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Peter Hale, Escort

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Peter doesn’t usually take clients anymore. Well, Peter never takes clients anymore, he doesn’t need to. He, his nephew, Derek, and niece, Laura, had built their escort business from the ground up, starting with just the three of them. It had taken years, and a lot of legal footwork, but now they have the best upscale escort business in the city, a solid two dozen employees, and Peter works as management rather than in the field, as it were. What a strange family business.

Which is why when Laura slaps a file down onto his desk, he merely raises an eyebrow. Laura just smiles cheekily back.

“And what exactly is this?” Peter asks, not touching the file in front of him.

“This is a referral from Lydia Martin,” Laura says, smirking like she knew that that would capture Peter’s attention.

Lydia Martin, the Martin half of Martin and Whittemore Attorneys, had been instrumental in setting up Hale Escorts. Never, in the five years since they’d started their agency, has Lydia sent anyone their way.

Intrigued, and annoyed at himself for being intrigued, Peter pulls the file to him and flips it open. Inside is a candid picture of a smiling girl with dark brown hair cropped into a cute, messy pixie cut. Beauty marks litter her pale skin and her bright brown eyes shine with amusement. And damn it, Laura knew that this girl is exactly his type.

“And why, exactly, is Ms. Martin sending Ms. Stilinski our way?” Peter asks, glancing at the file for the girl’s information. Stiles Stilinski, twenty-four years old, 5’9”, etc.

“Not our way, your way,” Laura says. “Apparently they’re good friends. Stilinski has had sexual dysfunction issues in the past, and now that they’re more or less sorted out, Lydia wants her to have a sexual experience that ends in an orgasm instead of tears.”

“And Lydia requested me specifically?” Peter asks, still flipping through the papers in front of him, wincing when he reads some of the girl’s past symptoms: pain during sex, pain after, inability to orgasm. The list went on.

“Yeah. Well, you or Derek, but she said she’d prefer you,” Laura says. “She said she wants the best for Stiles.”

“Appealing to my ego, very like Lydia,” Peter says with a snort. Very Lydia-like, but also unnecessary. As soon as he’d seen the young woman’s picture, he’d known he was going to take her on. “Have Erica set up the appointment.”

Laura smiles like she’s won something, but honestly, Peter feels like he’s the one that’s coming out on top in this deal.

-

Stiles is even lovelier in person. She’s tall and lithe, her hands twisting nervously on the table in front of her. They’re seated in the restaurant in the upscale hotel where Peter has booked them a room, meeting to go over exactly what Stiles is looking to get out of the night.

“Stiles,” Peter says smoothly in his professional voice. He reaches across the table and rests a hand on hers, stilling the anxious movements. “Relax. This is all about you and what you want.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and nods, relaxing as Peter runs his thumb soothingly over her knuckles.

“I know, it’s just, I’ve never done this before and dude, this is really weird,” she says.

Peter laughs softly.

“Well, let me start then,” he says. “You’re not locked into anything. You are, of course, welcome to leave at any point. This is just a preliminary meeting. I want to know what you like, what you dislike, any strong desires. I want you to be able to tell me everything you want from me. And if you’re still comfortable and want to do this, I’ll take you upstairs to my room, and take you apart.”

Stiles shivers at his words and even though the restaurant’s lighting is dim, especially in the corner where they are sitting, Peter can easily see her blush so beautifully.

“How about you start with why you came to me?” Peter prompts when it seems like Stiles isn’t sure what to say.

Stiles snorts.

“Because Lydia is nosy and won’t get off my ass,” she says. A shocked laugh escapes Peter.

“That’s sounds about right,” he agrees.

“Yep. So, she knows I’ve had past…issues with sex, and was like…personally offended that no one’s been able to get me off.”

“Have you ever had an orgasm, Stiles?” Peter asks.

Stiles glances around, nervous again, before she realizes there’s no one in hearing range.

“I couldn’t for a while. I was on this medicine that made it that I couldn’t…like there’d be the buildup then right when I thought I’d come, I couldn’t. But I’m off that so, yeah, I mean, I can get myself off fine,” Stiles says, blushing fiercely. “But I haven’t ever been able to with anyone else. And then they hear that and take it as a challenge, then they get mad at me when they can’t, which makes me nervous whenever I have sex because it’s just going to happen all over again.”

