"I can't believe Derek thought it was a good idea to give JACKSON of all people the bite. He abuses the strength and agility he already has."
Stiles had been muttering similar complaints to himself for the last hour as he sat in his Jeep, parked 'inconspicuously' outside Jackson's house on the night of the full moon. He wasn't exactly sure what he planned to do if Jackson wolfed out. He could barely keep up with the uber-jock's anger issues when he was fully human.
Luckily, wolfing out wouldn't be a problem.
Unluckily, that's when something slithered out of Jackson's window. Something Jackson sized, but definitely not Jackson or even wolf-Jackson shaped. "OH-Oh, shit!" With a flail, Stiles slouched down in his seat, "Wh~at the HELL is That?! That is not a wolf. That is not a wolf at all."
He heard the creature hissing outside the car, nothing but a few measly layers of sheet metal and plastic between them and ducked down even lower in the foot well, "Scotty, you are a terrible friend. Why didn't you talk me out of this?"
The Jeep shook and he caught a flash of pale underbelly scales out the passenger side window as Loch Ness Jackson climbed by. He could hear its claws scratching across the roof as it shifted around. Stiles, perpetually unable to hold in his sarcasm, yelled out to the beast, "You'd better not scratch Roscoe's paint while you're playing King of the Hill: Lizard Edition, Whittemore!"
The roof went silent, and the lack of sound was even more terrifying than imagining the talons that were making that scraping noise. Stiles hunched his shoulders and tried very hard to be one with the flooring. Slowly a hairless, scaly head poked over the top edge of the windshield. Stiles found himself craning his neck to stare right up into the face of Godzilla's douchey younger brother, hanging upside-down over his head.
They watched each other for a long moment and Stiles was able to give the not-Jackson, not-werewolf, what-the-fuck-is-it (?!?) creature a quick once over. It was textured more like an alligator than a snake, as he'd first thought, with large bumpy looking scales. Its nose and ears were missing. The face pointed a bit, like a snout, but had nostril and aural slits rather than protruding cartilage features. It had its mouth open a bit and he saw multiple rows of overlapping but evenly sized shark teeth, unlike the set of enlarged canine fangs he'd seen on Derek and Scott. The tongue flicked out a few times and some obscure factlet shook loose from the back of his mind that snakes and reptiles smelled with their tongues.
Although completely terrifying, the creature didn't seem to be feeling aggressive, which was downright un-Jackson of it. It just sat there and cocked its head from one side to the other and watched him. Figures that Scott, the most laid back dude in the school (aside from Danny, but no one was more laid back than Danny) got fratricidal outburst problems after the bite, but Jackson, he of the permanent roid-rage, was just happy to sit on top of Roscoe and stare at him with big, iridescent green-yellow, cat slit eyes. Those eyes were not even slightly human, but they showed clear intelligence.
Stiles had always been too antsy for staring contests and he made a face at the were-jock. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."
Jackson just kept staring at him and made a thrumming noise deep in his throat that Stiles couldn't have described as anything other than Jurassic Park-y. He stared up at the giant lizard resentfully, "You are not a clever girl."
As was typical with his confrontations with the jock, Jackson ignored Stiles' input and kept doing whatever he wanted. Apparently what he wanted was to perch on his not-able-to-getaway vehicle like a demented gargoyle, stare at him and choke-purr deep in his throat like a fucking velociraptor. It wasn't a very soothing sound, more akin to gargling sharp hardware than Paveratti, but as the lizard-man kept staring at him meaningfully and repeating the noise, Stiles thought it might be intended as encouraging.
Slowly, like he was afraid to spook the silly panicking human, Jackson put his hand flat on the windshield, fingers splayed out and demonstrating how impressive his claws really were. Stiles' eyes fixated on the talons in horror. "…all the better to tear out your viscera with, Stiles."
Reptar held that pose and continued cooing at him, glancing meaningfully between its hand and Stiles. Eventually, he realized that they would be there all night if he didn't make the next move. "I can't believe I'm actually about to high five the lizard formerly known as Jackass Whittemore."
