Chapter 24
Phoebe had lain awake for two hours unable to sleep before she'd finally gotten out of bed and sat on the floor to meditate. She'd been trying to focus on her meditations for an hour, and could not concentrate. Her magic was swirling, burning through her veins. She had hoped to calm it, but it would not obey, not anymore. She'd been feeling restless ever since their confrontation with Scott in the locker room three days ago. No matter how she looked at it, it was time.
Opening her eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the light of the small lamp in her room, she sighed before standing. Turning out the light, she made her way to the door. Stepping out into the hall, she shivered in the night air, having foregone her robe. At Peter's door, she hesitated, raising her hand to knock before drawing it back to her side. Slowly opening his door, she walked in. Once her eyes were adjusted to the darkness, she saw Peter's human eyes blinking at her sleepily.
"Are you all right," he asked as he sat up. The sheets pooled around his waist, leaving his bare chest on display. His voice was gravely with sleep, and Phoebe shivered again.
Phoebe nodded, but her breath hitched, and Peter frowned. "What's wrong," he asked, reaching a hand out to her.
Phoebe stepped to the bed and placed her hand in his, allowing him to draw her to his side as he had many times since they'd begun this. Laying her head on his shoulder, she let him put an arm around her and draw her closer. Her hand rested on his chest over his heart and the steady thrum calmed her, if only a little.
Leaning up, Phoebe placed a soft kiss on Peter's chin, his jaw, his cheek before leaning back to look into his eyes. They were still human, but they blazed. Leaning down, he kissed her, softly at first, then deeper. When he finally drew back, Phoebe was breathless.
"Are you sure," Peter asked, cupping her cheek gently in his hand.
Phoebe nodded. "It feels like it's time. Don't you think?"
Peter smiled. "I've been feeling that way too, but I didn't want to rush you."
Phoebe quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"
Peter snorted. "Well maybe I wanted to rush you a little," he admitted. "But as I said before, this goes at your pace."
Phoebe smiled gently. "I appreciate that. But I'm ready." Her magic thrummed. It was definitely time.
Peter leaned her back gently on the pillows before covering her body with his. Leaning down, he kissed her. First her mouth, then her cheeks, her nose, before finally moving to her throat. In true werewolf fashion, he spent quite a bit of time there, gently licking, nipping, and marking the skin. A particular nip just beneath her ear made Phoebe throw her head back with a gasp.
Peter drew back to look into her face. "All right, sweetheart?"
Phoebe nodded as she wrapped her arms around his neck, stroking his skin and running her fingers through his hair.
"Yes. Peter, please," she said, drawing him back down to her.
Peter smiled against her lips and slipped his tongue into her mouth for a taste, biting her lip gently before moving his lips and tongue down the rest of her body. He moved away briefly to remove their clothes, and then his lips and hands were back.
Phoebe touched him anywhere she could, returning his kisses with equal passion, overwhelmed by the sensations she was feeling. He was everywhere. Around her. Inside of her. It was too much and not enough all at the same time. A particular touch to a sensitive area had her toes curling, and Phoebe let herself stop thinking, allowing herself to just feel.
Phoebe returned to herself with her teeth still buried in Peter's neck, her magic pulsing into the mark. Peter was gently licking the new mate mark on her shoulder, and she could still feel him everywhere, not only on her skin but through the bond, his pleasure still entwined with hers. It was a heady experience.
Gently drawing her teeth from the mark, Phoebe winced as Peter shifted to lay next to her.
"Did I hurt you," Peter asked.
Phoebe shook her head, curling into his side. She was naturally a little sore, but not in the way he'd meant. "No. I feel…" She trailed off, unable to explain it.
Peter smiled wickedly. "I know."
. . .
Stiles was up late researching as usual. He'd found some more information on Berserkers that could be useful, and was writing some notes while printing out other information when his hand jerked suddenly and smeared ink on the page. A strange sensation coursed through him. Something had changed in the pack. Something had altered a bond. He'd been learning about werewolves and packs since Scott was bitten, so even though the sensation was foreign, the knowledge of what had happened came easily to him.
A shudder started at the base of his spine and worked its way up his body, causing his gangly arms to flail. Sticking his tongue out as he gagged, he sent off a quick text before heading to bed. Hopefully sleep would wipe the knowledge of what had happened from his mind, at least temporarily.
. . .
Peter lay awake, holding Phoebe in his arms. A wicked smirk crept over his face. He'd really worn her out. He hoped to do so again. She was his. His mate. And, he admitted reluctantly, he was hers. Drawing her closer into his embrace, he smiled. Their bond was nearly unbreakable. He'd accomplished everything he'd set out to do, and the best part was that he'd had to do very little actual manipulation once Phoebe was on his side, less once Scott started turning on his pack. Everything had worked out splendidly.
He had a moment of concern for what she would be able to feel through the bond, but brushed it aside. It was done. She couldn't really back out now, even if she wanted to. It would be excruciatingly painful to break the bond if not fatal.
His phone vibrated with a text, and he very carefully extracted one of his arms to get it. He frowned at the screen. Stiles wouldn't text this late unless it was an emergency. Opening the text, he read it. He blinked. He read it again. "Gross, dude," was all Stiles had written. Peter shook with mirth, and it was all he could do not to laugh aloud. The pack would be aware of the changes in his Bond with Phoebe, but Stiles, as First Beta, would have felt it the moment it changed, but only if he was awake.
Peter sent back a text. Three laughing crying emoji should do it. Before he could put the phone down again, it beeped. Stiles had sent back an "about to puke" emoji. "If you were asleep, you'd only have vaguely known in the morning," Peter typed in reply. Stiles sent back a gif of a kid blowing a raspberry, and Peter let out a chuckle before settling in for sleep, drawing Phoebe close once more.
. . .
"Is this all right?"
"Hmm. Yes."
"And this?"
"G-good."
"Did I hurt you?"
"No. It doesn't hurt."
"Phoebe."
"Hmm?"
"Just Phoebe."
"Okay. Oh, Peter."
"Yes?"
"Just…Peter."
