The time he was taking might've been more appreciated when Dara wasn't feeling the onslaught of a decade of heat having been suppressed by medication all slamming into her at once and she found herself making a mental note of it. Nobody said this had to be a first and a last, after all.

Her fingernails raked down his back leaving an irritated trail of red in their wake before she curled her fingers around the bottom hem of his shirt, drawing it upward to give him the hint that she wanted it out of her way.

Kissing Stiles was actually a lot nicer than she expected it to be, if only because he always reminded her so much of an eager puppy that she was half-expecting the sloppiness that would suggest to go with it, but he wasn't. He was taking his time...he was tasting her, she realized, and she followed suit.