Something

Callie/Peter

19th March 1979

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Peter unbuckled his belt, hurriedly fiddling with the button of his trousers, then glanced back up at Callie. At the look of pure anxiety on her face, he dropped his hands, taking a step forward and reaching a hand out to brush her hair back from her face. 

“Hey,” he said softly, letting his fingers linger on the side of her face for a moment, “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I just… well, we should talk about, um, past activity, shouldn’t we?” 

“If you’d like.” Peter flashed her a grin. “Though it’s not necessary. That sort of thing isn’t important to me.”

“That’s good, because I’m kind of a slag.” Callie pulled back, twisting her fingers together in what Peter surmised was a rare display of nervousness. “In the pack, um, sex is sort of… not as serious as it is out here. Until someone takes a mate, there tends to be a lot of exploring, different partners and dynamics, and then I had my summers in France and well… College, now.” 

She blew out a breath, shifting on her feet, then dropped her hands and shrugged. 

“I’ve shagged a lot of people in a lot of ways, and you’re obviously going to get over it because you’re my mate, but it’s still probably something that should be said, so I’m saying it.” She told him firmly, her fiery confidence reinstated.

“Well, then, that takes off the pressure of trying to figure out what you like, yeah? You’ll just have to tell me what you need.” Peter grinned. “I’ve only been with a handful of people but I’ve got a good grasp on what to do, so we should be set.” 

“Okay. I can do that. Use my words.” Callie nodded. “And what is it that you like?” 

“I already told you.” He stepped closer and reached his hand out, his long fingers splaying over her hip, and tugged her toward him. Banding an arm around her back, he tilted his head to run his nose along her jaw until he reached her ear and lowered his voice. “I just want to take care of you. Just use your words, love. Tell me what you need.”

Callie shivered as Peter slowly trailed his fingers up her spine to the collar of her dress and then began to drag the zipper down. Too slowly, it was– 

“I need you to be fucking faster,” she groaned, then stepped back and batted his hands away. Peter watched in amusement as she twisted and struggled to reach the zipper herself, then lunged for her wand on the vanity. He reached a hand out and grabbed her wrist to still her movements, then pulled her back against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“Callie.”

“Peter, just let me vanish this shit or–“ 

“Callie,” Peter repeated with a bit of a laugh. He dipped his head, planting a soft kiss against her shoulder and flattened his hand against her stomach, pinning her against him. 

“What you need. Not what you want,” he murmured against her skin. “I know you want to rush, but you need to slow down and savour this. You've waited your whole life for this, yeah? It must be so hard to wait.”

“Yes,” Callie admitted, “not impossible but I'm just… I am not a patient person, Peter.”

“I've gathered that,” he chuckled, “I can work with that.”

“I just… well, I really have waited a lifetime for this, so if you could kindly let me go so I can rip this fucking dress off.”

“But I like this dress. And I've waited a lifetime for this, too.” Peter retorted. He slid his hand from her stomach, over her hip, and down the front of her thigh, bunching the skirt in his hand, then brought his free hand between them to resume unzipping the garment.

“You've waited a lifetime to be kidnapped by an uptight werewolf intent on devouring you?”

“You panicked.” Peter laughed as he dragged the zipper down, following its descent as he trailed his mouth down her spine.“I've waited a lifetime to help my wife out of her dress on our wedding night. In this case I suppose ‘mating morning’ would be more accurate, but it's one and the same isn't it?” 

“Yes.” Callie let out a shaky breath as Peter slid her dress down her arms, then sunk to his knees behind her as he began to work it over her hips. “For us–the pack, I mean. It’s all very ritualistic. We usually have a bonding ceremony, either before or after. Vows are exchanged, but in terms of any actual marital right…it's more of a celebration than anything.” 

“So in the way that matters the most to you, you’ll be my wife.” He murmured, sliding her dress down further. He released the fabric, letting it pool to the floor, then wrapped a hand around one ankle and helped her step out of it before he did the same with her other leg. 

He remained on the floor, slowly skating his hands back up her legs, over her thighs, and to her hip, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her knickers as he placed a soft kiss to the small of her back.

“Yes,” Callie rasped, “we can… we can do things your way someday, though.” 

“I’d like that.” He gently slid her knickers off, repeating his actions as he helped her step out of them, “But if it means that to you, then it does to me, too. So…” 

He shifted behind her, placing one hand on her stomach and one hand on the small of her back, gently bending her at the waist. 

“Brace your hands on the vanity, love.”

