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triskhellion · 2 years ago

Text

Oh...Possum?!

Rated: Explicit (2k)

Relationship: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Sheriff Stilinski

Tags: POV Stiles, Established Relationship, Alpha Peter, Spark Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Blood, Stiles Accepts The Bite, Werecreature Stiles, Opossum Stiles, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Size Difference, Spanking, Blindfolds, Explicit Sexual Content, Self-Lubrication, Knotting, Breathplay, Mating Bites

Summary: Stiles is just trying to enjoy finally moving into his new house with his mates, Chris and Peter, when they end up facing off against a warlock and his demons. He gets injured and needs the Bite to survive, but isn't thrilled about his new form when he doesn't turn into a wolf. Chris and Peter show him how much they want him all over again.

For SinnaBon and Stiles Shipping Central Ficlet Exchange. Keeping this at exactly 2,000 words was a fun challenge.

Equiknots: Harvest & Hunter's Moon prompts: Between, Corn & Knot

Stiles woke up with a smile sandwiched between his mates after a night of loving debauchery. He carefully wiggled out of bed and held back a laugh when Chris and Peter immediately closed the gap, the Alpha wolf snuggling further into the former Hunter in the morning light.

They had finally moved into their new home on the edge of the Preserve a little over a week ago. There were at least a dozen more arguments about decorating on the horizon, but the house that they’d designed together with the help of their resident architect and nephew (he lived for the way Derek’s eye twitched when he called him that) was done at last and they had the rest of their lives to figure out the details.

Stiles was very much looking forward to enjoying a lazy Sunday, just the three of them, but while out for a walk to the nearby lake they started receiving calls and texts about Lydia being in a fugue state. Apparently the banshee was repeating warnings about something happening in their neck of the woods. The others would be on the way, but they needed to act soon.

We’ll just check things out real quick and then get home in time for dinner, he thought.

Of course that’s when everything went to hell. Literally.

“Five demons? In this economy?” Stiles screeched as he hit the ground and rolled to avoid a blast from the warlock they found trying to sacrifice the missing mailman. So much for feeding the ducks.

He threw the bag of peas he was still holding at one of the entities that the black-scleraed man had summoned, distracting it from going after Chris, who was already struggling to keep out of reach of another. Peter had just been knocked down by one of the two he was facing and Stiles was worried.

There wasn’t much that either of his partners could do directly to the demons so he needed to occupy the hideous things so that they could focus on the other magic-user. Stiles taunted the one that was now after him and created multiple illusions of himself running off in all directions, throwing imaginary balls of fire as he aimed real ones at the demons and warlock alike.

He’d just had the satisfaction of watching Chris shoot the man in the chest, Peter coming up from behind to finish him off, when he was struck hard from behind. As the four demons he could see disappeared so did the strange pressure in his midsection and then he fell to the ground in agony.

Moments later a clawed hand grasped onto him leaving thin scratches before the pain dissipated.

“Don’t you dare fucking die on me,” Peter snarled around a mouthful of fangs as Chris held his other hand.

Coughing up blood and shaking, Stiles looked up into bright red eyes. This was it. They’d talked about it hypothetically before, but now it was happening. He couldn’t speak, but gave a jerky nod. Agony bloomed in his abdomen a second time and then was lessened again with a touch.

His bleeding slowed first and then a new aspect of himself began to unfurl, something curious and wild. It started to settle into him, but then a thousand tiny points of light flared up to drive it out. He began to cough again, but this time it was black.

“No,” choked Peter, clutching him tighter. “It was taking, I could feel it.”

Fear and grief coursed through Stiles, eyes darting between his mates. A few seconds passed and the Alpha’s head shot up to look at Chris.

“His spark,” Peter whispered as Stiles began to drift. He was so very tired.

Chris rubbed his sternum to get his attention. “Stiles baby, I know it’s important to you, but you have to let it go. If you want to stay here with us, you have to let your spark go.”

He snapped back to alertness. Leave Chris and Peter? No, he didn’t want to do that. Not at all.

Stiles joined with the animal presence to push the light out. It was a great struggle and it hurt, but finally that familiar green-gold warmth receded and then faded away. As soon as it was gone he mourned its loss and the new furry resident curled around him inside in an attempt to comfort him. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and he passed out to the sounds of shouting and thudding footsteps.

Slowly, Stiles returned to awareness smelling something delectable. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he sure was hungry. There was a loud, steady thumping and whooshing as well. Stretching, he opened his eyes to find himself in his childhood bedroom. Blinking rapidly he looked around in confusion, seeing Chris asleep in a chair beside him. What?

Then all at once memories of the evening before came rushing back. Or however long ago it had been. He had the feeling he’d been out for a quite a while.

The bed creaked when he got up and Chris jolted awake. The next thing he knew he was being enveloped in a hug and someone was running up the stairs. Stiles felt a second set of arms around him and he sighed, grounded by his mates and their comforting scents.

Eventually they pulled away and he cleared his throat, looking at two relieved, but still concerned faces.

“So I guess I’m a wolf now, huh?” He smiled despite his jumble of emotions. The older men looked at each other and Stiles felt his stomach drop. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say anything’s wrong—” Chris started.

