There was that air about him when Peter walked into Derek's room that was like the first time he'd met. Naked from the full moon, his body chill with loss and a sense of confusion, as if he still wanted to ask why. The other Betas were out of the house, ostensibly shopping, but this really meant Isaac would go see Scott and Erica and Boyd would do something reckless, and it would be the middle of the afternoon before any of them were back. And it was usually Derek that ended up having to go to the store for them, as the teens usually forgot or came home with chips and soda.
Peter was different, a little strange. He wasn't as strong as they were outside of his shift, but that didn't stop him from training with them, playing around with them. He was like the gangly newborn puppy playing with the adolescents; they knew better than to break him. But his skin was typically dotted with bruises, because like the pups they were they played rough.
Until the full moon. His skin is pale and perfect except for that tattoo over his ribcage as he hovers in the doorway. Derek is in bed, and for a moment, Peter just looks at him. His dark hair, the line of his muscles. He knows he's awake, can hear it in his breathing, in his heartbeat, and when Peter slides up against him he smells like dry leaves, the forest floor, like juniper and the faint smell of blood and ashes. He nuzzles into one strong, muscled shoulder like an unspoken plea.
Derek was awake when Peter came in, knew he was there, standing in the doorway. He can hear his breathing, his heartbeat, and he can smell him, cool and earthy, leaves and juniper. He doesn't move, just listens, knows that Peter is watching him.
He lets him.
He knows that Peter is strange, but he's more like Derek than the others are. They were both born wolves, and there's a bond in that, in this being blood rather than the gift or curse it is for the others, for those who get the Bite. He makes sure the betas know not to hurt him, because he's not quite the same, not as strong as they are, didn't grow up using the wolf as a weapon, didn't grow up fighting. There's a kind of serenity in that, a wild silence that runs deep that Derek never got a chance to know, and he likes that about Peter.
Derek shifts as Peter climbs into the bed and curls up against his side. His warmth feels good against Derek's bare skin, and he inhales as Peter nuzzles against his shoulder, turning his head to look at him, brown hair a windswept mess as he presses his nose against Derek's shoulder.
Something is wrong. He can tell without even asking, and the fact that he can is telling. It suggests that the bond between them is more than just an affinity because they're both born wolves. It's deeper than that, it's more intimate, the kind of connection mates are said to share. Derek never thought he'd find his, and though he knows there's something here, some connection, he's hesitant to call it what it is because he doesn't want to risk losing it.
"What's wrong?" Derek asks, voice soft and low as he brings his arm up around Peter's shoulders, curling him in a little closer so that Derek can press his nose against the top of Peter's head, inhaling the scent of the forest he was just running through.
Peter's stayed here longer than he's stayed anywhere since Hemlock Grove. He hadn't meant to, he'd just intended to pause here, and keep moving on. But there was something about Derek, a bond in how they'd both been born as what they were, born with wolf in their blood, a whispered growl and teeth and instinct in their head. They balance each other in ways that are both silent and not, unsaid and spoken in the way that Peter never hesitates to tease Derek, playful and snarky but with a deep current of something he doesn't let himself see.
He can sense Derek's concern, and it just makes him nuzzle more into the Alpha's shoulder, into the way that he wraps an arm around Peter's shoulder. There's that question, and Peter's hurt and lonely and so his answer is easy and honest, where it might not have been otherwise.
"I lost someone." He bites his lip, but somehow the words come tumbling out anyway. "You know how your first changes can be really intense? Have you ever run across wolves when you're shifted and you're just on edge and lonely and you don't really mean for anything to happen but, uhm, but then- then you're stuck on his knot for an hour and you're not mates but it's just nice to have someone want you?"
Peter starts talking fast at the words stuck on his knot and the words slur together a little. He kind of curls into him, hiding in Derek's body. Yeah, okay, answer is almost certainly no, but there it stands.
When Peter nuzzles closer, Derek rubs his shoulder, a gentle encouragement for him to tell him what's on his mind. He hadn't, however, expected anything even remotely like what it was that Peter actually said.
He blinks, staring past Peter as he listens to the admission that comes tumbling out. There's a slowly growing smirk on Derek's face, even though no, he never has found himself accidentally stuck on some wolf's knot because he was lonely, because he can feel the edge of embarrassment rolling off of him and, better, he can absolutely imagine Peter wandering into some pack and making friends. Well, maybe a little more than friends, but not quite mates.
"I can't say that's happened to me, no," he says, amusement seeping into his voice as Peter curls in closer, hiding against him, and he ruffles a hand through his hair to soothe his nerves and his embarrassment, "Is that who you lost?"
Derek wants to wonder if he misses him, if he wishes he'd been able to claim that wolf as his mate, and the truth is that he doesn't judge him for any of it. While Derek hasn't found himself fucking wolves in the woods, he'd be lying if he said there hadn't been times when he'd been trying to get some space that he hadn't stayed a few nights with a wandering pack. They're not the same, but the communication is easy and the warmth of bodies pressed around him was a comfort.
Try as he might, Derek is having a hard time thinking about too much without returning to images of Peter's wolf tied to some dark, dominant wolf in the forest. It's probably obvious to Peter that Derek's thinking about it, not because of the bond, but because of the scent of his arousal.
Peter nods slowly against the Alpha's shoulder, exhaling softly. He can hear the amusement in his voice, but it's not judgement, not as if he's somehow wrong for it. "He was my first. Ever. I was thirteen the first time time I shifted and god, everything was so new and raw and we were both young and it just kind of... happened."
