He can make this a good place, he thinks, if Derek lets him. He can give the man something good, something worth while. And he wants to, he realizes, god does he want to.

"I was, wasn't I?" He teases, grinning softly. He arches into the touch, groaning and can't help but look over Derek's shoulder to the bed on the other side of the room. Pulling away, Stiles grins as he ducks between Derek and the door and moves into the open area of the first level.

Then he turns and begins walking backward. Toward the bed. Stiles tugs his shirt off and drops it to the floor. Then toes off one shoe, then the other. Then his socks, leaving a trail of clothes for Derek to follow.