“What are you doing here?”
“McCall said you were here. You haven’t been to school in a week.”
“That doesn’t answer the question, Jackson.” Stiles smells a subtle shift in the air, scents that are unfamiliar yet somehow so familiar that it makes his fingers itch. As Jackson stares at him, the scent becomes headier, almost intoxicating, and he can feel his newly acquired claws pressing against his skin in an oddly ticklish sort of way.
“You know why I’m here, Stiles.” Jackson is the first to look away, just like when they were kids, never able to win a staring contest with Stiles. Back then, Stiles just thought he was the best, enjoying being better at something than his best friend who liked winning more than just about anything. Now, he’s not quite so sure why Jackson always looks away first.
“No, actually, I don’t,” he reluctantly admits, watching Jackson shift his weight from one foot to the other, listening to the steady beat of his heart, scenting the air while resisting the primal urge to step forward and bury his nose against Jackson’s neck.
These urges are hard to understand, and it’s not like he can just Google ‘I got turned into a werewolf last month and killed my alpha a week ago so now I feel weird and tingly at times’ to get any answers, either. Derek’s trying to help him, teaching him lore he remembers learning from his mother, but all the history lessons in the world aren’t going to help Stiles really get control of the intense power he’s felt since killing Peter and becoming an alpha. It’s caused him to miss school for the last week, forced him to introduce his dad to the whole supernatural world, helped him claim Scott and Derek when they bared their necks for him, and it has him resisting the impulse to go claim others, to create a strong pack, to make a family.
“Are you going to make me beg?” Jackson looks up at him, his eyes intense in a way that makes Stiles think beautiful. And what the fuck?
This is Jackson. His childhood best friend who ended their friendship when Stiles scored more points during a damn little league game when they were eight. One game and Jackson just tossed their friendship aside like it never meant anything. The guy who then took it upon himself to find Stiles every. single. day. to make some rude comment or downright bully him, especially once Stiles became friends with Scott. He’s an asshole. A pretty one, but still.
This alpha wolfy power is really not all that amazing. Stiles is starting to wish he’d just let Derek kill Peter instead of trying to save the guy from the guilt of killing his last living relative. It’s too bad there isn’t some return policy when it comes to supernatural powers. Hell, he hadn’t even wanted to be a werewolf in the first place. Peter had offered once before seeming to accept his refusal, but there just hadn’t been an offer the second time. No, that time there’d been a rough bite and waking up alone and scared.
“Stiles, seriously.” Jackson huffs and is actually pouting a little when Stiles focuses on him. He knows how much Jackson hates to be ignored, and it seems that hasn’t changed over the years. “Do I have to beg?”
“If this were reversed, what would you do?” Stiles asks as he takes a step closer. He isn’t entirely sure that he knows what Jackson’s doing there, but he knows it isn’t to bring him chicken soup since he missed so many days of school.
“I’d make you beg,” Jackson says, his eyes dropping down to Stiles’ mouth before quickly flicking back up. “I’d make you prove how badly you want it first.”
The scent in the air is getting stronger, that spicy aroma that had been subtle when Jackson first saw him is flaring in a way that’s making Stiles’ fangs drop. It’s too much. Stiles moves fast, not used to his new speed, and he’s got his fingers gripping Jackson’s hair before he can even think about what he’s doing. He pulls Jackson’s head back and sniffs his neck, taking deep dragging breaths because he can’t get enough of that smell. When Jackson whimpers, a low noise that sounds broken and hoarse, Stiles realizes he’s not in control.
Fuck. He let’s go of Jackson, shoving him away as he takes a step back, too. Jackson is staring at him, a fire in those pretty blue eyes like Stiles has never seen before. Pretty eyes. Damn it. Now is not the time for his dick to get involved because this is already complicated enough just trying to adjust to all this power currently making him want to shove Jackson to his knees and take. In ways that do involve his dick. Stiles rubs the heel of his hand over his right eye, feeling the ridges on his forehead and knowing he just went partially wolfy because of Jackson’s scent.
“Tell me why you’re here, Jackson,” he says firmly, breathing hard as he tries not to inhale that powerful aroma that somehow turns him into beast more than man.
“I want you to bite me.” Jackson tilts his chin stubbornly, face flushed, lips parted. When Stiles flashes red eyes at him, he doesn’t waver. His heartbeat does skip, though, and Stiles is pretty sure he’d smell fear in the air if he dared allow himself to sniff.
