Since there's not a lot of PeterFic out there, I've decided to make own and test out the boundaries of EXTREME PeterPairings. And yes, you didnt read it wrong, there will be a PeterTobias(Four) one-shot in here somewhere. I know, it's one of the taboo blasphemy paring of all times for die-hard Divergent fans. I never would of thought that I would write such a thing, but shit gets boring and I wanna have some fun with good on' Peter. So do step right in and read my shit, if you're Dauntless enough. (see what I did there, huh.)


1. The HighSchool Crush



This story are just combined one shots of PeterAl or any other Peter pairings (mainly PeterAl). Please do review, PM me if you want to make a Peter pairing request etc... Thank you reading!


Rated M


Chapter 1


The High School Crush(Peter Al AU)






It was late September when Peter Hayes finally moves into his apartment. The high street lights of Chicago, cars hooting to make way, the city's large skyscrapers that seemingly held strong even through the toughest of winds. The city life: Peter Hayes was practically born for it.


His home wasn't luxurious as others might think. It's a one bedroom place with cream off white walls, black leather furniture littered the living room, and a decent flat screen TV that was adorn beside the wide glass wall that peers over complex highways and roads of Chicago. All in all, it wasn't fancy, but instead just above the average living space than most people would buy for.


Peter rip open one of the last boxes that was brought to him by the moving people, when his iPhone started vibrating and rings in tunes that he knows of. It's Drew. He could tell by the song it's playing from his phone. The young man of age 27 stood up from the dark wood flooring and padded towards the TV stand where the vibration births from. He picks up his cell phone and swipe his thumb on the answering circle horizontally across from it. The background transforms into a midnight hue as Drews voice resonate from the other end. Peter puts it on his ear just as Drew says,


"Hey, Peter. How's it going man? How's Chicago?"


"Fine. Got here two days ago. Apparently work for me doesn't start till next week. You?" Peter says as he walks to the kitchen counter, snatched an apple, and bites into it.


"Mines too. Say, you got nothing to do tonight? There's a bar three blocks away from my apartment. Heard they make good Bloody Mary there," he coax Peter, "We could invite the guys that transferred here from New York. You know, like Zeke, Uriah's brother that moved in from LA. You know who I'm talkin' about, right?"


Peter swallows the green chunk before answering his friend.


"Yeah, I can't see why not. Got nothin' to do 'cept unpack boxes," Peter says as he munch on the apple again, "What time, and you gotta give me the direction to the place or else I'm not going. Remember what happened last time?"


"Yeah yeah! Sorry about that, didn't meant it to happen."


"Uh huh," Peter muttered before tearing a piece of the fruit away and chews on it, "liar..."


"Anyways," Drew interrupted on Peter's complaints, "I'll text you when I'm done driving. Got to pick up the kids before Molly kicks up a fuss again. See yeah."




There was a soft beep as Peter ends the call. By that time, his apple was chomped down to its core. He steps briskly towards the trashcan, where his foot presses on the foothold so the lid would pop up, and proceed to throw away of what's left of the green fruit. He then slinks back to his previous business of undoing taped boxes only to find his high school scrapbook journal from one of the opened cardboard crate. He trudge towards his high school remembrance, plucks the book, and plods his ass on the supple cushions of his black leather couch. He cull the metal locker combination lock and quickly unbolted the hatch.


He opens the book and leafs through the pages, revealing memories upon memories of collected events from the first day of his freshman year, to the day of his senior prom night. He remembered how it went as if it was only yesterday that he took his dates hand and spins her around the ballroom of a famous hotel plaza back in New York. He was nominated as prom King and was forced to dance with his school's Queen, not that he mind. She was beautiful, blond, with doe blue eyes and sweet: Peter knows that he loves his blondes. Beatris Prior, Choir President of School of Divergents in Manhattan and one of his close friends. His school was in the top 20's in the states.


He made great memories there. School, sex, studying for AP classes, sex, football, sex, friends, sex, girlfriends, and sex. As you can see, when he was a pubescent tyke, he was addicted to sex. Even back then, the thought of mating itself made his trousers tighten in uncomfortable ways. In classes he would be abnormally sufficient and focused on lessons, to not let his mind wander in the direction of pleasure, earning himself the title of 'teacher's pet'. He was also well-liked amongst his groups of young men and one of the most favored within majority of the female populace in his school. He could easily hook a girl, date her for 'fun' then dump her the next day or week or so. It wasn't that hard to satisfy his needs. It's a game that he and his friends play when bored.


