting her head back so he can wash her face. He doesn't use the loofah for this, just gentle fingers and soap. He drains her pain when he brushes over the bruise forming, whispering his apologies as he wipes the blood and grime from her skin.

"My hair?" she asks quietly.

Peter smiles down at her. It'd shocked both of them when they'd discovered that she loves to have him wash her hair, but he'll never tell her no. He pours some of the ridiculously expensive shampoo she loves into his hands and rubs it into her hair, massaging her scalp. She sighs contentedly, eyes fluttering shut as he works the shampoo into a lather. He tilts her head back to rinse the suds from her hair, then works in the conditioner. Normally he'd leave it in the allotted five minutes, but they're both anxious to get to bed, so he works it out of her hair quickly until her long brown tresses are clean.

Stiles opens her eyes when he's done and looks up at him. She looks soft and vulnerable, a side he's only ever seen when it's just the two of them, but she also looks defeated, half of her face already darkly bruised. She'll rally, Peter knows. In a few hours her rage will come back, her determination, but for now he lets her wallow. She's earned it.

Stiles tilts forward, resting her head on his wet chest. Peter wraps his arms around her tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. They stand there like that for a long time, him holding her securely as the hot water cascades over them. She nuzzles against his chest with a sigh and he tightens his hold. He wishes he could protect her from what's coming, from what the alpha pack is raining down on them, but he can't. He can't, and he feels utterly helpless.

When she pulls back, Peter steps to the side, giving her room to step out of the shower.

"Go ahead and dry off, I'll be out in a minute," Peter says.

Stiles nods and slips out of the shower. Peter washes himself off quickly, wincing when he hears the pained hitches in her breath as she dries a part of herself that hurts.

"I'll be in your bedroom," Stiles says.


Peter finishes and dries himself quickly. His arm, which had been fractured, is almost completely healed, and the bruises littering his body are almost gone. It's not fair, he thinks, that he gets to feel better so quickly and Stiles will be in pain for weeks. He wishes she'd taken the bite when he'd offered. Sometimes he wishes he'd bitten her anyway, she'd be so much harder to hurt that way, but he knows she'd never have forgiven him if he'd taken her humanity against her will.

Stiles is sitting on his bed when he walks into his room, blankets pooled at her waist. She's somehow managed to wriggle into a shirt of his. It's a well-worn t-shirt, one that's saturated with his scent, and something tightens deep inside him at the sight of her in it. He knows that's why she always picks it.

Peter flips off the light and slides under the sheets. Stiles scoots down with a whimper and rolls onto her side that isn't bruised, resting her head on his chest. Peter wraps his arm around her, taking what pain he can.

"Goddamn alphas ruined my plans for you fucking me tonight," Stiles grumbles, nuzzling at his shoulder.

Peter chuckles. "We have all day tomorrow," he says.

"You're going to treat me like glass now though," she says.

"I'm not," Peter says. "I'm just not going to take unnecessary risks with you and end up hurting you more."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles says, but she sounds fond. They're quiet for a long time, Peter running his thumb over the curve of her shoulder. When she speaks, her voice is hushed, hesitant. "Sometimes I wish...sometimes I wish you'd bitten me instead of Scott," she whispers.

Peter's heart beats faster and he swallows hard. "Sometimes I do, too," he confesses.

Neither of them say anything after that. Stiles lets out a sigh and relaxes fully against him. Normally it's hard for her to fall asleep, too full of extra energy, but she's exhausted and hurt and drifts off quickly. It takes Peter longer. He drains all the pain he can, even as she sleeps, not happy with the idea of her hurting herself in her sleep. He uses the time to think about the alphas, about how he can best keep her safe. There aren't many ways for them all to come out of this alive. By the time he falls asleep, he has a plan half-formulated. Sloppy by his standards, but it has potential.

Peter wakes up before Stiles does. She's in the same position as she fell asleep in, an oddity for her, probably because it hurt to move when she tried. Peter pulls out the aches he can with his hand on her bare hip under her shirt, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Stiles hums, shifting a little, her heartbeat speeding up, letting Peter knows she's waking. She blinks up at him, eyes scrunched together against the sun spilling in from his bedroom window. It's late in the morning, close to 10:00 by his guess.

"Morning, sunshine," Peter says. Stiles rolls her eyes and kicks him in the shin, making him snort. "How are you feeling?"

Stiles stretches experimentally, wincing a bit. "A little tight and sore," she says. "Though I have a feeling it would be a lot worse if it weren't for you."

"Too sore?" Peter asks, trailing his hand down between her legs. Stiles grins, letting her thighs fall open.

"Not at all," she says. "If I ever say I'm too sore, check that I've been replaced by a pod person."

Peter shakes his head. "A bit dramatic, no?" he asks. He ghosts his fingers over the front of her panties, already slightly damp.

