Gryvon – Writer of LGBTQ Erotic Fiction

Fools Rush In (Teen Wolf, Peter/Stiles)



Length: 4302 words
Rating:
Mature
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe – Werewolves Are Known, Werewolf Courting, Mates
Summary: Peter opens the door to the cottage, a greeting ready on his lips and freezes. His nostrils flare as a strange scent hits him right in the gut, the smell as solid as a punch to the stomach. He almost flinches from the force of it. The scent is complex, something like honey and cedar and the burnt ozone left behind after a lightning strike.


Peter opens the door to the cottage, a greeting ready on his lips and freezes. His nostrils flare as a strange scent hits him, the smell as solid as a punch to the stomach. He almost flinches from the force of it. The scent is complex, something like honey and cedar and soil and the burnt ozone left behind after a lightning strike. Talia is saying something but Peter doesn’t even register her voice.

He drops his luggage and bags of Christmas presents in the doorway and stalks forward into the house, tracing that delectable smell. Talia calls after him, but he ignores her.

He finds the source of the smell in the den. There’s a stranger—several, actually—sitting in front of the fireplace, talking animatedly with large hand motions. Cora looks up from where she’s seated on the floor with the others, and oh, yes, Talia had mentioned Cora would be bringing some of her friends from Berkley who had never seen snow. The group falls silent as Peter walks right through their circle. Peter drops to one knee in front of the young man who is the source of the scent and all of Peter’s instincts scream at him mate-claim-mine.

He reaches forward slowly, giving the man time to react or pull away. The man gapes, pretty, plump lips hanging open as Peter takes his right wrist in a loose grip and brings it up toward his mouth. Peter lets his eyes shine blue, letting only that small bit of his wolf through before he kisses the man’s pale wrist.

There’s a spark of surprise in the man’s doe-like brown eyes, a startlement that makes Peter’s inner wolf think of prey and chase and hunt. Then the man smiles, a delightful curve of lips that would look amazing stretched around Peter’s cock. He presses his nose to the exposed skin in front of him, breathing deeply of his mate’s scent so that he can never forget it.

“Tell me your name,” Peter says.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski, but you can call me Stiles.”

Peter stands, regarding Stiles for a moment longer. An audience has gathered, his family and their guests are drawn in from other parts of the house. One of the other college kids starts asking questions but Peter is already moving, shedding clothing as he leaves the house.

He has work to do, work that requires four paws and fur and teeth. Amelia opens the sliding glass door for him as he bounds out onto the back porch. She shouts encouragement after him and he grins as he disappears into the forest.


“What the hell was that?” Scott demands. “Who was that?”

“That was Uncle Peter,” Cora supplies, a wide grin on her face. Stiles can feel a similar grin on his face.

Stiles turns away from the door Peter had disappeared through. “Peter Hale, huh?” Lydia snorts in a way that means he’s got absolute hearts in his eyes. “You never said your uncle was so handsome.”

“Because he’s almost two decades older than you.”

Stiles shrugs. “Apparently older is my thing.” He’d only gotten a brief look before Peter had wandered off but yeah, definitely his thing.

“Stiles,” Scott whines, making Allison and Kira giggle.

Stiles sighs. “Really, Scotty? Did you pay any attention at all in Werewolf Culture 101?”

Scott blushes and shrinks slightly as all the born wolves in the room pin him with a stare. “It was boring,” Scott mumbles. “I’m a werewolf. I know what I need to.”

Stiles isn’t the only one who snorts. “Obviously not.”

“Stiles,” Scott drags his name out. “Just tell me, already? Besides, you didn’t even take it. How do you know?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I tested out, dipshit.”

“It is his major,” Isaac helpfully adds.

“One of,” Stiles corrects. He looks over at the few Hales still lingering in the room. “Any of my future in-laws want to field this one?”

Laura, Sarah, and Amelia all shake their heads, but their expressions are all a mixture of amusement. Stiles jumps to his feet, making Erica jerk backward with a shout as he nearly steps on her hand. “Lecture time!” Stiles weaves his way through their loose circle to stand between Scott and the fireplace.  “The reason, dear Scotty, why you were supposed to pay attention in Werewolf Culture 101 is because you’re a bitten wolf, not a born wolf, so you’ve missed out on the traditions and rituals that are usually handed down through the generations of a pack.” He points a finger at Scott. “Pay attention now, there will be a quiz.”

Scott groans while the rest of the group chuckles.

