Run With the Wolves, Baby

[velveteenwolf]

 

 

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[velveteenwolf]

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.