SONG: Neutron Star Collision - Twilight Soundtrack
Derek was completely out of control.
He wasn't really sure how it had happened, but Stiles was pinned to the ground underneath him, wrists locked in the tight grip of Derek's hand. He couldn't get enough if his mouth. Derek had lost his shirt at some point, and it was lying in the grass a few feet away. One of Stiles' legs was clinging to his waist, circling it, the other planted firmly on the ground for leverage as he rocked his hips up against Derek's, grinding their hips together. Derek was breathing in broken little pants between kisses, and Stiles sounded just as bad.
Derek plunged his fingers underneath Stiles' shirt, pushing it up as his fingers glided along the hot silky skin and hard muscle he found. Then his hand slip lower again, fingertips teasing the sensitive skin of hip bones and pelvis, dipping just underneath the waistband of his jeans. Stiles groaned into Derek's mouth, a desperately needy sound, begging for more than the light teasing fingertips were giving him. He loved how responsive Stiles was, how willing and aroused he so easily became under Derek's touch.
He still wasn't sure how this had happened, but he was far beyond caring. Stiles' tongue tentatively lapped at Derek's lower lip, seeking entrance, and Derek opened his mouth willingly to allow him access. Their tongues battled for dominance, and Stiles put up a hell of a fight, but Derek eventually won, of course. He ran his hand up the hot chest, then scraped his nails over sensitive buds of flesh, making Stiles arch into him, groaning into his mouth again, hips bucking hard against his. Derek couldn't take the distance any more, and he lowered himself down on top of Stiles fully, bringing their hips together with a lusty growl at the feel of the rock hard length pressed agianst him.
Stiles whimpered and ground against him, almost desperately, struggling against the hand holding his wrists, wanting to touch Derek as he was touching him. Derek pulled back, their tongues sliding apart, lips seperating, and it almost killed him to do so. He looked down into lust darkened eyes. Stiles stared back at him, glaring his disappointment at the distance between their mouths. Then he seemed to understand what Derek wanted, and he broke his gaze away, stopping his struggles and submitting to Derek's hold. Derek rewarded his submission by releasing his wrists. Stiles let out a hungry little noise and immeditaley plunged his hands into the waistband of Derek's jeans. Derek couldn't hold back the needy groan that escaped as those hands groped for his cock. He lowered his head to the pale arch of neck, nuzzling against it as hands explored, nudging his nose against a clenched jaw before placing a kiss there. Stiles understood once more what Derek wanted, and he tilted his head back, baring his throat with a breathy sigh.
The long column of bared throat, the mostly naked and heaving chest, the tent in his jeans and the faintly glowing eyes, the feel of hands groping under Derek's jeans...all of it coalesced into an insatiable desire to possess and own and mark, making him go crazy. He rained nipping little bites all over Stiles' throat and collarbone and jaw and what he could get to of his shoulders. Damn shirt was in the way. He tugged on it, but it was impossible to remove from the position Stiles was in, pinned firmly underneath Derek's larger body, and he was not going to relase Stiles for even an instant, even as long as it would take to remove the offensive piece of clothing. But he wanted it gone. So he ripped it, growling as he did so, tearing it open down the front, then tearing each sleeve open as well. Now it was nothing but a piece of shredded fabric between Stiles and the blanket underneath him. Nothing between Derek's possessive mouth and all that glorious heated skin and muscle. Stiles gasped at the abruptness of it, looking up at Derek with wide, shocked, doe-like eyes.
Then he laughed. A glorious wild laugh that sounded almost victorious, and he arched his body up toward Derek again, pulling against the older guy's belt loops to bring him even closer, pressing their hard chests together and hissing at the pleasure the contact brought him. Derek lowered his mouth to Stiles' once more, taking and possesing, nipping and licking at his lips as he writhed with impatience underneath him. Then he separated their mouths again and nipped his jaw. Stiles always seemd to know exactly what he wanted, and he bared his throat again, groaning desperately, his eyes fluttering closed. Derek grinned wolfishly, a fierce slash of pointed teeth, and then he lowered his head to bite at Stiles' neck. He placed a particularly rough nip against his collarbone, and Stiles whimpered, hips jerking, straining upward as if they could possibly get any closer than they already were.
