Fic: Moments In Time, Teen Wolf, Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Title: Moments In Time
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,169
Summary: In which there are five points of a relationship
Additional Notes: Written for a Tumblr prompt from goddessofcruelty: Petopher, Five times they were left alone together
Moments In Time
The first time Chris Argent and Peter Hale are left alone, they're seventeen and sitting in detention. Chris can feel his eye swelling, and the only reason Hale doesn't look like he's been smacked into a wall is because the werewolf healing has already taken care of it.
The stupid thing was, Chris' mom had told him not rise to Hale's constant comments, to his constant picking at Chris. But Chris just can't. There's something about Peter Hale and his ability to get under Chris' skin, something about his bright blue eyes and his lips that…
Chris feels his brain grind to a halt. And, whoa, that wasn't where that had been heading when he'd started that thought.
Glancing over to where Peter's sitting, Chris' gaze meets blue eyes, full of amused disdain.
"What's the matter, Argent? Suddenly realised you can't take your eyes off me?"
Chris feels the flush on his face as he turns away, cursing his fair skin. He's expecting Peter to laugh, to hear the mocking tone, but there's nothing. And when he looks back, when he meets Peter's eyes again, the only thing he sees is surprised contemplation.
beat
Chris bites at his lip as he slides into Peter, slow and careful. And if someone had told him a year ago that he'd be looking into Peter Hale's eyes as his cock pressed into the wolf's body, he'd have laughed. But here he is.
Peter's eyes are wide, a hint of gold bleeding into the blue. Chris knows Peter's never done this before, and of all the people that Peter chose to share this with, he chose to share it with Chris. Even with their families, with the wolfsbane tucked inside Chris' bag, next to his knives, and the claws that are peeking out from Peter's fingers, they're still in this together.
Chris stops once he's fully inside Peter, lifting a hand to cup Peter's face, to brush his thumb over Peter's cheek. "You good?"
Peter nods, lips parted and eyes slightly glazed. "I--" He trails off into a gasped moan as Chris shifts slightly. And Chris pulls out of Peter slowly just to press back in, just to watch how Peter shakes, shuddered breath escaping him as Chris moves inside him.
Peter's fingers are clawing at the sheet under them, and Chris moves his hand from Peter's face, moves it to grab at Peter's, tangling their fingers together.
Here, Chris thinks. Here is where he wants to stay. Where they're neither wolf nor hunter, where it doesn't matter that their families will go apoplectic when they find out. Here, where they aren't some sort of fucked up parody of Romeo and Juliet.
Here, where Peter is all around him, and the world outside can go fuck itself. Here, where the only thing Chris wants is in his arms.
Here, Chris thinks. Just here.
beat
Chris doesn't know why he came, doesn't know why he walked into the hospital, but he needed to. He needs to see Peter for himself.
The sheets covering the wolf are white and Chris knows Peter would hate it. Would hate the bright starkness of the lack of colour. Would hate the blank walls and the utter sterility of the place.
Chris reaches out, wrapping his fingers around Peter's wrist lightly. And Peter is too calm, too still, too quiet.
Squeezing gently, Chris closes his eyes as he feels the warmth from Peter's body against his fingers. Like this, he can imagine Peter is only sleeping, is lying in Chris' bed, tired and sated. He can imagine what should have been, him and Peter against the world, instead of a marriage to a woman he barely knew and only met the week before the wedding day. Can imagine Peter smirking at him as he tackles Chris from behind, can imagine the strength of the pack behind them. (And Chris wishes he'd been strong enough to walk from his family when Peter had asked him, wishes that he'd taken that step instead of trying so hard to once again be the son Gerard wanted him to be.)
But he hadn't, and now there's no changing that. Bending down, he brushes his lips over Peter's forehead, and doesn't look back as he leaves.
beat
Chris' back hits the tree as Peter drops to his knees, hands already at Chris' belt. Chris' cock is freed by the time he reaches out, by the time he's running his fingers through Peter's hair.
