Chapter Text
Of course, as soon as something good came out of trading bodies with Peter, Deaton called to tell Stiles he’d found a cure. Stiles was happy about it, of course; he didn’t really want to spend the rest of his life in Peter’s body, or even a day longer than necessary. It was just that...he’d actually started to enjoy spending time with Peter?
After their first time together, the two of them had spent the whole weekend at Peter’s apartment, mostly fucking but also talking, making half-assed attempts at continuing Stiles’ research for a counter-spell, and generally being gross and domestic together. After an awkward discussion about their shared kinks and what was and wasn’t okay, Stiles had actually ended up spanking Peter like he’d threatened to, and had been surprised by how much he actually enjoyed it. They didn’t bother putting clothes on for most of the time they were in the apartment, which had led to a horrified Scott and an exasperated, disgruntled Derek walking in on them once, yelling at them for being “gross and shameless”, and then promptly walking back out. Then it had been Monday morning, and Peter had left, still insistent on attending school in Stiles’ place for whatever reason (at this point Stiles was pretty sure Peter just genuinely enjoyed being a teenager, ridiculous as the idea seemed.)
Which left Stiles where he was now. Sitting alone in Peter’s apartment, waiting for a reply to the text he’d sent to both Peter and Scott about the cure Deaton had found. He figured Peter would ditch school as soon as he found out, meet Stiles at the animal clinic so they could let Deaton work his magic on them, and then they’d finally be in their own bodies again. And then what?
Part of Stiles couldn’t help but wonder what would come of them, of their relationship once this was over. What if Peter moved on as soon as he had his own body back and never wanted to see Stiles again? What if he didn’t want to be with Stiles when he was actually Stiles, scrawny teenage body and all? He’d discovered early on in their fooling around that Peter liked being manhandled, held down and made to feel helpless, physically powerless. Stiles couldn’t do any of that once he was back in his own body, when Peter was back in his significantly stronger, broader werewolf body. It could totally ruin the appeal for Peter, submitting to a younger guy who he could crush like a bug if he wanted to. It wouldn’t ruin the appeal for Stiles, though. He wanted Peter no matter what- if anything, the idea of dominating the man when they were back in their own bodies, of controlling him even when he was older and capable of physically overpowering Stiles, only turned him on more. Seeing Peter, with his broad, muscular frame and terrifying werewolf strength would be ridiculously hot. He only hoped he’d get the chance to.
An hour after Deaton had called him, Stiles walked inside the animal clinic and found both Peter and Scott already there, standing in the lobby with Deaton. Scott looked distinctly uncomfortable, but Stiles couldn’t tell if it was because Peter had been hassling him or just because the last time he’d seen Stiles, he’d seen way too much of Stiles (and way too much of Peter. Way too much of both of them, really. They’d been too comfortable cuddling on Peter’s couch to bother getting dressed, okay? Scott and Derek should have given them advanced warning before just showing up.)
He greeted Deaton and Scott with an awkward wave, Peter with a hand on his shoulder that the wolf subtly leaned into, the touch-starved little bastard. Another thing Stiles would miss if Peter lost interest in him after this. He didn’t have time to dwell on what might come of their relationship before Deaton was announcing in that coolly professional tone of his, “Now that we’re all here, if you would follow me, we can get to work on the counter-spell. It’s a surprisingly simple Druidic ritual recommended to me by an old friend of mine.”
“Simple, huh? Does that mean it won’t involve any virgin sacrifices or soaking us in some sort of bodily fluids, nothing nasty like that?” Stiles’ question made Peter snicker, and even Scott cracked a smile as they entered the back room of Deaton’s clinic.
Deaton smiled and shook his head, taking out several glass bottles and lining them up on the metal table in front of him. “No, nothing like that. I’ll just be painting runes on your bodies with a paste made from an acrisol, yellowroot oil, and elderberry leaves. Then I’ll recite an incantation, and if all goes well you’ll be back in your own bodies in no time.”
