[fic] No One Loves Me (And Neither Do I) 5/5 (teen wolf, Derek/Stiles/Jackson)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairings: established Derek/Stiles, unrequited Derek/Jackson, Jackson/Stiles, Derek/Stiles/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, chapter 4
Warnings for this chapter: sexual content (threesome), chubby!kink, body worship, humiliation!kink, consent issues, dark themes
Notes: This is a sequel to We Fit So Tight You And I.
No One Loves Me (And Neither Do I) - Ch. 5
Denial was first on Stiles’ lips, but he didn’t voice it. He knew what Derek’s was saying, but that hadn’t been their plan. Stiles was supposed to watch from the sidelines where it was safe; he wasn’t supposed to get involved. But now Derek was looking at him with his eyes dark and determined, offering him something that was as enticing as it was dangerous.
“That’s not what we talked about,” Stiles said, his dry mouth making his voice come out sounding slightly off. He saw Derek’s brows pull into a frown and continued before Derek could speak. “You said you didn’t want that.”
Derek’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “I won’t be the one doing it, Stiles.”
Stiles felt a rush go through him, making his skin tingle in its wake. He tried to read through the expression on Derek’s face, but behind his serious features there was a wall that Stiles couldn’t see through. He hesitated. “And you’d be... okay with that?”
Derek took a moment to reply, but he held Stiles’ gaze the entire time. He looked resigned, but the set of his jaw was resolute. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be okay with,” he finally said.
Stiles exhaled, but breathing didn’t alleviate the tight feeling in his chest as he turned his gaze to Jackson. He was still half-crouched on the floor, but he rose on his feet to meet Stiles’ gaze. There were trails of blood all over his naked skin and his knees were covered in dirt, but Jackson didn’t seem to even notice his disheveled appearance. His face was a mask of barely concealed frustration, his glowing eyes sparking with anger. Stiles felt nailed to the spot by his stare.
“Is he going to be okay with that?”
“He will do whatever is necessary to stay in the pack.”
Jackson’s head jerked to the side at Derek’s words. His hands balled up to fists and his shoulders were set for battle, but he stayed completely still as Derek turned to meet his gaze. Derek’s eyes flashed back to red. “Won’t you, Jackson?”
A muscle twitched on Jackson’s face, but his voice was controlled when he answered. “Yes,” he said.
Stiles swallowed, his throat feeling thick and constricted. You know what you want from him, Derek’s words rang through his mind, but he didn’t make a move because--
How did you initiate something like this? Commands came easily for Derek, but Stiles was human and Jackson hated him. If Jackson were to lash out, he wouldn’t just heal in the matter of moments.
So this? This was anything but safe and sane, but still he couldn’t say no.
Both of them looked at Stiles when he stepped forward. His heart was pounding in his ears, so if either of them said anything, he didn’t hear it. He reached the space between the two and stopped, taking a deep breath. As he breathed out, Stiles felt his resolve settling into place.
He offered his hand to Derek. “Come here,” Stiles said. When Derek didn’t move, Stiles tilted his head to look at him.
Derek’s expression was impossible to read, the gleam of his red eyes in stark contrast to the bare look on his face. But he reached for Stiles’ hand and as their fingers caught hold of each other, he let Stiles pull him next to him.
Stiles smiled at him. He tried to make his tone sound light as he murmured, “I can’t do this if you’re not here to protect me,” but the strain in his voice made the joke sound too real.
When Stiles turned to face Jackson, he could feel Derek settling a few paces behind him like a knight set to serve as his guard. It made him feel like he was wielding Derek’s strength, his power, and Stiles held on to that feeling as he looked into Jackson’s narrowed eyes.
***
“I want you to do it like last time,” Stiles said, and Jackson immediately knew what he meant.
Jackson could see the yearning in Stiles’ eyes, the hunger for something he knew was wrong but something he still needed, and Jackson felt a flash of understanding as he recognized the emotion. Still, he couldn’t shake the bitterness of denial from his mind. If Stiles wanted to be in control, Jackson was going to make him work for it.
“And what would that be?” he asked, his words full of bite. “Want me to rough you up some more? Punch you in the gut?” He saw Stiles flinch, but his face was flushed with expectation.
“Something like that, yeah.”
Stiles reached for his hand so suddenly that Jackson didn’t think to resist. He brought Jackson’s hand to his middle and Jackson felt Stiles’ hand pressing on his, pushing, pulling it tight against his belly, and he couldn’t help glancing down.
The feel of Stiles’ pliable flesh under his fingers was a vivid reminder of the events in the supply closet only a few days earlier; Jackson shuddered as he felt his fingers sinking into the soft layer of fat that rounded out Stiles’ waist. He wanted to deny Stiles his pleasure, yet he found his hand grabbing onto Stiles’ gut, feeling the plump flesh through the fabric of his shirt. The sound of Stiles’ barely stifled gasp rang loudly in Jackson’s ears - almost as loudly as the beating of his heart.
Jackson could feel Derek's presence like a coat of needles on his skin, but he kept his focus on Stiles. He held Stiles’ gaze as he pinched the swell of flesh on his sides. His grip was hard, but he tightened it still, grasping Stiles’ pudgy waist with rough fingers until Stiles squirmed, a soft sound leaving his parted lips. “Something like this?” Jackson taunted, watching Stiles’ cheeks burn with hurt.
But there was a shade of pleasure, of elation on Stiles’ face that made Jackson crave for more. He didn’t hesitate as he yanked up Stiles’ shirt to reveal his stomach, his eyes flickering over the bruises on Stiles’ pale skin. The mottled yellow and purple marks looked like they were just slowly starting to heal. Jackson felt a shiver of dark pleasure at the sight of his handwork on Stiles’ flesh, but he gave Stiles pity and didn't grasp over the old bruises for a second time. Instead, he started pinching and prodding the roll of flesh at Stiles’ waist, a hint of a sneer touching his lips as he worried the soft fat between his fingers.
“Say what you’re thinking.” Stiles’ voice was rough, his breathless words giving away his desire.
Jackson could hear the longing woven into Stiles’ command. A rush of defiance coursed through him. He glared up at Stiles, kneading his fingers into Stiles’ gut. “That you’re a weirdo, not to mention a fucking pervert,” he spat out stubbornly.
Stiles’ laugh took him by surprise. “Takes one to know one,” Stiles said softly, a dark grin settling on his lips, and this time, he reached for Jackson’s cock and not his hand.
Jackson yelped as Stiles’ cool fingers touched his erection. He pulled Jackson’s cock against his belly, where its hard length pressed against the soft curve of Stiles’ gut. “You’re getting off on this too, so which one does that make you?” Jackson choked down a sound as Stiles nudged himself forward, making Jackson’s erection slide up on his belly.
Jackson bit his teeth and cursed in his mind. His felt like his body was betraying him again, but this time, it wasn’t because of aggression. “Fuck you,” Jackson said through his teeth, but he didn’t move back.
He felt Stiles’ laughter where his cock pressed against Stiles’ flesh, and the whole thing sent a spark of arousal up Jackson’s spine. Stiles was radiating heat, his dark eyes glimmering in last light of the setting sun. The room was getting dimmer and Jackson felt himself drawn into the scene against his will. He tried to focus, focus on finding that weak spot that would make the look of lust on Stiles’ face turn into a grimace.
