Lessons in Anger Management
Title: Lessons in Anger Management
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale/Jackson Whittemore
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,515
A.N.: Written for Queenitsy. This fic was written before the start of season two. I haven't seen the first ep yet (being on the West Coast sucks like that) but I've been told by someone who has that it sorta doesn't fit with new canon. So... I guess it's AU now. *le sigh*
Summary: This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. Jackson was supposed to get the bite and then transform into the superhero version of himself. Becoming a werewolf was supposed to fix things, make his life better, damn it, not complicate it a million times more. (Or the one where Jackson learns to control his wolf via access to Derek's dick)
This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. Jackson was supposed to get the bite and then transform into the superhero version of himself. Becoming a werewolf was supposed to fix things, make his life better, damn it, not complicate it a million times more.
But of course that didn’t happen. Of course not. Because Jackson is still fucking Jackson. The bite didn’t change that fact at all. So yeah. Still Jackson. Still insecure as shit. Still not really able to deal with fucking anything. But now with a lovely new set of anger management issues and fucking fur popping out at inconvenient times and, oh yeah, best of all, being the bitch of the pack.
That’s right. The mother fucking bitch of the pack.
Because that’s just how Jackson’s life goes.
*
“Dude,” Scott says, plopping down next to Jackson at lunch, two days after Jackson finally convinces Derek turn him. “What are you wearing?”
Jackson glares at him. “Clothing, dickwad. What does it look like?”
“No,” Scott shakes his head. “It’s not that, it’s...” he trails off, his brow furrowing. Scott darts in close, pressing his nose into the crook of Jackson’s neck, and scents him, like Jackson’s a bitch in heat. Asshole even goes so far as to fucking lick up the side of his neck before Jackson is shoving him away, growling in the loser’s face.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Scott gives him a blissed out look. “It’s you.” He slides down the bench, back into Jackson’s space, and takes a deep breath. “You smell good. Real good. Makes me want to,” he takes another breath and then gives Jackson what he clearly thinks is a smoldering smile.
Jackson bares his teeth at him. “Back the fuck off,” he says, his voice low and angry. “Or I will seriously fuck your shit up.”
Scott opens his mouth to say something that will probably lead to the pair of them wolfing out in the school cafeteria, but then snaps it back shut again. He shakes his head in confusion, whining high in his throat, his attention suddenly focused on the door. Jackson frowns in response, following Scott’s line of vision to where Allison is standing, talking to some douchebag on the swim team.
Jackson laughs nastily. “Take care there, McCall. Looks like someone else is trying to snake your girl.”
Scott snarls at him, shoving up from the table and bounding across the cafeteria. He wraps his arms around Allison’s waist when he reaches her, burying his face in her neck, marking her as his in the least subtle way possible.
“What a twat,” Jackson says to himself. He snags the pudding off of Scott’s tray, shoving it into his backpack for later, then stands up and heads for the exit.
*
Lydia wrinkles her nose at him when he drops by to visit her in the hospital. “You stink,” she says, leaning as far away from him as her bed will allow. “God, you really need to shower before you come to see me.”
“Don’t be a bitch,” Jackson says with a scowl, but does a quick sniff check anyway. Nothing seems off to his nose.
Lydia rolls her eyes. “Kind of hard not to, seeing as I am one. Literally and figuratively.” She presses her hand under nose and breathes through her mouth. “I wasn’t joking, you need to go home and wash yourself. You smell like a cross between sour milk and dead skunk. I’m not spending the next hour sitting near enough to you for that combination to work its way into my skin.”
“What the fuck, Lydia?” Jackson snarls at her, punching the wall.
She drops her hand from her nose and points at the door. “Get out.”
Jackson balls his hands into fists to hide the way his fingers are changing as he struggles for control. “No, I don’t think I will. I’m going to sit right here, close to you, and hold your precious little girl hand until visiting hours are over. And you aren’t going to be able to do a thing about it.”
He stomps over to the chair by her bed and plops down into it. A quick glance at his hands shows that they have gone human again. That being confirmed, he reaches out and captures one of Lydia’s in his own. She tugs hard against his grip for a moment before giving up in acknowledgement of his superior strength.
“Play nice, Lydia. You wouldn’t want to see my bad side. You won’t like it at all.”