“This isn’t a joke.” Stiles grips the back of his sofa, claws digging into the upholstery as he stares at Jackson. His instincts are telling him to claim, teasing him with images of Jackson as his beta, visions of Jackson kneeling at his feet and baring his neck making his dick throb, and he closes his eyes as the visions take a decidedly erotic turn that has his claws actually piercing through the upholstery. His voice is low and rough when he says, “You should run along back to Lydia and lacrosse. This isn’t what you think it is, and it’s not going to suddenly make you happy. It’s more likely to fuck up your life than making it better. The supernatural world sort of sucks with hunters and evil creatures.”
“I’m not running anywhere,” Jackson says, all arrogance and obstinacy as he watches Stiles. “This is what I’ve wanted from the beginning, Stiles, since I realized McCall wasn’t just juicing, and I still want it. I know the risks. Hale told me all about it when I tracked him down, trying to scare me off, and McCall warned me to just give it up when I asked where you were, before I decided to come here. Knowing it’s you…that only makes me want it even more.” He takes a step closer and actually bares his throat, obviously not knowing what that sight does to Stiles. Or maybe he does know, judging by the smug smirk on his lips. “I’ll beg if I have to, but I think you’re smart enough to take what’s being offered. You might be an asshole, but you’ve never been stupid.”
“What is being offered, Jax?” Stiles watches Jackson’s face as he uses his old nickname, noticing the way his heartbeat reacts and the flash of vulnerability that’s quickly covered by ‘I’m an unemotional douchebag’ that Jackson’s perfected in recent years. Stiles isn’t stupid, that’s definitely true, and he quickly analyzes everything that’s happened since Jackson showed up, putting things together and applying his basic wolfy knowledge to everything so far, and what he’s coming up with isn’t expected at all, but maybe it shouldn’t really be a surprise. There’s always been something between them, after all. Unspoken, ignored, but very real.
“Me,” Jackson whispers, meeting his eyes full-on as he straightens up. “That’s what I’m offering you in exchange for the bite. You’re an alpha now, so use your senses. See if I’m lying.”
“You don’t have to whore yourself for the bite,” Stiles snarls, feeling a tremor of anger at the idea Jackson would go to such lengths for this. But he does use his senses, needing to know this is really what Jackson wants.
“We might not have been friends for the last eight years, but you know me better than that, fuckface.” Jackson is telling the truth. His heartbeat is steady. This isn’t about exchanging sex for the bite, and you know it, even if you’re playing dumb rather well right now.”
“If I weren’t the alpha, you wouldn’t even be here, wouldn’t be speaking to me or back in my house.” Stiles allows himself to sniff the air, knees weakening at what he smells in the air. Needlustwantanxietylovedesire. It’s all too much for him to even isolate all the different scents. He stares at Jackson with wide eyes as he rips the top of the sofa, fangs extending as he loses himself to the arousing aroma Jackson’s emitting.
“No, I wouldn’t, but I’d still smell the same.” Jackson’s hand is shaking as he reaches up to drag his fingers through his hair. “Even when I’ve wanted to hate you, I can’t. I’d have made you beg, Stiles, but I’d have taken everything you offered and given you whatever you wanted in return.” He sucks in a breath, letting it out slow, ducking his head and looking away. “You being the alpha makes it easier for me to submit, to give you everything in a way that I’d never do for Hale, either one of them, but I wouldn’t feel like this asking them for the bite.”
“The bite could kill you.” Stiles is lisping, talking around his fangs, his tongue catching on one before bitter copper drips on his tongue. He pulls his claws out of the sofa and walks towards Jackson, reaching over to grip Jackson’s chin and force him to look up. Their eyes meet, and Stiles wants in a way he can’t even describe. It’s even worse than it was when he claimed Scott and Derek, one willing and the other apprehensive. Neither stinking of arousal and lust, not until he’d been biting into their necks, feeling them rut against him as they accepted him as their alpha. Sex isn’t part of the bite, he’d gotten Deaton to at least tell him that much, but the entire claiming is sensual in its own way.
