[ His eyes widen and he gives him a slackjawed stare for a second, because Derek losing his shirt and basically saying "Oh yeah, Stiles, I totally wanna sex you 24/7" (except in Derek speak and not Stiles speak) is a lot to handle all at once.
It does make him grin though, eyes darkening just a little, and the flush at his ear sreturns. ] Challenge accepted.
[ But then he adds: ] And then some. Can't even resist my drool.
[ It's teasing, light, poking at what he says like he always does. Derek's put upon sigh makes a twinge of affection come into his gaze and he tugs the whole thing off and sets it aside somewhere in hopes that it doesn't fall off completely. He's never going to get over his affection, five years later even, how handsy he is when it's just the two of them; it's something Stiles loves about Derek, loves the way he smiles when he thinks Stiles doesn't see him, the way he chases him down and kisses the breath from his lips when they've been wrestling. The way Derek curls around whatever he's sleeping with, the cat included, that he grumbles and rumbles instead of speaking. If Derek'll never stop, then neither will Stiles, never stop cracking dirty jokes about him walking around shirtless, never stop kissing him when he's not expecting it, never ever stop telling him something affectionate to watch a flush dust his high cheekbones.
He does at least expedite the process by starting to strip out of his t-shirt, slipping backwards a little and arching to get it off. ]
[ There's absolutely no shame or guilt in Derek's expression, just sly amusement and something darker, predatory underneath it all. But never a threat to Stiles, not once-- even when he'd lost his mind, fully shifted and pushing on feral-- because this is his anchor. And yeah, maybe Stiles has been permanently stuck as a teenager, but he's not the only one with hormones and a deep attraction to a significant other.
Derek is just better at being subtle about it. ]
Ah, yes. How could I forget the allure of your drool all over my arm.
[ Shifting to sit up as Stiles reaches to take his shirt off, motion all abdominal, he reaches his hands up before he can completely tug it off. His fingers curl in it, wrapping it around his wrists for a moment as he leans in, kisses the dip of his collarbone. But it's only a kiss for a moment, before he swipes a warm strip into it with his tongue, followed shortly by his teeth. Always blunt, always human, because the idea of Stiles as anything else makes him sick-- as he's made known, through every interaction that's been forced out of him with his mirror-- but he's more than happy to leave marks amongst his constellations.
They're on a roof in Wonderland, stripping down to warm skin under the pre-dawn sky, and he couldn't be happier with it. Wonderland has given and put them through hell, but not always. If he can just sit and watch Stiles write in his notebooks, left in a stack on his desk and slowly growing over weeks and months. If he can just wake up to a bundle of limbs tangled with his, face tucked into his chest. If he has one more day of Stiles smiling bright at him, eyes alight and cheeks flushed, it's all worth it. ]
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it will only be completely gone when i can type big girl words and not look away
It does make him grin though, eyes darkening just a little, and the flush at his ear sreturns. ] Challenge accepted.
[ But then he adds: ] And then some. Can't even resist my drool.
[ It's teasing, light, poking at what he says like he always does. Derek's put upon sigh makes a twinge of affection come into his gaze and he tugs the whole thing off and sets it aside somewhere in hopes that it doesn't fall off completely. He's never going to get over his affection, five years later even, how handsy he is when it's just the two of them; it's something Stiles loves about Derek, loves the way he smiles when he thinks Stiles doesn't see him, the way he chases him down and kisses the breath from his lips when they've been wrestling. The way Derek curls around whatever he's sleeping with, the cat included, that he grumbles and rumbles instead of speaking. If Derek'll never stop, then neither will Stiles, never stop cracking dirty jokes about him walking around shirtless, never stop kissing him when he's not expecting it, never ever stop telling him something affectionate to watch a flush dust his high cheekbones.
He does at least expedite the process by starting to strip out of his t-shirt, slipping backwards a little and arching to get it off. ]
Someday.
Derek is just better at being subtle about it. ]
Ah, yes. How could I forget the allure of your drool all over my arm.
[ Shifting to sit up as Stiles reaches to take his shirt off, motion all abdominal, he reaches his hands up before he can completely tug it off. His fingers curl in it, wrapping it around his wrists for a moment as he leans in, kisses the dip of his collarbone. But it's only a kiss for a moment, before he swipes a warm strip into it with his tongue, followed shortly by his teeth. Always blunt, always human, because the idea of Stiles as anything else makes him sick-- as he's made known, through every interaction that's been forced out of him with his mirror-- but he's more than happy to leave marks amongst his constellations.
They're on a roof in Wonderland, stripping down to warm skin under the pre-dawn sky, and he couldn't be happier with it. Wonderland has given and put them through hell, but not always. If he can just sit and watch Stiles write in his notebooks, left in a stack on his desk and slowly growing over weeks and months. If he can just wake up to a bundle of limbs tangled with his, face tucked into his chest. If he has one more day of Stiles smiling bright at him, eyes alight and cheeks flushed, it's all worth it. ]