“Don’t call me that. I hate pet names.” Callie rattled off nervously. 

“That’s a shame. I’d decided to call you Princess.” Peter laughed. He stood in a flash, pressing his body against her back, and ran his hands down her arms to wrap his fingers around her wrists, guiding her hands to the surface in front of her. 

“Okay. I’ll allow it.” She sucked in a breath as he positioned her in front of him, then sunk back to his knees behind her. 

“You’ll be my wife ,” He repeated as he dug his fingers into her thighs, spreading her legs wider, “I know how much this means to you, Callie. I know you need to seal the bond. But this is about more than that, okay? I know this is sacred, and I swear I’ll honour that. But we’ll never have a first time again. Let me take care of you, Princess.” 

Callie fought back an eyeroll - fuck, she wanted to spin around and pin him to the ground, to fucking devour him, but there was something about the way he handled her, something about him , that made her want to surrender.

Her stomach hurt, a deep, aching emptiness, her teeth were throbbing with need, and she could feel her chest vibrating with the force of a low growl–but she simply nodded. 

All her impatience notwithstanding, it was happening. That indelible thing she’d spent her entire life hearing stories about, romanticized and picked apart and hoped and hoped and hoped, and it was here– he was here, kneeling behind her as he slowly trailed his fingers over her arse and down her thighs, teasing her with feather-light touches as he began to speak once more.

“You’re wound up so tight. I can already see it,” he murmured, one hand softly kneading the flesh of her arse as the other moved between her thighs, his fingertips brushing against her sensitive flesh teasingly. “So bossy. So used to being in control. I fucking love it.” 

Peter let out a low laugh and leaned in, trailing his tongue along the crease where her arse met her thigh as he continued to talk, his warm breath ghosting across her skin and causing her hair to stand on end, “I really do. A strong, independent woman who could kick my arse. It’s pretty hot.” 

Callie couldn’t help but laugh, despite herself, as her fingers gripped the edge of the vanity tighter. “I could definitely kick your arse.” 

“Oh, I fucking know it, Princess,” Peter remarked, finally delving a finger between her slickened folds, drawing a deep, rumbling groan out of her mouth, “But you don’t have to. You can kick every arse in the world, be the boss of the universe and I’ll follow you like a lapdog–wait, is a dog joke offensive?” 

“Why are you talking about jokes while you’re touching my cunt?” She rolled her eyes. “And no, it’s fine.” 

“Because I have a point,” He dipped his head again, scraping his teeth across her thigh. 

“Then get to the point because I swear to the gods, Peter, if you don’t get inside of me soon I’m going to crack the wood of this vanity from the force it's taking to hold on and control myself. And I like this vanity.”  

“Anything for you, Princess,” He moved, sliding a finger inside of her, and she slumped forward in relief, pressing her forehead to the vanity as he added another and began to slowly pump them in and out of her wet heat. 

“The point is, I like that you’re so in charge. But here, with me?” Peter punctuated the words by twisting his hand so his palm faced the floor as he began stroking his fingertips against the spot inside of her that always drove her crazy, “You put it all on me, okay? You let me take care of you.” 

“But I need– oh my gods, ” Callie panted, “I need to take care of you.” 

“You will. I’m yours,” he said simply, “but this is mine, and here–or, in my bed, later, after we pack your shit and I take you home, I get to be in charge.” 

“I don’t know if I like that,” Callie grumbled. He removed his hand in a flash and she lifted her head, preparing herself to turn around and just fucking take, since he was clearly determined to drive her insane with his slowness, but he moved his hands to her hips, holding her in place. 

“You will,” he vowed, then dove in, licking a broad stroke from her arse all the way to her clit. He sucked her swollen nub into his mouth, so fucking hard that it stole her breath as he plunged two fingers back inside of her.

“Oh my fucking gods,” she groaned, releasing her hold on the vanity to reach a hand behind her, gripping the back of his head like a lifeline. He hummed in approval, the vibrations sending a shockwave through her core.

Peter continued his sensual assault, alternating between rolling his tongue over her clit and sucking the bundle of nerves between his lips as he curled his fingers inside of her. Callie writhed and moaned, a dizzying mix of low, growling moans and curse words spilling from her lips in rapid succession, and he was mindless, lost in the taste of her, the feeling of rightness, as his cock leaked against his thigh, tightening the fabric of his trousers to a painful degree. 

“Fuck, Peter,” she growled, digging her nails into his scalp as she gripped him harder, “don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop.” 