“Christ,” Jackson muttered under his breath. He tore his eyes off Stiles’, dropping his gaze down to where his hands squeezed into his stomach. “When did you get so fat, anyway?” he murmured, speaking his thoughts without particular viciousness. Still, he felt Stiles’ reaction in the shiver that went through him at Jackson’s words. He moved his hands down the sides of Stiles’ belly, letting his eyes travel down to where his cock pushed against the round curve. It felt smooth, smooth and soft, and his erection twitched. Jackson swallowed, trying to ignore the growing heat at the pit of his stomach. “Last year when we had swimming, you were skinny back then,” Jackson continued. “What changed?”
He lifted his gaze, catching a glimpse of Stiles’ tongue as it flicked out to wet his lips. As tense as he was, Stiles managed to almost sound nonchalant. “Nothing changed,” he said, but there was a challenging look on his face, like he was urging Jackson to continue.
“Your waistline changed,” Jackson shot back at him. He was rewarded with a flicker of emotion on Stiles’ face.
“Come on, like you were paying attention to me or my waist back then,” Stiles almost snorted, a smile on his lips, “maybe I was always like this and you just didn’t notice.”
Jackson grabbed a handful of Stiles’ belly, his rough fingers dragging out a gasp of pleasure from Stiles’ lips. “Trust me, I would have noticed a fat gut like this,” he threw back with a sneer, but his voice lacked vitriol; it was warm and low, almost teasing.
Stiles’ answering laugh was breathless and warm, just as warm as his heated skin under Jackson’s touch. His scent filled Jackson’s senses, the tangy, sticky smell of it tickling his nose. Jackson couldn’t resist; he pulled it in, shivering at the tantalizing scent of Stiles’ arousal. He breathed out, trying to remember what he had been saying.
“Why did you let yourself get so fat?” Jackson prodded his fingers in Stiles’ gut. His throat felt tight, but he forced himself to continue. “Let me guess. You got into binge eating?”
“What? No.”
“You wanted to be the next Biggest Fattest Loser?”
“So, what, I made myself fat to get on TV? C’mon, Jackson, where’s the logic in that,” Stiles complained, but there was a pleased smirk playing on his lips. He was loving every minute of this, soaking up everything Jackson threw at him.
Jackson scowled at him, grasping a thick handful of Stiles’ belly. “Maybe you plan on switching to football? A few more pounds and you’d fit right in with the rest of the lard-ass linebackers.” He pushed Stiles’ shirt up to reveal more of his skin, then slapped hard on the side of Stiles’ gut, sending a ripple through the soft flesh. The soft sound that left Stiles’ lips was close to a moan; Jackson cursed under his breath as he felt his cock give a twitch in response. He knew that he needed to concentrate. He needed to find that soft spot that would make Stiles break in front of him again.
A grin spread on Jackson’s lips. He knew what had worked last time.
“Maybe he’s the reason.” Jackson waited until he caught Stiles’ eyes before he continued, speaking slowly and deliberately just as he rubbed the side of Stiles’ belly. “Did you let yourself get pudgy because Derek likes it?”
Jackson felt the air around them grow denser; he could feel Derek focus his attention on him. Stiles shivered, a strange expression crossing his face. “Nah, that’s not what happened,” Stiles said, but his denial was too rushed. It carried a tone that Jackson couldn’t identify, but the look on Stiles’ face made him push on.
“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Getting pudgy for him, like a prized pig.”
He felt Stiles tense up under his touch and knew without looking that Derek’s reaction had been the same. Jackson felt a wave of satisfaction course through him. He chuckled softly. “I bet you’ve thought about it. You two seem just twisted enough to get off on something like that,” he whispered, grabbing onto Stiles’ love handles and giving them a rough shake.
Jackson shivered in what felt like anticipation as Derek’s growl ripped through the silent room. Derek closed the distance between him and Stiles, but Stiles’ voice stopped him before Derek could push him out of the away.
“No!”
Derek froze at Stiles’ command, his hand clutching Stiles’ arm. For a fleeting moment, his red eyes caught with Jackson. The look in his eyes was hard to the point that Jackson felt a tug inside him.
“Derek,” Stiles said over his shoulder, “it’s okay.” Jackson felt him adjust to Derek, their bodies merging together easily. “It’s okay,” Stiles repeated, tilting his head in an invitation. Derek held Jackson’s gaze, the red in his eyes boiling with fervor as he brushed his mouth over the shell of Stiles’ ear. He didn’t speak as much as he growled Stiles’ name, his hands sliding up Stiles’ arms.
Stiles’ eyes were glinting with dark light when Jackson looked back at him. His face was flushed and the scent of lust was thick around him, but he seemed perfectly in command of the situation. “Wild imagination you got there, Jackson,” Stiles said, a slight grin on his lips.
“I didn’t hear you deny it.”
Stiles’ grin got wider. His hand was suddenly brushing up along Jackson’s shaft and the light touch of his fingers made Jackson’s breath hitch. “Well, you never denied that you were enjoying this, either,” Stiles said. His tone was almost teasing. He pressed his palm over Jackson’s erection where it still rested against the curve of his gut.
Between the firmness of Stiles’ fingers and the softness of his belly, Jackson couldn’t deny that it felt good. His hips jerked forward, needing the friction on his cock now that he had something to push against. He had never thought fucking someone’s belly fat could feel like this, this good; he’d just never considered it at all. Jackson groaned as he rutted his cock against Stiles’ hand, his gut, painfully aware that he was losing the edge he’d had over Stiles with each desperate thrust.
Jackson cursed as Stiles’ fist wrapped around the head of his cock. When nothing more happened, Jackson looked up to Stiles. He could barely keep himself from snapping out of sheer frustration.
“If you like it so much, why don’t you take a closer look,” Stiles said. His fingers were a constant pressure over the tip of Jackson’s cock. Stiles’ eyes were alive with desire, but his grip on Jackson was tight and commanding. There was only a slight hitch in Stiles’ voice as he continued, “You’ll have a better view from your knees.”
Jackson’s mouth opened to protest, but Stiles jerked his cock, reminding him of who was in control. “Get down,” Stiles said, and for the second time that day, Jackson found himself falling to his knees.
His hands fell to Stiles’ hips. Jackson expected to feel Derek’s hands there, but there was only a passing touch as Derek’s fingers trailed up to take Jackson’s place on Stiles’ waist. Only a hint of a daylight remained inside the house, but it was enough for Jackson to see Derek’s hands crossing over Stiles’ chest, pushing under his shirt as he embraced Stiles from behind. There was intimacy in the touch that felt out of place to the scene, but somehow, it fit right in. Jackson’s fingers tightened against the denim of Stiles’ jeans as he pulled his eyes away from the sight.
He studied the softened lines of the body in front of him. Stiles wasn’t skinny; Jackson realized now that it was Stiles’ wardrobe that had given him the appearance of being tall and skinny while hiding the way he was built. Stiles wasn’t skinny, but solid and husky, his muscles strong under a layer of softness. From Jackson’s point of view, his belly looked soft and billowy, spilling over the waistband of his jeans in a generous roll. There was a streak of precome where Jackson had rutted his cock against Stiles’ gut and seeing it made Jackson’s scalp tingle with shame. He swallowed, his eyes fixed on the glistening mark.
“Well?”
Jackson flushed as he realized that Stiles had been watching him. He looked up almost reluctantly, only to see a look of hunger in Stiles’ dark eyes. He was asking for more, more of everything Jackson had to offer, and Jackson realized there was no resistance left in him.
“You look even fatter from down here, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jackson breathed out, poking Stiles’ belly roll with a sharp finger. Stiles jolted in surprise, or was it because Derek’s fingers had just grazed over his nipples, but Jackson kept his focus on the pale skin that was within his reach.
