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Merry Christmas, dude!

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The beat was pressing down on Stiles in a pleasant way, pushing out some of the worry and tension. It was the last week before finals and Stiles just couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been studying non-stop for three weeks and had felt like his head would explode. Even the promise of going home to spend Christmas with his family was barely holding him up.

Also with it being his last year of college and completely packed, he hadn’t had time to get laid at all. Which was totally unacceptable. Sadly both his fuckbuddies had left Berkely. His ex-but-still-friends Kira had transferred to NYU and his you’re-an-asshole-but-so-hot-I-hate-you-but-the-sex-is-great-frenemy Theo had graduated. With honours, thanks to Stiles’ coaching.

But now he was here and enjoying himself. It wasn’t his favourite club but they were gay-friendly and close to his little apartment. He was rolling his hips to the music, arms only flailing at a minimum, eyes half-closed. Occasionally hands were brushing over him but he hadn’t started actively looking just yet.

That was until a firm, broad body was pressing against his back. The touch was quite forward but no arms came around to cage him in, leaving him open to step away if he wanted. He didn’t just yet. Leaning back felt really nice, safe for some reason.

Okay, maybe Stiles had a type. Not necessarily underwear-model-toned but broad, muscular guys were definitely doing it for him.

The man began to move with Stiles to the beat, slowly bring up his hands to Stiles’ hips. Stiles in turn ran his fingers over those hands, revelling in them feeling smooth but firm. Then he brought his arms up and and ran them through the man’s short but full hair before settling on his neck. And holy shit that was one thick, hard neck. Stiles laced his fingers together around it and squeezed lightly. The pressure was immediately answered by a small growl that vibrated against Stiles’ back as the man crowded more against him. A nose was pushed against Stiles’ neck and he swore he could hear the man inhaling deeply as he moved upwards along Stiles’ skin.

“Delicious,” the man spoke into his ear and Stiles felt a surge through his body. The voice was so smooth and confident, yet somehow also growly and hard, demanding. Stiles had no idea how he was hearing all this over the loud music but his body felt like it was going to melt right there and his knees were almost giving out. The man must have noticed because he gripped Stiles tighter and chuckled in his ear.

They kept moving and Stiles lost himself in the rhythm and his arousal. His ass kept rubbing against the man’s groin and he occasionally pressed back extra firmly. That earned him another growl and one hand moving from his hip to his stomach, very close to his zipper.

“Shameless,” the man whisper-shouted into his ear.

Stiles laughed and tilted his head a bit. “Yep, that’s me,” he shouted back. Then he added more quietly, “You should see me beg.”

Somehow the man still heard him and the hand on his hips suddenly dug in before the man spun him around. “Careful, I might just have to see that.”

Stiles tried to come up with a witty reply but his brain seemed to have frozen at the sight before him. Sure he hadn’t expected much from a man that had to come up at people from behind but he had hoped that the mystery person might be somewhat attractive.

However nothing at all could have prepared him for the sight of this man. Maybe mid-thirties, artfully stubbled, hair carefully styled, thick, muscular body squeezed into tight, washed-out (but probably designer) jeans and white short-sleeved t-shirt, and everything topped with the iciest shade of blue Stiles had ever seen in someone’s eyes. Somehow the whole package was so ridiculously attractive that Stiles for once what at a loss to speak.

Of course the guy noticed his brain freeze and smirked smugly. “I’m assuming you like what you see. Otherwise I would have to be insulted,” he stated playfully after pulling Stiles close again so he could understand his words.

“Jesus fucking Christ on a stick,” Stiles blurted out. “How are you real?”

The man laughed, seeming honestly amused now. “Good genes and hard work. And maybe a little magic.”

Stiles laughed as well. “What? Like magic magic or like plastic surgery magic?”

Stupidly-hot-guy gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. “I would never.”

Snorting, Stiles reached up and patted the man’s cheek mockingly. “Sure, dude.”

“Peter,” the man shouted, grabbing Stiles’ wrist and squeezing lightly.

Stiles licked his lips at the man’s easy strength before he leaned in. “Stiles.”

“What?” Peter asked, looking confused.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles grabbed Peter’s wrist in return and pulled him along through the people towards an area in the back where the music was a bit more quiet.

“Stiles,” he said again, leaning against the nearest wall. “It’s my name. Well, a nickname but everyone uses it.”

“I see,” Peter stated and crowded closer, putting his hands on Stiles’ hip. “So, did you want to see any more of that magic I was talking about?”

Stiles threw his head back and laughed out loud. “Dude! Could you get any more cheesy? I swear these lines only work because you are hot like burning.”

Peter grinned, seemingly not offended. “Thanks,” he said dryly and slipped his thumbs up under Stiles’ shirt. “I assure you I’ve got the talent to back up the pretty package.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, smirking. “The talent to suck my dick?”

“That and more.”

Stiles swallowed thickly, feeling the burn of Peter’s hot fingers on his skin.

“Prove it!” he demanded, sounding breathless.

With that, Peter leaned in and pressed their lips together. The kiss was firm and hot and demanding. Stiles felt himself melt against Peter’ chest.

