burnedwolf | Mermaids ahoy

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Mermaids ahoy

It's been a while since Peter has smelled the ocean. It brought back hazy memories of summer vacations with his family and old friends he has never seen ever since the fire. He didn't even remember them.

Though, this beach was different. Peter deliberately tried to find a place they had never visited with his family, and he didn't want to go in the summer. Spring break was fine. Spring had a different smell, even on the beach. Now it will have the smell of the memories with his mate.

Peter was standing on the porch of the house they have rented for this trip, waiting for Stiles to carry the remaining bags from the car. He was eying the shore in the late afternoon sun. Some would say the shore was even ugly and that's why the rent was so cheap. It wasn't a popular place, it wasn't for parties and drinking, it was for... finding magical artifacts. But most importantly mermaids.

But it will be perfect for what they planned, Peter wondered.

"Coming?" he called Stiles then.

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Stiles looks back when he hears Peter's words and nods. The creature is dead under him so Stiles drops the knife for the moment and roots through his bag for a few empty containers he brought along to carry what they're taking back. He pulls out a pair of pliers as well and starts pulling out sharp teeth, dropping them into a container. Then claws are the next to go, pulling them free and dropping them into the container as well.

After he moves down and starts to skin a few chunks of scales from the mermaid, dropping them into a second container. He doesn't stop until the container is nearly packed full, the scales are rather powerful, mystically speaking, so the more they have the better. After a few moments of thinking, he cuts some chunks of hair as well, banding them together before shoving them into the container with the scales.

As he's putting everything away he gives one more glance to the mermaid and moves to the end of the tail, chopping off the tailfin as well. It's shimmery and translucent, beautiful really. He wraps it up in some cloth before tucking it away with the rest of their bounty before moving to join Peter.

"C'mon, let's go. I'm frickin' freezing," he grouses, though he's also rather... turned on as well. He's not really sure how he feels about that. And, besides, he wants to leave before the poison dissolves and the other mermaids come back.

Peter also gets to work, he takes what he can... what remained of the body under him and collects it in the containers Stiles has brought. The smell is everywhere, blood, death, water... and mermaids. They are angry, but scared. They are afraid of them and Peter thought they might as well be.

Stiles is taking everything, which is good. He's thinking of everything and Peter is proud, Peter is satisfied. Though, they will have to look up a few codex on mermaid parts.

He takes one of the bags with the containers in it and stands up, his wolf howling. His eyes are still red as he's looking at Stiles. Peter offers his hand.

"Let's go and warm up then." his voice is low, almost growling. Their hunt was a success, there was blood and the joy of killing prey is going to linger. And the joy of watching his mate, Stiles, going so much further in just a few minutes than Peter would have thought. "They won't follow. They are afraid." he grins with too much teeth.

There's no hesitation when Stiles takes Peter's hand, his own covered in blood from the kill and removal of all magical parts of the mermaid. Excitement and adrenaline is rushing through him, leaving him feeling as if he's vibrating with it.

"Yeah, okay," he replies, voice a little breathless as he follows Peter out of the darkened cave, and though he's only human even Stiles can smell the stench of death. "They should be afraid," Stiles murmurs, smirking at his wolf.

Peter can feel the excitement, the rush, the spark also flaring bright and powerful. He wished their pack would be more, then they could have claimed this territory in no time. But maybe in the future.

He squeezes the boy's bloody hands with his, walking back toward their place. Peter smirks back, his wolf howling. His red eyes not leaving the boy's for a long time, he's proud.

No words needed as they walk the beach, leaving their scent and mark behind for every creature to know that they have taken their offering.

Stiles follows closely behind, his shoulder aches from where the mermaid scratched him but the adrenaline rushing through him still keeps it from hurting too much. He'll feel it tomorrow, for sure. But right now it's not at the forefront of his thoughts.

When the beach house comes into view, Stiles grins at Peter and lets go of the man's hand to rush forward toward the house. He slows to turn back once to give Peter a heated look and a smirk, before turning and taking off.

Giving chase to the wolf behind him.

Before Peter could tighten his grip Stiles is already slipping away. He runs ahead and Peter is ready to follow.

But then the boy turns back, teasing the wolf too and Peter feels his teeth ache from something dark and primal. His gaze is crimson as his body is giving into the hunt, which is not truly a hunt. It's something way better.

He runs after Stiles, following him to the house, just growling deep in his chest.

