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Ever since they started this whole thing, hooking up or whatever, Jesse might have sort of totally made himself a few new habits. It's nothing huge, but still some pretty weird and compulsive behaviors that comes around whenever he's around Mr. White. Maybe one of them is the need to be so fucking on top of his game around him. He just have to be the very best version of himself, because what he gets out of it --that proud look in Mr. White's eyes-- is totally worth the occasional ball-crushing lack of dignity that comes with giving him the upper hand.
And yeah, it's also the guy's birthday and all. But this? What he's doing right here? This takes it to a whole other level. Mr. White had been drunk when it happened, touching and teasing him when he told him what a fucking girl he is, if he left his panties at home, stroking his warm hand up and down Jesse's stomach while murmuring that he better remember to bring them with him next time. Jesse's not sure why he'd spread his legs and whimpered at every single word of it, coming harder than ever, but he totally did.
He's not a fucking idiot. He knows that all he really needs to do is just be there, wanting it, for Mr. White to be satisfied with him. But it's still his day, and his wife couldn't give less of a shit, so Jesse sort of wants to do something for him. Mr. White had looked really into it when he said all that shit, and even if Jesse's not entirely sure if that's because of the words themselves or the way Jesse had reacted to them or both, the idea had still lingered on his mind.
He's spent way too much time in women's clothing stores for a straight guy this week, driving past one after another until he finally found one dumb enough to skip electronic tags on their lingerie. Each time he'd tried to be discreet, walked inside with short and hurried steps, sneaking his way through the store like he'd be doing a fucking entry, constantly checking over his shoulder. Discreet.
He pulls up his sunglasses, thankful for his beanie and hoodie because if someone from his crew for whatever unlikely reason, like, showed up and saw him here? He'd be dead, or at least flee the country or something, because there's no way he could cruise around ABQ after that.
He's holding two pairs of panties, one in each hand, just staring at them. One is blue, the other bright pink. He looks up and lets his eyes travel over the wall, hundreds of panties in all colors and shapes and fabrics, can't take in the amount of choices. He looks back at the ones in his hands with a sigh, suddenly feeling an understanding for why chicks take forever when trying out clothes.
He's rubbing the the corner of the pink ones when he suddenly catches himself actually thinking about which ones Mr. White might like the most, which ones he'd prefer him in. He yelps, throws them both away like he's been burnt, then snatches whatever ones his hand lands on, a pair of yellow lace ones, because it's gotta be less gay if he thinks about it like he's doing the guy some kind of a sick favor.
He walks out from the store faster than he entered it, with hunched over shoulders and his hands in his pockets like he's going to drop his fucking balls right along with what's left of that dignity for all this.
And now, spread out shirtless on his own bed with the weight of Mr. White on top of him, Jesse wonders why the fuck he thought this surprise could ever be good idea.
Mr. White's kissing him, his hands stroking up and down Jesse's waist in that reassuring, gentle way that lets Jesse know he's doing fine. It feels good, and for a second Jesse thinks he might be able to go through with this after all. But then Mr. White's hand is on his waistband and Jesse panics, hooks his legs around Mr. White and forcefully pushes their chests together, the hand stuck between their bodies.
Mr. White groans, intrigued, pushing Jesse into the bed while he kisses him, probably pleasantly surprised that Jesse appears to be more eager than normal. Jesse takes advantage of it, kissing Mr. White back as good as he can while making sure to grind his ass up against his crotch, determined to get the guy off as soon as humanly possible.
Walt loves the heels digging into his back, the hands holding his face and all the quick kisses over his lips. But he wants to escalate things, needs to make this night end with something more than just frottage. He moves to pull back, but suddenly there's a hand on the back of his head forcing their lips to stay mashed together, and then Jesse's slipping his tongue inside.
Walt moans approvingly, moving his lips against Jesse's, chuckling into the kiss. "Jesse..." He attempts to pull back again, but Jesse bites down on his lower lip, pulls on it. Walt sighs, grabs a hold of Jesse's face and kisses him one last time, slowly and thoroughly, making sure to do a good job to satisfy the boy.
He leans back just enough to let their lips graze against each other, both breathing heavily now. But in the same breath Walt's ready to move things along Jesse's back on him again, teeth painfully clashing together. But apparently that didn't bother Jesse at all, because he simply keeps going, adding ridiculous amounts of tongue, his spit spilling out everywhere, moaning like he's in some shitty cheap porno.
"Jesse--" Mr. White's muffled voice comes out against Jesse's lips. He tries to pull back again, but Jesse wont let him for even a second. Mr. White's kind of struggling now, his hands obviously gripping at him in a not-so intrigued way, and then he finally snaps and just shoves Jesse into the mattress, pulling Jesse away from his lips with a slick sound. He keeps him locked in place there with a hand on his chest, both of them trying to catch their breath.
"Easy." Walt says, moving his hand up and down the skin.
Jesse manages to disguise his panic by nodding, keeping his hands still by his sides like he's some statue while Mr. White's licking down his chest. Lips wrap around a nipple, sucking and tugging on it, and Jesse closes his eyes and hisses through his teeth, unable to pretend that he doesn't love it. Mr. White then begins to move down Jesse's body, stroking his hands up and down his arms while he's kissing him all over, licking a stripe down the thin trail of hair on the lower part of Jesse's stomach.
