she'll break you in two
Derek's phone beeps, and he says a silent prayer that it's good news before looking down at it.
It's not.
He can hardly be shocked.
"They said there's a delay." He tells Jennifer reluctantly. Derek doesn't want to speak to her. He's afraid of what he'll say, or do. Part of him wants to kill her – and they need her alive, at least for now. And then there's that shameful part of him that wants to beg her to tell him that it's not true. That she still loves him. That, please God, she's not just using him.
And somewhere in his infinitely fucked up head there's a third, animalistic part that wants to shove her up against the dully mirrored wall and -
"How long?" Jennifer asks.
He grits his teeth.
"10 minutes at least. Probably more."
She sighs.
He can't help but glance back, meaning to tell her that they're doing all this shit for her so she could sound a little more grateful, but when he sees her nothing comes out of his mouth.
She's in her underwear. It matches her discarded outfit - all black lace, the very picture of a seductress.
"What? I thought Allison would be here soon." Jennifer says, shameless. She shakes out her dark curls, fixes them around her shoulders. Her pants and blouse and heels are in a neat little pile at her feet. "What is she wearing, by the way, do you know? I'm not crazy about looking like a teenager but she does have style."
Derek gapes.
"You'll catch flies." She says dryly.
He scowls. She rolls her eyes. This Jennifer – the honest one, he supposes – is such a change from his sweet and bumbling English teacher. She's openly defiant and demanding in a way the Jennifer Blake he thought he knew never was. Well – except for in bed.
And he is not going to think of her in bed right now. Not ever again.
"Put your clothes on." He snarls.
"What's the point? So I can change out of them again?" Jennifer narrows her eyes. "This shouldn't make you uncomfortable, Derek. It's nothing you haven't seen before."
"That was different."
"Oh?" She arches a mocking eyebrow. "So you can't look at my breasts now that you think I'm some kind of villain, is that it? Oh, careful. Look away, or the big bad evil tits will corrupt you."
Hearing her talk like this is at once painful, infuriating, and arousing. Derek suspects most of the fury he's feeling is at himself for let his mind run wild the way it is. With thoughts of the way her dark curls look, tousled like that, and how much better they'd look after he was done dragging them through his fingers and pulling her head back to expose that pretty pale neck –
He's so fucking screwed, he thinks.
When he doesn't reply, Jennifer presses her lips together and looks up at him through dark lashes. "Derek, you don't have to pretend to be indifferent. It's natural that you still have feelings for me. And I know you'll understand – you just need time –"
"How many times do I have to tell you to shut up." He bites out between clenched teeth. It's not a question.
Jennifer takes a measured step towards him, smirks.
"Maybe just once more."
Derek growls, deep in his throat, and launches himself at her. Jennifer meets him in a clash of lips and tongue and teeth, her hand wrapping possessively around his neck. He has her up against the wall in seconds flat. Her legs wrap around his waist and her hands are pushing at his shirt blindly.
"Why the fuck –" She says, when he tears his mouth away from hers to attack her neck, starting at the sensitive point just below her ear, "Are you wearing a shirt with buttons and zippers – ah, yes – when neither of them do anything?"
He answers by biting her – actually biting her, with human teeth, and she draws in a sharp breath. She brings her hands around his back and pushes Derek's shirt up, and together they maneuver for a minute to get it over his head and on the floor.
"You'd better be quick," Jennifer advises, hinting both malice and amusement in her tone, "Or you might have to give one of your little pups the birds and bees talk soon."
Derek answers her with a glare, and then follows with his hand, sliding it under the waistband of her underwear. Her lips form a grin that quickly shapes into a little 'o' as she lets out a low moan.
"That's good – but - wasting – time –" She reminds him through little gasps. He removes his hand to fumble with his own pants, struggling a moment until Jennifer reaches down to help him, impatiently shoving the tight denim down over his well-sculpted ass. Derek doesn't hesitate to thrust himself into her. She's right, they don't have much time, he shouldn't even be doing this but he needs to. He needs to get out of his head and if that means burying himself inside of her for a moment well – he'll add it to list of bad decisions.
Derek takes her rough and fast, in a different way than he's ever handled her, ever handled anybody. Jennifer seems to love it. Her hands practically claw at his back as she holds onto him, arching against him with every thrust. She's vocal, making enough noise that he's worried Allison might hear her from outside the elevator and halfway down the hall. Derek takes pre-emptive measures and swallows her next moan with his mouth. He's grateful he did it because Jennifer comes hard a second later, nails digging into his skin.
"Come on," She says into his ear when their mouth separate, whispering the words over the skin and nipping at the tender flesh of his earlobe. "Come, Derek."
Helpless, he follows her command, like his body is coming apart in her hands. Like he is intertwined with her on a cellular level and only she can draw this feeling out of him – this ecstasy, delicious in its sinfulness. Derek breathes hard as he comes down from the high of it, one hand braced on the wall behind Jennifer's head. When he finally looks at her, she's grinning like a snake and her eyes are more alive than he's ever seen before. It shouldn't be so goddamn attractive, but it is.
"Derek." She says his name with incongruous tenderness. Her hand threads through his hair and cradles the base of his skull. "I still love you."
Derek rips away from her, suddenly desperate to move and break their connection. His hands are nearly shaking as he gets himself re-dressed, pulling up his pants and snatching his shirt off the floor. He's avoiding Jennifer's eyes as much as possible. Still, he can feel her watching him. He cannot escape her, not with the distance of a room or (he suspects) of an entire continent.
"When we get out of here, I want you to come with me." She says finally, decisive.
Derek looks up, expression wary.
"Just you."
"Cora –"
"I'll heal your sister. And then we leave. I'll show you everything." Jennifer promises, and he's surprised at how earnest she looks. But then, he knows what a good actress she is.
"You have to let the Sheriff go." Derek demands, but he knows he's on shaky ground. She's right – she doesn't have to do anything they say. She's clearly in his head, twenty steps ahead of him and everyone else too. She never needed to come back to the loft for him in the first place, so why did she? They don't know anything about what she can really do. Jennifer holds all the cards here.
"No, I don't. I can't." She shakes her head slowly, smile full of pity in a way that reminds him of how the police looked at him when they took him out of class to tell him that he didn't have parents anymore. That all he had now was Laura.
He shakes his head. "That's Stiles' father." He can't let a friend of his lose their only parent. Not when he knows what that's like.
"I know." Jennifer sounds truly apologetic. "But he'll be okay. I just can't let him go. Not yet."
"Jennifer – "
"Just promise you'll come with me. And I will tell you everything. Anything."
"How can I trust you?"
She moves to him, cups a hand around his jaw, and draws him into a gentle kiss. He lets her, and it feels exactly like their first.
"You can't." Jennifer says, when they part. She is utterly unapologetic, and absolutely sincere. "You can't trust me, Derek."
"Fine. I'll go with you."
At least she's finally being honest.