He uncurled slowly from the foot well, keeping an eye on the lizard the whole time. Aside from a brief startle when he saw the long tail draped over the side window start wagging, nothing happened. The vocalization got deeper the closer Stiles' outstretched fingers got to the green palm. He paused a bare inch away and glanced up at the creature, but it was fixated on his hand. It's fingers flexed slightly against the glass, but it didn't try to break through.
He took a deep breath, and slammed his palm flat against the glass under Jackson's, eyes clenched shut as he waited for shattered glass and pain.
Instead a feeling of satisfaction and completion flowed through him. Images flooded Stiles’ mind, streaming through their connected hands in a torrent of information. There was a sense of filling up and his mind being over full, but something gave way and he could feel himself overflowing back down through the connection. His awareness permeated the skin of his palm, passed through the glass of the Jeep and swirled up into the body and mind of the unknown creature. He could hear better, see better, smell better, and vibrations took on a language of their own and provided him with a wealth of information that no human could have deciphered.
A second mind rubbed up against his like an affectionate cat and he was enveloped in a sense of belonging. An image bloomed in his mind. It was raining and there was a man staring at him in horror through rain soaked glasses. The memory stabilized and he realized that it was Mr. Lahey, Isaac’s dad. With his new senses he could taste the evil reek of the man. It lay heavy on his tongue like a smoky crude oil. He could tell, without a doubt that this man had killed.
His prey turned and ran from him, hiding in his car. He wasn't half as safe as he thought. Stiles ripped through the car door like it was paper, flinging the useless hunk of metal and glass away. Mr. Lahey cringed back, screaming and Stiles lunged forward and swiped his claws down the cowering man’s chest again and again. He felt the flesh catch and tear under his fingers, ribs splintering and blood splattering across his long, agile tongue, flooding his senses with iron and copper as the scent of evil faded with the failing heartbeat. He felt triumphant, he felt victorious… he felt sick. The horror Stiles felt at having killed a man clashed terribly with the creature’s sense of satisfied justice and they fell out of sync.
Stiles could feel the lizard’s confusion through their link as its consciousness grabbed after his. It didn’t understand what it had done wrong, what had upset him. He sent it waves of horror and disgust as he pulled back. The world outside their entwined minds came back to him slowly and he could see the beast’s scaled face through the stream of memories and sensations. Its eyes were half lidded and it whined at him in dismay.
Apparently he wasn’t reacting the way it wanted him to. Their gazes locked as it pulled him back into its memories. He cringed when it sent him that same image of Mr. Lahey in the rainy alley, but the memory slowed to a stop before the attack. He was inundated with sensory information he couldn’t interpret. He looked out through the lizards eyes and felt its mind layering over his, showing him what it had sensed from Mr. Lahey that lead it to kill him. The poisonous evilbadwrong washed over him and when he finally relaxed into the oily feeling of it he was able to decipher its deeper nuances. The soul deep knowledge that the man was a killer reverberated down to his bones. He couldn’t define how or why but he knew that the man was a mate-slayer, kin-killer, a brood-destroyer.
Stiles’ human mind struggled to translate the information he was getting. Somehow the supernatural senses of the beast were able to see or smell or taste that Mr. Lahey had killed his family. Officially, his wife had died of a suicide, but that was easy enough to orchestrate through constant abuse and despair or the careful staging of a murder. He didn't know the particulars, but he was absolutely certain that her death had been Mr. Lahey’s fault. Then there was Camden. His decision to join the military and ship out was so sudden. He hadn’t had a going away party or anything, and for such a popular guy that was more than a little on the odd side. There was a sick certainty in his mind that Camden hadn’t died in some far off desert, he had died right here at home and had his death covered up by a convenient story about shipping out to a warzone.
The lizard nudged his mind with a sense of justice and protection. The relief of excising an infection so that healing could start. It was proud of itself and felt accomplished that it had wiped out a stain on humanity. Stiles understood where it was coming from but still felt ill at having experienced the memories from the executioner's perspective. He wasn't a killer. He sent it an image of Mr. Lahey in cuffs, struggling and shouting as his father pushed him into the back of a cruiser, layering it with thick sensations of justice and protection and the deep feeling of safety he always got from his dad. He also sent a haphazard series of images from comic books of heroes leaving various crooks and villains tied up and disabled for the cops to find and arrest. He established a clear sense that the heroes didn't kill. He enforced it all with a sense of stern reprimand and admonishment about killing. The lizard grumbled a bit but latched onto the sense of justice and punishment. It seemed pleased that he was able to understand it’s urges, but oddly also liked that he was enforcing limits on it as well.