Derek adjusted his legs, untangling them from Stiles', and moving so he was lying in between the slim thighs, forcing Stiles to remove his groping hands from Derek's jeans or have them crushed between their hard bodies. Their cocks slid against each other and they both groaned at the maddening sensation. But Stiles needed more. He thrust up against his alpha, grinding their hips together, seeking the friction he desperately craved. Hands clutched at Derek's bare back, nails digging into muscle and leaving marks on his flesh. Derek loved the pricks of pain, and he nipped harder at Stiles' skin in response, then latched his mouth onto the junction between neck and shoulder, biting hard, making Stiles hiss in pain and pleasure. He started to suck, drawing blood to the surface, biting and marking him. It was the first time he had ever done that, marked him like that. If Stiles had the ability to process a single thought in his head, he would have seen it as another victory.
Their hips thrust together rhythmically, and all Stiles could think of besides how good it felt was how much better it would feel if their jeans weren't in the way. But he couldn't make himself push Derek away, not even far enough to reach the buttons and zippers, not with the way he was gnawing on his neck like that, alternating between biting and licking and sucking. It was driving him wild, and all he could do was toss his head and whimper and groan and thrust back against Derek like some mindless slut. Which is exactly what he felt like.
Then Derek was takeing his mouth away from his neck, and Stiles growled a protest, until he started making a trail of little nibbles and licks and kisses over his collarbone, down his chest, nipping each nipple roughly, squeezing them between his lips and teeth hard until Stiles was fisting his hands in silky black hair and whimpering at the painful pleasure. He left a trail of rough bites, red marks, moving very slowly down the straining body, soothing the harder nips with a lave of his silky hot tongue.
He reached Stiles abdomen and nibbled at each muscle, dipping his tongue into the teen's bellybutton. And it felt amazing, but Stiles missed the friction against his cock. He raised up on his elbows, angling his head to look down his body at Derek. As soon as their glowing eyes locked, a fierce primal smile twisted Derek's lips, and he laughed in a dark way that promised so much pleasure that Stiles prayed he could handle it. That expression, the sound of that laugh, was the sexiest thing Stiles had ever experienced in his whole goddamn life. He couldn't breath, just from looking at him. He raised his head higher to look his fill. And that was when Derek slid his hand up a denim-covered thigh to cup Stiles hard cock through his jeans. He rubbed his palm roughly against the bulge, squeezing until Stiles whimpered.
His arms wouldn't hold him up anymore, and he groaned and fell back onto the blanket, eyes squeezing closed for a moment. Then he remembered that he wanted to watch, wanted to see everything, and he lifted his head off the ground as much as he could to see his Alpha, crouched above him. Derek kept rubbing him though his jeans, a teasing pressure that just made Stiles crave more. He used his mouth and teeth to pop open the button and pull down the zipper, his free hand making quick work of his own fly. When he removed his hand, Stiles groaned at the loss, and at the anticipation of what was coming next. And then Derek's mouth was pressing against him through the thin fabric of his boxers, his jeans wide open in a V as his straining cock tried to escape... and all coherent thought took a flying leap out the window once more.
He mouthed Stiles' cock, but didn't release it from the prison of the fabric it was trapped in, not yet. He was content with teasing him through the material until Stiles was a breathless mindless begging mess. It didn't take long. Only then did Derek curl his fingers into the waistband of the jeans and undewear and begin to pull the last bit of clothing slowly over slim hips.
As the clothing bypassed his pelvis, Derek froze. Stiles groaned in protest and growled at him to stop teasing. When he got no reply, no movement, he got a little anxious and opened his eyes. Derek was tense, face serious, head cocked to the side as if listening to something. So Stiles tried to listen, too. It was just really fucking hard with Derek's fingers buried under his boxers, the tips of them almost brushing against his aching cock. So, so close.
Then Derek was pulling away, rising to his feet and re-doing his fly. Stiles frowned. What the fuck? He's doing this NOW? After he had already let it go so far? He sat up and was about to recklessly go off on the Alpha, start cursing him out, something...but Derek held up a hand to silence him, head still cocked to the side, and Stiles had enough sense back now to know that look on his face wasn't a good thing. He was hearing something, and Stiles didn't know what it was because there was so much blood rushing in his ears he couldn't hear anything but the pounding of both their hearts.
