Savage Harvest
To Peter, Stiles was his and always would be.
Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever own Teen Wolf. I will never obtain such a thing and any plots or characters that one may recognise from the original author is not mine.
Warnings: Large age gap. Slash. allusions to knotting. Allusions to breeding (mpreg) PeterxStiles. allusions to voyerism. allusions to violence. allusions to scars. allusions to sexual intercourse.
Authors Note: I just have a lot of StilesxPeter feelings.
Also, this is more drabble-like than actual story but I quite like it. Feedback would be appreciated!
Savage Harvest
Peter had watched the boy, all long limbs and stuttering steps as he tried to work out clues that no human should have been able to put together.
He watched the boy, all fumbled words and hidden intelligence as his nephew abused him, marring the pale and fragile skin with silver scars and blackened marks which blossomed beautifully and Peter couldn't help but visualize what his boy would look like beneath him, sweaty and flushed with a blush roving his cheeks and his amber eyes a dark ember as they shone with lust, he couldn't help but visualize how the boy would writhe beneath him, long limbs and grasping hands as Peter took and took and gave and gave, how his hips would thrust into the boy, make him gasp and whimper and moan as he was tied to Peter, unable to escape as he arched and moaned.
He wanted to know how the boy would look with his mark upon his frail skin.
He wanted the boy to be his.
He wanted the boy to bare his claim.
He wanted the boy to sport his mark of ownership.
He wanted to be the only one to know what the boy looked like in the throes of passion.
He wanted to be the only one to ever be able to give his boy the passion he so desperately craved
But he was forced to watch as the boy bared another mans mark upon his skin, the bruise a sickly yellow showing the boys reluctance stance upon it being upon his person and Peter felt resent well up in his stomach for his nephew; Derek was nothing but a pitiful little pup that wanted to play Alpha, someone who was trying to fill the shoes of his elder sister but would never just reach the mark, nothing but a stupid little omega without a pack, forced to intimadate human children who only tried to help him.
He was forced to stand by passively as his boy threw himself into harms way over and over again and if Peter even sat there, encased in the shadows to add a layer of protection to his boy - well that was his own business. He watched his boy, watched with a reverence that he was sure was almsot unheard of, he listened to his boys steadily pounding heard, growling when fear and anger and pain spiked and purring in quiet pleasure when he heard soft moans and whimpers as lust filtered around him from where he sat just outside the house, purring when he heard his boy sigh out, all breathy and high-pitched and if he was forced to readjust himself he knew it was because of his boy. He wanted his claim upon his boy, he wanted to be buried inside of him, with his teeth and his knot, he wanted to feel the boy being tied to him, how he would be tied to him for almost an hour as he was bred. He wanted his bite of ownership and claim to be forever etched into his boys wrist, wanted to feel the jump of his boys heart against Peters as his boy was clutched to him. He was forced to watch his boy struggle to survive, struggle to survive when he was in the driving seat of a car going over seventy miles an hour without a seatbelt on which was destined to crash.
When it crashed, it would be Peter who held his boys broken body to himself. When it crashed, it would be Peter whose teeth sunk his his boys succulent flesh for the first time and would taste the sweet virginal blood that would spill into his mouth, staining his fangs like an aphrodisiac which Peter was all but helpless for. When it crashed, it would be Peter whom woul be the first thing his boy would see, it would be Peter who cherished for him, who loved him and cared for him.
When it crashed, Peter would be the one who held his boy together.
When it crashed, it would be Peters mark Stiles wore like a badge upon his wrist.