[fic] No One Loves Me (And Neither Do I) 4/5 (teen wolf, Derek/Stiles/Jackson)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairings: established Derek/Stiles, eventual Derek/Stiles/Jackson, unrequited Derek/Jackson
Rating: NC-17 (for kink and violence)
Summary: After getting the bite, Jackson had thought that things would finally start going his way. But as Derek gets involved with Stiles, Jackson learns the hard way that werewolves and jealousy don't mix well.
Previous chapters: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3
Warnings for this chapter: humiliation!kink, violence, consent issues, dark themes, angst
Notes: This is a sequel to We Fit So Tight You And I.
No One Loves Me (And Neither Do I) - Ch. 4
Jackson woke up to the sound of the door opening. He didn’t have time to tell the intruder to go fuck themselves when he heard a brisk clip of heels entering his room. It didn’t sound like either of his parents, but Jackson knew that walk. He raised his head just in time to see Lydia’s face before she yanked the covers off him.
“Rise and shine, Jackson,” she called out, managing to sound both chipper and vexed in the space of one sentence.
“Hey!” Jackson made a grab for his sheets, pulling them to cover himself. “What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice was rough from sleep, cracking from the lack of use.
“You know, you can’t actually spend the rest of your life hiding in your room,” she said, giving his body a quick once-over as she spoke. It was just to assess the healing process, but Jackson couldn’t help feeling like a specimen under a scope. He resisted the urge to pull the sheets up.
“Who says I’m hiding?”
“Besides the fact that you’ve been skipping school for the last two days?”
A slight frown crossed Lydia’s brow as something behind Jackson caught her eye. He followed her gaze and saw a hint of orange plastic peeking from under his pillow; Jackson knew that Lydia recognized the drug bottles for what they were. He felt his face flush, but he didn’t move to hide the drugs as he turned to look back at Lydia. His gaze dared her to make a comment.
Lydia’s eyes narrowed, but her expression quickly smoothed out. Jackson knew she was filing this bit of knowledge for further use, but he was glad that she hadn’t pushed the issue. He was sure to get a lecture from his parents when they found out he’d emptied their medicine cabinet; he didn’t need to Lydia to remind him of his weakness.
“You need to suck it up, Jackson. You need to apologize.”
Jackson felt a flash of cold at the mere idea. He got up from the bed without saying a word and walked to his closet to get clothes. He didn’t bother wearing the blanket to cover his naked ass. As he pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, he heard Lydia give a small sigh. Her voice was much less clipped when she spoke again.
“You know you have to come back, right?”
He knew that she meant the pack and not the couple of days he’d missed from school. A surge of anger made his jaw clench, his fists balling up in his defense. “And let Derek finish the job?” he growled as he turned on his heels to face her.
Lydia didn’t seem fazed by his aggression. Jackson felt her eyes linger on the faint bruises still visible above the collar of his t-shirt; her expression changed as a flicker of worry crossed her features. It irked Jackson to see her concern, but he shared the feeling. Derek’s bite had taken a long time to heal, a lot longer than any wound Jackson had gotten since becoming a werewolf. Somehow, on some base instinct, he knew the Alpha’s bite had nearly killed him. The thought made him shudder.
Lydia seemed to sense the shift in his mood. She retreated to the window and opened the blinds, letting the afternoon sunlight flood the room. She glanced outside, her fingers playing with the necklace she was wearing, but then she seemed to realize her worrying fingers and dropped her hand. “I don’t think he’ll do that again,” she finally said to break the silence.
“You don’t know that.”
She looked like she wanted to ask, but Jackson cut her off before she could start. “You shouldn’t have interfered,” he said harshly. “He won’t be any more forgiving when...” he thought back to Derek’s last words, his body tense from remembering the violent aura that had surrounded him. “You should’ve just let him kill me.”
“Jackson...” Lydia started, but he waved her silent.
He paced a few steps, then sat heavily on the edge of his bed. “You don’t... You heard him,” he said haltingly, his fingers twitching like he wanted to scratch himself. “This isn’t over yet.”
The weight of Derek’s anger was still heavy on his shoulders. He could feel it in his bones, seeping into his bloodstream from the bite on his neck. He was back to square one. Back to being the dead man walking, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Jackson felt Lydia sitting down on the other side of the bed. She didn’t try to touch him, but there was something strangely comforting in her presence.
He had never really felt close to her when they had been dating; there had always been an air of pretense around their relationship, like they were only dating each other because that was expected of their status. Now that Lydia wasn’t playing the role of the high school trophy girlfriend to his budding star athlete anymore, Jackson could see her real face, sometimes. Those moments gave him a pause and made him wonder. If this was the Lydia she had been dating, where would they be now?
“You can’t always run away, Jackson,” Lydia said after a long silence. She seemed to hesitate before continuing, but as Jackson stayed silent, she grew impatient. There was a bitter edge to her voice now, or maybe it had been there all along but now it was more evident than before. “Isn’t this what you wanted, anyway?”
Jackson tensed, feeling sick as her words rang through his mind. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, anymore, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.
Lydia’s voice got cooler as she continued, and the fleeting moment of closeness was gone. “I didn’t ask for any of this werewolf crap in my life, but you don’t see me hiding in my room and crying into my pillow,” she said almost matter-of-factly, and Jackson could sense that she was pushing to get a reaction from him.
It worked. “I’m not crying,” Jackson grumbled through clenched teeth, throwing her a dirty look over his shoulder.
She answered his gaze with a challenging look. “You sure could have fooled me,” she said, a hint of a smirk on her lips. “If you asked me, I’d say you look down right heartbroken.”
Jackson felt the words stab through him and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He turned away, but he knew that Lydia has seen the bare look on his face.
“You can’t run away from Derek,” she said more silently now. “You can’t quit the pack just because you do something stupid and don’t know how to apologize for it.”
“You don’t know what--” Jackson started, but Lydia cut him off.
“What it’s like?” she hissed, suddenly heated. “Trust me, I know what it’s like to be stuck with someone who doesn’t want you. I know exactly what it’s like to watch that person chase after someone else, while you’re left wondering why you weren’t good enough.”
