Send me a ✢ for my muse’s reaction to seeing yours standing on their doorstep soaking wet in the rain.

         It was late, not so late as that the Alpha felt compelled to turn in, but it was just late enough for him to crawl into his pajamas and lounge out on the sofa. Scratching idly at his bare chest he flipped aimlessly through the channels, his attention shifting away from the latest cooking channel competition to listen to the roar of thunder in the distance. The bulbous clouds weren't going to pass Beacon Hills, they never tended to get that lucky, but from what it looked like they could at least evade the thunder and lighting. He considered texting Stiles, to make sure the teen was aware of the rain. He'd warned him the day before when he'd mentioned going to a party a few blocks from the loft, the only reason Derek had opted out was because of the threat of the rain washing it out. Of course he'd turned out to be right, and he figured he might have to remind Stiles to stay up to date with the weather channel a little more often so he avoided this kind of mess. Deciding it'd probably be best to make sure that Stiles at least had a ride home, or better yet, back to the loft he plucked up his pone. HIs thumb was just hovering over the send button when he'd heard the grinding of the lift. There was only one person who had a key to get in here.

         Standing up he padded softly toward the door, grinning when he saw Stiles standing in the center, totally drenched and looking no better than a half drowned cat. "I told you it was going to rain," Stepping up he pushed his fingers through the boy's hair, laughing at the way it beaded off and trickled over his fingers. He moved to help the teen up and out of his shirt, still waiting for that snarky comment. When the shirt was pulled off and tossed away Derek made a squawking sound when suddenly he was being pressed back against the wall, the water of the rain dampening his pants from where Stiles' body lined against his. He could taste the lingering bite of alcohol on the edge of the boy's tongue when it pressed into the slick heat of his mouth. Immediately he was gripping at the other's hips and dragging him closer, the cool water be damned from detering him.