Peter looks up and meets Chris' eyes, smirk on his lips as he leans forward, his mouth almost brushing Chris' cock.
Hot breath ghosts over Chris' skin, and Chris can't help but fist his hands in Peter's hair, dark strands between his fingers. "Peter--"
Chris feels the huff of laughter over his cock before Peter moves, before he's engulfed in hot and wet. And the groan comes from Chris' lips before he can stop it. Because Peter's good at this, is working teeth and tongue in lips in a way that has Chris' thighs shaking, in a way that has heat curling low in Chris' belly.
The Preserve is quiet tonight, and the only noises are Chris' heavy breaths and the soft sucking coming from Peter. And he's given up trying to stop Peter from doing this, from reminding him that they have a choice of two perfectly good beds that they could be doing this in. He's given up trying, because Peter just grins and tells Chris he should stop being so damn irresistible if he doesn't want Peter to drop to his knees.
Chris can feel his orgasm rising in him, spurred on by Peter's mouth. "Peter, gonna--"
And even though he always gives Peter the choice, Peter just meets Chris' eyes and swallows everything Chris gives him.
beat
They stumble through the door, Chris' fingers still wrapped around Peter's wrist. Peter's tie is undone, hanging around his neck and framing the open buttons on his shirt.
The bed in the hotel room is massive, and Peter laughs as he pulls his wrist out of Chris' grip, laughs as he fists his hand in Chris' jacket and tugs him over to it. There's a bottle of champagne on the dresser, and Chris snags it as he passes.
"I can't believe we actually did this," he comments.
"Took us long enough." Peter's voice is soft as he answers
"Yeah. It did."
A grin crosses Peter's face, as he takes the champagne bottle out of Chris' hand and places it on the end table next to the bed. Pushing Chris back onto the bed, Peter straddles him, his grin widening as he looks down. "So, what do you think we should do tonight, Mr Hale?"
Chris matches Peter's smiles as he catches Peter's hand with his own, their rings pressing together. "Oh, I'm sure we can think of something, Mr Argent."
And then he pulls Peter down to him, and there are no more words to be said.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,169
Summary: In which there are five points of a relationship
Additional Notes: Written for a Tumblr prompt from goddessofcruelty: Petopher, Five times they were left alone together
Moments In Time
The first time Chris Argent and Peter Hale are left alone, they're seventeen and sitting in detention. Chris can feel his eye swelling, and the only reason Hale doesn't look like he's been smacked into a wall is because the werewolf healing has already taken care of it.
The stupid thing was, Chris' mom had told him not rise to Hale's constant comments, to his constant picking at Chris. But Chris just can't. There's something about Peter Hale and his ability to get under Chris' skin, something about his bright blue eyes and his lips that…
Chris feels his brain grind to a halt. And, whoa, that wasn't where that had been heading when he'd started that thought.
Glancing over to where Peter's sitting, Chris' gaze meets blue eyes, full of amused disdain.
"What's the matter, Argent? Suddenly realised you can't take your eyes off me?"
Chris feels the flush on his face as he turns away, cursing his fair skin. He's expecting Peter to laugh, to hear the mocking tone, but there's nothing. And when he looks back, when he meets Peter's eyes again, the only thing he sees is surprised contemplation.
beat
Chris bites at his lip as he slides into Peter, slow and careful. And if someone had told him a year ago that he'd be looking into Peter Hale's eyes as his cock pressed into the wolf's body, he'd have laughed. But here he is.
Peter's eyes are wide, a hint of gold bleeding into the blue. Chris knows Peter's never done this before, and of all the people that Peter chose to share this with, he chose to share it with Chris. Even with their families, with the wolfsbane tucked inside Chris' bag, next to his knives, and the claws that are peeking out from Peter's fingers, they're still in this together.
Chris stops once he's fully inside Peter, lifting a hand to cup Peter's face, to brush his thumb over Peter's cheek. "You good?"
Peter nods, lips parted and eyes slightly glazed. "I--" He trails off into a gasped moan as Chris shifts slightly. And Chris pulls out of Peter slowly just to press back in, just to watch how Peter shakes, shuddered breath escaping him as Chris moves inside him.
