"Good," Derek manages in return, the words tinged with just a touch of a growl. A hint of something possessive, the wolf that doesn't want Stiles to escape, to leave. His body is heavy with his orgasm and because it's maybe the first night where he hasn't had to worry about something. The first night where things feel impossibly, traitorously, as if they're okay. As if he can steal this moment without the world collapsing around them with monsters and things that seem to always, always be his fault.

He lets himself drift off easily with their bodies twined together. Derek nibbles lightly the teen's shoulder, not enough to break skin, but just enough to leave an imprint, something that will linger, satisfy a desire he's not looking at to mark him. His. His hand curling against Stiles' arm, keeping it curled against him as his own arm sleepily drapes across the teen. He wants him, here, with him.