cr: dunbarfeels via tumblr

You weren't sure what it was about Isaac playing lacrosse that got you going.

Maybe it was the way his jersey clung to his torso, the red contrasting boldly against the stark paleness of his skin. It did wonders for his arms; made the firm muscles look pronounced to the point where you found yourself biting your bottom lip to prevent your thoughts from dirtying.

Or, perhaps, it was the way his hair poked from the side of his helmet. The sandy curls were normally one of your favourite features of his and there was just something about the way the strands glistened, the shimmer of sweat twinkling beneath the pitch lights that had you breathing hard.

But no, you had the sneaking suspicion that you knew exactly what it was causing your skin to crawl with anticipation this time.

At every given opportunity, Isaac would turn to face the stands, meet your eyes, and do something completely inappropriate.

You couldn't really blame him, however. You'd brought it on yourself.

You were sitting with your friends to watch the match, something you'd done even before you'd began to date Isaac. Lacrosse had been a sport you'd enjoyed spectating for a while (and no, it had nothing to do with the presence of all the sweaty, attractive players).

Your friend, Lydia, approached you, two container cups held between her hands. You inched up the cool metal to make space for her, releasing a thankful moan when she passed you one of the drinks. "Thank you so much, Lydia," you said, gratefully accepting the beverage. You took a long sip, insides warming.

"No problem," she responded, taking a sip of her own, "it's freezing tonight! If I'd known, I'd have brought a scarf." You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes at her purposeful words. "What?!" She exclaimed.

"You always make fun of his scarves!" You answered, slightly put out that - once again - the conversation had circled back to Isaac and his fashion choices.

"I'm not making fun, Y/N," Lydia chimed, the glint in her eye betraying her mouth. "Isaac can rock anything he wears, he's got a great body." Your eyes widened.

"Did you just say my boyfriend has a great body?" You asked, voice holding a hidden warning. You wouldn't say you were overprotective or mistrusting - hell, you knew there was no chance Isaac would ever look at another girl, let alone cheat on you - but the edge of lust in Lydia's voice set you ever-so-slightly on edge.

"Chill." She threw up her hands, ginger curls bouncing."I'm not coming after him - he's all yours. I'm just saying that I can appreciate a man as attractive as Isaac. I mean, have you seen him? His muscles-"

Subconsciously, you began to drown her out, your focus shifting to your boyfriend. The team had just finished warming up and were now preparing for the game. You watched Isaac excuse himself from the team talk and begin to jog towards the benches where you were sat.

"-Oh look, he's coming over!" Lydia chirped.

Isaac's hair bobbed as he took the stairs two at a time, a focused expression written across his face. He stopped when he reached your row, moving past a few people as he walked down the bench.

"Hey?" You started, eyes skimming his face. "What are you doing here? Don't you need to be on the pitch-"

Isaac cut off your questions with a quick kiss, mouth brushing yours in a sudden clash of teeth and lips. It lasted only a few seconds - short enough to have you aching for more.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Lydia turn away to begin talking to another friend, giving you some privacy.

"I heard your little conversation," he said as he pulled back. All too familiar with his werewolf abilities, you rolled your eyes. "Seems like Lydia really likes me," he mumbled, a cocky smirk accompanied his voice.

"She likes your body - and, honestly, who can blame her? You are quite the looker," you admitted, reaching out to press a hand against one of his biceps. It felt firm, even beneath the layers of materials. You stood up and stepped closer to him, the limited space providing you with the perfect opportunity to wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle in close. Your head settled in the crook of his neck, mouth nestling against his side of his neck. "Too bad you're all mine."

Isaac cleared his throat. "All yours, huh?" He asked, voice slightly strained.

"All mine," you affirmed. Deciding to have a little fun, you moved closer and settled your body flat against his. "Your arms, your chest, your lips," you dropped your voice lower, a rush of heat throbbing over you, "and your ***."

Subtly, you rubbed your knee up against his crotch, Isaac's mouth releasing a low curse a moment later. Due to the growing hardness, you came to the conclusion that he had yet to put on the protective cup. "***, baby, you're going to give me a boner," a desperate want curled around his words.