A Jackson-creature that listened to him, Stiles was pretty sure that Hell had frozen over.
With one crisis averted, and reasonably certain the lizard wasn’t going to run off and slaughter the town, Stiles turned his attention to his next problem. He tried to send the lizard a query about what it was, but it didn’t seem to understand what he was asking. Frustrated he sent an image of Jackson, then of Jackson with fuzzy sideburns, fangs and glowing eyes, then of the lizard. He packed all of his confusion behind the second and third images.
His clumsy sending prompted an immediate discordant jangle of thought and emotion. It was like a dose of white-noise static applied directly to his brain.
The creature reared back, breaking their connection and toppling over, right off the Jeep, keening as if it was in pain. It landed in a shivering heap of scales on the pavement and it's form shimmered and rippled like a failing holograph. For a split second Stiles saw Jackson underneath. Stiles pressed himself against the passenger side window to keep it in view and it looked up at him with accusing blue eyes, Jackson’s eyes.
The lizard snarled at him and fled, disappearing behind the Whittemore’s house.
His phone rang, startling him into banging his head off the window. It was Allison. "Crap, I completely forgot about Isaac."
Apparently, Isaac had completely forgotten about him too.
He was looking at Stiles like he was the last piece of cake. Full moons in Beacon Hills always felt like a party- a costume party that Stiles hadn't been prepared for, when everyone else had claws and fangs and glowing eyes. Isaac's sideburn game was particularly strong, he had huge muttonchops that were as long and curly as the rest of his hair. Stiles realized that his mind had dropped into that hyper-focus he seemed to find whenever his life was in imminent danger. It was truly amazing the things you could discover about yourself during the shitshow your life becomes when your best friend ends up a creature of the night.
He cringed back into the wall as Isaac closed in for the kill, but the new wolf stopped abruptly at the sound of a deep, full throated roar. Stiles looked up at Derek in amazement, he didn't think it was possible for human vocal cords to make deep bellowing noises like that. Oh. Duh. Werewolf, not human. Still, he didn't think Scott could do that. "How did you do that?"
"I'm the Alpha."
Everything was calm for a moment, despite the blaring fire alarm, until a green blur shot out of nowhere and bowled Derek over, hissing like a burst pipe. Jackson was back. Joy.
The fight was over quickly, because apparently Jackson could paralyze people with his claws. That was new and horrifying. Stiles winced as Derek's knees buckled and he slammed face first into the floor, followed quickly by Isaac. With all threats neutralized, Jackson Kong- no wait wrong species- Jackzilla crawled right up into Stiles' business and chirped inquiringly at him. He felt worry and reassurance radiating from the lizard and was mildly concerned that he apparently had an empathic bond with him. That couldn't be good.
"Yeah, You got them buddy. Uh… Good job on not killing them." The lizard leaned heavily against Stiles' stiff shoulder and curled his tail around his legs, thrumming gently and feeling very smug and pleased with himself. Stiles blushed a bit when he felt the warm curl of possessiveness the lizard was emitting. Yeah, his relationship with Jackson and/or Jackson's alter ego was getting weird fast. He still wasn't sure how much of the jock's mind was home or awake. It really wasn't fair if he was the only one freaking out about this.
"Stiles." Derek's voice was muffled by the floor but still managed to be distinctly unamused.
"Yes, Derek." Stiles asked mildly, as if he weren't being cuddled by a bizarre lizard creature, next to two paralyzed werewolves and an unconscious hunter as the alarms continued to blare- seeing as they were all still in the Beacon Hills police holding tank. He was tired, he just had no more fucks to give. Stick a fork in him, he was done. Jackson's scalier twin nuzzled his not at all terrifyingly fanged face into Stiles' neck. Which actually relaxed him. Jesus, he was being psychically roofied by a reptile.
"What the hell is that?" The anger in Derek's tone set Isaac to growling mindlessly again. Jackson hissed angrily at the wolves and chittered what seemed to be a reprimand. When no violence was forthcoming, the lizard relaxed back against Stiles, but his tail coiled a little more firmly. Stiles felt oddly like his virtue was being protected and the warm feeling in his chest was totally heartburn. He was developing an ulcer from all this supernatural bullshit.
