[His arms wind around her, pulling her in for a hug. Something close and tight and where he can bury his hands and face in her hair and just breathe her in. She smells like girl, like everything feminine bundled up into one sassy little package and it's Christmas morning.

He drops one kiss into her hair, another near her ear, then another closer to her jaw as he moves closer to her lips.]

A lot of things. All of them about you. But... the big one is if I want to keep letting you torment me like this with the potential to, um, arrive a little early, or if I should maybe think about convincing you to get into a more... playable position.

Top. Bottom. Side. I don't care. That's up to you.

[Stiles was just happy to be on the field -- so to speak.]