Fic: Lovers and Dreamers, Teen Wolf, Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Title: Lovers and Dreamers
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale, Scott McCall / Peter Hale, Derek Hale / Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski / Lydia Martin, Stiles Stilinski / Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski / Allison Argent, Stiles Stilinski / Melissa McCall, Stiles Stilinski / Peter Hale / Chris Argent, Melissa McCall / Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa McCall / Derek Hale, Melissa McCall / Peter Hale / Chris Argent, Allison Argent / Peter Hale, Allison Argent / Scott McCall.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,028
Summary: In which there are five people who masturbate to thoughts of Peter Hale, and there is one who doesn't need to, but does anyway.
Lovers and Dreamers
1. Scott
Scott hates that he does this, that he lies in his bed at night and thinks of Peter as he wraps his hand around his cock. Peter was the one who changed his life, who made everything different, and Scott still can't tell if the pull he feels towards the other man is a leftover from the bite or something else.
Peter was (is) his alpha, and there's part of Scott that wants to bare his throat for him. He wants to feel Peter's hand on the back of his neck, guiding Scott towards his cock. And Scott's never sucked a guy's dick before, but he wants to with Peter. He wants to feel Peter in his mouth, hot and heavy on his tongue.
Scott twists his hand, working it over his cock as he imagines himself between Peter's legs, imagines Peter's voice, with its "Yes, Scott--" and "Good boy--", all soft and honey-like.
There's part of Scott that wonders what it would have been like if he hadn't fought so hard at the beginning, if he'd gone to Peter when he called for him. If Peter would have held Scott carefully and made him his.
But the rest of him knows it would never have happened the way he imagines it to be, all careful touches and soft possession. Peter was too broken, too damaged when he came out of the coma. He was vengeance and hate wrapped in fur, and there was no room in him for gentleness.
It still doesn't stop Scott from thinking about it, doesn't stop him from spilling into his own hand at the thought of his name on Peter's lips.
2. Derek
It's Derek's everlasting shame that he jerks off to thoughts of fucking Peter, jerks off to thoughts of Peter under him. He knows it's wrong, knows Peter is family, is his uncle. Knows that he shouldn't be lying back in his bed, fingers around his hard cock, and thinking about sliding into Peter's body, thinking about the noises he'd make as Derek fucked him.
And what makes it worse is he doesn't have to imagine those noises, he knows them. He knows what Peter sounds like when he's broken open as a cock slides into him, knows what he sounds like as he's fucked, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sheets beneath him as the breath is almost punched out of his body with each thrust.
He knows because he's seen it.
And even though it was years ago, he still remembers it in perfect detail. Still remembers seeing Chris and Peter out in the Preserve, remembers hiding behind a tree to watch them and desperately hoping the wind wouldn't change direction and that Peter was too occupied with Chris' mouth to realise Derek was there.
He'd watched as Peter dropped to his knees, fumbling with Chris' belt until he had Chris' cock out and was swallowing it down. He'd watched as Chris had pulled Peter away, had sunk down to the ground to kiss him, watched as there had been touching and more kissing and more touching before Peter had been on all fours and Chris had been driving into him.
Derek had watched them, his cock straining behind his jeans, but he hadn't dared put his hand inside. Hadn't dared to flood the area with the scent of his arousal more than he already had. Instead, he'd watched, his hand pressed against his crotch. Watched as Chris had fucked Peter, and Peter had whimpered and moaned with each press of Chris' cock into his body.
He'd had to bite back a moan when Peter had come, splattering the forest floor beneath him. Had to bite one back when Chris has groaned and thrust sharply, and Derek had realised he was coming inside Peter.
He'd fled back to the house at that point, his feet carrying him through the Preserve and away from the sight of Peter on his knees. He'd had his cock in his hands as soon as he'd been back in his bedroom, fist moving rapidly and coming within seconds.
It's a memory he looks back on probably more than he should, closing his eyes and imagining himself in Chris' place. Hearing, in his mind, the whimper that would come from Peter as Derek pushes his cock into him, pushes into hot and tight and perfect. He sees his fingers in Peter's hair, pulling his uncle's head back so Derek can sink his teeth into the bared throat. And he imagines Peter walking into a pack meeting, Derek's marks ringing his neck and Derek's come inside him. Imagines everyone looking and seeing exactly who Peter belongs to, imagines Chris seeing who Peter belongs to.
But Derek knows it will never happen. Not when Chris Argent is the first person Peter looks to when he walks into a room, not when he's the last person to hold Peter's eyes when they leave.
So, instead, Derek closes his eyes, wraps his fingers around himself and pretends.
3. Stiles
Stiles has a number of entries in his spank bank that he brings out at night, his fingers around his cock and jerking himself as fast as he can. There are certain people, certain scenarios he'll go to, depending on the kind of day he's had.
On good days, on days when school went perfectly, and nothing threatened to kill any of them, he'll think of Lydia. Think of her, lying back in his bed, lips swollen from where he's kissed her, and him guiding his cock into her body.
Or he'll think of Derek. Think of him, standing in the corner of the room, half hidden in shadow and watching as Stiles jerks himself. He'll think of how Derek will smell the air, will almost taste the arousal coming from Stiles. He'll think of how Derek will walk over, stripping his clothes off as he goes, until he's naked in front of Stiles.
Sometimes, when the day is especially awesome, Stiles imagines both of them. Lydia, lying back while Stiles eats her out, while Derek drives into him.
There are nights he'll think of Allison. He'll close his eyes and imagine his hands tied to his bed, while Allison rides him and takes her own pleasure. He'll think of her fingers pinching his nipples, of her grinding down onto his dick until he comes.
Stiles knows that he tends to think of Allison on those nights when they've been tracking something through the Preserve, or through the town. Those nights, when he looks over at Allison and sees her, crossbow or knives in hand, looking every inch the hunter she is.
