Tag: not!jackson

The Dancing Around You Series Part 5 (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

After luxuriating in the afterglow for a
few minutes, enjoying the damp heat of Jackson’s breath in the crook of his
neck and the warmth of Jackson’s body lying on his own, Stiles started to
fidget. The feeling of their combined come was sexy as hell in the moment, but
now it was cooling on his belly and crotch it was starting to itch and annoy
him. Loath as he was to disturb the quiet warmth they had between them, they
had to clean up.

“Hey, Jackson – you come back down to
Earth yet?”

All he got in response to that was a snort
and a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up asshole but I
think you’ll find that I just blew your mind and you’re currently basking.”

At that Jackson popped his head up
suddenly, a dirty smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow making him look oh-so
arrogant and smug. God help Stiles, because that combination was apparently his
kryptonite.

“I don’t recall any blowing happening at
all Stiles – did I make you come so hard your memory is impaired?”

Stiles laughed out loud at that, and
thankfully kept his eyes open while doing so because it meant he got to see
Jackson’s face suddenly soften, his smirk turning into a warm smile. So it
seemed that he wasn’t alone in this whole thing after all, not alone in wanting
Jackson’s body against his own, and not alone in feeling happiness himself when
Jackson was happy. Frankly that reality was beyond any of his fantasies or
hopes for the two of them. He had been genuinely happy to be friends with
Jackson, while steeling himself for the inevitability of him finding a partner
and settling down and having to watch someone else fill that space in Jackson’s
life. And while he had thought that maybe one day something sexual might happen
between them, he thought to himself that it would be a one off thing and that
he would have to be the one to keep his wits about him and not let his emotions
spill all over the place. Reaching up to brush his fingertips through the hair
at Jackson’s temples, Stiles felt his heart thump as he realised that he was
wrong on both counts.

“I can see that brain ticking away
already, clearly I didn’t actually do that good of a job,” Jackson pouted. “In
which case I think it’s time to get up and clean up because I think my come has
been on your skin long enough for everyone within a miles radius to know you’re
taken.”

Before Stiles could sputter a response
Jackson flashed a fierce grin and leapt off the bed, strutting off towards the
bathroom with confidence in every line of his body. By the time Stiles’ body
caught up with his brain the sound of the shower running has already started
up, so Stiles scrambled off the bed to follow Jackson. It struck him as he
halted at the closed to door of the bathroom that Jackson does really know him,
well enough to jerk him out of his thoughts with snark and sarcasm that thinly
veils a statement of intent. Jackson wants
everyone to know that Stiles is taken, because Jackson doesn’t want to share,
Jackson wants them to be a them.

Grinning to himself Stiles knocked his
knuckles against the door that Jackson left ajar to keep the warmth inside,
checking if he’s invited in before intruding. They may have just had some
incredibly hot sexy times, but that doesn’t mean that Stiles has free reign to
go where he wants in Jackson’s home or get to impose himself on Jackson. He
never wants to put Jackson in the position that they had both found themselves
in when they were younger – not being in control of their bodies and what they
did. And supernatural possessions aside, Stiles remembers the discomfort he felt when he
would wake in his bed to Malia being wrapped around him when she had come into
the house while he was asleep without asking. They had worked it out together,
but that feeling had stuck with him and he had committed himself to never
making a lover feel that way.

“Come in Mr. Polite, I appreciate the
privacy but I want you to make me breakfast after this – so you’d better get in
here and get clean with me.”

Pushing the door open and seeing Jackson
through the steamed up glass of the shower enclosure was a memory that Stiles
was pretty sure would be crystallized in his memory for life. Sure, they had
showered together in the locker room at high school but the unspoken rule of
the locker room is that you maintain eye contact or just stare at the tiles.
Now he could look his fill, and oh what a feast Jackson was. Stiles ducked into
the room and closed the door fully behind him, the steam and heat of the room
matching the warmth in his belly as he slipped into the shower behind Jackson
and got to see the rivulets of water running down his back and ass in what
feelt like high definition.

“Pass me the shower gel and tell me what
you want for breakfast, asshole.”

Jackson turned to face Stiles, expensive
looking bottle of body wash in hand and smirked at Stiles.