Lydia give him her best bitch face. “What, are you the Hulk now? Oh, wait. No. You’re not. You’re just the newest puppy in the pack and think that makes you all bad now. Well, guess what, you think wrong. You aren’t my boyfriend anymore, you aren’t even someone I consider my friend after the shitty way you ‘dumped’ me. And if you think for one second that you are going to be able to pull rank on me based on our mutual furry problem, you can fucking think again, Jackson Whittemore.” Her eyes flash bright green and her fingertips turn to claws. She twists her hand in Jackson's grip, digging her claws into Jackson’s flesh.
Jackson yelps, jerking free. He puts his hand to his mouth and laves at the deep furrows Lydia left in him. “You epic fucking bitch,” he growls at her as his features start morphing into his werewolf form.
Lydia just laughs. “Yeah, I think we already covered that. And, guess what, I don’t care. Because even as a bitch, literally and figuratively, I’m still higher up the pack structure than you are. So yeah. Go the fuck home and wash that desperate beta bitch stink off your pretty body, Jackson. Then you come and see me again and we’ll talk about what, exactly, your future holds.”
Then she’s pushing the button at her side, calling in a nurse. Jackson snarls at her one final time before jetting for the door, hoping to god his features smooth back to normal before he encounters anyone else.
*
“You need to learn some control,” Derek says, magically appearing in Jackson’s bedroom like some sort of To Catch a Predator creeper.
Jackson gives him his best death glare, pretending not be surprised at all. “And you need to learn how to use the fucking door.”
Derek’s expression doesn’t change at that, just stays the same serial killer blank that it always is. His voice, when he speaks, is smooth and even. “It would be in your best interest to remember that I am your Alpha, pup.”
Jackson bristles at the word. He instinctively bares his teeth and growls, then takes a half step towards Derek and snaps at him, issuing challenge to the older man’s authority without pausing to think.
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
Turns out, Derek doesn't like his authority challenged. He doesn't like it at all. Which Jackson should have already known, thanks to the many, many times Derek has shoved him up against lockers and walls. But Jackson is a god damn idiot about learning things like that, so now here he is again, all up close and personal with his bedroom wall, Derek’s hot breath in his face, his Alpha stench clogging up Jackson’s nose.
Jackson is whining, making high, pathetic sounds that he already knows are going to make him cringe when he thinks back on them, but there’s no stopping them now. They just pour out of his mouth, same way his body is trying to shrink in on itself and his head is thunking back against the wall. And, damn it all to fucking hell, it feels good, arching his head back, exposing his vulnerable neck to Derek.
He sucks in a breath as he realizes that the growling coming from Derek have changed in tone, that his eyes aren’t glowing red anymore, his claws are retracting. Derek presses against Jackson, rolls his hips and fuck. Derek is hard as shit.
And Jackson? Jackson fucking moans.
“You need to learn your place along with control,” Derek says his mouth skimming down Jackson’s neck to his collarbone, “and I know the perfect way to teach you both.”
He bites down. Hard. And Jackson loves it. His hands come up to clutch at Derek’s shoulders as his body goes pliant, his skin breaking out in goosebumps.
“That’s right, pup,” Derek growls as he nips and licks at Jackson. “You like that, don’t you? Like being owned.” He rolls his hips again, rubbing his hard dick against Jackson.
“Fuck you,” Jackson manages to gasp out, but there is no bite to the words and Jackson is still clutching at Derek, pulling the Alpha closer to him.
Derek laughs. “More like fuck you, my pretty little pup. Bet you would like that too, wouldn’t you? You’d love being on your knees for me, begging for it, wouldn’t you?” He sucks at the bite mark he just left, teeth scraping against Jackson's skin and Jackson bucks up against him. Derek laughs again, and when he speaks his voice is dark and hot. “Oh yeah you would. Look at you, shit, you’re eager for it, aren’t you? You’d take it all, anything I want to do to you. And you’d love every fucking second.”
Jackson moans, yanking at Derek’s hair, trying to pull him up for a kiss. Derek snarls, twists his head and bites down on Jackson’s wrist hard enough to draw blood. It hurts like a bitch and Jackson hisses even as he feels himself getting harder. Derek lets out a pleased noise at the sound and he starts to lap at the wound, rubbing his tongue over and over it until it heals.
“Beg for me, pup,” he croons when he pulls back, his lips slick with spit and blood.
“Please.” Jackson hears himself whimper because of course. Of course he wants it. Of course he’s fucking hot for it. God, the thought of him on his hands and knees, taking it as Derek slams into him, is making his dick leak.
