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Good Sourwolf

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Red hooded eyes stare up at him, Derek completely lax on the mattress. Stiles tugs on the collar, making sure it’s not too tight and not too loose. Derek lets out a low whine, jutting his hips up against Stiles’s.

Stiles chuckles and shakes his head. “Not yet, love.” Derek only blinks at him, not understanding a word. Then he reaches up and nuzzles into the juncture of Stiles’s neck, huffing and licking at the skin. “Such an impatient sourwolf.”

Stiles abruptly shoves Derek back down and presses their lips together. Derek growls as Stiles ruts against him, rumbling back.