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[personal profile] magdalyna
Title: Claims
Rating: R
Pairing: Jackson/Scott; background Derek/Stiles
Word Count: 3,150
Summary: Jackson and Scott claim each other.
Warnings/Notes: Spoilers for Season 2




When Derek bites him (at the place where his quadratus lumborum and iliacus meet, and just because he’s not a genius like Lydia doesn’t mean he doesn’t know his own body) it burns like the fire he sees every time he closes his eyes.

Derek herds him into a bedroom, if the mattress on the floor means anything. He spends the next 24 hours shaking and spasming as his muscles and bones, his blood changes, cell by cell, on the dirty thing.

The 24 hours after that, Derek makes him drink broth and water in four hour intervals until the early evening. Jackson feels as if his tethers to reality have been cut, by Derek’s teeth and he can feel the fire this time, how those people died. Can feel the smoke in his lungs, the blisters on his skin. Derek is a silent presence, with cold cloths for when the fever takes him.

All told, it takes him three days to recover by the time Derek deems him healthy enough to return home. His parents ask him how his camping trip went and he knows enough to say it went fine.

School assaults him when the odors and sounds of a large numbers of people confined to small spaces, the crack of chalk against slate in classrooms, the scrape of metal ladles against metal trays in the cafeteria, the chemical smell of the pool and gym. It is overwhelming in the extreme, and Jackson can feel his control slipping, minute by minute.

Danny smells like the idea home and grapefruit. He looks worried at the sight of Jackson, mouth knit in grim concern, covers for him when Jackson gets distracted. It helps.

What doesn’t help is a scent that follows him throughout the day, something he can’t quite place until he’s in the locker room changing for practice. It curls around him like ghostly fingers, beckoning and he follows it with his eyes until he’s staring straight at Scott fucking McCall. It’s fresh cut grass and something else, that makes him pause.

Shit.

For his part, Scott feels the look and stops talking to Stiles, turning his body slightly towards Jackson, narrowing his eyes like he’s concentrating. His nostrils flare and Jackson feels slightly uncomfortable. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but his wolf is very interested in the proceedings. It’s not getting aggressive; it almost feels like when Jackson and Danny start to play fight during Halo. Scott’s eyes flash that golden yellow, and then he’s whispering furiously to Stiles about how Derek turned him. Stiles looks at him in an assessing manner, and his wolf gets confused. It tells him there’s Alpha scent nearby by it can’t actually smell Derek.

Jackson shrugs that off. He’ll worry about it later when he doesn’t have practice.

*&*

But he has more to worry about because Derek is turning kids. First it was Issac, his neighbor whose dad beats him, and then there’s Erica, that girl who has epilepsy. And then that loner kid. He asks around for the name, and learns its Boyd. Derek is making a pack, and hasn’t even talked to him since he turned Jackson and then tossed him out of that burned down husk he’s pretending is still a house.

And the Argents’ hunters have taken that over, so it’s not like finding him will be easy. Because Jackson’s pissed and hurt. He’s got a sick need to please Derek, but all he’s got is radio silence.

He decides to track Derek, because he can’t take the itchy need that’s crawling under his skin. It’s hard but his wolf knows Derek’s scent like it knows his own, and so he wears clothes he doesn’t mind getting dirty and good cross trainers.

He works his way from Issac’s house after school and follows the darting scent all over town until he finally gets to the abandoned metro station. Because of course.

The pups aren’t there but Derek is, and he creeps in, silent as can be. If Derek doesn’t want him there he can throw him out.

Derek’s leaning against a wall like he’s holding it up, jeans and a wife beater on, facing the entrance when Jackson walks in.

There’s a smirk on Derek’s face. It annoys Jackson, but a part of him that isn’t the wolf is happy to see him. The wolf is too, though. Binary thinking is starting to confuse him.

“Excellent going.” Derek breaks the silence. Jackson’s taken aback.

“What?” Jackson sputters.

“Your progress. Your control. I chose well.” Derek is pleased, and Jackson and his wolf can both feel it. His wolf is immediately soothed, but Jackson isn’t so sure.