Derek grins at him, then tosses his head back and howls. Jackson joins him a second later, his voice bleeding in with his Alpha, harmonizing perfectly, and he feels a thrill of belonging roll down his spine.
He can’t help but smile when they finish their howl, his whole body feeling right. For the first time in years, Jackson knows exactly what he wants. “Let me go,” he says, flashing Derek a dimple, “and I’ll show you just how eager for it I am.”
Derek grinds into him one more time, but this time Jackson’s in on the act, hips twisting and rolling right along with Derek’s until Derek is the one who’s moaning, whose eyes are hot with need.
“Please,” he says again, adding a little extra breathiness to his words because he knows that Derek likes it, that Derek wants to hear him beg, listen to him pant to be Derek’s bitch.
Derek pulls back, letting Jackson slump down the wall, and Jackson follows the motion through to its natural end and ends up down to his knees. He tugs at Derek’s hips, pulling them towards him as he rubs his face against the thick bulge in Derek’s jeans. Derek’s hands come up to rest on Jackson’s head, fingertips scratching through Jackson’s hair and Jackson’s can’t help but pant a little, can’t help licking and mouthing at the demin.
He pulls back and looks up at Derek. The Alpha’s eyes flash red, but his hands are still human where they are gripping in Jackson’s hair. “Do you want me to?” Jackson asks, fingers worrying at the button on Derek’s jeans.
“Yes,” Derek answers instantly, hips rocking forward. “Take it out and show me how much you want it.”
Jackson’s hands are shaking as he manipulates the button and reaches for the zipper. His nails are starting to lengthen, making it hard to grasp the brass tab. Derek growls, low in his throat and then cuffs the side of Jackson’s head.
“Keep your claws to yourself, pup,” he warns.
Jackson nods. He sucks on his lower lip and forces himself to focus by taking long, steadying breaths. When his nails are blunted again, he takes hold of the tab and pulls it down. He slips his hands inside Derek’s jeans, pushing the two sides apart as he lowers them. Derek’s boxer briefs are dark grey and slightly ratty, like they’ve been washed a time too many. They hang low on his hips and are tight enough to show every bump and ridge. Jackson’s mouth goes dry as he sees the damp spot haloing the tip of Derek’s dick. Jackson touches it with the pad of his thumb and when he pulls it back, it's slightly sticky. He locks eyes with Derek, then slowly brings his thumb to his mouth and licks it clean.
Derek groans, his teeth sinking into his lower lip and Jackson feels a swell of pride. He did this. He’s the reason his Alpha is pleased. He’s the reason his Alpha is tenting his boxer briefs and moaning for more. Him. Jackson fucking Whittemore. He smiles wide and hooks his thumbs under the elastic band, tugs the dark grey material down Derek’s hips.
He pulls the elastic down until Derek’s dick and balls are exposed, then skims his hands back up and around Derek’s flank until he is cupping Derek’s ass in the palms of his hands. Derek makes a sharp noise, one of his hands leaving Jackson’s hair to circle around his dick. He squeezes it once, then holds it out, nudging Jackson’s cheek with the blunt head.
“Open up, pup.”
Jackson nods once before he obeys. He lets his jaw drop open and watches as Derek crowds in closer. Derek rubs his dick against Jackson’s lips, leaving salty residue behind, before tugging Jackson’s mouth open further and pushing it inside.
“God, you look pretty,” Derek says, the hand still in Jackson’s hair tightening. “That smart mouth of your stretched wide around my dick. Look at you, just swallowing it down like a pro. Have you done this before, pup? Or are you just a natural little cockwhore?”
Jackson shivers at the words. He pulls back long enough to shake his head then leans back towards his Alpha eagerly, licking right at the tip of his dick for a moment before sucking all of it back into his mouth. He pushes forward as far as he can, his eyes squeezing shut tight as he bobs his head. It burns a little, the stretch, makes his jaw ache and his throat feel raw and Jackson has never enjoyed anything more. He flicks his tongue at the underside of Derek’s dick, pulling another moan out of his Alpha.
“That’s right, lick it, pup. Tongue the slit, just like that.” Derek’s got both hands back in Jackson’s hair again and he’s using them to hold Jackson’s head steady as he works himself in and out of Jackson’s mouth. “Get it nice and wet for me. It’ll make it that much easier for you when I’ve got you bent over.”
Jackson lets out a moan of his own at that, his fingers flexing in the meat of Derek’s ass. Derek yelps and cuffs Jackson again.
