Stiles's hands were shaking. Jackson watched him, lying on his back and waiting until Stiles was ready to continue. He probably should have already realized this was something Stiles wanted, but Jackson was never great at thinking about other people first. He'd gotten better, but he spent too much time in his own head, weighing himself on scales that no one else ever saw. Well, at least he liked to think that no one saw them.

"You want this right?" Stiles ran his hands up Jackson's shins, nervously drumming his fingers. "You're not just doing this because Derek wants to see it?"

On the surface that seemed like a valid question for Stiles to ask, but the more that Jackson turned the words over in his mind the more it frustrated him. He'd spent the last year trying to navigate this relationship with both Derek and Stiles. Stiles wasn't their plus one, there wasn't a buy one get one sale for hot boyfriends that Jackson was lucky enough to capitalize on. Though if they did have that kind of deal somewhere he was sure they were making an absolute killing.

"You're stupid," Jackson said.

"Not a yes," Stiles tried to keep his voice even.

There was a vulnerability that Jackson realized he'd cut into unintentionally. It wasn't very kind, but Jackson wasn't great at being kind. He wished that Derek would just come into the room already, to help him reassure Stiles by… well… by probably just standing there and not helping. Derek wasn't really the reassuring type.

"Yes," Jackson said. "I want this. You know I'm not opposed to being fucked. You've watched Derek do it, you know I like it, I know you like watching it. What are we really talking about?"

Stiles ran his fingers further up Jackson's legs till the tips were brushing just under the edges of the bottoms of Jackson's underwear. Jackson waited. He knew Derek was standing in the hall, just outside the door. There was anticipation in Derek's smell, but also something else. Curiosity? He wanted to see how Jackson would handle Stiles's nervousness, how he would reassure him. Everything with Derek had to be a lesson, even if they didn't all use a paddle.

"You seem like you're getting interested now," Stiles whispered, eyes locked on the bulge forming in Jackson's boxers. "Is it from me or because Derek is hovering in the hallway, finally all squeaky clean and you're thinking about how we can get him dirty again?"

"How did you know Derek was in the hall?"

"He didn't," Derek said. "He was just guessing, and you confirmed it for him." Derek walked over to stand beside the bed, watching them but not getting in. He had a white towel wrapped around his waist, and he certainly seemed interested in what was going on in their bed.

"I have sex, and I know things, that's what I do," Stiles said, pressing down on Jackson's legs to straighten them out, then running them up and over Jackson's growing erection. He wasn't kind of enough to peel Jackson's boxers out of the way though.

"Really?" Jackson's voice was a little strained. Maybe. He arched up a little bit, thrusting his hips up against the friction of Stiles's hands.

"Yep," Stiles said, leaning down and licking against Jackson's lips. "Is that a problem?"

"Not… if… you… hurry the fuck up," Jackson bit out. Jackson reached forward to grab Stiles by the shoulders and pull him down but froze in place when Derek made a soft 'ah' sound. Jackson's fingers tensed and curled for a moment before he let his hands fall back down to the bed. He let his eyes fall closed and tried to relax.

"You didn't answer Stiles's question earlier, Jackson," Derek said.

Jackson tried to rewind the conversation in his short-circuiting brain but Stiles massaging him through his boxers was making it difficult. He'd said it wasn't going to be a problem. He felt like it was pretty clear that he was rock hard because of Stiles, not because Derek liked to loiter in doorways. Jackson opened his eyes, stared at Stiles until Stiles looked up from Jackson's dick to his face. He let the animal need inside him fill his eyes, felt them begin to glow, and kept them locked on Stiles's.

"I want you to fuck me," Jackson said. "Not because Derek said he wanted to see it, but because I want it."

He didn't thrust up against Stiles again, that was because of Derek. He just kept his gaze locked on Stiles, wanting it to sink in through his thick head, down through his spine and into his heart. He wanted it to sink from there into Stiles's groin also so that he would hurry the fuck up, but he wanted the heart to get it before the dick did.

Stiles was kneeling between Jackson's legs, hands on his cock, and a smile slowly growing on his face. It was cute but very frustrating. Stiles didn't break his eye contact with Jackson, but he tilted his head slightly in Derek's direction.

"He wants it," Stiles told Derek. "He wants me to fuck him."

"You were the only person in the world who didn't already know that," Derek's voice was flat. "I'm not even joking. Every. Single. Person. Knew."

"Not going to let you rain on this parade," Stiles said. "I'm the happiest dude in the world right now."

