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Everything Works Out Eventually

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Lydia’s first thought on waking was that the world had gone strangely soft and pleasantly warm. In fact, the only discordant note was the boy she was wrapped around. He was cold – colder than a living body should be.

Her second thought was acknowledgement that the boy was Stiles.

Her final thought was that they were both naked.

“Shared body heat. It was the only thing I could think of that we hadn’t tried.” Lydia’s only surprise as she opened her eyes and saw Peter Hale watching them from across the room was her total lack of surprise. “Oh don’t give me that look,” he snapped. “I was a perfect gentleman – I swear.”

She didn’t believe him for a second, but there was no point in saying so because she was pretty sure he already knew. Peter was just like that – and as he’d made no secret of his interest in Stiles over the years, it strained credulity to think he had stripped the unconscious, absolutely complaint teenager and not taken at least a little advantage of the situation. “Well, I’m impressed that you managed my shoes, let alone the rest of the outfit,” she said, sitting up and letting the heavy pile of bedding pool at her waist.

Peter’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of so much of her being suddenly on display, but Lydia met his gaze without flinching. She’d once spent two days wandering Beacon Hills without a stitch of clothes on her body or a lick of sense in her head thanks to Peter and his plans – she knew she’d really be damned if she let him shame her now. “Not gonna lie,” he said smoothly, getting to his feet and going to retrieve a robe from the hook on the closet door. “I was starting to feel sorry for poor Jackson. Please tell me you didn’t make him go to all that work every time he wanted to get his hands on you?”

She was on the verge of saying something appropriately snarky, when Stiles shifted into her. “How is he?” Peter asked as she reached around to check his body temperature.

“Not good,” she answered, pulling the covers up again – all thoughts of Peter and her own modesty forgotten. “We need to get him to a hospital – they can get an IV going and start warming him up from the inside.”

“And we’ll explain his condition how?” Peter asked. “Attack by succubus is something I’m pretty sure isn’t covered by the sheriff’s insurance policy.”

Succubus… The word seemed to trigger Lydia’s memories of the fight, and how hard it had been for her to remain conscious long enough to get Stiles to his jeep. Peter had ordered them both into the back seat and he had gotten behind the wheel just as she passed out. “That’s why you didn’t get in here with us,” she said abruptly, fixing the older werewolf with an accusing stare. “You run even hotter than I do, but you’re afraid of what Stiles might do to you.”

Peter looked decidedly uncomfortable; Lydia knew she’d been dead on the money. “I like to be in charge when it comes to matters of a sexual nature,” he admitted finally. “Given Stiles’ rather flexible interests, I was worried about what he might consider appropriate behavior with that much venom in his system.”

But you didn’t think anything about throwing me in his path, did you? Lydia thought bitterly, as she wrapped her own body more thoroughly around Stiles. He flexed briefly as she tightened her grip on him – on some level that he wasn’t even aware of, very happy she was there.

Peter sat on the edge of the bed. “If we’re not taking him to the hospital, how do we fix this?” she asked, forcing eye contact with him. “There’s got to be some way to counter-ac t the venom besides sitting here and waiting for him to freeze to death. You’re an alpha,” she added, almost as an after-thought. “Or you were. Can you take his pain?” She knew Scott had already tried, when symptoms of the succubus’ attack had first manifested, but Stiles had refused his help. Now though, Stiles wasn’t in much of a position to refuse anything that might help him.

Lydia didn’t know how she felt, seeing the look of frustration on Peter’s handsome face. “Not anymore.” Ordinarily it would have been enough to convince her that Peter’s normal double-speak wasn’t in play here, however…

He’s lying… Lydia was pretty sure the low growl caressing her ear was the voice of Talia – Peter’s dead sister. She was Derek’s mother, had been pack leader, and Lydia was pretty certain that even dead she terrified her brother. “So what do we do?” she asked, deciding to hold Talia’s information in reserve, in case she couldn’t make Peter to step up and do whatever needed to be done.