“It sounds to me like you have a mental block when it comes to sex,” Peter says, gently cutting her off before she can work herself up.

“Yeah, well, and I have pelvic floor hypertension that I’ve seen a physical therapist for,” Stiles says, then continues when Peter looks a bit confused. “Basically, clinically tight vagina. Like, imagine you’re squeezing your hand in a fist twenty-four seven. You get used to it. Your closed, clenched hand is normal. You’d have to train your hand to open, to keep those muscles from bunching up, yeah?”

“That makes sense,” Peter says.

“So my pelvic muscles are like that, always clenched too tightly so whenever a guy would just jam his dick in there like a battering ram, it would hurt like hell since I wasn’t relaxed enough. It was like slamming into a wall of tense muscle, which hurt and made me tense up more, which hurt more and, yeah. Just…every time. And they’d think it was awesome because I was tight and didn’t care that I was hurting.” Her voice goes quiet and bitter at the end of her speech.

“Oh, sweet one,” Peter says, lifting Stiles’ hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through that.”

“And most men don’t understand the concept of foreplay, so,” Stiles says wryly. “I’ve seen a physical therapist and pretty much have the whole pain problem figured out, but I still can’t get off with a guy. She thinks I get nervous it’ll hurt again and get too tense and ruin it.”

Peter actually aches a little at the miserable defeat in her voice.

“Like, sex feels good, you know? I can just never finish,” she says, tugging at her hair in frustration. “I just want it to be good and not be broken.”

“Hey,” Peter says, pulling her hand away from her hair until he’s holding both of her hands in his own. “There is nothing wrong with you. You aren’t broken, sweetheart, okay? You have nothing to worry about with me. I’m not like the pathetic little boys that have chased their own pleasure and cared nothing for yours. My only goal is you, to have you writhing beneath me, to make you come until you’re screaming and shaking. I want to get my fingers inside you, and my mouth on you, taste how sweet you are. I’m going to take you apart, feel every inch of you, how soft you are inside, and put you back together again. Nothing would make me happier than watching you and feeling you come, seeing your beautiful face lost in pleasure, and I promise to do everything in my power to make that happen.”

Stiles’ nerves seem to have vanished as Peter smoke, her breath coming shorter, her pupils dilated with need. She swallows hard.

“Can-can we go to your room?” she asks.

Peter grins.

“Of course.”

Stiles’ nerves pick up again on their way to the room. Peter guides her into the elevator with a hand on the small of her back, then curls it around her hip as the elevator climbs.

“I’m nervous,” Stiles admits, her eyes fixed somewhere over Peter’s shoulder.

Peter tilts her face up with two of his fingers under her chin until she meets his gaze.

“Nothing will happen that you don’t want. You say stop and we stop,” Peter assures her.

“I know,” Stiles says immediately. “I trust you. I’m just nervous.”

Peter brushes his finger over her lips, delighted when her tongue darts out to taste.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises.

“I know,” Stiles says, then smirks. “Plus, if you didn’t Lydia would have your balls in a vice.”

The elevator doors open right then, the older couple entering looking scandalized. Peter chuckles.

“This is our floor,” Peter says, pulling Stiles gently by the hand out of the elevator and down the hall until they get to his door.

Peter opens the door for Stiles and watches, amused, as her eyes widen at the large, luxurious room.

“This is huge,” Stiles says. “And not gaudy at all.”

Peter laughs.

“Did you expect Lydia to send you to someone who would take you to a Motel 6?”

“I didn’t know what to expect,” Stiles says with a shrug. “It’s not like I’ve done this before.”

“We serve a more…high-end clientele, those who wouldn’t be caught dead on anything less than 1200 thread count sheets,” Peter says.

Stiles runs her fingertips over the sheets and whistles.

“Yeah, these will feel amazing,” she says. She turns back to Peter, shifting her weight a little. “So, uh, what now?”