Or maybe it’s being a sixteen year old with alpha powers that makes it feel that way. He’s usually horny a lot of the time, and being a werewolf hasn’t changed that. It’s just made it even more enjoyable, really, because all of his senses are so heightened. He can hear that hot couple down the street fucking now if he wants to listen (not that he does because it’s creepy to do that without their knowledge), can smell arousal that gets him hard even when it’s his own, can see how people react when he focuses in just the right way, but he hasn’t tasted, hasn’t touched, not yet. Scott and Derek, they wanted him during their claiming, but he’s not so out of control that he’d take knowing there’d be regrets when they came down from the euphoria of submission and biting. If they ever came to him now, well, that’s a different story.
“I’m willing to take the chance,” Jackson says after taking a moment to really think about it. It’s the fact that he actually takes time instead of just quickly agreeing that makes Stiles realize he’s going to agree. Besides, Jackson is beautiful, athletic, a quick learner, and more clever than he likes to admit. He’ll be a good addition to Stiles’ pack, a great beta, his first that he’s chosen on his own. There’s a moment where he looks incredibly vulnerable and doesn’t try to hide it as he stares at Stiles. “If you’ll have me.”
“We aren’t doing this in my living room. My dad’s been pretty accepting after his initial freak-out, but I think turning you downstairs might push him too far.” Stiles has managed to regain control again, though his claws are still out and his fangs haven’t fully retracted yet. He’s breathing through his mouth, his nostrils flaring as sweet scents tickle them but he’s an alpha, and he can’t let instincts take over because that’s what Peter did. Stiles is never going to be like Peter, turning someone against their will, being a creeper wolfy with the bad touches of underage kids, letting the wolfy parts take over until the human’s barely left. No, he’s going to be the best damn alpha ever. Looking at Jackson, he arches a brow. “Go to my bedroom. Do you remember where it is? I’ll be up in a minute.”
“It hasn’t been that many years since I’ve been here. I know where it’s at,” Jackson mutters, licking his lips as he looks at Stiles. “Does this mean you’re going to do it?”
“If you’re fully aware of the risks and still want it, yes.” Stiles stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep from touching Jackson’s face. He tilts his head slightly and studies Jackson, knowing what he probably needs to hear. “I’d be lucky to have you in my pack. You’ll make a strong beta, so long as you always remember who your alpha is and don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger.”
“Like I could forget you’re my alpha?” Jackson snorts before he sways slightly towards Stiles, eyes looking between Stiles’ mouth and his eyes. “Do I have to obey you all the time? Like without question?”
“This isn’t Fifty Shades of Fur and Fangs, Jax,” Stiles says dryly. “There aren’t any BDSM dynamics at play here, really, other than the fact that you will listen to me when it’s something important or else. None of my pack is going to go off on their own to risk getting hurt or killed by hunters. You’ll be mine, in all the ways that means to you, but you’ll be able to have opinions and think for yourself.”
“What if being yours means something different to me than it does the others?” Jackson looks at his mouth then, clenching his jaw as a faint flush spreads across his cheeks. It’s obvious what he means, and the fact he’s even thinking about Stiles in that way is still pretty unexpected.
“Then we’ll discuss it after we see if the bite takes and you have time to adjust to your wolfiness.” Stiles pulls his hand out of his pocket and forces Jackson’s chin up so he can look into his eyes. “I’m fighting my instincts to just take you in all those ways right now, so please don’t push me on this, alright? If…when…we explore that aspect of things, it won’t be during a claiming bite when I’m barely maintaining a hold on my humanity. Now go upstairs and wait for me. Text your parents, too, to let them know you’ll be staying at a friend’s house for a few days.”
“Alright.” Jackson looks like he’s going to fight it for a moment but he doesn’t. Instead, he walks upstairs, his phone already in his hand. “I’ll have Danny cover for me. He’ll do it without asking any questions.”
“Fine. We can discuss bringing him in later, if you want, and explain things to him. I know he’s your best friend, and it’ll probably help you adjust having his support,” Stiles says, totally staring at Jackson’s ass as he walks upstairs. His jeans are tight and fit super snug around his firm ass. The realization that he very well might get a chance to do all the many things he’s thought about doing to that ass is almost as overwhelming as the whole alpha thing. He and Jackson might be best friends turned enemies, but Stiles is bisexual and isn’t going to let bullying keep him from having some amazing fantasies about that ass, after all.