It's one of the only things he's never told Scott. Because he may have told him about every other sex-laden fantasy he's had (including the one about Boyd and the caramel syrup) but even he thinks "Hey, Scott, friend, buddy, I rubbed one out to thoughts of your girlfriend last night--" is a step too far.
And if Stiles is never telling Scott that he has fantasies of Allison, then he's sure as fuck not telling him about the ones of his mom.
Stiles only thinks of Melissa on days when it's been especially bad. On days where he can't stop the noise in his head, and his dad looks at him like he's not entirely sure where he went wrong. He thinks about her holding him, and running hands over his back as she murmurs soothingly.
The first time he'd thought about her hand slipping lower, he'd snatched his fingers away from his cock so fast he'd been sure there'd been friction burns left. Because he doesn't think of Melissa like that, he doesn't. There are days when someone says the word 'mom' and the image in his head looks less like the person in their family photos and more like Melissa. But Stiles accepted long ago that his thoughts about Melissa were less to do with getting off and more to do with safe and love and home.
But tonight? Tonight is a Chris and Peter night. The pack meeting had been the kind Stiles loves. No big bad out there trying to kill them, so no research or arguments about who wants to throw themselves into danger first. Instead, it was all about reaffirming pack bonds, about lounging on the couch with his head in Erica's lap and Isaac's legs tangled with his while they watched a movie. It was about his hand dangling off the couch, so he could reach where Scott was lying on the floor, next to Cora. It was about his dad sitting at the table, talking to Chris, while Melissa chatted to Derek. (And who would have thought that Derek and Melissa would get on so well. Stiles is pretty sure there's at least a bit of a crush on Derek's side, but he can't tell if that's because Melissa reminds him of Talia - strength and kindness and a willingness to absolutely destroy anyone who lifts a hand against the people she sees as hers - or if he's just into Mama McCall in general.)
Peter had been restless, flitting between sitting with the adults at the table and walking into the front room in order to insult whatever movie was playing, and the taste of whoever chose it. It had been pure luck that Stiles had seen it, that he'd been looking into the kitchen as Peter dropped gracefully into the empty chair next to Chris. That he'd been looking as Peter shifted as if he was going to stand up again, and Chris had just reached out and wrapped his hand around the back of Peter's neck. Without even looking, without breaking the conversation he had going on with Stiles' dad, Chris' hand had moved to Peter's neck. And just like that, Peter had stilled. His head had dropped and his eyes had closed and he'd leaned towards Chris like he was chasing his touch.
And none of the others around the table had even batted an eye. Which had made Stiles wonder exactly what was going on when the adults in the pack all got together without the ones who were too young to drink with them. Because Stiles has seen moves like that before, seen them in clips on the internet. Although, admittedly, the people in those clips were usually a lot more naked than the pack had been, and usually had a soundtrack of Good boy-- and Just like that-- and Take it--.
It had made Stiles wonder if Peter sat on the floor next to Chris and leaned against his legs. Made him wonder if Chris stroked a hand over Peter's hair and called him a good puppy. And once he'd seen it, he couldn't unsee it. Kept flicking his gaze back to where the two of them were sitting, just to see if Chris had moved his hand (he hadn't) or if the others were giving them any sort of reaction (they weren't).
Chris and Peter had been the first to leave, Chris' hand on the small of Peter's back, and Peter telling Melissa that they should "leave the rest of the Neanderthals one night and go to the new restaurant that's opened down town." (And if Stiles hadn't been aware of how very together Chris and Peter were, then he'd have wondered if the wolf was trying to hit on Melissa again. Melissa had just laughed and told Peter it was a date.)
Once they'd gone, Stiles couldn't stop thinking them. About what they were doing. And now he's back in his bedroom, he's still thinking about it. About whether Peter is on his knees for Chris, sucking his cock down like it's all he wants. About whether Chris' fingers are sliding into Peter's body, opening him up for his cock.
He's wrapping his fingers around his dick while he thinks about it. Jerking himself as he thinks about Chris holding Peter's head still, about Peter letting Chris hold his head, as he fucks his mouth. Thinks about Chris coming and Peter swallowing it all down like a good pup.
And maybe he's wrong. Maybe Chris and Peter aren't in some sort of kinky BDSM relationship. Maybe Peter had just had a bad day and Chris was reassuring him. Maybe the others weren't reacting because there was nothing to react to. Maybe Stiles was just reading too much into it.
Maybe.
4. Melissa
Melissa doesn't do this as much as she used to ever since Scott got bitten, doesn't slide her fingers deep inside her, doesn't press her thumb over her clit. And it's not that she's ashamed of it. Masturbation is a perfectly normal and healthy biological function. She raised Scott to know that it was one thing he should never be embarrassed about it. But it's one thing doing it and another thing knowing your son now has the senses to smell exactly where you've had your fingers, even after you've showered.
So, she tends to wait until Scott's out of the house. Waits until he's staying over at Stiles', or Allison's, or at one of the pack houses. Sometimes, she goes directly for the orgasm, knowing herself well enough to get off quickly. But other times, she prefers to draw it out. Prefers to run fingertips over skin before they even get close to her pussy. Tonight is one of those nights.
Scott is at Stiles', and there's no school on Monday. Which means the two of them will stay up stupidly late playing Halo, collapse into bed, then get up tomorrow to start playing Halo again. Melissa probably won't see her son for another 36 hours.
She settles back on her bed, her skin still warm and slightly damp from the shower she's just taken. She runs her fingers over her breasts, light touches at first with her thumbs brushing over her nipples.
Closing her eyes, she thinks about who could be there with her. She thinks about how John would touch her, steady and assured. Of the men she knows that she thinks about when she's doing this (because, as much as Melissa would like to disagree, Hugh Jackman doesn't count), John is the one that appears most often. Maybe it's because of the amount of time they've known each other. Maybe it's because they're already co-parents to their two kids, so thinking about their relationship having a sexual side isn't that much of a leap.
But it doesn't feel like a John night. Not tonight.
