Peter bit into the soft flesh of Stiles thighs. His boy whined but didn’t move. Peter breathed over the bruises he left.
“You’re being so good baby,” he murmured into his boy’s legs, “so good for me,” Peter grabbed the remote by his side. He turned the dial up. Stiles moaned into the gag. Peter could feel the vibrations beneath him.
They met in a diner. Peter was on his cell phone, talking with his assistant back in New York when someone bumped into him.
“Shit!” a boy said, “sorry!”
Peter looked up. A young boy stared back at him, his eyes wide and his mouth opened. A blush crept up the boy’s neck and settled on his cheeks. Peter smiled.
Sweat pooled on Stiles belly and neck. Peter ran his nails down Stiles ribs, his knee holding the vibrator in place. His boy gasped and bucked.
“Now now,” Peter smacked Stiles thighs, “I told you not to move,” he pushed his knee forward. Stiles eyes rolled back but he didn’t move. Peter sat back on his heels and palmed his cock.
“Look at you,” he breathed out, “you’re so beautiful,” he turned up the vibrator again. Stiles stopped breathing for a second. Peter straddled his boy’s hips and watched Stiles slowly lose control.
A couple of days later, Peter bumped into the boy again. He was doing some shopping for his sister, when he heard angry muttering. He turned into the next aisle, and saw the boy glaring at the cereal section. Peter approached him.
“We meet again,” he said. Stiles whipped around to face him. The boy gulped. He stared at Peter with a heated gaze.
“Having trouble?” Peter asked, looking at the boxes in front of them. The boy nodded, scratching the back of his neck. Chuckling, Peter grabbed a box of honey nut cheerios and placed it inside the boy’s basket.
“Th-thank you,” the boy stammered out, “I’m gonna—yea bye,” he turned around and practically ran out of the aisle. Peter’s eyes lingered on the boy’s ass. He licked his lips.
His boy was shaking. Peter could see his stomach twitching. Stiles cock was thick and red in its harness. Peter ran a finger down his boy’s length. Stiles moaned and his hands grabbed onto the silken ropes tying him down.
“Good,” Peter spread his boy’s legs as far as they would go. He tugged at the vibrator inside Stiles, “good,” he pushed the vibrator deeper into Stiles body and twisted it. His boy shook. Peter let Stiles legs fall back on the bed. He crawled up Stiles body and took out the boy’s gag. Stiles gasped. Peter tapped his mouth.
“Open wide,” he edged forward, a hand around his cock. Stiles opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, “Good boy.”
The third time Peter saw the boy he didn’t talk to him. Instead, he watched the boy from across the restaurant as he ate with what appeared to be his father. The man looked familiar. Peter could swear that he’d met him before but he couldn’t remember a name.
The fourth time Peter saw him was when he went to pick his niece up from school. He heard someone yelling and he turned. He saw the boy running around the field, his thin t shirt soaked with sweat. His face was red and the boy kept licking his lips. Peter felt himself get hard. He would have stayed longer, but his niece got into the car and demanded they go home.
Stiles swallowed around his cock, his eyes closed. Peter rocked into the wet warmth, his legs tightening around his boy’s chest. He groaned and grabbed Stiles hair, forcing him forward. He heard his boy choke.
“Shh,” Peter cooed, “it’s ok baby,” Stiles eyes watered, “you can do it, come on. Swallow baby.”
His boy gulped. Peter let go of his hair.
“Use your tongue,” he ordered. Stiles shuddered and ran his tongue over the underside of Peter’s cock. He could feel Stiles throat swallowing around him, taking him deeper. He could feel Stiles quivering underneath him. Peter pulled back a little before plunging back in, fucking his boy’s mouth. Stiles strained against his ropes.
The fifth time they met, Peter finally learned the boy’s name.
Peter was in the diner again, happy to be able to escape his family for a moment. The restaurant was crowded, but quiet. Stiles came in minutes after Peter had sat down. The boy looked around the diner, looking for a free seat. Peter’s eyes met his, and he beckoned the boy to the table.
“It’s a little crowded today, isn’t it?” Peter asked. The boy nodded, “you can sit with me, if you want.”
