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moonlettuceTitle: Scarlet and Black
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,525
Summary: In which Peter takes Chris inside himself
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris
Scarlet and Black
Peter strips off his clothes, feeling Chris' gaze on him from where the other man is sitting. The chair in the corner is cast into shadow, but that doesn't matter to Peter, he can still make out every line of Chris' face, make out the heat in his eyes as he watches Peter.
When Chris had first said he wanted to do this, first asked Peter, Peter had felt the heat in his belly as he'd nodded. There's something about being opened by Chris, being broken open on a hunter's body, that makes Peter want more, that makes him want to have Chris crawl inside him until Peter will never be rid of him.
He folds his clothes carefully, placing them on the dresser next to where Chris is sitting.
"Lie on the bed," Chris says. And his voice is already rough, already husky, like he's been thinking of what he's about to do to Peter for weeks, months, years. Maybe he has.
Peter settles on the bed, his ass on the edge, and his feet still on the soft carpet, a padded stool next to one of his legs.
There's movement and, even with the carpet, he can still hear the footsteps that bring Chris closer, that bring Chris to standing between his knees. There's a soft scrape, the stool being moved closer for Chris to sit down, and a hand runs over his thigh.
"So perfect--" Chris' voice is quiet, like Peter isn't meant to hear him, isn't meant to respond.
The hand moves from his thigh to his hip, and there's two soft taps against him as Chris speaks.
"Lift your ass up."
Peter lifts his hips, feels a pillow slide under him, angling him better for Chris as he settles back onto it.
"Put your feet on the bed and grab your ankles."
He does as Chris asks, fingers wrapping around each ankle, feeling wide open to Chris' gaze. There's a pull in his arm muscles and he won't be able to hold this pose for hours, but he'll hold it long enough.
He can feel Chris just staring at him, can feel a flush rise to his skin as Chris just looks. And Peter's used to being split open for Chris, but not like this, not in a way that makes him feel this vulnerable, for some reason. And he doesn't know if it's because he's willingly placed his body in the hands of a hunter, in the hands of an Argent, or because he somehow seems to have placed his heart in the hands of Chris.
He hasn't told Chris he's jerked off thinking about this since Chris first mentioned it, since Chris first asked. Spilled into his own touch at the thought of Chris' hand sliding into him, at the thought of holding Chris inside him. Hasn't told Chris that his want for this has been building higher and higher ever since Chris had him split open on three fingers and murmured about pushing his entire hand into Peter.
"Chris, please--" The words escape before Peter can stop them.
He hears movement, hears the rustling of clothes as Chris moves, hears the "Oh, Peter--" that's soft enough to be a breath. And then Chris is touching him, the pad of a finger pressing against his asshole. It rubs over him, dry skin catching on his rim as it strokes along his crack.
There's the snap of a tube opening, and Chris' finger leaves him for brief moments before it's back, wet and slick. The glide over his asshole is easier now, and Chris presses his finger gently as he brushes it over Peter's ass, presses against Peter's hole with each pass.
Peter can hear noises, can hear Yes-- and Please--, and it take him a heartbeat to realise it's him, to realise the words are dropping from his lips with each pass of Chris' finger.
And Chris doesn't keep him waiting, slides his finger inside on the next brush over Peter's ass, moving it in and out slowly for long moments before it's gone again.
There's the sound of more lube being squeezed out, and Chris is back with two fingers, sliding them straight inside, his thumb rubbing along Peter's rim.
"You're taking me so well, Peter." The fingers of Chris' other hand are moving over his leg, tracing delicate patterns on his skin. "Can you take another?"
"Yes--" The word is out before Chris is even finished speaking, because Peter wants.
Peter groans as Chris slips another finger inside him, twisting them. And this is the point Chris would pull out, would fill Peter with his cock. But not now, not today.
"I'm going to give you another, Peter."
Chris' hand pulls back, just the tip of his middle finger inside Peter. And then he's pressing forward again, slippery with wetness, as four fingers push into Peter's ass.
Peter doesn't try to stop the moan that wells up in him, knows that Chris likes hearing him. He feels stretched, opened around Chris' fingers, but not open enough.
"More. Chris, please--"
Chris huffs a gentle laugh, mutters a soft "Greedy, Peter--" out. But Peter doesn't care if it's greedy, he wants to know, needs to know, what Chris feels like when he's fully inside him.
Chris pulls his fingers back, and Peter can hear more lube, wet and slick, being squeezed onto Chris' hand, can feel it cool against his ass where it slides down Chris' palm.
"Are you ready, Peter?"
Peter nods, but Chris doesn't move, doesn't press in further.
"Words, Peter. I need words."
But Peter doesn't know if he has any, doesn't know if they can make it past the dryness in his throat, past the rock sitting on his chest. He swallows, licking his lips until he can finally speak, until he can finally gasp out the "Yes--" Chris is waiting for.
