Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/556019.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Isaac_Lahey/Erica_Reyes/Jackson_Whittemore
  Character:
      Erica_Reyes, Jackson_Whittemore, Isaac_Lahey, Vernon_Boyd, Derek_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Implied_Underage, Rough_Sex, characters_are_same_age_as_canon, no_non-
      con, no_dubcon, no_infidelity
  Collections:
      TWFallHarvest
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-11-06 Words: 2645
****** Reprise ******
by misspamela
Summary
     For the prompt: "Even after turning into a werewolf, Jackson gets
     some flashes of memories from when he was the kanima -- he remembers
     a particular night at a rave and dancing with Isaac and Erica, then
     it's all he can think about."
Notes
     Huge thanks to shoemaster and giddygeek for their quick betas!
It wasn’t the full moon, but it was close. Jackson could feel it rising in him,
bringing the wolf out as it drew closer.
He thought it would be beyond badass, like he was becoming more every day;
stronger, faster, better. But it was more like hunger, like the uncomfortable
clawing pangs that he sometimes felt after lacrosse practice that sent him to
the fridge to chow down on leftovers right out of the container. It wasn’t a
powerful feeling, it was an uncomfortable one. He didn’t like being out of
control of his body and after--
After that fuckhead controlled him like that, controlled Jackson fucking
Whittemore like he was some slave, some bullshit peon...well, fuck that noise.
Jackson wanted some control.
And like an idiot, he thought Derek Hale was the one to give it to him.
Which is how he found himself hanging out in some grotty old train station with
a bunch of reject werewolves and Derek fucking Hale, who was uselessly brooding
in the corner and staring at Jackson.
Sorry for trying to kill you, but leave me the fuck alone, Jackson didn’t say.
“Is this seriously all you guys do?” he said instead, letting his upper lip
curl in disgust.
“Yes,” Derek said, letting his eyes glow. Jackson hated how he automatically
backed down from that, giving way to the Alpha.
Jackson tried to relax without actually touching any surfaces on the train.
“Christ, let me at least send my maid down here. Or is there a werewolf law
that everything has to be all Gothic and dirty and shit.”
“Shut up,” Boyd said, picking apart the vinyl of the seats with one claw.
“Nobody’s making you sit here.” He sighed. “Hell, I don’t even know why I’m
sitting here.”
Erica walked behind Boyd, tapping him playfully on the arm. “Now, now,” she
purred. “None of that.”
Apparently they were hooking up, or had hooked up, or were...something, but not
exclusive. Isaac had told him about it, not that Jackson really gave a hit
about gossip. But he looked at Erica and remembered something, sometimes. Her
nails, against his neck. Writhing bodies, dark eyes. He wondered if he’d tapped
that when he was the kanima.
Uncomfortable silences and unanswered questions aside, Jackson knew why they
were all there. It was more comfortable, somehow, the hunger pushed back to a
dull twisting in his stomach rather than a clawing in his throat. It was either
being around other wolves or being around Derek that soothed him. He’d
eventually figure out which, but right now he just wanted to ease the crawling
under his skin.
It’s a choice, Jackson told himself calmly. You’re choosing to be here.
It wasn’t like those nightmares he had, cold and wet and frozen, screaming
inside, screaming outside, blood and poison and fear and a sick, desperate need
to belong. A need to obey. The memory of that need, more than the blood, was
what sent the bile rising in his throat.
Jackson didn’t want to do anything as obviously twitchy as pacing or fidgeting,
but he couldn’t not move. The others were restless too, except Derek, who was
leaning back against the wall of the train, his eyes heavy-lidded, still
watching them. Erica was idly swinging back and forth on one of the poles, not
like the sexy kind of swinging, but almost like a little kid would. Isaac’s
knee jittered and he was popping out his claws, in and out, back and forth.
Jackson wanted to snap at him to control himself, but he didn’t feel all that
in control right now, either.
Boyd said, “Fuck this, I’m going for a run,” and jumped up.
“Not too far,” Derek said, raising his head.
“Yes, dad,” Boyd said, without looking back. He jumped out of the train,
transformed, and took off like a shot.
Screw these guys. Jackson shook his head, trying to clear it. An image flashed-
Cold concrete, wet, dipping...a chlorine smell. The smell of fear. Shouting.
Water, don’t go near the water, don’t...
Jackson came back to himself, holding back a gasp. “I’m out,” he said, trying
to look casual. “Fuck this place.”
He stumbled outside, shooting for cool and missing by a mile. Somewhere in the
background he heard Derek say, “leave him.” Fuck them. They weren’t his
babysitters.
The smell of oil, seeking heat in the empty garage, two heartbeats, one
pounding a little fast, one beating along, he was going to stop that...claws
into blood, into flesh...