Adrenaline jolts through him when he hears Peter chasing after him, the teen running full force toward the house. He knows Peter is much faster than he is, and really that's the point, knowing the werewolf is going to catch him. Likely before he even sets foot on the front porch.

But then again, that's half the fun.

They're both worked up from the fight (and the kill, though he's in deep denial about that himself) and he knows this chase will help them both in the long run.

When Peter is close enough, when Stiles knows he's going to lose this chase, he tosses the bag off to the side so when Peter inevitably catches him nothing will be broken or ruined.

Peter catches up, getting rid of his own bag before he reaches for Stiles right at the front door. He may slam him against it with a bit more force than necessary. His limbs trembling from the hunt, the kill and the urge... They are both smelling like the ocean, blood, pain and victory. Peter loves it.

He can't look away from his prey as he pins Stiles against the door with his body, his bloody hand coming up to grab the boy's chin.

"I'm so proud of you." Peter growls, his eyes crimson and intense on his mate. "I want to have you."

Stiles gasps when Peter slams him against the door, pain and excitement surging through him. Warmth explodes through him at the praise Peter gives him.

His hand comes up to wrap fingers around Peter's wrist, but he doesn't pull him away, just holds on. "You can have me," he breathes out, his other hand coming up to press his warm, damp hand against the werewolf's cheek. "You'll always have me." Because Stiles certainly isn't going anywhere.

Peter tilts his head into Stiles' touch. Lips brushing over his palm, tasting blood and kill. He isn't in a better shape his injuries will heal in a day. But Peter feels on the peak of his strength.

His hands move then to hook under Stiles' thighs, lifting him to have at least a little release in their closeness. Peter pins them against the door again, arching into the boy's body.

"That's good," he growls. "Because you have my life now." he says leaning in for a sloppy, bitter tasting kiss.

His breath hitches excitedly when Peter lifts him up, his legs instantly hooking around the man's hips to better their leverage. His arms loop around Peter's neck as the man kisses him, Stiles moaning into it as he curls his fingers into Peter's hair.

It thrills him, they are each others now. Stiles moans into the kiss again, returning it and eagerly arching into Peter's body. He pulls back only for a moment to breath against the man's lips. "Inside," he murmurs, then leans in to kiss him again.

"In a moment." Peter breaths, smirking and opens the door. The bags can wait, no one will take them, he will hear anyway.

He's so eager to take Stiles, he's shivering for it. All he can think of his mate's scent and excitement over the hunt and the kill... their kill, but Stiles' plan. Exactly how their pack should work.

Their pack, Peter wonders his knees almost buckling, but not from Stiles' weight.

"You've been perfect, Stiles, way over my expectations." he speaks in a low, strained voice, carrying Stiles inside. "I'm so proud of you." He breathes and kisses the boy again.

The praise is almost more than he can handle, and he lets out a low pleased sound as he kisses Peter back, harder and more passionate than previously, clinging to the man. Stiles can't... really remember the last time someone's told him that, and he didn't realize until then how much he's wanted to hear it.

"Peter, please," Stiles whines softly against his mate's mouth, hips rolling slowly against Peter's own.

Peter is not sure he'll be able to take their clothes off in time. He's felt this excited only a long time ago, maybe in a different life.

He's only barely aware he pushes them down the couch in the living room, pressing his his against Stiles'.

"I'll give you anything you want tonight." Peter breathes as he's licking a path down Stiles' chin and neck, is hands already messing with the boy's jeans.

He lets out a soft huff as he's pressed into the sofa, body arching and grinding up against Peter's. He doesn't even care about how dirty, bloody and filthy they are, he just wants Peter.

Stiles wants him so much, not just right now (well, aside from right now), but forever.

"Want," he pants out, his own hands pulling at Peter's shirt to try to get it off of him. "Want you to fuck me," he breathes out finally, abandoning Peter's shirt for a moment to pull his own off, tossing it off to the side before getting Peter's off of him as well.

They smell like the shore, the water, blood and mermaids. And victory. And Peter and his wolf is ready to take their mate as the night's last hunt.

He let's Stiles take off their shirts, welcoming the warm skin against his. Peter also could get Stiles' jeans open, and his impatient fingers are already inside, squeezing the boy through his pants.

"I'm not gonna fuck you, Stiles. I'm going to make you mine. I'm going to remind you you're pack." Peter speaks, giving a squeeze with every word of his.

Then he goes and drags Stiles' jeans off, along with his dirty shoes and socks. The sight and the smell of need makes his own pants tight, but soon he will have what he wants. What they both want.

