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moonlettuceTitle: Inside him there's longing
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,178
Summary: In which Peter gets de-aged and Chris likes it a little too much
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris. Title taken from Don't Stand So Close To Me by the Police, and then altered slightly (the original lyric is 'Inside her there's longing').
Inside him there's longing
Chris is fucked. Absolutely and totally fucked. Dropping the duffel bag he's carrying on to the floor, he walks through into his bathroom, stripping off his clothes and trying not to remember the look that had been on Peter Hale's face that afternoon.
The water's barely warm when Chris steps into the shower, and if someone had told him a few weeks ago he'd end up having a cold shower at his age because Peter fucking Hale kept coming on to him, he'd have laughed. Well, he's not laughing now.
The stupid thing is, he's not horrified with himself because it's Peter, not entirely. Chris knows Peter's a good looking guy, he's even thought about having the werewolf on his knees once or twice when jerking off, maybe thought about what it would feel like to plow Peter's ass, to see if he'd take it as well as Chris thinks he would. But none of the fantasies that have gone through his head have had the all encompassing want that's been running through Chris this past month.
And the thoughts he'd had were when Peter had been a grown ass adult, before that fucking warlock had come to Beacon Hills and everything had gone to shit. Because said warlock had thrown one last thing at them before Derek managed to swipe claws through his throat, and here they were. Left with a fucking seventeen year old Peter, with all of his memories intact and, according to Deaton, no way to age him back up.
And the little shit's been all but throwing himself at Chris since it happened. And, yes, Peter's technically in his thirties, but his body is the same age as Allison, the same age as his daughter, so Chris shouldn't be watching him bend over to get something out of the fridge and thinking about how he wants to palm Peter's ass and slide inside. The thing is, Peter knows it, knows exactly how Chris is reacting to him, innocent face at odds with his eyes, sharp and knowing and understanding exactly what Chris wants to do to him.
He'd had to leave the pack meeting today, had to leave after Peter had leaned over, mouth close to Chris' ear. After he'd leaned over and murmured, soft and low and too quiet for the other wolves to hear, about how he'd first been fucked when he was 18, so he was still a virgin in that body, and how did Chris feel about that?
It had only been the presence of the rest of the pack that had stopped Chris from showing him exactly how he felt. That had stopped him from manhandling Peter over the back of the couch, dragging those tight jeans down over his ass and pushing in on spit and precome. And he's pretty sure the wolves had smelled the arousal on him when he'd left, pretty sure that he'd wanted to do nothing more than wipe the smirk off Peter's face.
He'd jerked off in the truck before he'd driven back, cock out and coming over his fingers after only a couple of tugs. And he thought he'd be fine, thought that would be it, and then his phone had vibrated twice while he was driving, two text messages waiting for him until he'd reached home.
He'd swiped his thumb across the screen as he'd been getting out of the truck, regretting it almost immediately when he saw Peter's name. He'd been tempted to delete them, to never want to see them, but he couldn't help himself. He'd wanted to know what Peter had sent to him. He really wishes he hadn't. Wishes he hadn't read the first text, wishes he hadn't seen the photo in the second.
Because now he can't get them out of his mind. Has the Jerked off to thoughts of you fucking my virgin ass-- running around and around his head. Has the picture of Peter's fingers around his limp cock, come splattered against his skin, seared onto his eyes.
Chris' fingers are around his cock, stripping himself hard and fast as the water washes over him. And he wishes he was thinking about something, anything, apart from Peter, but he can't. He can't see anything beyond Peter, on his knees and mouth open, waiting for Chris to come. Peter, with his lips swollen from where he's been sucking Chris' cock and tear tracks that had run down his face when he gagged but didn't pull back.
And Chris feels like the worst kind of person, because he wants to ruin Peter. He wants to pin Peter down and open him around his fingers, feeling Peter's tight ass squeeze around him. He wants to slick Peter up and slide his cock right in, until he's balls deep and Peter is begging him to move, to do something. He wants Peter under him, whimpering each time Chris' cock pushes into him, wants Peter reduced to wordless gasps and whines, wants him reduced to Yes-- and Harder-- and Please-- and More--
He wants to come inside Peter, marking up the wolf as his. He wants Peter to walk out, drenched in his scent and declaring to everyone that he's Chris'. He wants Peter next to him, under him. He just wants Peter.
The name Chris moans as he comes is Peter's, cock jumping and pulsing out come against the shower wall, sliding down the slick tiles. He breathes carefully as the water washes the come away, swirls of white disappearing down the drain as Chris' heartbeat returns to normal.
And Chris knows he's going to give in to the desire that runs through him whenever he sees Peter, whenever he thinks of Peter. Because even the thought of someone else putting their hands on Peter, the thought of someone else touching him, makes the ugly, possessive side of Chris flare to life.
Turning the water off, Chris steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel and rubbing it over himself quickly. He doesn't bother with clothes as he heads through into his bedroom, picking his jeans up from the floor and pulling his cell out of his pocket. His thumb hovers over the screen, the last message from Peter still on there, and the photo taunting him for long moments before his thumb moves over the screen.
The Come to mine he types out is short and to the point, and barely seconds pass before an answering text comes back from Peter with Be there soon. Even though he just came a few minutes ago, Chris' dick twitches at the thought of Peter on his way to his apartment, so eager to lie down and spread his legs for a hunter, so eager to give it all up to Chris.
