Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/912587.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Allison_Argent/Isaac_Lahey/Scott_McCall, Allison_Argent/Scott_McCall,
      Isaac_Lahey/Scott_McCall, Allison_Argent/Isaac_Lahey
  Character:
      Scott_McCall, Allison_Argent, Isaac_Lahey
  Additional Tags:
      Cunnilingus, Rutting, Sloppy_Makeouts, POV_Scott, look_at_these_assholes,
      Established_Relationship, Team_Brawn
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-04 Words: 3635
****** Record Scratch Moment ******
by captainkoirk
Summary
     It's happening all at once, a flash of lighting on the open road, and
     it's moving slow in segments, Newton's Cradle in Jell-O.
      
     (Can be read as a sequel to 'Drop Dead Sprint' or as a stand-alone
     piece)
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Scott considers himself clueless, as a rule, no matter what he thinks he knows.
There's just too damn much hiding from him, out there in the dark, even if he
can stare right into it, now, and see. Hoping for the best, expecting the
worst, and all that. Scott suspects he gets that from his mom. The whole Nature
Vs. Nurture argument isn't something he ever thought would be on the forefront
of his mind, but here it is. The whacked-out ratio of werewolves to people in
Beacon Hills is showing him all the variables.
 
Not that Scott has a lot of spare time to think, between all the unfortunate
accessories of lycanthropy, the struggles of academia, his normal life, and his
brain-melting sex life.
 
Seriously, brain-melting.Sometimes, Scott has those record-scratch moments, and
everything stops, no matter where he is, because uh.
 
Sometimes it's when he's reading a book, or brushing his teeth, and wham. Then
he'll be back in reality, and he'll have ripped the corner of the page he was
turning, or his toothbrush will be drowned in toothpaste.
 
And metaphorically, Scott really can't put any of the toothpaste that is is
life back in any kind of tube, so.
 
He thinks about that, too, when he has time to think. At fifteen, Derek told
him the bite was a gift, and no, there isn't a receipt, but why would you want
to return it?
 
Metaphors aside, Scott never had a chance to choose, and even the wild perks
don't make up for everything else. Everything else being murder and mayhem on
the regular.
 
And yet, lycanthropy is so deeply entrenched into every aspect of Scott's life,
he has trouble imagining things any other way. Maybe his relationship with
Allison wouldn't have such a tragic backdrop, punching Scott in the face with
clichéd fists, like, at least twice a day. But then again, Scott's not sure if
he would've had the confidence to even talkto Allison, let alone ask her out,
if his asthma hadn't vanished over night and been replaced by washboard abs.
Just as well, it wouldn't make Allison any less of a hunter. She just wouldn't
be able to share that part of her world with him. He loops it over and over in
his mind, but it never works out.
 
Isaac is, simultaneously, easier and harder to think about. Isaac asked for the
bite. Isaac Lahey was probably one of Beacon Hills' worst-kept secrets, even
worse than werewolves and hunters. Everything could be explained away by
vicious animal attacks leaving corpses in the woods, and walking into doors and
falling down stairs. People look the other way, Scott thinks, in Beacon Hills,
and it hurts to know that he likely would have, if he wasn't equally anonymous
and wholly internal, before the bite. Isaac still gets the shit kicked out of
him on the regular, and it makes something primitive in Scott sting,even if the
wounds heal, now. At least they can fight back.
 
Isaac asked for the bite, because he didn't see any other option. Scott can
never blame him for looking at it, and what it can do, differently. Derek
showed Isaac a way out and up, and up, and up.All Scott remembers is the smell
of the rot of the forest floor, gagging on decomposing matter, how his skin was
on fire, and how something inside of him was churning and cutting. Scott can't
place Isaac in his life, without the whole creatures-of-the-night deal. Maybe
they'd occasionally warm the lacrosse team bench together.
 
When Scott reads fiction, during rare moments free of some crisis or another,
he likes to soak in the worlds in the pages, and imagine where he'd fit in.
Often, he can't. He dwells too much on his responsibilities in this life.
 
Scott never thought he'd be much of a leader, let alone some kind of Werewolf
Jesus, if what Deaton told him was accurate, and he wasn't just whacked out on
shock and exhaustion and a near-crucifixion. Deaton's always been right,
though.
 