“Now, the first part you know. When a wolf, born or bitten, meets their mate, there’s an immediate scent response. You had that with Kira, Erica with Boyd, Peter with me. With bitten wolves, the fun stops there, but with born wolves, it’s just the beginning.” Stiles reaches a hand toward the fireplace and pulls a living flame from it. The flame hovers above his hand as half the pack cheers.

“Storytime!”

The Hales, save Cora who’s used to their antics, laugh. Stiles grins. They have no idea what they’re in for.

“When a born wolf wants to stake their claim on their mate, they will initiate the Mating Ritual. At its core, the ritual is very simple, since it dates back to a time before industrialized society. The first part is The Hunt.” Stiles waves his hand and the flame turns into a running wolf. He puts a little extra into the illusion, making trees blur in the background as the wolf runs through a fiery forest. The Hales gasp while Erica, Allison, Isaac, and Kira applaud. Even Lydia looks vaguely impressed. “In this part, the wolf, in this case, Peter, searches for an offering, usually an animal, that they bring to their intended as a show of their prowess as a provider.”

“Wait, so he’s bringing you a dead animal? Gross.”

Stiles kicks Scott in the thigh. “Not gross. Hot. Repeat after me: hot.”

“I’m not saying that, Stiles.”

Stiles waves at Scott in dismissal. “Philistine.” He marches back to where the flame illusion is scowling at Scott. “This is why you need a course in culture. Several. You need the whole series.”

Kira grins at him. “I’ll make sure he enrolls.”

“Thank you.” A few other Hales have appeared in the doorways and the balcony on the second floor. Stiles waves at them. “Hello, Hales. I’m culturing the uncultured. Feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong.”

“You’re doing wonderfully so far.” That from the Hale Alpha, Talia. Cora’s mother and Peter’s sister. That’s going to be a strange in-law connection.

Stiles grins and bows. “Thank you, Alpha.” He ups the dramatics and puts his whole body into the flourish that accompanies the next illustration. He shifts the flame into a scene of himself in the kitchen, cutting up meat while a dead boar lies on the counter next to him. “Part two is my turn, The Gift. Assuming the offering is of acceptable worth,” he winks at Cora while he says that, “then it is the duty of the wolf’s intended to show their prowess in providing for their intended and, by extension, the intended’s pack. This involves taking the gift offered and turning it into something new. Something useful.”

“I made a stew,” Emily says from where she’s draped over the back of Laura’s armchair, her arms around Laura’s neck.

“Barbequed ribs.” That’s from Talia’s husband, Paul.

“A bone flute.” Stiles blinks and gives two thumbs up to Sarah Hale. He’s pretty sure Sarah is Amelia’s wife, so a soon-to-be-sister-in-law-in-law.

“Leather jacket,” Braden adds. She’s Derek’s fiancé.

There are far too many Hales and they’re lucky Stiles is good with names and memorization. He may have asked Cora for the whole family tree before they visited, though Cora was a bitch and hadn’t used pictures. Probably because he asked her seventeen times. In the first week.

Really, they should come with name tags. Scott thinks Amelia’s the Alpha.

“Part three,” Stiles says as he shifts the illusion to show to anonymous figures facing off for a fight. He already knows what he wants for this part but he’s not giving the surprise away. “…is The Challenge. This involves the wolf challenging the intended’s Alpha, that’s you, Scott, for the intended’s hand. The challenge is decided by the intended and usually doesn’t end in death.” Stiles grins at Scott’s worried shout. “If the intended isn’t part of a pack, then a parental figure is used instead.”

“How is fighting me a sign of love?” Scott asks.

“It’s not. It’s a sign that the wolf is a worthy addition to the intended’s pack. That brings us to part four.” He shifts the anonymous figures so that one is kneeling, offering up a blurry object to a much larger figure. “The Tribute. Again, my turn. This is the part where I offer our generous host, Alpha Hale, something to prove my worth to the Hale Pack.” He makes the fire disappear in a burst of fireworks that fizzle to nothing. His audience applauds and he bows to the different sections of the gathered Hales. “As Cora and my pack no doubt expect, this will likely be something amazing, fabulous, impossible, or a combination of all three.” He grins at Talia and bounces on his feet. Talia smiles back.

Grandmother Hale calls from the kitchen. “I made cocoa.”

“Ooh!” Stiles is one of the first among the herd of werewolves and were-adjacents that flood the kitchen, surprising some of the werewolves who’d no doubt tried to use their enhanced speed to get in first. He grins and uses his breath and a bit of magic to bring his cocoa down to the perfect drinking temperature. “What? I like chocolate. Also, never mess with a mage.”


