Chris Argent sat alone in his room when he heart the notification that he had a personal message. Seeing that it was a video, he open it without really looking at who sent it. Once the video started, and he saw what it was, he couldn't shut it off.
Who: Peter Hale ad Chris Argent What: Hot, hard sex Where: Some rendesvous place When: In the past, long time ago Warnings: Very NWS. Status: Closed, Complete
The video showed Chris sauntering into camera range. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but he wore a tight fitting dark jeans that hung low on his hips. He sat in a high backed chair, and once he settled, he plunged a hand down the front of his jeans.
“it’s open,” he called in response to an obvious knock in the background. He shifted slightly, mouth going slack with a low moan. His hand continued to work inside his pants, even as his eyes flashed to watch someone come into the apartment.
“Don’t be angry I started without you..” Chris purred.
***
The next person to come into the camera’s view was a young, dark haired man, who was already stripping as he walked into the frame. There was a disgruntled look on his face, but he wasn’t looking away from the one in the chair.
“You usually start without me,” came the growled reply. Which, since Peter usually started without Chris, fair was fair. He stopped short of the chair, and stared, watching, eyes hot with desire and his hands clenching into fists, fighting to keep claws sheathed.
Then he dropped to his knees in front of Chris, his hands coming to a rest on Chris’ legs. “How do you want me?”
***
“You’re off to a good start,” Chris murmured. What he really wanted was claws and fangs and fur, but he’d get to that, no need to rush into it, even if that was what really got him off these days. He had been raised to hunt and kill werewolves, but this one was the exception. This one got under his skin and made him horny as a teenager all over again.
“But we’re both still wearing too many clothes for my liking,” he purred. His free hand tugged at Peter’s shirt, and he brought his other hand out of his jeans. He reached up to draw his thumb across Peter’s bottom lip.
***
“I can fix that,” Peter muttered, just before he nipped, carefully, at Chris’ thumb. He didn’t bother pulling his shirt over his head when it was just easier to tear it open and shrug it off his shoulders. He knew it would get a rise out of the man, and took every advantage he could.
He leaned forward, his hands sliding over Chris’ thighs, claws appearing and snagging on the jeans as he did. It was easy to grasp the man by the hips and pull him forward, to lean down and drag his lips over the line of a hip bone, tracing it with his tongue.
***
Chris’ eyes tracked the movement, the demise of the shirt. His tongue slid across his lip and he growled a low growl of arousal. His eyes rolled back for a moment of unbridled pleasure. Peter had a way of getting under his skin without even touching him.
His gaze dropped when Peter’s hands moved over his thighs. Chris’ moan then was more because of the claws than anything, but that thing Peter did with his mouth had a way of driving him crazy too. He caught his hands in Peter’s hair, fingers digging at his scalp, and down to the tendons at the back of his neck.
***
The feel of those hands, hands that had killed and maimed so many of his kind, on his neck brought out the wolf some more, a growl rumbling from deep inside his chest. It only took a few seconds for his face to start to shift, but it didn’t stop him from worrying at the skin, sucking and biting a series of bruises into forming
When he was satisfied with that, he dug his nails in a little harder, and tugged, starting to tear at Chris’ jeans. “You didn’t need this old pair, did you?” he asked, staring up through his lashes, coyly. “When you be mad if I accidentally tore them?”
Tore, shredded, ripped them from him piece by piece.
***
“My fault,” Chris moaned. He’d left his jeans on, when he knew Peter was coming to see him. He knew better. He knew the denim wouldn’t withstand the encounter. And he was okay with that. “They’re old,” he added, his voice strained from his increased heart rate.
He gasped and moaned simultaneously as Peter’s claws scraped his thighs and left red welts in their wake. One of Chris’ hands moved to run his fingers over the more animalistic traits of Peter’s shifted face.
“Take me, Peter,” he murmured, eyes dark and heavy with need. What he really meant, and wanted to say, was ‘bite me’.
***
He could almost hear the blood welling to the surface below the skin, could feel his lover’s heartbeat racing under his skin. It was a heady feeling, knowing he was one of the only people who could get under an Argent’s skin like this, in more ways than one.