A shudder rippled across Stiles’ thin frame while she waited for Peter’s answer. Lydia tightened her grip on him again, throwing one of her legs across his to help keep him still. Her heart skipped a beat as she felt his fully erect cock brush against her thigh. “He’s hard again,” she said, not wanting to hand Peter that kind of ammunition, but knowing instinctively that her best friend’s modesty was the last thing they needed to be worrying about right now.

Peter nodded gravely. “His body is still being fueled by the venom. Unfortunately one more orgasm before we bring his blood pressure up might be enough to finish him for good.”

As much as she hated Peter for saying it, Lydia could find no flaw with his logic. “His orgasms are the only thing that have given him relief until now,” she pointed out. “He’s seventeen – he doesn’t necessarily need to be having sex in order to trigger one, you know.”

Peter’s eyes widened, and she heard him inhale. “True, but there are ways to keep men from orgasming.” He grinned at her. “Lydia Martin, you really are a genius.” Reaching across to the small night table, he jerked open the drawer and began rummaging almost frantically though the contents.

Lydia pushed herself up on her elbow, trying to see what Peter was looking for. His hands were too big and he was searching too quickly though – just as she thought she’d spotted his quarry, his left hand snapped closed, and the look he was turning back on her was decidedly wolfish. “Do you trust me?”

She managed to keep from laughing out loud, but it was a near thing. “The same thing that is killing Stiles has the potential to be the same thing to warm him up – so long as we can keep him from coming.”

“Agreed,” Lydia said, digesting the information as quickly as she could – realizing just before Peter opened his hand what she was about to see. A small, thin strip of leather designed to snap in a circle. “You’re suggesting one of us have sex with Stiles while he’s wearing that?”

Peter grinned – the smile she associated with plots he already knew she was going to hate, but that she would ultimately have no choice but to agree with. “That would have worked eight or ten hours ago. Now it’s going to take both of us having sex with him to raise his blood pressure as far as we need to without him having a stroke or worse.”

“At the same time?” Lydia could feel her eyebrows trying to crawl up into her hairline.

She wouldn’t have thought it was possible for Peter’s smile to grow any wider. “Based on what I’ve seen so far, we should get enough activity out of Stiles to make it physically possible, even considering how far gone he is. I’d prefer to be on the bottom, with the two of you riding me, but I’m willing to be a gentleman, under the circumstances.”

Lydia would have told him exactly what she thought of his ‘gentlemanly’ instincts, except Stiles chose that moment to rock his hips back into her, the curve of his ass dragging across her clit with the perfect amount of pressure. “Okay,” she said quickly, her voice suddenly breathless as pleasure stabbed through her. “Get it on him.”

She pulled her leg back, tucking her whole body behind Stiles as Peter pulled back the covers far enough to give himself access.

Stiles groaned as Peter gripped him, arching forward into the werewolf’s grip. “This would be better with a latex ring,” Peter said, his gaze slipping out of focus as he fumbled with Stiles’ cock and balls. “Hold him!” he snapped as Stiles began to pull away. “I’m assuming you don’t want him permanently damaged?”

She did the best she could, but something about the succubus venom seemed to be able to sense how close its host body was to the very thing it needed to feed itself. Stiles began to struggle, and she could hear his mumbled ramblings growing louder as he was forced back to consciousness. “Hold still,” she said, putting her lips right next to his ear. “It’ll be over in a second.”

“Tell him to get his hands off my junk!” Stiles suddenly gasped, going rigid in her arms, and Lydia realized the ring was fixed in place. “You bastard,” he snarled, his eyes fixed on Peter, “take it off!” His breathing was labored, and it seemed to Lydia as though it was taking every ounce of strength he had left to push back at what they were doing to him.

The older werewolf withdrew his hands as Stiles reached for him – lazily sticking two fingers in his mouth and sucking and licking until they were clean. “Just as sweet as I’ve always fantasized,” he rumbled, his grin turning insolent.

“Stiles, please,” Lydia murmured. Fear for her friend overrode her anger at Peter as she ran her palm across the sweat-soaked spikes of his hair. “Please calm down.”

