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Peter had been to the Stilinski house rather frequently for someone who only considered himself an acquaintance. He had grown up with Claudia, of course, and they had been friendly enough, but aside from the occasional cook-out he had never interacted with her on a personal level once they became adults. Tragically, he had been the one forced to recommend she see a neurologist when an Omegan cause for her symptoms was fully ruled out. Following her death, he had sometimes visited the Sheriff for business, but never pleasure.
Still, he had never seen the house look as quiet as it did then.
Noah came out of the house as soon as Peter parked his car on the street. His hair was unbrushed, and he was still wearing clothes that were too cold for the current day so were clearly worn for yesterday’s bright sun. Even if Peter couldn’t smell the anxiety, he would be able to tell that the man had not slept.
“How is he?” Peter asked, carrying his medical bag in one hand and shaking the Sheriff’s hand with the other.
“Delirious,” Noah said. “Feverish, can’t eat, can’t sleep, emotionally unstable, he’s been scratching himself-- he’s nearly nineteen, this shouldn’t be happening.”
Peter put a calming hand on the Sheriff’s shoulder. “I understand. I think it would be best if you took me to him immediately.”
The Sheriff nodded. He looked an alarming amount like Stiles when he was nervous, his body moving frantically to get out the excess energy. He leads Peter up the stairs to Stiles’ room, marked with an over saturated anime poster that Peter vaguely recognized from when his niece Cora tried to explain it to him.
“An examination like this can take a while,” Peter warned, but Noah took a seat on the landing anyway. Peter supposed there wasn’t much else for the man to do.
He opened the door to Stiles’ bedroom.
The scent was unmistakable. As soon as Peter stepped in the room, his nose filled with the overwhelming sweetness of a ripe Omega. The position Stiles’ body was in was unmistakable as well-- his legs were splayed out until they were almost falling off the bed, a sleep shirt clearly meant for an Alpha several times Stiles’ size scrunched up so that it fell off one shoulder, baring an already swollen nipple, and failing to cover the entirety of the boy’s small penis, all while Stiles clung to the metal bars that made up his headboard. It was the type of image that would usually adorn the covers of pornographic magazines, and Peter had to admit he was not immune. Still, he was a professional.
Peter walked over to the patient’s bedside with his bag and set it down on the bedside table, splaying out the instruments it contains. In an ideal setting, he would be on a stool between the patient’s bound legs so that he would be unencumbered, but he makes do by sitting between Stiles’ sprawled limbs. He dragged the bedside table closer to him so he can reach easily, and the change in lighting highlights Stiles’ facial features and the sweat that covers them.
Peter put his hand on Stiles’ heaving chest, holding it there until Stiles’ breathing slowly began to even out. Stiles’ eyelids fluttered and opened, looking at Peter through hooded eyes.
“Hello Stiles,” Peter said.
Stiles moaned and wriggled, like he was waking from a nap, before he settled again.
“Do you know who I am?” Peter asked. He knew it was a tall order -- he and Stiles were hardly companions -- but it was important to establish the lucidity of the patient.
“Doctor Hale,” Stiles slurred, after a brief hesitation. He was drowsy, but conscious of his surroundings. That was a good sign.
Peter smiled at Stiles as kindly as possible.
“Do you have any idea why I’m here?” Peter asked.
Stiles frowned, then gasped in pain. His hand shot to his abdomen. Peter laid his hand on top and they massaged the taut muscle together.
“I think…” Stiles sniffled. Tears beaded on his eyelashes. “I think I’m in heat.”
“I think you are as well.” Peter lightly pressed into Stiles’ stomach through the massage, right above where the womb was.
Stiles almost flung himself off the bed before collapsing again, panting heavily. Liquid poured from his body.
There was no doubt in Peter’s mind that this was a heat. He guided Stiles to press firmly down on his abdomen, and with each press more slick gushed from him, the damp patch increasing until it was a small pool licking at Peter’s legs.
“I need to test you, okay?” Peter watched carefully for a negative, but even though Stiles was openly weeping, he nodded his consent.