"That? That is Jackson. Jackson Whittemore. Jackson Whittemore, whom you bit. Good job there. I didn't know you even could screw up when infecting someone with lycanthropy. I blame you for everything that has gone wrong tonight."
"A-yep." Feeling better that someone other than him was completely blindsided by the nights events Stiles turned to Jackson. "Hey Jax, you feel like helping me drag these two out of here? My Dad does not need to see this."
The lizard huffed like a long suffering teen being forced to bring out the trash, but grabbed Derek by the ankle and wrapped his tail firmly under Isaac's armpits and obediently started dragging them towards the nearest fire exit. Derek was lucky that the momentum flipped him over, because Stiles was pretty sure Jackson would have dragged him face down if he could have gotten away with it. The spiteful annoyance Stiles felt for the Alpha was only half his.
Isaac's growling choked a little as the tail tightened threateningly around his torso. His yellow eyes burned into Stiles, following his every movement as the skinny teen stood up from where he had been cowering against the wall and followed them out. There was obviously no one home under that curly mop.
"How are you controlling him?" Derek somehow looked just as grumpy and put together as always, despite being dragged down the linoleum hall, his arms trailing limply above his head. If you looked at him from the right angle he looked like the least thrilled roller-coaster rider ever.
"I think I may have accidentally formed a psychic bond with him." Jackson chirred the back his throat as greedy feelings crashed over Stiles. "… and if his emotions are any indication, he's not planning on letting me do anything about it. He's very… possessive."
Jackson's purring kicked up a notch. Stiles was really starting to worry about the heartburn thing.
Derek squinted up at Stiles, since he and the ceiling were the only things in view as the Alpha was dragged unceremoniously over the doorjamb and bounced painfully down the three concrete steps leading to the parking lot. His shirt had ridden up and Stiles was pretty sure he'd have some fabulous road rash. He had Jackson drag the wolves just out of sight at the edge of the woods and dumped them.
Isaac snarled when he was plunked down. If he had been able to move he probably would have lunged at someone. Stiles was so ready to be done with the night that he just left them there without a word and started walking away, Jackson keeping pace at his side.
"I've heard stories." Derek spoke up from behind them, he looked like a really uncomfortable stargazer, shirt all rucked up and his limbs all akimbo. "That sometimes the bite doesn't take, or it goes wrong. It's called a Kanima, and it's an abomination."
Stiles looked down at Jackson, who watched him carefully. For the first time, he was pretty sure that the jock really was there, hidden just under the surface of the… Kanima. His emotions were suspended, as if he were awaiting Stiles' judgement, waiting to be rejected. "There are a lot of people who would say the same thing about you."
He left Derek there and really hoped that the Alpha thought long and hard on how ill-advised it was to bite teenagers. Stiles doubted with all the brooding Derek already did that any constructive self-reflection would happen.
When he finally reached the Jeep, Stiles just wanted to go home and sleep, but a questioning prod in his mind and a grunt stopped him. He leaned against Roscoe and stared down at the Kanima, at Jackson, crouched at his feet. "I don't even know where to start with you." Big slitted gold eyes blinked at him. "Are you the Kanima or Jackson? Can he even hear me?" The Kanima clicked it's talons thoughtfully against the pavement and then slowly uncoiled itself. It rose up to stand on its legs like a real boy and stared him straight in the eyes.
It- He put one of his hands against Stiles' cheek making them both shiver with their first ever skin on skin contact as their bond blew wide open. Stiles was inundated with confusion and devotion and desire and lust and passion and irritation and a hundred other emotions all tangled and layered together. He was caught so off guard by the torrential influx that he didn't even think to fight as his head was angled just right and lips pressed against his, scales and fangs melting away. Stiles melted into the kiss with a sigh. Jackson really knew what he was doing.