He slides his head down to rest over Derek's heart, so he can listen to his heartbeat. "Wolves don't live like we do. He's not.. he died." His blue eyes mist softly, and he clings to him, breathes him in. Derek, the scent of his Alpha. Strong, here, always here. He's terrible at not feeling, so matter how much he tried, they slip past his defenses, and there's something about Derek that makes it impossible. He always gets hurt when he cares, but this time he has someone to fall into, who catches him when he forgets how to breathe and he doesn't understand how it works, but it does.
What he does understand is the arousal he can taste on the air, and it draws a moan from his mouth as he tilts his head, looking up at Derek with an almost awed look on his face. He's thinking about it, about him, and that shakes a shiver down his spine. "Would you want to knot me?" It's a quiet question, and he looks up at him. Derek's arousal sparks his own, has him half-hard as he looks into his green eyes, slowly curls fingers against his biceps.
Thirteen was so young. Derek had been young his first time, but he hadn't been thirteen, and it hadn't been to a wolf. He still doesn't judge him for it, doesn't think he's wrong or sick to have done it, to have liked it, for it to have meant something to him. Derek knows how easy it is for lines to blur, how what's human isn't always what feels right.
Derek wants to just be there for him. He knows Peter's hurting, that he's just lost his first, and he's upset, needs to be held. He's holding Peter tight as he clings, trying so hard to just be, to not think, but he just can't get the image of him being fucked, being knotted out of his mind. Peter is beautiful, like this, naked in his arms, cool skin saturated with the scent of the forest, and he's beautiful in his wolf's skin, the thick dark coat with stark silver around his muzzle.
He knows that Peter can tell. It's not just the moan or the question, or the scent of Peter's answering arousal mixing with his in the air between them, but it's something else. It's that silent, unspoken understanding, the language they shared without words.
When he asks if Derek would want to knot him, it makes it clear beyond doubt that Peter wants more. It's not possible to tiptoe around the edges of this anymore, and if he's honest, he doesn't want to. Not knowing that Peter wants this. Knowing that it's more than just rebound, than just wanting to be fucked to forget. It's more than that, and they both know it.
"Yes," he says, with hardly a beat of hesitation. Peter's half-hard against his hip, and Derek shifts, staring into Peter's light blue eyes. Derek moves easily, rolling so he's facing Peter, and keeps moving until he's half-atop him, half curled around him, and he's pressing him down into the soft mattress as he nips at his lips, daring him to lean up and take a real kiss. Daring him to move and ask for it again, not with words but with his body. He's daring him to squirm, to spread his legs like he's in heat and desperate to be filled, or to try and flip their positions again, playful and resisting, ramping the energy of this up until they tumble back down together.
Derek is his anchor, even if Peter doesn't really think of it like that. It's not just about needing to be fucked, needing to feel, wanting something, someone to fill that empty, hollow feeling. It's that thing they both ignore, circle around -- they both know who belongs in the empty spaces inside of him. But being Mated, admitting to it... it's the most iron-clad cage Peter ever would have accepted willingly, and the thing is, that he does accept it willingly. It's not because Derek is his Alpha, it's because of this feeling, because somehow they got tangled up in each other, and Peter needs him, needs Derek.
And then Derek says yes and it draws a soft whimper from his lips and his breath catches as he shifts against him. He moves easily over Peter's smaller body. He's slender, lean muscle, but he's short; shorter than Erica when she's wearing her heels. He whines and arches as Derek nips at his lips, the older werewolf wrapping around his body, ontop of him, and Peter needs him, needs this. He kisses him, sudden and a little uncertain, needy. His lips a little rough, but it quickly turns to teeth, turns to biting and nipping and pulling Derek in.
He needs him, wants him, and admitting that is like a powder keg, like knocking over a tower. The need that grips him is fierce, unrelenting, intoxicating. He needs Derek, needs his Alpha, needs to be locked together, to feel how their bodies curl when they're joined so intimately. His legs spread and his hips jerk up against his Alpha's body, a rough whimper that he breathes into Derek's mouth.
"I want you to knot me. I want- I want it to be you."
Derek feels like this is something they've been avoiding, and suddenly he can't remember why. Peter feels so right in his arms, pressed to the mattress beneath him, like Peter had been made just for him. Strange as he was with his gypsy ways, he was a perfect fit.
Those sounds, that soft whimper and the hitch of Peter's breath, they're doing things to Derek, and he's pushing back just to feel just how much more Peter needs, to hear it in those whining sounds. The kiss is clumsy at first, his lips rough and his movements uncertain, as if this isn't something he's used to. Kissing, or just tumbling to the floor with someone who's human.
Well, human-ish, for the time being.
Peter gains his footing when it's biting, when he's using teeth and pulling Derek closer, and there's an answering growl to Peter's move to lead him in. He's saying that he's setting the pace, that he knows Peter's impatient, that he wants so much, but Derek will take care of him. He pulls his mouth free of Peter's, and his face finds Peter's stubble-dusted neck and he presses another growl against his skin. It's a warning and a claim all in one, meant for Peter to trust that he's going to give him what he needs, and meant for anyone who's listening to know that Peter is his and stay away.
He shifts as Peter spreads his legs, hips rolling against Peter's naked body, denim dragging against his exposed cock. He's already hard, and the thick press of his cock feels good through his jeans, gives him friction enough to tide him over until he's sinking inside Peter, because he wants that. Exactly what Peter wants, he wants to knot him so tight they can't get up for an hour.
