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I Wanna Reach So Deep Inside

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Isaac corners Scott against a bank of lockers.

"You smell like sex," he says, and breathes in deeply

"Hey, Isaac," Scott says, without turning around. "How's it going?"

Other people might be freaked out by classmates coming up to them and commenting on their smell.

Not Scott McCall.

Scott McCall is used to shit like that. In fact, if that's the weirdest thing that happens to Scott McCall, he considers it a good day.

"I'm fine, I'm great," Isaac says, looking worryingly intense as he looms over Scott. "But why do you smell like sex?"

Scott would like to know the answer to that himself, actually, considering it's been nearly two months since he and Allison broke up and the only action Scott has seen since then has been with his right hand.

"Dude, I don't know," Scott says, when it becomes clear that Isaac isn't going anywhere without an answer. Scott should probably find this more disturbing than he does.

"Did you jack off this morning?" Isaac hisses.

Scott can feel himself going red, and he looks around quickly to make sure no one's listening. He doesn't really care if any rumours get started about them, but he's not exactly looking to encourage it right now. Their lives are complicated enough without adding high-school gossip to the mix.

"Well, yeah," Scott whispers. Isaac gives him a weird look and Scott adds, plaintively, "I'm sixteen, it's allowed!"

Isaac's eyes flash gold for a second. Scott stubbornly doesn't react.

"It's all I can smell," Isaac murmurs, slowly backing Scott up against the lockers. "All day, everywhere I go –"

"No," Scott interrupts firmly. "No, Isaac, I am not doing this with you. Again," he adds, because this isn't the first time. It's not even the second.

Scott's not sure why he keeps letting it happen, to be honest. It's not like either of them get anything out of it, other than epic sexual frustration and the job of hiding a boner from their classmates. But every time Isaac comes up to him with that look and that particular tone of voice, Scott's resistance crumbles, and they end up huddled away at the back of the locker room, Isaac hissing filthy, awesome things into Scott's ear, and both of them seconds away from creaming their pants.

But not this time. Scott is determined not to give in. Think of Allison, he tells himself, and then realises that that actually isn't helping, like, at all.

"How do you even know it's me you can smell, anyway?" Scott asks finally, trying to distract himself. "This is high-school, dude, it could be anyone."

"It's you," Isaac interrupts, and Scott feels his pulse skip. Isaac's expression flickers like – like he can hear it, Jesus. Scott sometimes forgets he's not the only werewolf in this place anymore.

"Okay, so ..." Scott starts, and then swallows hard. Isaac's eyes flicker gold again. "What do we do?"

He realises what a stupid question that is when Isaac levels him with a pointed look.

"Apart from that," Scott elaborates quickly. "We're in the middle of the hallway, Isaac, there's, like, twenty people right around the corner –" Isaac sucks in a deep breath at that, and Scott tries very hard not to think about why "– so – so we're not doing that, okay."

Isaac grins. "Well, not here," he says, and he grabs Scott by the arm and drags him off to the boys' locker room.

Scott could throw him off, of course; he's got the strength and, more importantly, he's got the control to pull his arm from Isaac's grip and tell him very firmly no. It wouldn't be hard, and it's likely Isaac wouldn't be too pissed about it, and really, it's probably the smartest thing to do.

So obviously, Scott goes with him anyway.

Hey, he never said he was the smart one.

Isaac pushes him against the lockers right at the back of the room. Everyone's at lunch so the place is empty, but there's no telling who might have left some of their lacrosse gear behind and decided to retrieve it on their way to class. Not that it matters – both Scott and Isaac will hear anyone approaching a long time before they actually walk through the door, and this little corner is out of sight of the door, so the chances of getting caught are pretty slim.

"That's a good thing," Scott says, rolling his eyes when he catches a whiff of disappointment from Isaac. "I can't believe I have to remind you of that."

"Shut up," Isaac says mildly, and very pointedly slides into Scott's space.

He puts a hand on the locker beside Scott's head. They're not touching; even at their closest point, there's still at least three inches between them. Scott's not sure how he feels about that.

In fact, he's not entirely sure how he feels about any of this. He's still not really sure how it started, other than the fact that waiting for Allison was a lot harder than he'd thought it would be, and a lot lonelier too. And then he spent most of the summer finding out how awesome Isaac is, and maybe Scott is less straight than he'd previously imagined – which, whatever, man, he turns into a supernatural creature once a month, like it even fucking matters whether he's into dudes or girls. Or both. Or none.

Man, homophobia sucks.

Uh, what was his point again?

