Fic: A Helping Hand (Peter/Stiles)
Author: imera
Title: A Helping Hand
Rating:NC-17
Pairing/s:Peter/Stiles
Character/s: Peter, Stiles
Summary: Peter decides to help Stiles forget about the headache in his own special way.
Submission Type: Ficlet
Word Count: 997 words
Prompt: Headache
Author's Notes: I’ve wanted to try out this pairing for some time, finally had a shorter idea I could actually finish quickly
Deaton was right, the beacon did attract monsters. Some were easily vanquished, while others almost killed them. The latest monster almost had Stiles, but his friends managed to get him out of his claws, taking him into safety before he became the newest sacrifice.
His friends returned to fight the monster, but as he had no powers they thought the best was to make someone watch him in case the monster escaped them and found his way to Stiles. While he appreciated that they didn’t want him to be eaten, he did wish they’d chosen someone else to watch him, someone who he liked.
Peter didn’t seem to be any happier about the orders to babysit Stiles, but as all voted against him he had to obey their choice.
“Maybe I should send you to a self defence class so I won’t have to constantly save your ass.” Stiles would have replied if he could think straight, but his head was suffering from a strong headache.
“Do you have a pill or something I can take?” Stiles hissed, ignoring Peter’s moping about having to watch him. “This headache is killing me.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen, I’m sure it will pass.”
Stiles waited, giving it a few moments before he complained again. “It’s getting worse, and my eyes are really hurting.”
“Well, then stop thinking about it.”
“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one whose head is being crushed.”
“If you stop behaving like a toddler then maybe it will pass.” Stiles was tired of Peter’s constant complaining, and before he could stop himself he picked up a random object and threw it at him. “Hey, what’s crawled up your ass?”
“It feels like someone are constantly hitting my head with a hammer, and all you’re doing is complaining about having to stay here.”
“I’m stronger than those pups-” Peter started, only to be interrupted by a flying book.
Stiles wasn’t able to appreciate the expression on Peter’s face as at the same moment he fell down to his knees; it felt like someone was eating his brain.
“Are you well?” Peter asked stupidly, receiving no answer as Stiles couldn’t do anything but hold his head in hopes that the pressure would stop the pain.
Stiles didn’t know what he expected the older man to do, maybe offer him some water, or offer to take him to the hospital, but what he did instead was grab Stiles’ arms and help him over to the broken sofa which was in the room of that old, and probably haunted, house.
Stiles heard Peter speak, but as his head continued to beat his ears weren’t working properly. After a minute things seemed to calm down enough for him to make out Peter’s words.
“Think about something else,” was his suggestion.
“I can’t, I can’t do it,” Stiles growled, wanting to hit something.
“Do you want my help?” If he was thinking clear he might not have accepted Peter’s help, but at that moment he would have accepted the help from even Gerard if it meant getting rid of the headache.
He didn’t know what to expect from Peter, but if he had any expectations it was not what happened next. He could feel a hand, a big and rough hand, rubbing his most private parts. Shocked he tried to pull away, but his headache kept him there, and before too long he found himself moaning from pleasure instead of pain. He struggled to breathe, but not in a bad way, to his shame.
A large and heavy body sat down next to him, and Stiles found himself being pulled into his arms, his hand still rubbing against Stiles’ growing cock. Somehow the hand found its way down his pants, and down his boxers until it could grab the warm flesh. Stiles heard a strange sound in the room and was surprised to find it came from him.
“There you go, concentrate on the pleasure,” Peter whispered, biting his earlobe softly. The room spun around but not because he felt ill, no, it was all because of the pleasure. Eager to feel more he began to move his hips, meeting Peter’s motion in order to increase the feeling.
“Now, isn’t this nice,” Peter teased, his voice less steady than it used to be. As stiles was brought back to reality he realised a few things. The headache was almost gone, he didn’t mind Peter’s way of making him think of something else, and he didn’t flinch as he felt a bulge against his back.
Stiles was close, so close that it should be impossible to hold it, but he still didn’t come, not until Peter spoke at least. “Come for me,” he ordered, and it sent Stiles over the edge. Stiles grunted loudly as he came, his body trembling in Peter’s arms as he returned to reality, sad it was all over.
Peter let him lay in his arms until he felt well enough to move by himself, he then looked at Stiles with that wicked smile and asked if his head was better.
“I think you know the answer of that,” Stiles snapped, somehow regretting what happened between them, even if he loved having someone taking care of him.
“Don’t be such a baby, I helped you.”
Stiles wasn’t blushing, but he still had to look away from Peter as thoughts he never had before confiscated his mind, and suddenly he wondered how it would feel like if he was intimate with Peter, if he would be as caring, or if he would turn into an ass.
“Thanks,” he said shortly before dressing himself.
About fifteen minutes later their friends returned, telling them it was over and that they could return home. Stiles wondered then if it meant everything was over, or if Peter would ever mention what happened between them, or if he would try something similar later.
