Lying in wakeful sleep, Derek could take in his surroundings. Without opening his eyes, he could sense Stiles near him in bed. The rise and fall of his chest, his scent on the sheets, the sound of a light snore as he breathed next to him. They weren’t touching, had shifted in the night, but Derek knew Stiles to be as naked as he.
Derek reached a hand towards Stiles’ sleeping form as he rearranged himself onto his side, facing Stiles’ sleeping form. His arm slipped around Stiles’ back, his hand on Stiles’ lower back, near his ass. If he wanted to, he could grab hold of him, wake him up with a firm kiss, but he wanted Stiles to sleep. Stiles shifted in his sleep, molding himself against Derek so that his face was buried against Derek’s shoulder, his lips open against his skin. Derek’s eyes fluttered open as his hand smoothed across Stiles’ back.
He liked quiet mornings where there was just Stiles, everything about him consuming Derek’s senses. If every morning started as this, Derek would consider himself lucky. Nights tangled between the sheets that lead to him waking with Stiles in his bed was his heaven, and he wasn’t ready for it to be over just yet.
He laid there, watching Stiles breathe in and out, his fingers drawing invisibly over Stiles’ back until finally Stiles stirred, his body flexing and stretching, his toes brushing against Derek’s.
"Mornin’," Stiles murmured, his eyes still closed but his mouth curved upwards in a smile.
"Hi," Derek responded, his lips grazing Stiles’ forehead to which Stiles hummed against. Derek didn’t want to get out of bed, because out of bed was the real world where there were problems, monsters and day to day life that he’d rather not face when he had Stiles in his bed. Stiles seemed just as opposed as he was, because he hooked a leg around Derek’s, bringing them closer together.
"It’s early, still," Stiles said, his eyes finally opening to reveal mischief along with a smirk. "We don’t need to get up." Derek knew that it wasn’t, in fact, early, and that Stiles had no idea what time it was, but he didn’t care. He wanted to remain here, with him, and that was all that mattered.
"So we’ll stay," Derek said as his lips found Stiles’, his hips rocking, finding the friction he sought. Stiles moaned against his open mouth, his hand reaching between Derek’s legs, fingers wrapping around his morning erection. Derek grunted as he nipped at Stiles’ lower lip. He wondered, briefly, if Stiles would be too sore for him, but as Stiles broke the kiss in order to reach for the lube, he supposed not. Stiles straddled Derek as he jacked him slowly, spreading lube as he did so.
"Who needs to research, anyways," Stiles said, kissing Derek as he grinned. Derek placed his hands on Stiles’ thighs, sliding up and down them as Stiles sunk himself down onto Derek, throwing his head back as he began fucking himself on Derek, controlling the pace. It was unhurried, soothing as Stiles pressed his palms against Derek’s chest. "I’d rather be here with you."
"Fuck," Derek said, letting Stiles’ scent wash over him, his pure longing and the ache that would be once they were out of bed. Derek fucked upwards, holding fast to Stiles’ hips as he quickened the pace, filling the loft with the sound of skin slapping against skin along with an endless stream of noises coming from Stiles as Derek took hold over the pace and movement. Stiles’ fingers curled inwards against Derek’s sides, his hands rushing to Derek’s shoulders in order to hold on. Stiles cried out as he came, untouched, over Derek’s chest, effectively marking him, making Derek moan. He filled Stiles, continuing to fuck him until he had to pull out.
Stiles laid down on top of him, his lips brushing across Derek’s lips chastely, then trailed across his stubble towards his neck as Derek spread Stiles’ cheeks wide, his fingers pressing inwards to feel his come inside him. Stiles pushed back against Derek’s fingers, rutting back so that Derek would fuck him with his fingers. Derek’s mouth found Stiles’ once more, smiling against his lips.
"You’re mine," Derek said with heavy lidded eyes. Stiles lifted an eyebrow, his fingers smearing his own come across Derek’s chest, sticky and pungent.
"And you’re mine," he said with a smirk. He was right.