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moonlettuceTitle: Waiting for the Rain
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,183
Summary: In which Erica watches
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris.
Waiting for the Rain
Erica's hand is half way into her jeans before she even realises what she's doing.
Go and find Chris and Peter, Derek had told her.
They're patrolling in the forest, he'd said.
Only when she'd found them, they weren't patrolling, weren't focused on anything beyond each other.
And, yeah, the pack knows they're together. It's hard not to when their scents are as combined as they are, merged together to such an extent that Erica has to concentrate if she wants to know if it's Chris or Peter coming up behind her.
But there's a difference between knowing it and knowing it. A difference between looking at the two of them and seeing Chris' hand casually resting on Peter's thigh, and seeing Peter on all fours, Chris' fingers tangled in his hair as he drives into Peter's body.
Peter's eyes are closed, with his head pulled back, and Erica can see the tremors running through his arms as he holds himself up, as he pushes back into Chris' thrusts. Their jeans are around their thighs, like they only pulled them as far down as they needed to before they started. Like they needed to get skin against skin as quickly as possible.
The scent of sex is in the air, sharp and tart and flooding everything around them. And Erica doesn't even think about what she's doing, as she snaps out the buttons on her jeans, easing her fingers into the denim and slipping them into her panties.
She's already wet as she slides her fingers into her pussy. Between the view and the scents and the positively sinful moans that are dropping from Peter's lips, she's not surprised.
And she's not ashamed to admit she's thought about it, about them together. Both Chris and Peter are fucking hot, and the thought of them together is positively incendiary. So, yeah, there have been nights when she's lay back in her bed, with her fingers buried inside herself, and imagined the two of them together. Imagined Chris on his knees, swallowing Peter down and watching as the wolf falls apart under his tongue. Imagined Peter straddling Chris, sinking down on the hunter's cock and riding him until they both come.
She's pretty much imagined them in every single combination and none of it, none of it, is as hot as actually seeing it with her own eyes. Seeing the way Chris' fingers hold Peter's hips tight enough to leave bruises. The way Peter keeps his head tilted back, even when Chris' hand moves from his hair, throat bared for a hunter.
Her clit throbs as she works herself, fingers brushing over it in time with Chris' thrusts, in time with the slick sound of flesh hitting flesh as Chris fucks Peter.
There are words in the air, low and careful, and if Erica was still human she knows she'd never hear them. But she's not, not any more, and so each one reaches her. Each yes-- and beautiful-- and mine-- and Peter--. Each more-- and harder-- and please-- and Chris--.
She leans against the tree next to her as Chris reaches around, wraps his fingers around Peter's cock and starts to jerk him. The three of them are moving in the same rhythm, and Erica feels a part of what's happening in front of her. Even if they aren't touching, even if she's not right there with them, she is.
Chris' hand is moving faster over Peter, and Erica finds herself speeding up to match him. Everything else around her is drowned out by the sound of flesh against flesh, by the soft, begging whimpers coming from Peter and the encouraging murmurs from Chris. Drowned out by the scent of sweat and gun oil, by the soft smell of salt that's either tears or precome. Erica can't tell, it may be both.
Peter is the first to fall, his groan almost covering the sound of his come hitting the forest floor, almost covering the sound of soft spatters against fallen leaves. The sharp tang of Peter's completion hits Erica like a wall and she presses her clit hard, shuddering and coming around her fingers as she jams her other arm into her mouth to muffle the moan she can feel welling up in her.
She pulls her hand out of her pussy as her breathing steadies, fastening the buttons on her jeans and wiping the fluids sticking to her fingers on the denim. She knows she'll get looks from the pack when she gets back to the house, knows they'll smell the arousal on her, but she'll take them. She'll have had worse looks for less.
By the time she focuses back on Chris and Peter, Chris is half collapsed over Peter's back, breathing heavily and running a hand over Peter's thigh. There are soft murmurs, so low Erica can't hear them even if she concentrates.
After a few moments, Chris pulls back, his cock sliding out of Peter's body as the scent of Chris joins Peter's in the air. Chris laughs as he swipes his fingers over Peter's ass, pushing them into his body as Peter huffs out a Really, Christopher--, his voice rough and wrecked.
It takes a second for Erica to realise what she's watching, takes a second for her to connect Chris' movements with him pushing his own come back into Peter's body from where it's leaking out. And suddenly all Erica can think about is how many times Chris and Peter have vanished off somewhere only for them to reappear later, their scents clinging to each other. Can't help but wonder how many of those times have seen Peter talking to the pack while he's still full of Chris, have seen him carrying out conversations while he's still dripping with Chris' come.
And Erica needs to leave before she sticks her hand back into her jeans with the thought of it.
Chris is pulling Peter to his feet, the two of them tucking themselves back in and brushing the detritus of the forest off their clothes.
Erica steps away from tree, hoping they're still too attuned to each other to hear her, but she's stopped by Peter's voice, low and careful and with none of the mocking tone she associates so closely with him.
"Oh, Erica, next time, don't be so shy."
Erica smiles to herself as she steps back, not bothering to quieten her tracks now that she knows they knew she was there all along.
"Derek wants you back at the house." Her voice is quiet, but still carries across the distance between them.
"We'll head back in about ten." The response comes from Chris. "And, Erica, think about what Peter said, okay."
Her smile widens, knowing that the next time the two of them slip out of a pack meeting, she'll be slipping out right after them. "Until next time, then," she says.