Peter removed his hand from Stiles’ abdomen, but Stiles kept massaging without him. A small amount of pride bloomed in Peter’s chest and he smiled while removing his coat. He folded up his sleeves until they were well above his elbows and pulled on a pair of medical gloves. The angle would be difficult without stirrups, so he grabbed whatever castaway pillows he could reach and helped Stiles wedge them under his hips.
“Please bend your knees so that your feet are lying flat on the bed, but keep your legs spread as far apart as you can.”
Stiles meekly obeyed, giving Peter an open look at his groin. His thighs were coated in fluid, but his cocklet was only dribbling small amounts of precome. Most important was the furled entrance between his cheeks, which was a soft, enticing pink that was spasming intensely. Slick leaked out of it like it had been built up inside Stiles and the dam preventing flood had been broken.
Peter reached forward and with both hands began massaging the sweet untouched hole in front of him.
Stiles whined, flinging the hand not palpating his abdomen over his eyes. Peter clicked his tongue -- a short, sharp admonishment reserved for Omegas and children -- and Stiles pulled his hand back, fisting it in the ruined sheets beneath him.
“Have you or has anyone else touched you here?” Peter asked.
Stiles shook his head.
“This may be intense for you then.”
There were two heavily divided schools of debate on the subject-- those who said that it was better for an Omega to be familiar with anal penetration before they presented so that the new feelings wouldn’t entirely overwhelm their mind and body, and those who argued that was the entire point, that an Omega should be left entirely untouched so their presentation had a more profound effect on them.
Typically, Peter tended towards the former. He encouraged sexual exploration in all his patients, no matter their dynamic, and believed that no part of the body should be left unknown simply because of fears of masculinity or corruption. However, seeing a sweet, untouched hole in front of him was still a heady feeling, and he knew that for some Omegas it was important to have their presentation to be as unfamiliar as possible in order to break them into their new mindset. He also knew that Stiles, delightful but also ill tempered, impulsive, and foul mouthed would do well from such a clear separation.
Peter pushed his pointer and middle fingers of each hand into Stiles. He first pulled to the side, watching Stiles’ hole come apart and open for him. Then he shifted his hands and instead pulled his fingers up and down. Stiles had more difficulty with that, arching on the bed and keening. Vertically, Stiles’ hole didn’t spread nearly as wide.
“Does it hurt?” Peter asked.
“Yes,” Stiles said through gritted teeth.
“What kind of hurt?” Peter pulled a little more on Stiles’ rim.
“I don’t know!” Stiles sobbed.
“I need to know if it’s a sharp pain or something duller, like a pulled muscle.”
“Muscle,” Stiles replied, his face scrunching up with the strain.
“Badly?”
“No,” Stiles choked out.
More slick gushed out as Peter removed his fingers. Stiles collapsed on the bed, his chest heaving. Peter turned to the table and grabbed the speculum. He had only brought his small to medium size, unlike the monsters he had at his practice. With one hand he gently massaged Stiles’ hole again, and with the other he coated the speculum in Stiles’ own slick.
“I want you to take deep breaths for me,” Peter said. He steadily pushed in the speculum. “In and out, with me. In, out. In, out.”
The speculum went in without trouble, and Stiles’ breathing began to steady again.
“I want you to tell me when the burning sensation grows too much to handle, or if it becomes sharp and painful, alright?” Peter waited for Stiles to nod before turning the screw that opened the speculum.
Stiles panicked when the speculum reached about three inches in diameter, even though his hole showed no signs of irritation.
“It’s alright,” Peter said. “You’re fine, there’s nothing wrong. Your body knows what it’s doing. Breathe with me again: in, out, in, out.”
Peter placed a hand on Stiles’ leg, stroking it like he would a spooked colt. He began turning the screw again, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ leg when it began twitching again.
“Stop!” Stiles cried.
Peter immediately removed his hand from the speculum.
“What’s wrong? Pain?”
