The moment Peter's hand is on him, Stiles rocks into it, moaning loudly and panting. He's so, so ready for whatever Peter's going to give him- going to do to him. By the time Peter gets the rest of Stiles' clothes off, the teen is a writhing mess on the sofa.

Peter's praise makes him flush, and for once he believes his words. He can't imagine what he must look like to Peter. Laying there naked and panting, hard for him, and covered in the blood of the- their kill.

Reaching up Stiles pulls Peter down into a needy kiss, groaning into it. "C'mon, wolf, make me yours."