"You've never been more beautiful, Stiles."

The moment Peter's hand is on him, Stiles rocks into it, moaning loudly and panting. He's so, so ready for whatever Peter's going to give him- going to do to him. By the time Peter gets the rest of Stiles' clothes off, the teen is a writhing mess on the sofa.

Peter's praise makes him flush, and for once he believes his words. He can't imagine what he must look like to Peter. Laying there naked and panting, hard for him, and covered in the blood of the- their kill.

Reaching up Stiles pulls Peter down into a needy kiss, groaning into it. "C'mon, wolf, make me yours."

Peter kisses back, licking deep into Stiles' mouth to taste him, to really taste him.

At their luck he still had a packet of lube in his pockets so he could prepare Stiles before he would claim him. After all, he was here to take and make him his, not to hurt him. Peter tears the packet with his teeth making a mess on his fingers but it's more than enough to prepare Stiles with it.

"Tell me... how do you feel, Stiles. Tell me." he can smell, of course, but he wants Stiles to also know in a way. To describe it in words. Meanwhile he's working two fingers inside the boy, impatient and needy for claiming. It's hot and dirty and they are both a mess, but Peter had never wanted Stiles more than in that moment.

Stiles squirms and lets out a little noise as Peter pushes two fingers into him, the teen spreading his legs a little more to give the man more room to work.

"I- good, I feel good, better. Your- aah- fingers feel good inside me," though not as much as Peter's dick will, he knows. He rocks down onto Peter's fingers, helping to ease them deeper inside of him, and his mind swirls with pleasure, and the words he says next come unbidden.

"Powerful, I felt powerful," he breathes, staring up at Peter. It should surprise him but it doesn't. He's felt that way before. "I liked it," he admits, confesses maybe. Not just the killing, but the fact he made it happen, everything he worked his magic on aided them.

At Stiles' confession there it is again, Peter wonders, the rush, the power. He could feel it from Stiles, from his spark. And if Peter is turned on by anything it's power. He's howling inside, his whole body is aching to turn and to claim to hunt and kill... to show everyone he is the Alpha.

"You were powerful, Stiles." he growls, his eyes flashing up red again. "You have the right to like it, to make it yours." his words are half moans, half growls as he's taking out his fingers and pulls Stiles closer by his thighs.

Hearing Peter telling him it's okay to like it, the rush of power he'd felt, the surge of satisfaction after the kill- it makes him feel better, that he was justified in feeling that way.

The ache and need he feels to have Peter inside of him only intensifies after that, and leaning up Stiles nips at Peter's lips, hard but playful. "Don't hold back."

"I didn't intend to..." Peter breathes as his hips move on their own accord, thrusting deep and wanting into Stiles. The air gets knocked out of his lungs at the sensation. The warm and deep wetness surrounding him, the scent of need from his need, the voices he makes, the way he looks at him, the way he kisses him.

Peter kisses back hungry and demanding, just as aching as his mate. He's hard, even harder as he's taking the boy just like he wanted. Without holding back, claiming and needy. His hands slide up his sides, leaving messy trails behind them, but under his fingertips there's Stiles' skin and his power and it's all Peter's.

He leans down to drown in kisses and licks before he tilts his head to kiss into the boy's neck, his hips dictating a rough, impatient rhythm.

Stiles moans loud and appreciatively when Peter slides into him, his legs coming up to hook around the man's hips to pull him impossibly closer and deeper inside. It leaves him almost breathless, as his hands settle on gripping Peter's shoulders for purchase as his mate thrusts into him.

He tips his head back as the man's mouth travels down to his neck, offering his throat up to his mate, and his alpha, moaning loudly, feeling no need to hold back either. They aren't in Beacon Hills right now, there's no reason for him to be quiet.

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.

Breath hitching with pleasure as Peter tugs him even closer, the grip on the werewolf's shoulders tighten, blunt human nails digging into his skin. Letting his eyes close in blissful pleasure Stiles lets himself go, gives into everything he's feeling- the pounding pleasure of Peter claiming him, the thrill of power he'd felt when he killed the mermaid, the pride that filled him as he tore it apart for what they came for, the warmth he felt at Peter's praise.

When he opens his eyes again to look at his mate, his alpha, they glow a molten amber. He can feel it, his spark, the power pulsing inside of him. He wonders if Peter can feel it too, being this close to him, bonded as they are as mates.

"Peter!" Stiles gasps out as the man hits that spot inside of him, pounding into it, pleasure rippling through him.

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