Then Derek looked down at him, still lying there on the rumpled blanket, his ripped shirt spread out underneath him, lips swollen, Derek's mark on his neck, hair mussed, chest still heaving, pants halfway pulled down so that the very top of his cock was already showing over the top of them...positively reeking of arousal and insanely mindless desire. Derek knew there were other members of his pack coming, but he almost just said "fuck it" and pounced on Stiles once more, with him lying there, looking like that. He swallowed a groan, knowing that was not the right thing to do right now.
"I hear Allison's car," he said finally, looking at Stiles meaningfully.
It took a moment for the words to break through the fog of lust, for him to comprehend what his Alpha meant, and once he did he freaked out. Derek almost laughed at the comical way his eyes widened. He leaned down and gripped Stiles' arms, yanking him onto his feet. Stiles seemed to be paralyzed, so Derek took it upon himself to jerk his boxers and jeans up all the way and re-button and -zip them for him. He ran a hand through the teen's hair, smoothing it down. There was nothing he could do about the mark he had left on his neck, and he winced to look at it. It was a large dark bruise, extremely visible on Stiles' pale skin. There were red bite marks over his whole torso, especially around his neck. They would take a little while to heal, since they had been made by werewolf teeth, but that dark mark would take even longer. He opened his mouth to tell Stiles to snap out of it, but before he could say anything Stiles started freaking out.
"How far away are they? Fuck! Look at your back! Theyre going to know something happened! Fuck!"
Derek gripped Stiles' shoulders, and his touch seemed to calm the kid down. The pack already knew what was between them, so Derek didn't see the big deal...or they thought they knew. Derek was aware that they gossiped about the two of them when they weren't around, and he also knew they were only halfway right about the relationship...
"Do you care if they know something happened?" he asked slowly, surprised at how important the answer was to him.
Stiles seemed to think it over for a moment before smiling, a bit rakishly.
"No," he laughed. "Not really."
Then what is the big deal?
"Good...because they're going to know the instant they look at you..."
Stiles looked own at his bare torso, marked all over with little red bite marks, and squeaked.
"Hey," Derek chastised him. "Werewolves do not squeak!"
Stiles made a face, then he let out a strangled little noise that Derek thought might have been supposed to be a growl. He snickered.
"Werewolves don't do that, either...whatever that was ..."
Stiles glared. Then he scampered over to Derek's black t-shirt that had been tossed on the ground. He picked it up and pulled it over his head in an attempt to cover the marks all over his upper body. They were slowly fading, but not nearly as fast as Stiles had expected them to. Derek, on the other hand, knew better.
He looked at his head Beta with a hooded gaze. Stiles looked fuckin' sexy as hell in the v-neck t-shirt that belonged to his Alpha. It was a little too big for him, the V hanging down low enough to show the top of his chest, and not doing much to cover up any of the marks except the ones on his abdomen. Derek had the urge to pounce on him again, rip off another shirt, and leave more marks.
He managed to restrain himself, though, and he pulled his eyes away from Stiles long enough to scoop and pick up the shredded bits of the kid's blue t-shirt, tucking them in his pocket. Stiles gaped at him. It reminded him of a guy pocketing a girl's panties after they had sex. What the fuck?
Before he had time to read too much into it, though, he heard the sound of Allison's car approaching. He took a deep breath and hurried over to the grill, which was just getting to be hot enough. He started emptying the food in the tupperware into the pots and setting them on the top of the grill so the food could start to simmer.
As he worked, he watched Derek out of the corner of his eye. The Alpha stalked over to the blanket and threw himself down on it, still shirtless and shoeless, of course. He stretched out, rolling his muscles and arching his back off the ground, much in the same manner that Stiles had done earlier when he had been trying to tempt Derek, and Stiles' head slowly turned to watch. His mouth watered as he admired the way muscles rippled, and when Derek relaxed back onto the blanket, he shot Stiles a smug smirk that had him blushing faintly and jerking his head back to the food he was trying to prepare.
A few moments later, Allison's car pulled up. Stiles couldn't help glancing down at himself to check the bite marks. Still there, still fading. He could only imagine how the one on his neck looked...
Scott jumped out of the car and ran over to him immediately, drawn by the sight and smell of the food. He wrapped an arm around Stiles' neck and leaned in to inhale the smell of the food...then he froze as he got a good whiff of Stiles, and his head turned to look at his friend, as if in slow motion, almost comically so. The arm slowly slid off of his neck as Scott backed up a couple of paces to take him in. Stiles ignored his behavior and kept stirring the food.
