Stiles's fingers trailed lazily up Scott's thigh under the table, her pinky hooking into his belt loop as she leaned in to whisper something that made him chuckle into his wine. Across the table, Lydia gagged into her napkin. "Mom, seriously? Nobody wants to see—"
"See what, baby?" Stiles purred, deliberately arching her back so her silk blouse gaped open—just enough to reveal the black lace bra Derek had torn earlier. Scott's gaze dropped instantly, his fork clattering against his plate. "Your father loves when I'm happy." Her foot slid up Scott's calf, her stiletto grazing his inner thigh. "Don't you, jagiya?"




















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