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moonlettuceTitle: Turn Your Thoughts Around
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale (kinda)
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-con, and an attempt at mental manipulation
Word Count: 795
Summary: In which Peter is in the coma, and the Argents take advantage
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris. Based off a prompt from Goddessofcruelty: Or some somnophilia where Peter is passed out and Chris jacks off over his unconscious body? Peter's comatose as opposed to unconscious, but I figure it still counts ;)
Turn Your Thoughts Around
It's late when Chris gets to the care home, the night staff already on shift and most of the lights turned down to low. The nurse on reception ignores him as he goes by, this week's envelope of money already tucked in her locker.
His feet carry him easily to Peter Hale's room, sterile empty walls greeting him as he walks down the corridor. The door to Hale's room is closed, but not locked, and there's a small click as Chris opens it and slips inside.
The wolf is lying in the bed, crisp white sheets covering him. If Chris didn't know better, he'd say Hale hadn't moved since the last time Chris was here, but Chris knows that the nurses get him out of the bed every day, knows that there are doctors and physios and various other people who try to get any sort of response out of the comatose man.
Dragging the hard chair in the corner over to the bed Chris sits, reaching out to trail a finger down Hale's scarred cheek. Chris still can't believe that the others left him, that the rest of the pack abandoned Hale in Beacon Hills. He can't be certain, but he's pretty sure that the wolf would have recovered by now if he'd had his alpha, his pack, around him, regardless of how little of it was left.
Then again, maybe it was better this way. Maybe Peter Hale being left in their hands was exactly the way it was meant to play out.
It had been a dilemma when they'd first heard that Hale was helpless and alone. On the one hand, they had no evidence to say he'd ever killed an innocent, no evidence to say he needed to be put down. But, on the other, leaving him there when it would be so easy just to rid the world of one more monster seemed like it was just letting an opportunity slip by.
And then the thought had come to Victoria, a small kernel of an idea that had grown into something bigger. Hale was effectively an omega, cast out and abandoned by his pack. But what if they could give him a new pack? What if they could realign his allegiance?
Standing up, Chris carefully pulls the sheet off Hale, leaning down and quickly opening the pyjama top he's in. Half of Hale's chest is still scarred, skin pitted and rough from the fire, and Chris wonders exactly what it is in Hale's mind that's stopping him from healing, wonders what it is that still has the wolf comatose.
Slowly running his hand over Hale's skin, Chris starts murmuring quietly. Starts telling Hale how his old pack may have left him, but that didn't mean that he was alone.
"You know you're ours now, Peter, don't you." Chris says softly. "Know that we're going to look after you."
Opening the button on his jeans, Chris quickly fishes his cock out. He jacks himself steadily, his cock fattening up and hardening in his grip.
He's been coming here ever since Vic had her idea, ever since Vic floated the possibility of getting the wolf over to their side. And even if part of Chris blanches at the thought of hunters fighting with a wolf next to them, he can't deny that the power behind having a werewolf obey their orders is a heady one.
So Chris makes his trips here multiple times a week, the night staff well compensated to turn a blind eye to the out of hours visits.
He strips his cock quickly. This isn't about pleasure, it's about nothing except covering Peter Hale in Chris' scent, about letting Chris' very essence sink into Hale's skin. It's about nothing more than Hale being surrounded by Chris, about Chris being so ingrained into Hale's senses that the wolf will think little of turning to Chris as his alpha.
Chris quickens his movements when he feels his balls tighten, when he feels it in the pit of his stomach, wanting to expand outwards. He bites his lower lip as he jerks and twists, grunting as he comes, shooting white ribbons onto Hale's chest and stomach.
Reaching out, he rubs his come into Hale's skin, his fingers massaging the cooling semen into Hale's flesh until it's all gone, a dried layer of scent that's seeped into the wolf's body.
Chris tucks himself back into his jeans before fastening Hale's pyjama shirt. He pulls the sheet back over Hale, carding his fingers gently through the wolf's hair when he's done.
"Remember that we're here for you, Peter. They may have left you, but we won't."