Jackson started running.
He ran and ran under the moon. Maybe he could find Boyd and they could just
bust out and run together. Or wrestle. He could use that kind of contact,
gripping on to another person, someone he couldn’t break.
His claws sunk deep into her soft stomach, with nobody to hear the way her
screams slowly died down--
Jackson ran faster. He could run so fast now that the trees were a blur next to
him. The memories were faster though, coming faster and stronger, urged on by
the bright, nearly full moon that burned into the back of Jackson’s mind.
Lips pressed into his, a hand on his ass, pounding music--
Jackson stumbled and nearly fell. This was a new memory. The other ones were
all the same, flashes of his victims, the helpless feeling of being driven, the
overwhelming need to kill, not the need to get laid. Did he get some when he
was the kanima? Gross.
He stopped, panting, and fell backwards against a tree. The moon bore down on
him, making his skin twist and shift. The rough bark of the tree dug into
Jackson’s back through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He didn’t care. It felt
solid, real, good. His skin was hot, then cold, chills ghosting over his skin
like there was someone blowing on it.
The kanima, the wolf. It felt like they were fighting. Memories warring with
the moon.
A club. The faint wub-wub-wub of music in the background, lights flashing,
obscuring his view. It didn’t matter. He knew where he was going. He had a
purpose, a goal.
Then a hand on his arm -- no claws, not a threat -- and the smell of a girl.
Erica, winding her way around his body. He meant to go on, to smack her out of
the way, but he wanted to be touched so badly. Even with the other one in his
mind, there was a need--
Moonlight filtered through the branches and Jackson arched against the tree,
his nails -- claws now -- scrabbling into the bark, gouging the wood. He was
hard, he realized, his whole body aching and shifting under the moon. Jackson
could hear his own breath panting loudly in the still night.
Something howled in the distance, the sound going right through him, rippling
shivers over his skin, goosebumps raising on his arm. “Fuck,” Jackson hissed,
pressing his hand against his cock.
Erica writhed in front of him. He could feel every inch of her, soft tits under
her shirt pressing against his chest, the even softer bare skin he traced at
her hip. She raised her head, cocking it to one side, daring him to kiss her
neck.
He slid forward to do that, and his hand met another hand on the small of
Erica’s back. He looked up to see Isaac, not looking at Erica, but at him.
Jackson squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel himself changing, claws
lengthening, teeth growing, his face changing...then slipping back. He couldn’t
control himself, not like this.
blood, cars, concrete, screams--
smashing glass, a woman, the baby in her belly--
lights and smoke and her hand and his hand and her lips and his lips--
A hand curled around his shoulder and Jackson came back to himself with a gasp.
He reacted quickly, but he was too out of it for the wolf to completely take
over. Erica slammed him back against the tree with a grin. “It’s your first
moon, baby,” she said, caressing his throat. “It’s supposed to be rough.”
Isaac appeared on the other side of Jackson. He had his hands jammed in the
pockets of his hoodie, but his eyes locked on to Jackson’s. He leaned forward.
“We could smell you,” he whispered, letting his eyes flutter shut.
Jackson opened his mouth to tell them to fuck off, but he couldn’t find the
words. He could smell them too, the low, animal scent of their arousal. He let
the wolf take over, let the change rip through him, ready to run and howl under
the moon.
This time they both pushed him back, Erica with one hand around his throat and
Isaac with both hands on his hips. Jackson bucked against his hands,
involuntarily. He was so fucking hard. If these guys were going to throw him
around, one of them should probably touch his dick.
“Hey, if you guys are going to keep manhandling me, you should probably touch
my dick,” Jackson said.
“We can’t let you run wild on your first moon,” Isaac said. “We need to bring
you back.” But as he was saying that, his thumbs were working into the hollows
of Jackson’s hips, running them up and down, closer and closer to where his
dick was straining against the front of his jeans.
“But that’s a good way to keep you here,” Erica said, softening her hand
against his neck and stroking him gently. She leaned forward and kissed him,
open-mouthed and hungry. Jackson hadn’t kissed anyone since he and Lydia -- no,
he couldn’t think about Lydia right now, he missed her too much to ever admit
out loud -- and he expected Erica to kiss like some kind of crazy sex goddess.
But she kissed like a regular girl. A hot regular girl.
He gripped her hair and she moaned as he licked into her mouth, catching his
teeth on her lower lip and sloppily kissing down her chin. Just as he did that,
Isaac moved to Jackson’s other side and bit the side of his neck. Jackson
jerked, gasping against Erica’s hot skin. “Yeah,” he muttered.
Isaac took that as the permission he needed and turned Jackson so his shoulder
was against the tree, Erica to the front and Isaac pressed into his back. He
could feel the hard line of Isaac’s cock pressed up against him on one side and
Erica’s soft tits against his chest. It was both overwhelmingly fucking hot and
weirdly safe.
