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moonlettuceTitle: Mind Full of Wicked Designs
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,013
Summary: In which Chris imagines pulling Peter over his lap
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris. Title taken from Poe's Hey Pretty.
Mind Full of Wicked Designs
Chris thinks about Peter Hale on his knees when he wraps his fingers around his cock, already hard and leaking precome. There's something about the wolf - pushy, mouthy and arrogant - that gets under Chris' skin, that makes him want to push Peter to his knees and make him choke on Chris' dick. Something that makes him want to hold Peter still until Chris is coming down his throat and Peter has no choice but to swallow.
Chris doesn't think he's ever met more of a fucking brat in his entire life. He tightens his grip on his cock as he imagines Peter mouthing off one too many times, imagines the look on the wolf's face if Chris just pulled him over his lap, tugged his jeans down over his ass and slapped a hand against Peter's skin.
Peter would struggle at first, Chris thinks. Push against Chris' grip in a way that feels real but isn't. (Because Peter's a wolf, and if he seriously wanted out of Chris' hold, there are various ways for him to do so.) He'd yell with each of the first few slaps against his ass, snarl at Chris to stop, to ask what the fuck Chris thought he was doing, to call Chris a bastard in a dozen different ways.
He'd be quiet for the next few, the name calling and complaints trailing off into sharp intakes of breath each time Chris' hand impacts on his ass. And Chris would watch as the colour blooms on Peter's skin, would watch as the skin turns red, leaving the shape of his hand scattered across Peter's flesh for long seconds before it fades away to nothing.
There'd be soft hitches of breath from Peter for the next couple and Chris would feel Peter lift his ass slightly, would feel him push back into Chris' touch.
Chris would pause, would run his hand over Peter's ass to feel the warmth coming from the skin. Then he'd trail his fingers down his crack, run his fingertips over the entrance to Peter's body. Peter would freeze, just for a second, before he'd be pushing back, trying to get Chris' fingers to slip inside him.
But Chris wouldn't. He'd edge his fingers around Peter's rim, then score his nails across the flesh of his ass. He can almost hear the sharp gasp as the lines of red appear and vanish on Peter's skin. And he'd feel Peter hardening against his thigh, would hear the quiet Please--, so low it's nothing more than a murmur.
Peter would be louder for the next few slaps, writhing on Chris' lap with words gasped out, with Yes-- and Harder-- and Please-- and Chris-- all tumbling from his lips like he can't keep them in any more.
Chris speeds up jacking his cock, biting his lower lip as he thinks about holding his hand in front of Peter's face, about telling him to suck. Peter would suck Chris' fingers into his mouth, would lave them with his tongue and nip at them with teeth that are just slightly too sharp to be entirely human.
Chris would wait until his fingers were slick with Peter's spit before he'd pull them from Peter's lips, before he'd move them down and press them against Peter's ass. He'd ask if Peter wanted it, would wait for the desperate Yes-- before he'd push inside, before opening Peter on two of his fingers.
Peter would groan as Chris' fingers slid inside, opening him up one steady inch at a time. He'd push back, his body eager to swallow Chris' fingers, fine tremors running through him. Chris' free hand would rest on Peter's back, rubbing soothing circles across the wolf's skin while fingers searched for that one spot Chris knows will break Peter apart.
Chris would know when he finds it, would know from Peter's back arching and the sudden whimper that would come from him. And once he'd found it, Chris wouldn't stop, would rub his fingertips over that spot until Peter was shuddering on his lap, until he was whining loudly and coming, shaking apart under Chris' touch.
When Peter was finished, when the shudders had quietened and the tremors running through him were barely noticeable, Chris would slide the wolf off his lap, would have him kneeling between Chris' legs. Would keep him there as Chris pulled his own hard cock out.
Chris can almost see Peter, kneeling between his thighs, eyes heavy with pleasure. Can almost see Peter's tongue dart out to lick at his lips as Chris jacks himself. And it wouldn't take long, Chris thinks, would barely take any time at all before Chris is coming, before he's covering Peter's face in white.
Chris twists his fingers over his cock, biting back a groan as he comes, shooting over his fingers at the thought of Peter Hale licking Chris' come off his face, at the thought of Peter's tongue lapping at whatever skin he could reach in order to clean himself.
Reaching out and grabbing a tissue, Chris quickly cleans himself up. There's a pack meeting tonight at Derek's loft, and he knows Peter is going to be there, is pretty sure he'll be as much of an annoying little shit as he has been for the past few meetings.
Chris tucks himself back into his jeans as he thinks about the looks Peter's been sending him recently, about the fact that the only time Peter calmed down during the last meeting was when Chris had finally had enough and told him to shut up and sit down. (He hadn't expected it to work, and from the looks of surprise coming from everyone else there, neither had any of the rest of the pack. But Peter had settled down, only offering actual advice and observations instead of sarcastic commentary for the rest of the night.)