Stiles gasps, the smell of her arousal permeating the room. "That's - oh! - rich, coming from you," she says, then breaks into a whine as he nudges her panties aside, tracing a finger up her folds. She's already a bit wet, her juices coating the tips of his fingers. "Peter..."

There are plenty of times when Peter wants to tease her, but now isn't one of them. He rolls between her thighs, pushing the crotch of her panties completely to the side. He wastes no time burying his mouth between her legs, licking at her hot center. Stiles groans, tangling her fingers in his hair as he spears his tongue inside her, coaxing out more of her wetness. Her sweet taste bursts across his tongue and Peter needs more, needs to be soaked in the taste and smell of her.

Peter nudges his nose at her clit as he licks at her folds, getting his mouth on as much of her as he can. He drags the flat of his tongue up over her labia, up to circle her clit. It gives him room to slide a finger into her wet cunt, making her sigh. He presses up against her g-spot, massaging her from the inside as he flicks his tongue over her clit. Stiles mewls, rolling her hips, grinding her cunt against his mouth. It had taken him months to get her comfortable enough to do this, to use him for her pleasure, and he loves that she lets herself get like this for him.

Peter presses another finger into her, making her gasp and tighten around him. Peter flicks his tongue over her clit faster, making her mewl and moan, then closes his lips around the sensitive nub, sucking just so. Stiles cries out, cunt spasming around him as she comes. She arches her back as the pleasure flows through her, jostling her bruised ribs. She cries out, in pain this time, and Peter immediately draws her pain into himself, cursing himself. He hadn't been keeping up with the pain drain, had been too distracted by how wonderful she tastes and looks and feels as she comes.

Stiles settles, the pain leaving her, her cunt still rippling with her orgasm though. She smiles down at him a bit shakily and tries to tug him up her body, but he shakes his head. Her pain has put a bit of damper on the mood for him. It's easy for Peter to ignore his erection, especially in the face of her pain. He presses a kiss to the inside her thigh in apology, one he doesn't vocalize because he knows she wouldn't accept it.

"I'm going to be an alpha again," Peter says. He hadn't meant to say it, had wanted to wait until he has a more concrete plan in mind before telling her that, but seeing her like this, pained and injured brings out his rage. The words are out and he can't take them back.

"Not if it means killing Derek, you're not," Stiles says, looking at him steadily.

"Of course I'm not killing Derek," Peter says, rolling his eyes. Peter crawls up from between her legs and lies on his side next to her, tracing fingers over her belly. "We have somewhat of an alpha surplus in Beacon Hills at the moment. I was planning on using one of the extras."

"I mean, I'm not opposed to having to deal with one less member of the alpha pack," Stiles says. "And honestly, I've been expecting you to try to kill one and become an alpha anyway."

"You've always been the clever one," Peter says, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

Stiles blushes, but won't be distracted. "Why now?" she asks.

Peter hums and rests his hand next to her bruised ribs, the coloration dark and livid against the rest of her pale skin. "This isn't acceptable," he says quietly. "I couldn't stop this from happening. I couldn't keep you safe."

Stiles studies his face with those intelligent eyes, always taking in more of him than he wishes she could. Stiles reaches up, trailing her fingers over the back of his hand on her torso.

"You want to turn me," she says.

It's not a question, but Peter answers anyway. "Yes," he says, turning his hand to slot their fingers together. "If you'll let me."

Stiles doesn't say anything for a long time, just looks at him. He knows what she's looking for. She's searching for any indication that this is a power move, that he's trying to use her as a way to expand his influence, to take her from Scott. It's not secret that he wants her for himself, but he knows better. He knows she has to come to him willingly, he can't force it. He wouldn't want her any other way, not now that he's reborn and sane.

He's laid bare for her and he thinks she sees that because she nods slowly and says, "I'd let you."

Peter fights to keep his breath even, not to crow in triumph like he wants to. There are plenty of steps between now and then and it will take careful planning and fancy footwork to pull off. If he manages to do this right, he'll be an alpha again, and Stiles will be his beta, his second in command. She'll take to being a wolf beautifully, of that he has absolutely no doubt. But he can't get ahead of himself yet. He needs to plan for the immediate to make sure that can even happen.

"Thank you," Peter says, fighting down everything else he wants to say, declarations he isn't sure how to make. He leans over, presses a kiss to her non-bruised cheek, before pulling back and grinning in a way he knows isn't nice. "Come then, little one. We have some plans to make."

They decide that one of the twins will be easiest to get on their own since they both go to school and on dates with their respective significant others away from the rest of the alpha pack. They choose Ethan because both twins know Lydia is closer to the McCall pack than Danny is, and they'll be on the lookout for something suspicious around her more than around Danny.

Stiles wants to use herself as bait to lure Ethan away from the school and into the old Hale house, but Peter vetoes that immediately. Stiles rolls her eyes and huffs, saying that she's been playing bait for Scott for years, ever since they dealt with bullies on school playgrounds.

