Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1078647.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Peter_Hale
  Character:
      Peter_Hale, Derek_Hale, Paige_(Teen_Wolf), Talia_Hale, Laura_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Always_a_Different_Sex, Girl!Derek_Hale, Incest,
      Vaginal_Sex, Knotting
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-11 Words: 3132
****** Wicked Uncle Peter ******
by GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary
     Peter loves his niece.
Notes
     Let me tell you a little story about hanggracefully, or, as I like to
     call her, Grace. Grace has never seen Teen Wolf. Not one episode.
     Maybe some pictures. She, like, vaguely knows what these guys even
     look like. But, I have her read most of my stuff before I post it -
     just to make sure it's not too horrible. And, she's the biggest
     Peter/Derek shipper I know. Which is crazy - because this is the
     first time I've actually written that pairing. Like, what, Grace?
     She just thinks that, due to the interactions I've had them have in
     past fics, they've got a dynamic she can get behind. So, she when she
     asked for a fic like this and I was, like, "Fine, I'll throw it on
     the mountain of other things I have to write." And, now I wrote it.
     Because, I love you, honeybunny. Even though you're weird. And I'm
     normal.
See the end of the work for more notes
He was six when Big Sis started to have children. Laura was the first,
screaming and crying and bleating into existence in a way he didn’t fully
comprehend until he had spent hours researching.
He had thought she was ugly because he hated other children and she took his
much deserved attention away. Surely, he was more interesting than some infant,
and required much more consideration. For all he cared, they could have left
her screaming, crying, cold, until she wasn’t screaming or crying anymore but
significantly colder.
When Big Sis became pregnant again, she was so happy she glowed and Peter was
nine. Laura was a disgusting toddler who had unfortunately been taught to speak
and walk. She preformed these acts gracelessly - a disgrace to all speaking,
walking creatures before her. Peter dreaded the next child. He didn’t want to
be the center of attention anymore - he could get more accomplished when he
wasn’t under such close scrutiny - but he hated the idea of another ugly,
filthy, tiny creature running around the house, touching things, breathing.
He had spent whole days holed up in his room, brooding and plotting ways to
avoid this future child, and all of Big Sis’s subsequent children, as he was
assured there would be more. In four or five years, Peter would be old enough
to babysit - and Peter was so mature, everyone liked to muse that he might be
fit for the task even sooner. Peter’s two best solutions to his situation were
running away or poisoning Big Sis’s children.
Running away was less than ideal. His life, excluding the issue of obnoxious
family, was comfortable. Hiding from Pack was difficult, at best. Even more
than being fiercely loyal and possessive of family, wolves could track their
young through nearly any harsh conditions. What’s more, any nosy traveler he
came across might not be eager to accept that a nine year old traveling on his
own had the permission of his guardian.
Poisoning the other children was problematic as well. If he were caught, the
repercussions could be severe. As a young boy with only a slightly more
advanced understanding of his criminal inclinations, he doubted such an action
could be traced back to him if he worked cautiously, slowly. And, the children
were so small - it probably wouldn’t have even taken that long.
There were some strains of Wolfsbane that, in appearance, seemed completely
harmless.
Big Sis went into labor on a December morning when Peter had much more
important things to be doing. He was dragged along but had to sit in the
waiting room. Through all the doors and distance and other screeching, aching
new mothers, Peter could hear Talia scream. He thought she deserved it. He
hoped it hurt more than she could bear. He sort of liked the child coming -
just for that second - because of the pain. Of course, the feeling passed
because he hated any and all of her children.
They were there into the late evening, Big Sis’s mate pacing and babbling
nervously. Other Packmates brought food, and Peter read and reveled in her
anguished labor.
Finally, just as an older relative was preparing to take him and Laura and some
of the other children home, there was a silence. Big Sis wasn’t screaming but
sobbing and sighing and the high wails of new Pack were sounding through the
hall.
