Stiles scrambled out of sight.
There was no possible way he was seeing what he was seeing.
He peered out around the corner and his mouth fell slack.
Derek was pounding Jackson.
There was no other way to describe it.
The werewolf's actions were so fast and so strong, Stiles could only imagine his spine breaking had he been in Jackson's position. But Jackson loved it. He was crying out in pure ecstasy, his mouth open so wide Stiles could fit his fist in there. His teeth showed as he grinned, his entire body moving with each thrust.
He looked to Derek, his eyes filled with lust, and pulled him down. The alpha complied, taking his sharp teeth and hot tongue over Jackson's sweat covered torso, before finding Jackson's perfect mouth. They kissed. It was savage and raw, their lips at some cross between a smirk and a snarl, while their tongues battled for dominance. There was nothing tender or sweet about what they were doing.
Of course, nothing either of them did was ever sweet.
They were both growling, moaning, groaning, making every sound imaginable, while saying absolutely nothing. Derek's hands were tangled in Jackson's short hair, stopping Jackson's body from fall off the other side of the table. Jackson's nails dug into Derek's forearms and Stiles could see the red lines where Jackson's nails moved, unable to keep a solid grip through Derek's ruthless thrusts.
Stiles turned away, needing a moment to catch his breath. He couldn't even remember why he came to the library. It certainly wasn't to see the two of them going at it on one of the study tables.
He peaked out again. Derek was still half clothed. Jackson had managed to get off the leather Derek always wore and whatever shirt he had on underneath, but Derek was far more successful. Jackson was stark naked. Then again, that wasn't exactly something new. Even Stiles had seen his junk twice in the past season semester.
Derek straightened up, letting Stiles see the thin coat of sweat that had broken out on both their chests. Their hard torsos nearly glistened in the moonlight, each ripple of muscle amplified with dark shadows.
It was amazing how cooperative the lighting in Beacon Hills was.
Jackson's nails dragged down Derek's chest, eliciting a growl that sent shivers down Stiles' spine. He felt like the two of them would turn and go absolutely rabid any moment. Scott complained that it was hard enough to keep control when Alison had her tongue down his throat and these two were having earth-shattering, mind-blowing, animalistic sex.
Jackson's moans grew louder, his back arching as pleasure consumed every cell of his body. Stiles wondered if Scott could hear them across town. Stiles was sure he could hear them from the parking lot at this point and he was no werewolf.
Derek's hand dropped to Jackson's cock, stroking it steadily and slowly. His hand moved at an entirely different rhythm to his hips and it drove Jackson insane. When Derek's mouth returned to Jackson's body, he nearly lost it. Somehow, Jackson's mouth fell wider than it already was, his throat releasing nothing but rough choked noises. He couldn't even manage screaming at this point.
Jackson's hands searched for something to grab onto. One found Derek's hair, winding deep into the black locks. Derek returned the favour, twisting his fingers into the once perfectly-gelled mane, and crushed their lips together again.
Derek's hips never stopped. His shoulders looked almost perfectly still, his head moving to keep up with Jackson's lolling skull so that their lips never parted. His hand continued at the same agonizingly slow speed, making Jackson's body rock in search of more friction, but Derek adjusted, refusing to let him get off.
Derek released Jackson's mouth, his teeth scraping down Jackson's throat, before sinking into the dip between his neck and shoulder.
A raw, positively primal cry ripped from deep inside Jackson.
He was coming.
A smirk crept on Derek's lips, before he gave into everything he was holding back. After a few more thrusts, his breathing grew uneven and he buried himself so deep in Jackson, it was a marvel that they didn't become one person.
Stiles fell to his knees at the broken sound of Derek's moan as he came. It was low and muffled, but just as raw and primal as Jackson's. Derek propped himself up with an elbow above Jackson's head and pulled himself free. Jackson fell slack, his legs hanging off the table, while Derek stood. He cleaned himself off with Jackson's ripped shirt, knowing it wouldn't be odd for Jackson to be walking around shirtless.
It had become a highly common occurrence.
They were both grinning, basking in the utter satisfaction of the release that made Stiles wonder how long they had been doing this.
Jackson sat up, accepting the remnants shirt of his shirt to wipe all the cum off his body, while Derek tucked his cock back into his jeans. Jackson looked like he had been fucked within an inch of his life. His body was littered in bite marks and scratches. So was Derek's.
Maybe this was why Derek stopped running around without a shirt.
"Same time tomorrow?" Jackson asked.
Derek merely smirked, taking an extra moment to enjoy his handiwork. Jackson's legs were still spread wide. Stiles wasn't sure if he could even move them, when Derek hauled Jackson to his feet with a hand winded into his hair. Jackson's chest heaved, their eyes remaining locked together. Derek's finger traced his harshest bite mark. The one he left when he came.
"Keep this," Derek ordered, his voice low and rough and his eyes locked on his mark. "And be at my place tomorrow."
"Last time we did it at your place, we broke the east wing and I got splinters in my ass."
"At least we don't have to stop because my parents come home."
Jackson rolled his eyes.
"So here? The pool? The locker room?" His fingers played over Derek's covered dick and he bit his lip, leaning against the older wolf. "You do seem to like me and lockers."
Derek hooked a finger on Jackson's chin and ran his thumb over Jackson's swollen lips.
"The locker room," Derek decided.
"I'll bring handcuffs."
"You do remember what happened the last time you tried that on me, right?"
"Yeah." Jackson was smiling like the cocky bastard he was. "I'll just have to get better ones."
Derek's hands closed around Jackson's throat, making the younger one bare his teeth. Jackson's hips collided with the table again.
"Anyone tell you that you have serious control issues?" Jackson teased, his hands gripping the edges of the desk.
"This coming from the perfectionist?"
"I found an outlet."