
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2086293.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Isaac_Lahey/Jackson_Whittemore, Derek_Hale/Isaac_Lahey, Isaac_Lahey/Scott
      McCall, Allison_Argent/Isaac_Lahey, Chris_Argent/Isaac_Lahey
  Character:
      Isaac_Lahey, Jackson_Whittemore, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall, Allison
      Argent, Chris_Argent
  Additional Tags:
      Submission, discomfort_during_sex, Restraints, Drama, Promiscuity, Public
      Sex, Striking_with_implements, Dubious_Consent
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-08-05 Words: 1553
****** Wayward ******
by Naemi
Summary
     It wasn't healthy, but it was the kind of game Isaac felt comfortable
     playing.
Notes
     [Very roughly following some events from season 2 through season 3b.]
See the end of the work for more notes
 
Keeping the sass in check was easier said than done. Everything about being on
his hands and knees on the dirty bathroom floor was worth a dozen cheeky
comments, but Isaac clenched his jaw, determined not to ruin this. The booming
bass that seeped in through the barricaded door dictated the rhythm for the two
fingers that worked his ass open. With only spit for lube, it wasn't exactly
comfortable, but Isaac didn't give a fuck.
He kept himself steady with sweaty palms, but refrained from canting his hips
to create a better angle. No way he'd show Jackson how much he wanted this. It
was a lot easier pretending to be a victim than to acknowledge his own need. So
much more interesting, too, to see how Jackson enjoyed taking advantage of his
seemingly helpless prey.
The grip in Isaac's hair was relentless. Blunt nails dug into his scalp, and
although they didn't leave bruises—none that wouldn't heal instantaneously—it
still hurt. And with his head tilted back hard enough for his vertebrae to
scream in protest, breathing was a difficult task, all the more so since his
throat was still sore from the unfamiliar use it had been put to mere minutes
ago.
A snicker rolled over Isaac's lips at the memory of how Jackson had grunted and
cussed. Isaac had enjoyed every second of the sloppy mouth-fuck, but he'd kept
to his own secret script, the one that demanded flailing and tears and hoarse
pleas to stop whenever he could speak.
It was hilarious.
“What's so funny, bitch?”
“No-nothing. Please, Jackson . . . please, you're hurting me . . .”
So fucking hilarious.
“You little cunt . . . you deserve every bit of it.”
And Isaac took every bit of it. When Jackson would leave him, fucked raw and
covered in cum, he'd close his eyes and jerk off to the satisfying thought that
someone wanted him badly enough to force himself upon him repeatedly.
It wasn't healthy, but it was the kind of game Isaac felt comfortable playing.
Deep inside he knew that Jackson knew, and that they played by the same,
unspoken rules.
And when Jackson went to London, he left Isaac almost heartbroken.
~ ~ ~
Hushed moans filled the loft, soft and rhythmical like waves rolling ashore.
The moon shining in through the windows—a pale, waxing moon—cast just enough
light to bathe Isaac's contours in a silver glow that reflected in the sweat
pearling down his flank, covering his collarbone, gluing his curls to his
temples.
When Derek sat back, the loss of contact made Isaac whine softly.
“It's okay,” Derek whispered. “I want to see how beautiful you are,” and at
that, Isaac purred and flashed a smile.
A coil of freshly oiled leather bound the boy's wrists together, snaked down
his outstretched arms and then around his neck where they were just tight
enough to discourage Isaac from moving his head too much without choking him.
From there, the two ends crisscrossed twice along their way down Isaac's body,
spiraling down from his groin to his ankles.
It was more artistic than anything, but what mattered for Isaac was that the
heavily earthy scent and the smoothness of the leather surrounded him
completely, intoxicating his senses.
He spread his legs as wide as he could, relishing the way the restraints cut
into his skin.
“Take me,” Isaac whispered. “If you like what you see . . . take it. It's all
yours.”
And Derek did.
He fucked Isaac nice and slow, and controlled the boy's every move with a
gentle tug on the leather here or there. Even though it was somewhat of a
farce, the whole routine never failed to satisfy them both.
~ ~ ~
Scott was sweet and loving, and everything Isaac had never known before.
Everything Isaac couldn't understand.
His kisses were never demanding, and neither were his touches. Isaac longed for
his caress as much as he despised it. Something deep inside him yearned for
that sweetness, yet at the same time, he never felt free, could never let go.
Kindness apparently didn't suit him.
He didn't oppose anything Scott wanted, but there wasn't much to oppose,
anyway. The sex was bland, and the only reason Isaac kept doing it was because
it paid the rent. Judging by the countless hours spent cuddling, Scott was
happy, at least.