“Really?” the boy slid into the seat across from him. Peter smiled.
The waitress came and took their orders. When she left, the boy turned his attention to Peter.
“Thanks for letting me sit with you,” the boy grinned, “I’ve been dying for one of their burgers all day.”
“It’s no problem,” Peter took a sip of his drink. The boy’s eyes were glued to his throat. Peter drank a little more.
“So,” the boy leaned forward a little, “I just realized something… I don’t know your name.”
Peter stared at the boy in front of him, “Liam,” he lied, “Liam Nelson,” he stuck out his hand. The boy shook it, “what’s your name?”
The boy’s hand was soft. Peter rubbed his thumb over the boy’s knuckles.
“Stiles,” the boy breathed out, “Stiles Stilinski.”
The name sounded familiar, but Peter didn’t think too much about it.
“Well Stiles Stilinski,” Peter drawled, enveloping Stiles hand with both of his, “it’s nice to meet you.”
Peter pulled his cock out of Stiles mouth. His boy whimpered and made to follow, his mouth open and his chin damp with spit. He moved back between Stiles legs. He tapped against the vibrator once, twice, three times before slowly taking it out. His boy let out a cry. Peter tossed the vibrator aside and grabbed Stiles legs, opening them further.
“You want it?” he asked, rubbing his cock up and down his boy’s ass. Stiles nodded and wriggled on the bed. Peter dug his fingers into his boy’s thigh, “beg for it.
It wasn’t until Peter was back at the hotel that he realized why the boy’s name sounded so familiar.
He hitched Stiles legs over his shoulders.
“Please,” his boy said, “please, please, please, want it, want you, please, please, please.”
Peter kissed both of Stiles knees. His cock bumped against Stiles.
When he was twenty years old, Peter got his girlfriend pregnant. She asked Peter what they should do.
“Get rid of it,” Peter told her. His girlfriend slapped him and ran out of his apartment, crying and cursing his name. Peter didn’t hear from her again until two years later.
“I’m getting married,” she told him, “and I want you to sign over your paternal rights.”
He flew back to Beacon Hills and went to the courthouse. His ex girlfriend was already there. A man in a deputy’s uniform stood next to her, his eyes narrowed. There was a baby by her feet. Peter stared at it. The baby flailed and drooled.
Peter closed his eyes and drove forward. Stiles arched his back, taking Peter in deeper.
“Hello Peter,” Claudia stepped forward. She looked him in the eyes, “this is my fiancé,” she turned to the man at her side, “John—John Stilinski.”
“Peter—Peter Hale. Nice to meet you,” Peter said, extending his hand towards the deputy. John shook his hand. Claudia looked down at the baby.
“You’re going to sign the papers,” it wasn’t a question. Peter sighed.
“I’ve never liked children,” he answered. John glared at him, “just tell me what and where to sign.”
Stiles screamed, “More,” he circled his hips, “Daddy please, more!”
Peter didn’t listen to him. He fucked his boy in slow, smooth strokes. He watched Stiles pull at the restraints. He watched his pale skin turn pink.
“Daddy!” Stiles cried.
John Stilinski was Stiles father. John Stilinski who married Claudia Arama, Peter’s ex-girlfriend and the mother of his child. The boy who Peter had been flirting with, the boy who he planned on taking to bed was his son.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” Stiles sounded as if he was praying, Peter’s title falling from his swollen lips like a salvation; like a damnation. Peter grabbed Stiles hips and started fucking him harder, faster. His boy’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. Stiles turned his head to the side, showing Peter the marks he left.
That night, Peter thought about his son while he pleasured himself. He pictured his son’s mouth around his cock, pink and shiny with spit and cum. He thought about bending his boy over a table, and spreading his legs wide. Peter groaned and rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock. He imagined sinking his teeth into Stiles ass. He thought about fucking Stiles hard and deep.
“Stiles,” Peter moaned, his eyes closed, “Stiles.”
He imagined Stiles tied to his bed, his legs around Peter’s waist. He wondered if his boy would beg.