Stiles realized what was happening and he panicked. Creatures of the night that might try to kill him, he could handle. Jackson Fucking Whittemore wanting him… kissing him. This was too wierd. His eyes popped open and he shoved at the naked tanned chest in front of him. He knew that even as a human he couldn't have budged Jackson, but the other boy obediently backed off and let him flee. He kept watching Stiles as he fumbled his way into the Jeep and took off. Stiles' lips tingled as his rearview mirrors lost sight of the naked, lonely looking Jackson standing abandoned in the dark.
Lydia's party was in full swing. Stiles had caught Jackson's eye across the pool a few times and it made his skin prickle with something he wouldn't admit to feeling. The jock would just stand there completely motionless, staring at him, gaze burning like a brand and Stiles had to force himself to look away each time.
It was just like at school. Jackson hadn't made any move to talk to him, but he was always there, watching, and Stiles had the feeling that he was monitoring Stiles' emotions, waiting out his panic, calculating the best time to corner him. He felt a deep burn in his stomach every time he caught the other teen watching that he told himself was just the alcohol. Jackson's knowing smirks said otherwise.
Lydia was in fine form, no one's hands were empty of a drink for more than a few seconds at a time. She was serving an endless supply of some kind of rum punch with little decorative purple petals in it. He'd had three already and he was feeling it. God was he feeling it, Stiles stumbled into the house looking for a bathroom, feeling dizzy and nauseous.
The interior of the house was just as crowded as the deck and poolside. He stumbled up the stairs with a vague drunken thought of reaching the master bath upstairs. It was quiet upstairs but he could still hear the ringing in his ears… and something else.
He squinted down the hall, one of the doors was cracked open. Which was strange, because usually Lydia locked up the bedrooms during her parties to keep people out. Something down there was calling him. He stumbled towards the warm pull and burst unsteadily into the dark bedroom. He stumbled forward until his knees hit the side of a bed and toppled over onto it gratefully, glad that he was safely horizontal. It was unfortunate that the bed was swaying so much. No, wait. Someone was on the bed with him and he was bouncing a little with their movement.
He looked up to see Jackson staring down at him with flashing eyes. He grinned up at him, "Jacky!"
"You've been avoiding me." The frown on his face was more than half pout. Stiles had never seen such a ridiculously childish look on Jackson's face, even when they were children. He was always trying to be more adult, more doll-like and perfect.
"Oh, yeah." Stiles started to roll over to get off the bed and continue to run from his problems, but a sharp prick on the back of his neck stopped him short. He slapped a hand to his neck and it came back with a tiny smudge of blood on it. "What the.."
His hand grew heavy and fell limply to the bed and so did he as his other arm crumpled under him. He was left looking up at a clawed hand, glistening with something. Stiles' drunken brain chugged away at half speed. "Dude, you're Britney Spears… No. I mean. You're toxic, poisonous. I think you paralyzed me. Unfair."
"Hmmm," Jackson leaned over and sniffed along the back of his neck, humming against his throat. An inhuman tongue flickered out and soothed the tiny sting where the claws had caught him. A dry musky scent enveloped Stiles' senses. "Yeah, that's a thing I can do. Couldn't have you getting away again. I've been practicing. "
"On what?" He felt pleasantly dizzy, but it was different than the alcoholic haze. It was warmer and less nauseating. What was that divine smell?
"Violent muggers, rapists, abusive boyfriends. Don't worry so much, you gave me orders not to kill. I've been a good boy, I've been SUCH a good boy, Stiles. Won't you give me a treat."
"What?" His voice cracked embarrassingly, trying to keep his face impassive even while his heart jumped in his chest at the syrupy sweet tone Jackson had used.
Jackson kept nuzzling against every bit of bare skin he could reach, leaving warm tingles in his wake as the bond flickered between them with each touch of their skin. Stiles could feel his determination and the seductive cocktail of pleasant emotions he was directing down their bond. It made Stiles' mind ache for prolonged contact, he wanted to immerse himself in Jackson. "Whatever I am, whatever Derek made me. It needs you. I need you. Can feel you in my mind all the time, calling me."
"Derek called it a Kanima." Then the rest of what Jackson had said processed, "You're the one who attacked Danny's ex at The Jungle."
"He wasn't good enough for Danny. I could smell it on him, the pain he caused others."
"Some…" Stiles gasped as Jackson easily manhandled him and roughly yanked off his flannel shirt. "Some people like pain… or so I've heard."