Never, he swore against her cunt, the sound coming out a jumbled groan as he scraped his teeth over her clit. 

Never. 

He would never get enough of her, of this. 

He felt as if his heart were about to beat out of his chest, the intensity of the way she was falling apart in his mouth, for him, nearly driving him mad. 

He was someone’s mate. He belonged to someone, belonged with someone, and he was hers. The thought alone nearly pushed him over the edge, untouched as he was. He wondered, idly, if it were possible to get off just from eating someone out, felt as if he were certainly on the verge of finding out, but then she broke, so fucking beautifully. 

“Peter,” she screamed, then growled– fucking hell, he would never get enough of that sound–as she fell apart, her cunt tightening around his fingers as she flooded his mouth, all sweet and tangy and so fucking his. 

He retreated, just slightly, keeping his fingers still inside of her as he gently lapped at her cunt, determined to bring her down from her high as gently as possible. Once she’d stopped spasming around him, he pulled his hand away and moved his mouth, placing soft kisses over the swell of her perfect arse and up to her lower back. 

“You’re so perfect, Princess,” he told her, “I don’t deserve this.” 

“You do,” Callie croaked, the desperation in his voice like a knife to her heart. Gods, how could he think he didn’t deserve this? 

Right. He didn’t know, did he? If the only werewolf he knew hadn’t even realized he could pop a fucking knot, then she couldn’t imagine Peter had been given the opportunity to learn much about the bond at all. 

She pulled away quickly, turning in a flash, and sunk to her knees in front of him. She thought, briefly, that they must paint quite the scene–her, completely nude, he still clad in his jumper and trousers–but she noticed the sheen on his mouth and chin, noticed her on his skin, and before she could waste any real time on ruminating over how much she found she rather liked this naked woman, clothed man situation at hand, she moved in, dragging her tongue over his jaw and chin, swiping over his lips, a soft purr emanating from her chest as she cleaned her cum off of his face. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he groaned, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. She continued her efforts, then slid her tongue between his lips, licking her way into his mouth as her hand gripped the back of his neck. 

She kissed him, hard, feverishly, overcome with a desperate urge to show him. After what felt like hours, she pulled back, just far enough to look into his eyes. 

“You don’t know much about this, Peter. I’ll teach you, okay?” She murmured, running a hand through his wavy, blonde hair, “But the very fact that this bond exists, that means you do deserve it. You need it. This is everything to me, and I know you feel it too, but this is everything. Don’t you ever fucking disrespect my mate again by letting yourself doubt how much you deserve to be exactly that, or I will kick your arse.”

“You’re hot when you’re scary,” he remarked, in that relaxed way of his she felt she was quickly growing familiar with.

“I’m about to be real fucking scary if we don’t get on with this.” She raised an eyebrow as she gripped the hem of his jumper, pulling it over his head, “Oh.” 

“Oh?” Peter glanced down at himself, feeling a bit self conscious. Oh. That was… well, she hadn’t sounded disappointed, at least.

“You’re so fucking hot, Peter, what the fuck?” Callie groaned, and he laughed, the tension rolling out of his body. She was so cantankerous, and he’d never imagined himself the type to fall for a difficult girl, but gods, he could deal with her attitude every day for the rest of his life and never grow tired of her fire–which he supposed was good, considering the whole ‘werewolves mate for life ’ of it all.

“Well thanks, Princess.” He gave her a lopsided grin, trailing his eyes back down her too-perfect body, then looked back up to meet her eyes. “You’re a fucking masterpiece.”

“Gods,” Callie groaned and rolled her eyes again, then fixed him with a hard glare, “you’re so fucking sweet and calm and romantic and I love it all, I do, but Peter, I need–I know you want to go slow. I swear I’m trying, I just… please. It hurts. My stomach, my fucking teeth, I just… I need you.” 

“Oh, Princess,” he cooed, cupping her jaw, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make this harder for you.” 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Just… slow, later.” Callie gave a resolute nod, then struck, her hands flying to the still-unbuttoned waistband of his trousers. “Get up. Take these the fuck off.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter gave her a mock-salute and stood, shucking his trousers and pants off in one fell swoop, and Callie felt her heart stop, her breath catching in her throat as his cock sprang free, all thick and long and heavy and, honestly, 

“Oh, what the fucking fuck?” 