“But well, you’re not a wolf, sweetheart,” said Peter.

Stiles sunk back on the bed in shock. “What am I then?”

The two exchanged looks again. “We don’t know.”

After not-so-quietly freaking out the first thing he did was go in search of food. Someone had thrown something amazing in the garbage and he shook his head at the waste. He opened the fridge and honed in on a bowl of esquites. Fuck yes, corn! Stiles began shoveling it into his mouth with a serving spoon.

He was still hungry when it was gone and started rooting for the great-smelling thing in the trash when Peter and Chris came down and stopped him.

“Love, what are you doing?” Peter cried, knocking a container out of his hand before he could open it.

Stiles hissed and grew very angry and then suddenly he was very small. It was difficult to see in the bright light, but he sensed the movement of giant creatures and he was afraid. Stilling he looked up to see the shocked faces of men now kneeling and bending close toward him. Large hands were petting his body, but he began to relax recognizing their scents. Mates. They were his mates.

Chris scooped him up and sat on the couch, putting him in his lap. Peter disappeared for a minute and came back holding something reflective. A mirror. It was placed before him and he squinted, trying to make out the image. Light face, long snout, dark eyes and ears. He was a fucking opossum!

Stiles hissed again and scampered off to hide underneath the couch.

Eventually they coaxed him out and took him home after speaking with his bewildered father. (Apparently he’d been mumbling about wanting to see him while under, which is why they’ took him there.) His dad pet his head incredulously while wondering if it could be from his own mother’s side of the family.

“Granny and Aunt Mabel were from Virginia and seemed to have an affinity with possums,” the elder Stilinski revealed.

“It’s possible,” Peter shrugged, smirking. Stiles bit him.

He shifted back while he was asleep, waking up on top of a pillow and once more in his new bed between his mates. Stiles kissed them both on the cheek and then shut himself in the guest room to try to figure out his shifting. After a couple hours of frustrated outbursts Peter came to the door asking to help. Begrudgingly, he agreed.

He’d wanted to see how freakish he looked before having to face his mates, but so be it.

By evening they’d discovered that he had not one or two, but three beta shifts. The first was basically like his human self, but with even better hearing and smell, eyes that could glow silver, and retractable claws and fangs. His second shift shrunk him to 5’3”, which Chris joked would be useful on airplanes. The third brought him down to 4’5”, gave him a prehensile tail, short gray and white fur, opossum ears, whiskers and a short snout.

“Perfect for breaking and entering,” Peter mused with a wicked grin.

Stiles snorted, but felt disheartened looking at his not at all majestic form in the mirror.

“I’ve always thought opossums were cute,” Chris said, bending down to hug him from behind. “Allison would share posts from that Hourly Possum account on Twitter.”

Peter stood before him and cupped his strange, furry face. “I can’t say I gave much thought to them previously, but you are adorable, darling.”

That night Chris and Peter blindfolded him and led him back to their bedroom, only saying that they had something special planned for “our favorite marsupial.” Stiles could smell their arousal (how cool was that?) as they placed him on the mattress and undressed him. Feeling playful he did his second shift and turned, crawling up the bed and shaking his naked ass.

He heard Chris groan and soon he was caught by the back of the neck, another hand grabbing a round cheek and then spanking both a few times before reaching around to grasp his hardening cock. Stiles moaned and then gasped, surprised to discover something else: he was wet.

A low growling filled the room and then a third hand was running two fingers over his leaking hole.

“Stiles,” Peter purred.

The hand wrapped around him disappeared and he pouted until pants unzipped and a cock was pushed against his slightly parted lips. He opened wide for Chris, savoring the taste of him while Peter’s teasing fingers finally pressed inside and began to thrust, nailing his prostate.

Stiles rocked back on them as he took Chris deeper, tonguing under his shaft. A third finger was added — pumping, expanding, and spreading his slick — and then they withdrew so something larger could take their place. He moaned around the cock in his mouth when Peter slid inside him to the hilt and immediately began to move, gripping his hips. Nothing compared to being stuffed full by the men he loved.

His new instincts cried out for more, a desperate need to be claimed, and Stiles whined as his smaller body writhed between them in the dark.

Chris stepped back and caressed his flushed face. “What’s wrong, baby?” Peter stilled as well.

“Need you both. Make me yours, please,” Stiles begged, unable to explain more.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Peter crooned, kissing his back and thrusting again.

Chris returned to his waiting mouth, this time holding him place and plunging in until he was coming, first down Stiles’ throat and then onto his face.

“My good, pretty boy,” he murmured.

Stiles licked him clean and then dropped onto his forearms, prompting Peter to climb over him and pound even more relentlessly. He felt the forming knot and bore down to welcome it.

“Gonna breed that tight, little ass of yours. Fill you up,” the Alpha growled, wrapping a hand around his throat. The knot locked and swelled as Stiles gasped, sending him over the edge. Peter let go and soon followed suit, marking him up inside while he clenched around him. Two sets of jaws clamped down where each shoulder met his neck renewing their mating bites.

Carefully, they turned over all tangled up together and Stiles pulled off the blindfold with a smile.

Mates. Home.

Perfect.