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Take Me, Don't Leave Me

Title: Take Me, Don't Leave Me
Author: burntotears
Pairing: Isaac/Stiles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7,103
Spoilers: Season 2
Disclaimer: © MTV
A/N Prompt from sebarstian: Isaac and Stiles first times saying I love you is during an argument. Estab. Relationship ficlet!

There were quite a lot of things that Stiles liked about Isaac, which was helpful when it had been decided that Isaac’s face served better purpose as a thing to be made out with rather than just talked to incessantly about comic books and anime. That was, in fact, one of the many things that Stiles liked about Isaac - he enjoyed a lot of the things that Stiles had always loved that Scott couldn’t be bothered to understand, much less feign interest in. Isaac was both apprehensively quiet as well as werewolf cocky all rolled into one beautiful, porcelain-skinned, curly-haired, blue-eyed, long-fingered, gangly-legged, sex god - it was something that made Stiles both excited and uneasy every time they were together. Maybe that made him slightly cracked in the head, but ‘spice of life’ and all of that. Nothing kept him on his toes like Isaac Lahey.

Despite all of the things that were unbelievably amazing about Isaac - and how great they got along most of the time - just like in any other relationship, they still argued sometimes. While it was generally about things that were a bit ridiculous, neither of them were very good about giving in easily. Teenage boys just weren’t the type to say ‘hey man, I think I was wrong about so-and-so, will you forgive me?’ so most of the time they ended up hollering at each other for ages and then fuming in their separate spaces for a few days until they realized that they could be making out instead of wasting their time apart. So someone would finally cave and admit he was wrong just so that the shirts could come off and the fun could begin. It might have been superficial and probably never solved anything in the long run, but they were teenage boys.

Unfortunately, right now was one of those times when neither one could give in without feeling like it would make him look like the soft one in the relationship who was always pandering toward the other. Sadder still was the fact that this was part of what they were arguing about, though where the argument began wasn’t really clear to Stiles. They were pretty great at making circular arguments look more like unsolvable mazes, so he never tried to let his brain keep up.

“Oh but you know every damned thing! And you expect that I’m just going to bend to whatever the hell you say because Stiles is always right!” Isaac threw his hands in the air, glaring at Stiles with obvious disdain as he vented his frustration.

“That is complete bullshit, Isaac. I do not always think that I'm right," Stiles frowned at him, still trying to remain calm.

"You keep harping on me to 'talk about it.' I'm pretty sure you think you're right about that or you wouldn't still be beating that dead horse!" he had no need to yell, but Stiles always let him anyway. After a while he would yell himself amicable, so it was better to let it stay the course.

"You would benefit from talking about it-" Stiles began but he knew better than to expect that he would get anywhere.

"I don't want to fucking talk about it! It's been eight months, Stiles, and if I didn't want to talk about it in that time, there's nothing that will make me interested in delving into it now!"

Eight months... had it really been that long already? It seemed like just yesterday that Isaac was bitten and his father was killed, yet here they were - junior year, fighting off an Alpha pack and dealing with Jackson being a royal dick now that he was a proper werewolf. He and Isaac had found one another a month or so after his father’s death and while things hadn’t been easy, it was worth the work required.

Sometimes it was hard to remember that, like when Isaac was telling him that he shouldn’t be sticking his nose into his personal business - as though their business wasn’t intertwined at this point. It cut him deep, but Stiles wanted to keep that from showing for Isaac’s sake, because he knew that it was just as hard for him as it was for Stiles, yet sometimes...

Stiles sighed and lowered himself into his desk chair. “You might not want to, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t need to, Isaac.”

“You are just - you are just relentless! You know nothing, Stiles! You know nothing about what it was like, what I went through and if you did-”

Stiles felt anger boil in his stomach. He knew that he shouldn’t be getting angry when they talked about this, but Isaac was pushing him into territory that he was not comfortable with. “I don’t know anything because you won’t talk to me!” he cut over Isaac, letting him know that it was not of his own accord that he was clueless on the subject.

“Because I don’t fucking want to! I - don’t - want - to - talk - about - it! How difficult is that to get through your thick head?”

