Work Text:
A high school locker room is one of the grossest places to be on a good day, but in the middle of the summer it’s about ten thousand times worse.
Normally Stiles wouldn’t give lacrosse a second thought during the school break but at that very moment it was one of the few things he could keep his attention on that actually kept it so his mind didn’t wander. To things like working on getting his dad’s trust back, junior year and SATs, his lack of any romantic prospects, his best friend spending more and more time with his new best friend and, oh yeah, the oncoming storm of an alpha pack.
Even without the added stress of the supernatural real life was starting to weigh in on Stiles and the only way he could think to keep his mind off everything as a whole was to work out his frustrations on the field. Finstock got stuck teaching during summer school and waved his hand at Stiles when he asked if he could practice a few times a week during school hours and walked away mumbling something about getting good enough to take Greenberg’s place on first line, “not that it would be a challenge.”
Stiles wasn’t sure if that was a slam against him or Greenberg but he took it as a possible good thing and used it as encouragement. He ran himself ragged the first couple of weeks, forcing himself to do wind sprints and laps around the field, in between taking shots on the empty goal, setting up targets for accuracy.
There’s only so much one can do working on their own, though, and Stiles quickly grew bored of his routine and worried the only person he would beat was himself because he had no one else to compare himself to.
Three weeks in Stiles was on the field doing target practice half-heartedly when he felt someone watching him. He tried not to react, didn’t want to give himself away. He always had a handful of wolfsbane in his pocket and now some kind of small knife on him somewhere but that wouldn’t do much to stop a werewolf if he wasn’t careful.
Oh, Beacon Hills. Never a dull moment nowadays.
Stiles dropped to his knee to pretend to tie his shoe and watched out of his periphery for anyone around. Where he thought the person watching him was standing was empty. No one in the stands, no one by the entrance to the school, no one by the goal...
“Stiles.”
“Jesus Christ!” Stiles bellowed and fell over his own feet, startled by the voice behind him. He rolled onto his back and looked up to see Isaac standing over him, watching him with a bemused smirk.
“Afternoon,” Stiles greeted with a wave. “Come to terrorize the defenseless human?”
“Not quite,” Isaac replied. He held out his hand to help Stiles up but Stiles just looked at it like it was an alien object. “I won’t bite.”
Stiles accepted the hand warily and didn’t make too unmanly a noise when Isaac all but yanked him up like he was a sack of feathers. “Thanks,” he muttered, brushing nonexistent dirt off himself.
“Practicing?” Isaac asked, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets.
Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Want someone to play goal for you?”
“Why?” Stiles asked suddenly.
Isaac shrugged. “I dunno. I’m bored? I don’t have anyone else to hang out with?”
“Gee, thanks,” Stiles muttered. “Nice to know I’m just something to do when the werewolves are bored with their usual, glamourous lives.”
Isaac blushed a bit but shook his head. “No, it’s not that. Scott, uh, he wants us to get to know each other more. And he’s working today. I went by your house but you weren’t there, obviously. So I followed your scent.”
“Good to know if I ever fall down a well Lassie will find me,” Stiles snarked back, feeling a little bitter that his best friend felt he had to send his loyal dog to make nice with him.
Isacc’s face hardened and he backed up a couple steps. “Fine, I can go.”
Stiles watched Isaac start to walk away before he sighed and called, “It would actually help me out a lot if you could stay.”
“You mean it?” Isaac asked, clearly checking to see if he was lying.
“You’re on first line. I want to be there. It only makes sense that I work with someone who can help me get there.”
Isaac studied him for a second, then nodded. “Cool. You’re probably gonna want to put on pads, then.”
“Uh... oh shit.”
Maybe he could have taken up knitting or solitaire to distract himself?
**********
Despite the fact that Stiles was sporting some killer bruises from being checked repeatedly by Isaac during drills and for the first week they started working together Stiles could barely walk after their practices things were going well.
It was kind of nice to be injured by something that wasn’t werewolf related.
Kind of.
Isaac and Stiles set up a schedule around Scott’s days at the vet clinic and Derek’s increasingly frequent pack meetings about the alpha pack.
Isaac knew all of Finstock’s drills by heart and worked Stiles through them like clockwork, forcing him to run up and down the field at least a dozen times more than coach would. Stiles wasn’t scared of Isaac anymore but all it took was lunging as if Isaac was going to chase Stiles to get him to move faster.
“That’s... not ... fair,” Stiles gasped one afternoon, collapsing to the ground after a particularly grueling session of laps on one of the hottest days they’d had to that point of the summer.
“Lot of stuff isn’t fair,” Isaac replied with a shrug. “The other team won’t think it’s fair when we kick their ass on the field, either.” Stiles cocked his head and just stared up at the werewolf. “What?”