"I want that…" he breathes against his skin, and he should say more, should say that this isn't just fucking some wolf in the woods, this is more, this is real, but Peter knows. Peter has to know.
His hand is reaching down between them as he holds himself up on one arm, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans before starting to wriggle out of them.
Edited (grammar is elusive) 2013-10-06 20:58 (UTC)
Peter whines in response to that growl, and he leans in, licks against Derek's chin in a way that's all apology. He just needs this, needs him so much, and there's never been anyone that would take care of him. Not with human skin and fingers that press to his body. His head falls back as Derek's face nuzzles into his neck, and that growl echoes against his skin. It's a warning, but it's also a promise. It's also an acknowledgement that Derek's claiming him, that they're finally pulling taut that connection between them, letting it mean something.
He cries out, sharp and breath stolen from his lungs as Derek rolls hips against him. The denim of his jeans against his hard cock, and he shivers, shakes at the friction that's too much and not enough. He mewls in answer to those words, a plea, needy and desperate. He needs Derek inside of him more than he can even really think about.
Derek is stripping out of his jeans, and that's when Peter really notices it: wet warmth between his legs, sliding down his thighs and there's a surprised gasp. He shifts, tries to draw his legs back together in embarrassment, because this, he doesn't understand. He knew the basics, understood most of it, but Nicolae had never detailed exactly what happened when you had sex with your mate.
Derek's answering growl is soft and comforting when Peter licks against his chin. He nuzzles against his neck, his collar bone, and he feels as Peter lets his head fall back to the bed, neck exposed, vulnerable.
Peter is so responsive, so receptive to everything. They should have done this ages ago, just falling together like they belong this way, wrapped tight around each other.
He realizes what's happening as he shifts, as he's squirming out of his jeans, he can smell it. He knew, on some level, he'd known since Peter walked into his life, that this was it, that they were circling the edges of a bond they both knew was there but both were afraid or reluctant to acknowledge. Peter getting wet is a sign, yet another way to tell that this is right, but he can tell that Peter doesn't know. He's shifting, drawing his legs together like he's embarrassed.
"Don't," he breathes against Peter's ear, and he shifts, pressing a thigh between Peter's legs, urging him to stay, to relax. "Shh… it's normal… it happens to Omegas… when you're having sex with your mate," it's strange to say it out loud, to actually face it head on and give it voice. That they're mates, that Peter is his Omega, that he's his Alpha. That they fit together like this.
There's a pause because he can feel it, slick against his thigh, and when he talks again, his voice is rough and guttural, "Fuck, it's hot…" he breathes against the shell of his ear, tongue tracing the delicate shape there before nipping at his earlobe, affectionately.
He stills, stops moving when Derek in leaning down, mouth against his ear, and telling him not to. He slips a bare thigh between his legs, and Peter almost shyly lets his legs part again. Not that shy one would ever normally use for the gypsy boy that sees clothes as only as much of a requirement as the people around him do, who snarks and laughs at teenagers that could literally break him. He's not shy. But, there's something strange about this, about the slick moisture he can feel running down his thighs, the scent of it thick and almost sweet. He relaxes with a sigh that shudders through his body.
And then Derek's telling him it's normal, and he's about to protest that it's never happened before, but then there are words that come after. It sets him reeling, but it makes this so much more than just a feeling. It makes this even more real, something hard, cemented here between them. It should feel like a cage, but it doesn't. It's not the grasping connection that Roman was always trying to pull tight around his throat that Peter both loved and hated. This is... somehow easier. As easy as how their bodies fit together.
He shudders at the sound of Derek's voice, and he wants to ask, to beg for it, but he doesn't. Not yet at least, because Derek said he'd take care of him, and he lets himself trust that. That his Alpha -- his mate -- can give him what he needs. He moans as his tongue licks at his ear, and then teeth are nipping and he whines a little, his back arching up off the mattress.
"Fuck, Derek..." His hands shaky, trailing over broad shoulders, down to touch at the muscles of his chest. He's gorgeous, beautiful in a way that Peter never would have really considered himself attracted to.
Derek had never thought of Peter as shy, but he seems that way now, almost, so uncertain about this new development. Derek finds it endearing but he also wants him to embrace this, hopes he'll enjoy it, knowing that it's not strange, not something that's wrong, and that Derek likes it.
Peter needs more. He can tell in the way he's moving, arching beneath him, legs spread and asking for more with every sound he makes, whimpers and whines that bleed into words gasped into his ear.
He meant what he said, that he's going to take care of Peter, give him what he needs so he doesn't need to push for it, doesn't need to take the lead to get the things he wants. Peter's hands shake against his skin, his shoulders, and Derek presses his nose into Peter's ear, and murmurs, "Turn over…"
He's helping him, guiding him to turn beneath him, shifting his legs to give him room as a hand catches a slender hip and urges him over onto his belly and then up onto hands and knees.
Words made him shudder, from his shoulders down his spine, because he knows where this is going, even if it's not something they've done before. He knows it in his bones, and in the beat of his heart, and in how the wind whispers it to him, like it whispers his name when the moon is full. It's as if this, them together, is something just as intrinsic, just as much a part of who he is. Once it all clicks into place, he feels like he's drowning in it, like it's too much and not enough, like he needs so much of Derek that he's almost not sure that his Alpha can possibly give it to him. He wants to feel him in every fiber of his body, his scent on every inch of his skin.
He wants to belong, and he wants more, even if they're words he hasn't said outloud. He wants a family, and even if having a pack has been so good, that realization of having a mate sparks that realization that it could be more.