Oh, right. Isaac and this … whatever it is that they keep stumbling onto. Scott is kind of confused by the whole thing, although he'd be the first to admit that he gets confused by a lot of things, so.

Isaac seems to realise something's up because he pauses, frowning at Scott thoughtfully.

"Scott," he says quietly, after a few seconds. "We don't have to –"

And just like that, Scott decides he wants this. It's not a good idea, but it sure ain't a bad one, and Scott likes Isaac, probably a ridiculous amount, true, and it's not like they haven't done this before.

Hell, maybe he'll even get to come this time.

It's quiet; the lunchtime rush has mostly emptied out, and this part of the building is pretty much deserted. Scott can hear about twenty different people's heartbeats in the distance, but Isaac's is the only one that stands out, because it's beating just a little too fast. Scott flicks a glance up at Isaac, catches him staring at his mouth, and makes a decision that's probably not going to end well but which Scott knows he won't regret.

He fists his hand in the front of Isaac's hoodie and tugs on it gently. "Okay," he says softly.

Isaac lets out the breath he'd been holding.

"Okay," he echoes, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. He clears his throat. "Right, okay."

"Dude, don't chicken out on me," Scott teases, when Isaac just stares at him for a few seconds, like now Scott is going along with it he can't figure out where to start.

"Shut up," Isaac replies, grinning, and Scott grins back because this might actually end well after all.

He's about to make another smart-ass remark – seriously, spend enough time with Stiles and it starts to rub off on you – when Isaac says, "You smell so good," and noses at Scott's temple.

Scott exhales loudly. Isaac smiles faintly, like that was exactly the reaction he was hoping for, and goes on in a low voice, "Seriously, it just makes me wanna, like, rub myself all over you, I don't know even know where to start ..."

He's blushing, the tips of his ears and the back of his neck are bright red, and Scott can't help but find that adorable. He's about to say so, just to see what Isaac will do, when Isaac brings up his other hand to touch Scott's jaw.

"Actually, that's a lie," he says quietly, thumb brushing a pattern over Scott's skin. "I know exactly what I'd do first. Your mouth –" his thumb sweeps across Scott's bottom lip and Scott can't stop the gasp that escapes him, "– that's where I'd start. Right here."

He leans in like he's going to kiss Scott, but stops at the last minute. Scott makes what is clearly a disappointed noise, and Isaac smiles again. It's a cute smile, Scott thinks, and then has the slightly unsettling realisation that that's not the first time he's thought it. Huh.

"What – what else?" he asks, when Isaac just keeps watching him, taking these deep even breaths like -


Oh, Scott is such an idiot. Like duh, of course Isaac is scenting him, werewolf, hello. But then it hits Scott that he's – he's doing the same thing, they're breathing in time with each other, and he's pretty sure being a werewolf has never been so hot.

(He wonders, briefly, if Allison had ever felt like this when he went werewolf on her, but pushes the thought away because it hurts and honestly, right now? Probably not the best time to think about it).

"I think I'd make my way down, slowly," Isaac murmurs. His hand trails from Scott's jaw to his throat to his chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Leave a shitload of hickeys, mark you up so everyone can see."

"Possessive much?" Scott manages, but in truth it actually sounds hot as fuck.

"You like it," Isaac smirks, which shouldn't be hot either, but it is. His hand ghosts over Scott's ribs, his hip. "Then I'd get to about ... here," he continues, his hand pausing over the button on Scott's jeans, "and then I'd ..."

He trails off thoughtfully.

"What?" Scott says breathlessly. He's too into this to care how he sounds. "What?"

Immediately, Isaac rips his hand away, places it on the other side of Scott's head, bracketing Scott between him and the lockers. Scott makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whine and tries to convey how much he really hates Isaac right now, which is less convincing than it should be considering their arousal is a heavy, musky scent in the air.

Isaac just laughs softly. "Don't want this over too soon, right?" he says, right into Scott's ear. Scott tries to repress a shudder, and fails miserably. "Come on, McCall, play along."

Scott nods wordlessly and Isaac says, "I think I'd like to blow you," casual and considering, like he hasn't also just blown Scott's freaking mind here. "Yeah, I would, I'd really like that, I'd just drop to my knees and get right on it –" Scott lets out a choked-off groan at the image that conjures up "– all sloppy and wet 'cause I can't wait to get your dick in my mouth. What do you think, Scott, would you like that?"

Scott is having a hard time remembering how to breathe but he knows he'd like that. "Yeah," he croaks, and that's pretty much all he can manage at this point. He doesn't think he's ever been this hard without someone touching him before. It's like his dick is trying to drill through the front of his pants or something.

