With every slow thrust of Stiles' fingers, and Derek's encouragement of the easy pace, Isaac could only pant and squirm. He loved every second of it, each touch of skin, and the way Stiles bumped against him as Derek pressed forward. But his body screamed out for a hard, fast fuck.
"I am," he whimpered, pushing back onto Stiles' finger. "Need it, please."
Perhaps neither man would notice, but for Isaac his words were a small victory. It had never been easy for him to ask for what he needed, but the more he was with Derek, the better he seemed to get at it. He didn't expect, nor did he want, to always get what he asked for, but at least now he could ask without fear.