Sunday morning dawn bright and cheery. Stiles is happy watching Peter as he sleeps. He hasn't been awake for long and is enjoying the quiet. Because he can, Stiles moves close enough to press his lips to Peter's neck and he sucks and bites to make a mark.
It was ridiculous how early he was awake considering how late he'd gone to sleep. Stiles stretches feeling the low ache in his muscles, twinge in his ass where Peter had been rough in his thrusts - not that Stiles had minded at the time. It was a shame, Stiles thought, running a hand over Peter's flank under the sheets that Peter wouldn't ever feel like this.
Stiles had his turn topping and Peter rode him like a champ but he healed so quickly he never got the satisfaction from the morning after aches. Impatient and wanting Peter to be awake but knowing he'd be hopeless first thing; unable to coordinate himself (maybe Stiles' dad had a point and some processes had been lost or damaged).
He stays in bed a little longer until he gets bored of tracing Peter's eyebrows and down the slope of his nose. Stiles gets out and leans down to give him a quick peck by his eye, smiling as Peter shifts and reaches for Stiles in the bed.
Peter stretches and starts to wake so Stiles goes to make a pot of coffee. He has a look in Peter's fridge but decides that Peter can cook when he's up because if it were up to Stiles he'd have a poptart. But that makes Peter bring out his disappointed face.
It's ironic, Stiles supposes, that for all his trying to get his dad to eat healthy, he finds a boyfriend who does the same to him. It's makes Stiles feel warm inside. His thoughts are interrupted by a quiet knock on the door.
When Stiles opens the door he's surprised to see Malia on the other side.
"Malia. What are you doing here?"
"Lydia said you were fucking my- uh, Peter." Malia holds his gaze. "She said it was bad. I came to make up my own mind."
"You want to come in?" He stands to the side and she hesitates before entering.
They stand there awkwardly before Stiles scratches at his belly and then flushes. He had forgotten he was naked. "Peter's still asleep, coffee is on, I'm just going to put some clothes on."
"Why?" Malia is genuinely confused. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."
"Oh god." Stiles feels a bit sick. His ex-girlfriend, who he had sex with, is the daughter of the man he's currently having sex with. Both have seen him naked, and he's had his dick in both of them. "This is so weird."
He hurtles back to the bedroom, luckily Peter still has his eyes closed, breathing evenly. Stiles pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a top. He takes a moment to count his fingers, twice and then heads back out to Malia.
"You humans are so... What's the word?" Malia narrows her eyes and moves her hand in a circular motion. "Sensitive about nudity."
"Prudish." Stiles said faintly.
Stiles scrubs a hand through his hair and after he pours three cups of coffee he answers "in a western society, like America, nudity is seen as something inherently sexual."
"We've had sex." Malia has that cute frown on her face. "You had sex with Peter last night."
"Jesus," he hisses. "You don't say things like that. Especially when my boyfriend can hear and especially when he's your-" Stiles stops himself.
"My father?" Malia blinks. "Is that what you were going to say? It's okay, I don't think of him like that and he doesn't see me as a daughter, not since what's-her-name took his memories."
"Talia." Stiles provides.
"Besides, Peter thinks your discomfort is amusing." Malia smirks and tilts her head. "Yeah, he has."
"Peter asked if you've gone that pretty pink colour you usually do when you're embarrassed."
"For fucks sake." Stiles groans. "You two are definitely related."
Malia laughs and she takes a sip of the coffee Stiles pushes towards her. When Peter saunters out the bedroom a minute or so later Stiles practically chokes on his coffee. "Put some damned clothes on."
"You humans are so prudish about nudity." Peter smirks and rounds the kitchen counter to pick up his coffee, crowding Stiles against it as he does so.
"She is your daughter!"
Malia snorts at Stiles' affronted tone.
"Then she won't look." Peter winks at her before kissing Stiles on his temple. Malia laughs and Stiles sighs leaning into Peter's chest.
After a few moments of silence with them sipping their coffees and Malia looking between the two of them she puts her cup down. "I don't get it."
"Get what, Malia?" Peter asks.
"Why this is wrong."
Stiles takes a deep breath. "It's not legal for one, not yet anyway."
"But that's for sex, only." Peter adds.
Malia's frown deepens. "We had sex. Was it illegal when we did it Stiles?"
Peter's chest shakes with barely controlled laughter. "It was, technically but because you were the same age both of you under eighteen people tend to turn a blind eye."
"But because Peter is older, legally an adult and I'm legally a minor it won't be overlooked." Stiles finishes.
"You're happy though." Malia looks between them again. "You're both happy."
"Yeah." Stiles agrees helplessly, Peter makes a pleased hum and holds Stiles close.
"I don't get it." Malia shrugs but says nothing more as she makes finishes her coffee.
