Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1045438.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Chris_Argent/Isaac_Lahey
  Additional Tags:
      Teen_Wolf_Rare_Pair_November, POV_Isaac
  Series:
      Part 1 of Trouble
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-15 Words: 1242
****** trying hard not to get into trouble ******
by FreshBrains
Summary
     Mr. Argent isn’t his daddy. Isaac is done with daddies. He’s ready
     for men.
Isaac presses his palms to Mr. Argent’s chest and feels his muscles, the kind
of muscles that stay hidden under jackets and shirts, the kind of muscles that
might surprise people. When their lips finally touch, Mr. Argent goes rigid,
arms at his sides, but Isaac can feel an energy buzzing beneath his skin. He
can feel that Mr. Argent wants to wrap his arms around Isaac’s waist, he wants
to push him down, he wants Isaac to be his.
When Mr. Argent finally kisses back, adds pressure to the almost-chaste press
of lips, Isaac can’t help but smile into the kiss.
(Mr. Argent is teaching Isaac; he’s the father Isaac never had. He places a
three thousand dollar bow or a military-grade gun in Isaac’s hands and trusts
him with it; it makes Isaac’s cock hard in his jeans, it makes him want to get
on his knees.)
(Mr. Argent isn’t his daddy. Isaac is done with daddies. He’s ready for men.)
“Isaac, no, don’t do that. This isn’t okay.” Mr. Argent is nice about it; he
grips Isaac’s forearms and pushes him away gently, he lets go right away. He
rubs a hand down his face, scratching down his stubble, and closes his eyes.
Isaac’s lips tingle. This is the first time he’s ever kissed a guy with facial
hair. He likes it. He looks up at Mr. Argent—Isaac’s taller than him, but it
always feels like he’s looking up at older men, looking through his eyelashes,
waiting for their approval. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. You don’t have to
feel bad.”
Mr. Argent shakes his head, eyes still closed. He pushes Isaac’s still-roaming
hands to his sides but he’s so gentle, so sweet, he knows what Isaac can handle
and what makes him shake. “That’s not the point, Isaac. I’m an adult. This
cannot happen.”
Warmth spreads through Isaac’s chest, radiating in a flush along his neck and
collarbone. He can’t remember the last time his own father ever looked him in
the eye and told him neatly and clearly what he wanted, what he expected from
Isaac. His father yelled and used threats, he muttered, he remained passive-
aggressive before the outright aggression came out in the form of fists and
belts. He never held Isaac and made him feel safe. The way Mr. Argent was firm
and careful at the same time…it was new ground for Isaac, and he needed to
explore it.
(He doesn’t need a father anymore, but he’s been chasing a string of them…he
had Derek, he had his brothers who he deferred to in Scott and Boyd, he tried a
mother in Mrs. McCall but it never felt right.)
(Mr. Argent isn’t a father, he’s a man.)
(He’s not Isaac’s father, at least.)
“But I want this,” Isaac says, biting his lower lip. He clasps Mr. Argent’s
hand in his and lowers it, presses it to the outline of his growing erection in
his jeans. “You do this to me. You’re so good to me…and I want to be good to
you.”
“You don’t need to do that. You’re a good kid, Isaac…” It isn’t close enough,
Isaac wants to hear him say it, he wants to hear good boy fall out of Mr.
Argent’s mouth and wash over him, he wants to revel in that praise like the
good fucking boy he is.
“But I want to,” Isaac repeats with a little more heat. He rocks back on his
heels but he’s asking Mr. Argent with the rest of his body, he can’t help it.
His hips cant up, he bites his lip, and he swears he’s not trying but it’s too
fucking easy.
Isaac doesn’t know what comes next, but Mr. Argent isn’t backing up. He isn’t
leaving. They’re outside of the apartment buildings next to Mr. Argent’s sleek
car; the air is crisp with autumn. But Mr. Argent doesn’t move. He doesn’t
close the trunk or grab his keys or tell Isaac to go home.
So Isaac leans in and kisses him again. He puts everything into that kiss, all
of the tricks he learned from boys his age—how to curl his tongue, what to do
with his teeth, where to put his hands. He’s sloppy with it, wrapping his arms
around Mr. Argent’s neck like a boy at a drive-in movie, and Isaac can feel the
exact moment when Mr. Argent’s resolve breaks.
He presses Isaac up against the SUV, holds him there by the hips. “You’re
asking for trouble,” he says, burying his face in Isaac’s neck.
Isaac shivers at the burn his stubble leaves and runs his hands down Mr.
Argent’s shoulders. “Am I getting it?”
Mr. Argent closes his eyes and he looks like he’s in so much agony that Isaac
almost pauses, but in a split second, the smell of arousal fills the air, hot
and thick and at its perfect peak. Mr. Argent yanks Isaac in by his belt loops
and nips at his bottom lip. “Only if you want it.”
Isaac smiles, arching into Mr. Argent’s firm thigh, looking for something to
rut against like a wolf in heat. “I already told you. I want—“
Isaac doesn’t finish, because Mr. Argent seals his mouth over Isaac’s and
kisses him until they’re both out of breath, kisses him until their lips are
sore and they’re gasping for air. Isaac lets his hands wander up down Mr.
Argent’s leather jacket, feels that strong material warm and worn under his
palms and smells his spicy cologne, and he feels so safe and so turned on it
hurts.
“I want to ruin you,” Mr. Argent growls into Isaac’s neck, hand wrapping around
Isaac’s thigh to hitch his leg up higher, get him to grind harder. “I want to
make a mess out of you, you little fucking tease, you drive me insane…”
(Isaac marvels at how well Mr. Argent hid it all that time—the glances Isaac
gave him, the lingering touches, the tight clothes. It took less than ten
minutes to turn Mr. Argent into an animal, he was a sheep caught in the wolf's
jaws.)
“I’ll be good for you,” Isaac murmurs, face flushed hair mussed. “I’ll be so
good for you, Mr. Argent.”
Mr. Argent pulls back for a moment, lips shiny and wet, eyes glazed with lust.
He reaches up and tries to smooth Isaac’s hair, he presses his palm to Isaac’s
cheek. “You’re such a good kid, Isaac.” And then he kisses him again,
shamelessly, with while whole body. “You’re such a good boy.”
Isaac winds his hands in Mr. Argent’s hair and comes in his jeans, back arched,
mouth open in a wide O of surprise. It hits him like a hurricane, hot and fast
and achingly dirty, and Mr. Argent reaches down to unbuckle his own belt.
“I can suck you off,” Isaac says breathlessly, his body warm and gooey. He
drops straight to his knees, jeans wet in the dirt, toes jammed into the earth
as he looks up at Mr. Argent. “You’ll be my first.” That’s a lie.
Mr. Argent groans and looks up to the sky like he’s asking for one final
heavenly admonition for what he’s doing. When he doesn’t get one, he unbuckles
his belt, and places a hand on the nape of Isaac’s neck.
Isaac smiles, and goes for the button on Mr. Argent’s jeans.
Good boys always win.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!