Whatever happened he decided he didn’t mind.
Title: A Helping Hand
Rating:NC-17
Pairing/s:Peter/Stiles
Character/s: Peter, Stiles
Summary: Peter decides to help Stiles forget about the headache in his own special way.
Submission Type: Ficlet
Word Count: 997 words
Prompt: Headache
Author's Notes: I’ve wanted to try out this pairing for some time, finally had a shorter idea I could actually finish quickly
Deaton was right, the beacon did attract monsters. Some were easily vanquished, while others almost killed them. The latest monster almost had Stiles, but his friends managed to get him out of his claws, taking him into safety before he became the newest sacrifice.
His friends returned to fight the monster, but as he had no powers they thought the best was to make someone watch him in case the monster escaped them and found his way to Stiles. While he appreciated that they didn’t want him to be eaten, he did wish they’d chosen someone else to watch him, someone who he liked.
Peter didn’t seem to be any happier about the orders to babysit Stiles, but as all voted against him he had to obey their choice.
“Maybe I should send you to a self defence class so I won’t have to constantly save your ass.” Stiles would have replied if he could think straight, but his head was suffering from a strong headache.
“Do you have a pill or something I can take?” Stiles hissed, ignoring Peter’s moping about having to watch him. “This headache is killing me.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen, I’m sure it will pass.”
Stiles waited, giving it a few moments before he complained again. “It’s getting worse, and my eyes are really hurting.”
“Well, then stop thinking about it.”
“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one whose head is being crushed.”
“If you stop behaving like a toddler then maybe it will pass.” Stiles was tired of Peter’s constant complaining, and before he could stop himself he picked up a random object and threw it at him. “Hey, what’s crawled up your ass?”
“It feels like someone are constantly hitting my head with a hammer, and all you’re doing is complaining about having to stay here.”
“I’m stronger than those pups-” Peter started, only to be interrupted by a flying book.
Stiles wasn’t able to appreciate the expression on Peter’s face as at the same moment he fell down to his knees; it felt like someone was eating his brain.
“Are you well?” Peter asked stupidly, receiving no answer as Stiles couldn’t do anything but hold his head in hopes that the pressure would stop the pain.
Stiles didn’t know what he expected the older man to do, maybe offer him some water, or offer to take him to the hospital, but what he did instead was grab Stiles’ arms and help him over to the broken sofa which was in the room of that old, and probably haunted, house.
Stiles heard Peter speak, but as his head continued to beat his ears weren’t working properly. After a minute things seemed to calm down enough for him to make out Peter’s words.
“Think about something else,” was his suggestion.
“I can’t, I can’t do it,” Stiles growled, wanting to hit something.
“Do you want my help?” If he was thinking clear he might not have accepted Peter’s help, but at that moment he would have accepted the help from even Gerard if it meant getting rid of the headache.
He didn’t know what to expect from Peter, but if he had any expectations it was not what happened next. He could feel a hand, a big and rough hand, rubbing his most private parts. Shocked he tried to pull away, but his headache kept him there, and before too long he found himself moaning from pleasure instead of pain. He struggled to breathe, but not in a bad way, to his shame.
A large and heavy body sat down next to him, and Stiles found himself being pulled into his arms, his hand still rubbing against Stiles’ growing cock. Somehow the hand found its way down his pants, and down his boxers until it could grab the warm flesh. Stiles heard a strange sound in the room and was surprised to find it came from him.
“There you go, concentrate on the pleasure,” Peter whispered, biting his earlobe softly. The room spun around but not because he felt ill, no, it was all because of the pleasure. Eager to feel more he began to move his hips, meeting Peter’s motion in order to increase the feeling.
“Now, isn’t this nice,” Peter teased, his voice less steady than it used to be. As stiles was brought back to reality he realised a few things. The headache was almost gone, he didn’t mind Peter’s way of making him think of something else, and he didn’t flinch as he felt a bulge against his back.
Stiles was close, so close that it should be impossible to hold it, but he still didn’t come, not until Peter spoke at least. “Come for me,” he ordered, and it sent Stiles over the edge. Stiles grunted loudly as he came, his body trembling in Peter’s arms as he returned to reality, sad it was all over.
Peter let him lay in his arms until he felt well enough to move by himself, he then looked at Stiles with that wicked smile and asked if his head was better.
“I think you know the answer of that,” Stiles snapped, somehow regretting what happened between them, even if he loved having someone taking care of him.
“Don’t be such a baby, I helped you.”
Stiles wasn’t blushing, but he still had to look away from Peter as thoughts he never had before confiscated his mind, and suddenly he wondered how it would feel like if he was intimate with Peter, if he would be as caring, or if he would turn into an ass.
“Thanks,” he said shortly before dressing himself.
About fifteen minutes later their friends returned, telling them it was over and that they could return home. Stiles wondered then if it meant everything was over, or if Peter would ever mention what happened between them, or if he would try something similar later.
Whatever happened he decided he didn’t mind.