The moon washes over his pale skin. His bare back is towards the other man's face. Cold eyes roam over that pale back as though it is an entire country. The younger man rubs his face and neck as he has so often done, a habit picked up as he got over his addiction.

Gus contemplates how the younger man ended up in his bedroom, naked, sullen. To protect his former partner, the young man had placed a gun to the side of his head and was a millimeter from killing himself. He had also sworn to do whatever Gus asked. Although Gustavo Fringe had originally assumed that this was included in Pinkman's vow, he soon discovered that the boy has been hungry for an encounter of this nature ever since he and Walter's falling out. But Pinkman is shy to admit, or perhaps ashamed to want this so soon after Walter's departure…

In any case, the act is mutually enjoyable, in spite of Pinkman's attempts to pretend otherwise. He's mine now. And even better, he's resigned himself to belonging to Gus. The thought swells the older man. He's been out of bed too long.

"Jesse," Gus calmly commands.

He turns, a soft face with blue eyes, exquisite, clouded with grief that lingers and throbs between intervals of guilty physical pleasure. His eyes lock onto his employer. He awaits specifics.

"Come back to bed."

With a sigh, Jesse slides off the cushioned windowsill, and walks deliberately to the bed. He climbs in and draws the sheets over himself, facing Gus, searching for approval. But Gus is not satisfied. He stretches an arm over Jesse, and pulls the younger man beneath him, chest to chest. A flicker of fear and a hint of desire flash in the watery blue.

Jesse shivers, hesitantly putting his hands over Gus's chest as if to push the man away. He expects to be scolded for this small attempt at defiance, but he is surprised by his own reaction. His liquid fingers slide over the older man's cold chest and he feels heat rush from his face to his lower abdomen, immediately followed by a disgust and resentment urging him to vomit. But the only outward reaction he can manage is looking into the dead eyes of the powerful man and he knows the signal being sent isn't repulsion.

The silent begging blue beckons. Gus has a weak urge to smile, though his lips do not so much as twitch. With a great amount of restraint he leans in and delivers a "gentle" kiss to the boy. Moments later, he is shifting back into place, the boy groans and squirms but doesn't pull away. Whether Pinkman is shivering with pleasure or with the anticipation of being out in the cold after this is over is none of Gus's concern. Pinkman is his. He has won.