The Creep
Author: emocezi
Title: The Creep
Rating: R
Wordcount: 2844
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf nor do I make a profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: Written for the prompt: Derek is interested in Stiles but Stiles has no idea.
Because Jackson is linked/infected/bound/whatever to Derek, he wants Stiles too.
So Jackson starts being all creepy and stalkerish (because that's obviously how werewolves express an interest in someone) around Stiles who has no idea what's going on.
Derek finds out and puts Jackson in his place about just who Stiles belongs too. Stiles doesn't disagree.
Most of this is written in Jackson's creepy POV, he's seriously creepy, that kid needs to be slapped with a carp, or a large salmon.
And yes, I am aware that this ends kind of abruptly, and that I'm a big giant jerkface for not giving you guys lots and lots of smut. Also gatekeeper1324, I shall preemptively smack you with a trout, because I already know you'll be begging for more. So here goes. *FISHSLAPPED*.
I LOVE YOU ALL. Even if you drive me crazy with all of your 'WRITE MORE, WRITE FASTER, WRITE EVERYTHING' *draws hearts on everyone.
AND NOW THAT THIS EXTRA LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE IS OVER, ON WITH THE STORY!!!
Jackson stared at Stiles, watching him. Alien thoughts whispered through his head, a baseline of mineminemine that was so soft he didn't recognize it as not being his own.
There was confusion, to be sure, of why he suddenly felt this way about the annoying loudmouth. But the thought was so soft and so there that he didn't question it, or notice that it had only started swimming through his brain after he'd obtained the deep scratch at the back of his neck.
Stiles was laughing at something Scott was saying, one hand on the other boys arm, the other swinging through the air as he spoke. Wildly gesturing, fingers sketching out a picture. It made the alien thoughts in his mind waver, sliding down into a darker version of what they'd been.
He wanted to get between them, to pry Stiles' arm off of Scott's shoulder and rub his hands over ever inch of that body, to cover Stiles in his scent, to warn Scott off of what would be his. All he needed was the chance to get him alone, get him away from Scott.
XxX XxX
"Is it just me, or is Jackson being creepier then normal?" Stiles commented quietly, glancing at the jock out of the corner of his eye. Scott, possessing no tact whatsoever, craned his head around to peer at Jackson.
"I think he's still pissed that he can't get turned." Scott remarked and went back to eating.
"No. Dude. Scott. He's been staring at me."
"Huh?"
"Exactly. I mean, if it was Danny I'd be okay with that. I don't want to be Jackson's bicurious experiment." Stiles gave a dramatic head toss that would have looked better if he'd had long hair, and been female. "He wouldn't respect me in the morning, and he'd never call."
"You're weird."
"What's your point?" Scott shrugged and Stiles sighed. If a problem didn't contain the word Allison at least once in the sentence, Scott wasn't interested. Which kind of sucked, because Stiles was positive it wasn't Scott that Jackson had been staring at for over half an hour.
XxX XxX
For a week Jackson watched, waited, biding his time while the quiet trickle of mineminemine turned to a steady stream of wantclaimneed. There was something about Stiles, something he'd never noticed before. Something that made him irresistable.
He started bumping into Stiles during the break in class, when students filled the halls. And worse, tackling him into the ground in Lacrosse practice. Anything to get his scent on Stiles, anything to make Scott back off, to put a sticker across Stiles' back that declared him taken and owned by Jackson Whittemore.
The idea of putting his scent on Stiles had weirded him out at first, until he remembered what he knew about Scott. Then it had made perfect sense.
But Scott wasn't taking the hint. He's help Stiles up off the ground, brushing him off, saturating the boy in his scent with a glare in Jackson's direction. Even when it was just a shoulder bump in the hall Scott was always there, always touching exactly where Jackson had just touched.
It was infuriating.
XxX XxX
"What the hell is wrong with him? We're on the same team. I didn't even have the ball." Stiles managed through gritted teeth as Scott helped him off the field after a particularly brutal tackle.
"I have no idea. I think he's just an asshole."
"Yeah, that was my original opinion but he's getting meaner."
"I'll talk to him about it."
