[Stiles blushed, feeling safe in Sam's embrace as he hadn't for quite some time since werewolves came to Beacon Hills.] Have you looked in a mirror lately? Damn, if I were you, that's where I'd be 24/7...
Now that, I find hard to believe. [Stiles chuckled, burying his head halfway into a pillow, looking at Sam with one golden-hazel eye.]
You're Mr. February, man, I mean your abs were carved by Michelangelo or whoever the fuck that painter was...and he did a very good job. [Stiles mused, distracted as his hand trailed down Sam's chest to ghost across his abdomen through the hunter's shirt.]
You don't know that...I'll hold you to it, promise...
[Stiles snuggled in closer to Sam's chest, sighing softly at the warmth and safety he found there. Seriously, Sam was always so comfortable and welcoming and just. Sam. Stiles was entirely aware of how lucky he was.]
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It was looking away I had trouble with.
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Yes, I've looked in a mirror lately.
But I like the sight of you better.
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You're Mr. February, man, I mean your abs were carved by Michelangelo or whoever the fuck that painter was...and he did a very good job. [Stiles mused, distracted as his hand trailed down Sam's chest to ghost across his abdomen through the hunter's shirt.]
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You don't have to flirt.
[Sam's words were teasing as he pressed a kiss to the teen's temple.]
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You can flirt more in the morning.
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You'll know when you've slept with me.
Now sleep.
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[Sam pulled the covers tighter around Stiles, wanting him to be warm and comfortable.]
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[Stiles snuggled in closer to Sam's chest, sighing softly at the warmth and safety he found there. Seriously, Sam was always so comfortable and welcoming and just. Sam. Stiles was entirely aware of how lucky he was.]
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I promise we'll talk in the morning.
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