He starts to move, to slip from underneath Derek, his hands going to curl in the bedsheets, and there's a soft smile that curves his lips at the feeling of his Alpha's hands on his body. His Alpha. He's not the possessive type, or at least that's what he'd claim, but he wants to possess Derek. He wants to hold onto him, keep him, and the intensity of the feeling takes his breath away.
Peter always needs someone to guide him, lead him. With Letha, it was edgy, being pushed into something he didn't actually want, that he knew would go wrong. With the wolf it had been a stumbling, uncertain thing, with cool nose that nudged against his warm fur. With Derek it's... different. Better. He feels less awkward about not knowing how, or not wanting to, and none of it feels wrong.
It's perfect. It's sinful, how good it is. Derek's hands that catch at a hip as he presses him onto his stomach, then helps him up to his hands and knees. He shakes, so exposed like this. It's different, being on hands and knees in his human skin instead of on four paws when he's consumed the fleshy veil he hides himself in.
"Derek..."
It's whispered on an exhale of breath, not so much a plea, as an affirmation. You can have this, you can have me. He needs him.
He loves the way that Peter smells, cool forests and the earthy heat of his desire, but he can't help wanting to drown it all out, saturate Peter in his own scent until he's the only one who can pick out the scent of Peter beneath it.
Derek shifts, raising up enough on hands and knees to give Peter room to turn over beneath him, but in those few seconds before he urged Peter to his knees, he came back down, letting his hips press flush against his gorgeous full, round ass, letting him feel the press of his cock against his cheeks.
Then he's kneeling, and Derek's hand slips over the curve of his hip, fingertips brushing low on his belly, skimming through the dark hair there and teasing, not yet touching him, because he wants the first sexual moment between them to be when he's sinking into Peter's body.
Peter's ready, and Derek can almost tell that it's hard for him not to ask, to push for more and demand to have what he needs. He's trusting Derek to give it to him, and he can't imagine how difficult that is. His arm curls around Peter's middle and he moves, pressing himself up against his back as he rocks against him, his body finding the right position. He presses a kiss against Peter's neck, below his ear, and he wants to say I've got you, wants to be reassuring as the head of his cock presses between Peter's cheeks and each roll of his hips brings it closer to where it needs to be, but all that escapes against Peter's skin is a low growl, possessive and affectionate all at once.
Then it happens, he moves just right and the head of his cock presses at Peter's entrance, and the next thrust has him pushing in. It's easy with how wet Peter already is, and it pulls a startled gasp from his throat at how good this feels, how right it is to be sinking inside Peter.
Peter can't help groaning, trembling with the feel of it as Derek's fingers slide over one hip, fingers sliding low against his flat stomach and Peter can't help the whimper that slips from his lips. He doesn't touch him, and Peter;/s shoulders curl as he trembles. He wants him, he needs him, he needs to feel him and it catches his breath, has him gasping for air. He's so lewdly wet, and he bites his lips because it still feels strange, the way it clings to his inner thighs, hot and slick.
His breath is shaky, but there's a sweet, blissed murmur as Derek wraps an arm around him, presses against his back. It's perfect, this feeling of safety, of strength that surrounds him, he lets his neck tilt to expose more skin as Derek kisses against his neck, next to his ear, and god, Derek's cock slips between his cheeks so easy and he whines, just so overwhelmed. It feels so much, and he's moaning, his thighs spreading softly, giving himself to his Alpha. They've always been this, just dancing around it, pretending not to notice, but Peter can't let himself ruin that connection twice.
It steals all breath from his lungs when the head of Derek's cock presses to his entrance, and a roll of his hips has him sinking into Peter's body. He moans, shaking at how slick and easy it is, how good it feels. Intoxicating, claiming, a fierce sense of belonging that he can't put words to. One hand comes away from the bed, and he's curling fingers against Derek's hand, letting him be his anchor as heat and need flare inside him.
There's a communication here without words. It's an undercurrent of emotion, of movement, of sound and scent. The way that Peter moves, the sounds and little gasping breaths tell him what he wants, what he needs.
He moves into every touch, presses back as Derek presses in, and it's bliss that he can feel, can hear on him. Every shaky move says this is exactly what he wants, this closeness, this connection. Peter belongs to him. It's more than any one thing, more than how he's wet for him, how he curls his fingers tight against his hand, how it's always Derek that he comes to in moments like this. It's everything together, the endless accumulation of it all.
He nuzzles against Peter's neck, nose pressed to his warm skin and breathes him in as he turns his hand to grasp Peter's, tight, reassuring, and he moves. Hips roll at first, slowly rocking, pressing deeper, and then he changes his stance just slightly and he's starting to withdraw and then sink back into him, and it's easy because he's so fucking wet, and a shiver of energy, of desire, of sensation pools inside him and he groans softly against Peter's ear.
"Mine…" he breathes into the delicate shell of his ear. He wants to tell him how good he feels, not just the wet heat wrapped around him, but his firm, lean body beneath his, the way he presses back against him, eager for more. He wants to tell him that he's dreamed of fitting together with someone the way they do, now, that he's been lonely and wanting for all these years, wanting this.
He wants to tell him that he smells like home.
But mine is all he can manage, it's as close as he can get.
It's impossibly good, the slick slide of it, so easy as they move together, as Derek rocks into him. He presses back, his movements rough and shaky, the way he chases his alpha's cock with his hips. It's more than just the new feeling of it, how he's wet and slick for him. It's how Derek has always caught him, ever since the first time, damp blue eyes, lost and reeling with the loss of everything, and he'd passed out in the forest after shifting. Not sure if he was unable to move or unwilling to. He doesn't exactly remember how he ended up at Derek's loft, but he remembers waking up on soft sheets and the intense eyes that watched him.