Peter smiles and moves until he’s standing in front of her and eases the baggy plaid shirt from her shoulders and drops it to the floor. He grasps her wrists lightly and slowly drags his hands up her arms, relishing the shudder that runs through her. His hands glide over her shoulders and up to her neck, digging his fingers in, massaging it slightly, and tips her face toward him.

“May I?” he asks, leaning in. Stiles bites her lip and nods, then groans when he kisses her.

Stiles kisses back, tentatively at first, then grows bolder as Peter coaxes her into the kiss. She kisses like she’s trying to breathe him in, full of passion and purpose, and despite years of this, Peter starts to lose himself in it, letting himself enjoy the feel of her lips, her tongue brushing his. Eventually Stiles pulls back for air and rests her forehead against his.

“Are you ready?” Peter asks. Stiles nods, biting her lip in a way that should not be as attractive as it is. “Mm, good.”

Peter takes the hem of Stiles’ shirt and slowly lifts, grazing fingers over her sides as he goes. Her clothes are shed, Peter making sure to touch each inch of tantalizing skin as it’s revealed, until Stiles is in nothing but her black bra and matching boy shorts.

“Lie on the bed for me, little one,” Peter says. Stiles immediately does as he says, settling back on the bedspread and looking up at him expectantly. Peter spares a second to mourn the fact that he won’t get the chance to explore what he thinks would be a truly extraordinary submissive streak in the girl, but tonight isn’t about that. She’s slim and toned body, not curvy, which he usually tends to enjoy, but she isn’t nearly as thin as she’d looked under her layers. Instead of awkward angles, she’s lithe and delicate-looking, with a toned stomach and smooth, pale skin.

Stiles starts squirming at bit under his heavy gaze, so he flashes her a smile and undresses, gratified by how her eyes trace over his body. Her eyes widen when they get to his cock, half-hard and heavy between his legs.

“You’re hard!” she blurts out.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Peter says, kneeling on the end of her bed by her feet. “You are an extremely attractive woman, Stiles. There would be something very wrong with me if I weren’t aroused by you.”

Stiles’ blush is back, but before she can do something stupid like disagree, Peter kisses her ankle, dragging his lips up the inside of her leg, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. He stops to nip lightly at her inner thigh and Stiles lets out a whine when he skips over her panties to run his hands up her stomach, delighting in how huge his hands look against her small torso. Crawling up her body, he settles on top of her, covering her body with his until their faces are inches apart.

Stiles licks her lips and asks, “Kiss me?”

And how could he deny her a request like that?

This kiss wasn’t slow; it was hard, and hungry, and so very Stiles, and Peter loves it. He wants to devour her.

“So perfect for me,” Peter murmurs against her lips, sneaking a hand under her back. With a practiced twist of his fingers, he unhooks her bra and pulls it off, revealing small breasts with cute pink nipples. She’s beautiful. And unlike with some clients, he doesn’t even have to lie when he tells her so.

Stiles keens when he brushes a finger lightly over her nipple, then harder and more deliberately when it pebbles under his touch. He grins.

“Sensitive, are we?” he asks.

“Fuck you,” Stiles gasps out, but there’s no heat in her words.

Peter hums, licking over the curve of her breast. “You first.”

He takes her nipple in his mouth, sucking and nibbling, the flesh hardening under his mouth. Stiles shouts, her back arching off the bed as Peter laves at her beautiful chest and brings his hand up to squeeze her other breast, flicking his fingers over the nipple until Stiles is squirming beneath him, trying to grind against his thigh. By her shocked gasps, Peter suspects he might be the first to ever pay attention to her like this.

“Please,” Stiles gasps. Peter pulls off of her nipple with a pop, pleased at how red and hard her pretty little nipples are for him. “Please touch me.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Peter purrs, going back to mouthing at her breast right as he grazes a finger over her damp panties.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Stiles huffs, but her hand is buried in Peter’s hair, keeping him right where he is.

Grinning, Peter slips his hand into her underwear, stroking two long fingers along her slit, covering them in the slickness gathered there.

“Tell me if anything hurts or doesn’t feel good,” Peter says, stilling his fingers. Stiles whines and tries to grind down, but he presses his free hand to her hip to stop her. “I’m serious, Stiles. Don’t pretend because you’ll think I’ll be upset or disappointed. I want to explore your body and find out what you love, okay?”