Peter moved up the man’s chest, pressing kisses and bites along the way, even as he finished tearing and pulling at the denim from Chris’ body. Those words caused a primal shift in need in Peter, a deep growl rising up in him as his claws scraped a little harder along the hunter’s skin.
“Take you?” came the question, muttered against the skin of Chris’ neck, Peter’s voice more amused than anything. “Is that what you want, Chris? For me to throw you down, spread you open, and take you like this, more claws and teeth than man?” He bit down then, not to break the skin, but hard enough to bruise.
***
“Yes,” Chris growled. HIs hips bucked upward, seeking the contact of Peter’s hands. He moaned. deep and low, his entire body taut with white hot need. Peter was his wildest desire, his deepest need. He loved his wife, and his little girl at home, but he knew in this moment, with Peter half transformed and pawing at him, that he would give that all up for this, for the bite that was everything his family stood against, and the one thing he truly wanted.
“Take me, Peter. I’m yours,” Chris breathed out, the words hot and husky. HIs eyes rolled with the pleasure he already felt, but it could be so much better than this. “Let the wolf take me,” he murmured, wanting nothing more than to feel the fullness of Peter owning him as only he could.
***
It happened so quickly, it was probably a blur on the camera, Peter pulling Chris off the chair and shoving the offending piece of furniture across the room hard enough that there was a cracking sound. Even though he was rough in handling Chris, he was careful to make sure his mate partner didn’t crack his head on the floor when he laid him down. At this point having an unconscious partner would probably kill the mood.
Probably. He might just continue on and let Chris come to in the middle of getting fucked.
The werewolf shoved at his own pants, kicking them off before he settled between the older man’s legs, rubbing their lengths together. “Is this what you want, Hunter? Werewolf cock shoved in that hole of yours?” He didn’t even wait for an answer before he was taking Chris’ mouth in a hard kiss.
***
Chris’ answer was to claw at Peter’s back, leaving red welts in the wake of his fingers. He couldn’t speak, not with Peter’s tongue shoved down his throat. He groaned, though, and raised his hips to thrust against Peter.
He wanted nothing more than to be hard fucked by Peter in his transformed state, and he made a point to seek out the camera, to look directly into it even as Peter’s tongue all but fucked his mouth and throat.
***
The welts were nearly healed as Peter sat up, leaning back on his heels to reach for his discarded pants. He didn’t look away from Chris as he dug around in a pocket and pulled out a small package, tearing it open and squeezing out the clear gel onto his fingers. There was barely a cursory rub over Chris’ entrance before Peter was slowly pushing one finger inside, claws on his free hand scratching along the man’s thigh. Normally, he would take his time with prep, enjoying taking the man apart and watching him fall to pieces. He knew just how far, how fast he could push his lover before he would end up with a gun in his face, and for some reason, tonight, he wanted to batter against that barrier.
“Silly, fragile humans,” he muttered, even as he watched Chris’s face, judging his reactions as he rushed the stretch, pushing for more already.
***
Chris watched Peter get the gel, and when he had it, when Chris felt the cool application against his tight, hot hole, he dropped his head, chest heaving with a ragged breath. He pressed back, hips rotating to try and spur Peter on.
“You could take care of that,” Chris breathed out, the words strained as Peter prepped him, and giving way to a grunt of need and frustration rolled into one as Peter’s fingers penetrated the barrier.
“Bite me, turn me, make me yours, Peter,” his words were strong, despite the message there was no tone of begging. Chris was a proud man, and he didn’t beg. That didn’t stop him making a request, though, because he imagined the sex would be explosive if he shared Peter’s endurance.
***
The first finger was joined by a second, as Peter imagined that, the pair of them truly together as mates. He smirked at Chris’ words for a moment, but as a beta he couldn’t be the one to do it. Another would have to, an alpha would have to give Chris the bite, someone else would have to hold him down and force him to submit.
And no alpha would turn a hunter, an Argent, not truly. They would destroy him.
