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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Peter works his way slow and deep, his body on fire, his wolf on rampage. His breath comes heavy against Stiles' neck and a shiver runs through him at his touch.

His lips press against the boy's neck, tasting his skin. But his hips doesn't move yet. Peter wants to feel Stiles like this a little. Deep and just keeping them close under the warm rays of water. It's stuffy and hot and Peter's knees are shivering from need and pleasure.

"Call me again..." he breathes, his lips rub against Stiles' skin before he moves to lick at his neck to taste him too.

((ooc: aww, you're so nice. XD But don't feel bad your well being comes first after all.))

A small, needy whimper escapes him when Peter doesn't move immediately, and his hand tugs gently in the man's hair impatiently.

"Peter..." he whines softly, obeying his alpha and mate by saying his name again, then again, "Peter, please,".

"Good." Peter mutters, barely registering he was saying anything at all. His body is tense with pleasure and anticipation, shivering from need. The tugging in his hair makes him move, pulling out all the way, moaning too. "Stiles..." he gasps as he slowly slides back in, feeling the wet, welcoming hole of the boy. Waiting just for him and prepared just for him.

Peter's hand slides up to Stiles' throat to feel his pulse under his thumb. It calms him in some way. It's his. His movements are slow, but strong, like an animal stalking his prey. But he feels impatience and more need blooming in him as he's slowly taking Stiles. His other hand strokes the boy with the same rhythm.

A low whimper escapes him when Peter pulls out completely, his body aching from the loss of him. "Peter, please!" Stiles whines, moaning moments later when the werewolf slides back into him, his body warm and accepting. God, he loves the feel of Peter inside of him, claiming him for his own.

His breath catches a little at the feel of his hand on his throat, but he just tilts his head back to expose more of his neck for the wolf.

Moving his other hand from the wall, which causes him to be pressed against it pinned between Peter and the shower wall, Stiles reaches back to grip at Peter's hip, blunt human nails digging into the skin.

Peter bares his teeth at the begging and the way Stiles offers his neck. Such submission from someone so powerful, it wants to make Peter howl. His moans coming out as growls as he snaps his hips against Stiles. His body rolls, riding the waves of need and pleasure.

Somehow he manages to call Stiles' name, picking up his rhythm. Sometimes he wishes Stiles could mark him, just like he does. The pain would be one thing, but the mark... The boy still leaves his scent on him, probably only noticeable by Peter, it's not enough. He groans again, placing open mouthed kisses on the boy's neck.

His hands keep Stiles firm against him as he's taking him with more passion. Deep and still so demanding.

Stiles is a writhing, begging mess against Peter as the werewolf continues to thrust into him. The water has long since washed the blood, dirt and scent of the sea away, and though it's turned cool it doesn't dissuade him from moving or trying to turn the water off.

All he can think about, and feel, is Peter. His hands touching, seering into his skin, and the force of his thrusts as his mate continues to take him. His arms ache from their positions but he can't let go of Peter, not yet.

"Peter , I- nnngh, close," he pants out, hips rocking back against Peter, meeting his rough, hard thrusts.

"Good..." Peter pants, his rhythm picking up. He's also close to his peak, and also to lose his mind. He's gripping Stiles tighter to anchor himself as he's riding toward his own pleasure too. "Think of me when you come, Stiles. Feel me and know it's me you belong to... it's me in your body, in your mind." Peter is only half aware of his words as his need and desire fogs his mind.

"Always, always," Stiles gasps out in response, and the rough pace Peter fucks into him with drives him closer and closer to climax.

And when he comes Stiles' whole body trembles with it as he cries out, hips jerking back onto Peter's cock even harder as he rides out the pleasure, his hands gripping Peter tight enough to leave marks.

Peter knows Stiles' answer way before he retorts. He always know his answer and yet such relief and pride fills him when the boy tells him.

He snaps his hips sharply against him as he comes, his knees trembling from the effort to meet Stiles' hips. He closes his eyes, only feeling the boy with his lips, his nose and with his fingertips. He doesn't want to let go, he never wants to let go. He feels the grip of Stiles but doesn't pay too much attention, thinking it would fade soon.

Peter repeats Stiles' name like a prayer, like it's the only thing keeping him in this world, in his right mind and in a way it is.

When he feels he filled Stiles nice and well, he has the sense to reach out for the faucets and turn off the ice cold water.

Stiles babbles Peter's name as he comes, tells him how good it is, how he's Peter's and Peter is his, always, always. He's not even aware of half of what he says, really, too far gone from pleasure to pay attention. He hasn't even realized the water's gone cold or that Peter's turned it off at all.

After a few moments the haze of pleasure starts to fade and Stiles slumps against the tile wall as he pants, tries to catch his breath. He groans in appreciation and shifts around but doesn't pull away from Peter just yet, enjoying the feel of the man still inside of him.

Peter leans against Stiles for a moment, panting and just enjoying their closeness, the warmth and their scent.

"I told you... I'll take you." he smirks weakly, brushing his lips against Stiles' ear. His arms go around the boy's middle to pull him close for a second. "And I will do it again." he adds, panting softly.

"I certainly have no complaints- well, except for being cold now, " he teases, grinning as he turns his head as much as he can to nuzzle against Peter's face.

"I will always let you," Stiles murmurs softly, letting his lips graze Peter's own.

Peter laughs softly, tilting his head to kiss Stiles before he slowly moves away from him. But only so he can turn him around and kiss him properly.

"Always is a long time." he remarks, hands sliding lower on Stiles' body as he leads them out of the shower.

