Sunlight has absolutely nothing on the way moonbeams light up Stiles’ skin. Derek revels in it.
He wakes, as he usually does on nights this close to the full moon, to the soft and subtle song of the heavenly body that runs his life. It’s faint, barely there. He knows his pack won’t pick up on it for another day or so. Derek actually lets himself grin a little at getting to enjoy something that, at least around here, is his and his alone.
Stiles starts to move in his arms. He isn’t worried he’s waking - in the five years they’ve shared this bed, Derek is fairly certain the longest his boyfriend has been still in it was about 45 minutes.
And that was when he was pretty sure the man had been dying.
Now though, now he is just shifting positions, finding something more comfortable, sighing with a smile when he settles onto his stomach. He’s clutching at his and Derek’s pillows. The blankets are settled low around his hips, moonbeams casting soft shadows across Stile’s back. The light makes his skin seem paler than it really is, and the dark freckles that are splattered all over his back stand out even more.
Derek shifts as well, propping himself on his elbow so he can see more clearly.
Slowly, he presses the soft pad of his finger against the darkest spot, letting his touch trail down to the next. Once, he had tried to actually count them, but had gotten so lost in trying to memorize each spot, each subtle curve of back muscle, that he had forgotten just after a dozen. There’s no reason to count now, all that matters is the touch. Skin and muscles twitch under Derek’s fingers while he traces odd shapes around his back. He can’t stop himself - and if even Stiles ever found out he did this on a regular basis he would deny it vehemently - but he starts pressing his lips against each freckle.
He’s emotionally stunted, he knows that. He doesn’t share his feelings much, if at all, and Stiles doesn’t care. More than that, he understands and doesn’t ever push.
When its really, really important, he says what he needs to. But mostly, Derek just lets Stiles do the talking - the man does more than enough for the entire pack, let alone just the two of them. So Derek just does this, touching and caressing his skin deep into the night, where no one but the moon, not even Stiles, can see him smile.
His skin is soft and cool under Derek’s lips, and he’s pressing kisses to the top of his spine, just at the bend of his neck before he realizes Stiles is quietly moaning into his pillow. Derek freezes for only a moment before rolling back onto his back as if nothing happened.
“Don’t stop.” Derek shrugs with a frown on his face. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about’ in the roll of his eyes.
Stiles just briefly scowls before pulling himself over to Derek, pressing sleepy kisses into the side of his neck and just behind his ear. He can’t help but let a small moan of his own escape his lips at each point of contact.
“I wish you would do that when I was awake, so I could thoroughly enjoy it.” He pointedly nods his head back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Derek expectantly.
There isn’t anything he can do to refuse. Barely hiding his grin, he grabs Stiles and turns them both just enough that he can resume his exploration of contrasting flesh. His trail leads him back to Stiles’ cheek, where he nudges his face until he can press their lips together, lazily swirling his tongue around and between his lips.
Stiles pulls sideways to nip at Derek’s jaw and bury his face below his chin. “I love you.” His groggy, sleep filled voice is rough, muffled into Derek’s neck.
“I know.” are the only words Derek can let escape into the night.
Stiles picks his head up a little further, the smug look on his face one Derek has grown far too fond of, “You love me too.”
Bathed in the moonlight, Derek just kisses him as passionately as he can in answer.