“Too much.” Stiles sniffled again. “It’s too much, I can’t do it, I’ll break I swear--”
“Stiles, I need to know if you are in pain,” Peter said sternly to get through Stiles’ ramblings. “Is there any pain?”
After a few moments, the ones that always worried Peter when dealing with a new Omega, Stiles shook his head.
“You’re almost done,” Peter said. He stroked Stiles’ leg again. “You’ve done so well. I just need you to keep going. Can you do that for me?”
Stiles sniffled and nodded, wrapping his hands around the bars of his headboard again.
It only took three more turns and the speculum was opened to full capacity. Stiles sobbed when Peter told him it was done, burying his face in his pillow.
“I’m so proud of you,” Peter said. He gave Stiles a moment to get used to the stretch, even though he could tell that Stiles’ hole was not stretched as far as it could go. An Omega’s mind never caught up with the capabilities of its body, so the poor things would often think their bodies had been ruined as soon as they had to accomodate a little more than they were used to.
Peter took out a pen light and pointed it inside Stiles. The insides of Stiles’ body were a healthy red, with no signs of damage or weak tissue. Peter could see the beginnings of Stiles’ cervix, dilated due to the Heat. While the late presentation would almost certainly cause Stiles’ body and mind to be unstable until at least his first year, there was no signs of it having impacted the health of his reproductive organs.
After some consideration, Peter made the speculum smaller by a couple of turns, before removing it from Stiles’ body. Stiles sighed in relief once it was gone, his legs falling even further open as he relaxed.
“Breathe for a few moments,” Peter said as he prepared the next stage of the treatment.
“Am I an Omega?” Stiles asked softly.
Peter turned to Stiles, looked him directly in the eye, and said with complete certainty “yes.”
Stiles’ eyes fell shut. Peter had seen a wide variety of responses to that: crying was so common it was almost a given, despair happened often, anger was less common as the dominant response but always there. And then there was acceptance, though usually that came later. The rarest, so much so that Peter remembered each instance in graphic detail, was joy.
Stiles displayed no extreme emotion. He was still crying, but he didn’t seem particularly sad or angry, nor did he seem very joyful. Accepting, then. An acknowledgement that his life as he planned it was over, but that a new life would be taking its place. One that, even if Stiles didn’t seem particularly excited for it, did not seem to fill him with revulsion or fear.
Peter gathered some more of Stiles’ slick, collecting it on his palm before adding the lubricant that had been made with an Alpha’s saliva in order to comfort the Omega. An Omega’s first knot was always a difficult thing to take, and while Stiles was lucky to not be as physically small as some of the Omegas who had come to Peter’s clinic, it was also difficult for a body to be as used to its unpresented state as Stiles’ was. If Peter had been Stiles’ doctor, he would have been able to check if Stiles was a late bloomer and induce his heat before it got this bad, but alas.
“You aren’t used to this, so you may want to fight. If you do, I will have to use force, alright?”
“I’ll try not to,” Stiles said weakly.
Peter shook his head. “It’s a matter of instinct. What you consciously want doesn’t matter. I just wanted you to have a warning.”
“I understand,” Stiles said, his voice shaking.
The dildo was as long as Peter’s arm when it was fully intact. However, it had many spots where it was intended to be broken off, depending on how deep the Omega could take it. Peter didn’t expect Stiles’ to take it very far at all on his first time, but it was important to know just how much the Omega could handle.
This time, Stiles focused intensely on keeping his breathing steady while he was being penetrated. While the speculum was a hard, metal, imposing thing, it only went so deep inside an Omega’s body. Peter had been told it felt more like a belt pinching you, but in a far more intimate place than your waist. The sheer emptiness it created felt like a chasm. The dildo, on the other hand, was warmed to body temperature, and soft as it moved through you, but it simply never stopped. There was no escaping it as it invaded your insides, going deeper and deeper until it felt like it was piercing your heart.
Stiles cried out, eyes wide and knuckles white where he gripped the headrest. The dildo faced no trouble from him, sliding easily inside with only a small amount of force from Peter. He imagined that if he were to leave Stiles on the right angle, the entire dildo would eventually sink into him simply through gravity.