When Peter returns, he’s naked and covered in blood. The snow is up to his knees, but he doesn’t care. His werewolf blood keeps him warm enough, even without the extra exertion of carrying a dead buck over his shoulder. His sisters must have heard him coming because Amelia’s waiting with a thick, fluffy robe at the foot of the porch stairs. He puts one foot on the stairs. Talia raises an eyebrow in a look that says “don’t you dare gut that thing on the porch.”

Peter huffs a laugh and drops the buck at the foot of the stairs. He takes the robe Amelia offers as the rest of the pack starts to emerge onto the porch with steaming cups clutched in their hands. Someone made cocoa from scratch. Talia’s holding a second mug for him.

He frowns at the crowd until Cora shoves through, pushing Stiles in front of her. Stiles’s eyes widen when he sees the dead deer, but he doesn’t smell of fear, which pleases Peter in a way that makes heat curl like fire in his belly. Stiles’s smell still pulls at Peter, but his wolf is appeased that they’ve made the first steps to court their mate.

Peter turns back to the deer, ripping open a spot behind its shoulder so that he can reach in and pull out its still warm heart. Blood drips onto the stairs as Peter approaches Stiles, holding out the raw heart.

“It is my intention to court you, Stiles Stilinski, as my mate. I offer you this deer as a symbol of my ability to provide anything you may need.”

A wicked smile stretches across Stiles’s face. His hands frame the heart, not touching, and then the smell of cooking meat fills the air. Peter lets out a pleased rumble as the heart cooks but his hand is unaffected. A witch, eh? Peter can work with that.

Once the heart is heated to Stiles’s satisfaction, he lowers his hands and meets Peter’s eyes. “I accept your gift, Peter Hale. I am impressed by the size of your…” Stiles’s eyes flicker to the gap in Peter’s robe. “…offering.”

It takes all of Peter’s will to hold still as Stiles leans forward and takes a bite out of the heart. Peter grins. It’s rare to meet humans that are aware of werewolf culture at all, let alone courting rituals. It’s also possible that Cora coached him, but Peter knows his niece and she’s the type to sit back and watch Stiles fumble his way through.

Talia lifts the heart out of Peter’s hand, replacing it with a cup of cocoa. Blood stains the white porcelain but Stiles just smiles. The pack moves past them, heading down to take the rest of the deer out to one of the sheds on the property to properly butcher it. Stiles breaks the lingering stare that has held Peter frozen to follow the others. When Laura had brought her then-girlfriend, now-wife a deer, Emily had made an amazing venison stew that’s still talked about at family gatherings. Peter watches Stiles walk through the snow and wonders what Stiles will bring him.


“All right, boys and girls, let’s see what we’re working with.” Derek snorts but obligingly steps to the side so that Stiles can join the others around the drain set in the middle of the shed. Laura shoves a wide bucket over the drain while Derek binds the deer’s back feet. “So, you’re gonna hang it up and drain out all the blood?”

Derek looks up at him with the grumpiest eyebrows. “That’s how this works.”

“Bah.” Stiles starts to shoo Derek and then thinks better of when Derek’s eyebrows grow even grumpier. “That’ll take too long. I’m impatient. Watch and learn.” Stiles drops to his knees on the concrete. “Only you can’t actually learn because this is some higher level mojo.”

Stiles cracks his knuckles and then lets his magic loose with a quick chant in Latin. He visualizes the symbols he needs. Power gathers in his hands, making them glow dark red. The werewolves jerk away from him. That’s a pretty common reaction when he does this kind of working. Isaac calls it his “demon phase” because his eyes apparently do this soulless black thing, or so he’s heard. Mirrors don’t work right when he’s like this and he tends to avoid them.

He sets his hands on the deer carcass. The corpse twitches, thrashing in a parody of pain even though life’s already left it. He reaches in with his magic and pulls until blood streams from the hole Peter made. It sails through the air in a neat ribbon to land perfectly in the bucket, not spilling a single drop.

Stiles sits back on his heels and pulls his hands away. The deer jerks to its feet amidst gasps from the onlookers. Stiles jerks his hands apart and the skin is the next thing to go, peeling away in a quick, clean slice. Behind him, someone gags. He lets the skin fall to the floor in a neat pile.

Another string of Latin and a series of flowing hand gestures has the meat pulling away to hover in the air around the skeleton. He sends the tendons off to lay next to the skin. He’ll flash dry them next, but first, the meat needs to be preserved.