“What, I lend you my apartment and my bed
and you don’t want to cook me some food as a thank you?” The smirk softened a
little as he watched Stiles soap himself up. “C’mon, it’s easier to talk if
there’s coffee and food on the table and I think you need to fuel up if you’re
gonna keep up with me.”

Stiles deliberately leant right into
Jackson’s space to put the body wash back on its shelf, feeling Jackson’s
erection pressed against his hip and knowing his was pressing just as
insistently into Jackson.

“I don’t think keeping up with you is
going be a problem,” Stiles whispered into Jackson’s ear. “We seem to be pretty
evenly matched here, don’t we?”

Jackson leant into Stiles’ body and tipped
his head back to rinse his face under the spray of the shower and then turned
them both around so that Stiles was under the shower. He watched with hungry
blue eyes while Stiles cleaned himself up and washed his hair while he was at
it. Stiles felt goose bumps break out across his skin despite the heat of the
water; having Jackson’s full attention on his body was a heady thing. The
tension of them both hard and wanting, but resisting touching, had him aching
in the best possible way. Jackson looked like he wanted to devour him, and somehow it was different from every other partner
that had looked at him with want in their eyes. Maybe it was because Jackson
was a werewolf, maybe this was some predatory instinct that had Stiles feeling both like a butterfly pinned to a board and like an object of adoration. He
watched Jackson watching him, waiting to see who would be the first to break.
Surprisingly it was Jackson who drew his gaze up to meet Stiles’ before stepping
back and out of the shower. Stiles reached up to scrub the last of the shampoo
out of his hair and greedily observed Jackson grabbing a towel and drying
himself off before wrapping it across his shoulders. Stiles followed him out
and was handed his own towel, thick and fluffy and probably just as expensive
as the bedding he had enjoyed so much the night before.

“Come on, you can borrow some clothes. I
don’t think I can handle you in pants that have buttons and a zip today.”

With that announcement and an arch look on
his face, Jackson left the bathroom and headed towards his closet while
toweling off his hair. The closet that was an actual room of its own off of his
bedroom. Stiles still thought it was hilarious that Jackson had so many
clothes, and sniggered as Jackson pulled out two pairs of sweatpants and threw
one towards Stiles.

“Dude, I’m pretty sure you could give
Lydia a run for her money in terms of wardrobe sizes. You are aware you can
pack a bag right? You don’t actually need to have a wardrobe at every place you
stay.”

Jackson scowled at him and threw a henley
at his face with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Put that on, you peasant. You should be
grateful I’ve got enough clothes here to share.”

Stiles dutifully pulled the sweats on, and
waggled his eyebrows at Jackson as he popped his head through the collar of the
shirt.

“I could always go naked, you know – if
I’ve really offended you.”

The only response to that was Jackson’s
eyes flashing blue, and Stiles wasn’t sure whether that was from annoyance or arousal at the idea of Stiles wandering around naked all day so he made a quick exit and
went to the kitchen to get started on some food. He already had bacon frying
and eggs ready to hit the pan by the time Jackson came out into the main living
area. Jackson got plates set out on the side and poured the coffee that Stiles had
put on as soon as he reached the kitchen. When it was all cooked they piled up
their plates and sat at the kitchen island. Stiles fell onto his food like a
starving man, the combination of his earlier hangover and then the mornings
more enjoyable activities catching up to him. Jackson ate slower, but still demolished a huge portion in reasonably short order.

“So,” Stiles took a sip of coffee and then
continued. “It’s easier to talk over food huh? I’m guessing that the heart to
heart was merely delayed by orgasms rather than permanently put off?”

Jackson winced, but nodded as he pushed
his knife and fork closed and stacked the plates on top of each other. He took
the plates over to the sink and started running the hot water, looking down
into the sink rather than at Stiles. It was a familiar sight after living with
Jackson for six months, he preferred doing the dishes by hand – said that the
dishwasher left a residue he could taste now that he was a werewolf. But the
lack of snark and conversation was less normal for them.

