#piper writes

Chase is a warm, steady weight against his side. They've put on some light flick in the background, something cheesy. Nothing that holds Jackie's attention; he's too busy listening to the way the strings hum with drowsy content. With-

A softer, richer tone overlays it, and he flicks his gaze sideways; Chase is, if he has to hazard a guess, not watching the movie.

Pride, dark and warm, uncurls in his gut; he doesn't preen, but he stretches out, casually, knowing the slow movement will draw Chase's eyes with it.

A low, soft laugh, and Chase leans over, skating a hand over his bared midriff. Jackie doesn't have time to hide his shiver; Chase only grins like the little shit he is.

"Liked that, didn't you?"

Jackie tips his head back, smirking right back. Just this side of wicked, just the way that he knows tugs on that sense of danger that Chase can't help but- hah. Chase. "Like what you're seeing, don't you?"

Chase snickers, and now he's crowding close, breath warm against Jackie's jaw. He's nearly in Jackie's lap, and Jackie pulls him the rest of the way to kiss him, deep and hungry, because Chase in a mood means Chase is going to tease and Jackie's not in the mood for waiting.

Chase hums, not surprised, but pleased, and gives as good as he gets; tilts his head and fists one hand in Jackie's hair to keep him there, the other one skating under his shirt to just-- explore, warm fingertips tracing over each scar.

He knows every story. Jackie has told him, each and every one of them. Knows him inside and out, and Jackie basks in being seen, for once.

Chase laughs against his lips, and leans back, mouth bitten all pretty and red.

"Thinking too loud," he murmurs, and Jackie twitches as his free hand skates down his side, again, dipping below his waistband. Chase knows him, inside and out.

He licks his lips, and tightens the arm around Chase's waist. "Gonna fix that?"

Chase's answering grin is nothing short of wicked. His chest hurts from how beautiful it is, watching brown eyes go dark, dark, dark, amber tilting whiskey-dark.

He lets Chase tug them sideways onto the couch, arms bracketing Jackie in on either side, and surges up for another kiss; this one is messier, hungrier, and Chase laughs, again; Jackie swallows down every last sound, greedy as he only ever lets himself be with Chase.

Somewhere in the midst, Chase's pulled down his sweatpants, and fuck, he's glad he changed out of those jeans, as Chase coaxes his rapidly hardening dick out of his boxers. He hisses, thin and thready, as Chase strokes down his length once, and nips a little harder at his lips in response.

They're going to leave this couch a damn mess. Thank the gods they invested in fucking leather.

"Love seeing you helpless below me," Chase murmurs, against his lips. He strokes again, to emphasize his point, movements firm and sure, and Jackie groans, softly, only Chase's weight keeping him from trying to follow the movement. "All laid out, like a fucking feast. Knowing I could do anything like this, and you'd- let me-"

He hasn't stopped stroking Jackie once while he talks, and Jackie's about half out of his fucking mind with sheer want, thoughts going hazy and sticky in the way that only Chase seems to be able to coax out. He pulls back- well, more like sinks into the couch with another long, soft keen, hand tight around the back of Chase's neck. There's a hard bulge pressing against his thigh, and he doesn't even have to tug at the strings to guess at exactly what Chase thinks of him, spread out beneath him, throat bared, heart pounding beneath his hand.

"Going to- have your way, then, sunshine? Going to take the world? You know I'd give it- fuck, Chase, please-"

Chase shushs him, gently, another gentle kiss to his lips, another stroke, before he shifts further down. It's awkward- they both barely fit on this couch, ancient as it is, but that's the least of his worries because Chase is licking a warm stripe down the length of his dick, eyes dancing merrily, and then he's swallowing down half of it without really any trouble at all.

Jackie shudders, and swears, one hand gripping the edge of the couch; Chase hums a laugh, and it turns into a vicious sort of cycle, Chase bobbing his head gently and teasing Jackie with his tongue, closer and closer to the edge, winding the heat in his gut tighter, and tighter--

Jackie peaks with another keen, vision dancing with stars, and Chase swallows down his spend with a grin like the cat that got the cream. It's over far too fast, but they've got the night ahead, and Chase is still very interested in the proceedings.

He just lies there for a moment, catching his breath, and Chase takes the opportunity to steal another salty kiss, strings humming with smug glee.

"Guess that answers what you'd want," he says, hoarsely, and Chase snickers, bright and amused.

"What if I said that wasn't all I wanted?"

He huffs a soft laugh, and wraps a leg around Chase; it's a small couch, but he flips them, carefully, all the same.

Roman was sitting cross-legged on his bed, lamp on, scribbling down ideas into a notebook. Sure, the middle of the night wasn't the greatest time for a brainstorming session, but the hyperfocus had kicked in and he was grateful for the ideas. He was just finishing up and was about to turn off his light when he heard a gentle knocking on his door. Glancing over at the clock and seeing it read "03:47" only succeded in making him more confused. 

"Come in" he said softly. 

The door opened a crack and a disheveled looking Patton stepped through. His eyes were puffy from crying and he had what he liked to call his "sad blanket" wrapped around him. The fluffiest blanket he had, which he only ever wore on his worst days. Roman immediately went over to him and wrapped his arms around Patton's waist. 

"I'm sorry for bothering you." Patton said between small sniffs.

