Kings of the Moonlight

Heart of Me

You know I need you I can't take it any longer. I'm without you but it's clear that you belong here.

-

Derek feels the precise moment that Stiles begins to wake up.

He's curled up in front of him, facing away from Derek on top of the covers, limbs akimbo.

Derek finds equanimity in runing his knuckles over the delicate knobs of Stiles' spine; up and down, in slow, tumbling movements, guiding Stiles into consciousness with the grounding presence of his touch.

When Stiles awakens fully, he tenses for a second before he stretches, reaching his arms high above his head and pointing his toes, a soft groan escaping his lips.

Derek curls a hand over his waist as Stiles turns and falls on his back to look up at where Derek's face hovers above his, and he smiles, sleepy and mischievous.

"Were you watching me sleep?" Stiles asks, lifting an eyebrow.

"I've only been awake for a little bit," Derek grouches, not entirely denying it as he frowns, but there's a smile tugging at his lips.

"Aha, so you were watching me!" Stiles grins drowsily as Derek tucks his head to fit beneath Stiles' jaw, placing a brief kiss there.

"I knew it!" Stiles is saying and he sighs, "My very own creeper."

Derek huffs a laugh against his collarbones and pulls him closer as Stiles begins to drag his fingers through his hair in a slow, even rhythm. They stay like that, locked in comfort, or a long time before Stiles breaks the silence.

"Don't tell me we slept through the whole day," he murmurs. "Is it too late to start round two?"

Derek lifts his head to peer at Stiles face, he sees the hopeful look on his face and his eyes drift to settle on Stiles' lips.

"It's never too late for you," Derek says. They'd only fallen asleep for an hour or thereabouts, so as far as Derek is concerned, they have all the time in the world.

Stiles surges up and flips them over, clambering over Derek to straddle his thighs and ghost his lips over his mouth.

"You're such a sap," he mumbles but he's smiling and nudging at Derek's nose to tilt his head back.

Stiles' mouth is warm and wet over his, and he braces his forearms on either side of Derek's head, shifting a little to fit himself better against Derek as he slips his tongue into his mouth and hums, deep in his chest.

He bows the curve of his back as he begins to move, shuddering as he rocks in short, undulating waves and sighs into the heat of Derek's mouth, situating himself against Derek's crotch again and again.

Stiles smells like Derek's shower gel, like mint and the fresh scent of water, and his skin is so smooth against Derek, sleep soft and warm to the touch.

Derek rolls his hips up once, and he does it again and just once more, because he can't quite resist the chance to hear the hitch of breath at the base of Stiles' throat. He skirts his hands down Stiles' sides to rest at his ass, kneading the muscle there before he pulls the cheeks apart with his fingers.

Stiles jumps against Derek, choking against a moan as the cool air curls over the sensitivity of his exposed hole before he begins to grind down against him.

Derek becomes fully hard somewhere around Stiles' fifteenth biting kiss; Stiles puts expert care into his kissing of Derek: gentle nips at Derek's top lip, heady sucking of his tongue, small, hot licks at the crevice corner of Derek's mouth, teeth running along his bottom lip ... and all of a sudden Derek is hissing stuttered breaths with each drag of Stiles' cock against his.