Jackson felt off. He wasn't sure what was wrong. Since lunch time he'd been having trouble focusing. It was like he was desperately hungry, but it didn't matter what he put in his stomach. It wasn't good enough, wasn't sweet enough, wasn't salty enough. It just wasn't enough. It was driving him insane.
He wandered into the kitchen. Allison was there making something to eat. Whatever she was making smelled delicious. He got closer, took a deep breath. There was something different about her scent too. He wondered if she'd changed the type of soap she normally used.
"Smells good," Jackson said. He walked over, leaned next to her against the counter.
She smiled at him. "What smells good?" She opened the cabinet, craned her neck to look for something on the higher shelves. "Why do people put the peanut butter on the highest shelf? It's just cruel."
Jackson turned, stepped behind her. He reached over her shoulder, grabbed the jar of peanut butter. Allison shook her hair out of her face. Jackson took a deep breath, his stomach flipped. She smelled delicious, a combination of strawberries and something else. He wondered what kind of shampoo she used.
Allison reached over her shoulder, but didn't turn to look at him. He stared at the peanut butter in his hand, then watched her fingers wiggling in the air waiting for him to hand her the jar. Her finger's smelled even more delicious than her hair. He licked his lips, leaned in closer.
"Jackson?" Allison sighed. "No teasing, I'm too hungry for teasing." She laughed and shook her head again.
Jackson bit his tongue. He'd been thinking about licking her. What the hell was wrong with him? He pushed the jar of peanut butter into her hands. "Sorry," he said. "Enjoy lunch." He turned and rushed out of the kitchen.
"Are you okay?" Allison sounded concerned.
"Yeah I'm good; I'm just going to go look out at the ocean from the terrace." He didn't wait for her response. He rushed up the stairs, needed to get out of her personal space. He was going insane.
At the top of the stairs he caught the scent of whatever had been all over Allison. It flickered through his mind, taunted him. It led him down the hall. He sniffed the air every few feet, stopped in front of the door at the end. He pushed it open.
Whatever it was, whatever he couldn't get out of his mind was inside the room. His mind started to drift. It was strong here. He wandered over to the bed near the window. It wasn't made; pillows and blankets were strewn about. He grabbed one of the pillows. He stared at it for a few moments. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason he held it against his face. It had been there in the bed. Desire twisted in his gut. The scent filled up his brain, obliterated his other thoughts. He collapsed onto the bed and tangled the blankets around his body.
He curled his fingers in the sheets, nuzzled his face into the pillow. It was so soft, smelled so wonderful. He wanted to stay in the room, wanted to stay buried in the smell. He took a deep breath, rolled onto his back. He clutched the pillow to his chest.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he realized that something was wrong. He was relatively sure he was in Derek's room. "What the fuck?" he said hysterically. He hurled the pillow away from his body, almost fell as he tried to untangle himself from the sheets and get out of the room. He rushed down the stairs.
He was shaking and panting when he made it into the kitchen. Allison wasn't there. She must have left while he was going insane upstairs. He had to get out, needed some fresh air. He headed out the back, jogged down the ramp to the beach.
He glanced at his watch. Hours had passed. He'd been rolling around on a bed in Derek's room for hours. He was ridiculous and he had no idea why. What the hell was wrong with him? He glanced at his phone. There were messages from Lydia. He ignored them.
Jackson dropped his phone into his pocket, walked aimlessly around the beach. He started going east. There was something in the air. It was incredibly faint, he wasn't sure what it was but it smelled coppery. He had the surreal feeling he was wandering through time. He came across a burned out bonfire. Beer cans littered the area. Some of them smelled incredible.
He was going crazy; he hadn't even realized the sun had begun to set. "This is what going crazy feels like," he whispered to himself. He ignored how talking to himself reinforced what he was already thinking. He couldn't focus, could barely maintain concentration for more than a few minutes at a time.
His phone rang, he jumped at the sound. "Hello?"
"Jackson? Where are you? Get back to the house. We're going dancing tonight." It was a female voice coming through the speaker, but he couldn't place it at first. "Jackson?"
"Lydia?" Jackson thought about asking her for help, but he didn't know what he needed help with, didn't know how to explain it. He didn't know what was wrong with him.
"Of course," Lydia said. "Who else would it be?"
"I… I'll head back. I was just wandering around the beach." He didn't know what else to say.
"Okay. You've got a couple of hours, but I know you always want to look your best. Scott and Stiles are on their way back to the house. The plan was a success, no thanks to Derek."
Jackson hung up on her. Stiles, he needed to talk to Stiles. He took off towards the house at a run. He'd thought he was hungry before, but now he was starving. Some small part of him wished that he'd taken a shower after practicing. He hoped he didn't smell too bad. He'd just hop into the hot tub for a second when he got back to the house. That would get the sweat off his skin. He didn't want to go in and run into Stiles while he was covered in sand from running around the beach.