Stiles grins in return as they kiss. "I don't plan on going anywhere," he says honestly as they head out of the shower. He's noticed the little marks he's made on Peter's hips from his nails digging into his skin, but thinks nothing of it. It'll probably be gone in a few minutes or hours anyway, even though he'd like to be able to mark Peter the way the wolf marks him, letting everyone know who Peter belongs to, that Peter is just as much his as he is Peter's.

"What do you think we should have for dinner?" Stiles asks as he grabs a towel to dry himself off so he's not trailing water all over the place. He knows they packed food but he can't remember what it was at the moment.

((ooc: sorry about the late reply ;; ))

Peter hates and loves how Stiles' words make him feel at ease. He believes in them and believing is risky, it's difficult. And he never did it before.

As he towels himself too he frowns at the marks. They are not deep, barely scratched his skin, they should have been gone the moment they appeared. Yet they are there, proudly signing what just happened. It makes him wonder...

"I'm sure the beef sandwiches will do for tonight." he remarks absently, running a finger down the marks still. "And for tomorrow we'll see what the local community can offer." he adds, looking back up at Stiles.

(ooc: no worries! :D)

Stiles hasn't yet noticed that the marks he's made haven't gone away just yet, too busy toweling off and wrapping the towel around his waist.

"Awesome, I'm starving now," he says, looking up at Peter and grinning. Food always sounds good after sex, like he has some need to restore the energy he'd spent beforehand.

"I bet you do. We had a very exhausting evening." Peter smirks, not really bothering to wrap a towel around himself. Why wear clothes when it's not necessary, he's not going to get cold.

"We can start preserving tomorrow and see what we have." he speaks as he steps to Stiles, his hand sliding down the boy's back. "And if we need more."

Stiles' grin slides into a little smirk at that. They indeed did have a very exhausting and satisfying evening.

"Awesome, I can't wait to see what all we got." Between them both, they likely got quite a bit.

The thought of going back to the cave, facing the mermaids again, sends heat and excitement spiking through him, as much as Peter's touch does, causing Stiles to arch into it.

"Tomorrow." Peter nods, his eyes falling half shut. His fingers play on Stiles' smooth skin on his back as he enjoys his scent. "Let's eat first, Stiles. Before I really won't let you use your mouth for it." he adds quietly.

Said mouth drops open a little bit and, god help him, he's half tempted to just drop to his knees right there.

But he swallows thickly and nods. "Definitely eating first," he says, because he has to keep up his energy after all- not just because of the awesome sex, but the magic stuff too.

It takes a lot of will for him to pull away from Peter's hands, but he manages and heads out of the bathroom to grab some clothes, a pair of sweats and an old tee, tugging them on before heading into the kitchen where he'd put their food in the fridge when they got in.0

Peter doesn't miss the small movement, his skin heating up just at the implication. Well, that dinner will be fast, he thinks.

He follows Stiles, putting on some clothes too for eating, but Peter feels it's somehow really unnecessary. He helps Stiles prepare some plates to not to make too much mess with the sandwiches. And as the scent hits him, Peter has to realize he also needs some food too. But it feels good, it's almost cozy. Feeling satisfied, being fed with his mate next to him over a successful hunt. It fills him with a primal content he didn't feel since a long time.

Stiles feels ravenous when he actually gets a smell of the food as they make their dinner, and when everything's put away and he sets the plates down on the little kitchen table, he's practically inhaling the food before he's even sat down.

He hadn't realized just how hungry he was until he started making the sandwiches. Sitting there eating, he keeps casting Peter little glances. He can feel how content the man is, and he doesn't know if it's through their mating bond or his own innate magic ability, being Peter's emissary.

But he likes it, feels proud of it.

After dinner Peter keeps himself to his promise and takes Stiles again. Enjoying what his little emissary can do with his lips and tongue other than spells. The wolf is almost ashamed how he feels like he's a teenager again, but after a while he doesn't care. He's drunk on power and pleasure and on something way more primal only Stiles can give him. Peter loves it.

The morning comes slow and dragged out, which is also a pleasant surprise for him. He'd never take his time in bed, not like this; like a lazy Sunday Peter's never been a fan of... But as he comes to his senses he can feel and smell Stiles next to him and his fingers always find his warm skin, his familiar touch... it's something new and scary, but Peter's too taken with it to be alarmed.

Though as he turns his head to go back for another few minutes of sleep he feels something on his neck. It kind of stings, almost hurts... but he remembers it. It's a bite. He frowns, reaching for it and running his fingers over it. It's a bite Stiles made last night. It's still there, even if it was long hours ago.

Peter's wide awake in seconds at the implication what that could mean, his flashing blue eyes looking at Stiles next to him on the bed. Just watching so far.

Peter certainly had kept his promise and it wore Stiles out in the best way, that soon after they had settled down for sleep he went out like a light, snoring softly cradled in Peter's arms.

Even in sleep he recognizes Peter's touch and shifts into it, murmuring softly before settling again. Stiles doesn't fully wake for another thirty minutes or so, snuffling and shifting in the bed before rolling over onto his back, then his side to face Peter. His eyes blink awake, sleepily and his hair sleep-mussed.

Stiles smiles at him and reaches out, a hand brushing along his arm. "Mornin'," he slurs out.

Peter can't help his sleepy smirk. He certainly thinks that Stiles is the most beautiful in the morning. So he greets him back queitly leaning over to brush his lips against his.

The bond is still there, he can feel Stiles with more than his five senses. It gives him security, some kind of home. Peter just hopes it won't burn down this time.

"You're special, Stiles, you know that?" Peter sighs pulling the boy closer to him for some morning cuddles

Mermaids ahoy

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