“When did you get all positive and shit?” Stiles asked, only sort of kidding.
Isaac sat down on the grass beside Stiles and leaned back on his hands. “Things have gotten better, I guess.”
“Better? With the impending doom of a half dozen uber-werewolves on our doorstep?”
“Compared to everything else that’s been going on... I don’t know. I can handle it better, I guess.”
“I guess it is hard to hang out with Scott all the time and not have a smile on your face,” Stiles mused.
“Not just Scott. You’ve helped, too.”
“Me?” Stiles asked. “I didn’t even like-- er. I didn’t think you think I mattered that much.”
“Stiles,” Isaac laughed suddenly. “You don’t even know.”
“Know what?”
Isaac laughed again, shook his head and stood up without answering. He held his hand out to help Stiles up again and this time Stiles didn’t hesitate to take it.
**********
August was a disgusting month. Even though it was approaching triple digits with a humidex count to match Isaac didn’t relent with practice.
Every day Stiles cursed him up and down, using words to make a sailor blush, and Isaac would add more laps for him to run.
But it was working. Stiles could get goals past Isaac in the net even through a splitting headache and sweat pouring down his head into his eyes. Including a couple times when Isaac was using his werewolf powers, which they mutually agreed from the start Isaac wouldn’t use.
Stiles felt pretty damn proud of himself.
“Dude, that was awesome!” Stiles crowed, ripping his helmet off before he launched himself at Isaac who was grinning at him.
Isaac caught him easily and hoisted Stiles up for a second before lowering Stiles by sliding him down the length of his own body.
Stiles ended up with Isaac’s leg between his own legs briefly but didn’t say anything or move away quickly or awkwardly.
“Good goal,” Isaac said quietly, his voice rough.
“Totally! But I think I’m done for the day. What do you say?”
“Absolutely,” Isaac agreed.
Not even Finstock was around the gym or locker room during the summer, probably preferring to save up his outbursts of rage for the actual playing season. The locker room was dark when Stiles and Isaac walked in.
“Jesus, it gets worse in here every day,” Stiles complained as the hot, sticky thickness of the room hit him like the slap of a wet towel to the face.
The school tried to save on money during the summer and only air conditioned the essential areas, the athletic department not being one of them.
“This must be horrible for you, man,” Stiles continued, opening his locker and reaching for his towel. “Anyway, see you tomorrow?”
Isaac usually left Stiles on his own after they practiced and went to train with Derek or do wolfy things or something. Stiles relaxed in the shower, as much as one can in a school gym shower, and more often than not jerked off to more frequent thoughts of blue eyes and sweaty, dirty blond curls.
“I think I’ll shower here today,” Isaac said slowly, watching Stiles out of the corner of one eyes. Stiles froze for a second but shrugged and stripped his sweaty t-shirt off in a quick motion.
Isaac turned his back on Stiles, not wanting to seem creepy and listened as Stiles peeled off pieces of clothing while pulling his own clothes off. He removed his own as he listened for each piece of Stiles’ to come off.
The velcro letting go on his elbow pads, his sneakers being toed off followed by his socks, the whoosh of his shorts hitting the floor in a heap, the soft thud of his knee pads.
“Stiles--” Isaac started, whirling around and choked up suddenly.
“What?” Stiles asked. “Is something wrong?”
Isaac stared at Stiles, his mouth slightly agape and took in the sight of him, naked except for a very tight, very sweaty jockstrap.
“Dude!” Stiles yelped, trying to grab a piece of his dropped clothing to cover up. “Manners!”
Isaac heard an unbidden growl rumble out of him and before he could register himself doing it he was pushing Stiles back up against the bank of lockers, shoving his nose into the crook of Stiles’ neck.
“What the hell, man!” Stiles exclaimed, arms awkwardly at his sides as he tried to grasp what was happening.
“Why are you wearing this?” Isaac asked roughly, stroking a hand down Stiles’ flank possessively until it reached one of the elastic straps around Stiles’ hip and wrapped his fingers around it.
“I--just. I--what? Why?” Stiles tried to say something, anything, but he was far too distracted by the feeling of Isaac’s hard on against his thigh, hot through Isaac’s own thin boxer briefs.
“You usually wear boxers,” Isaac mumbled against Stiles’ skin.
The locker room, previously stifling and overbearing from the gross summer heat, was not at a boiling point and making Stiles jittery inside. He felt like he was burning up but he didn’t know if it was from the physical temperature, the hotter-than-normal werewolf pressed against him or the feeling of his own horniness skyrocketing through the roof.
“It’s too hot to wear-- wait, I don’t even want to know why you pay attention to what I wear under my clothes, dude!” Stiles gasped out. “That’s freaky.”
“You have no idea, do you?” Isaac asked, pulling back to look Stiles in the eyes. “You don’t know what you put me through, do you?”
