Derek snorted lightly at her observation, shifting to slip his leg between her own as he scooted closer, his hands settling on her lower back. He wasn't sure if she'd implied that she'd be with him in the future on purpose. She, like Stiles, had a habit of talking when they were feeling nervous, but that talking didn't necessarily mean anything. He wasn't about to spend money on a bed for a slave who was going to leave him next week.
"Yeah, I was...unprepared, logistically, for having three slaves. These rooms were empty for years," he explained. "And then it was only Isaac, and if I wanted to sleep with him, I called him into my bed." And now Isaac shared his bed, so.
He paused a beat, studied her. "Does that...I was worried that it might show favoritism, but Isaac sleeps better in my bed. Does it bother you, at all, that he's moved into my room?" It had taken all of ten minutes to move Isaac's clothes to his half of the dresser, so it was hard to argue with the convenience.