Isaac hums, sounding pleased. "What next?" he wonders out loud, rhetorically as it turns out, because he carries on with, "I'd let you come in my mouth. Or on my face, if you wanted –"

And, like, Scott is sixteen and he's only had one girlfriend – Jenny Mullins from the third grade doesn't count, okay, all they did was hold hands that one time, and then she kicked him in the balls, although that was unrelated – so if he's got any kinks outside of ordinary, missionary position sex then he hasn't discovered them yet. Not like Stiles who, in a long and deeply scarring conversation that Scott will sadly never be able to scrub from his mind, revealed a list of sexual preferences almost as long as his arm.

(Like an actual list. Typed out, with bullet-points and notes and everything).

But this – this is kind of a surprise. He guesses it's maybe part and parcel of that werewolf urge to mark, to stake out territory, but the idea of – of – Jesus, he can't even say it, it sounds filthy. Which is ridiculous, right, Scott's seen plenty of porn, it's not like doesn't know what bukkake is, okay.

He just – wasn't expecting to want that.

"Fuck," he breathes.

"We could do that, yeah," Isaac agrees, so casually that Scott can almost believe he's totally unaffected. But Scott can hear his heart beating faster than usual, can freaking smell the lust coming off him in waves, and sees the way his eyes are fixed almost hungrily on Scott's face. "You wanna fuck me, Scott?"

Scott makes a sound that is regrettably close to a whimper. Isaac hums thoughtfully.

"Well I wouldn't say no, either," he says, and flashes a grin, "but I kinda think I'd like to fuck you.

The noise Scott makes this time probably isn't even audible to dogs. And he would know.

"Just – can you imagine it?" Isaac says, almost to himself. "Would you let me? Scott, you – you have to let me, man, I wanna fuck you so bad, you don't even know."

"Tell me," Scott croaks.

They're still not touching, not even a little, and it's driving him crazy. Isaac has fallen silent and that's frustrating too, because the minute he stops talking, Scott starts thinking, and that's when the doubt starts to creep in.

Scott's not up for that so he says, "Isaac," and his hips jerk up helplessly, accidentally grinding his dick against Isaac's thigh.

They both freeze at the same time, breathing hard and staring at each other in like, a freaking sex haze, Scott doesn't know, weirder shit has happened to them, honestly. And then Isaac rips one hand away from the lockers behind Scott – later, Scott will notice the ten gouges in the metal and realise claws, and he'll walk into an open locker door at the sheer, mind-melting hotness of it – and shoves it into Scott's back pocket, yanking Scott crotch-first towards him.

He's pushing his cock into the sharp curve of Isaac's hip, and even through several layers of denim and cotton it feels awesome, but it slowly dawns on Scott that it could be better. He wants Isaac's hands on him, wants those long, fragile-but-not-really fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking him as fast or as slow as Isaac feels like going, and, almost as much, he wants –

Scott tilts his head up and presses his mouth to Isaac's without thinking about it. It's not Scott's fault, he just really likes kissing, okay, likes making out until his lips are red and bruised and his jaw feels kind of sore but in a really good way, and Isaac is right there – his mouth hanging open as he digs his fingers into Scott's ass, so it's not even like he's making it hard for Scott to stick his tongue in there.

Isaac makes a surprised noise and moves like he's going to pull away, but Scott untangles his hand from his hoodie and buries it in Isaac's hair instead, and Isaac just ... stops.

"Dude!" Scott says, backing up and giving Isaac his best puppy-dog eyes because he has it on good authority (read: Stiles) that he is damn near impossible to resist when he breaks out the puppy-dog eyes. "Come on, don't make me do all the work."

"'All the work?'" Isaac echoes incredulously, but he's smiling this soft, easy smile that Scott kind of wants to taste. "Oh, because it takes so much effort to just stand there and listen."

"Hey," Scott says mildly, and then gets distracted by Isaac's spit-slick bottom lip and whatever he was going to say gets stuck in his throat.

Isaac grins like he knows what's going on in Scott's head. "Yeah?" he says, leaning in, and then basically tongue-fucking the shit out of Scott's mouth before Scott can get the words out.

"No fair," Scott complains breathlessly, when Isaac lets him come up for air. "That's playing dirty."

"Oh, Scott," Isaac tells him, eyes like molten gold. "You haven't even seen dirty."

And then Scott is pressed hard up against the locker again, Isaac's tongue in his mouth and his hand working deftly at the front of Scott's jeans, flicking open the button and sliding the zipper down, before pushing his way inside and curling around Scott's dick.

