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A light snow started to fall as I followed the deep trail Peter had left for me. After a few miles of walking I could smell smoke carried by the cold winter wind. It had been almost a week since I had last smelled the acid burn of wood smoke and I mentally crossed my fingers that it was from the place Peter found for us to hole up and not something or someone else. The nervous tremor traveled up my spine. I might never get over my knee jerk fear of the smell; there have just been too many bad memories.

I was so intent on the smoldering scent in the air that I didn't notice the road until I tripped over the rough gravel edge. The smell of smoke was directly ahead of me yet the road traveled left and right. I paused, uneasy for a second, as I tried to figure out which way to go.

Off to one side was another snow wolf pointing to the left with a tree branch. Somehow Peter had managed to make the wolf look like it was smiling. Chuckling under my breath and giving Peppercorn a hard pat on his neck that made a cloud of dust rise up from his dingy coat, I lead the mule off in the direction the happy wolf pointed.

The lane gently curved and after a few minutes of walking down the gravel road I could see a large red barn in the distance. It looked like it came straight out of a children's book on farm animals except for the smoke coming out of a chimney. I don't remember any chimneys on the barns in the stories my mother read to me as a child.

The red barn had the classic arch with the stark white trim that ran along its borders. As I closed in I could see that the whole area was decorated with antiques from old Mobil signs with the Pegasus to ancient Coke bottle coolers that had been turned into storage areas. There was a hammock, covered in snow, tied between two trees, a picnic table with colorful benches, and an assortment of knick-knacks and cutesy signs all over the front yard.

Peter opened the door with a flourish and a wide smile. "It's like some backwater resort for people who want to do the whole 'living a cowboy's life' type thing. There's even a scrapbook where people wrote about themselves and their adventures they had with their family."

I tied Pepper's lead to one of the posts and followed Peter into the barn. The first floor was one giant room; the kitchen taking up the first third and a living area filling the remaining space. A huge hearth stood at the end where Peter had placed half a dozen pots in front of the crackling fire.

The kitchen was tight, filled with a refrigerator, an electric stove, and cabinets full of plates and cooking utensils. Most of the appliances in the kitchen were no longer any use to us but there was an old timey wooden stove in the corner that was being used as a decoration for that extra rustic appeal. If I could figure out how to make it work we could have real food. Well, real food if Peter could find any to bring back.

"I'm going to unload the damn mule. Look around, make yourself at home. I'll be back in a few minutes." Peter was half way out the door before spinning around and pulling me in for a quick kiss. His hand slid down to cup my ass briefly as he pulled me extra close and breathed in the scent at my neck.

"Hurry," was all I could whisper. I was filthy and my skin itched but if NOW was the time I wasn't going to let things like personal hygiene stand in my way. My stomach fluttered with anticipation as my heart lurched within my chest.

To the right, under the stairway that lead to the second floor, was a pair of bedrooms, old fashioned quilts covering each bed, separated by a small bathroom with a claw footed tub. I sighed wistfully at it as I imagined a long hot soak.

As I entered the living area I saw that the pots lining the edge of the fire place were filled with water. There wasn't enough to fill the tub but there was more than enough for me to finally get clean. Peter was definitely racking up the good will points.

Two fluffy, dolly covered chairs and a raw hide couch had been pushed to the sides of the living area leaving a large space covered with a fur rugs and probably a dozen blankets spread out on the floor in front of the fire place.

Smiling I mused aloud, "What are you up to Peter?" Shifting my weight back and forth I decided to finish exploring while I waited for Peter to return. I could feel that wonderful curl of heat pooling low and my body and I needed something to keep my nerves from getting the best of me.

The flight of stairs took me to a small loft where there were beds lined up against the walls. Peter was right it was some sort of backwater resort for a large family. The whole building smelled of cedar which made my nose itch but I was sure I would adjust after a while.

I was playing with the multitude of knick-knacks that covered every flat surface of the loft when I heard Peter return.

"There's even a real barn down the path a ways. I put your damn mule in a cozy stall and even found the ungrateful brute some hay. Then the little shit tried to kick me. I swear I would turn him into glue and stew meat if he didn't mean so much to you."

