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Dating Izzy was supposed to be awesome. And it is awesome, it really is, it’s the definition of awesome. Scott drives to school on her bike every morning with Izzy pressed against her back. They spend first block texting each other beneath their desks. They spend their lunch period making each other laugh and stealing food off of each other’s trays while Stiles pretends to gag into his mac & cheese. They make out under the bleachers and show up for lacrosse practice 5 minutes late with suspiciously red lips and messy hair. Scott’s on cloud nine, and she’d probably be a little embarrassed with herself if she wasn’t so happy.
But they’re hormonal teenagers, and it turns out that living with your werewolf girlfriend comes with a few unexpected complications.
Long story short: if Scott had balls, they would definitely be blue right now.
It happened like this.
***
They’re lying on Scott’s bed, kissing lazy, chemistry homework pushed to the floor in a forgotten heap. Scott’s got one hand tangled in Izzy’s dark blonde curls and the other running slowly up and down the back of her thin tank top. When Izzy tentatively brushes her tongue against Scott’s bottom lip, Scott lets out a small gasp, and Izzy chuckles against her mouth, which is all sorts of hot. It takes Scott a moment to register that Izzy’s saying something, and she has to shake her head to clear it a bit before asking, “Um… sorry, what?”
Izzy rolls her eyes fondly. “I said, are you sure your mom’s gone for the night?”
“Yeah,” Scott says, trying to wrench her gaze away from Izzy’s lips and actually meet her eyes. “She’s working until ten. We have the place to ourselves.”
“Good,” Izzy whispers, in a low growl that sends a flash of heat through Scott’s body. Scott groans and pulls her back in for another kiss. Izzy catches on, pushing her tongue more insistently against Scott’s lips and sliding a long-fingered hand up the back of her T-shirt. Scott shudders at the feeling of Izzy’s fingers on her bare skin, and okay, maybe she’s a little further gone than the situation warrants. But Scott is, as was previously mentioned, a hormonal teenager, and she can’t even remember the last time she got off. She and Izzy haven’t gone further than making out, and the idea of getting herself off while her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s superhuman werewolf hearing are a few feet away in the guest bedroom is, okay, really fucking hot, but more importantly, really fucking awkward.
So Scott thinks she’s justified in being a little hot and bothered when Izzy is raking her blunt nails across Scott’s back, dragging her hand around to press flat against her abs, and—oh god— brushing her thumb along the elastic band at the bottom of her sports bra.
Izzy pulls away from Scott’s mouth long enough to breathe, “Is it okay if I keep going?”
Scott nods vigorously, a little overwhelmed by how very okay it is. She’d probably be jumping out of bed and doing an “I’m About to Get to Second Base with Isabelle Lahey” victory dance if she wasn’t so preoccupied with, you know, getting to second base with Isabelle Lahey.
Izzy slips her thumb under the band, rubbing at the skin just beneath where her ribs meet her breast. Scott’s fingers dig into Izzy’s side, scrunching up the material of her tank, and she’s grateful that she’s gotten good at controlling her wolf, because if she turned right now her claws would do some serious damage. Izzy brushes her thumb against the same stretch of sensitive skin, her hand just a few inches away from where Scott wants it. At first Scott thinks she’s just being a tease, but when she meets Izzy’s eyes, she sees hesitation, and maybe a little bit of nerves.
“Hey,” Scott breathes. “We don’t have to if—”
“No!” says Izzy immediately. “I want this. God, I really want this.” She noses against Scott’s jaw, and Scott’s breath catches in her throat. “It’s just… I’ve never gone this far before.”
“With—” it comes out a little choked, so Scott clears her throat and tries again. “With another girl, you mean?”
“No,” Izzy whispers. “With anyone.”
“I—oh.” Scott pulls Izzy back up and presses a gentle kiss to her lips. “It’s okay. We can go slow.”
Something dark and hungry flashes in Izzy’s eyes, and when she kisses Scott again, it’s decidedly less gentle. By the time she pulls back, they’re both breathing a little heavier. “I – I don’t think I want to go slow,” she murmurs.
“Oh,” Scott breathes. “Um. Well, in that case…” She glances pointedly downwards.
Izzy rolls her eyes and kisses Scott again, before moving lower to bite gently at her neck. Scott’s so lost in the sensation that she doesn’t register the movement of Izzy’s hand until it’s gently cupping her breast over her bra.
