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Summary
Peter smiles with too many very sharp teeth, and he wonders what they would feel like delicately grazing his skin, maybe over his hips, or his collarbone. With Peter, there was always something behind the sass and biting remarks, but now there’s a pull that’s simply undeniable to something so beautiful and monstrous, a man who could rip him to pieces, but taking him apart with pleasure and pain, one whimper and moan at a time instead.
"Yours has a unique scent. I would know it anywhere. Just like your anger, and your fear." he leans forward, his nose just barely touching the sweaty skin beneath Stiles’ jaw, "But you're not afraid right now."