“Fuck,” Jackson said, and Erica threw back her head and laughed. He leaned
forward to start kissing her again, his hands running up and down her body,
feeling the soft flesh under all the buckles and leather and fishnet. Isaac bit
into the back of his neck and steadied his hands on the back of Jackson’s hips,
like he was unsure all of a sudden.
“Touch my dick, asshole,” Jackson panted, breaking away from Erica, meaning to
sound harsh, but just coming out kind of pathetic and needy.
“Fine,” Isaac said into his ear. He slid his hands around to the front of
Jackson’s pants and wrenched the zipper open. “You want it like this?” And all
of a sudden he wasn’t tentative or unsure, he was squeezing Jackson’s dick
through his boxers hard, making Jackson groan loudly into Erica’s neck.
“Oh baby, don’t ignore me,” she said, grabbing Jackson’s hand and putting it
under her skirt, bracing one leg against the tree. “You have to work for it.”
Jackson tried to make it good, to show her how it wasn’t work for Jackson
Whittemore to get some girl off, but fuck, she wasn’t wearing underwear and, as
he pressed his fingers into her, Isaac worked his hand inside Jackson’s boxers,
stroking fast and a little too hard. Jackson’s hand faltered as he groaned into
Erica’s neck.
Erica raised her head and Isaac crushed Jackson against her as he surged
forward to kiss her, Jackson trapped between them hard and wanting, trying to
rub himself off into Isaac’s hand, which had stopped as he got distracted.
Jackson pushed his fingers deeper into Erica, rubbing her clit with his thumb,
hoping to get her away from Isaac so he could get back to business with
Jackson’s dick.
She broke away moaning and Isaac got back to it, stripping Jackson’s cock hard
and fast, focusing all that nervous energy low in his gut, coiling. He tried to
keep up with Erica, slowly scissoring his fingers inside her, but as Isaac bit
and kissed the back of his neck, Jackson gave up, leaning his head into her
shoulder and letting her hand run over him, over his hair, calming him just as
Isaac got him worked up, the itchy anxiety of the moon and the bloodlust of his
memories converging, taking over his body until he was coming, so hard he bit
his lip open, spilling over Isaac’s hands with the taste of blood in his mouth.
Erica took his face in her hands, gently licking the blood from his lip. “Now
me,” she whispered, and Jackson realized she was rubbing herself into his hand.
He was sleepy and sated from coming his fucking brains out, but he got it
together enough to push into her with two fingers and work her clit with his
other hand, getting her arching and moaning against the tree, with him
practically supporting her as her feet kicked and ground into the dirt below
her. Jackson lunged forward and bit her neck and that was it, she was
shuddering around him, letting out breathy little gasps that echoed through the
forest.
Jackson pulled away from her slowly, tucked himself back into his pants,
admiring the view of Erica, still looking smug even though he could see the
muscles in her thighs quivering. He turned around to find Isaac leaning against
another nearby tree, his hand wrapped around his cock, jacking it hard and
fast, with his eyes closed and his face turned slightly away. Well, what the
fuck was the point of a threesome if you were just going to jerk yourself off
anyway?
Erica beat him to it. She peeled herself off the tree and ran toward Isaac, but
Jackson pushed her out of the way. He leaned in, meaning to bite Isaac’s neck
like he had for Erica, but Jackson turned at the last minute and they ended up
kissing, which Jackson had never done with a dude before. He could feel Erica’s
hands between them, felt Isaac give a startled gasp into his mouth, but he was
too interested in the feel of Isaac’s stubble, the strength of his mouth and
his rough, chapped lips to care what else was happening.
Whatever was happening happened fast though, because Isaac dropped his head and
groaned, his hands tightening around Jackson’s arms. “Yes,” he gasped, bucking
against Jackson, and they all fell apart from each other, panting.
Erica smiled at them both, putting her skirt back into place and straightening
her stockings. Her makeup was still perfect. “Well, boys, I think we’ve blown
off enough energy for one night?”
“Nobody blew me,” Isaac mumbled. He still looked half-asleep.
“Next time, if you’re good. Right, Jackson?” She winked at him.
“Whatever,” he said. He couldn’t believe this was his life now. Fucking
threesomes in the woods and kissing dudes.
She rolled her eyes, holding her hand out to pull Isaac upright. “Okay,
Whittemore. However you want to play it.” She nodded to Isaac. “Race you back?
I want to find Boyd.”
“I’ll beat you this time,” Isaac said, his features rippling as he transformed.
They ran off into the woods, howling to each other the whole way.
Jackson took a deep breath, raised his face to the moon, and let the wolf take
him too.
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