That hadn’t been what Jackson had been about to say, but Lydia’s words struck him silent. He could hear the sharp emotion in her voice and he glanced over his shoulder at her. She ignored him. Small shudders ran along her back as Lydia focused herself. Jackson could see her fingers bowed against her thigh, tense with effort as she forced herself to stay calm.
“I know it’s over between us, but you have to come back to the pack.” Her voice didn’t betray her emotions as she spoke, but when she turned to look at him, her eyes glowed with the brilliant shade of green of her wolf side. “Besides, if Derek didn’t manage to finish you off the first time, I doubt he’ll try the same trick again...” A quirk of her lips as she smiled revealed the tips of her canines. “Although that doesn’t really help your case, does it?”
Jackson cringed, his fingers lifting to brush over the faint bruising that remained of the bite. “Great. I can’t wait to find out what his next best trick is,” he muttered.
Lydia didn’t linger long after she had gotten her point across. Jackson was glad to have his room to himself again. He fell back on the tousled sheets and stared at the sky through the open blinds.
Jackson didn’t want to admit it, but Lydia’s visit had eased the worst of his fears and given life to a tiny seed of hope in his mind. Maybe she was right; Derek should definitely have learned the truth by now and if that was the case, why hadn’t it been him to come through Jackson’s door instead of Lydia? Maybe there was a way out that Jackson hadn’t thought of.
Now that the seed of hope had been sown, Jackson felt his restlessness return. He hadn’t heard from Derek since that night, but he had been hiding long enough. He wasn’t going to wait for Derek to seek him out, not this time.
Jackson picked up his cell phone and glanced at the time. It was Friday and the school had already let out, but there was a game that night where everyone would be going.
Everyone except for Jackson. Since he’d already been playing sick for the last couple of days, it would be weirder for him to show up to play than if he didn’t show up at all. Besides, with McCall in the game, even the coach wouldn’t miss him much.
And with everyone at the game, there would be no interruptions this time.
He felt his heart start racing as he typed out the message on his phone. “We need to talk.” He stared at the words on the screen for a long moment. Jackson didn’t know which way his destiny would turn, but it would definitely take a new direction tonight. He let his finger hover over the button before pressing down, anticipating the changes sending it would bring.
Jackson dropped the phone next to him. His heart still hammering uncomfortably, he scoured under his pillow for the drugs. He knew the brief moment of hope wouldn’t last.
***
Jackson parked his car next to Derek’s on the side of the former Hale house. He felt slightly relieved not to see Stiles’ jeep present. He half-expected Derek to jump him as soon as he got out of his car, but there was no ambush, no greeting with claws out this time. The air was still thick from the heat of the day, but everything felt normal; there was only the slightest current of expectation that carried in the evening air.
Eager to get things settled, Jackson jogged up to the front door. He pulled it open without hesitating and stepped inside, but the scent that caught his nose made him stop dead on his tracks.
Stiles’ scent made him want to turn on his heels and leave. It electrified him in a way Jackson hadn’t expected, and it took him a moment to convince himself to stay. He could sense the two people waiting for him in the barren room that had once been the livingroom of the house and Jackson reminded himself of why he was here. He took in a breath and squared his shoulders, then walked on.
The first thing his eyes fell on was Stiles.
From the way Stiles stood in the middle of the floor with his hands crossed over his chest, it was obvious that he had been pacing the room before Jackson had arrived. His dark eyes bore straight into Jackson, but Jackson’s gaze skirted around him, focusing instead on Derek’s silent form sitting on the dusty couch. Derek didn’t lift his eyes to greet him.
“Why is he here?”
Of course, that was the wrong question to start with, but Jackson didn’t care. He heard Stiles let out an indignant sound, but he kept his eyes on Derek.
Derek’s eyes narrowed as his attention focused on Jackson. “You don’t think Stiles has every right to be here?” he asked. He sounded incredulous, like he couldn’t believe his ears.
Jackson bit his teeth to keep himself from snapping something that would cause even more regret for him. “I assumed he would be at the game,” he said.
Derek stared at him, then shook his head. He glanced down at his hands and Jackson thought he looked somehow subdued, but he couldn’t put his finger on what gave him the impression. Derek lifted his gaze to meet Jackson’s and he said, “It’s not me you owe an apology to.”
But you’re the one who will punish me. You’re the one I need to atone for.
Jackson didn’t say his thoughts out loud as he reluctantly turned his gaze to Stiles.
This was the first time they were face to face since the incident at the supply closet. Flashes of memory scattered through Jackson mind, the images all raw and vibrant now that Stiles was standing right in front of him. Jackson felt uneasy, the shame and intrigue mixing in the pit of his stomach to a strange feeling of warmth. He could see his feelings mirrored in Stiles’ eyes, just for a moment before Stiles seemed to catch himself.
Jackson swallowed, then cleared the roughness from his throat. “I’m sorry for...” he started, pausing to find the right words, “for what happened.”
There was a spark of gratification in Stiles’ eyes, but it didn’t seem like Jackson’s apology had impressed him. A curious look of anticipation had come over Stiles’ face, like this was just the beginning and not the climax. His eyes were burning with dark intensity when he answered, drawling out his words.
“Yeah, a sorry’s not going to cut it anymore, Jackson.”
A slight frown crossed Jackson’s brow. “Well, what then? You want me to fall on my knees and beg for your mercy?” Jackson scoffed. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Stiles’ tongue flicked out to wet his lips. Normally, Jackson wouldn’t have even noticed the gesture, but there was something eager in the way Stiles did it that made Jackson feel a hint of nervousness add to the mix of emotions going through him.
“Something like that,” Stiles said.
Jackson tensed. Despite everything that had happened, it had somehow never occurred to Jackson that it would be Stiles demanding punishment from him. He had assumed it would be Derek to claim that right, but there was a look of yearning on Stiles’ face that told otherwise. Jackson was suddenly certain that whatever form of payback Stiles was thinking of would be worse than any wound the Alpha could carve into his body.