Peter removed his jacket and outer shirt as I walked down the stairs. He moved gracefully around the kitchen lighting oil lanterns to combat the growing darkness. Empting one of his packs on the table he gathered a dozen candles and started lighting them and placing them around the living area casting the whole interior with a golden light.

By the time he lit the fifth candle I was right behind him wrapping my arms around his waist as he turned to face me. Tracing the curve of his back I let my hands travel up and down, outlining the ridges of his spine and running my fingers along the top of his pants.

The remainder of the candles went clattering to the floor as Peter grabbed my ass with both hands and hauled me half way up his body, nipping and sucking his way across my throat. I dropped my head back as far as possible to give him the best access, wrapping my legs around him for support and the little extra thrill of thrusting against him.

Peter made sure he ground my hips against his body as he walked over to the fire place. Before I knew it, he had me laid out amidst the blankets as he straddled me with his knees. God, his smile. Angels would fall for his smile and my heart leapt within my chest.

"Peter," I moaned, thrusting my hips upward.

"Shhhhh!" Peter placed his hand on my gyrating torso holding me to the ground. "You wanted a bath. I'm going to give you one."

"God, you are going to kill me." I wiggled under his hand but werewolf strength trumps horny need every day.

Nimble fingers made quick work of my flannel and I sat up slightly to help when Peter pulled off my tee-shirt and flung the rancid rag across the room. It was so caked with dirt and filth that I was surprised when it didn't just stand on its own.

Sliding down my body, fingers trailing across my chest as he went, Peter untied and slowly slipped my boots from my feet. His nails made a rasping sound as he dragged them up the seam of my jeans before popping my button and releasing the zipper. With one slow pull he had my jeans and my shorts pooled around my ankles and I felt the cool barn air on every inch of my exposed skin.

I felt myself hardening and held back my need to cover myself and just let Peter see exactly how he made me feel. His eyes roamed the plains of my body, a sexy curl forming at the corner of his lips that caused my body to twitch in reaction. He reached for me with one hand and I lifted my hips in a blatant invitation but his just gripped my hip and said, "roll over."

Hell if it kept him touching me I would roll over, sit up, speak and play dead.

The crotch of his jeans pressed against my ass as he leaned forward, back pressing into my shoulders, to grab one of the wash rags that rested next to the many water filled pots.

There was the sound of water droplets on metal and then Peter was running a warm cloth over my shoulders and down my back. He dampened my body thoroughly from the back of my neck the swell of my ass before lathering a bar of soap in his hands and covering me with suds. The soap added a sensual glide to his movements and his thumbs found every tight muscle and worked the tension from them.

By the time he rinsed me clean and started on my arms and legs I was a giant puddle of goo on the floor. Usually my mind is going a thousand miles a minute, unable to stop the flow of images and thoughts that pop randomly. But as Peter ran his hands over my body, flipping me over as he finished my back, my brain remained strangely silent, relaxed and allowed me to just feel.

Once he had me lying on my back he started at my feet and worked his way up. He cleaned ever crevice of my body from the tender folds of my skin to the hard surface of my chest. By the time he reached my head I felt I was about to explode from his touch alone.

I keened as I leaned upward to capture his lips with my own. "Peter, Peter, please!" I thrust my hips against his jeans with each syllable.

Peter scooted back gathering up a couple of towels and rolling them together. I was already lifting my hips when he smiled and pushed them back down, placing the roll under my shoulders so that my head titled gently back.

"We aren't finished with you bath yet, Stiles."

"Damn it. I might be finished before you're finished and then where will we be?" The damn smug bastard just chuckled and left me humping air.

A large shallow bowl was placed under my head and Peter started washing my hair. Warm water poured over me as Peter raked his nails across my scalp making my toes curl. Holding my head up with the crook of his arm, Peter switched bowls and then rinsed until he was satisfied I was squeaky clean.

Removing both the bowl and the rolled towels he sat next to my head and continued to card his fingers through my hair. I lay in a boneless heap under his touch. "Want me to tuck you in bed?"

