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The Newest Member

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Jackson hesitates just outside the door of the burned-out house, wondering if he’s making the right decision. It’s not like he and Derek get along much better now, even though Jackson’s the newest member of his pack. The older wolf still doesn’t trust him—he’s still hung up on the whole Kanima doing the bidding of the Hales’ greatest enemy thing. And then there’s the alpha pack that’s apparently getting ready to wage war for turf: Derek’s been so preoccupied during the past week he’s hardly given Jackson the time of day. Jackson would never admit it publicly, but it pisses him off. He doesn’t know what he expected—instant acceptance? A fucking family? Yeah, no.

The super-hearing and strength and speed are all great, but the reality is he has no one to talk to about this particular issue. Scott? He’d rather die. Lydia is creeped out enough as it is, and the rest of the pack, well, this is too personal. He needs a fucking alpha to tell him this shit is normal, because the truth of it is, he feels like he’s going insane.

He’s just about to knock when the door swings open, bringing him face to face with Hale, unshaven as ever and looking like he’s just rolled out of bed.

“Smelled you sulking out here. Woke me up. What do you want?” The question isn’t menacing, but it’s not inviting either. But Jackson can’t let it bother him. He’s got to get this figured out because his hormones are doing all sorts of crazy things and he can’t concentrate.

“Great to see you, too,” Jackson replies, rolling his eyes. Not wanting Derek to see how nervous he is, he straightens his shoulders, thrusts out his chest, and pushes by him into the house. With his new wolf-senses, he can smell the charred remains even more keenly—the place feels damp, sad, somehow.

Behind him, the door shuts. He can hear Derek’s breathing, knows that he’s getting impatient. Schooling himself, Jackson turns around.

“All right, pretty boy,” Derek says, smirking at him. “What’s going on?”

“I have a . . . problem.”

Immediately, Derek’s eyebrows furrow, a concern written there Jackson didn’t expect to see. It unnerves him a bit, but the overall effect is relaxing. A bit of his guardedness slips away.

“What kind of problem?” By Derek’s tone, Jackson knows he’s worried something else has gone wrong—he supposes he can’t really blame Derek given his history.

“It’s a private . . . you can’t tell anyone about this.”

“Oh God, don’t tell me you’ve come asking for love advice. Better leave that shit up to Scott.”

“No, well, yes . . .” He can barely get the words out, embarrassed. Yeah, it’s about Lydia—she’d taken one look at his dick and freaked the fuck out. But that’s not the only reason he’s here.

“Spit it out, pup, I don’t have all day.”

Jackson bristles at the patronizing term, thinks about heading for the door, but he doesn’t want to give Derek the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under his skin.

“Fine.” Rather than stand on ceremony, Jackson unbuttons his pants and drops trou, and Derek’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“Um, okay. I was not expecting that.”

“What the hell is this?” Jackson points to the swell at the base of his cock. It’s not much now, but God, when he gets hard it fills up and all he wants to do is shove it in and breed . . .

Derek chuckles. He comes a bit closer, and Jackson is suddenly aware that they’re alone, that Derek is his alpha, and that he hasn’t gotten laid in weeks. His dick twitches a little and he counts to ten, not wanting to embarrass himself. But it’s weird, Derek smells good, and all Jackson wants to do is rub up against him. It’s not just weird, it's humiliating. He yanks up his pants and zips, face flaming.

“Dude,” says Derek, “You’re a wolf now. That’s your knot. Isn’t it great?” He grins, and never has Jackson wanted to punch him in the face so badly.

“No, it’s not fucking great. It’s horrible. Lydia thinks I’m a freak—she won’t touch me, and all I want to do . . . I’m going crazy.”

“Her loss,” Derek says, dismissive. He’s standing with his arms crossed, regarding Jackson seriously. It’s a relief he’s not laughing.

“But I just don’t understand. What is it for?”

“You mean you don’t know? Your instincts haven’t kicked in?”

“Um . . .” Jackson knows he’s redder than a fucking tomato now, remembering the first time he’d jerked off after wolfing out, how much he’d wanted something to stuff his knot inside.

“It’s simple,” Derek says, motioning for Jackson to follow. They go up a flight of stairs and down the hall toward Derek’s room—the only spot in the house that’s not barbecued. Jackson is surprised to see Derek has a computer and a neatly made bed. The walls are Spartan, but there’s a bookshelf, and that’s where Derek’s headed now. Jackson laughs.

“What’s so funny?” Derek growls.

“I didn’t know you knew how to read.”

“Shut the fuck up and take a look, pup.”

Jackson glances down at the title, and his eyes nearly cross. The Mating Habits of Canines.

When he flips the book open, his eyes are assaulted by images of dogs humping each other, and there’s a fucking diagram of a wolf penis. A diagram. Of a wolf penis.

“You get off on this?”