"Yeah, some people like to self punish. I can feel it on you, you know. The guilt, the need to give up control, to be punished, but… I'll tell you a secret." Jackson nipped Stiles ear before whispering breathlessly, "There is no stain of other people's pain on you. Whatever you blame yourself for, it wasn't your fault or I would know."
Stiles let loose a sob, his alcohol soaked brain was too dizzy to deflect. How could Jackson of all people be the one to say exactly what he needed. The jock pulled back, startled by how strong his emotional reaction was. He pulled Stiles' limp body into his lap and shushed him, patting at his hair and stroking down his back. It must have been coincidence that his undershirt rode up a little more with each pass.
Or not, because after the shirt got bunched up under Stiles' armpits, Jackson growled and pulled it off entirely.
The human could do nothing but squeak, the supernatural pheromones combined with the feelings coming down the bond and the alcohol, resulting in a brain that wasn't firing on all cylinders.
"I could hurt you ssssso good." He ran his claws down Stiles' back with just enough pressure to welt up, leaving trails of warm tingling venom. He seemed entirely lost in primal instinct and Stiles could feel that same mating drive seeping into his mind and body with each caress. His body heated up as it realized what Jackson was leading up to. "I can be anything you need."
Stiles felt the flush that spread over his exposed skin. His breathing was starting to quicken and although he felt like he was shivering, his body was pleasantly heavy. He couldn't fidget or escape, he could do nothing but wait for the next touch and be fully in the moment. The claws dipped down under his waistband and made quick work of his jeans. One of Stiles' weighted hands came up to grab at Jackson's bare thigh. When had he gotten naked? Stiles marveled at the feeling of the warm scales under his hand, stroking back and forth in fascination. "Hmm. Seems that our connection allows you some immunity to my poisons. You truly are incredible, and all mine."
Jackson's too long tongue flickered over his lips as his whole body swayed towards the feast laid out in front of him. "I would take you apart if I could and I would mix all of our broken pieces. Keep you ssssafe, protect you. Make ssssure no one but me ever hurt you again. My Sstiless, My Masster. Iss that what you want?"
It had to be the alcohol speaking when Stiles slurred "Yesss." his long sigh matching Jackson's hissing tone.
The Kanima leaned down over his Master and sank his teeth into the back of Stiles' neck, razor sharp fangs sinking into the thin skin and muscle bracketing the spine where it connected to the skull, so close to killing or permanently maiming him. Venom flowed from his fangs in a rush of heat and Stiles went completely limp and pliant beneath him.
"Gah!" With a yelp, Stiles sagged against the bed as the shooting pain in his neck faded into a surge of warmth. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, but he hated being trapped in such a vulnerable position. Jackson thrummed deep in his chest, pleased at the submission, voluntary or not. Stiles’ shivered at the sensation of the naked scales vibrating against the bare skin of his back. He could do nothing as the lizard readjusted its position and bit again, overlapping the first bite, but slightly lower.
Again and again the boy-beast bit him, working its way down his spine and making a bloody mess of his back. Stiles could feel the warm rivulets of blood dripping their way down over his ribs and hips in a constant full body caress. He moaned at the warm sting as endorphins flooded his body. The heat in his neck pulsed gently with each bite, the pleasure building with each wave; by the fourth or fifth bite he couldn't even feel the pain beyond the haze of warm content pleasure as his body was flooded with a euphoric high.
As the bites progressed lower, the tone of the pleasure changed, becoming more concentrated. Each bite echoed down into his cock and what was equivalent to a masochist's massage suddenly became full blown biteplay as Stiles grew hard and leaking. He didn't even know he had that kink. He moaned in despair when he realized that he couldn't hump down into the bed or even shift the weight of his body off of his rock hard erection as it throbbed in time with his back. He was completely reliant on Jackson to take care of him. Stiles made a wordless noise of needy demand at the thought.
"A-again." He begged, when the pause between bites grew too long. Jackson made another undefinable lizard noise in delight that his Master was finally reacting. He licked over the line of bites leading halfway down Stiles' back. He worked his forked tongue into each wound, savoring the tang of blood and pulling reluctant pleasured noises from the human as his saliva and venom covered tongue reawakened the stinging throb of each bite mark.
