Spencer wakes slowly with his face sandwiched between two pillows, the familiar scent and feel of them almost unbearably comfortable in contrast to the steady, oppressive beat of his pulse pounding in his head. His entire body throbs with the dull ache of it and Spencer makes a small, displeased noise that's only slightly muffled by the pillows. Even with his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his soft, squishy shield in place he can make out the strong, mid-morning sunlight streaming through his window and creeping between the cracks of his once blissfully dark, still pillow cave. Minutes or maybe hours pass before the mattress dips beside him and a tender hand soothingly strokes down the back of his neck, so vulnerable and exposed without even a collar to protect it. Coming from anyone else, the touch would be intrusive, unwelcome, but the feel and weight of the hand is familiar even in his half conscious state and Spencer exhales on a small sigh.

The hand slides down lower, taking the comforter and sheet with it, and Spencer shivers when the chill air hits his sleep flushed skin. He reaches out blindly, his arm almost too heavy to lift, and a hand catches his. Their fingers intertwine, slow and clumsy and loose, and there's a damp puff of air across his knuckles before lips touch them, oh so softly that Spencer shivers again and the goosebumps that spring up on his arms and back are suddenly from more than just the air conditioning. The mattress dips further and a long, hard thigh presses tight against his side. The hand on his back is rubbing small, excruciatingly exquisite circles into the worst of his knots and aches and white bursts of pleasure flare behind his eyelids. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead of words all that escapes is a low, unintelligible groan.

There's a chuckle from somewhere above him, then movement and a carefully restrained weight hovering above him and feather light lips at the gentle curve of the small of his back. The ticklish scratch of facial hair makes him squirm, but his lover's lips are unrelenting, trailing up the long line of his spine until he reaches the base of his neck, where he nuzzles briefly before changing direction to kiss around to Spencer's ear. His head partially dislodges Spencer's top pillow and he squints in the sudden golden brightness for a moment. Then his earlobe is drawn between those amazing, talented lips and his eyes flutter close again at the slow, warm spread of pleasure in his belly from that hot, wet suction.

Spencer squeezes the hand still held in his own and the lips reluctantly retreat. His body is still too sore, too heavy, but he pushes himself up enough so that he can flip over and blink blearily up at Derek, who smiles softly and buries the fingers of his free hand in the tangled mess of Spencer's hair.

"Morning, sunshine," Derek says quietly. "I made you coffee whenever you're ready for it."

Spencer relaxes back against the pillows and reaches up to tug Derek down far enough to lightly kiss him. Derek's fingers tighten in his hair, massaging his scalp, and Spencer sighs into the kiss before pulling back with a small, sleepy smile. He shifts over a little, pulling on Derek's arm as he does, and after only a little coaxing Derek slips down beside him, still fully clothed. Spencer lets gravity help roll him onto his side and curls his body around Derek, who slides one arm under his neck and the other around his waist. Spencer snuggles up closer against him, his eyelids drooping, and presses his face into the crook of Derek's neck, inhales deeply, exhales slowly.

"Coffee later. This now," he mumbles into Derek's skin before sinking back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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