Fic - Before You Start Your Day
Title: Before You Start Your Day
Author: sophia_clark
Word count: 1,803
Characters/Pairings: Stiles/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Cock Tease, Cock Cages, Butt Plugs, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Age Difference, Blue Balls. Even though Peter refers to Stiles as a boy & it's never stated, Stiles is 18+ in this in my mind. Feel free to imagine differently if that floats your boat.
Summary: Peter has never been much of a morning person, but he might have just found something that changes his mind.
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Beta: None
Author's Notes: A belated birthday gift for the wonderful Udunie. Based on this prompt. Title from Before You Start Your Day by Twenty Øne Piløts.
Read on AO3
For as far back as Peter can remember, he has never particularly enjoyed getting up early. On most mornings growing up, Talia came prowling into his room to pounce on his bed to wake him for school, scampering away again before he could do more than growl into his pillow. Their mother would always pop her head in ten minutes later with a sharp, “Up, Peter!” that never failed to force him to get up and get a move on, however grudgingly.
Not much has changed over the years. Few things can compare to luxuriating the morning away in his comfortable bed until it is absolutely necessary to move, as he’s doing now. He stretches out his sleep-warm muscles and brushes against the soft skin of the boy lying next to him. Smiling, Peter buries his face in his lover’s neck and pulls their bodies closer together. He’s always been a tactile person, and he’s recently found that having someone there to cuddle makes his relaxing mornings all the better.
After a while, he glances at the clock and gets up to relieve himself and brush his teeth. When he returns to his bedroom a few minutes later, he gazes at his lover’s unmoved body and sighs. Normally he would simply lay down and pull the boy to his chest to doze for another hour or so, but unfortunately, they have plans to attend to today. So with another sigh, he slides his way onto the bed until he can press a gentle kiss to his forehead instead.
“Stiles, it’s time to get up, I’m afraid.”
Stiles doesn’t respond, not even with the slightest twitch. Peter huffs even as he smiles. Of course, he would find the one person who actually likes to sleep in later than himself. Stiles likes to call them both creatures of the night. The first time he brought it up, Peter had simply raised an eyebrow at him in question.
“You may be a wolf, but I’m an owl,” he’d said with a smile and a shrug before turning back to whatever research he was working on for class, missing Peter’s fond eye roll.
A creature of the night he may be, but Peter was also a creature of habit. And lately, he had made a habit out of kissing, licking or biting every inch of bare skin Stiles revealed to him, much to the dismay or outright disgust of their pack. Peter delights in the flush of Stiles’ cheeks whenever he does so in front of the others, but admittedly he does prefer to see that flush extended down his pale body when they are alone like this.
With that in mind, he leans down and begins to whisper barely-there kisses to that soft skin, starting at Stiles’ plush lips and heading slowly down. He tries to find every mole along the way with his lips or tongue, but he’s sure he misses a few. He swears there are new ones every time he looks, and if he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s starting to think that he will never get tired of looking at Stiles. Not that the boy needs to know how much sway he holds over Peter just yet.
Peter shakes his head slightly to rid himself of his sappy thoughts. He can’t seem to help it where Stiles is concerned. With another glance at the clock and a silent groan for his lost sleep, he gets back to work with a plan and a smirk quickly forming. If he has to be up this early on a Saturday no less, he might as well have a bit of fun with Stiles for his trouble.
Stiles wakes up in increments, Peter watching his face avidly as he slowly makes his way down his body. His long eyelashes flutter when Peter kisses down his neck. His heartbeat picks up and he starts to squirm deliciously against Peter when he gently blows over first one nipple, then the other. The flush Peter so loves to see on Stiles’ skin creeps down in his wake until Stiles is a lovely shade of pink, panting shallowly underneath him. When Peter begins to lick a wet trail down Stiles’ lightly toned abs, the boy’s eyes finally snap open with a gasp.
“Holy shit!” Long fingers thread through Peter’s hair and he smirks up at Stiles without stopping his ministrations. He is quite pleased to see that the usual amber of Stiles’ eyes is now almost entirely black, dilated as they are with arousal.
“You were being lazy, so I thought I’d give you a reason to rise and shine.”
Stiles laughs breathlessly, his grasping fingers urging Peter back up until their lips can meet. Peter slides willingly along warm skin before his tongue slips into that always-open mouth, swallowing Stiles’ moan hungrily. He sucks on Stiles’ tongue for a moment until he feels Stiles’ hard morning wood brush against his thigh. He can’t help his victorious smirk as he pulls away suddenly and hears a whine of protest.
