"Oh, I'm that predictable, huh?" Derek asks, smirking a little and looking over at Barry. The line of his throat predictably draws Derek's eye, because he is, in fact, that predictable. The deep bite that Derek gave Barry that full moon, the claiming bite, has long since healed but Derek swears that he can still see it. It's most likely his imagination, but he thinks that he sees the faintest silvery mark there and it makes him absurdly happy.

"Just because I've barely seen you in days doesn't mean that I'm going to jump you the moment we're alone," Derek teases, sneaking his warm fingers up under the hem of Barry's layered shirts to press them against his hip. "Maybe I have a rousing night of board games planned. A little mental stimulation."