"Oh yeah, like you'll be able to talk him down . That'll totally work." Stiles rolled his eyes and took a seat on the bench with a sigh of relief. Coach didn't even glance at him, instead praising Jackson for his textbook takedown.
XxX XxX
"Sorry." Stiles half turned to find the speaker, one hand in his gym bag, searching for his deoderant. Jackson was standing behind him, staring at his bare chest like he was covered in some sort of syrup. Which he wasn't. "I didn't mean to tackle you that hard."
"About that. Why the hell did you tackle me at all? I didn't even have the ball."
"Yeah, I realized that after." Jackson raised a hand, dragging one of his fingers softly over the bruise that was growing over Stiles' left shoulder. "That looks like it hurts."
"It's not as bad as it looks." Stiles muttered, taking a step back and grabbing for his shirt. He felt more secure with the extra layer of clothing even if he was still wearing a towel, skin damp from his shower.
"If you say so." Jackson patted Stiles' shoulder and left as soon as Scott rounded the corner. The wolf stopped, cocked his head and scented the air, snapping his head around to watch Jackson go.
"What did he want?"
"I don't know. I don't want to know." Stiles took the body wash Scott handed him and put it in his gym bag.
XxX XxX
Over the next few days Stiles went out of his way to avoid Jackson, and Jackson let him, busy with his own plans. Plans to get Stiles away from Scott. When Allison had first moved to town, Scott had barely stayed long enough to get the notes from Stiles before he was running out the door to make kissy faces at his girlfriend.
But for some annoying reason, he now saw fit to keep an eye on his friend. Jackson couldn't get Stiles alone for longer then thirty seconds before Scott was showing up with a scowl on his face.
His frustration was growing with leaps and bounds, wanting, needing to get Stiles on his own, to show the hyperactive boy who he belonged to. His temper started to fray, and he found himself snapping at Danny for the smallest things.
Though his anger at Danny increased when he learned his friend had been paired with Stiles for lab work. It felt like a betrayel, like Danny had done it on purpose to make things that much more difficult for him. He needed to get Stiles on his knees, subservient in a way he would never be.
His brain felt like it was on fire, and though he knew it was impossible, it seemed as if his sense of smell had gotten better. He swore he could smell Stiles, and not only that, he could smell the people that had touched Stiles, gotten their dirty, grimy hands all over his property.
XxX XxX
It's not until Stiles doesn't show up for Lacrosse, his first game on first line, that Jackson decides to take action.
He knows where Stiles lives, every one in town knows which house the Sherriff lives in. And the fact that Stiles' bedroom window faces the forest makes it easy to scale the trellis with no fear of someone calling the Police Department to report a break in on the Sherriff's house.
He waits there, sitting on Stiles' bed in the dark. Watching the door and waiting for it to open, for Stiles to come in and see him. He's looking foward to the reaction, to the explosion of fear and horror that comes with finding someone in ones room.
He craves it.
Like he craves the way Stiles will one day be his, belonging to him a certantity he can feel in his bones.
XxX XxX
Jackson's been sitting in the dark for an hour when the door downstairs finally slams, and Stiles pounds up the stairs. He shoves his door open, throws his backpack into the room and flips on the switch.
His eyes widen and he stumbles back, tripping over his feet and falling on his ass. He's speechless for the first time since Jackson has known him, mouth opening and closing while he tries to rationalize why Jackson is in his room.
Jackson stands, making his way over to where Stiles is hastily scrambling backwards, trying to get some space for him to get back on his feet. He ends up smacking the back of his head on the wall and uses it as leverage to push himself to his feet.
"Where were you?"
"Where was...why are you in my room? I think that's the more important question here."
Jackson growls under his breath and crowds into Stiles' space, ignoring the way Stiles goes stiff at the first brush of a hand against his shoulder. He has no idea what the scent coming off of Stiles is, but it makes him feel strong. He thinks it might be fear, because there's a soft whisper running through the back of his mind that tells him Stiles is afraid and trying not to show it.
It's delecious, and it only gets stronger when he puts his hands on Stiles' forearms, pinning him to the wall while he runs his nose along Stiles' neck. Inhaling the sweet nectar of fear and anger.
