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Under the Cover

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Peter stepped into the bedroom, halting when he saw Stiles scrambling on the bed. A magazine went flying off the bed onto the floor, and Stiles was fumbling to do up his pants, his face flushed, embarrassment coming off him in waves.

“Well, well – what did I interrupt sweetheart?” Stiles wiped his hands down his jeans and got up, face still bright red.

“Nothing – you didn’t interrupt anything!” Peter walked closer to the bed, watching out of the corner of his eye as Stiles tried to kick the magazine under the bed and out of sight.

“You can tell me – we share everything else,” Peter said smoothly, casually coming around to Stiles’ side and pulling the man into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the flushed cheek, inhaling deeply the scent of aroused man. Stiles smelled delicious and Peter was tempted to ignore what he had interrupted and toss the other man directly onto the bed but his curiosity was too aroused for that. “Come, come – it can’t be that I caught you in the middle of a little self-pleasure – it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Of course it’s not that!” Stiles scoffed, rubbing his nose along the length of Peter’s neck. Peter loved how vwolf-like Stiles could be – unconsciously scent-marking him, touching and stroking whenever they were close. It had taken a while for the younger man to accept that Peter really didn’t mind how tactile he was – that hugs, kisses and much more were always on offer. Sometimes Peter cursed Noah for not being there enough for his son, but he and the Sheriff had come to a kind of détente regarding their mutual dislike of each other. The Sheriff accepted that Peter was the man that Stiles loved and Peter accepted that Stiles was blind to how badly the Sheriff had failed him in the aftermath of his mother’s death. The Sheriff had hidden in a bottle and only Talia being nosey had made it possible for Stiles to have a decent support system.

Checking in on how the Sheriff and his son were doing on the loss of Claudia, Talia had discovered a young Stiles attempting to cook a proper dinner while his father had been passed out drunk in the living room. She had immediately insisted on ‘helping’ Stiles, encouraging the Pack to be there for him both at school and home, ensuring he always had a hot meal and clean clothes that fit whilst the Sheriff worked through his issues.

As such, Peter had become accustomed to the younger man being at the den while he was growing up, although he hadn’t had much to do with him until Stiles turned eighteen. Stiles had asked at dinner how come he never got to see any of the Hales as wolves, thereby removing any doubt as to whether he was aware of their secret. From that point on, he had been fully adopted into the pack and had proven invaluable with his research abilities, natural curiosity and fierce loyalty to the Hales. He had been instrumental in saving them from a murder attempt by Kate Argent, for which Peter was eternally grateful; and had helped pull Derek out of the haze of guilt he was buried under.

Working together on a Pack family tree had somehow turned into talks deep into the night about magic, wolves, the supernatural as a whole and everything until somehow Peter realised that he never wanted to let Stiles leave at the end of the night because he wanted him. Talia had laughed at how oblivious he had proven to be, but it had been good-natured, and Peter hadn’t cared once he and Stiles were established as a couple.

But back to today and this little mystery.

“So are you planning on sharing what it was that made you decide to get a head-start on our evening activities?” Peter said, sliding his hands down Stiles’ back and cupping his ass. Holding him close, he ran his tongue along the rim of Stiles’ ear, diving in briefly before nipping the lobe.

“Um – what were we talking about?” Stiles mumbled, hands sliding into Peter’s hair and holding him close.

“We were talking about you getting the jump on me – what set you off?”

“Oh – just something I saw – “ Stiles admitted, his tone distracted as he tilted his head to give Peter better access.

“Should I be jealous?”

“What – jealous of what?” Stiles asked, moaning slightly as Peter began nipping a line down his neck.

“Whatever it was you saw,” Peter said, dropping elegantly to his knees and undoing the waistband of Stiles’ jeans.

“What I – ooh!” Stiles slumped slightly, hands on Peter’s shoulders as Peter released his hardness from his pants, stroking up and down firmly. With his other hand, he reached just under the bed and pulled out the magazine that Stiles had kicked under it earlier. He frowned when he took in the image on the front, stopping what he was doing to sit back on his heels and look up at Stiles.

“This is that ridiculous spread I did for that business magazine!” he said, confused. Stiles stepped back, once more flushed bright red.

“Yeah but – that picture of you they used on the front – “

“What about it?” Peter asked, mesmerised by how intensely just looking at the cover seemed to affect Stiles

“You just look – all macho and dominant – like, the suit and the hair and the way you’re walking – “ Stiles said, reaching to grab the magazine out of Peter’s grasp and failing. With a resigned sigh, Stiles threw himself onto the bed. “It’s just a whole thing I guess.”

Climbing onto the bed next to Stiles, Peter looked at the cover, trying to see what the other man saw. It was an okay picture of him, nothing particularly special, but it made something curl pleasurably in his gut knowing it affected his lover this way. Rolling towards Stiles, he kissed him deeply, nipping at his lips, tongue sliding in and out of his mouth suggestively, slowly dragging him out of his embarrassment until they were sharing deep, drugging kisses that would only lead to one thing.

“You didn’t have to hide this from me – if you like it, you like it. It pleases me that you find me attractive. And if it will help with the embarrassment, perhaps I’ll show you the picture I keep of you for when you’re unavailable,” he muttered against Stiles’ lips, tossing the magazine away.

“You have a picture of me that you jerk off to?”

“Oh yes – most definitely! And I might have an item or two of your clothing,” Peter admitted, grinning when Stiles looked shocked.

“I knew I hadn’t lost that marvel t-shirt!” Laughing, Peter began to strip off the rest of Stiles’ clothing, determined to get him under the covers and reward him for the pleasant beginning to their evening.