Peter's fingers are clawing at the sheet under them, and Chris moves his hand from Peter's face, moves it to grab at Peter's, tangling their fingers together.
Here, Chris thinks. Here is where he wants to stay. Where they're neither wolf nor hunter, where it doesn't matter that their families will go apoplectic when they find out. Here, where they aren't some sort of fucked up parody of Romeo and Juliet.
Here, where Peter is all around him, and the world outside can go fuck itself. Here, where the only thing Chris wants is in his arms.
Here, Chris thinks. Just here.
beat
Chris doesn't know why he came, doesn't know why he walked into the hospital, but he needed to. He needs to see Peter for himself.
The sheets covering the wolf are white and Chris knows Peter would hate it. Would hate the bright starkness of the lack of colour. Would hate the blank walls and the utter sterility of the place.
Chris reaches out, wrapping his fingers around Peter's wrist lightly. And Peter is too calm, too still, too quiet.
Squeezing gently, Chris closes his eyes as he feels the warmth from Peter's body against his fingers. Like this, he can imagine Peter is only sleeping, is lying in Chris' bed, tired and sated. He can imagine what should have been, him and Peter against the world, instead of a marriage to a woman he barely knew and only met the week before the wedding day. Can imagine Peter smirking at him as he tackles Chris from behind, can imagine the strength of the pack behind them. (And Chris wishes he'd been strong enough to walk from his family when Peter had asked him, wishes that he'd taken that step instead of trying so hard to once again be the son Gerard wanted him to be.)
But he hadn't, and now there's no changing that. Bending down, he brushes his lips over Peter's forehead, and doesn't look back as he leaves.
beat
Chris' back hits the tree as Peter drops to his knees, hands already at Chris' belt. Chris' cock is freed by the time he reaches out, by the time he's running his fingers through Peter's hair.
Peter looks up and meets Chris' eyes, smirk on his lips as he leans forward, his mouth almost brushing Chris' cock.
Hot breath ghosts over Chris' skin, and Chris can't help but fist his hands in Peter's hair, dark strands between his fingers. "Peter--"
Chris feels the huff of laughter over his cock before Peter moves, before he's engulfed in hot and wet. And the groan comes from Chris' lips before he can stop it. Because Peter's good at this, is working teeth and tongue in lips in a way that has Chris' thighs shaking, in a way that has heat curling low in Chris' belly.
The Preserve is quiet tonight, and the only noises are Chris' heavy breaths and the soft sucking coming from Peter. And he's given up trying to stop Peter from doing this, from reminding him that they have a choice of two perfectly good beds that they could be doing this in. He's given up trying, because Peter just grins and tells Chris he should stop being so damn irresistible if he doesn't want Peter to drop to his knees.
Chris can feel his orgasm rising in him, spurred on by Peter's mouth. "Peter, gonna--"
And even though he always gives Peter the choice, Peter just meets Chris' eyes and swallows everything Chris gives him.
beat
They stumble through the door, Chris' fingers still wrapped around Peter's wrist. Peter's tie is undone, hanging around his neck and framing the open buttons on his shirt.
The bed in the hotel room is massive, and Peter laughs as he pulls his wrist out of Chris' grip, laughs as he fists his hand in Chris' jacket and tugs him over to it. There's a bottle of champagne on the dresser, and Chris snags it as he passes.
"I can't believe we actually did this," he comments.
"Took us long enough." Peter's voice is soft as he answers
"Yeah. It did."
A grin crosses Peter's face, as he takes the champagne bottle out of Chris' hand and places it on the end table next to the bed. Pushing Chris back onto the bed, Peter straddles him, his grin widening as he looks down. "So, what do you think we should do tonight, Mr Hale?"
Chris matches Peter's smiles as he catches Peter's hand with his own, their rings pressing together. "Oh, I'm sure we can think of something, Mr Argent."
And then he pulls Peter down to him, and there are no more words to be said.