Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9579644.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Sheriff_Stilinski
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Sheriff_Stilinski, OFC
  Additional Tags:
      Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Parent/Child_Incest, Non-Monogamous_Society,
      Object_Penetration, Rough_Sex, Anal_Sex, 69_(Sex_Position), Nipple_Play,
      Underage_OFC, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Dubious_Morality, Implied
      Mpreg, Sheriff_Stilinski's_Name_is_John, Alpha_Sheriff_Stilinski, Alive
      Hale_Family
  Series:
      Part 6 of Trees_That_Grow
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-02-05 Words: 3475
****** Slithering Roots ******
by ChainsAroundWings_(AlzeahXei)
Summary
     The interlude after Christmas Eve dinner and before Present Time was
     not only fun time for the children.
“Remember to wash your hands, girls.”
A twin choruses of “Yes, dad!” exploded through the bathroom door as muffled
water drummed the porcelain sink. When the door swung back open, four freshly
dried palms met his gaze before they’re lowered to reveal sapphire orbs of his
beloved daughters.
“All clean and dry?” John beamed with his hands reached out, wrapping on reflex
as he received two tiny hands on each palm.
“Yes!” Emily crowed while Sophie merely nodded in agreement beside her.
The twins were three years of age now, a step into yearned independence and
voicing their opinions, yet persisted on burrowing into their parent bed at
night so the monsters under their bed wouldn’t get to them.
Meek omega Sophie and outspoken alpha Emily was an uncommon pair in identical
twin, but they’re as close to each other as their days in the womb, latching
onto each other within the minute they first came into contact in the bassinet.
Nobody adores them more than John and Jordan, and especially Stiles. John had
never seen a teenager zealous for diaper duty, and having twins meant twice the
dirty duty.
Though with Stiles as their main playmate/influence, John wasn’t sure if he
should keep a tunnel vision on the humor in it or weep at the devastating
terror they’re bound to grow into.
“Sophie, Emily, movie time! Come on!” At the end of the second floor hallway
one of the Hale children bellowed, a gaggle of siblings and relatives of
approximate ages sprinting behind him towards the theatre room. It was
contagious, since Emily was a bouncing ball of energy on his left, tugging his
wrist with each leap.
“Can we, daddy, can we?”
He doubted anyone could refuse Emily with her round, hopeful eyes and overall
vibrant grin as she begged. His younger daughter would have the even the alphas
eating off her hand. He released their hands and dropped to his knees, patting
their bottom.
“Go on. We’ll call for you when it’s time to collect your presents.”
Emily squealed and smacked a kiss on daddy’s lips. Sophie was gentler; her soft
lips were like petals as she pressed them on daddy’s mouth, broken by her
sister’s impatient huffing. Even so, she lingered to thank him first before
jogging to Emily’s heels. His eyes stayed on them until they disappeared around
the corner, then he was back up on his feet and moving towards the stairs.
As he passed by the row of bedrooms, a familiar scent had him halting his
steps. Taking a swift sniff had led him towards a room with the door ajar. John
folded his arms just right outside the door frame, contemplating, shrugged, and
crossed over without by your leave, flicking the light on with a twist of his
wrist.
Besides, he couldn’t count the times he had to turn a blind eye on Peter’s
trespassing habits during active working hours.
There was a nook with ceiling-height window and cushion seat, and the variety
of throw pillow covers stacking at the corner – bright sequined sunny yellow
and fine velvet floral prints and embroidery with tassels on four corners –
definitely added colors to the otherwise monochrome contemporary design the
rest of this room shrouded in.
The Hales were well-known for their mock gifts.
The window offered the view of the picnic tables, attached edge to edge to be
able to fit the 26 pack members of their host, and that had yet to include any
remote cousins or eccentric aunts every family tend to own. The pack members
that weren’t below the age of twelve or on chore duties lingered around the
table, some catching up on pack news while others were having passionate
debates on the games in upcoming seasons.
John found Stiles in the middle of it, squirming in Derek’s lap and batting
furiously at Laura’s poking fingers from his ticklish sides, the elder Hale
grinning unrepentantly despite her brother’s murderous growls and trying to
snatch her hand away, preferably breaking it while he was at it. Beside them,
Jordan was having a fit, head thrown and mouth wide with arms wrapping around
his stomach to keep the ache at bay.
“And here I thought a sheriff should be the model in abiding law. Guess I’m
wrong.”
John craned over his shoulder to the sight of Peter Hale leaning against the
closed door, a flute in hand, ruby liquid swirling lazily inside. Instead of
answering him, John sat down, cushion depressed as the man leaned back,
stretching the lines of his torso.
