Jesse's still riding the adrenaline high of victory when they get back to their room that night after the trivia contest. "We should go on game shows for a living and just rack up the cash," he says, flopping onto the bed. "We'd be unstoppable."
"Most game shows don't let you work with someone else," Walt says.
"Family Feud does. And Let's Make a Deal. Oh, and Supermarket Sweep."
Walt's brow furrows. "Supermarket Sweep hasn't been on in, what, eight years?"
Jesse shrugs as if conceding. "Okay, well, Millionaire lets you phone a friend. And we did pretty boss on our own tonight. I could totally see you as returning champ on Jeopardy!"
Walt smiles. "You weren't so bad yourself." He's fairly certain Jesse threw out answers to a couple chemistry questions solely to impress Walt. And it worked, because Walt's charmed as fuck. It doesn't hurt that they're each fifty bucks richer either. "But if you knew as much about math or chemistry as you do about comic books and Star Trek..."
"Yeah, but then if we ever got a question about comics we'd be totally screwed," Jesse says, sitting up so he can gaze at Walt. "We work better this way. Y'know that Paula Abdul song 'Opposites Attract'?"
Walt gives him a flat stare. "You don't get to criticize my taste in music anymore."
"Mr. White," Jesse whines, leaning back on his hands and looking out the window at the calm water. The beach is mostly vacant now, and Walt wishes they could just start walking along the coast and never stop, stroll endlessly under the starry night sky with the waves lapping at their feet.
Jesse gets restless, stands up and pulls his t-shirt over his head, now clad in only his Superman swim shorts. "You wanna swim?" he asks, his hand on the door handle. "There's nobody out there, if you're shy."
Walt snorts. "Shy? Jesse, this"—he plucks at his shirt—"is for your benefit. If I take my shirt off, you may have to fight off the hordes of admirers."
Jesse throws his head back and laughs. Then he catches a glimpse of Walt's expression. "Oh, shit, you were totally serious." He snickers and slips the buttons out of their clasps. "Well, c'mon, Fabio, try not to dazzle anyone with your awesome pecs." There's a healthy dose of sarcasm there, Walt thinks, and he's a little offended. You take a guy into your home to live and love with and give him an extravagant vacation and what do you get? Endless fucking lip.
Walt tosses his shirt over the back of a chair and follows Jesse onto the powdery sand. Their footsteps don't even make a sound, like they're walking over clouds. Jesse's hand is soft in Walt's own as they walk together. The beach is indeed rather empty, with only a few people gathered around the volleyball nets some ways away, and one or two others lying on beach chairs with white earphone cords dangling.
Jesse walks to the water's edge and lets the swells break over his toes. "It's warm," he says, trying to coax Walt into the water. Walt allows Jesse to lead him over the invisible ocean floor. They wade into the deep end and slowly begin to float, buoyant in the weightless current. Jesse's hand is still laced with Walt's own beneath the surface of the water.
"You ever have sex on the beach?" Jesse asks with a lilt of a smirk on his lips.
"Actually, I have, and it's not worth the trouble or the discomfort."
Jesse's mouth opens in a laugh of disbelief. "Wow, right on, Mr. White!" Walt can't help the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth, because Jesse's so impressed by Walt's sexual history. Bless him.
Jesse raises his free hand and lays it over Walt's heart. Walt wonders if Jesse can feel the throb of his heartbeat there under his palm. "What about sex in the beach?" Jesse lifts a curious eyebrow, tilts his head in a particularly meaningful way.
"In the water?" Walt asks, horrified. "No! We're not—No!"
"C'mon, get some excitement in your life."
"I thought I told you about my no-excitement diet."
Jesse scoffs. "You're on vacation, yo! Live a little." The pallid light of the moon highlights his flawless shape and makes him look like some ethereal wonder. Rivulets of water trickle down the curve of Jesse's chest, his shoulders, his throat. Walt wets his lips, finds his mouth impossibly dry.
"We're in public."
"There's, like, nobody out here," Jesse says, throwing out a hand at the expanse of beach. "And they can barely see us anyway. Nobody's gonna know." Jesse throws his arms around Walt's neck to crush their mouths together.
Walt digs his fingers in at Jesse's waist and pulls them into deeper water. The lazy waves break around them, and Walt feels the press of Jesse's body against his own, moans into the kiss. Jesse takes that as a green light and snakes his hand beneath the water and into Walt's shorts. Walt jumps at the touch and makes a startled sound around Jesse's mouth, edging his hips away from Jesse's eager hand.