"Hey, man, how's it goin'?" Stiles asked casually, as if there was nothing going on, nothing different. As if he wasn't wearing their Alpha's shirt and covered in his marks and his scent.
It wasn't as if Scott had never smelled Derek on him before. It was nearly a common occurence if the two were left alone together in private for a long amount of time...but Derek had never left bite marks all over him before, and he had never worn Derek's shirt before, because he and Derek had never gone past making out before. And they still hadn't, thanks to their cock-blocking packmates. He let out an annoyed growl.
Now that he dissected it a little, he supposed all of those things would make it seem as if Derek had claimed him. The marks all over him, the strong scent on him, and the fact that he wore Derek's shirt... That's not what it was, though, was it? He didn't see why Derek would claim him now. He didn't know what had changed, didn't think anything had changed. No, that couldn't be it, it was just a sex-thing, that's all. Just teasing. He'd know if he'd been claimed...
Scott just kept staring at him, and it was making Stiles uncomfortable. He twitched and fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot as he stirred each pot in turn. He heard a growl coming from Derek.
"Stop being rude, Scott," Derek barked.
That seemed to jar Scott out of the strange little trance he had fallen into. He smiled that easy smile of his after a moment and sidled right back up next to his friend, slingling his arm back across his shoulders, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just spent almost a full two minutes standing there and staring at him like he had just announced to the world that he was moving to Pakistan to become a cross-dressing pig farmer.
"Looks good, dude," Scott said, commenting on the food. "When can we eat?"
"When Lydia and Jackson get here," Derek said from his spot lounging on the blanket. Scott groaned and Derek rolled his eyes.
Damn kid, always thinking with his stomach or his dick.
Allison stepped in front of them, facing them across the grill. He saw her eyes flash to the fading amrks on his skin, but she didn't react the way Scott had, just standing there and staring dumbly as if she didn't know what she was seeing. Instead, she acted as if the marks weren't there at all, beaming at him and telling him good morning. He laughed.
"Morning? It's half past noon!"
Allison giggled and shrugged, then asked if there was anything she could do to help. He asked her to get the plates and silverware ready, and then he told Scott to call Jackson and see where the two of them were, since the bastard wouldn't answer any of Stiles' texts. Scott immediately obeyed, making Stiles smirk. Who's Batman and who's Robin now, bitch?
He heard Scott call Jackson's cell phone, heard Jackson pick up on the third ring. That bastard. He glanced over at Derek and saw his jaw clench in a familiar look of irritation. Derek had told them a thousand times that they needed to keep in touch with one another, needed to be able to rely on one another. So, why was Jackson answering Scott, but not him? Was he still mad about the Lydia thing? If he was, he was even more of an idiot than Stiles thought. He heard Jackson tell him they were on their way, and his own jaw clenched in annoyance. After the slip-ups he had, the way he knew Derek was angry at the guy, he knew it wasn't going to be a pretty sight once he did show up.
Stiles imagined Derek beating him to a pulp and tried to hide a smile, even though he knew Derek would never do something like that to one of his pack. Jackson would need to be put in his place, though... Stiles knew the perfect way of doing it, and he knew Derek would approve.
He glanced at Allison, who was still setting out the plates and silverware.
"We only need five plates, Allison," he muttered. She looked at him in confusion, so he explained. "Jackson's in trouble. He's been an uncontrollable ass lately and he needs to be put in his place. He can eat whatever's left when the rest of us are done."
Just like in a wolf pack in the wild, the lowest pack member always ate last.
Allison glanced at the Alpha for confirmation, and Derek nodded once before shifting his curious gaze to Stiles. Stiles couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk that twisted his lips. He wasn't stupid. He didn't need Derek to tell him everything when it came to pack interaction. Some stuff was instinctual, while other stuff was just kind of obvious.
When Jackson's sleek silver porsche pulled up, Stiles tensed automatically, expecting a scene from him when he learned about the eating arrangements. But Derek stood up from his relaxed position and went to meet Jackson at the car. One look at Lydia sent her scurrying over to the other teenagers, her expression curious as Derek pulled Jackson aside and spoke in a low voice to him.