"You weren't at the game. I got worried." He murmurs softly, seconds away from biting at Stiles' cupid bow lips and marking up his skin. "I should punish you for that."
Pain erupts from his groin, shooting up into his lower belly until he wants to curl up on the ground and vomit. Stiles pushes him away, his leg falling back to the floor from where he shoved his knee into Jackson's balls.
Jackson stumbles back, gasping and clutching at his groin, glaring daggers at Stiles who's got his palms up, a skittish look on his face. He's going to run. Jackson can smell it on him.
"Stay the hell away from me." Stiles still smells of fear, but he sounds angry, and his scent is slowly changing to match his voice. "I've had all the crazy I can take tonight. I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but you need to get the hell out of my house before my father has to arrest me for premeditated homicide. 'Cause buddy, right now I'm thinking of all the ways CSI has shown me of how to properly dispose of a body without getting caught."
Jackson leaves, promising himself he'll be back later. Stiles will be his, whether he wants to be or not.
XxX XxX
Jackson lays in wait, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The thought makes perfect sense, and yet confuses him all at the same time. Stiles makes beautiful prey. And the thought of hunting him makes Jackson's blood run hot.
He has dreams, strange haunting dreams of chasing Stiles through the forest, catching him in the living room of the burnt out Hale house. Mounting him while he struggles against Jackson's dominance, and finally submitting when he realizes he can't get away.
Stiles is breathtaking in his submission, beautiful in a way that's primal, visceral.
The dream leaves Jackson shaking, messy with his own seed from the perfect feel of Stiles against him, the impossible feel of naked flesh under his fingertips.
XxX XxX
He watches Stiles, remembering his dreams in flashes and half formed figments of what he's sure is his imagination. It felt so real, even now, when the fog of day crowds out his dreams, he swears he knows how much pressure it takes to leave finger shaped bruises on Stiles' soft, trembling thighs.
He takes his time. Threatening, harassing and blackmailing his fellow student body into staying away from Stiles, until all he has is Scott. Jackson has this planned out, all he needs is to get Lydia on his side. With Lydia, he'll have full access to Allison, and where Allison goes Scott is sure to follow.
He makes promises to Lydia, promises of pretending to be her boyfriend for the rest of the year if she convinces Allison to date Scott again. It's the most important step of his plan, and he's only a little angry when Lydia decides to negotiate and makes him throw in something shiny with the promise of taking her to the winter formal.
He knows that at the end of this, he'll have Stiles. And that submission will be worth more then any diamond Lydia will wear.
XxX XxX
It takes two weeks for Lydia to convice Allison that Scott isn't such a bad guy, that she should give him a second chance. Fourteen days of watching Stiles, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It has to be perfect, Stiles won't back down without a fight. The thought makes his blood run hot.
Stiles has no one to turn to now. Even the few that he had called friends have deserted him, scared away by Jackson's threats of violence and worse, being shunned from the ranks of popularity. Even Scott is slowly peeling away from his side, every time Allison looks his way, his resolve to protect his friend grows weaker.
It's only a matter of time now.
The whisper inside his head is nearly a roar of ferocious intent, demanding he bind Stiles to his side. Throw Stiles on his back and force his throat bared, to nuzzle against his stomach, the pale fragile flesh. This is submission, this is what he craves.
And he will have it.
XxX XxX
It takes three days for his plans to unravel.
He'd planned to corner Stiles during the Winter Formal, when anyone that could get in his way would be too distracted by music and each other to even give Stiles Stilinski a thought.
Instead he found himself wandering into the woods, calling for the Alpha to bite him, change him, make him into something else, something better. If he was better he wouldn`t have problems claiming Stiles. He if he was faster he would have caught Stiles already. If he was stronger he would have killed Scott and taken what was his.
He needed to be one of them .
When the Alpha turned out to be Allison`s father and his friend, Jackson acted dazed and confused, letting them guide him back to the school and the dance.
XxX XxX
He ended up following Stiles after the boy had found him in the hospital. It wasn't because Stiles had called his masculinity into question, or even threatened violence. It was simply to make sure his property wasn't damaged.
He left Lydia behind, pale and still in the hospital bed without a second thought. It served her right for agreeing to go with Stiles to the dance. She'd known there would be consequences for her actions.