At least the perks are really, reallyperky.
 
It never occurred to Scott that wearing his heart on his sleeve, with a big,
flashing neon arrow pointing to it, was abnormal. He's sensitive to a fault,
which screws him over constantly,but at least it makes sorting out what he has
going on with Isaac and Allison easier. His mom, much like Deaton, does that
thing where she knows what's up. Every time she's sat him down and made him
talk about ithas been an indispensable character-building exercise, and Scott
doesn't like mixing Mom Thoughts with Isaac and Allison Thoughts, but giving
credit where credit is due, and all that.
 
So, perks.
 
Like, waking up with his hands in Allison's hair and his face in her breasts.
Isaac's broad chest against Scott's back and his dick against Scott's ass.
 
Madperks.
 
Scott tried to explain it, then, but it was kind of a lost cause, because he
said "boobs", and Isaac fell off the bed, and Allison still laughs at him for
saying "boobs".
 
She's doing that right now, actually.
 
"It was, like, seven in the morning! Boobs was my go-to word."
 
"Good to know that you are, in fact, twelve. You are a twelve year old boy."
 
"Scott the Tweenage Werewolf." Isaac chimes in, and okay, two against one, not
fair.
 
"You're lucky you're both pretty."
 
Scott has a type, and it's morally grey with a jaw like a cliff edge. It's
weird, sexy film noir, and it makes him squirm because when did this become his
life?
 
The three of them are in bed, and when Isaac's lower lip pushes across the
shell of Scott's ear, a growl in the back of his throat, and Allison's fingers
brush just under his navel, record scratch moment.
 
Everything is visceral. Isaac; moss after the rain, blackberries in the soil,
old leather, the copper and rock salt tang of blood, Scott's shampoo. Allison;
fresh linen, sweat under leather, sweet cedar, her rose and amber perfume.
Isaac's flat, human teeth, the rush of Allison's goosebumps, everything is
moving slow like molasses, and when Scott snaps back to reality, it hits him
like a train.
 
Something bubbling just under Scott's skin wants to haul Isaac over, pushing
him into the mattress while Allison decides what she wants, but he curbs
himself.
 
It's not that Isaac doesn't like it when Scott fucks him, hands gripping hips
and pulling hair. It's not like they have a default, and Scott knows it's
important to ask, first. He hadn't, sometimes, before, and the fact that he's
made Isaac flinch sits heavy in Scott's gut, curbing parts of him that Scott
knows aren't really him.
 
So, he asks. He communicates. Because no matter what his wolf pulls and pushes,
talking things over is instinctive to Scott. Or maybe it's learned. Nature Vs.
Nurture, again. Scott would think about it, but he doesn't multitask his free
time. Also, horny.
 
"So, uh, how are we doing this?" Scott's voice breaks off a little near the
end, because Allison smiles. It's just a smudge of red and a flash of teeth, a
promise, and it makes Scott's higher functions shut down every time.
 
Allison and Isaac exchange a look. They tend to operate on the same wavelength,
and when it isn't busy making Scott heart-happy, it makes him dick-happy.
 
Dick-happy. Goodbye, higher functions.
 
Scott might be Werewolf Jesus, but Allison has been preened to be a leader
since birth, in so many little ways. Sometimes it hurts to think about it. But
Scott isn't thinking, not when Allison shifts them all neatly with a roll of
her body, hands on Scott's neck, back flush against Isaac's chest. Instinct or
conditioning be damned, Scott loves it when Allison tells him what to do.
 
"I think you should go down on me." Allison's voice is like melting ice-cream
down Scott's back, sticky sweet and making him shiver, and okay, his simile-
maker isn't running at full gear.
 
Isaac's face is buried in the crook of Allison's neck, breathing her in, but
his eyes are on Scott. His lashes are lowered, and Scott can see just a hint of
his mouth, curving up into a smirk. It's a dare as much as an invitation, and
Scott isn't even embarrassed that Isaac's figured out how to play him.
 
Allison is definitelyresponsible, and that's hot and life-affirming at the same
time, because Isaac and Allison geteach other, in all the dark corners they
keep out of sight, even from Scott. Scott can't begrudge them their secrets,
but it feels good knowing that they aren't alone, feels good to know that
Allison is showing Isaac to walk unbent.
 