“Grab the meat you want. I don’t need any of it.”

Laura moves to stand next to him, her eyes fixed on the dissected deer. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ve got other plans. Also, this is kind of tiring to hold, so…”

“Gotcha.” Laura barks out orders to the gathered Hales, who grab the pieces she tells them to and head back to the main house. Derek and Amelia stay behind to wrap and package the rest of it, including the organs. Stiles grins. He’s always been a proponent of making use of every part. It also helps that the more exotic things like eyeballs and glands and nerves are useful in a lot of potions and Things We Don’t Tell Scott About. He sets those bits in another bucket he has Laura send over.

That leaves the skeleton. Stiles makes it prance around in a circle, just because, before sliding the marrow from the bone and sending them piece by piece into another neat pile. He folds his hands together to release the spell and gasps as the magic leaves him. He shivers in the sudden cold that washes over him, immediately followed by nausea as the world seems to sit just slightly out of place.

“Are you all right?” Laura’s at his elbow.

He nods and accepts her help up onto shaky feet. He jumps in place a few times and shakes his arms, throwing off the last of the after-effects. “That kind of work always leaves me a little out of sorts.”

“Could you do that to a living person?” Derek asks, awe and fear in his voice.

“Yeah.” Stiles sees no point in hiding the truth, not from his in-laws. If, gods forbid, he ever has to fight for this pack, they’re going to see a lot worse than that. “I’d need preparation and it’s a lot messier, but yes, you can. Really pisses off vampires.”

“I think I’m scare-roused,” Laura says. “Don’t tell Emily.”

Stiles grins. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Laura claps him on the back, making him stumble slightly. “I like you. We’re keeping you.”

“That’s kind of the idea.”

Derek chuckles. “Run now, while you have the chance. You don’t know what she’s like.”

Stiles shakes his head. “The only place I’m running is into Peter’s bed. Damn that man is hung. His cock is-” The rest of his sentence is drowned out by Laura’s sudden off-key singing. She has her hands over her ears as she runs out of the shed, somehow managing to open the door with her elbow.

Derek’s the only wolf left. “Do you need anything?”

Stiles stares at his piles of parts. “Nah. I think I’m good.”

Derek nods. “Shout if you need us. I’m going back where it’s warm.”

Stiles puts his hands on his hips. A sharp whistle has his bag of tricks marching out one of the bedroom windows and on its way toward him. He pulls out his phone and keys up his “magical mayhem” playlist.

It’s time to make some magic.


Dinner that night is venison steak accompanied by brussel sprouts, a squash medley, and cornbread. He knows this is Talia’s husband Paul’s work, not Stiles’s and it only makes Peter’s curiosity grow. Peter feels nicely relaxed after a long, hot shower. Amelia had hung his clothes while he was in the woods and set out a soft blue V-neck that highlighted his eyes and grey slacks. She gives him two thumbs up as he takes the place set out for him in the middle of the table. Stiles is seated opposite him and Peter assumes the young man at the end of the table opposite Talia is Stiles’s Alpha.

No one speaks, though it looks like two of the boys from Stiles’s pack are brimming with questions. Everyone’s watching Stiles expectantly.

Peter’s eyes flash as Stiles pulls his hand out from under the table. He slides an elegant knife across the table, point first.

“I offer you this knife,” Stiles says, “made from your gift, as a symbol of my ability to provide for your care and protection.”

Peter raises an eyebrow but he takes the knife, turning it over in his hands. It was obviously shaped with magic. This level of crafting takes days, not hours. The hilt is from the larger base of an antler, flared at the ends for better grip. The blade is bone. Leg bone, most likely. He brushes his thumb along the edge and smiles as it cuts cleanly through his skin. There are runes carved into the hilt and the blade, but he’d have to look them up to figure out what they do.

“It’s beautiful,” Peter says. “I accept your offering. Thank you.”

Stiles grins as a cheer breaks out around them. Cora bumps her shoulder with Stiles’s while Stiles’s Alpha frowns slightly. The redhead is whispering to the two confused boys next to her, explaining the stage of courtship they’ve reached.

“What do you study, Stiles?” Peter asks as he piles his plate with meat and vegetables. He’s pleased to note that Stiles serves himself from a small dish of meat that most of the non-wolves ignore. He’s eating the heart Peter gave him.

“Criminal justice,” Stiles says. “My father’s the Sheriff of Beacon County. I’ve always wanted to follow him into the force.”