"Were you valedictorian too at Buzzkill University?" Jesse grumbles. His fingers stretch out to brush against the length of Walt's dick. A spike of heat builds in his groin. "C'mon, Mr. White, tell me you want this..." Jesse's voice is low and rough at his ear, his hand squeezing and stroking over Walt's cock. Walt groans and bucks his hips into the pressure, clutching at Jesse's back and kissing the curve of his shoulder. Jesse catches the weight of him with his free hand, arm wrapped around his middle to hold him afloat. "I'll be so good to you when it's your turn again," Jesse promises, and damn if that doesn't get Walt shoving into the slide of Jesse's fist.
Jesse's grip tightens and loosens around Walt's dick, the pad of his thumb rubbing over the head. Walt gasps kisses against his mouth. His hips slice through the water as their rhythm synchronizes. "You're always good to me," Walt says, because, yeah, he's a sap.
Jesse smiles and kisses him again. "Fuck yeah, I am." His grip slackens for a moment, and Walt searches the midnight ocean for vague shadows, something to clue him in on why Jesse just...stopped. Did Walt ruin the moment? That seems like something he'd do, inadvertently fucking things up in an attempt to help; hell, that could be the title of his autobiography.
But Jesse's not stopping, just pausing the action for a bit so he can get a handful of his own dick and grip the two of them together, and, wow, that's really fucking hot. Jesse's cock is a rigid line of heat against Walt's own, and Walt can feel Jesse's fingers drag over his shoulder blades as he jerks them off together. Jesse makes a throaty little moan and tips his head back. Walt can't resist the invitation; he goes straight for the curve of Jesse's neck, dipping his tongue into the hollow there. Jesse strokes them faster and rolls his hips into the slide of his fist.
"I—I can't..." Jesse sputters out, and it doesn't matter what the rest of that sentence is; whatever Jesse's going to do next is absolutely worth witnessing. A couple more strokes and Jesse's gone, and Walt watches his face, because Jesse's never more beautiful than when he's coming for Walt. The crease of his brow, his lips parted around soft little moans, the way he shuts his eyes like he's found something he's been searching for a thousand years.
Jesse's body shakes and quivers under Walt's hands as he comes down from heaven. Walt kisses the edge of his jaw and chin, covers Jesse's hand with his own to coax him to continue. Jesse claims his mouth again, but this time there's a hungry edge to it, like he's just as eager for Walt's orgasm as his own. He squeezes a little around the shaft, and it's so good Walt has to shove into it, grinding his balls into the heel of Jesse's hand. Walt breathes out, "Jesse," through shaky lungs, and Jesse squeezes tighter, spurred on by the encouragement.
Jesse's a goddamn pro at handjobs, because it doesn't take long for Walt to let himself go, cresting in Jesse's hand and biting down on a groan. His hips move of their own accord, greedy for every ripple of pleasure left in his groin. Jesse just keeps stroking him and kissing his mouth until he's spent.
Walt catches his breath and frowns at the water, apologetic for the, uh, contribution. "That was wonderful, Jesse, but I can't help but feel it was a bit unsanitary."
Jesse scoffs. "Whatever, it's all saltwater anyway."
Walt snickers, then it evolves into a full-blown laugh. He's never felt as young or as old as he does with Jesse. "You make me feel like a teenager again."
Jesse gives him a lop-sided grin. "Really? So I'm, like, your mid-life crisis twenty-something?"
It feels like an insult, because Jesse is so much more than a young, attractive place to stick his dick into. Walt can't find the proper words, so he shakes his head and says, "You're home."
When they get back to their room, Jesse strips Walt of his water-logged shorts and pushes him onto the bed. He's got a lust-starved gleam in his eyes, that heady, intense gaze he wears when they're tangled together in bed. So Walt's not too concerned about where this is going.
At least until Jesse kneels at the foot of the bed and opens his mouth around Walt's dick.
Whoa. This is new.
Walt makes an embarrassing noise of want and knots his fingers in Jesse's hair. Jesse loops an arm around Walt's thigh, one hand gripped around the base of Walt's cock to steady him. He's only got the head between his lips right now, but his mouth is so wet and hot Walt wonders if he can take any more. To have his entire dick engulfed in this moist, swirling heat...
Jesse hums around him, and the sound ripples through Walt's nerves like a shockwave. He moans a graceless sound, hands tugging at Jesse's hair. Jesse swallows him a little deeper. His thumb plays at the base of Walt's dick, then he flattens his tongue along the underside to chase the bulging vein there. Walt sucks in a breath and glances down at Jesse between his legs. Jesse gazes up at him, eyes almost imploring for praise. "That's good, Jesse," Walt murmurs, and Jesse swallows more of him in appreciation.