"What's going on?" the sly redhead asked Stiles, eyes glued to her mate and the Alpha.
"Jackson eats last," was all he said. Lydia frowned for a moment, but she seemed to understand quicker than Allison had. She nodded swiftly and nudged Stiles aside gently, telling him she'd serve everyone so he didn't have to. It was sort of a respectful gesture, but he didn't pretend he wasn't suspicious, thinking she'd try to make sure Jackson got enough food. She just smiled that sly smile of hers and said, "trust me."
He laughed out loud as Lydia served extra large portions on each plate. She smirked, and Scott laughed, too. Only Allison looked slightly bothered. He glanced over at Jackson and Derek again, still expecting anger from Jackson, but all he saw was the top of Jackson's head. His eyes were on the ground as he bared the back of his neck to his alpha. Derek gripped it roughly in his hand and turned, shoving Jackson toward the rest of the teenagers.
Jackson stumbled, then regained his footing and approached slowly, avoiding eye contact with every single one of them. He stood awkwardly next to the table, lingering near Lydia as she made everyone's plates, his nose twitching at the smell of the food. Stiles' eyes stayed glued to him, waiting. Waiting.
Jackson finally looked up, meeting Stiles' eyes. They locked gazes for a moment, and Stiles could feel the stares of the rest of the pack on the two of them. Jackson nodded once, jerking his head slightly, and Stiles paused for a moment, drawing the tension out, and then he nodded back. Jackson immediately broke eye contact, bowing his head, and everyone let out a collective sigh of relief that there hadn't been a battle for dominance.
Stiles glanced at Scott and Allison. He could see that they weren't totally sure what had just gone down, but they partially understood. Jacskon had sort of apologized to Stiles for excluding him and for his behavior at school, and then he had submitted to him, once Stiles had acknowledged his apology. This same thing had already happened with Derek. That was what the neck-baring had been about, a minute ago. Jackson didn't owe his submission to anyone else but Stiles, the head Beta, and Derek, the Alpha.
Jackson was now the low dog on the totem pole. The most submissive in the pack, despite his rage issues and seeming pridefulness. Every one of them outranked him. Lydia was second to Stiles only by a little. She was a power hungry bitch- technically speaking- but she knew better than to challenge him. Allison was a bit more dominant than Scott, and probably could have challenged him for it if she wanted a higher rank, but Stiles knew she never would. She didn't need to. Scott was wholly and entirely hers, so dominance didn't really matter between the two of them.
Stiles predicted that there may be a few fights for dominance between Scott and Jackson before the pack established it's place. But he knew his position was safely secured in the group. He didn't have to worry about anyone challenging, unless Jackson flew into another idiotic rage again and made a huge mistake. The abruptness of his confirmed position was a little unexpected, and he was almost disappointed. He had sort of been looking forward to the violent dominace struggles, to proving himself to his friends.
But, he supposed, he had kind of done that already. It just wasn't quite as physical as he was hoping for. It had started when he had refused to let Lydia control him, and had actually taken control of her that night. It had continued when he had pinned Jackson belly-up and made him submit, even though it was Lydia who had been the one to ultimately calm him down, he had submitted to Stiles beforehand, and then made his submission quite clear afterward, by avoiding his eyes.
It also helped that he had the Alpha's marks all over him. He smirked at the thought, wondering if he was going to get the chance to tease Derek into giving him more of those delicious marking-bites. They had been amazing.
He glanced over at Derek and noticed that his eyes were on him, staring. It made him feel a little self concious, being stared at. Derek caught his gaze, and Stiles held it for a moment before submitting and looking away, like a good Beta. When he glanced at Derek again, their was a tiny smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, and Stiles felt warmth explode throught his chest, happy that he had pleased his Alpha. Pleased his stoic sour-wolf Alpha enough that he was actually on the verge of smiling. It was a fucking miracle.
Lydia cleared her throat, and everyone looked at her from where they were hovering around the food table. She had finished making the plates, and they sat in a small jumble on the table. The pack all looked at Derek, who strode forward and took first choice. Stiles was next, and then the rest of them just had at it, while Jackson stood off to the side, waiting a bit impatiantly. Stiles joined Derek on the blanket while they waited for the others to sort out their food. Stiles scooted close to Derek, wanting to sit near him, touch him maybe, but Derek didn't even acknowledge him. His eyes were on the rest of his pack, and Stiles could hear his stomach rumbling furiously.