“Very admirable of you.”

Stiles shrugs. “It’s a calling. And there’s a lack of witches in law enforcement so I’ve got my pick of placements.”

Peter grins. “I’m sure your father will be pleased. I assume you plan to stay near home?”

Stiles nods. “Yep. Beacon Hills. I’m the pack’s emissary.” He waves a hand toward his Alpha. “That’s Scott, by the way. Scott McCall.”

The name rings a bell. Peter’s grin widens. He turns to regard Scott. “A true Alpha.”

Scott flushes and stammers something self-deprecating the Peter barely pays attention to. Conversation flows around him as the family and guests chatter. Peter only cares about the things Stiles says—what Berkley is like, his studies, the apartment he shares with Scott, Allison, Cora, and Isaac. The gears in Peter’s brain are already turning. He can easily relocate his studio to San Francisco. He’s been getting sick of New York City. He could use the change. Would it be inappropriate to fly in Stiles’s family for a Christmas wedding?

Cora badgers her friends into helping clear the table when dinner wraps up. Scott tries to go with them but the redhead—Lydia, he’s learned—glares at him until he slinks into the den. Stiles takes Peter’s hand and follows Scott. There’s a chess table set up. Peter grins while Scott whines.

“Stiles, I’m horrible at chess.”

Stiles grins and glances at Peter. “I know.”

Scott huffs but dutifully takes his place on the opposite side of the table. He rolls his eyes as Peter says “I challenge you, Alpha McCall, for the hand of your packmate.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Scott waves a hand, obviously a bitten wolf from the informality of his response. Lydia smacks him hard enough to make him yelp and he adds “I mean, I accept your challenge and will judge your worthiness by this trial.”

Peter’s family wanders in and out of the room. Only Talia, Amelia, and Emily stay for the full game, despite Laura’s attempts to lure her wife away. Laura hates chess. Emily loves it but only gets to play during family gatherings.

The match doesn’t last long. Scott really is horrible. Scott’s sigh when he loses is more resigned than upset. He shoots Stiles a look that seems to communicate something between the two of them. There’s a lot of significant eyebrow movement and pointed twitches of their lips before Scott finally says “I accept your worthiness.”

Peter moves to one of the armchairs as Emily and Lydia call next round. There’s a spark in their eyes as they look over the reset board that Peter would guess means the start of a solid friendship. Stiles smirks. His fingers brush across Peter’s shoulders as he passes behind Peter to approach Talia. Peter sits up in interest.

“Alpha Hale, I offer these charms as a token of my worthiness to join in your pack.”

Stiles reaches into his pocket and produces a set of braided hide bracelets. There are bits of bone and antler tied in. Stiles carefully explains the uses of each. One protects an expectant mother during pregnancy and ensures strong children. Two are a mix of defensive wards and strengthening spells to protect during combat. The other three are more passive protections from unexpected dangers—smoke, poison, unseen projectiles.

Talia’s eyebrows raise. “Thank you, Stiles. These are amazing. I accept your worthiness.”

The happiness that floods the room is wonderful. Peter expects Stiles to go sit with his friends now that the rituals are over, but instead, that wicked grin stretches across Stiles’s face and he drops himself onto Peter’s lap.

Peter blinks. He’s not sure where he should put his hands but he knows where he wants to. The pinched look on Scott’s face only encourages him further and he lets his hands rest low on Stiles’s hips. “Hello, there.”

“Hey, gorgeous,” Stiles says. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.”

A chorus of whistles fills the room as Stiles pulls him into an absolutely filthy kiss. Peter licks his way into Stiles’s mouth and his wolf howls with delight. Usually, the whole courtship process can take months. They’ve just done it in a day. Then it’s encouraged that the couple spends time together touching, possibly even sharing a bed. There is no doubt in Peter’s mind that he’s getting laid tonight. The pheromones coming off Stiles are making it very hard to sit still.

“So,” Stiles says as he pulls away far enough to speak, “as much as I love watching a good chess game, I’d really like to see what your bed feels like.”

Peter’s on his feet before he even thinks about it. “Is it too soon to think about wedding dates?”

Stiles laughs. He’s relaxed in Peter’s arms as if he’s carried around all the time. “A little, but I’ve always been partial to May. Very traditional. Good weather. Supposed to be lucky.”

Peter chuckles and leaps the rest of the way to the second-floor landing. Stiles shrieks in delight and clutches Peter tight.

Yes, this is definitely the one meant for him.

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