Stiles won't. She won't, she won't, she won't.
She ignores the desire over lunchtime. It's fine.
It builds into an itch two hours later, but it's fine.
By evening, it's an ache, one that she wiggles against while sitting at her desk chair. She keeps spacing out, thinking about hands, and dicks, uncut or cut, it doesn't fucking matter, and how wet she is, but she won't, she won't, she won't.
She manages to fall asleep, her entire body buzzing a consistent buzz of want, but god dammit, she didn't, and she's taking it as a win despite the aching of her cunt.
Stiles wakes up because she's having an orgasm.
Stiles. Wakes up. Because she's having an orgasm.
Her right hand is over her clit, the heel of it digging into her roughly, and her left hand is squeezing over her breast, her nipple trapped between two of her fingers.
She stares at the ceiling in utter shock as her tummy twitches. Her heart is beating a mile a minute.
She doesn't bother trying to go back to sleep. Morning light is showing through her curtains. She just stares at her ceiling and contemplates life until her school alarm goes off.
"Whooooa." Scott looks her up and down. "Rough night?"
Stiles breathes in slowly and breathes out even slower.
"Alright," Scott nods, and they walk together into school.
Stiles is trading out books from her locker when Jackson and Isaac come down the hallway and stop beside her and Scott.
"Whoa," Jackson comments. "Someone's miffed."
Frustration is a ball of temper inside of Stiles at the moment. Despite waking up to a fucking orgasm, all she wants to do is keep touching herself, or have someone else touch her, or fucking grind against the railing outside she doesn't know, just fucking anything -
Alongside the worry and fear of the settlement inside herself that something is definitely going on with her, right now she just fucking can't -
But thankfully she has a plethora of experiences in dealing with Jackson's doucheness, so for now she sucks in a breath, rolls her eyes and shoves two of her books in her locker with too much strength than is warranted.
"Dude," and Stiles can see that Scott is shaking his head, but Isaac doesn't see, because Isaac leans in close with a teasing smile and says quietly, "Which seems odd to me, since it seems that someone's had a fun mor -"
Stiles slams her locker door shut in actual fury and invades Isaac's space to seethe, "Not. Now." He's so startled that he doesn't say or do anything else, and she grabs her bag from the ground and leaves all three of them behind to speed-walk to class.
Fucking Isaac. She gets it, he finds it funny. She probably would too, honestly, if it hadn't been such a strange weekend and morning and week.
She'll apologize later. Right now she just needs to make sure her fingers stay in acceptable places during class.
It's a bit - uhm - all consuming.
Stiles isn't exactly thinking straight, she thinks. She's been spacing out. People have had to snap her out of it more than once, mostly Scott, since everyone knows she's not having a great day because of her little outburst this morning. Scott looks progressively more worried throughout the day, which makes everyone else a little worried, which makes Stiles want to roll her eyes because it's so silly that this is happening because she's horny, but deep down, Stiles is a little glad because she may be a little worried about herself, too, more than she was before.
Mostly because it's, like - hot. It's really hot. Not sexy hot, but temperature, and by her third class she has her jacket off and there's sweat by her hairline. She fans herself between classes but has managed to resolutely keep her hands above her desk during classes. Her thighs twitch underneath, though, and her breathing may be a little unsteady.
During lunch she keeps her head on the table to try and cool off her forehead and avoid the odd staredown that Isaac is giving her. He looks confused and curious, which are both things that Stiles doesn't want to deal with right now. Scott gets her water, which she downs, staring at her own fingers around the bottle, imagining she's sucking a cock -
She slams the bottle onto the table and closes it. "Thanks," she says to Scott.
"Do you want anything?" He asks quietly. A whine comes unbidden from her throat and she coughs into her arm then drinks more of the water. Does she want anything. God. Her stomach clenches and she closes her eyes and crosses her legs against it.
Scott accepts the lack of answer and doesn't ask again.
It's a slow burn. One that she convinces herself all morning to lunch that she can handle. She can handle this. She'll go home and take care of it and then it'll be okay. She can get through a fucking school day, for sure. For sure.
