Cause I've got nothing left to lose:
You're barely on time for school on Friday and you hurry across the empty parking lot to make it to English before the second bell rings. Isaac is lounging against the wall next to the double doors waiting for you and you flash him a grin as he rolls his eyes at you.
"Cutting it a bit close," he says as he pulls open the door. "Scott was asking about you."
"Oh, really," you say, trying to sound smug, but you feel your cheeks flush with pleasure at the thought.
"Yeah," he says simply, but doesn't elaborate any further, just smirks at you lewdly, which causes your imagination to go all sorts of places.
"So what did you two do last night?" you ask him casually, but know he can hear your heart rate increase as you power walk down the hallway of lockers to your English classroom.
Isaac shrugs. "He went to bed. I took a shower."
You groan. "You didn't." Isaac grins wolfishly, but doesn't turn to look at you. "Isaac, gross, and you're going to scare him off if you keep-"
"Oh, believe me, he wasn't scared off," Isaac says with a smirk.
You raise your eyebrows. "Whoa, okay, what exactly-"
"-do you think you're doing?" Stiles says, stepping around the corner with a furious look on his face, arms crossed over his plaid shirt. "Yeah, that's what I want to know."
"What?" you say, taken aback by his sudden appearance and hostility.
"What the hell do you think you're doing is what I want to know," Stiles say angrily, face white with rage.
"Uh, going to English..." Isaac says, bemused. "Which is going to start in, like, five seconds, so-"
"You know what I'm talking about," Stiles bites out, jaw clenched tightly. "What do you think you're doing with Scott? Is this some kind of game to you? Because if it is, I swear to God, I'll run you two over with my Jeep if you do anythi- "
"No, it's not..." you say uncomfortably, because really? Scott had to tell Stiles already? "It's not like that."
"Yeah? What is it like then?" Stiles shoots back.
The bell rings and you wince, but Stiles is implacable.
"Uh, how about none of your business?" Isaac scoffs, stepping forward. "Now move before we get marked as tardy."
"Not so fast, wolfboy," Stiles snarls and shoves Isaac back one-handed. "You know what I'm going to do, I'm going to break off an extra large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe and shove it up your freakin-"
"Yeah, you think you can take me?" Isaac says with a growl and you grab his arm before he can reach out to shove Stiles back.
"Enough," you say coolly. "We are not going to hurt Scott."
"Yeah, how am I supposed to believe you?" Stiles says, glaring at the two of you. "Both of you do not exactly have the greatest track record with not hurting people, if we're being honest here."
"Wow, are you his keeper or something?" Isaac sneers, pulling against your grip in annoyance.
"No, I'm his best friend and I don't trust either of you," Stiles says, point-blank.
That hurts, more than you expect. It's not like you're really friends with Stiles, but you didn't know he hated you. And he is Scott's best friend. How is Scott going to feel about that?
"This is pathetic," Isaac says cruelly. "What kind of co-dependant freak are you?" he continues, sort of, well, no, extremely hypocritically.
"Scott can make his own decisions," you say before Stiles can retort and tug Isaac past Stiles down the hall to your English classroom and hope whatever substitute it is today isn't in a bad mood.
"Hey, I'm not done yet!" Stiles yells after you. "I hadn't even gotten to the "You break his heart, I break your knees" part!"
"Pft, you can try," Isaac says, turning around to no doubt give Stiles a sarcastic smirk.
"Enough," you mutter and tug him away harder.
God, it's like you're the only one with any sense here.
Stiles and Isaac are pissed off at each other for the rest of the day, but thankfully keep their mouths shut in front of Scott. Lunch is a confusing mess of trying not to blush at the way Scott smiles at you, avoiding Lydia's confused looks, and trying to pretend that Erica and Boyd aren't sitting with you again . You don't know why Scott is so determined to be friends with them. Like, okay, this year has probably been pretty traumatizing for them, with the whole being locked in a bank vault for weeks on end, but in your opinion there's too much bad blood between you to bother trying to be friends. But you guess Scott is the glue of your whole group anyway; most of you wouldn't talk to each other without him. Erica and Boyd seem cautiously optimistic, warming up to Scott in a way that is uncomfortably familiar.
It's...whatever. You're not happy about it, but you don't have to be angry about it. You have better things in your life to focus on.
"Allison?" Scott says in surprise when you clamber up his roof after school, sticking his head out his window to stare at you. "What are you doing here? I thought you were coming over at 6:30."
"Isaac will be home at 6:30," you say, grinning at him as you slip inside his room. "I am coming over early."
"Okayyy," Scott says, stepping back in embarrassment, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "You know my mom's not home, you could have knocked. What do you want to do?"
You raise any eyebrow at him and step forward to kiss him, guiding his hands to your waist. Scott makes a soft noise into the kiss and then smiles against your mouth, fingers tightening on the fabric of your sweatshirt.
"Okay, I guess that was a stupid question," he says, pulling back shyly. His eyes are so soft and warm, you want to bury yourself in him and never come out.
"Such a gentleman," you say teasingly and press a quick kiss to his jaw.
Scott beams like that really is a compliment and you feel heat rush into your face, heart pounding with excitement. You've felt this way before, with Isaac, but you've never felt so reckless. You always had to be careful with him.
You have to be careful with Scott too, of course. He hasn't done this before. Anything before. But he goes easily when you back him up to his bed and pulls you on top of him eagerly, hands running down your back as he kisses you.
You pull off your sweatshirt after a minute, enjoying the way his eyes zero in on the tops of your boobs over your white cami. He groans when you lean down to press them against his chest and slides his hands up your sides so that his fingertips brush the skin just above your arm holes, but doesn't venture any further even though you ache for him.
"Take it off," you tell him, pulling back and brushing your hair out of the way so it doesn't fall onto his face.
