The woods were dark around him, thick with the night. He could hear Derek. He could feel him, even though they weren't touching. Derek was chasing him and all Jackson could think to do was keep running. His lungs were burning and every tendon under his skin was stretched to snapping. His lungs filled and flattened so fast he thought they might burst. His muscles had long since stopped being able to filter the oxygen through them and he didn't even know why he was breathing anymore. All together it was a useless endeavor. He knew it. At any point Derek could simply order him to stop and he would. It only made things worse. It only meant that Derek was enjoying the chase. Otherwise he wouldn't be letting it happen. Why did Derek have all the power? Wasn't this supposed to be a two way bond? Jackson exhaled sharply, lungs protesting. He kept running. Jackson had only just realized that it was strange the way he'd managed to stay ahead of Derek when Derek appeared ahead of him. He was snagged under the arm and by the back of the neck as he tried to dodge him. Derek sniffed him before lapping at his neck.
"The adrenaline is delicious," he informed Jackson softly, licking again.
"Well thank fuck for that," Jackson snapped, trying to pull away uselessly. Derek only tugged him closer, growling softly.
"Your body fits mine," Derek added. With Derek's erection pressed into the small of his back Jackson was heavily tempted to disagree. It was probably better to stay quiet. He couldn't slow his breathing or his heart. He had about as much control over his body as he did of Derek. None at all. "Take off your clothes," Derek ordered, shoving him forward. Jackson sighed and dropped his head. His fingertips drifted to the buttons of his shirt. His hands were slick with sweat, just as his skin and clothes were coated in it. The buttons popped free one by one and he shed the red fabric, shivering when Derek's hands helped pull it away. The thin t-shirt was stuck to his skin and once again Derek helped, hands skimming under the fabric. Jackson gasped as his spine curved, sparks shooting off all over his skin. Derek's hands slid around his hips next, pulling him back before settling on the snap of his jeans. Jackson couldn't help a moan low in his throat.

Derek sucked at the base of his neck, inching Jackson's jeans open. Jackson was caught between leaning into his lips and thrusting towards his hands. Delicately strung out his eyes slid closed and he gave himself over. Derek's hands were hot and rough on his skin but Jackson couldn't see it being any other way. He didn't want it to be any other way.
"Do I actually get to participate this time?" he questioned, eyelids heavy and half open.
"No one's stopping you." Jackson reached behind him and up, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of Derek's neck. Derek growled gently, his hands freezing for a moment. Encouraged, Jackson dragged his fingernails up and down the back of Derek's neck, digging in briefly. Derek growled again, pressing closer, shoving Jackson's jeans and boxers down. "That's good," he panted. "Good boy Jacks." Jackson moaned in response. Derek's hands raked up Jackson's chest suddenly, making him catch his breath, scratching back down. He pressed back into Derek, desperation seeping into his bones. Derek repeated the action, Jackson's shirt bunching, half of it falling when Derek's hand slid back down. The other moved further up, gripping his neck. Jackson's eyelids fluttered, opening wide when Derek squeezed. His other hand moved to Jackson's hip, holding him firmly. Derek ground against him, slowly cutting off his air. Jackson wanted to beg, but his throat was too tight with panic. Why was Derek doing this? He'd said he was good… Jackson wanted to be good. He only wanted to be good. "You're worthless," Derek whispered, crushing his neck completely. Jackson sagged down as black edged at his vision. Down, down, down.