Jackson fought back the urge to shout, keeping his voice carefully measured. “Just fucking say what you want, Stiles.”
“I want you to feel like I did,” Stiles said. His words were equally measured and the look in his eyes was level, but there was something unsettling on his face when he spoke.
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. He couldn’t help it; his eyes trailed down to Stiles’ waist of their own accord. Now that he knew what to look for, it was easy to spot the way Stiles’ belly rounded out under his shirt. A part of Jackson was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before, especially given how much time he had spent looking at Stiles lately. Not even a five course meal can make me feel like you, fat boy. He bit his tongue not to let the remark slip, but he knew that Stiles could read the disdain in his expression.
“And how’s that?” Jackson said instead. Weak and pitiful, soft and round...
Spots of color had risen to Stiles’ cheeks, but there was no trace of vulnerability on his face. He looked at Jackson with determination, a humorless smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”
Derek had been watching them in silence. As if on cue, he now rose from the couch and walked to Stiles’ side, slipping his arm behind Stiles’ back to pull him against himself. He buried his face into Stiles’ neck, hiding it from Jackson’s view.
It was a simple sign of affection, but there was something desperate in the way Derek pulled Stiles against himself, his body language asking the question his lips didn’t say out loud. Stiles’ eyes didn’t leave Jackson as Derek embraced him, his body remaining tense under Derek’s touch. Jackson could read the desire written across Stiles’ features, but there was a different kind of emotion in the depths of his eyes. It looked like yearning and hesitation and shame bundled up into one, but just as Jackson thought he knew what it was, Derek murmured Stiles’ name under his breath.
Stiles blinked, dropping his gaze. “It’s okay,” Stiles muttered back, but his voice was slightly off.
An odd feeling was building inside Jackson as he watched the exchange. Somehow all of this felt like an act in a play, a part of some premeditated plan. Jackson wanted to ask what was okay, but he had a horrible feeling that he was about to find out.
Jackson watched Derek pull himself away from Stiles. He brushed his lips against the side of Stiles’ cheek; the gesture reminded Jackson of a farewell. When Derek straightened up, his eyes were glowing with red.
“Take off your clothes, Jackson.”
A cold shiver ran down Jackson’s spine. He didn’t move - not to leave nor to obey - but he knew that the point of no return had been passed the moment he had stepped inside the living room. “Why?” he asked in a strained voice.
“If you want to stay in the pack, you do as I say,” Derek sneered as he stepped in front of him, putting himself between Jackson and Stiles.
Derek’s voice had taken on a slightly gravelly tone, his canines lengthening in his mouth and his face morphing to show his wolf side. This wasn’t just Derek talking to him anymore - it was the Alpha addressing his subordinate. Jackson shivered again, this time with compulsion.
Breathing felt suddenly hard, as if the air had gotten heavier to breathe. Jackson felt cold sweat starting to pool in the small of his back, but he could feel the strain to obey. Before Derek took the chance to shred his clothes to get them off him, Jackson buttoned open his shirt and shook it off his shoulders.
Jackson held Derek’s gaze defiantly as he dropped the shirt at his feet, then unbuttoned the fly of his jeans and let them drop to his ankles. There was a moment of fumbling as he removed his shoes, but in a matter of moments, he was standing in front of Derek in just his underwear. Jackson’s fingers hesitated at the waistband, but with a flash of defiance, he didn’t remove them. They were brand name, but he could afford to lose the pair.
Derek took a moment to look him over, his gaze feeling heavy on Jackson’s bare skin. He didn’t let on what was going through his mind as he started circling around Jackson, until finally he broke the silence. “I know what happened,” Derek said. The cool edge in his voice cut into Jackson, making him shudder. Derek’s voice became a sharp hiss as his anger bled through his controlled front. “I know what you did to Stiles.”
Derek came to a stop in front of him, his red eyes flashing with rage. The aura that surrounded him grew thick and oppressing, making Jackson feel like he was slowly being strangled. Derek’s eyes were full of violent intentions, but it was the cold, calculating sneer that spread on his lips that got under Jackson’s skin.
Derek’s eyes traveled down Jackson’s body, taking in the sculpted muscle of his chest and stomach. Jackson knew that Derek could see every tremble that went through his body, but he couldn’t keep himself from shivering under his gaze.
Isn’t this what you wanted?
The mixture of fear and anticipation made him hard; the knowledge that there was no way of hiding his erection from Derek added a new level to his arousal.
There was a slight twitch on Derek’s face as he pulled in the scent of Jackson’s arousal. Derek started stalking again, moving slowly around Jackson like he was looking for the right spot to strike the first blow. When he got to Jackson’s side, he leaned over his shoulder to whisper:
“You want me, don’t you?”
Jackson shuddered, his lips parting to let out a gasp, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer Derek’s question.
“You want me so much you’ll even take it like this,” Derek said, his voice coming closer to Jackson’s ear, “as a punishment?”
“Yes,” Jackson whispered, his cock twitching in his underwear.
Derek’s laugh was soft but without mirth as he pulled away. “Now you’re suddenly obedient,” he mocked, but there was a strange discord in his voice, a hint of something that wasn’t in tune with his words and actions.
Derek’s fingers ghosted over Jackson’s jugular as his hand wrapped around Jackson’s windpipe. There was only slight pressure in his grip. His face appeared in Jackson’s view, his eyes gleaming. “Looks like I’m going to have to remind you why this is a punishment and not your fucking wet dream.”
Jackson wasn’t surprised when he felt Derek rip away his underwear. His skin prickled where Derek’s claws had cut into his flesh and Jackson shivered as he felt air between his legs. Despite the fear that made his balls shrivel and draw near to his body, his cock stood rigid in front of him.
Derek smoothed his hand down from Jackson’s neck in a slow caress. His claws scraped across Jackson’s chest, but didn’t break the skin. “You put so much effort in your body,” Derek said. He sounded like he was not expecting a reply so Jackson stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “So many hours spent to build all this muscle, to make yourself look...” Jackson suppressed a flinch as Derek’s claws sliced down his abdomen, leaving tiny red slashes behind them, “desirable.”