“You want to come baby?” he panted. Stiles sobbed, his head thrashing on the pillow. Peter fucked him harder, faster. His boy sobbed louder. His cock was straining against the harness.
“Ple—pl—“ Stiles choked, “let me—want—“ his cheeks were wet with tears, “please!”
“Please?” Peter repeated, pulling on his boy’s nipples.
Seducing his son was easy. Peter showered his boy in affection and compliments. He made sure to tell Stiles how beautiful he was, how sweet. He held his hand and smothered his boy in kisses. His son fell for him, just as Claudia did. He let Peter tie him up. He let Peter choke him, fuck him, use him. In return, Peter took care of him.
Licking his lips, Peter took the harness off Stiles cock and fucked him deeper. Stiles let out a silent scream as he came, his cum landing on his stomach and chest. His entire body tightened around Peter, bringing him over the edge. Grunting, Peter fell forward, Stiles legs falling from his shoulder. His son cried.
“My dad knows,” Stiles told him, his voice cracking over the phone, “oh God he knows, Liam, he knows—“
“Shh,” Peter soothed, “calm down, Stiles.”
“But he knows,” Stiles sounded on the verge of tears, “oh God what if—what if he tries to shot you or arrest you or forbids me from seeing you or—“
“Stiles,” Peter said, “it’ll be ok,” he repeated, “what did your dad say?”
His boy paused, “Nothing really,” he sounded confused, “I mean…he said he would come talk to me but…he’s in his room right now.”
“There you go,” Peter said, his voice calm, “everything will be fine then.”
Peter grinned, “I promise.”
“Oh baby,” Peter cooed, kissing away his boy’s tears, “you did so well,” he reached forward and untied Stiles wrists, “you were so good for Daddy.”
His boy wrapped his arms around Peter, still crying. Peter held Stiles head between his hands. He shifted his hips forward. Stiles moaned.
“Mine,” Peter whispered, nuzzling Stiles neck, “mine, mine, mine.”
When Stiles told Peter that his dad wanted to meet him, Peter agreed.
“Are you sure?” his boy asked, “it’s gonna be really weird and Dad will probably clean a gun in front of you or something and—“
“I’m sure I can handle everything your father throws at me, Stiles.”
“Yea?” Stiles laughed, “yea ok…thank you, for doing this for me…”
“I’d do anything for you. I love you,” he lied.
“I love you too,” Stiles said, his voice soft and sweet. He sounded like his mother.
Sighing Peter slowly pulled out of his son. Stiles hissed. Grinning, Peter licked his neck.
“My boy,” he hummed, “my beautiful boy,” Stiles turned towards Peter’s mouth, “baby,” he kissed Stiles mouth.
“Daddy,” Stiles murmured, “I love you.”
“I know,” Peter hid his grin, “I love you too.”
“Are,” his boy sighed, “are you sure you want to meet my dad tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Peter answered, “I know how important it is to you.”
He wondered if John remembered him. He wondered if John would recognize him. He wondered if John would tell his son who Liam really was.
Stiles laughed, “Thank you,” he said, “thank you.”
“Ok, he’ll be really weird but,” his boy looked at him, his face flushed pink, “but I’m sure he’ll like you…eventually.”
Peter smiled but didn’t say anything. Stiles let out a breath and pressed the doorbell.
“Dad?” Stiles said, “Dad it’s me; me and Liam.”
Peter heard footsteps coming closer. He took his son’s hand in his and waited for the Sheriff to come out. When he opened the door, John didn’t look at Peter.
“Hi dad,” Stiles greeted. He laced his fingers with Peter, “this is my boyfriend,” his son looked at Peter, adoration shining in his eyes, “Liam—Liam, this is my dad, Sheriff Stilinski.”
John turned to him, “He—“he froze. He blinked. Peter could see the moment in which John recognized him. The man’s face paled before turning red. He started shaking and his hands formed into fists.
“Dad?” Stiles asked, worried, “Dad are you ok?” John didn’t answer, “Dad?”
Peter smirked, “Hello Mr. Stilinski,” his purred, “It’s nice to see you again.”