Jackson loves it. He loves the lingering pain. He loves the memories that he can still jerk off to. He loves the anticipation of the next encounter. He loves having to wear t-shirts in the locker room to cover the marks. He loves still being afraid of Derek. Jackson only has four belts and he's been rotating them every day in hopes that Derek will just show up and…do even worse things to his body. The scratches dotting his back, up and down his spine, twenty six in all, were healed over and hardly hurt anymore. He sighs and closes his locker, purposely swinging his book bag over them. Barely anything. Damn. Another sigh and he's headed out the side door for the parking lot. At least there's no practice today. Small miracles. He can go home and mope in silence. He's already thrown his bag in his trunk and closed it before he looks up to see a black Camaro parked not far off. His hands fall on the hood haphazardly. The Camaro starts and Jackson catches his breath before shoving off his car and walking towards it. The door handle opens under his hand easily and he slides in. Derek doesn't say anything and this immediately puts Jackson on edge. It's better this way. He makes an effort to settle into the seat as Derek pulls out of the parking space. The silence is tense and awkward as they sit in the traffic clogging the lot. Derek brakes again, sighing and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His hand is on Jackson suddenly, flipping up his t-shirt and running fingertips over the dark brown leather of his belt.
"Mm," Derek lets out, his hand sliding away. Jackson lets himself take in Derek for the first time. He's wearing his leather jacket over a grey t-shirt. Black jeans, Jackson can see the tops of his sneakers as well. He looks like he always looks. Jackson wonders if he's wearing underwear this time.
He breathes a quiet sigh of relief when they finally make it out of the parking lot, Derek immediately going towards the twisting back roads. He drives fast enough to keep Jackson on the edge of his seat but when they reach his house faster than Jackson thought possible he's glad for it. Derek gets out without a word and Jackson rushes to follow him. He's a bit breathless, his heart slapping against his ribs. "Take off your shirt," Derek tosses over his shoulder. He walks straight forward, to the side of the staircase. Jackson strips off his shirt and lets it drop to the floor, watching as Derek grabs two banisters above his head and yanks on them. He's apparently not satisfied by this because he lifts himself by them, holding himself off the floor for several moments. Dropping down he sheds his jacket and tosses it over a new end table between Jackson and him. Derek snaps his fingers and points to the floor by his feet. Jackson knows it shouldn't but the summons makes his stomach tighten in anticipation. Derek points to the banisters as he approaches. "Don't let go." A shiver racing over his skin Jackson reaches up and takes the smooth wood in both hands. It stretches his arms over his head but isn't uncomfortable. He reaches higher. Derek's hands move around him, opening the belt before yanking it free. Jackson's hands tighten on the banisters. For the first time he thinks he knows what Derek has planned.
The first strike has Jackson swaying into the wall for support. He bites into his lip, releasing a muffled groan as the shock wears off and the pain actually sets in. It's a burning stripe across his back. Another quick smack sounds before a pause. The sound of leather against his skin is ringing in his ears and Jackson fights to take a breath. "Do you need a safe word?" Derek questions, his breath hot on Jackson's ear. Somehow Jackson smiles.
"How about if I faint?"
"Interesting," Derek comments, the heat from his body seeping away as he steps back. Shame teases at Jackson's brain, only banished by another swing of the belt. Jackson moans this time, pulling his hips back before letting them sway to the wall again. His toes curl when Derek strikes again, lower on his back, sparking new pain. Jackson slides his hands down about an inch, letting his shoulders relax. It's just in time for the belt to land across them. The blow is unexpected, somehow, and knocks the breath from Jackson's chest. He sags into the wall again, forehead resting against his arm. There's another strike before he's regained anything and Jackson can't control the ragged moan that slips out. Jackson grits his teeth and tries to stay calm. He loses track. The belt seems to be coming faster and faster. Jackson's entire back is on fire and he's fairly sure he's bleeding. Suddenly he wishes he had chosen a safe word. He lets his hands slide down the banisters further and he's leaning against the wall totally.
"Derek," the plea slips out softly, against his will.
Derek jerks to a stop; the belt swinging softly against Jackson's hip as he drops it down. There's a tense silence and Jackson feels like he should apologize but he's busy trying not to cry. The belt falls to the floor, the buckle clanging against it. Jackson shudders. He's not sure when exactly it happened, all he knows is it's gone too far now. Derek tugs on his wrists, Jackson's fingers falling from the railings easily. Jackson exhales shakily. Tears begin sliding down as Derek guides him up the stairs and Jackson has never felt this pathetic in his entire life. More than anything he wants to be home, alone. Derek seats him on the toilet and turns on the shower. He turns back and crouches down, taking off Jackson's shoes and socks. Once that's done he pauses, hands curling on the floor.
"Jackson," he murmurs. Jackson doesn't respond, closing his eyes. "Jackson," Derek repeats. "Look at me." Jackson inhales deeply and swipes his hands over his cheeks before looking down at him. "I'm sorry," Derek says carefully. Jackson nods once, looking to his hands clenched in his lap. Derek stands him up before fishing his phone and wallet out of his pockets. He puts Jackson in the shower and follows after another moment. Jackson's glad even though he hates it. He has to lean against Derek to stay upright. The water starts out lukewarm but eventually shifts to cold and Derek holds him still until his back is completely numb. Then he guides Jackson out of the shower and to his bed. Jackson settles on his side, closing his eyes immediately. "Your clothes are wet."
"Don't care." The bed dips as Derek climbs in. He opens Jackson's jeans and slides them off as gently as possible. His boxers follow suit and Derek lays the sheet over him.
"I'll be back," he whispers.
A/N: Next chapter should be up soon…