“I said to keep your claws to yourself, pup. If you can’t do that, you won’t get your reward.”
Jackson jerks his hands away from Derek, pulls them up into his line of sight and is surprised to see that they are once again sporting gnarly werewolf nails instead of his well manicured human ones. He whimpers, trying to calm himself enough for them to morph back while still giving Derek head. He is not successful. Not successful at all.
Instead he feels his jaw start to shift, his fangs coming down with a snick. Derek recoils away from him, his dick making an obscene sound as it pops wetly out of Jackson’s mouth.
“You need to learn to control yourself,” Derek growls at him as he strokes himself. “If you can’t keep human while sucking a little dick, you are never going to be able to keep it together during one of your pointless lacrosse matches, let alone a life and death situation.” His breathing is getting harsh and his eyes are so red they are glowing, but his hands are human and there are no fangs in sight. “And there will be life and death situations. You’re not as stupid as Scott, so there won’t be as many, but they will still happen, no matter how careful you are.”
“I’ll learn to control myself,” Jackson promises, licking his lips around his fangs. “I will. Just, let me,” he edges closer to Derek on his knees, ducking his head to try to get at Derek’s dick.
Derek growls at him. “No.”
“Please,” Jackson begs, “I’ll make it good for you. If you don’t want my mouth, give it to me in my ass. Please.”
“I said no.” Derek gives him an amused look. “And you are a bigger idiot than I thought if you think that you’ll be able to keep what little control you have if you take this up the ass. Look at you, almost completely wolfed out just from suckling at me a little. You honestly think you won’t be howling and clawing at the floor when I’m fucking you?”
Jackson cringes, ducking his head to escape his Alpha’s displeasure. “Please,” he whines, “please. I just want to make you happy, want to make you feel good. Tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it. Please, I know you want to fuck me. I promise I’ll behave. I promise I won’t shift at all, if you give it to me.”
“Not going to happen, pup. Not until you prove yourself to me first. But, here, because I know how bad you want it, I’ll let you have this. Open your mouth.” Jackson lets out a happy whine, his mouth dropping open instantly. “Such a good pup,” Derek praises as he speeds up his hand. “So damn eager to please. You’ll do fine, once you accept your place in my pack, learn a little self-control. And you will, won’t you? Because you like this. You like being on your knees for me. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” Jackson agrees, nodding like a fucking bobble head doll. Part of him knows he’s going to hate himself for this in the morning, but another, bigger part of him is memorizing every detail, saving it up for him to spank off to later.
“Good,” Derek praises, his hand working so fast that it look like it ought to hurt. “That’s good,” he says again, then he’s letting out a howl, arching his back as he comes.
It splashes onto Jackson, a sticky warmth on his neck and jaw, then Derek’s changing the angle he’s holding his dick at and it’s hitting Jackson square in the face, splattering across his mouth. Jackson flicks his tongue out to taste it. It’s less bitter but more salty than his own and Jackson can’t get enough of it. He runs the back of his hand over his face, gathering up as much come as he can find, then frantically sucks his fingers clean, moaning like a bitch in heat.
“God damn,” Derek hisses, his fangs lowering for the first time, though his hands are still human. “Here, pup, suck me clean.” Then he’s knocking Jackson’s fingers away and offering Jackson his dick instead.
Jackson makes an eager noise, leaning forward rub his face against Derek’s dick. It’s soft now, small in the nest of dark curls, and Jackson is able to fit the whole of it in his mouth. He rolls his tongue around it, licking every inch clean. It’s far too soon when Derek pushes him away, and Jackson can’t help the disappointed whimper he lets out.
Derek chuckles in response. “Don’t worry, pup. You’re lessons are far from over.” He bends down and wraps a fist in Jackson’s shirt, tugging him up to his feet. Jackson goes willingly, though his body is tense. Derek smiles at him, slapping his cheek gently before releasing his grip on Jackson’s shirt. “Good pup,” he says, leaning forward to scent Jackson’s neck one more time. "You always smelled nice before," he murmurs against Jackson's skin, "but now you smell like you're mine." He licks at the spot where he bit Jackson earlier that evening, already healed, before letting out a satisfied howl. Then he’s pushing Jackson away and heading out the window instead of the door because he’s a full on freak.
Jackson hurries to the window and watches Derek go like he’s some sort of lovelorn heroine. Because this is his life now. Werebitch to Derek’s Alpha. And from what? Sucking some other dude’s dick and getting a face full of come for his efforts. But Jackson can’t fucking find it in him to care.