“I had to work on it myself, no thanks to you.” Jackson grits. He isn’t supposed to be spinning his wheels, sick with rejection. His wolf whines, because the Alpha is pleased, and it is therefore pleased, it can’t work out why Jackson isn’t.

“But that is my point. I forced you to think for yourself, and you haven’t disappointed me yet. There is a reason I chose you first, before the rest. I could have waited to give you the bite, but I didn’t. Why do you think that is?” Derek’s voice is … softer than it was.

There is an answer here, if Jackson can only work it out. His wolf wants to celebrate, is so damn happy right now, and Jackson can’t think. He takes a deep breath, trying to sort out his thoughts.

“You want me for something; because you think I’m special.” Jackson guesses.

“You will lead them under me. Second only to my mate.” Derek is smiling a toothy smile now and Jackson can’t deal right now. He goes to sit on a crate. He can feel Derek’s eyes on him. Jackson is still angry.

Derek pushes off the wall and comes over to him, hand curling in his hair, fingers rubbing behind his ear. That really shouldn’t make him feel better but it does.

“I’m not going to ignore you anymore, but I do need to focus on them. They still lack control, they’re still predictable. I’ll train you separately at first and then you can join them, show them how it’s done.” Derek says and Jackson gives a tiny nod.

“How is your mate?” Derek asks and Jackson jerks at that. “You have another scent layer now. That only happens when mated wolves recognize each other, but before they’ve claimed each other officially.”

Jackson looks up at him. “I really have no idea what you mean.” He tells him earnestly. Derek just cocks his head, bending down to smell his hair. He straightens back up, clearly amused.

“Oh, but you will. In the meantime, you should leave. They’ll be here shortly. Come back here Saturday.” Derek tells him and he nods.

He leaves feeling settled.

*&*

When he dreams of fire and death, his wolf dreams of greens things: freshly cut grass and tender spring leaves and something else, of bounding and playing and chasing rabbits with another wolf, running with joy.

It confuses him, because Scott is obviously that other wolf. But he’s better than Scott now. The playing field has been evened now that he has his own wolf, and Jackson will continue being the superior one.

School only gets a little easier after Derek has soothed his nerves.

Danny looks less worried now that Jackson has a better handle on blocking unimportant things out. He’s sleeping better now, despite stupid, meaningless dreams.

Jackson avoids Scott and his scent, trying not to be pulled in. He doesn’t want to deal with that. He still doesn’t know what Derek meant by ‘mate’ and he really doesn’t want to know.

He thinks he has an idea of who Derek’s mate is, if the wave of Derek that follows Stiles around like a blanket is anything to go by. He concedes that Stiles is actually pretty useful in fights to the death, even if he doesn’t have the physical strength to involve himself much. Jackson isn’t looking forward to fighting hunters, but he knew what he’d signed up for, the consequences of what he demanded Derek make him.

His wolf has other ideas though. It wants to play with Scott, wants to curl their body around Scott during a spring rainstorm, nose to nose. It wants to mark Scott, keep him safe from other wolves who wouldn’t know what was theirs otherwise. It doesn’t understand Jackson’s animosity towards Scott.

Ok, so he might actually get what Derek meant by that ‘mate’ thing after all, but he’s not going to admit that outside of his own head.

*&*

Saturday Jackson gets a text early in the morning from Derek, telling him to meet at the Hale house instead. He feels a little uncertain about that, but if Derek thinks its safe, then he’s not going to argue. Yet.

He takes his Porsche, and slips out of the house before nine. He’s got workout clothes on and he doesn’t do a lot to his hair. It wouldn’t do to come unprepared to get dirty.

He gets out of the car and stops short, when he gets there. Derek’s Camaro is parked outside, but the house looks abandoned. He can smell that Derek isn’t alone. He can smell Scott here. A flare of annoyance pulses through him and his wolf ignores that in favor of getting excited. His wolf knows to ignore how he feels about Scott now.

He makes his way inside, tracking them to an upstairs bedroom.

Derek is standing to the side of a bed that’s in the middle of the room with a nightstand next to it and on the other side is Scott. Scott is tied to a chair, gagged, naked except for grey boxer briefs.

