pstuff
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Relief washes over Derek like a calming wave. “Oh, baby," he sighs, brushing his knuckles down the side of the boy’s face, smiling faintly—a smile reserved only for Stiles. "I couldn’t give you up now, even if I tried." He cups his mate's chin, a possessive grip, urging him to look upward. "You're mine, Stiles, and you will be for as long as you want to be."