moonlettuce: (Misc: Legs sepia)
Claire ([personal profile] moonlettuce) wrote2017-05-02 12:37 am

Fic: Over a Barrel, Teen Wolf, Chris Argent / Peter Hale, Peter Hale / Others

Title: Over A Barrel
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale, Peter Hale / Others
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Non-con
Word Count: 1,996
Summary: Where Peter is a tavern boy, and Chris is Captain of the Guard

Over A Barrel

Peter looks up as the tavern door bangs open, the calls for food and drink overlapping from the soldiers that spill in.

Elizabeth just glances over to where the men are settling around tables, crowding into the heat of the fireplace as they shed cloaks and jackets. Within a minute a tray of drinks is placed on the bar, frothing mugs of what is probably the cheapest ale in the house. Not that it matters, Peter thinks. It's not as though the likes of those who have just entered would even care about the beer beyond it being wet and alcoholic.

Avoiding the hands that grab at him as he walks over, Peter places the first set of drinks on one of the tables. He knows enough about the insignia one of the men is wearing to serve the Captain first, first glancing at him and then quickly looking away from the curious gaze in those blue eyes.

The second tray of drinks Peter takes over is deposited as quickly as the first, and there's a shock of pain across his ass as he's heading back to the bar. He pauses in surprise at the slap on his ass, and he didn't hear the comment that accompanied it, but the rough laughter that follows the words tells him enough.

Elizabeth's sharp voice beckons him back to the bar, and all he needs to do is get this last tray of drinks to them, and then he's done for the night.

He weaves his way to the final table of soldiers, all too aware of the watchful gaze of the Captain as the last of the drinks is placed on the table. Peter's tray is barely empty for a second before one of the men reaches out, grabs Peter around the waist and tugs him onto his knee.

"I think I've found the entertainment for tonight!" the man says, as he gropes Peter's ass.

Peter struggles to get off the man's knee, finally breaking free. And he's just about to walk away when a low, gravelly voice says, "Stop."

When Peter turns in the direction the voice came from, the Captain is just looking at him.

"Come here," the man says, like he's expecting Peter to obey instantly, like he's used to people following his orders.

And Peter doesn't mean to go over, but his legs are moving before he can think about it.

"What do you think, Captain Argent?" one of the men yells as Peter comes to a stop in front of the Captain, in front of Argent.

Argent reaches up, gripping Peter's chin in his hand, turning Peter's head to one side and then another. And even though Peter's looking down on Argent, he knows he's not in control here.

"I think he'll do," Argent replies, ignoring the hoots and catcalls from the men as he calls the landlady over.

Elizabeth barely spares a glance for Peter as she approaches. And he knows that when she gave him the job, when she agreed to let him work there, that she didn't ask questions. She didn't ask how old he was, or where he'd come from, or why he was so grateful for the offer of the room above the stables. But he also knows that her main concern is the tavern, and keeping her customers happy enough that they'll keep coming back.

"Yes, Captain?" she asks.

"We'll need something to put him over," Argent says, never taking his eyes from Peter, and smirking when Peter's breath catches. "Do you know if he's been had before?"

"Not in here, he hasn't," Elizabeth replies. "And I've never seen him out with anyone. Don't know about before, though."

"How long as he worked here?" is the next question.

"A year come April."

Peter can't believe they're discussing him like some sort of thing. He knows he should say something, should pull away from Argent's grip and walk away, but he can't. And he doesn't know if it's the piercing blue eyes that are keeping him pinned, or the knowledge that he just has nowhere else to go.

Argent nods at Elizabeth's answer. "Long enough, then. Even if he was being fucked daily before that, he's had enough time to tighten right back up again."

Peter flushes at the words. He knows that no one around him knows exactly why he left his home, why he just packed his bag one night and went, but still...

Elizabeth points over to the corner, where a low stand with a barrel on it sits. And Peter thinks that if he's over that, it'll put him pretty much at waist height.

"That do you?" she asks.

Argent finally stops scrutinizing Peter to follow the direction of Elizabeth's finger, smiling when he sees the barrel. "That will be perfect."

He tells two of the men to fetch it over, to drag it into the middle of the clearing the others are making, pushing back some of the tables. He waits until it's all set up before fixing his attention back on Peter.

"Here's how it's going to go," Argent says, pitching his voice loud enough that all of his men can hear. "You're going to take all of your clothes off before we lay you over that barrel. And then you're going to take each and every one of my men. Whether that's in these pretty cocksucking lips of yours or in that tight asshole, I don't care. But you are going to take them."

Peter's head is swimming. Argent can't be serious; nearly twenty men came in with him.

"And, then, after you've taken all of them, you're going to go out to the stables and flush yourself out. Then you'll come back here, and it'll be my turn."

Argent lets go of Peter's chin, and a few of the men around them laugh as Peter stumbles back slightly.