They simply kissed for a long time before they broke apart, gasping for breath.

“Do you want to relocate?” Peter asked, grinding his hips against Stiles’.

“Hell, yes!” Stiles replied, almost shouting.

Peter laughed, the little crow’s-feet on the corner of his eyes crinkling. He grabbed Stiles' wrist this time and gently lead him to the toilets.

Stiles was relieved that they weren’t as filthy as they could be and that the music was still loud enough to drown out most noises. Probably why many stalls were already occupied. But they were in luck and got the last one in the corner.

The moment Peter guided him inside and slid the lock into place, Stiles was assaulted. Peter’s nose pressed into his neck, mouth hot against Stiles’ skin and his hands skillfully opening his pants.

Stiles could only hold on, fingers tangled in Peter’s hair. That didn’t change when Peter suddenly dropped into a crouch, dragging down Stiles’ pants and shorts and took him into his mouth.

He felt his brain short circuit because it was the hottest thing to see Peter’s lips wrapped around his cock, the man’s bright blue eyes staring up at him intently. The feel of Peter’s velvety tongue didn’t make it any better either.

Stiles had to hold on tight not to come, one hand grabbing Peter’s shoulder and the other buried in his hair. And then Peter made him spread his legs and a lubed up finger pressed against his hole and it was over, he spilled himself into Peter’s mouth.

When he came down from his amazing orgasm, Stiles whined. Both from overstimulation and disappointment.

“Shh,” Peter said and straightened up. Clean fingers ran over Stiles’ cheek and Peter kissed his sweaty temple. “Not to worry, sweetheart, I will take care of you.”

The words made something in Stiles melt and after the tension of the last few weeks he just went limp now, slumping against the wall.

“Please,” he pleaded and Peter started to kiss him. Gently at first, in tune with his slick fingers circling Stiles’ hole. Then he got more insistent, deepening the kiss while pressing two of his fingers inside.

The pace however stayed languid, giving Stiles time to adjust. He lost himself in the smooth, skillful motions. Only when Peter pressed in a third finger, Stiles felt the burn but by then he had recovered enough for it to spike his arousal. He arched his back and groaned into Peter’s mouth, feeling the man smile against his lips.

Eventually Peter pulled back and Stiles opened his eyes. With pleasant surprise he noticed that Peter looked as debauched as Stiles felt himself.

“Turn around, boy,” he said with a smirk.

“Ohh! Boy, huh?” Stiles said, wagging his eyebrows in exaggeration. He turned around and pressed his hands against the wall of the stall.

Throwing a cheeky grin over his shoulder, he dared to say, “Well, then, do me, daddy!”

Peter actually growled, pressing himself against Stiles back. There was a slight crinkling noise from opening the condom and then Peter’s cock pushed against Stiles’ hole.

He thought Peter must’ve put on that condom with lightning speed but that was the last thought he had for a while, as Peter’s hips snapped forward. Stiles shouted at the sudden feeling of being filled to the brim.

“Shh,” Peter shushed him again. “You can take it, baby. I stretched you well.”

“It’s so big,” Stiles said with a strangled voice. “I’m so full.”

Peter grabbed his hips and gave a few light thrusts before he pushed in even deeper. “Do you like it, boy?”

Stiles cried out and nodded against the wall. “I love it, daddy. Please fuck me.”

With a breathless laugh, Peter held him even tighter and started to fuck him hard. Powerful thrusts that hit Stiles deep and still he pushed back for more. It felt so good that Stiles was almost on edge again already and the deep thrusts brought him closer and closer.

He wanted to touch himself and come so bad but Peter had him firmly held against the wall so he whined, high and needy. “Peter, please…”

Peter answered by hitching him up a bit and suddenly hitting his prostate on every thrust. Stiles cried out again, his orgasm crashing over him. He felt himself spasm around Peter who bit into his shoulder. It made Stiles clench even tighter and then Peter thrust in deep and came inside him with a muffled roar.

They were both panting loudly, still pressed together tightly as they came down. Eventually Peter pulled out and Stiles had to hold back an embarrassing whine. He watched Peter dispose of the condom in the little trash can and then straighten himself up.

“So… do I get your number, daddy?” Stiles asked with a wink while he buttoned up his own jeans.

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m only in town occasionally for business. And I like to keep things anonymous. So, no.”

“Ouch, that hurt,” Stiles said, pressing a hand to his chest, only half-joking. But then he thought about his double major and the stress he had already with juggling everything. He probably didn’t need another distraction. So, he shrugged. “Whatever dude, Merry Christmas.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Peter stated with an eye roll, opening the door. But before he left he gave Stiles a last glance and a quick smirk. “Merry Christmas, baby.”


After his successful score at the club, Stiles had gone back to his apartment and crashed for ten hours. Somehow the encounter with Peter had mellowed him out enough that his relaxed mood held on for the whole week and through finals which he felt he had aced. Of course then he stressed himself with some last minute packing before he drove down to Beacon Hills for Christmas.