Jackson could see Derek pull in the heady smell of blood and when he exhaled, the sneer was back on his lips. Jackson felt the air around the Alpha intensify, like the wolf side of Derek was reveling in the pain it was causing, or, about to cause.
“I bet it drives you insane that I picked Stiles over you.”
Derek delivered the sentence with deliberate air of casualness, knowing that Jackson would react to his words.
The feeling of helpless rage was all too familiar to Jackson. His fists clenched and he could feel his canines push out as the burst of anger went through him. Derek’s laughter was low and pleased, in stark contrast to his hands that Jackson suddenly felt on his waist. Derek’s claws bore into his flesh, cutting cleanly through skin and muscle. Jackson choked down the cry of pain, grasping for control under Derek’s commanding presence.
Derek leaned his face closer, the taunting sneer on his feral face making him look slightly mad. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, Jackson,” Derek smiled coldly at him, forcing Jackson to look straight to his glowing eyes as he continued. “I think you know what it is about Stiles that initially drew my attention,” Derek said, “but does that really make it any easier for you? Knowing that your six pack holds no value in my eyes, that in the end, all the sacrifices you’ve made to make yourself look like a fucking underwear model are worthless.”
Derek’s voice poured over him like boiling water, leaving Jackson scalded and raw as his words sunk in. Jackson felt the trembling in his muscles grow into spasms, but Derek held him in place. He felt Derek’s claws dig in his sides, forcing a grunt to escape between his clenched teeth.
“Get on your knees.”
Whether it was from the weight of the Alpha’s command or the pain taking its toll, Jackson found himself falling to his knees in front of Derek. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, so he kept staring in front of him, straight at Derek’s crotch that was now at eye-level with him. He could see the outline of Derek’s erection through the denim of his jeans.
Derek didn’t seem to be in a hurry. He let his hands rest on Jackson’s shoulders as he continued to speak, his words like sharp little daggers that sliced straight through Jackson’s skin. “You’re wrong if you think it’s just about aesthetics, though. That I chose Stiles just because of his softness, his...” Derek’s voice cut off, like he couldn’t bring himself to complete the sentence. He changed course abruptly, his voice taking on a hard edge.
“There’s more to Stiles than just his looks, but you, Jackson? Underneath that perfect skin and muscle, what is there to you? You’re filled with nothing but self-loathing and hatred.”
Jackson felt his skin prickle and he couldn’t suppress the shudder that went through him.
“But you know that, don’t you? That’s why you’re here, now, on your knees and ready to take whatever you can get because you think that’s what you deserve. Not happiness, not love, but pain and punishment.”
To emphasize his words, Derek’s claws cut into him, raking across his pale skin in a slow, deliberate stroke that made blood well up and run down Jackson’s back. Another shudder went through him, but he still didn’t look up to Derek. He wanted to argue, wanted to deny it all, but there was nothing he could think of to defend himself with.
“You’ve been playing such a good little puppy to get my attention, but I saw through that act before you even asked for the bite.” Derek’s voice had become rougher, his aura growing stronger as the wolf side of him drained and reveled in Jackson’s hurt. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I only gave you the bite because I saw how weak you are. The only reason I turned you was because I knew I could control you.”
The weight of Derek’s hands left Jackson’s shoulders as he started to undo the fly of his jeans. Jackson felt frozen in his place, his breathing laboured and his skin slick with cold sweat and blood and yet, his cock felt thick and heavy between his legs, straining from the arousal. How could he deny himself that he wanted this.
Jackson saw Derek push his hand inside his jeans, but he didn’t pull out his cock. He reached for Jackson’s head and yanked Jackson’s face up to look at him. His expression looked forced, almost reluctant, and his words had lost their jeering tone when he spoke:
“You do know how to suck cock, don’t you?”
Jackson swallowed. He tried to relax his jaw to reply, but it felt like his teeth had been glued together. Despite the few times he’d had a guy suck his dick, he’d never been on this side of the equation before. The muscles on his face twitched nervously as his face flooded with heat. He hated being second-best at anything. He would give it his everything and that had to be good enough.
The sound that broke his hesitation was a rustle of cloth - the sound of someone shifting to change their position. It was such a small sound that had it not been for the otherwise complete silence, Jackson wouldn’t have even paid attention to it. Now it was a loud reminder that they were not the only people in the room.
The moment had been so intense that Jackson had forgotten Stiles’ presence. Embarrassment crawled over him like a nest of ants and Jackson cursed himself for the lapse in attention. This had been Stiles’ plan all along, hadn’t it? To make Jackson taste his own medicine; to drag out his deepest secrets and watch him burn with humiliation. Jackson couldn’t turn his head to see the look of satisfaction on Stiles’ face.
Derek pulled away from Jackson like he had suddenly caught fire. “I can’t do this,” he said, his voice muted with restraint. Derek stepped back so abruptly that Jackson almost reached for him, but when he looked up, Jackson saw that Derek’s eyes were not looking at him.
He was looking at Stiles, his features human and with a look of rueful determination on them.
A surge of jealousy made Jackson want to launch himself at Derek, force him to look at him, demand him to give Jackson what he deserved, even as twisted and bad as it was. Once again, it felt like Stiles had robbed him of his chance, and Jackson felt the humiliation of denial crawl over him all over again.
“I can’t do this,” Derek repeated.
Jackson glanced at Stiles as he jumped up from the couch where he’d been sitting. “But--” Stiles started, but Derek waved him silent.
“This,” he said, indicating to Jackson, “won’t fix anything between you and Jackson. It shouldn’t go like this, Stiles.”
“Then, what? We just let him go?” Stiles’ hands flew up to his sides and his gaze flickered to Jackson. Stiles’ eyes were gleaming and his face flushed with an uneven blush, but he looked guilty as well as aroused.
“No," Derek said, "but you have to call the shots yourself."
Jackson watched the expression on Stiles' face change. The yearning he had glimpsed in Stiles’ eyes earlier now spread across his features. “And that means?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
Derek sounded oddly defeated when he continued, “Stiles, you know what you want from him. You call the shots.”