Melissa's been surprised to find Derek Hale taking a starring role in some of her thoughts recently. She wonders how he would be with her. For all his bravado, there are times Derek seems almost hesitant around her. (And if Melissa has pieced together correctly what happened between him and Kate Argent, she doesn't blame him. She also doesn't blame Peter for ripping out the other woman's throat.) She wonders if his touch would be careful, if it would be light and tentative. Or if he'd give in to his animal side and just fuck her.
But after the pack meeting a few days ago, she knows it's not going to be Derek in her thoughts tonight, but the two remaining adult members of their pack.
It had taken Melissa a while to figure out the relationship between the two men, given their history. She knows there's blood between them, between them and Chris' sister and Peter's entire family. But she also knows that she watched Chris reach out, without even looking, because he knew Peter needs something to ground him. She knows that Peter leaned into that touch, like it was something he was forever surprised to receive.
And Melissa's not blind, both Chris Argent and Peter Hale are attractive looking men, and the thought of having the two of them focused entirely on her is intoxicating.
She thinks Peter would lick her first, his head between her thighs as he flicked his tongue against her clit. He'd slide fingers into her, pumping them gently in and out of her body. Chris would watch, at first. He'd watch his wolf go down on Melissa before he moved. She can't quite decide if Chris would go to her or to Peter. Although, if his actions in the pack meeting are anything to go by, she knows what the answer to that is.
He'd walk over to Peter, stand behind him. Melissa would feel Peter gasping against her as Chris slid fingers into his ass. Chris would smile at her as his cock pushed into Peter's ass, tell her to hold on. And she'd be half way through asking him what he meant when he'd pull back from Peter's body and jam himself back inside in one thrust.
The pace Chris would set would be brutal. Harsh and demanding, and pushing Peter's face against her every few seconds. And through it all, Peter would just keep on licking, keep on moving his fingers in and out of Melissa. All of his moans, his shudders and gasps she'd feel against her--
Squeezing her thighs together, Melissa presses down hard on her clit, a roll of pleasure coursing through her as she comes. She thinks that, if he were actually here, Peter would keep licking her through her orgasm. (Melissa's not sure why she thinks that as, beyond the failed attempt at a date with her in order to get to Scott, the only relationship she's ever seen Peter have is the one with Chris. Regardless of that, though, Peter seems like the kind of person who would make sure his partners never went home anything less than satisfied. She's also not sure why she's got the impression that he'd be amazing if he went down on a woman, other than the fact that she's never seen Peter attempt to be anything other than the best at anything.)
However, Peter isn't there, so she pulls her hand away from her crotch, and wipes her fingers on the t-shirt she'd just taken off when she got in from work. She murmurs a soft thank you to both Chris and Peter, even though they're not there, even though they'll never hear it. She thanks them anyway, and settles in to sleep.
5. Allison
It horrifies Allison, the first time she comes with her fingers between her legs and Peter Hale in her mind. It horrifies her because it's Peter, it's her father's other half, the closest thing she's ever going to get to a step-parent.
She's seen him pad out of her dad's bedroom, half asleep and wearing one of her dad's shirts. She's seen him and her dad bicker over the best way to dispose of the corpse of a hydra, while cooking dinner together in perfect sync. She's seen a multitude of ways he fits in with her dad.
(And the part of her that hated that her dad put her in this situation, put her in the situation of seeing Peter Hale as a person, has lessened. It wasn't that Allison thought that her dad should be alone after her mom. He deserves someone in his life, and she knows that her mom would agree with her. It's that the person he chose to share the rest of his life with was Peter Hale. It took her a while, some shouting and some tears to get over that one.)
So, for the one person out of the entire pack to spring to mind when she came to be Peter worried the hell out of her. It's not that Peter's not attractive in a subjective way (he is), but she very much doesn't want him to be attractive to her.
She can't look Peter in the eyes for days afterwards, unable to think about anything but the way her pussy clenched around her dildo as her fingers worked her clit, and all with Peter in mind. It gets so that her dad speaks to her about it, asks her if there's an issue, tells her that both he and Peter are concerned. (She's knows her dad's concern, even if he doesn't. It's that she's finally realised that she can't have Peter there, that she still sees her aunt's blood on Peter's fingers. That she's going to make him choose between his daughter and his lover. She thinks Peter's concern is probably the same. Only she knows her dad would never have to make that choice, that Peter would make sure he didn't have to. She knows that Peter would walk away to save him from having to.)
She tells him it's nothing, tells him that it's just something going on between her and Scott. Because she can't tell him what it actually is, can't tell him that she's worried she's starting to feel something for Peter that she shouldn't be.
It makes life awkward for a while. Allison feels like she's trying too hard to act like everything is normal, feels like Peter knows that she's doing exactly that. She watches him one morning, in the kitchen. (And if anyone had told Allison a year ago that she'd be sitting in her kitchen, watching Peter Hale making pancakes, she'd have told them they were insane, but here she is.) Watches him lean into her dad as he brushes past Peter to reach the coffee, and she can't help but think I want that--
And then it hits her. She wants that, not him.
The night she'd thought about Peter, the night all of this had started, they'd been in the Preserve. The pack had been tracking a rogue alpha and they'd split into groups to better cover the area. There had been a howl and a yell, and by the time Allison and Scott had burst into the clearing where her dad and Peter were, her dad was unconscious on the ground and Peter was standing over him, snarling at the other wolf.
Peter had been bloody, shirt ripped and claw marks over him, but he was still standing, still protecting her dad with everything he had. And Allison had thought He'd die for him--
So, maybe it's not Peter she wants, maybe it's what her dad has with Peter. Maybe she wants a love so strong that it's the kind that overcomes everything that lies between their two families. Maybe she wants someone who will fight for her as fiercely as Peter fought for her dad, as fiercely as her dad fights for Peter.
Her mind flicks to Scott and she smiles. Maybe she just needs to know that a wolf and a hunter can have a love story with a happy ending.
