After dinner Peter keeps himself to his promise and takes Stiles again. Enjoying what his little emissary can do with his lips and tongue other than spells. The wolf is almost ashamed how he feels like he's a teenager again, but after a while he doesn't care. He's drunk on power and pleasure and on something way more primal only Stiles can give him. Peter loves it.

The morning comes slow and dragged out, which is also a pleasant surprise for him. He'd never take his time in bed, not like this; like a lazy Sunday Peter's never been a fan of... But as he comes to his senses he can feel and smell Stiles next to him and his fingers always find his warm skin, his familiar touch... it's something new and scary, but Peter's too taken with it to be alarmed.

Though as he turns his head to go back for another few minutes of sleep he feels something on his neck. It kind of stings, almost hurts... but he remembers it. It's a bite. He frowns, reaching for it and running his fingers over it. It's a bite Stiles made last night. It's still there, even if it was long hours ago.

Peter's wide awake in seconds at the implication what that could mean, his flashing blue eyes looking at Stiles next to him on the bed. Just watching so far.