Jackson has lost his ability to cope. He rubs a hand across his face, closes his eyes, hoping he’s just seeing things, because hallucinating is the better option here.

He opens them again. No such luck.

“What is going on here?” Jackson asks and he really doesn’t want to know.

“You are going to stop being stupid and claim your mate.” Derek explains calmly, and Scott yells something through the gag. “It’s been almost a week. I thought you’d have sorted yourselves out by now, when I told you about him.” Derek looks disappointed and confused. Shit. Wait. What?

“You didn’t say it was McCall!” Jackson thinks he should point that out. Derek just looks at him like he’s stupid.

“I thought that was obvious. Your wolf knew. Your wolf is pleased.” Derek says.

“My wolf doesn’t know he’s an annoying idiot.” Jackson says, sparing a glance at Scott.

Scott looks mutinous.

“Your wolf isn’t the only one pleased.” Derek says, knowingly. Jackson really doesn’t like the look Derek has about him, right now.

“I think your wolves should get better acquainted. It will clear things up.” Derek says and Jackson’s wolf springs to obey.

He nimbly walks over to Scott, leaning down and scenting his neck. His wolf yips happily. Now that he’s closer he can smell the freshly cut grass, the spring leaves and… limes? No. It’s sweeter. There’s something milky. It smells like key lime pie. Really?

His wolf laps at Scott’s neck, down across his collarbone. Scott’s breath catches, and Jackson pauses, looking up at him. Scott’s eyes are flickering between chocolate brown and golden yellow. He can feel how happy Scott’s wolf is, how panicked Scott is.

Jackson straightens up, backs away. His jaw works.

“We’re acquainted now.” He says tersely.

Derek shakes his head. “The claim has to happen. Otherwise things will be confusing, and that could lead to misunderstandings neither of you will want.” He explains.

“You haven’t claimed Stilinski yet.” Jackson points out and he can see Scott’s eyes going wide.

“He will come to me.” Derek says, unconcerned. “Besides, a mate is not only a sexual partner. Your mate completes you, supports you, and challenges you to be a better person. Makes you want to be your best. Isn’t that already what Scott does for you?” Derek continues, answering a question Jackson hadn’t asked.

He really doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. Or at all.

He turns around fully, unties the gag from behind Scott’s neck. Once the gag is free, fallen to the floor, Scott deliberately locks eyes with him and licks at Jackson’s wrist. Jackson pulls his wrist back and it smells of Scott and he has now idea what just happened. What this means.

“I think,” Scott says slowly, “that I should be part of this conversation.” Jackson feels a molten ball of dread in the pit of his stomach, but his wolf yips happily. His wolf knows what this means, to have freely given mate scent on their wrist.

Derek is watching them fixedly, and Jackson is really uncomfortable now. He shifts closer to Derek, away from Scott. Scott frowns at this.

“You know, you can’t hurt each other permanently. I’ll be in the hallway waiting.” Derek sounds bored now. He leaves but Jackson knows he’ll be listening to everything, smelling everything.

Jackson is screwed.

“I think you should come back over here.” Scott says calmly, but it sounds like he’s fighting to be calm.

His wolf drags him over to Scott, makes him lean down over him, hands balanced on the back of the chair, nose pressed against Scott’s jugular. He licks at it, can taste the scent, and it’s more intense than the scent itself. He can taste the overlay of arousal and fuck.

He can’t stop himself now. Scott bucks up against him and he’s aware now of Scott’s erection, can smell the leaking precome.

Jackson kneels down, mouths at Scott’s cock through the material and Scott gasps. He wants the taste of Scott, of Scott there, in his mouth.

He unties Scott’s ankles and then gets up and behind Scott and unties his wrists. Scott flexes his joints, getting the blood flowing, and then he’s on Jackson, hands in his hair, mouth attacking him as he pushes them to the bed.

Jackson lets Scott push him down, watches as Scott climbs onto the bed before pulling him in for another kiss.

“You have too many clothes on.” Scott tells him petulantly after they come up for air.