“Wha--? What the hell?” Stiles breathes harshly as he stares up at Peter, his eyes wide. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Peter ignores the hands trying to pull him down this time as he gets up and moves over to the closet across the room. “Don’t you remember what today is, darling? We wouldn’t want to get too carried away now and miss all the fun.”
He watches Stiles in the mirror on the back of the closet door as he pulls out his clothes. He’s splayed out on the bed, his hair sticking up in every direction and his eyes nearly bulging. He looks positively wild with his red and angry looking cock curving up toward his stomach. With his heightened vision, Peter can see a glistening trail of precome oozing from the slit down to the patch of hair beneath Stiles’ navel. The sight almost makes him drop his clothes and turn to pounce, any obligations or plans of his own be damned.
Almost.
Peter prides himself on his control nowadays, and he draws on every last ounce he possesses as he calmly lays out his chosen outfit and turns back to Stiles with a raised eyebrow. As much as he thoroughly enjoys ravishing Stiles when the time allows, he never misses an opportunity to tease him mercilessly if it doesn’t. Or whenever the naughty boy deserves it.
“The fun? Wha--?” Stiles says again. After another beat of silence his eyes close and he throws his head back to the pillow with a groan. “Shit! Is it the ninth? Why the hell didn’t you just shake me awake or something? You know how hard your mouth gets me.”
Peter slowly walks over so he is standing next to Stiles before he leans down and speaks directly into his ear. “Oh yes, I know exactly what my mouth does to you, sweet boy.” Then he moves so he is hovering over Stiles’ erection and blows a gust of warm air along the length of it before straightening up again.
“Aahhh,” Stiles says as his hips jolt upward into the empty air. His eyes snap open again and he narrows them at Peter. “You asshole! You're doing this on purpose!”
“But of course.”
Stiles scoots up the bed so he can prop himself against the headboard, hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Well, you can’t just leave me like this! You know Lydia will kill me if we’re late to her party! Get over here and suck me or something.”
Peter heaves a huge sigh and walks over to the door. “We really do not have the time, I’m afraid. You’ve slept in so late I’ll hardly be able to grab a quick shower before we need to leave.”
“I slept in? What about you, Mr. Growls-if-he’s-disturbed-before-ten?” Stiles’ indignant expression and madly waving arms do absolutely nothing to sway Peter’s decision to leave him horny and wanting while he takes his sweet time in the shower. If anything, his anger only makes the flush of his skin darker, strengthening Peter’s resolve.
“Hmm...I seem to remember a certain little minx losing a bet not long ago about how long they could go without masturbating.” Stiles sucks in a breath at his words, his eyes going wide in horror. “I think you need to work on your willpower and stamina, darling, and I’m going to help you.”
He walks over to the dresser and pulls a small inconspicuous box he’s been keeping there from the top drawer. Now seems like the perfect time to finally show Stiles what he’d bought him weeks ago. “Do you know what this is?” he says, pulling the clear plastic chastity device from the box and holding it up.
“A...a cock cage. Fuck.”
Peter smirks. “Indeed. I’ll make you a deal. If you can be my good boy and keep your hands to yourself while I take a shower, I’ll let you come before we leave for the party. If not, well...” he trails off with a shake of his head. “Then we’ll just have to put this on until you can learn to behave yourself.”
He sets the box on top of the dresser where he knows Stiles can see it before a loud moan has him looking back at the bed once more. Stiles is biting his bottom lip and has both hands fisted into his hair, staring and nodding helplessly at Peter.
Peter very obviously trails his eyes down Stiles’ trembling body and lingers on his cock, the head of which is starting to turn faintly purple. It’s probably getting a bit painful at this point. It gives a powerful twitch as Peter watches, and he knows from experience that a feather brushing against Stiles’ cock would set the boy off.
Perfect.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Be a good boy now, no touching.” He turns and picks something up on his way back to the door. “But Stiles?” He smirks over his shoulder at the boy’s whimper. “Feel free to get loud.”
Walking down the hall to the bathroom, Peter presses the button on the small remote in his hand. Even his ears can’t pick up the sound of the plug’s vibrations over Stiles’ desperate moans and the rushing water from the showerhead, but he really doesn’t mind. He hums to himself as he steps under the warm spray, happily picturing what his lover must look like writhing around in tortured bliss. He wonders whether or not the boy will be able to follow his orders. He honestly doesn’t know which prospect excites him more.
Either way, he knows it will be worth having to get up so early. Apparently all this time he’s just needed the proper incentive.
