While the Cat's Away
"Do you really have to go?" Jesse asked again, curling his lips into a pout.
"I told you, I really don't want to go," Jane replied, before adding with a fake British accent, "I don't want to go!"
"Then why don't you bail and spend the weekend with me?"
Jane spun, showing off the slinky yet formal black dress she was wearing.
"Because otherwise my father will go to this thing, sit in the corner, talk to no one and sulk," she replied. "Do you know how boring an air traffic controller benefit dinner is?"
"Uh, I guess not," Jesse admitted.
"Although," Jane murmured, fiddling with a strap, "If people keep mistaking me for my dad's girlfriend again, somebody's getting an uppercut to the head." Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Yes. It happens. Way too often."
"Hook him up with someone," Jesse teased, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Get yourself off the hook."
"If you know any fifty-year-old women who are into air traffic controllers, pass them along," she replied.
"How will I amuse myself while you're gone?" Jesse moaned, sitting on Jane's bed and lying back on it.
"I'm sure you'll find a way," she replied, moving forward and straddling him before whispering in his ear, "Call Walter." Jesse's eyes went wide.
"But… isn't that, like, cheating?"
"Not if I say it's okay."
"But aren't you worried?"
Jane climbed off of him and grinned.
"He can fuck you all he wants, but if he tries to take you, he's gotta fight me first. I was top of my class in martial arts." Jane did what looked vaguely like an attempt at a roundhouse kick.
"You were?"
"Okay, I went three times to get weed. But it's the principle of the thing."
The sound of a car horn blared in from outside.
"That's my ride!" she declared. "Wish me luck."
Jesse rose off the bed to kiss her and loop his arms around her. When he did, she leaned in and nipped his ear.
"Call him! Fuck him – but not in my bed, I don't need my apartment smelling like lube. And lock up when the coast is clear and… Please stay out of view until my dad leaves."
"Can't you tell him?" Jesse reached out and grabbed her hands in his, making his eyes go as wide and plaintive as he could. Jane sighed.
"I'll make you a deal. If he asks, I'll tell him."
"Okay."
The horn beeped again.
"Gotta go!"
Jesse sat on Jane's bed for about ten minutes, until he heard Jane's dad drive off into the distance.
He sighed as he made his way back to his own half of the duplex. He wished that Jane didn't feel the need to hide him away like he was a total embarrassment. Was he really that bad? Would her father really flip that much? The guy hadn't seemed completely unreasonable, after all. Maybe if Jesse just got a chance to talk to him, they could figure it out.
In the meantime, he had to figure out what to do with the weekend. Did Jane really want him to call up Mr. White, or was it some weird kind of test to see if he would or not?
Then again, Jane wasn't the type to do tests. She had always been remarkably blunt, which was one of the things Jesse liked about her (though it had been the cause of more than one argument, as well). She had said "call Walter" because, well, she wanted him to.
Though knowing Jane, she probably wanted details or a videotape or something. Which was a little weird, if Jesse was being totally honest.
Jesse lay down on his bed and tried to figure out a better option for how to spend the weekend.
He didn't really have one.
Still, Jesse wasn't all that eager to give Mr. White the satisfaction. Therefore, he spent the better part of Saturday watching random selections from his Supernatural box set well into Season 4 and, when available, jacking off to Bela and both versions of Ruby, though given his druthers he preferred the brunette.
He found himself wondering what demon sex would be like. Would it be dangerous? What if somebody got possessed when they both came?
And, considering that Ruby was inhabiting some human's body, would that actually technically be a threesome?
But thoughts of threesomes brought him around back to Mr. White, which was an awkward place to be.
He wondered if Bela would come back as a sexy, evil demon if the Winchesters accidentally let her out of hell, and decided he would probably bang her if they did.
Exciting as his internal discussion was, however, under the surface there was still that nagging little voice saying that he should call Mr. White.
Jesse took out his phone and passed it from hand to hand, as if playing with fire but trying not to linger on it long enough to get burnt.
He wanted to call, really, really did. Needed to talk to someone, even if it was just to figure out Mr. White's own thoughts on demon-sex, from a chemistry perspective or something. The loneliness was driving him up the wall.
Another possibility was calling Jane and seeing if she could get away long enough to talk to him for a little while, but he didn't want to be one of those guys who was constantly bugging their girlfriends when they were busy.
He opted, instead, to watch some more Supernatural. He had the power to resist.
He really, really did.
No, he didn't.
He didn't know what it was, but something made him hit the "stop" button and pick up his phone again, hitting the selection that corresponded to Mr. White's number before he could stop himself.
Jesse listened to it ring.
"What do you want?" Mr. White's voice snarled into the other line. Oh, great. He was busy, too. But that inner snark just made him feel like a little kid jumping up and down going "I'm bored!"
