One of Derek's hands splays out under his t-shirt, across the small of Stiles' back, pulling him closer. He presses his lips to Stiles' neck, then replaces them with the gentle nip of teeth. He bites and sucks there until he's satisfied with the mark he's left.

"Shirt?" he asks, eyes hooded, lips damp, catching the hem of Stiles' shirt and tugging.