"Allison?"
She looks up at Peter, plate of pancakes in his hand and a look of concern on his face. (And who would have thought it. Peter Hale, concerned about a hunter, about an Argent, about her.)
"You okay?"
Yes. Yes, she is. She smiles at him as she nods, taking the plate off him, and laughing as her dad reaches out to snag Peter's shirt and pull him closer.
She's fine. They're fine. And maybe she'll give Scott a call later.
+1. Chris
Chris groans as he wraps his fingers around his cock, rubbing his thumb over his cockhead and slicking the precome over his skin. Peter had been wearing those fucking jeans at the pack meeting earlier, the ones that clung to his ass like a second skin. And not only had he been wearing the jeans, but he'd made a habit of bending over at every opportunity, smirking at Chris each time he'd done it, the cock-teasing little bastard. The only reason Chris hadn't had him bent over and spitted on his cock, was that he didn't think anyone else would have appreciated the interruption to the meeting.
And then Peter had volunteered to stay behind, to help Derek clean up the loft after it had been invaded by several teenagers. Even though he's never offered to do that before, never actually cared about the state the pack had left the loft in at any other point. What he does care about, however, is being a shit who is trying to see if Chris can die of blue balls. Maybe he just needs to be taken over Chris' lap.
Chris closes his eyes at the thought, almost feeling the weight of Peter over his lap, feeling the wolf writhe as Chris warms his ass over and over.
"Well, I had hoped you were going to keep that for me."
Chris' eye snap open, looking over to where Peter is leaning against the door jamb. And maybe the thought of him spanking Peter needs to be played out, because he was so focused on it he never even heard Peter enter the apartment.
"Well, what can I say?" Chris replies, slowing down the motions over his cock. "You seemed so busy with wanting to help Derek clean up that I didn't know if you were going to make it back here tonight."
Peter smirks at him. "Oh, Argent, I'll always make it back. Especially," he nods towards Chris' cock, "when I've got that waiting for me." Without waiting for Chris to respond, Peter pushes himself away from the door.
Chris will never tire of watching his wolf, all contained power and grace as he closes the distance between them, stripping off his clothes as he goes and dropping them behind him. Peter's naked by the time he reaches the bed, climbing on and straddling Chris' thighs.
Reaching up, Chris tangles his fingers in Peter's hair, pulling the other man down to him. Peter's lips are soft under his, opening easily when Chris' tongue flicks against them. Without breaking the kiss, Chris reaches out with his free hand, pulling open the drawer on the bedside cabinet and feeling around inside until his fingers find the tube of lube he knows is in there, half used and slightly sticky. He flicks open the cap with his thumb, squeezing some of the lube out before dropping it onto the bed.
Peter pulls back when Chris slides two fingers inside him, arching his back as he gasps. His hands go to Chris' chest, pressing down lightly as he moves his hips, fucking himself on Chris' fingers.
"That's it, Peter--" Chris murmurs, his fingers moving steadily inside the wolf, as Peter tips his head back and bares his throat.
"Chris--"
The whine that comes from Peter when Chris pulls his fingers out almost has him smirking, and he's tempted to make a comment, but there are more important things than teasing Peter right now.
Picking the lube up, Chris squeezes some directly on to his cock, hissing as the cool slickness hits overheated skin. Even before he's tossed the tube to one side, Peter's hands are there, spreading the lube over him. Chris' cock is twitching with each sweep of Peter's fingers, and this is going to end a lot sooner than Chris wants it to if Peter doesn't stop touching him.
He grabs Peter's wrist, holding it tightly. Peter just smirks at him as he glances down to where Chris is holding him, not trying to escape the grip.
Lifting his hips, Peter moves forward slightly. Reaching behind him with the hand that Chris isn't holding, Peter grips Chris' cock, holding it steady as he lowers himself on to it.
And, fuck, Chris will never tire of this, will never tire of Peter around him, tight and perfect in a way that means so much. Peter's ass is flush against him, his entire cock seated in Peter's body.
Peter looks at him, eyes wide and bottom lip slightly swollen from where he's bitten it. He lifts himself up slowly, eyes fluttering as Chris' cock drags out of him until just the head is in him. Lifts himself up and then drops back down, taking Chris back in to his body in one easy movement.
And this is going to be over embarrassingly quickly, Chris thinks. Because he was already on the edge before Peter got there.
"Ride me," he says.
And Peter does. He rides Chris' cock. Circling his hips and clenching his muscles in a way that has something pulsing low and hot in Chris' belly.
Moving the hand still holding Peter's wrist, Chris puts Peter's fingers against his own cock. "Jack yourself." Because Chris wants to see it, wants to see Peter's cockhead sliding through his fist.
Peter wraps his fingers around his dick, leisurely stroking himself as he continues to move with Chris' cock inside him.
"Make yourself come."
Peter growls softly at the order, speeding up the movements over his cock. He's bouncing on Chris' dick with the same timings he's stripping his own cock. And Chris can tell he's getting close. Can tell it from the soft whimpers he can hear coming from Peter and from the way his teeth are worrying at his lower lip.
Pulling his hand from Peter's hair, Chris wraps his fingers around Peter's hip, squeezing harshly.
Peter's hips stutter as Chris grips him, fingers digging in, and then Peter is coming, splattering Chris' stomach with white and clenching around his cock.
The feel of Peter's come on his skin, warm and familiar, and of Peter's body rippling around his triggers Chris' orgasm, and he spills himself into Peter's body.
Feeling his cock continue to twitch inside Peter, Chris tugs him down, pressing their lips back together and swallowing the sound of loss Peter makes when Chris' cock slips out of his body.
They should get cleaned, maybe have a shower. They're covered in come and sweat and lube, and Chris can feel his own come hitting his skin from where it's dripping out of Peter. He knows they should move, should slide under the covers and fall asleep. They should do something, anything. But Peter's lips are soft against his, and his body is hot against Chris' skin.