He considered just hanging up and saying that he had butt-dialed Mr. White by mistake, or that he'd handle whatever he had called about himself. He really wanted to do either of those things. He didn't need the older man's shit, did he?
"Are you busy?" Jesse asked, finally.
"I'm always busy. What do you want?"
No way was Jesse giving him the satisfaction of responding with "I want you" or something equally as corny. No way, no how.
"Do you want to come over?"
"And do what?"
"You are seriously going to make me say it over the phone?"
There was a bitter laugh on Mr. White's end.
"You are obsessed, Pinkman. It is truly pathetic."
Jesse rolled his eyes, despite the fact that Mr. White wouldn't be able to see him actually doing so.
"Where are you getting that I am obsessed with your old ass? It was just a question. If you've got something better going on, I can hang up."
"Is the Black Widow going to be there?"
"Huh?" Jesse asked, before realizing who he meant. He bristled. "She's out of town, and don't call her that."
"I'll be over in a half an hour."
The line went dead.
It was about forty-five minutes – and Jesse had added the angel Anna to the list of characters he would definitely sleep with – when the doorbell rang and a perusal of the peephole revealed Mr. White.
He opened the door and put his hands on his hips, sighing, as the older man pushed his way through and took a seat on a chair in the living room.
"So? Couldn't resist?" came the taunt from Mr. White, and Jesse rolled his eyes.
"You're not as good as you seem to think you are," he told him. "But in all honesty, I've got fuck else to do. When are we cooking again?"
"We should have enough product for the immediate future. We're working on a deal with a businessman. You'll just have to entertain yourself in the meantime."
Jesse cocked an eyebrow.
"Or you could entertain me," he suggested.
"What makes you think I'd be interested in doing that?"
Jesse's lips curled into a grin.
"You seemed to like it last time. And the time before that. Quit playing around, Mr. White. It's time to play… together." Jesse chuckled; that had sounded extremely corny, but what could he do? It was starting to get uncomfortable, just how much he needed to get off.
He was thinking about the last time they had been together, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was Mr. White who had really done it for him, or the fact that Jane had managed to orchestrate the whole thing. She was like a kind of kinky chessmaster, somehow, and Jesse didn't know quite how he felt about that, other than that he liked it. It thrilled him to know that she thought about him enough to invent these elaborate plans.
But Mr. White? How exactly did he feel about him?
The older man drove him nuts, but not usually in a good way. Jesse was always thirsting for his approval (though hell if he knew why), and it was always just out of his reach.
Why in the hell did Jesse want him like this? And how had Jane seen it before even Jesse himself?
He tried not to analyze it; it simply made his head hurt. He would just follow it; it felt good and, somehow, it was safe.
Somehow, Jesse hadn't realized just how good it felt to actually be safe. It was as if he'd been floating for seven years, anchorless, until he'd found Jane and Mr. White and this, whatever "this" actually meant anymore.
He didn't want to talk about it, or think about it. He just needed it.
Jesse put his hands on Mr. White's shoulders and pulled him closer, leaning up to crush their lips together. The older man didn't fight it or argue; Jesse had known that he wouldn't. He wanted this too.
The tongues came next, and Jesse realized he was feeling a bit dizzy and slowly backed against the bed, managing to pull Mr. White down on top of him without fully breaking the kiss.
The older man's hands started to search him, and this was different, now, without onlookers, almost uncomfortably intimate, like a first time.
And in a way, it was.
Jesse gasped out, let out a little cry, and now there were hands undoing his belt and unclasping his jeans.
When he got his voice back, he whispered, "Yes… Please, God, yes."
"Not quite God," Mr. White teased back, and Jesse was sure he was going to add "yet" to that. He wanted to flip him off but couldn't find the ability to do so. He was too busy squirming.
Jesse closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his pants were all the way off and Mr. White was working on his boxers.
He let his eyes slip shut again. It was easier when he wasn't looking at him, wasn't thinking about how weird this all was. Was he in love with Mr. White? Could it be summed up as simply and cleanly as such a clichéd phrase as that?
No, he loved Jane. He loved Jane, he loved…
Could he love them both? Or was that too weird?
He tried to block it all out and just focus on the sensation, on the feeling that was spreading down his thigh now, as Mr. White touched him.
"Mr. White," he whispered out. Everything was okay; everything was soft in his mind, in his eyes and he eased into the feeling. It was peaceful, peace like he hadn't felt in… he didn't know how long.
Because he liked this and that was okay and she'd said it was okay. She let him.
The hands stroked over his thighs, surprisingly gentle for a man he'd so often seen be so rough, so callous.
Jesse let it be known that he liked it, needed it. He pushed all debate, all question to the back of his mind as Mr. White took him in hand and stroked.
