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It’s been going on all night but it’s worse now that Cora’s here. Not because Isaac wouldn’t gladly touch just about anyone but because liking girls comes easy. It’s socially acceptable, and really, he’d probably already have tried to touch her if she wasn’t 1) sleeping and 2) off-limits. In fact, he’s been sitting in the room with her, watching her sleep while Derek and Scott and Stiles talk and plan outside the room. Isaac doesn’t get to be in on plans, after all. He could voice his opinion, sure, but nobody ever listens.
By the time Scott and Stiles have left, and Isaac hears (and feels) Derek breech the threshold, Isaac’s eyes are glowing gold and his breathing is coming heavy past half-formed fangs.
He can practically feel Derek’s eyes burning against his back.
“I haven’t touched her, I promise.”
But he barely gets the words out before Derek’s gripping him by the fabric over his shoulder and hauling him from the room. When he’s let go, Isaac falls into a pile of jolted limbs on the floor of the room where he sleeps.
“Look, this isn’t your fault,” says Derek, leaning down to look Isaac in the eyes. “But you’ve been fucking peacocking all night.”
“Peacocking?”
“Showing off, being arrogant. Trying to attract a mate.”
Isaac half-laughs, but then, that’s not necessarily untrue. He can still feel the electricity that catching Allison’s eyes put under his skin.
“Is it mating season or something?” Isaac rubs at his elbow where it hit the hardwood floor.
Derek rolls his eyes. “No.”
A surge of frustration prickles through Isaac’s chest, and he flashes his eyes near-voluntarily at Derek. “Then why don’t you tell me why I want to fuck something to death.”
“Because you’re in heat.”
The idea is preposterous, but not as preposterous as how intense it is to have Derek this close, still leaning down to look at Isaac, his skin radiating warmth. Isaac lets his eyes skate over his forearms, let’s out a sound that he hopes is a growl, but it comes out high and whimpery. He covers his eyes in embarrassment. “Fuck.”
It doesn’t help that Derek laughs, low and over-arrogant, before standing up and crossing his arms. “Peacock for everyone else, but you can’t do that for me.”
And that sentence probably isn’t supposed to twist Isaac up like it does, but he just stays there on the floor. He can feel the wall against his back, and the pressure is soothing, but he wants body-on-body pressure. He wants to splay himself out for Derek, or to make him leave the loft so he can go back to Cora. He can feel her and Boyd in the loft, their heartbeats slow and relaxed while they heal from all their exertion. Isaac thinks that either one of them would do, right now, even while sleeping. He could just run his tongue over their throats and—
“Here’s the thing.” Derek’s voice pulls him from his thoughts almost painfully. “Normally the protocol would be to isolate you. Keep you alone so you’re not triggered by so many wolves around you, until it passed. But I don’t want to do that.” Isaac isn’t watching him; he’s covering his eyes with his arms. But as Derek speaks, he notes a change in his voice, from the way he talks when he’s being an asshole to the way he talks when he’s in pain. Now Isaac has dual urges. He wants to fuck him and he wants to soothe him.
“Derek.”
“I can’t leave you alone, Isaac. I don’t know what the Alphas are planning, but it’s not safe for you to be somewhere else. So you have to stay here.”
Isaac’s claws are out; he can’t fight them. He lets them scratch at his skin, curls them in a little even while he continues to hide. “I’ll be good,” he says, his chest aching with Derek’s pain. I lost one beta already, I won’t lose you.
“No you won’t. It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
Well yes. But Isaac can’t tell if it’s because it’s getting worse on its own or because Derek is in the room. He uncovers his eyes and watches Derek and wishes he could go back to how he felt around Scott; horny and fucking furious. But around his Alpha, he just wants to beg. He wants to lie back and crane his head up until it hurts, curl his back until his spine cracks.
The thought of his own broken bones puts a sick kind of arousal into his stomach, and he pants, putting his arms at his sides and facing Derek from the floor. It makes him nervous to be so straight-forward, but he wants to be attractive. He wants Derek to want him.
“It’s getting worse,” he says, finally, unbending one leg until his ankle touches the side of Derek’s shoe. The contact makes his panting more frequent. “Please. Please do something.”
Derek’s eyes flash red. “Do what your wolf says.”
And Isaac thinks that’s terrible advice, but he can’t fight the order. Maybe it’s his wolf or maybe it’s him and how he always wants to do what he’s told, but in the next moment, he’s pushing away from the wall and sliding down onto his back. He pushes himself forward until his legs are spread around Derek’s feet, until his back is arched, until his head is back, neck bared. He watches Derek with his irises at the bottoms of their sockets, and he’s so warm. He’s sure he’s sweating; he feels damp under his arms, at the nape of his neck, between his legs. There, he aches; there, he puts a palm and moves it back and forth, back and forth, but not much. Somehow he feels like it’s bad to touch himself under Derek like this.
“You’re my beta, aren’t you?”
It’s how someone would talk to a dog, but Isaac can’t help but like it. He arches his back further, makes another whimpery sound he didn’t mean to make. He reaches his free hand up to his face, to check if he’s wolfed out, but he isn’t, at least not all the way. He doesn’t want to be, because Derek is in full control. Isaac doesn’t know how he’s been doing it lately, but he’s always in so much control.
Derek kneels, rests both knees between Isaac’s legs. He doesn’t touch him, but Isaac pushes himself forward until he can feel Derek’s legs against him.
“Relax.”
Isaac finds himself nodding, pressing one clawed hand into the floor while he continues to palm himself, slow and steady.
And then Derek gets so gentle, his brows drawing together as he shoves Isaac’s palm away and replaces it with his own. It isn’t enough, but somehow Isaac knows this is all he’s going to get, this slow, aching contact that makes his pelvis feel so full.
“Derek.” He wants to replace every work with his Alpha’s name. Especially if he’s going to keep holding eye contact like he is, making Isaac feel sensitive all over. He wants to reach up and grip Derek’s shoulder or elbow or shirt, but he said he’d be good. He was told to relax. “Derek, this is really intense.”
“Shh, shh, I know.” Isaac is disappointed that Derek isn’t hard, but maybe it’s because of all the pain that’s rolling off him, making Isaac’s aching worse. Derek brings a hand against Isaac’s jaw, holds his head in place when Isaac starts moaning, getting harder, closer. “You wouldn’t leave me, would you Isaac? You wouldn’t ever go and get yourself killed.”
He’d be angry, if he had time to analyze this. But he’s filled with too much, the arousal refusing to ebb even as his eyes prickle with moisture, burning his vision. “When they take me,” he pushes out, his voice breaking into a moan and his hips shaking upward of their own accord. “When they take me, it’s always by force.”
He comes at the same time that Derek’s expression breaks with emotion. It only seems to last a second, not as long as Isaac’s convulsing and breathing and slowing down.
Derek tries to get up, but Isaac pushes forward, sitting up and tangling a hand over Derek’s chest. “Please don’t go.”
“I have to check on them.”
“No. No, they’re fine. I can hear them.”
And it’s true, it’s true. But Derek gets up anyway, and Isaac whimpers into the floor.
“Isaac. It’s okay. I’ll be back in ten minutes when you’re ready to go again.”