"You okay with that?" Scott asks, even as his hands tighten on your sides and pupils dilate.
"Are you okay with it?" you ask with a grin, skin buzzing with the desire to be touched.
"You're asking me if I'm okay with taking off your clothes?" Scott grins back and you press your forehead to his, noses brushing together.
"Another stupid question," you murmur and Scott laughs, at least until you raise you arms as he pulls your cami over your head. You unclasp you bra without thinking and toss it behind you, sitting up to smirk down at the dumbfounded look on his face. "Your turn," you say, trying to sound smug, but he can probably tell how much your hands are shaking out of excitement. You roll him over and help him tug his t-shirt over his head and then pull him on top of you by the front of his pants and run your hands down his bare chest greedily. Seriously, though, he has great abs. His mouth feels great on your neck, and his hands feel even better on your boobs, and you lean back and clutch his shoulders, trying very hard not to grind your hips up against his, even though you're pretty sure he's hard. You'd love to get him in you, or at least give him a handjob, but you feel weird about doing it while Isaac's not here, so you just make-out and grope each other until Scott pulls away, red-faced, and asks if you can take a break.
"Sure," you say casually and pretend not to notice him quickly pulling his comforter up to his waist. You snuggle close to him, pressing your foreheads together, eyelids fluttering as his hand strokes your waist gently. Your brain-to-mouth filter is not exactly up to speed, which is probably why what you say next is: "So did Isaac jerk off in your shower last night?"
Scott's slightly strained expression disappears and his mouth drops open in shock. "Wh-What?"
"I mean, if he made you uncomfortable you can tell me and I'll, you know, take care of it," you say quickly, cheeks burning because what is wrong with you?
"Um, no," Scott says, equally as embarrassed. "No, that's okay. It was...I mean, I didn't...mind, I guess?" He sounds very confused.
Did you like it? you think, but wisely decide to keep your mouth shut.
"Sorry," you mutter, face-planting yourself into his sheets so you don't have to look at his bewildered expression anymore. "I know I'm being weird."
"It's okay," Scott reassures you immediately, hand coming up to smooth down the back of your right arm. "This entire thing is weird, but...good...right?"
You peak up at him hesitantly and smile. "Yeah," you say happily and snuggle close to him, twining your legs with his under the covers.
You're quiet for a few seconds and worry about it being awkward. You never really talk much with Isaac, but the silence seems kind of weird with Scott.
"Hey, so, um, what's going on with Erica and Boyd?" you ask, for lack of a better conversation topic. "I mean, is there a reason they've been...or, are they going to be hanging out with us now or whatever?"
"Yeah, I think so," Scott says, propping his head up on his arm to better look at you. "I dunno, I guess I feel bad for them. They seem pretty isolated, you know. I've been trying to talk to Derek too, but he's being, I dunno, difficult."
"Okay," you say, and avoid making a snarky comment about Derek's stellar personality. "Is it...do you think it's an alpha thing?"
"What?" Scott frowns. "No, I, it's not..." But he trails off, eyes widening in horror. "I don't...I don't think it is," he says and looks extremely anxious all of the sudden.
Shit.
"No, I mean, not in a bad way, I meant like, you know, taking care of everyone," you say, inwardly kicking yourself for not remembering how much Scott hates having werewolf things happen to him without his control. "'Cause you're good at that."
Scott's expression wavers and he flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. You immediately go to him and rest your head on his shoulder, throwing an arm over his bare chest. "Sorry," you murmur guiltily.
"It's just like...one of those things where you think you're over it," Scott says quietly, eyes slipping shut. His eyelashes are very dark and thick against his cheeks, so different than Isaac's. "...where you forget about it for a bit and then..."
"You get reminded," you finish. You know how that feels. It's pretty much a description of the last two years of your life. You don't say that aloud, though, because you think it would be pretty insulting to compare him being turned into a werewolf with finding out about your parents' secret livelihood. It sucks, sure, but it's not the same thing. "Sorry."
"It's okay," he says with a shrug, and gives you a sad smile. "Where do your parents think you are right now, anyway?" he adds, obviously trying to change the subject.
"At the gym with Lydia."
"Do you go to the gym with Lydia?" he asks, looking dubious.
You give him a flat look. "Do I look like I'd subject myself to that?"
"Allison!" he says reprovingly, but struggles to suppress a laugh.
You stifle your laugh in his shoulder, enjoying the way his bare skin feels against your face. "Nah, I run in the forest preserve usually, I just don't tell them that because they'd probably freak. Or, well, I used to, but I've gotten lazy now that it's colder out."
"You ever think about doing track?" he asks, hesitantly bring him hand up to stroke your hair.
"I'm not exactly a team player," you say wryly. "And anyway, I'm mainly doing it to lose weight."
He gives you an odd look. "You're trying to lose weight?"
"Yeah, I'm all flabby," you say, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible, because he's seen you half-naked, it's not like he doesn't know. You've managed to get down to 150 and stay that way, but you were 135 your freshman year of high school and you'd really like to get back to that.
"I don't," he says, looking kind of worried. "I think you look grea- I mean, why do you want to lose weight?"
You shrug uncomfortably and look down at his shoulder. "I used to be in better shape, but when I, um, found out about my parents I got, like, super depressed and stopped exercising and ate a ton of junk food."
You have no idea why you're telling him this. You've never even told Isaac this. Or Lydia, though you're pretty sure they both know anyway. It's not exactly something you should spill so early in your...relationship?, but Scott's always made you feel like you can tell him stuff and he won't judge you for it.
"I'm sorry," he says gently, rubbing your back. "How did...how did you find out?"