In her fifth class she's still as a statue and can't think of anything else but getting home and making it stop. She'll touch herself. She can feel herself sweating. She'll slip her fingers inside her cunt. Her heart beat is definitely faster. Fuck it, she'll stop by a goddamn sex store on the way home if she has to. She'll fuck herself on it. Hard. Fast.
The school bell rings and it startles her out of her thoughts. Wait. School bell? Holy shit. She missed the entire class.
She looks at her hands, still on the desk. Thank god. She notices, though, that her right hand has a bite mark around the thumb. Fuck, was she biting herself?
She quickly gathers her things, flustered, flushed, and when she stands the fabric of her jeans rubs against her underwear and she stumbles a bit into the desk beside her.
"Whoa, Stiles," Erica says from behind her. "Are you okay?" She grabs Stiles' backpack that fell and places it back over Stiles' shoulder. Erica's fingernails graze the back of Stiles' neck and Stiles' eyes almost roll to the back of her head, as if it was a tease, oh god.
Erica breathes out harshly from behind Stiles. Then Stiles hears a deep breath in, and Erica places her hand on Stiles' hip, her hand curving perfectly around Stiles' hip bone.
"Stiles," Erica says softly, curiously, right at her ear, and Stiles freaks.
"Gotta go!" Stiles yells and books it out of the fucking classroom, so fucking embarrassed and red and done with this, oh my god, Erica smelled her, she'll know how she's feeling, fuuuuuuuuuuuck. Thank god they don't share any other classes together.
Stiles runs to the closest restroom and drops her bag beneath a sink. She turns it on and splashes water on her face to hopefully cool her down a bit. The cold feels amazing, and she can't help but groan from the relief then glances around the bathroom to make sure no one heard her. She ducks down to check the stalls as well. No one.
The bell for the next class rings.
She's alone.
So much of her - practically all of her - wants to lock herself in a stall and rub her clit until she comes.
It would be fast, too. God it would be quick. She probably wouldn't even be more than ten minutes late to class. Wouldn't even have to take off her jeans. Just slip her fingers down. Just do it. Do it. Do it.
Her shoulder bumps into the stall wall and she reels back in surprise, having not even noticed that she was walking to a stall. Ugh. Fuck this.
She grabs her bag from the ground and looks at herself in the mirror. Less red than before, but definitely still having a 'hard day'. Ha.
She leaves the bathroom and heads to class. From now on, she'll do something that takes brain cells to do so that she stops spacing out. She'll draw. No. She'll read ahead in class. No.
She sneaks into her class and sits at the back. She rips a strip of paper out of her spiral notebook and folds it meticulously into a star.
Yes.
The last two of her classes are spent making exactly eighty three paper stars, leg bouncing restlessly under her desk, her thoughts back and forth between the awareness of her soaking underwear and the little stars beneath her hands. She drops them haphazardly into her backpack after each class and is proud of her distraction technique actually working.
She doesn't bother heading to her locker when the final bell rings. She starts out straight to the front doors of the school, ready to get this over with.
"Stiles!" Someone yells behind her, and she almost starts crying.
As it is, she groans in frustration and turns around, arms spread in irritation. "What!?"
It's Scott though, and he stops short at her tone. "Uh."
"I'm sorry," she says immediately, and drops her arms. "Sorry. It's just. I'm just." She flounders for words and - and jesus, she's going to cry.
Scott must realize this because he jumps forward to her and lightly holds her wrist so he can lead her down a hallway. "There's practice today," he says quietly.
"Fuck," she sniffles.
"Hold on." And she knows he's leading her to the locker rooms, but he doesn't leave her to go in the girls' alone, and actually goes inside with her.
"Perks of being the only girl on the team," she tries to joke, but he doesn't joke along with her, just sits her down on the bench where he knows her locker is.
"Code?"
"62-05-78."
He opens her locker for her and takes out her gym clothes. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?"
"I'm so fucking horny," she lets out, hugging her arms around her waist. "Dude, it's like - I'm burning. It's hot, I'm frustrated, I keep spacing out and thinking about sex or me or others, Scott, I keep thinking about doing the dirty with people I know -"
Scott sets her clothes down on the bench to her right and sits on her left. "But Isaac was gonna say you -"
"I did!" Stiles almost yells, turning on the bench to face him. "I did, on accident, I fucking woke up having an orgasm! And yesterday morning I came twice after having woken up in the middle of the night to rub one out again!"