He followed Stiles to the school, then out into the woods, to the burned out shell of the Hale house. They arrived just in time to help turn the battle in Derek's favor.
It was Jackson's incindiary grenade that made all the difference. The one that allowed Derek to kill his Uncle. It filled him with a sence of smug pride, look what he had done. He knew Stiles had to have seen it, he glanced over, waiting for Stiles to finally submit to him.
It was the perfect time after all. Everyone's attention was on Derek, everyone was watching the new Alpha, including Stiles.
It enraged Jackson. After all this, after all his careful planning, Stiles was still ignoring him, always looking to someone else rather then him. He deserved Stiles' attention, his adoration and friendship, his sounds, his body. Jackson knew it was supposed to be his, he could feel it.
His face contorted with anger and he skirted around the hood of the car, slamming Stiles against the door and snarling at him. Stiles stared up at him, shocked and horrified, the same way he'd been when Jackson had sat in his room for hours, waiting for him to return.
Except even now, Stiles' attention shifted from Jackson, to something else, something behind him. Hot breath huffed against his skin and then claws dug into his neck. There was a rush of something that left him dizzy, and then all at once it faded, leaving him clear headed for the first time in weeks.
"What the hell man? What the hell?" Stiles sounded freaked out, pressing himself back against the frame of the porsche like he wanted to become one with it. Jackson cupped his palm across the back of his neck, wondering blankly if he had something around to stop the bleeding. Before he could voice he question he found himself face to face with a furious Alpha werewolf.
"I understand Jackson, that before now you weren't youself, and because of that, I forgive you. But if you ever touch Stiles again with the intention of claiming him, I will dismember you. Starting with your fingers. Do we have an understanding?" Jackson nodded frantically, stumbling backwards when Derek released him. "Good. Now leave, all of you. Not you Stiles, you and me have many things to discuss."
"-But."
"Get. Into. The. House."
"You know, I've pretty much had it with crazy asshole Alpha's ordering me around." Stiles snaps, but he goes. Derek waits until everyone leaves and follows him inside.
Title: The Creep
Rating: R
Wordcount: 2844
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf nor do I make a profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: Written for the prompt: Derek is interested in Stiles but Stiles has no idea.
Because Jackson is linked/infected/bound/whatever to Derek, he wants Stiles too.
So Jackson starts being all creepy and stalkerish (because that's obviously how werewolves express an interest in someone) around Stiles who has no idea what's going on.
Derek finds out and puts Jackson in his place about just who Stiles belongs too. Stiles doesn't disagree.
Most of this is written in Jackson's creepy POV, he's seriously creepy, that kid needs to be slapped with a carp, or a large salmon.
And yes, I am aware that this ends kind of abruptly, and that I'm a big giant jerkface for not giving you guys lots and lots of smut. Also gatekeeper1324, I shall preemptively smack you with a trout, because I already know you'll be begging for more. So here goes. *FISHSLAPPED*.
I LOVE YOU ALL. Even if you drive me crazy with all of your 'WRITE MORE, WRITE FASTER, WRITE EVERYTHING' *draws hearts on everyone.
AND NOW THAT THIS EXTRA LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE IS OVER, ON WITH THE STORY!!!
Jackson stared at Stiles, watching him. Alien thoughts whispered through his head, a baseline of mineminemine that was so soft he didn't recognize it as not being his own.
There was confusion, to be sure, of why he suddenly felt this way about the annoying loudmouth. But the thought was so soft and so there that he didn't question it, or notice that it had only started swimming through his brain after he'd obtained the deep scratch at the back of his neck.
Stiles was laughing at something Scott was saying, one hand on the other boys arm, the other swinging through the air as he spoke. Wildly gesturing, fingers sketching out a picture. It made the alien thoughts in his mind waver, sliding down into a darker version of what they'd been.
He wanted to get between them, to pry Stiles' arm off of Scott's shoulder and rub his hands over ever inch of that body, to cover Stiles in his scent, to warn Scott off of what would be his. All he needed was the chance to get him alone, get him away from Scott.