Derek paused to help Stiles remove his shirt and all the shifting and moving made the softness just inches away from Jackson’s face jiggle just slightly. Jackson exhaled in a rush as he reached to brush his palms over the swell of Stiles’ love handles. He grasped a handful of fat, shuddering as the plump flesh gave in under his fingers like dough. “Fuck,” he cursed breathlessly, his voice growing tight as he went on, “someone should whip you into shape.”
un-fit,” he said softly, kneading into Stiles’ waist to feel the muscles buried underneath the flab. He could feel Derek’s movements through Stiles as Derek ground himself on Stiles’ backside, lost in a rhythm of his own. Jackson watched mesmerized as his fingers yielded into Stiles’ soft flesh in time with Derek’s thrusts. “He’d put you on a diet, fat boy.”
“Like he’d even care,” Stiles drawled hoarsely, a gasp following his words as Derek’s teeth bit into the side of his neck.
“He’s a crazy guy. I bet he’s just the kind of person to take it personally if someone on his team suddenly plumped up.” Jackson ran his hands down from Stiles’ sides to cup his belly, a shiver running down his spine as he did so. Stiles’ skin felt so smooth against his palms, so inviting to touch. His thumb trailed up the line of dark hair under Stiles’ belly button, tracing the curve of his gut. “The team physicals could be any day now, and you’re going to get busted with a fat gut like this--”
Jackson broke off as Stiles’ hands suddenly appeared in his view, reaching to undo the button of his jeans. Without thinking, Jackson batted his hands away and replaced them with his. Stiles sucked in a surprised breath, holding in his belly while Jackson fumbled with the zipper. As soon as Jackson had the fly open, Stiles let his gut expand, and Jackson had the strangest urge to run his tongue up the round curve of it.
He didn’t get a chance to follow through with the thought. Derek’s hands were already busy finding their way under Stiles’ clothes. He pushed down both the underwear and the jeans in one move to bare Stiles’ hips. With a little help, Stiles’ cock sprang free from the confines of his clothes and Jackson didn’t think, didn’t hesitate as he grabbed Stiles’ erection by the base of it and licked his tongue up along the shaft.
Jackson shuddered at the taste; it was zest and spunk and energy, setting his senses alight with hunger. Jackson felt his breath catching in his throat. He knew the mechanics, he was confident that he could pull off a simple blowjob without making a fool of himself. What made him pause was how much he found himself longing to do it.
He didn’t let himself get overwhelmed as he tilted Stiles’ cock, angling it to point to his mouth. But before he could take it in, Derek thrust against Stiles, making the tip of the erection push against Jackson’s lips. Shuddering, Jackson parted his lips to receive it. Stiles’ cock felt smooth and solid as it slid along his tongue, smooth and solid as Stiles’ body was under Jackson’s hands. But it was too much, too soon, and he barely managed to keep himself from gagging as Stiles’ cock hit the back of his mouth.
Jackson felt a hand settle on his shoulder. He started to pull back, but Stiles’ voice made him stop. “Easy,” Stiles murmured, repeating the word until Jackson relaxed. His voice was hoarse with passion and Jackson could feel the desire wrought in his tense muscles. Stiles’ cock gave a twitch against his lips, leaving Jackson with an odd craving to feel the movement repeated.
He let Stiles in, sucking his cock in with hunger. His nose was pressed tight under the roundness of Stiles’ belly as he swallowed Stiles’ cock. In a way Jackson couldn’t explain, it felt good. “Oh, God,” Stiles gasped. His fingers clenched on Jackson’s shoulder and he repeated, “Oh, God,” over and over as Jackson continued to blow him. For all the experience he lacked, Jackson knew that he was doing something right - he could feel the tremors that ran through Stiles’ body.
The momentum changed just as he was starting to get the hang of it. Stiles’ cock slammed at the back of his mouth and Jackson’s face crashed against Stiles’ middle as Derek took charge of setting the pace.
Grasping to stay in Derek’s rhythm, Jackson pulled himself into a better position. He ended with his forehead resting on the cushion of Stiles’ belly, the yield of it oddly pleasing as he adjusted to Derek’s pace. He scrambled to take hold of Stiles’ bare hips, but his hands moved as if they had a will of their of, reaching further until he was grabbing Stiles’ ass. He got caught between Stiles’ warm skin and Derek’s grinding hips.
Jackson couldn’t stop himself. He felt his way to the front of Derek’s jeans, startling slightly as he realized that his fly was still undone. His fingers brushed against something thick and warm, finding Derek’s cock nestled in the crack of Stiles’ ass. Derek bucked his hips against Stiles’ backside, his cock sliding up and along the crevice. In a moment of boldness, Jackson wrapped his fingers around Derek’s cock.
He felt Derek’s growl vibrate through Stiles’ body, but the sound carried no threat. Jackson clung to him, his moan muffled by Stiles’ cock. It was an awkward angle, but Jackson did his best to adapt to Derek’s thrusts as he moved, fucking Jackson’s mouth through Stiles.
Somehow, through groaning, gasps and curses, the three of them got into a groove that worked, building up the passion instead of breaking it down. Jackson couldn’t find it in himself to pull away. Not even when his jaws started aching and his muscles tired and his cock throbbed between his legs, needing to be touched. Stiles’ soft, solid body quivered against him, but he could feel Derek behind every thrust. He could hear Derek’s low murmuring voice as if he was speaking right next to Jackson’s ear.
Jackson didn’t pretend that Derek’s words were aimed at him; hearing them with his fingers still wrapped around Derek’s cock was bittersweet enough.
Stiles shuddered, his fingers clenching on Jackson’s shoulder and his cock pulsed in Jackson’s mouth. It was a relief to feel him come, but before Jackson’s mouth was filled with Stiles’ seed, he was suddenly shoved back. Jackson collapsed on the floor without grace, caught completely off guard. His eyes darted up as he pulled in deep gulps of air, readying himself for whatever came next.
The sight that caught his eyes made him stay on the ground. Derek had wrapped himself around Stiles, his hand taking the place of Jackson’s mouth. He watched as Derek milked the last drops of semen from Stiles’ erection in hard, deliberate strokes that left Stiles writhing against him.
Jackson felt his chest grow tight. It stung to be discarded, but he pushed the jealousy out of his mind. He reached between his legs, holding his dick on his palm as he focused on Derek. He couldn’t see Derek’s face, but he could read the urgency in Derek’s actions as he rubbed his hands over Stiles’ gut, spreading the come he’d milked from Stiles over his soft waist. Jackson felt his cock throb in his hand, but he resisted the urge to stroke it.
Stiles’ legs looked like they were about to give out, but Derek held him up. Jackson saw Derek reach for himself, stroking his cock in a hard beat while his other hand wrapped around Stiles possessively. It didn’t take long for him to find his release, a soft, choking sound leaving his lips as he came.
Jackson pulled in the scent, enjoying the burn of the pungent aroma in his nose. He watched as Derek spun Stiles around in his arms and claimed his mouth, his urgency etched with desperation and need as he pulled Stiles against him. He kissed Stiles roughly, licking and biting on Stiles’ lips. Jackson followed the path of his hands as Derek smeared his come to cover Stiles’ backside, kneading in his scent to Stiles’ skin with care and compulsion.
When Derek finally released Stiles, the expression on his face was still hungry. His eyes glowed with the need to possess; he wasn’t sated, not by a long shot, but instead of going for the main dish, Derek yanked up Stiles’ jeans. “You okay?” Jackson heard him whisper in Stiles’ ear, covering himself as he spoke.