"When I was fifteen I saw them murder a girl from my History class in our backyard," you mumble against his skin and feel him stiffen under you. "That was in Colorado. Then we were in San Francisco for a year and then we moved here."
"Allison, I'm so sorry," he says again and shifts to embrace you.
You clutch him back and blink rapidly against the tears suddenly accumulating in your eyes. "They're pretty terrible," you say, trying for an uncaring laugh, but your voice shakes pathetically.
Scott shifts back and cups your face, leaning in to kiss your cheek gently. It's a little odd how easily this all comes to him. You and Isaac try to be gentle and loving, but it always seems awkward and unnatural. Despite his inexperience, Scott's much better at this than you, you think and suppress a snort of inappropriate laughter.
"I mean, they were always sort of terrible, but the werewolf-murdering really did come out of nowhere," you say, trying and failing to make a joke.
"Yeah," Scott says simply, and a shadow passes across his face for a second before it disappears in a blink of an eye.
Your chest goes cold. "What happened?" you ask seriously, more harshly than you intended.
"I-nothing," Scott says, frowning innocently.
He's lying, you know. The knowledge of this, that he's lying to you, that your parents have done something so horrible that he's trying to keep it from you, paralyzes you. You look at him blankly, a low-pitched buzzing noise filling your mind.
"I-he, your dad, sort of shot me in the arm with a crossbow my first full moon," he admits uncomfortably after a moment, brow furrowed in worry. "It was dark, though, so he didn't know who I was. And I got better, healed right away. It wasn't that big of a deal."
"Oh," you say and the room seems brighter than it should be, the sun having gone down hours ago. "I..."
Your father tried to kill him. It's not like you didn't...you knew they, you saw them murder Emily Doroshenko. This shouldn't be so shocking.
What is wrong with them? Why are they like this, why...why do think, how can they justify themselves? They kill people, shoot arrow at them without even knowing who they are. How could they ever think that was okay? How can they be your parents, the people who raised you, who bought you a $300 camera when you were fourteen and into photography, who humored your Powerpuff Girl obsession when you were eight, and let you throw the fish back into the river during your camping trip in Montana even though they thought it was-
The people who you now understand groomed you since birth to fight, to be ruthless and unsympathetic. Who insisted on archery and gymnastics and self-defense classes, gave you lectures about safety and the horrible consequences of anything less than vigilance far too young.
This is the unvarnished truth about your parents, a truth that has tormented you for more than two years now. They are not good people. They are murderers, irrational extremists, and worst of all, your entire childhood was a carefully constructed trap to make you like them. No, that's not the worst part. The worst part is how well it worked.
"I'm sorry," you tell Scott earnestly, as if on their behalf. You take a shaky breath and force yourself to look him in the eye unwaveringly. You can't imagine how terrified he must have been, grown men with weapons chasing him in the night.
"Hey, hey, Allison, don't, it wasn't that bad," Scott says worriedly, frowning at your tremulous expression and leaning over to press his forehead against yours. You can't really look at him without crossing your eyes and it gives you the perfect excuse to close your eyes. "I healed really fast and then I just ran away. It's okay, I swear."
"Okay," you whisper back, even though it's not. It'll never be okay that your father tried to murder an innocent sixteen year old boy.
It's selfish, you know, but you wrap your arms around him and press your face into his shoulder. He rubs your back soothingly, like he's taken a freaking class in comforting hysterical girls, and you think that wanting to be with you is probably the stupidest thing he's ever done.
"Why...I always wondered," you say and clear your throat a little, pulling back a little to look at him. "Why did you ask me out last year? You didn't, I mean, you didn't know anything about me, right?"
"Oh, yeah," Scott says, and looks a little embarrassed. "I...oh, God, it was sort of a misunderstanding? Like, you were kind of staring at me a lot and I thought, well, I kind of got the wrong impression."
"Oh," you say and try very hard not to smile.
"And, I mean, I thought you were pretty, so..." he says and smiles at you sheepishly.
You feel your face heat up and look down at his collarbones automatically. You've never been very good at accepting compliments. You always expect there to be some sort of ulterior motive.
"Oh," Scott says before you can figure out what to say, perking up. "Isaac's back."
Really? Is it 6:30 already?
You strain your ears and hear the front door open downstairs. Your face splits into a mischievous grin and without warning you roll over on top of Scott and kiss him fiercely.
Scott makes a shocked "Mmf!" noise against your mouth, which quickly turns into a groan when you slide your hands down his bare chest. Not that you're obsessed with his abs or anything. Much.
He wraps his arms around you and kisses you back, rolling you over onto your sides after a minute, smiling into your mouth.
"Hey," Isaac says from the door, sounding aggrieved.
You turn to look at his irritated expression and smirk, rolling over onto your back to expose your boobs. "You just going to stand there?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow at him.
Isaac scoffs and tries to pretend that he's mad, but gives up after a few second and climbs on top of you to kiss you, groping your boobs. He reaches for Scott after a minute and your mouth goes dry as you watch Scott melt into him and tremble under his wandering hands.
"Woah, ok-okay," Scott pants when Isaac rolls him over and starts kissing down his chest, thumbing over his nipples.
"Mmm?" Isaac inquires, licking a languid line down Scott's sternum and smirking like a complete douchebag.
"Yeah, he's pretty much always this horny," you whisper into his ear and then turn to give Isaac a pointed look, because, really, he needs to be less...him right now.
"Can I jerk you off?" Isaac asks breathily, rubbing his hand over Scott's abdomen, above the tent in his jeans.
"Isaac!" you hiss, giving him an incredulous look, because he can't just-
"Yes," Scott groans, clutching Isaac's left shoulder and giving a full body jerk. "That would...that would be really good."
Isaac grins triumphantly and reaches down to undo his belt.
