At Jackson's House

Stiles was starting to wonder whether Jackson was even home. His car was in the driveway. It was the only one around, so it was safe to assume Jackson would be alone, assuming he wasn't out somewhere. But he had been knocking for at least three minutes. He was about to turn around and go back home when the door opened. Jackson leaned against the door frame in his pajamas (sweatshorts and a white tee), a mild smirk on his face when he saw his visitor.

"That was fast," Jackson said.

"What was fast?" Stiles asked.

"Don't you have it?"

"Have what?" Stiles asked with a confused look on his face. "Oh, wait, do you mean the meth? Left it in my truck, but-"

"Cut the shit, Stilinski." Jackson didn't seem to be impressed by Stiles's humor. "Give me what McCall gave you before I tell the whole town what he is?"

"Yeah, I get it," Stiles began earnestly, "his grandfather's Cherokee, but, in this day and age, there's no reason to treat him-"

Jackson banged his fist against the doorframe. "If you don't stop talking in circles, I will break your fucking jaw."

Stiles raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry. I honestly came here hoping to build a bridge." When Jackson started grinding his teeth, Stiles said, "No punchline. I just wanna look out for you. Scott said you think he's a...what was it? A chupacabra? A centaur? Didn't know you were a Lord of the-okay!"

"He's a fucking werewolf!" Jackson snapped, grabbing Stiles by the collar of his shirt. "I fucking know it! And a lot more people are gonna find that out if you don't stop playing these motherfucking games and turn me into one, too."

Stiles was relatively used to chokeholds from jocks/bullies (they were synonyms in his mind), so he wasn't really too scared. He braced himself for a hit, but tried not to flinch. But then he looked down at Jackson's left hand when the nail on it started cutting into his skin from how tightly the jock had him. He noticed some shiny stuff on it. There were also little bits of something on his hand that looked like...stray bits of tissue paper. It looked like Jackson had wiped...lube of his hand with tissue paper. Stiles smirked internally as he realized what took Jackson so long to answer the door. And Jackson wasn't even smart enough to wipe his hands off with a paper towel. He used some kind of cheap tissue paper. That's what was stuck to his hand. When Jackson shook him, Stiles turned his attention back to him. "You know you sound insane, right? Maybe I should let you go around talking about Scott being a dragon. You'd be committed in, like, five seconds."

"I know it's true!" Jackson yelled. He didn't know if Stiles was just a great actor or if he might've actually been crazy. "Scott basically admitted it, and now he sends you to my fucking house to try and...what?" He shook Stiles again. "What are you doing?" When Stiles didn't respond, Jackson's eyes widened. "Scott didn't send you here, did he?"

"Why would he-" Stiles started.

Jackson let go of Stiles and smiled. "You know what?" He asked, suddenly calm. "I think I'm done talking to you." He grabbed the key to his Porsche and said, "Maybe I'll just go over to Allison's house and tell her all about what Scott is. He's super weird. And I know finding out what he was cleared a lot up for me."

Stiles's eyes widened. That was not what was this visit was supposed to accomplish. He was supposed to get Jackson off of Scott's back. Not send Jackson into a den of werewolf hunters blabbing about his friend being a shifter. This was not good. This was so not good. "Don't do that!"

"Why?" Jackson asked, a wicked smirk on his face. "I thought I was crazy."

Stiles sighed. "I'll tell the truth. Yes, Scott is a wolf-"

"I fucking knew it!" Jackson said.

"But it's not that simple. He might have a few powers, but he had to deal with this crazy alpha wolf trying to kill him. That crazy alpha is also the only one that could transform you into a werewolf, but you don't wanna do that. There are werewolf hunters. Allison's family...they're hunters. You might be the biggest piece of shit in the world, but even you can't stoop that fucking low. They'll kill Scott. For real. They will hunt him down and kill him. And it'll all be because you told them what he was?"

Jackson was quiet for a moment as he processed this. Finally he said, "Fine. But I still wanna be a wolf. And, by the way, for not telling the Argents what McCall is, you guys owe me big time. So, how about you guys only have two days to transform me."