My tumblr (ignorethosewarningsigns.tumblr.com)
Author: sophia_clark
Word count: 1,803
Characters/Pairings: Stiles/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Cock Tease, Cock Cages, Butt Plugs, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Age Difference, Blue Balls. Even though Peter refers to Stiles as a boy & it's never stated, Stiles is 18+ in this in my mind. Feel free to imagine differently if that floats your boat.
Summary: Peter has never been much of a morning person, but he might have just found something that changes his mind.
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Beta: None
Author's Notes: A belated birthday gift for the wonderful Udunie. Based on this prompt. Title from Before You Start Your Day by Twenty Øne Piløts.
Read on AO3
For as far back as Peter can remember, he has never particularly enjoyed getting up early. On most mornings growing up, Talia came prowling into his room to pounce on his bed to wake him for school, scampering away again before he could do more than growl into his pillow. Their mother would always pop her head in ten minutes later with a sharp, “Up, Peter!” that never failed to force him to get up and get a move on, however grudgingly.
Not much has changed over the years. Few things can compare to luxuriating the morning away in his comfortable bed until it is absolutely necessary to move, as he’s doing now. He stretches out his sleep-warm muscles and brushes against the soft skin of the boy lying next to him. Smiling, Peter buries his face in his lover’s neck and pulls their bodies closer together. He’s always been a tactile person, and he’s recently found that having someone there to cuddle makes his relaxing mornings all the better.
After a while, he glances at the clock and gets up to relieve himself and brush his teeth. When he returns to his bedroom a few minutes later, he gazes at his lover’s unmoved body and sighs. Normally he would simply lay down and pull the boy to his chest to doze for another hour or so, but unfortunately, they have plans to attend to today. So with another sigh, he slides his way onto the bed until he can press a gentle kiss to his forehead instead.
“Stiles, it’s time to get up, I’m afraid.”
Stiles doesn’t respond, not even with the slightest twitch. Peter huffs even as he smiles. Of course, he would find the one person who actually likes to sleep in later than himself. Stiles likes to call them both creatures of the night. The first time he brought it up, Peter had simply raised an eyebrow at him in question.
“You may be a wolf, but I’m an owl,” he’d said with a smile and a shrug before turning back to whatever research he was working on for class, missing Peter’s fond eye roll.
A creature of the night he may be, but Peter was also a creature of habit. And lately, he had made a habit out of kissing, licking or biting every inch of bare skin Stiles revealed to him, much to the dismay or outright disgust of their pack. Peter delights in the flush of Stiles’ cheeks whenever he does so in front of the others, but admittedly he does prefer to see that flush extended down his pale body when they are alone like this.
With that in mind, he leans down and begins to whisper barely-there kisses to that soft skin, starting at Stiles’ plush lips and heading slowly down. He tries to find every mole along the way with his lips or tongue, but he’s sure he misses a few. He swears there are new ones every time he looks, and if he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s starting to think that he will never get tired of looking at Stiles. Not that the boy needs to know how much sway he holds over Peter just yet.
Peter shakes his head slightly to rid himself of his sappy thoughts. He can’t seem to help it where Stiles is concerned. With another glance at the clock and a silent groan for his lost sleep, he gets back to work with a plan and a smirk quickly forming. If he has to be up this early on a Saturday no less, he might as well have a bit of fun with Stiles for his trouble.
Stiles wakes up in increments, Peter watching his face avidly as he slowly makes his way down his body. His long eyelashes flutter when Peter kisses down his neck. His heartbeat picks up and he starts to squirm deliciously against Peter when he gently blows over first one nipple, then the other. The flush Peter so loves to see on Stiles’ skin creeps down in his wake until Stiles is a lovely shade of pink, panting shallowly underneath him. When Peter begins to lick a wet trail down Stiles’ lightly toned abs, the boy’s eyes finally snap open with a gasp.
“Holy shit!” Long fingers thread through Peter’s hair and he smirks up at Stiles without stopping his ministrations. He is quite pleased to see that the usual amber of Stiles’ eyes is now almost entirely black, dilated as they are with arousal.
“You were being lazy, so I thought I’d give you a reason to rise and shine.”
Stiles laughs breathlessly, his grasping fingers urging Peter back up until their lips can meet. Peter slides willingly along warm skin before his tongue slips into that always-open mouth, swallowing Stiles’ moan hungrily. He sucks on Stiles’ tongue for a moment until he feels Stiles’ hard morning wood brush against his thigh. He can’t help his victorious smirk as he pulls away suddenly and hears a whine of protest.