"Whooaa," Scott says slowly, not knowing what to say.
"Whoa is fucking right!" Stiles does yell this time. "So I said, hey, lets not do it! Lets not masturbate anymore, lets not give into temptation! So I didn't masturbate for the rest of yesterday, and then this morning was a surprise big O, and -"
"So you've been keeping yourself from...from, uh, doing it?"
"Yes! But -" Stiles stands and waves her hands around in distress. "It's obviously not a good idea because I - I just - AUGH!" She starts pacing in front of Scott, pulling at her hair. "Is this what it feels like when people are - just -"
"Really horny and don't get relief?" Scott smiles through an awkwardly apologetic nod. "I mean, you've heard the stereotype of frustration when guys don't masturbate, right? It sounds like that's what you're going through, just, uh - doubled?"
"Fucking tripled, more like it!" Stiles glares. "I'm losing time, Scott. I keep spacing out and - dude, I missed an entire class today because of it, and I had been biting my thumb without realizing!" She shows him her right thumb and he takes it in his hands. His brows raise in surprise.
"Wow," he says to the teeth indents.
"I don't even remember," Stiles says woefully.
"That's intense." His fingers massage into her hand in comfort and Stiles releases a sudden long sigh. It feels good.
"I think you're right, dude."
Scott glances up at her in question. She steps forward, motioning to herself with her free hand. "I think something's going on."
"Ah," he says softly and looks back down at her hand, running the tip of his thumb against the marks while still digging his fingers into the palm of her hand. "Yeah."
She waits for more, but... "Scotty."
"Yes?" He looks back up. A spark shoots down her spine when they make eye contact. She forgets what she was going to say.
"Uh," she breathes out instead, and Scott's right hand reaches out for her waist and grips her closer. He breathes in deeply as she steps closer and his eyes are blown wide.
A door slams in the boys' locker room on the other side of the wall and both of them flinch apart until they're against opposite lockers, staring at each other in disturbed shock.
Silence stretches until Scott says, "You're going home. No practice."
"Agreed," Stiles says shakily.
"Uh. Change into your clothes, though." Scott starts walking sideways against the lockers, closer to the door. His face is red.
"Why?" Stiles looks him up and down and he swallows hard and looks away.
"So you're more comfortable. You've been sweating and...stuff. I'll go tell coach you're not feeling good. Just, uh...wait here until practice is finished. I'll take you to Deaton when we're done. I just...I don't want you to run into anyone -"
"I totally get it and I'm totally down for it. I'll just...I'll be here."
Scott nods and flees.
She stares at her clothes on the bench and breathes out as slow as she can to hopefully steady out her heartbeat.
"That was weird," she acknowledges. "Super weird." She nods and unbuttons her jeans, then laughs at herself and bends down to take off her shoes first instead. When she slips off her jeans, she's so fucking curious about the state of her underwear, but she avoids temptation and doesn't even feel herself over the cloth, just immediately slips on her gym shorts. Her shirt is a bit more difficult because when she slides it off, the fabric rubs against the front of her bra, and she moans from the pressure on her nipples, even though it was so light. Fuck. She's a lot more careful putting on her gym shirt.
Once she's completely changed, not even bothering to put her shoes back on, she has to admit that she feels better. It's nice to be out of sweaty clothes and her gym ones are much more loose and airy. She feels like she can breath, despite the constant clench of her cunt around nothing.
She clenches her hands onto the edge of the bench and tries to breath through it, bending her head down and closing her eyes.
The locker room door opens.
She ignores it, because it's probably a girl from one of the other sports teams. They'll most likely leave her alone, unless they ask if she's okay. If they do though, one comment about cramps and they'll understand and leave her alone.
The footsteps head straight in her direction, which is more curious. And when a voice calls out, "Stiles?" that's the point where Stiles sighs heavily through her nose and wishes she didn't come to school at all.
