@eagleoverlord said: “

I get the shivers imagining the first affectionate touch that a touch starved Deucalion gets and his reaction”

oh my friggin god yes. yes yes yes yes yes.

yes.

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yoooo lil ficlet with jumpy touchstarved Deucalion and slutty needy Peter, and Chris being v into dem wolves yo.

this is some kind of AU where Chris is some kind of freelance sex therapist that sometimes lets his therapy dog play because Peter is Peter. I don’t know about any backstory the three have with each other though tbh

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“We’ll be having a guest tonight.” Chris comments after he got off the phone. He reaches around and curls his hand casually around Peter’s throat – first simply holding, then gently squeezing with slowly mounting pressure just because he can. He likes the thickness of Peter’s throat; the girth of it accentuated by various collars and chokers and the occasional chain whenever Chris was in the mood to show Peter off.

Peter hums in a fake surprised tone because of course he listened in on the conversation, and he can’t be assed to try and put more effort in his terrible acting.

He is distracted as it is; arching in front of Chris and putting the considerable weight of his upper body fully back against his chest as he unabashedly preens. He’s trying to get his chest fondled, and Chris obliges for a second before pinching one flat, sensitive nipple strong enough to get Peter to make a strange half-grunt-half-groan, and stop writhing against him.

He’s perfectly still, and barely breathing – he loves and hates the sharp pain of Chris’ short nails digging into his nipples; it is enough to finally get Peter’s attention in the midst of his self-indulgent lust, and make him think about something other than his own gratification for just a moment.

“You will behave,” Chris mumbles right into his ear. He gives Peter’s throat a last warning squeeze, then lets go to shove his hand into the open jeans the wolf is wearing. He encounters humid heat and the base of Peter’s half-hard, thick cock because the fucking slut couldn’t be bothered to wear underwear of course.

“You won’t be a brat tonight, and you will listen like a good boy. Do you understand me?”

There’s a beat of silence and Chris digs blunt fingertips painfully into the sensitive space between Peter’s cock and sack, since he can practically hear the wheels in Peter’s head turning – how he already is trying to work out a way to get away with being greedy; how he could potentially get the most out of the night for himself.

Peter whines and seems to even stop breathing for a moment; his body is rigid and torn between the sharp pain radiating from his chest and the dull, more insistent ache in his groin. Instead of closing his thighs, he’s spreading them further and giving Chris total reign over his body.

“Do you-”

“Yeah, yea- yes. I understand.” Chris can see the petulant moue to Peter’s mouth when he leans around to look at his face, and the arrogance in his voice is unmistakable when he mumbles: “Where’s the fun for me, then?”

Chris lets go of him and pets across the thick muscle of Peter’s belly. Cock no longer in Chris’ unfriendly grip, the rigidity of his body immediately melts and he lazily curves his hips – Chris is reasonably sure he only does it to show off the thickness of his cock rapidly filling after the rude handling.

“You get to play with him just the way I want the two of you. He’ll be so… sensitive, don’t you think?”

Peter seems to mull this over, and ultimately shrugs his shoulders in a supremely disinterested way.

“I guess so.”

He can’t fool Chris, though.

.o.

Chris doesn’t always take Peter to his appointments; most of the time he doesn’t even have them in their apartment. Peter is bad at sharing and he has a habit of wandering in when he’s supposed to be out and about. He can’t handle not being the center of attention and Chris doesn’t think there’s one person in the world that could train that out of him.

He’s an asshole and a bastard and a narcissist – but Chris can’t deny that the times where he can bring his therapy dog are the most enjoyable.

This time, however… this time will be especially interesting.

He’d never thought he’d get the pleasure of welcoming Deucalion for the special kind of service he’s providing, and he has no chance of anticipating what might happen.

The cultivated, deep voice had sounded calm – positively serene – and maybe a bit flirtatious while on the phone; but he’s reasonably sure that this particular werewolf would never have asked for an appointment if it could’ve been helped otherwise.