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale/Jackson Whittemore
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,515
A.N.: Written for Queenitsy. This fic was written before the start of season two. I haven't seen the first ep yet (being on the West Coast sucks like that) but I've been told by someone who has that it sorta doesn't fit with new canon. So... I guess it's AU now. *le sigh*
Summary: This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. Jackson was supposed to get the bite and then transform into the superhero version of himself. Becoming a werewolf was supposed to fix things, make his life better, damn it, not complicate it a million times more. (Or the one where Jackson learns to control his wolf via access to Derek's dick)
This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. Jackson was supposed to get the bite and then transform into the superhero version of himself. Becoming a werewolf was supposed to fix things, make his life better, damn it, not complicate it a million times more.
But of course that didn’t happen. Of course not. Because Jackson is still fucking Jackson. The bite didn’t change that fact at all. So yeah. Still Jackson. Still insecure as shit. Still not really able to deal with fucking anything. But now with a lovely new set of anger management issues and fucking fur popping out at inconvenient times and, oh yeah, best of all, being the bitch of the pack.
That’s right. The mother fucking bitch of the pack.
Because that’s just how Jackson’s life goes.
*
“Dude,” Scott says, plopping down next to Jackson at lunch, two days after Jackson finally convinces Derek turn him. “What are you wearing?”
Jackson glares at him. “Clothing, dickwad. What does it look like?”
“No,” Scott shakes his head. “It’s not that, it’s...” he trails off, his brow furrowing. Scott darts in close, pressing his nose into the crook of Jackson’s neck, and scents him, like Jackson’s a bitch in heat. Asshole even goes so far as to fucking lick up the side of his neck before Jackson is shoving him away, growling in the loser’s face.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Scott gives him a blissed out look. “It’s you.” He slides down the bench, back into Jackson’s space, and takes a deep breath. “You smell good. Real good. Makes me want to,” he takes another breath and then gives Jackson what he clearly thinks is a smoldering smile.
Jackson bares his teeth at him. “Back the fuck off,” he says, his voice low and angry. “Or I will seriously fuck your shit up.”
Scott opens his mouth to say something that will probably lead to the pair of them wolfing out in the school cafeteria, but then snaps it back shut again. He shakes his head in confusion, whining high in his throat, his attention suddenly focused on the door. Jackson frowns in response, following Scott’s line of vision to where Allison is standing, talking to some douchebag on the swim team.
Jackson laughs nastily. “Take care there, McCall. Looks like someone else is trying to snake your girl.”
Scott snarls at him, shoving up from the table and bounding across the cafeteria. He wraps his arms around Allison’s waist when he reaches her, burying his face in her neck, marking her as his in the least subtle way possible.
“What a twat,” Jackson says to himself. He snags the pudding off of Scott’s tray, shoving it into his backpack for later, then stands up and heads for the exit.
*
Lydia wrinkles her nose at him when he drops by to visit her in the hospital. “You stink,” she says, leaning as far away from him as her bed will allow. “God, you really need to shower before you come to see me.”
“Don’t be a bitch,” Jackson says with a scowl, but does a quick sniff check anyway. Nothing seems off to his nose.
Lydia rolls her eyes. “Kind of hard not to, seeing as I am one. Literally and figuratively.” She presses her hand under nose and breathes through her mouth. “I wasn’t joking, you need to go home and wash yourself. You smell like a cross between sour milk and dead skunk. I’m not spending the next hour sitting near enough to you for that combination to work its way into my skin.”
“What the fuck, Lydia?” Jackson snarls at her, punching the wall.
She drops her hand from her nose and points at the door. “Get out.”
Jackson balls his hands into fists to hide the way his fingers are changing as he struggles for control. “No, I don’t think I will. I’m going to sit right here, close to you, and hold your precious little girl hand until visiting hours are over. And you aren’t going to be able to do a thing about it.”
He stomps over to the chair by her bed and plops down into it. A quick glance at his hands shows that they have gone human again. That being confirmed, he reaches out and captures one of Lydia’s in his own. She tugs hard against his grip for a moment before giving up in acknowledgement of his superior strength.
“Play nice, Lydia. You wouldn’t want to see my bad side. You won’t like it at all.”