When Jackson opens his bedroom door, Stiles heads to the kitchen. He sends a text to his dad telling him he’s got pack stuff going on tonight, then he sends texts to Scott and Derek to let them know he’s going to be unavailable until tomorrow. He doesn’t say why because he doesn’t need a lecture from Derek about being careful of the hunters not wanting him to expand his pack because, seriously, fuck the hunters. And, well, he totally would fuck the hunters if they looked like Allison’s parents but, right, he’s already planning a meeting with them to set up some kind of treaty or whatever anyway. He also doesn’t need to deal with Scott bitching about him choosing Jackson as his first non-inherited beta because Scott doesn’t really know that Jackson’s arrogance comes from his insecurity or that he’s desperate to be the best out of fear his adoptive parents will think he’s not good enough.
Great. He’s been an alpha for eight days, and he’s already adopting strays. Stiles always knew his cynical hard outer shell covered a squishy gooey center, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it all that much. The worst bit is that he’s already thinking ahead, thinking about all his classmates, trying to determine which ones would be best to add to his pack, deciding who could benefit the most from the bite. That’s been happening since he woke up after killing Peter, though, and he never thought about Jackson, not really, so it seems like some things can’t really be planned. Still, he knows he’ll be tracking down Erica Reyes once he’s got the hang of all this. He has a feeling she’ll be a great addition to his pack.
He opens the fridge to get out two bottles of cold water, knowing Jackson’s going to need the hydration if the bite takes. If being a word that makes him frown because Lydia had been immune, and is also a point on his ‘Need to Do Something About This Once the Alpha Powers aren’t So Overwhelming’ list. His gut is telling him that Jackson’s going to survive the bite. He’s not sure if it’s just wishful thinking or if it’s part of the alpha instincts that somehow lets him know who is or isn’t a good candidate, but he’s going to trust it for now. That’s really all he can do since there aren’t any guidebooks or ‘How to Be a Great Alpha’ books at the local library. Google hasn’t been a help unless knotting and mates actually exist in the world outside of kinky fantasy fiction or being werewolves really is like one of any dozens of myths out there.
On his way out of the kitchen, Stiles grabs a new bag of Cheetos Cheese Puffs because claiming not only seems to make him horny as hell, but it also gives him the munchies. At least, that’s the cycle he felt with Scott and Derek, though he’d only been biting them to bring them into his pack, not actually turning them from human to werewolf. This might be different, but he’ll figure it out as it goes. Just like he’s doing most of this alpha thing. When he reaches his room, he drops the bottles of water when he catches sight of Jackson propped up on his bed only wearing his underwear.
“This isn’t pushing,” Jackson says immediately, sitting up and staring. “Those jeans costs more than your damn Jeep is probably worth, and I’m not about to ruin them by getting blood stains on them. Same for the shirt. I also got some old towels out of your bathroom because I know how you get about your pillows and didn’t want blood getting on them.”
“It’s definitely pushing,” Stiles tells him, the lisping back after he’d done so well getting himself under control again. The wolfy part of him is delighted that his new beta is already taking care of him, thinking of his alpha and protecting the things he holds dear. It’s ridiculous how he’s feeling right now. “Good boy getting the towels and thinking ahead.”
Jackson actually preens at the praise, looking smug and pleased in a combination that makes Stiles happy. Or maybe it’s the wolfy part of him that’s happy. Hell, it’s not like they’re separate beings in one body, but it’s easier to deal with this shit to think of it that way. Whatever part of him it is, Stiles is feeling good about making Jackson preen. How is this his life now?
“So, how exactly do we do this?” Jackson asks, settling back against the pile of towels covering Stiles’ pillows. He’s gorgeous like this, tan skin, firm muscles, and mostly naked. His black briefs barely cover him, which is probably the point, and Stiles doesn’t resist the impulse to crawl onto the bed and sniff him. The scent of arousal and lust is heady, spicy and delicious, and there’s an undercurrent of sweat, musk, and Jackson that has him rubbing his face against Jackson’s bulge because he wants to smell more of that amazing scent. Jackson makes a noise, desperate and needy, and that’s what snaps Stiles out of his crotch sniffing.
“Oh God. The dog jokes I could make about myself right now,” he mutters as he shifts to his knees, straddling Jackson’s thighs and dragging a shaky hand down his face. Claws out, fangs out seems to be an indicator of intense arousal, which is something he’s definitely going to have to work on controlling because he’s seen his fang face. It’s not hot. At all. Dropping his hand, he stares at Jackson. “I’m going to bite you, and it takes time to find out if the bite takes or not. I’m not going to leave you alone until we know. I already told my dad I had pack stuff happening tonight and do not disturb was in effect. Are you ready?”