He tears his mouth away from Isaac's so he can breathe, but Isaac doesn't stop kissing him, just makes his way down Scott's jaw to his throat, scraping his teeth over Scott's skin in a way that makes his knees go weak. Isaac's jacking his cock oh-so-slowly; Scott's toes curl inside his sneakers and he lets out a sound that he'll probably be really embarrassed about later but which for now he doesn't actually give a fuck about.

It's quiet in the locker room, apart from Isaac's laboured breathing and the steadily more frequent moans coming from Scott. His heart is thundering in his ears, and then he realises that it's not just his heart-beat he's hearing, and it's getting louder the longer Scott listens to it.

It makes him feel weird, like – Scott can't even describe it, he just knows that if he keeps hearing it, he'll either laugh or freak the hell out, and those are probably not the reactions Isaac's looking for. He hooks an arm around Isaac's neck, buries his face in the front of his hoodie in an effort to distract himself, but it doesn't work. All he can hear is their racing hearts and it's too much, too loud and too there, and –

"Say something," he gasps out, and Isaac's hand stills.

"What?" he chokes out. "What did you –"

"Talk to me," Scott breathes, lifting his head and looking Isaac directly in the eye. "Tell me – tell me anything, tell me what you want –"

Isaac lets out this pained-sounding groan, and his hips jerk helplessly. "Fuck," he says, and, "fuck, Scott."

Scott has just enough hand-eye coordination left to yank Isaac's pants open and thrust his hand inside, to where Isaac's underwear is already soaked with pre-come, and Scott pushes up into Isaac's hand at the thought.

"C'mon, dude," he says cajolingly. "Talk to me."

But Isaac seems to have exhausted his supply of dirty talk, because he just heaves in a breath and kisses Scott messily, so Scott decides to take matters into his own hands.

Well, more than he already has, if you catch his drift.

"Okay, so you wanna fuck me," he says, feeling his face go hot. "That's cool, I'm down for that. But what else do you want, Isaac?" he asks, pitching his voice low and murmuring the words right into Isaac's ear. Isaac shudders and chokes back a curse. "There must be something else, I know you've thought about it, you can tell me –"

"I wanna make you beg," Isaac blurts out, and then bites his lip like he hadn't meant to say it. "I want you on your knees, and I want you to beg me to let you suck my dick, and –"

"Oh, god," Scott groans, and thunks his head back against the locker when Isaac yanks both of their pants down further, because jerking each other off at this angle is hell on their wrists.

“– and I want you to come when I tell you to – only when I tell you to," Isaac goes on, staring down at Scott intensely.

"Fuck," Scott gasps, his hand faltering on Isaac's cock. Isaac lets out a groan that sounds almost pained, and catches Scott's arm, pinning his wrist against the locker above his head with one hand. He does the same with Scott's other arm, and Scott resists for exactly three seconds before Isaac reaches down and wraps a hand around them both.

Scott is pretty sure the noise that comes out of his mouth isn't human.

"You like that?" Isaac asks, sounding surprised and really, really turned on. "Being held down?"

Scott can only nod frantically, because it's pretty fucking obvious that he likes it. Isaac's cock is pressed hot and hard against his own, wet at the tip and skin dragging on skin in the most agonisingly pleasurable way. Isaac's hand is huge and just this side of too rough, and Scott thrusts into it helplessly, unable to stop.

"Jesus Christ, you're gonna kill me," he hears Isaac mutter, and then he's leaning in, whispering into Scott's ear, "When I fuck you, I'm gonna hold you down just like this, I'm gonna fill you up with my dick and I'm gonna fuck you so hard –"

Scott's voice cracks as he repeats, "‛When’?"

"Yeah," Isaac says with a gasp. At some point his eyes have fallen shut, and now they fly open and fix on Scott urgently. "I mean, if – if you want, obviously, you don't have to –"

"Shut up," Scott interrupts, "and keep telling me what you wanna do to me."

"Definitely gonna kill me," Isaac says, sounding incredibly happy about it.

Scott seizes another handful of Isaac's hoodie, tries to drag him even closer, and it's like a dam breaking open. Words spill from Isaac's mouth like he can't contain them any longer, which – hello, Scott's best friends with Stiles Stilinski, he of the constantly running motor-mouth, this isn't exactly a new thing, guys.

