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    Summary

    Stiles tries not to whimper as Derek gets closer. Stiles had forgotten just how intense space invader Derek could be.

    If Derek was boner inducing when Stiles knew him before, equal parts terrifying and sexy, back at the age of twenty four, well... it’s not a patch on what thirty year old Derek’s got going for him.

    Derek’s still got a stupid leather jacket and his black hair is slightly longer than Stiles remembers. The stubble is longer too, not quite a beard but still neatly shaped in a way that makes his cheekbones stand out.

    And the eyes, shit, the eyes. He’s staring at Stiles with this stormy mix of grey, blue and about a thousand other colours thrown in and Stiles couldn’t break eye contact if he wanted to.

    Derek fucking Hale, ladies and gentlemen.

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