As much as you'd like to watch, Isaac is doing enough staring for the two of you, so you cup Scott's face in your hands and kiss him while he gasps under Isaac's ministrations.
"That good?" Isaac asks after a minute, voice very dry.
"Yeah, just, a little slower, like, oh God," Scott moans, jumping an octave and arching his back up into Isaac's touch, like he's being pulled into the air by an invisible string. He grabs you around the waist and grips you hard, burying his face against your shoulder, features scrunched up in pleasure, eyelashes thick and dark against his cheeks. "Okay, okay, okay, Alliso-Isaac, I'm going, I'm gonna-"
"Yeah, you are," Isaac says, but it comes out more reverent than licentious and seconds later Scott whimpers and jerks through his orgasm, making small noises that are so hot they're practically burned into your brain.
"Shit," Scott says shakily, collapsing back onto his bed, chest still rising and falling rapidly.
"Good?" Isaac says, trying to sound arrogant, but the way he climbs up the bed to sidle up to him needily reveals his true feelings.
"Mmhm," Scott says tiredly, bringing a hand up clumsily to stroke his hair.
"See," Isaac tells you with badly concealed glee, grabbing a bunch of tissues off of Scott's bedside table. "It's good. Obviously. I've had a lot of practice with my right hand."
You roll your eyes, but Scott snorts with laughter and reaches over to touch Isaac's chest through his shirt dazedly.
You squirm uncomfortably and try not to stare at Scott's dick, which is all uncircumcised ( weird) and lying against his thigh in plain view. You wonder if it would feel different inside you than Isaac's.
"Need a hand?" Isaac smirks over at you, eyes flitting up and down as he looks over at you.
"I dunno," you say, affecting nonchalance. "They do say if you want something done right, do it yourself."
Isaac grins wolfishly and rolls over Scott to plant his face in your boobs, squeezing them and generally having way too much fun mouthing at them. You arch back against Scott's pillow and squirm a bit under his hips because seriously, you ache. You turn idly to look at Scott and see him watching you in awe, his eyes going as wide as dinner plate when Isaac moves down your body and unbuttons your pants.
Isaac is always sort of obnoxious when he goes down on you, but he really goes to town this time, flinging your soaked underwear in the direction of Scott's desk and making gross squelching noises against you while he sticks his tongue inside you and sucks at you with a truly obscene amount of enthusiasm. Not that you're really complaining, especially once his fingers get in you. You scrabble for the headboard for something to hold onto, but Scott doesn't have a headboard, so you end up grabbing for his window ledge instead and holding on tightly, gritting your teeth against the moans building up in the back of your throat. The room still seems very quiet, your muffled noises filling it up, and you gasp with Isaac pushes your legs back, tilting your hips up so that you're practically folded in half. You realize why after a second, looking down at Isaac's devious expression between your spread legs. He's showing off. For Scott.
It send more heat pulsing through you and suddenly you're way closer than you thought. You look back at Scott and strangely enough it's the sight of his mouth half open as he stares at the two of you that makes you come, a sharp cry escaping your lips as you ride it out.
"Hah, easy," Isaac snickers, wiping his mouth and flopping over onto his back between you and Scott.
You let out a disgruntled groan and roll onto your side and press your face into Scott's sheets. They smell like his deodorant.
"You alive?" Isaac continues smugly, shaking your shoulder a bit, which only causes your hair to fall further over your face. "You gonna help me out or what? I mean, I know I'm good, but-"
"You talk a lot, don't you," Scott murmurs lazily.
Isaac doesn't reply and after a second you open your eyes and look up to see Scott pressed up against Isaac's back, his hand under his shirt and mouth attached to the side of his neck. Isaac is bright red and sort of dazed, and he shudders when Scott moves his hand up over his pecs.
You smirk and prop up your head on your arm for a better look, completely content to watch Scott render Isaac inarticulate with just a couple touches to his mouth and chest.
Scott nuzzles Isaac's neck up a bit to have more room to suck at his jugular and Isaac makes a soft broken sound, tilting his head back further and then sliding onto his back and pulling Scott on top of him desperately.
Scott smiles down at him, kissing his mouth gently. For someone who's never done this before, he has a lot of confidence, running his hands down Isaac's chest and unbuckling his belt.
Dry-mouthed, you watch Scott jack him off with steady hands, kissing his gasping mouth. You scootch closer to press yourself against Isaac's side and Scott's eyes move from Isaac to you. They seem much darker than usual. He smiles at you and it makes your heart flip ridiculously, like he isn't jacking off your boyfriend right this second.
"Oh, shit," Isaac gasps, expression strained. "Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, Scott, I'm, just- ah!"
"Who's easy now?" you whisper as he shakes through the aftershocks.
Isaac grumbles and rolls over into Scott's chest, shamelessly clinging to him. You grin and latch onto his back, reaching over to touch Scott's side.
"So...that happened..." Scott says, trying and failing to hide his beaming smile.
"Yeah," you say, suddenly bashful and press your cheek to Isaac's (kind sweaty) shoulder.
"That happens a lot," Isaac says, not surfacing from Scott's chest. You roll your eyes.
"Yeah?" Scott says, eyes shining with happiness. It's utterly infectious and you grin back at him, and then just give up and roll over Isaac (who squawks indignantly) and kiss him furiously.
You have to leave around 7:30 to get back home for dinner, but when you open Scott's front door there's a tall Mexican man right outside the door, fist outstretched to knock.
"Uh, hi," you say, looking up and down his official-looking suit with a twinge of worry.
He immediately scowls at you. "Don't tell me you live here too," he says with inexplicable hostility.
"No...?" you say, bewildered. "Excuse me, do you need something?"
"Who are you?" the man counters disapprovingly, eyes flitting over your mussed hair. "Where's Scott?"