It almost sounded too easy. If Peter’s skeptical expression was any indication, Stiles wasn’t the only one who thought so, but neither of them said anything, both taking off their shirts when Deaton instructed it and watching silently while the vet mixed the substances he’d set out on the table. Stiles was the first to have the red, claylike substance rubbed onto his chest and stomach in various swirls and patterns, the cold paste touching his skin making him flinch at first. Then it was Peter’s turn, and all too soon Deaton was murmuring an ominous sounding chant and Scott was smiling reassuringly at Stiles and then-
Stiles woke up on the floor with Scott hovering nervously over him. “You’re awake!” The alpha grinned, then frowned and looked concerned all over again. “Are you...you?”
Before Stiles could answer, someone beside him complained, “Really, Doctor, you couldn’t have sat us down before you knocked us out? I, for one, am tired of falling to the ground in a dead faint every time someone starts chanting at me in a foreign language.”
Deaton’s response only registered as background noise; Stiles was too busy turning and gaping at the man sitting on the floor next to him. At Peter- Peter in his own body, which had to mean Stiles was back in his body too. Just to be safe he glanced down at himself and was met with the sight of his own naked torso, still marked with runes but also pale and fairly unmuscular and very much his.
“Oh, thank god.” He breathed, his quiet exclamation earning him another delighted grin from Scott now that everyone had apparently realized the spell had worked. Peter was already standing up now, and he offered a hand to help Stiles to his feet as he asked Deaton, “Can we clean your wretched fingerpaints off of our bodies now?”
Stiles got home from school the next day around 6, after serving detention courtesy of Peter. Now that he was back in his own body, he was stuck sitting in detention in Finstock’s classroom every day after school until Friday. It wasn’t like it was the worst trouble he’d ever been in. Even all the talk among his classmates about how he’d briefly abandoned his group of friends to become a rebellious, skateboarding stoner didn’t seem so bad as long as he got to be himself again. Really, the worst thing to come of his body swap with Peter was that he couldn’t stop thinking about the snarky older man now, and Stiles had actually started to miss him. Which was ridiculous- they’d seen each other just one day ago, had parted ways outside the animal clinic and hadn’t been in touch since. It wasn’t so much about how long they’d been apart, though, as it was the way they hadn’t discussed what had gone on between them or if it would continue- if it had meant anything.
He was just thinking of calling Peter, because if the werewolf wanted to end whatever sort of relationship they’d begun then Stiles deserved to know about it, dammit, but his phone vibrated before he could dial Peter’s number.
6:11 pm. Peter: Did you have a nice time in detention? The text was accompanied by a close-up picture of Peter’s hard cock, of all things, resting against his broadly muscled abs and dripping precome onto the trail of hair below his navel.
Stiles had assumed that Peter’s submission to him would be even sweeter, so much hotter while the wolf was in his own body, stronger and older than Stiles but still under his control. He’d been right.
He had Peter laid out over his lap, the werewolf naked where Stiles was still completely clothed, breathless and overstimulated while Stiles was at least outwardly calm and collected. One of his hands was resting on the small of Peter’s back, more to ground him and remind him to keep still than to physically restrain him- not that Stiles could hold him still if he wanted to. And yet, Peter remained unmoving while Stiles’ other hand delivered a rough, steady spanking to his pert ass. The muscles in his legs and back were taut as if he was struggling not to move, whether away from the harsh series of slaps being delivered to his ass or into them Stiles couldn’t tell.
“Almost done, baby.” He cooed, running a hand up Peter’s back then tangling his fingers in the hair on the back of the man’s head, tugging gently until Peter looked over his shoulder at Stiles. “Are you doing okay?”
Grinning at the frantic nod Peter answered with, at the lust-blown look in his eyes, Stiles parted Peter’s ass cheeks, baring that tight, pretty hole to him. Peter groaned and squirmed, his hard cock rubbing over Stiles’ thighs and probably smearing precome all over his pants. He didn’t mind, not when Peter’s reaction made it clear that he knew what was coming next, was probably losing his mind waiting for it while Stiles tugged at the man’s rim with his fingers, circled and teased around it. As soon as Peter had relaxed and once more lay limp across Stiles’ lap, he slapped two fingers sharply against Peter’s hole. It didn’t make the same satisfying noise that spanking Peter anywhere else did, but it was still his favorite, to rain rough little smacks down on the needy little hole, to watch it tremble and clench under each hit, and god, the noises Peter made when his hole was being spanked. He mewled, more like a helpless little kitten than a big bad werewolf, moaned and whimpered and cried so prettily.
