This chapter is literally just graphic smut, so if you're opposed to it or too young to view it, shut your eyes! (/w\)
Peter hands were blessed with an intimate tenderness as he lowered John onto the bed, kissing a trail from his neck down his chest as he went. It's foreign to him; holding onto someone with such carefulness. Peter is used to grabbing rough fistfulls of someone before hurling them across the room, not gently caressing them onto their back. This is so different from everything else he's done with his life that it nearly makes him pause... but John looks up at him with lidded, beautiful eyes and he forgets why he would ever think to hesitate.
He doesn't understand how he got here, with such a brilliant soul willing to cling onto him between the sheets, but he's ever so grateful for it.
It's quiet and meaningful; the two of them falling in to bed like this. Peter sucks small hickeys into John's chest as he unbuttons his shirt, marking the skin as it's revealed to him. He lives for every breathy groan John gives him and hangs on the cut off sound of desperation that comes when he finally unbuckles John's belt.
Getting John out of his clothes this time is a privilege that Peter takes at a snail's pace. It's not rushed like their first romp on the couch. That had been fueled by instinct. Peter's sober this time, still reeling a little at just how beautiful his bed partner is. He's slow as he slips the pants from John's legs, letting his fingers ghost down his skin in a form of worship. He kisses John's inner thigh before continuing down to John's ankles.
"Peter..." John breathes, the name slipping from his mouth in a pleasured sigh.
Peter leans up to catch John's mouth in his own, happy when John slips his fingers into Peter's hair and tugs softly. They're level now, Peter knelt between John's open legs and kissing with a passion he hasn't felt since he lost his family all those years ago; joy ripped away from him. He's rebuilding that now, here with John, and the idea fills him up with such merriment he feels a little drunk on it. Peter slips his arms behind John's back, pulling him close until they're chest to chest and he can bury his face in John's neck.
John tries to tug his shirt up, breaking the kiss for just a moment so he can order Peter out of it. He's reluctant to let go of John to do it, but complies, settling him back against the mattress before sitting up to pull the fabric over his head. There's a little more rustling before he's got his own pants off, falling right back into his honored place between John's legs. That's what it is to be there, his honor. That such a strong man as John let him lay there; let him kiss at his neck and brush his hand over his exposed parts. It's a privilege to have a place in John's heart and in his bed.
"I love you." He decides, one hand on John slowly dragging up and down, the other cupping John's cheek as he stares at him.
John gasps, shutting his eyes and shifting his hips up into Peter's hand. "I..."
Peter attaches his lips to John's again before he can say anything else. He doesn't have the heart to hear any resistance in John's voice right now. He doesn't need to know if John returns the sentiment just yet. He wants to keep this moment between them charged and unbreakable. He'd kill for it. He'd kill for John. In a heartbeat.
John doesn't protest, just clings to Peter's shoulders as he coaxes John into thrusting up in his hand.
"Do you have any lube?" he asks, gliding his free hand up John's thigh and hiking it over his hip.
He pushed their bodies together, sighing when they connect, naked skin on skin and deliriously delicious friction making him want to toss his head back and howl. John moans, but shakes his head.
"Could you turn over for me?"
Peter smiles when he obediently rolls. On his stomach, ass in the air and damn near presenting for Peter, he's too gorgeous for words. The sight takes Peter's breath away and he doesn't know if it's instinct driving him forward or just the insane thrum of his heart. He leans close, spreading John's cheeks so that he can press his tongue to a fluttering rim. The responding surprised whine is music to his ears.
John's breath catches and he squirms, "I'm not... I don't know if you should really..." he stumbles, drunken on lust but not enough to fully squash his embarrassment, "Isn't that gross?"
"You showered after getting home from work." Peter says, an answer rather than a question.
"I did, but... it's still..."
"I want to."
He licks a single stripe over his hole before driving his tongue inside. John's writhing back against his tongue in moments, groaning, grunting, grinding and it's suddenly become such a power trip for Peter. He's got Beacon Hill's sheriff riding his face and begging like Peter owns him. And Peter wants that. He wants to own him. It's delicious and makes him damn near delirious. He adds a finger from each hand alongside his tongue before he can think twice and John positively keens. He's spreading John wide with his fingers and fucking him open with his tongue and it's everything Peter never knew he wanted.
"Peter!" John cries, voice ragged and strained.
He hums in reply, but doesn't remove himself from between John's legs.
"I... I think I'm..." John tries, interrupting himself with small moans now and then, "I haven't done this but... but I need."
Peter gets the message, but he spends a few more moments lapping up John's musk with fever before he decides to abide. His jaw is a little strained when he spits into his hand, but it's a good kind of soreness that only serves to excite him more. He slicks himself up as best he can and drapes his body over Johns carefully, sure not to startle him. He can feel John flinch when the head of Peter's cock first taps against his hole. He needs to relax. Peter nibbles softly on John's neck in an effort to distract him from it. He gets a pleased mumbling of his name for the effort.