“Then do something about it.” Jackson says, grinning as he toes his shoes off. Scott pulls Jackson’s shirt off and Jackson lifts his hips and shimmies down his sweats. Scott tosses his clothes to the floor and leans down to lick at Jackson’s neck.

“Do you know how good you smell?” Scott mumbles into the hinge of his jaw. “No, tell me.” Jackson shakes his head, curious. “Like cut grass and hickory smoke. And butterscotch.” Scott puzzles out and really? So they both have ridiculous scent profiles then. Jackson laughs. “That’s ok, you smell like cut grass and new leaves and key lime pie.”

Scott looks at him. “You’re making that up.” Scott accuses.

“Like how you made butterscotch up.” Jackson counters, smiling broadly.

Scott pushes him, a quick little movement and Jackson’s wolf wants to play and then they’re wrestling and laughing and somehow Jackson ends up on top of Scott, and they’re both breathing hard.

The air is charged now, playfulness and joking gone.

Jackson can feel Scott’s erection pushing against his stomach; can feel his own growing with blood. Scott is staring at him, holding his gaze. It feels like all they’ve ever done is stare at each other. Even before Scott started acting strangely, when Jackson had no reason to spare him a second glance.

He leans down, kisses and nips and bites down Scott’s body, before taking out Scott’s cock and Scott lifts his hips so Jackson slides the boxer briefs, tosses them away. He licks at the head before sucking it in and Scott is moaning.

Scott’s scent-taste is headier here and Jackson licks long stripes up and down, flicking across with his tongue, squeezing the base and cupping Scott’s balls tenderly.

“Jackson, I’m-” Scott gasped and Jackson could feel his release working out of Scott’s body, flowing hotly over his tongue.

Jackson swallows, looking up at Scott and Scott looks down at him, braced on his elbows. Scott shifts, turning to rummage through the night stand, before smiling victoriously, bring back a bottle of lube. Oh. Of course this thing has been building to that, his wolf wants to rut and bite and mark Scott with its teeth.

Jackson takes the bottle from Scott’s lax hand. He licks his lips, swallows. He can taste the ghosting of Scott’s flavor still.

“Prep yourself.” Jackson says and Scott gives a curt little nod and holds out a hand. Jackson squirts out some lube, and this is just on the edge of hot and awkward.

Jackson leans back, sitting, while Scott works a finger then two, inside of him as he leans against the headboard. He palms his dick lazily while he watches Scott with hungry eyes.

Scott fucks himself on his fingers fore a few minutes before he’s pulling them out and yanking Jackson back with his other hand. “It’s time, come on.” Scott breathes into his ear, and Jackson isn’t going to fight him on that. He slicks up his dick with lube and moves Scott’s legs up a little while Scott is scooting around; they’re both fumbling for the right angle before Jackson gets antsy and pushes in.

Scott groans, shudders around him. Jackson presses his mouth against Scott’s neck and Scott sinks his teeth into Jackson’s shoulder, fangs out. Two can play at that, Jackson thinks as he rock in and out of Scott, before biting down on Scott’s neck with his own teeth.

His wolf is ridiculously happy, it’s thinking mate and Jackson is a little more ok with that than he was but it’s still just a bit embarrassing how sappy a goddamn werewolf actually is. He thought he’d be cooler than that.

He stops biting Scott to lick into his mouth, and Scott growls a little, but lets go of his shoulder and kisses him back. It’s surprisingly sweet but his wolf is a sap and not interested in biting kisses right now. His life is hard.

Scott scrapes his nails across Jackson’s ass and that’s it. Scott arches up as Jackson comes inside him, hips jerking.

Jackson pulls out and slumps to the side of the bed as Scott gasps for breath.

He could get used to this.

“So mates, huh?” Jackson offers.

“Shut up.” Scott huffs.

“No, you shut up.” Jackson counters.

They start shoving each other and Scott lands a kick which almost scoots him off the bed so he pushes harder and somehow the end up on the floor near the chair, going for round two.

Yeah, Jackson could get used to this.

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And that has made all the difference.

February 2013

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