He set a pace that ate the distance quickly. He needed to get back. He dodged around people, didn't bother to stop and apologize to the one person he hadn't moved around in time. He barely noticed the impact, barely registered their angry voice yelling at him.
He jogged up the ramp at the back of the house, headed towards the side that had the hot tub. He could hear it running. The most intoxicating smell was coming from near it. Stiles, it was Stiles. Jackson's brain short circuited and went offline.
The young beta didn't even bother to strip off his red athletic shorts as he came around the corner at something only slightly less than a run. A slender athletic boy who smelled like root beer and ice cream and that thing he had wanted all day was stepping into the hot tub. His back was to Jackson. The beta licked his lips, stalked forward. So close, he was so unbearably close. He leapt over the edge of the tub, collided with short male inside.
There was brief moment of struggle; Jackson sank his teeth into the side of the neck he had wanted to taste all day. He got a full hand of the dark hair that was… that was longer than he thought it should be. A warning tried to sound in his brain, but his inner wolf tore its throat out before the thought could form fully.
He curled one of his arms around the neck in front of him, his bicep against the person's cheek. The guy in his arms struggled for a moment, took a deep breath. The guy tensed up, was about to focus all his energy to hurl Jackson away. The person in his arms froze after taking the breath, made a needy growl. The noise came from deep in the throat under Jackson's teeth.
The tantalizing swipe of a tongue brushed against his bicep. Jackson felt a hand with sharp nails grab his wrist to hold him in place. He winced slightly when pin pricks of pain registered in his barely working brain. Teeth bit into the meat of his arm. The sensation settled low in his balls. He rutted against the body he was holding. He was harder than he ever remembered being. The guy ground his ass back against Jackson's groin, let out another throaty noise.
The teeth that had his arm released their grip, the body twisted in his grasp. The guy was slippery and wet. His skin fevered the way Jackson's skin felt. Need coiled about Jackson's lungs, choked out his breath. Lips closed over his, it was so hot and so fierce. He wanted so much more. Tongues slipped against each other, hands sprouted claws. Athletic shorts and swim trunks were shredded. It was all the slick wet slide of flesh, the occasional sharp spike of fangs through skin.
Green glowing eyes met burning amber and all human reason abandoned the two bodies as they pushed and pulled, bit and licked at each other. Jackson got his fingers curled into the back of the other guy's hair, pulled his head back so that he could get more access to the throat that kept making encouraging noises. He could feel the person's pulse with his tongue. The guy's heartbeat was a pounding rhythm that his own cock thrummed in unison with. Hands gripped him. He howled out his pleasure against the smooth throat under his teeth. It wasn't elegant or romantic. It was primal and needy. They rutted and thrust themselves against each other.
They pushed and pulled, slammed each other into the walls of the tub hard enough they almost cracked it apart. It didn't matter. The scent was all around Jackson. Hunger had him, wasn't letting go. It was getting worse. They wrestled, bodies slamming into each other. Sweat, hot water, so much bare skin, the friction made Jackson delirious.
They were struggling for control, for dominance. Jackson got a good hold on the smaller body's neck. He wanted to howl out in triumph. He lifted the struggling guy out of the water, pinned him on the edge of the tub. He didn't have time to howl his victory into the night; there was something he wanted more. He gripped the base of the guy's dick, watched the flesh twitch. The body underneath him bucked up into his hand.
Jackson leaned down and took a deep breath. The scent was overwhelming. It was different, not what he'd wanted so badly, but it was right there. He wanted it anyway. He closed his lips around the tip of the guy's cock. He sucked hard and long, swallowed as much of it as he could.
One hand gripped him by the back of his hair, hips tried to thrust up into his mouth. He let it happen, relished it. Another hand reached between his legs, caught his erection. He'd desperately needed the friction. He whimpered around the flesh he was sucking on, a wet sound of need that made the hand on his cock grip him tighter and start to jack him wildly.
The command, the need, the power of it, he had no idea where it was coming from. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he wouldn't let go. He worked his mouth and throat around the guy underneath him, thrust his hips into the hand that twisted and pulled. Jackson was being torn apart by the pleasure of it. Hot streams of fluid pulsed into his mouth; the taste of it was too much, too good.
The hand around him tugged expertly. He whined around the cock in his mouth, came hard enough that it made his body shake. He lapped at the softening flesh he released from his mouth. The guy under him made tortured and pleased sounds. A gentle hand fondled his balls, rolled them between wet fingers. Those fingers knew what they were doing, made Jackson feel so good.
Jackson panted, tried to regain his senses. Lips closed over his again, a tongue pushed its way into his mouth. He sucked in their mixed scent, the scent of what they'd done, along with the lingering thing that had brought him there in the first place. It was like a siren's song of desire Jackson had no name for. It was just a fierce instinctual need.
A high pitched voice shattered the moment. "You have got to be kidding me!"
Jackson's mind snapped back to full attention. He realized Scott's tongue was in his mouth; Scott's hand was on his dick. Lydia's voice was a shrill ringing in his ears.