She raises her head and Isaac is looking at her from the end of the bench, surprised and...sad?
"Hey," he says softly, and doesn't move. They stare at each other for a moment and he clears his throat and walks to her. She tenses, but doesn't stop him from sitting down a foot away from her on the bench.
"I just - uh." he sucks in a breath through his teeth, which must be a habit of his, and is wringing his fingers together. He's wearing his gym clothes, too. He's skipping practice. "I wanted to say I'm, uh- I'm sorry for teasing you about the - the whole...thing." He's not looking at her, but she's staring at him, gobsmacked. "I mean, I already knew you were a little irritated by it, but you're obviously having a hard time right now, so I'm sorry if I - you know, if I made it worse or something, by saying something." he sits straight now, and look at her. "I like fucking with you, but, uh..." he trails off and blinks a couple times. "Uh."
Stiles waits. Her heart is beating faster.
Isaac shakes his head and clears his throat. "Uhm. Right. I was saying…"
"You were saying sorry," Stiles hears herself say. "For messing with me today."
"Right." He nods and swallows thickly. "Uh." He stops again.
"Are you...okay?" Stiles asks softly. This is kind of what just happened with Scott, she realizes. She turns toward him on the bench but also uses the shift to back away from him a bit, hoping he doesn't notice.
"Yeah, yeah," he responds, just as softly. "Sorry, I'm...I don't know. Uh, do you smell something?" he looks around curiously and she breathes in.
"Not really. Usual locker room sweat." She licks her lips.
He nods slowly, watching her tongue, then shakes his head. "Yeah, you're right. Yeah." He turns to face her again and talks, keeping eye contact as he does. His hands move as he speaks. "Anyway, yeah, I'm sorry. I meant it as a joke, but it's obviously at a bad time." he runs his hand through his hair and she watches closely, watches his fingers work between the strands and settle them down. "I just wanted to, uhm. Apologize. Because." His hands fall back between them and she keeps staring. They're long. His fingers are long. Her stomach tightens and she breathes out slowly.
He breathes in, words stopping mid sentence.
"Uhm," he breathes out, voice rough. "Stiles. You." his hands reach out and takes hers within his, and when she looks down she realizes her hands were gripping the bench hard enough to go white.
"Oh. Uh." His hands and fingers wrap loosely around her own, then her wrist, and forearm, and they travel and grip around her upper arms. The graze of his fingertips against her skin make her blush, and she tries to say something, anything, as he scoots closer to her, but all that comes out again is, "Oh."
"Stiles, what's going on," he asks quietly, and little rushed. His hands are gripping tightly on her arms, so tightly, she might bruise, but he's staring at her lips and throat, eyes blown wide and breathing picking up.
"I don't know," she answers honestly, and tries to twitch forward, but his strength stops her and he growls.
"I want to - fuck." He breathes out harshly and his arms start shaking. "Is this - is this why -"
"Isaac," Stiles groans, burning, burning. "Please."
He moans softly. "What..what is..."
Stiles is sweating again. Her breath is shaking and - and - fuck, his hands feel so good around even just her arms, what if they were on her, sliding across her skin, traveling down, what if his fingers dipped into her pants, they're so long, longer than hers, what if he bent her over the bench and just -
"Isaac," she whines, and he moans and barrels forward, slamming his mouth onto hers.
Stiles' skin lights up like fireworks. She gasps into his mouth and gets up on her knees on the bench, cradling his face between her hands as he moves his own to her hips and grips tightly. God, god, so tight, his grip is so good -
Isaac lifts her shirt and suddenly his palms are on her skin, flat against her sides and so fucking hot, melting her into him so that her breasts rub against his chest with the harshness of her breathing. She grips onto his hair with her left hand and reaches back with her right to grip the back of his shirt and pull him closer.
Isaac's lips are dry but his tongue is hot and wet and dances with hers so well. He licks the roof of her mouth, which almost tickles, but a moan escapes instead of a laugh. She shivers, feels goosebumps raise across her skin. His hands travel up to her bra and his fingertips tease the edge of it, lightly grazing, until she's whimpering into his mouth.
