Nights Like This
Fandom: Breaking Bad
Title: Nights Like This
Author: nathan_is
Pairing: Walt/Jesse, established
Rating: NC-17
Word Count:691
Spoilers: None that I can think of
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not for profit. No copyright infringement is intended. Breaking Bad belongs to Vince Gilligan, AMC, and Sony Television.
Summary: Jesse is staying over. Walt can't sleep. This is a PWP. It came to me in a dream and I just had to get it down, but I don't know how they got here or why.
He is sitting in his armchair with a glass of scotch in his hand, blue glow of the television flickering off his glasses. Jesse is awoken by his absence. He descends the carpeted stairs wearing nothing but his faded grey boxer briefs. “Are you coming up?" he asks.
“I’ll be there in bit. I got sucked in." Jesse glances briefly at the screen. Antiques Roadshow, an old one. He’s not fooled.
“What’s wrong?"
“Nothing, I told you, I just...." he trails off with a vague gesture of his hand. Jesse sighs.
“Like you’d tell me anyway."
Walt pulls back as the boy draws closer, reaches out with his finger tips lightly grazing the hair on the back of Jesse’s thigh. He focuses his eyes and smiles. “Look at you. Just...look."
He runs his hand up a little higher, no zones breached, yet but delicate reconnaissance on the perimeter. Jesse is already stiffening even as he says halfheartedly, “Sex won’t fix this.”
“If there was anything to fix, you would fix it every time,” his partner says without a trace of irony. Jesse blushes and looks down at his toes, stepping infinitesimally closer at the same time. Walt runs his hand up to cup him through the soft cotton, fondling, palming, but with no pressure. Not just yet. “I’ll give you what you want” Jesse says, though it comes out mostly a gasp. He takes a deep breath and continues. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to reap the benefits of your dysfunction....I just hope you’ll talk to me someday. Me or somebody.” But the hand has begun to squeeze now, and his good intentions trail off into a moan as a second hand slides around behind, cupping, pressing insistently at his entrance. Then the shorts pool around his ankles and wet warmth surrounds him, tongue sloppy in its eagerness, taking him deep then going underneath to lap at his balls, his crack, his hole, laving everything in so much wetness he is not sure where it ends and he begins. He’s bathed, enveloped. Like a sudden sweat when a fever breaks. Wholly drenching. Conjuring up barely palpable memories of a childhood trip to Florida. He recalls humidity, like breathing through wet cotton, smothering him sweetly. Clawing his own face to get at the air. Simultaneously wishing he would never draw another breath again unrationed. He is clambering on to the arm of the chair now, almost without knowing he is doing it, making sounds he had never heard before. Its all too much suddenly. He thinks he might lose himself, lose Walter too, become nothing but the sum of his parts. ‘Wait’, he says. Thinks. ‘I need it to be you and me, not just this. I need to look into your eyes, and kiss you.’ What he says instead, when he can manage words again, is what he knows will work.
“Take me to bed and fuck me, please.”
It's not that he doesn’t want it. Every cell in him does. It’s just that to him it's more. But something in him knows that Mr. White will never understand that...or that if he did he might never touch him again. So the script remains unchanged. And it's effective. It always gets them both the thing they want.They stumble up the stairs together. It can’t be managed the usual way, but Walt impales him up to the third knuckle with four fingers, commanding him to take matters into his own hands. It is equal parts violent and tender, and afterwards there is sleep. Which was the goal, ultimately. Sleep for his lover, something to calm his unquiet mind. Jesse lays with eyes wide enjoying the deep breathing and crushing embrace. He is exhausted and sore, but these moments are fleeting. He fights the heaviness in his lids for ten sweet and terrible minutes before it overtakes him, sudden, profound and dreamless. When they wake who knows who they will be to each other. But there were nights like this, and there was tonight