"Moan."
Send me “Moan” and I’ll generate a number.
Twenty-four: My muse fawns over your muse's neck.
 He doesn’t know why he’s so entranced by the sound, he really can’t put his finger on it but got he can’t help the heat that surges straight to his loins every time the feline lets the warmth of his purr rattle in his throat. It draws the Alpha instantly, like a moth to a flame, and he fears that teen had realized how easily it is to get his attention with the sound. Derek was just in the back room, hunched over shuffling clothes into the dryer when he heard it, that familiar resonance and what was left in the washer was forgotten as he strode out with purpose. Derek really shouldn’t have been so surprised to see that pleased grin on Stiles’ face, curled up on the couch and patting the seat next to him.
If he wasn’t so entranced by the sound perhaps he would have gone back to his work, but he can’t deny it and he easily flops into the cushions and drags the teen up into his lap. A hand reached gently for the edge of Stiles’ throat and touched, felt the vibration and he smiled, felt the heat surge back to his groin and he just wanted to keep touching. So he did.
The Alpha lowered his mouth and tasted the sound with his tongue and a gentle scrape of his teeth. He had no qualms about leaving a line of little marks against the pulse, welcomed it even as he noticed with each suckle he adorned Stiles’ throat with only seemed to make the purr go a little deeper, a little louder. He could spend hours just kissing that neck— actually, he planned on doing just that.
He rolled and pressed Stiles’ body to the line of his own and let his fingers dance idle patterns at his back as lips continued to taste the freckled flesh, letting the sound of his purr bleed into his own skin.