So, yes, Chris knows they should move, but, somehow, he's perfectly happy not to.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale, Scott McCall / Peter Hale, Derek Hale / Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski / Lydia Martin, Stiles Stilinski / Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski / Allison Argent, Stiles Stilinski / Melissa McCall, Stiles Stilinski / Peter Hale / Chris Argent, Melissa McCall / Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa McCall / Derek Hale, Melissa McCall / Peter Hale / Chris Argent, Allison Argent / Peter Hale, Allison Argent / Scott McCall.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,028
Summary: In which there are five people who masturbate to thoughts of Peter Hale, and there is one who doesn't need to, but does anyway.
Lovers and Dreamers
1. Scott
Scott hates that he does this, that he lies in his bed at night and thinks of Peter as he wraps his hand around his cock. Peter was the one who changed his life, who made everything different, and Scott still can't tell if the pull he feels towards the other man is a leftover from the bite or something else.
Peter was (is) his alpha, and there's part of Scott that wants to bare his throat for him. He wants to feel Peter's hand on the back of his neck, guiding Scott towards his cock. And Scott's never sucked a guy's dick before, but he wants to with Peter. He wants to feel Peter in his mouth, hot and heavy on his tongue.
Scott twists his hand, working it over his cock as he imagines himself between Peter's legs, imagines Peter's voice, with its "Yes, Scott--" and "Good boy--", all soft and honey-like.
There's part of Scott that wonders what it would have been like if he hadn't fought so hard at the beginning, if he'd gone to Peter when he called for him. If Peter would have held Scott carefully and made him his.
But the rest of him knows it would never have happened the way he imagines it to be, all careful touches and soft possession. Peter was too broken, too damaged when he came out of the coma. He was vengeance and hate wrapped in fur, and there was no room in him for gentleness.
It still doesn't stop Scott from thinking about it, doesn't stop him from spilling into his own hand at the thought of his name on Peter's lips.
2. Derek
It's Derek's everlasting shame that he jerks off to thoughts of fucking Peter, jerks off to thoughts of Peter under him. He knows it's wrong, knows Peter is family, is his uncle. Knows that he shouldn't be lying back in his bed, fingers around his hard cock, and thinking about sliding into Peter's body, thinking about the noises he'd make as Derek fucked him.
And what makes it worse is he doesn't have to imagine those noises, he knows them. He knows what Peter sounds like when he's broken open as a cock slides into him, knows what he sounds like as he's fucked, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sheets beneath him as the breath is almost punched out of his body with each thrust.
He knows because he's seen it.
And even though it was years ago, he still remembers it in perfect detail. Still remembers seeing Chris and Peter out in the Preserve, remembers hiding behind a tree to watch them and desperately hoping the wind wouldn't change direction and that Peter was too occupied with Chris' mouth to realise Derek was there.
He'd watched as Peter dropped to his knees, fumbling with Chris' belt until he had Chris' cock out and was swallowing it down. He'd watched as Chris had pulled Peter away, had sunk down to the ground to kiss him, watched as there had been touching and more kissing and more touching before Peter had been on all fours and Chris had been driving into him.
Derek had watched them, his cock straining behind his jeans, but he hadn't dared put his hand inside. Hadn't dared to flood the area with the scent of his arousal more than he already had. Instead, he'd watched, his hand pressed against his crotch. Watched as Chris had fucked Peter, and Peter had whimpered and moaned with each press of Chris' cock into his body.
He'd had to bite back a moan when Peter had come, splattering the forest floor beneath him. Had to bite one back when Chris has groaned and thrust sharply, and Derek had realised he was coming inside Peter.
He'd fled back to the house at that point, his feet carrying him through the Preserve and away from the sight of Peter on his knees. He'd had his cock in his hands as soon as he'd been back in his bedroom, fist moving rapidly and coming within seconds.
It's a memory he looks back on probably more than he should, closing his eyes and imagining himself in Chris' place. Hearing, in his mind, the whimper that would come from Peter as Derek pushes his cock into him, pushes into hot and tight and perfect. He sees his fingers in Peter's hair, pulling his uncle's head back so Derek can sink his teeth into the bared throat. And he imagines Peter walking into a pack meeting, Derek's marks ringing his neck and Derek's come inside him. Imagines everyone looking and seeing exactly who Peter belongs to, imagines Chris seeing who Peter belongs to.
But Derek knows it will never happen. Not when Chris Argent is the first person Peter looks to when he walks into a room, not when he's the last person to hold Peter's eyes when they leave.
So, instead, Derek closes his eyes, wraps his fingers around himself and pretends.
3. Stiles
Stiles has a number of entries in his spank bank that he brings out at night, his fingers around his cock and jerking himself as fast as he can. There are certain people, certain scenarios he'll go to, depending on the kind of day he's had.
On good days, on days when school went perfectly, and nothing threatened to kill any of them, he'll think of Lydia. Think of her, lying back in his bed, lips swollen from where he's kissed her, and him guiding his cock into her body.
Or he'll think of Derek. Think of him, standing in the corner of the room, half hidden in shadow and watching as Stiles jerks himself. He'll think of how Derek will smell the air, will almost taste the arousal coming from Stiles. He'll think of how Derek will walk over, stripping his clothes off as he goes, until he's naked in front of Stiles.
Sometimes, when the day is especially awesome, Stiles imagines both of them. Lydia, lying back while Stiles eats her out, while Derek drives into him.
There are nights he'll think of Allison. He'll close his eyes and imagine his hands tied to his bed, while Allison rides him and takes her own pleasure. He'll think of her fingers pinching his nipples, of her grinding down onto his dick until he comes.
Stiles knows that he tends to think of Allison on those nights when they've been tracking something through the Preserve, or through the town. Those nights, when he looks over at Allison and sees her, crossbow or knives in hand, looking every inch the hunter she is.