Sex to Peter was like chores. It just needs to be done. You can push it aside, but the pressure just keeps building and building, until his concrete wall structure collapsed and the crazed masterbation marathons, then he just needs to fuck. He had sex at least 4 times per week. He manage to curb it to 3 after high school, but it still wasn't enough. It was like sex just doesn't satisfy him anymore than the first time he had it with a girl. Sure, it was entertaining, but after a while, it gets boring. Something was missing. He sees females, when during times of need of course, as objects you fuck with. Period. He knows that with that kind of mentality, it won't be long before the whole female populace starts banging on his door and demand his heart on a silver platter. Or worse, having made an eligentament child and having to pay money for child support.  He would have to marry the girl too.


It wasn't until he hits his senior year when he knows what's missing. The puzzle piece was man. Boy. Penis. Cock. He wants the 'D'. And it had gotten worse after that incident with that blonde linebacker. He remembered staring into those limitless blue orbs of his, how Peter's cheeks would redden in his presence, how soft his lips look. He has a choppy crew cut, body smells of lemongrass and sunshine. Peter never thought of liking a boy, it was absurd! Surely there must be a way for some explanation, he had sex with girls since Freshman year for God's sakes! He doesn't understand the concept of why that this-this ridicules shy dunderhead would be able to strike a chord in his heart! Him and his smile, his hearty laugh, and cheesy corny jokes he would spout every once in a while. It was unbelievably annoying! But there was one thing he would agree on. He was handsome, manly, muscular, hunk, everything a female would dreamed of. But he hid it in his large clothes, in his bashful personality, his tentative emotions. So kind and sweet, unlike Peters arrogant and brass persona.


His name was Albert Hamish Lylis or as everyone likes to call him, Al. And he was Peter Hayes first love.


The first time Peter had seen him was during tryouts for football season. He was automatically put into the varsity team in football, where he can serve his fourth year as a running back for the Divergents Nagas. At this memory, Peter went out and grabbed the A team photograph that was tapped to one of pages in his book. 11 people is staring back at Peter. And one of the them made his heart throbbed in pain and mind scrambled in incoherent thoughts. Peter gulped. He lifted his hand and fingered the image of Albert Lylis.


As he did this, imagines his left hand coursing through Als feather like blond locks, whilst his right roams on his chiseled pale chest in the boys locker room. Peter would brush it against Als pink pecks, kneading it more until it becomes perky stubs. Peter Jr. hardens and is now throbbing with his heartbeat as it gets faster. He hastens to unbuckle his belt and unzips his ripped jeans. He unclothed his burden as his body laid down on the comfy sofa, the picture of A team with Al in it, in tow. His hands tear away in the boxers hole, searching for his much needed attention member. It's already large comparing to the times when he was with a female or just masterbating in general. Once he grasp it, he closes his hazel colored eyes and starts with low strokes, flicking his head every now and then. Peters breath hitched as imagination becomes more sexual.


In his mind, he pictured his mouth crashing into Als, teeth gnashing in a battle for dominance to see who would 'top'. Al, being the strongest of the two, plucked Peters leaning body from the lockers, and hefted him to a bench, which he proceeds into attacking his uniform. Al rips his jersey and unlocks the latches that holds together the shoulder pads and chest plate. He then removes the belt and any other clothing or protection that was mandatory for the sport, whilst Peter copied Al, moaning as he did so. Once their chest were bare, they stared into one another's eyes, one's honey brown with green flecks, the other light and mesmerizing blue. Then they kissed, hard and soft, passionate, not wanting to let each other go for the fear of losing one another. The fear that death and society would tear them apart just because they're different from others.


At that moment, Peter envision Al nibbling his right ear, giving special care to the lobes and behind it, as his hand pace faster against his hard cock. Precum dribbles over his light hand, his boxer already kicked down to his knees.




In his mind, Al was licking Peters neck, sucking that heavenly spot that was just below his ears.


"Al....ha...nha...oh god!" Peter moaned.


Als mouth travels to his already perky nipples, pinching, lapping the cute studs that made Peter squeal in pleasure. In real life, one of Peter's free hand grazed the hard stubs as he continues to pump himself. He held it, hard, like how he imagines Al would do. Then Al went to his stomach. Toned abs jutted out, waiting and wanting to be kissed by his lips. His tongue went over to the one on top right, swirling, moving in rhythm with Peters breaths. For every abdominal muscle he licks, his left hand would move downwards, closer to his groin. He visualize that Al's cock would line up, and rub against that sweet sweet spot, creating friction that Peter have always wanted ever since that day. And the heat never stops.


Al's mouth found its way inside his belly button, glossing it over with saliva. It then advance with vigor towards his leaking member, using his dark pubic hair as a road. But then Al stopped. Intense dilated dark blue eyes glance up at Peter's own earth colored eyes. Peter imagines Als handsome face morph into a teasing smirk. His pouty lips dangerously close to his waiting cock.


"What do you want me to do, Peter?" Al says in his mind.


"Al...ha...y-you know what I want."