Scott leans back, tugging off his shirt and shucking his jeans, meeting Isaac's
stare. He grins, crawling between Allison's legs and kissing her gently on the
lips, resting a palm on Isaac's cheek. Isaac leans into it, arms tightening
around Allison's waist. Scott loves how Isaac reacts to him, but it makes
something curl in Scott's head to think about how touch-starved Isaac is. Now,
though, Isaac is catching Allison's earlobe between his lips, unhooking her bra
with his long fingers, and his hands are steady.
 
Scott doesn't hesitate, but he teases, just a little; keeps his chin up as he
kneels, keeps his eyes on Isaac. He nudges Allison's skirt up with his nose,
kissing her stomach as he hooks his thumbs under her panties. She lifts her
hips, helping him slip them off. Scott can feel the rush of her blood as he
presses against her, breathing in the thick, heady scent of her arousal.
 
Scott trails kisses up the insides of Allison's thighs, gripping at her hips.
He fucking loves oral, okay. He loves being flush against Allison, surrounded
by her taste and her smell. Scott laves his tongue across Allison's labia, slow
as he dares; he could get off just from this, shoving against the mattress, his
face buried between Allison's legs, he knows,but he wants to wait.
 
Scott's curious about how control works, especially when it's the people that
drag him to the edge, with fingers and tongues and just looks,keep him the most
grounded. Or afloat. Whatever.
 
Scott runs his hands along Allison's thighs, those thighs.Scott fucking loves
them, okay. They're so strong, and feeling the muscles shift totally does it
for him, okay, and when Allison rides him-
 
Allison groans, frustrated and wanting, rocking into Scott's mouth, and Scott
tongues her clit, humming against her. Her hands are in his hair, only
justtugging, and Scott knows she's close.
 
He keeps his hands firmly on her hips, Mouth flush against her sex. He kisses,
licks, feels her brace her body against Isaac, feels her thighs tense. When
Allison comes, Scott feels it, heat blooming in his blood; her back arching,
her toes curling, the way her muscles move under his hands, her sharp intake of
breath. It's happening all at once, a flash of lighting on the open road, and
it's moving slow in segments, Newton's Cradle in Jell-O.
 
It's nothing new, but the feeling is like being hit by a train, every time, and
Scott can never get used to it, and certainly never overit.
 
A train made of Marshmallow Peeps, or something romantic like that.
 
Scott mouths along Allison's torso, closed-mouth, barely-there kisses and
hickies and just tasting,ignoring the saliva and come on his chin, and how his
jaw aches, a little.
 
Allison wraps her arms over Scott's shoulders, pulling him close, and oh,how
strong her arms are isn't helping Scott's boner at all.
 
Well. It's helping Scott's boner a lot.Just not, like, Scott.
 
Their foreheads bump, and Scott's too close to see clearly, but Allison's smile
is a sharp, bright thing, and it stillmakes Scott weak in the knees. And
elbows. And wrists. All his joints. And when she tilts her head to the side,
Isaac pushing against Scott's mouth, chasing Allison's taste, record scratch
moment.Scott briefly considers how long Isaac's tongue is, like his legs and
lashes and fingers and oh-Scott's face is hot, because uhm,he kind of crashed
his own train of thought, there. No survivors.
 
Isaac smirks against his mouth, like he's definitely sucked Scott's brain out
through his tongue, and he knows what Scott's thinking about. Scott wouldn't
put it past him, actually. Allison probably taught him that, too.
 
Allison tugs, and they tumble, Allison's curls and Isaac's jeans, and Scott
could totally lie here forever, if not for, uh, boner.
 
Allison rolls over, lying propped up on her elbow. She runs a hand along
Isaac's jaw, carding it through his curls. Isaac lies on his back, shirt rucked
up, jeans low on his hips, cheeks flushed, and come on,how is this Scott's
life? This seriously, seriouslyplot-driven porno?
 
But Isaac's doing that thing when he lowers his lashes, and okay,Scott gushed
to Allison about it one time,and she's laughing, and it's grossly infectious.
Scott thinks about how he'd wanted to push Isaac down into his mattress,
grinding against him until they both lose it, and yeah, that's looking like a
pretty viable option, if Isaac's body language is anything to go by. Isaac's
all lean lines and corners, but he's all soft, right now.
 