XxX XxX
"Is it just me, or is Jackson being creepier then normal?" Stiles commented quietly, glancing at the jock out of the corner of his eye. Scott, possessing no tact whatsoever, craned his head around to peer at Jackson.
"I think he's still pissed that he can't get turned." Scott remarked and went back to eating.
"No. Dude. Scott. He's been staring at me."
"Huh?"
"Exactly. I mean, if it was Danny I'd be okay with that. I don't want to be Jackson's bicurious experiment." Stiles gave a dramatic head toss that would have looked better if he'd had long hair, and been female. "He wouldn't respect me in the morning, and he'd never call."
"You're weird."
"What's your point?" Scott shrugged and Stiles sighed. If a problem didn't contain the word Allison at least once in the sentence, Scott wasn't interested. Which kind of sucked, because Stiles was positive it wasn't Scott that Jackson had been staring at for over half an hour.
XxX XxX
For a week Jackson watched, waited, biding his time while the quiet trickle of mineminemine turned to a steady stream of wantclaimneed. There was something about Stiles, something he'd never noticed before. Something that made him irresistable.
He started bumping into Stiles during the break in class, when students filled the halls. And worse, tackling him into the ground in Lacrosse practice. Anything to get his scent on Stiles, anything to make Scott back off, to put a sticker across Stiles' back that declared him taken and owned by Jackson Whittemore.
The idea of putting his scent on Stiles had weirded him out at first, until he remembered what he knew about Scott. Then it had made perfect sense.
But Scott wasn't taking the hint. He's help Stiles up off the ground, brushing him off, saturating the boy in his scent with a glare in Jackson's direction. Even when it was just a shoulder bump in the hall Scott was always there, always touching exactly where Jackson had just touched.
It was infuriating.
XxX XxX
"What the hell is wrong with him? We're on the same team. I didn't even have the ball." Stiles managed through gritted teeth as Scott helped him off the field after a particularly brutal tackle.
"I have no idea. I think he's just an asshole."
"Yeah, that was my original opinion but he's getting meaner."
"I'll talk to him about it."
"Oh yeah, like you'll be able to talk him down . That'll totally work." Stiles rolled his eyes and took a seat on the bench with a sigh of relief. Coach didn't even glance at him, instead praising Jackson for his textbook takedown.
XxX XxX
"Sorry." Stiles half turned to find the speaker, one hand in his gym bag, searching for his deoderant. Jackson was standing behind him, staring at his bare chest like he was covered in some sort of syrup. Which he wasn't. "I didn't mean to tackle you that hard."
"About that. Why the hell did you tackle me at all? I didn't even have the ball."
"Yeah, I realized that after." Jackson raised a hand, dragging one of his fingers softly over the bruise that was growing over Stiles' left shoulder. "That looks like it hurts."
"It's not as bad as it looks." Stiles muttered, taking a step back and grabbing for his shirt. He felt more secure with the extra layer of clothing even if he was still wearing a towel, skin damp from his shower.
"If you say so." Jackson patted Stiles' shoulder and left as soon as Scott rounded the corner. The wolf stopped, cocked his head and scented the air, snapping his head around to watch Jackson go.
"What did he want?"
"I don't know. I don't want to know." Stiles took the body wash Scott handed him and put it in his gym bag.
XxX XxX
Over the next few days Stiles went out of his way to avoid Jackson, and Jackson let him, busy with his own plans. Plans to get Stiles away from Scott. When Allison had first moved to town, Scott had barely stayed long enough to get the notes from Stiles before he was running out the door to make kissy faces at his girlfriend.
But for some annoying reason, he now saw fit to keep an eye on his friend. Jackson couldn't get Stiles alone for longer then thirty seconds before Scott was showing up with a scowl on his face.
His frustration was growing with leaps and bounds, wanting, needing to get Stiles on his own, to show the hyperactive boy who he belonged to. His temper started to fray, and he found himself snapping at Danny for the smallest things.
Though his anger at Danny increased when he learned his friend had been paired with Stiles for lab work. It felt like a betrayel, like Danny had done it on purpose to make things that much more difficult for him. He needed to get Stiles on his knees, subservient in a way he would never be.
