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Summary
The nymph was the best prey Derek had ever had — evading him at every turn, yet teasing within reach. Here, in the middle of the lake, between crumbling ruins of the naiad’s temple, with Stiles pressed against him, Derek could taste the life again. He was as close to peace as it got. If only he could satisfy the heat in his lower parts, to turn his head and seal his lips against Stiles’ smile, to sink into him and make love, long and sweet, all night ‘till morning… If he could wake each day to Stiles lying next to him, maybe, then his soul would settle.
But now, even while breathing the same air, Derek did not have him at all.
Still, he kept coming. Fixing things, bringing things, pulling Stiles close until he stopped resisting. All creatures yearned for warmth, and Stiles, with his transparent clothes clinging to his slender, wet body was not an exception.