Stiles let Derek do as he wanted knowing he was probably somewhere else right now in his mind, touching someone that he could stand to be around. Stiles continued to hold the werewolf, trying not to think about how nice it was to hold onto Derek, to feel his naked chest against his own, or how he wanted to lick the water droplets that kept running down Derek's neck from the werewolf's skin.
Stiles had to keep reminding himself that Derek was his master and the reason he was in this hell.
"You smell better already, Derek. Want me to wash your hair while we are here?" Stiles tried to keep it professional but it was becoming hard.