"Who are you?" you reply, instantly suspicious of his motives. What does he want with Scott? Scott, who is upstairs sleeping with Isaac after the two of you, well, melted his brain with orgasms.
"I'm his father," the man replies and whoa, you do see the resemblance now.
"I thought you lived in Sacramento," you say, as that's literally the only thing you know about Scott's father, other than that he and Scott's mother are divorced and he's never around.
Scott's father looks aggrieved, but before he can say anything else there's the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind you.
"What are you doing here?" Scott demands harshly, skipping the last two steps and coming up to stand behind you, arms crossed over his hoodie. His hair looks in good order, but there's a line from his sheets pressed into his cheek. "Other than interrogating my friends?"
"I want to speak to you." Scott's father says, face set in a uncomfortably familiar manner.
"No," Scott says bitingly, and you've never seen him so mad at someone who wasn't trying to kill him. "So you can go now."
"Look, Scott," his dad says beseechingly and then seems to remember you're there. "Can we speak in private?"
Scott clenches his jaw and looks to you, and you try to give him a look that says you're totally willing to stay and keep him from having to deal with his father alone, but his shoulders sag after a moment.
"You have to get home, right?" he says and gives you a reassuring look when you hesitate.
"Yeah..." you say uncertainly, glancing between Scott and his father. "I'll see you at school."
You walk out the door around Scott's father and resist the urge to look back at them.
"Who was she?" you hear Scott's father demand when you're halfway down the lawn.
"Absolutely none of your business," Scott retorts.
They're still arguing on the porch when you drive away.
You text Isaac later that night and find out that Scott's dad has been in town about a week, ostensibly to reconnect with Scott after he heard Melissa had been kidnapped. Except then they found out he's really here to gather evidence that Stiles's dad is an incompetent Sheriff and possibly have him impeached. According to Isaac, Scott was already angry at his dad for ditching him after the divorce and this new piece of information, coupled with his blatant disapproval of Isaac living with Scott and his mother, makes any kind of "reconnecting" unlikely to occur.
What an asshole, you think, as you zone out during your parents' dinner conversation about the Libyan civil war. Did he really think that was going to ingratiate Scott to him in any way?
Though it does kind of explain why Stiles was being such a dick lately.
"Oh, God, I am so sorry," Scott says over burgers the next night, cringing. "I didn't know he was going to do that."
"I mean, it's not like I care, but he's been glaring at us for the past two days, so you might want to tell him to back off," Isaac says, taking an obnoxious slurp of his milkshake from the other side of the table.
"Yeah, he...uh...didn't take it well," Scott mumbles in embarrassment, shifting next to you in his seat in the booth uncomfortably. "I swear I didn't think he'd say anything to you, I'm really sorry."
"It's okay," you say with a shrug, because you really could care less what Stiles thinks of your relationship with Scott. Stiles is just going to have to get over it. You feel bad for Scott, though, having to deal with that. You're already worried enough about what Lydia's going to say and she's a lot more understanding than Stiles.
"So..." Isaac says, looking Scott up and down interestedly, trying and utterly failing to affect a nonchalant expression. "Wanna get out of here?"
"I haven't finished my burger ye-" Scott starts and then raises his eyebrows at Isaac's pointed look. "Oh," he says, lip twitching up a bit in a satisfied smirk and wow, that really does it for you. "I guess I could take it to-go?"
"Waiter!" Isaac calls automatically, and you smirk as well, leaning up against Scott's side and not-so subtly putting your hand on his thigh, causing his leg to jump.
You take his virginity that night, on top of the ratty bedspread of your usual motel, while Isaac watches in awe and murmurs dirty things into Scott's ear every once and a while. Scott moans your name in wonder and rocks into you awkwardly, coming with a low grunt deep in his throat and collapsing into your shoulder, but it's still one of the most satisfying experiences of your life, watching him slowly fall apart. Isaac gets you off with his fingers, pressed against your back while his dick slides between the space between your thighs, rubbing against you where you're still slick and sensitive from Scott. He groans when you gasp out your orgasm into the pillow, hiding your face because it's still a little embarrassing and Scott is just watching you, and picks up the pace, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers.
"Hey, um, you probably shouldn't...you know...like that," Scott says, sounding a bit hoarse.
"What?" Isaac says, his breath gusting your ear, sounding strained as continues to move against you.
"I mean, not without a condom," Scott explains awkwardly, cheeks very red and pupil blown out. "It's not very likely, but technically she could still get pregnant."
"What?!" you say, looking up at him in shock.
"But...I'm not even," Isaac says, stopping short. "Seriously?"
"Uh, yeah, penetration isn't actually required for..." Scott starts, then seems to realize he sounds like a textbook and trails off uncomfortably.
Isaac groans in frustration and rolls onto his back to grab his dick. You let out a huff of laughter at his impatience and follow him, batting his right hand off his dick and pinning it above his head. You stroke him quickly, tightening your hand on his wrist until his skin turns even whiter, and watch him come with a silent O-face with deep satisfaction.
"How are you doing?" you say, turning back to Scott and cuddling up to his bare chest.
"Good," he says with a smile, kissing you on the mouth gently. "Really, really good."
Isaac makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat and presses up against you again, wrapping an arm around you needily.
Are you really? you wonder even as you lean back into Isaac's embrace. Losing your virginity to two people in a musty motel?
He doesn't seem to regret it though, by the way he smiles at you and lays his head on your shoulder, reaching across you to touch Isaac's hair. Isaac sighs softly against the back of your neck and suddenly you wonder what the girl who saw her parents murder her classmate two years ago would think of you now, curled up naked between two werewolves. You let out a snort of amusement at the thought, but it's short-lived once your thoughts to shift to what your parents would think.