And Walt knows that it's okay because Jesse's leaning into it, loving it. But then out of fucking thin air the boy takes a hold of his jaw and the back of his head, rapidly tilts it up so Walt's looking at him. Walt frowns, tries to duck his head down again but Jesse's just keeping him there in a death-grip. Walt has no idea what stupid game Jesse's playing here but he's had enough, grabs Jesse's hands and shoves them away from his face. He sits back, straddling him, and Jesse shrinks further into the mattress with shame.
"What the Hell is your problem?"
"Nothing! Jesus... sorry..." Jesse mumbles out, sounding so unconvincing he cringes. Walt stares at him, doubtful, then scoffs.
"Fine. Very well, then."
Jesse doesn't even look at him. "Fine." He mutters out, like a goddamn child.
Walt takes a deep breath to regain some patience, then gently places a hand over Jesse's crotch, squeezing him. Jesse lets out a strangled sound and squirms a little, obviously not reluctant to wanting any of this, but he's still looking away like he's hiding something. Walt flattens his palm out and moves it up to the waistband once more, hooking two fingers in it.
"Wait!" Jesse blurts out, as expected, his hands flying down to grab Walt's wrist immediately. Walt sighs, hands up in the air like he's an armed man.
Jesse licks his lips, looking up at him through his lashes. "I'm sorry, I just... can't we, like, you know... I don't know... can't I just suck you off... or something...?"
"What?" Walt spits out, confounded.
Jesse winces at the sound, wants to shrink into the mattress more and more with each word, just mumbling now. "Yeah, come on, it will be good... I'll, uh... let you do it, you know, on me again... I'll make it good..."
Walt squints, frowns, because this is fucking ridiculous. "What are you even talking about?! What is wrong with you?"
"I'm sorry, alright!"
Walt grabs Jesse by the jaw, tilting his head up until he's forced to look at him. "Jesse. You're obviously lying. Now don't."
Jesse stares at him for a beat, his fingers flexing. Maybe it wont be that bad... But yes, it would totally be exactly that bad.
"Nah, you know what? I'm not in the mood anymore... lets go do something else... like, go out and eat or..." He goes to sit up but Walt shoves him back down again.
"Don't be ridiculous." He hooks his fingers in Jesse's jeans again.
"No, Mr. White! Wait, wait, wait, wait, Mr. White--" Walt yanks them down in a swift movement, and Jesse shoves his hands down in a lame attempt to cover himself. He's blushing furiously, looking anywhere but at Mr. White.
Walt's just staring at them, the yellow lace before his very eyes. He frowns, opening and closing his mouth, stuck somewhere between laughing and being confused as hell.
"Why?"
"I don't know!"
Jesse locks his jaw, his eyes never leaving the ceiling. His voice is quiet, like he's forcing each word to come out of him. "I thought, like... I thought you'd... you know... like it... or whatever..."
His eyes meets Mr. White's for a second, and then he immediately looks away again, blushing harder. Walt's at loss for words.
"You thought I'd like it?"
"I, uh... I don't know..." Jesse squirms, trying to cover himself up better because if Mr. White doesn't even like it then this is literally the most embarrassing scenario possible.
But then Mr. White's leaning back over him, slowly, curving his fingers over the visible outline of Jesse's hopelessly hardening dick. Jesse's grabs on Mr. White's wrist, his legs closing up a bit.
"You like that?" Walt murmurs into his ear, then begins to jerk him off in fast and even strokes. Jesse moans, his lips parting beautifully.
"Why yellow, though?" Walt continues, working his hand over him, can feel a bead of pre-cum leaking through the thin fabric while he keeps talking. He leans in a little closer, his lips pressed against Jesse's ear.
"You look good in them. Pretty." He says, reassuringly.
"Mr. White..." Walt hears him whimper, ducking his head into his shoulder while he starts fucking into his hand. He ups his pace again, dragging his palm over Jesse over and over, can feel hands let go of his wrists to slide up his chest instead, holding onto his shoulders in a tight grip. Jesse's moaning weakly into his neck, breathing out a pathetic string of high pitched "ah, ah, ah's" with each pull of Walt's fist.
"What, isn't this what you wanted, dressed up all pretty for me?" Walt teases him, stroking over the sensitive head.
"You want to be pretty for me, Jesse, is that it?" Walt strokes him faster and faster, the lace dragging over Jesse's dick until the friction becomes unbearable, until Jesse's unable to stop writhing on the bed, gasping with his eyes shut tight in that cute way he always does right before it's all too much for him. Walt kisses his cheek, strokes his waist with the hand that ain't on his dick, and then Jesse's just sobbing desperately against him, spilling all over the front of the panties.
Walt smears it out with his hand, soaking them in it. He smiles when Jesse gasps, shaky and sensitive, and gives him another quick kiss before pulling away. Jesse tries to sit up, but Walt keeps his hand steady on his chest.
"Show me."
"Seriously?" Jesse glares up at him, breathing heavy, his cheeks flushed. He groans and flops his head back on the pillow again. And now he's back to staring at the ceiling again, can't stand to see himself like this. "Enjoy the view, dickhead."
Jesse blushes furiously as his legs are spread apart, and he can feel the sticky mess all over him. Walt hums approvingly, stroking Jesse's thigh with one hand while the other is rubbing fine lace between his fingers.
"Are you going to let me fuck you like this?" He asks, reveling in the pleading misery on Jesse's face.
He traces two fingers over him, playfully. "It's my birthday, Jesse."
And Jesse gives up. He wraps his arms around the guy, and he hesitantly kisses him, figuring that maybe life's worth losing a little bit of dignity for every now and then if that's what it's going to take. For as long as Mr. White continues looking at him like that?
Well then it is, as fucking always, totally worth it.