Stiles can't look away even if he tried, unable to pull his gaze away from Derek's, the way the alpha watches him, takes in every breath and whimper and moan, the way he draws it out of him.

"Derek," Stiles groans, and finally he can't help it any longer as he drops a hand to nestle into Derek's hair, fingers scrubbing over his scalp and through the soft strands of his hair. He tries to push up into Derek's mouth, seeking more friction and pleasure.