Maybe tonight Chris will see if Peter's open to taking this past subtle glances and pulled-back touches. Maybe tonight, he'll finally get Peter Hale on his knees.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,013
Summary: In which Chris imagines pulling Peter over his lap
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris. Title taken from Poe's Hey Pretty.
Mind Full of Wicked Designs
Chris thinks about Peter Hale on his knees when he wraps his fingers around his cock, already hard and leaking precome. There's something about the wolf - pushy, mouthy and arrogant - that gets under Chris' skin, that makes him want to push Peter to his knees and make him choke on Chris' dick. Something that makes him want to hold Peter still until Chris is coming down his throat and Peter has no choice but to swallow.
Chris doesn't think he's ever met more of a fucking brat in his entire life. He tightens his grip on his cock as he imagines Peter mouthing off one too many times, imagines the look on the wolf's face if Chris just pulled him over his lap, tugged his jeans down over his ass and slapped a hand against Peter's skin.
Peter would struggle at first, Chris thinks. Push against Chris' grip in a way that feels real but isn't. (Because Peter's a wolf, and if he seriously wanted out of Chris' hold, there are various ways for him to do so.) He'd yell with each of the first few slaps against his ass, snarl at Chris to stop, to ask what the fuck Chris thought he was doing, to call Chris a bastard in a dozen different ways.
He'd be quiet for the next few, the name calling and complaints trailing off into sharp intakes of breath each time Chris' hand impacts on his ass. And Chris would watch as the colour blooms on Peter's skin, would watch as the skin turns red, leaving the shape of his hand scattered across Peter's flesh for long seconds before it fades away to nothing.
There'd be soft hitches of breath from Peter for the next couple and Chris would feel Peter lift his ass slightly, would feel him push back into Chris' touch.
Chris would pause, would run his hand over Peter's ass to feel the warmth coming from the skin. Then he'd trail his fingers down his crack, run his fingertips over the entrance to Peter's body. Peter would freeze, just for a second, before he'd be pushing back, trying to get Chris' fingers to slip inside him.
But Chris wouldn't. He'd edge his fingers around Peter's rim, then score his nails across the flesh of his ass. He can almost hear the sharp gasp as the lines of red appear and vanish on Peter's skin. And he'd feel Peter hardening against his thigh, would hear the quiet Please--, so low it's nothing more than a murmur.
Peter would be louder for the next few slaps, writhing on Chris' lap with words gasped out, with Yes-- and Harder-- and Please-- and Chris-- all tumbling from his lips like he can't keep them in any more.
Chris speeds up jacking his cock, biting his lower lip as he thinks about holding his hand in front of Peter's face, about telling him to suck. Peter would suck Chris' fingers into his mouth, would lave them with his tongue and nip at them with teeth that are just slightly too sharp to be entirely human.
Chris would wait until his fingers were slick with Peter's spit before he'd pull them from Peter's lips, before he'd move them down and press them against Peter's ass. He'd ask if Peter wanted it, would wait for the desperate Yes-- before he'd push inside, before opening Peter on two of his fingers.
Peter would groan as Chris' fingers slid inside, opening him up one steady inch at a time. He'd push back, his body eager to swallow Chris' fingers, fine tremors running through him. Chris' free hand would rest on Peter's back, rubbing soothing circles across the wolf's skin while fingers searched for that one spot Chris knows will break Peter apart.
Chris would know when he finds it, would know from Peter's back arching and the sudden whimper that would come from him. And once he'd found it, Chris wouldn't stop, would rub his fingertips over that spot until Peter was shuddering on his lap, until he was whining loudly and coming, shaking apart under Chris' touch.
When Peter was finished, when the shudders had quietened and the tremors running through him were barely noticeable, Chris would slide the wolf off his lap, would have him kneeling between Chris' legs. Would keep him there as Chris pulled his own hard cock out.
Chris can almost see Peter, kneeling between his thighs, eyes heavy with pleasure. Can almost see Peter's tongue dart out to lick at his lips as Chris jacks himself. And it wouldn't take long, Chris thinks, would barely take any time at all before Chris is coming, before he's covering Peter's face in white.
Chris twists his fingers over his cock, biting back a groan as he comes, shooting over his fingers at the thought of Peter Hale licking Chris' come off his face, at the thought of Peter's tongue lapping at whatever skin he could reach in order to clean himself.
Reaching out and grabbing a tissue, Chris quickly cleans himself up. There's a pack meeting tonight at Derek's loft, and he knows Peter is going to be there, is pretty sure he'll be as much of an annoying little shit as he has been for the past few meetings.
Chris tucks himself back into his jeans as he thinks about the looks Peter's been sending him recently, about the fact that the only time Peter calmed down during the last meeting was when Chris had finally had enough and told him to shut up and sit down. (He hadn't expected it to work, and from the looks of surprise coming from everyone else there, neither had any of the rest of the pack. But Peter had settled down, only offering actual advice and observations instead of sarcastic commentary for the rest of the night.)
Maybe tonight Chris will see if Peter's open to taking this past subtle glances and pulled-back touches. Maybe tonight, he'll finally get Peter Hale on his knees.
