Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2152089.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Chris_Argent/Peter_Hale
  Character:
      Chris_Argent, Peter_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Rough_Sex, Dirty_Talk, Kitchen_Sex, Unsafe_Sex, Young_Peter
      Hale, Young_Chris_Argent
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-08-17 Words: 2985
****** Shut Me Up ******
by MoMoMomma
Summary
     “It’s his lips,” Chris complained into the phone, laying his head
     down on his chemistry book and groaning. “They’re so goddamn….they’re
     made for dick, you don’t understand.”
     “No,” Victoria’s laugh was sweet and clear through the line, amused
     and mocking all in the same sound. “I don’t understand, Chris. Mostly
     because I like my men to be able to drive before I fuck them.”
Notes
     This came from Fidelius and Cyberrat making fun of my love for little
     Dylan Sprayberry--which I then, of course, transferred to someone
     else lusting over an underage boy :D
     Beta-read, as always, by Richelle!
See the end of the work for more notes
“It’s hislips,” Chris complained into the phone, laying his head down on his
chemistry book and groaning. “They’re so goddamn….they’re made for dick, you
don’t understand.”
“No,” Victoria’s laugh was sweet and clear through the line, amused and mocking
all in the same sound. “I don’t understand, Chris. Mostly because I like my men
to be able to drive before I fuck them.”
“He can drive!” Chris snapped, before quieting down when he heard the front
door swing open and Kate and Peter’s arguing voices drifted up from the foyer.
“Oh god, Victoria, he’s here. He’s here, what do I do?!”
“Do you have condoms?”
“You are not helping!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Chris loves Victoria. She might be the only woman in this
world who can simultaneously remind him of his mother and still look good
enough to get him hard. “I’m terribly sorry that I’m not helping you have sex
with an underage boy.”
“I don’t wanna have sex with him, I want to fuck his mouth.” Chris hisses into
the phone before the sound of footsteps on the stairs has him jumping out of
his chair.
“Kate’s coming, gotta go, talk to you later.”
Chris just managed to throw himself back into his chair and grab his pen,
pulling his book closer to himself, when Kate swung the door open.
Without knocking, as per usual.
“Come downstairs and help me with my science project.”
“Can you ask?” Chris snapped, tossing the pen back onto his book and glaring as
Kate sighed melodramatically, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.
“Can you please come downstairs and help me with this stupid science project?”
Chris rolled his eyes but rose from his chair anyhow, following behind Kate and
ignoring the aches and pains in his body. Kate was a leader, was going to be a
leader, and so she wasn’t allowed to start her training until she turned 17
next summer. They started women older than they did men, since they needed to
know how to logically think and plan before they could lead.
Soldiers didn’t need to think. They only needed to follow. So Chris was used to
dealing with the aches that came from a long night of training.
He’d been dealing with them since he was 12.
Chris froze in the doorway of the living room, watching Kate walk over and plop
down on the couch across from Peter, the coffee table between them. Honestly,
he’d been shocked when she had informed them over dinner last night that she
and Peter had been paired as lab partners for the project, and
absolutelyfloored when his mother had suggested they do said project at their
house. It made sense, in a way, his mother was a fiercely intelligent woman,
she wouldn’t allow her daughter to walk into a house of werewolves. But he’d
honestly thought the same of Talia Hale, which was why he’d been even more
shocked when Kate had called Peter after dinner and then--after a conversation
filled with eye rolls and snappy tones--told them Peter would be coming by
after school.
Gerard had been furious about the whole situation, of course, hence Chris’
numerous pains and bruises.
But Peter didn’t seem to be aware he was in a hunter’s home. Or, if he was
bothered by it, it certainly didn’t show. He was sprawled on the couch, legs
open wide, feet planted firmly, leather jacket laying atop his backpack on the
floor, down to just a thin shirt that did little to hide how well built his
young body already was. Chris fought down the thump of his heartbeat when Peter
looked over and crooked a brow, eyes sweeping up and down his form.
“Hello, Christopher.” It’d be a lot easier to not want the little shit if he
didn’t look--and sound-- like he wanted to jump Chris’ bones every single time
he saw him.