Peter licked his lip under the rim of the glass as he approached the alpha and
took the last sip of wine, storing it warm inside his mouth. Once they’re side
by side, the flute was left on one of the shelves as he tipped over and brushed
his lips over John’s, pressed further deep when his jaw slacked. Spicy-bitter-
sweet wine flooded down his throat, and John licked into the beta’s mouth for
more, stubble itched and chafing.
Peter broke the kiss with a nip on upper lip, settling in between John’s thighs
with one hand resting bellow his collarbone. Peter ducked his head, nose
tracing the curve connecting neck and shoulder, and purred wickedly at the
faint scent of ginger.
“Hmm, looks like someone’s rut is about to arrive.” He licked to the back of an
ear, drawing back enough to appreciate the stipe of sheen on tan skin. He
tipped his chin at the window, eyes glinting not from the light in the room.
“You know, I doubt Derek would allow his newly-wed mate out of his sight for at
least a month. That means you’ll be down one pack member’s hole for your knot.”
John shrugged, fingers found their way under the waistband of the jeans and
rubbing circles on the patch of skin they’re attached to. “I’m not short of
deputies, Peter. They’re counted as a part of my pack too, and all are willing
to bend over and present their cunts for my taking.”
“Lucky alpha.” Peter droned dryly, brows flattened above his eyes.
“Thank you.” John angled his head with a smug smirk lifting the corner of his
mouth. “Though, I won’t refuse if you’re the one offering.”
Peter snorted and shoved the sheriff. He misjudged his strength and John’s back
knocked into the wall, air punched out of his lungs while behind him,
miscellaneous loose items wobbled and on the risk of falling over. The poor
flute and a box were out of luck and tumbled to the ground.
“I’m not going to apologize for that,” John wheezed out and turned his head to
take in the damage done, only to frozen his gaze at the contents of the box.
Peter was awfully quiet beside him as the alpha reached out to grab a baton.
A 26 inches long hardwood baton he thought he had lost when he was still a
rookie deputy. He checked the leather belt and indeed, there was his initials
carved on the underside of the belt.
“Peter,” He flicked the baton in his palm, acquainting his sense with the
weight again. “Do you want to explain?”
“Explain what, Sheriff Stilinski. You have to be clear on your instruction or
I’ll give you the wrong answer.” Peter sneered; eyes adverted to the drapes
pinned neatly to the sides.
“Peter.”
The man remained stubbornly silent, hand reaching out to unfasten the buttons
and followed the movement of cascading fabric to meet in the middle. But John
had interrogated criminals and junkies long enough to tell their signs. And
with people like Peter, patient was one of the key to unlock his words.
That, and adding extra tantalizing persuasion, like the thumb grazing over his
groin. Firm enough to feel it over the jeans, but not enough friction to
satisfy his nerves.
When Peter began to rock his hips slightly, the thumb stopped completely and
was a hairbreadth away out of contact. The beta growled viciously, and then his
shoulders slumped with an uncharacteristic pout on his face.
“I need a replacement, and yours was conveniently within reach.” An accusing
glare swerved towards him, as if he was the one to blame in the first place.
“Replacement?”
Peter merely waved his hand and gestured at the spilled contents.
John searched diligently to get a clue, and found one that nearly threatened a
giggle out of his throat. There, lying forlornly on the floor, was a blackjack
manufactured in the nineties. The stick was wrapped fully in leather, though
shine long gone from the wash of time. There was even a slight tear at the
ellipsoid end of the baton.
John blinked slowly at the blackjack, at his stolen baton, and finally at
Peter, and let the burst of laughter to fill the bedroom.
He was hiccupping by the time the laughter dwindled out, a finger rubbing away
pooled tears. “You. Peter. You got me, a rookie just out of academy then, into
trouble with my superiors and a suspension warning by stealing MY baton just so
you can fuck on it.” He coughed out the last traces of laughter and lifted the
baton within the vicinity of their sight. “Is this revenge? Is this revenge for
the time I came into pack territory to interrogate your alpha? Can I earn your
forgiveness if I told you I was the hapless rookie and was dumped into the case
just because no one wanted to handle it?”
Peter rolled his eyes and pinched not so gently on a bicep. “Not revenge.”
There was pink tinted over his ears. “More like trying to pull your pigtail.”
“Pulling my pigtail. Pulling my pigtail, he said.” His abdomen quivered,
preparing for another fit. “Peter Hale,” The air John chuffed out was full of
amusement and not a little exasperation. “There were so many, many tactics to
gain my attention – hell, I’m sure the internet and any nieces above fourth
grade could give you ideas – and you chose to NICK police equipment as your
first move and nearly cost me my career?”