It's one of the only things he's never told Scott. Because he may have told him about every other sex-laden fantasy he's had (including the one about Boyd and the caramel syrup) but even he thinks "Hey, Scott, friend, buddy, I rubbed one out to thoughts of your girlfriend last night--" is a step too far.
And if Stiles is never telling Scott that he has fantasies of Allison, then he's sure as fuck not telling him about the ones of his mom.
Stiles only thinks of Melissa on days when it's been especially bad. On days where he can't stop the noise in his head, and his dad looks at him like he's not entirely sure where he went wrong. He thinks about her holding him, and running hands over his back as she murmurs soothingly.
The first time he'd thought about her hand slipping lower, he'd snatched his fingers away from his cock so fast he'd been sure there'd been friction burns left. Because he doesn't think of Melissa like that, he doesn't. There are days when someone says the word 'mom' and the image in his head looks less like the person in their family photos and more like Melissa. But Stiles accepted long ago that his thoughts about Melissa were less to do with getting off and more to do with safe and love and home.
But tonight? Tonight is a Chris and Peter night. The pack meeting had been the kind Stiles loves. No big bad out there trying to kill them, so no research or arguments about who wants to throw themselves into danger first. Instead, it was all about reaffirming pack bonds, about lounging on the couch with his head in Erica's lap and Isaac's legs tangled with his while they watched a movie. It was about his hand dangling off the couch, so he could reach where Scott was lying on the floor, next to Cora. It was about his dad sitting at the table, talking to Chris, while Melissa chatted to Derek. (And who would have thought that Derek and Melissa would get on so well. Stiles is pretty sure there's at least a bit of a crush on Derek's side, but he can't tell if that's because Melissa reminds him of Talia - strength and kindness and a willingness to absolutely destroy anyone who lifts a hand against the people she sees as hers - or if he's just into Mama McCall in general.)
Peter had been restless, flitting between sitting with the adults at the table and walking into the front room in order to insult whatever movie was playing, and the taste of whoever chose it. It had been pure luck that Stiles had seen it, that he'd been looking into the kitchen as Peter dropped gracefully into the empty chair next to Chris. That he'd been looking as Peter shifted as if he was going to stand up again, and Chris had just reached out and wrapped his hand around the back of Peter's neck. Without even looking, without breaking the conversation he had going on with Stiles' dad, Chris' hand had moved to Peter's neck. And just like that, Peter had stilled. His head had dropped and his eyes had closed and he'd leaned towards Chris like he was chasing his touch.
And none of the others around the table had even batted an eye. Which had made Stiles wonder exactly what was going on when the adults in the pack all got together without the ones who were too young to drink with them. Because Stiles has seen moves like that before, seen them in clips on the internet. Although, admittedly, the people in those clips were usually a lot more naked than the pack had been, and usually had a soundtrack of Good boy-- and Just like that-- and Take it--.
It had made Stiles wonder if Peter sat on the floor next to Chris and leaned against his legs. Made him wonder if Chris stroked a hand over Peter's hair and called him a good puppy. And once he'd seen it, he couldn't unsee it. Kept flicking his gaze back to where the two of them were sitting, just to see if Chris had moved his hand (he hadn't) or if the others were giving them any sort of reaction (they weren't).
Chris and Peter had been the first to leave, Chris' hand on the small of Peter's back, and Peter telling Melissa that they should "leave the rest of the Neanderthals one night and go to the new restaurant that's opened down town." (And if Stiles hadn't been aware of how very together Chris and Peter were, then he'd have wondered if the wolf was trying to hit on Melissa again. Melissa had just laughed and told Peter it was a date.)
Once they'd gone, Stiles couldn't stop thinking them. About what they were doing. And now he's back in his bedroom, he's still thinking about it. About whether Peter is on his knees for Chris, sucking his cock down like it's all he wants. About whether Chris' fingers are sliding into Peter's body, opening him up for his cock.
He's wrapping his fingers around his dick while he thinks about it. Jerking himself as he thinks about Chris holding Peter's head still, about Peter letting Chris hold his head, as he fucks his mouth. Thinks about Chris coming and Peter swallowing it all down like a good pup.
And maybe he's wrong. Maybe Chris and Peter aren't in some sort of kinky BDSM relationship. Maybe Peter had just had a bad day and Chris was reassuring him. Maybe the others weren't reacting because there was nothing to react to. Maybe Stiles was just reading too much into it.
Maybe.
4. Melissa
Melissa doesn't do this as much as she used to ever since Scott got bitten, doesn't slide her fingers deep inside her, doesn't press her thumb over her clit. And it's not that she's ashamed of it. Masturbation is a perfectly normal and healthy biological function. She raised Scott to know that it was one thing he should never be embarrassed about it. But it's one thing doing it and another thing knowing your son now has the senses to smell exactly where you've had your fingers, even after you've showered.
So, she tends to wait until Scott's out of the house. Waits until he's staying over at Stiles', or Allison's, or at one of the pack houses. Sometimes, she goes directly for the orgasm, knowing herself well enough to get off quickly. But other times, she prefers to draw it out. Prefers to run fingertips over skin before they even get close to her pussy. Tonight is one of those nights.
Scott is at Stiles', and there's no school on Monday. Which means the two of them will stay up stupidly late playing Halo, collapse into bed, then get up tomorrow to start playing Halo again. Melissa probably won't see her son for another 36 hours.
She settles back on her bed, her skin still warm and slightly damp from the shower she's just taken. She runs her fingers over her breasts, light touches at first with her thumbs brushing over her nipples.
Closing her eyes, she thinks about who could be there with her. She thinks about how John would touch her, steady and assured. Of the men she knows that she thinks about when she's doing this (because, as much as Melissa would like to disagree, Hugh Jackman doesn't count), John is the one that appears most often. Maybe it's because of the amount of time they've known each other. Maybe it's because they're already co-parents to their two kids, so thinking about their relationship having a sexual side isn't that much of a leap.
But it doesn't feel like a John night. Not tonight.