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, I promise.”

“Good girl,” Peter says, smirking a bit when she shivers and files that away for later. Slowly, so slowly, he drags her panties over her hips and down her legs.

“Please, Peter…”

“I’ve got you,” Peter promises.

Stiles’ breath stutters when Peter brushes a finger over her clit. He does it again and again, with different pressure, different speeds, in different places, until he finds that one angle that makes Stiles’ entire body tremble.

“There, there!” Stiles gasps out, then whines when Peter promptly pulls his hand away, only to scream when he buries his mouth between her legs.

He’d been right; she does taste amazing. In general, Peter likes going down on women. He likes the power of it, and enjoys watching a woman fall apart because of him, but this is like a religious experience. Stiles is so responsive above him, twisting a hand in his hair, whimpering as he sucks, nibbles, and licks at her sweet little cunt, coaxing out every sound he can. When he drags his tongue from her hole up to her clit, swirling a few times before going back to teasing her folds his with teeth, she almost bucks him off the bed.

His cock is hard and thick between his thighs, thanks to the desperate noises she’s making and her sweet taste, but he refuses to touch himself and will continue to ignore his erection until he can slide into her. Until then, he’ll take his pleasure in unraveling her.

When she starts to tense, her body quivering, Peter flicks his tongue over her clit, faster and faster, then closes his lips around that sensitive nub and sucks. Slipping a finger inside of her tight pussy, he finds her gspot easily and presses, massaging her from the inside and out.

Stiles screams above him, her greedy cunt fluttering around his finger as she comes with a rush of juices and god, Peter almost comes right then. He eases her through it, softly licking around her clit, never directly on it, to make sure not to overstimulate and hurt her.

“You – I – that – wow,” Stiles says, panting through the aftershocks. “That’s never happened. Worth it. So, so worth it. Thank you.”

Peter laughs softly and slinks up until he’s lying on his side next to her, propped up on one elbow.

“There’s no need to thank me, sweet girl. Any man too lazy to go down on his lover, especially one as delectable as you, is a fool and doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Peter says, absently tracing patterns over her stomach.

Stiles grins, then purses her lips, making kissy noises until Peter rolls his eyes and leans over to kiss her. She deepens the kiss almost immediately, desperately seeking the taste of herself on his tongue, until eventually they’re both just resting their foreheads together, breathing heavily.

“You didn’t tell me you’re a squirter,” Peter says, trailing his hand between her legs.

“I didn’t know,” she says, voice breathy thanks to Peter’s finger gently dragging through her folds. He circles her dripping entrance a few times before sliding a finger inside of her. Despite her orgasm, Stiles still undulates her hips, trying to get more of him.

“How do you feel about me fucking you? Too sore?” Peter asks. He rotates his finger experimentally inside of her, searching for any wince or sign of pain, but she just sighs happily.

“I want you to,” she says. “I want you inside me so badly, Peter…”

“I would love to,” Peter says, kissing her again. “I just want to play with your pretty pussy for a bit, okay? I want to open you up enough that nothing will hurt, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, that’s good, I – ohh.” Stiles moans when Peter presses another finger inside of her. It takes her a few seconds to adjust, his fingers are thick and she is so tight, but when she finally relaxes around him, Peter moves his hand. When she throws her head back in a moan, Peter licks up her neck, all but attacking the exposed skin. Each lick and suck and bite gets him a new sound from her. Her cunt is so wet that his fingers make obscene squelching noises as he pumps them in and out of her.

They kiss lazily as he fingers her, slowing adding a third finger and working her through her body’s sudden tension at the intrusion. She

“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” Stiles mumbles.

“Shh, you have nothing to apologize for. It’s okay, just relax. I won’t hurt you,” Peter says. “You’re doing so well, Stiles. So good for me, such a good girl.” She gasps and clenches around him, eyes wide. Peter smiles wider. “Do we have a bit of a praise kink, Stiles?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s never come up before.”

Peter frowns at that, both annoyed that her previous partners had been so useless, and grateful because it made it possible for him to enjoy her, to help her explore and learn her body and all the ways he can take it, and her, apart.