"'S not my fault. I have to wait up here all match long, watching you run around that field, getting all hot and sweaty, wanting nothing more than to take you aside and have you ruin me. It's torture, Isaac. I just have to sit here, getting more and more aroused with nothing to get me off." You paused, lips nibbling at his neck. "Too bad we'll have to wait a couple of hours before that though, right?"

You glanced up to see him stone-faced, his *** pressing up against the material of his shorts. His teeth curled around his plump bottom lip, jaw tenser than you'd ever seen.

"Damnit," he muttered, cheeks flaming. You decided he'd just realised he'd sprung an erection, no thanks to you. "I'll get you back for this later, Y/N, just wait." His eyes glinted, flashing the familiar yellow for a few dangerous seconds.

You smiled, sitting down and taking a sip of your drink. "Have a good match, babe!"

Grumbling, Isaac opened his mouth to respond. You'd been together long enough to know the sorts of thing he'd have proceeded to say, so weren't put out when Coach Finstock yelled. "Lahey! Stop flirting with your girlfriend and get your pathetic *** down here!"

You watched, smirking, as Isaac jogged back to the field. You knew he'd make you pay for riling him up, but you didn't mind: it was fun to make him squirm. Additionally, sex when he was angry was always good, as was post-match sex. You'd never tried combining them, but had the feeling it'd be more than enjoyable.

Two hours on, you regretted your teasing.

Watching Isaac play had been hell.

Normally he'd be a bit showy, wanting to impress you; Lydia used to compare it to an act of courtship undertaken by an animal trying to win over a potential mate.

Today it had been taken up a notch.

It began with the stretching. Whenever he was near your end of the field (and not chasing after the ball like an excitable puppy), he took the liberty of turning to face the stands - making obvious eye contact with you - and lifting his arms. They arched high above his head, both outstretched as one tensed and the other held the stick. In addition to this, his front stuck out which drew your undivided attention to the firm curve of his chest.

Next came the lips. Biting, licking, sucking - everything. Anything he could do to his mouth to get you flustered, he did. Watching his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, releasing it painfully slowly, was enough to have you shifting in your spot. At one point during a particularly violent assault on his lower lip, Lydia had to ask you if you were alright - apparently, you'd been making noises, whatever that meant. You couldn't help it; your mind was so overcome with lust for the man that you weren't able to focus on much else but Isaac!.

He knew what exactly what he was doing. He kept looking up, which just so happened to be Example C on the 'List of Reasons Why Isaac Lahey is a Big Fucking Tease'.

Isaac's eyes were unlike any you'd seen before. When he was happy, they conveyed a million sunsets; sad, a million storms. He had the capacity to make them blank - void of emotion - but also flood them with such feeling and passion that it took your breath away. They were glints of light, scatterings of stories and a kaleidoscope of colours all woven into one. They were so intricately detailed, so sculpted, that you often found yourself simply...getting lost in them.

Tonight, however, they were different. Half-lidded, when they flickered up to meet yours from across the field, you felt as though a jolt of electricity rocketed down your spine. They seemed normal - absent was the gold you'd grown familiar with - showing his signature blue as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but it was the look they held - that overwhelming feeling that flooded them, that had you visibly shuddering.

Before getting to know him, you'd never have guessed Isaac would be quite as good at 'eye fucking' as he turned out to be. His game was, frankly, astounding.

His gaze flitted over your face, skating the curves of your jaw and forehead before settling on your mouth. He accompanied the stare with a lick of his lips, his stare shifting up to meet your eyes - blue ice curling around your heart - and winking. Winking! A second later, he began to alternate between your mouth and eyes, throwing in an occasional neck scratch and stretch wherever he deemed fit.

It was difficult for you to just sit there - very difficult. Isaac without the sweat and the additional gestures was hard enough to deal with, but knowing he was putting on a show especially for you had your skin crawling.

All things considered, you were a wreck.