He’s too classy for it, Chris had thought that morning while letting Peter fuck into his hand, and, opening the door this evening to the sight of Deucalion in neat, elegant clothes and with an enigmatic grin, he has to think it again.

Deucalion never stroke him in need of anything – he seemed powerful and self-assured, even when he has to curl his fingers into the crook of Chris’ arm to get lead into the unknown apartment.

“You know Peter will be an ass the whole time?” Chris asks jovially, eyes tracking the sharp line of the wolf’s jaw, then dipping to the line of his neck. He feels like an ass for exploiting Deucalion’s blindness to shamelessly ogle him, but not enough so to actually make him stop.

“I’ve known him for quite some time, yes,” Deucalion answers with an air of almost distraction, head tilting and turning, nostrils flaring as he seems to acquaint himself with his surroundings.

Chris had seen his shudder at the close proximity of Chris’ deep, rough voice, though. He had felt Deucalion’s grip tightening slightly around his forearm, the tightness in his face more pronounced for a moment.

And suddenly Chris thought he understood what this was all about.

.o.

Peter seems to be in top form; Chris had left him in the middle of the bed, content after having been allowed to come three times, cock pink and sore looking after he had fucked his favorite fleshlight and worshiped Chris’ cock with little licks and kisses.

He’d been powered out to be mellow enough for their playtime with Deucalion – or at least so he’d thought.

There is nothing of the previous satisfied lethargy to see anywhere, now that their guest was actually standing in the room, and Chris could see Peter’s eyes darken as his pupils went wide in an instant – the look of a predator spotting prey.

Deucalion’s nostrils flare again, head tilting back and lip pulling up to bare his teeth as he scented the air. His body goes eerily still at the sound of Peter moving in a liquid, graceful movement that had him off the bed and across the room before Chris could say anything.

He watches somewhat apprehensively, suddenly – dumbly – thinking about how he never had thought about the fact that both were wolves; both were vital and strong and highly territorial.

Peter liked to pride himself on his sophistication, scoffing at Chris’ various unflattering terms for him (and loving them in a masochistic way), but in this moment there was nothing particularly human about those men.

Chris took a slow step back to give them room and observe as Peter stepped close enough to touch, mouth hovering half open and breathing warm air against the angle of Deucalion’s jaw that Chris had been admiring earlier himself.

Deucalion, for his part, kept standing still, eyes hidden behind his dark glasses and hands carefully lax at his sides after he had folded up his cane and put it away inside his jacket. He looked, for lack of a better word, vulnerable. It was almost more obscene than Peter stalking around him naked and with his pinkened cock swaying between his strong thighs.

Deucalion didn’t object to anything; let Peter inspect him and even tilted his chin up and head back when Peter’s warm breath tickled his throat.

“Oh,” Peter sighed into the tense silence, stepping closer and pressing his body against Deucalion’s clothed body. He rubbed against him like a cat in heat – slutty and needy as if he hadn’t been allowed to rub off against the edge of the bed just an hour ago. “We are going to play, aren’t we?” he positively purred, lips against Deucalion’s trembling Adam’s apple and hands shoving beneath the thin cardigan he was wearing.

“Going to let me mount you? Fuck you into the mattress like a little bitch? Gonna mount you so well, gonna-”

“Peter.”

Chris’ voice is sharp and his hand sure as he clamps it around the back of Peter’s neck, easily pulling the wolf off of their guest. Deucalion is shaking; soft tremors running through his body, chest nearly heaving with his gasping breaths. He looks pale and unsteady – swaying on the spot as he is, unmistakably angling into the direction Peter had been just seconds prior.

He whines – soft and sharp – when Chris carefully reaches out and drags fingertips along the underside of his chin, feeling the soft, vulnerable space beneath.

“Shhh,” he soothes, other hand still holding on to Peter, leashing him to the spot even though he feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin any second now, “I got you. Oh… this is going to be wonderful.”