He hasn't wanted to run since; he hasn't needed to. Lynda does odd job around town, helping out at the Vet clinic and things like that. Peter hasn't been willing to say that it feels like home, but it does. He shudders, and there's a breathless murmur that's all assent, agreement -- yours. Peter hadn't ever really thought he could fit with someone like this, so perfect, so good, and he laces their fingers together.
He could tell Derek how much he's needed this. How he's always been running, always one foot out the door, always so scared of letting himself care. He could tell him that for as much as he's said he doesn't need people's feelings, he was just tired of hurting. He could tell him how much he wants a family. He could tell him so many things, but he feels like he doesn't need to. Like Derek already knows.
The way Peter moves, pressing back to meet every thrust, it's perfect. Peter's shaky, like it's almost more than he can handle. Derek wants to wrap him up tight in his arms and just hold him, like that first time in the woods when he'd gathered him up against his chest and brought him home. He wants to hold him through this, through the overwhelming intensity, the muscles that shake with the pent up need to move just for something to do with the sensation jangling through his nerves.
At first, he'd been afraid that Peter would leave. Every time he'd go out, running in the woods in the dark, he'd been afraid he wouldn't find his way back, but he did every time. He knows he just needs to get out, needs open spaces, needs the wind in his hair and the leaves beneath his feet, but he needs this, too. Needs an anchor, needs a bed to come home to, needs something permanent in his nomadic existence.
There are so many things that have gone unsaid, things that crept into the silence and made themselves known, more than just the fact that Peter would always come back, but the desire for family. There's more, things they'll get to, talking in the dark, after, but for now it hardly matters that it's never been made explicit.
Derek presses a kiss against Peter's neck. He wants to bite him, wants to lay his claim, leave a mark on his flesh that tells everyone that this Omega belongs to him. The idea is thrilling, and he can already feel his knot beginning to swell, can feel the resistance now as he thrusts into Peter, how his body is more and more resistant to let him go. His breath is coming faster, heavier, and he tightens his grip of Peter's hand and bites down against his perfect skin, teeth sinking in.
Derek understands him, and for all that Derek has always help on, it's never been too tight. He holds onto him but he lets him go. He lets him run, doesn't ask when he'll be back, just welcomes him home when he comes in smelling of the woods and the dirt and the first rain of winter. And somehow, Peter never thought about it, never realized it, but this became his life. Derek. His mother knows, but she's never pushed, never demanded to know where he goes, or who he's staying with. She just knows that he's safe, that he's happy.
He murmurs as Derek presses a kiss to the side of his neck, warm and soft, close to the pulse point. Then he's lifting his hips, shoulders falling to the bed and he's whining, whimpering as Derek's knot starts to swell, so the rim of his body catches on it when he pulls out. It makes him sob, and then Derek bites him, and he comes like that, with his Alpha's canines sinking into his pale skin, marking him like that. Claiming him, cementing that bond between them, marking Peter as his mate, and when he tries to pull back the next time, he can't.
Their bodies tied, and all Peter can do is moan with the feeling of it. "Derek..."
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velveteenwolf) wrote2013-10-05 04:08 am
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Peter was different, a little strange. He wasn't as strong as they were outside of his shift, but that didn't stop him from training with them, playing around with them. He was like the gangly newborn puppy playing with the adolescents; they knew better than to break him. But his skin was typically dotted with bruises, because like the pups they were they played rough.
Until the full moon. His skin is pale and perfect except for that tattoo over his ribcage as he hovers in the doorway. Derek is in bed, and for a moment, Peter just looks at him. His dark hair, the line of his muscles. He knows he's awake, can hear it in his breathing, in his heartbeat, and when Peter slides up against him he smells like dry leaves, the forest floor, like juniper and the faint smell of blood and ashes. He nuzzles into one strong, muscled shoulder like an unspoken plea.
no subject
He lets him.
He knows that Peter is strange, but he's more like Derek than the others are. They were both born wolves, and there's a bond in that, in this being blood rather than the gift or curse it is for the others, for those who get the Bite. He makes sure the betas know not to hurt him, because he's not quite the same, not as strong as they are, didn't grow up using the wolf as a weapon, didn't grow up fighting. There's a kind of serenity in that, a wild silence that runs deep that Derek never got a chance to know, and he likes that about Peter.
Derek shifts as Peter climbs into the bed and curls up against his side. His warmth feels good against Derek's bare skin, and he inhales as Peter nuzzles against his shoulder, turning his head to look at him, brown hair a windswept mess as he presses his nose against Derek's shoulder.
Something is wrong. He can tell without even asking, and the fact that he can is telling. It suggests that the bond between them is more than just an affinity because they're both born wolves. It's deeper than that, it's more intimate, the kind of connection mates are said to share. Derek never thought he'd find his, and though he knows there's something here, some connection, he's hesitant to call it what it is because he doesn't want to risk losing it.
"What's wrong?" Derek asks, voice soft and low as he brings his arm up around Peter's shoulders, curling him in a little closer so that Derek can press his nose against the top of Peter's head, inhaling the scent of the forest he was just running through.
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He can sense Derek's concern, and it just makes him nuzzle more into the Alpha's shoulder, into the way that he wraps an arm around Peter's shoulder. There's that question, and Peter's hurt and lonely and so his answer is easy and honest, where it might not have been otherwise.
