Stiles hummed absentmindedly as he jogged up the stairs to Derek's loft. It'd been a few days since he'd last had any time to spend with Derek, every other time they'd been around each other lately there'd been other people around and last time Derek had worn those jeans. The bastard, he knew what those fucking jeans did to Stiles.

Stiles had just started pulling out his keys when he heard it. Faintly through the door, Derek singing. His face split into a wide grin and he slowly unlocked the door.

"-aithful handyman. He's just a little brought down because, when you knocked, he thought you were the candyman."

Stiles stuffed a fist into his mouth to stop any noises because no, he has not walked in on Derek singing 'Sweet Transvestite'. He hasn't.

"Don't get strung out, by the way I look! Don't judge a book by it's cover~."

Stiles carefully closed the door and edged further into the loft.

"I'm not much of a man by the light of day, but by night I'm one hell of a lover~!"

Derek's in the kitchen, singing and dancing. Wearing a pair of sleep pants hanging sinfully low and his hair soft and without product. Swinging his hips side to side and lifting up a soapy scrubbing brush as he belted out the lyrics. And Stiles just watched, dick really really ok with watching Derek's ass sway and the rest of him dribbling to goo because Derek was such. A dork. And damn it all it was adorable.

Stiles waited until Derek started to sing, "So why don't you stay for the night?" to come up behind him and wrap his arms around his waist, echoing, "Night." whisper soft against his ear. Then nudging him gently to continue when Derek froze.

"Or maybe a bite?"

"Bite." Stiles breathed nipping at the hinge of Derek's jaw. Derek let his head fall back and he moaned. Gasping out, "I could show you my favourite," he ground his ass back against Stiles' cock and groaned into his mouth, "obsession."

"I've been making a man," Derek sings gently still rolling his hips maddeningly against Stiles' groin, "with dark hair and no tan. And he's good for relieving my tension."

"Jesus fuck." Stiles breathes, one hand on Derek's hip and the other cupping his face and turning him further in Stiles' arms so he can seal their mouths together. They're both panting when they part, "Y'know I'm not sure those are the words."

Derek nips at Stiles' mouth, "Yeah," he agrees, "but I don't want a blond man with a tan, so…"

Stiles groans, "You're not even a dork." He says into the skin on Derek's shoulder, "You're an adorable, sappy dork."

Derek laughs softly and they stand together for a minute then Stiles says, "I didn't know you liked Rocky Horror."

Derek nods and Stiles gets distracted by his hair, soft and fluffy, rubbing against his face. "Me and Laura went and saw a live performance of it when we were in New York. It was a little place and everyone dressed up."

Then Derek says, "Do you wanna know who I went as?" with a voice as wicked as sin and twice as tempting.

"Who?" Stiles croaks out, his throat suddenly dry.

"Frank-N-Furter." And then Derek's slipping out of his arms and strolling away, rolling his hips again. "I think I still have the corset here. If you'd like to see?"

And Stiles nearly brains himself on the cupboard because yes, hell yes, he does want to see. And touch. And taste. And quite possibly immortalise forever.

And if Stiles is singing "touch-a, touch-a touch me" as he follows Derek well, who's gonna know?