“No, you moron,” Derek says with a sigh. He rips the book out of Jackson’s hands and flips a few pages. He stabs at a paragraph with his forefinger. “Here.”

Jackson sits on the edge of Derek’s bed and reads, and by the time a half-hour has passed, he knows way more than he ever wanted to know about dog sex.

All the while, Derek has been patiently sitting and watching him, sometimes turning to his computer and writing. Finally, though, he sighs loudly, like he’s had enough of Jackson in his room. “Any questions?”

“So you stay tied . . . during sex. For hours?”

“Sometimes.” Derek smiles, giving Jackson a glimpse of the wolf within.

“And it doesn’t hurt the other person?”

“No. Not if you’re careful. Oh, and use plenty of lube.”

All of this talk about sex has Jackson shifting uncomfortably on the bed. Lydia has told him under no uncertain terms that that thing is coming nowhere near her thing, and so he’s pretty sure he’s shit out of luck there. And then there’s the fact that recently he’s been more and more attracted to men, has fantasized about taking someone from behind, or being taken. It’s especially bad when the whole pack is together, all those guys. Isaac is hot, though he would probably never let Jackson touch him. Fuck, he shouldn’t even want to touch Isaac. He scowls.

Derek says, “I need your head in the game if we’re going to have any chance against the alphas. You need to get laid, dude.”

“Tell me about it.” Jackson lets his eyes rest on Derek’s chest. The guy has a ripped body, for sure.

“You’re not fucking me,” Derek says.

Jackson blushes, aware that’s exactly where his mind had been wandering. He can’t stand up, though, because his cock is harder than hell, and now that he knows that he’s supposed to stick his knot in along with it . . .

He smells something in the air, too—and a shiver runs through him when he realizes it’s Derek’s arousal.

“You need to leave,” Derek says. His eyes have gone red. “Or I’m going to do something I shouldn’t.”

Jackson swallows, a thrum of fear and desire running through him. He does as Derek says, obeying the command without a second thought, as close to begging as he ever wants to be.

******************


A few days later, Derek calls.

“Come over tonight at ten,” he says. “Pack business.”

“Um . . . all right.”

The phone goes dead.

Jackson is full of nervous energy the whole rest of the day. Pack business means he’s finally considered one of them; maybe Derek is finally starting to trust him. He sees Isaac in the hall and the other boy gives him a weird smile—almost . . . nice. He even eats lunch with Stiles and Scott and manages not to want to kill either of them.

At a little before ten, he wolfs out and heads to Derek’s at a run. When he arrives at the Hale house, he stands and sniffs the air, trying to get a lead on who’s here. His body reacts immediately to the scent of males, but he pushes the thought out of his head and jogs up the steps, wondering why only Derek, Scott, and Isaac are in the house. Maybe he’s early.

“You made it,” Derek says when he opens the door.

Jackson shrugs, not wanting to question his compliance to closely. “It appears so.”

Derek sniffs the night air. “You see anything out there? Smell anything?”

Knowing he means any of the alphas, Jackson shakes his head. The truth is he was so keyed up he hardly noticed.

“Hmm. Well get your ass in here, pup.”

They go back to Derek’s room, and Jackson gets nods from Scott and Isaac, who are playing video games on the floor. Not knowing what to do, he takes a seat and watches, bored out of his skull and wondering why the hell Derek called him over if all they’re gonna do is watch Isaac kick Scott’s ass in Street Fighter. He can’t help thinking about the last time he was here, the weirdness that had passed between him and Derek. What would have happened if he refused to leave?

Derek isn’t paying any of them attention, going about his business like they’re not even there. Just when Jackson thinks he’s about had enough of being ignored, Derek gestures towards the boys on the floor and says, “Okay. Which one of them do you want to fuck?”

Jackson’s mouth drops open. If Scott and Isaac are surprised, they don’t show it, just look up.

“You’re insane,” he tells Derek. “Sorry, but I don’t need a pimp, and I don’t see how this is pack business.”

Scott and Isaac shrug, go back to playing.

Derek’s eyes flare red. “No, I’m sorry, but you do. And it is pack business. You’re so busy thinking about your cock you didn’t even notice the alpha scent out there.”

Jackson’s blood runs cold. “I—I—”

“Exactly. So pick one. They’re both willing.”

"You told me you wouldn't tell anyone."

"I lied."

"You're an asshole."

"Yep."

“What about Allison?” It’s a lame thing to say, not really an objection, but Jackson’s body is already clamouring for it. For Isaac, in particular. He can already feel his canines elongating.

“Scott,” Derek says, “you’re out.”

Standing up, Scott rolls his eyes at Jackson as he makes his way from the room. “Thank God. You’re not really my type.”

“Fuck off, McCall,” is Jackson’s weak reply.

As soon as Scott leaves, the atmosphere of the room shifts as pheromones fill the air. Jackson’s eyes dart to Isaac, who is sitting on the floor cross-legged, one of his eyebrows raised in challenge.