//end of chapter 4 - continue to chapter 5
Pairings: established Derek/Stiles, eventual Derek/Stiles/Jackson, unrequited Derek/Jackson
Rating: NC-17 (for kink and violence)
Summary: After getting the bite, Jackson had thought that things would finally start going his way. But as Derek gets involved with Stiles, Jackson learns the hard way that werewolves and jealousy don't mix well.
Previous chapters: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3
Warnings for this chapter: humiliation!kink, violence, consent issues, dark themes, angst
Notes: This is a sequel to We Fit So Tight You And I.
No One Loves Me (And Neither Do I) - Ch. 4
Jackson woke up to the sound of the door opening. He didn’t have time to tell the intruder to go fuck themselves when he heard a brisk clip of heels entering his room. It didn’t sound like either of his parents, but Jackson knew that walk. He raised his head just in time to see Lydia’s face before she yanked the covers off him.
“Rise and shine, Jackson,” she called out, managing to sound both chipper and vexed in the space of one sentence.
“Hey!” Jackson made a grab for his sheets, pulling them to cover himself. “What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice was rough from sleep, cracking from the lack of use.
“You know, you can’t actually spend the rest of your life hiding in your room,” she said, giving his body a quick once-over as she spoke. It was just to assess the healing process, but Jackson couldn’t help feeling like a specimen under a scope. He resisted the urge to pull the sheets up.
“Who says I’m hiding?”
“Besides the fact that you’ve been skipping school for the last two days?”
A slight frown crossed Lydia’s brow as something behind Jackson caught her eye. He followed her gaze and saw a hint of orange plastic peeking from under his pillow; Jackson knew that Lydia recognized the drug bottles for what they were. He felt his face flush, but he didn’t move to hide the drugs as he turned to look back at Lydia. His gaze dared her to make a comment.
Lydia’s eyes narrowed, but her expression quickly smoothed out. Jackson knew she was filing this bit of knowledge for further use, but he was glad that she hadn’t pushed the issue. He was sure to get a lecture from his parents when they found out he’d emptied their medicine cabinet; he didn’t need to Lydia to remind him of his weakness.
“You need to suck it up, Jackson. You need to apologize.”
Jackson felt a flash of cold at the mere idea. He got up from the bed without saying a word and walked to his closet to get clothes. He didn’t bother wearing the blanket to cover his naked ass. As he pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, he heard Lydia give a small sigh. Her voice was much less clipped when she spoke again.
“You know you have to come back, right?”
He knew that she meant the pack and not the couple of days he’d missed from school. A surge of anger made his jaw clench, his fists balling up in his defense. “And let Derek finish the job?” he growled as he turned on his heels to face her.
Lydia didn’t seem fazed by his aggression. Jackson felt her eyes linger on the faint bruises still visible above the collar of his t-shirt; her expression changed as a flicker of worry crossed her features. It irked Jackson to see her concern, but he shared the feeling. Derek’s bite had taken a long time to heal, a lot longer than any wound Jackson had gotten since becoming a werewolf. Somehow, on some base instinct, he knew the Alpha’s bite had nearly killed him. The thought made him shudder.
Lydia seemed to sense the shift in his mood. She retreated to the window and opened the blinds, letting the afternoon sunlight flood the room. She glanced outside, her fingers playing with the necklace she was wearing, but then she seemed to realize her worrying fingers and dropped her hand. “I don’t think he’ll do that again,” she finally said to break the silence.
“You don’t know that.”
She looked like she wanted to ask, but Jackson cut her off before she could start. “You shouldn’t have interfered,” he said harshly. “He won’t be any more forgiving when...” he thought back to Derek’s last words, his body tense from remembering the violent aura that had surrounded him. “You should’ve just let him kill me.”
“Jackson...” Lydia started, but he waved her silent.
He paced a few steps, then sat heavily on the edge of his bed. “You don’t... You heard him,” he said haltingly, his fingers twitching like he wanted to scratch himself. “This isn’t over yet.”
The weight of Derek’s anger was still heavy on his shoulders. He could feel it in his bones, seeping into his bloodstream from the bite on his neck. He was back to square one. Back to being the dead man walking, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Jackson felt Lydia sitting down on the other side of the bed. She didn’t try to touch him, but there was something strangely comforting in her presence.
He had never really felt close to her when they had been dating; there had always been an air of pretense around their relationship, like they were only dating each other because that was expected of their status. Now that Lydia wasn’t playing the role of the high school trophy girlfriend to his budding star athlete anymore, Jackson could see her real face, sometimes. Those moments gave him a pause and made him wonder. If this was the Lydia she had been dating, where would they be now?
“You can’t always run away, Jackson,” Lydia said after a long silence. She seemed to hesitate before continuing, but as Jackson stayed silent, she grew impatient. There was a bitter edge to her voice now, or maybe it had been there all along but now it was more evident than before. “Isn’t this what you wanted, anyway?”
Jackson tensed, feeling sick as her words rang through his mind. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, anymore, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.
Lydia’s voice got cooler as she continued, and the fleeting moment of closeness was gone. “I didn’t ask for any of this werewolf crap in my life, but you don’t see me hiding in my room and crying into my pillow,” she said almost matter-of-factly, and Jackson could sense that she was pushing to get a reaction from him.
It worked. “I’m not crying,” Jackson grumbled through clenched teeth, throwing her a dirty look over his shoulder.
She answered his gaze with a challenging look. “You sure could have fooled me,” she said, a hint of a smirk on her lips. “If you asked me, I’d say you look down right heartbroken.”
Jackson felt the words stab through him and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He turned away, but he knew that Lydia has seen the bare look on his face.
“You can’t run away from Derek,” she said more silently now. “You can’t quit the pack just because you do something stupid and don’t know how to apologize for it.”
“You don’t know what--” Jackson started, but Lydia cut him off.
“What it’s like?” she hissed, suddenly heated. “Trust me, I know what it’s like to be stuck with someone who doesn’t want you. I know exactly what it’s like to watch that person chase after someone else, while you’re left wondering why you weren’t good enough.”