"Allison?" Scott murmurs, raising his head a bit to look at you, brow furrowed in concern.
"M'okay," you reassure him and run your fingers absentmindedly up his spine. He shouldn't be taking care of you-you should be taking care of him- but you can't resist the way he reaches up to touch your cheek and murmurs that everything is going to be alright.
It's a little weird how well this whole thing works, you think as you slip out of the bed and pull your clothes on at around nine. You know you're a pretty possessive person, but you don't feel any jealously at their interest in each other. Well, you're jealous that they live together and spend every waking minute with each other, but that's different. Isaac doesn't seem to care either- is unabashedly thrilled at having a new person to sleep on top of like he is now, face buried in Scott's neck. Scott seems pleased at the attention and not at all bothered at the 170 lb werewolf smothering him and there's a warm glow in the pit of your stomach at the memory all the way home, keeping you warm in the cold October air.
It vanishes the second you enter your house.
"I understand you want to spend time with your friends, but your father and I want you to be home for dinner at least four nights a week," your mother says before you can escape upstairs. "Now come and talk to me."
You come unwillingly into the the living room and sit stiffly in the armchair across from her, keeping your expression blank and uninterested.
"What did you and Lydia do?" she asks, in the same impersonal tone she uses when she asks about your grades.
"We just went to her house and watched a movie," you say with a shrug. "Now, I actually have homework I need to do, so-"
"In a minute," your mother says, tone allowing no room for argument. She uncrosses her legs and smooths down her pencil skirt, looking at you with an interest that makes you go cold. "What about those two boys you're friends with? Scott and the other one with the strange name?"
"Stiles," you say automatically. "No, they had lacrosse practice. We don't hang out with them much anyway. Stiles has a huge crush on Lydia, but she doesn't like him, so it's awkward."
"I see," your mother says, seeming amused at the trivial problems of high-schoolers. "What about you? Is there anyone you like?"
You stare. "What?" you say, bewildered at this sudden line of questioning. "No."
"What about Scott?" your mother asks, stubbornly refusing to drop this subject. "Your father said he's captain of the lacrosse team. A ridiculous sport if you ask me, but it seems to be quite popular here."
"Co-captain," you say faintly, horrified at the idea that your parents have been doing research on your friends.
Your mother gives you an unimpressed look. "Don't look so uncomfortable. It's perfectly normal for girls your age to want a boyfriend. As long as it's an appropriate relationship, your father and I will support you. Well, it might take your father a while to come around, but he'll get there eventually."
She's, very badly, trying to make a joke, but you don't laugh, feeling sick to your stomach at the realization that your parents pay a lot more attention to your life than you thought.
"I don't like Scott," you say, more harshly than you intend.
"Why not?" your mother asks, frowning at your reaction. "By all accounts he seems like a perfectly nice boy."
By all accounts. God.
"Do you want me to go out with him?" you ask angrily, stunned by her hypocrisy. "He's Mexican, you know."
Your mother gives you a startled look. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You hate Mexicans," you say unwisely, clenching your fists at your sides in anger. "You always complain about them."
"About illegals, Allison," your mother says, looking insulted. "He's not an illegal." There's no doubt in her voice-she knows this for sure. "With a name like McCall, his family could have been here longer than both your father's and mine."
"Whatever," you say, disgusted at her arbitrary prejudices. Your parents hunt werewolves, sure, but they're also such assholes . "I'm not interested in dating."
"Be that as it may, your attitude is not acceptable," your mother says sternly, narrowing her eyes at you.
"Fine," you say shortly. "Can I go now?"
You're still being incredibly rude, but your mother doesn't appear interested in berating you for your manners and just sighs and says. "Alright, go get your homework done."
You take a shower instead and then curl up in your bed without bothering to blow-dry your hair, imagining you're back in Scott's bed, curled between your two boyfriends, Scott's arms around your waist, warm and comforting, Isaac's hair brushing your neck. It's not as good at the real thing, obviously, but it helps.
"Hey," Scott says, smiling at you as he opens the door, dressed in a soft-looking navy sweatshirt and basketball shorts. He frowns when he looks over you and you feel a jolt of self-consciousness. Why didn't you put on mascara and something nicer than your old sweatshirt from the high school you went to in San Francisco? It's not like you don't have nice clothes. Lydia's bought you some over the part few months and you still have a ton of stuff from your mom's boutique. "Where's your books?"
"Uh...at home," you say, and then realize that when he said "come over and study" he actually meant come over and study.
"Well, I guess we can share," Scott says and holds open the door for you.
You follow him up into his room dubiously, but can't hide your smile when you see Isaac lying on his stomach on Scot's bed, surrounded by books and papers. He gives you a baleful look.
"We were just going over the Physics quizzes from last month," Scott explains, clearing off some books off a chair by his bed and then sitting down in his desk chair. "How have you been doing on those?"
"Uh...averaging a C+?" you say with a wince. Harris's replacement is a lot better teacher than he ever was, but her weekly quizzes are really killing you.
"What are you having trouble with particularly?" Scott asks, looking concerned.
The studying part? you think. You know your grades are important, but you haven't had much motivation to study for two years now. You managed to force yourself to study for finals last year and you're pretty sure you'll be able to do the same for midterms next week, but you don't have the stamina to do it every week for some ten question quiz.
"I just need to review more," you and sit down on Scott's bed next to Isaac instead of the chair Scott cleared off for you. You look down at the chapter in the Physics textbook he's reading and try to convince yourself that it's probably a good thing starting now.
It's horrendously boring and you and Isaac tire quickly of reviewing old quizzes and worksheets, but Scott is relentless. He ends up spending most of the time explaining different concepts and formulas to you, which you feel bad about, even though he insists that it helps him remember too. You had no idea he was so into school, though you guess it shouldn't be a surprise considering he read every single book on your summer reading list.