“Fuck,” Scott gasps, throwing her head back. Izzy moans in response, taking advantage of Scott’s exposed throat and worrying a mark into the side of her neck. Scott knows that any bruises will fade within minutes, but still. It’s hot.
Izzy’s mouth traces a path up Scott’s neck and across her jaw, before pressing a kiss behind her ear. “So,” she whispers, “this is nice and all.” Izzy brushes a thumb across Scott’s nipple, and even over the fabric of her bra, it feels good enough to make her whimper. “Like, really nice, but you could, y’know. Reciprocate. If you want.”
The small part of Scott’s brain that’s still functioning registers that her hand is still balled up unhelpfully around the fabric of Izzy’s tank. “Oh. Um. Yeah, that’s… that sounds good.”
Scott unclenches her fingers and slides her hand up under the back of Izzy’s shirt. When she moves it around to Izzy’s stomach, and then up to tentatively cup her breast, Izzy gives up on kissing her neck and just pants against it, eyes squeezed shut. Scott buries her free hand in Izzy’s curls and gently pulls her back up so that she can kiss her desperately. They make out like that for a while, hands roaming over the newly discovered territory. By the time Izzy ends up on top, hovering between Scott’s legs, they’re not so much kissing as breathing against each other’s mouths, which under normal circumstances would probably be gross, but. Well. These aren’t normal circumstances.
Izzy’s tank top is pushed almost all the way up to the bottom of her bra, and Scott’s fingers trail around to the clasp at the back.
“God, Izzy, can I - ”
“Fuck yes.”
Scott’s bringing her other trembling hand around to undo the clasp when the bedroom door bangs open.
“Hey, Scott, can I borrow – oh my God!”
Scott lets out a very undignified yelp and sits bolt upright, almost knocking Izzy off the bed in the process. “Stiles!” she squeaks, as Izzy frantically tugs her tank back down over her exposed midriff. “Is it really that hard to knock?”
Stiles peeks out from under the arm he’d thrown up over his eyes, as if protecting himself from a painfully bright light. “How was I supposed to know that you were - ” He makes a hand gesture that Scott can’t make any sense of. She’s not really sure if she wants to, to be honest.
“And anyway,” he continues, “if you don’t want poor, unsuspecting best friends walking in on you and being scarred for life, you should consider locking the door.”
“My door doesn’t have a lock! You’ve been in my room a thousand times, how do you not - ”
“Okay, okay, but - ”
“Stiles,” Izzy breaks in, her voice dangerously even despite the bright pink flush of her cheeks, “can you please get out of Scott’s room before I get out the claws?”
“Jesus Christ!” Stiles says, throwing up his hands. “I need some new, non-wolfy friends.” He turns to leave, and Izzy flops down on the bed with an embarrassed groan. They hear Stiles’s footsteps on the stairs a few seconds later.
Scott looks down at Izzy, hands covering her face, her neck bright pink, and bursts out laughing.
“Oh my god,” Izzy groans. “Shut up!”
“I—I’m sorry!” Scott says, still giggling uncontrollably. “But did you see the look on his face?”
Izzy grins a little at that, and Scott flops down next to her. “So I guess the mood is kinda ruined, huh?”
Izzy props herself up on one arm, cupping Scott’s cheek with her hand. Her thumb brushes across Scott’s bottom lip, and Scott shivers a little. “I wouldn’t say that,” Izzy murmurs, leaning in to kiss her.
“Hey girls!” Melissa calls from downstairs. “They let me out early! What do you want for dinner?”
Izzy and Scott both groan, and Izzy drops her hand. “Of course,” Scott says. “Someone had to let Stiles in.”
They hear the sound of Melissa walking up the stairs, and quickly arrange themselves into as innocent of a position as possible. Scott grabs her chemistry textbook off of the floor, and Isaac pulls a comic book she’d been reading out from under the pillow. “Next time?” Izzy whispers as Melissa knocks on their door.
“Yeah,” Scott whispers back. “Next time.”
***
“Next time” doesn’t happen for another week. The hospital’s been giving Melissa much more reasonable hours, and she’s usually home before Izzy and Scott get back from lacrosse practice. Scott feels like a terrible daughter for wanting her mom to have to take a night shift, but in her defense, Izzy is hot, and now that they’ve taken that first step, it’s even harder not to want more.