That hadn’t been what Jackson had been about to say, but Lydia’s words struck him silent. He could hear the sharp emotion in her voice and he glanced over his shoulder at her. She ignored him. Small shudders ran along her back as Lydia focused herself. Jackson could see her fingers bowed against her thigh, tense with effort as she forced herself to stay calm.
“I know it’s over between us, but you have to come back to the pack.” Her voice didn’t betray her emotions as she spoke, but when she turned to look at him, her eyes glowed with the brilliant shade of green of her wolf side. “Besides, if Derek didn’t manage to finish you off the first time, I doubt he’ll try the same trick again...” A quirk of her lips as she smiled revealed the tips of her canines. “Although that doesn’t really help your case, does it?”
Jackson cringed, his fingers lifting to brush over the faint bruising that remained of the bite. “Great. I can’t wait to find out what his next best trick is,” he muttered.
Lydia didn’t linger long after she had gotten her point across. Jackson was glad to have his room to himself again. He fell back on the tousled sheets and stared at the sky through the open blinds.
Jackson didn’t want to admit it, but Lydia’s visit had eased the worst of his fears and given life to a tiny seed of hope in his mind. Maybe she was right; Derek should definitely have learned the truth by now and if that was the case, why hadn’t it been him to come through Jackson’s door instead of Lydia? Maybe there was a way out that Jackson hadn’t thought of.
Now that the seed of hope had been sown, Jackson felt his restlessness return. He hadn’t heard from Derek since that night, but he had been hiding long enough. He wasn’t going to wait for Derek to seek him out, not this time.
Jackson picked up his cell phone and glanced at the time. It was Friday and the school had already let out, but there was a game that night where everyone would be going.
Everyone except for Jackson. Since he’d already been playing sick for the last couple of days, it would be weirder for him to show up to play than if he didn’t show up at all. Besides, with McCall in the game, even the coach wouldn’t miss him much.
And with everyone at the game, there would be no interruptions this time.
He felt his heart start racing as he typed out the message on his phone. “We need to talk.” He stared at the words on the screen for a long moment. Jackson didn’t know which way his destiny would turn, but it would definitely take a new direction tonight. He let his finger hover over the button before pressing down, anticipating the changes sending it would bring.
Jackson dropped the phone next to him. His heart still hammering uncomfortably, he scoured under his pillow for the drugs. He knew the brief moment of hope wouldn’t last.
***
Jackson parked his car next to Derek’s on the side of the former Hale house. He felt slightly relieved not to see Stiles’ jeep present. He half-expected Derek to jump him as soon as he got out of his car, but there was no ambush, no greeting with claws out this time. The air was still thick from the heat of the day, but everything felt normal; there was only the slightest current of expectation that carried in the evening air.
Eager to get things settled, Jackson jogged up to the front door. He pulled it open without hesitating and stepped inside, but the scent that caught his nose made him stop dead on his tracks.
Stiles’ scent made him want to turn on his heels and leave. It electrified him in a way Jackson hadn’t expected, and it took him a moment to convince himself to stay. He could sense the two people waiting for him in the barren room that had once been the livingroom of the house and Jackson reminded himself of why he was here. He took in a breath and squared his shoulders, then walked on.
The first thing his eyes fell on was Stiles.
From the way Stiles stood in the middle of the floor with his hands crossed over his chest, it was obvious that he had been pacing the room before Jackson had arrived. His dark eyes bore straight into Jackson, but Jackson’s gaze skirted around him, focusing instead on Derek’s silent form sitting on the dusty couch. Derek didn’t lift his eyes to greet him.
“Why is he here?”
Of course, that was the wrong question to start with, but Jackson didn’t care. He heard Stiles let out an indignant sound, but he kept his eyes on Derek.
Derek’s eyes narrowed as his attention focused on Jackson. “You don’t think Stiles has every right to be here?” he asked. He sounded incredulous, like he couldn’t believe his ears.
Jackson bit his teeth to keep himself from snapping something that would cause even more regret for him. “I assumed he would be at the game,” he said.
Derek stared at him, then shook his head. He glanced down at his hands and Jackson thought he looked somehow subdued, but he couldn’t put his finger on what gave him the impression. Derek lifted his gaze to meet Jackson’s and he said, “It’s not me you owe an apology to.”
But you’re the one who will punish me. You’re the one I need to atone for.
Jackson didn’t say his thoughts out loud as he reluctantly turned his gaze to Stiles.
This was the first time they were face to face since the incident at the supply closet. Flashes of memory scattered through Jackson mind, the images all raw and vibrant now that Stiles was standing right in front of him. Jackson felt uneasy, the shame and intrigue mixing in the pit of his stomach to a strange feeling of warmth. He could see his feelings mirrored in Stiles’ eyes, just for a moment before Stiles seemed to catch himself.
Jackson swallowed, then cleared the roughness from his throat. “I’m sorry for...” he started, pausing to find the right words, “for what happened.”
There was a spark of gratification in Stiles’ eyes, but it didn’t seem like Jackson’s apology had impressed him. A curious look of anticipation had come over Stiles’ face, like this was just the beginning and not the climax. His eyes were burning with dark intensity when he answered, drawling out his words.
“Yeah, a sorry’s not going to cut it anymore, Jackson.”
A slight frown crossed Jackson’s brow. “Well, what then? You want me to fall on my knees and beg for your mercy?” Jackson scoffed. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Stiles’ tongue flicked out to wet his lips. Normally, Jackson wouldn’t have even noticed the gesture, but there was something eager in the way Stiles did it that made Jackson feel a hint of nervousness add to the mix of emotions going through him.
“Something like that,” Stiles said.
Jackson tensed. Despite everything that had happened, it had somehow never occurred to Jackson that it would be Stiles demanding punishment from him. He had assumed it would be Derek to claim that right, but there was a look of yearning on Stiles’ face that told otherwise. Jackson was suddenly certain that whatever form of payback Stiles was thinking of would be worse than any wound the Alpha could carve into his body.
Jackson fought back the urge to shout, keeping his voice carefully measured. “Just fucking say what you want, Stiles.”
