"Jackson." The voice is quiet, bouncing off all the metal and tile and burrowing into his ears, making him shiver. He hasn't heard it many times, but it's already made its impression. Jackson doubts that it will ever be forgotten. He turns slowly, eyes down, grateful that he'd at least managed to pull his jeans on before this encounter. "Look at me." Breath catching painfully in his chest, Jackson looks up. He's too far away. No. No, he didn't just think that. He didn't want this man who could make him feel so powerless, Jackson barely stifles another shudder, any closer. Derek smiles softly, a small sliver of teeth showing through his dark lips. "Good boy," he murmurs, drawing closer. A whimper gets caught halfway up his throat and Jackson finds his back curving down, making his chest a concave sculpture of skin and bone. He backs up unintentionally, the middle of his spine brushing against frigid metal. Derek continues his advance, pausing barely a foot away before sliding his eyes closed and inhaling deeply. "So responsive," he breathes, "and I haven't even touched you yet." Derek's hand lifts and crashes through the space between them, stopping at the last moment, hovering over Jackson's body. Goosebumps spike through the skin and Jackson blinks slowly, trying not to think at all. Derek smiles again, through this is more of a predatory snarl really. Jackson whimpers unwillingly. This one manages to escape and he can feel his throat and chest flush in pure, unadulterated embarrassment. He closes his eyes and wills it to be over. He wills Derek to vanish as suddenly as he appeared. He wills it to be a dream. He wills himself to fall over dead. Anything.

A fingertip drags across his cheek uninvited and Jackson's eyes shoot wide, meeting Derek's clouded ones. "I know what you need," Derek reveals, withdrawing his finger before curling his hand and retracing the path with several knuckles.
"I d-don't need anything from you," Jackson manages, barely. Derek simply chuckles.
"You're used to lying," he says, stepping closer still and placing his hand flat on the lockers next to Jackson's head, "so I'll let that pass." He leans even closer and Jackson straightens his back quickly, pushing his head as far away as he can. Derek doesn't respond to this at all, apparently unbothered by the fact. He keeps moving closer and Jackson turns his head to the side, desperate for any escape. Death still looks pretty good. But who is he kidding? This is exactly the sort of thing he's been thinking about day and night ever since it happened the first time. It's… He can't find the words, a slight groan slipping out. It's horrible and humiliating, it's perfect. "Don't make it a habit," Derek breathes in his ear, warm air curling in the shell. Jackson closes his eyes wondering if he plays dead if Derek will back off. Much as the sick, inner part of him is enjoying this he knows it's not going to end well. Not that it really could anyways. "Don't ignore me Jackson." Derek moves, his chest brushing against Jackson's. The metal zipper on his jacket digs into Jackson's chest. It's cold and rough. He bites his lip but not in enough time to catch the moan. Derek makes an amused noise in response, somewhere between a chuckle and a grunt. Jackson flushes again. It's so hideous he can feel himself tightening in his jeans. God he hates this, he needs this.

Derek's hands land on his hips suddenly. There's nothing smooth or gentle about the action and after another second his fingertips are digging into the flesh above Jackson's jeans painfully. Jackson opens his eyes and swings his head, Derek moves back in response, stopping their heads from knocking together. Jackson's breaths are coming in fractured gasps. He's trying so hard to hold it together. "Do as I say," Derek says slowly, each word announced carefully.
"Or what?" Jackson challenges. He couldn't have stopped himself even if he wanted to. He didn't want to. Derek's eyes flash and his fingers are pressing harder.
"You already know that answer." Jackson shudders so hard he nearly falls over. "Are you going to do what I want?" Jackson doesn't know exactly what Derek is asking. It doesn't matter in the end. He nods his head without questioning the taller man. He thinks he sees Derek smile, if only for a second, but then the expression is gone. Derek's right hand on Jackson's left hip clutches him even harder, Jackson is sure it's bruising, his left hand moves to the snap of Jackson's jeans, teasing over it. Jackson reacts without thinking, he grabs Derek's wrist with both hands. Derek's anger is immediately apparent, practically rippling off him.
"N-no," Jackson gasps. "N-not here. Please." Derek moves his hand firmly over Jackson's crotch, Jackson's hands doing no good at all to stop him. He squeezes hard; eliciting a weak groan from Jackson's parted lips.
"Let's get something straight right now," Derek growls, "you don't say no to me. The word 'no' is not even in your vocabulary if I am telling you to do something. I don't ask. You don't have a choice." He gives another painful squeeze and Jackson thinks he's going to lose it right there in his pants. "Take your hands off me," Derek breathes after another moment. Jackson drops his hands away as if he's been shocked. They cling to the lockers as he tries to find purchase.

He is rewarded with a gentler touch, Derek rubbing him through his jeans. Jackson wonders if it is actually a reward or simply further warning. Derek said he knows and so far he's exhibited that. He knows Jackson's dirty little secret. He knows what Jackson likes. Gentle rubbing is definitely not it. As if Derek is reading his thoughts, perhaps just his expression, he squeezes again. He doesn't let go immediately, releasing Jackson's hip and dragging his nails down his chest to meet his other hand before lifting away. Jackson cries out. The pain is so sharp and unexpected. He's close to the edge, faster than ever. Derek's hands drop away and he steps back, putting several feet of space between them. "You're right," he says, smirking. "Not here. I want time with you. Come to my house tonight, eight." His eyes travel down Jackson slowly and Jackson's half lidded gaze watches him do it. "You'd better still have that when you come. No getting off. Only touch yourself enough to keep it." His smirk widens dangerously. "I'll know if you cheat Jackson." Jackson whimpers as his head falls back against the lockers. Eight is forever away. Derek passes him on the way to the door. "Don't be late," he calls over his shoulder.
"You're going to hurt me?" Jackson demands, desperate. Derek stops short, turning back. His smirk falls away and he watches Jackson for a long moment. There's something in his eyes that has Jackson digging his teeth into his lips ruthlessly.
"I'm going to take you apart." Jackson sags in relief even as his hands fist in the legs of his jeans with the sharp arousal still wrecking his nerves. Derek doesn't comment on this and when Jackson looks up again he's gone.

A/N: Evil plot bunnies are evil. This is not my fault.

It's going to be a mini fic. Five planned parts.

Scratching and biting don't do any marking here…(since Derek is a beta)

I think that's all.