He went still for a moment, a soft whine escaping him, and then a shudder, as his eyes flashed gold. He added a third finger, much too soon, twisting and spreading his fingers in a need to open that tight hole up, to claim his human. “Mine. You’re mine.”
***
“Yes…” Chris cried out. His hips bucked against the invasion of fingers inside him. pushing and stretching, claiming and owning. Everything in him felt electrified and alive, desperate and raw. He gasped for breath, and it gave way to a wordless moan.
“Fuck me, wolf,” he demanded, and his body ached for it. “Tear me open, fuck me.” He wanted, needed, to be possessed by the wolf, driven to a place of raw pleasure by the force of the animal. He knew, logically, that Peter couldn’t turn him, but that didn’t stop him begging for it. Peter could arrange it, he could make it happen. Then they would be mates, just as Peter envisioned them, as Chris imagined them.
***
Something in Peter snapped, some little bit of control, and he wrenched his fingers from that hot, slick hole. The wolf features were strengthening, fangs lengthening, claws growing as he settled between Chris’ legs. On hand grabbed at Chris’ hip, holding him down, the other wrapped around his own prick, giving it a few firm pulls as he stared down at the needy form below him.
He pressed the head of his cock against Chris’ hole, a steady growl rumbling through him, and then pushed in deep. Peter was beyond words at this point, barely holding on to his humanity as he struggled not to bury his fangs into Chris’ throat and just take what was being offered.
***
Chris first dropped his head forward, then threw his head back, baring his throat as his body arched into Peter’s thrusts. Later, when he was in bed with his wife, uninterested in any sort of physical contact with her, he would feel guilty. For now, though, he knew only the steady force of Peter’s weight bearing down on him, the wolf’s cock filling him and threatening to split him apart with every thrust.
***
It was a struggle, restraining every thrust just enough not to injure his mate the human beneath him, yet the force still enough to push him up the floor, only to pull him right back down. Peter knew, instinctively, in the back of his head that Chris was going to be a mess of bruises and abrasions later, but at the moment, caught up in the rut of sex, he just did not care about anymore more than being buried in the heat of this man. He didn’t care what the man was going to have to do to explain it to his wife, as long as they survived tonight.
He could hear growls of ‘So tight’, ‘yes’, and, ‘so good for me’ and realized that they were coming from him and chuckled darkly. It had been a while since he had lost himself in a fuck like this. Peter finally wrapped one hand around Chris’ weeping cock, careful to keep his claws away from tender flesh, and leaned forward to nip at the hunter neck, gnawing along a vein, hearing the precious blood pumping there.
“Come for me, Chris. Give me what you won’t give her.”
***
“She doesn’t deserve it,” Chris purred. His muscles went tight, tense, and then spasmed with his release, Peter’s voice sending him over the edge into raw pleasure. He gasped and moaned, and he didn’t care what shape his body was in when this was all over. He’d make something up, tell his wife he’d encountered a feisty wolf, and it wouldn’t be a lie.
The part he wasn’t looking forward to was when she’d want to tend his wounds. On second thought, maybe he wouldn’t go home for a while. If he had his way, he’d never leave this place, this secret nesting place he had, where he could be with Peter, where he could indulge in his fantasy of being bitten, changed, and wolfed out.
***
Watching Chris give into the pleasure, the pleasure that Peter brought him, was one the things that made the wolf howl inside. And in this case, it brought a feral grin to Peter’s features as he swiped a hand through the liquid on Chris’ stomach, rubbing into first his lover’s skin, then his own. He gave into the animal need to cover them in both their scents, to make sure everyone knew they belonged to each other, just who they had been with.
Between the sharp tang of Chris’ release, their combined scents, and the faint scent of blood just below the skin, it didn’t take long for Peter’s own to build and then barrel through him, leaving him gasping and howling at the same time over Chris, his claws buried in the floor beside the man’s shoulders.
And then he’s falling down onto his lover, his mate, near sobbing, and shaking his head. “I can’t, Chris. I can’t.”
***
“Don’t fight it, Peter. Give it to me,” Chris purred. He pushed back against Peter, filled by the raw, desperate need of his lover. It wasn’t like this with Victoria, wasn’t hot and desperate raw, feral, and dangerous. With Peter buried deep inside him, Chris felt alive.