“Well, we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?” he says, brushing his fingers over her gspot, earning himself a breathy gasp. “You’re magnificent, Stiles. So gorgeous and perfect.”

When he decides she’s ready, he pulls out his fingers, her eyes following his movements as he licks them clean, then reaches over to the bedside table where he’d earlier stored condoms and lube.

“I brought this,” he says, holding up the bottle, “and we can use it if you want, but it’s really not something you need.” Peter runs his finger up her slick opening for emphasis. Stiles blushes and turns her head to the side. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, it’s extremely sexy.”

“My ex used to say it’s gross, how wet I get,” she mumbles, head still tilted away. Peter presses a gentle kiss to the underside of her jaw.

“Stiles, please look at me,” Peter says, then waits until she does to continue. “I know it’s hard, and it will take longer than we have tonight, but I want you to forget every negative thing that anyone has ever said about you sexually, or your body, and how desirable you are. Because, little one, I have done this many times for many years, so believe me when I tell you that you are perfect. So lovely, and responsive and I am so lucky that Lydia sent you to me.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Stiles jokes weakly.

“Mm, never,” Peter says, nuzzling her neck. He isn’t lying. “I don’t think it would make a difference, but do you want me to use lube?”

Stiles shakes her head. “No. Now, fuck me.”

“As my lady commands,” Peter says, making Stiles snort. Normally, snorting in bed isn’t something Peter finds especially attractive, but being able to talk and laugh and joke in bed with Stiles is something Peter is actually enjoying. He rips open the foil wrapper and slides the condom down his cock, smirking when Stiles unconsciously licks her lips.

“How do you want it? Like this, all fours, riding me?” Peter asks.

“Like this,” Stiles says immediately. “I like you over me. You’re big and strong and I have a thing for that.” She blushes a bit but doesn’t turn away.

“Like I said, you’re perfect.”

Peter rubs his cock over her cunt, making her stutter out his name, then presses his tip against her hole. She tenses beneath him and he pauses, running his hands up and down her sides until bit by bit, she starts to relax.

“Good girl,” Peter murmurs. “Such a good girl. I promise this won’t hurt.” She trembles under him.

“Okay,” she says and cants her hips, urging him to enter her.

She tenses slightly when he first pushes in, like she’s expecting pain, but then unclenches and he slides in easily until his hips are pressed flush against hers, her pussy fluttering around him as she gets used to him.

“God, Peter, feels so good, fuck.”

“Taking it so well, sweetheart, you’re doing so well,” Peter says. He moves slowly, experimentally rolling his hips to make sure he isn’t hurting her.

“Faster,” Stiles gasps. “Peter…”

Peter speeds up, gripping her hips tightly and thrusting into her harder and faster until she’s keening, grasping his shoulders and hissing his name under her breath. She feels so good around him. She wasn’t lying when she said she was tight and even though he’s a professional, it’s hard not to lose himself in her.

Peter tweaks her nipple, twisting and massaging it. Stiles screams, bucking up against him. She’s thrashing as he plays with her, so lost in it.

“Oh, beautiful girl,” Peter says. He takes his other hand from her hips, which might have fingertip-shaped bruises tomorrow, he hasn’t been as controlled as usual, and grasps her other breast, palming the soft flesh, making sure to roughly drag over her nipples.

“P-Peter, I-I think I’m close. I think I’m gonna come,” she stutters out, sounding shocked.

Peter grunts and slams into her as deeply as he can, grinding his pelvis in a circles against hers to rub against her clit and gspot at once until she shouts his name, spasming around him as she comes, clutching at Peter’s shoulders and biting her screams into his neck. Her sweet little cunt pulsates, throbbing and milking his cock and very nearly bringing him to the edge as he rocks her through her orgasm.

Peter pulls out slowly, making Stiles whimper in protest.

“Feels good with you in me,” Stiles slurs. “D’nt wanna be empty.”

