They've driven out wide, over miles of nothing much, and now they're parked outside a motel: a sudden decision after a long, slow burn, an opportunity grabbed with both hands.
Jesse kills the engine and turns to Walt. Walt looks back at him. Their eyes flash in the stark glare of the street lamp. After one brief moment of indecision, Walt nods and opens his door. Jesse does the same.
As Walt books them in, paying with cash, Jesse sees mistrust in the eyes of the desk clerk, and doesn't for a second blame her. But then she smiles. "Are you sure a double will be alright for you, Mr Black?"
Walt nods. "Oh yes. That's okay," he glances at her badge, "Nancy. We don't mind sharing." He turns to Jesse. "Do we?"
Jesse shakes his head. "Er... No."
Nancy regards them for a moment, possibly wondering about the lack of overnight bags. Walt, always ready for any awkward question, pats his pocket. "Got my toothbrush," he says. "Just travelling through, breaking up a long drive. Got a wedding to go to tomorrow," he adds, for good measure. "Our, er, our suits are in the car..."
"O...kay," Nancy replies with a smile, as if she wasn't even giving it a second thought anyway. Jesse doesn't catch her eye again. He has other stuff in his pocket. Nancy doesn't need to know about that.
They take the short walk to their room, down a dreary corridor dimly lit with wonky wall lights. It's not in any way classy but they don't need that. They just need a locked door and a bed.
It's been coming for a while, this, slowly brewing. It's a love/hate/kinda like it thing, surging desire not asked for but there all the same: it's chemistry.
Walt goes in first and clicks on a bedside light, bringing a low, warmish glow into the room. Jesse locks the door and then leans against it. He waits, watching Walt watching him. He licks his lips, Walt's libido stirs. They each take two steps and then they're kissing, mouths smashing together, desperate, messy, not finding their rhythm until they pull away and start again. Walt's hands move up to cup Jesse's face as the kiss deepens; Jesse parts his lips and their tongues dance.
There's a patchwork bedspread on the bed that, like the rest of the room, has seen better days. It's a little old, a little tired. But it invites them to lie on its faded colours, nonetheless. As they sink down, Jesse pulls lube and condoms from his pocket, then shrugs off his jacket. Almost before the jacket is off and away, Walt pulls up Jesse's tee and runs his hands over the skin he exposes before following his touch with kisses, open-mouthed across Jesse's chest. He suckles each nipple in turn, swirling his tongue over each hardening nub, then feels the answering arch of Jesse's back as Jesse keeps him there: turned on, needing this. Before too long he is moaning, squirming beneath Walt's tongue, yearning for more contact.
And Walt wants him desperately now; he wants to own him, possess him, to see him at his most vulnerable; to hear his own name on Jesse's lips when he comes.
They kiss as they rush and fumble away the rest of their clothes, stopping only when they need to pull something over their heads before plunging back in again. It's as though each man is starving and the other's kiss is the only food left in the world.
Their cocks touch for the first time as Jesse rolls on top of Walt; as he moves against Walt's body, the friction is almost unbearable, teasingly arousing, beautiful. Jesse stops to flash blue lust at Walt. He grins, then moves down Walt's body. Without ceremony or fanfare, his mouth takes Walt in and his swift tongue swirls and licks. Walt looks down, finds Jesse gazing back; his eyes hold Walt captive as his hands hold him still. Walt's brain can't quite compute: Jesse's pretty mouth...wrapped around him... It would be so easy just to... but he doesn't want this to end too soon and he needs Jesse to be there with him. Nothing else will do. He taps Jesse on the hand. "Come back, Jesse. I want you up here." Jesse does as he is told, and cuddles up to Walt, coaxing him into more kisses; Walt is desperate to make love to him now.
This is becoming an obsession.
He tastes himself on Jesse's mouth as they kiss and touch one another. It's strangely new, deeply erotic and Walt feels a lurch of excitement in his stomach, a spike in his veins. Jesse guides Walt's hands and fingers to where he wants them most. The anticipation, the preparation, is thrilling, like a wondrous journey promising a glorious destination.
Jesse leans across to grab the supplies he left at the end of the bed when they arrived. "Mr White--?" he says, his eyes hazy with longing.
Walt swallows hard, nods. Jesse takes him in hand, making quick work of the condom before applying a generous amount of lube and swiping the remainder on himself. Then, never once breaking eye contact with Walt, Jesse straddles him and sinks down, slowly, gingerly, until...
"Oh god, Jesse."
Walt sits up to meet him and Jesse adjusts his position, wrapping his legs around Walt, pulling him closer. Captivated, Walt listens to Jesse's breath catch as he holds Walt still and deep inside him for a few moments.
Jesse starts to move then, with gentle rocking movements. His eyes drift closed, he bites his lip.
Walt grasps Jesse's slender thighs as they begin to rock together, then wraps his arms around him as their pace quickens. He watches in awe when Jesse takes himself in hand, stroking in time with their thrusts. Walt places one hand over Jesse's for a few strokes and relishes the softly murmured curses that are his reward. Jesse in bliss is breathtaking. He is utterly abandoned, lost in the moment. They hold on tightly to one another, bringing each other closer to the edge with every passing moment. Walt feels Jesse tighten around him as he further quickens his pace. It's almost too much to take.
When at last Jesse comes, Walt is amazed, because it's everything he imagined in his wildest fantasies. Hearing his name on his lover's lips sends him deliciously over the edge a few moments later. He shoots hot and hard inside Jesse, his hands pressed against Jesse's back, fingertips caressing warm, soft skin.
Jesse falls asleep just after midnight but Walt can't join him yet. He lies awake, the bedside light still on, trying to find his way back.
At least they've got it out of their system, he thinks. They can go on as if nothing happened, and deal with all the other shit without this getting in the way. And yet...
That doesn't seem like such a sure thing anymore. Walt had assumed that whatever it was that sparked between them would be extinguished as soon as they acted on it, but it hasn't gone away; if anything the spark has become a flame. He wanted to possess Jesse, to own him. But somewhere along the line there's been a shift, and now he feels as if he is the one who is owned. With every kiss, with every touch, with every step they'd taken together to reach their stolen, furtive bliss in this worn out old room, Jesse Pinkman had seeped a little further beneath his skin.
Walt looks across at the young man sleeping beside him. He thought he wanted him just because he knew he could have him. But now he knows he just wanted him - and he still does.
Jesse stirs, murmurs something that Walt can't quite catch hold of. Walt watches his lips moving as he talks nonsense to himself and can't resist leaning in to kiss him. Doubtful sleep will come, but ready for a little rest, he turns off the light and tries to make the best of the motel pillows.
And then he wraps his arms around Jesse and holds him while he sleeps.