“How hard is it to get through your werewolf skull that you can’t keep telling me I don’t understand you when it’s your fucking fault that I don’t!” Stiles raised his voice, exasperated. It was an endless loop and he didn’t know how they were ever going to get out of it. He jumped back up out of the chair after having just sank down into it and began to pace near his bedroom door, keeping a good distance from Isaac who was occupying the space near the window.

Isaac grabbed at his own curls and tugged, growling in frustration. “There’s nothing there for you to understand, Stiles! You don’t need to know about it, okay?”

“Yes, I do!” Stiles replied. While they had argued about Isaac talking about his past (whether to Stiles or a therapist, it didn’t really matter so long as he just did), they hadn’t exactly argued about this before.

No,” Isaac growled back, eyes flashing golden for a moment, “you don’t. It’s none of your fucking business.”

Stiles pointed a finger at Isaac, his face livid. “Yes, it is my business. You’re my business, Isaac, and if it affects you then it’s something I should know about!”

Isaac looked lost, but Stiles knew it was because he just didn’t know what to say to get Stiles to stop. Stiles wasn’t going to stop though, not this time. “Fucking me doesn’t give you a free pass to rifle through my head, Stiles!”

Isaac knew - he knew that saying that kind of thing would piss Stiles off. He said shit like that every now and then and it brought the two of them into a wild west stand-off, words firing off like gunshots as Stiles fought to prove that things weren’t as dismal as Isaac made them out to be and Isaac scoffing and disregarding him completely. Stiles’ eyes went dark and his expression changed into something impossibly resentful as he stared Isaac straight in the eyes and spat at him lowly, “Fuck - you, Isaac. Fuck you. You know it isn’t just sex and you are a bastard for trying to make it about that - especially now.”

At least the werewolf looked properly contrite when Stiles was spitting expletives at him. But that didn’t mean he was going to give up. “Especially now? Why is now different than any other time?”

“Because I am trying to make you understand the importance of not shutting me out! I’m trying to drill into that stupid face of yours that I am here and I want to know you - all of you - good, bad, and every damned thing in between!” Stiles wasn’t really even certain what all he was saying right then - words seemed to be tumbling from his mouth without much thought as to what they actually were.

Isaac was sincerely stressed at this point and while Stiles didn’t enjoy seeing that, he needed to get this point across no matter the anguish it caused him. It was very important that Isaac understand this. He shook his head, though, and said in a cracked voice, “I tell you enough, Stiles, why can’t you just leave it alone?”

He really felt like stomping or throwing something or anything else that was childish, but he didn’t. He threw his hands up in the air, gesticulating wildly as he hollered at top volume, “Because I am tired of seeing you suffer silently through this shit! Because the longer you let it fester, the worse it’s going to get for you! Because I want to be there for you - I want to help you! Because I’m fucking in love with you, Isaac, and it kills me when you push me away like this!”

Stiles realized two things too late: 1) there were tears stinging his eyes from having finally admitted these things that had been ripping at his insides since the first day they started dating, and 2) he’d just confessed his love for Isaac in the middle of a screaming match and hadn’t meant to. In fact, he hadn’t even really been certain about it, but with the words spoken now he knew that they were true. And he was absolutely terrified. He deflated almost instantly, mouth hanging open after the words had already left his lips. He couldn’t tear his gaze from Isaac’s face even though he was scared beyond belief about what was happening behind those eyes.

Isaac looked befittingly dumbstruck; he continued to stare at Stiles with his eyes wide and searching, pupils dilating with each second that passed. “Y-you what?” he asked, probably more involuntarily than anything else, because they both knew what had just transpired. It might have been seven months since they had started dating, but there had definitely never been even a hint toward the all-powerful four letter word on either of their parts. Sure, there had been the ‘I care about you’s’ and ‘You’re amazing’s’ and similar things that skittered around the subject without actually touching it, but never this.

Stiles sighed heavily. He didn’t want to repeat it, but that was because of the awkwardness that was encroaching on them and not that he didn’t actually mean it. “I assume you’re referring to the revelational bit of my rant? The part where I said ‘I love you’ in not so many words?” he tried for joking, because it was the best defense he had to combat his discomfort.

Isaac shook his head and Stiles’ face twisted in confusion. “No. No - no you don’t. You - you can’t,” he began to tremble, voice cracking.

