Peter catches up, getting rid of his own bag before he reaches for Stiles right at the front door. He may slam him against it with a bit more force than necessary. His limbs trembling from the hunt, the kill and the urge... They are both smelling like the ocean, blood, pain and victory. Peter loves it.

He can't look away from his prey as he pins Stiles against the door with his body, his bloody hand coming up to grab the boy's chin.

"I'm so proud of you." Peter growls, his eyes crimson and intense on his mate. "I want to have you."