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The Most Stable Form

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“Give in, Jackson. It’s time.” The alpha’s voice was deep and smooth, a seductive prelude to mating.

His beta was curled around him, staring at Jackson as his hands trailed down the alpha’s bare chest. “We can smell that you want us. Be our omega, Jackson. Please.” He pressed a kiss to his alpha’s neck, holding eye contact with Jackson as he did it.

“Fuck you,” Jackson whispered. “Fuck you both.”

Stiles Hale, beta and bonded mate to alpha Derek Hale, slipped from his alpha’s side and went to his knees in front of Jackson. It was traditional; the alpha aggressive, the beta submissive, the pair of them working together to woo their chosen omega.

It made the primal parts of Jackson’s brain flush with sweetness, a sweetness he resented. Growing up, no one suspected Jackson would present as a fucking omega. He knew he would be an alpha- strong, brave, confident. Powerful. Not this pathetic omega body, nothing but cotton candy pleasure on his tongue and the urge to yield.

Hands slid up Jackson’s thighs. “Can’t you feel it, Jackson? You’re our third. We know it.”

He took a scrambling step back, away from the hands that put a shiver in his blood. “I’m not. I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s omega.

“Jackson,” Derek purred. He stepped closer and rested a hand on Stiles’ head. “Let us have you. We would be so good together.”

They couldn’t force him to give in. Jackson had been fighting it from the beginning. Since he had returned from London to rejoin the pack and found himself facing Derek and Stiles as a mated pair. He’d expected to meet... Derek, the same asshole in a too-big jacket whom Jackson had begged for the bite. And Stilinski, god, he’d hated that little fucker since sixth grade. The feeling had been very mutual.

And yet he’d walked into the Hale pack hall, fresh from London, and the first sound out of his mouth had been an omega’s syrupy chirp of interest in response to the Hales’ joint appraising glances. Beet red and furious with it, he’d blown off the pack and gotten the hell out.

Jackson had hoped that would be the end of it. Nobody wanted an omega like him, especially not Derek and Stiles. It was impossible to miss how well they had grown together, the way they balanced each other out. How hot they were together. He was surprised they wanted a third at all. Some people didn’t- with three primary and two secondary genders, there was every sort of coupling imaginable out there.

The Hales hadn’t hesitated for a second, and they weren’t shy about it. Some of the ritual gestures were ancient; Stiles must have dug them up somewhere. Alphas provided and betas protected; Derek and Stiles took to it with a vengeance. Jackson didn’t need it, and he didn’t want it. He hated the part of himself that reveled in the attention, and he hated them for giving it to him.



The scent of them. It was a comfort and a provocation on the nights when the pack ran together. There was fur and bare skin, the pack slipping between forms, Stiles and Lydia running naked amongst them, and even the newer members of the pack were beginning to feel like home. Jackson’s senses said wolf and fox, brother, friend.

Mates. Alpha. Beta. Mine.

The same scents that surrounded him now, with Derek and Stiles right there in front of him, offering. “Jackson,” Stiles whispered, still on his knees. “Don’t you remember how it was that night? It could be like that always.”

It hadn’t been sexual, no matter how the words sounded rolling off of Stiles’ tongue. The end of a long full moon run, curling into himself on night-damp grass as the rest of the pack settled nearby. Two bodies bracketing him, safe and protected, all his instincts soothed for once.

He’d scrambled out from between them the next morning and run - still in his wolf shape - all the way back to his condo. For two weeks he’d prodded the memory like a sore tooth and enjoyed the bitter sting. Two weeks where he’d hid from the pack. Two weeks where he’d avoided Lydia’s calls, until she resorted to leaving a stream of increasingly aggressive messages on his voicemail.

Two weeks where he’d felt the absence of their bodies like a physical pain. He could deny it all he wanted, but he still felt it, as they stood there within arm’s reach.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No.”

Derek was even closer now, stretching out to touch Jackson’s cheek. “Why?”

“Fuck you, Derek, don’t you get it? I’m not right for you! Look at the two of you; everyone talks about how you’re a perfect pair! Nobody wants a fucked up omega!” He choked out the words. “My own parents didn’t want me; either set of them.”

Stiles unfolded and came to their side. One of his hands found Derek’s; the other pulled Jackson into them. “It doesn’t matter what they wanted. Fuck everyone else. Derek and I have wanted you for a long time. We still want you. We want to love you. Want you in our home, in our bed, want to fuck you full of pups someday. We want you, Jackson. The same Jackson who loved so deeply that he pulled himself back from being a kanima. The same Jackson who found his way home to our pack.”

Derek nodded, soft and solemn. “Be ours, Jackson. Please. We’re ready for you.”

It was impossible to maintain the attitude he needed when they were staring at him like that. “What if... I weren’t ready for you? The both of you?”

“We would wait,” Derek said. Stiles agreed, adding that they’d already waited a long time, would wait as long as it took.

Jackson’s last bit of resistance crumbled in the face of such persistently obvious desire. He’d never been strong, not the way they were, and he was too weak to fight what he wanted so badly.

Together, he knew, the three of them would be strong enough for anything.