Jackson turns to Derek, fists clenched, not sure if he wants to run from the room or get down on his knees and thank the fucking lord. “How did you know?” he asks.

“It didn’t take a genius. You pop boners quicker than a thirteen year old.”

Isaac laughs; it’s a deep sound, and Jackson swallows, cock thickening almost instantly. God, he is like a thirteen year old. He’d be ashamed if he weren’t so horny.

Derek turns his back on them, waving like they’re dismissed . . . and that’s when Jackson feels it, Isaac’s hand on the back of his thigh.

“Come on, man,” Isaac says. “You gonna knot me or what?”

They fumble with their clothes, or at least Jackson does, his heart pounding in his chest at the thought of finally getting it in. He’s been jerking off three, four times a day, but it’s never very satisfying, and now he knows why.

He’s seen Isaac naked in the showers before, but has never gotten a chance to really look because that would have been weird. Now, he lets himself stare, take in the guy’s sculpted torso and lean hips. He’s got a thick cock, but it’s shorter than Jackson’s—and there it is, the knot at the base. How did he never notice it before?

Isaac kicks off his socks and then stretches out on the bed, ass up, wriggling a little.

“Lube,” comes a voice from behind, and Jackson startles; he’d forgotten that Derek was still here. A small tube is thrust into his hand.

The whole process feels strange and too mechanical, and now Derek is standing behind him, fully clothed. He must sense Jackson’s reticence.

“Go on. It’s gonna feel really good, pup. All tight and perfect around your knot.” His voice is hoarse, and when Jackson turns, he’s not surprised to see Derek’s fangs. The scent of arousal is thick in the air—all of theirs, though Derek is trying hard to pretend he’s not affected. It changes the game, and Jackson hardens, feels his balls draw up tight. His knot is starting to thicken, but he knows once it gets inside it'll only get bigger, and that's when he'll—

“Go on,” Derek says again, and then God, he’s leaning forward and sniffing, snuffling right into Jackson’s neck.

In a haze, Jackson makes his way towards the bed, where Isaac is pushing back, asking for it. He smoothes his hands down Isaac’s ass and then spreads it, instinctually trying to get at the hole. Even though most people think Jackson’s a bastard, he’s never been a selfish or rough lover, and so he coats his fingers with lube and begins to press one, then two digits inside.

He can feel Derek’s presence at his back. Though the older man stays mainly silent, Jackson can hear his heavy breathing, smell him through his jeans.

When Jackson finally guides his cock to Isaac’s hole, he tenses, not sure what to do—whether he should just drive it all inside in one go or work it in slowly.

“Start fucking in slow,” Derek says, a tremor in his voice. “Just go slow, then you can work it in. You’ll know when.”

“Shit,” Jackson says, when the head of his dick is finally engulfed. He’s never fucked anyone like this before, has never felt this kind of pressure. He stops himself from snapping his hips, but just barely. Beneath him, Isaac whimpers. His dark, curly hair obscures his face, and for some reason Jackson wants to reach out and brush it back.

“You all right?” Jackson asks, watching as he presses a few more inches inside. Isaac nods and pushes back, swivelling to take Jackson deeper. He’s got his hand on his cock, working himself over Derek’s sheets.

They fuck like that for a while, just easy and slow, Jackson watching his cock slip in and out, squeezing the firm round ass that’s become his whole world. Once in a while, his knot starts to catch on Isaac’s rim and he wonders if it’s time, wonders if it will even fit because it’s already so big, can't imagine Isaac stretched around him when they're finally tied. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for until Derek speaks again.

“You can give it to him now,” Derek says, his voice still hoarse but authoritative. “Use more lube.”

Jackson does, squeezing the tube with shaking hands. His cock slips in more easily, and then the knot is right there, pressing up, wanting in.

“Oh yeah,” Isaac whispers below him like he loves it, like he loves being stretched and stuffed full. As long as Derek keeps talking to him, as long as Derek tells him what to do, Jackson can do this, be good at it. He does as he’s told, uses his hand, starts slotting in with quick little jerks of his hips. And oh God, oh God, it’s working, the knot is pushing inside and expanding and it’s so, so tight, oh, and he’s going to come, oh . . . and Derek is telling him he’s a good pup, he’s doing so well, good pup . . .

The first pulse knocks him forward onto Isaac's back and he can feel his come shooting up in thick bursts. He shudders, working his hips just like Derek says, lighting up inside from his praise and because Isaac is moaning, squeezing around him. Wrapping his arms around Isaac’s shoulders, Jackson tries to pump but he can’t withdraw far, his knot’s so stuck, tying them. Oh and he’s gonna come again, feels it build and rise, bursting out like heat from deep in his belly.

At some point he becomes aware that Derek is petting him, petting them both, snuffling around the place where they’re joined and touching them, and he’s pleased, yes, Jackson has done it, he’s pleased his alpha.