He feels Chris' hand move, feels the tip of Chris' thumb tucked against his palm, as Chris pushes forward. Peter can feel himself splitting open around Chris' hand, can feel it, steady and inexorable, as his body opens. And it's too much, he's open too far and too wide and the words are welling in him to tell Chris to stop, to pull back, that he can't do it. And then he shudders as his body snaps around Chris' wrist, shudders as Chris slides fully inside, strong and thick and pressing against every part of Peter.
"I'm in, Peter," Chris' voice is soft, careful, like he's thinking too hard about each word, like just his hand being inside Peter is enough to tip him into orgasm. "You took me all." The hand that's still on Peter's thigh moves to his stomach, rubbing soothing circles. "Oh god, Peter."
Chris starts to move, carefully rotating his hand inside Peter, and each movement makes Peter arch, each movement makes him shiver. Chris is pressing against his prostate, solid and there, and it's not like any other time he's been fucked. It's building, but slow and gentle, rising in him like a tide, like the pull of the moon.
Chris' hand trails down over Peter's stomach, trails down until his fingers can wrap around Peter's cock. He jacks Peter slow and lazy, his thumb brushing over Peter's cockhead, slicking the precome running down Peter's shaft.
It washes over him, pulsing waves through his body, as he comes body clenching around Chris' hand and splattering his own stomach with his essence. His cock is still twitching through the aftershocks when Chris pulls his hand away, and he can hear the slap of flesh against flesh as Chris jerks himself. Can hear the groan that falls from Chris when he orgasms, can feel Chris' come spray against his ass.
The only sound in the air is their breathing for long moments, hard and heavy. The only sound until Chris moves, until he speaks.
"I'm going to pull out now, Peter. Just breathe for me."
But Peter can do nothing else, reduced to the mingled scent of the two of them and the feel of Chris inside him.
Chris pulls his hand back carefully, and there's a sharp flash as Peter is once again split too far and too wide. And then Chris is sliding out, leaving Peter empty and hollow. He can feel Chris' come still running over his ass, can feel it slip inside his hole before he starts to tighten.
Chris' fingers are carefully unwrapping Peter's own from around his ankles, massaging Peter's legs as he brings them down over the bed. And then Chris is there, hand against Peter's cheek, slick with lube as his thumb runs over Peter's lower lip.
"It was perfect, Peter," Chris says, climbing onto the bed, and carefully pulling Peter further up. "You were perfect. The way you took everything."
And Peter wants to reply, he does. But the words won't make it out just yet, won't let him speak. So he turns into Chris' chest and nuzzles lightly, turns into Chris' chest and lets Chris hold him until he can.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,525
Summary: In which Peter takes Chris inside himself
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris
Scarlet and Black
Peter strips off his clothes, feeling Chris' gaze on him from where the other man is sitting. The chair in the corner is cast into shadow, but that doesn't matter to Peter, he can still make out every line of Chris' face, make out the heat in his eyes as he watches Peter.
When Chris had first said he wanted to do this, first asked Peter, Peter had felt the heat in his belly as he'd nodded. There's something about being opened by Chris, being broken open on a hunter's body, that makes Peter want more, that makes him want to have Chris crawl inside him until Peter will never be rid of him.
He folds his clothes carefully, placing them on the dresser next to where Chris is sitting.
"Lie on the bed," Chris says. And his voice is already rough, already husky, like he's been thinking of what he's about to do to Peter for weeks, months, years. Maybe he has.
Peter settles on the bed, his ass on the edge, and his feet still on the soft carpet, a padded stool next to one of his legs.
There's movement and, even with the carpet, he can still hear the footsteps that bring Chris closer, that bring Chris to standing between his knees. There's a soft scrape, the stool being moved closer for Chris to sit down, and a hand runs over his thigh.
"So perfect--" Chris' voice is quiet, like Peter isn't meant to hear him, isn't meant to respond.
The hand moves from his thigh to his hip, and there's two soft taps against him as Chris speaks.
"Lift your ass up."
Peter lifts his hips, feels a pillow slide under him, angling him better for Chris as he settles back onto it.
"Put your feet on the bed and grab your ankles."
He does as Chris asks, fingers wrapping around each ankle, feeling wide open to Chris' gaze. There's a pull in his arm muscles and he won't be able to hold this pose for hours, but he'll hold it long enough.
He can feel Chris just staring at him, can feel a flush rise to his skin as Chris just looks. And Peter's used to being split open for Chris, but not like this, not in a way that makes him feel this vulnerable, for some reason. And he doesn't know if it's because he's willingly placed his body in the hands of a hunter, in the hands of an Argent, or because he somehow seems to have placed his heart in the hands of Chris.
He hasn't told Chris he's jerked off thinking about this since Chris first mentioned it, since Chris first asked. Spilled into his own touch at the thought of Chris' hand sliding into him, at the thought of holding Chris inside him. Hasn't told Chris that his want for this has been building higher and higher ever since Chris had him split open on three fingers and murmured about pushing his entire hand into Peter.
"Chris, please--" The words escape before Peter can stop them.
