Chapter Text
Splashing in the giant tub I gaze out over Central Park. Seriously this penthouse suite that Peter’s picked for us is awesome, it literally takes up the whole of the top floor of the hotel and we have panoramic views of New York.
As we’re on the edge of Central Park, that means I can see that too, or I would be able to if it wasn’t so dark. But there are still lights out there and I lounge in the hot water and gaze out over the bustling city.
Tonight we’re going to the theatre.
Which means I have to dress up.
Peter’s already rummaged in my side of the wardrobe and put things on the bed for me, I have to wear a suit and look smart and grown up. He wants to see the musical Chicago, and I’ve seen the film so it should be good.
Wallowing in the bath I hum to myself and grin. God this honeymoon slash Christmas slash New Year thing has been a blast. We’ve done so much, including Peter hitting the sales, I swear we’ll have to build that scary basement, that the towns used to think he had, just so we can fill it with all his new clothes. I spent the time he was shopping in an awesome cinema and caught up on films, and I may have dived into to some video game shops too.
We’ve done tonnes of stuff, the horse drawn carriage through Central Park was cool, the museums and galleries are fantastic. I’ve seen the Statue of Liberty, and gotten the t-shirt. At the Empire State Building there was a jazz band playing romantic songs, and we danced, and ate, and then came back to the hotel to make out on the bed. I’ve been to nightclubs, I’m too young to be in, and danced until I dropped. And I’ve still barely scratched the surface of this vibrant city.
Peter’s promised we can come back often.
Plus we might try some other hotels out, though I like this one, we even have a chauffeur to take us places if we don’t feel like walking, or taking a tube. Oh and we have a fucking butler, the guy is polite and so professional I feel like Bruce Wayne, and I can’t believe the main guy who’s here is called Alfred, though not Pennyworth. I can work with that though, and Peter’s mentioned that I tend to behave if Alfred or one of the other butlers is here.
“Stiles,” Peter calls out from the other room and I scowl because that means I have to get out of the awesome bath.
Pulling the plug I heave myself up and out of the water. Drying off I yell, “Hey is anyone but us in the penthouse?” Seriously I can ask if anyone is in the penthouse, how cool is that!
“No,” is his answer so I put the towel on the rail and streak through the suite to the bedroom area.
The suite is built like a square or diamond around the main bank of elevators, of which we have a specialised one just for us, none of this sharing with others crap. And the bedroom is adjacent to the bathroom so I don’t have to streak far.
Jumping on the giant bouncy bed, I whoop, and manage to stop myself making a total ass of myself, by not falling off the other side, and I grin at Peter who’s adjusting his cufflinks.
The thing about werewolves is that they all have fab abs, and I don’t, being the weedy human boy, but Peter makes me feel good about being me. His eyes roam and like what they see, when we make out he’s careful how his hands roam so as not to scare me, and yet, he makes me feel like I’m desirable.
If nothing else since I met him again in Sacramento he’s never once made me feel unwanted, or like I’m lesser than him, okay so he’s an arrogant vain asshole, but that’s just Peter with everyone, and he tries hard not to do that with me.
His eyes are on me and they caress me, because that is a thing too, and his lips quirk, “Interesting fashion statement you’re going for Stiles.”
Stretching out on the bed I smirk, “Haven’t you heard, of husband of mine,” Because I can tease him a little, “This,” I wave a hand down naked me, “Is the new Honeymoon style this year.”
He huffs a laugh and I count it as a win, I like making him happy like this. First it was out of self defence, but now because it gives me a sense of achievement.
Picking up the clothes he’s put out for me I get dressed and then we’re ready to go. The chauffeur is waiting for us, the show is awesome and I remember enough of the words I can sing along under my breath, we get driven back to the hotel afterwards and we stop off in the restaurant.
And the place has trees growing in it, and the food is that weird crap that’s fancy and expensive but is mostly annoying. We had a big lunch anyway so I’m not that hungry and food service is good if I feel peckish later.
Holding Peter’s hand all the way up the elevator I bounce into our suite and after some teeth brushing and peeing we go to bed. I strip off way faster than Peter and clamber into the soft bed, it would play havoc with my back in the long term, but short term the bed is so comfy.
I get to see all those long lithe lines of Peter’s body be unwrapped and the spark of desire lazily spirals through me. Since we’ve stopped having sex, I’m getting more and more interested in him physically, and I see him sniff the air and the damn peacock preens at knowing I’m as turned on as I can get at the moment.
He slides into bed and crowds up against me, naked skin to naked skin and I shiver in a good way. “Stiles,” his voice is husky and we start to kiss as he pushes me down and pins me. This should freak me out but I’m learning to accept Peter, to know and trust that he will back off when it gets too much for me.
Our kisses are sweet and we’ve only recently started French kissing so I open my mouth to encourage him and he’s soon sweeping his tongue into my mouth, and fucking hell, the man knows what he’s doing.
I’m quickly reduced to trying to remember to breathe and arching into his body, his leg slides between mine and I freeze, so Peter instantly stops and pulls back, “It’s okay,” I mutter and pull him closer, I control how his leg rests between mine and little Peter, well not so little Peter jabs me in the gut but then little Stiles is kind of at half mast so I laugh, “Dude, I’m totally getting a partial erection here.”
His face softens, “So you are, what a clever little Stiles you are,” his mouth noses at my neck so I move to give him access, “Brave, strong, smart, perfect, amazing,” he peppers kisses over me and then sucks on my neck and whispers, “Awesome,” so I laugh at his antics and the tension is gone.
“Sleep,” he kisses my forehead and we shuffle around so he’s welded to my back and I’m pinned there by his arm.
Yawning I drift off to sleep, we have a few more days here and then we go home to start our new domesticated lives together. Peter snuffles into the nape of my neck and I’m happy. Things are going well between us, I’m starting to heal from everything that Brad and Oren did to me, and I’m hopeful that everything in my life is going to be good.
Dad hasn’t replied to the video message we sent to him, or to the video we sent him of our wedding, but I have my fingers crossed that we’re starting to build the foundations of communicating again.
A stray thought crosses my mind, Danny’s Facebook page said that Jackson had been kicked out of his own home and the Whittemores were even thinking about getting the adoption undone. Danny is too nice for his own good, because he’s let the douchebag move in with him and his folks, Jackson is a dick that’s finally getting what he deserves. And I let sleep take me as I imagine Jackson sleeping rough for a few days, before Derek would have taken him in, because Derek is a good Alpha and wouldn’t have let him stay homeless if Danny hadn’t taken Jackson in like a stray lizard-puppy.