The first slow push pops his head just past the rim and leaves John sounding wrecked. He's making wet, obscene sounds that Peter decides no one else ever has any right to hear. He'll keep John locked away from the ears of the rest of the world. He stills like that, making sure it's not too much too soon and giving John a moment to get accustomed to it. It feels like torture not to just thrust into John's welcoming heat. He wants to ruin him, ignite his skin with pleasure but he wouldn't do anything that could hurt John. So he stays still, wraps an arm around John's waist and works through it with his forehead pressed between John's shoulders.
It's a horrible shock when the sudden violent urge to claim overcomes him. There isn't any time to place it or where it comes from before Peter is moving, like he doesn't have control of his body anymore. He's pushing in before he can stop himself, fingers digging into John's hips like a vice, no doubt going to bruise later.
John lets out a cry, but doesn't seem too pained, thank God.
His breath comes out in a rasp as he moans, chokes on a sob and pushes back against Peter.
And damn if that isn't too tempting to pass over.
Peter pushes right back, thrusting into John with a newfound abandon, his brain running circles with the idea that there's no time for slowness. He needs to do this now, before someone can take John away from him. He bites into the skin of John's shoulder blade and devours the responding whine, his pace never slowing even as he worries if he'd bitten too hard. He only knows that he has to. He needs to bite all across John's unmarked skin. He needs to stake his claim on John before someone else realizes what a rarity he really is. John is his.
He can feel the moment his knot starts to swell, arousal pooling in his belly and Peter just wants to hold John down by the throat and keep him there until he's squealing Peter's name as he fills him with cum; as he claims him in the most carnal way.
John gasps, startled, when he feels the round of Peter's knot bumping against his rim with every thrust, "P-Peter?!"
Peter grunts, fights every desperate call of the wolf telling him to just shove it all in and presses his cheek to John's ear, "Not-ngh-Not putting it in." he assures, "Don't worry."
He gets a hand around John's cock in apology for frightening him, pumping in rhythm with his trusts as best he can. It's an awkward angle that strains his wrist, but it's worth it to hear John start to wail. His head hangs lifelessly after all is said and done, cum splattered on the sheets beneath them as John softens in his hand.
It's easy to follow. Peter's body works almost on it's own, blood thrumming with the fire of that stupid drug and forcing him to take without care. But it's not without care. He forces his fingers to loosen their grip on John's hips and licks at the red marks he'd bitten into John's back. He feels the tension built up by the drug drain out of him with his orgasm, his wolf evidently appeased with this much. The control comes racing back to him and the intense need quickly fades.
Peter pulls out slowly, feeling satisfied as he watches his cum follow, dripping from John's stretched rim in a lewd display of Peter's ownership. It's such a delicious sight that he briefly thinks about diving back in to lick it all up, maybe use his tongue to push some of it back inside. John turns onto his side before Peter can get the chance. He can do that another time.
He follows John's leading hand on his head, capturing the sheriff's lips kissing him softly. It feels like sweet victory when he pulls back and sees the lazy grin John wears. Peter wants to shift and run around after his tail, but he's pressed for breath and decides he fancies the idea of snuggling up close to John more than wolfing-out.
He huffs, dropping to John's side and laying so that it's easy to slip a hand into John's sweaty hair.
He's worried that maybe he went too far towards the end, wanting to offer explanation in terms of the serum. If he'd known it would take him over like that... he'd have fought a little longer with himself about pulling John into bed, but he's sure he couldn't have resisted completely. He's startled from his guilt when John chuckles at him with a breathy smile.
"Did... Did that count as us...?"
"Us...?" Peter repeats in question, huffing a little himself in pleasant exhaustion.
John takes a breath, humming happily as Peter plays with his hair, "Did we just 'mate'?"
Peter chokes on the air for a second before he can hold back his snicker. He falls onto his back beside John and wipes some of the sweat from his forehead, still chuckling when John smacks him for it.
"No, that wasn't mating, that was sex. Very good sex." Peter smiles, pulling John to his chest and nuzzling the top of his head, "When we mate, it will be different. I'll give you my mating bite..."
"And that thing?" John smirks, nonchalantly running a finger along the base of Peter's softened penis, right where his knot would be, enjoying the rumbling moan it pulls out of Peter, "Will that be... in me when we do?"
"It's... a part of it." Peter admits, enjoying the feel of John's hand, "But I promise I won't hurt you."
John scoffs playfully, rubbing his cheek against Peter's chest, "Isn't that what teenagers say before they take your virginity?"
"You have a lot of experience with lying teenage boys promising you the best?" The wolf grins, canines showing at the corners of his mouth as he smiles.
"Shut up."
They laugh together, and John can feel the warm vibrations from where his head connects with Peter's chest. It's such a sweet and intimate feeling, being here with Peter... like this. It's freeing. He wants to laugh, curl up and let their shared happiness heat the space around them. It's a cozy feeling that leaves nothing to be desired. John as everything. Right here. With Peter.