Walt's imagined this over and over, fantasized about Jesse on his knees with his mouth full of Walt's cock, but none of his fantasies compare to the real thing. It's shaky and sloppy and uncertain, but it's real, it's them, and Walt wouldn't want it another way. He pushes his hands through Jesse's hair, making contented little noises cut through with praise until Jesse slowly pulls off, giving the swollen head a few lingering sucks before letting Walt's dick fall from his mouth. Jesse glances up at him, runs his tongue over his lower lip to catch a stringy line of pre-cum at the corner of his mouth.
Walt feels himself grow impossibly harder.
"Told you I'd be good to you," Jesse says, rising up on his knees. He stands and fetches the bottle of lube from the nightstand. Walt watches him move closer and squirt a handful into his palm. His skin jumps a little at the cold, but Jesse's hand is hot enough to warm the gel as it glides over his cock. When he's done, Jesse climbs into Walt's lap, his knees nestled in the mattress on either side of Walt. All he can do is watch, awed, as Jesse sinks down and takes him in. Walt can feel when he's fully sheathed inside of him, the way Jesse's insides twitch and clench around his dick. Jesse's hands reach for Walt's, and Walt gives them to him, clasping their fingers together. Jesse's got his arms braced in front of him, so it's easier for him to shove his hips back and grind into Walt's dick. His mouth opens around a moan, and for a moment Walt thinks Jesse's going to take this slow, since he's never done it before.
But Jesse's never been predictable, and of course this would be no exception. He rides Walt hard and fast, his feverish pace barely allotting him time to gasp out, "Mr. White," before the next rotation steals the breath from his lungs. Walt works his hips in tandem with Jesse's to deepen the ache when they crash together. Jesse's so fucking tight it's almost unreal.
Jesse angles his hips back, and the next thrust sends a cracked noise through his teeth. Walt keeps shoving in, desperate for more of Jesse's appreciation. It's over almost as quickly as it began; neither one of them last very long at all when they're together like this. Jesse whimpers something pleading before he breaks apart and leaves stringy white splatters over his belly. Walt watches, transfixed by Jesse's orgasm, until he too falls over the edge.
His hands stay linked with Jesse's through the comedown, occasionally giving soft squeezes when Jesse grinds on him in a way that pulls a groan from his throat. Jesse lies on Walt's chest once they're finished, and Walt tangles a hand in Jesse's hair, drunk on the way their bodies fit together. Jesse's fingers crawl up Walt's arm, languid and lazy, and he tips his head a little so he can look at him. "Tonight was the first night we worked as a team since we cooked," he murmurs, a small smile on his mouth.
Walt nods in silence.
Jesse's brow creases, his bright blue eyes wide. "How come you never talk about it? There was a lot of crap, but there were some good times too."
Walt knows what he means. He draws his fingers through Jesse's hair. "Maybe we ought to leave the past in the past."
"Or maybe we stare the past down and make it our bitch," Jesse argues. "We don't have to dwell on it, but we can't ignore it, y'know? It made us who we are."
It's kind of scary when Jesse makes sense; Walt's still not used to it. "That was such a dark time in both our lives, Jesse. That can't be the thread that holds us together like this."
"But it isn't. We're good together," Jesse says, staring at him intently, and Walt feels the words in his soul. They're amazing together, and not just in bed, but also in the quiet moments where they're simply sharing their lives with each other. "If we can make it through that, we can make it through anything." Then, as if fearing he's said too much, "I mean, at least I think so."
Is Jesse naïve, or is Walt just really cynical? He hopes it's the latter, because Jesse's relentless optimism is like water to a man dying of thirst. Maybe they really do balance each other out, like Jesse said earlier. "I think so too," Walt says, holding him tighter. "I think our future will be much calmer."
"Not too calm. We all need some excitement every now and then." Jesse sits up, and Walt feels the tacky slide of jizz as Jesse's skin slides over his own. Gross. Jesse notices it too and says, "Jacuzzi?"
"You read my mind."
#
The next evening, Walt treats Jesse to dinner with his share of the prize money. The restaurant is vast and extravagant, overlooking the glorious view of the beach. Giant windows encompass nearly every wall and make the place look like a sports stadium skybox with cloth napkins. Walt would love to watch the tide roll in and out, but Jesse's wrapped in a halo from the setting sun and damn if he doesn't look gorgeous.
Jesse notices Walt's staring. "What? I got somethin' on my face?" he asks, his mouth half full.
Walt shakes his head, smiles a little. "Just admiring the view."
Jesse glances at the scenery behind them. "Oh yeah, it's pretty dope, huh?"
Wrong view, Walt thinks.
"I love how chill this place is," Jesse continues, oblivious to Walt's compliment. "Total opposite of our place back home."
"Yes, I've been thinking about that myself." How tranquil would it be to have a little slice of paradise all to themselves? The cabin feels like a snowed-in prison, trapping them inside under sheets of ice. But this is more like a retirement getaway, someplace you could make a home. "What it would be like to live here."