“Yes Stiles,” Peter added. “You have a decision to make, after all. Lydia and I have a plan that I think will buy us time to get the rest of the succubus venom out of your system. It’s up to you at this point – do you put yourself in our hands and let us do whatever we can to save you, or do I take that ring off your family jewels and let you orgasm yourself into a true and irreversible death?”

Stiles went motionless in her arms – then he twisted around until he could see Lydia. “What plan?”

Glancing at Peter again – hating him for putting her in this position – Lydia said, “You have sex with both of us at the same time, with your ability to come cut off by the cock ring. What we know of the succubus venom should raise your body temperature the way it does when you exercise. Your blood pressure should also rise slowly as your body keeps trying to come.”

She could see Stiles trying to work through the logic of what she was saying, but finally he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Everything’s spinning. I trust you, Lydia.” He reached across both their bodies to clumsily caress her hair. “Save me.”
Even though he was already hard and aching himself, Peter forced himself not to move until Lydia gave him permission with a small nod of her head. Getting to his feet, he stripped off his undershirt – trying not to smile as he scented Lydia becoming more aroused. He knew if he called her out, the banshee would waste precious energy denying it.

“What should I be doing?” she asked as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of his sweats.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Whatever comes naturally,” he said. “I’ll work myself into things when I’m ready.” He heard the two teenagers kiss as he stripped off his pants and stepped free of the offending cloth.

With the promise of release now urging him on – no matter how false it was ultimately going to be – Stiles was moaning hungrily, his body moving against Lydia’s. Peter allowed himself a small smile as he rifled the night table drawer again, this time searching for a small bottle of lube. It was almost like foreplay, letting his lesser senses luxuriate in the sounds and scent of two naturally horny teenagers giving themselves over to their most basic instincts.

They had already kicked free of the heavy covers by the time Peter let himself turn and watch. Stiles was crouched over Lydia, kissing her hungrily as one hand worked between her legs. Lydia’s pale legs were flung wide, and Peter could see small tremors shivering across her flawless skin as she let Stiles drive her closer to her own release.

Crawling up on the bed at last, Peter fisted one hand in Stiles’ hair – forcing him still. “Bite her, and I bite you,” he warned. It was one of the lesser risks of what they were about to try; Peter was reasonably certain that if Lydia’s banshee heritage could resist a werewolf bite, she would be similarly immune to succubus venom, but it didn’t hurt to be at least somewhat cautious.

Lydia came hard just as he released Stiles, the sounds she was making wild and desperate. Peter had to stop for a moment and squeeze the base of his own cock in order to keep himself from coming too early. When he was certain of his own control, he slicked two of his fingers, capping the lube and setting it aside for the moment.

Stiles had penetrated Lydia by the time he moved into position, rocking his hips in a steady, determined rhythm. He didn’t pause or flinch as Peter set one hand on the boy’s hip and pressed the first finger of his other hand against the furled skin of Stiles’ opening. “God,” the boy groaned, pushing back eagerly; Peter was suddenly in Stiles up to his second knuckle, meeting little to no resistance.

“Interesting,” he murmured, leaning forward to sniff Stiles’ skin as he pushed in his second finger alongside the first. “Danny?” he asked, fucking deep into Stiles until the pads of his fingers were nudging the boy’s prostate.

Stiles reaction to the surge of pleasure was sudden and immediate. “Yes,” he groaned, breaking off a kiss with Lydia. “Oh God yes, right there, Peter please…hurry…”

Unbeknownst to the venom driving Stiles, Peter Hale had no intention of hurrying any of this. Dragging his fingers back as slowly as he could he spread them wide – stretching Stiles beyond what his earlier fucking had caused. Lydia came again at that moment, and Peter could feel a shift in Stiles’ rhythm as his baser instincts began to twig to the fact that he should have come himself several minutes earlier.

Pushing in and out a half dozen more times, Peter finally decided Stiles was ready for him. Glancing around at Lydia, he saw that tears were streaming from her green eyes. “How are you doing?” he asked, trying to put as much concern into the question as he was capable of.

Her gaze ticked briefly to him. “Fine,” she managed – a clipped, tense sound. “Move if you’re going to do something useful.”