The call comes at 6:30, two days before the full moon, just as they’re sitting down for dinner. Melissa’s brow furrows the second she answers the phone, and Scott looks up from her bowl of chicken stir-fry, suddenly concerned.
“It’s no problem at all! I’ll be there right away,” Melissa says, before hanging up with a sigh.
“What’s wrong?” Scott asks.
“Sorry, Scott,” Melissa says, walking towards the door to grab her coat. “Sara called in sick, and I have to take her shift.”
“Oh,” Scott says. She wills herself not to look at Izzy, who’s gone suddenly still over her dinner.
Melissa slips into her coat and walks back into the kitchen to retrieve her purse. “I probably won’t back ‘til past midnight. You girls will be okay, right?”
“We’ll be fine, Ms. McCall,” says Izzy, and her voice is so pointedly innocent that Scott almost laughs.
“Great,” Melissa says distractedly, crossing back to the door and pulling her keys out of her purse. “Call if you need anything, Scott!”
The door bangs shut behind her. A few seconds later, they hear the sound of the car starting and pulling out of the driveway. There’s a brief, awkward silence.
“So,” Scott says after a moment. “Do you want to - ”
She hasn’t even finished the sentence before Izzy gets up and makes a beeline for the stairs, dinner completely forgotten. Scott laughs and follows her up.
The second they make it into Scott’s room, Izzy’s got her pushed up against the door, one hand curled around her hip and the other cradling the back of her head, tilting her face up to kiss her. Scott giggles against Izzy’s mouth, a little bemused by her girlfriend’s desperation, but Izzy only moans in response. She tilts her head and kisses Scott even more insistently and yeah, okay, Scott can definitely get behind that. She wraps an arm around Izzy’s neck to pull her in even closer, and Izzy hums appreciatively, dropping her hand from Scott’s face to her hip, pinning her firmly to the door. Scott’s free hand wanders around to Izzy’s back as they kiss, and when she begins to slide it up the back of her shirt, Izzy pulls away suddenly.
Scott is stunned for a moment. She takes a shaky breath, preparing to apologize, but the words die in throat when Izzy pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it across the room.
“Less clothes,” Izzy breathes, closing in on Scott again and toying with the hem of her shirt. “Please. If that’s okay.”
“Yes,” Scott whispers. “That is so, so okay.”
Izzy immediately begins to pull the shirt off. There’s an awkward moment when the fabric gets tangled around Scott’s arms as Izzy tries to pull it over her head, but they laugh their way through it, eventually getting it off.
“Hi,” Scott says with a grin when the shirt’s finally on the floor and she can see Izzy’s face again.
“Hey,” Izzy whispers back, and she kisses her again, far more gently this time. But at some point Izzy’s hand finds its way back to Scott’s hip and Scott’s fingers tangle into those curls she loves so much and things become much less gentle.
Izzy breaks away long enough to murmur “Bed?” and Scott responds by pushing Izzy back until her knees hit the edge of the mattress. Izzy falls onto the bed, crawling backwards until she reaches the pillows, and Scott follows, settling between Izzy’s legs. She gets a little distracted on the way, because Izzy’s legs are so long and gorgeous that Scott can’t resist running her hands over them. When she presses a kiss into the inside of Izzy’s knee, Izzy groans and yanks her up into a kiss.
For a few minutes they’re content to make out with their hands tangled in each others’ hair or stroking along each others’ sides, but then Izzy seizes Scott’s wrist and guides her hand across her stomach and up to the bottom of her navy blue bra. “I’ve been thinking about this all week,” Izzy whispers, and Scott swears softly, bringing her up the rest of the way to palm roughly at her breast. Izzy’s head drops back onto the pillow, and Scott’s mouth latches onto her neck, alternating between open-mouthed kisses and gentle bites.
“God, Izzy,” she says, pulling herself far enough away from Izzy’s neck to really look at her. She’s panting slightly, her chest rising and falling with every breath, the straps of her bra stretched over her perfect collarbones, her hair in complete disarray, her lips pink and slightly swollen. “You’re just… you’re so amazing.”
Izzy blushes, but she doesn’t look away. “Just—just touch me. Please.” Scott complies, cupping Izzy’s both of Izzy’s breasts and thumbing gently across her nipples over the bra. Izzy whimpers, pushing up slightly into her touch.