Stiles couldn’t be certain (because again, he didn’t know enough about Isaac’s past to really pinpoint any causes), but he was getting the feeling that this was stemming from something in his past. Which wouldn’t even be such a big deal if Isaac wasn’t telling him how he was supposed to feel again.

He groaned, “Stop it - stop doing that! You don’t get to tell me how to feel, Isaac! It is what it is and you can’t stop it and you can’t change it and you-”

“Shut up! Shut up, Stiles, shut up - shut up!” Isaac stumbled over his words, his voice still wavering. He finally broke through the invisible barrier they had built in the middle of the room and advanced on Stiles, scrabbling at the front of the other boy’s clothing to get a grip on them. Stiles could see, now that he was closer, that his eyes were wet and wild - flickering somewhere between blue and gold as though he was caught in a volatile state of flux.

Stiles staggered back a few steps from the force of him snatching at his shirt, but was mostly taken aback by the sudden closeness. He lifted a hand and grasped at Isaac’s upper arm tightly, confusion and worry written all over his face as he barely managed, “Isaac, what-”

His voice shelled out desperation like nothing Stiles had ever heard from him before. “You can’t. I don’t talk to you about it because I am so fucked up and I don’t want you to see me - I don’t want to know how much you’re going to hate me if you found out everything. I can’t tell you, because I’m not as good as you think I am and now-now that I’m a werewolf, Stiles, you just - you can’t do this. You aren’t safe with me and I can’t ask you to risk your life to be with me. I would never ask you to do that. You deserve so much better than this - than me. I-” Isaac was crying in earnest now, tears streaking down his cheeks and dripping from his chin and he just kept clutching onto Stiles’ clothes like a lifeline, ignoring all of it.

There was so much swimming inside of Stiles’ head at Isaac’s declaration, but he couldn’t latch onto anything concrete while he looked back into his boyfriend’s face and saw that broken, defeated creature clinging onto him for dear life. He did the only thing that made sense - he cradled the back of Isaac’s head with his hand and pressed his nose firmly into the crook of his neck. Stiles brushed through the dirty-blonde locks gingerly and kissed the top of Isaac’s head over and over again as he spoke. “Isaac, I don’t care how fucked up you are; I love who you are, and that includes everything that made you this way. That includes you being a werewolf and all the shit that comes along with it. You can’t push me away anymore; you didn’t ask me to do any of this, I chose it for myself. You aren’t going to lose me, because I refuse to leave. What I deserve is for you to stay with me and to open up. That’s all that I want, Isaac.”

Isaac’s body shook against him as he sobbed, crying into Stiles’ shoulder wide and open and for the first time - completely vulnerable. Stiles just kept running his fingers through his hair and kissing his head and holding him close; he would hold him like this until the world ended if it meant that Isaac would feel even the slightest bit of comfort. Isaac cried for at least ten minutes - about halfway through Stiles tugged him toward the bed and was surprised that he went so pliably and without any hesitation whatsoever. Once he sat down on the bed, Isaac basically curled himself into Stiles’ lap, still clutching to his chest and crying on his shoulder. So Stiles just adjusted his encircling arms a bit and began to sway back and forth until finally the shaking began to subside and his sobbing ebbed into sniffles.

Stiles wasn’t going to push anything at this point, so he just remained where he was until Isaac lifted his head and looked at Stiles. Stiles’ heart clenched at the sight of his tear-streaked face, his red-rimmed eyes, and the despondent expression he wore. He reached out and traced a thumb over Isaac’s cheekbone and happily noted that he chased into the touch instantly. “Um, sorry for-”

With a shake of his head, he spoke over Isaac, “You don’t need to apologize. I just don’t want you to push me away. I want you to let me stay - because I really want to stay, Isaac.”

Isaac sighed, but it didn’t sound dejected - more like content to be over and done with all that they had just been through and moving forward. He nodded and relinquished his grasp on Stiles’ clothes, laughing under his breath when he looked down at his hands and saw that they were white knuckled from the grip he’d had. “I don’t think I was going to be able to let you go, anyway,” he commented, flexing his hands out to get the blood flowing back into them.