Except for, uh,The obvious.
 
Scott hooks a finger in Isaac's belt loop. "Wanna just, like, make out naked?
I'm kind of beyond coordinating anything. Unless you want to. Then I
totallycould."
 
Isaac grins, uneven and blinding, and when he presses a hand in the small of
Scott's back, pulling with a push, a big palm and tapered fingers hot on
Scott's skin, Scott's halfway to another planet.
 
Scott actually has to be pretty careful about making out with Isaac on his bed,
because once Isaac confessed that he'd fantasized about it since junior year,
and Scott totally came in his jeans, and Allison had hit bothher funny bones on
the headboard.
 
Draping himself across Isaac's body, Scott fumbles to remove Isaac's jeans,
nudging the angle of Isaac's head to the side. Allison curves onto her side,
nestling in the crook of Isaac's free arm, resting her head on his shoulder.
Isaac presses his feet against the mattress, tipping his hips up, helping Scott
take off his jeans.
 
Offending layers disposed of, Scott hovers, taking it all in. Allison tucked
right against Isaac's side, skin on skin, one hand a slack fist in his hair,
the other flat against his jaw. She's kissing him, lazy and slow and
comforting, and yeah, Scott knows Allison is the one that calls all the shots.
Isaac's hands are twisted up in the sheets above his head, too-skinny wrists
and those long, tapered fingers, and Scott is aching to hold those wrists, to
gripthem, and it's so prehistoric, and he feels it deep in the back of his
skull.
 
So Scott shifts, settling his weight on Isaac's lap, and that is goodpressure,
and when Scott rocks forward, just a little, Isaac's breath hitches, and Scott
sees Allison's mouth curving into a smile against Isaac's, and yeah, focus.
 
When Scott leans forward, one hand braced by Isaac's head, other fingers light
on Isaac's wrist, Scott knows it's Isaac's heartbeat speeding up, and there
could be a couple reasons, so he asks.
 
"Can I hold you here?" Scott taps Isaac's wrists, and the pulse jumps,but Scott
doesn't smell fear.
 
"God,Scott- yes, oh my God." Isaac gasps into Allison's mouth, pupils blown
wide.
 
Scott likes how his hands look around Isaac's wrists, how the pulse running
underneath them feels. It's fucking primal, but they're kind of attached at the
hips right now, and Isaac and Allison are, like, fused at the mouth, so.
 
Scott grinds down against Isaac's hips, and god,Isaac's moan is muffled by
Allison, and that's so fucking good, how it's the three of them, like something
Scott can't really think of, but uh.
 
Isaac bucks, raw energy and jerky movement and Scott can't last, not at this
pace, not watching Allison fuck Isaac's mouth, and he squeezes Isaac's wrists,
and Isaac goes still.
 
Scott stops immediately, hands off, sitting back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-
Christ, Isaac, I'm so sorry-"
 
Isaac groans, burying his face in Allison's shoulder. "-Scott.Get your ass back
here, you can't just stop,when you, uhm."
 
"…I?" Scott's hot in the face, trying to will away his boner, because that was
notcool of him, but Isaac's mouth is red and wet and kiss-swollen, and Allison
is doing thatface when she knows something they don't. "What?"
 
"Put. Your hands. back." Isaac's voice is low, and there go all of Scott's
thoughts of un-arousing himself, even if he's still not sure that was okay or
not.
 
"I thought- you stopped, uh, moving.I thought I, like, went too far."
 
"No, it was like- I wanted, you know…"
 
"He doesn't know." Allison points out, smoothing a hand down the back of
Isaac's neck. "He's just being a disgustingly good person." Her tone is amused,
and okay, Isaac is rubbing off on her, too, if that smirk is anything to go by.
 
"I like it when you, uhm, are on top of me. And hold my wrists. Like you're,
uh. Sort of dominating. A little. I thought you wanted me to stay still. I
likeit." Isaac struggles with his words.
 