“Wha--? What the hell?” Stiles breathes harshly as he stares up at Peter, his eyes wide. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Peter ignores the hands trying to pull him down this time as he gets up and moves over to the closet across the room. “Don’t you remember what today is, darling? We wouldn’t want to get too carried away now and miss all the fun.”
He watches Stiles in the mirror on the back of the closet door as he pulls out his clothes. He’s splayed out on the bed, his hair sticking up in every direction and his eyes nearly bulging. He looks positively wild with his red and angry looking cock curving up toward his stomach. With his heightened vision, Peter can see a glistening trail of precome oozing from the slit down to the patch of hair beneath Stiles’ navel. The sight almost makes him drop his clothes and turn to pounce, any obligations or plans of his own be damned.
Almost.
Peter prides himself on his control nowadays, and he draws on every last ounce he possesses as he calmly lays out his chosen outfit and turns back to Stiles with a raised eyebrow. As much as he thoroughly enjoys ravishing Stiles when the time allows, he never misses an opportunity to tease him mercilessly if it doesn’t. Or whenever the naughty boy deserves it.
“The fun? Wha--?” Stiles says again. After another beat of silence his eyes close and he throws his head back to the pillow with a groan. “Shit! Is it the ninth? Why the hell didn’t you just shake me awake or something? You know how hard your mouth gets me.”
Peter slowly walks over so he is standing next to Stiles before he leans down and speaks directly into his ear. “Oh yes, I know exactly what my mouth does to you, sweet boy.” Then he moves so he is hovering over Stiles’ erection and blows a gust of warm air along the length of it before straightening up again.
“Aahhh,” Stiles says as his hips jolt upward into the empty air. His eyes snap open again and he narrows them at Peter. “You asshole! You're doing this on purpose!”
“But of course.”
Stiles scoots up the bed so he can prop himself against the headboard, hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Well, you can’t just leave me like this! You know Lydia will kill me if we’re late to her party! Get over here and suck me or something.”
Peter heaves a huge sigh and walks over to the door. “We really do not have the time, I’m afraid. You’ve slept in so late I’ll hardly be able to grab a quick shower before we need to leave.”
“I slept in? What about you, Mr. Growls-if-he’s-disturbed-before-ten?” Stiles’ indignant expression and madly waving arms do absolutely nothing to sway Peter’s decision to leave him horny and wanting while he takes his sweet time in the shower. If anything, his anger only makes the flush of his skin darker, strengthening Peter’s resolve.
“Hmm...I seem to remember a certain little minx losing a bet not long ago about how long they could go without masturbating.” Stiles sucks in a breath at his words, his eyes going wide in horror. “I think you need to work on your willpower and stamina, darling, and I’m going to help you.”
He walks over to the dresser and pulls a small inconspicuous box he’s been keeping there from the top drawer. Now seems like the perfect time to finally show Stiles what he’d bought him weeks ago. “Do you know what this is?” he says, pulling the clear plastic chastity device from the box and holding it up.
“A...a cock cage. Fuck.”
Peter smirks. “Indeed. I’ll make you a deal. If you can be my good boy and keep your hands to yourself while I take a shower, I’ll let you come before we leave for the party. If not, well...” he trails off with a shake of his head. “Then we’ll just have to put this on until you can learn to behave yourself.”
He sets the box on top of the dresser where he knows Stiles can see it before a loud moan has him looking back at the bed once more. Stiles is biting his bottom lip and has both hands fisted into his hair, staring and nodding helplessly at Peter.
Peter very obviously trails his eyes down Stiles’ trembling body and lingers on his cock, the head of which is starting to turn faintly purple. It’s probably getting a bit painful at this point. It gives a powerful twitch as Peter watches, and he knows from experience that a feather brushing against Stiles’ cock would set the boy off.
Perfect.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Be a good boy now, no touching.” He turns and picks something up on his way back to the door. “But Stiles?” He smirks over his shoulder at the boy’s whimper. “Feel free to get loud.”
Walking down the hall to the bathroom, Peter presses the button on the small remote in his hand. Even his ears can’t pick up the sound of the plug’s vibrations over Stiles’ desperate moans and the rushing water from the showerhead, but he really doesn’t mind. He hums to himself as he steps under the warm spray, happily picturing what his lover must look like writhing around in tortured bliss. He wonders whether or not the boy will be able to follow his orders. He honestly doesn’t know which prospect excites him more.
Either way, he knows it will be worth having to get up so early. Apparently all this time he’s just needed the proper incentive.
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