A/N: Beware! This section is really quite explicit and sometimes vulgar. It uses a derogatory word that I do not condone, but definitely felt like it belonged to convey the kind of mood that I wanted. If you're not interested in all the details, here's what you need to know to safely skip over this chapter: ***Spoilers*** Peter is Stiles' landlord and takes sexual favors instead of money for rent. He's rough and terrible and has come very close to breaking Stiles' will. ***End Spoilers***
Peter Hale is your landlord and you suppose if every story has a villain, then he must be yours.
You have no one to blame for the contract but yourself, after all you were the genius who'd thought it up. It's happened while you were still new to the game, still basing your behavior off movies and pornos. It was a classic trick- pay the building manager with sex instead of cash, reap the rewards of being young and virile. You needed the money, and Peter was all kinds of hot and willing.
Now, with all the…. experience you have, you would have noticed the dangerous hunger in his eyes, the tell-tale glint of an appetite less than savory. You can recognize it easily enough when you go looking for new men, pick out those who have the capacity to go too far, to take too much. They're turned away almost immediately and with Boyd's help they leave it well enough alone.
Even with the both of you though, you don't think you'd be able to hold off Peter. He's smart, charming, ruthless, all the things a man of his conscience should never be. He comes for you once a month, never on the same day. He is to be seen the second he arrives, and has thrown half-naked regulars out on more than one occasion. It was pretty bad for business at first, but most of your Johns these days are set on you in particular and offer you pitying glances as they leave. By now they all know about him, as you often have to schedule a few days of recovery after his visit and bump their appointments.
He's not really animalistic in the way he takes you- that would imply a sort of passion to it. No, Peter has you with his hunger, this emptiness that he just can't fill no matter how hard he tries. His body's lean, but he's stronger than he looks and willing to use more force than he should. His cock's short, but fatter than any other you've ever seen, and he's hardly got the patience to prepare you properly for it, make sure you're ready for the stretch. He only fucks you but one way- on your stomach, with one of his hands on the back of your neck, pressing your face into the mattress, almost to the point of smothering, while he rams you open and cuts in the skin of your hips with his nails.
He followed your rule about condoms the first few times, but doesn't even bother with pretending like he forgot now. Most times he pulls out before he comes so he can spill over your back and the angry red of your hole, though honestly it's more of an ooze. While he's got plenty of stamina, Peter's old enough that going twice isn't usually something he does, and when he comes it seems as though he literally has to squeeze the semen from his erection, glopping it all over you before rubbing it into your skin and fingering what he calls your "filthy man-cunt."
It's not half so bad now as it was at first.
Afterwards you mostly just feel numb, maybe a little hollow. When he's done he jerks your off- more painful than pleasurable- and leaves with a smile on his face and sometimes a pair of your briefs in hand. The next few days of soreness and eating your feelings remind you that you're still alive, still here, surviving, and so you carry on.
It almost breaks you every time, but it hasn't yet. Not yet.