He follows him like he's unwilling to let Stiles get too far away, although he pauses to enjoy the sight of it as Stiles takes off his jeans. The pop of the button and the click of his zipper, and then his green eyes follow the fabric as it slides down his hips and thighs, falling around his ankles. He can scent his arousal and it makes his eyes close for a moment, just breathing it in. With the clothes stripped away, he's intoxicating. Not just the scent, but the lines of his body, the muscle he's put on in the past year.

Derek smiles, thumbing open the buttons of his denims, shoving them down off his hips, kicking them down to his ankles so he can join Stiles on the bed. He's in just a pair of black boxerbriefs, and Stiles isn't the only one with an erection. He leans in, brushing a hand against the teen's chest with a tilt of his head as he watches him. He doesn't think he wants to let him go until at least morning.

Somehow, there's this good feeling, warmth and being close to him and he wants to hold onto that.