The muscle relaxing property of the fangs was starting to make sense to Stiles as the sensation built with each bite. He would have been thrashing and writhing if he could move and considering how close the bites were to his nervous system he was grateful for the security of the chemical bindings. That was another kink firmly in the ‘yes, please’ column. Apparently he was a LOT kinkier than he had thought, considering the fact that safe, sane, consensual wasn’t really on the table. Only Stiles 'all-or-nothing' Stilinski would go straight from virgin fresh to the deep end of edge-play homosexual anthro-bestiality in one sexual encounter.
Stiles expected Jackson to stop his meticulous work as he ran out of canvas and reached the swell of Stiles' ass, and in a sense he was right. Jackson bit down one last time on the lowest point of his back, burying his fangs deep and growling.
"Oh, god." The sound vibrated right up Stiles' spine and sent his whole body awash in sparkling tingles. He could feel the venom pumping it's way into his body, stoppered by Jackson's teeth. It shouldn't have been as sexy as it felt, but the bond sang between them in pleasure and Stiles was high on endorphins, instinct and supernatural pheromones.
When Jackson finally unlocked his jaw, the bloody wound welled up with venom and it overflowed down his crack. The Kanima chased the chemical with it's tongue, holding his cheeks apart with clawed hands as he pressed his face into Stiles ass. Stiles choked as the long agile tongue flickered over his hole, tasting him. The elongated muscle flicked back and forth in barely there touches that sent his skin to twitching as sparks went off in his dick. He whimpered in distress as it all became a bit too much and the fleeting caresses obediently calmed to a steady stroke, pressing closer and closer to where Stiles desperately needed it.The forked tip of Jackson's tongue pushed into him slightly, wriggling and swirling around just inside his entrance spreading the Kanima's saliva and stimulating the sensitive nerves.
Then the bastard started purring, sending vibrations right into Stiles' core and making him choke. Jackson pushed his tongue even deeper into his submissive little Master, liberally coating his insides with saliva and venom and purring all the while. Stiles outright sobbed when the tongue found and flickered over that one spot deep inside that felt so damn good. His untouched cock throbbed where it was trapped beneath his body. Even unseen, he knew it would be rock hard and flushed an angry red.
Jackson was content to torment his Master and wait for all the chemicals pumping through his blood stream to take hold. He wormed more and more of his long tongue into his soon to be mate as he kept an eye on the mess he'd made of Stiles' back. He watched with hungry eyes as the blood trickled to a stop and the wounds started closing up. Jackson smirked in delight as the row of bites faded to a stripe of shiny and delicate new scales that trailed all the way down Stiles' spine. His Master was fully and forever bound to him now. They were two parts of a whole.
He pulled back and admired the wet twitching hole that clenched down on his tongue, very reluctantly giving it up as he eased it free. Feeling mean, Jackson blew a puff of air over the desperate little pucker and chuckled at Stiles' resulting squeal and flinch. The paralysis was wearing off as his human body changed and adapted to the Kanima venom that was becoming a part of him.
Jackson rolled Stiles over and let himself admire his Master. His pale skinny body was blotchy and had blushed unevenly, his cock was leaking precome everywhere, his hair was a mess and he was absolutely perfect. The Kanima couldn't resist leaning down to lick and nibble at the delightful perky nipples on Stiles' heaving chest, making the human shriek something inarticulate. Very carefully he nicked each little nub with his fangs and let his venom soak into the quickly closing wounds. Without the paralytic effect, his venom would work as nothing but an aphrodisiac for his mate.
"Jesus, Jackson!" Stiles moaned and shoved his chest up harder into Jackson's mouth, his arms coming up to clutch at his head, keeping it in place. Obeying the unspoken order that thrummed down their bond, the Kanima devoted his attention to licking and nibbling on first one side of his Master's chest and then the other, squeezing each nipple with a tight coil of his tongue. Stiles loved that, whining and thrashing.
Eventually Jackson licked his way up Stiles' neck and into his mouth, letting his lizard features fade a bit more so that he could kiss his human deeply and thoroughly without choking him on an overlong tongue. He dominated the kiss, being the more experienced kisser, thoroughly mapping out the inside of Stiles' mouth and teasing Stiles' tongue into doing the same to him. Jackson rolled onto his back, dragging Stiles forward to sprawl over his chest, straddling him.
