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Summary
Stiles can’t breathe. He thinks he must have died and gone to heaven because there is just no chance in hell that this is actually happening. Stiles Stilinski, the wimpy human who tags along with a bunch of hot, badass werewolves, can’t be kissing Derek freaking Hale. That’s just not a thing that happens.
Except it is. Derek is lying beneath him, pawing desperately at Stiles’ chest and breathing heavily. He’s rock-hard, grinding up against Stiles and whimpering, little aborted noises that he can’t seem to control. This is insane. Stiles can’t believe his life.