As Peter licks lower on Stiles' neck, he can taste the blood, the kill... his nose is filled with their scent, with the bitter scent of blood and prey. He loves it. His wolf opens his mouth and bites into his mate's neck, not to hurt, but to claim and keep close. Stiles' moaning echoing all around them all loud and shameless and Peter never want it to end.

They are victors of this land and the way Stiles feels under him proves it. His skin is hot and dirty with blood and the fight and yet he's never been more appealing. He feels strong and powerful and Peter can't get enough. Stiles is his emissary, his mate, and a really strong one.

Peter moans into Stiles' neck as he's still holding him between his teeth, arms sliding lower on his body to grab his ass and pull him even closer to his thrusts.