"It pains me that you think knowing that you've been put in danger would make me feel better," Peter says.

In the end, Peter goes with what he knows and clones Danny's phone. They text Ethan as Danny and tell him to meet him in a parking lot near Jungle, that he's always wanted to give his boyfriend a blowjob in a semi-public place. It's disgustingly easy. Alpha or not, Ethan's still a teenager that thinks with his dick.

By the time Ethan realizes Danny isn't showing up, Stiles is already knocking him out with the same wolfsbane powder Lydia had used against Derek. Stiles binds Ethan tightly in wolfsbane-infused ropes they'd liberated from Chris Argent, and Peter tosses him bodily into the trunk of his car. Stiles laughs and calls Peter a dramatic ass when he says he wants to do it at the old Hale house, but doesn't argue with him on it.

Ethan wakes up a few minutes after they get him chained up in the basement. He snarls at them, gnashing his teeth and straining against the chains. Peter and Stiles watch impassively as Ethan growls out his threats, promises that his brother will find him, that he'll rip them apart. When Stiles picks up a gun loaded with wolfsbane bullets, also liberated from Argent, Ethan just sneers.

"I don't care what you do to me. I'll never talk," Ethan says.

"While I would deeply enjoy proving you wrong on that, we're on a bit of a schedule and I'm not interested in torturing you for information," Peter says.

"I am," Stiles says, waving the gun at him cheerily. "But yeah, we've got a bit of a time constraint here so we're gonna wrap this up quickly."

Ethan's bravado falters, because while he might not be the brightest bulb in the box, he's smart enough to know that if information isn't what they're after, there are very limited options for him.

Before Ethan can ask what they mean, Peter stalks forward, claws sliding out. Ethan's eyes go wide a moment before Peter's claws are ripping out his throat. Ethan slumps forward, blood gurgling out of his throat as life leaves him, surprise still etched on his face.

As soon as Ethan takes his last breath, Peter feels the alpha spark surge into him. It's a hot rush of power, warm and enveloping but not like last time, not like when it'd coursed through his scarred psyche like another round of fire. No, this is gentler, more natural. It rolls over him like waves, filling him up completely. He doesn't fight it, goes where the power is coaxing him, and before he can comprehend it, fur is flowing over his body, body rearranging and changing until he's on all fours, standing tall as a huge wolf.

When Peter opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Stiles. She's standing just a few feet away, mouth open, eyes wide. She looks awed, and there's not a trace of fear in her scent. She holds a hand out in front of him, asking permission before she touches him. Peter huffs, because he will always be all right with her touching him, and walks forward. It takes a few seconds to get used to walking on paws, this wolf form so different from the monstrous thing that had been his alpha form previously, but he manages with grace, bumping his head into Stiles' outstretched hand. She grins, running her fingers through his fur, scratching being his ears. Peter's grinning as best he can in this form, tongue lolling out of his mouth as she runs her hands over him.

His senses are so much stronger now. He vaguely remembers that from his brief stint as an alpha, but most of that time is clouded with a haze of insanity and sometimes he wonders which memories are even real. The senses though, he was right about. His vision is better, sharper, and he can hear so much further than before. But the scents, Stiles' scent. Peter has to remind himself that he can't take her here on the floor of his family's burned out basement. She smells rich and intoxicating, and so very much like his that if he didn't know better, he'd swear he'd already claimed her as his mate.

On the heels of that is the overwhelming urge to bite her, to make her his first true, chosen beta, his second in command, his alpha mate. She will be an incredible wolf, magnificent and powerful, and he can't wait to sink his teeth into her. He pushes that aside though, as much as it pains him, because he has plans for how he wants to do that, and spur of the moment over a rival wolf's dead body isn't included.

"My beautiful wolf," she murmurs, dropping to her knees. She tangles her fingers in the fur at his shoulders and presses her forehead to his. Peter nuzzles at her, pushing his muzzle into the crook of her neck, rubbing his scent over her. She snorts, pressing a kiss to his furred cheek. "Right, like I don't already smell like you enough."

She does reek of him, but it'll never be enough. Nevertheless, Peter draws back, but not before licking at the side of her neck. She eeps, and snorts, rubbing at the saliva as Peter steps away and shifts back, fur receding to skin, body changing back to a human.

"Well," Stiles says, standing and looking at Peter's nude body pointedly. "It's a good thing we started carrying emergency clothes in the trunk because I would hate to get pulled over and have to tell the cops that the naked man in my front seat lost his clothes after we murdered a teenager."

"I'm sure that would be a difficult pill for law enforcement to swallow," Peter agrees.

"How are you feeling?" Stiles asks, stepping closer.