Stiles smiled apprehensively, a tug at the corner of his mouth, and lowered his hand from Isaac’s face to lace their fingers together. They both looked down at their intertwined hands for a while before Stiles looked up and said, “Sorry that I y-”

Isaac let out an annoyed huff and pressed his lips against Stiles’, effectively shutting him up. It was a small, slow kiss, but it felt like something more that Stiles couldn’t quite pinpoint. Isaac pulled away and pressed his forehead against Stiles’. “You told me not to apologize, so you can’t either,” he said quietly and there was a hint of a smile there.

Stiles laughed - real and genuine for the first time that night, releasing a ball of tension that had gathered in his chest from all the arguing and the anger. It felt good and the longer he laughed, the better he felt and the happier it seemed to make Isaac, because eventually he started laughing too and finally his smile was real and split his face in half.

Stiles fell back on the bed with a sigh, content and spent from the emotional anguish. He looked over at Isaac who eyed him for a minute before stretching out next to him on his side, propping his head up with his hand. Isaac placed a hand on Stiles’ chest and looked down at his fingers splayed across the fabric of Stiles’ t-shirt. Stiles could feel his heart beat underneath Isaac’s palm and smiled at him, lifting a hand to the back of Isaac’s neck and twirling his fingers in the curls there. He pulled down slightly on Isaac’s neck - more of a subtle suggestion than an actual demand - and the werewolf obliged without hesitation, lowering his head to meet Stiles’ in a kiss. It was less chaste than the first kiss; Isaac opened his mouth and Stiles pressed inside to met Isaac’s tongue with his own, battling back and forth with slick, knowing swipes. Isaac finally broke free and snuck his tongue along the underside of Stiles’ upper lip before sucking it into his mouth and nibbling it teasingly.

Stiles hummed in the back of his throat, tightening his grip on the back of Isaac’s neck and placed a hand on Isaac’s side, hiking up the henley the other boy wore so that he could get his fingers on Isaac’s skin. The werewolf sighed and twisted into the touch, lying himself on top of Stiles so the angle was more comfortable for both of them; Stiles felt instantly warmer, not just a heat coming from Isaac’s body, but a warmth of safety that swelled inside of his chest whenever he was enveloped in Isaac like this. If he were to actually think about it, it was ridiculously cheesy and girly sounding, but it didn’t change it from being true. He was ruined - this stupid, idiot werewolf with amazing eyes had ruined him.

Isaac relinquished Stiles’ lip and kissed him again, brief and sweet before he was making his way over Stiles’ jaw and down his neck in a familiar trek. Stiles’ shirt was obscuring the spot that Isaac was aiming for, but that didn’t stop Isaac from reworking his mark on Stiles’ right shoulder. The werewolf began to suck and nibble against the fabric of Stiles’ t-shirt, licking until the cloth was soaked completely through and teething the spot with varying degrees of pressure. It would have felt more intense without the fabric to obscure those lips from his skin, but there was something predatory and arousing about how Isaac didn’t wait to remove the shirt before marking his territory again that had Stiles on edge. He tightened his grip on Isaac’s side, digging his nails in for a moment before letting go and splaying his fingers across the planes of Isaac’s upper back beneath the henley, gripping at the skin with the pads of his fingers. Isaac bit down into Stiles’ shoulder one last time and then began snuffling over the mark with his nose, a pleased hum sounding in the back of his throat at the finished product.

With that, he pulled back and started tugging the henley over his head, bumping Stiles’ arm out of the way. Stiles watched the the expanse of skin expose itself for a moment, a little dumbfounded, before he remembered where exactly he was and sighed as Isaac leaned down over him. “Isaac,” he began slowly, his head swimming - it made it difficult to protest, but he knew better than to just go along with this, “we shouldn’t-”

An eyebrow quirked above an endlessly blue eye, and Isaac sat up on his knees (one was placed very dangerously near Stiles’ crotch and he had a feeling that was entirely intentional on Isaac’s part - bastard) and looked down at him. “Shouldn’t?”

Why was Stiles acting like such a fucking chick tonight? Probably the profession of love, the fact that he hadn’t heard it in return (he was trying to ignore that and failing miserably), and now these words that were falling from his lips, “We just had a fight...”

“Exactly,” Isaac said without missing a beat. He grinned wickedly and reached his hand out to ghost fingertips along Stiles’ stomach that was exposed thanks to his shirt riding up.