"You know what would make me happy, Stiles?" Jackson asked the question as calmly as he could, but he knew there was probably a little too much teeth in the smile he was directing at the guy who would not stop being a fucking cock tease. It was taking everything he had to lay still, to not flip them over and just fuck himself on Stiles until he got with the program and started going on his own. "What would make me really, really, happy?"

"If I hurried up?"

"Yes," Derek and Jackson spoke at the same time, with the exact same amount of force and impatience.

Stiles looked back and forth between the two of them for a few moments, then sighed as if being rushed to get on with fucking Jackson was some sort of trial he'd been forced to undertake. He pulled Jackson's underwear off, licking his lips at the slapping sound Jackson's dick made when it snapped free of his boxers and thumped back onto his stomach.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Stiles said. He held a hand out towards Derek. "If you would be so kind, sir?"

Jackson expelled a pissed off breath, brought his hands up to his own face and closed his eyes. He wasn't angry, he was eager, excited, and masking it with anger because he was Jackson, and that's what he did. He heard the drawer next to the bed open, there was some shuffling, and then the sound of a cap being snapped open. He waited for cold wet fingers to touch him. Nothing happened.

The chemical smell in the room kicked up a notch. Jackson hated that it interfered with Stiles and Derek's scents, but he was very thankful they had an ample supply. Sure, he was a werewolf, sure pain was fleeting, but adequate preparation magnified the whole experience. He waited. Stiles shifted on his knees on the bed slightly. Jackson continued to wait.

"Stiles what fuc—"

Warm slick fingers brushed against his skin, trying to get to the tight ring of muscle Jackson had been wondering if Stiles was even interested in. Jackson spread his legs, bent his knees up so the bottoms of his feet were flat against the bed, trying to angle his hips to make it easier.

"Derek," Stiles said.

Jackson felt the pillow under him shift. He raised his head for it to be pulled. He didn't open his eyes, but he knew what was happening. He lifted his hips higher, even as Stiles's firm massaging set Jackson's nerves alight. Derek, he assumed anyway, tucked the pillow under Jackson's lower back making it easier for everyone to get into a comfortable position and rhythm.

Stiles was still taking it slow, thumb massaging but not pressing inside, letting Jackson get used to the pressure. Jackson didn't need that, but it felt so good that he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He let out a sigh of contentment that quickly turned into a hitched breath as he felt wet heat gently sliding up the underside of his cock.

"Yes," he whispered to Stiles. "So good."

Stiles could do things with his mouth that could break people's worlds apart. It wasn't a biased opinion, Jackson had watched Derek absolutely unravel under Stiles's mouth and tongue. His dick twitched at the memory, pushing back against Stiles's tongue. It must have been the prompting that Stiles had needed to finally kick it into high gear because a moment later Jackson was struggling not to thrust up into Stiles's mouth.

"Fuck," Jackson gasped. "Stiles, please."

Jackson didn't need to ask, didn't need to beg, because Stiles was delivering what he needed. One of Stiles's fingers slipped inside him, and on instinct Jackson's body clamped down on it. Stiles let out a delirious groan around Jackson's dick. Jackson felt Stiles's other fingers tracking over his stomach like they were trying to map out lines of muscle. Jackson tilted his head back, mouth open as he tried to get his ragged breathing somewhere closer to normal.

Stiles didn't seem to want things to calm down, he added a second finger and started to suck harder. Jackson gripped the blankets tightly, could feel his toes curling. He wanted to move so bad. Stiles started making a needy rumble in his throat that went through Jackson's cock and up his spine.

"Go ahead," Derek whispered.

"Thank, fuck," Jackson babbled. He thrust up lightly against Stiles's mouth, got a bit of an angry sounding noise, and almost froze. Stiles's nails raked across his stomach, and he sucked Jackson even further into his mouth. Yeah, okay, he got it, not too much, not enough. He thrust harder up into the wet heat. Stiles's fingers inside him started working harder too, and Jackson's brain almost shorted out when Stiles found what he was looking for. Jackson released the blankets, and gripped Stiles's hair, thrusting up a little erratically as he held Stiles's head in place.

Stiles's fingers pressed harder into Jackson, a third slipping in, trying to get deeper. Jackson panted raggedly, biting his lips and getting lost in the torrent of sensations rushing along his nerves. Stiles let him go at his own pace for a few moments, then began to pull his head away. Jackson immediately released him, hands grasping at air for a few moments before he let them fall back to the bed.

"Look at me, Jackson," Stiles said. His fingers didn't slow down or lose any of their intensity.