Smiling at the thought of it, at the thought of Peter smelling so completely of Chris by the time they're done, Chris lies back on the bed, his arms under his head and settles in to wait for his wolf to arrive.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,178
Summary: In which Peter gets de-aged and Chris likes it a little too much
Additional Notes: Beta'ed by Temaris. Title taken from Don't Stand So Close To Me by the Police, and then altered slightly (the original lyric is 'Inside her there's longing').
Inside him there's longing
Chris is fucked. Absolutely and totally fucked. Dropping the duffel bag he's carrying on to the floor, he walks through into his bathroom, stripping off his clothes and trying not to remember the look that had been on Peter Hale's face that afternoon.
The water's barely warm when Chris steps into the shower, and if someone had told him a few weeks ago he'd end up having a cold shower at his age because Peter fucking Hale kept coming on to him, he'd have laughed. Well, he's not laughing now.
The stupid thing is, he's not horrified with himself because it's Peter, not entirely. Chris knows Peter's a good looking guy, he's even thought about having the werewolf on his knees once or twice when jerking off, maybe thought about what it would feel like to plow Peter's ass, to see if he'd take it as well as Chris thinks he would. But none of the fantasies that have gone through his head have had the all encompassing want that's been running through Chris this past month.
And the thoughts he'd had were when Peter had been a grown ass adult, before that fucking warlock had come to Beacon Hills and everything had gone to shit. Because said warlock had thrown one last thing at them before Derek managed to swipe claws through his throat, and here they were. Left with a fucking seventeen year old Peter, with all of his memories intact and, according to Deaton, no way to age him back up.
And the little shit's been all but throwing himself at Chris since it happened. And, yes, Peter's technically in his thirties, but his body is the same age as Allison, the same age as his daughter, so Chris shouldn't be watching him bend over to get something out of the fridge and thinking about how he wants to palm Peter's ass and slide inside. The thing is, Peter knows it, knows exactly how Chris is reacting to him, innocent face at odds with his eyes, sharp and knowing and understanding exactly what Chris wants to do to him.
He'd had to leave the pack meeting today, had to leave after Peter had leaned over, mouth close to Chris' ear. After he'd leaned over and murmured, soft and low and too quiet for the other wolves to hear, about how he'd first been fucked when he was 18, so he was still a virgin in that body, and how did Chris feel about that?
It had only been the presence of the rest of the pack that had stopped Chris from showing him exactly how he felt. That had stopped him from manhandling Peter over the back of the couch, dragging those tight jeans down over his ass and pushing in on spit and precome. And he's pretty sure the wolves had smelled the arousal on him when he'd left, pretty sure that he'd wanted to do nothing more than wipe the smirk off Peter's face.
He'd jerked off in the truck before he'd driven back, cock out and coming over his fingers after only a couple of tugs. And he thought he'd be fine, thought that would be it, and then his phone had vibrated twice while he was driving, two text messages waiting for him until he'd reached home.
He'd swiped his thumb across the screen as he'd been getting out of the truck, regretting it almost immediately when he saw Peter's name. He'd been tempted to delete them, to never want to see them, but he couldn't help himself. He'd wanted to know what Peter had sent to him. He really wishes he hadn't. Wishes he hadn't read the first text, wishes he hadn't seen the photo in the second.
Because now he can't get them out of his mind. Has the Jerked off to thoughts of you fucking my virgin ass-- running around and around his head. Has the picture of Peter's fingers around his limp cock, come splattered against his skin, seared onto his eyes.
Chris' fingers are around his cock, stripping himself hard and fast as the water washes over him. And he wishes he was thinking about something, anything, apart from Peter, but he can't. He can't see anything beyond Peter, on his knees and mouth open, waiting for Chris to come. Peter, with his lips swollen from where he's been sucking Chris' cock and tear tracks that had run down his face when he gagged but didn't pull back.
And Chris feels like the worst kind of person, because he wants to ruin Peter. He wants to pin Peter down and open him around his fingers, feeling Peter's tight ass squeeze around him. He wants to slick Peter up and slide his cock right in, until he's balls deep and Peter is begging him to move, to do something. He wants Peter under him, whimpering each time Chris' cock pushes into him, wants Peter reduced to wordless gasps and whines, wants him reduced to Yes-- and Harder-- and Please-- and More--
He wants to come inside Peter, marking up the wolf as his. He wants Peter to walk out, drenched in his scent and declaring to everyone that he's Chris'. He wants Peter next to him, under him. He just wants Peter.
The name Chris moans as he comes is Peter's, cock jumping and pulsing out come against the shower wall, sliding down the slick tiles. He breathes carefully as the water washes the come away, swirls of white disappearing down the drain as Chris' heartbeat returns to normal.
And Chris knows he's going to give in to the desire that runs through him whenever he sees Peter, whenever he thinks of Peter. Because even the thought of someone else putting their hands on Peter, the thought of someone else touching him, makes the ugly, possessive side of Chris flare to life.
Turning the water off, Chris steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel and rubbing it over himself quickly. He doesn't bother with clothes as he heads through into his bedroom, picking his jeans up from the floor and pulling his cell out of his pocket. His thumb hovers over the screen, the last message from Peter still on there, and the photo taunting him for long moments before his thumb moves over the screen.
The Come to mine he types out is short and to the point, and barely seconds pass before an answering text comes back from Peter with Be there soon. Even though he just came a few minutes ago, Chris' dick twitches at the thought of Peter on his way to his apartment, so eager to lie down and spread his legs for a hunter, so eager to give it all up to Chris.
Smiling at the thought of it, at the thought of Peter smelling so completely of Chris by the time they're done, Chris lies back on the bed, his arms under his head and settles in to wait for his wolf to arrive.