Lydia give him her best bitch face. “What, are you the Hulk now? Oh, wait. No. You’re not. You’re just the newest puppy in the pack and think that makes you all bad now. Well, guess what, you think wrong. You aren’t my boyfriend anymore, you aren’t even someone I consider my friend after the shitty way you ‘dumped’ me. And if you think for one second that you are going to be able to pull rank on me based on our mutual furry problem, you can fucking think again, Jackson Whittemore.” Her eyes flash bright green and her fingertips turn to claws. She twists her hand in Jackson's grip, digging her claws into Jackson’s flesh.
Jackson yelps, jerking free. He puts his hand to his mouth and laves at the deep furrows Lydia left in him. “You epic fucking bitch,” he growls at her as his features start morphing into his werewolf form.
Lydia just laughs. “Yeah, I think we already covered that. And, guess what, I don’t care. Because even as a bitch, literally and figuratively, I’m still higher up the pack structure than you are. So yeah. Go the fuck home and wash that desperate beta bitch stink off your pretty body, Jackson. Then you come and see me again and we’ll talk about what, exactly, your future holds.”
Then she’s pushing the button at her side, calling in a nurse. Jackson snarls at her one final time before jetting for the door, hoping to god his features smooth back to normal before he encounters anyone else.
*
“You need to learn some control,” Derek says, magically appearing in Jackson’s bedroom like some sort of To Catch a Predator creeper.
Jackson gives him his best death glare, pretending not be surprised at all. “And you need to learn how to use the fucking door.”
Derek’s expression doesn’t change at that, just stays the same serial killer blank that it always is. His voice, when he speaks, is smooth and even. “It would be in your best interest to remember that I am your Alpha, pup.”
Jackson bristles at the word. He instinctively bares his teeth and growls, then takes a half step towards Derek and snaps at him, issuing challenge to the older man’s authority without pausing to think.
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
Turns out, Derek doesn't like his authority challenged. He doesn't like it at all. Which Jackson should have already known, thanks to the many, many times Derek has shoved him up against lockers and walls. But Jackson is a god damn idiot about learning things like that, so now here he is again, all up close and personal with his bedroom wall, Derek’s hot breath in his face, his Alpha stench clogging up Jackson’s nose.
Jackson is whining, making high, pathetic sounds that he already knows are going to make him cringe when he thinks back on them, but there’s no stopping them now. They just pour out of his mouth, same way his body is trying to shrink in on itself and his head is thunking back against the wall. And, damn it all to fucking hell, it feels good, arching his head back, exposing his vulnerable neck to Derek.
He sucks in a breath as he realizes that the growling coming from Derek have changed in tone, that his eyes aren’t glowing red anymore, his claws are retracting. Derek presses against Jackson, rolls his hips and fuck. Derek is hard as shit.
And Jackson? Jackson fucking moans.
“You need to learn your place along with control,” Derek says his mouth skimming down Jackson’s neck to his collarbone, “and I know the perfect way to teach you both.”
He bites down. Hard. And Jackson loves it. His hands come up to clutch at Derek’s shoulders as his body goes pliant, his skin breaking out in goosebumps.
“That’s right, pup,” Derek growls as he nips and licks at Jackson. “You like that, don’t you? Like being owned.” He rolls his hips again, rubbing his hard dick against Jackson.
“Fuck you,” Jackson manages to gasp out, but there is no bite to the words and Jackson is still clutching at Derek, pulling the Alpha closer to him.
Derek laughs. “More like fuck you, my pretty little pup. Bet you would like that too, wouldn’t you? You’d love being on your knees for me, begging for it, wouldn’t you?” He sucks at the bite mark he just left, teeth scraping against Jackson's skin and Jackson bucks up against him. Derek laughs again, and when he speaks his voice is dark and hot. “Oh yeah you would. Look at you, shit, you’re eager for it, aren’t you? You’d take it all, anything I want to do to you. And you’d love every fucking second.”
Jackson moans, yanking at Derek’s hair, trying to pull him up for a kiss. Derek snarls, twists his head and bites down on Jackson’s wrist hard enough to draw blood. It hurts like a bitch and Jackson hisses even as he feels himself getting harder. Derek lets out a pleased noise at the sound and he starts to lap at the wound, rubbing his tongue over and over it until it heals.
“Beg for me, pup,” he croons when he pulls back, his lips slick with spit and blood.
“Please.” Jackson hears himself whimper because of course. Of course he wants it. Of course he’s fucking hot for it. God, the thought of him on his hands and knees, taking it as Derek slams into him, is making his dick leak.