And then she's gone, running through the Preserve and back to the pack house, with the scent of promise in the air behind her.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,183
Summary: In which Erica watches
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris.
Waiting for the Rain
Erica's hand is half way into her jeans before she even realises what she's doing.
Go and find Chris and Peter, Derek had told her.
They're patrolling in the forest, he'd said.
Only when she'd found them, they weren't patrolling, weren't focused on anything beyond each other.
And, yeah, the pack knows they're together. It's hard not to when their scents are as combined as they are, merged together to such an extent that Erica has to concentrate if she wants to know if it's Chris or Peter coming up behind her.
But there's a difference between knowing it and knowing it. A difference between looking at the two of them and seeing Chris' hand casually resting on Peter's thigh, and seeing Peter on all fours, Chris' fingers tangled in his hair as he drives into Peter's body.
Peter's eyes are closed, with his head pulled back, and Erica can see the tremors running through his arms as he holds himself up, as he pushes back into Chris' thrusts. Their jeans are around their thighs, like they only pulled them as far down as they needed to before they started. Like they needed to get skin against skin as quickly as possible.
The scent of sex is in the air, sharp and tart and flooding everything around them. And Erica doesn't even think about what she's doing, as she snaps out the buttons on her jeans, easing her fingers into the denim and slipping them into her panties.
She's already wet as she slides her fingers into her pussy. Between the view and the scents and the positively sinful moans that are dropping from Peter's lips, she's not surprised.
And she's not ashamed to admit she's thought about it, about them together. Both Chris and Peter are fucking hot, and the thought of them together is positively incendiary. So, yeah, there have been nights when she's lay back in her bed, with her fingers buried inside herself, and imagined the two of them together. Imagined Chris on his knees, swallowing Peter down and watching as the wolf falls apart under his tongue. Imagined Peter straddling Chris, sinking down on the hunter's cock and riding him until they both come.
She's pretty much imagined them in every single combination and none of it, none of it, is as hot as actually seeing it with her own eyes. Seeing the way Chris' fingers hold Peter's hips tight enough to leave bruises. The way Peter keeps his head tilted back, even when Chris' hand moves from his hair, throat bared for a hunter.
Her clit throbs as she works herself, fingers brushing over it in time with Chris' thrusts, in time with the slick sound of flesh hitting flesh as Chris fucks Peter.
There are words in the air, low and careful, and if Erica was still human she knows she'd never hear them. But she's not, not any more, and so each one reaches her. Each yes-- and beautiful-- and mine-- and Peter--. Each more-- and harder-- and please-- and Chris--.
She leans against the tree next to her as Chris reaches around, wraps his fingers around Peter's cock and starts to jerk him. The three of them are moving in the same rhythm, and Erica feels a part of what's happening in front of her. Even if they aren't touching, even if she's not right there with them, she is.
Chris' hand is moving faster over Peter, and Erica finds herself speeding up to match him. Everything else around her is drowned out by the sound of flesh against flesh, by the soft, begging whimpers coming from Peter and the encouraging murmurs from Chris. Drowned out by the scent of sweat and gun oil, by the soft smell of salt that's either tears or precome. Erica can't tell, it may be both.
Peter is the first to fall, his groan almost covering the sound of his come hitting the forest floor, almost covering the sound of soft spatters against fallen leaves. The sharp tang of Peter's completion hits Erica like a wall and she presses her clit hard, shuddering and coming around her fingers as she jams her other arm into her mouth to muffle the moan she can feel welling up in her.
She pulls her hand out of her pussy as her breathing steadies, fastening the buttons on her jeans and wiping the fluids sticking to her fingers on the denim. She knows she'll get looks from the pack when she gets back to the house, knows they'll smell the arousal on her, but she'll take them. She'll have had worse looks for less.
By the time she focuses back on Chris and Peter, Chris is half collapsed over Peter's back, breathing heavily and running a hand over Peter's thigh. There are soft murmurs, so low Erica can't hear them even if she concentrates.
After a few moments, Chris pulls back, his cock sliding out of Peter's body as the scent of Chris joins Peter's in the air. Chris laughs as he swipes his fingers over Peter's ass, pushing them into his body as Peter huffs out a Really, Christopher--, his voice rough and wrecked.
It takes a second for Erica to realise what she's watching, takes a second for her to connect Chris' movements with him pushing his own come back into Peter's body from where it's leaking out. And suddenly all Erica can think about is how many times Chris and Peter have vanished off somewhere only for them to reappear later, their scents clinging to each other. Can't help but wonder how many of those times have seen Peter talking to the pack while he's still full of Chris, have seen him carrying out conversations while he's still dripping with Chris' come.
And Erica needs to leave before she sticks her hand back into her jeans with the thought of it.
Chris is pulling Peter to his feet, the two of them tucking themselves back in and brushing the detritus of the forest off their clothes.
Erica steps away from tree, hoping they're still too attuned to each other to hear her, but she's stopped by Peter's voice, low and careful and with none of the mocking tone she associates so closely with him.
"Oh, Erica, next time, don't be so shy."
Erica smiles to herself as she steps back, not bothering to quieten her tracks now that she knows they knew she was there all along.
"Derek wants you back at the house." Her voice is quiet, but still carries across the distance between them.
"We'll head back in about ten." The response comes from Chris. "And, Erica, think about what Peter said, okay."
Her smile widens, knowing that the next time the two of them slip out of a pack meeting, she'll be slipping out right after them. "Until next time, then," she says.
And then she's gone, running through the Preserve and back to the pack house, with the scent of promise in the air behind her.