His brain felt like it was on fire, and though he knew it was impossible, it seemed as if his sense of smell had gotten better. He swore he could smell Stiles, and not only that, he could smell the people that had touched Stiles, gotten their dirty, grimy hands all over his property.
XxX XxX
It's not until Stiles doesn't show up for Lacrosse, his first game on first line, that Jackson decides to take action.
He knows where Stiles lives, every one in town knows which house the Sherriff lives in. And the fact that Stiles' bedroom window faces the forest makes it easy to scale the trellis with no fear of someone calling the Police Department to report a break in on the Sherriff's house.
He waits there, sitting on Stiles' bed in the dark. Watching the door and waiting for it to open, for Stiles to come in and see him. He's looking foward to the reaction, to the explosion of fear and horror that comes with finding someone in ones room.
He craves it.
Like he craves the way Stiles will one day be his, belonging to him a certantity he can feel in his bones.
XxX XxX
Jackson's been sitting in the dark for an hour when the door downstairs finally slams, and Stiles pounds up the stairs. He shoves his door open, throws his backpack into the room and flips on the switch.
His eyes widen and he stumbles back, tripping over his feet and falling on his ass. He's speechless for the first time since Jackson has known him, mouth opening and closing while he tries to rationalize why Jackson is in his room.
Jackson stands, making his way over to where Stiles is hastily scrambling backwards, trying to get some space for him to get back on his feet. He ends up smacking the back of his head on the wall and uses it as leverage to push himself to his feet.
"Where were you?"
"Where was...why are you in my room? I think that's the more important question here."
Jackson growls under his breath and crowds into Stiles' space, ignoring the way Stiles goes stiff at the first brush of a hand against his shoulder. He has no idea what the scent coming off of Stiles is, but it makes him feel strong. He thinks it might be fear, because there's a soft whisper running through the back of his mind that tells him Stiles is afraid and trying not to show it.
It's delecious, and it only gets stronger when he puts his hands on Stiles' forearms, pinning him to the wall while he runs his nose along Stiles' neck. Inhaling the sweet nectar of fear and anger.
"You weren't at the game. I got worried." He murmurs softly, seconds away from biting at Stiles' cupid bow lips and marking up his skin. "I should punish you for that."
Pain erupts from his groin, shooting up into his lower belly until he wants to curl up on the ground and vomit. Stiles pushes him away, his leg falling back to the floor from where he shoved his knee into Jackson's balls.
Jackson stumbles back, gasping and clutching at his groin, glaring daggers at Stiles who's got his palms up, a skittish look on his face. He's going to run. Jackson can smell it on him.
"Stay the hell away from me." Stiles still smells of fear, but he sounds angry, and his scent is slowly changing to match his voice. "I've had all the crazy I can take tonight. I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but you need to get the hell out of my house before my father has to arrest me for premeditated homicide. 'Cause buddy, right now I'm thinking of all the ways CSI has shown me of how to properly dispose of a body without getting caught."
Jackson leaves, promising himself he'll be back later. Stiles will be his, whether he wants to be or not.
XxX XxX
Jackson lays in wait, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The thought makes perfect sense, and yet confuses him all at the same time. Stiles makes beautiful prey. And the thought of hunting him makes Jackson's blood run hot.
He has dreams, strange haunting dreams of chasing Stiles through the forest, catching him in the living room of the burnt out Hale house. Mounting him while he struggles against Jackson's dominance, and finally submitting when he realizes he can't get away.
Stiles is breathtaking in his submission, beautiful in a way that's primal, visceral.
The dream leaves Jackson shaking, messy with his own seed from the perfect feel of Stiles against him, the impossible feel of naked flesh under his fingertips.
XxX XxX
He watches Stiles, remembering his dreams in flashes and half formed figments of what he's sure is his imagination. It felt so real, even now, when the fog of day crowds out his dreams, he swears he knows how much pressure it takes to leave finger shaped bruises on Stiles' soft, trembling thighs.
He takes his time. Threatening, harassing and blackmailing his fellow student body into staying away from Stiles, until all he has is Scott. Jackson has this planned out, all he needs is to get Lydia on his side. With Lydia, he'll have full access to Allison, and where Allison goes Scott is sure to follow.
