Well, I wrote the initial sex scene to Two Feet 's song: I Feel Like I'm Drowning. I highly recommend. All of their music is so slow and sensual. I would 100% do the diddly to it. 10/10. So if you're interested in listening to that while reading the scene, it may run a little differently and make for an enhanced experience if you're someone like me who really imagines the written scenes! :)
That being said, we're coming up on the FINAL CHAPTERS HERE! Wow this story took forever to really wrap up in the end... You can see the difference in my writing as the chapters progress. :) Thank you for sticking with it to the end! xoxox
Peter is a gentle lover.
It might sound surprising, given his rather... violent history, but he's extremely careful in bed. The way he holds John, arms languidly wrapped around him in a supportive and tender embrace, kissing his way up John's chest to his lips, it's entirely too tender to be considered anything other than gentle. He fucks John like he's so easily broken, as if he's a delicate treasure Peter wants to covet and shine; John's something to put atop a pedestal and be appreciated.
The pace is slow, nearing torturous territory as Peter rocks into John with rolling thrusts, hands pulling up at the small of his back, raising his hips to better meet the slow push of Peter's own.
The sweat drips up John's collar, pooling around his neck until Peter leans in to lap at it, the musk heavy on his tongue and it really shouldn't be as hot as it is, but John shivers with electric arousal anyway. With anyone else, John would be too old for a position like this. He's not spry enough to hold his hips up in this position for an extended time, ass raised off the mattress and cock bobbing in the air. If it wasn't for Peter's unnatural strength, he just couldn't do it...
But Peter is holding him up, arms curled around him and John finds that he can.
And God, it's the hottest fuck he's ever had.
"Peter!" he gasps, throwing his head to the side and fisting the sheets beside his head even tighter.
A low, throaty and possessive growl rumbles up from Peter's chest as he leans over to mouth at a nipple.
"Oh my God... I can't keep this up..." he whimpered, and raised one hand to close his fingers around Peter's hair instead.
Peter smiled against him, "You can, John." then he chuckled, "Even if you can't... I could fuck you like this for hours... maybe through a second orgasm?"
John groaned, "I'm too old for that."
"Then I suppose we'll just have to be satisfied with you coming completely undone while I slowly fuck into you."
John whined, tugged on Peter's hair when he tried to go back to nipping at his chest, and shook his head, "I want... I want the rest of you before I cum."
Peter raised an eyebrow, "The rest of me?" he grinned, and rolled his hips again with an upward aim until John's jaw dropped. "I assure you John, you have all of me. Always."
"Ugh! I mean-" he cut himself off with a desperate moan.
If Peter kept aiming right for his prostate like that this would be over far too soon. He had plans for tonight, damn it. "Your knot." he gasped, and Peter's hips stuttered forward roughly before he stilled.
"You want..?"
"Yes." John said with a nod, "That... that would make us mates, right? We'd be mating if you-"
"John," he growled, and gently lowered the Sheriff's hips to lean completely forward, pressing himself over John like a blanket and touching their noses together, "You can't back out of this. If you let me mate you, you'll be mine forever." he pushed himself in one more time, knot bumping just along John's rim, almost as if accentuating his point, "Mine, John. Nobody else, ever."
"Yes!" John cried, and wrapped his arms around Peter's neck to keep him from moving away, "I already told you I agree to that. I want you Peter. I want to be your mate."
Peter's smile was brilliant, damn near blinding as his lips split, "I'd howl, but I have no interest in dislodging your arms." he chuckled, "I like having you cling to me."
"Knot me, Peter." he coaxed, and tried to cheekily lift his leg around Peter's hips to pull him in further.
He failed, but damn it he tried.
Peter chuckled, and retracted an arm from beneath John to assist him, lifting the leg up until it was level with his hip and sighing as he pushed himself closer. The beginning of his knot was right there, so close to coming home, pressing just inside, and it took everything Peter had to fight with himself and keep from just pushing it all in. He had to make sure John never regretted this.