"I lost someone." He bites his lip, but somehow the words come tumbling out anyway. "You know how your first changes can be really intense? Have you ever run across wolves when you're shifted and you're just on edge and lonely and you don't really mean for anything to happen but, uhm, but then- then you're stuck on his knot for an hour and you're not mates but it's just nice to have someone want you?"
Peter starts talking fast at the words stuck on his knot and the words slur together a little. He kind of curls into him, hiding in Derek's body. Yeah, okay, answer is almost certainly no, but there it stands.
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He blinks, staring past Peter as he listens to the admission that comes tumbling out. There's a slowly growing smirk on Derek's face, even though no, he never has found himself accidentally stuck on some wolf's knot because he was lonely, because he can feel the edge of embarrassment rolling off of him and, better, he can absolutely imagine Peter wandering into some pack and making friends. Well, maybe a little more than friends, but not quite mates.
"I can't say that's happened to me, no," he says, amusement seeping into his voice as Peter curls in closer, hiding against him, and he ruffles a hand through his hair to soothe his nerves and his embarrassment, "Is that who you lost?"
Derek wants to wonder if he misses him, if he wishes he'd been able to claim that wolf as his mate, and the truth is that he doesn't judge him for any of it. While Derek hasn't found himself fucking wolves in the woods, he'd be lying if he said there hadn't been times when he'd been trying to get some space that he hadn't stayed a few nights with a wandering pack. They're not the same, but the communication is easy and the warmth of bodies pressed around him was a comfort.
Try as he might, Derek is having a hard time thinking about too much without returning to images of Peter's wolf tied to some dark, dominant wolf in the forest. It's probably obvious to Peter that Derek's thinking about it, not because of the bond, but because of the scent of his arousal.
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He slides his head down to rest over Derek's heart, so he can listen to his heartbeat. "Wolves don't live like we do. He's not.. he died." His blue eyes mist softly, and he clings to him, breathes him in. Derek, the scent of his Alpha. Strong, here, always here. He's terrible at not feeling, so matter how much he tried, they slip past his defenses, and there's something about Derek that makes it impossible. He always gets hurt when he cares, but this time he has someone to fall into, who catches him when he forgets how to breathe and he doesn't understand how it works, but it does.
What he does understand is the arousal he can taste on the air, and it draws a moan from his mouth as he tilts his head, looking up at Derek with an almost awed look on his face. He's thinking about it, about him, and that shakes a shiver down his spine. "Would you want to knot me?" It's a quiet question, and he looks up at him. Derek's arousal sparks his own, has him half-hard as he looks into his green eyes, slowly curls fingers against his biceps.
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Derek wants to just be there for him. He knows Peter's hurting, that he's just lost his first, and he's upset, needs to be held. He's holding Peter tight as he clings, trying so hard to just be, to not think, but he just can't get the image of him being fucked, being knotted out of his mind. Peter is beautiful, like this, naked in his arms, cool skin saturated with the scent of the forest, and he's beautiful in his wolf's skin, the thick dark coat with stark silver around his muzzle.
He knows that Peter can tell. It's not just the moan or the question, or the scent of Peter's answering arousal mixing with his in the air between them, but it's something else. It's that silent, unspoken understanding, the language they shared without words.
When he asks if Derek would want to knot him, it makes it clear beyond doubt that Peter wants more. It's not possible to tiptoe around the edges of this anymore, and if he's honest, he doesn't want to. Not knowing that Peter wants this. Knowing that it's more than just rebound, than just wanting to be fucked to forget. It's more than that, and they both know it.
"Yes," he says, with hardly a beat of hesitation. Peter's half-hard against his hip, and Derek shifts, staring into Peter's light blue eyes. Derek moves easily, rolling so he's facing Peter, and keeps moving until he's half-atop him, half curled around him, and he's pressing him down into the soft mattress as he nips at his lips, daring him to lean up and take a real kiss. Daring him to move and ask for it again, not with words but with his body. He's daring him to squirm, to spread his legs like he's in heat and desperate to be filled, or to try and flip their positions again, playful and resisting, ramping the energy of this up until they tumble back down together.
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And then Derek says yes and it draws a soft whimper from his lips and his breath catches as he shifts against him. He moves easily over Peter's smaller body. He's slender, lean muscle, but he's short; shorter than Erica when she's wearing her heels. He whines and arches as Derek nips at his lips, the older werewolf wrapping around his body, ontop of him, and Peter needs him, needs this. He kisses him, sudden and a little uncertain, needy. His lips a little rough, but it quickly turns to teeth, turns to biting and nipping and pulling Derek in.
He needs him, wants him, and admitting that is like a powder keg, like knocking over a tower. The need that grips him is fierce, unrelenting, intoxicating. He needs Derek, needs his Alpha, needs to be locked together, to feel how their bodies curl when they're joined so intimately. His legs spread and his hips jerk up against his Alpha's body, a rough whimper that he breathes into Derek's mouth.
"I want you to knot me. I want- I want it to be you."
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Those sounds, that soft whimper and the hitch of Peter's breath, they're doing things to Derek, and he's pushing back just to feel just how much more Peter needs, to hear it in those whining sounds. The kiss is clumsy at first, his lips rough and his movements uncertain, as if this isn't something he's used to. Kissing, or just tumbling to the floor with someone who's human.
Well, human-ish, for the time being.