He hears movement, hears the rustling of clothes as Chris moves, hears the "Oh, Peter--" that's soft enough to be a breath. And then Chris is touching him, the pad of a finger pressing against his asshole. It rubs over him, dry skin catching on his rim as it strokes along his crack.
There's the snap of a tube opening, and Chris' finger leaves him for brief moments before it's back, wet and slick. The glide over his asshole is easier now, and Chris presses his finger gently as he brushes it over Peter's ass, presses against Peter's hole with each pass.
Peter can hear noises, can hear Yes-- and Please--, and it take him a heartbeat to realise it's him, to realise the words are dropping from his lips with each pass of Chris' finger.
And Chris doesn't keep him waiting, slides his finger inside on the next brush over Peter's ass, moving it in and out slowly for long moments before it's gone again.
There's the sound of more lube being squeezed out, and Chris is back with two fingers, sliding them straight inside, his thumb rubbing along Peter's rim.
"You're taking me so well, Peter." The fingers of Chris' other hand are moving over his leg, tracing delicate patterns on his skin. "Can you take another?"
"Yes--" The word is out before Chris is even finished speaking, because Peter wants.
Peter groans as Chris slips another finger inside him, twisting them. And this is the point Chris would pull out, would fill Peter with his cock. But not now, not today.
"I'm going to give you another, Peter."
Chris' hand pulls back, just the tip of his middle finger inside Peter. And then he's pressing forward again, slippery with wetness, as four fingers push into Peter's ass.
Peter doesn't try to stop the moan that wells up in him, knows that Chris likes hearing him. He feels stretched, opened around Chris' fingers, but not open enough.
"More. Chris, please--"
Chris huffs a gentle laugh, mutters a soft "Greedy, Peter--" out. But Peter doesn't care if it's greedy, he wants to know, needs to know, what Chris feels like when he's fully inside him.
Chris pulls his fingers back, and Peter can hear more lube, wet and slick, being squeezed onto Chris' hand, can feel it cool against his ass where it slides down Chris' palm.
"Are you ready, Peter?"
Peter nods, but Chris doesn't move, doesn't press in further.
"Words, Peter. I need words."
But Peter doesn't know if he has any, doesn't know if they can make it past the dryness in his throat, past the rock sitting on his chest. He swallows, licking his lips until he can finally speak, until he can finally gasp out the "Yes--" Chris is waiting for.
He feels Chris' hand move, feels the tip of Chris' thumb tucked against his palm, as Chris pushes forward. Peter can feel himself splitting open around Chris' hand, can feel it, steady and inexorable, as his body opens. And it's too much, he's open too far and too wide and the words are welling in him to tell Chris to stop, to pull back, that he can't do it. And then he shudders as his body snaps around Chris' wrist, shudders as Chris slides fully inside, strong and thick and pressing against every part of Peter.
"I'm in, Peter," Chris' voice is soft, careful, like he's thinking too hard about each word, like just his hand being inside Peter is enough to tip him into orgasm. "You took me all." The hand that's still on Peter's thigh moves to his stomach, rubbing soothing circles. "Oh god, Peter."
Chris starts to move, carefully rotating his hand inside Peter, and each movement makes Peter arch, each movement makes him shiver. Chris is pressing against his prostate, solid and there, and it's not like any other time he's been fucked. It's building, but slow and gentle, rising in him like a tide, like the pull of the moon.
Chris' hand trails down over Peter's stomach, trails down until his fingers can wrap around Peter's cock. He jacks Peter slow and lazy, his thumb brushing over Peter's cockhead, slicking the precome running down Peter's shaft.
It washes over him, pulsing waves through his body, as he comes body clenching around Chris' hand and splattering his own stomach with his essence. His cock is still twitching through the aftershocks when Chris pulls his hand away, and he can hear the slap of flesh against flesh as Chris jerks himself. Can hear the groan that falls from Chris when he orgasms, can feel Chris' come spray against his ass.
The only sound in the air is their breathing for long moments, hard and heavy. The only sound until Chris moves, until he speaks.
"I'm going to pull out now, Peter. Just breathe for me."
But Peter can do nothing else, reduced to the mingled scent of the two of them and the feel of Chris inside him.
Chris pulls his hand back carefully, and there's a sharp flash as Peter is once again split too far and too wide. And then Chris is sliding out, leaving Peter empty and hollow. He can feel Chris' come still running over his ass, can feel it slip inside his hole before he starts to tighten.
Chris' fingers are carefully unwrapping Peter's own from around his ankles, massaging Peter's legs as he brings them down over the bed. And then Chris is there, hand against Peter's cheek, slick with lube as his thumb runs over Peter's lower lip.
"It was perfect, Peter," Chris says, climbing onto the bed, and carefully pulling Peter further up. "You were perfect. The way you took everything."
And Peter wants to reply, he does. But the words won't make it out just yet, won't let him speak. So he turns into Chris' chest and nuzzles lightly, turns into Chris' chest and lets Chris hold him until he can.
