He lets out a soft huff as he's pressed into the sofa, body arching and grinding up against Peter's. He doesn't even care about how dirty, bloody and filthy they are, he just wants Peter.

Stiles wants him so much, not just right now (well, aside from right now), but forever.

"Want," he pants out, his own hands pulling at Peter's shirt to try to get it off of him. "Want you to fuck me," he breathes out finally, abandoning Peter's shirt for a moment to pull his own off, tossing it off to the side before getting Peter's off of him as well.