"Please," she whispers between their lips meeting, "Please, please, please," and he digs his fingers underneath the wire and cups her breasts with his hands. Stiles throws her head back, finally some sort of satisfaction, and breathily moans. His mouth dives to her neck, and as he squeezes her breasts and licks and bites at the skin, as she whimpers into his hair and her hips grind against his waist, he lifts himself from the bench so he can swing his leg over and straddle it. She stays kneeling but he slides his hands to her back and urges her closer, then lifts his hands so that both her shirt and bra are taken clean off and thrown somewhere on the ground.
Stiles is a handful, in life and in cup size, which is a joke she's made in front of Lydia and Erica before, as if she's had any experience with someone cupping her breasts. They had both rolled their eyes. Now Stiles rolls her own in pleasure since Isaac is able to literally cup her breasts in the palm of his hand and fondle them perfectly, perfect, god, yes, yes -
She's moaning, she knows she is, if anyone finds them, they're fucked, but she can't stop, can't shut her mouth up, it feels so good, so fucking good.
Isaac's mouth travels down her neck, licking, nipping, across her shoulder to the edge of her breast, and the hand that's holding that one moves to her waist where his fingernails scrape and dig into her skin. He's breathing so harshly, she can feels the puffs of air across her skin wherever he moves his mouth. It makes her tingle all over, down to her cunt, and her toes flex against the wood of the bench in pleasure.
His mouth kisses her nipple.
She's shaking.
The hand on her waist moves down over her gym shorts, but slips under the leg of the fabric and cups her ass over her underwear, kneading it between his fingers.
His teeth lightly scrapes across her nipple, but he doesn't suck, doesn't bite.
God. Fuck, god, fuck -
She whines into his hair again and pulls on the strands, then pushes her chest into his face so he can do something, anything -
His tongue peaks out and teases the nub -
Fuck, he's teasing her, isn't he, fucking asshole -
"Isaac, please," she moans into his hair. "Please, fucking just - just touch me, more, please, I want you, please -"
His teeth settle on the skin around her nipple and he bites softly and wraps his lips around it and sucks.
"Fuck," Stiles breathes, and "Aaahh," she sighs and moans, as he bites and sucks and licks, and his other hand twists her nipple between his fingers and pulls roughly, he's rough, thank god, god, god, god -
She's trembling against him, she's probably pulling his hair so hard that it hurts, but it's hard for her to focus on anything else besides his mouth, his lovely mouth, her nipples have always been sensitive and he's fucking ravaging them. Then there's the hand on her ass that's moving over her hips, curious fingers teasing the edge of her panty line.
"Yes," she encourages. "Yes, please."
His fingers find the bottom edge of her underwear, but they stop and hover over her mound for a second, and she realizes that he's feeling how wet she is, grazing his fingers across the drenched fabric slowly, and she can feel the ghost of pressure against her clit just from this, which makes her buck into his fingers and arch her head back in another moan.
He releases her nipple from his mouth. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he's muttering, and she whines in agreement. "Stiles, you - fuck. You smell so good," he moans. "So fucking good, so fucking wet."
A newfound blush tingles across her skin and her whole body is shaking now, wanting him everywhere, wanting him on her -
His other hand continues twisting and pulling at her nipple but his mouth travels across the front of her chest, licking, kissing, biting wherever he can. As he does, his fingers under her shorts finally dip under her underwear and find where her wetness gathers. He moans against her skin, muttering fuck a couple more times, and slides a single digit inside of her.
Stiles gasps. Her hands move from his hair and back to both of his shoulders and she thrusts her hips lower onto his finger and it slides in so easy, she's so wet, and they both moan.
"Oh my god. Oh my god." Her nails dig into his shoulders. "Another. Another, another, another -"
"Gotchu, I got you," he says between her breasts, and he slips in another one, still easy but so much more full. This is already bigger than her vibrator. Fuck. Fuck.
"Fuck," she moans, and he moans alongside her.
"A-Are you okay?" he asks, face still pressed against her chest. He's breathing harshly into her skin, she really feels it now. She wants to lower her hips farther onto his fingers but she can't spread her legs far at all on this bench and there's no more room to go lower, and he won't move.