“What?” Peter looked down, that damn self consciousness trickling back in.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” Callie shook her head and moved forward, crawling on her knees to close the half a metre or so of distance between them. She acted without preamble, wrapping her hand around his hardened length, and he sucked in a breath as she began to stroke him slowly, marveling at the weight of him in her hand. He was huge. Not in any impossible way, not over-the-top or ridiculous, but long and thick, covered in thick, ridged veins, all nestled below a perfectly trimmed smattering of pubic hair. 

It was the most perfect cock she’d ever seen in her entire life–and she really had seen a lot of cocks.

“Fuck, Callie, I think I’m going to break right now if you don’t stop touching me,” He warned.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” She nodded, glancing up to find him staring down at her, his jaw slackened, eyes wide with pleasure. She wanted to taste him, to take him into her mouth, to see if her deepthroat skills still measured up to someone of his stature, but she held back. 

Later.  

They’d have all the time in the world together. 

Her mind made up–but still incapable of resisting the urge to taste him–she darted her tongue out, swiping it over the thick, leaking head of his cock just once. He groaned, and she grinned in pride, then rose to her feet and stepped around him.

“Get over here and fuck me,” she ordered bluntly as she sat down on the foot of the bed. 

Peter turned, taking in the sight of her as she scooted back and laid down, her dark hair and creamy skin both standing in stark contrast to the soft, baby-blue comforter. She was a vision, all dark and light, commanding and needy in equal measure as she looked up at him with a hopeful, nervous look in her eyes.  

“Anything for you, Princess,” He grinned, running a hand over his mouth to resist the urge to literally cheer at the sight of how fucking lucky he was. 

He could wax poetic for hours over all the different emotions and thoughts running through his head, but she was planting her feet on the mattress and spreading her legs, blessing him with the sight of her perfect cunt. As he stared down at her, the realization that she was made for him too, hit him like a bludger to the chest.

He lunged forward, placing a knee onto the bed and scrambling up until he was kneeling between her legs in a flash, then paused, simply allowing himself a moment to appreciate the view one more time. 

“Hurry,” she begged desperately, and he complied, settling over her in an instant. He used one arm to prop himself up on his elbow, looking down into her face as his free hand fisted his cock, lining himself up with her entrance. 

“Do we need to talk about… should I cast the charm?” Peter asked–though some part of him wanted to forgo the whole conversation. The idea of his seed taking root inside of her sent a feeling unlike any he’d ever known trickling down his spine. Gods, the thought of breeding her was all things right and good and fucking necessary. 

“No pups,” Callie spat out harshly, then winced, pinching her brows together as she looked up into his eyes, “not yet. I don’t know…being an anomaly, it’s complicated. Someday, I hope, but it’s scary and messy and I–I take a potion every three months. It’s stronger than the typical dose, but the charm, too, I think, just in case. I–I do want them, I swear, and the urge to breed is so strong but I just–” 

“Hey, hey, shhh…” Peter leaned in, pressing his lips to hers to stop her ramblings. “We have forever, Princess. We’ll figure that out later, yeah?” 

Callie nodded, and Peter pulled away, giving her a reassuring smile while she reached a hand out, summoning her wand from the vanity. Peter settled back on his knees, giving her space as he watched her press the tip below her navel and whisper Nulla Conceptio . 

Once the light, pinkish glow of the charm settled into her skin, she looked up at him and gave him a quick nod as she tossed her wand onto the bed next to her, and it was all the consent he needed. 

He moved back over top of her, lining himself up as he settled back into his previous position, and pushed forward. He moved slowly, keeping his eyes trained on her face as he sunk, inch by inch, into her clutching heat. 

Her eyes were wide, her lips parted just slightly, her breath coming in short little puffs of air, and he thought, then, that when his time came, in lieu of the typical ‘whole life flashing before your eyes’ experience most who had brushed against death claimed to have, it would be this, right here, playing over and over in his head, as he took his last breath. 

The look on her face–pure, rapturous bliss, twinged with a slight wince of pain as he buried himself to the hilt, would undoubtedly flash through his mind every time he closed his eyes, forevermore. 

“Oh my gods,” she whispered breathlessly as she gave a little experimental tilt of her hips, “fucking made for me.”

“Yeah,” he rasped, tucking his face into her neck and drawing in her scent–that intoxicating, expensive perfume combined with the earthy, natural smell that was all hers causing a vertiginous fog to settle over his mind as he began to move, withdrawing slowly until just the tip remained inside of her, then surging forward. 