Peter tugs her into the circle of his arms as soon as she's close enough, needing to touch the one person who he considers his pack, the one person he can feel the bond glowing bright with. He doesn't want the barrier of her clothes between them, wanting to feel her skin on his, but that's not something he can control right now, so he just brushes her hair to the side, rubbing his cheek over hers. He rumbles in contentment as she wraps her arms around him in return, hands warm on his back.

"It feels amazing," Peter says. It's inadequate, but Peter doesn't know how else to say it.

"No murderous urges? Desires to go on killing sprees?"

"Not more so than normal," Peter says.

"Sweet," Stiles says, grinning. "Let's get this show on the road."

Peter dresses in the extra clothes in his trunk, then they douse Ethan's body in wolfsbane, making it impossible to get a scent off it. They dump it deep in the preserve, down a steep ravine. Deucalion will have felt the severed connected with his packmate by now and will be looking for him, and Peter wants to be as far away from the body as possible when that happens.

As much as Peter wants to bite Stiles, he knows he has to wait. He wants to make sure he's settled in the alpha power, that he has complete control of himself, before he makes her his. He's unwilling to risk her more than the bite already will. He has no doubt that it will take, she is young and strong, but there is always that chance.

He can't hold himself back from taking her though, not with how delicious she smells, how much his wolf is howling for him to claim her. Her arousal spikes whenever his eyes flash red, her breath hitching in her throat, and if it weren't abundantly clear before that she has a thing for power, it is now.

Peter's on her as soon as they get inside his apartment, spinning her around and pinning her against the closed door. Stiles gasps but doesn't seem surprised. She's smelled like arousal for the last hour. Peter presses his body against hers, pressing rough kisses to her lips. Stiles drapes her arms around the back of his neck and with anyone else, his wolf's hackles would rise, but it's her and he knows she's safe. He just slots a thigh between her legs, letting her grind down against him with needy whimpers.

Peter nips his way down her neck, sucking dark marks into her fair skin. Stiles tilts her head to the side, giving him easier access to her throat and it makes him growl, digging blunt human teeth deeper into her skin at the juncture where her neck meets her shoulder. It's where he'll sink his fangs into her when he turns her, not her side, because she'll never be just a beta to him.

Stiles whines, gripping at his shoulders and continuing to rut against his thigh. He can smell how wet she is, feel the heat of her cunt through both of their jeans, and he needs her to be bare, needs to take her. He wraps his hands around the backs of her thighs and lifts, making her squeak in surprise. She wraps her legs around his waist and clings to his shoulders, as if he would ever let her fall.

The bedroom is too far away from him, so Peter carries her to the living room. He's grateful to have a deep, long couch that he can set her on, bought specifically with a future pack in mind. Stiles' hands immediately go to the button of her jeans, undoing them and shimmying them down her hips. The smell of her arousal hits Peter harder, making him growl. His cock is hard in his jeans and he roughly tugs them off, the fabric tearing as he pulls them down.

Stiles pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it away, leaving her in nothing but her wet cotton panties and bra. Peter's shirt follows hers quickly and she's smart enough to take off her bra before he rips it off her. Peter surges up her body, squeezing her firm breasts in his hands, taking one hard little nipple into his mouth. Stiles gasps, arching her back into his touch. Her nipples are always so sensitive and she writhes as he nips at sucks at the hard bud in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth, his hand twisting and pinching her other nipple.

"Peter," she whines, hand twisting in his hair. "Alpha..."

Peter growls and closes his eyes, trying to rein in the wolf. He dips a hand inside her panties, feeling the wetness gathered at her slit. He slips two fingers in, tucking them up inside her and making her gasp. He wants, needs, to fuck her, to take her and mark her, but the idea of hurting her is repulsive to him and he needs to make sure she's ready. He won't let himself injure her just because of his new, stronger alpha instincts.

Stiles spreads her thighs wider, giving him more room to thrust his fingers in and out of her. She's oh so wet, her velvety cunt opening up under his touch. Peter's torn, wanting to bury his face between her thighs, take her apart with his tongue and fingers, revel in the taste of her, but a larger part of him just desperately wants him to sink his cock into her, paint her insides with his come. Stiles, smart little thing that she is, seems to realize this and rolls her hips, forcing herself down on his fingers.

"You can take your time and play with me later," she says, voice going breathy as he crooks his fingers inside her. "I need you to fuck me now."

Peter groans, resting his head on her chest momentarily, before sitting up straighter, kneeling between her open legs. He withdraws his fingers from her, using her slickness to coat his cock. He draws the tip of his cock up and down her slit, making her whine impatiently, before pushing forward, parting her folds and sliding into her. It's tight, he hasn't prepped her nearly as well as he usually does, but the noises she's making aren't of pain.

Peter takes a second to let her adjust to the thick intrusion, then starts rolling his hips, pressing his cock deeper inside her. Stiles mewls in pleasure, tilting her hips up to meet his thrusts. Her hips are slim in his tight grip and he's sure he's leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises on her, but they both love the marks on her when they're done.

