Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Teen Wolf, but I would love me some Tyler Posey, Tyler Hoechlin and Dylan O'Brien. Oh yes, I would. And, I'm British, so if some of the jargon is different, I am sorry, but I have never been to America and know nothing of the speech. Also, I know next to nothing about the traditions in Japan or Ireland, but I'm going to guess. Please, don't take offence. Thank you, enjoy my story, and have a great day.

Isaac POV

Having Stiles wrapped around my body in such an innocently erotic way sent shivers shooting up and down my spine, in intense bursts, and I could barely restrain myself from holding him down and fucking his deliciously pale ass into the bed sheets below us. It took everything inside of me not to make the first move, simply because I knew that we needed to talk. He needed to know things about me and I, in turn, yearned to know more about him. Thinking about it, I really didn't know much about my - Could I really say boyfriend? - mate, and he didn't know anything about me.

Who exactly was Stiles?

He asked, clearly nervous, with a light flush to his neck, and a curious gleam in those Goddamn beautiful hazel eyes, "Have you lived in Beacon Hills your whole life?"

I chuckled at the simplicity of the question, and I replied, "No. I lived in LA when my mom was alive, then moved here when I was 14 with my dad. And you know how that ended."

He nodded, solemnly, and kissed my cheek, in some kind of show of sympathy. I sniffed, indifferently, and lamented, "It's okay, I got over it. He was a bastard, but he didn't deserve to die like that," then shaking off the ache in my gut, I continued, "Okay, my turn. What do you like to do in your spare time?"

He smirked to himself, and replied, "Nothing really. Lacrosse, werewolf shit. I like comics, and I watch action movies a lot. I don't do much else. What about you? What do you like doing?"

I grinned at how utterly cliché Stiles was. It's refreshing to meet someone so naïve, and so unselfish. He'd prefer to watch TV all day, rather than go out to fancy restaurants and be showered with expensive gifts. There is nothing else that I would prefer to do than spend my time with him. As my boyfriend, with our pack. It would be perfect. Jesus Christ, I can't wait to just be able to hold him, whenever I liked. To feel his skin on my own, and his eyes trained only on me. All of his focus on my form, as I defended him and whatever family we had of our own. When we would make love, it wouldn't be forced, or awkward, or even disjointed. We would just flow together, like we were meant to.

I smiled, blushing slightly around the collar, and said, "I like being with my family - my new family. It's nice. I like reading. I know, pretty boring shit, huh? I don't do much more than you. Lacrosse, werewolf shit. Beyond that, nothing spectacular."

He sniggered, disbelievingly, and stated, "Okay, your turn."

I knew that this next question would get a little awkward, somehow, and I didn't want to come across as overtly interested, however I couldn't help that I was. I mean, he's my mate. Why wouldn't I be interested in his previous sex life? If the answer was something I didn't like, I would be upset, but I'd have to get over it because he's just too important to me to lose over something that, in relation to everything else that our relationship could be.

I huffed, and trailed my fingers up the length of his spine, trying to be comforting, however his eyes fluttered closed, and I could smell the arousal permeate the air around us, as I asked, "Alright. Well, seeing as how we," I paused, looking for the right word, "fooled around last night, we might as well get our sex lives out there, so, how many people have you slept with?"

He tensed immediately after I mentioned 'sex' and I couldn't help but bare my teeth at that. Honestly, part of me was interested, but the greater selection of my being was frothing at the mouth at the thought of him touching anyone else, let alone actually being touched himself. His pulse skyrocketed, and he replied, hastily, "I.. There's no sex life to speak of."

Excuse me? Did I just hear correctly?

My expression remained neutral, however I raised my eyebrow at him, hardly believing what he was saying, and looked deeply into his eyes, and asked, "Nobody?"

He shook his head, and I couldn't help the grin that bloomed across my face. The shock I was obviously experiencing showed on my face, and he blushed brightly under my intense inspection. I monitored the surge in his pulse, and the speed of his heart beating wildly in his pale chest, of which I wanted oh-so much to taste for the rest of my life. I couldn't help but ask, quietly, trying to reassure myself, "So you've really never been with anyone, ever?"

He blushed deeper, and, out of pure mortification, he halfway shouted, "No! There's been nobody, ever! Now can we talk about something else please?"

I held him tighter to my body, and I tucked my face into his shoulder, taking in all that was Stiles, and half-mumbled, "I know you're embarrassed, but don't be. I'm glad that you haven't been with anyone else, I don't know what I'd do if you had been."

Eventually, he nodded his head, timidly, and asked, "And you? How many people have you been with?"

I tensed a little, hoping that he would take this better than I would have, had he told me this.

"I've been with six different people," and he froze immediately after, and began pulling away slightly. I dragged him closer to myself, and kissed his neck, trying to calm his racing pulse, and added, "Hey, don't pull away," I pleaded, "You don't know them. Don't worry about them, they meant nothing," and at his blank stare, I emphasised, "I mean it, stop looking at me like that."

Stiles rolled his eyes, and averted his gaze from my own, seemingly unable to even look at me, let alone actually talk to me, and that made me growl, a little louder than usual, inadvertently spiking his heart rate. As soon as he let out a small gasp of surprise, I began crooning him, hoping that I wasn't making things worse. I mumbled, "I'm sorry, baby, don't be mad."

I rolled over, so that I was on all fours, and he was almost pinned beneath my body. I didn't wait for him to give me permission to kiss him, and swooped down to capture his lips with my own. He whined a little, and I smirked against his mouth. He curled his body to fit mine, and relaxed so that his head was cradled in the pillows we had been lying on before. The room began to heat up, or so I thought, as our make-out session began getting more aggressive.

"I don't want anyone else touching you, Isaac," and he bit on my bottom lip hard enough to make me wince in pleasure, "I mean it. No more."

I nodded, completely smitten with the boy beneath me, and I ran my fingers along his midsection. He shivered, and I chuckled, then replied, "There's no one else, baby. I promise."

And boy, did I mean it.

Sorry.. I'm an asshole for making you guys wait so long, but I've been out of my house for the last few days - I've not been myself, really, so a change of scenery was great for me.