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    Summary

    “Do you…do you still want me, like this?” Stiles pets nervously at Derek's pecs, watching his unfamiliar hand tangle in his chest hair, resting his palm over his heart.

    Derek’s looking at him in that way he has, the way that usually makes Stiles’ cock twitch and quiver, but now he just feels…a warmth, a tickling, a pooling between his legs, newly formed flesh starting to come alive in very interesting ways.

    Eyes dark and wide, Derek still looks a little dazed; he nods, licking his lips. “Yeah,” he finally huffs, gaze trailing again down Stiles’ temporary new body. “How long did Deaton say this would last,” he asks, fingertips feather light down his curved side.

    Stiles shivers at the touch, arching and bowing towards him, as usual. “About six hours,” he breathes, gasping softly at how the nipples of his sensitive breasts tighten and firm up under Derek’s exploring hand.

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