Not that Isaac was unhappy, but . . . he missed the game. The thrill of the
chase.
He felt guilty for every time he moaned Derek's name instead of Scott's, but
just as he hoped, it eventually triggered True Alpha behavior.
Isaac wore the scarves with pride, for they covered bite marks that refused to
heal quickly.
~ ~ ~
Running away with Allison, if only for a day, was the greatest adventure of
Isaac's life. She was so much sunshine and rainbows that his heart overflowed
with happiness. It was weird, and maybe a little unsettling, that she, of all
people, would have that effect on him, but he never questioned it.
The radio blared feel-good music all the way to Nevada, and they sang loudly
and out of tune until their throats hurt. They couldn't gamble, drink, or get
married, but it didn't matter. Vegas had more to offer than that.
Allison got a manicure. Isaac got a new leather jacket. After that, the two of
them tried to sneak in the Shark Reef Aquarium, but were caught in the act and
guided out by not-so-friendly-looking security guys. They still had a blast all
together.
They crashed in the car late that night, feeling drunk from all the bright
lights and weird people and silly things they'd done all day. It was
uncomfortable and way too hot, but they managed to curl up together. Isaac
really wanted to kiss her, just because she had shown him a life so different
than his own. Maybe also because she smelled really nice, despite the sweat and
the scents of the city clinging to her skin.
He didn't. Not that night.
When they first kissed—when they first had sex—it was unlike anything he'd
imagined. Allison was wonderful (how could she ever not be) and addictive, and
very, very vocal about what she wanted, how and when.
Isaac really kind of loved her for a while.
~ ~ ~
“I'm sorry,” Isaac said feebly, but the belt still came down on his naked ass,
making him hiss and squirm. “Please . . . I'll be a good boy. I promise. I'm
sorry.”
“Ten more. Count.”
Isaac did with a hoarse voice. His skin felt raw when they reached their goal,
but he couldn't stop his mouth from spilling: “More. I need more.”
“It's enough,” Chris said sternly, but Isaac shook his head.
“It's never enough. You know I deserve it. You know what I did to Allison.”
“Stop it, Isaac.”
“I killed her. I fucking killed her! Don't tell me I don't deserve to suffer
for that! Don't tell me you don't want to—”
The belt kept swooshing down even after Isaac lost count, even after his skin
broke, even after he came.
“Thank you,” he uttered over and over again, knowing that Chris only acquiesced
his wish because he felt guilty himself.
~ ~ ~
Isaac loved to watch the waves roll ashore; the steady cadence gave him a peace
of mind. The wind tousled his too-long hair. His curls were a wild mess, thanks
to the humidity, but Isaac didn't mind this new look; it reflected his past, in
a way. Untamed. Out of control. A small part of him wanted that life back.
He did not ask, “How did you find me?” or, “Why did you look for me at all?”
Instead, he produced a lopsided smirk before he turned to face the ocean again.
The afternoon sun hung low, bathing the water in a diamond glow: thousands of
dancing reflections, each of them alive and telling a different story.
“It's a good time of year to visit,” Isaac said casually. “Not too hot, but
still lovely. Nothing like California, though.”
Scott shrugged. “I don't care for the weather.”
“A lot of things are nice here.”
“Nothing is really nice without you, you know?”
Isaac didn't reply, and Scott didn't push him. They sat side by side in a
silence that was broken by the sea and everything that belonged to it. When
Isaac rose, hours later, the sounds of day had long been replaced by the hushed
murmurs of night.
“You can't stay,” he said, avoiding eye contact and voicing any of the one
million thoughts that swarmed his head and fed on his sanity.
Despite the announcement, Scott refused to leave.
It should have been easy to tell the truth when they ran together under the
full moon. It should have been even easier after they made love on the beach.
But the words stuck in Isaac's throat, brimmed his eyes with bitter tears that
he allowed Scott to see, but not to dry.
“You can't fix what's meant to be broken,” he said. “And I don't want you to
waste your time trying.”
“See . . . I like you just the way you are. Besides, I'm on vacation, not a
mission.”
“Your whole life is a mission.”
Scott trailed his fingertips along Isaac's jawline and down the side of his
neck by way of reply.
Somehow, this little gesture answered all of Isaac's questions.
End Notes
     Inspired by the Rounds of Kink Summer Heat Mini Round 2014, but
     finished too late, eep. Incorporating the prompts collide, remedy,
     misnomer, teal and the kinks conflicts and challenges, beloved
     enemies, restraints, getaways and striking with implements. (If you
     squint, you'll find them all, I promise.)
     Beta'd by the wonderful Moit, who also made sure that all characters
     were returned unharmed.
     [Feedback is love.]
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