"You like that, Jesse?" The words seemed like they were seated deep inside Jesse's mind, but Mr. White was really just talk in his ear, letting the words stroke over his eardrum as his hand stroked over Jesse's cock. "You're so hard for me, aren't you, Jesse?"
"Uhhh… Fuck-yes, Mr. White," Jesse gasped back.
"I want to hear you say it." Jesse turned at the voice and looked at his partner with confusion and some shock.
"Say what?"
Mr. White squeezed, and Jesse knew.
"I'm… so hard for you, Mr. White." He would've thought the words would be humiliating, but they weren't. A chill ran up his spine as he said them, as he bucked into the palm. "I want you to fuck me, Mr. White." There was something, even in just the simple fact of saying the name, that rocked him to the core.
"Oh you do, Jesse? How do you want me to fuck you?"
"Hard, Mr. White." The words were out of his mouth before he even realized it.
"Oh, really?"
"Don't make me beg," Jesse gasped. "Please. Just do it."
"Sounds like you just did beg," Mr. White mocked, but he ran his fist up Jesse's cock and stroked harder, before repositioning Jesse, with no more gentleness, against the headboard of the bed. He spread Jesse's legs, and Jesse heard him spit in his palm; Jane had been the one to always come prepared with lube, after all, and Jesse braced himself for discomfort.
It came, when Mr. White's fingers reached out to enter him.
"Mr. White," Jesse mumbled. There was nothing to dull it, not yet. The older man seemed to take pity on him, though, and gave him a rough stroke on his cock to distract him as his finger probed deeper inside. It was starting to seem as if Mr. White was getting used to being there, and Jesse was reminded about that old joke, that having sex was like being in the endzone – "act like you've been there before."
Mr. White was not only acting like he'd been there before, but like he'd moved in and was thinking of buying the place.
Jesse found himself missing Jane's touches from the other times, started to wonder if this thing really only worked as a threesome. It was like some part of the equation was missing, some kind of ying to balance out Mr. White's overwhelming yang.
Not that Jesse really got much time to think about it. Before he knew it, the fingers had vanished and as he closed his eyes again he sensed Mr. White's need to be inside him.
He let out a little worried sound of approval, and heard the spitting sound again.
A moment later, he felt the pressing in. He was starting to get better at it now, the relaxing and letting Mr. White fill him. It didn't hurt as much this time, had turned to a mild throb of discomfort that vanished the first second that the older man grazed his spot. Then, Jesse was in another world, all doubts gone and rendered useless. All he could do was yelp, scream and plead.
"Again – please, Mr. White – again!"
The older man pulled back and thrust in again, obliging. Jesse opened his eyes now, still seeing stars and finding it hard to catch his breath.
"There's that begging again. Love it when you beg, Jesse."
"I'll keep begging if you keep doing that!" Jesse wailed as Mr. White slammed back against his spot. He quickened his thrusts, started to go hard and rough in a way that would have made Jane caution for him to slow down. This time, it was with abandon, like Jesse was the last person he'd ever get to fuck and he was damn well sure going to make the most of it.
Jesse could feel his climax rising, tearing at him and demanding to be let go.
He gave into it; there was nothing else to do. He was so far gone that he barely even felt Mr. White come, too, hard and long and inside him.
Jesse's eyes slipped shut again as he slumped against the bed, finding it hard to catch his breath. His mind swam with half-exposed images of Jane, of Mr. White, of their old encounters and this new one and yet, more than that, with a strange growing sense of being where he was supposed to be. Of being… "home".
Mr. White withdrew from him, and it all suddenly seemed to have been over much too fast. It brought with it a distinct longing.
Not that Mr. White seemed to feel the same way. He drew himself up and gave a courteous, dismissive smile to Jesse as he pulled his clothes back on.
"Wait," Jesse called, "Aren't you going to stay?"
Mr. White looked incredulously at him.
"You've got a girlfriend, Jesse. But it isn't me."
Jesse heard the key turn in the lock, followed by Jane's voice singing, "They checked the systems through and they read A-okay… Some tiny fuse had probably blown…"
He hopped off the bed and went almost into a jog, swinging his hands out to hug her before he had even spotted her.
From her captive position, Jane chuckled.
"So apparently you missed me, huh?"
"You have no idea," Jesse mumbled against her chest. "How was your weekend?"
"Boring," she replied. "Let's do something fun." He raised an eyebrow as he loosened his hold on her.
"By fun you mean…?"
Jane's face curled into a huge grin.
"You slept with him, didn't you! You dog." She nudged him gently. "I was thinking fun on the order of 'laughably bad horror film and pineapple pizza.'"
Jesse looked at her and smiled.
"I'm so in."