Stiles’ voice was light and breathless. “Yeah, I’m, I’m fine,” Stiles said, but he sounded reedy and uneven. Not hurt, but overwhelmed, almost shell-shocked. Jackson noticed that Stiles’ fingers on Derek’s shoulder trembled slightly.
Derek hummed in reply as he helped Stiles back to the couch. His eyes were still red when he turned to look at Jackson, his gaze swiftly moving down to Jackson’s hips. Jackson shivered as Derek’s eyes measured the length of his arousal.
“You want me to help you with that?”
Jackson started to answer, then realized that something had changed. Where he would have given his reply with the drop of his jeans before, he now found himself hesitating. There was a decision to be made where there had been conviction before.
Derek walked to where Stiles had dropped his shirt and picked it up. He tossed it to Stiles before sitting down on the edge of the couch next to him. Compared to Stiles’ come-streaked skin and Jackson’s coat of grime and blood, Derek looked almost composed in his rumpled clothes. He glanced up to Jackson, a calm expression on his face. He didn’t repeat the question.
Jackson got up. His body was still wired with desire, but he shoved back the need. He covered himself as he approached Derek, his bare feet making no noise on the barren floor. Jackson kept his hand over his arousal as he stopped to stand in front of Derek.
Derek’s held his gaze patiently, but Jackson knew that this was his last chance. He scanned Derek’s face for a sign, but there was no tangible expression on Derek’s face other than the offer that still stood. It took a moment for Jackson to realize that what he was looking for was not something, but the lack of it.
There was no pity in Derek’s eyes. Jackson let his breath out in a gush, his hand falling to his side.
Derek’s hand was warm when he wrapped his fingers around Jackson’s erection. He didn’t stroke it, just rubbed his thumb along the hard shaft before taking it in his mouth. Jackson gasped, his mouth falling open to let out the sound. Derek took his time to get Jackson’s cock slick and wet until he started sucking earnestly, Jackson’s dick sliding in and out of his hot mouth as he bobbed his head.
His mouth was skilled; Derek’s tongue knew tricks that made Jackson’s toes curl up and his hands reach for Derek’s shoulders for support. But at the same time, there was something clinical in the way Derek took care of him. Jackson could feel the lack of passion in Derek’s touch, his mouth giving him the luxury of pleasure but not drawing any for himself. It was a task, but...
Derek was doing it for Jackson.
Jackson was aware that Stiles was looking at them from where he rested against the couch, but Jackson ignored him. He focused on Derek’s dark head working on his arousal, shivering as he inhaled Derek’s scent. He allowed his fingers to brush against the short hair at the nape of Derek’s neck. He moved slowly, dreading the moment when Derek would refuse him, but nothing happened. Jackson let his fingers trail up as Derek kept sucking at his cock, working him over, giving him what he needed.
Jackson shuddered and closed his eyes. He jerked in surprise when he felt Derek’s hand cupping his balls, squeezing them roughly, as if he knew that’s what Jackson needed to push over the edge. Jackson bucked his hips forward, burying himself in Derek’s mouth until his cock hit the back of Derek’s throat.
Derek held him in as he climaxed, waiting until the spasms had subsided before he pulled himself away. Jackson held his eyes closed, taking a moment to even his breathing. He didn’t hurry to pull back his hands. When he felt composed enough, he opened his eyes to see Derek watching him with a shrouded look in his eyes.
Jackson forced himself to break the silence. “What happens next?”
Derek’s expression didn’t change. “Nothing happens.”
Jackson felt a familiar frustration starting to build up inside him. “So this was a one time deal?”
Derek tensed, but didn’t answer. He glanced at Stiles and Jackson followed his gaze to Stiles’ sleeping form. Or, what appeared to be his sleeping form, as both the werewolves could tell that he was only pretending - neither of them had missed the skip in Stiles’ pulse just now.
There was almost no light left inside the house, but Jackson could see the heat still lingering on Stiles’ cheeks. Flashes of their moment of passion filtered through Jackson’s mind, the shame and desire woven into the fresh memories giving him a shiver. He could feel that the playfield between them had changed.
The line they had crossed had landed them on unknown ground where it wasn’t about Derek anymore; Jackson idly wondered if it had ever been about Derek at all. It wasn’t desire that he felt when he looked at Stiles, but the violent impulse to hurt him, to tear him to pieces any which way possible, was gone.
Derek’s sigh was almost inaudible, but it dragged Jackson’s attention back to him. Jackson was grateful to have something else to focus on. This new field that lay between him and Stiles was not something he wanted to think about in front of Derek, especially in his still naked form.
“Get dressed. Go home,” Derek said to him, turning away from Stiles.
Jackson opened his mouth to protest, then closed it as he realized there was nothing left to say. He hated Derek’s habit of not giving answers, but he knew that the question he’d asked could only be answered by Stiles. Jackson threw one last glance at Stiles’ before turning to gather his clothes. As irritating as Stiles’ behavior was, Jackson was too tired to argue. If Stiles wanted to play a coward, fine. Sooner or later, Jackson would get his answer.
He pulled on his clothes, fleetingly hoping that the blood on his skin had dried enough not to completely ruin them. He turned to face the doorway, but he couldn’t make his feet move to leave the room.
“Tell Stiles I’m sorry for what happened at practice.” His voice was silent, but Jackson knew that even Stiles could hear his words in the dark room.
“I will.”
Jackson didn’t expect him to continue, but Derek’s voice stopped him just as he was starting to leave. “Jackson,” Derek said, waiting until Jackson had turned back to him before continuing, “you stay in the pack.”
His eyes were glowing, but the expression on his face was sober. They could both feel that the weight of the phrase had changed. It was heavier in a way, but jagged and rough, undefinable.
Jackson didn’t know how to respond, so he just left.
A cool breeze hit him as Jackson walked to his car. It chased away the heat of the day, making Jackson wish he’d brought his jacket. He checked his phone; there were several missed calls and messages in his inbox. Seeing his dad’s name on the sender’s list made him grimace. Just the fact that his parents had bothered to send him a message instead of waiting for him to call back was a sure sign of trouble.
There was message from Danny reporting that they had won the game. McCall had scored half the points for the team and led them to a crush victory. Somehow, it didn’t bother Jackson as much as he’d expected. Jackson pocketed his phone and decided to ask Danny to train with him on the weekend. After spending days wallowing on his bed, a good workout was exactly what he needed. By tomorrow, Derek’s claw marks on his skin should have faded enough not to raise questions.
Jackson knew that his parents were waiting for him, but he headed for a different direction. He didn’t drive aimlessly, but he was still slightly surprised to find himself on the street that lead to the school.
He let his speed drop to a crawl, glancing over the dark sports field as he drove past it. He didn’t regret missing the game that night, but he did miss playing. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he thought how close he’d come to losing it all. Now, the whole mess felt like a bad dream, but Jackson couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The lightless ground looked oddly peaceful as it slid past Jackson’s side view, and he realized what it was.
The shroud of aggression over him had vanished.
Startled, he searched inside himself, finding the slowly simmering rage that had been his companion for so long reduced to ashes. In a strange way, it almost felt like he had lost something.
But he didn’t feel empty. He felt tired and dirty and sore, but more than all that, he felt in control. A hint of a smile touched his lips.
It hadn’t exactly been flowers and chocolate, but Stiles had actually managed to help him. Jackson scoffed. At least there was no crying, he thought as he brought his foot down on the gas.