Jackson's eyes fluttered open, he looked. Stiles was watching him with blown open eyes, the warm brown dilated to a thin ring. He looked amazed, like he wasn't sure if what he was seeing was real. Jackson wanted to make sure Stiles never forgot what he was seeing. He brought both of his hands to his dick, one holding the base firmly, and the other sliding up towards the head. He swallowed against the flutter in his stomach as one palm went up and over the sensitive head, before he brought it back down to meet the other. He pumped himself, eyes never breaking away from Stiles's.

"Jackson," Stiles whispered hoarsely. "You're so…"

Stiles didn't seem to know the word his mind was looking for, but it wasn't hindering his hands. The one that wasn't three fingers deep in Jackson's ass, sending heat through his body started twisting around his own dick, matching Jackson's pace, maybe wanting to try to feel what Jackson was feeling in that moment.

"Come on," Jackson said, voice unsteady.

"You ready?" Stiles asked.

"I was ready before you had your fingers inside me. Fuck, Stiles, just come on." He tilted his hips up, pumping himself harder as he looked into Stiles's eyes. "Is there anything about me that isn't screaming I need you so fucking bad?"

Stiles nodded, maybe more to himself than Jackson, but he let go of his own dick and slipped his fingers out of Jackson. He ran the slick fingers of his hand that had been inside Jackson over himself. He shuffled up the bed, maneuvering further between Jackson's legs.

"I-is this position good?"

Jackson was going to lose his mind. He could feel the light in his eyes burning. He surged forward, animal need wiping out his brain's rational thought. Jackson twisted his legs underneath him so he could get up on his knees, matching Stiles's position. He seized Stiles's neck with one hand, pulling him forward into a bruising kiss. It took a few moments for Stiles's brain to catch up, but he started kissing Jackson back with just as much ferocity.

Jackson reached down, gripping Stiles's dick with just enough force to make Stiles let out a little whine, but not enough to hurt him. It was slick, solid, and exactly what Jackson needed.

"Stiles," Jackson hissed out against Stiles's mouth, not pulling away. "I want you to fuck me."

Stiles started nodding his head in short rapid motions, partially pulling his mouth away from Jackson's, then gripped Jackson's neck and pulled him in with one hand. The other gripped Jackson's ass, nails scraping.

"Then turn around," Stiles hissed back, punctuated his statement with a firm slap on Jackson's ass and a not at all gentle bite on Jackson's lower lip.

There was no hesitation at all, Jackson immediately spun around, dropping down onto his elbows, raising his hips up and pushing his hips back. He buried his face into the bed, but not before catching a glimpse of Derek out of the corner of his eyes. Derek had ditched the towel, and was jacking himself off with one hand, the other rubbing against his stomach. His eyes were glowing too.

Stiles gripped Jackson's hips, lined himself up, and then unbearably slowly began to slide into Jackson. The blankets ripped as Jackson gripped them too tightly, pulled too hard. Jackson pushed back a little, trying to get more of Stiles inside him. He panted into the bed. His dick ached, he needed more. He shifted his weight onto one hand, began to reach towards himself with the other.

Stiles's fingers curled into Jackson's hair, pulling his head back and making him arch his back. There was a brief sharp pain that made Jackson's dick even harder, and he let out a gasp, using both hands again to steady himself on all fours. Stiles's hips finally slapped flush against Jackson.

"Finally," he gasped out, swallowing with a little difficulty at the angle that Stiles's hand in his hair left him.

There wasn't any reply at first, then Stiles deliberately drew back, almost all the way out and then pushed himself back in with deliberate slowness. Jackson grunted, biting his lip to keep quiet. Stiles slowly drew back again, but this time when he began to move forward Jackson thrust back to meet him, and the impact reverberated both through the room, and Jackson's spine.

"Fuck," Stiles gasped.

That was it, the last that either of them could take. Stiles pulled back quickly, Jackson rocked forward a bit, and then they slammed back into each other again. For a few moments they were working in synchronization, then Stiles let go of Jackson's hair, got both hands on his hips, and finally began fucking him like Jackson wanted. Quick powerful thrusts that rocked Jackson forward repeatedly. Stiles was grunting with the effort, breath coming in short uneven gasps.

Jackson's arms eventually gave out, and he crumbled forward resting his weight against one hand, his neck, and his shoulder. He grabbed his dick and started furiously jacking himself off as Stiles's pace became more and more erratic. Jackson moaned desperately, begging for more, for harder, for faster. Maybe he was talking the whole time, maybe not. He couldn't think, not with Stiles driving into him over and over.

"So good," he gasped into the bed. Every time Stiles's hips slammed into him white spikes of pleasure fired through his body. "I'm so close…"

Jackson thought Stiles was already going as hard as he could, but admitting he was close to losing it seemed to drive Stiles wild. Jackson tried to push his hips back, to lift them up. Their angles shifted just slightly, but it made all the difference.

