Derek examined the aftermath, the result of his handiwork, and dragged fingers through the wetness on the boy's face. He'd never really seen the point in marking a slave this way before, but now...now he wanted Stiles to be coated in his scent.
"You ready to come for me, Stiles?" he asked, his voice rough, but sated; pleased. He moved his come-wet hand down to wrap around the boy's arousal, slide his fingers along its length.