Disclaimer: See initial chapter.
A/N: Prompt Number 12 is - Making Out (I thought it would be a little more forthcoming...)
It's a cool evening, but the heat between them is enough to keep them warm. Derek's always run a little hot, Stiles a little cold. Together, they're just right. A perfect storm, like two opposing weather fronts, and sometimes there're even sparks of electricity between them. Invisible, but tangible, and Stiles' heart stutters and stops, his breath gets caught on an inhale as he forgets to breathe out.
Teeth sharp enough to strip meat from bone, nibble at Stiles' ear, make him shiver and gasp, grind against Derek's palm. This should be terrifying; playing with the edge of a knife. It isn't. It's thrilling. Exciting. A fucking turn on to play with danger, and come away with nothing more than a smattering of dark bruises along his neck, and across his collarbone.
Derek's hands are rough, yet gentle, and there is no room for growth in a tight pair of jeans. Nowhere for Stiles to move once Derek sets himself up against a panic attack, because, as it turns out, making out with a werewolf is an excellent cure for panic attacks - a way to get Stiles' mind to finally disengage, and lose itself in sensation; the smell of dirt, sweat and pine; the feel of a day's worth of stubble against the smoothness of his cheek; the heart of a wolf pounding out a steady rhythm for Stiles' own heart to follow.
Free Reader Tip #13: When making out with your werewolf, don't be alarmed if you suddenly forget how to breathe. Sometimes you might even forget your own name. That's okay though, it's only temporary, it'll come back to you...eventually, and, if not, your wolf will remind you of it afterwards, once you're nothing but a noodly mess, nerveless and completely at his mercy. That's not a bad place to be. Let him take care of you.