“Uh, no? Since when?” Stiles asked skeptically.
“You have no idea how some people look at you. What they see when you’re busy trying to save everyone or researching or putting things in your fucking mouth,” Isaac’s voice trailed off into a whimper as his hips circled against Stiles’ thigh. “And now--now you’re wearing this--”
Isaac broke off as he pulled the elastic tighter and let it snap back against Stiles’ skin. Stiles jumped and let out a breathy moan, pressing his chest against Isaac’s bare one.
“I’m burning up,” Stiles said faintly, his eyes on Isaac’s parted lips. Stiles could feel Isaac’s breath against his mouth and how he was almost panting, making Stiles even more clammy and begging for relief.
Isaac grabbed his hand and pulled Stiles into the shower without asking. Stiles let out an “oomph” as his back hit the wall, then a moan when Isaac cranked the water and let the cool wash over both of them.
Isaac pressed himself back against Stiles and covered his mouth with his own, finally taking what he’d been wanting all summer. Stiles made a sound into Isaac’s mouth and scrabbled at his back before threading his fingers through Isaac’s curls and pulling.
“Fuck,” Isaac groaned.
“Yeah,” Stiles gasped back. “Exactly.”
Isaac pressed his hand against Stiles’ bulge in the pouch of his jock, cupping it and reacting to the way it twitched and jumped against his palm, strained against the pressure.
“Help me take it off,” Stiles mumbled, reaching down to push at the straps. Isaac quickly stilled his hands and sank to his knees.
Stiles tilted his head back and breathed deep, fearing the mere sight would make him come right then and there.
“You need to keep it on,” Isaac said. “I need to see you like this.”
“Oh Jesus,” Stiles uttered lowly. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
“Yeah,” Isaac agreed again. Isaac pushed the pouch back and drew Stiles out of the jock, held the weight in his hand reverently. He kissed the head of Stiles’ cock once before taking him into his mouth and running his tongue over it immediately.
Stiles was making nonsense noises above him and Isaac knew this wouldn’t last long for either of them. He took Stiles in deeper and moved his hands to Stiles’ knees, hoping to keep him steady enough to work through this.
Isaac loved the tangy scent of Stiles’ sweat, could taste it everywhere on his cock and, as he gradually took him deeper, the musk got thicker toward his balls. Isaac wanted to bury his whole face between Stiles’ legs and his nose in that slick of skin between his balls and ass and just breathe.
Stiles hands were still wrapped in Isaac’s hair and his fingertips were moving spasmodically against his scalp, tensing up and sending signals to Isaac with every lick and suck.
Isaac moved one hand away from Stiles’ knees and cupped one of his ass cheeks, squeezing and rubbing it as he inched closer to between, to his goal.
Stiles’ hips were moving in rhythm with Isaac’s mouth, his gasps filling the room over the sound of the rushing water and the speedy thump of his heart. Isaac was surrounded by Stiles.
His finger slipped between Stiles’ cheeks and brushed against his hole once, twice as Isaac swallowed around Stiles’ cock and that’s all it took for Stiles to gasp out a late warning as he came down Isaac’s throat.
Isaac let Stiles fill his mouth and didn’t even wince when Stiles pulled harder than he meant on Isaac’s hair. He licked his tongue over Stiles’ slit as a few more drops of come slipped out and kissed the tip gently before tucking him back into the now-soaked jock.
Isaac wanted to swallow so badly but instead he stood up and towered over Stiles, now slumped against the shower wall as the cold water poured over him, and kissed him. He pushed some of the come into Stiles’ mouth, needing him to know how amazing he tasted.
Stiles wrapped his arms around Isaac’s neck and basically slumped against him but he kissed back eagerly, accepting his own come back into his mouth. They played a game of give and take until their mouths were a mess and Isaac was licking Stiles’ chin delicately, trying not to waste anything.
What felt like hours later Stiles reached behind them and turned the water off but he didn’t move from where he was plastered against Isaac.
“Give me a little more time to get my strength and I’m doing that to you,” Stiles announced with a sated, lazy smile.
Isaac smiled back sheepishly. “Don’t need to.”
“Uh?”
Isaac grabbed Stiles’ hand and brought it to the front of his boxer briefs, pushing his fingers against them so he could feel the thick mess there, cooling against his skin.
“Goddamn freaky werewolves,” Stiles mumbled but he was smiling and running a hand up and down Isaac’s arm.
“We should get out of here. It’s still fucking hot in here,” Isaac said, reluctantly pulling away from Stiles. He started to push his boxer briefs down to pull them off until he got home but Stiles stopped him.
“Keep them on and I’ll make it worth your while when we get out of here,” he said with a wink.
“Goddamn freaky humans,” Isaac replied.
And pulled the underwear back on.