Leaning down, he brushes a brief kiss over Hale's forehead, and quietly closes the door as he leaves.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale (kinda)
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-con, and an attempt at mental manipulation
Word Count: 795
Summary: In which Peter is in the coma, and the Argents take advantage
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris. Based off a prompt from Goddessofcruelty: Or some somnophilia where Peter is passed out and Chris jacks off over his unconscious body? Peter's comatose as opposed to unconscious, but I figure it still counts ;)
Turn Your Thoughts Around
It's late when Chris gets to the care home, the night staff already on shift and most of the lights turned down to low. The nurse on reception ignores him as he goes by, this week's envelope of money already tucked in her locker.
His feet carry him easily to Peter Hale's room, sterile empty walls greeting him as he walks down the corridor. The door to Hale's room is closed, but not locked, and there's a small click as Chris opens it and slips inside.
The wolf is lying in the bed, crisp white sheets covering him. If Chris didn't know better, he'd say Hale hadn't moved since the last time Chris was here, but Chris knows that the nurses get him out of the bed every day, knows that there are doctors and physios and various other people who try to get any sort of response out of the comatose man.
Dragging the hard chair in the corner over to the bed Chris sits, reaching out to trail a finger down Hale's scarred cheek. Chris still can't believe that the others left him, that the rest of the pack abandoned Hale in Beacon Hills. He can't be certain, but he's pretty sure that the wolf would have recovered by now if he'd had his alpha, his pack, around him, regardless of how little of it was left.
Then again, maybe it was better this way. Maybe Peter Hale being left in their hands was exactly the way it was meant to play out.
It had been a dilemma when they'd first heard that Hale was helpless and alone. On the one hand, they had no evidence to say he'd ever killed an innocent, no evidence to say he needed to be put down. But, on the other, leaving him there when it would be so easy just to rid the world of one more monster seemed like it was just letting an opportunity slip by.
And then the thought had come to Victoria, a small kernel of an idea that had grown into something bigger. Hale was effectively an omega, cast out and abandoned by his pack. But what if they could give him a new pack? What if they could realign his allegiance?
Standing up, Chris carefully pulls the sheet off Hale, leaning down and quickly opening the pyjama top he's in. Half of Hale's chest is still scarred, skin pitted and rough from the fire, and Chris wonders exactly what it is in Hale's mind that's stopping him from healing, wonders what it is that still has the wolf comatose.
Slowly running his hand over Hale's skin, Chris starts murmuring quietly. Starts telling Hale how his old pack may have left him, but that didn't mean that he was alone.
"You know you're ours now, Peter, don't you." Chris says softly. "Know that we're going to look after you."
Opening the button on his jeans, Chris quickly fishes his cock out. He jacks himself steadily, his cock fattening up and hardening in his grip.
He's been coming here ever since Vic had her idea, ever since Vic floated the possibility of getting the wolf over to their side. And even if part of Chris blanches at the thought of hunters fighting with a wolf next to them, he can't deny that the power behind having a werewolf obey their orders is a heady one.
So Chris makes his trips here multiple times a week, the night staff well compensated to turn a blind eye to the out of hours visits.
He strips his cock quickly. This isn't about pleasure, it's about nothing except covering Peter Hale in Chris' scent, about letting Chris' very essence sink into Hale's skin. It's about nothing more than Hale being surrounded by Chris, about Chris being so ingrained into Hale's senses that the wolf will think little of turning to Chris as his alpha.
Chris quickens his movements when he feels his balls tighten, when he feels it in the pit of his stomach, wanting to expand outwards. He bites his lower lip as he jerks and twists, grunting as he comes, shooting white ribbons onto Hale's chest and stomach.
Reaching out, he rubs his come into Hale's skin, his fingers massaging the cooling semen into Hale's flesh until it's all gone, a dried layer of scent that's seeped into the wolf's body.
Chris tucks himself back into his jeans before fastening Hale's pyjama shirt. He pulls the sheet back over Hale, carding his fingers gently through the wolf's hair when he's done.
"Remember that we're here for you, Peter. They may have left you, but we won't."
Leaning down, he brushes a brief kiss over Hale's forehead, and quietly closes the door as he leaves.