“What do you want to do?” Scott murmurs, one thumb continuing to rub circles over Izzy’s bra. Even through the material she can fill Izzy’s nipple hardening, which is really distracting (although, to be fair, it’s probably far more distracting for Izzy).
“I… I want—ah!” Izzy’s sentence ends in a high choked-off noise when Scott circles her thumb a little more firmly than she’d intended. “Fuck. I want everything.”
Scott laughs breathlessly, using one hand to brush Izzy’s curls out of her face. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific,” she says, leaning back down to kiss her.
It’s a complete accident when it happens: Izzy reaches up unexpectedly in an attempt to pull her down the rest of the way, Scott’s thrown a little off balance, and she practically falls on top of Izzy.
“Shit, I’m so—“ Scott begins, but her throat goes suddenly dry when Izzy throws her head back against the pillow and moans, her mouth falling open, her eyes screwed shut in pleasure. Somewhat belatedly, Scott realizes that her thigh is between Izzy’s legs, pressing hard against the inseam of her jeans.
“Oh,” Scott breathes.
“Scott,” Izzy gasps. “Please, just—keep doing that.”
“You—are you sure?” Scott asks. Izzy’s never done this before, after all, and the last thing she wants to do is rush her girlfriend into anything.
Izzy actually growls, her fingers digging hard into Scott’s back. “Yes, I’m sure, just fucking do someth—”
Scott cuts her off with a kiss, pushing her thigh experimentally against Izzy’s crotch. Izzy’s hips buck up against her and she whimpers a little into Scott’s mouth, so yeah, she thinks she can count that as a success. For a while, Scott somehow manages to grind her leg against Izzy while kissing her and keeping one hand moving on her breast, but then Izzy works her thigh between Scott’s legs and their hips slot just right, and Scott’s brain pretty much stops working.
But she’s not too far gone to notice when the pleasant drag of Izzy’s blunt nails against her back suddenly becomes painful.
“Shit,” Izzy hisses, and not in a good way. Scott pulls back immediately, looking at her girlfriend in concern. When Izzy meets her eyes, Scott immediately understands: her irises are flashing gold.
“Oh.” Scott scrambles back into a sitting position closer to the foot of the bed, knowing from experience that her proximity isn’t helping. Izzy takes a few deep breaths, and her eyes slowly fade back to normal. Scott glances down at Izzy’s hand just in time to see her claws recede.
Izzy groans, covering her face with her hands. “God, I’m so sorry, Scott.”
“Hey,” Scott says, inching back next to her. Izzy seems to have regained control of herself, so Scott hesitantly takes her hand. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Believe me, I’ve been there.”
Izzy laughs weakly, dropping her head onto Scott’s shoulder. “I—I can usually control it,” she whispers. “It’s just so close to the full moon, and—”
“I know, I know,” Scott says soothingly, running a hand through Izzy’s hair. “Let’s just watch a movie or something, yeah?”
“Not The Dark Knight,” Isaac says grumpily into her shoulder. “Stiles made us watch that seven times.”
Scott laughs. “Okay, no Dark Knight. And hey.” She tilts Izzy’s chin up so she can meet her eyes. “We can try again after the full moon. If you want.”
Izzy’s eyes dart down quickly to Scott’s mouth, and then back up to her eyes. “Definitely.”
***
It’s the Wednesday night after the full moon, Melissa’s taken another midnight shift, and Scott has sent Stiles some not-so-subtle texts to let him know that she’ll be occupied this evening. It’s not quite instrumental music and rose petals, but Scott is fairly certain that everything is as perfect as they’ll ever get it.
Izzy seems less preoccupied with things being perfect than with divesting Scott of her button-down and jeans as quickly as possible. Scott doesn’t mind at all.
“Finally,” Izzy breathes as she pushes Scott onto the bed. She climbs up after her, already stripped down to her bra and underwear. “No interruptions this time, right?”
Scott suddenly frowns, as if she’s only just remembered something. “Oh no, I’m so sorry Izzy! I forgot that invited Stiles to come over and watch The Dark Knight tonight.”
The look of complete horror on Izzy’s face is priceless, and Scott can only keep a straight face for a second before she falls back onto the pillows in a fit of laughter.
“Shut up, you asshole,” Izzy groans, her face flushed with embarrassment. Scott just keeps laughing, but then Izzy slides her hand down the front of her briefs. Scott shuts up pretty quickly after that.