“Peter.” Chris inclined his head, swallowing around the catch in his throat at
the way Peter’s lips curled into a smirk, crossing to sit down next to Kate.
“So what’s the project?”
That opened a can of worms Chris was not prepared for. Peter and Kate
apparently had very different ideas on what the project should be and neither
wanted to budge. After fifteen minutes of loud arguing culminated in Kate
screaming in frustration and stomping out the front door “before I kill a
stupid teenager!” Chris excused himself and went to grab a glass of water from
the kitchen.
Standing in front of the sink, gasping for air after chugging the cool liquid,
Chris contemplated grabbing another glass to dump over his head. Peter was
gorgeous when he argued, cheeks flushing, eyes sparkling as he riled Kate
further and further, intelligence only making him more appealing despite the
fact that it was wrapped in sarcasm and snappy tones.
“She’ll be gone for at least an hour.” Peter’s voice startled Chris, making him
fumble the glass, nearly shattering it in the sink before setting it down with
a snap and whirling to see the teen lounging in the kitchen entranceway.
“Is that a fact?” Peter shrugged and pushed off the wall, stalking towards
Chris in a move that was barely more human than animal.
“Whenever I piss her off in class, she misses the next class period. I’m going
by experience.”
“Piss her off often?” Chris challenged, crossing his arms, closing his stance
as Peter came to a stop roughly a foot from him, drumming idle fingers on the
countertop.
“Whenever I need a break from her.” Peter’s eyes were startlingly blue in the
bright afternoon light that spilled in through the french doors. “She’s
obnoxious. You’re her brother, I assume you knew that already.”
“I knowsomething about annoying teenagers.” Chris snapped with a pointed look
at Peter, feeling cornered and edgy despite the fact that there were numerous
weapons around him and that he could turn and run up the backstairs to his room
if he wanted.
Peter chuckled, tilting his head to the side as he regarded Chris with narrowed
eyes. He looked like a predator sizing up his prey, and Chris dropped his hands
to the sides, curling them into fists in case Peter decided to lunge.
“Am I annoying because I’m a teenager, Christopher? Or am I annoying because
I’m a teenager you want to fuck?” The last word was barely a whisper, a hiss of
air, but it his Chris like a sledgehammer, making his heart beat double, his
chest go cold.
“Excuse me?!”
“Werewolves have incredibly good hearing.” Peter informed him loftily, a smirk
playing around the edges of his mouth once more. “So good, in fact, that they
could hear a conversation even if they were outside the house. Even if they
were being talked at by an annoying girl.”
Chris swallowed hard, narrowing his eyes and taking a step forwards.
“What are you implying?”
Peter spread his arms out, fingers wide in an innocent gesture that didn’t
match the wicked gleam in his eyes, the devious curve to his lips.
“You said my lips were made for cock, Christopher. Would you like to see if
you’re right?”
“You’re a child.” Chris bit out through clenched teeth, though he didn’t move
away as Peter slunk up until a breath would bring them into contact, tracing
his way up Chris’ arm.
“But one who can keep his mouth shut. Unless there’s something in there, of
course.”
Chris is not a good man. He’s a hunter, he’s ruthless and brutal, and he so
very, very rarely gets what he wants. It’s only fair, right? That he gives in
just this once? When something so sweet is being offered to blatantly?
“Get on your knees.” Chris breathes, already tearing at his belt, the jangle
loud in his ears alongside the roar of his heartbeat.
“Right here in the kitchen, Chris?” Peter’s lips stretch into the mockery of
shock, an O that looks like it would be perfect to slip his dick into. “Isn’t
that a little racy--”
“On. Your. Knees.” Chris’ teeth are gritted together so tightly it feels like
his jaw will snap, hands busy shoving his pants around his thighs, briefs
following shortly afterwards.
Peter’s tongue flickers out and smooths over his lips, making them wet enough
that Chris groans and grips the base of his cock to stop from coming. It
doesn’t stop the pre-cum from spurting from his tip, however, and when Peter
does finally drop to his knees, he immediately licks it up, tracing its path
from where it had ran down his shaft right back up the the sensitive head. The
sensation is enough to knock the breath from Chris’ lungs and he throws an arm
out blindly, catching the counter for balance as Peter knocks his hand away
from his cock.
