Peter heard the front door open and smiled when he recognized Stiles' heartbeat. He waited for his human to enter the kitchen before addressing him.
“Hello, darling. We're having roasted chicken with herb jus and potatoes for dinner and cherry clafoutis for dessert.”
“Yum! You spoil me,” Stiles responded as he came up behind his lover and kissed the side of his neck. “I'm just curious, do I smell different?”
Peter glanced over at Stiles, sniffing, before turning and basting the chicken for the final time. “No.”
“You can't tell what I've been doing?” he asked, grin spreading across his face.
Peter started to feel uneasy. “You said you were going to make some weapons with Chris,” he said as he set the oven timer.
“But I don't smell like anything extra?” Stiles asked again.
“No. You don't even smell like gunpowder, which you normally do after spending time with him,” Peter answered, turning toward his mate.
Stiles jumped and flailed with excitement. “It worked! I did a spell and it worked!” He hugged Peter tightly and leaned back after kissing him quickly. “I found an old book of spells that the Argents didn't destroy. One of them was kind of for concealment? Not traditional concealment, obviously, but to mask scents. It's supposed to help witches appear human to others, so it's not supposed to completely cover up scents because that would be obvious, but to just cover the smell of plants and magic and such. I can't believe it worked!” He kissed Peter again, dragging his teeth over the werewolf’s bottom lip as he pulled away. “The next creature that tries to fuck with us won't ever see me coming.”
Peter growled softly and pulled Stiles against his body, cock hardening. “So then you've made yourself even more dangerous? You know how I feel about that.”
Stiles checked the timer and hummed contently. “We've got a little over 20 minutes before you have to tend to the food.”
“With this newfound knowledge, I'm afraid it won't take me that long.” Peter let Stiles push him over and against the counter as they kissed hungrily, grinding their erections against each other. Peter moved his attention to his lover's long neck, sucking and biting in turns. “I have to touch you,” he whispered, ripping open Stiles' jeans.
“Fuck, yes,” Stiles moaned, head tipping back as he returned the favor.
They quickly established individual rhythms, knowing what their partner liked best after so long together.
Peter loved Stiles' hands. They were perfect. So warm. He frowned. Maybe a bit too warm. He stopped his ministrations with his mouth as he concentrated on his dick. No, it was definitely bordering on hot. Almost burning. He jerked his head away from his lover's neck and released his cock.
Stiles whined as the sudden loss. “What? What's wrong?”
“Stiles, did you handle wolfsbane today?” Peter asked, finally pinpointing where he'd felt this particular sensation, though not in such a sensitive place.
“I helped Chris make bullets, yeah,” Stiles answered, hope still alive as Peter quickly stripped off his jeans.
Peter clenched his jaw as the burning turned to actual pain. “Did you wash your hands?” he growled, kicking off his pants as he headed toward their bathroom.
“Of course!” Stiles reassured his boyfriend as he followed him through their apartment.
“Not well enough!” Peter roared as he finally made it to the shower.