“Not yet. I have one more question. If it doesn’t take, will I die fast?” Jackson looks him in the eyes then, strong and steady despite his nervousness. Stiles reaches out to stroke his chest in a soothing way, not a sexy way, just feeling the urge to take care of his beta. It seems that he’s already recognizing Jackson as that even without the bite which, huh, that’s interesting. He’ll have to think about those implications more in depth later. For now, he’s focusing on Jackson.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I’ve never been around anyone who died from it. Lydia seems to be immune, but I can’t tell you if it will be fast if it doesn’t take.”
“If it goes bad, you have to make it fast.” Jackson moves his hand over Stiles’ hand that’s resting on his chest. “I don’t want to die slowly and painfully. Promise me, Mstislav.”
“I promise, Jax,” Stiles whispers, eyes widening slightly because he hasn’t heard his given name in years. He remembers his grandmother visiting from Poland during first grade. That’s when Jackson had insisted she teach him how to say Stiles’ real name, practicing until he had it right, but never telling anyone else what it was because he liked having a secret about Stiles. He never even told after their friendship ended, and Stiles didn’t think he even remembered. He’d been wrong. Possibly about a lot of things when it comes to Jackson Whittemore.
“Okay, then. Let’s do this.” Jackson bares his neck and gulps, his heart racing even as he somehow manages to keep his breathing steady. Stiles stares for several long moments, capturing this image in his memory because he doesn’t want to ever forget it, and then he leans forward to nuzzle Jackson’s neck. He moves his hands down Jackson’s arm until their hands are clasped, his claws digging into the blanket as he holds Jackson down.
“Mine,” he growls softly, feeling Jackson buck up as he pierces his neck with his fangs. He deepens the bite, thoughts of packminefamilylovepackminefamilylove filling his mind as he claims Jackson. The smells are even worse now, wantlustneedsubmissionfearelation surrounding them as he bites down harder. Jackson is writhing beneath him, rutting just like the others, and Stiles manages to maintain control of himself so he doesn’t take, doesn’t fuck, doesn’t own the way he wants. Instead, he lets Jackson move, rubbing against Stiles as he accepts the claim.
Time passes. He’s not sure how long, but he knows the bite’s taken. Can feel it in his gut, more intense than before, a connection developing between him and Jackson, a rush of power that makes him tip his head back to howl triumphantly. Jackson is breathing raggedly, the bite on his neck deep and ripped, the way it has to be, but he’s alive, his body slowly adjusting to the new power he’s been given. The front of his underwear is wet, smelling so good that Stiles has to stop himself from rubbing against it, sniffing and licking to taste Jackson’s release.
The instincts are harder to control now, take more effort than normal, but he focuses on Jackson’s heartbeat. Ears twitching when he hears howls from his pack, lips curving into a proud smile at hearing his betas answer his call. Stiles slides off the bed and takes off his jeans and shirts before picking up the fallen bottles of water. Once he has those, he puts them on the bedside table for later and goes to the bathroom. When he’s finished pissing, he washes his hands and gets a wet washcloth, going back to his bedroom and wiping up the blood that spilled during the claiming.
After he feels like he’s done as much as he can to take care of Jackson physically, he climbs back into bed and pulls Jackson against him, scenting him and holding him as the bite does its magic. The connection he feels become stronger, and he wonders if Scott and Derek can also feel that they have a new pack brother. The phone remains silent, so they aren’t contacting him about it if they do feel the pack connection forming. Since he told them not to bother him unless it was an emergency, he’s glad they appear to be listening.
He’s not sure how the whole bond-connection thing works exactly, but he focuses on Derek and Scott and sends good vibes through the connection so they know everything’s okay and don’t get anxious about any weirdness that they might be feeling as Jackson goes through the turning. Since Deaton is all cryptic asshat, he’s going to have to find a legit source for information so he doesn’t fuck all this up, but that can wait for another day. For now, Stiles pulls the blanket over him and Jackson, wrapping himself all around his new beta and nuzzling his neck as he listens to the steady beat of Jackson’s heart.
Eventually, it lulls him into a deep sleep.