“Stiles.” Scott’s voice is soft, but Stiles hears the warning in it and abruptly realizes what he’s been doing. He stills his tongue and the high-pitched tink of the bit in his mouth clacking against his teeth ceases to fill the room with its noise. His master doesn’t say a word, but Stiles can feel the weight of his disapproval as Scott silently returns to brushing Kira’s hair, long, slow, smooth strokes as she sits perfectly still before him.
I love jewelled verse so much you peeps
Cyberrat Writes 