He dragged a hand through the sticky mess that coated his stomach, and he lifted a finger, offering it to Peter. He was a hot mess, both satiated and exhausted, burning from the exertion and the sex, and riding the emotional high of being possessed by his wolf mate.
***
Peter’s features slid back to his human face as he licked Chris’ fingers, then his hand clean, tears in his eyes. “They’ll kill you,” he whispered when he was done, unable to even look the other in the eyes. “Anyone I approach, they’ll kill you, they won’t just bite you, they’ll rip you to shreds and leave your body for your father to find. And they’ll make me watch while they do it.”
He knew it. And it was irresponsible of him to even promise Chris that he would give him the bite. Anyone else, anyone that wasn’t a hunter, an Argent, would be fine. He was signing Chris’ death certificate if he did this though. “I won’t do this for you,” he said, finally looking up at Chris.
***
Chris set his jaw. Even in the afterglow of the amazing sex that Peter gave him, his entire body still throbbing with it, the words Peter said hit him hard. Like a slap in the face. Was it so wrong to want to be with his lover that way? So he’d been raised a hunter, that didn’t mean he liked it all the time. That didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the other side.
“Get out,” he hissed. “Go. Leave me.” Because he knew what Peter said was the truth. And it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t asked to be a hunter, he hadn’t been given a choice what his last name would be.
*** Peter pulled away slowly, looking as if Chris had struck him. It felt like it. “Chris? You can’t...” He could feel the truth in his words, Chris actually wanted him to leave.
“You know I lo-” He broke off, looking away, every part of him aching as he slowly moved to gather his clothing. “I don’t want you to die,” he said quietly.
***
Chris hadn’t moved from the floor, where ie was spent, still breathing in ragged breaths, his skin coated in sweat and jizz. He probably looked like death, with the bruises beginning to show, the scrapes making angry welts where Peter’s claws had scratched him.
“But you’re ashamed of me. Because of what I am.” A hunter, the enemy. Chris couldn’t blame him for that, but the fact he was a hunter didn’t sway his mind. He wanted the bite so he could be with Peter as he felt they were meant to be.
“So go. You don’t want me to die, but you’re dead to me now.” Blue eyes turned up, cold and focused. His gaze flickered from Peter to the door. He couldn’t take the secret rendesvous any longer. Peter wouldn’t help him get what he wanted, he’d made that clear. Chris was done, because he had to be. He had a wife and daughter to think about, and they didn’t fit into his werewolf fantasy anyway. Maybe it was better this way.
***
Peter felt something inside him break, and he couldn’t get away from Chris fast enough. Everything felt wrong, his skin felt too tight and… for the first time he truly wanted to hurt Chris and that terrified him. He struggled to pull his clothes on and back away from the one person he loved, probably the only person he loved.
“Maybe, maybe one day you’ll forgive me?” he said, his voice cracking as he spoke. He could hope that they could fix this, that they could work things out and the cold would disappear from Chris. Right?
***
Chris was pretty sure the cold darkness he felt would never disappear. Oh, he might find ways to hide it, to push it down, but it would always be there. He loved his wife, but he wasn’t in love with her. He loved his daughter, and would focus his life on being with her, training her and watching her grow. He would never seek out another wolf, what he felt for Peter was too huge, too great, to much like real love.
And he felt like Peter threw it back in his face. He wasn’t even willing to try to give Chris what he wanted, what he needed. “Why are you still here?” Chris turned his face away. He didn’t want to watch Peter walk out the door, knowing that he was throwing out the one person who made him feel whole and complete.
***
When Chris turned away from him, Peter’s face crumbled and he stumbled towards the door, not even bothering with the rest of his clothes as he shoved through the door, shifting and running away.
Not long after, a very mournful howl was heard in the air.
***
Chris was in the shower by then, with his face in the direct flow of the water. Every muscle in him ached, and while his body felt sated with the effects of the most amazing sex Peter had ever given him, his mind felt shattered and fractured into a thousand tiny pieces.