Derek grins at him, then tosses his head back and howls. Jackson joins him a second later, his voice bleeding in with his Alpha, harmonizing perfectly, and he feels a thrill of belonging roll down his spine.
He can’t help but smile when they finish their howl, his whole body feeling right. For the first time in years, Jackson knows exactly what he wants. “Let me go,” he says, flashing Derek a dimple, “and I’ll show you just how eager for it I am.”
Derek grinds into him one more time, but this time Jackson’s in on the act, hips twisting and rolling right along with Derek’s until Derek is the one who’s moaning, whose eyes are hot with need.
“Please,” he says again, adding a little extra breathiness to his words because he knows that Derek likes it, that Derek wants to hear him beg, listen to him pant to be Derek’s bitch.
Derek pulls back, letting Jackson slump down the wall, and Jackson follows the motion through to its natural end and ends up down to his knees. He tugs at Derek’s hips, pulling them towards him as he rubs his face against the thick bulge in Derek’s jeans. Derek’s hands come up to rest on Jackson’s head, fingertips scratching through Jackson’s hair and Jackson’s can’t help but pant a little, can’t help licking and mouthing at the demin.
He pulls back and looks up at Derek. The Alpha’s eyes flash red, but his hands are still human where they are gripping in Jackson’s hair. “Do you want me to?” Jackson asks, fingers worrying at the button on Derek’s jeans.
“Yes,” Derek answers instantly, hips rocking forward. “Take it out and show me how much you want it.”
Jackson’s hands are shaking as he manipulates the button and reaches for the zipper. His nails are starting to lengthen, making it hard to grasp the brass tab. Derek growls, low in his throat and then cuffs the side of Jackson’s head.
“Keep your claws to yourself, pup,” he warns.
Jackson nods. He sucks on his lower lip and forces himself to focus by taking long, steadying breaths. When his nails are blunted again, he takes hold of the tab and pulls it down. He slips his hands inside Derek’s jeans, pushing the two sides apart as he lowers them. Derek’s boxer briefs are dark grey and slightly ratty, like they’ve been washed a time too many. They hang low on his hips and are tight enough to show every bump and ridge. Jackson’s mouth goes dry as he sees the damp spot haloing the tip of Derek’s dick. Jackson touches it with the pad of his thumb and when he pulls it back, it's slightly sticky. He locks eyes with Derek, then slowly brings his thumb to his mouth and licks it clean.
Derek groans, his teeth sinking into his lower lip and Jackson feels a swell of pride. He did this. He’s the reason his Alpha is pleased. He’s the reason his Alpha is tenting his boxer briefs and moaning for more. Him. Jackson fucking Whittemore. He smiles wide and hooks his thumbs under the elastic band, tugs the dark grey material down Derek’s hips.
He pulls the elastic down until Derek’s dick and balls are exposed, then skims his hands back up and around Derek’s flank until he is cupping Derek’s ass in the palms of his hands. Derek makes a sharp noise, one of his hands leaving Jackson’s hair to circle around his dick. He squeezes it once, then holds it out, nudging Jackson’s cheek with the blunt head.
“Open up, pup.”
Jackson nods once before he obeys. He lets his jaw drop open and watches as Derek crowds in closer. Derek rubs his dick against Jackson’s lips, leaving salty residue behind, before tugging Jackson’s mouth open further and pushing it inside.
“God, you look pretty,” Derek says, the hand still in Jackson’s hair tightening. “That smart mouth of your stretched wide around my dick. Look at you, just swallowing it down like a pro. Have you done this before, pup? Or are you just a natural little cockwhore?”
Jackson shivers at the words. He pulls back long enough to shake his head then leans back towards his Alpha eagerly, licking right at the tip of his dick for a moment before sucking all of it back into his mouth. He pushes forward as far as he can, his eyes squeezing shut tight as he bobs his head. It burns a little, the stretch, makes his jaw ache and his throat feel raw and Jackson has never enjoyed anything more. He flicks his tongue at the underside of Derek’s dick, pulling another moan out of his Alpha.
“That’s right, lick it, pup. Tongue the slit, just like that.” Derek’s got both hands back in Jackson’s hair again and he’s using them to hold Jackson’s head steady as he works himself in and out of Jackson’s mouth. “Get it nice and wet for me. It’ll make it that much easier for you when I’ve got you bent over.”
Jackson lets out a moan of his own at that, his fingers flexing in the meat of Derek’s ass. Derek yelps and cuffs Jackson again.
“I said to keep your claws to yourself, pup. If you can’t do that, you won’t get your reward.”