“Knew you’d have a thick dick.” Peter mutters, sounding almost angry as he
licks broad swathes from base to tip, covering Chris’ cock in silky slick.
“Such an asshole. God, why do you have to have such a perfect cock?”
“Stop talking.” Chris bites out, fisting a hand in Peter’s hair and yanking his
head back until the wolf’s eyes snap into a whole new shade of blue and his
mouth falls open. “Shut up, just shut up.”
He thrusts forward, expecting Peter to close his mouth, and gasps when his cock
sinks into plush heat, spreading Peter’s lips wide. Chris is brutal, the
soldier he truly is, dragging Peter’s head forwards everytime he thrusts,
pulling back when he does the same with his hips. It creates a frantic and
filthy rhythm, Peter sucking hard on every backstroke, swallowing tightly on
every forward movement. He really is the perfect cocksucker and those lips are
proof of it, swollen and bright red when Chris yanks his cock out of the wolf’s
mouth completely, alarmed at the scrape of too long teeth along sensitive skin.
“Stop or I’ll shoot you.”
“Fuck me.” Peter demands, scrambling to his feet and tearing at his own tight
jeans, kicking them completely off until he’s standing in just his shirt, shoes
tossed alongside the pants. “Come on, Argent. You want me to shut up? Fuck me
so good I can’t talk.”
“Not possible.” Chris growls, but grabs Peter by the neck and shoulder and
throws him against the counter anyhow.
He’s gonna try. Gonna try to shut Peter up. It’s a damn near impossible task
but he has to. Because Peter is getting inside his head with every single word,
every look, every purr of his name and god knows what he’ll do once he’s in
there.
Peter’s shoving something into his hand, something solid and heavy, and Chris
almost fumbles it in his haste to press himself against the kid’s back. A
glance downwards shows that Peter somehow fished the olive oil out of the
cupboard and handed it over. The reality of the situation slams into Chris in
that moment and leaves him reeling. He’s about to fuck a 16 year old werewolf
in his parent’s kitchen using his father’s favorite olive oil as lube.
What the hell was he thinking? Kate could come back early, his parents could
decide to cut grocery shopping short and come home, all of these things leading
to Chris getting the shit beat out of him and his ‘training’ becoming even more
rigorous.
“I can’t--”
“I swear to god if you tell me you’ve had a sudden attack of conscious, I will
bite the hell out of you.” Peter punctuates his statement with a sharp snap of
his teeth, looking back of his shoulder with a scowl.
“We can’t--” Chris tries again, only for Peter to roll his eyes and snarl.
“What? Oh, we can’t fuck because god forbid Daddy’s perfect little hunter fuck
a wolf? We can’t because I’m ‘just an innocent sixteen year old boy’,” Peter’s
voice goes mockingly breathless over the words before his eyes narrow
dangerously. “You’re not the first man I’ve fucked, Christopher. And you won’t
be the last, or even the best.”
“Shut up.” Chris punctuates the command by palming the back of Peter’s head and
shoving it forwards, slamming his head violently into the cupboard, keeping it
pinned there. “Shut your mouth.”
“Then fuck me!” Peter demands, not at all bothered by the pain, pushing his ass
tightly into where Chris’ cock is still pressed against him, hard and hot.
“You want me to fuck you? Fine.” Chris spits, taking his palm away from where
it had been keeping Peter pinned to twist open the oil with rough hands. “Fine,
I’ll fuck you and I’ll finally shut you up.”
“Shut me up with your cock just fine.” Peter sighs as Chris sloppily coats his
cock with the slick liquid, leaving enough on his fingers to messily smear it
against Peter’s tight hole. “You should do that more often. I can deepthroat,
you know? Could swallow down every last inch of your cock. Sound good,
Christopher? Every last in-”
Peter’s word catches on a gasp when Chris brutally shoves inside, groaning at
the vice-like clench of Peter’s ass around his cock. The oil is slick enough to
let him force his way in until his hips are resting against the smooth curve of
Peter’s ass, both of them panting like they’d just ran a marathon. Chris tries
desperately to remember that, for all his bravado and snark, Peter really is a
16 year old who just had a cock shoved up his ass. He clumsily pets at Peter’s
hair, fingers shaky from the pleasure threatening to overwhelm him.