"Are you staying for breakfast, Malia?" Peter asks when they've all emptied their cups.
She shakes her head. "Nah I'm going to see if Derek wants to go for a run." As Malia turns to leave she pauses and looks at Peter, "you could come with us one morning."
"I doubt my nephew would like that."
Malia looks at Peter with her brow furrowed. She doesn't really understand the fire, what led up to it and everything that Peter lost and what Derek lost after Peter woke. It's a long history and for Malia it's too complex, her time as a coyote makes her more able to understand simpler, baser emotions not the tangled web of betrayal, lies, murder and insanity.
"You are his uncle," Stiles points out. "And you used to be close. You could be again."
Peter eyes them both seriously. "I'll think about it."
"Awesome," Malia gives a smile as she leaves.
When the door is shut behind her, Peter tugs at Stiles' top. "Let's get this off, darling." Stiles shrugs out of it. "And these," Peter whispers as his fingers ghost along the waistband. Stiles shucks them to the floor. "Look at you, so beautiful and all mine, love. Isn't that right, sweetheart? You're all mine now."
"Yes!" Stiles gasps. "Yours, babe, all yours."
"Say my name, darling." Peter is tugging on Stiles' cock making it harden in his hand. "Come on, love. Let me hear how much you want me."
"Peter!" Stiles' hands cling to Peter's shoulders as Peter slows his hand down and starts teasing with the tips of his fingers along Stiles' length. "Peter, Peter, please."
"Please, what, sweetheart?" Peter asks, slightly muffled from where his mouth is occupied by Stiles' neck. His hand leaves Stiles' cock and Peter bites down hard at the loud whine Stiles releases.
Stiles is turned and finds himself half bent over the kitchen counter, gasping at the coldness on his chest. Slick fingers are probing at Stiles' hole and he shamelessly thrusts back against them until one slides in.
"You keep lube in the kitchen?" Stiles pants.
There's a dark chuckle from Peter and he plasters himself along Stiles' back. "Of course. I never know when I'll have the need to fuck you, sweetheart."
"Fuck!" Stiles shouts at Peter hit his prostrate. A second finger is added and begins to stretch him. "Where else do you have lube?"
"Coffee table," Peter hums thoughtfully. "Bathroom, that's a given. Bedroom, as you know. Kitchen as you've just found out. Study, just in case. Bookcase because sometimes the coffee table it too far away and the side table by the door."
"God that's a lot of places."
Peter withdraws his fingers. "Are you complaining?"
"No," Stiles drags out the word, pushing his hips backwards. "I'm impressed."
The slick head of Peter's cock nudges at his hole and Stiles knows that Peter is watching as he sinks inside. When Peter's hips are flush with Stiles' ass he drapes himself across Stiles' back again.
"You've stopped saying my name, darling." Peter comments idly as he holds himself still.
"Peter," Stiles moans and is rewarded with a thrust. "Peter," gets him another thrust. Stiles is smart he catches on quickly. "Peter. Peter. Peter. Fuck, Peter," every mention of his name Peter rewards Stiles with a thrust.
"I'm close. Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter." Stiles chants before a hand snakes round his waist to grip his cock. With a loud shout of Peter's name Stiles comes painting the kitchen counter and cupboard. "Come in me, Peter, mark me up, make sure everyone knows who I belong to."
With a roar Peter empties himself in Stiles keeping his hips flush with Stiles' ass. They pant and slowing their breaths return to normal and Peter pulls out with a slight squelch. Stiles can't stop himself from clenching. "Want me to get the plug, darling?" Peter asks. "You want to have my come stay in you for today, or do you want it to drip down your thighs?"
"Both. Both is good." Stiles answers, sex-dumb.
Peter lets out a little bit of laughter and presses a kiss on his cheek. "I'll get the plug while we have breakfast and then we can remove it, your thighs can get so pretty with my come." Peter slides his fingers in, pushing the come back. "Hold it there, sweetheart. I'll be back soon."
Reaching around Stiles replaces Peter's fingers with his own. He sucks clean the two fingers Peter offers him before Peter is gone and back with butt plug in no time. He works it inside and Stiles moans as it presses against his prostate. "Fuck, you're so stunning like this. You smell divine, you look amazing. I love you, baby."
Stiles turns on wobbly legs and pulls Peter in for a fierce kiss. "I love you, Peter." He grins. "I'll make another lot of coffee, you can clean the cupboard and counter."
"Excuse me? It's your come." Peter crosses his arms over his chest.
"You initiated sex. It's the rule remember. You're rule." Stiles does a bad impression of Peter's voice, "whoever starts the sex does the clean up Stiles, it's common decency."
When Peter just looks at him unimpressed Stiles laughs and winks, "bet you thought I would be initiating it a lot more than you."