Stiles watched over the rim of his cup as
Jackson resolutely maintained his eye contact with the plughole. As much as
Jackson had learnt to read Stiles’ tells, and as much of an advantage as he had with werewolf senses, Stiles had learnt him just as well. The slightly raised
shoulders, the lack of eye contact, the apparent nonchalance, they were all
signs of Jackson wanting to voice something but not knowing how. Thankfully for
them both, Stiles knew how to approach difficult conversations with Jackson.
There had been plenty of them when he had returned from London and the pack had
had to fill him in on everything that had happened while he was gone. Since the
mess that was the nogitsune and its aftermath, Stiles had adopted a blanket policy of
honesty with the pack and his dad, as far as he could. And now that he and Jackson had stepped over the
line of friendship he knew that they needed everything out in the open. They
had both been hinting at their feelings for the whole morning, but someone
needed to be the first to lay their cards on the table and Stiles knew how
difficult Jackson found that. Stiles could handle it better; yes he had been
terrified of rejection before, but he was pretty sure that Jackson felt the
same way that he did so he could be the brave one if he had to.

“Okay, so. While you do the dishes, thanks
by the way I appreciate it, I’m going to say some things and you can interrupt
me whenever you like ‘cause I’m pretty sure I’m gonna ramble my way through
this. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” Stiles watched as a
little bit of the tension in Jackson’s shoulders eased, and he actually picked
up the sponge to begin washing the dishes rather than just staring at them.

“I think – no – I know that I would like
to be more than friends with you. And, um, I have felt like this for a while.
And I would like that more than friendship to be, you know, I mean I don’t just
want-” Stiles could feel the tension growing in his own body. Saying this all
out loud after so long keeping it inside, well, it was scary even if he thought
there was a safety net. It was still scary. He looked down at his hands on the
tabletop, drumming his fingers against the surface, and tried to find the best
way to sum up his feelings only to come up short when Jackson sat heavily in
the seat next to him. Their shoulders were brushing, and the warmth of
Jackson’s body settled some of the anxiety that had been rising in him. Jackson
was looking straight ahead, still avoiding eye contact, and his jaw was
clenched – but there was a slight blush high on his cheeks.

“It’s not fair to let you do this all by
yourself,” Jackson suddenly said into the tense quiet. “I – I know you’ve
wanted to have sex with me. And. Well. I think I know that you want more than
just friends-with-benefits.” Jackson swallowed hard and then turned, catching
Stiles’ eyes and keeping his gaze as he continued. “I want us to be more than
friends, I want us to be what we are already but more. I want everyone to know.
I want to be able to say you’re mine and I’m yours. I want you in my space – I like you being in my space because then
it’s our space.”

Stiles could feel his heart racing and
knew that Jackson could hear it, and he just couldn’t stop the grin from
spreading across his face even though he was sure he looked like an idiot. This was better than any of his
fantasies. Jackson still had this earnest look on his face, and Stiles realised
he hadn’t responded yet other than with what was probably a slightly manic
expression.

“Yes! Yes. That is, yes, that is exactly
what I want. From you. Us. I mean that is- fuck it.” Stiles leaned across and
grabbed Jackson by the nape of his neck, dragging him in for a surprisingly gentle
kiss. “Yes,” he whispered against Jackson’s lips, and felt them curve into a
smile against his own.

@inell thank you for the endless and totally gentle encouragement!

@eeyore9990 @poetry-protest-pornography @all my stackson lovers out there

not!Jackson

The Dancing Around You Series Part 2 ( Part 1, Part 3, Part 4)

Stiles had managed to settle Jackson down that tipsy night of post-exam-pre-going-back-home excitement. The underwear had stayed on in the end, with Stiles opening the window in Jackson’s bedroom to let in the cool night air and turning to side light off so Jackson could rest his sensitive eyes. He’d had them screwed up shut when Stiles had finally braved coming into his room and fumbled his way through making Jackson comfortable without taking advantage of him in his inebriated state. While it did take wolfsbane enhanced liquor to get a werewolf drunk, once it was brought into the picture Jackson was a total lightweight. Out of the whole pack he got the drunkest, the quickest, on the least amount of booze. It entertained Stiles no end that the cocky little shit lost the plot so quickly as soon as a couple of beers and a shot or two were in his system. But while Stiles was happy to make fun of him (and maybe get video evidence) of Jackson’s drunken escapades, he would never take advantage of him – no matter how tempting a picture Jackson had made spread out and wriggling on his huge queen size bed.

