A humanized howl escapes Erica's lips the moment he enters, head tipping backwards to complete the wolf look. Her nails bite into the skin on his sides and she has to fight herself from making the claws come out, with how fast her heart's beating. Her mind runs through a lot of different things - 'my cherry's been popped' and 'I hope no one heard that howl' - but mainly it's just one thing.

Stiles, Stiles, Stiles.

"Ah, Stiles!" she cries out, thinking vaguely about how much better this was than his tongue (not that she minded that, of course!), about how this was so much better than anything she's ever experienced before. About how they just lost their virginities to each other, and how that's kind of romantic. It doesn't hurt at all. It feels wonderful, and, after a moment of catching her breath, she decides she still wants more.

Taking the lead, her hips roll along his in tiny circles, ankles locked tightly around his back. She telling him to get a move on and do this for real.