Stiles groaned and slung his arm over his face, to which Isaac just chuckled. “Bastard,” Stiles spat and then added with a pathetic whine, “you are really going to go for the cliche of make-up sex?”

“I like to think of it more as ‘I’m always horny, I could do this whenever’ sex, but the thought of working out any residual anger is extremely appealing, I’m not gonna lie.” Stiles didn’t even have to look to hear the smirk in his voice and know that his eyes were probably darkening just at the thought.

“I hate you,” Stiles replied childishly, still holding his arm over his face.

“That’s good, we can use that,” Isaac snarked.

"Oh my God," Stiles groaned and moved his arm to open himself up for the onslaught that was coming because fuck if he was going to fight against it anymore.

Isaac was still smirking down at him and Stiles just shook his head, trying to convey an annoyance that truly wasn't there. Isaac knew it too, because he still had his fingers on Stiles' stomach and splayed them out, pushing his hand up to his chest so that it exposed all of Stiles' stomach to the open air. Stiles bit his bottom lip while he watched Isaac's face closely; Isaac stared back at him for a moment, eyes a sea-worthy blue and face no longer smug, but thoughtful looking.

He leaned down and mouthed over Stiles’ stomach, over the moles that speckled his skin. Stiles knew exactly what he was doing, because Isaac always did this and it would never cease to make his breath hitch and his cock harden and his head swim. Isaac had a very particular way that he did this and it was almost maddening: he’d flick his tongue out and taste the small brown dot, then he’d kiss it, then he’d suck on the skin around it, and finally he’d bite playfully at it before trailing his tongue along to the next mole and repeating the entire process over again. Generally Stiles couldn’t handle it for very long and after about three moles he was bucking up against Isaac’s thigh and moaning. He flailed his hand out for a few seconds until it landed on Isaac’s head and sunk into the curls, tugging upward to get Isaac to move up and kiss him, but also to stop him because it was amazingly unfair what his lips could do to Stiles’ sensibilities.

Isaac whined against Stiles’ stomach and finished with the mole he’d been worshiping before complying with Stiles’ directive. The werewolf lay himself down over Stiles and covered his mouth in a hungry kiss; his hand moved to Stiles’ right shoulder where his thumb rubbed idly over the wet patch covering his mark. Stiles released a hum of contentment; he was perfectly happy with just this: Isaac over him, the skin of their stomachs pressed together warmly and Isaac unknowingly worrying over his mark on Stiles. It was something he had to be certain he never took for granted, especially when the danger in his life was not a “what if” but a “when will.”

Isaac pulled back and kissed Stiles’ cheek, his jaw, down his neck, and up to his ear. “Stiles,” he said against his ear in barely a whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”

What?” Stiles’ responded instinctively, his voice cracked with surprise. It wasn’t that he’d never done so before, but more often than not Isaac was turning Stiles into a blithering mess, begging to receive rather than give and neither of them seemed to mind that things had taken this particular rhythm. More than that though, what had him out of his mind was that Isaac was asking him for it, because as far as he could recollect, that had never occurred before.

“I want you inside of me, Stiles. Please,” and holyfuckingshit he wasn’t begging, was he? He sounded so wrecked and it pulled at Stiles’ insides painfully and pleasantly all at once.

Stiles pushed Isaac’s head back so he could look him in the face. After all that had happened tonight, he just couldn’t do this wouldn’t being one-hundred percent certain, no matter what Isaac was saying into his ear (and rutting into Stiles’ thigh - fucking hell). “I - you - are you sure?

Yes,” Isaac hissed back at him with a flash of golden iris, grinding his hips down almost painfully and moaning. “Jesus Christ, Stiles, just - yes.”

Fuck,” Stiles replied, biting his lip at the look Isaac was giving him. “Okay, fuck-” he said again and pulled Isaac down for a sloppy kiss, because talking about this was making his brain reduce to fuzz and it was all floating away off his shoulders, he was certain of it. He pushed back on Isaac’s shoulders and started shifting to the side so that he could roll Isaac on his back and straddle his waist. If it wasn’t for Isaac being attuned to most of his subtle cues, Stiles wouldn’t be able to get Isaac to do half of the things he wanted him to, because there was no way he’d have the strength to move him without Isaac helping (and pretending like it had been Stiles who had actually done all the work).