Still, this was only Stiles’ first time. His body was trembling with the strain, and each movement of the dildo pushed a choked whine out of Stiles. If Peter was kind, he would stop here, but he knew that Stiles could take more, even if it was just a little.
A bulge appeared below Stiles’ belly button as Peter pushed the dildo further in. Peter couldn’t see any clear detailing of the dildo, but he could still see it moving beneath Stiles’ skin. In Peter’s mind, the bulge that formed in an Omega when they were particularly well fucked was one of the most intoxicating sights in the world.
Finally resistance appeared, and when Stiles grunted every time Peter tried to push past it, he decided that he had likely reached the limits of what Stiles could currently take. He removed the rest of the dildo and attached a knotting based to what was left.
“Stiles,” he said softly. Stiles murmured in response. “Give me your hand.”
Stiles took one hand from the metal bars and lowered it so his wrist was in Peter’s grasp. Peter placed it on Stiles’ stomach, right where the bulge was poking beneath Stiles’ skin.
“Can you feel that?” Peter asked, massaging Stiles’ hand over it like they had done earlier.
“Mm-hm,” Stiles said, sounding surprised.
“Isn’t your body amazing?” Peter asked.
“...Yeah.”
Stiles leant up so that he was looking at the bulge and subsequently Peter between his legs. He pressed both of his hands around the bulge and on it, clearly fascinated with it. Peter helped Stiles shift back so his head was propped up against the headboard and he could watch it easily.
Under Stiles’ watchful gaze, Peter slowly began to remove the dildo. He knew Stiles likely wouldn’t be able to see his hole from there, but he would be able to see the bulge disappearing and the dildo slowly revealing itself in Peter’s hands. Peter pulled more and more of the dildo out until the head exited with a soft pop. Stiles stared at the flesh colored thing as Peter laid it out from the bottom of Stiles’ groin so they could see how deep it would go.
“Oh,” Stiles said softly, pressing the head of the dildo against where he had felt it inside of him.
“Nine and a half inches. That’s very impressive, Stiles.”
Stiles flushed at the compliment.
“Is that the knot?” Stiles asked, lightly touching the small orb at the bottom. “It’s very small. The boys at my school used to flash their knots around and theirs were always much bigger than that.”
Peter chuckled.
“It’s an inflating knot, little one. It’s going to grow.”
“Oh,” Stiles said. He continued to palpate it, perhaps trying to see if it would grow in his hands.
“Are you ready to have it back inside you?” Peter asked.
Stiles bit his lip, still pressing his fingers on the knot before sliding them up and pressing the head of the dildo into his belly. With what seemed to be some reluctance, he handed the dildo back to Peter.
“It will feel a lot better in your hole than in your hands,” Peter said with a light chuckle.
Stiles watched him as he pushed the dildo back inside, or perhaps more accurately watched the dildo. The dildo slid with ease because of how much slick Stiles produced.
“See how beautifully your body takes it?”
Stiles nodded, his tongue poking out between his lips. His eyes had the tell tale signs of heat, but mixed with concentration and clear arousal. Peter had seen many Omegas who suffered through their heats without any arousal about what was happening to them, or were too heat-drunk to even be aware of it. Stiles was someone who Peter knew would have craved a knot regardless of his biology.
“Would you like me to go faster?” Peter twisted the dildo as he moved it.
“Ngh, yeah.” Stiles threw his head back.
“Alright.” Peter pressed a hand to Stiles’ shoulder, ready to get him to present, but Stiles shook his head.
“No! I want--” Stiles swallowed. “I want to watch.”
Peter shrugged. The request was odd, and normally he would force the Omega to present regardless, but Stiles had taken to his new role with eagerness. It also gave Peter a small thrill to have a new Omega witnessing exactly how much his body was designed to crave a cock.
“Grab the headboard and hold on as tight as you can,” Peter ordered.