Scott is using lotsof self-control to stop himself from pouncing on Isaac,
right now, but the importance of the conversation obviously overrides the
importance of Scott getting off, in a big way, so. Scott would avoid being
thankful to his mom for instilling these rules in him, but thinking about his
mom is actually helping control the boner situation so very much,even if it's
totally weird, so.
 
"But I should still ask before I- right? Because you like. Different. Things.
Ways." Scott asks, pointedly not staring at Isaac's dick. Isaac is breathless,
chest heaving, hair in disarray, and extremelydebauched looking. Thanks a
lot,Allison.
 
"Yeah. That's good."
 
Allison whispers in Isaac's ear, and Scott's too buzzed to really hear it, but
when Isaac nods, Allison tugs with the hand in his hair, and oh-
 
Isaac arches his back, feet scrambling for purchase, shoving against Allison's
mouth for a better angle, and Scott's completely gone, gripping Isaac's wrists
while all the blood in his brain rushes down south. He ruts against him with
abandon, taking in the slick noise of Allison's tongue against Isaac's, the
smack of all their skin touching, Isaac's runaway pulse, Allison's thudding
heartbeat. Scott can do tunnel vision with the best of them, drowning out
everything except for the three of them, tangled up in each other without
beginnings or ends or reasoning, just flesh and noise and god, right there,just
like that.
 
Scott's not sure how he gets anidea, when his brain is completely fried and
nothing he's doing even feels like it's completely on this plane of reality,
but he does.
 
He leans in, right against Isaac's ear, and he manages to avoid all hesitations
when he speaks. "Come for me."
 
And Isaac does,choked-off noises against Allison's mouth, fingers flexing and
spasming. Scott follows, heat coiling in his belly and making him squirm in
Isaac's lap before he feels it, white noise and warmth crawling up his spine.
 
Scott rolls off Isaac, landing heavily on his other side. They're all pretty
gross, sweaty and sticky, but that's nothing when Scott realizes, that,
uh.Record scratch moment.
 
"I can't believe I just said that." Scott blurts, scrubbing a hand over his
face.
 
He looks at Allison between his fingers, and yes, she's mastered Isaac's smirk
down to the raised eyebrow and the little head tilt.
 
"It was pretty hot." She offers.
 
"It was embarrassing." Scott cringes. "I sounded, like, I dunno-"
 
"A porn star." Isaac concludes. "Congratulations, dude."
 
"You've been upgraded. Scott the Tweenage Werewolf is now Scott the Porn Star
Werewolf." Allison chimes in, and okay, those two are evil.
 
Scott makes to retort, but he's definitely red in the face, and when he opens
his mouth, nothing comes out.
 
They must take pity on him, though, because Allison drapes her arm over Isaac's
chest and strokes Scott's cheek, smiling in a way that makes Scott want to run
a marathon and save kittens from burning buildings.
 
"Thanks for, uh. For asking permission. And stepping off. Even if you didn't
need to. And if it was totally frustrating at the time." Isaac mumbles, hooking
an arm around Scott's waist.
 
"You know that we'll always ask, right?" Scott ventures, because it does funny
things to his chest that aren't all good, Isaac thanking him for something
that's so basic.
 
"It's an expectation that you deserve to have." Allison says, and she's doing
her leader voice, picking up on Scott's cues.
 
"I- yeah. Okay." Isaac's voice is soft. "I trust you two. With stuff like that.
Hair-tugging and wrist… things."
 
Allison looks a little surprised at Isaac's trust in her, but she always does.
Scott hopes that will change, with time. But for now, he's moulding his body
against Isaac's side, fitting in with his lines and getting a hand on Allison's
hip.
 
"We're kind of gross, right now." Isaac wrinkles his nose, but he's shifting to
accommodate Scott's head on his shoulder.
 
"Whatever. I'm a porn star. I'm nevergross."
 
Allison and Isaac roll their eyes in sync, but Allison squeezes his hand, and
Isaac kisses the top of Scott's head. Scott closes his eyes with a grin on his
face that Allison would call 'fucked-out goofy', and yeah, that's definitely
accurate.
End Notes
     YO IT'S AIMEE FUCKING FLECK'S (ie brofisting) BIRTHDAY AND Y'ALL
     SHOULD GO WISH HER HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND SHOWER HER WITH LOVE
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!