Scott doesn't even catch most of what Isaac's saying; it's a babble of rushed breath and bitten-off curses, mixed with Scott's name –

"– get you so wet and loose I'll just slide right in –"

- and these harsh, almost inaudible noises from deep in Isaac's throat –

"– fuck you into the mattress for hours, Scott, god, I can't even –"

- like a growl, like Isaac is right on the edge of wolfing out, teetering over the line –

"– eat my come out of your ass when we're done –"

"Oh, my god," Scott chokes out, and comes all over Isaac's fist.

Isaac makes a high-pitched, hurt-sounding noise; Scott tugs his hand out from Isaac's suddenly loose hold and reaches down to join the one Isaac has on their dicks.

"Come on," Scott says, trying to sound encouraging when ninety percent of him is a blissed-out puddle on the floor. "Isaac, come on –"

Isaac presses his face into the space between Scott's neck and shoulder. "Not helping," he grits out, but his dick jumps in Scott's hand so he's pretty sure Isaac is lying.

“Oh, yeah?” Scott says innocently. “How about this?”

And he bites gently at the hinge of Isaac’s jaw.

Isaac’s reaction is immediate – he lets out an honest-to-god growl, body tensing into one long, quivering line, and comes hard.

In the silence that follows, there’s nothing but the sound of their hearts beating and Isaac taking deep, harsh breaths. Scott blinks and sags against the locker.

Isaac clears his throat. “That,” he croaks, “that was, uh, pretty helpful.”

“Yeah,” Scott says vaguely. “I noticed.”

“Called it,” says a new voice, and Scott and Isaac turn to see Erica standing a few feet away, Boyd a solid presence beside her. “Pay up,” she adds. Boyd wordlessly hands her a twenty.

Isaac makes a face, while Scott just waves a hand awkwardly, withdrawing it hastily when he sees it’s the one covered in jizz.

“Hey guys,” he says, and tries to ignore the way Erica’s smirking. Poor Boyd just looks uncomfortable as hell. Scott knows the feeling.

“Hey, Scott,” Boyd says, because he’s a cool dude, and next to Isaac, he’s totally Scott’s favourite.

“How long have you been standing there?” Isaac asks, looking a weird mix of embarrassed, pissed off and smug.

Scott must have issues because he really likes that look on him.

“Long enough to wish I’d gotten here sooner,” Erica says, sounding delighted.

“I could probably have done without knowing any of that stuff about you guys,” Boyd admits, “but, yeah, whatever.”

“Yeah,” Scott and Isaac say together. Really, there’s not much else to say.

“As enjoyable as this is,” Erica says after a while, “not to mention freakin’ hilarious, oh my god – we need to go, Isaac. Derek has a crisis.”

Isaac sighs and starts pulling his pants back up, leaning back from Scott, who tries not to look too disappointed. Judging by the silently amused expressions on Erica and Boyd’s faces, he’s failing miserably at that one.

“He actually said that?” Isaac asks, sounding doubtful.

“Well, no,” Boyd says. “Not in so many words. It’s Derek.”

“But he pulled that face, you know the one –” Erica makes a face that looks frankly constipated, which means it looks exactly like Derek “– like he’s repressing so many feelings he’s actually going to explode. I really want to be there for that, so get your hand out of McCall’s pants and let’s go.”

“I mean, we could probably give you a minute to, uh,” Boyd gestures vaguely, “like, resolve your shit? I don’t know, we’ll be outside.”

And he hustles Erica out of the room before she can, like, take a seat and break out the popcorn.

“So, uh,” Isaac starts, when the door swings closed after them. “I don’t know what you –”

“My mom makes this awesome casserole,” Scott finds himself saying. Isaac falls silent, blinking at him bemusedly. “I mean, it’s pretty much the only thing she can make – because she’s busy and everything, not because she can’t cook – and it’s really great, and I think she’d probably make it if I asked, so. Yeah. Casserole.”

Scott hears a fly buzzing around the window, three people lying about their sex lives, and one guy professing his love for Twinkies in the time it takes for him to wish he could take back what he just said.

Then Isaac says, hesitantly, “Are – are you asking me to dinner?” and just as Scott is thinking of ways to just laugh it off casually, Isaac smiles and adds, “Because I’d really like that.”

“You would?” Scott asks, astonished.

“Yeah,” Isaac says, and he’s blushing, which, god, he’s clearly trying to kill Scott here. “When?”

“Um, tomorrow? She’s working late tonight, so tomorrow would be good.”

“Okay.” Isaac half-turns like he’s about to leave, before he bites his lip and then whirls around to kiss Scott quickly, and while Scott is reeling from that, he says, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Scott says, and stands there grinning like an idiot as Isaac leaves the room.