Stiles sat up on Isaac’s waist and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere and knowing that he wouldn’t be able to find it when they were done - he never could. He sat still for a moment and looked down at Isaac, worrying his bottom lip again as he noticed that Isaac’s pupils were dilating right in front of him and Stiles wasn’t really sure why until the other boy was sitting up and sucking Stiles’ bottom lip into his own mouth and nibbling on it. Oh right, that. He always forgot that it made Isaac a little crazy when he bit on his lip like that, but most of the time he was doing it out of nervousness so he couldn’t help it. Isaac pulled away and harrumphed at him, then placed his mouth over Stiles’ shoulder-mark so that he could suck on the skin instead of Stiles’ t-shirt. Sighing, Stiles let his head fall back and his body go boneless in Isaac’s grip around his waist, a smile playing on his lips.

Isaac finished quicker this time and he shook Stiles a little as though he might have fallen asleep. Stiles lifted his head up to look at his boyfriend and there was a bit too much intensity staring back in those eyes for Stiles to comprehend. Maybe Isaac hadn’t said it back in words, but when he looked at Stiles’ like this, he was pretty damned certain that’s what it meant. At least he hoped that it did.

He pushed Isaac to his back again and kissed him briefly on the mouth, then moved his way down his neck and to his left shoulder toward the middle in a mirror image of where Isaac marked his own shoulder and began to lick and bite at the skin there. It never kept a bruise, never left any teeth marks after a few minutes passed, but the scent would linger and that was really all that mattered. Especially to Isaac who had been struck temporarily dumb the first time Stiles had tried this in return and ever since would actually growl at him if he didn’t make sure to reestablish his mark on Isaac too. It felt a bit odd at first, but it was almost second nature to him now and he thought of them like secret tattoos they’d gotten together, but weirdly more intimate even if one was entirely invisible to everyone but werewolves.

Stiles ran his left hand down Isaac’s stomach, palming the contours of muscle that were very obviously lacking on his own body and he never failed to notice just how amazingly beautiful Isaac was - something he had failed at for years before all this werewolf stuff had interrupted his life and he felt guilty for it ever since. How had it been possible for him to not noticed Isaac before? Well, he had always had his head stuck up Lydia’s ass, which didn’t bode well for anyone else. Once he’d finally realized that Lydia wasn’t going to return his feelings, he was able to let himself see other people and that was how he’d found Isaac could be more than just a friend to him.

And Isaac was fucking amazing at being more than just a friend - Stiles just had to put that out there for the masses to take note of. Not that there were any masses here besides the two of them and... well - yeah. Stiles reached the button of Isaac’s jeans and fumbled around with it, trying to unsnap it whilst continuing his coverage of the mark, but he wasn’t particularly coordinated so he failed that attempt about three times and accidentally hit Isaac in the dick once, which of course brought out a grunt from the werewolf and possibly a growl too - Stiles wasn’t certain, because it sounded like he had been trying to contain it. Giving up, he licked down the middle of Isaac’s chest and stomach, twirling his tongue into the hair that sprouted below his belly button. Isaac’s stomach muscles contracted beneath his tongue and Stiles grinned, moving to the left to lick a path along his pelvic bone and was finally able to undo the button now that he was using both hands. He pulled the zipper down and lifted his head to look at Isaac and judge how much time he should spend on this. The look he saw was not one of extreme patience, so Stiles decided to forgo any teasing and tugged Isaac’s pants and boxer-briefs off all in one go with some wiggling help from the other teen.

Stiles scrambled back onto the bed at Isaac’s feet and he, being the cocky and filthy werewolf that he is, just spread his legs apart like a damned invitation - and yep, he was smirking. “Fuck,” Stiles said under his breath, and yeah, he was definitely staring because Isaac cleared his throat like a jackass which made his cock bounce in front of Stiles and okay, Stiles was done staring now. He narrowed his eyes at Isaac, who glanced back with a phony look of innocence and was about to reach for his bedside table for the lube when he thought better of it. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment (and yes, this time he did it on purpose) and then he lifted his hand to his mouth and swallowed around his middle and index fingers with a pleased smirk. Isaac’s eyes flashed golden and he bucked his hips involuntarily, so Stiles ran his left hand down the werewolf’s knee and thigh before pressing down on his hip to keep him still.