No one wanted to crowd a tired Alpha with their new young, so Peter was ushered
in, because he was Talia’s only brother, as was her mate and first child. The
little wrinkled thing was swaddled and pink and Big Sis was cooing and smiling
sleepy and smug at her husband, as if to say look what we made. Peter didn’t
want to see it, but had an appropriate congratulatory response ready that
wouldn’t register as a lie.
His carefully planned words didn’t make it out of his mouth. Objectively, the
child was ugly, because it was a newborn. But, she had hazel eyes and little
curling fingers and a small mouth that wasn’t open screaming but yawning, as if
her arrival had exhausted her.
“Peter, come say hi to Deria.” Big Sis raised the child’s hand in a little
mock-wave, and Deria let her without complaint.
The child was falling asleep but Peter held out his hand and said hello and
Deria grabbed one of his fingers between her two hands and brought it to her
mouth. It should have been repulsive to him - she had no teeth, her mouth was a
soft, slobbery, gaping orifice - but he didn’t pull back. She looked like she
might fall asleep just like that.
Big Sis’s mate laughed, holding Laura on his hip and clasping one, unwelcome
hand on Peter’s shoulder. “It looks like she likes you.”
Peter thought that he might only poison Laura.
===============================================================================
Peter liked babysitting. He was sixteen and obviously had better things to do
with his Friday night then stay home and ensure that Big Sis and her mate had a
date night and opportunity to ensure the growth of their Pack. He knew Talia’s
cycle - he knew what they were doing. He just had more important things to
worry about at this point in his life.
Laura was at a sleepover, which he and Deria had had to drive her to. She had
squealed upon seeing her friends, which had made him wince and Deria laugh and
clap her hands, because this was exciting. Laura was happy and Deria got to
spend the night with Uncle Peter. And Deria loved her Uncle Peter.
He drove her back and she told him about kindergarten and her best friend of
the week and some boy who’s a bully and told her that she looked like a dog.
She had punched him in the shoulder, harder than kindergartners usually punch
each other, and been put in time out. Peter assured her that it was the right
thing to do - all boys are pigs.
“You’re not a pig, Uncle Peter.” she said.
“Of course not.” he scoffed. “I can’t be a wolf and a pig.”
And she nodded, because Uncle Peter was always right.
At home, he made her dinner from a box - she liked those the most because, as a
child, she had no taste. They ate in front of the TV and watched a show about
cheerful ponies. Deria was warm against his side, a comfortable weight leaning
against him. He pet a hand through her soft, dark hair, and she was content and
oblivious, and his touch swept over her shoulder and side, her only wriggling
when it tickled.
He bathed her after, and she was soft, sleepy, squirming, in the warm water.
She fussed once, asserting that she was old enough to do this herself, and
Peter shushed her half-heartedly. His sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he
washed her, her eyes lids drooping, his touch lingering. But it didn’t hurt
anyone.
And when he put her to bed, she let him kiss her the way he taught her - the
secret way that only uncle’s kissed their favorite nieces. She might not have
understood why he was licking into her mouth, but she liked sharing a secret
with him. He lay with her until she was asleep - because she slept better with
him protecting her - and then as long as he dared after.
Once Big Sis and her mate were back, Peter went over to his current
girlfriend’s house. She asked him why he never took her out on the weekend. He
fucked her hard to shut her up.
===============================================================================
Peter went off to college and saw Deria start puberty through pictures and a
Christmas visit. She grew up and filled out quickly, with one, brief awkward
phase. When he came back with all his degrees and a job offer at a consulting
firm, she was mostly out of it. She was still young - so young - but she’d
returned to her full beauty.
She trusted him less. He didn’t think she remembered her childish interactions
with him, but she must have realized that the attention he gave her was less
than conventional. He couldn’t have cared less, as she still loved him - in a
new way. Her affection for him was from both a child and adult, and the arousal
that he could scent on her felt right and perfect and deserved. So, it didn’t
matter what she said, and Peter had always been nothing if not patient.
Paige would have been Peter’s gift to Deria. The whole ordeal had been beyond
ridiculous. He had known the infatuation wouldn’t last and, had the bite taken,
she would have gone to live with Ennis and his Pack. But, Deria could have had
something more than breathless, hushed, inexperienced gropings in deserted
warehouses. Deria could have had honesty.
