The Pact, Teen Wolf, Sheriff Stilinski/Talia Hale, memory, wolfladyoneillFebruary 2 2014, 21:23:24 UTC
Warning: Canon death
With half an ear John listens to the fire chief tell him that they found her curled protectively over two of the youngest children, but his attention, his eyes are on her burned corpse. As the firefighters put her on her side on a tarp, he can see her back is burned black to the bone, her hair is gone, there is nothing of beauty there anymore.
Sickened, saddened, he turns away, says something to the effect of going to the station, asking for the report to be forwarded to him, knowing he has to find the two teenagers who weren't in the conflagration, but all that is subsumed to his memories.
A centuries old pact, she told him, between the town and the pack, consummated every year between the human law and the Alpha. The new Sheriff, still reeling from news that werewolves were real, still tortured by the death of his wife the Spring before, found himself in the forest on the night of the Winter Solstice, shivering at the cold as he methodically stripped off his uniform.
Naked, a bit scared, and not at all aroused, he wondered how this would have worked if Claudia was still...
No, he can't think about her, can't think of this as a betrayal. Since he found out the truth about werewolves, things she'd hinted at, stories she'd told Stiles, made him think she knew. There was always something otherworldly about his wife, the free-spirit.
And, when the black wolf entered the clearing he shoved all thought of Claudia from his mind. Hands cupped over his genitals, John swallowed hard, fear a real thing in him, until the wolf shook itself and human skin replaced fur.
Talia Hale rose naked, beautiful and pale, a small smile on her face.
"It'll be all right, John," she said softly as she walked to the stone altar and spread herself across it. As he forced himself to join her, he could see her nipples were hard and her inner thighs were slick. She wanted this. Him.
"I...haven't...since Claud..." His voice choked on her name and he shook his head, helpless.
"She knew of us. She knew this was coming, John. Your election was inevitable. We talked and she was okay with it."
Theories confirmed, John nodded again, but this time in determination, and he took himself in hand, stroking his cock to hardness. As he did so, Talia slid her hips down to the end of the altar, lifting her feet and spreading her legs for him. John moved between them and took her knees in his hands, then pressed forward into her wet heat.
For the mother of three she was surprisingly tight, but her body yielded until he was fully seated, and they began to rock together. As John leaned over her, Talia's hands came up, caressed his chest, his arms, and he dipped down, kissed her nipples, sucked at them until she moaned and bucked her hips up. She tasted...fresh, earthy, and, lifting his head, he breathed in her scent as well. No perfume, no soap, just the musk of the wolf. So different, and that difference made it easier, and his dick throb.
His balls tightened, his thrusts sped up. In the nearly nine months since Claudia's death, he hadn't even jerked off. He wasn't going to last.
"Come for me, John," Talia moaned, one of her hands rubbing her clit and caressing his cock on each stroke. He could see her thighs and stomach trembling. She was close, too.
Hands sliding down to her hips, he dug his fingers in and lifted her half off the altar and onto his cock as he shuddered into orgasm.
The inhuman howl that burst from her along with her inner muscles squeezing his dick, let him know she'd come as well, and they slumped over the cold stone. As John panted against her breast, he felt her heat on his front, the cold breeze on his ass, and laughed helplessly.
Talia joined him and placed a kiss on the top of his head.
They only had the one time, less than three months ago, and, as he drives away from the burnt husks of home and bodies, John grieves. She was a good woman, a strong woman.
And, he wonders if he can bear to read the medical examiner's report.
With half an ear John listens to the fire chief tell him that they found her curled protectively over two of the youngest children, but his attention, his eyes are on her burned corpse. As the firefighters put her on her side on a tarp, he can see her back is burned black to the bone, her hair is gone, there is nothing of beauty there anymore.
Sickened, saddened, he turns away, says something to the effect of going to the station, asking for the report to be forwarded to him, knowing he has to find the two teenagers who weren't in the conflagration, but all that is subsumed to his memories.
A centuries old pact, she told him, between the town and the pack, consummated every year between the human law and the Alpha. The new Sheriff, still reeling from news that werewolves were real, still tortured by the death of his wife the Spring before, found himself in the forest on the night of the Winter Solstice, shivering at the cold as he methodically stripped off his uniform.
Naked, a bit scared, and not at all aroused, he wondered how this would have worked if Claudia was still...
No, he can't think about her, can't think of this as a betrayal. Since he found out the truth about werewolves, things she'd hinted at, stories she'd told Stiles, made him think she knew. There was always something otherworldly about his wife, the free-spirit.
And, when the black wolf entered the clearing he shoved all thought of Claudia from his mind. Hands cupped over his genitals, John swallowed hard, fear a real thing in him, until the wolf shook itself and human skin replaced fur.
Talia Hale rose naked, beautiful and pale, a small smile on her face.
"It'll be all right, John," she said softly as she walked to the stone altar and spread herself across it. As he forced himself to join her, he could see her nipples were hard and her inner thighs were slick. She wanted this. Him.
"I...haven't...since Claud..." His voice choked on her name and he shook his head, helpless.
"She knew of us. She knew this was coming, John. Your election was inevitable. We talked and she was okay with it."
Theories confirmed, John nodded again, but this time in determination, and he took himself in hand, stroking his cock to hardness. As he did so, Talia slid her hips down to the end of the altar, lifting her feet and spreading her legs for him. John moved between them and took her knees in his hands, then pressed forward into her wet heat.
For the mother of three she was surprisingly tight, but her body yielded until he was fully seated, and they began to rock together. As John leaned over her, Talia's hands came up, caressed his chest, his arms, and he dipped down, kissed her nipples, sucked at them until she moaned and bucked her hips up. She tasted...fresh, earthy, and, lifting his head, he breathed in her scent as well. No perfume, no soap, just the musk of the wolf. So different, and that difference made it easier, and his dick throb.
His balls tightened, his thrusts sped up. In the nearly nine months since Claudia's death, he hadn't even jerked off. He wasn't going to last.
"Come for me, John," Talia moaned, one of her hands rubbing her clit and caressing his cock on each stroke. He could see her thighs and stomach trembling. She was close, too.
Hands sliding down to her hips, he dug his fingers in and lifted her half off the altar and onto his cock as he shuddered into orgasm.
The inhuman howl that burst from her along with her inner muscles squeezing his dick, let him know she'd come as well, and they slumped over the cold stone. As John panted against her breast, he felt her heat on his front, the cold breeze on his ass, and laughed helplessly.
Talia joined him and placed a kiss on the top of his head.
They only had the one time, less than three months ago, and, as he drives away from the burnt husks of home and bodies, John grieves. She was a good woman, a strong woman.
And, he wonders if he can bear to read the medical examiner's report.
They hadn't used any birth control.
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