Stiles sucked sloppily on his fingers, working his tongue around them each and watching Isaac’s face the entire time; he could tell that he wanted to look away, but couldn’t make himself and it was pretty gratifying to know that he could return some of the inane feelings that Isaac gave him most of the time. When they were sufficiently slick, Stiles lowered his hand to Isaac’s ass and rubbed his middle finger around his hole teasingly a few times before he pressed it in. Stiles had to watch Isaac’s face closely when he did this, because he was infinitely worried about screwing up and hurting him and knowing (well, not knowing specifically, but having a general idea of) what had happened to Isaac in the past, even the thought of ever causing him pain again pulled Stiles’ chest tight and made his stomach queasy. So he looked for any clues that he was causing pain rather than just a general discomfort as the muscles were loosened around his finger, sliding it in and out slowly. Isaac had always been masterfully good at hiding pain (emotional and physical), so it had been determined earlier on that he had to be open about it when it came to sex or Stiles wouldn’t be able to take any cues from him.

Isaac cued him fairly well tonight though; after a minute or two he squeezed himself around Stiles’ finger before pushing down on it to meet Stiles’ inward press and then there was a hiss escaping him. Stiles whimpered and began pumping his finger faster in and out, and before he knew it his index finger slid in easily alongside it and Isaac was thrusting himself down as hard as he could, trying to get Stiles’ fingers to reach his prostate. They definitely had a couple of times, because Isaac moaned ridiculously loud and Stiles found himself rutting against the bed, regretting that he had not taken his pants off when he’d taken off Isaac’s because they felt unbearably tight now.

He needed to slick his third finger and he hadn’t done it earlier so he leaned down and sucked on the head of Isaac’s cock for a second just to hear - yeah, that - and then continued to his actual destination where he was thrusting his finger in and out of Isaac’s hole. He swiped his tongue along the length of his ring finger once and then licked around the puckered flesh of Isaac’s entrance, before pulling his fingers out all the way so he could run his tongue along his third finger. Isaac whined the instant his fingers were removed, but Stiles ignored him. He replaced the missing fingers with his tongue, working in and around with a few teasing strokes that had Isaac moaning, “Stiles, fuck!” while bucking up into his face and Stiles breathed him in; it was something Isaac always did to him and yeah, it made the werewolf groan and clutch at the sheets beside him. Stiles eventually replaced the fingers, this time all three of them. It was a bit tight, but it wasn’t too bad and Isaac was crumbling beneath his steady thrusting at this point anyway, which meant he knew what was coming next (no, the pun wasn’t intended).

Stiles,” Isaac whimpered, clenching down on Stiles’ fingers. He was retracting claws from Stiles’ bedsheets, “please.”

And yeah, there it was again. That thing Stiles couldn’t believe he was doing - not even asking, but begging. It was turning him into goo. He didn’t even respond, he just removed his fingers (Isaac whined again) and jumped off the bed and cursed when his legs completely gave out underneath him. He popped back up, shrieked, “I’m okay!” and scrambled to undo his pants and rip them off as quickly as he possibly could. It took him entirely too long, but he managed it and fished through the bedside table for a condom before he crawled back onto the bed and knelt in between Isaac’s legs, looking down at the werewolf. He knew that it was easier to turn him over and he was okay with that sometimes, but he didn’t really want to look away from him right now. Isaac had asked this of him though and he didn’t want to make the decision for him; he wanted Isaac to enjoy it just as much as he did, so if that meant - he sighed and placed a hand firmly on Isaac’s hip.

“Do you want me to-” Stiles began to ask him.

Isaac answered over him before he had finished asking, “No.”

Stiles just nodded stupidly, “Okay.”

He was staring at him again with that intensity that threatened to burn a hole through Stiles’ chest and really, if Stiles was a werewolf he probably would have had an eye-flashing moment of his own right then. As if Isaac heard his thoughts, his eyes flickered briefly and Stiles just nodded like an idiot again as if that was a question that needed answering. He got up on his knees, fumbling with the wrapper on the condom until finally he just ripped it open with his teeth. He put a hand around his dick and unfurled the condom down the length of it, then lined himself up with Isaac’s hole, just as Isaac lifted his leg up to give him better access. Stiles shouldered the leg and then he had the space he needed to push - push down toward Isaac’s body and get closer to him and push in.