Ten smacks later and Peter was a mess, occasionally daring to rut against Stiles’ thigh like he couldn’t help himself anymore, and he kept begging incoherently, mostly just a stream of, “Daddy, Daddy, please Daddy-” pouring from his lips. His hole was flushed a bright pink, looking puffy and well-used even though Stiles hadn’t even fucked him yet. Stiles dragged his fingertips over the abused skin just to hear Peter’s breath hitch, taking in the appearance of the werewolf’s freshly spanked ass while it lasted, because Peter’s werewolf healing would have the redness, any traces of soreness, fading in no time.
What wouldn’t fade was the headspace the spanking had put Peter in. Stiles had learned the first time he’d spanked the older man that it was the fastest way to will him into submission, sending him to that place where his eyes got dark and wet and full of need and he was rushing to please Stiles in no time. After a moment of letting Peter catch his breath, Stiles put his hands on Peter’s shoulders and guided him up, helped him rearrange himself so he was sitting on Stiles’ lap, his eyes still shining with unshed tears, and his cock bobbing hard and flushed between them.
“You were so good, baby.” Stiles murmured praise into Peter’s ear, nipping gently at his earlobe. “Took your spanking so well. You like it when I spank your little hole, don’t you?” He rubbed soothing hands up and down Peter’s sides, grinding his hard, denim-clad cock against the curve of the man’s ass.
Peter didn’t answer, just whined high and breathy as he clung to Stiles. Determined to get an answer out of him, Stiles reached a hand between the wolf’s legs and tapped his fingers against Peter’s hole, dragged his blunt nails lightly over the delicate skin and made Peter shudder. “Answer me.” He ordered, tone gentle but brooking no argument, “Do you like it when Daddy spanks your hole? When I make your pussy hurt?”
Another whimper, and Peter responded with, “Yes. Daddy, I need-” He gasped then, his sentence cut short as Stiles rudely pressed the tip of a dry finger into his tight cunt, just enough to be uncomfortable. Stiles had to laugh when Peter tried to rock his hips down onto the finger, begging with his body to be fucked even when he hadn’t been prepped yet and it couldn’t be entirely pleasant, having something so carelessly opening him up without any lube to ease the way. He quickly put a stop to Peter’s mindless attempts to fuck himself by sliding his finger out, which earned him a disappointed groan.
“Shh, it’s okay. I know. You need more, huh? Need a big, hot cock filling you up?” He trailed kisses along Peter’s neck and jaw while he breathed the words against his skin, let his teeth scrape harshly over the place where he could feel the man’s pulse beating rapidly just to make Peter jerk in his arms and let out another low groan.
Usually it was Stiles who ran his mouth the whole time they did this, but as Stiles grabbed blindly at the bottle of lube placed beside them on the couch, the words poured out of Peter thoughtless and pleading. “Need it, please- need it so bad, Daddy. Feel so empty without your cock in me, need you to split me open on it, fucking use me, mark me inside and cream up my pussy with your come.” He probably would have kept going, but Stiles took his mouth in a searing kiss then, spreading an excessive amount of lube over his fingers and guiding his hand back between Peter’s thighs without watching his own actions, probably making a mess all over Peter’s furniture and not particularly caring. He rubbed the lube on his forefinger over the wolf’s hole and then pressed inside, moaning into Peter’s open mouth at how easily he fucked one, then two slick digits into that unbearably tight heat.
“Got such a greedy cunt, baby.” He rasped, thrusting two of his fingers smoothly in and out of Peter’s hole, movements stuttering briefly when Peter whined against his lips and palmed Stiles’ cock through his pants, pawing at the buttons and zipper until he had them undone. Stiles let him pull his hard cock out through the slit in his boxers, felt himself leaking copious amounts of precome when one of Peter’s hands wrapped around his length and stroked up and down.