Stiles rolled his eyes as Jackson began to close the door. "Fine, enjoy the rest of your spank session," He said under his breath.

Jackson stopped closing the door immediately and his eyes turned evil. "What the fuck did you say?"

"Nothing," Stiles said with an innocent smile.

"You know what?" Jackson said. "I know how you're gonna start paying me back for not ratting out McCall."

"What is it?" Stiles asked, expecting it to be...laundry...or washing his car maybe.

"Come inside." Jackson held the door open and Stiles walked in, though he was slightly alarmed when Jackson closed and locked the door behind him. Stiles was lead through the lavish and immaculately clean landing to the lavish and immaculately clean living room. Jackson took off his shirt as he approached the couch, exposing a body that was...relatively nice, from a purely objective point of view. Jackson sat down on the couch and leered at Stiles, splaying out his legs and resting his arms on the back of the couch. "Since you're so worried about how I get myself off, you're gonna suck my dick."

Speechless. This was the first time that adjective could've ever been used to describe Stiles Stilinski. His jaw dropped as he found himself in complete shock.

"See, you've already got your mouth wide open," Jackson encouraged condescendingly. When Stiles still stood there shell-shocked, Jackson said, "Or I could just go to the Argents and let them know about Scott." That snapped Stiles out of his confusion-induced shock. He approached Jackson and slowly dropped to his knees. Jackson pulled down his sweatshorts and revealed to Stiles that he going commando. Stiles, once again, was paralyzed for a second, shocked at Jackson's size. It wasn't even the length, though it was longer than average. It was the thickness that astounded him. How the hell am I supposed to get my mouth around that thing? Stiles thought. At least Jackson cut his hair down there, so there was no chance of getting pubes stuck in his teeth. Not that he knew from experience that that could be an issue.

"Did I say I wanted you to stare at my dick?" Jackson asked, grabbing Stiles by the hair and shoving his face onto his cock. Stiles opened his mouth and immediately had trouble getting the thick head into his mouth. He had to circle his lips around it first as he got used to stretching his jaw wide enough to get it into his mouth without his teeth scraping against the appendage in his mouth. After managing to get halfway down on Jackson's dick, thanks in large part to the hand forcing him further down every second, Stiles thought, So this is what this feels like. I have a freaking dick in my mouth right now. Wonder what Thursday has in store for me. "Dude, this is the laziest blowjob I've ever-ahhh"

For the sheer purpose of shutting Jackson up, Stiles started bobbing his head back and forth. He closed his eyes in an attempt to ignore that fact that he was literally pushing his face into another guy's crotch. And to kind of pretend his mouth was around literally anything else. He was starting to get used to the odd way he had to hold his jaw and mouth open in order to properly suck Jackson off. And he was obviously getting better by the sound of Jackson's moans and the fact that he now felt two strong hands on his head, constantly urging him to go farther down. To prevent himself from chocking, Stiles flattened his tongue to make more room in his mouth for Jackson.

The lacrosse player apparently liked that because his hands tightened in Stiles hair and he said, "Fuck yeah, cocksucker. You've definitely done this before." Stiles scowled as much as he could when his mouth was being held open so wide that his jaw was now hurting. And his mouth was starting to feel super dry thanks to the fact that 90% of his saliva ended up trailing down Jackson's cock, right to the balls that cradled Stiles's chin every time he got far enough down on Jackson's dick. Jackson suddenly pulled Stiles up off of his cock by his hair. Still holding him by the hair, Jackson grabbed his cock and slapped Stiles across the face with it. He continued to tap it on Stiles's lips as he said, "Don't wanna bust too fast. You know, you were right. I'd been edging myself for like an hour or two before you showed up. Been saving up a load for at least two weeks." Stiles tried to turn away but Jackson chuckled and held his hair tighter to keep him in place as he kept tapping the head of his dick on Stiles's mouth. "You might just drown on the load I've been working on." Stiles just glared as Jackson used his other hand to pull his jaw down, opening his mouth and sticking his dick back in.