He headed home.
//end of chapter 5 - continue to epilogue
Pairings: established Derek/Stiles, unrequited Derek/Jackson, Jackson/Stiles, Derek/Stiles/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, chapter 4
Warnings for this chapter: sexual content (threesome), chubby!kink, body worship, humiliation!kink, consent issues, dark themes
Notes: This is a sequel to We Fit So Tight You And I.
No One Loves Me (And Neither Do I) - Ch. 5
Denial was first on Stiles’ lips, but he didn’t voice it. He knew what Derek’s was saying, but that hadn’t been their plan. Stiles was supposed to watch from the sidelines where it was safe; he wasn’t supposed to get involved. But now Derek was looking at him with his eyes dark and determined, offering him something that was as enticing as it was dangerous.
“That’s not what we talked about,” Stiles said, his dry mouth making his voice come out sounding slightly off. He saw Derek’s brows pull into a frown and continued before Derek could speak. “You said you didn’t want that.”
Derek’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “I won’t be the one doing it, Stiles.”
Stiles felt a rush go through him, making his skin tingle in its wake. He tried to read through the expression on Derek’s face, but behind his serious features there was a wall that Stiles couldn’t see through. He hesitated. “And you’d be... okay with that?”
Derek took a moment to reply, but he held Stiles’ gaze the entire time. He looked resigned, but the set of his jaw was resolute. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be okay with,” he finally said.
Stiles exhaled, but breathing didn’t alleviate the tight feeling in his chest as he turned his gaze to Jackson. He was still half-crouched on the floor, but he rose on his feet to meet Stiles’ gaze. There were trails of blood all over his naked skin and his knees were covered in dirt, but Jackson didn’t seem to even notice his disheveled appearance. His face was a mask of barely concealed frustration, his glowing eyes sparking with anger. Stiles felt nailed to the spot by his stare.
“Is he going to be okay with that?”
“He will do whatever is necessary to stay in the pack.”
Jackson’s head jerked to the side at Derek’s words. His hands balled up to fists and his shoulders were set for battle, but he stayed completely still as Derek turned to meet his gaze. Derek’s eyes flashed back to red. “Won’t you, Jackson?”
A muscle twitched on Jackson’s face, but his voice was controlled when he answered. “Yes,” he said.
Stiles swallowed, his throat feeling thick and constricted. You know what you want from him, Derek’s words rang through his mind, but he didn’t make a move because--
How did you initiate something like this? Commands came easily for Derek, but Stiles was human and Jackson hated him. If Jackson were to lash out, he wouldn’t just heal in the matter of moments.
So this? This was anything but safe and sane, but still he couldn’t say no.
Both of them looked at Stiles when he stepped forward. His heart was pounding in his ears, so if either of them said anything, he didn’t hear it. He reached the space between the two and stopped, taking a deep breath. As he breathed out, Stiles felt his resolve settling into place.
He offered his hand to Derek. “Come here,” Stiles said. When Derek didn’t move, Stiles tilted his head to look at him.
Derek’s expression was impossible to read, the gleam of his red eyes in stark contrast to the bare look on his face. But he reached for Stiles’ hand and as their fingers caught hold of each other, he let Stiles pull him next to him.
Stiles smiled at him. He tried to make his tone sound light as he murmured, “I can’t do this if you’re not here to protect me,” but the strain in his voice made the joke sound too real.
When Stiles turned to face Jackson, he could feel Derek settling a few paces behind him like a knight set to serve as his guard. It made him feel like he was wielding Derek’s strength, his power, and Stiles held on to that feeling as he looked into Jackson’s narrowed eyes.
***
“I want you to do it like last time,” Stiles said, and Jackson immediately knew what he meant.
Jackson could see the yearning in Stiles’ eyes, the hunger for something he knew was wrong but something he still needed, and Jackson felt a flash of understanding as he recognized the emotion. Still, he couldn’t shake the bitterness of denial from his mind. If Stiles wanted to be in control, Jackson was going to make him work for it.
“And what would that be?” he asked, his words full of bite. “Want me to rough you up some more? Punch you in the gut?” He saw Stiles flinch, but his face was flushed with expectation.
“Something like that, yeah.”
Stiles reached for his hand so suddenly that Jackson didn’t think to resist. He brought Jackson’s hand to his middle and Jackson felt Stiles’ hand pressing on his, pushing, pulling it tight against his belly, and he couldn’t help glancing down.
The feel of Stiles’ pliable flesh under his fingers was a vivid reminder of the events in the supply closet only a few days earlier; Jackson shuddered as he felt his fingers sinking into the soft layer of fat that rounded out Stiles’ waist. He wanted to deny Stiles his pleasure, yet he found his hand grabbing onto Stiles’ gut, feeling the plump flesh through the fabric of his shirt. The sound of Stiles’ barely stifled gasp rang loudly in Jackson’s ears - almost as loudly as the beating of his heart.
Jackson could feel Derek's presence like a coat of needles on his skin, but he kept his focus on Stiles. He held Stiles’ gaze as he pinched the swell of flesh on his sides. His grip was hard, but he tightened it still, grasping Stiles’ pudgy waist with rough fingers until Stiles squirmed, a soft sound leaving his parted lips. “Something like this?” Jackson taunted, watching Stiles’ cheeks burn with hurt.
But there was a shade of pleasure, of elation on Stiles’ face that made Jackson crave for more. He didn’t hesitate as he yanked up Stiles’ shirt to reveal his stomach, his eyes flickering over the bruises on Stiles’ pale skin. The mottled yellow and purple marks looked like they were just slowly starting to heal. Jackson felt a shiver of dark pleasure at the sight of his handwork on Stiles’ flesh, but he gave Stiles pity and didn't grasp over the old bruises for a second time. Instead, he started pinching and prodding the roll of flesh at Stiles’ waist, a hint of a sneer touching his lips as he worried the soft fat between his fingers.
“Say what you’re thinking.” Stiles’ voice was rough, his breathless words giving away his desire.
Jackson could hear the longing woven into Stiles’ command. A rush of defiance coursed through him. He glared up at Stiles, kneading his fingers into Stiles’ gut. “That you’re a weirdo, not to mention a fucking pervert,” he spat out stubbornly.
Stiles’ laugh took him by surprise. “Takes one to know one,” Stiles said softly, a dark grin settling on his lips, and this time, he reached for Jackson’s cock and not his hand.
Jackson yelped as Stiles’ cool fingers touched his erection. He pulled Jackson’s cock against his belly, where its hard length pressed against the soft curve of Stiles’ gut. “You’re getting off on this too, so which one does that make you?” Jackson choked down a sound as Stiles nudged himself forward, making Jackson’s erection slide up on his belly.
Jackson bit his teeth and cursed in his mind. His felt like his body was betraying him again, but this time, it wasn’t because of aggression. “Fuck you,” Jackson said through his teeth, but he didn’t move back.
He felt Stiles’ laughter where his cock pressed against Stiles’ flesh, and the whole thing sent a spark of arousal up Jackson’s spine. Stiles was radiating heat, his dark eyes glimmering in last light of the setting sun. The room was getting dimmer and Jackson felt himself drawn into the scene against his will. He tried to focus, focus on finding that weak spot that would make the look of lust on Stiles’ face turn into a grimace.