"The stretch will sting." he said carefully, and moved his other arm so that he could cradle John's face with a hand, "Would you prefer if I stretched you a little more first?"
John thought on it, but that would mean pulling out. It would mean Peter would have to move away, and he was already so close... "No," he decided, "I want to just feel you."
Peter grumbled between his teeth, surging forward to capture a heated kiss before offering a breathy, "John Stilinski, you are every werewolf's wet dream..."
He laughed, "I hope not! That would make our pack meetings very awkward."
Peter whimpered, head ducking to nuzzled at John's neck excitedly.
"What did I say?" he chuckled, and let his fingers comb through Peter's hair.
"Pack." he said simply, and nipped at his throat, "Our pack, John."
John groaned, and in a moment of rash decisions, let one hand claw down Peter's back, "Knot me already, Peter."
Peter growled, low and hungry, "If you keep saying such delicious things I might lose my composure, John. Be careful."
"Lose it." he huffed, and tipped his head back to offer his neck, a gesture he knew would rile Peter up. "I want to feel you lose yourself for me..."
The bite down was fast, teeth digging into the skin of John's neck with frenzied precision as Peter shoved the rest of himself forward. It did hurt. A lot, but John only allowed for one short, surprised cry to leave his lips before he continued on with the moaning. Peter was inside of him. Completely. Teeth in his neck and Knot in his ass, taking John like the beast that was hidden away inside of him.
Peter was mating him.
John cried out, neck starting to strain from the position Peter kept him in, teeth still persistently holding him still. "Peter-" he gasped, "PeterPeterPeter-"
Peter's hips jerked back and forth, the knot pulling out until the bulbous round of it was stretched John to what should be uncomfortably wide before he slammed it back inside. His growls rumbled through the point where he was connected with John's neck, and all John could do was wail and hold on as he was fucked.
Sharp claws suddenly threatened to break skin at his hips, where Peter held him tight. Their slight sting only served to excite John even more.
Peter fucked him like an animal, all strength and desperate need, thrusts short and choppy and teeth still holding him in place.
Even after Peter spilled into him, after he got a fist around John and jerked him off too, still thrusting in short bursts as his knot kept him mostly in place. They were stuck together, and John couldn't believe how fucking hot it was to be taken like this, for Peter to forget his gentle handling for a moment and just take.
At last, his teeth retracted, and Peter's tongue darted out to lap at the forming mark, purring with content before slotting his own neck just within John's reach, "Mine too, John."
John didn't even think, just opening his mouth and surged forward, catching the flesh within his teeth and biting down with some force. Peter moved fast, carefully slipping his claws around John's back again and lifting, holding them tightly chest-to-chest so as not to dislodge him.
When he was done, and Peter was holding him there, sat up on the bed with John in his lap, teeth still in his neck and cum splattered between them, Peter did tip his head back. He howled like Peter had never heard a creature howl. The sound was loud, almost deafening, but John couldn't hear much else besides the beating of Peter's heart where his ear was pressed against him.
John almost wanted to howl himself.
He pulled his mouth away, only a little disappointed to see the mark not nearly as deep as Peters, and pulled his mate out of his triumphant howl to kiss him.
"I love you, Peter."
Peter looked ready to howl again, but John held him still with both his hands on either cheek, so he settled with a wide and toothy grin, "I love you more than anything, John."
John was nuzzled comfortably into Peter's side when he was startled awake by Peter's low growl of warning. There was a jostle of movement, Peter gone away from John's side while John tried to rub his bleary eyes awake. "Peter?" he said to the open.
When his sight was less fuzzy, John caught a look at his new mate, half shifted and standing between their bed and the door. John slipped out of the covers cautiously, tugging a pair of pajama bottoms up over his hips and a night shirt over his head before stepping closer to Peter. If he had to leave the room, he didn't to go out buck naked... just in case whatever woke Peter was Stiles returning home-maybe even with Derek.
His hips were still sore, so the toddle over was a little slower than John intended, but it gave him the few moments he needed to understand that Peter was in a half shift. Harrier than usual, fangs protruding from his snarl and bent over in a crouch, ready to strike as he glared at the door.