Stiles nodded and obeyed, staring up at Peter with a look that was equally lust and adoration. In his twenty years doing his job, which had numerous instances of Omegas developing a misaimed sense of devotion towards him, no Omega had ever looked at Peter like that.
“Such a precious boy,” Peter said, more to himself than to Stiles, but Stiles heard anyway and flushed, smiling the sweetest smile Peter had seen on Stiles.
With one more cursory check that Stiles was ready, Peter gradually increased the force of the dildo’s thrusts, then he combined it with an increased speed, until Stiles was wailing with each movement. A true fucking.
Peter was always extra cautious when truly breaking in an Omega. He had witnessed many of his colleagues go to fast and at best make the poor things traumatized so that they were reluctant to accept the treatment their bodies so desperately needed, and at worst he had seen them do actual damage to Omegas even though an Omega’s body was outright designed to be treated as brutally as possible.
Once he started his own practice he had mandated that Omegas be opened up until their bodies were used to penetration, and only when they were completely comfortable were they to be ravished as their bodies craved. Doing so had been part of what gave him such a stellar reputation-- the Omegas that were treated by him were always physically and mentally content after their heats, and with the very rare exception (caused sadly by outside abuse or mental disturbance) had left his treatment with complete adoration for their desires and bodies.
Or, as his Father used to say, Peter had a way of turning the most skittish Omega into a docile and needy sex kitten.
Peter could already tell that Stiles was going to be one of his best.
Stiles writhed on the bed, bouncing to meet every one of Peter’s thrusts and crying out with every movement. Even while bracing himself he was being flung against the headboard, but he didn’t seem to have any care for it. His sweet little cocklet bounced against his stomach, sometimes hitting where the dildo bulged beneath his skin.
“Good boy, Stiles,” Peter said. “Good boy.”
Stiles curled his toes enough that they gripped the sheets beneath him, his legs moving about as if he wasn’t sure what position to keep them in. He flung his head back and keened, a high cry of ecstasy that reverberated through the room.
Slick spurted onto Peter’s arm and chest and even onto his pants, ruining the bed beneath Stiles. Peter took the opportunity to push the knot into Stiles, which served only to increase the Omega’s sexual pleasure as his orgasm coursed through him.
Peter felt the knot increasing behind Stiles’ walls, each clench making the knot grow larger. Stiles gasped with each swell, his eyes rolling back into his head. Peter knew it was pressing against Stiles’ prostate and pressed his fingers to Stiles’ rim. The knot felt approximately the size of a tennis ball and was still growing.
“There you go, sweetheart,” Peter said as Stiles released the headboard and curled in on himself, both hands pressed against the bulge in his abdomen.
“So big,” Stiles whispered with wide eyes. He shuddered again, clearly feeling another increase in the knot’s size. “What if it breaks me?”
“The knot is responding to your body in order to test your elasticity,” Peter said. He allowed himself to brush a slick covered hand over Stiles’ forehead. Stiles didn’t pull a face at the touch. In fact, it seemed to make the dazed look in Stiles’ eyes grow.
“I don’t want to let it go,” Stiles pouted.
Peter chuckled. “How did no one realize you were an Omega?”
“Because Alphas are assholes,” Stiles grumbled, before biting down on his pillowcase.
“Would you like something to suck on, sweetheart?” Peter asked.
Stiles nodded.
Peter gave Stiles the fingers he had been using to fuck Stiles, letting Stiles clean his own juices. All of his Omegas complained about doing it before the act, but one taste of their own slick and the poor things went as dumb as could be. Peter knew it was perverse, but nothing calmed an Omega down more except, of course, the spend of an Alpha.
When Stiles was finished cleaning the glove, Peter slowly began to thrust his fingers in and out of Stiles’ mouth. He managed to get each finger to the back of Stiles’ throat without any sign of gagging, which was an impressive feat even for as ideal an Omega as Stiles.
Stiles was reluctant to let the fingers go, licking and suckling and even nipping at them a few times. Peter just laughed at the Omega’s games before pushing Stiles’ jaw apart and feeding a second, slightly smaller, dildo between Stiles’ lips.