Stiles grips his biceps, eyes fluttering shut as he thrusts into her. This isn't sweet or slow; this is rough, animalistic fucking. This is him fucking her to claim her, to make sure she knows she's his. His pace is hard and brutal, but she loves it, her head thrown back in pleasure, her warm cunt already tightening around him.

Peter drags blunt nails down her torso, leaving little red trails on her pale skin. She gasps, scent of arousal deepening like it always does when he gives her a little pain. She wraps her legs around his waist, encouraging him to fuck her deeper. Peter surges forward, kissing her harshly. There are times when she's just as aggressive as he is, but she lets him control the kiss this time, lets his wolf take her how he wants.

Peter slips a hand between her legs, rubbing his fingers over her hard, slick clit. Stiles moans, grip on his arms tightening, cunt clenching around him. Normally he would last longer, would prolong their pleasure as much as possible, but he and his wolf have one goal in mind, and that's to thoroughly claim her.

Stiles' moans get higher pitched and longer, her thighs shaking on either side of him. Peter thrusts into her harder, keeping the pressure on her clit, until she's coming with a cry, pussy spasming around his cock. Peter growls, eyes flashing red, and drives himself into her, chasing his own pleasure. He's close, so very close, when he feels a tingling, the base of his cock swelling.

"What's - oh my god, is that a knot?" Stiles asks frantically. She tries to scoot back, but Peter keeps her in place with his hands at her waist, not wanting to pull out and hurt her. "Peter! Why didn't you tell me you have a knot?"

"I didn't know," Peter says through gritted teeth, because fuck, her fluttering cunt feels amazing around his knot. "I think it's because I'm an alpha."

"How could you not know?!"

"Sex wasn't exactly my top priority as an alpha the first time around," Peter says.

"This is still something you should know! Are there no werewolf biology textbooks?"

"Yeah, I'll get right on writing one as soon as we're done here," Peter says.

"Oh my god," Stiles says, covering her face with her hands. Tellingly though, the scent of her arousal hasn't diminished at all, it's only grown.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't enjoy this?" Peter asks, grinding his knotted cock in her.

Stiles whines, back arching off the couch. He's sure his knot is pressing right against her g-spot, and she's always loved the feeling of being stretched wide. And Peter? Peter's an opportunist. She feels fantastic, cunt tight around him, and he can't wait to feel her come around his knot while he unloads inside her.

Peter can't thrust this way, can't pull his thick knot out without hurting her, so he grinds into her deeply, pelvis pressing against her sensitive clit. Stiles groans, trembling under him as he rotates his hips, chasing his release. He's already close, the scent of her arousal and her soft, sweet cunt dragging him closer, but when she comes again, pussy clamping down around him, he finally comes.

Peter roars as his orgasm crashes through him, so much stronger than usual with the pressure around his sensitive knot. He buries his face in Stiles' throat, blunt teeth against her skin as his cock jerks, spilling his come inside her. He's shaking above her because this is so much more intense than when he was a beta, and with the knot he's coming more than he has before, painting her insides with his release. His wolf snarls in victory knowing she'll smell like him for days.

Peter collapses forward, trying to keep as much weight off of her, pressing soft kisses to her throat. Stiles hums, wrapping her arms around his back, keeping him close. They're both trembling in each other's arms and when they're done, when Peter's knot goes down, he'll slide down and burying his face between her thighs, lick at her swollen cunt until she's coming again on his tongue. For now though, he waits. He has no idea how long it will be until the knot goes down, so he lets himself enjoy having her under him. His wolf is content and purring, pleased at having so thoroughly satisfied and marked his future mate.

"Knots are for breeding, you know," Stiles says, carding her fingers through his hair. "Thank fuck for birth control. I'm not interested in the whole teen parent thing."

"You aren't ovulating," Peter says. "And if it happened, if you wanted the abortion as I suspect you might, I would pay for that."

Stiles' fingers still in his hair and she pulls back enough that she can see him.

"You would?" she asks.

"Of course," Peter says. "I would never try to force you into that, especially as it's something neither of us are ready for." The 'yet' hangs unsaid between them.

"Oh," Stiles says softly. "Yeah, I think one life-changing decision at a time is all I can deal with. On that note, uh, when are you going to give me the bite?"

Peter hums and presses a kiss to her temple. "The full moon is in two days. After then. I want to give you as much time to adapt as possible before your first full moon."

Stiles nods. "Okay," she says.

"You don't have to," Peter says. "If you change your mind, you don't have to take it."

"I know," Stiles says. She threads their fingers together. "I want to. I want to be strong. I don't want to be useless. I want to pull my own weight and not constantly be worried that a backhand from a werewolf will break my neck."