"Hell no!"

"Good."

I must have blinked because one second Peter was completely dressed and the next it was just the smooth expanse of his skin on mine. His chest was toned and sculpted, not overly muscled but had that perfection of tone that takes your breath away and begs for your touch. Light brown hair started to form a trail downward at Peter lower abdomen. I was able to run my fingers through the fine hairs as he straddled my hips, leaning forward to nibble and nip his way across my collarbone and throat.

My hands clutched at his shoulders as he worked his way lower pausing to worship each new part of my body as he came to it. Pressing his nose to the thick tangle of hair between my legs he pinched and twisted my nipples until I was frantic with need.

"God, Peter. Please, please, please." My begging trailed off in a wordless moan of pleasure as he took me into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head briefly before taking me down to the root. My hips pumped widely as he sucked until he grabbed my hips and pulled them upward, pressing me tightly to his mouth and keeping me still.

The slick feel of a finger at my entrance brought me back to my senses for a split second. "Where'd you find the lube?"

Peter let me slip out of his mouth with a pop, a line of saliva trailing from his lips to my tip and smiled at me. "I've had it for quite a while now. It's just never been the right time."

A snarky comment on him being a total romantic was on the tip of my tongue as I felt his first finger breach me and then all I could manage to say was a guttural moan as I thrashed back and forth and fisted the blankets that covered the floor.

By the second finger my voice had re-booted and I was able to form words. "God, there Peter. Don't stop, Peter. God Peter. Please, please. OH FUCK!" Right, see, I was forming words.

Peter had my lower body almost sitting in his lap, one hand buried in my ass and the other wrapped around my dick while I lay spread out on the floor, legs spread and covered with a fine sheen of sweat, as I begged for "more, harder, there please there". He added a third finger that burned, making me whine and pull away, until he curled his fingers and my world became filled with fireworks of the 1812 Overture persuasion.

"We need some fucking canons to go off." Peter gave me a confused smile and pulled away leaving me empty. "Noooo," I whined before he kissed me silent, hands lifting my hips and changing my position, lifting one knee until it rested on his hip. "OH! Okay, yes, now is good, really good Peter."

There was a fullness, a slight burn but in all the right ways, and the long slide as Peter filled me up. "Okay?" He asked running his thumb across my cheek bone. I could barely breathe much less form a coherent thought to answer so I just nodded and bucked beneath him.

And the rest, the rest was just a series of sensations; his body undulating above mine, slowly picking up speed until he was slamming into me so hard that I scooted across the floor until I was braced against the fireplace. The room was filled with my cries of pleasure interspersed with demands for "more, harder, faster, God Peter, don't stop."

I came first, a white haze burning across my vision as he pumped his way through my climax, finding his own with a red eyed growl. He froze for a moment, head thrown back, hands clutching my hips so tightly that I would wear his bruises for days and then he looked at me. I was a look I had never seen in his eyes before, possessive and something else.

"Stiles," he growled before covering my rapid pulse with his lips sucking my skin into his mouth and biting gently with teeth that were no longer human blunt. "Stiles," he whispered again as he kissed me, pulling me up into his arms to cradle close.

We lay in front of the fire until the log was almost embers and Peter was forced to replenish the fuel to keep my weak human self from freezing. Lifting me up he carried me to the closest bedroom and deposited me in the bed, crawling in beside me and tucking us both under the covers of a flock of country quilts. I snuggled deep into Peter's chest, clinging to him as my body drifted to sleep. The words I held deep in my heart formed on my lips but I drowned them out by kissing Peter passionately.

Peter mock growled nipping at my chin as he flipped me over so my back was pressed against him. "Go to sleep. I have plans for you and I want you rested."

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. For the first time since the dead had started to walk the earth I felt safe. I linked my fingers with Peter's where they rested atop my stomach. I closed my eyes, my body relaxing into the warmth, and I felt something different stir with in me, like an old memory bubbling to the surface. The feeling was familiar like a face to which you just can't place the name. I knew this. I remembered this.

And then it hit me. It felt like home.