“Suck on it, sweetheart,” Peter encouraged and Stiles did, his eyes widening when the sweet liquid entered his mouth. He looked at Peter in confusion. “It’s just something to replace all the liquid and nutrients you’ve lost.”
Stiles nodded, his eyes drooping as he continued to suck. His body stopped trembling, which meant the knot must have found his limit. Peter removed his gloves and stroked his hand through Stiles’ hair.
“Rest now, pet,” Peter whispered, and Stiles’ eyes took the permission to close.
Outside Stiles’ bedroom was a far different atmosphere to inside. The Sheriff was pacing tensely, balling and unballing his fists before folding and unfolding his arms, rinse, repeat. He looked up as soon as Peter opened the door, and his eyes widened at the clear evidence of slick over Peter’s clothes.
“Is he--?” Noah asked with the fear of someone waiting to know if their loved one had survived the surgery.
Peter understood, even if he didn’t always agree.
“An Omega,” Peter confirmed.
The Sheriff’s breath stuttered, and Peter could smell the acrid scent of the man’s taste.
“His life isn’t over,” Peter tried to reassure him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an Omega take so well to their presentation, especially someone who presented this late.”
“It still changes everything.” Noah sat down heavily. “He was going to college in a month. He had plans to be a criminalist, but they don’t take Omegas yet. The path of his life has been completely altered.”
“Altered--” Peter sat down beside Noah. “--But not ruined. Stiles planned for that life when being an Omega wasn’t even something he could consider. We won’t ever know what life he would have chosen for himself if he had the option, and we’ll never know which life would make him happier. But he will be happy, Noah.”
Noah looked at him, his eyes shiny with tears.
“I have to give him to you. And then I have to give him to whichever Alpha he decides to mate.” He choked. “I’m not ready to let him go.”
“You don’t have to.” Peter took Noah’s hand. “He’s still your son, and I promise you can visit him whenever you want.”
“Until he gets mated, you mean,” Noah said sourly. He looked at Peter, and his face softened with realization. “Oh.”
“It’s only if he’ll have me, mind you,” Peter warned.
Noah snorted. “Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that.” He looked at the closed door, then at Peter. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”
Peter nodded. “And I’ll love him with all my heart.”
Peter knew declaring his intention so soon could be problematic in the long run, but an Alpha always knew, and the way Stiles had responded to him made him certain that Stiles knew as well. It was a rare opportunity to be able to train your own mate, even more so to train one as naturally submissive and wanton as Stiles.
At least for the first time in his memory, Peter would not have to fear the damage an Alpha might do to the sweet things he handed to them.
“It will be best if we transfer him to the clinic before he wakes up,” Peter said. “It ensures that neither he or you will try and bypass the system.”
Noah looked crestfallen, but nodded.
They bundled Stiles in one of Noah’s bedsheets and blankets, allowing the Omega to soak in the smell of his home for a little while longer. Noah caressed his sleeping son’s face, a tear slipping down his cheek when he accidentally bumped the feeding dildo in Stiles’ mouth.
“I know it’s hard,” Peter said. “But this is a good thing.”
“I know,” Noah replied shakily. “He’s still my little boy. I was certain he’d be an Omega, but when he never presented, I--”
“You weren’t ready,” Peter finished.
Noah nodded.
Peter squeezed Noah’s shoulder a second time, then lifted Stiles in his arms. Stiles squirmed a little before relaxing with his face buried in Peter’s chest. Peter walked down to his car, Noah following behind them. Stiles lay down easily in the back seat, and they wrapped the purpose-built car belts around him.
“Take care of him,” Noah pleaded.
Peter nodded and got into the car. He drove away from the Stilinski house, and once it got too far away stopped glancing at it in his rear view mirror in order to glance at Stiles. His new Omega slept happily, sucking on his new dildo and permeating Peter’s car with a sweet scent.
Stiles was going to be a very good Omega.