He had only been back for a day and had already been commandeered by Scott to babysit his daughter, Stiles’ godchild Lizzy. Thankfully the sheriff loved her just as much as Stiles and they had happily taken her to a little farm in the next town to choose a Christmas tree.

“Stiles,” someone said and Stiles looked up from the price tag he had inspected.

“Oh, hey, Cora.” He gave a polite nod to his nemesis from high school. Cora Hale, the only student that was ever able to top his level of sarcasm and irony.

“Stiles?” a shocked voice sounded from behind them. Stiles’ stomach plummeted and he whirled around, staring open-mouthed at… “Peter! Oh, my god.”

“Oh, you know my uncle?” Cora asked, head tilted in curiosity.

“Uncle,” Stiles repeated, staring dumbly at Peter and the gorgeous women standing next to him. “Your uncle, Peter... Hale. Uh, yes, we uh...”

He was about to ramble nervously when Lizzy came running around a tree, throwing herself at Stiles, hugging his legs. Stiles’ father followed closely behind.

“Hey sunshine. Uh, dad,” Stiles began nervously.

“Dad,” Peter repeated dryly, looking at the sheriff. Then his gaze fell on the child and he grimaced. “And you have daughter.”

Before Stiles could reply, a cheery Christmas ringtone chimed and Peter’s beautiful companion took out her phone. “Hale?”

Stiles’ eyes widened and he pointed a finger at Peter accusingly. “And you? You have a wife!”

“What?” Peter asked startled.

“Oh, my god! Is that the twink you hooked up with?” Cora asked and started laughing hysterically.

“Who hooked up with who?” the tall goddess asked, coming back from her phone call.

Stiles frowned in confusion, wondering why Peter would tell Cora about their hook-up when he was married. He wasn’t sure how to answer the woman’s question or how to get Cora to stop laughing.

Peter on the other hand ignored his laughing niece and turned to his wife with a pinched look. “Everything okay?”

“Just a work call,” she replied and shrugged. Then she looked at Stiles with a predatory expression. “So what’s going on? Did you hook up with Peter?”

Stiles started to sweat and panic, looking to Peter for help.

“Stiles!” Lizzy shouted, tugging on his jacket. Thankful for a reprise he picked her up and held her as a barrier between himself and a potentially angry woman, hoping she would be decent enough not to attack a man holding a small child - yes, he knew it was a shit move but that woman was seriously fit!

“What’s up, cupcake?” he mumbled, trying to smile at her.

“What’s ‘hook up’?” the girl asked innocently. “And why did you do it with this man?”

Stiles closed his eyes with a groan, feeling himself blushing bright red. “Your parents are going to kill me,” he stated with resignation.

Cora began to laugh again but Peter stepped closer, looking at Stiles intently. “She’s not yours?” he asked.

“No! I thought that was obvious,” Stiles said indignantly.

Peter arched an eyebrow and replied dryly, “It wasn’t”. Then he pointed to the tall goddess. “This is my niece Laura by the way.”

Stiles opened his mouth but nothing came out. Only when Lizzy wriggled out of his grip, he passed her on to the sheriff and cleared his throat.

Somehow he was suddenly standing very close to Peter. “You’re not married?” he whispered and Peter shook his head.

“Me neither,” Stiles said, feeling a bit giddy from relief. Peter rolled his eyes but smirked.

Stiles felt more confident by that and added, “I’ve been thinking about you. Like a lot. And not just the sex.”

In the background they heard Cora and her sister snicker and the sheriff shuffle away with a tortured groan.

Peter however was unfazed. “I have to admit I’ve been starting to regret not getting your number after all.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, sounding a little breathless.

Looking pleased, Peter confirmed with a “Yeah,” and then pulled Stiles against him, pressing their lips together.

“Oooh,” came a chorus from behind them but they valiantly ignored it, deepening the kiss.

Only when someone suddenly slapped a hand on his shoulder, Stiles jerked away.

“Sorry, guys,” Cora said, sounding particularly cheerful. “There’s no way out, now. Laura texted mom. Stilinski, you’re coming for dinner tonight.

“What?” Stiles squawked out and Peter turned to glare at his traitorous niece.

“Was that really necessary?” he asked sharply. Laura walked up to them with a huge grin, nodding. “Yep. And totally worth your payback, too. I can’t wait to see mom’s face when she sees your deliciously cute boy here.”

“Excuse me, the boy’s father standing right here.” The sheriff cleared his throat with a pained expression and Stiles blushed even further.

“Okay, great. Good meeting you all, Hales. Very nice. Bye now,” he babbled and tried to usher his dad away.

“Wait,” Peter said quickly, hesitantly cupping Stiles upper arm “Will you… will you come? To dinner?”

Stiles stilled and licked his lips, looking into Peter’s amazingly blue eyes. “Yeah,” he replied, voice going soft again. “Yeah, I will.”


After dinner Peter took Stiles to his apartment and fucked him just as thoroughly as in the club. This time Stiles was on his back, clinging tightly to Peter, holding his intense gaze. Stiles tensed and came with a shout, triggering Peter’s own orgasm. When Peter’s eyes flashed bright blue, Stiles shouted again.

“Oh, my god. You’re a fucking werewolf!”