Horribly offensive. [ Derek watches his bag go flying, but doesn't resist as he's pulled forward into a kiss. Instead, he reaches his hands out to wrap his fingers around his hips, giving him a kiss that mingles with the way he's been speaking French since they landed in France. Easy and languid, but deep, passionate.
He can't help but bristle a little at the feel of teeth, though, and just laughs something small and breathy as he starts to dust him off. ] J'aime le Français.
[ Straightening himself out a little more as Stiles ducks out, he examines the hotel room before patting himself down to make sure he has everything on him. Phone, wallet-- and thus, hotel key-- and extra money. When he's sure of it, he turns and makes his way out, ducking into Stiles' space to simply be there, nose butting up against the hinge of his jaw as he wraps his arms around his middle and presses his chest to his back. ]
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He can't help but bristle a little at the feel of teeth, though, and just laughs something small and breathy as he starts to dust him off. ] J'aime le Français.
[ Straightening himself out a little more as Stiles ducks out, he examines the hotel room before patting himself down to make sure he has everything on him. Phone, wallet-- and thus, hotel key-- and extra money. When he's sure of it, he turns and makes his way out, ducking into Stiles' space to simply be there, nose butting up against the hinge of his jaw as he wraps his arms around his middle and presses his chest to his back. ]