"Hey no don't say that. You're not a bother to me at all padre"

Patton buried his head into Roman's chest.

"Bad dream." His words were muffled slightly by Roman's pyjamas.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head and mumbled "Not right now"

"Ok darling." 

Roman scooped him up and took him over to the bed, took off his slippers, and tucked them both up under the covers. He then reached over and turned off the light, before planting a small kiss on his boyfriend's forehead. Patton sighed deeply, his head still buried into Roman's chest, Roman rubbing small circles on his back. 

Tomorrow they would wake up in the same position. Patton would tell Roman all about the nightmares that have been plaguing him for weeks, crying again as he told the story. Roman would hold him close, telling him it would be okay. Any time Patton had another nightmare, Roman's door would always be right there. 

Stiles realized a while ago that he had an, possibly unhealthy, crush on Peter Hale. The whole Hale family were stupidity attractive and Derek did a lot to help Stiles have his bi-awakening.

 But Derek was his hot friend. He didn’t click with him right. Not like he did with Peter.

 With Peter it wasn’t just the physical attraction. No one could argue with him and keep up with his darting brain like Peter could.

 ~~He is a villain by the devil’s law. He is a killer just for fun, fun, fun, fun. ~~

 After everything Peter had done, he knew his shouldn’t feel this way. But since the first time Stiles saw him, something drew him in. He never could fully blame Peter for going after the people responsible for the fire. If someone hurt his dad, Stiles knew he would tear the world apart.

 “You would make a wonderful wolf.”

 The more Stiles learned about werewolves, Stiles thought he would have to agree with Peter. He wasn’t sure he would ever really want the bite—he was fine being the token human—but being around werewolves and being part of a pack seemed to fit him. The more the pack grew into themselves, Stiles felt like the pieces were falling into place. Like being part of a wolf pack was what he was meant to do.

 Stiles realized his dancing had slowed and his movements have smoothed. His shoulders relaxed in a way they shouldn’t as he pictured Peter’s face.

 “Do you want the bite?”

 A spark went through him remembering the brush of Peter’s lips against his sensitive side of his wrist. Peter was many things, but he had always been honest with Stiles. He was a murder and an actual story book monster. But he listened when Stiles had said “No” and has always been up front with him.

 ~~That man’s a snitch and unpredictable. He’s got no conscience, he’s got none, none, none, none. ~~

 Logically he knew that was a bad way to look at it. But it was also when Stiles was talking during a pack meeting and everyone kept talking over him or no paying attention, he would catch Peter’s eyes, sometimes even across the room, and they would be completely focused on him.

 He got attention from Peter he didn’t know was possible. He didn’t even realize it at first. Then slowly he started picking up on things, like how Peter would only stand never him or Derek or how Peter would squeeze past him in the kitchen, just to press his hand in the small of Stiles’ back. When Stiles realized that Peter was trying to scent mark him, Stiles started doing it back. Leaning over the back of the couch to bug Peter about something but pressing his hand against his neck. Or knocking Peter with his elbow when he was teasing.

 ~~’Cause he is a bad boy with a trained hearted and even I know this ain’t smart. ~~

 He rolled his hips, giving into the song. In his head, Peter slipped up behind him and pressed against his back. He let out a sigh, pretending he could feel Peter’s heat against him. This wasn’t the first time he thought of Peter like this and it was easy to slip into it. Imagining Peter’s hands on his hips, holding on tight and his lips pressed against Stiles’ neck.

 Stiles wonders if Peter ever noticed how Stiles’ scent must spike when Peter’s eyes flash blue or when he does that snarl that curls his lips to show just a flash of his inner wolf.

 The Sheriff always said Stiles attracted danger. Apparently, he was just attracted to danger.

 Stiles felt his blood heat as he sang and danced.

 ~~But mama I’m in love with a criminal. And this type isn’t rational, it’s physical. ~~

 “Oh my, who are you singing about?” A voice came from the door way of the kitchen.

 Stiles whipped around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

 “Peter!” Stiles gasped. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and he knew his face was burning with a blush.

 Of all ‘wolves to come sneaking into his house right now.

 Peter’s brow raised and Stiles was sure he wasn’t expecting such a reaction to the joke. But Stiles was too shock to respond and joke back like he normally would.

 Peter became serious as he stepped closer to Stiles with a pause between each step, like Stiles would run if he moved forward too quickly. Which honestly, he probably would.

 “Who are you thinking about right now, Stiles?” Peter asked, eyes locked with Stiles’ and his voice low.

 ~~Mama please don’t cry, I will be alright. All reason aside, I just can’t deny, love the guy. ~~

 Stiles opened his mouth to talk but his attention flipped to the song and he choked and turned red.

 Peter’s gaze shifted to the speaker as the song died out.

 Stiles took a step back, then another as Peter closed in. But he soon ran out of kitchen and backed into the counter. Peter leaned in close, a breath away from touching.

 “Stiles.” Peter said. His voice was low, making Stiles shiver. Peter flashed his eyes in response and Stiles felt his heart skip.

 ~~We both know there is something going on, there is something going on. ~~

 The next song came on as Peter pressed just a bit closer, waiting for an answer.

 Stiles didn’t know what to say, but he remembered thinking about living in the moment these days.