Peter gains his footing when it's biting, when he's using teeth and pulling Derek closer, and there's an answering growl to Peter's move to lead him in. He's saying that he's setting the pace, that he knows Peter's impatient, that he wants so much, but Derek will take care of him. He pulls his mouth free of Peter's, and his face finds Peter's stubble-dusted neck and he presses another growl against his skin. It's a warning and a claim all in one, meant for Peter to trust that he's going to give him what he needs, and meant for anyone who's listening to know that Peter is his and stay away.
He shifts as Peter spreads his legs, hips rolling against Peter's naked body, denim dragging against his exposed cock. He's already hard, and the thick press of his cock feels good through his jeans, gives him friction enough to tide him over until he's sinking inside Peter, because he wants that. Exactly what Peter wants, he wants to knot him so tight they can't get up for an hour.
"I want that…" he breathes against his skin, and he should say more, should say that this isn't just fucking some wolf in the woods, this is more, this is real, but Peter knows. Peter has to know.
His hand is reaching down between them as he holds himself up on one arm, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans before starting to wriggle out of them.
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He cries out, sharp and breath stolen from his lungs as Derek rolls hips against him. The denim of his jeans against his hard cock, and he shivers, shakes at the friction that's too much and not enough. He mewls in answer to those words, a plea, needy and desperate. He needs Derek inside of him more than he can even really think about.
Derek is stripping out of his jeans, and that's when Peter really notices it: wet warmth between his legs, sliding down his thighs and there's a surprised gasp. He shifts, tries to draw his legs back together in embarrassment, because this, he doesn't understand. He knew the basics, understood most of it, but Nicolae had never detailed exactly what happened when you had sex with your mate.
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Peter is so responsive, so receptive to everything. They should have done this ages ago, just falling together like they belong this way, wrapped tight around each other.
He realizes what's happening as he shifts, as he's squirming out of his jeans, he can smell it. He knew, on some level, he'd known since Peter walked into his life, that this was it, that they were circling the edges of a bond they both knew was there but both were afraid or reluctant to acknowledge. Peter getting wet is a sign, yet another way to tell that this is right, but he can tell that Peter doesn't know. He's shifting, drawing his legs together like he's embarrassed.
"Don't," he breathes against Peter's ear, and he shifts, pressing a thigh between Peter's legs, urging him to stay, to relax. "Shh… it's normal… it happens to Omegas… when you're having sex with your mate," it's strange to say it out loud, to actually face it head on and give it voice. That they're mates, that Peter is his Omega, that he's his Alpha. That they fit together like this.
There's a pause because he can feel it, slick against his thigh, and when he talks again, his voice is rough and guttural, "Fuck, it's hot…" he breathes against the shell of his ear, tongue tracing the delicate shape there before nipping at his earlobe, affectionately.
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And then Derek's telling him it's normal, and he's about to protest that it's never happened before, but then there are words that come after. It sets him reeling, but it makes this so much more than just a feeling. It makes this even more real, something hard, cemented here between them. It should feel like a cage, but it doesn't. It's not the grasping connection that Roman was always trying to pull tight around his throat that Peter both loved and hated. This is... somehow easier. As easy as how their bodies fit together.
He shudders at the sound of Derek's voice, and he wants to ask, to beg for it, but he doesn't. Not yet at least, because Derek said he'd take care of him, and he lets himself trust that. That his Alpha -- his mate -- can give him what he needs. He moans as his tongue licks at his ear, and then teeth are nipping and he whines a little, his back arching up off the mattress.
"Fuck, Derek..." His hands shaky, trailing over broad shoulders, down to touch at the muscles of his chest. He's gorgeous, beautiful in a way that Peter never would have really considered himself attracted to.
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Peter needs more. He can tell in the way he's moving, arching beneath him, legs spread and asking for more with every sound he makes, whimpers and whines that bleed into words gasped into his ear.
He meant what he said, that he's going to take care of Peter, give him what he needs so he doesn't need to push for it, doesn't need to take the lead to get the things he wants. Peter's hands shake against his skin, his shoulders, and Derek presses his nose into Peter's ear, and murmurs, "Turn over…"
He's helping him, guiding him to turn beneath him, shifting his legs to give him room as a hand catches a slender hip and urges him over onto his belly and then up onto hands and knees.
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He wants to belong, and he wants more, even if they're words he hasn't said outloud. He wants a family, and even if having a pack has been so good, that realization of having a mate sparks that realization that it could be more.
He starts to move, to slip from underneath Derek, his hands going to curl in the bedsheets, and there's a soft smile that curves his lips at the feeling of his Alpha's hands on his body. His Alpha. He's not the possessive type, or at least that's what he'd claim, but he wants to possess Derek. He wants to hold onto him, keep him, and the intensity of the feeling takes his breath away.
Peter always needs someone to guide him, lead him. With Letha, it was edgy, being pushed into something he didn't actually want, that he knew would go wrong. With the wolf it had been a stumbling, uncertain thing, with cool nose that nudged against his warm fur. With Derek it's... different. Better. He feels less awkward about not knowing how, or not wanting to, and none of it feels wrong.
It's perfect. It's sinful, how good it is. Derek's hands that catch at a hip as he presses him onto his stomach, then helps him up to his hands and knees. He shakes, so exposed like this. It's different, being on hands and knees in his human skin instead of on four paws when he's consumed the fleshy veil he hides himself in.
"Derek..."
It's whispered on an exhale of breath, not so much a plea, as an affirmation. You can have this, you can have me. He needs him.
