Work Text:
Peter had made sure to make tonight last.
He had long since decided that if he was lucky enough to be the one to take Stiles' virginity, he'd provide the boy with a night of gentle exploration and rough force that positively, thoroughly ruined him for anyone else for the rest of his life.
He'd turned on some soft music to help get Stiles out of his nervous head when the night began, and worked him for nearly an hour just with his fingers. Just getting him comfortable, just convincing the boy to ignore his preconceptions that he wasn't worthy of Peter's attention, attraction and love. Allowing him to close his eyes and let go of all the noise in his head in order to focus solely on the sensations. The tingling, the pressure, the flush of pleasure.
And then, only when Stiles was shaking, precum dripping onto his sheets in delicious strings, he'd finally layed the boy down and descended on top of him. He pressed into him slowly, giving him more than enough time to adjust, despite Stiles' impatience. He didn't want Stiles to have to experience anything other than pleasure tonight, he'd told him. No pain, no discomfort. Just pleasure, no matter how long it took.
Once Stiles had relaxed around him, he began dragging his full length with a pace that left the boy pressing up into him, trembling, begging him to just move faster. But he didn't. He let Stiles experience every sensation he possibly could for as long as he they both could stand, until the boy began digging his fingers into Peter's thigh, demanding him to move faster with a sharpness that made the wolf positively swoon .
He wrapped his arm around Stiles' chest, pulling him up to his knees so he could adjust his angle and quicken the pace. He worked the boy all the way up until he was positively aching, and then let him come down with a frustrated whine every single time. He showed Stiles every facet of pleasure that he could provide, between the soft press and pull of the head of his cock just barely penetrating his tight hole; the long, breath-taking drag of his length from tip to hilt, slow enough for Stiles to feel every inch of him, every pulse of his cock inside him; and the fast-paced snap of his hips, targeting the little bundle of nerves that made the boy cry out, his wet, mostly untouched cock arching in the air in front of him, red and hard and so fucking beautiful.
And finally, when Stiles was so sunk in pleasure, so aching for release after hours of being denied it - when Stiles was shouting in desperation, crying for it, begging for it - finally Peter reached down and touched his starving cock. He did nothing more than trail his fingers through the wetness that had accumulated along the entire length of his cock, but that's all it took.
Stiles threw his head back with a broken-off shout, body tensing to its entirety, and Peter took his fingers away, hips still moving, watching in heady fascination as Stiles' cock became impossibly harder, arching farther, tensing, swelling. Stiles gasped out a cry, and his thighs shook. Peter's eyes rolled back as he smelled the sweet electric scent of Stiles' orgasm building, just from that soft brush of his fingers alone. And finally, after Stiles hadn't breathed for a long moment, making no noise other than a squeaking cry, he showed mercy and fisted the boy's cock, finally forcing his long-denied orgasm from him.
Stiles jerked forward, hips spasming, body writhing as he came violently. A loud, chest-deep, punched-out shout tore itself from the depths of his pleasure as he came hard around Peter's cock. The tight hole around him clenched rhythmically to his orgasm, and the older man followed him down onto the bed with a heavy gasp, letting the boy buck into his hand beneath him. Peter pressed him down into the pillow under his hips to keep himself inside the writhing boy, tumbling head-first into his own long-denied orgasm with a snarling growl.
He rolled his hips against the boy, burying himself deep as he filled him, trying so very hard to rein in the wild wolf inside. He tried to focus on Stiles rather than his own orgasm, focus on keeping his hold on the boy's still-twitching cock. Trying to focus on making Stiles' orgasm last as long as he possibly could by moving softly, slowly, calculated to the rhythm of the boy's release. The sweet boy was just about sobbing by the end of it.
For the first time in nearly three hours, silence fell in the sex-saturated bedroom.
Peter' breath heaved shakily as he chased the very last shocks of pleasure that rocked through his body, listening to a soft, breathy moan coming from the exhausted boy beneath him. He mouthed the skin on the back of Stiles' neck, slowly removing himself from the boy and kissing his cheek apologetically when Stiles whimpered. He reached down and slid a finger in, allowing his hole to clench around it, readjusting to the sudden emptiness after so long of being stretched around his cock so perfectly.
"You're perfect," Peter breathed, getting a breathy hum in response. He kissed the boy's shoulder before laying his face there, trying to convince himself to get up and head to the bathroom rather than collapse right here for the rest of the night like he'd really rather like to. "I'll go get us some water, dear," he said, but it took a few more moments to convince himself to leave the wonderful boy there alone.
He slid off the bed and made is way to the bathroom with thighs that trembled .
He hadn't trembled like this after an orgasm since he was a teenager, and he stared at his flushed face and messy hair in the mirror with an exhausted, too-satisfied grin spreading across his lips.
Peter cleaned himself up, chugged some water, and returned to the bedroom with two glasses of water. And when he walked in, he stopped, and his prideful grin melted into something much, much softer.
Stiles, that perfect boy, hadn't moved a single muscle from where Peter had left him. His eyes were closed, his lips parted. And his ass was still presented into the air from the pillow that still lay beneath his hips. Peter tilted his head, and reached down to drag his hand over an erection that tried its very best to return. He'd never seen anything so beautiful.
The older man walked in quietly, setting the glasses of water down to climb onto the bed slowly. He ran his hand down Stiles' sweaty back, getting no response. He smiled sweetly. The boy wasn't asleep, entirely, but it was clear he was so exhausted, nothing could get him to rouse. It seemed he was chasing sleep just as hard as he had chased his orgasm.
Peter gently lifted the boy by his hips, kissing the sweet swell of his ass, removing the pillow from beneath him and allowing him to settle a little more comfortably. He slid off the bed once more, heading for the bathroom and rummaging around in the cabinets until he returned to the bedroom a few moments later with a warm, wet rag.
"You're amazing," he rumbled as he wiped the drying cum and lube from the boy's sweet body. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on," he continued, reaching beneath him to wipe away the remaining mess. Stiles made a soft noise, but he was nearly gone into sex-satiated rest. "I'm so lucky to have you, love."
Peter pressed a few more kisses to the boy's sweet, salty body before leaving regretfully one last time to throw the soiled rag into the laundry and return with a clean, heavy blanket, so that Stiles wouldn't get cold during the night once the sex-heat wore off.
He climbed into the bed and slid his hand over the boy's warm, pliant body. Leaning in to press a few kisses to his unresponsive face - cheek, brow, jaw - he then wrapped his arm around the boy and pulled him against him. He got a sleepy hum in response, and Stiles slowly rolled onto his side with heavy limbs so that Peter could spoon him. The older man pulled the blanket up over them and settled, mumbling sweet nothings that would have made Stiles blush, had the boy been at all aware of anything other than a swiftly-approaching night of sated rest.
Peter felt nothing but a bone-deep comfort, falling asleep thinking about what meal he could make in the morning for them. It had to be something perfect. Something that brought the same sweet moans from the boy as he had heard tonight.
He wanted to spoil this boy far beyond sex. He wanted to give Stiles the very best and pleasurable of every single aspect of life.
And as long as the boy would have him, he'd make sure he never experiences a single day where he was left wanting.