.o.

Peter is over-eager like a puppy. Chris almost debates chaining him to the foot of the bed and making him watch – but can’t bring himself to do it when he sees how needy both wolves have become the moment they got to play.

Peter is obnoxious and demanding; presses his body into Deucalion’s trembling, unsure hands, and has no qualms about dragging them to all the not-so-secret places he wants to feel them at. Deucalion is… well. 

He is submissive for one. Even more so than Peter ever could be. He is panting softly and open mouthed, milky eyes half-closed in nervous concentration as he lets Peter bully him around; obligingly offers his mouth for stealing, sucking kisses, and whines when Peter then promptly starts playing with his over-sensitive dick yet again, without even trying to fend the wolf off.

“You’re gorgeous, aren’t you?” Chris found himself mumbling in a crooning, low voice, fingers carding through Deucalion’s hair and pinching small, tan nipples. He could feel the heat wanting to creep into his cheeks from the inane babbling and refused to feel ashamed even when Peter looked like he was having a field day and would never have him live it down.

It was hard to feel ashamed when Deucalion was reacting so beautifully to the praise – cock flexing out a steady, sticky stream of pre-cum against his belly, looking swollen and dark with blood from nothing but Peter’s prickish teasing and Chris’ murmured praise.

“Gonna come for us? Give Peter a little treat?” He reached down and pushed a pouting Peter away so he could play with their toy himself. Deucalion’s balls were warm and tight in the cup of his hand, and the dark space behind was warm and humid with sweat – a welcoming, little space for one fingertip to tickle and explore until Deucalion was whining sharp and high, face looking painfully open and vulnerable.

He was just so sensitive everywhere while trying to desperately hold on to his dignity – and orgasm. Chris couldn’t even say for sure what it was; what made Deucalion try to hold back so much when just a loving little squeeze of his balls had his cock flex out a new stream of pre-cum; the tip swollen and flared and dark with need.

“Good boy. Such a good puppy,” Chris whispered and Deucalion’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open – and for just a second Chris thought he might have overstepped a boundary; until he realized Peter had insinuated himself again and his head, hair dark with sweat, was bowed across Deucalion’s chest, mouth latched onto a small, hard nipple to suckle and tease with a slick tongue.

“Please,” Deucalion suddenly broke out in a sob, voice low and wrecked and no longer as pleasingly cultivated as it’d been on the phone. “Let me come, please, I beg of you, please oh please oh”

Chris’ thumb rubbed soothingly across the tight skin of Deucalion’s balls, his curious finger drawing circles onto the sweat slick skin behind his balls.

“You never needed permission,” he promised, “you can come whenever you want…”

Peter’s petulant Lucky… was overshadowed by Deucalion’s more frantic, “Please let me come, please please please, I…”

He was writhing between them, narrow hips helplessly curving up, cock bouncing and smacking against his abdomen, and pulling a sticky, glistening string of pre-cum with it when it bounced up once more.

He was fucking almost shyly; aborted, little motions that were more about alleviating the pressure without knocking Chris’ hand off his genitals, than about a fantasy of fucking into someone.

His voice was broken, and the raw earnestness in his face and blindly seeking eyes was almost unraveling Chris as it were.

“You can come,” he croaked with a raw voice, “You can come. Come for me, puppy. Be a good boy, now…”

And he knew watching Deucalion come – sinewy, wiry body shaking apart and cock jerking out ropes of cum without so much as a hand on it – would not be enough. He’d have to fuck Peter; have the wolf kneel on all fours above Deucalion while Chris mounted and bred him. He’d have to fuck him because he couldn’t fuck Deucalion – not now, not like this, when he was jumpy and shy about that soothing finger in the dark space behind his balls and giving them needier and needier kisses whenever the opportunity arose to do so.

He’d need to hold back and regroup and get his head on straight, but… but god damn he couldn’t be expected to just let this sit on itself as it were.