He wants so badly to thrust, to wreck Peter on his cock, to ruin him for anyone
else just to shut him up, but Chris isn’t a monster. The least he can do is
wait for Peter to adjust.
“Is that--the best--you can manage, Christopher?” Peter’s glancing over his
shoulder again, eyes half lidded and hazy, bottom lip bright red like he’d had
his teeth sunk into it moments before. “What’s the point of all your--uhn--
silly hunter training if you can’t evenfuck like you’re worth something?”
“Shut up.” Chris repeats, drawing back to slam home with a quick movement,
Peter’s head falling forwards on a gasp.
It becomes a litany as Chris fucks into him, into the tight heat that fits his
cock like it was made for him. Words that get whispered into Peter’s nape when
Chris leans forward, gripping Peter’s knee to put it on the counter, open him
up wide for his thrusts. Chris bites it into the flesh when Peter starts to
whimper and whine, the sounds of their fucking obscene and filthy in the
silence of the house.
“Shut me up then, Chris.” Peter moans, bracing on hand on the cupboard and
grabbing onto Chris’ wrist with the other, nails digging in. “Make me come and
shut me up.”
Chris swears into the sweat-slick strands near Peter’s neck and shoves a hand
behind the wolf’s knee, opening him further to the thrusts. Peter’s up on the
ball of his foot now, completely at Chris’ mercy, and Chris scrambles to grab
for the hand he isn’t using to brace himself on the cupboard, dragging it
around to where he’s still pounding into him.
“Hold--hold yourself--yeah.” Chris groans when Peter obediently grabs the flesh
and pulls it to the side, listening to the kid’s low whine when Chris thrusts
in.
Like this, every single thrust Chris makes is somehow slamming into Peter’s
prostate. He can tell by the way Peter’s legs are shaking, how his breath keeps
catching. He’s so close, but so is Peter, and the thought of besting the wolf--
even in something as trivial as who can go longer without coming--appeals to
Chris. He puts everything he has into his thrusts, harder, faster, until he
thinks he’s going to black out from the pleasure corkscrewing it’s way up his
spine.
Before he does, though, Peter’s suddenly howling, something so animalistic
Chris wasn’t even sure Peter hadn’t actually shifted. But he’s pressing back
into Chris’ thrusts even as he shudders, even as Chris feels the warmth of his
come splash against his legs, sees it hit the floor beneath them. Peter’s head
turns, face slack with pleasure but thankfully still human, and his mouth opens
once more. Chris reaches up from where he’d been keeping Peter’s leg up on the
counter, slapping the hand over those abused looking lips.
He comes like that, looking into Peter’s wide eyes, hand over his mouth,
pressing in tight as he shakes and shudders through an orgasm more powerful
than any other he’s ever had.
 
.O.
 
That day didn’t shut Peter up. Chris never could, no matter how many times they
brutally fucked on whatever surface would hold their weights. Then came the
fire and Peter was shut up by something so violent and horrible it made Chris’
stomach churn. Years pass, death and deception and new alliances and betrayal.
Almost enough time has gone by that Chris nearly shuts the door in Peter’s face
when he opens it to see the wolf lounging against the frame.
He’s exhausted, achy from trying to help Scott and find Kate. He doesn’t have
time for this.
“C’mon, Christopher,” Peter’s eyes still twinkle the same way they did when he
was 16, still a vicious and mischievous light to them. “Shut me up.”
The odd thing is, he finally does, and all it takes is actually taking Peter to
bed with him.
“You should never let a dog in bed,” Peter slurs into the pillow, body
stretched out wantonly. “They’ll never leave.”
Chris feels a flush of affection wash over him, running a slow hand down
Peter’s spine before reaching across him to turn off the lamp.
“Shut up.”
Amazingly enough? Peter finally does.
End Notes
     If you love Petopher, come find me on tumblr! I'm momomomma2 over
     there as well <3
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