"Take all of it, you fucking loser," Jackson moaned as he pushed Stiles onto his cock until he gagged. Jackson still didn't stop, pushing Stiles's head down until he started choking. Stiles's body was trying to cough, but the huge cock in his mouth turned it into a hacking gag that made his chest start to hurt. But Jackson was still holding his head down so far that Stiles's forehead was resting on one of Jackson's abs and his chin was resting on his balls again. The jock was thrusting his hips into Stiles's mouth as he held his head in place. He completely ignored it when Stiles tapped him on his side to signal that he was having trouble breathing. It seemed like he was actually turned on by it because whenever he gagged/retched/choked, Jackson would actually moan. "Ohh shit." "Ahh fuck." "Ungh. God." "Fwoo. Damn" Or Stiles's favorite, "Ungh Fwoo. God damn."

But, despite getting used to suppressing his gag reflex and breathing through his nose, Stiles was starting to get tired of this. Deciding the best way to end it would be to make Jackson cum quickly, he started swirling his tongue around Jackson's cock as much as he could when it was so far down his throat. When Jackson moaned again, Stiles decided to continue flicking his tongue upwards and downwards as much as possible. After a minute Stiles could tell Jackson was close. He was breathing so heavy that he was barely able to moan, his hands weren't holding onto Stiles's head as strongly, and (when Stiles opened his eyes for a second) he was covered in so much sweat that Stiles saw a drop drip from his chin and trail down between his pecs and abs.

Even though he knew he was close, Stiles wasn't prepared for Jackson to start shooting when he did. The first shot of cum hit the back of his throat. The second two pooled in his mouth, filling his cheeks up with cum. The other thing Stiles wasn't prepared for was the taste. It was so bitter and salty. And, unlike his own, (which he only ever tasted out of curiosity) it had a flavor that reminded him of onions. Stiles pulled his head back, Jackson's hands having loosened as he was lost in the heavenly feeling of his dick twitching as it shot string after string of cum. When he pulled his mouth off of Jackson's dick, Stiles had to close his eye quickly to prevent a shot of cum from landing in it. Jackson was still shooting his load, cum shooting up into the air and landing all over Stiles's face and hair, the couch, the floor, Jackson's body, and one stray rope landed on Jackson's neck. Some even got on Stiles's favorite shirt. Jackson was still gasping, trying to catch his breath as he recovered from the force of his orgasm. He exhaled and started laughing when he looked down at Stiles. "You look fucking pathetic, Stilinski."

"Fuck you." Stiles said, finally standing up. "Just...don't ever tell anyone about this."

"What would I go bragging about?" Jackson asked. "The blowjob wasn't even great. If anything, you should feel proud just to get near my dick."

"Yeah, it's my crowning achievement in life. Just keep your fucking word and chill out with this blackmail shit."

"Who said I'd do that?" Jackson asked with a douchey smile.

"What the-" Stiles started, his eyes widening. "You did!" Stiles exclaimed. "We had a fucking deal!"

"Oh yeah," Jackson said casually, "I lied."

"Jackson, this isn't funny, I will fucking-" Stiles started, walking up to Jackson again. But he took a step back when Jackson stood up and approached him.

"You're not a werewolf, right? I'm pretty sure I could kick your ass," Jackson grinned. He pointed in the direction of the front door. "Out."

Despite how odd it was being threatened by a guy with a semi-hard dick whose body was covered in cum, Stiles didn't want to press his luck. "Can I at least have a towel or something, dude, so I can get this stuff off?" Stiles asked. A particularly large streak of cum had, for some reason, chosen this moment to let a drop fall off of his face and onto the floor.

Jackson laughed and shook his head. He had grabbed his boxers from the ground and pulled them back on. "Nah. I think it'll be kinda funny having you walk outta my house with my load on your face. Now, once again, out."

And Stiles walked out. Out of the house. And, after using his shirt to wipe his face clean, he returned to his car.