Chuckling softly, he took another moment to slick his own cock up with the lube, before kneeling behind Stiles and catching him squarely on a down-stroke as he pulled back from Lydia. The boy’s entire body arched against the intrusion, but even as he tried to pull away Peter followed him down into the slick heat of Lydia’s sex. “I think it’s working,” he breathed as he found their rhythm and made it his own. “His skin is warmer.”

Lydia made a sound that Peter decided was intended as agreement, but Stiles was kissing her again – as enthusiastically as anyone limited as he was by age and inexperience could. Peter contented himself by watching the play of Stiles’ muscles under the pale, fragile skin of his back. He’d spent years stripping his own cock raw, fantasizing about this moment – and now that it was real it was proving to be all he could do to keep from coming as easily and quickly as Stiles himself would have been under ordinary circumstances.

Who are you kidding? his brain mocked him. Under ‘normal’ circumstances, neither of these two would be within a hundred yards of you. Pressing himself full length against the curve of Stiles’ back, he carefully sucked a bruise into the back of the boy’s neck, marking him in the only way he knew without actually drawing blood.

Stiles whimpered, but some deep survival instinct kept him from struggling against the threat of Peter’s werewolf teeth. The submissive overtones of the moment were like a hit of raw pheromones to Peter’s system. “Mine,” he breathed against Stiles skin, the sounds more growl than words.

“Please,” Stiles whined, and it was enough to push Peter over the edge. Images of Stiles bound and naked – subservient to Peter’s needs and whims – flashed in his mind as his own balls drew up and his orgasm blew through him. Stiles screamed – half in frustration, half in pleasure as Peter filled him with come. Beads of sweat broke out across the boy’s flesh; grinning wildly, Peter leaned in and licked a broad, warm stripe for himself.

Lydia was on the down-side of coming again as Peter scented the air and realized that they had crossed some sort of threshold. Like breaking a fever, he thought, tasting Stiles’ sweat again as his cock gave a last, feeble twitch. “I think we did it,” he gasped, shifting his hold to Stiles’ hips again. “Lydia – are you finished?” His werewolf side gave him enough stamina that he was reasonably certain he could last another round, but Lydia’s response was quick and definite.

“Off – both of you, off!”

“You heard the lady,” Peter said. Using Stiles’ hips as his leverage point, he pulled back and up until Stiles was sitting in his lap. Stiles struggled weakly, but after a moment seemed content to rest in Peter’s arms.

“How do you feel?” Peter asked. The sweat had definitely broken out over his entire body. Lydia was already covering herself again as Stiles began to tremble.

“Better,” he admitted at last. “Trying not to freak, but…better.” His head shifted as he looked to Lydia. “Are you all right?”

Green eyes huge as she watched them, Lydia nodded.

Peter gave them both a moment then said, “Lydia, why don’t you get cleaned up and dressed. There are some heating pads in a drawer in the kitchen – microwave them for two minutes and bring them back. Now that we’ve got Stiles past the worst of it, we’ve got to stabilize his temperature.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked, coming up on her elbows again.

“As you so helpfully pointed out earlier, I run hotter than human temperature. I’m going to clean him up and keep him warm until you get back.”

“I don’t suppose I get a say in this?” Stiles asked, once they were alone again.

Peter kissed him on the curve of muscle that ran from his neck to his shoulder. “And what would you say if I let you, Stiles?” he murmured as a shiver ran through the boy’s body. “Would you go on about how much my touch disgusts you? Would you really lie to me like that after I helped save your life?”

Stiles silence was the only answer he wanted. Peter had come to terms a long time ago with the fact that when he had Stiles in his grasp, he preferred the boy confused – trapped between fear and revulsion and a desire too strong for him to ignore. “Come on,” he said, shifting their bodies so that Stiles was lying on his side again – his back to Peter. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can see about getting that cock ring off.” He flexed his fingers against Stiles’ hip, letting the boy taste a hint of claws.

“Preferably without killing you, although I’ll happily follow your lead on that score.”