“Aren’t you just magnificent,” Peter breathes. He can’t remember the last time he had sex he’d enjoyed so much, when he wanted to bury himself inside his lover and never let them leave his bed. His gaze is reverent as he stares down at her, taking in the marks around her throat that he hadn’t meant to leave, the thin sheen of sweat making her skin glisten. He loves the way her chest rises and falls sharply, making her breasts shake with the movement. The slick coating her thighs, dripping from her pussy, makes him want to bury his face between her legs again and never leave.

“You didn’t come,” she says with a frown.

“This was about you,” Peter says, running his hands up and down her thighs.

Stiles rolls her eyes. “Well if it’s about me, I have this awesome vision of you jacking yourself off and coming all over me,” she says slyly. “Think we can make that happen?”

Peter muffles his groan by nipping at the inside of her knee, causing her to shriek and giggle, still a little orgasm-stupid. Sliding up until he’s on his knees between her spread legs, Peter pulls off the used condom and tosses it into the trash.

The way Stiles’ eyes trace his movements as he squeezes his cock is extremely satisfying. Sure, he’s aware that he looks good, but being watched by her, with that look on her face as he fists his dick with her juices as lube, is almost too much.

He wants this to last; he wants to stay between her legs for as long as possible, breathing in the smell of her and staring at her, all beautiful beneath him, but then she scoots down a bit and rubs her soaking pussy against his thigh and whispers, “Please come on me.”

Peter feels like he’s been punched in the gut, he comes so hard. He’s vaguely aware of Stiles’ gasp when his come splashes on her, ropes of white covering her pretty skin, but for a few moments he’s lost in white-hot pleasure. At some point, he must have closed his eyes, but he forces them open to see Stiles trailing her fingers through the come on her breasts and stomach, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” she says. She tries to yank him down but he resists.

“Let me clean you up first,” Peter says, kissing her softly. He feels a little weak-kneed when he rolls off of the bed and walks to the bathroom, but he has his composure back when he comes back with a wet washcloth.

Delicately, he runs the damp cloth between her thighs before moving to her stomach, wiping his come off of her, sad as he is to see it go. Stiles immediately snuggles up into his side when he lies back next to her and they trade lazy kisses for a while, their hands aimlessly wandering over each other’s skin.

Stiles hums when Peter eventually pulls back and settles her into his arms, one leg tangled with his and her head tucked up under his chin. All of the tension in her body from earlier is gone and she just sinks into Peter. He hadn’t noticed until she was still just how much she had always been moving.

“Do you normally do post-coital cuddles with your clients?” Stiles asks, teasing him.

“No,” Peter answers honestly. “Never, actually. But I also don’t take clients anymore.”

Stiles frowns in confusion. “Well I’m very much here, unless this is all a dream, but I doubt I could dream up anyone as hot as you, though,” Stiles says.

“You’re the exception,” Peter says. His fingers are tracing over the bare skin of her shoulder, unable to stop himself. “I haven’t taken anyone in a couple of years. I’ve been too busy running the company.”

“Running the comp-oh, Peter Hale? As in, Hale Escorts? I totally slept with the bossman, this is amazing,” Stiles says, making Peter chuckle. “Why’d you take me, then?”

“Lydia asked me to,” Peter says.

“Yeah, she’s pretty hard to say no to.”

“And as soon as I saw your photo, I wanted to,” Peter says.

Stiles jerks her head up at that, barely avoiding headbutting Peter in the jaw.

“What, really?” she asks. “Why?

“I told you, you’re exquisite,” Peter says, softly kissing her again. “And I very much wanted to be the person to show you what pleasure can really be.”

Stiles shudders and Peter tightens his arms around her.

“I’m really glad it was you,” Stiles says, yawning into Peter’s collarbone.

“I am as well,” Peter says. “Rest, little one. We have plenty of time. Lydia has given me to you for the entire night.”

That was a lie. Lydia had booked him for three hours. He also never did this with clients, he was not a cuddler. Usually, he dressed, thanked the client for a ‘wonderful time’ and left. On the occasion that someone wanted more, when they tried to whisk him away from this life or asked him out, he’d politely, but firmly, remind them that this was a business transaction only.

But here’s Stiles, tucked against his chest and dozing lightly with her mouth hanging open, and Peter is perfectly content.

He wants her, he decides.

And Peter isn’t the kind of man to deny himself what he wants.