"Can you - more -"
"Finger?" he asks but she shakes her head and whines.
"Move," she groans, and he nods against her.
"Yeah." He thrusts his fingers slowly, in and out of her, and already she can hear how wet she is from his fingers thrusting. It's so slow, though, so slow, and she whines again and clenches his shirt between her hands in frustration.
"Isaac," she begs.
"I got you," he says again, and removes his fingers.
"No, no, no," she practically yells, but he ignores her and takes his hand out from her gym shorts.
He grabs her by the waist and lifts her. "Straddle me."
She swings her legs over his so that they're around his waist. He's supporting all of their weight now but doesn't seem affected by it at all. Her thighs clench around his when he lets go of her waist, but his right arm loops around her hips and lifts her so his face is in her chest again. His right hand comes under her gym shorts again, moves the fabric over her cunt to the side which rubs against her clit, god, then slips two fingers inside of her again, knuckle deep.
Her entire body tenses in pleasure and she gasps in relief. His mouth finds her right nipple and he bites and sucks at it as his fingers get to work inside of her, thrusting faster than before and hitting so deep, her legs are wider now, it's easier now, jesus christ, this is so much better, she knew it, she knew it -
The he crooks his fingers toward her walls and the fireworks return.
"God, god, god, yes, Isaac, yes, yes, yes," she chants, and his fingers work faster and his breathing gets rougher and his mouth bites across her breast and chest and anywhere he can reach, and he moans into her skin as she twitches in his arms and she's close, so close, but -
"Fuck me," Stiles groans. "Please, just - fuck me, Isaac, fuck me, fuck me."
His fingers thrust into her roughly and she knows he's surprised, and he moans "Oh, fuck," across her breast and she thinks, yes, yes, finally -
But his fingers pause inside of her, deep inside of her, the pads of his digits rubbing against her wall with tiny sure strokes. He doesn't thrust them anymore, just keeps the pressure, and her "Ah, ah, ah," becomes a whisper.
"Fuck," she hears him say faintly.
"Isaac," she whispers through a moan. "You can. You can, come on. Like this." She lets go of his shoulders and he easily keeps her raised, holy fuck that's hot. His fingers are still twitching inside of her and she's still releasing tiny gasps, but she tries to keep her hips still as she reaches her hands down to his gym shorts and slips her fingers beneath the waistband of them and his boxers.
He seems frozen, like a statue, besides huffing into her chest and twisting his fingers inside of her. She pulls herself away just a bit so she can see down between them, can see when she pulls out his waist band then pulls out his dick with her right hand.
It's hard. Which seems silly as a fact, but it's pretty gratifying to see a hard cock and know it's because of her.
It's also very...pretty. Which, of course. This is fucking Isaac. But it's long and thin and...pretty. She wraps her hand around it and softly starts rubbing her thumb against his tip.
Stiles dips her head down to speak in his ear. "I'm wet enough." She rolls her hips. He moans. "You know I am. You could just slip right in. I could ride you right now," she says breathily. She can feel herself clenching around his fingers in excitement. "Come on." She shifts closer to him again so that even her stomach is against him. She rolls her hips again and pulls at her gym shorts with her free hand. "Help me get these off."
She starts sliding one side down, then his left arm tightens around her painfully, and she can't so much as roll her hips, let alone get the shorts off.
"No," he says, and it sounds guttural, forced.
A shiver of disappointment races down her spine. "No...no?"
"No," he says again, more sure this time, more distinct. Her breath stutters and her stomach drops out, and his fingers start leaving her.
She'll cry. Stiles will fucking cry.
"N-no, Isaac, please," she starts to babble, but his leaving fingers only get halfway before they thrust into her again. She moans from the unexpected intrusion.
"We'll do it like this," then his fingers really do leave and he grabs her hips again and pushes her down onto the bench. Surprise leaves her in a gasp when her back hits the wood, and now her gym shorts are gone and she thinks she heard fabric rip.
"Yes, yes, god yes," Stiles moans, ready for his dick, naked under him, ready for him to fuck her -
His right hand grips her hip with bruising force, and he doesn't follow her down, instead drops his head between her legs and licks from her cunt to her clit in one sure stroke.