Jackson jerks his hands away from Derek, pulls them up into his line of sight and is surprised to see that they are once again sporting gnarly werewolf nails instead of his well manicured human ones. He whimpers, trying to calm himself enough for them to morph back while still giving Derek head. He is not successful. Not successful at all.
Instead he feels his jaw start to shift, his fangs coming down with a snick. Derek recoils away from him, his dick making an obscene sound as it pops wetly out of Jackson’s mouth.
“You need to learn to control yourself,” Derek growls at him as he strokes himself. “If you can’t keep human while sucking a little dick, you are never going to be able to keep it together during one of your pointless lacrosse matches, let alone a life and death situation.” His breathing is getting harsh and his eyes are so red they are glowing, but his hands are human and there are no fangs in sight. “And there will be life and death situations. You’re not as stupid as Scott, so there won’t be as many, but they will still happen, no matter how careful you are.”
“I’ll learn to control myself,” Jackson promises, licking his lips around his fangs. “I will. Just, let me,” he edges closer to Derek on his knees, ducking his head to try to get at Derek’s dick.
Derek growls at him. “No.”
“Please,” Jackson begs, “I’ll make it good for you. If you don’t want my mouth, give it to me in my ass. Please.”
“I said no.” Derek gives him an amused look. “And you are a bigger idiot than I thought if you think that you’ll be able to keep what little control you have if you take this up the ass. Look at you, almost completely wolfed out just from suckling at me a little. You honestly think you won’t be howling and clawing at the floor when I’m fucking you?”
Jackson cringes, ducking his head to escape his Alpha’s displeasure. “Please,” he whines, “please. I just want to make you happy, want to make you feel good. Tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it. Please, I know you want to fuck me. I promise I’ll behave. I promise I won’t shift at all, if you give it to me.”
“Not going to happen, pup. Not until you prove yourself to me first. But, here, because I know how bad you want it, I’ll let you have this. Open your mouth.” Jackson lets out a happy whine, his mouth dropping open instantly. “Such a good pup,” Derek praises as he speeds up his hand. “So damn eager to please. You’ll do fine, once you accept your place in my pack, learn a little self-control. And you will, won’t you? Because you like this. You like being on your knees for me. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” Jackson agrees, nodding like a fucking bobble head doll. Part of him knows he’s going to hate himself for this in the morning, but another, bigger part of him is memorizing every detail, saving it up for him to spank off to later.
“Good,” Derek praises, his hand working so fast that it look like it ought to hurt. “That’s good,” he says again, then he’s letting out a howl, arching his back as he comes.
It splashes onto Jackson, a sticky warmth on his neck and jaw, then Derek’s changing the angle he’s holding his dick at and it’s hitting Jackson square in the face, splattering across his mouth. Jackson flicks his tongue out to taste it. It’s less bitter but more salty than his own and Jackson can’t get enough of it. He runs the back of his hand over his face, gathering up as much come as he can find, then frantically sucks his fingers clean, moaning like a bitch in heat.
“God damn,” Derek hisses, his fangs lowering for the first time, though his hands are still human. “Here, pup, suck me clean.” Then he’s knocking Jackson’s fingers away and offering Jackson his dick instead.
Jackson makes an eager noise, leaning forward rub his face against Derek’s dick. It’s soft now, small in the nest of dark curls, and Jackson is able to fit the whole of it in his mouth. He rolls his tongue around it, licking every inch clean. It’s far too soon when Derek pushes him away, and Jackson can’t help the disappointed whimper he lets out.
Derek chuckles in response. “Don’t worry, pup. You’re lessons are far from over.” He bends down and wraps a fist in Jackson’s shirt, tugging him up to his feet. Jackson goes willingly, though his body is tense. Derek smiles at him, slapping his cheek gently before releasing his grip on Jackson’s shirt. “Good pup,” he says, leaning forward to scent Jackson’s neck one more time. "You always smelled nice before," he murmurs against Jackson's skin, "but now you smell like you're mine." He licks at the spot where he bit Jackson earlier that evening, already healed, before letting out a satisfied howl. Then he’s pushing Jackson away and heading out the window instead of the door because he’s a full on freak.
Jackson hurries to the window and watches Derek go like he’s some sort of lovelorn heroine. Because this is his life now. Werebitch to Derek’s Alpha. And from what? Sucking some other dude’s dick and getting a face full of come for his efforts. But Jackson can’t fucking find it in him to care.