Fic: Tear Down Your Reason, Teen Wolf, Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Title: Tear Down Your Reason
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,262
Summary: In which Chris takes Peter to a club and someone watches them
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris. Title taken from Nine Inch Nails' Closer, and then altered slightly.
Tear Down Your Reason
They come into the club just as you're thinking of leaving, and your first thought is that you're glad you had that extra whiskey. You haven't seen them here before, but that doesn't mean much. Although the club has its fair share of regulars, there are a lot of people who sign in just for the night. Those who are passing through, or those who have driven all the way from their small-minded towns with too few people who know too many things about everyone.
You wonder idly which category the two of them fit into, and you hope it's the latter. If it's the former, then the odds are that you won't see them again after tonight, and if it's the latter, well, you're not too proud to admit that seeing more of these two wouldn't be a hardship.
They stop near one of the couches not too far from you, giving you a perfect view of them, and as one of them sits on the soft leather, the other sinks gracefully to his knees beside him.
You're not the only one watching them, they've caught the eye of several people across the room. New blood always garners interest, but this is something different. Too many times you've seen people walk in here, unsure and hesitant or, worse, arrogant and demanding. The second is an utter turn-off, and the first? Well, teaching an untrained sub how to give in has its attractions, but sometimes you just need someone who will drop to their knees and thank you after they suck your cock, someone who will take each hit of the whip and still beg you for more.
You watch as Natasha approaches them. It's not unusual, it's her club and she likes to put names to any new faces she sees. You listen in unashamedly as they exchange introductions, as Natasha holds out an elegant hand and welcomes him, welcomes Chris, to the club. She ignores the man on his knees until Chris runs a hand through his hair, until his head lifts and you see the most amazing blue eyes catching bright in the light of the club.
Chris introduces him as Peter, his hand resting proprietarily on the back of Peter's neck, and you wonder if Chris shares. You wonder because you can't help but want to feel Peter's lips around your cock, can't help but want to see him gag on your dick until you come down his throat.
He's dressed more demurely than most of the subs in the club, tight black jeans that hug what looks like the kind of ass you want to sink into, and a plain black shirt, undone enough that you can see his well-defined chest under it. And it makes you want to see more, makes you want to peel the clothes off him an inch at a time until he's naked and vulnerable before you.
Natasha chats to Chris for long minutes, and you find out that they're not planning on availing themselves of any of the playrooms (more's the pity, as you would love to see Peter tied to the St Andrew's cross in one of the downstairs rooms, would love to see him gasp and writhe as his skin is warmed with a whip), and that they come from Beacon Hills (which isn't far from here, so there's a chance they'll be back, a chance that you'll eventually get to see Chris take Peter apart).
Natasha leaves them, and you're thinking about going over, thinking about introducing yourself, about asking if Chris ever shares his boy, but then there's movement across the room, and you see Chris' attention focus on it.
You can't blame him as you look over to see Steve strapping James into the frame against the wall, James' shirt already off and his back glistening with what looks like oil.
Chris' fingers tangle in Peter's hair as he watches Steve pick up the flogger, watches him trail it over James' back. You see Chris tighten his grip, see him use it to pull Peter between his legs, and suddenly your gaze isn't on the pair putting on the show on the other side of the room, it's on Peter's fingers as he reaches out to undo the jeans Chris is wearing, as he reaches out to release Chris' half-hard cock to the air.
You watch as Peter leans forward, as he takes Chris' cock into his mouth, his eyes closing like his entire being is focused on the man he's blowing. Your fingers snap open your own suddenly tight trousers, reach inside to wrap around the hard flesh straining to escape.
It's only on the third stroke that you realise you're jacking yourself in the same speed and rhythm that Peter is sucking cock, jacking yourself with your hand and wishing it was Peter's mouth around you.
Both of Chris' hands are on Peter's head, guiding him gently, holding him down for long seconds as he swallows Chris down completely, before letting Peter come back up for air. Chris is murmuring words, and he's talking too quietly and is too far away for you to hear everything, but you hear some of it. Hear the Perfect-- and Mine-- and Good pup--, hear the soft endearments that are so at odds with the way Chris is almost choking Peter with his dick.
You speed up when Peter does, your own fingers itching to reach out and wipe the trail of saliva and precome that's running from his lips, itching to feed it back to him until he sucks your fingers clean. You tighten the grip you have on your cock, and you can feel your balls pulling, can feel it building inside you.
Peter is moving over Chris' cock in a way that speaks of assurance and knowledge, in a way that says he's been on his knees enough times to know exactly what Chris likes, exactly what Chris wants.
You hear the groan that comes from Chris, watch as he holds Peter's head down as he empties himself down his sub's throat, watch as Peter swallows everything Chris gives him.
A twist and jerk of your fingers and you're spilling over your own hand, white splattering onto your trousers and running over your fingers. You close your eyes as it washes over you, sharp and sudden and there.
When you open your eyes again, Chris is already tucked away, the slight flush to his skin the only indication that he just came down someone's throat less than a minute ago.
Peter's head is against Chris' thigh, Chris' fingers trailing slowly through his hair. Peter's eyes are closed, one of his hands wrapped around Chris' ankle in a way that looks both possessive and grounding, and the only word that comes to mind as you look at him is beautiful.
It feels like the chance to speak to Chris has passed, feels like you're unable, unwilling, the break the bubble of peace that surrounds them.
But you know that they don't live far from here, know that you may well see them again. And maybe next time you'll ask Chris if he ever shares, ever lets anyone else slide their cock into Peter's body. You'll ask, because you have to, because you'll regret not even risking the chance to get Peter around your cock. You'll ask but, somehow, looking at Chris carefully petting Peter, looking as he murmurs words too low for you to hear, you already know the answer will be no.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,262
Summary: In which Chris takes Peter to a club and someone watches them
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris. Title taken from Nine Inch Nails' Closer, and then altered slightly.