Maybe they were in danger?
But when he strained his ears to listen, John couldn't hear a thing. There was no noise coming from the hallway, nothing that could clue him in on what Peter was growling at.
"Peter?" John asks cautiously, reaching out to gently touch his arm.
He gets a low, warning growl in return for his efforts, but before John can try to ask again the door bursts open and people are flooding into the room.
John hadn't heard them at all.
Two men jump at Peter, each going for an arm while a third lifts a crossbow level with his eyes. A fourth stranger makes at John, who had backed himself into a corner stupidly the minute the commotion started. Peter snarled at him, and John took the opportunity to swing as soon as he was distracted, landing a hit square in the jaw and kicking him the chest after he'd doubled over.
John might not be a werewolf, but he was the damn sheriff. He could hold his own.
When John looked up from his wounded assistant to Peter, about to rush forward to help him, he found that Peter had shifted. His brows were curled into a permanent snarl, claws protruding from his fingers and hair overtaking most of his face, continuing all the way down his chest and arms.
Oh, right. He and Peter were mostly naked...
Because these bastards had attacked them in the middle of the night, gone right for their bedroom and probably assumed they'd still be fast asleep-the cowards.
John shouted to Peter, warning him about the man coming up from behind, gun pointed at his back and looking like he was just itching to pull the trigger. Peter swung around with a ferocious speed, snapping his teeth at the man and swiping at him with his claws. He ends up catching him on the second swing, catching him by surprise and throwing the attacker into the closet, which breaks on impact. Great. Well, John needed an upgrade anyway.
Apparently also a new dresser, as Peter throws another against that and it slams against the wall. It looks he could have broken the guy's back, but John honestly cares more about the dent it put in his wall than he does about the bastard that's attacking Peter.
There are broken bits of furniture everywhere, claw marks on the walls and blood splatter decorating the floor in gore. John's even more horrified by the fact that he can't tell how much of it is Peter's. There's a gash in his arm from a shot, an arrow in his leg and John's not sure if he'll be able to hold out much longer in his condition. Someone with a dart gun has been firing shots at Peter the entire fight, and John can see that whatever they've got is starting to put Peter off balance-he's losing his energy to fight.
"Peter!" he tries, deciding that even if he's a little outmatched here, at least he can try.
John's only just gotten a foot in front of himself to go to his aid when he's snatched from behind, the man he'd kicked to the ground grabbing at him with an angry grip and a curt, "Son of a bitch."
John struggled, desperate and frustrated when he can't get any more than a few inches of leeway between them. He's caught. The man yanks John's arms behind his back and forces him chest down against the bed before spying his neck, "Shit." he cursed, and lifted his head to yell at one of the others, "We're too late. He's bit."
"Peter-"
Peter's head whips around, eyeing John and the position his assailant has him in. He growls fiercely, back on his haunches to jump forward at them before there's another dart in his shoulder. He stumbles over, the effects of all the other darts (and there are a startling amount of them) finally taking their toll. He's on the ground now, and one of the men in looping a chain around his legs while another puts a gun to his head.
They're both caught now. Nothing he can do.
Peter must sense it too, because he looks up at John with a look of defeat and sorrow before tipping his head back to howl.
The sound echoes through the room, out the open window and into the night well before a woman with short, choppy hair slams the butt of her shotgun into his forehead.
Peter yelps, head falling to the ground to join the rest of him, and John struggles harder, "You bastards! I'm the sheriff here and this is-"
"Blake, shut him up, would you?" she snaps, nodding her head towards the man holding him, "We've gotta get out of here before the rest of em' show up for a rescue. He was calling them."
There's a cloth shoved into John's mouth before he's dragged away from the bed and forced out the door. Peter cries out weakly to him, the broken cry of an injured wolf, and John has just enough time to see them hit him again, and Peter stops moving on the floor.
Well it wouldn't be a Castello story without a little dramatic tension~
