Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/930219.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Isaac_Lahey, Implied_Isaac_Lahey/Scott_McCall
  Character:
      Isaac_Lahey, Derek_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Drama, Hurt_Isaac, Mean_Derek, Violence, Non-Graphic_Rape/Non-Con
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-17 Words: 700
****** Shattered ******
by Naemi
Summary
     When Isaac keeps ignoring Derek's rule not to see Scott, he receives
     a reminder stronger than just words.
Notes
     [going canon divergent in season 3a]
     This is very, very wrong. Just saying.
See the end of the work for more notes
 
Isaac doesn't make a single sound except for a few hushed sobs inaudible to the
human ear. He doesn't protest. He doesn't fight.
The first blow comes the moment he enters the loft. His wolf growls, bites and
claws, but Isaac doesn't let it out even once, knuckles under his Alpha,
knowing he deserves every bit of it.
That knowledge keeps his lips sealed. It’s obvious, anyway. Scott's scent is so
thoroughly over him, in him, that every one of his pack mates must have smelled
him from three blocks away. Admitting it would seem unnecessarily defensive.
So he lets Derek backhand him, lets his Alpha hurl him against the wall hard
enough for two ribs to crack. He watches as Derek orders the other betas to
leave, wipes away a single tear, more disappointment in himself than anything
else. The pack shuffles out without looking at him, and that's when he
understands how much he fucked up. Or how fucked up he will be soon.
Isaac's mind manages to connect Derek's anger to the beating he receives, and
that's okay, even though the back of his head hits the wall so hard he feels
dizzy. Once. Twice. His wolf wants to draw blood, but the seventeen-year-old
teenager shivers with fear because it really hurts, and because Derek's never
looked at him with so much scorn, and that chokes him, causes all hope for
forgiveness to abandon him at once.
When Derek rips his shirt off, Isaac's heart skips a beat. He almost asks,
almost begs, but then everything happens so quickly that his voice sticks in
his throat. He doesn't flinch when Derek shreds every bit of clothing from his
body, although his claws leave deep gouges in Isaac’s skin. He doesn't protest
as he's dragged across the floor, despite the scalping grip on his hair. He
doesn't sob when Derek pins him down on the stairs. In a corner of his mind he
knows, he just knows what is coming, and it horrifies him.
Derek doesn't grant him any reprieve. He mocks him, every word worth a dozen
physical assaults, and Isaac squeezes his eyes shut, grabs the baluster,
praying this is just a nightmare. He deserves this, deserves the pain and
humiliation, deserves, deserves, deserves to be punished for his disobedience,
for giving himself to another Alpha.
His mind reaches out to Scott—Please, don't let him, don't let him hurt me,
please, I need you, need you now—but there's no such empathic link between
them; he can't sense him that way, can't come to his rescue, although Isaac
knows that when Scott finds out his wrath will be infernal. He clings to that
thought, holds on to it tightly in the attempt to keep his sanity.
At least it's over quickly.
Derek leaves him lying there like the piece of trash Isaac knows he is. Like a
nauseous insect, crushed and shattered under a heavy footstep. To hear water
running from upstairs is almost cynical, the unmistakable message that what
just happened is nowhere out of the ordinary, that Isaac means nothing anymore.
Derek is washing him off like a stain.
The tears burn his cheeks, but he doesn't feel them; he is too consumed by his
aches, the Alpha wounds healing human-slow. Isaac tries to get up, carefully,
but he finds it impossible with each fiber of his being screaming in protest.
Clenching his teeth, he crawls down the few steps to the bottom of the
staircase, rolls to his side, curls in on himself, and that's as far away as he
can get from the shame right now. The heat of his pain melts into the chill
below him, but even as his heartbeat gradually steadies, Isaac finds no
comfort.
It takes more than an hour to pick up the pieces of himself, and even then he
merely drags his aching body to the couch. It's when he looks down for the
first time, sees with his own eyes what he feared he'd find—it's when he sees
the dried blood on the inside of his thighs, trails a shaking finger up the
line and to its origin—that he starts to scream.
End Notes
     Beta'd by the wonderful Moit, who also made sure that all characters
     were returned unharmed.
     [Feedback is love.]
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