Peter pulls back and takes her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones. "I need you to listen to me very carefully, sweetheart. You are not useless. You have never been, and will never be, useless. You're the only one in the shambles of this pack that has proven themselves time and time again," he says. She blushes, but he doesn't let her look away. "I will consider myself lucky and proud to be your alpha. You will be a magnificent wolf."

Stiles doesn't seem to know what to say, never really does when Peter's so raw and serious with his compliments of her, so he lets her thank him and duck her head down to nuzzle at his chest. Once she's turned and he teaches her how to detect lies, she'll know for certain that he's telling the truth.

Once Peter's knot softens enough to slip out of her, he does slide down her body and lick between her legs, worshiping her red, swollen cunt until she's screaming, coming with his seed dripping out of her. He wishes he could keep her like this, fucked out and blissful, but he knows reality is coming soon.

No one in the pack notices that Peter's an alpha again. Pack 'meetings' consist of Derek, Cora, Isaac, Boyd, Peter, Scott, and Stiles debating best strategies of dealing with the alpha pack, and shooting down everything each other says. Derek, still raw from the loss of Erica, is playing it too safe. Scott's desire to not be involved with Derek's pack in any way is making all of their efforts crumble, and Stiles is rapidly losing her patience.

They haven't even noticed Ethan isn't around anymore, JFC. Stiles texts Peter from across the loft. She's sitting on one of the couches, Scott pacing in front of her. They're arguing about the alpha twins and how to deal with them at school. Peter glances at her from where he's sitting on the spiral steps and sees her roll her eyes.

Yes, they truly are an unobservant bunch. Peter is pretty sure Derek is the only one who knows Peter and Stiles are sleeping together. He hasn't said anything, but had leveled Peter a truly unimpressed look. Peter thinks he may have pulled Stiles aside and talked to her, but she hadn't said anything. They all know they spend time together though, which Scott had also thrown a fit about, but he's known Stiles long enough to know that telling her not to do something is just a sure fire way to make her do it out of spite.

"We can't just kill them!" Scott says.

Stiles groans loudly and lets her head thunk back onto the back of the couch. Peter ducks his head to hide his smirk. Scott turns to her in betrayal.

"They aren't leaving us many options," Derek says.

"Killing isn't an option!" Scott says.

"It's the best option," Stiles says. "You were willing to kill Peter when you thought it would make you un-furry. Why's it wrong for us to kill people who are literal murders, and have told us themselves that they're going to kill more, when you were advocating for murder a few months ago?"

Peter can't hide his smirk this time. It seems like Cora and Boyd can't either, and Peter gets the distinct feeling that neither of them are fans of Scott. Derek just looks constipated, and Isaac is watching them with wide eyes.

Scott sputters and says, "That's not the point!"

Stiles sighs heavily and leans forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped in front of her. It makes Peter sit up a little straighter. The rest of the wolves focus more at the indicator that Stiles is ready to join the argument.

"That is the point. That is exactly the point. You can't play the moral police only when it suits you, then go ahead and do whatever you want the rest of the time. You don't get to decide that murder is okay on the off chance that you'll turn human again, but it's unacceptable if it means saving lives," Stiles says. "Scott, I love you dude, but you're being the worst kind of hypocrite."

Scott's eyes flash gold and Peter tenses, ready to throw himself between the threat and his pack member, but Stiles looks supremely unimpressed.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Scott growls. He points a dramatic finger at Peter and says, "He ruined my life!" Which honestly, people call Peter the drama queen.

"You're faster, stronger, your asthma is healed, you get the girl, you're team co-captain. I fail to see how that ruined your life," Stiles says.

"How about the fact that there's an alpha pack trying to kill us?" Scott snaps.

"The alpha pack would have come whether you were bitten or not, and you could easily be a victim of them or the darach," Stiles says. "The difference is that you're in a position to do something about it, and you're squandering that."

"You don't know anything about it! You aren't a werewolf, you'll never understand," Scott says.

Stiles keeps her face impressively blank and just shrugs. "This conversation isn't going anywhere," Stiles says. She turns to Derek. "When you're ready to get serious about dealing with this, come find me."

Stiles stands and gathers her things before leaving the loft. Scott glares after her but doesn't follow, a smart move on his part.

"She's right, you know," Cora says. "We aren't going to survive this if we keep dragging our feet."

That sets out a whole new round of arguing, of which Peter is not at all interested. He slips out the loft with no one noticing nor caring. Stiles is sitting in her jeep in the parking lot, head resting on the steering wheel. Peter gets in the passenger side door. She'd driven them, and his car is still at his apartment. No one had noticed.

"You shouldn't be sitting alone with the doors unlocked with an alpha pack on the loose," Peter chides.

"Door locks wouldn't have helped if they wanted to get me," Stiles says, not lifting her head. "Besides, you'd hear if anyone were close."

"Your faith in me is appreciated, but I'd still rather you play it safe," Peter says.

