"Run away with me," Stiles says one morning actually managing to make Peter falter in his steps, one leg still out the window.
It's barely 5 am, Stiles' dad won't wake up for another hour at least. They haven't slept at all, dozing simply as they held each other enjoying what time they had.
Peter is dressed haphazardly, having had to battle with Stiles' wandering hands as he put his clothes back on. Not that he did anything to bat him away, hungry just the same for one more touch.
He loathes to leave Stiles as he is, bare but with the bedsheet thrown over his lap, eyes huge and begging, beckoning him to come back for more.
Stiles' lips are still wet, red and swollen from the kiss they couldn't bear to end because it would mean it was time for Peter to leave.
He doesn't ask Stiles to repeat what he just said, the nervous beating of Stiles' heart telling enough. It's enough to bring him back into the room, falling to his knees next to the bed where Stiles is sitting.
He's wanted this for so long, to steal Stiles away, longer than Stiles might ever suspect. He never dared to push Stiles towards that thought though, because of the two of them, Stiles is the one still somewhat rooted in Beacon Hills.
So he says nothing now, just looks up at his beautiful boy and waits.
Stiles cups Peter's face in his hands and leans forward until he's hunched over on the bed, their foreheads pressed together. His eyes are closed, his body trembling, voice desperate with need.
"It hurts too much to always let you leave when all I want is for you to stay. I can't do it anymore," Stiles whispers into the inches of space between them, "And my dad, the pack, Scott... they'll never see how happy you make me."
"I won't let them take you away from me," Peter swears.
"So let's leave," Stiles asks again, begs. "Let's just leave."
Instead of answering, Peter kisses him, all-consuming and desperate, the way they both need.