by Jane Davitt

The first time Derek kisses Stiles, it’s to shut him up. Stiles is loud, in his face, and this close to full moon, it’s unendurable.

Instinct takes over, but it’s his mouth, not his fist, that collides with Stiles’ lips, crushing them until they yield silence, and soften.

He can feel unsaid words push those lips into shapes his mouth twists back into a kiss, can hear the stutter-thud of a heartbeat, but what matters is the silence.

Stiles leaves running, eyes shocked wide, mouth slicked wet, but he was hard before the kiss ended.

He’d better come back quietly.

Return to Home

Click here if you'd like to send feedback