By the time the game was won and the players were leaving the pitch, you were completely and irreversibly aroused. The throbbing between your legs had begun during halftime when he'd taken off his helmet and had only grown worse with time.

Lydia ended up having to drag you down the bleachers as you were so out of it you'd failed to realise the game had actually ended. By the time your feet hit the pitch, your mind was filled with one thought only: Isaac. Or, more specifically, how badly you needed Isaac to *** you.

After saying your goodbyes to your friends - and having Lydia 'jokingly' throw a condom directly at your face, you headed straight for Isaac. The tall boy was sat on the end of a bench, changing from his studded shoes to soft-soled trainers.

He was alone, giving you the perfect opportunity to slip onto the bench beside him and scoot up as close as possible. He acknowledged you with a grunt when you pressed your thigh up against him, his body emitting a heat that warmed you to the core.

"You played well, congratulations!" You spoke, voice less congratulating and more please-***-me. He smiled, sitting up and stretching out his arms.

"Thank you," he murmured, taking one of your hands and pulling you from the seat when he stood. You stumbled, taken off-guard by the sudden action, and ended up with your front pressing flush against his jersey-covered chest. Isaac's large hands found home on your hips, giving you a small squeeze when he leaned down to press a sudden kiss against your lips. It lasted a few seconds and when he pulled back, he dragged his mouth over to a spot just below your ear and breathed out a few additional words, "I could smell your arousal from here, princess. That was really difficult for you to watch, wasn't it?"

You gulped, goosebumps spreading across your neck. "You're hot," you answered simply. Hot was one way to put it, that's for sure.

One of his arms fell from your waist and went to position itself over your shoulders. When he took a few paces forwards, you were taken with him.

"Just hot, huh?" He teased, fondly tracing his fingers over the top of your arm. You leaned into his side, pressing your head against the warmth of his side. "I think Lydia said I was attractive-" you silenced him with a laugh.

"Lydia doesn't know anything. She's only seen some of you, I've seen everything," it was his turn to look flustered, a rosy blush spreading over the apples of his cheeks, "and so yes, I dohappen to think you're hot." You paused, a mischievous feeling fluttering through your chest. "How's your boner, by the way?"

It was as if Isaac finally switched on. An expression of realisation dawned across his face as he remembered the past few hours. His grip on your arm tightened as his tongue went to skirt along the edge of his bottom lip.

"You're going to pay for that," he said, voice gravelly.

"Oh, really? Don't you think it should be you paying up? After all, you did do everything in your power to make me as uncomfortable as possible during that game," you challenged.

"You'll be lucky if I let you come, I wouldn't push it if I were you." You bit your lip, a tingle spreading down your spine. You'd always liked it when his dominative side came out.

The walk towards the changing rooms trickled by, Isaac taking his sweet time. You reckoned he was stalling - waiting for his teammates to clear from the area before you required it for your activities - as there was no way he actually had to retie his shoes three times.

In the end, the stalling worked. The second you were in the desolate changing room, Isaac pushed you up against a locker and growled the words, "it's empty."

His mouth found yours in an instance, hungry lips pressing against you in a messy clash of teeth and tongues. You pushed back just as eagerly as him - if not more. You'd been waiting for the opportunity to make out with him all evening; you sure as hell weren't going to wait any longer.

Wanting to feel closer, you reached down and grabbed the material of his jersey, jerking him as close as possible. Isaac let out a surprised noise, pausing the advances of his lips to ask, "how do you want to do this, baby?"

"I don't mind," you responded breathlessly. As long as you ended up beneath him, you honestly didn't care.

Unsatisfied with this response, he made a sound suspiciously like a growl. "You're going to want to be more specific than that," he said, words the opposite of a suggestion. Swallowing, you tried again.

"I want you," you started, biting down on your bottom lip when his hands began to travel towards your jeans.

"Hmm?" He prompted, staring at you in a way that said keep going. You gulped, using every ounce of willpower to shift your attention from his nimble fingers pressing over your belt.

"Please touch me," you spoke, voice wavering when Isaac hooked his fingers beneath your waistband and tugged your jeans towards the floor.