Isaac hissed and Stiles said, “fuck,” basically in the same breath and they looked at each other, Stiles only in about halfway before he stopped and gauged Isaac’s response. He had his eyes closed and his head tilted back and Stiles didn’t know what that meant, so he had to ask, which probably wouldn’t turn out well. “Is it - okay?”

Finally Isaac opened his eyes and took a deep breath before answering, “Holy fuck, Stiles - yes, it’s - just-”

“Right, yeah,” Stiles said and he pushed in all the way, both of them moaning before Isaac reached up and pulled Stiles’ head down for a kiss. Considering what they were doing, the kiss was surprisingly tender and it made Stiles’ heart constrict almost painfully. This was probably the final thing that happened that night that confirmed for him that he wasn’t alone in the way that he felt, even if Isaac wasn’t saying it in words. Stiles pulled out and pumped back in and the kiss became sloppy and breathy before Isaac pulled away from his mouth altogether and began kissing and sucking at his neck and shoulder. Stiles closed his eyes and worked himself into a rhythm he could properly maintain without just coming within the next three seconds, because honestly this was ridiculous. When he thought he could manage to hold off, he focused more on the angle, pulling almost all the way out and aligning himself the way he needed before thrusting back in again. Isaac groaned his name and that made Stiles moan because hearing his name come from Isaac’s mouth in that manner wasn’t even healthy. He was going to kill him.

Stiles leveraged himself on his forearm and thrust in two more times like that, hard and pinpointing and Isaac was shaking beneath him, huffing and trying to reach for his dick. Stiles leaned back and reached between them and couldn’t believe how slick it already was - Isaac was leaking pre-cum everywhere and Stiles didn’t know why he found that sexy, but he did and then he was reaching his orgasm without much for warning.

“Shit! Fuck! Isaac, I-” but Isaac just squeezed around him and snagged him in for another sloppy kiss until Stiles was moaning helplessly into his mouth and Isaac swallowed around it, humming happily in the back of his throat. Stiles rutted haphazardly into Isaac as he rode through the climax, all control over his limbs completely lost at that point. His heart was hammering in his chest - something that bothered Isaac a lot - and even now when he knew the cause the werewolf was still soothing the back of Stiles’ head with his hand and whispering, “It’s okay,” like Stiles had been frightened into his orgasm. When he had more control over himself Stiles lifted his head and kissed Isaac again, affirming that it definitely was okay. Stiles reached down between them and wrapped his hand around Isaac’s cock, sighing happily when Isaac’s breath hitched in slight surprise. He ran his thumb over the head and pumped his fist up and down the shaft in quick succession before thumbing the slit of the head again. Stiles fisted his hand around Isaac a few more times until Isaac had reached his orgasm, coming between their stomachs and coating them in more cum than was already slicking their skin. Stiles continued to move his hand over Isaac until the werewolf stilled it and then Stiles dropped his arm over Isaac’s shoulder and collapsed on his chest.

They lay like that for quite a while, Stiles running his fingers through Isaac’s damp curls and Isaac ghosting finger pads over Stiles’ shoulder blades and neck. Stiles felt himself growing tired though, so he gingerly pulled himself out, tied the condom up, and grabbed the first shirt he came across on the floor to use to wipe over his stomach, tossing it at Isaac so he could do the same.

Stiles hopped back into the bed and shoved under the covers, lying down on his back. He waited for Isaac to finish and settle in next to him, lying on his side and pressing his nose into Stiles’ neck. Stiles wrapped his arm around Isaac’s shoulder protectively and sighed in contentment. Maybe it had started out bad, but overall the night could have been worse, he supposed.

“Stiles?” Isaac said quietly after a few minutes, voice barely audible. Stiles felt him stiffen and he let out a heaving breath like he was about launch into something very difficult.

“I love you too, Isaac,” Stiles said, saving him the trouble of saying it because he knew it was difficult for him, but besides that - he knew. Even without hearing the words, his heart swelled and his stomach flip-flopped, because Isaac had already told him plenty of times that night.

Isaac’s body relaxed against him and he nuzzled into Stiles’ neck again, sighing contently. “Yeah.”

- fin -

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