“Fuck, Princess, you’re so perfect,” he groaned against her skin. Callie growled in response, a deep, full-chested bellow, and he shivered as the sound washed over him. He continued on, languid, slow strokes until he felt the familiar tingling at the base of his spine, then pulled back slightly, watching her face as he moved faster. 

“More. More, I need…” she groaned–a reaction in equal measure to the feel of him, filling her, stretching her so completely she nearly wondered how she’d ever survived before now, all hollowed out and empty, and to the desperate need to unleash herself. 

She gripped him tightly, one hand digging into his side as her nails tore through the skin of his shoulders as she began to rock her hips, urging him to move harder, faster, to fucking take, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t–

“Hey, hey, breath,” Peter whispered, moving his lips across her jaw, “this is yours to take, Princess. You’ve waited so long. Tell me what you need, yeah?” 

“I need… fuck, just let me,” she commanded. She moved in a frenzy–perhaps, any other time, she would have remembered to withhold her strength, to move with caution, but she was too far gone to care as she rolled, flipping him onto his back and positioning herself over him. 

Callie angled her hips, gripping his shoulders far too hard as she slammed down, impaling herself on his thick cock so hard that tears sprang to her eyes from the blunt force of him colliding with her cervix, but she was far beyond the point of being capable of caring. 

She moved with a fury–like the godsdamn beast she was–rising up and slamming back down as hard, as fast as she could. Fuck, she needed to calm down, needed to go slow, to not scare him off, but the second she began to soften her movements, Peter latched on, grabbing her chin and forcing her to face him as his other hand gripped her hip. 

“ No, ” he ordered, locking eyes with her, “Don’t hold back, Princess. It’s yours. Take what you need.” 

“Mine,” she nodded, licking her lips as she rocked against him faster, “mine, you’re fucking mine. ” 

She gasped, tightening around his cock as he began to meet her thrusts, using his hold on her hip to slam her down onto his cock after every retreat, his fingers digging into the skin of her jaw as he locked her in place. 

Callie had heard every story. 

The soft, fairy-tale-esque ramblings of her grandmother, the storybook sweetness all the pups of the pack were fed, the horny musings of her teenage comrades, the lewd bluntness from those who had been lucky enough to meet their mates once she became old enough to sit around the fire, drinking whisky and listening to the elders after the other younglings had been sent off to their tents for bed, but nothing– nothing –compared to the reality. 

It was happening. 

She’d met her mate, and he was perfect in ways she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, ways she couldn’t wait to discover, and he was hers. 

“My mate,” she whispered reverently, slowing her frenzied pace as she began to fall apart, her cunt twitching around his cock so tightly it was nearly painful. 

“Yours, I… fuck, fuck, Callie, ” Peter groaned, releasing his hold on her face, “You’re so tight, I can’t… fuck .” 

“Please,” she begged, leaning in and dragging her tongue across his neck. She settled in, right there, scraping her teeth over his shoulder. She felt like a wild animal–all werewolf jokes aside–as she panted and drooled against his skin, “Please, Peter, tell me I can.” 

“Fuck,” he moaned, high-pitched and breathless, and she felt his cock began to throb as he came, spilling inside of her, exactly where he was supposed to be. “Do it. I’m yours, Princess, please, it’s all yours.” 

Callie snarled, then struck, sinking her teeth into his shoulder and tearing through the skin. He screamed, though the sound was pure pleasure, without a hint of pain, and she growled around his flesh in her mouth as she bit down harder, her cunt spasming around him as she milked every drop of his release. 

Peter gasped, tangling both hands in her hair as he pinned her in place. He’d expected pain, or some sort of weirdness, or a mixture of the two, but the feel of her teeth sinking into his skin stole his breath, a white-hot feeling of pleasure exploding in his chest. 

Hers. 

He was hers, had always been for her, and again, with that damn penchant for poeticism, his mind began to spiral, a million flowery words flooding his brain, but he couldn’t have strung a sentence together if his life had depended on it, so he simply clung to her, riding out the wave as she released his shoulder and began to gently lap at the skin, collapsing into his arms as if she’d gone boneless. 

He could feel a soft rumbling in her chest, nearly like a cat had curled up on top of him and was purring against his skin, and he thought that any other time, there would certainly be some sort of animal joke to be made, but he couldn’t be fucked to care. 

They remained like that, intertwined as she nuzzled his neck and he slowly stroked her back, tracing the ridges of her spine and toying with her hair while they caught their breath, until she finally pulled away and looked down at him, a soft smile playing at her lips. 

“Well, fuck,” She laughed, “I need a fucking cigarette before we go again.”

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