“I want you to feel like I did,” Stiles said. His words were equally measured and the look in his eyes was level, but there was something unsettling on his face when he spoke.
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. He couldn’t help it; his eyes trailed down to Stiles’ waist of their own accord. Now that he knew what to look for, it was easy to spot the way Stiles’ belly rounded out under his shirt. A part of Jackson was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before, especially given how much time he had spent looking at Stiles lately. Not even a five course meal can make me feel like you, fat boy. He bit his tongue not to let the remark slip, but he knew that Stiles could read the disdain in his expression.
“And how’s that?” Jackson said instead. Weak and pitiful, soft and round...
Spots of color had risen to Stiles’ cheeks, but there was no trace of vulnerability on his face. He looked at Jackson with determination, a humorless smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”
Derek had been watching them in silence. As if on cue, he now rose from the couch and walked to Stiles’ side, slipping his arm behind Stiles’ back to pull him against himself. He buried his face into Stiles’ neck, hiding it from Jackson’s view.
It was a simple sign of affection, but there was something desperate in the way Derek pulled Stiles against himself, his body language asking the question his lips didn’t say out loud. Stiles’ eyes didn’t leave Jackson as Derek embraced him, his body remaining tense under Derek’s touch. Jackson could read the desire written across Stiles’ features, but there was a different kind of emotion in the depths of his eyes. It looked like yearning and hesitation and shame bundled up into one, but just as Jackson thought he knew what it was, Derek murmured Stiles’ name under his breath.
Stiles blinked, dropping his gaze. “It’s okay,” Stiles muttered back, but his voice was slightly off.
An odd feeling was building inside Jackson as he watched the exchange. Somehow all of this felt like an act in a play, a part of some premeditated plan. Jackson wanted to ask what was okay, but he had a horrible feeling that he was about to find out.
Jackson watched Derek pull himself away from Stiles. He brushed his lips against the side of Stiles’ cheek; the gesture reminded Jackson of a farewell. When Derek straightened up, his eyes were glowing with red.
“Take off your clothes, Jackson.”
A cold shiver ran down Jackson’s spine. He didn’t move - not to leave nor to obey - but he knew that the point of no return had been passed the moment he had stepped inside the living room. “Why?” he asked in a strained voice.
“If you want to stay in the pack, you do as I say,” Derek sneered as he stepped in front of him, putting himself between Jackson and Stiles.
Derek’s voice had taken on a slightly gravelly tone, his canines lengthening in his mouth and his face morphing to show his wolf side. This wasn’t just Derek talking to him anymore - it was the Alpha addressing his subordinate. Jackson shivered again, this time with compulsion.
Breathing felt suddenly hard, as if the air had gotten heavier to breathe. Jackson felt cold sweat starting to pool in the small of his back, but he could feel the strain to obey. Before Derek took the chance to shred his clothes to get them off him, Jackson buttoned open his shirt and shook it off his shoulders.
Jackson held Derek’s gaze defiantly as he dropped the shirt at his feet, then unbuttoned the fly of his jeans and let them drop to his ankles. There was a moment of fumbling as he removed his shoes, but in a matter of moments, he was standing in front of Derek in just his underwear. Jackson’s fingers hesitated at the waistband, but with a flash of defiance, he didn’t remove them. They were brand name, but he could afford to lose the pair.
Derek took a moment to look him over, his gaze feeling heavy on Jackson’s bare skin. He didn’t let on what was going through his mind as he started circling around Jackson, until finally he broke the silence. “I know what happened,” Derek said. The cool edge in his voice cut into Jackson, making him shudder. Derek’s voice became a sharp hiss as his anger bled through his controlled front. “I know what you did to Stiles.”
Derek came to a stop in front of him, his red eyes flashing with rage. The aura that surrounded him grew thick and oppressing, making Jackson feel like he was slowly being strangled. Derek’s eyes were full of violent intentions, but it was the cold, calculating sneer that spread on his lips that got under Jackson’s skin.
Derek’s eyes traveled down Jackson’s body, taking in the sculpted muscle of his chest and stomach. Jackson knew that Derek could see every tremble that went through his body, but he couldn’t keep himself from shivering under his gaze.
Isn’t this what you wanted?
The mixture of fear and anticipation made him hard; the knowledge that there was no way of hiding his erection from Derek added a new level to his arousal.
There was a slight twitch on Derek’s face as he pulled in the scent of Jackson’s arousal. Derek started stalking again, moving slowly around Jackson like he was looking for the right spot to strike the first blow. When he got to Jackson’s side, he leaned over his shoulder to whisper:
“You want me, don’t you?”
Jackson shuddered, his lips parting to let out a gasp, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer Derek’s question.
“You want me so much you’ll even take it like this,” Derek said, his voice coming closer to Jackson’s ear, “as a punishment?”
“Yes,” Jackson whispered, his cock twitching in his underwear.
Derek’s laugh was soft but without mirth as he pulled away. “Now you’re suddenly obedient,” he mocked, but there was a strange discord in his voice, a hint of something that wasn’t in tune with his words and actions.
Derek’s fingers ghosted over Jackson’s jugular as his hand wrapped around Jackson’s windpipe. There was only slight pressure in his grip. His face appeared in Jackson’s view, his eyes gleaming. “Looks like I’m going to have to remind you why this is a punishment and not your fucking wet dream.”
Jackson wasn’t surprised when he felt Derek rip away his underwear. His skin prickled where Derek’s claws had cut into his flesh and Jackson shivered as he felt air between his legs. Despite the fear that made his balls shrivel and draw near to his body, his cock stood rigid in front of him.
Derek smoothed his hand down from Jackson’s neck in a slow caress. His claws scraped across Jackson’s chest, but didn’t break the skin. “You put so much effort in your body,” Derek said. He sounded like he was not expecting a reply so Jackson stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “So many hours spent to build all this muscle, to make yourself look...” Jackson suppressed a flinch as Derek’s claws sliced down his abdomen, leaving tiny red slashes behind them, “desirable.”