 Instead, Stiles had slipped out of the room, finished off his beer while watching the tail end of the movie they had had playing, and then went to bed himself where he lay and contemplated why on Earth his stupid brain insisted on falling for the biggest and most unattainable asshole he knew. One with super senses and an out of control ego, and a predilection for teasing Stiles since they were in kindergarten together. He would say that they have come to the point of being friends now, not like he and Scott are – Scott’s a puppy and Jackson will never be that kind of person. He’s more like Stiles in a lot of ways, he’s snarky and rude and he really doesn’t have time for pretending he likes you unless you can get him somewhere. But living with him for the past 6 months, and knowing him as a pack mate – having seen him grow and develop as a person. Well. Stiles now knows that despite his bravado Jackson has a deep and abiding fear that he isn’t good enough, that he likes guacamole to a ridiculous fight-inducing extent, and that despite his protests he loves his pack like family. He also happens to be hot like burning. Stiles isn’t a saint, okay?

They lazed about for most of the Friday before travelling back to Beacon Hills on the Saturday, driving for hours with their competing music playlists and squabbling over snacks. They got back without incident and Jackson dropped Stiles off at his Dad’s before heading to his own parent’s house. Stiles had reluctantly left the jeep at home before heading to college, Jackson’s parents had gotten him an SUV and it was newer and safer and more reliable than Rosco so that was the chosen vehicle – they didn’t use it much on campus, it was mostly for travelling between college and home. After catching up with his Dad Stiles headed over to Derek’s loft, now renovated, for the pack gathering celebrating everyone being home. It was raucous and fun and everyone was full of laughter and elation at all being in the same place at the same time, the pack bonds that had taken so long to form and nourish singing at the closeness of the group. Derek had given each of his betas their own space in the block, somewhere they could have as their own under their Alpha’s protection – but not have to stay with him. Stiles had a couple of beers too many and Jackson ended up half carrying him to his own place on the floor beneath Derek’s, with Stiles leaning against him in the lift and giggling to himself about some running joke with Scott about Derek and strawberries. He knew it annoyed Jackson that he didn’t know what the joke was about so he continued to chuckle to himself just to annoy the smug little shit who was decidedly sober tonight.

“Why are you so sober? So-sober – hah – sounds like I’m stuttering dude! Hmm I’m kinda tired can I crash? I don’t think Dad would appreciate my triumphant return as much in this state y’know?”

Jackson sighed heavily. 

“Of course you can, idiot, why else would I be carrying your heavy ass down here? Get into bed and don’t drool on those pillows they’re worth more than your car.”

Stiles stumbled into the bedroom and sat on the side of the bed, toeing his shoes off after a couple of attempts and feeling vaguely guilty that he wasn’t taking the couch. But what do they say about gift horses and mouths? He fell sideways onto the bed and pressed his face into the pillow. Damn. They really were comfortable, the cotton crisp and cool against his overheated cheek, Jackson probably did pay stupid money for them, the privileged ass. Still, Stiles wasn’t above enjoying them and he rubbed his face against the pillow happily, inhaling the dull but still present scent of Jackson’s body wash and cologne that had settled into the pillow itself. That was how Jackson found him, smiling like a dope and smooshing his face into the bedding while feeling a little like the room was spinning. Stiles opened his eyes when he heard the sound of a glass being set down on the bedside table, and the familiar murmur of Jackson muttering about Stiles being a pain in his ass. He was about to giggle and point out the innuendo when he was brought short by the feeling of Jackson undoing the button on his jeans and tugging them down.

“Don’t worry princess, your virtue is safe – you’ll ruin the bedding if you sleep in these jeans so they’ve got to go. And seeing as you’re apparently incapable of looking after yourself…”

Stiles zoned out as he started sweeping his now bare leg backwards and forwards across the cool cotton bedspread, ignoring Jackson’s inevitable snark. He opened his eyes again when it got quiet, already feeling drowsy, and he found himself smiling again when he saw Jackson stripping off his t-shirt. God he was so pretty in the moonlight from the windows. Stiles was just drunk enough to keep watching, not worried about getting caught in his inebriated state. Jackson looked up as he was pulling his jeans off of one leg and they made eye contact for a long moment that felt like it stretched and went on for much longer than it actually was. He was just wearing boxers now, checkered cotton that looked soft and comfortable and wasn’t the showy designer stuff he wore when he went out on dates. He looked so touchable and Stiles wanted to reach out, but he was so tired, he just gripped the covers instead. 

‘Go to sleep Stiles, I’ll try to make sure you don’t choke and die.”

