"Stiles."

He played with my name as he said it, warmed it with his tongue, tasting the constants as they left his mouth. It rolled in his mouth like fine wine or strawberries dipped in cream. The S's were hissed, dark and full of promise like the edge of your orgasm right before it tips you into full bodied bliss.

For a man that uses few words he truly has the ability to make the most of the ones he decided to utilize. I leaned into his strength, forehead against chest, inhaled to scent of his musk and replied, "Derek."

AN: Sorry just a drabble. I actually was working on another story and wrote the line about tasting his name and wanted to stretch it out a bit. I liked it.

Little self promotion here...I have a story up called Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse... could you give it a try and let me know what you think? THANKS!