“Christ,” Jackson muttered under his breath. He tore his eyes off Stiles’, dropping his gaze down to where his hands squeezed into his stomach. “When did you get so fat, anyway?” he murmured, speaking his thoughts without particular viciousness. Still, he felt Stiles’ reaction in the shiver that went through him at Jackson’s words. He moved his hands down the sides of Stiles’ belly, letting his eyes travel down to where his cock pushed against the round curve. It felt smooth, smooth and soft, and his erection twitched. Jackson swallowed, trying to ignore the growing heat at the pit of his stomach. “Last year when we had swimming, you were skinny back then,” Jackson continued. “What changed?”
He lifted his gaze, catching a glimpse of Stiles’ tongue as it flicked out to wet his lips. As tense as he was, Stiles managed to almost sound nonchalant. “Nothing changed,” he said, but there was a challenging look on his face, like he was urging Jackson to continue.
“Your waistline changed,” Jackson shot back at him. He was rewarded with a flicker of emotion on Stiles’ face.
“Come on, like you were paying attention to me or my waist back then,” Stiles almost snorted, a smile on his lips, “maybe I was always like this and you just didn’t notice.”
Jackson grabbed a handful of Stiles’ belly, his rough fingers dragging out a gasp of pleasure from Stiles’ lips. “Trust me, I would have noticed a fat gut like this,” he threw back with a sneer, but his voice lacked vitriol; it was warm and low, almost teasing.
Stiles’ answering laugh was breathless and warm, just as warm as his heated skin under Jackson’s touch. His scent filled Jackson’s senses, the tangy, sticky smell of it tickling his nose. Jackson couldn’t resist; he pulled it in, shivering at the tantalizing scent of Stiles’ arousal. He breathed out, trying to remember what he had been saying.
“Why did you let yourself get so fat?” Jackson prodded his fingers in Stiles’ gut. His throat felt tight, but he forced himself to continue. “Let me guess. You got into binge eating?”
“What? No.”
“You wanted to be the next Biggest Fattest Loser?”
“So, what, I made myself fat to get on TV? C’mon, Jackson, where’s the logic in that,” Stiles complained, but there was a pleased smirk playing on his lips. He was loving every minute of this, soaking up everything Jackson threw at him.
Jackson scowled at him, grasping a thick handful of Stiles’ belly. “Maybe you plan on switching to football? A few more pounds and you’d fit right in with the rest of the lard-ass linebackers.” He pushed Stiles’ shirt up to reveal more of his skin, then slapped hard on the side of Stiles’ gut, sending a ripple through the soft flesh. The soft sound that left Stiles’ lips was close to a moan; Jackson cursed under his breath as he felt his cock give a twitch in response. He knew that he needed to concentrate. He needed to find that soft spot that would make Stiles break in front of him again.
A grin spread on Jackson’s lips. He knew what had worked last time.
“Maybe he’s the reason.” Jackson waited until he caught Stiles’ eyes before he continued, speaking slowly and deliberately just as he rubbed the side of Stiles’ belly. “Did you let yourself get pudgy because Derek likes it?”
Jackson felt the air around them grow denser; he could feel Derek focus his attention on him. Stiles shivered, a strange expression crossing his face. “Nah, that’s not what happened,” Stiles said, but his denial was too rushed. It carried a tone that Jackson couldn’t identify, but the look on Stiles’ face made him push on.
“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Getting pudgy for him, like a prized pig.”
He felt Stiles tense up under his touch and knew without looking that Derek’s reaction had been the same. Jackson felt a wave of satisfaction course through him. He chuckled softly. “I bet you’ve thought about it. You two seem just twisted enough to get off on something like that,” he whispered, grabbing onto Stiles’ love handles and giving them a rough shake.
Jackson shivered in what felt like anticipation as Derek’s growl ripped through the silent room. Derek closed the distance between him and Stiles, but Stiles’ voice stopped him before Derek could push him out of the away.
“No!”
Derek froze at Stiles’ command, his hand clutching Stiles’ arm. For a fleeting moment, his red eyes caught with Jackson. The look in his eyes was hard to the point that Jackson felt a tug inside him.
“Derek,” Stiles said over his shoulder, “it’s okay.” Jackson felt him adjust to Derek, their bodies merging together easily. “It’s okay,” Stiles repeated, tilting his head in an invitation. Derek held Jackson’s gaze, the red in his eyes boiling with fervor as he brushed his mouth over the shell of Stiles’ ear. He didn’t speak as much as he growled Stiles’ name, his hands sliding up Stiles’ arms.
Stiles’ eyes were glinting with dark light when Jackson looked back at him. His face was flushed and the scent of lust was thick around him, but he seemed perfectly in command of the situation. “Wild imagination you got there, Jackson,” Stiles said, a slight grin on his lips.
“I didn’t hear you deny it.”
Stiles’ grin got wider. His hand was suddenly brushing up along Jackson’s shaft and the light touch of his fingers made Jackson’s breath hitch. “Well, you never denied that you were enjoying this, either,” Stiles said. His tone was almost teasing. He pressed his palm over Jackson’s erection where it still rested against the curve of his gut.
Between the firmness of Stiles’ fingers and the softness of his belly, Jackson couldn’t deny that it felt good. His hips jerked forward, needing the friction on his cock now that he had something to push against. He had never thought fucking someone’s belly fat could feel like this, this good; he’d just never considered it at all. Jackson groaned as he rutted his cock against Stiles’ hand, his gut, painfully aware that he was losing the edge he’d had over Stiles with each desperate thrust.
Jackson cursed as Stiles’ fist wrapped around the head of his cock. When nothing more happened, Jackson looked up to Stiles. He could barely keep himself from snapping out of sheer frustration.
“If you like it so much, why don’t you take a closer look,” Stiles said. His fingers were a constant pressure over the tip of Jackson’s cock. Stiles’ eyes were alive with desire, but his grip on Jackson was tight and commanding. There was only a slight hitch in Stiles’ voice as he continued, “You’ll have a better view from your knees.”
Jackson’s mouth opened to protest, but Stiles jerked his cock, reminding him of who was in control. “Get down,” Stiles said, and for the second time that day, Jackson found himself falling to his knees.
His hands fell to Stiles’ hips. Jackson expected to feel Derek’s hands there, but there was only a passing touch as Derek’s fingers trailed up to take Jackson’s place on Stiles’ waist. Only a hint of a daylight remained inside the house, but it was enough for Jackson to see Derek’s hands crossing over Stiles’ chest, pushing under his shirt as he embraced Stiles from behind. There was intimacy in the touch that felt out of place to the scene, but somehow, it fit right in. Jackson’s fingers tightened against the denim of Stiles’ jeans as he pulled his eyes away from the sight.
He studied the softened lines of the body in front of him. Stiles wasn’t skinny; Jackson realized now that it was Stiles’ wardrobe that had given him the appearance of being tall and skinny while hiding the way he was built. Stiles wasn’t skinny, but solid and husky, his muscles strong under a layer of softness. From Jackson’s point of view, his belly looked soft and billowy, spilling over the waistband of his jeans in a generous roll. There was a streak of precome where Jackson had rutted his cock against Stiles’ gut and seeing it made Jackson’s scalp tingle with shame. He swallowed, his eyes fixed on the glistening mark.
“Well?”
Jackson flushed as he realized that Stiles had been watching him. He looked up almost reluctantly, only to see a look of hunger in Stiles’ dark eyes. He was asking for more, more of everything Jackson had to offer, and Jackson realized there was no resistance left in him.
“You look even fatter from down here, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jackson breathed out, poking Stiles’ belly roll with a sharp finger. Stiles jolted in surprise, or was it because Derek’s fingers had just grazed over his nipples, but Jackson kept his focus on the pale skin that was within his reach.
