Derek managed to pull out, pull back from Stiles, though his head was still pounding, the blood rushing, and he planted his hand on the table, near the human's hip, to steady himself.
"You'll come when I let you," he repeated, as much to himself as to Stiles. He wished, not for the first time, that he had a plug, that he could force the boy to carry his come while he was denied orgasm, but he hadn't foreseen this. He licked his lips and tucked himself back inside his jeans, wincing a little. "But not right now. Right now, you're going to finish your chores down here. Naked. With my come dripping from your slutty hole like a whore. And every drop that spills on the floor, you'll lick up."