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Derek shifts, raising up enough on hands and knees to give Peter room to turn over beneath him, but in those few seconds before he urged Peter to his knees, he came back down, letting his hips press flush against his gorgeous full, round ass, letting him feel the press of his cock against his cheeks.
Then he's kneeling, and Derek's hand slips over the curve of his hip, fingertips brushing low on his belly, skimming through the dark hair there and teasing, not yet touching him, because he wants the first sexual moment between them to be when he's sinking into Peter's body.
Peter's ready, and Derek can almost tell that it's hard for him not to ask, to push for more and demand to have what he needs. He's trusting Derek to give it to him, and he can't imagine how difficult that is. His arm curls around Peter's middle and he moves, pressing himself up against his back as he rocks against him, his body finding the right position. He presses a kiss against Peter's neck, below his ear, and he wants to say I've got you, wants to be reassuring as the head of his cock presses between Peter's cheeks and each roll of his hips brings it closer to where it needs to be, but all that escapes against Peter's skin is a low growl, possessive and affectionate all at once.
Then it happens, he moves just right and the head of his cock presses at Peter's entrance, and the next thrust has him pushing in. It's easy with how wet Peter already is, and it pulls a startled gasp from his throat at how good this feels, how right it is to be sinking inside Peter.
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His breath is shaky, but there's a sweet, blissed murmur as Derek wraps an arm around him, presses against his back. It's perfect, this feeling of safety, of strength that surrounds him, he lets his neck tilt to expose more skin as Derek kisses against his neck, next to his ear, and god, Derek's cock slips between his cheeks so easy and he whines, just so overwhelmed. It feels so much, and he's moaning, his thighs spreading softly, giving himself to his Alpha. They've always been this, just dancing around it, pretending not to notice, but Peter can't let himself ruin that connection twice.
It steals all breath from his lungs when the head of Derek's cock presses to his entrance, and a roll of his hips has him sinking into Peter's body. He moans, shaking at how slick and easy it is, how good it feels. Intoxicating, claiming, a fierce sense of belonging that he can't put words to. One hand comes away from the bed, and he's curling fingers against Derek's hand, letting him be his anchor as heat and need flare inside him.
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He moves into every touch, presses back as Derek presses in, and it's bliss that he can feel, can hear on him. Every shaky move says this is exactly what he wants, this closeness, this connection. Peter belongs to him. It's more than any one thing, more than how he's wet for him, how he curls his fingers tight against his hand, how it's always Derek that he comes to in moments like this. It's everything together, the endless accumulation of it all.
He nuzzles against Peter's neck, nose pressed to his warm skin and breathes him in as he turns his hand to grasp Peter's, tight, reassuring, and he moves. Hips roll at first, slowly rocking, pressing deeper, and then he changes his stance just slightly and he's starting to withdraw and then sink back into him, and it's easy because he's so fucking wet, and a shiver of energy, of desire, of sensation pools inside him and he groans softly against Peter's ear.
"Mine…" he breathes into the delicate shell of his ear. He wants to tell him how good he feels, not just the wet heat wrapped around him, but his firm, lean body beneath his, the way he presses back against him, eager for more. He wants to tell him that he's dreamed of fitting together with someone the way they do, now, that he's been lonely and wanting for all these years, wanting this.
He wants to tell him that he smells like home.
But mine is all he can manage, it's as close as he can get.
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He hasn't wanted to run since; he hasn't needed to. Lynda does odd job around town, helping out at the Vet clinic and things like that. Peter hasn't been willing to say that it feels like home, but it does. He shudders, and there's a breathless murmur that's all assent, agreement -- yours. Peter hadn't ever really thought he could fit with someone like this, so perfect, so good, and he laces their fingers together.
He could tell Derek how much he's needed this. How he's always been running, always one foot out the door, always so scared of letting himself care. He could tell him that for as much as he's said he doesn't need people's feelings, he was just tired of hurting. He could tell him how much he wants a family. He could tell him so many things, but he feels like he doesn't need to. Like Derek already knows.
"My Alpha.."
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At first, he'd been afraid that Peter would leave. Every time he'd go out, running in the woods in the dark, he'd been afraid he wouldn't find his way back, but he did every time. He knows he just needs to get out, needs open spaces, needs the wind in his hair and the leaves beneath his feet, but he needs this, too. Needs an anchor, needs a bed to come home to, needs something permanent in his nomadic existence.
There are so many things that have gone unsaid, things that crept into the silence and made themselves known, more than just the fact that Peter would always come back, but the desire for family. There's more, things they'll get to, talking in the dark, after, but for now it hardly matters that it's never been made explicit.
Derek presses a kiss against Peter's neck. He wants to bite him, wants to lay his claim, leave a mark on his flesh that tells everyone that this Omega belongs to him. The idea is thrilling, and he can already feel his knot beginning to swell, can feel the resistance now as he thrusts into Peter, how his body is more and more resistant to let him go. His breath is coming faster, heavier, and he tightens his grip of Peter's hand and bites down against his perfect skin, teeth sinking in.
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He murmurs as Derek presses a kiss to the side of his neck, warm and soft, close to the pulse point. Then he's lifting his hips, shoulders falling to the bed and he's whining, whimpering as Derek's knot starts to swell, so the rim of his body catches on it when he pulls out. It makes him sob, and then Derek bites him, and he comes like that, with his Alpha's canines sinking into his pale skin, marking him like that. Claiming him, cementing that bond between them, marking Peter as his mate, and when he tries to pull back the next time, he can't.
Their bodies tied, and all Peter can do is moan with the feeling of it. "Derek..."