Work Text:
Chris pads his way through the apartment, bare feet light against the laminate as he follows the gentle humming floating from the kitchen.
Peter is standing at the far counter, his hips swaying gently to the music in his head, and Chris’s heart swells. He leans against the door frame, arms folded across his chest as his eyes rove greedily, taking him in, committing the beautiful sight to memory.
The wolf is wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and what appears to be Chris’s shirt from last night. The fabric is slightly too tight on his arms, clinging to his muscles as they bulge and flex with whatever it is he’s doing. It also hugs his shoulders and back to the point of nearly bursting at the seams, which should look ridiculous, but to Chris, it’s the perfect mix of sexy and endearing.
Being intimately familiar with werewolf traits and customs, he knows what this gesture means to Peter, and Chris can’t stop the smile that splits his face.
He wanders further into the room, gravitating closer and closer until he’s crowding against Peter’s back. He circles his arms around Peter’s waist, pulling him in as he buries his nose in the crook of his neck. “You smell good,” he murmurs, pleased with the contented sigh that whistles past the wolf’s lips. “So fucking good.”
Chris knows he won’t be smelling even half of what Peter is, but he admits there is something very appealing about the refreshing mint of his own body wash and woodsy notes of his aftershave mixing with the rich, musky scent that is purely Peter.
He can just imagine how it’s soaking into his skin, an obvious claim to all those with supernatural senses, and that thought has the front of Chris’s jeans suddenly feeling a little too snug.
Peter hums, the leer in his voice loud and clear as he purrs, “You don’t smell too bad yourself.”
Chris snorts softly as his hands trail over Peter’s stomach and up to his chest, rubbing deliberately, making sure every part of him is covered in them.
“You’re mine, aren’t you? My mate,” he asks, words no more than a breath against Peter’s throat, so silent he’s not even sure he spoke them aloud.
Peter’s whole body shivers before he turns slowly to face Chris. He gazes at him with those adoring, blue eyes—so open, so passionate—and Chris knows the answer before the wolf even utters the word.
“Yours.”