"Hell yeah. They got free wi-fi."
"I don't mean here at the resort, Jesse. I mean...here. The beach. In a cottage of our own like the one we're staying in now."
Jesse leans in, his eyes wide in wonder. "Seriously? You wanna move here?"
Walt panics for a moment that Jesse thinks he's gone insane. "It was just a passing thought—"
"Dude, that's awesome! I mean, I like our place, but it's way too cold, y'know?"
Walt makes a face. "You wear approximately twelve sweaters any given day. How can you not be perfectly suited for cold weather?"
"Don't be a hater, Mr. White," Jesse says, spearing a cluster of noodles with his fork. "You're always the one bitching about turning the heat up anyway." Walt just scowls while Jesse chews thoughtfully. "Are you actually considering moving here, or is this just one of your random ideas that don't really go anywhere?"
"If it was something you wanted," Walt says, measuring his words, "I would consider it more heavily."
"Maybe you should start considering it."
Walt feels a jolt of shock. He'd assumed Jesse was entirely content with their tucked-away life in New Hampshire, but if his heart lies elsewhere... "Maybe I will." He feels skeevy bringing this up, because he knows how Jesse reacts to it, but he's going to power through anyway: "I feel like I'm just waiting to die up there."
As if on cue, Jesse's expression pinches like he's been zapped with a cattle prod.
"Like there's nothing more for me than just being sequestered away," Walt continues. "But here... even though there's solitude, it's different somehow."
Jesse nods like he understands, like he feels it too.
"I guess maybe it feels more like home."
Jesse lets that sink in a moment, then he says, "Yeah, I mean, who says we have to be stuck up in the mountains waitin' to be buried by an avalanche?"
"That's...rather hyperbolous, but I see your point."
Jesse gives him a proud little smile before taking another bite of lobster mac, because, yeah, he's basically one step away from ordering off the kids' menu. Though the one forkful Walt managed to pilfer earlier was goddamn delicious, so he's not in any position to judge Jesse's menu choices.
After dinner, Walt tries his hardest not to be embarrassed at Jesse's enthusiasm over the ice cream machine near the dessert bar. Jesse's built himself a proverbial tower of vanilla ice cream inside a tiny little cone, topped with more sprinkles than entirely necessary. They walk along the beach to their cottage, and Jesse's ice cream begins to melt, dripping over his fingers as he tries to catch the drops. And, no, Walt isn't thinking anything dirty at all watching Jesse's tongue and mouth work. Of course not.
"You finally gettin' the hang of this dating thing now?" Jesse asks around a mouthful of ice cream. There's a sprinkle at the corner of his mouth Walt wants to lick away, but Jesse robs him of the opportunity.
"I—I think I'm managing quite well, actually. It's been a while, but some things never change."
"So you got lucky." Jesse bites into the ice cream cone, and Walt winces because, damn, even his teeth hurt watching that. But Jesse doesn't even flinch. Walt's tempted to throw salt on him and see what happens.
Neither of them say anything for a while, just walk together in comfortable silence as Jesse finishes his ice cream and the sun sinks on the horizon.
They reach the front door of the cottage, and Jesse leans against the doorframe while Walt's sticking the key into the lock. "Thanks for dinner, Walt," Jesse says with a grin. "Is this the part where you kiss me goodnight?"
Walt jerks away a little and straightens up to look at Jesse.
Jesse's brow creases. "What?"
"Did you just call me Walt?"
Jesse's giving him a very familiar look right now; it's the "how do you not fall down more?" stare that says Jesse's questioning Walt's intelligence. Walt knows that look, because he's aimed it at Jesse more times than he can count. "That's your name, isn't it?"
"It's just—you never call me that." Except when Jesse's furious and trying to make a point.
Jesse shrugs his shoulders. "I was just tryin' it out. You think it's weird?"
How strange it is to hear his name spoken from Jesse's lips, even after Skyler and Gretchen have made it their own. But Walt's always been "Mr. White" to Jesse, and he's not sure if he wants that to change. He likes the ego boost of authority, and, yeah, maybe he's got a bit of a teacher/student kink.
"I think you can call me whatever you like," Walt says.
"Okay." Jesse walks his fingers up the slope of Walt's chest. "Bitch."
Walt narrows his eyes. "Not that."
That earns a little smirk in response, and Jesse fists a hand in Walt's shirt, tugging him closer. "So, how 'bout that goodnight kiss?"
Walt leans in so their noses are almost touching, and he watches how Jesse stares at his lips expectantly, as if waiting for Walt to close the distance between them and seal their mouths together. "I'm not saying goodnight to you yet," Walt murmurs, taking Jesse's hand and dragging him inside.