Melissa's been surprised to find Derek Hale taking a starring role in some of her thoughts recently. She wonders how he would be with her. For all his bravado, there are times Derek seems almost hesitant around her. (And if Melissa has pieced together correctly what happened between him and Kate Argent, she doesn't blame him. She also doesn't blame Peter for ripping out the other woman's throat.) She wonders if his touch would be careful, if it would be light and tentative. Or if he'd give in to his animal side and just fuck her.
But after the pack meeting a few days ago, she knows it's not going to be Derek in her thoughts tonight, but the two remaining adult members of their pack.
It had taken Melissa a while to figure out the relationship between the two men, given their history. She knows there's blood between them, between them and Chris' sister and Peter's entire family. But she also knows that she watched Chris reach out, without even looking, because he knew Peter needs something to ground him. She knows that Peter leaned into that touch, like it was something he was forever surprised to receive.
And Melissa's not blind, both Chris Argent and Peter Hale are attractive looking men, and the thought of having the two of them focused entirely on her is intoxicating.
She thinks Peter would lick her first, his head between her thighs as he flicked his tongue against her clit. He'd slide fingers into her, pumping them gently in and out of her body. Chris would watch, at first. He'd watch his wolf go down on Melissa before he moved. She can't quite decide if Chris would go to her or to Peter. Although, if his actions in the pack meeting are anything to go by, she knows what the answer to that is.
He'd walk over to Peter, stand behind him. Melissa would feel Peter gasping against her as Chris slid fingers into his ass. Chris would smile at her as his cock pushed into Peter's ass, tell her to hold on. And she'd be half way through asking him what he meant when he'd pull back from Peter's body and jam himself back inside in one thrust.
The pace Chris would set would be brutal. Harsh and demanding, and pushing Peter's face against her every few seconds. And through it all, Peter would just keep on licking, keep on moving his fingers in and out of Melissa. All of his moans, his shudders and gasps she'd feel against her--
Squeezing her thighs together, Melissa presses down hard on her clit, a roll of pleasure coursing through her as she comes. She thinks that, if he were actually here, Peter would keep licking her through her orgasm. (Melissa's not sure why she thinks that as, beyond the failed attempt at a date with her in order to get to Scott, the only relationship she's ever seen Peter have is the one with Chris. Regardless of that, though, Peter seems like the kind of person who would make sure his partners never went home anything less than satisfied. She's also not sure why she's got the impression that he'd be amazing if he went down on a woman, other than the fact that she's never seen Peter attempt to be anything other than the best at anything.)
However, Peter isn't there, so she pulls her hand away from her crotch, and wipes her fingers on the t-shirt she'd just taken off when she got in from work. She murmurs a soft thank you to both Chris and Peter, even though they're not there, even though they'll never hear it. She thanks them anyway, and settles in to sleep.
5. Allison
It horrifies Allison, the first time she comes with her fingers between her legs and Peter Hale in her mind. It horrifies her because it's Peter, it's her father's other half, the closest thing she's ever going to get to a step-parent.
She's seen him pad out of her dad's bedroom, half asleep and wearing one of her dad's shirts. She's seen him and her dad bicker over the best way to dispose of the corpse of a hydra, while cooking dinner together in perfect sync. She's seen a multitude of ways he fits in with her dad.
(And the part of her that hated that her dad put her in this situation, put her in the situation of seeing Peter Hale as a person, has lessened. It wasn't that Allison thought that her dad should be alone after her mom. He deserves someone in his life, and she knows that her mom would agree with her. It's that the person he chose to share the rest of his life with was Peter Hale. It took her a while, some shouting and some tears to get over that one.)
So, for the one person out of the entire pack to spring to mind when she came to be Peter worried the hell out of her. It's not that Peter's not attractive in a subjective way (he is), but she very much doesn't want him to be attractive to her.
She can't look Peter in the eyes for days afterwards, unable to think about anything but the way her pussy clenched around her dildo as her fingers worked her clit, and all with Peter in mind. It gets so that her dad speaks to her about it, asks her if there's an issue, tells her that both he and Peter are concerned. (She's knows her dad's concern, even if he doesn't. It's that she's finally realised that she can't have Peter there, that she still sees her aunt's blood on Peter's fingers. That she's going to make him choose between his daughter and his lover. She thinks Peter's concern is probably the same. Only she knows her dad would never have to make that choice, that Peter would make sure he didn't have to. She knows that Peter would walk away to save him from having to.)
She tells him it's nothing, tells him that it's just something going on between her and Scott. Because she can't tell him what it actually is, can't tell him that she's worried she's starting to feel something for Peter that she shouldn't be.
It makes life awkward for a while. Allison feels like she's trying too hard to act like everything is normal, feels like Peter knows that she's doing exactly that. She watches him one morning, in the kitchen. (And if anyone had told Allison a year ago that she'd be sitting in her kitchen, watching Peter Hale making pancakes, she'd have told them they were insane, but here she is.) Watches him lean into her dad as he brushes past Peter to reach the coffee, and she can't help but think I want that--
And then it hits her. She wants that, not him.
The night she'd thought about Peter, the night all of this had started, they'd been in the Preserve. The pack had been tracking a rogue alpha and they'd split into groups to better cover the area. There had been a howl and a yell, and by the time Allison and Scott had burst into the clearing where her dad and Peter were, her dad was unconscious on the ground and Peter was standing over him, snarling at the other wolf.
Peter had been bloody, shirt ripped and claw marks over him, but he was still standing, still protecting her dad with everything he had. And Allison had thought He'd die for him--
So, maybe it's not Peter she wants, maybe it's what her dad has with Peter. Maybe she wants a love so strong that it's the kind that overcomes everything that lies between their two families. Maybe she wants someone who will fight for her as fiercely as Peter fought for her dad, as fiercely as her dad fights for Peter.
Her mind flicks to Scott and she smiles. Maybe she just needs to know that a wolf and a hunter can have a love story with a happy ending.
"Allison?"
