Teen Wolf Imagines

Canvas (P. H)

Slight smut ahead!! Nothing too graphic

You burst through the door of the loft, a myriad of paintbrushes clutched in your hands, and one in your mouth as you fiddled with the elastic on the tips of each of them.

"I harg a art prohec, don ask for spehifics but I neeg your howp behause you're the only one hat fits ny descrip-hion." you said as you walked to stand in front of him, taking out the paintbrush from where you had it clutched between your teeth.

He smiled." I would if I could darling, but as you can see I'm quite busy at the moment, " he said in his usual teasing manner.

" Please Peter?? I won't ever bother you again."

"You never bother me," he said as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the top of the sofa.

"Wait, really?" you were startled. You hadn't expected a reaction like that from someone like him.

"You are... consideribly less obnoxious to be around than the others. And the only person I can have an actual intellectual conversation with."

That was as close as Peter would ever get to saying you're family and I care about you. So you didn't push.

"Well then I'll..... make you coffee every morning?" you hesitantly stated. You had no idea what to offer, honestly you hadn't gotten this far.

"You already make everyone coffee in the morning," he said, not shifting his rather comfortable position.

Truth is you needed a canvas yes, but you didn't need Peter. But with your ever growing crush on the lunatic, you just couldn't help yourself.

You made a mock sigh of disappointment." Ohh well, I guess Derek will be more willing-"
"What do you need??" he jumped from his position, all of a sudden eager to help.

You smirked, and he quickly regained his composure. "I-I'll uh, mmmhh," he cleared his throat. "What do I get in return?" he smugly stated.

Damn him.

"uuumm...... My..... my everlasting gratitude?"

He gave you a deadpaned look.

"Oh come on Peter. Help a girl out?"

He thought for a moment. "Hm. I suppose it wouldn't be such a proble-"

Before he could even finish his sentence you sprinted to the other side of the room, and he softly laughed at your enthusiasm.

When you returned, you brought a pallette of body paint, mixing two of the colors into a beautifull shade of blue." Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"I need a canvas. You're my canvas. Take off your shirt."

He did as you said. "If you wanted an excuse to see me naked sweetheart, you could've just asked."

You blushed even harder, and he smirked.

"Shut up so we can finish," you tried to be cold, but couldn't hold back your smile.

You straddled his lap, and his breath hitched. It was your time to smirk, but you said nothing.

His hands came up to your thighs, just touching them, as if you were a fragile and expensive work of art.

Without a word, you started painting. He gasped at how cold the paint was, which made you giggle a bit, but other than that, neither of you spoke.

There was always a lot of sexual tension between the two of you, but now it was overwhelming.

The way his hands would so gently caress the skin of your exposed thighs, the feel of his warm breath against the sweet spot of your neck, and the way he looked at you.... you could only look at him out of the corner of your eye, for fear that if the two of you made eye contact, you wouldn't be able to resist.

He looked at you with such admiration. And pride. It boosted your confidence that you could get this done without any.... distractions.

But it also slightly inhibited it, because you didn't have to meet his eyes completely to see the look of curiosity, love and lust.

Well this might take a different turn.

You took a shaky breath, and continued to work. You occasionally adjusted yourself on his lap, making him quietly groan and bite his lip.

He was killing you, just as much as you were killing him.

Peter had to hold back a moan everytime you ran your hands along his chiseled chest.

He sensed the change in your chemo signals, and he bit his lip. The smell of your arousal made him grip your thighs and bite his lip even harder, the scent of your arousal mixing with the taste of his own blood.

He had to close his eyes, and lean his head back.... He was slowly losing control.

When you noticed this, you smirked. You adjusted your position once more, purposely grinding your heat against his now fully hard member.

This time he let out a soft moan, the noise drove you wild.

Because you were you, you decided to keep going. You did need this done for the art classes you took to pass time. A poor excuse, really. Especially considering now your project, was the last thing on your mind.

He had a death grip on your thighs, you could feel the remnants of his composure slowly fading with every slight movement of your hips.

You could feel the tips of his claws poking your thighs, not piercing the skin, but creating a delicious pain that only shot a pleasurable tingle from your spine down to your core.

After a few more agonizing minutes, you leaned slightly back to admire your work, accidentally dragging yourself along his lap, letting out a noise so quite and sexy that had it not been for Peter's werewolf hearing, he wouldn't have heard it and let out a growl himself.

With shaking hands you took out your phone and half heartidly took the picture.

You stayed in his lap, sending the picture to the chat group for your class.

As you sat, Peter could feel the wetness from your shorts soak through onto his jeans and let out an obscene noise. And that was it. He couldn't wait any longer.

At this point you were slightly panting, and his eyes began to glow.

Before you put your phone down, to both of yours' complete and utter dispair, the loft door opened.