…

Stiles woke with a start, feeling ripples of Jackson's distress. It was thick in the air, cloying and clogging in his lungs. He sat up and shook Jackson hard.
"Jackson, Jackson wake up." Jackson's eyes shot wide and he gasped desperately for breath. He didn't sit up. Other than his frenetic inhales and wide eyes he didn't move at all. Stiles had to ask. "What happened?" Jackson sat up and leaned against the wall, clearly trying to calm himself down.
"N-Nothing. Just a nightmare." He shook of Stiles hand when it landed on his shoulder. "I'm fine," he snapped.
"You don't seem fine," Stiles said gently.
"I said I'm fine Stilinski. Goddamn."
"Jackson," Stiles leaned closer, not reaching for him again, even though he wanted to, "I'm part of your pack. You don't have to lie to me. You don't have to pretend to be okay. That's what I'm here for."
"I'm fine," Jackson insisted again, shooting off the bed. "I think I can get through one little nightmare without you or Peter holding my hand. I'm not five years old." He raked a hand through his hair and exhaled quickly, leaving Stiles' room and slamming the door. Stiles listened to his father stir as the faucet ran in the bathroom. Thankfully the sheriff didn't get up to investigate. He didn't know what to do. It was beyond clear that Jackson needed help, even more clear that he didn't want it. In the end Stiles yanked a pillow over his head and lay back down. He relaxed slightly when Jackson came back into the room.

Jackson got back into bed but laid stiff, his entire body tense. Stiles slowly tensed too as he waited for Jackson to relax. He had to relax at some point. Didn't he? How wrong he was. What felt like an hour later, Jackson was still stiff as a board and Stiles guessed that wasn't changing any time soon.
"Okay," he announced, getting out of bed. "I'll be back." Rounding the bed he crossed to the window and jumped down. Bare feet picking over the grass and then asphalt, Stiles tracked Peter's scent to a house diagonal from his. The front door was open under his hand and he supposed that Peter didn't really have to worry about anyone breaking in. To his immediate right was a living room, Peter sprawled on the couch. He sat up as Stiles stepped into the room, running a hand through his hair.
"Stiles," he greeted softly, as if this wasn't odd. He nodded once, glancing around before crossing his arms over his chest. His t-shirt felt incredibly thin all of a sudden.
"It didn't come with a bed?" Peter frowned slightly before shaking his head.
"I'm afraid I've grown used to sleeping in a hospital bed." Stiles grimaced and wasn't sure what to say. He remained silent. Peter stared at him. "Not that I mind," he finally murmured, one arm moving to rest on his knee,
"Jackson had a nightmare and he doesn't want my help and he needs help and I don't know what to do," Stiles blurted, hands giving short spasms at his sides.
"Oh," Peter let out after a long moment. The arm he'd slung over the back of the couch moved as he patted the top of it. "Come here," he whispered.

Stiles wasn't sure whether or not Peter had intended it but he climbed in his lap. He was feeling especially lost at this point and Peter comforted him. Peter was strong and firm. Peter was gravity. Peter was keeping him in one place, in one piece. One of Peter's arms wrapped around him, the other stroking along his calf as he picked at a loose thread in the couch cushion. "I am sure," Peter breathed in his ear, "that Jackson is feeling weak. Like he's not truly a part of our pack anymore. He doesn't want to admit this because it would only make him weaker. Derek has caused more damage than you truly realize Stiles. Perhaps when we mate you will understand this better. The mating bond is so much stronger than the pack bond. If Jackson had truly been willing we wouldn't stand a chance. He still wants to be with us and that's the only reason he is. The bond between mates isn't simple and sometimes it's strong enough that you feel it before you even mate. If I had to hazard a guess…it's why you saved my life." Stiles blinked rapidly, trying to follow along as his emotions shot all over the place. All of a sudden they were talking about he and Peter mating and why he'd betrayed his best friend and risked his own life in the process. It was dizzying.
"Um, okay," he let out, the words nothing more than a whisper. Peter chuckled, shaking him.
"Relax Stiles. We aren't going to do anything you don't want to. And not until it's safe." Stiles did relax at that, sagging into Peter and closing his eyes.
"When it's safe…" he repeated thoughtfully, going back over the words in his head after they hit the air.
"Yes," Peter agreed, "not a moment before."
"Because if Derek finds out I'm your mate…"
"You'll become his number one target."

A/N: Okay so I know I promised Danny/Jackson and it's still coming…even though they can't really be together anymore. That ship has sailed… But I did manage to squeeze in just a tiny bit of Stiles/Peter. So I feel…partially accomplished.

Thanks. :3