He didn’t let himself get too caught up in the sensation, quickly regaining the deep, slow rhythm he’d set in fucking Peter with his fingers and catching the man’s bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back to mutter, “Feel that, how your pussy’s just sucking me right in? So hungry for cock, aren’t you. Like a nasty,” he pulled his fingers back until Peter’s rim was stretched around just the tips of them, fucking them back in hard for emphasis as he continued, “little. Slut.” Stiles pushed a third finger into the wolf, grunting as the action caused Peter to squeeze the head of his cock while he cried out and rocked his hips back frantically into each thrust of Stiles’ hand, riding his Daddy’s fingers.
Stiles would have continued, but he knew Peter liked a little pain with his pleasure and he didn’t want to be too thorough in prepping him, wasn’t even sure if he could keep going without coming prematurely all over Peter’s hand. So he slipped his fingers out of the man’s hole, replacing Peter’s hand on his dick with his own to rub lube over himself and guide it between his ass cheeks, nudging the thick head against Peter’s wet, fluttering rim.
Peter fisted both hands in Stiles’ shirt and ducked his head to pant open-mouthed against his Daddy’s neck, grinding his hips down as Stiles led him with one hand on the wolf’s hip, the other around the base of his own cock. Stiles was hyper-aware of everything, from the rasp of Peter’s stubble against his neck and the wet lips mouthing at his skin to the death grip Peter had on his shirt as he sat the man down slowly on his lap, his cock sinking into Peter’s wet cunt until he had the werewolf seated fully on him, hole clenching and relaxing around Stiles’ dick and already milking him so perfectly.
“Daddy.” Peter breathed, shaky and awed like it was the first time he’d felt Stiles’ cock filling him up, and technically it was, since they’d only ever done this before while trapped in each other’s bodies.
“Yeah. Good boy, Peter. Such a good little cockslut for Daddy.” Stiles was just as overwhelmed if not more, but he managed to moved his hand to the side of Peter’s waist he wasn’t already gripping firmly, grinding up into Peter just to feel how deep his cock was buried in the man before lifting him a few inches and guiding him into a slow up and down motion. “C’mon,” he urged gently, rubbing his hands over Peter’s sides, “ride me, baby. Ride Daddy’s dick.”
The words seemed to spur Peter on, because soon he was moving on his own, resting his knees on either side of Stiles’ thighs on the couch and rocking himself onto the teenager’s cock, fucking himself harshly until both of them were out of breath and moaning. Stiles sat back and enjoyed the sight of Peter squirming so prettily on his cock, thrusting up every once in awhile just to feel himself fuck that much deeper into the older man and to watch the way it made Peter tremble and tense all over, a constant litany of, “Daddy, daddy, daddy-” pouring from his lips.
It didn’t take much or very long to make Peter fall apart- eventually Stiles slid a hand down to where his cock disappeared inside Peter’s hole, probing with his fingers at the man’s stretched out rim and holding the wolf still with his other hand so he could fuck up into him in deep, quick thrusts, ordering, “Come for me. Go ahead, come on my cock like a good boy, I know you can do it- you’re Daddy’s good boy, my perfect little whore, right?” And that was it, Peter was coming with a broken wail, his cock twitching where it was trapped between their stomachs and his hole clinging so impossibly tight around Stiles that he stilled, felt his own cock jerk and release deep inside Peter. Head falling back to rest on the back of the couch, he groaned and rode out his orgasm with Peter writhing and moaning on his lap.
“So,” Stiles began a few minutes later, once they’d both recovered from their orgasms and Peter was curled up limp in his arms, Peter’s head resting on Stiles’ chest while he carded his fingers through the older man’s hair. He’d learned from their first time together that all Peter usually needed as far as aftercare went was to be held, comforted and praised, so that was all they were doing for the time being. “I think that was the last spanking you’d earned for getting me detention at school.”
Peter looked up and quirked an eyebrow at him. “I’ll just have to do something to earn another punishment, then.” He said, sounding cocky and taunting, but Stiles thought he could detect a question in his voice, a hint of uncertainty and that desire to please he got when Stiles wasn’t just Stiles but ‘Daddy.’
“Piss me off and I just won’t “punish” you again for a month.” Stiles countered, but when Peter’s face actually fell he quickly grinned and added, “If you’re a good boy for the next week we can try out the paddle I found in your closet, though.”