When Isaac doesn’t actually answer, Stiles stretches and rubs his face against the pillow before blearily opening one eye. Isaac is on his side, the sheet gathered loosely around his hips, a gentle smile on his face, and a sort of hesitant look in his eyes as he stops moving his hand when Stiles looks at him. He’s been drawing on Stiles’ bare back with his fingers, that much Stiles can figure out.The events of last night replay in his mind, and he slowly smiles as he looks at Isaac.
“Morning,” Stiles murmurs, voice still sleep husky and throat a little sore from what he got up to last night. Or down to, if he’s wanting to be literal. It’s too early in the morning for literal, he decides.
“Morning,” Isaac whispers, still looking nervous, like a skittish animal at the vet or something. “Did you, uh, sleep okay?”
“Yeah.” Stiles rolls onto his side so he’s facing Isaac, opening both eyes now and waking up a little more as his actions cause the sheet to drift lower on Isaac’s body. Distracted for a moment, he licks his lips and just stares. It’s tempting to pinch himself because, well, Isaac sort of looks like he could model for ancient sculptures of gods and Stiles is just Stiles. Not even comparable yet sparks flew last night then clothes flew and, damn, it was the best sex he’s ever had, not that he’s admitting that any time sooner. Isaac is a smug prick most the time without being able to gloat about being great in bed, too.
Of course, in the early morning hours, Isaac’s cocky swagger seems to have been replaced by shy uncertainty. It's oddly endearing, which means Stiles is already in pretty deep. That's just great. Hopefully he isn't the only one, though.
“Good. That’s good.” Isaac’s hand is on Stiles’ side now, his fingers drawing random designs against his hipbone. It’s an oddly intimate gesture, both of them naked and marked from the vigorous sex they had the night before. Several times. There’s dried come on Isaac’s abdomen, Stiles’ neck feels a bit raw from where Isaac sucked and bit at it, there are bruises on his thighs from Isaac gripping them as they fucked the second time, and he knows Isaac is probably going to have some trouble sitting down after round one and three, werewolf healing or not.
“Are you having regrets?” Stiles bites his lip as he studies Isaac’s face, feeling his fingers flex against Stiles’ hip before he stares into his eyes.
“No.” Isaac’s voice is soft, not even a whisper. “Are you?”
“No,” Stiles says firmly, watching Isaac’s lips twist into a smile, bright and shining before it becomes cautious again. Alright then. His brain is waking up enough to finally understand what’s happening. “You don’t do this often, do you?”
Isaac smiles wryly as he draws an infinity symbol on Stiles’ ribs. “That obvious?”
“Not really. I mean, I’m not an expert or anything,” Stiles admits. “I don’t really do one night stands, you know?”
“Huh.” Isaac is smiling now, his fingers hitting a tickling spot as he traces what feels like letters on Stiles’ side. His lips quirk when Stiles shifts away from the fingers, outright grinning before he tickles with intent. “I didn’t know, but I’m glad to hear that.”
“Stop that, you ass.” Stiles slaps at his shoulder and shoves, laughing despite himself. He licks at Isaac, rolling on top of him and pinning him down against the mattress. Obviously, Isaac could fight him easily, werewolf strength and all, but he lets Stiles stay on top. Stiles looks down at him, breathing slow and steady, staring at his lips then his eyes then back again.
“Are you going to kiss me or just stare all morning?” Isaac asks, flushing slightly when Stiles arches a brow.
“Morning breath,” Stiles reminds him, dragging his tongue over his teeth and grimacing.
“I had my tongue in your ass last night, and you had your mouth on my dick. I think we can handle morning breath.” Isaac gives him a rather adorably challenging look, so, obviously, Stiles has to meet the challenge.
Leaning down, he presses his mouth against Isaac’s, feeling oddly tentative now himself. This is Isaac, after all. Semi-arch nemesis, competitor for Scott’s best friend title, returned from Paris all cocky and arrogant nearly two years ago and intent on besting Stiles in snark contests and actually succeeding a few times. Isaac who has a fucked up childhood, who lost his first sort of girlfriend because of Stiles, in a way, who’s sexy and beautiful like those ancient marble sculptures, who’s been the subject of many jerk off sessions since coming back to Beacon Hills, and who’s indulged in this odd flirty sarcastic game of chicken with Stiles since the tension became more sexual than antagonistic in recent months.
It’s not really surprising that the tension finally snapped last night, but Stiles isn’t exactly sure where they stand. Now he understands Isaac’s hesitancy earlier. It just took some time to catch up to him. However, when Isaac parts his lips and licks at Stiles’ mouth, he realizes there’s not really any reason to be anxious. Stiles touches Isaac’s jaw as he kisses him, feeling warm fingers tracing letters along his spine, laughing into the kiss when he figures out that Isaac’s tracing his name on Stiles, marking him in a different way. Isaac kisses him a little more firmly, possessively, passionate enough that it makes Stiles forget about everything except returning the kiss.
Definitely no need to be worried about this. Neither of them do the one night stand thing, they’re actually friends despite the snarky one upmanship thing, and they both really do want this. Whatever this turns out to be. As Isaac touches him, Stiles can’t help but think that it’s going to be good, whatever it is. Morning after kisses haven’t made him feel like this in the past, after all. Like it’s a beginning to something really awesome.