[Breakfast wasn't supposed to go this way. Mike made pancakes and they were incredible after a night of very energetic sex. He figured he and Stiles would have breakfast, joke about all the bruises and hickeys they left on each other and the scratches Stiles left on his back and shoulders.
Instead, she had eaten and climbed right back into his lap. He doesn't even remember when she pulled his sweatpants off. If he wasn't a witch he would swear she would have to be one after a magic trick like that.]
You're making me late for work. [He pretends to complain against her lips while she rocks in his lap. He slides his hands down around the curve of her ass, squeezing tightly.]
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Instead, she had eaten and climbed right back into his lap. He doesn't even remember when she pulled his sweatpants off. If he wasn't a witch he would swear she would have to be one after a magic trick like that.]
You're making me late for work. [He pretends to complain against her lips while she rocks in his lap. He slides his hands down around the curve of her ass, squeezing tightly.]