Stiles moaned into the kiss and buried his hands in Jackson's hair, bearing down on him with surprising finesse and only breaking away to lick and nibble at one of Jackson's earlobes and mouth along his jaw. The jock was surprised by his initiative, his oral fixation was turning out to be good for something.
Jackson bucked up into Stiles, his heavy cock sliding up behind Stiles' balls and nudging across his hole. Stiles moaned and sat back to grind down into the feeling. "I-- I need."
"Know what you need." Jackson flashed reflective yellow eyes up at Stiles, pulling him back down into a devouring kiss. He hooked Stiles' arms over his shoulders and reached down to grab his ass, spreading his cheeks wide and running his fingers over the reddened hole. Jackson considered his options for a moment and carefully popped his claws out. He secreted large globs of venom that he rubbed against the needy pucker, carefully retracting his claws to push it inside, lubricating and arousing his mate once again.
Stiles groaned, deep and low as the narrow tip of Jackson’s tail slid into him. His skin was so sensitive that he could feel the bump and dip of each individual scale as it slid past his rim and plunged deep inside in slow rhythmic thrusts, working him open as each inch of the tail grew just a bit wider. Jackson was patient with him, never pushing for more than he could handle. He waited for Stiles to relax into each increase before adding more. Eventually the tip of his tail hit Stiles' prostate again and wow, the internet had not lied about how amazing that spot was.
Stiles wailed into Jackson's mouth as he began thrusting in earnest, hitting that spot again and again. He felt so full of Jackson, both mind and body, their souls and flesh pressed together and intertwined, their pleasure and possessiveness bleeding over and mixing between them. They were one being in two bodies, one inhuman and dangerous with built in weapons to attack to rend and tear enemies and the other weaker and more delicate with the instincts to defend and protect those they cared about. Sword and shield, united.
Climax washed over them as an afterthought to the ecstasy of being truly and completely united as one. The pleasures of Stiles body echoed through them both as they came hard, their merged mind whiting out and their combined thoughts going blank. Sparks shot off behind their closed eyes as they both threw their heads back and screamed in combined pleasure. When the haze cleared, they had come back to themselves again, singular but never separated, never again.
Stiles propped himself up on his arms and stared down at Jackson with wonder in his eyes. Thoughts and emotions passed so easily between them that it took actual effort to dredge up something to say, "We should have been doing this ages ago. I shouldn't have run from you."
Jackson gazed softly back up at him, expression open and content. With Stiles in his head and heart there was nothing for him to hide, not that he'd want to. "Can't run now. You're mine, part of me."
"Oh, god, how weird is that. Really. Imagine telling the you from a month ago that we were gonna end up together in a permanent co-dependent Vulcan mind meld. You'd deck yourself."
Jackson grimaced. "The me from a month ago wasn't a were-lizard in need of a moral compass and mate. I have a lot of new perspective and instincts. Instincts saying that I should do whatever I need to, to keep you."
"A lizard man's got needs." Stiles snickered. "I can't believe you chose ME as your moral compass. Mine's so broken I have to judge stuff by what would or wouldn't make Scotty cry."
"You'll do." Jackson snorted and dragged Stiles down to sprawl out on his chest. "As the Kanima I would have done anything for you, and you asked it- me, to be Jackson. You gave me back my mind."
"What would I have done with a murderous lizard anyway? But really…" Stiles clenched down where Jackson's tail still pierced him, making them both shiver. "…this is weird right."
"Very." Jackson agreed, thrusting and twisting his tail hard to get Stiles to stop teasing. His Master yelped and jolted forward, almost toppling off the bed if Jackson hadn't grabbed him.
"Mean." Stiles complained, glaring down at Jackson's smirk. He could only hold the stern look for a moment before a truly devious grin spread across his face. "But think. If that was how the bond made us both feel when only one of us was sexually stimulated and without touching either of our dicks, what do you think would happen if you were actually in me next time?"
Jackson's eyes went slitted and he snarled as he pounced on a cackling Stiles pure lust shooting down both sides of the bond.
They might have had a bit more self-hatred than the typical person, but from now on they also had a bit more 'self'. Somehow, that worked for them.