He can practically hear her eye roll when she says, "Thanks, Dad." She sits up and turns the key in the ignition, the car rumbling to life.

"Are you staying over tonight?" Peter asks.

"No, my dad has tonight off and he might actually notice I'm gone," Stiles says. "Plus, I figured I should at least be home tonight if I'm going to be at your house learning werewolfy zen stuff for the next week."

Peter hums in agreement. Instead of stumbling through becoming a wolf like Scott, Peter is biting her Friday right before a long weekend. She should have enough to control to go back to school Tuesday after the holiday, especially if Scott McCall could manage, but she's planning on staying with Peter for a week just in case. Peter's more than happy with that.

Stiles is going to be Peter's first and most important beta (well, first that he consciously chose), and he wants to turn her right. He wants to bite her deep in the preserve as his family's tradition has been, but with the alpha pack and Argents sniffing around, that's just an unnecessary risk, one that Peter isn't willing to take with Stiles.

Stiles comes over after class gets out Friday. She has a duffel bag with her and has told her dad she's staying at her friend Danielle's house, bonding over the loss of Heather. Apparently he buys it. Peter wonders how exactly someone can be so disconnected from their child's safety, but it works to his advantage in this case. Peter will eventually have to come to terms with the sheriff, once the man knows about the supernatural and that his daughter is in Peter's pack. Peter can have a good, long talk with him then.

Stiles smells of nerves when she enters the apartment, but not of fear. Peter leads her to the bedroom and she sets her bag down in the corner. She's dressed in sweats and a tank top, comfortable clothes that give him easy access to her neck. Her long, soft hair is pulled into a braid, draped over one shoulder. Peter lies her down on his bed, propping her up on the pillows.

"You're going to get blood on your nice sheets," Stiles murmurs.

"I can wash them," Peter says dismissively. "When your senses heighten, I'd rather you have something soft instead of cheap, abrasive material against your skin."

Stiles smiles softly at him at that and tugs him down by his hand until he's lying next to her. He brushes the stray hair from her cheek, cupping her delicate face in one large hand. She nuzzles her cheek against his hand, keeping her eyes on his.

"I'm ready," she tells him, and there's no lie in her heartbeat or scent.

Peter nods. He kisses her softly before pulling back to kiss her neck and drag his lips down her throat. He puts his hands on her shoulders, not wanting her to thrash at the pain, and presses a kiss at the juncture where her neck meets her shoulder. His fangs drop and he sinks his teeth into her, her warm blood running over his tongue.

Stiles cries out, body spasming in his hold and Peter removes his teeth quickly, laving his tongue over the bite mark. It's neater than the one he'd left on Scott, less brutal, just an imprint of his teeth. He pulls the pain from her, leaving just a dull ache behind so she remembers not to jolt it.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks.

"Yeah," Stiles says breathlessly. "I knew it would hurt, but still. Fuck."

"I know," Peter says, pressing his forehead to hers.

"How long until you know if it takes?" Stiles asks.

"Not long. Maybe an hour," Peter says.

"If it does't - "

"It will," Peter says.

"If it doesn't," Stiles says again. "No blaming yourself, no self-destructive, crazy moves against Deucalion that will get you killed. Okay?"

That's not something Peter can promise, and he won't lie to her. "I'll do my best," Peter says.

Stiles rolls her eyes, but seems to know that's as good as it's going to get.

"The bite on the neck," Stiles says, reaching up. Peter grabs her fingers before she can touch the sluggishly bleeding wound. "It's different from where you bit Scott."

"It is," Peter says.

"It means something, doesn't it?" Stiles asks.

"It does," Peter says.

Stiles studies him for a long time and he knows she has a good idea of why he bit her where he did. It's not a mating bite, he would never do that to her without telling her first, but it does have intent. It marks her as important, as his second and future alpha mate. No matter what betas come after her, she will always hold that rank and importance to him.

They lie there for a long time, Stiles cradled in the circle of his arms, waiting to see if the bite takes. It's an hour and a half later that her scent starts to change, deepening with the hint of pack and magic and Peter. Peter growls, taking her face in his hands and kissing her hungrily.

"It's working. You're going to be my wolf," he says against her lips.

Stiles sighs in relief, wrapping her arms around him. As much as Peter wants her, wants to take her as his wolf, she's still turning and that takes energy, so they get out of bed and head to the kitchen. Peter makes steak and potatoes, knowing her body needs the calories, and makes sure she eats it all.

Stiles' eyes start drooping toward the end of dinner and Peter hustles her to bed. She grumbles as she undresses that she can help clean up, but she's out almost as soon as she hits the pillows. Peter crawls into bed after her, pulling her pliant body against his chest. Peter can't stop nuzzling her, can't stop covering her with his scent. The pack bond that had already existed between them is thrumming strongly, stronger than anything Peter has felt since his pack burned. Peter doesn't bother trying to sleep, just contents himself with holding his new pack member, his first true beta.