"And what's that?" Al nudge his head sideways, portraying a confused golden retriever.


"Please, I don't want to say it. It's embarra-"


"Then I won't do it."


Peter's eyes flashed in panic. No he needs Al to do this, to make him feel better. Peter took a deep breath, and shakingly voice out his wish.


"I-I want you to-"


"To do what?" Al interrupted.


"I want you to suck me there."


"Where?" Al, the fucking tease, pretends to not know where Peter wanted his mouth to be. Peter then took hold one of Al's hand and slipped it to his throbbing member.


"Here." Al glance where Peter puts his hand and gently tugs Peter's foreskin down, revealing the wet covered head of his penis, examining it with pure sexual vigor. He licked his lips.


"With pleasure, Peter."


And with that, Al lap up its leaking liquids like it's melted ice cream. Savoring Peter's taste, drinking away his translucent milk like color precum. Peter's breaths were shallow and quick, his legs kicking, toes curling as he screams in ecstasy. Yes, this is what he wants.


"FUCK AL!!! Yesssssss..."


Al lowers his head down Peters' throbbing shaft, making said person getting sucked on yell in ecstasy.


"Damn, don't stop!" Peter pants while holding Als' head in place for a brief deep swallow.


He glued Al there for eight seconds before letting his head go. Al glance at Peters' dilated eyes and smirk at his classmates' reaction.


"What else do want me to do?" Peter imagines Al saying it to him, whilst his right hand pumps his member, the other drags open his couch table drawer and search for his toy. He grasp his vibrator and brought it to his mouth, which he proceeds to lick his 'fun' object along with his fingers. His mind brought images of Al sticking his fingers inside Peter's' mouth, making it slick and wet. Al's appendage aims at Peters exit; Peter did the same with his own.


"Do you want it here?" Al asked.


"Yes" Peter immediately replied.


With that, Al press on and went through Peters' muscle barrier. His index and middle finger slowly pumps Peter, as the latter moan in pleasure. Euphoria spreads throughout Peter's' body. His head shakes side to side and hips went down to match Als' strokes. Al hits Peters' prostate, making said man scream and holler to never stop. It goes on for another minute until Peter himself agrees that it's stretched out enough. He picture Als' penis lines up with his asshole as Peter copies his imaginative action with his vibrator. With one fluid motion, Al thrust in and didn't hesitate to barrel through Peter's' body.


"Yes! Oh my god, yes!"


Peter doesn't know how long he's been pleasuring himself, all he knows is that he wishes it was the real Al that's having sex with him. His sweet, sweet Al and not some sex toy shoved up his ass. Peter could feel that he was coming close, and with one last thrust, he ejects his seed and it landed on his stomach. He pulls his dildo out and drops it on the floor. He then fish his football photo out and graze his finger on Al's face.


His mind once again travels to the past where he knows where the real Al is. His first kiss, his first touch with him, everything was real, except for the fact that he can't do it anymore. Peter doesn't want to accept that Al doesn't exist in this world. That he's already buried six feet underground with a metal coffin encasing his body.


'Why the hell does he have to go.'


When Al was little, he was diagnosed with leukemia. It rendered him to go where he wishes, him ended up locked in his cage like hospital room. He recovers, gaining much of his life back, only to suffer a brain tumor growing inside his brain stem, a medulloblastoma to be exact.


"It's impossible to extract," he remembered Dr. Stanly saying as if it was yesterday and not six years ago. "Even if we remove it, there will be no way that Mr. Lylis, here, would be able to survive. We would be basically ending his life."


"But isn't there a way to-"


"Mr. Hayes, I know you've been helping your partner to the best of your abilities, but there's no stopping the growth of his tumor."


"Then what drug do I need to buy to slow the tumor's development?" Peter said.


"We could provide treatment, but we're not sure if it would work, even if it's this early in the stage."


Al took Peter's hand in his own and squeezed it in reassurance. His blue eyes gaze lovingly in Peter's light hazel green orbs, him smiling in return.


"We'll take what we can get," said Albert. "If it means staying with my partner for a little longer, then I wouldn't mind."


Months of work goes in for Al, but he only lasted for six months, instead of the two years guaranty plan. He remembered the funeral. A rainy day blessed in with sadness with family and friends gathered around. He stays till everyone was gone, till nobody was there, before he crumbles to his knees and begs God that it never really happened, that it was just a bad dream, that if he could change back time, some kind of god damn miracle. He cried with angry tears sliding down his cheeks, cursing why 'fate' has brought down this disaster upon him and his sweet Al. His sweet, sweet Al. Beautiful sweet Al was now dead, buried six feet underground, and left to rot.







"I love you." Al once said when they ate together in a picnic that Peter brought in Manhattan park.

"I love you back," and with that, they kiss, trying hard to forget the inevitable destruction that is to come.

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