Tear Down Your Reason
They come into the club just as you're thinking of leaving, and your first thought is that you're glad you had that extra whiskey. You haven't seen them here before, but that doesn't mean much. Although the club has its fair share of regulars, there are a lot of people who sign in just for the night. Those who are passing through, or those who have driven all the way from their small-minded towns with too few people who know too many things about everyone.
You wonder idly which category the two of them fit into, and you hope it's the latter. If it's the former, then the odds are that you won't see them again after tonight, and if it's the latter, well, you're not too proud to admit that seeing more of these two wouldn't be a hardship.
They stop near one of the couches not too far from you, giving you a perfect view of them, and as one of them sits on the soft leather, the other sinks gracefully to his knees beside him.
You're not the only one watching them, they've caught the eye of several people across the room. New blood always garners interest, but this is something different. Too many times you've seen people walk in here, unsure and hesitant or, worse, arrogant and demanding. The second is an utter turn-off, and the first? Well, teaching an untrained sub how to give in has its attractions, but sometimes you just need someone who will drop to their knees and thank you after they suck your cock, someone who will take each hit of the whip and still beg you for more.
You watch as Natasha approaches them. It's not unusual, it's her club and she likes to put names to any new faces she sees. You listen in unashamedly as they exchange introductions, as Natasha holds out an elegant hand and welcomes him, welcomes Chris, to the club. She ignores the man on his knees until Chris runs a hand through his hair, until his head lifts and you see the most amazing blue eyes catching bright in the light of the club.
Chris introduces him as Peter, his hand resting proprietarily on the back of Peter's neck, and you wonder if Chris shares. You wonder because you can't help but want to feel Peter's lips around your cock, can't help but want to see him gag on your dick until you come down his throat.
He's dressed more demurely than most of the subs in the club, tight black jeans that hug what looks like the kind of ass you want to sink into, and a plain black shirt, undone enough that you can see his well-defined chest under it. And it makes you want to see more, makes you want to peel the clothes off him an inch at a time until he's naked and vulnerable before you.
Natasha chats to Chris for long minutes, and you find out that they're not planning on availing themselves of any of the playrooms (more's the pity, as you would love to see Peter tied to the St Andrew's cross in one of the downstairs rooms, would love to see him gasp and writhe as his skin is warmed with a whip), and that they come from Beacon Hills (which isn't far from here, so there's a chance they'll be back, a chance that you'll eventually get to see Chris take Peter apart).
Natasha leaves them, and you're thinking about going over, thinking about introducing yourself, about asking if Chris ever shares his boy, but then there's movement across the room, and you see Chris' attention focus on it.
You can't blame him as you look over to see Steve strapping James into the frame against the wall, James' shirt already off and his back glistening with what looks like oil.
Chris' fingers tangle in Peter's hair as he watches Steve pick up the flogger, watches him trail it over James' back. You see Chris tighten his grip, see him use it to pull Peter between his legs, and suddenly your gaze isn't on the pair putting on the show on the other side of the room, it's on Peter's fingers as he reaches out to undo the jeans Chris is wearing, as he reaches out to release Chris' half-hard cock to the air.
You watch as Peter leans forward, as he takes Chris' cock into his mouth, his eyes closing like his entire being is focused on the man he's blowing. Your fingers snap open your own suddenly tight trousers, reach inside to wrap around the hard flesh straining to escape.
It's only on the third stroke that you realise you're jacking yourself in the same speed and rhythm that Peter is sucking cock, jacking yourself with your hand and wishing it was Peter's mouth around you.
Both of Chris' hands are on Peter's head, guiding him gently, holding him down for long seconds as he swallows Chris down completely, before letting Peter come back up for air. Chris is murmuring words, and he's talking too quietly and is too far away for you to hear everything, but you hear some of it. Hear the Perfect-- and Mine-- and Good pup--, hear the soft endearments that are so at odds with the way Chris is almost choking Peter with his dick.
You speed up when Peter does, your own fingers itching to reach out and wipe the trail of saliva and precome that's running from his lips, itching to feed it back to him until he sucks your fingers clean. You tighten the grip you have on your cock, and you can feel your balls pulling, can feel it building inside you.
Peter is moving over Chris' cock in a way that speaks of assurance and knowledge, in a way that says he's been on his knees enough times to know exactly what Chris likes, exactly what Chris wants.
You hear the groan that comes from Chris, watch as he holds Peter's head down as he empties himself down his sub's throat, watch as Peter swallows everything Chris gives him.
A twist and jerk of your fingers and you're spilling over your own hand, white splattering onto your trousers and running over your fingers. You close your eyes as it washes over you, sharp and sudden and there.
When you open your eyes again, Chris is already tucked away, the slight flush to his skin the only indication that he just came down someone's throat less than a minute ago.
Peter's head is against Chris' thigh, Chris' fingers trailing slowly through his hair. Peter's eyes are closed, one of his hands wrapped around Chris' ankle in a way that looks both possessive and grounding, and the only word that comes to mind as you look at him is beautiful.
It feels like the chance to speak to Chris has passed, feels like you're unable, unwilling, the break the bubble of peace that surrounds them.
But you know that they don't live far from here, know that you may well see them again. And maybe next time you'll ask Chris if he ever shares, ever lets anyone else slide their cock into Peter's body. You'll ask, because you have to, because you'll regret not even risking the chance to get Peter around your cock. You'll ask but, somehow, looking at Chris carefully petting Peter, looking as he murmurs words too low for you to hear, you already know the answer will be no.