Peter had been right; Stiles truly is a magnificent wolf. She takes to it quickly, with a single-minded focus Peter hasn't seen from her before. She listens to every instruction of his, finds her anchor, learns to not be distracted by the sounds and scents around her. That one had been hard, she'd spent the first six hours after waking up huddled in the corner of his room, hands over her ears. Peter manages to calm her down and coax her into focusing on something else, into listening to his heartbeat and drowning out all other sounds. It takes a bit, but they get there.

By the time Tuesday rolls around, Peter's more than confident in her control to let her go to school, though it kills him to let his new beta out of his sight. He kisses her for a long time before she leaves, letting her nuzzle against him as much as she wants. She was already a tactile thing, but the bite has only increased that. She'd spent a whole afternoon rubbing her body against his. Peter hadn't been complaining at all. not happy. Stiles calls Peter a few hours into the school day to let him know that Scott had lost his shit and almost wolfed out at school. He'd assumed one of the alpha pack had bitten Stiles in an attempt to get to Scott, an assumption Stiles lets him keep for now. Stiles and Peter both know that they won't be able to hide the fact that Peter is an alpha for long, but for now, discretion is the better part of valor. So they let the pack worry over her, about if the alpha who bit her will be able to control her like Peter tried to control Scott.

Surprisingly, it's Derek, not Peter, that snorts at that, saying, "If Peter couldn't control Scott, there's no way an alpha is going to be able to control Stiles."

Stiles is entirely too pleased at him saying that, but Peter agrees. If Scott, the worst werewolf Peter has ever seen, was able to throw off an alpha's control, no matter that Peter was insane, there's no alpha alive that can match Stiles for willpower. They all agree in the end to keep their eyes open, because there's not much else they can do.

When they leave the impromptu pack meeting, they go back to Peter's apartment. Peter's on her the second the door closes. She smells too much of other teenagers from school and other wolves from Derek's pack. He needs to replace their scents with his, to be the dominant scent on her other than the sweetness that's natural for her.

They at least make it to the bed before Peter's pulling her out of her clothes. He knows the day's been hard for her, the first she's really spent away from her alpha, but it'd been difficult for him too. Their bond is strong, pulsing brightly, but he's even more protective and possessive of her now than he was before he'd bitten her, and he hadn't thought that was possible.

Peter loves fucking her like this, loves sliding into her sweet, tight body. It's always been good between them, Peter's never been quite this sexually compatible with anyone, but as an alpha, it's entirely different. There's an extra dimension to how he fills her now, how his cock spills inside her, marking her even more thoroughly as his.

His wolf craves it, and hers does, too. She's happy to submit to him, to roll on her back and show her belly, or get on all fours, baring her neck to him. He'd wanted this before, to have her like this for him, but now that he's an alpha, the craving is stronger, the need to thoroughly ruin her, to claim his beta for himself. She needs it, is always so needy to be taken and filled by him.

He thinks it might scare her a bit, the ease at which her submission to him comes, but he soothes her whenever she starts to get anxious, promising her it's natural, it's part of being a wolf and having the kind of bond she has with her alpha.

She rests her head on his bare chest with they're sated, lying naked and sweaty in his bed. He can tell she's working up to asking him something, but also knows that trying to draw it out of her won't do any good. So he waits.

"So it won't be like this with every beta of yours?" she asks.

"No, you won't have the urge to climb them like a tree," Peter says, rolling his eyes.

"No, I mean..." Stiles pauses and bites her lip a little nervously. Peter cocks his head to the side and cups the side of her face, waiting for her to say whatever has her worked up. She sighs. "I mean, it won't be like this with you and other betas? They won't want you like I do?"

You won't want them the way you want me? is what she's really asking him. Peter thought he'd been clear enough, but apparently he's been remiss in his attentions if she thinks for a moment that he'd pursue this with someone besides her. That he would even want to.

"Sweetheart," Peter murmurs, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. "Let me make this very clear. Even if they did want me that way, it wouldn't matter. I will never want another like I want you. You are my first beta, my second in command, my future mate. Our bond is stronger than one I'd have with any other beta. I won't feel the need to claim anyone the same way I do you."

"Okay," Stiles says, smiling shakily. It's the first time Peter's said the word mate, and even if she'd guessed before (and he's sure she had), it's different to hear it from him. "Good."

"How long have you been holding that in?" Peter asks. Stiles shrugs. "In the future, don't hide things like this from me. I'm your alpha. I want to know your worries, no matter how silly you think they are."

"Okay," Stiles says. She nuzzles Peter's palm and he leans in to kiss her forehead.

They still don't have a clear plan for what to do with the alpha pack, but Peter's an alpha again, one twin is dead, and now Peter has a powerful beta at his side, so their horrible odds are looking slightly better.