"Hurry up, damn it! We're starving over here!" he called to the scrabbling 'wolves, who scrabbled even faster at his words. Derek snickered so quietly Stiles almost didn't hear him. He looked at him, wanting to share a secret smile with him, but Derek was still looking at the others. Stiles sighed. He had a feeling their little makeout session today hadn't really changed anything between them. Even though Derek's marks covered Stiles' entire upper body... It annoyed him a little, and he let out a grumbling sigh, poking at his eggs with his fork.
This was just how it had always been between them, when it wasn't violent. Derek, ignoring him, leaving Stiles all alone and yearning as soon as their lips separated and Derek found something to distract him. Looks like he would have to resort to making him angry ater all. Plans started forming in his mind, and he tried to resist the sly smile that was attemptng to force it's way across his face. Maybe making him jealous would work, too...
The pack finally managed to stop fighting over the food, and they joined Stiles and Derek on the blanket, looking to Derek to take the first bite before they dug in. As they ate, Jackson scraped the pots for anything that was left, loading it onto a plate he had to fix himself. By the time his plate was made and he was sitting down on the blanket with the others, they were all mostly finished. Jackson looked grumpy at having to eat on his own, but didn't say anything about it of course.
Stiles had a few pieces of bacon left, a few bites of eggs, and two pancakes. He was still hungry, and knew that he would be even if he ate what was left on his plate. Derek, on the other hand, still looked famished somehow, as if he could never get enough to eat. He let out a fake groan and patted his belly, pretending to be full. Five sets of eyes lasered in on him. Well, on his plate. He growled at them all and offered his plate to his Alpha, who graciously accepted, of course. The others made noises of disappointment and got busy finishing off their own food. Derek inhaled Stiles' leftovers in the blink of an eye, and he still looked hungry. Stiles' hand darted out and he snatched a piece of bacon from Scott's plate, ignoring the half-hearted warning growl. He offered it to Derek, holding it up to his mouth for him to bite. Derek hesitated only a momnet before doing so, eyes meeting Stiles'. He devoured the piece of bacon, then licked his lips. Before Stiles could react, he had snatched his hand and was licking the bacon grease off the long thin fingers.
Stiles did everything he could to fight the wave of aroual that threatened to rise up at the sight and feel of Derek licking his fingers. Oh, he definitely wanted more of that. His fingers darted out and he snagged Allison's last piece of bacon.
"Hey, I was saving that!" she squaked indignantly. Stiles ignored her, gaze focused on his Alpha.
He offered the piece to Derek again, who repeated the process of eating the bacon and them licking Stiles' fingers clean. Stiles tried not to whimper at the feel of that hot tongue, at the thought of what he had missed out on earlier because Scott and Allison had interrupted them.
Derek seemed to realize what he was doing, and his expression shut down, silently withdrawing himself from Stiles without moving an inch. Stiles rolled his eyes. It was disappointing, but not like he hadn't expected it. He was actually surprised that Derek had let himself go as far as he did.
He rose from his spot on the blanket, ignoring everyone's eyes on him, and stretched his arms above his head, arching his back until he heard a satisfying little crack.
"I'm going for a walk," he murmured, skirting around the stack of empty plates at the edge of the blanket, and set off away from the rest of the pack, not looking back.
He heard the frantic scraping of a fork on a plate, and the clink of plate on plate, and then a loud burb, and then someone was scrambling to their feet and running after him. Jackson came up beside him, to Stiles' surprise.
"Can I come?" he murmured quietly, sounding so self-concious and so unlike Jackson.
Stiles glanced briefly back at Derek, who was scowling, but keeping his mouth shut. He smirked.
"Yeah, sure, you can come..." He hadn't stopped walking, and Jackson had paused when he'd asked the question, unsure of Stiles' answer. Now he rushed to catch up, coming up beside Stiles again, their shoulders bumping as they made their way into the woods.
Now Stiles is going off into the forest with Jackson, still turned in from Derek, and also annoyed at him...what's going to happen, do you think? Is he going to implement his plans of making Derek jealous and/or angry? Or will they just have a nice leaisurely bromantic stroll? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
