You won't hate it here so much, you know. [ peter rubs his jaw against stiles' own, then drawing back to look, petting his side idly. so impressively fierce, his boy; brows drawn together in a fierce glare even while he stinks of fear, sharp and metallic in the back of peter's throat. he stares at peter's hand like he wants to bite it, and peter chuckles. smells like prey, already has teeth like a predator. the village's sacrifices are more amusing than anything-- as if a steady supply of teenagers is what a wolf needs. he wants their sheep, their lands, not their terrified virgins. so he gives the bite to those worthy, allows others to stay and serve, and kills those who raise a hand against him despite his mercy. (a few he bundles the rest off for parts unknown, with the reminder that any attempts to come home again will not be taken kindly; even fewer he keeps close, makes his in ways a simple bite can never duplicate.)
this one he wants, has wanted since the first time he sat beside his father as peter took another boy away. it's been so long, and now he has. ]
I have a library, servants. Good food. I'm a wolf, Stiles, not a savage. [ he's both when he wants to be, but now is for milk and honey soothing, gentling stiles to the idea. ] And I have a few of your friends, here with me. Safe and happy, before you accuse me of keeping them locked away in the dungeon.
[ he leans in again, huffs out a breath near the skin over stiles' heart, tongue close enough to dart out and taste salt when he speaks. ] And it can be yours. All of it.
[ stiles knows he has no power here, but he does have his words, and he's relatively sure peter won't hurt his prize if it mouths off at him. he's only acting on assumptions and percentages and guesses, though—and he can't help the involuntary shudder than rolls through him at the thought of being subjected to another touch, another caress, of never seeing his dad again. a while ago, he'd wanted to vomit and shout, had hit the cold stone shaking, but he's internalized it all now, accepted it, willing to go through with whatever this may lead in order to keep everyone safe.
but fuck his village. fuck them for letting him go, for sending his friends. if he ever makes it out of here alive, he's going to have words with the asshats in charge of that little operation, and give them a piece of his mind (and fists, if he's lucky. if he's lucky.)
and fuck peter too. his honey-voice and soothing gestures are anything but to stiles, and he'd rather gnaw the expression right off of peter's face before succumbing to his—his charm, his touch, him.
wolf. savage. ha. ]
Sorry, I thought those two things weren't mutually exclusive. [ stiles swallows, swallows back fear and anger, and looks peter in the eyes even as his heart beats rabbit-quick under peter's heavy hand. ] I want to see them.
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and then i threw every single trope in the blender and hit 'dubcon'
this one he wants, has wanted since the first time he sat beside his father as peter took another boy away. it's been so long, and now he has. ]
I have a library, servants. Good food. I'm a wolf, Stiles, not a savage. [ he's both when he wants to be, but now is for milk and honey soothing, gentling stiles to the idea. ] And I have a few of your friends, here with me. Safe and happy, before you accuse me of keeping them locked away in the dungeon.
[ he leans in again, huffs out a breath near the skin over stiles' heart, tongue close enough to dart out and taste salt when he speaks. ] And it can be yours. All of it.
110% SID APPROVAL RATING
but fuck his village. fuck them for letting him go, for sending his friends. if he ever makes it out of here alive, he's going to have words with the asshats in charge of that little operation, and give them a piece of his mind (and fists, if he's lucky. if he's lucky.)
and fuck peter too. his honey-voice and soothing gestures are anything but to stiles, and he'd rather gnaw the expression right off of peter's face before succumbing to his—his charm, his touch, him.
wolf. savage. ha. ]
Sorry, I thought those two things weren't mutually exclusive. [ stiles swallows, swallows back fear and anger, and looks peter in the eyes even as his heart beats rabbit-quick under peter's heavy hand. ] I want to see them.