The words that come out of Stiles' mouth after that lewd, wet pop of his cock from between those delicious lips are so hot. Arousing just on hearing Stiles talk like that, but he actually doesn't want to. He doesn't want to hurt him, manhandle him like that, use him for his pleasure. There's a feeling between them, something that means something, and he wants to hold onto that. He wants to give, wants to feel the teen against him.
He watches as Stiles licks his lips, the way he gives him permission to wolf out, to not hold back, and that sends a shiver down his spine. He'd assumed it was something he needed to hide, too animalistic, too feral, too inhuman. But he can catch the way it makes the scent of Stiles' arousal heavier, and he swallows with a slow blink of his eyes.
Thinking about much of anything vanishes in a flash, the way that Stiles takes him into his mouth, tip hitting the back of his throat, and then Stiles is sinking down deeper and he can't help the almost-whine as his eyes blink closed. His body is shaking and when his eyes open they're that bright, cold blue. His hands are on Stiles' shoulders, and when his throat flexes around his cock, he can't help the way his hands clutch just the wrong side of too-tight, leaving splayed fingerprint bruises on fair skin.
He's not going to last, his head falling back onto the pillows, moaning as he shakes. Muted curses breathed under a harsh growl that's almost a warning. Because he's getting close and he's not going to last like this.
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He watches as Stiles licks his lips, the way he gives him permission to wolf out, to not hold back, and that sends a shiver down his spine. He'd assumed it was something he needed to hide, too animalistic, too feral, too inhuman. But he can catch the way it makes the scent of Stiles' arousal heavier, and he swallows with a slow blink of his eyes.
Thinking about much of anything vanishes in a flash, the way that Stiles takes him into his mouth, tip hitting the back of his throat, and then Stiles is sinking down deeper and he can't help the almost-whine as his eyes blink closed. His body is shaking and when his eyes open they're that bright, cold blue. His hands are on Stiles' shoulders, and when his throat flexes around his cock, he can't help the way his hands clutch just the wrong side of too-tight, leaving splayed fingerprint bruises on fair skin.
He's not going to last, his head falling back onto the pillows, moaning as he shakes. Muted curses breathed under a harsh growl that's almost a warning. Because he's getting close and he's not going to last like this.