Derek paused to help Stiles remove his shirt and all the shifting and moving made the softness just inches away from Jackson’s face jiggle just slightly. Jackson exhaled in a rush as he reached to brush his palms over the swell of Stiles’ love handles. He grasped a handful of fat, shuddering as the plump flesh gave in under his fingers like dough. “Fuck,” he cursed breathlessly, his voice growing tight as he went on, “someone should whip you into shape.”
un-fit,” he said softly, kneading into Stiles’ waist to feel the muscles buried underneath the flab. He could feel Derek’s movements through Stiles as Derek ground himself on Stiles’ backside, lost in a rhythm of his own. Jackson watched mesmerized as his fingers yielded into Stiles’ soft flesh in time with Derek’s thrusts. “He’d put you on a diet, fat boy.”
“Like he’d even care,” Stiles drawled hoarsely, a gasp following his words as Derek’s teeth bit into the side of his neck.
“He’s a crazy guy. I bet he’s just the kind of person to take it personally if someone on his team suddenly plumped up.” Jackson ran his hands down from Stiles’ sides to cup his belly, a shiver running down his spine as he did so. Stiles’ skin felt so smooth against his palms, so inviting to touch. His thumb trailed up the line of dark hair under Stiles’ belly button, tracing the curve of his gut. “The team physicals could be any day now, and you’re going to get busted with a fat gut like this--”
Jackson broke off as Stiles’ hands suddenly appeared in his view, reaching to undo the button of his jeans. Without thinking, Jackson batted his hands away and replaced them with his. Stiles sucked in a surprised breath, holding in his belly while Jackson fumbled with the zipper. As soon as Jackson had the fly open, Stiles let his gut expand, and Jackson had the strangest urge to run his tongue up the round curve of it.
He didn’t get a chance to follow through with the thought. Derek’s hands were already busy finding their way under Stiles’ clothes. He pushed down both the underwear and the jeans in one move to bare Stiles’ hips. With a little help, Stiles’ cock sprang free from the confines of his clothes and Jackson didn’t think, didn’t hesitate as he grabbed Stiles’ erection by the base of it and licked his tongue up along the shaft.
Jackson shuddered at the taste; it was zest and spunk and energy, setting his senses alight with hunger. Jackson felt his breath catching in his throat. He knew the mechanics, he was confident that he could pull off a simple blowjob without making a fool of himself. What made him pause was how much he found himself longing to do it.
He didn’t let himself get overwhelmed as he tilted Stiles’ cock, angling it to point to his mouth. But before he could take it in, Derek thrust against Stiles, making the tip of the erection push against Jackson’s lips. Shuddering, Jackson parted his lips to receive it. Stiles’ cock felt smooth and solid as it slid along his tongue, smooth and solid as Stiles’ body was under Jackson’s hands. But it was too much, too soon, and he barely managed to keep himself from gagging as Stiles’ cock hit the back of his mouth.
Jackson felt a hand settle on his shoulder. He started to pull back, but Stiles’ voice made him stop. “Easy,” Stiles murmured, repeating the word until Jackson relaxed. His voice was hoarse with passion and Jackson could feel the desire wrought in his tense muscles. Stiles’ cock gave a twitch against his lips, leaving Jackson with an odd craving to feel the movement repeated.
He let Stiles in, sucking his cock in with hunger. His nose was pressed tight under the roundness of Stiles’ belly as he swallowed Stiles’ cock. In a way Jackson couldn’t explain, it felt good. “Oh, God,” Stiles gasped. His fingers clenched on Jackson’s shoulder and he repeated, “Oh, God,” over and over as Jackson continued to blow him. For all the experience he lacked, Jackson knew that he was doing something right - he could feel the tremors that ran through Stiles’ body.
The momentum changed just as he was starting to get the hang of it. Stiles’ cock slammed at the back of his mouth and Jackson’s face crashed against Stiles’ middle as Derek took charge of setting the pace.
Grasping to stay in Derek’s rhythm, Jackson pulled himself into a better position. He ended with his forehead resting on the cushion of Stiles’ belly, the yield of it oddly pleasing as he adjusted to Derek’s pace. He scrambled to take hold of Stiles’ bare hips, but his hands moved as if they had a will of their of, reaching further until he was grabbing Stiles’ ass. He got caught between Stiles’ warm skin and Derek’s grinding hips.
Jackson couldn’t stop himself. He felt his way to the front of Derek’s jeans, startling slightly as he realized that his fly was still undone. His fingers brushed against something thick and warm, finding Derek’s cock nestled in the crack of Stiles’ ass. Derek bucked his hips against Stiles’ backside, his cock sliding up and along the crevice. In a moment of boldness, Jackson wrapped his fingers around Derek’s cock.
He felt Derek’s growl vibrate through Stiles’ body, but the sound carried no threat. Jackson clung to him, his moan muffled by Stiles’ cock. It was an awkward angle, but Jackson did his best to adapt to Derek’s thrusts as he moved, fucking Jackson’s mouth through Stiles.
Somehow, through groaning, gasps and curses, the three of them got into a groove that worked, building up the passion instead of breaking it down. Jackson couldn’t find it in himself to pull away. Not even when his jaws started aching and his muscles tired and his cock throbbed between his legs, needing to be touched. Stiles’ soft, solid body quivered against him, but he could feel Derek behind every thrust. He could hear Derek’s low murmuring voice as if he was speaking right next to Jackson’s ear.
Jackson didn’t pretend that Derek’s words were aimed at him; hearing them with his fingers still wrapped around Derek’s cock was bittersweet enough.
Stiles shuddered, his fingers clenching on Jackson’s shoulder and his cock pulsed in Jackson’s mouth. It was a relief to feel him come, but before Jackson’s mouth was filled with Stiles’ seed, he was suddenly shoved back. Jackson collapsed on the floor without grace, caught completely off guard. His eyes darted up as he pulled in deep gulps of air, readying himself for whatever came next.
The sight that caught his eyes made him stay on the ground. Derek had wrapped himself around Stiles, his hand taking the place of Jackson’s mouth. He watched as Derek milked the last drops of semen from Stiles’ erection in hard, deliberate strokes that left Stiles writhing against him.
Jackson felt his chest grow tight. It stung to be discarded, but he pushed the jealousy out of his mind. He reached between his legs, holding his dick on his palm as he focused on Derek. He couldn’t see Derek’s face, but he could read the urgency in Derek’s actions as he rubbed his hands over Stiles’ gut, spreading the come he’d milked from Stiles over his soft waist. Jackson felt his cock throb in his hand, but he resisted the urge to stroke it.
Stiles’ legs looked like they were about to give out, but Derek held him up. Jackson saw Derek reach for himself, stroking his cock in a hard beat while his other hand wrapped around Stiles possessively. It didn’t take long for him to find his release, a soft, choking sound leaving his lips as he came.
Jackson pulled in the scent, enjoying the burn of the pungent aroma in his nose. He watched as Derek spun Stiles around in his arms and claimed his mouth, his urgency etched with desperation and need as he pulled Stiles against him. He kissed Stiles roughly, licking and biting on Stiles’ lips. Jackson followed the path of his hands as Derek smeared his come to cover Stiles’ backside, kneading in his scent to Stiles’ skin with care and compulsion.
When Derek finally released Stiles, the expression on his face was still hungry. His eyes glowed with the need to possess; he wasn’t sated, not by a long shot, but instead of going for the main dish, Derek yanked up Stiles’ jeans. “You okay?” Jackson heard him whisper in Stiles’ ear, covering himself as he spoke.
