My friend just sent me this and I have been laughing for the last 10 minutes
when, instead of supposedly getting the best of both worlds, you get unfair prejudice in both of them.
I bet it happens pretty early in their whatever it is that they’re not calling a relationship because both of them have issues of one flavour or another.
But they’ve fallen into the equally distressing and reassuring habit of saving each other’s lives, on some kind of turn-based system that Stiles has yet to decipher. And if that’s led to frantic hand jobs, sloppy dick sucking, messy-biting kisses and a whole lot of frottage in the moments after the smoke clears and yes, they’re all still alive, what are the odds, then hey Stiles isn’t gonna complain, even if it would be nice to actually get horizontal or all the way naked one of these days.
And Derek isn’t blind, or y’know, headless, which he’d have to be not to notice the way you can see Stiles’ nipples no matter how many layers he wears, peaked and puffy like… like he’s been tugging on them, maybe, rolling and pinching them between his fingers. Or something. Derek doesn’t know. He just thinks about it a lot.
*reblogs for later reference*
I’M IN THE MIDST OF WRITING A BOOK WHERE HAS THIS POST BEEN ALL MY LIFE