He makes promises to Lydia, promises of pretending to be her boyfriend for the rest of the year if she convinces Allison to date Scott again. It's the most important step of his plan, and he's only a little angry when Lydia decides to negotiate and makes him throw in something shiny with the promise of taking her to the winter formal.
He knows that at the end of this, he'll have Stiles. And that submission will be worth more then any diamond Lydia will wear.
XxX XxX
It takes two weeks for Lydia to convice Allison that Scott isn't such a bad guy, that she should give him a second chance. Fourteen days of watching Stiles, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It has to be perfect, Stiles won't back down without a fight. The thought makes his blood run hot.
Stiles has no one to turn to now. Even the few that he had called friends have deserted him, scared away by Jackson's threats of violence and worse, being shunned from the ranks of popularity. Even Scott is slowly peeling away from his side, every time Allison looks his way, his resolve to protect his friend grows weaker.
It's only a matter of time now.
The whisper inside his head is nearly a roar of ferocious intent, demanding he bind Stiles to his side. Throw Stiles on his back and force his throat bared, to nuzzle against his stomach, the pale fragile flesh. This is submission, this is what he craves.
And he will have it.
XxX XxX
It takes three days for his plans to unravel.
He'd planned to corner Stiles during the Winter Formal, when anyone that could get in his way would be too distracted by music and each other to even give Stiles Stilinski a thought.
Instead he found himself wandering into the woods, calling for the Alpha to bite him, change him, make him into something else, something better. If he was better he wouldn`t have problems claiming Stiles. He if he was faster he would have caught Stiles already. If he was stronger he would have killed Scott and taken what was his.
He needed to be one of them .
When the Alpha turned out to be Allison`s father and his friend, Jackson acted dazed and confused, letting them guide him back to the school and the dance.
XxX XxX
He ended up following Stiles after the boy had found him in the hospital. It wasn't because Stiles had called his masculinity into question, or even threatened violence. It was simply to make sure his property wasn't damaged.
He left Lydia behind, pale and still in the hospital bed without a second thought. It served her right for agreeing to go with Stiles to the dance. She'd known there would be consequences for her actions.
He followed Stiles to the school, then out into the woods, to the burned out shell of the Hale house. They arrived just in time to help turn the battle in Derek's favor.
It was Jackson's incindiary grenade that made all the difference. The one that allowed Derek to kill his Uncle. It filled him with a sence of smug pride, look what he had done. He knew Stiles had to have seen it, he glanced over, waiting for Stiles to finally submit to him.
It was the perfect time after all. Everyone's attention was on Derek, everyone was watching the new Alpha, including Stiles.
It enraged Jackson. After all this, after all his careful planning, Stiles was still ignoring him, always looking to someone else rather then him. He deserved Stiles' attention, his adoration and friendship, his sounds, his body. Jackson knew it was supposed to be his, he could feel it.
His face contorted with anger and he skirted around the hood of the car, slamming Stiles against the door and snarling at him. Stiles stared up at him, shocked and horrified, the same way he'd been when Jackson had sat in his room for hours, waiting for him to return.
Except even now, Stiles' attention shifted from Jackson, to something else, something behind him. Hot breath huffed against his skin and then claws dug into his neck. There was a rush of something that left him dizzy, and then all at once it faded, leaving him clear headed for the first time in weeks.
"What the hell man? What the hell?" Stiles sounded freaked out, pressing himself back against the frame of the porsche like he wanted to become one with it. Jackson cupped his palm across the back of his neck, wondering blankly if he had something around to stop the bleeding. Before he could voice he question he found himself face to face with a furious Alpha werewolf.
"I understand Jackson, that before now you weren't youself, and because of that, I forgive you. But if you ever touch Stiles again with the intention of claiming him, I will dismember you. Starting with your fingers. Do we have an understanding?" Jackson nodded frantically, stumbling backwards when Derek released him. "Good. Now leave, all of you. Not you Stiles, you and me have many things to discuss."
"-But."
"Get. Into. The. House."
"You know, I've pretty much had it with crazy asshole Alpha's ordering me around." Stiles snaps, but he goes. Derek waits until everyone leaves and follows him inside.