"Come on, Jackson," Stiles said breathlessly. "Come on!"

"Fuuuuccckkk," Jackson groaned into the bed, his body going rigid as the new angle and the furious grip he had on himself finally sent him over the edge.

Stiles hips stuttered momentarily, but picked up again after a second, fucking Jackson right through his orgasm. It was so good, and too much, and not enough by far. Jackson's brain gave up, and he just tried to survive. He let himself go, thinking that would take the edge off the pleasure that was getting very close to overstimulation. He'd barely let go when he felt Derek's strong hand seize his.

Derek pulled his hand and arm, and Jackson slipped forward onto his shoulder and neck more, but Stiles moved with him, kept driving into him chasing his own climax. Jackson opened his eyes, saw Derek on his knees on the edge of the bed. Derek leaned in turned his head slightly to look at Stiles, and then began to lick Jackson's fingers clean.

Stiles tried to say something, Jackson thought he did anyway. He wasn't sure if the problem was Stiles's mouth, or that Jackson's brain had finally just given up. Stiles thrust forward once more, and then he was just grinding against Jackson, hips moving in tiny circles, gasping and shaking.

Jackson's body gave out, and he collapsed forward. Stiles went with him, hot skin plastered all over Jackson's back, but Jackson had no complaints. He was having a little trouble breathing, but it wasn't from Stiles's weight on him.

"So good," Stiles whispered into Jackson's back.

Jackson made a noise of agreement. Words were a thing of the past. He didn't think he was getting them back anytime soon. Derek started to back off the bed, but Stiles reached out and caught him.

Derek looked at Stiles's hand on his arm, then looked at Stiles and raised a single dark eyebrow.

"Where going?" Stiles gasped out. Didn't even seem to care that he was missing some words from his question.

"I was going to get some towels," Derek said.

"No," Stiles said into Jackson's skin. He rolled slightly to the side so that he was still sprawled boneless against Jackson, but not directly on top of him anymore. "Wolf pile. Christmas."

Jackson would have thanked Stiles for the extra air he was getting into his lungs, but frankly his brain was still undecided if it was going to work fully again. Ever. Jackson watched Derek watch Stiles, and was surprised when the bed dipped.

"We should…" Stiles mumbled. "you know." Jackson felt Stiles make some sort of motion that was probably trying to indicate both himself and Jackson. "Help you, Derek."

Derek laughed and held up the hand he hadn't grabbed Jackson with. Jackson knew what was on it, he could smell it clearly even through the haze of sex that he and Stiles had left the room in.

"Took care of it already," Derek said.

Jackson felt Stiles frown against his shoulder. There was more movement from Stiles, but Jackson had neither the angle or energy to determine what it was. Derek smiled after a moment, then slide further across the bed on his knees, dropped down onto his back and held out his hand towards them. Jackson, finding energy reserves he didn't know he had pulled himself, and the Stiles shaped monkey on his back across the bed.

When he was almost at Derek's side Stile's rolled off Jackson, his head coming to rest against Derek's bicep. He had the smuggest fucking look that Jackson had ever seen on his face. Jackson stared at him in disbelief. Stiles watched Jackson, not breaking eye contact as he curled Derek's arm to bring Derek's hand close to his mouth, and then began to lick him clean just the way that Derek had done earlier. Jackson just stared mutely at them.

After he was done, Stiles let Derek's arm fall back to the bed, turned on his side so that his cheek was resting on Derek as he watched Jackson. Jackson just continued staring, trying to process. Stiles impatiently gestured for Jackson to come closer.

"Wolf pile," Stiles said again, making little grabby motions with his hands at Jackson.

With a laugh Jackson finally gave up and slid across the bed into Stiles's arms, got a kiss on the nose for his obedience. Jackson relaxed, burying his head into Stiles's chest. Derek rolled over so that he was against Stiles's back, then reached with the arm Stiles's wasn't laying on to stroke Jackson's hair.

"Merry Christmas," Derek said to them.

"Merry Christmas," Jackson said, or something close enough that they seemed to understand.

"You still got us regular presents right, Derek? If not, I'm keeping what I got you."

Derek and Jackson both laughed,

"Seriously, I hope that baking attempt wasn—"

Derek placed his hand over Stiles's mouth to silence him. Jackson scooted forward a bit more, placed a kiss on the back of Derek's hand that was blocking Stiles's lips. Stiles narrowed his eyes at Jackson, but since he couldn't speak Jackson just let his eyes close, snuggling in closer to Stiles's front as Derek did the same behind him. Jackson drifted off to sleep with the comforting sound of Stiles mumbling into Derek's hand.