Peter shrugged without any hint of shame. In fact, John doubted any past
mistake still registered in the beta’s memory. “You still notice me right?”
“Eventually. Yes.”
“You’re so dim.” Peter sighed with farcical misery. “It’s a wonder you’re the
sheriff for Beacon County.”
John ignored the jab to smash their lips together for a harsh, biting kiss,
messy and wet and left their lips sore at the end of it, pants mingling and
eyes dazed.
“Damn you, Hale. Damn you.”
“What are you going to do, sheriff, punish me?” There was a glint in those blue
orbs, and John would be the fool if he ignored the challenge.
Without forewarning John flipped him over with the hands on Peter’s hips before
sliding down the seat, head nestled between the nest of pillows. Peter halted
his stumble with hands gripping onto John’s thighs, a glower thrown over his
shoulder. Grinning, John slapped him on a cheek.
“Why don’t you put your mouth to work and I’ll think about it?”
Peter’s scowl melted to curl roguishly, the lines at the corner of his eyes
deepened. “Oh? Is that how you want it?” Without another word he turned his
attention to the pants’ fly and with proficient fingers whipped the alpha cock
out in no time. John bit a hiss as Peter plunged straight down, taking the cock
until the head bumped into the back of his mouth and more. Then he was pumping
the cock in and out between his lips with no hesitation.
John indulged in the pleasure for a while longer before working his fingers on
the jeans’ button and zip, smoothly removing the garment to reveal the beta’s
hole, skin furled beautifully at the rim. His hands stretched his ass apart and
dove in, licking the hole wet before fucking inside with his tongue. Peter’s
spine was trembling, but his hips remained still for John to take.
John pulled away and sat back up when Peter tasted droplets of precome on his
tongue, and the beta whined hatefully at the loss of pleasure on both end of
his holes. John spanked him, hard and abrupt, leaving a handprint on his ass.
Peter sucked in a short breath with the cool, solid surface of the baton rested
on his hole.
“I believed you’d played with this more times than you can count. You can take
it dry, right?” John’s heated breathed ghosted over one ear. Peter’s grin
stretched to the end of his jaw as he threw John a side glance.
“I like it rough. I like to be reminded of the fun I had when I sit on my
aching ass and moan as pain flares up my hole to my chest.”
John huffed out a chuckle, caressing the rim with the tip of the baton before
corking it straight down the hole. Peter hissed at the dry scrape of polished
hardwood on his insides, hips jerking to find comfort only to meet with more
pain. John knew he found the prostate by the way a whimper mixed into the
beta’s hitching breaths and rested the tip on it, nothing more and nothing
less, earning a curse.
“Fuck you, John.” Peter said through clenched teeth, grinding them when the
hand on his hips prevented him from gaining any friction.
“I think it’s the other way around now,” John giggled. “And besides,
punishment. Remember?” Watching stretched rim clenched around the baton, trying
to suck in more. “I have one question, though.”
“Fuck you.”
“Be nice.” John brushed his thumb over the rim, feeling it twitching
feverishly. “I figured why you have the blackjack in the first place, but isn’t
it better to invest in butt plugs and dildos?”
Peter filled his lungs as the pain dulled to smarting ache now. “I have them
too. They’re fun, but the baton isn’t half as bad.”
“Hmm,” John hummed as he rolled the baton. “Do you know what I think. I think,”
He shoved the baton passed the prostate, Much, much further that had Peter
arching his back, limbs frozen as if electrified and mouth slacked a wide ‘o’.
“You just like to be fucked deep, and no butt plugs or dildos could give you
that satisfaction. Am I right?” The baton slid an inch out, and Peter inhaled
finally.
“Fuck you.” It was weak, and John was rather disappointed at the lack of heat
the words produced.
“I am.” He thrust the baton at a slight rapid pace, listening as Peter moaned
every time it came into contact with his prostate. “Now I don’t think I’ll be
able to fuck you with my cock since I won’t be able to fulfill such high
anticipation.”
“Don’t you dare!” Peter snapped his head up, eyes flaring and fingers curled
tightly. “Give me your dick or I swear it’s the next thing I’ll get my hand
onto. No matter the method.”
John whistled in awe at the intensity behind those words. His dick had yet to
go soft and only twitched with interest at the passion displayed.
Peter grunted at the emptiness left behind as the alpha unsheathed the baton.
John put him on his back and kissed him soundly as he aligned their cocks and
pressing them together in a tight squeeze.
