NOW YOU GUYS ARE GONNA MAKE ME WRITE MORE. (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ
They've been doing this -- whatever the hell "this" is -- for nearly a year now and Stiles hasn't been with anyone else. He tells himself that it's because he can't find anyone that will fuck him harder and better and make him come harder than Peter can.
Just a few days shy of their "anniversary", Stiles realizes what was holding him back from strolling into Jungle and finding the first hot, available guy that wanted to fuck him and taking them back to his Jeep for a little fun.
It hits him like a punch to the gut and honest-to-god winds him for a moment because, holy shit, Stiles Stilinski loves Peter Hale.
Peter freaking Hale. The guy that almost murdered his friends and that nearly gave him the bite. The man that Stiles watched Derek kill and the man that was torched like he didn't even matter. The guy that Stiles always got a "bad touch" vibe from but now can't stand being away from for more than a day.
Of course, Stiles denies his feelings for as long as possible. He tries to cut his visits with Peter short, always coming up with excuses as to why he has to leave as soon as the older man is done riding his ass.
Peter sees through his bullshit after the tenth time.
Stiles is tugging his jeans on, mumbling something about having to go do something for his dad and needing a shower before doing said thing because he can't go smelling like jizz, can he?
Once the denim is up and Stiles lifts his gaze, Peter asks him what the hell is going on and doesn't beat around the bush. He asks Stiles if he's seeing someone else, if he wants to see someone else, if he did something wrong and, if so, is there anything he can do to make it up to him? (Said with a smirk and a waggle of eyebrows, naturally.)
"Nothing is going on," he says, huffing as he does his jeans up with shaky hands and ragged breathing. Stiles knew there was a possibility of this happening -- just hoped that it would be when he figured out a way to get out of the hole he's somehow gotten himself into.
Peter stands from the bed and comes over, his hands encircling Stiles' wrists in a way that would have terrified him a year ago but now does nothing but sent a spark through him.
The look on Peter's face tells Stiles that he's not believing his bullshit and he sighs, bringing a hand up so he can comb his fingers through his mussed hair. He looks away, his heart thumping, and when Peter asks what's going on again, Stiles blurts the words out.
"I think I love you, okay? There!"
Once the words are out, Stiles feels better and worse at the same time; mixed emotions are swirling around in his chest and he knows that this is going to end in rejection. The whirlwind of feelings turns into panic and it builds, rising in Stiles' throat and causing it to feel like it's closing.
"What?" Peter asks, his voice soft and his eyes widened slightly.
Stiles snorts and mumbles, "You heard me."
"Then what's the 'what' and he dumb look for?"
"You think you love me?" Peter's face softens and he's smiling, his hands resting on Stiles' hips, thumbs brushing along the sharp bone underneath the straining cotton covering them.
"Um... yes." Stiles pauses, hesitating, and sighs. "I might know, for sure, if I love you or not but I shouldn't."
That causes Peter's forehead to crease and his smile to drop. "And why shouldn't you?"
"Because you're, like, not that much younger than my dad and you've killed people and I - you - I just shouldn't!"
"I haven't killed anyone in a long time," the werewolf points out and Stiles snorts, making a gesture that says 'yeah, well'. "And I'm only sixteen years older than you."
Stiles scoffs, "Like that makes a difference."
The room grows silent for a moment and then Peter kisses Stiles gently, cradling the back of his head with one hand. He pulls back, tugging the teenager toward the bed once more, and mumbles, "I love you too, idiot."
"Wha - why am I an idiot!"
"That's really all you took from that?"
A blush creeps over Stiles' cheeks and he shakes his head. "Why do you love me?"
"Same reasons you love me," Peter mumbles, pulling Stiles down onto the mattress. "Because I'm an awesome fuck."
Stiles smacks Peter's shoulder and laughs, rolling his eyes. He licks his lips and looks at the older man, nodding. "You are an awesome fuck."