Stiles’ voice was light and breathless. “Yeah, I’m, I’m fine,” Stiles said, but he sounded reedy and uneven. Not hurt, but overwhelmed, almost shell-shocked. Jackson noticed that Stiles’ fingers on Derek’s shoulder trembled slightly.
Derek hummed in reply as he helped Stiles back to the couch. His eyes were still red when he turned to look at Jackson, his gaze swiftly moving down to Jackson’s hips. Jackson shivered as Derek’s eyes measured the length of his arousal.
“You want me to help you with that?”
Jackson started to answer, then realized that something had changed. Where he would have given his reply with the drop of his jeans before, he now found himself hesitating. There was a decision to be made where there had been conviction before.
Derek walked to where Stiles had dropped his shirt and picked it up. He tossed it to Stiles before sitting down on the edge of the couch next to him. Compared to Stiles’ come-streaked skin and Jackson’s coat of grime and blood, Derek looked almost composed in his rumpled clothes. He glanced up to Jackson, a calm expression on his face. He didn’t repeat the question.
Jackson got up. His body was still wired with desire, but he shoved back the need. He covered himself as he approached Derek, his bare feet making no noise on the barren floor. Jackson kept his hand over his arousal as he stopped to stand in front of Derek.
Derek’s held his gaze patiently, but Jackson knew that this was his last chance. He scanned Derek’s face for a sign, but there was no tangible expression on Derek’s face other than the offer that still stood. It took a moment for Jackson to realize that what he was looking for was not something, but the lack of it.
There was no pity in Derek’s eyes. Jackson let his breath out in a gush, his hand falling to his side.
Derek’s hand was warm when he wrapped his fingers around Jackson’s erection. He didn’t stroke it, just rubbed his thumb along the hard shaft before taking it in his mouth. Jackson gasped, his mouth falling open to let out the sound. Derek took his time to get Jackson’s cock slick and wet until he started sucking earnestly, Jackson’s dick sliding in and out of his hot mouth as he bobbed his head.
His mouth was skilled; Derek’s tongue knew tricks that made Jackson’s toes curl up and his hands reach for Derek’s shoulders for support. But at the same time, there was something clinical in the way Derek took care of him. Jackson could feel the lack of passion in Derek’s touch, his mouth giving him the luxury of pleasure but not drawing any for himself. It was a task, but...
Derek was doing it for Jackson.
Jackson was aware that Stiles was looking at them from where he rested against the couch, but Jackson ignored him. He focused on Derek’s dark head working on his arousal, shivering as he inhaled Derek’s scent. He allowed his fingers to brush against the short hair at the nape of Derek’s neck. He moved slowly, dreading the moment when Derek would refuse him, but nothing happened. Jackson let his fingers trail up as Derek kept sucking at his cock, working him over, giving him what he needed.
Jackson shuddered and closed his eyes. He jerked in surprise when he felt Derek’s hand cupping his balls, squeezing them roughly, as if he knew that’s what Jackson needed to push over the edge. Jackson bucked his hips forward, burying himself in Derek’s mouth until his cock hit the back of Derek’s throat.
Derek held him in as he climaxed, waiting until the spasms had subsided before he pulled himself away. Jackson held his eyes closed, taking a moment to even his breathing. He didn’t hurry to pull back his hands. When he felt composed enough, he opened his eyes to see Derek watching him with a shrouded look in his eyes.
Jackson forced himself to break the silence. “What happens next?”
Derek’s expression didn’t change. “Nothing happens.”
Jackson felt a familiar frustration starting to build up inside him. “So this was a one time deal?”
Derek tensed, but didn’t answer. He glanced at Stiles and Jackson followed his gaze to Stiles’ sleeping form. Or, what appeared to be his sleeping form, as both the werewolves could tell that he was only pretending - neither of them had missed the skip in Stiles’ pulse just now.
There was almost no light left inside the house, but Jackson could see the heat still lingering on Stiles’ cheeks. Flashes of their moment of passion filtered through Jackson’s mind, the shame and desire woven into the fresh memories giving him a shiver. He could feel that the playfield between them had changed.
The line they had crossed had landed them on unknown ground where it wasn’t about Derek anymore; Jackson idly wondered if it had ever been about Derek at all. It wasn’t desire that he felt when he looked at Stiles, but the violent impulse to hurt him, to tear him to pieces any which way possible, was gone.
Derek’s sigh was almost inaudible, but it dragged Jackson’s attention back to him. Jackson was grateful to have something else to focus on. This new field that lay between him and Stiles was not something he wanted to think about in front of Derek, especially in his still naked form.
“Get dressed. Go home,” Derek said to him, turning away from Stiles.
Jackson opened his mouth to protest, then closed it as he realized there was nothing left to say. He hated Derek’s habit of not giving answers, but he knew that the question he’d asked could only be answered by Stiles. Jackson threw one last glance at Stiles’ before turning to gather his clothes. As irritating as Stiles’ behavior was, Jackson was too tired to argue. If Stiles wanted to play a coward, fine. Sooner or later, Jackson would get his answer.
He pulled on his clothes, fleetingly hoping that the blood on his skin had dried enough not to completely ruin them. He turned to face the doorway, but he couldn’t make his feet move to leave the room.
“Tell Stiles I’m sorry for what happened at practice.” His voice was silent, but Jackson knew that even Stiles could hear his words in the dark room.
“I will.”
Jackson didn’t expect him to continue, but Derek’s voice stopped him just as he was starting to leave. “Jackson,” Derek said, waiting until Jackson had turned back to him before continuing, “you stay in the pack.”
His eyes were glowing, but the expression on his face was sober. They could both feel that the weight of the phrase had changed. It was heavier in a way, but jagged and rough, undefinable.
Jackson didn’t know how to respond, so he just left.
A cool breeze hit him as Jackson walked to his car. It chased away the heat of the day, making Jackson wish he’d brought his jacket. He checked his phone; there were several missed calls and messages in his inbox. Seeing his dad’s name on the sender’s list made him grimace. Just the fact that his parents had bothered to send him a message instead of waiting for him to call back was a sure sign of trouble.
There was message from Danny reporting that they had won the game. McCall had scored half the points for the team and led them to a crush victory. Somehow, it didn’t bother Jackson as much as he’d expected. Jackson pocketed his phone and decided to ask Danny to train with him on the weekend. After spending days wallowing on his bed, a good workout was exactly what he needed. By tomorrow, Derek’s claw marks on his skin should have faded enough not to raise questions.
Jackson knew that his parents were waiting for him, but he headed for a different direction. He didn’t drive aimlessly, but he was still slightly surprised to find himself on the street that lead to the school.
He let his speed drop to a crawl, glancing over the dark sports field as he drove past it. He didn’t regret missing the game that night, but he did miss playing. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he thought how close he’d come to losing it all. Now, the whole mess felt like a bad dream, but Jackson couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The lightless ground looked oddly peaceful as it slid past Jackson’s side view, and he realized what it was.
The shroud of aggression over him had vanished.
Startled, he searched inside himself, finding the slowly simmering rage that had been his companion for so long reduced to ashes. In a strange way, it almost felt like he had lost something.
But he didn’t feel empty. He felt tired and dirty and sore, but more than all that, he felt in control. A hint of a smile touched his lips.
It hadn’t exactly been flowers and chocolate, but Stiles had actually managed to help him. Jackson scoffed. At least there was no crying, he thought as he brought his foot down on the gas.
He headed home.
//end of chapter 5 - continue to epilogue