“This isn’t what I want.” Peter grumbled, but the grip on the drapes told an
opposite story, as well as the moving hips that rubbed their cocks deliciously.
Precome that dripped onto John’s hand helped to lessen the chafing sensation of
dry on dry skin, and John didn’t mind to climax just then if it wasn’t for the
hand that yanked away his.
“Inside me now.” Peter demanded, going so far as shutting anything John was
about to say by slamming their lips and holding on with his teeth, his hand
found the way to the alpha’s cock, leveling to his ass and pushing it in
without much resistance. A delighted rumble entered their kiss, tongue dancing
and teeth clashing.
John’s hand roamed above the dress shirt, finding a nipple and fastening his
fingers on it, only to earn a surprised squeak from the man underneath him.
John drew away and gave him a look, astonished at the blush invading the beta’s
face and neck. He pinched the nipple and Peter threw his head to a side,
groaning in alarm but not distress.
Since beta males couldn’t lactate, alphas scarcely play with their nipples,
usually leaving them with come painting their torso and nubs standing for
attention but never receiving one. But John knew that with the right
stimulation, even beta males could come just from having their tits teased on.
He bent forward and took hold of a nipple with his teeth; a wet spot blossomed
over the fabric as John suckled on it. Peter inhaled sharply, the drapes in his
fingers was a pull away from being ripped off the rod they suspended from.
The other nipple wasn't spared from any treatment as John twisted and rubbed
between thumb and index finder, plucking it to full tightness. “Damn you,
John,” Fingers snaked into golden hair and jerked the head away from his second
nipple. “Stop making me come unnecessarily. Fuck me already.”
“So bossy,” John pecked the corner of his mouth and complied, hips snapping at
a brutal pace and balls slapping ass with each thrust. Peter threw his head and
arched his body, moans flushing out of his throat in torrents. He tilted his
hips so the cock could slip in deeper, pushing him to the edge each time his
prostate was targeted.
Another few more thrusts were all it took for Peter to blow his load, hoarsely
screaming as his come coated over their stomach. John’s teeth closed onto the
path of skin at the shoulder and bit down fiercely as he rocked his hips once,
twice before spilling into the beta’s hole, almost drawing blood and definitely
leaving behind a magnificent bruise.
John let go to curse when he felt his knot expanding and locking them together.
Peter tugged lightly and squeezed down onto the knot, gaining a thrilled hiss
from the alpha.
“Looks like someone’s excited.” He purred, wrapping his arms around John’s
shoulders and harassed the hair at his nape.
“It’s not swollen to full size. We won’t be joined five minutes later.”
“Pity. I always like having a knot plugging me up.”
“Peter,” The beta beamed meanly at the frustrated groan directed to his neck
and pulled the alpha up for more kisses, ankles crossing at John’s hips to keep
him deep inside.
There was a knock at the door, followed up by, “Daddy?”
John lifted his lips away from kissing range, eyes slanted towards the entrance
while Peter peppered his cheek and jaw with tiny pecks. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“It’s time for presents,” The door clicked open and Emily poked her head in.
She took in the sight with a tilt of her head. “Are you and Uncle Peter busy?”
“Yes.” A hand reached out, and Emily obligingly came for a hug and chaste kiss.
John pressed a smile against her neck, nose tracing for her sweet scent as his
hand kneaded her perky bottom. “Why don’t you and Sophie and Papa start without
us first, hmm? We’ll be stuck for quite a while.”
“Fine,” Emily sighed with shoulders slumped. She then fixed an expectant gaze
on Peter, and the beta cackled as he stretched his neck and planted his overdue
kiss, tongue sliding out to take a taste before backing away with a smile.
“Go on then. We’ll be down to join you later.” John patted her ass and watched
her go. Hands cupped his cheeks and turned his head to meet with a much mature
and filthy kiss, sloppy and tongues fighting for dominance.
John rested his forehead on Peter’s, breath moist and hot on their skin. “Is
this what I’m to expect the next time I properly knot you?”
Peter mouthed up to his ear and pressed a grin on the shell. “Why don’t we make
a deal?” He rolled his hips, reveling that John was still squirting come inside
him. “That case that brought you to me, the homicide of Kate Argent? I was the
one that killed her, sheriff. Find out how I tore her to pieces and you’ll have
me as reward.”
John looked at Peter’s vacant gaze and manic grin and shook his head, lips
curling. “Are you blackmailing me? Is this reverse-blackmailing so I can knot
your ass?”
Peter ducked his mouth to John’s neck and nipped his marks on. “Maybe. What are
you going to do, John?”
The alpha took his mouth, again and again. Kissing even long after John’s knot
had receded.
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