She yells and her hips buck up harshly, almost hitting him in the face. His left hand slides to her lower stomach and braces her down to the bench.
"Hold," he demands roughly, grabbing her left thigh and raising her leg up so high to her chest that she knows she'll feel it, she'll definitely fucking feel it later. Her hand grips underneath her knee automatically and she holds on for dear life as he ducks his head back down.
"I'm not fucking you," Isaac growls, lips on her pussy. Stiles whimpers and her mind scatters everywhere, her body a light of pleasure when he pushes his tongue against her clit and slips two fingers inside of her with his right hand.
He doesn't bother going slow again and crooks and thrusts his fingers inside of her with a scary amount of accuracy, hitting her G spot with the pads of his fingers so well that are back arches off of the bench. She's yelling. She's fucking yelling, she knows she is, can't stop it, won't stop it, because his fingers go so much deeper than her own or her vibrator and his tongue is doing - god, things, it's doing things, it's flicking up against her clit and then tensing down roughly and rubbing up and down against her with the sweetest pressure.
Then his lips wrap around her clit again and suck and she yells his name and her free hand grips his hair and pulls at him, to get him closer, maybe, possibly, but not really, because he's already so close, nose against her mound and breathing her in and tasting her, moaning around her clit -
He takes out his fingers and dips his tongue to her cunt, points it and dives in. The heel of her right leg digs into his back. He sucks at her, laps up her wetness, then raises back to her clit. When his fingers come back she feels more full than before, and there's probably three in her now, three of his fucking fingers, each of them curving up into her with dizzying pressure and force, "Isaac, Isaac, Isaac, Isaac - Isaac - Isa -" and he sucks on her clit and flicks his tongue -
When Stiles comes, her back comes off the bench and she sees stars. Maybe she screams. Isaac keeps his fingers inside of her, directly against her G spot, milking her through it, but keeps his tongue loose against her clit and just lightly licks against it as she shakes and moans through her orgasm.
She's breathing heavily and every outward breath has a tiny moan accompanying it. Isaac takes out his fingers slowly and she doesn't think to care where his hand leaves to. Her back is on the bench again. He leaves his tongue on her clit and she can feel him gasping still. She might be a bit lightheaded. Isaac laps at her pussy again, from her clit downward, and she twitches from sensitivity but gasps from the sparks of pleasure. He flicks his tongue in and out of her cunt, tasting her still, which doesn't feel too overwhelming, just nice, and she sighs out in satisfaction and carefully rolls her hips to press her cunt more against his tongue.
Then he gasps harshly, groans "Fuck," against her pussy, and sighs. He'd been jacking off, and came to the taste of her. Stiles' mind is blown.
Slowly, she lowers her left leg to the ground and unwraps her fingers from her thigh. Her arm drops uselessly to Isaac's head, joining her other hand still holding onto his hair, just not as tightly as before. He's shifted his head up to lay it down on her stomach, trying to get a hold of his breathing. Her entire body tingles pleasantly. She plays with his hair for a moment.
And then what just happened hits her.
"Oh." Her hands freeze on his head. "Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. My. God. Oh my god."
"Yeah," Isaac agrees against her skin, and she sputters and attempts to sit up, but her arms are jello, and she falls back down.
"Isaac, you just fucked me," Stiles yells at the ceiling.
"No, no, I did not," he says fervently, and she feels him lift his head. "I made sure of that." She feels him crawl up her body and he leans his elbows on either side of her head and looks down at her. "I fingered you."
"And ate me out," Stiles reminds, then shakes her head. "Not the issue. You. And me. Doing anything."
"I know, I know," he sighs. "Something got to me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it just - it just happened, and I -" he doesn't know how to continue. "Stiles, it got to you, too. You were -"
"I know," Stiles interrupts, looking at him with dawning horror.
"You -...wait a second." He stares down at her. "Stiles."
She gulps down embarrassment, fear, and says to him, "It's not you. I think it's me. All day I've been - it's been - I'm just horny all the fucking time, and it's been building, and I wasn't sure what to do -"
"You've been masturbating more often," he says with realization, staring at her with wide eyes. She flushes from embarrassment but nods through it and closes her eyes. "That's - that lead to this?"