"So you just follow the steps on the example problem on page 56," Scott explains to Isaac, pointing at the corresponding page in the textbook, though Isaac is very clearly not paying attention, too busy staring at his crotch instead. "See, it's the same problem as on the quiz we had three weeks ago, just with different numbers."
"Uh huh," Isaac says glancing up at him, though his eyes linger on his biceps. He rolls over onto his back, accidentally-on purpose jostling Scott with his elbow where he sits on the end of the bed. "Are we done yet?"
Scott frowns, looking a little hurt at Isaac's lack of interest. "We still have two more quizzes to go over."
"I think we need a break," you say quickly, hopping over Isaac's legs, and wrap your arms around Scott's waist from behind, pressing your chest to his back.
"Uh, no, I think...I mean, I really need to finish this," Scott says, but his sounds a little dazed, and when you nuzzle your nose into his neck he gives an unexpected jerk and actually gasps. You slide your hands under his sweatshirt to get him to do it again and God, you need to be naked right now.
"Nope, we definitely need a break," Isaac says, a sly grin creeping across his face, pretty much in sync with his hand creeping up Scott's thigh. "You worked really hard today."
You give him an incredulous look and Scott lets out a surprised snort of laughter. "Oh, my God, you did not just say that."
"What?" Isaac protests, looking wounded.
"He did," you say, rolling your eyes at him, because, really, wait to ruin the mood. You press a couple of kisses to Scott's neck and run your fingertips over his abs.
"Oh, come on," Scott protests, leaning back into you further, exposing more of his neck. "I need to study.
"Later," Isaac says, pushing up Scott's sweatshirt. You help him pull it and the t-shirt underneath over his head, and watch dry-mouthed as Isaac rolls off the bed to kneel between Scott's spread legs, attaching his neck to Scott's collarbone, hands dropping down to mess with the tie on his shorts.
"Oh," Scott gasps, trembling as Isaac sucks a nipple into his mouth. You run your hands up and down his sides soothingly and shift uncomfortably against his back. God, you're so wet it almost hurts. "Not fair."
"C'mon," you tell him, clinging to his back, and moan quietly when he turns his head back towards you to kiss you.
"I really need to study," Scott says into your hair, for the fifth time, but it's not particularly believable considering he doesn't even open his eyes.
Isaac snorts into his shoulder and clings more tightly to his waist. "Please, aren't you getting straight A's or something?" he murmurs sleepily.
"No, I'm getting a B in Spanish," Scott corrects him earnestly.
"Yeah, that must be terrible," you say, rolling your eyes, but sarcasm doesn't work too well when you're this pleased with yourself. There's a dull ache between your legs because you got to have both of them and wow, you never realized how awesome that would be.
Scott doesn't say anything, just strokes Isaac's hair gently, not realizing that Isaac is never going to leave him alone to study if he keeps being so sweet.
"Why are you so worried about your grades anyway?" you ask after the silence lengthens into something a bit awkward, at least to you.
"Mm, well, I failed two classes last year and had to do summer school, so I need to make up for that, you know?" Scott says, opening his eyes and bit and smiling self-deprecatingly. "I really want to take A.P. classes next year, especially A.P. Bio, and you have to get an A in the subject junior year to qualify. I just really need to bring up my GPA if I'm going to even be considered for a college scholarship."
"Oh," you say, feeling stupid. Because of course he had a really good reason for being concerned his grades. His entire future is at stake.
Not like you, with your old money parents and family legacy at the University of Paris.
"What do you want to major in?" Isaac asks, tilting his head up to look at Scott curiously.
"Biology, probably," Scott says, sounding weirdly embarrassed. "I...I think I want to be a vet."
"That's cool," you say, trying to sound encouraging. You don't know why he seems so uncomfortable talking about what his future plans are.
"You'd be a good vet," Isaac says with a yawn, snuggling further into Scott's side. "All the animals would listen to you, too, 'cause you're a werewolf."
"Thanks," Scott says shyly after a pause, looking deeply embarrassed at the compliment.
You roll over a bit more onto your side and duck down to kiss him, putting your hand on the side of his jaw and stroking your thumb up and down his cheek.
He's smiling when you pull back and it's perfect and infectious.
"You have a really beautiful smile," Scott tells you, without a hint of irony.
You blink at him, stunned, and your cheeks burn. You have no idea what to say to that.
Thankfully, Isaac intervenes.
"Do I have a beautiful smile?" he asks sarcastically, opening his eyes and smirking up at Scott.
"Yup!" Scott says with a sly grin and rolls over to tackle him.
Isaac yelps indignantly and struggles for a second, but then apparently decides to take advantage of Scott on top of him and grabs his ass under the sheets, pulling him flush down on top of him.
"Okay, seriously?" Scott laughs for a second, but then he goes quiet and slack-jawed when Isaac starts mouthing at his neck.
Isaac starts rocking his hips up against Scott's after a minute and they both groan, Scott letting his head fall on the pillow next to Isaac and gritting his teeth.
It sends a frisson of heat through you even though you're too worn out to join them. You roll over onto your side to get a better view, heart pounding in your chest. And you can't help the small noise that tears itself out of your throat when they kiss, the sheet slipping down Scott's lower back.
"Unph, shit, Scott," Isaac whimpers, pulling back from Scott's mouth to arch up into him further, eyes squeezed shut.
"Shhh, alright," Scott murmurs, though he's redfaced and strained as well. His left hand, the one that isn't currently engaged jerking Isaac off under the sheets, reaches over to grasp Isaac's left wrist. "Can I-uh-hold you here?" he asks, kissing Isaac gently on the cheek.