"Touch you? Like this?" He reached up and tapped his finger against your nose, laughing to himself. You rolled your eyes, finding it slightly endearing despite the situation.

"No, you idiot," you scolded, voice carrying no heat. You grabbed his hand and guided it down your body, pressing it against the warmth between your legs. He used his pointer finger and pulled it over your covered centre, tapping against your clit in a way that had you moaning. "Like that."

Fingertip applying a constant pressure to your heat, Isaac nuzzled his head against your neck. His lips pressed against your sweet spot, cheeks pursing as he sucked a rough hickey to your skin. Your grip on your bottom lip tightened, the mix of sensations sending a throb of pure adrenaline down your spine.

"Am I doing it right?" he asked, cocky barely describing the arrogance in his voice.

For a second you contemplated your response, knowing whatever you said would determine the course of the night. Cocky, and he'd respond with teasing. Needy, and he'd decide to press you to the breaking point, just to see how far you'd go.

You narrowed your eyes. "No, you need to give me more."

Isaac barked out a laugh. "Need to? Baby, if I remember correctly, it was you who started this." Nevertheless, Isaac pushed your panties down your legs. When his finger went to stroke up your centre, he let out a soft curse upon feeling the extent of the wetness between your outer lips.

Force infuriatingly weak, he took it upon himself to trail his finger over your clit, applying as little pressure as possible. It danced just above the central nub, stroking in delicately careful lines that had your chest heaving.

Seconds slid by, his teasing holding strong despite your urges to amp it up. Growing impatient, you tried to grind your hips down. You were desperate for more, legs beginning to quiver from being held so close to the pressure you were searching for.

"So needy," he cooed, hair tickling your neck when he dipped his head lower in order to suck another mark to your collarbone.

His thumb went to play with your clit, a low hiss leaving your open mouth when it stroked strong circles into the sensitive spot. The forefinger trailed down, pushing up against your soaked entrance and circling the hole in a torturous fashion. "D'you want it? Want me to slip my finger inside?" You let out a high-pitched gasp when he slipped the finger in a teasing millimetre, fists grabbing handfuls of his jersey. "Or, would you rather I go back to touching that greedy little clit?" He slipped his finger out, thumb feather-light over your nub.

"Holy ***, Isaac," you cursed, blinking rapidly. He smirked, teeth flashing a bright white. "Inside. ***- put it inside, please put it inside."

Isaac gave you a triumphant look, nodding his head agreeably. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" You were going to bite back with a snarky comment but instead found your vocal cords twisting into a loud moan when the finger slid all the way inside.

One hand went to hold your waist while the other stayed between your legs, working its magic - his grip on your sides strong enough to keep you firmly in place. Unable to move around properly, you resulted to writhing. As his slender digit began to pump in and out of your needy entrance, you squirmed beneath his grip, chest rising and falling as a bead of sweat ran along your forehead.

"Am I touching you right? Doing everything you want?" He asked, mischief woven through his words. You nodded, unable to form coherent words as your mouth was hanging open.

A second finger joined the first, your grip on his jersey growing impossibly tighter as you clenched your fists. Something began to build in the pit of your stomach, the quickly-strengthening brush of his thumb against your clit combining with the burning stretch of the fingers opening you out.

"I think I want some words, princess. Tell me how you feel," his tone bordered on mocking, tongue held between his teeth. You could feel him watching your face, sense him grow smugger as you grew more tied up.

"Y-yes, Isaac," you murmured, giving in. "You're doing so well, fingers going so deep." To prove your point, he twisted his hand and the tips of his fingertips brushed up against your g-spot. "***!" You exclaimed, eyes rolling back.

"Are you getting there?" He queried, the action of your walls clenching around his fingers already giving him the answer.

"S'close, baby," you supplied truthfully. You were teetering near the edge, so close you could almost feel the tenseness of your muscles as they pulled taught, back arching, toes curling, jaw-

"I don't think I'm going to let you come just yet."

"What?" You spoke, voice sharpening despite the hazy cloud of arousal floating around your head.