In a way, honesty was still Peter’s gift to his niece, despite the human girl’s
death.
Deria had had to kill her, of course, and Peter spirited her away after,
knowing that Big Sis would be there soon and wanting Deria to himself for at
least a little while.
“I fucked up, Peter,” she sobbed in his car. “I fucked up. It’s all my fault. I
don’t know what happened - I couldn’t save her.”
Peter shushed her and sped to a motel.
“Where are we going, Peter?” she wept. “I want my mom. I need my mom.”
“Do you realize what you’ve done?” Peter asked, softly. “Talia would have been
there any second. You killed someone, Deria.” and Deria squeezed her eyes shut
and bit down on a whine. “Your mother will understand, and she’ll take care of
what needs to be done - but we have to keep you away for a little while.”
Deria didn’t say much more, but muffled cries into her palms and nodded. They
arrived at the motel, and Peter got them a room. She was sniffling once he got
her out of the car and inside.
“Go wash up.” he told her, and she did, going to cleanse herself of the blood
and dirt and Paige that still clung to her body. Peter turned on the television
and rubbed a hand over his face.
This was it. His token of goodwill had failed. Peter didn’t believe in signs
but, if he had, he would have recognized this to be one. This was his moment to
take after trying to give. Deria was washing herself, crying, and Peter was
taking off his belt, throwing it over a chair. He knew she was in no state to
fight him off. Paige was unfortunate but she’d recover. She just need a push -
another option.
The faucet turned off in the bathroom and Deria muddled about in there more,
her breath hitching regularly. Peter was almost about to call her out - finding
it near impossible to wait - but she appeared.
“Deria,” he said with some sympathy. She was shaking and smelled sweet with
sorrow. He took her hand and had her sit on the bed. “Now, Deria, you know it’s
not totally your fault. Paige was weak. She wasn’t a viable mate, was she?”
“I love Paige.” Deria said, trying not to cry. She corrected herself. “Loved.”
She rubbed her red, sore eyes. Peter sat next to her, the good, attentive
uncle, and touched a hand against her back.
“My darling,” he said to her. “You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of
you. Paige is a blip. You’ll find a better mate.”
“Like who?” Deria asked, like it was an accusation. She flared her bright, now
blue eyes at him. Something in Peter’s expression must have set her off because
she pulled back a little. It was like it had just hit her - like it had been in
her mind all along, never occurring to her. She asked, already knowing the
answer, “Why do you smell like that?”
“Oh, Deria.” Peter sighed. His hands stretched the expanse of her tense back.
“Uncle Peter, what’s going on?” she choked out, preparing to pull away. He
shushed her and groped around, holding her waist so she was pressed firm
against him.
“Deria, I’ve been waiting so long.” he told her.
“Uncle Peter, no,” she shook her head, weakly, pulling away. He held her in his
grip tighter.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. I’ve been so patient. I would have
even waited your young ladylove out - but I don’t have to.”
“Peter, you’re scaring me.” she whined out, her struggles becoming more
violent. She looked like she was about to cry again, her cheeks blushing and
lips trembling.
“Deria, be good for me.” Peter said, starting to cover her body with his and
push her down. “I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?” He had her on her back,
holding her against the bed with his weight. She was squirming and blushing
delightfully under him, looking close to tears again.
“Peter, you can’t-”
“Hush.” he told her, and tried to kiss her, but she turned her face away. He
turned it back and made her kiss him, but it was hardly the deep, sweet kisses
of her childhood. There was something perfect about this anyway.
He flipped her over and spread her legs with his knees. Seeing her trembling
beneath him like this was better than he had imagined. He pulled her hips up
and reach around to start unbuttoning her jeans.
“Forgive me if I skip the foreplay.” he said, his hips down firmly against
her’s, letting her feel how hot he was for her. “Talia will find us in about an
hour. What I have for you may take up more time than we can spare.” His front
still pressing down on her back, he shimmied her jeans and panties down. One
handed, he started to work his own pants off. The other hand came to brush over
soft curls and folds, and she struggled but couldn’t pull away.
