Chapter Eleven
"Fear is the lock, and laughter the key to your heart
And I love you…"
Walt watches Jesse get up and go to the bathroom, hears the door click open and closed, the careful attempts to be as quiet as possible coming through in Jesse's cautious footsteps.
When Jesse returns, he has the familiar tube in his hand and a shy, excited smile on his face.
"You okay? You still want to do this?" he asks.
"Yes, Jesse, I'm sure."
At that, Walt hears Jesse sigh before he lies down next to Walt again, slowly curling against the older man with the tube in his hand. He trails one hand over Walt's back, before slowly pulling his shirt forward and then off, tossing it into a corner of the room before pressing his lips to Walt's again, not wanting to rush this and still very much unsure even if Walt says he is sure.
Walt reaches down and pulls off his pants, trying to spurn Jesse on. It works; Jesse's eyes light up in excitement as he runs his hand over Walt's back again, down to his thigh, and over his ass slowly, as if in an attempt to acclimate the older man.
He quickly pulls off the T-shirt that he had discarded the suit and tie for, followed by his sweatpants and boxers. His hands begin to shake with anticipation and worry, fear that he's going to go about this wrong and injure Walt somehow – the idea of Mr. White almost at his mercy isn't entirely a new one ("Jesse, you need to help me, they're going to kill me", no, don't think about that) but it's unsettling and just doesn't feel right. Mr. White has always been the one in control… almost always.
Jesse slowly clicks up one finger as he tries to clear his mind of everything except the task at hand. The careful, meticulous task, a perfect formula.
He slides the first finger in, painstakingly, slowly, scrunching his face up in focus, care, and a bit of sympathetic discomfort.
"Everything okay?" he inquires softly, and Walt nods, turning his head a bit uncomfortably to properly lock eyes with Jesse, who experimentally curls his finger before lubing up a second. He feels as if he should keep talking to the other man, and so he does, coaxing as he slides in the second digit, somehow coming off more comforting and less condescending. "Here's the second, okay, just careful, let it – okay, good, good… You're awesome." He slowly guides the fingers to where Walt's prostate must be, and he gets a trill of pleasure from the older man, not quite a word but more a yell and a gasp.
"Sh—Jesse…"
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Jesse asks, swelling up with pride. Being able to make Walt writhe and twitch is better than anything he could want to do to harm him, and he doesn't want to harm him ever, not really – the power switch is benevolent; at least, he wants to believe it is.
"Jesse, yes, hell yes, that feels good," Walt babbles, digging his fingers into the sheets.
"Do you think you're ready?" Jesse asks softly, kissing Walt's neck and nipping at it gently.
Walt breathes out – he's not sure, but he nods.
"Go ahead, Jesse."
Jesse bites his lip and strips off the remainder of his clothing, before slicking up his hands and stroking them along his cock, trying to steady his breathing. He positions himself at Walt's entrance and wraps his arms around the older man, holding him protectively.
"Take a deep breath, then let it go, I'm gonna go in on the exhale," Jesse instructs, parroting the instructions he'd gotten for a short-lived piercing years ago.
Walt breathes in and holds it, closing his eyes before letting go – let it happen, let Jesse take the reins – and exhaling. A second later, Jesse is pushing in, whispering for him to relax, and both are lost in the second, the connection. At the realization that it's uncomfortable but doesn't hurt, Walt lets himself go slack and untenses his fingers around the sheet that he's still clinging to. Whatever he was afraid would happen hasn't, and Jesse is placing kisses and little bites along his back and neck. Walt opens his eyes and begins to meet Jesse's thrusts, helping him, and Jesse reaches around and begins to gently stroke his cock.
"Jesse," Walt gasps out as the thrusting slowly increases and he can tell the younger man's getting close; he's not sure if he can last, but wants to, the moment is too pure, too electric to let go.
"Everything okay?" Jesse asks, squeezing his hand around the other man's cock and wondering at how natural it feels to be doing this.
"Fine, Jesse," Walt replies, squinching his eyes shut tight. "I don't think I'm lasting much longer."
"Me neither," Jesse rasps out, giving three more thrusts and then releasing hard as he tries out the name he's been instructed to use. "Walt," he gasps, but it's still odd, not quite right.
Walt doesn't reply to it, instead focusing on Jesse's touch as he loses control and cums over the younger man's hand, sucking in a breath before letting it out in a cough. Jesse uses his other hand to rub Walt's back, before wiping the other on a sheet, making a mental note to clean them at some point.
Walt controls the coughing fit after a few moments, before he turns to curl around Jesse, thrilling at the other man's hand on his back.
"You okay?" Jesse asks, running a finger down Walt's spine.
"Better than," Walt admits.
"You're in safe hands with me," Jesse whispers. He closes his eyes and snuggles closing to his former mentor.
They lie together in silence for a long while as Walt falls asleep and Jesse half-does, before the shrill ring of the phone cuts into their peace.
"Call from Pinkman, A," the phone recites, and Jesse jerks up his head and opens his eyes wide.
"Andrea?" Walt asks sleepily.
"No," Jesse explains, "Andrea's number comes up as Cantillo. The only A. Pinkman is my dad."
"Hey, you've reached the Pinkman household. Leave your name, number, and reason for your call at the beep," Jesse's recorded voice says.
"This'll be interesting," Jesse tells Walt, trying to calm his nerves. He takes a deep breath and waits.