Jackson’s tone was sarcastic and biting, like always, but he was smiling and he looked away from Stiles to finish pulling his jeans off so he did mean it. Stiles had learned to understand the in-between the lines nature of Jackson’s ways of communicating. He would look after Stiles. If only it was as more than a friend, more than a pack member watching over another. Still, Stiles was content in the moment – Jackson’s scent filling his head and the image of Jackson soft and relaxed back on his home territory, the laughter of the pack still upstairs audible from the open windows.

@inell – here’s some more for you bby!

not!Jackson

The Dancing Around You Series Part 1 (Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

“Stiles!”

From his spot on the sofa in the living room Stiles rolled his eyes and ignored the increasingly annoyed voice coming from one of the bedrooms, taking a swig from his beer instead of moving. He should have known that sharing an apartment with Jackson would be a bad idea. But after he returned from London in order to make his peace with the pack and his parents Jackson had admittedly mellowed. He and Stiles were going to the same college and it had actually been his suggestion – Stiles had immediately shot it down but after a conversation with Scott which included a fair amount of emotional guilt tripping Stiles had given in and accepted the idea. Truthfully, Jackson wasn’t as terrible a roommate as Stiles had imagined. He didn’t leave his towel on the bathroom floor, he was amenable to a rota for chores and he was actually working really hard for college. But. But – he was still Jackson. He seemed to live to rile Stiles up and living with him, seeing him swanning around the apartment in low riding sweatpants and worn, threadbare t-shirts might not have been a deliberate way to drive Stiles slowly insane. But it was effective.

“Stiles!”

Tonight they had actually had a great evening, they had met after their last exam for the semester and gone out for a couple of drinks with mutual friends. They were due to drive back to Beacon Hills in two days and had the luxury of nowhere to go tomorrow. So once they got back to the apartment Jackson had cracked open the good stuff – the wolfsbane laced booze that Lydia and Boyd had concocted and regularly sent as care packages to their pack mates. A couple of movies and a pizza later and Jackson was drunk, and had wandered off to bed about half an hour earlier.

And now he was calling for Stiles to come and ‘help him’ with something in his bedroom. For the sake of self-preservation Stiles had been ignoring him for the last…three minutes according to the clock on his mobile. Frankly he’s stunned Jackson hasn’t stomped out into their shared living space and made his demands face to face. But he just can’t go into Jackson’s room, he’s self aware enough that it would be crossing a line in his head that he needs to maintain. Jackson might already be aware of Stiles…attraction towards him, but he doesn’t need his room filling with the scent of Stiles’ arousal. 

“Stiles…please I need your help with this!”

It was the please that did it, Jackson might have mellowed but he was still an asshole the majority of the time (not that Stiles could cast aspersions). He rarely said please, and if he did it was heavily laced with sarcasm or directed towards someone he thought he should impress. Stiles was not one of those people so he rarely heard it. He sighed heavily, Jackson was drunk and Stiles wasn’t – he could be sick or something so it was the responsible thing to go and check on him to be sure he didn’t die or anything – werewolf or not. 

Stiles put his beer back onto the coffee table and hauled himself out of the sofa and headed towards Jackson’s door which stood ajar. He knocked gently before pushing it open, not stepping over the threshold but looking into the room to see if Jackson was alright. When his eyes fell upon the bed Stiles sucked in a breath. Shit. The sidelight was on and showed clearly that Jackson had apparently flopped straight down face first onto his bed. His pants were hanging off of one foot, draped across the bottom of the bed, and his top was at Stiles’ feet, obviously stripped off as soon as he had got in the room. Jackson was currently using one hand hooked into his underwear and attempting to pull them off without moving the rest of his body. Stiles felt the blush blossom across his cheeks and down his neck, he’d seen Jackson naked before – everyone had – but not in this intimate environment.

“Stiles please, I’m too hot I need you to help me – I’m too hot! Goddamit why the fuck are you ignoring me now – usually I couldn’t make you shut up if I wanted to…just-fuckin-”

He was wriggling now, his back muscles shifting and his ass jiggling as he tried, and failed, to get himself fully undressed. Stiles just stared, words deserting him for once in his life, and fought not to go and ‘help’ Jackson just how he wanted.

@inell you lovely lovely thing – always gifting us all with amazing fics! here’s a little stackson to cheer you up while you’re feeling poorly! *hugs*