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“You must swift as the coursing river,
With all the force of a great typhoon,
With all the strength of a raging fire,
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon”
Stiles glanced around the warehouse tiredly, wiping sweat from his brow. He didn’t know what had gotten into Derek (Was it the joke about too much ice cream?) but whatever it was, he didn’t like it. Derek had insisted on an emergency training session. A compulsory training session. Even Peter was here … although he was sitting out due to recent “injury”. And he was smirking at Stiles. This was not funny. Stiles was about to turn to Derek and whine (for what felt like the hundredth time) when said Alpha stepped behind him, arms crossed over his chest. Yelping in a totally manly way, and flailing elegantly, Stiles nearly falls over in shock.
“Seriously, Derek! Bells! I am getting all you wolves a collar with a bell on it because it is not fair to sneak up on the only human here!! Jeez …”
Rolling his eyes, Derek grabs Stiles by the collar and drags him back to where the others are waiting. This must have been some kind of torture that Derek had thought up. Stiles could just keep up with the wolves … barely. In his head, the song “I’ll make a man out of you” from the Disney movie Mulan was playing. Pointing out the similarities to Derek may not have been his best idea, as Stiles is promptly flipped over Derek’s shoulder and pinned to the floor, gasping for breath.
In the back ground, he hears Peter spluttering with laughter.
“Remind me to kill Peter with fire, again, after this is over, okay?”
Derek just shakes his head, pulling him to his feet again. Nodding to the over wolves, they start sparring with each other, each movement quick, flawless, elegant.
Stiles …. Not so much. He managed to trip Derek, but only because of his flailing limbs, not due to any successful self defence move.
By the end of the 7 hours training, Stiles is sweaty, achey, tired and just plain narky. Driving home, he ignores the multiple texts from Scott, asking if he is okay. No, he is not. Once home, he drags himself inside and showers, washing away the days sweat and grime. Heading to his room in just a towel, he groans softly as he sees Peter reclining on his bed.
“Creeperwolf, what do you want? I’m tired, I’m sore, and I just want to sleep. Whatever it is, can’t it wait?”
Ignoring Stiles’ whining, Peter leans forward, gently leading Stiles to the bed. Rubbing his thumb over the back of Stiles’ hand, he tugs the younger man onto the bed, making him lie on his front. After only a token protest, Stiles lies there, no longer caring what happens as long as he doesn’t have to move.
“Just relax, Stiles. I won’t hurt you, I’ll make you feel better, okay?”
Grumbling his consent, Stiles waits to see what Peter plans to do. And is pleasantly surprised.
Peter’s hands start on Stiles feet, gentle circular motions as he eases the pain from Stiles’ tired feet before moving up to his calves. Stiles doesn’t bother to supress his moans. He’ll admit it: Peter gives awesome massages. Before long, Peter has reached Stiles’ back and shoulders, and Stiles is practically asleep, completely relaxed as his aching muscles are soothed by expert hands.
As he finishes, Peter leans over to find Stiles fast asleep. Pulling the covers over the younger man, Peter pulls him close, curling a protective arm around him, nuzzling against Stiles’ neck before closing his own eyes.
“You’re welcome, Stiles … My mate”
Smiling, he falls asleep, not seeing the small curve of his young mates lips, knowing no one else knows, that Peter is his little secret.