Realization was dawning on her slowly, and she started to pitch a bigger fit.
“You can’t.” she sobbed. “You can’t. You’re going to hurt me if you - Please
don’t hurt me.” she begged.
He shushed her again and was able to bring his pants down, his already stiff
erection pressing against her ass as she cried. “You’ll like it. Even if it
hurts, darling; your body will like the ownership.”
“No, Peter.”
One hand kept her shoulders down and to the bed as the other guided his cock to
her hole. He nudge the head against her cunt and she whined like a child. “God,
my heart.” he moaned, starting to push into her heat. “I’ve want you - like
this - for so long. You were born for this - for me. I’m not gonna last long in
you.”
“Pull out.” she squirmed. “God, pull out.”
He was all the way in, though, and she was perfect. She could hardly move -
petrified - and she was warm, tight. His chest plastered against her back as he
gave an experimental roll of his hips and she sobbed, not like he was hurting
her but like something he couldn't touch physically was breaking. He was too
gentle to cause much pain. A hand reached around to find and lightly rub at her
clit as he started to fuck her slowly.
“Next time,” he promised. “I’ll lick you here for hours, before and after,
until you’re sobbing,” And she made some heartbroken noise, as if to remind him
that she already was. “More than you are now. The way you’ll tremble,” his hips
thrust forward particularly hard into her at the thought, deeper than he’d
been, “The way I know you’ll tremble.”
“Peter, stop,” she pleaded, senselessly. He picked up the pace.
“Gonna knot you, darling.” and he felt like he was almost babbling, almost
nervous, inside of his love like this. He could already feel it begin to swell.
“Told you I wouldn’t be able to last inside of you.” She groaned but was
relatively motionless under his weight. “God, I hope it takes.”
“What?” she choked out.
He was moaning and the knot was pushing in and her breath was gone. He had
wondered if she’d scream, but it seemed the opposite. Her entire body stopped,
silenced. He circled his hips a little, snug against his mate, and felt himself
start to come.
“What do you think, Deria?” he cooed to the still girl under him. “Think you’ll
carry my pups this time?” That as what finally got her moving again, now
whining and babbling no and tugging on the knot.
“My love,” he reminded her fondly, still coming side her, “You can’t go
anywhere for a while.”
She sobbed. “Peter, let me go. Please I-” she didn’t have the words to convey
what the wracked, retching, wailing sound she made did. She barely managed out,
“I can’t - mate. I can’t.”
He hushed her, kissing her neck, pulling her shirt collar down a little to
expose more skin. “Of course you can. And if we don’t make it this time, we can
just try again.” He kissed her across her back. “And again.” Kiss. “And again.”
Kiss.
She said nothing, just cried, and he kept coming. He couldn’t wait to get her
naked next time. To take it slow. To kiss her all over so she could finally
understand the worship she deserved.
But, as it was, as minutes passed, and she shook beneath him, and he mindlessly
mouthed at any skin he could reach, he could feel his knot going down and, as
much as he wanted to flip her over and tire her out, he knew Big Sis would be
less than pleased. So, he pulled out once her could and tucked himself away.
Over her sloppy mess, he pulled up her panties and jeans. She let him, seeming
unable to do anything besides shake and collapse on the bed. He turned her over
and indulged himself in one parting kiss.
He said nothing else, as there was too much to say and plenty of time in the
future for him to say it when they had their own Pack. He slipped his belt back
on, shot one last, longing look at her, and left, as she was still weeping on
the bed.
Peter was fully aware that deflowering his niece would have it’s consequences.
Talia wouldn't take kindly to the news, and, if she felt merciful, he'd only be
kicked out - made an Omega. And, as an Omega, he could foresee some
difficulties when it came to seeing his young love again. But, with the help of
the right hunters, he could easily watch his Big Sister and her happy,
unfortunate family burn.
He always thought he’d make a fine Alpha as it was.
End Notes
     Title kinda sorta taken from The Who's "Fiddle About."
     Shameless tumblr plug: My_Blog
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