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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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.

Peter raises his head just in time to see Stiles' eyes. He can also feel it. The spark inside the boy, so powerful and demanding. Peter feels it tugging at his essence, his soul along. His own eyes burn red for it and he wants more.

He hears his name, but he also feels it in all his body. He angles his hips to give everything to his mate, eyes intense on him. He's also close, pleasure already buzzing in his limbs, urging him on.

"Stiles..." he calls back, his eyes closing again. "Come for me. Come for me and let me breed you..." his wolf speaks and Peter is barely aware. He's high on pleasure and power flowing through their skin.

"Peter," he says, it coming out a choked whine. His hands move to slide around the man's neck as he pulls him close and tilts his head to expose his neck again.

He lets out another choked sound as he comes, spilling between them, his body clenching around Peter deep inside of him. His whole body is a clamp around Peter, arms and legs, everything, keeping him close. His own hips rock down as the pleasure surges through him, riding himself through it as Peter thrusts into him.

Everything feels more intense, and he's not sure if it's just because of the adrenaline or the power he feels running rampant through him. But whatever it is, it feels amazing.

Peter is breathing with parted lips against Stiles' neck, his body shivering when the scent peaks. As he feels Stiles holding onto him with everything, not just with his hands, but with his powers too Peter is ready to give everything. He closes his eyes as waves of pleasure rolls over him, thrusting deep and rough into his mate. To claim him, breed him as he promised, for his own sanity too.

His movements become erratic as he's coming more and more. His breath comes out in short, choked puffs as he's losing himself in the sensation, holding onto Stiles tighter as it's leaving him.

"Stiles..." Peter breathes when he finds his voice again, his hips still rolling in a slow, lazy rhythm. "Oh, god, Stiles." he moans, tilting his head to kiss into the boy's neck.

Sliding a hand up to Peter's head he buries his fingers into the man's hair as he holds him close, his other arm around the man tightening.

For a few moments he can't think, can't do anything except feel; feel Peter's mouth on his neck, feel Peter coming hot inside of him, filling him up, feeling Peter's hips rock into him as he thrusts his way through his own orgasm. He can feel when the swell of power inside of him starts to die down, ebb away from the edges. Can feel the way Peter's own power rises to meet his own- or maybe it's his that rose to meet Peter's, he doesn't know.

Either way, for one joyous moment it feels like they're one.

The way Peter says his name causes a pleased shudder to roll through him, his fingers slowly carding through the man's hair, and as he's laying there slowly coming down from the pleasure a startling revelation comes to him.

He loves this man.

With every intake of his breath Peter can smell and feel Stiles' heat and scent. It's almost like drowning, but he doesn't want to escape. He'd rather drown than to burn. His body shivers as the cold air cools his sweaty skin, but he just chuckles deep at it. As Stiles' fingers stroking his hair he lets out a soft, gentle sigh. It feels good, it feels like... home.

And home is scary.

Peter swallows and moves his head to look into Stiles' face, seeing his expression. The boy's scent also changed to something... rich. The wolf's heart skips a beat and he's not sure it's fear entirely. He put his life into the hands of this boy, of his mate. Of his emissary. He trusts him, Peter realized, however frightening it is, he trusts him.

So he doesn't say anything, he just leans over to place a soft kiss on Stiles' lips. Unlike the ones they had just shared.

It's a scary thought, loving someone at all, let alone someone who's tried to kill them. But that's in the past, and has been for a good while now. If asked, he doesn't think he'd be able to pinpoint the exact moment that he fell for Peter, and fell in love with him. He just knows he does.

Stiles sighs into the gentle kiss, returning it slowly, languidly, feeling no need to rush anymore. He lets their tongues slide lazily together as he tastes Peter, gingerly deepening the kiss.

When he pulls back he's smiling softly up at him, leaning in to nuzzle at his face, hoping to convey what he's feeling without words. Sometimes they don't need them.

Peter tilts his head, moving even closer, as if separation would be difficult. It is, suddenly. He wouldn't call it love even if it killed him, but it's close. He kisses Stiles just as gentle, and deep, and reassuring. That they are here, together and alive.

He sees that look on Stiles he can smell it too. It grips his chest and makes his limbs weak for some reason. This is a confession and it almost cripples him. Peter closes his eyes and leans into Stiles' touch. He likes words because it's easy to hide behind them. It's easy to distract, to hide, but Stiles took it away. Peter is not sure about it, he's the wolf with a mouth after all. He hides for a reason. Yet, he can't say a word now.

Stiles knows in all likelihood that Peter may not feel the same, at least not on the level Stiles does. He knows Peter cares for him, can feel it in his touch and his admonishing words when he's done something stupid and potentially deadly.

And, maybe, those kinds of emotions may have been burned away from him in the fire that took so many of his family. But that's okay, Stiles thinks, he just might have enough love for both of them.

Peter sighs softly, opening his eyes to watch Stiles for a moment. He's thankful, he realizes. For many things. Especially for that heartbeat he can feel against his chest. Maybe one day he will be able to tell that to Stiles too.

He leans in to brush his lips against Stiles' forehead.

"Your smell is really intoxicating now, Stiles." he speaks, barely a growl. "I could go on all night... But maybe a shower before we continue?"

If it was intoxicating before it's probably more so now since hearing that from Peter turns Stiles on a little, the teen licking his lips and more than willing for another round.

"Why not just do both?" he suggests, giving the other man a little grin and a raise of his brows.

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