She nods fervently and raises her hands to cover her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Hey, wait." He hits his forehead against her hands. "Move it."
She moves her hands.
"So - so you've, what, just been more horny?"
"Basically," she whispers. "But like...a bit desperately."
His eyebrows come together, deep in thought. "And then today was really bad."
"The worst," she agrees.
"And when I came in...no, when I got close to you." He glances across her face. "Stiles, it was your smell. You just...you smelled…"
"...like...want?" she says, remembering what Scott said.
"I...Yeah, I guess that's close. Definitely desire. Definitely that...I should be the one to ease it. I should be the one to fuck you." he shakes his head. "Fuck, Stiles, I...I was actually going to fuck you. But." he looks at her again. "You've never had sex, right?"
She shakes her head slowly.
"I just...some part of me knew it wasn't natural. It was - it was like I was watching it all happen from under water." He breathed out unsteadily. "I could only kind of...shift my intention. But Stiles, I...I couldn't stop."
They stare at each other for a moment, then Stiles mutters, "I didn't want you to stop."
It hangs heavy between them.
"Scott was gonna take me to Deaton after practice."
"Scott knows?"
"Yeah." Stiles sighs. "He left me here to wait so that I wouldn't...run into anyone."
Isaac scoffs. Then chuckles. Then outright laughs. Then he's just laughing above her, forehead planted into her shoulder.
"Glad you got a kick out of that," Stiles droles sarcastically, even though she's smiling, too. It's pretty damn ironic.
"Sorry, sorry," he gasps. Then he sits up and back until he's out of Stiles' line of sight. "You should get dressed before practice is up."
"I can't move," Stiles says to the ceiling.
"Wait, what?"
"Pleasantly," Stiles says before he gets worried. "In a pleasant I-was-just-sexed-way."
Isaac snorts and her shorts are thrown in her face.
"Nice," she says as she lifts them off. She feels around her waist, but her underwear are gone. They're not in the shorts. "Do you know where my underwear is?"
There's an awkward silence. "I uh...I ripped them," Isaac says, trying for nonchalant.
"You ripped them."
"I ripped them," he repeats.
"Jesus." She brings her legs up and slips her feet through the fabric, then lifts her hips and settles the shorts on her waist. She swings her feet over and onto the ground, tries to stand, them immediately falls to her knees.
She bursts out laughing.
"My god," Isaac says from above her. "You weren't kidding."
"Oh -" gasp, "my -" gasp, "god." she laughs into the ground then turns onto her back. "Fuck. You fucked me up."
Isaac kneels down beside her and is keeping his eyes on her own as he passes over her bra. "I'm sorry," he says quietly.
She takes the bra from him and slips it over her head, trying to keep eye contact. Once it's in place and she's more or less decent, she says, "Don't feel bad."
He raises a brow at her but she smiles softly. "Don't. Neither of us had much of a grip, dude. And you managed not to go too far." She sighs and shrugs sadly. "If anything," she says even more quietly, "I'm thankful it was you, and not the horde of other possibilities."
He sighs and nods. "Okay."
"Plus," she starts with a smile. "You were pretty fucking awesome, and I feel really good right now," and she rubs her thighs in satisfaction.
Isaac snorts loudly and shoves at her shoulder, but he's smiling, and looks a little better from the astute guilt he was rocking a second ago. "I'll find your shirt."
Fully clothed and fully satisfied, for now, Stiles and Isaac leave the locker room and hightail it to Stiles' car. She clutches her earlier clothes to her chest as they speed walk and tries not to think about what would have happened if someone she didn't know, or a pack member with a partner, had shown up.
In the car, she messages Scott that she's leaving ahead of him with Isaac to see Deaton and that she'll meet him there. Since practice is on for another thirty minutes of the usual two hour length, she doesn't expect a reply.
Her and Isaac look at each other briefly when she turns the car on. He has his fight face on, which Stiles appreciates. She doesn't know how well she can talk about this and keep her head.
Seatbelts on, Stiles puts the car in reverse and they squeal out of the parking lot.