"Look at that!" one of them says. "He's dizzy with want for all our cock."

There's a ripple of laughter, and it makes Peter flush with a combination of anger and arousal and humiliation. And he's about to tell them no, to say he won't, when arms wrap around his waist and lift him off his feet.

"He's taking too long," the behemoth carrying him comments. He sets Peter in front of the barrel and starts pulling Peter's clothes off.

Peter's naked in a under a minute, his hands cupping in front of him automatically. There's a hand between his shoulders and he can feel it pushing him down, but then Argent speaks.


And Peter thinks that maybe Argent's changed his mind, that maybe he realised there are dozens of others throughout the town that would be more than happy to bring succour to his men.

But all Argent says is, "Around the other side. I want to see his face."

The soldier manoeuvres Peter around the barrel, and the hand is back between his shoulders, pushing him over the barrel, until he's standing on tiptoes and barely reaching the floor.

There's the sound of footsteps across the wooden floor, and then Elizabeth is next to them, holding something out.

"Here, you'll want this to ease the way."

She walks away after that, the bottle of oil the soldier puts on the floor damning Peter with its presence.

There's the rustle of clothes behind him, and the oil is picked up only seconds before a hand spreads open his asscheeks, just before Peter feels some of the oil land at the top of his ass, drizzling down over his hole.

Peter looks up as he feels the hard cock against his hole, teeth biting at his lower lip as it starts to push into him, starts to spread him open.

His eyes meet Argent's, the Captain's hand moving to undo his trousers, to pull his already hardening cock out, stroking it as he watches as Peter is breeched.

"Fuck, he's tight," the man fucking into him mutters, as his cockhead pops into Peter.

Peter's eyes widen at the flare of pain, widen at the burn as the man continues to push into his asshole, slow and steady as Peter's head drops to stare at the ground, at the beer and dirt stained floor under them.

It seems an age until the man is fully inside him, coarse hair scratching at Peter's ass before the soldier pulls back, setting a rhythm that has Peter rubbing against the barrel's roughness as he's fucked.

There's a comment from someone about Peter being mounted like a dog, and another that's lost in a sea of raucous laughter.

It's Argent's voice that cuts through it all, though, telling the man behind him to slow down for a moment.

The cock inside him feels huge, even more so when it's not moving. Peter closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, black boots are in his vision.

"Lift his head."

Fingers tangle in his hair to pull his head up, his neck stretching as he's forced to look up into Argent's eyes. And even in this position, all Peter can think is how very blue the gaze now pinning him is.

"What's his name?" Argent calls out, smiling when Elizabeth responds.


His name shouldn't be on the Captain's lips. It sounds too much like a curse, like a caress Peter doesn't want but can't help turning into.

"Go slowly." And even though he's the one Argent is looking at, Peter knows the words aren't for him. "We want Peter to savour this."

"Aye, Captain."

Peter closes his eyes as the man inside him starts to fuck him again, slower this time. Careful, like Peter's something precious, instead of a tavern boy they've thrown over a barrel. He opens them again at the touch on his cheek, at the way Argent's hand cups his face.

"That's right, Peter. Keep your eyes on me."

Argent's other hand is around his cock, stroking himself, and it takes a beat for Peter to realise it's in time with the man behind him.

Argent's so close to him that his fingers brush the cheek he isn't cupping with each upward stroke over his cock.

"You're going to be so good for us, aren't you." It's a statement, a fact rumbled out in a gravel-laden voice that seems to penetrate to Peter's core. It's only when Argent's thumb rubs over his cheek, when the Captain murmurs "Good boy--" that Peter understands he said yes without even knowing it.

"Now, open your mouth, sweetheart."

Peter's lips fall open on the next thrust into him, Argent placing his cockhead on Peter's lower lip.

There's a nod to the man behind Peter, and Peter jerks forward as he's fucked quicker, the thrusts harder and rougher. Argent's hand is stripping over his cock, and all it takes is once, twice, before there's a groan and Peter's mouth is filling with the man's release. Argent steps back, and the hand cupping his cheek moves to cover Peter's mouth.

"Swallow it, Peter."

And Peter wants to ignore him, to spit the fluid in his mouth onto the floor, but the hand over his lips isn't moving. It's hot and sweaty, and Peter can taste the ride they had to the village on Argent's palm.

He swallows, trying to ignore the flare of warmth in him at the smile Argent gives him, at the "See, I knew you'd be a good boy for us."

There's a grunt behind him as the soldier fucking him thrusts into Peter one last time before coming. There's a dribble of wet warmth from him as the man pulls out, a slap laid on his ass as the man shouts out "Next!"

Argent just smiles at Peter as the next soldier comes up, pushing inside and starting to fuck him without comment. And the bitter taste on Peter's tongue remains as Argent moves away to take his seat and continue watching.