Isaac's eyes snap open. "Shit, Scott, please," he gasps, without any hint of shame whatsoever.
Scott lets out a soft groan and pulls Isaac's arm up so that it's pinned next to his head, finger tightening on his wrist. The fact that he knows that's what Isaac likes, that Isaac likes to be pinned down, covered, kept safe, makes your stomach twist in pleasure almost as much as his reaction does.
Isaac writhes, rips his other hand out from under the covers to grasp Scott's shoulder and comes, face twisted up in a familiar expression.
"Oh, God," Isaac moans, collapsing back onto the bed.
Scott grunts in frustration, continuing to grind down against Isaac until he stiffens and groans out his orgasm against Isaac's neck.
You swallow with difficulty as they pant for breath and snake your hand down, pressing the heel of your hand between your legs to relieve some of the pressure.
Isaac groans, wrapping both arms around Scott and nuzzles happily into his neck. "Gimme a couple minutes and I'll eat you out," he mumbles.
"Uh huh," you says, biting back a groan at the throbbing between your legs at the thought.
You're not expecting much and shift around uncomfortably while entertaining the notion of masturbating, but Isaac does actually manage to rouse himself and roll over to lie plant his face between your legs.
It's not that best head he's ever given, lacks the usual energy and enthusiasm, but to be fair you're more than a little self-conscious with Scott staring at you in fascination. He eventually gets you to come with his fingers and then you all doze off for a bit.
You wake mid-afternoon to the bed jerking violently and look over to see Scott sitting up, frozen, staring straight ahead.
"Scott?" you says worriedly, propping yourself up on an arm.
He doesn't respond for a second and then visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping and eyes closing.
"Oh, it's just the mailman," he says, looking incredibly relieved. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"
"Nuh uh," Isaac says, shaking his head, his hair brushing your nose.
"Who did you think it was?" you ask gently, though you wonder if maybe he just had a nightmare. God knows he has enough things to have nightmares about.
Scott's expression darkens for the first time you've seen in a while. "My dad," he says shortly, lying back down on his back and looking up at the ceiling instead of at you. "He comes around sometimes."
Sometimes? As in not just that once? The thought makes your chest tighten uncomfortably and you realize you know very little about his father. Isaac has gone still on your other side and you wonder if he knows something or if it's just his standard reaction to fathers. Neither option bodes well.
"What does he want?" you ask carefully.
"To "reconnect" with me apparently," Scott says bitterly, tucking his arms under his head. "It's been like, five years, so no clue why he cares now."
"You haven't seen him for five years?"
"Nope," Scott says shortly.
You scootch closer to him and put your arm over his waist, chin knocking his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"He just thinks he can come back all of the sudden and we'll all be fine," Scott bursts out, jaw tight with anger. "What, he thinks by just apologizing, I'm going to forgot how much of an asshole he was, drinking all the time, yelling at me and my mom, and, oh, yeah, leaving for five years?!"
You raise your eyebrows in surprise. You've never seen him so angry before, not even at crazy werewolf murderers. Behind you, you think Isaac has stopped breathing.
"Sorry," Scott says after a beat, running a hand through his hair uncomfortably. "I shouldn't've..."
"What for?" you respond, frowning. "He sounds like an asshole."
Your chest hurts at the thought of Scott growing up with an alcoholic, who apparently yelled at him and his mom all the time, and then ditched him for five years. And now he wants to be a part of his son's life again? No wonder Scott's pissed.
"Yeah..." Scott says, weary all of the sudden. "He tries to make it all about him, too. Like, it turns out the whole reason he left in the first place was because he accidentally knocked me down the stairs when he was drunk. And then he left and stopped drinking. What am I even supposed to say to that? Oh, that makes it all better now? I am supposed to feel sorry for him? Seriously, the first time he accidentally hits his kid, he freaks out and leaves? Yeah, right, it was just an excus-"
"First time?" you say without thinking.
He turns to give you a strange look. "Uh...yeah?"
"What about when you were a kid?" you ask, confused. "Like if you were bad."
Scott frowns at you. "What?" he says, looking confused.
Behind you, Isaac shifts slowly, reaching out to curl an arm around your waist. "Allison?" he says hesitantly.
"So what does your mom think?" you say, readjusting Scott's brown comforter just for something to do, your ears suddenly feeling extremely hot.
Scott's parents had never hit him, not once, you realize. And now he's looking at you like you're some disturbed freak.
"She's not even mad at him..." Scott says, still looking a little worried.
You duck down a little more, pressing your cheek into his mattress. It's not like you're some abused child. Your parents never beat you, not like Isaac's dad. They're just...old fashioned. It was mostly just spankings and slaps when you misbehaved or talked back. Like, spare the rod, spoil the child stuff. It's not a big deal. You're pretty sure that's normal. Right?
"They used to fight all the time, but she hasn't told him to stop coming around or anything. I think she thinks he's annoying, but she doesn't seem to hate him anymore," Scott continues, but his voice is too gentle for your comfort. You should probably just be grateful he isn't trying to discuss it.
"Have you told her that you don't want to see him?" you ask, trying to sound normal.
"Yeah, but she thinks I should just humor him until he goes away," Scott says with a resigned sigh. "I guess she's just sick of fighting."
You don't really know what to say to that and just curl further into his shoulder, your chest feeling tight and uncomfortable. "That sucks," you mutter. Parents suck. Except Scott's mom, you guess.
"My dad used to beat the shit out of me and lock me in this freezer we had in the basement," Isaac says from behind you. "You know, in the interest of sharing."
Which opens up a whole other can of worms.
A/N: So much plot in this one, guys. I hope you were able to keep up. I did have a lot of fun writing more of Scott (who is adorable ◕‿◕✿) Please review!