She looks up at Peter, plate of pancakes in his hand and a look of concern on his face. (And who would have thought it. Peter Hale, concerned about a hunter, about an Argent, about her.)
"You okay?"
Yes. Yes, she is. She smiles at him as she nods, taking the plate off him, and laughing as her dad reaches out to snag Peter's shirt and pull him closer.
She's fine. They're fine. And maybe she'll give Scott a call later.
+1. Chris
Chris groans as he wraps his fingers around his cock, rubbing his thumb over his cockhead and slicking the precome over his skin. Peter had been wearing those fucking jeans at the pack meeting earlier, the ones that clung to his ass like a second skin. And not only had he been wearing the jeans, but he'd made a habit of bending over at every opportunity, smirking at Chris each time he'd done it, the cock-teasing little bastard. The only reason Chris hadn't had him bent over and spitted on his cock, was that he didn't think anyone else would have appreciated the interruption to the meeting.
And then Peter had volunteered to stay behind, to help Derek clean up the loft after it had been invaded by several teenagers. Even though he's never offered to do that before, never actually cared about the state the pack had left the loft in at any other point. What he does care about, however, is being a shit who is trying to see if Chris can die of blue balls. Maybe he just needs to be taken over Chris' lap.
Chris closes his eyes at the thought, almost feeling the weight of Peter over his lap, feeling the wolf writhe as Chris warms his ass over and over.
"Well, I had hoped you were going to keep that for me."
Chris' eye snap open, looking over to where Peter is leaning against the door jamb. And maybe the thought of him spanking Peter needs to be played out, because he was so focused on it he never even heard Peter enter the apartment.
"Well, what can I say?" Chris replies, slowing down the motions over his cock. "You seemed so busy with wanting to help Derek clean up that I didn't know if you were going to make it back here tonight."
Peter smirks at him. "Oh, Argent, I'll always make it back. Especially," he nods towards Chris' cock, "when I've got that waiting for me." Without waiting for Chris to respond, Peter pushes himself away from the door.
Chris will never tire of watching his wolf, all contained power and grace as he closes the distance between them, stripping off his clothes as he goes and dropping them behind him. Peter's naked by the time he reaches the bed, climbing on and straddling Chris' thighs.
Reaching up, Chris tangles his fingers in Peter's hair, pulling the other man down to him. Peter's lips are soft under his, opening easily when Chris' tongue flicks against them. Without breaking the kiss, Chris reaches out with his free hand, pulling open the drawer on the bedside cabinet and feeling around inside until his fingers find the tube of lube he knows is in there, half used and slightly sticky. He flicks open the cap with his thumb, squeezing some of the lube out before dropping it onto the bed.
Peter pulls back when Chris slides two fingers inside him, arching his back as he gasps. His hands go to Chris' chest, pressing down lightly as he moves his hips, fucking himself on Chris' fingers.
"That's it, Peter--" Chris murmurs, his fingers moving steadily inside the wolf, as Peter tips his head back and bares his throat.
"Chris--"
The whine that comes from Peter when Chris pulls his fingers out almost has him smirking, and he's tempted to make a comment, but there are more important things than teasing Peter right now.
Picking the lube up, Chris squeezes some directly on to his cock, hissing as the cool slickness hits overheated skin. Even before he's tossed the tube to one side, Peter's hands are there, spreading the lube over him. Chris' cock is twitching with each sweep of Peter's fingers, and this is going to end a lot sooner than Chris wants it to if Peter doesn't stop touching him.
He grabs Peter's wrist, holding it tightly. Peter just smirks at him as he glances down to where Chris is holding him, not trying to escape the grip.
Lifting his hips, Peter moves forward slightly. Reaching behind him with the hand that Chris isn't holding, Peter grips Chris' cock, holding it steady as he lowers himself on to it.
And, fuck, Chris will never tire of this, will never tire of Peter around him, tight and perfect in a way that means so much. Peter's ass is flush against him, his entire cock seated in Peter's body.
Peter looks at him, eyes wide and bottom lip slightly swollen from where he's bitten it. He lifts himself up slowly, eyes fluttering as Chris' cock drags out of him until just the head is in him. Lifts himself up and then drops back down, taking Chris back in to his body in one easy movement.
And this is going to be over embarrassingly quickly, Chris thinks. Because he was already on the edge before Peter got there.
"Ride me," he says.
And Peter does. He rides Chris' cock. Circling his hips and clenching his muscles in a way that has something pulsing low and hot in Chris' belly.
Moving the hand still holding Peter's wrist, Chris puts Peter's fingers against his own cock. "Jack yourself." Because Chris wants to see it, wants to see Peter's cockhead sliding through his fist.
Peter wraps his fingers around his dick, leisurely stroking himself as he continues to move with Chris' cock inside him.
"Make yourself come."
Peter growls softly at the order, speeding up the movements over his cock. He's bouncing on Chris' dick with the same timings he's stripping his own cock. And Chris can tell he's getting close. Can tell it from the soft whimpers he can hear coming from Peter and from the way his teeth are worrying at his lower lip.
Pulling his hand from Peter's hair, Chris wraps his fingers around Peter's hip, squeezing harshly.
Peter's hips stutter as Chris grips him, fingers digging in, and then Peter is coming, splattering Chris' stomach with white and clenching around his cock.
The feel of Peter's come on his skin, warm and familiar, and of Peter's body rippling around his triggers Chris' orgasm, and he spills himself into Peter's body.
Feeling his cock continue to twitch inside Peter, Chris tugs him down, pressing their lips back together and swallowing the sound of loss Peter makes when Chris' cock slips out of his body.
They should get cleaned, maybe have a shower. They're covered in come and sweat and lube, and Chris can feel his own come hitting his skin from where it's dripping out of Peter. He knows they should move, should slide under the covers and fall asleep. They should do something, anything. But Peter's lips are soft against his, and his body is hot against Chris' skin.
So, yes, Chris knows they should move, but, somehow, he's perfectly happy not to.