Jackson could see Derek pull in the heady smell of blood and when he exhaled, the sneer was back on his lips. Jackson felt the air around the Alpha intensify, like the wolf side of Derek was reveling in the pain it was causing, or, about to cause.
“I bet it drives you insane that I picked Stiles over you.”
Derek delivered the sentence with deliberate air of casualness, knowing that Jackson would react to his words.
The feeling of helpless rage was all too familiar to Jackson. His fists clenched and he could feel his canines push out as the burst of anger went through him. Derek’s laughter was low and pleased, in stark contrast to his hands that Jackson suddenly felt on his waist. Derek’s claws bore into his flesh, cutting cleanly through skin and muscle. Jackson choked down the cry of pain, grasping for control under Derek’s commanding presence.
Derek leaned his face closer, the taunting sneer on his feral face making him look slightly mad. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, Jackson,” Derek smiled coldly at him, forcing Jackson to look straight to his glowing eyes as he continued. “I think you know what it is about Stiles that initially drew my attention,” Derek said, “but does that really make it any easier for you? Knowing that your six pack holds no value in my eyes, that in the end, all the sacrifices you’ve made to make yourself look like a fucking underwear model are worthless.”
Derek’s voice poured over him like boiling water, leaving Jackson scalded and raw as his words sunk in. Jackson felt the trembling in his muscles grow into spasms, but Derek held him in place. He felt Derek’s claws dig in his sides, forcing a grunt to escape between his clenched teeth.
“Get on your knees.”
Whether it was from the weight of the Alpha’s command or the pain taking its toll, Jackson found himself falling to his knees in front of Derek. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, so he kept staring in front of him, straight at Derek’s crotch that was now at eye-level with him. He could see the outline of Derek’s erection through the denim of his jeans.
Derek didn’t seem to be in a hurry. He let his hands rest on Jackson’s shoulders as he continued to speak, his words like sharp little daggers that sliced straight through Jackson’s skin. “You’re wrong if you think it’s just about aesthetics, though. That I chose Stiles just because of his softness, his...” Derek’s voice cut off, like he couldn’t bring himself to complete the sentence. He changed course abruptly, his voice taking on a hard edge.
“There’s more to Stiles than just his looks, but you, Jackson? Underneath that perfect skin and muscle, what is there to you? You’re filled with nothing but self-loathing and hatred.”
Jackson felt his skin prickle and he couldn’t suppress the shudder that went through him.
“But you know that, don’t you? That’s why you’re here, now, on your knees and ready to take whatever you can get because you think that’s what you deserve. Not happiness, not love, but pain and punishment.”
To emphasize his words, Derek’s claws cut into him, raking across his pale skin in a slow, deliberate stroke that made blood well up and run down Jackson’s back. Another shudder went through him, but he still didn’t look up to Derek. He wanted to argue, wanted to deny it all, but there was nothing he could think of to defend himself with.
“You’ve been playing such a good little puppy to get my attention, but I saw through that act before you even asked for the bite.” Derek’s voice had become rougher, his aura growing stronger as the wolf side of him drained and reveled in Jackson’s hurt. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I only gave you the bite because I saw how weak you are. The only reason I turned you was because I knew I could control you.”
The weight of Derek’s hands left Jackson’s shoulders as he started to undo the fly of his jeans. Jackson felt frozen in his place, his breathing laboured and his skin slick with cold sweat and blood and yet, his cock felt thick and heavy between his legs, straining from the arousal. How could he deny himself that he wanted this.
Jackson saw Derek push his hand inside his jeans, but he didn’t pull out his cock. He reached for Jackson’s head and yanked Jackson’s face up to look at him. His expression looked forced, almost reluctant, and his words had lost their jeering tone when he spoke:
“You do know how to suck cock, don’t you?”
Jackson swallowed. He tried to relax his jaw to reply, but it felt like his teeth had been glued together. Despite the few times he’d had a guy suck his dick, he’d never been on this side of the equation before. The muscles on his face twitched nervously as his face flooded with heat. He hated being second-best at anything. He would give it his everything and that had to be good enough.
The sound that broke his hesitation was a rustle of cloth - the sound of someone shifting to change their position. It was such a small sound that had it not been for the otherwise complete silence, Jackson wouldn’t have even paid attention to it. Now it was a loud reminder that they were not the only people in the room.
The moment had been so intense that Jackson had forgotten Stiles’ presence. Embarrassment crawled over him like a nest of ants and Jackson cursed himself for the lapse in attention. This had been Stiles’ plan all along, hadn’t it? To make Jackson taste his own medicine; to drag out his deepest secrets and watch him burn with humiliation. Jackson couldn’t turn his head to see the look of satisfaction on Stiles’ face.
Derek pulled away from Jackson like he had suddenly caught fire. “I can’t do this,” he said, his voice muted with restraint. Derek stepped back so abruptly that Jackson almost reached for him, but when he looked up, Jackson saw that Derek’s eyes were not looking at him.
He was looking at Stiles, his features human and with a look of rueful determination on them.
A surge of jealousy made Jackson want to launch himself at Derek, force him to look at him, demand him to give Jackson what he deserved, even as twisted and bad as it was. Once again, it felt like Stiles had robbed him of his chance, and Jackson felt the humiliation of denial crawl over him all over again.
“I can’t do this,” Derek repeated.
Jackson glanced at Stiles as he jumped up from the couch where he’d been sitting. “But--” Stiles started, but Derek waved him silent.
“This,” he said, indicating to Jackson, “won’t fix anything between you and Jackson. It shouldn’t go like this, Stiles.”
“Then, what? We just let him go?” Stiles’ hands flew up to his sides and his gaze flickered to Jackson. Stiles’ eyes were gleaming and his face flushed with an uneven blush, but he looked guilty as well as aroused.
“No," Derek said, "but you have to call the shots yourself."
Jackson watched the expression on Stiles' face change. The yearning he had glimpsed in Stiles’ eyes earlier now spread across his features. “And that means?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
Derek sounded oddly defeated when he continued, “Stiles, you know what you want from him. You call the shots.”
//end of chapter 4 - continue to chapter 5