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“What do I call you anyway?” Jesse asks, taking a quick glance around the swanky little room before he looks back at him.

“You will call me sir,” the guy says, and it’s clear from his tone he expects nothing but total obedience. 

Jesse just grins at him. “Will I?” he asks. It doesn’t matter how scary he looks; guy’s a lot shorter than Jesse is, and he seems a little thrown off by Jesse’s refusal, by the fact that he has to look up when Jesse crowds closer.

They haven’t known each other more than the couple hours down at the hotel bar, but Jesse knows yakuza when he sees them. Not like the guy’s trying to hide it anyway if he’s running around with the tattoo out. Seems pretty high up too, if the clothes and the room and the heavies just outside are anything to go by. He carries himself like he’s never known what it’s like not to get his way, and it makes Jesse wanna test it. 

Jesse wants to push in closer, maybe get him up against the wall, but the guy doesn’t budge, somehow manages to look down his nose even while looking up, and it sends a sharp spike of heat through him. It’s plain enough what he wants, even if he’s being an asshole about it now; Jesse wouldn’t be in his embarrassingly expensive hotel room if Mr. Call-me-sir didn’t want this. 

“Don’t think you can’t be replaced if you do not comply,” he says, and Jesse laughs again.

“Yeah? Got ’em linin’ up for you? Don’t see any of those folks here now,” Jesse says, voice low, and he watches those dark eyes narrow, can’t tell if he’s mad or turned on. Jesse opts to believe the second and breaches the space again, pushes and meets resistance, right up until he doesn’t any more. He gets him against the wall, just like he wanted. “Don’t think you’re really after compliance at all. Sir.” Jesse laughs as he says the word, and he can feel the heat coming off the guy’s body.

He tests his hunch a little more, gets a hand around the wrist with the watch, guides it to press against the wall by his head. In return Jesse feels a gloved hand close around his neck, firm but not squeezing. It’s a threat, a reminder, but it isn’t a no. Jesse wonders if this guy can feel his pulse jumping against the leather; there’s no way he can’t feel that Jesse’s instantly hard.

He smirks at Jesse, then tips his chin up in a challenge, watches Jesse’s face the whole time as he guides Jesse’s mouth to his. Call-me-sir kisses with a sort of clinical precision, like he’d tell you his favorite weapon’s a scalpel. It’s more bite than kiss, tastes like the whiskey they were drinking before, and it shoots another bolt of heat right through Jesse. His fingers flex, just barely, at Jesse’s throat, like he wants to know what Jesse’ll do.

Jesse doesn’t know a damn thing about precision unless he’s got a gun in hand. Besides, he just wants to rough this guy up, see what he looks like when he’s a goddamn mess. Jesse growls into his mouth and pushes again, gives him less teeth and more tongue, pries his lips open a little wider and just takes. Jesse shoves a thigh between his legs so hard he hits his knee against the wall. 

This close, he can feel just how hard the guy’s whole body is, firm all over like the forearms and the shoulders are just the tip of the iceberg, and Jesse suddenly has to know. He grips him hard at the hip, runs his fingers up over his flat stomach and back down over his ass. Every part of him Jesse touches feels good, solid. He feels the guy’s wrist flex against Jesse’s grip. He could probably break it if he wanted to, but right now he’s just testing it. 

He pushes Jesse away, still by the throat, but he’s still watching Jesse’s mouth. His cheeks are flushed now, his lips shiny and red, and he’s not a quarter as messy as Jesse wants him, but it’s a damn good look anyway. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t paw or anything else, just lets Jesse’s neck go and goes right for Jesse’s belt. 

“You in a hurry, darlin’?” Jesse asks, and the guy just smirks again.

“You seem to believe you have something special to offer. Let’s find out.”

Jesse just laughs and pulls back a little, helps him with the belt. His stomach hitches at the first touch of gloved fingers, at the cooler air as the guy works his cock free. He’s staring down at it, watching himself work; that and the slow, meticulous slide of expensive leather make Jesse’s hips shudder forward, smearing precome over his soft vest. 

“Find what you were lookin’ for, sir?” Jesse asks.

“It will have to do,” he says, cool and unimpressed, and it makes Jesse laugh again. Jesse goes for the throat this time, with wet, biting kisses and his free hand fisted in the guy’s hair, fingers catching in whatever product he’s used to style it. 

Jesse wants to do more, wants to grab at every part of him he can touch, get his clothes off, but he’d have to let the guy have his wrist back. Jesse wonders if he knows it, wonders if he prepared for this and that’s why he didn’t care. Jesse decides not to care too; he lets go and pulls back, gets his hand tangled in the knot of that tie and jerks the guy forward to kiss him on the mouth again.

Sir here makes a surprised little grunt, but he goes with it, encourages Jesse with a hand in the small of his back and the other still working Jesse’s dick. Jesse gets the tie loose enough to start on the buttons of his shirt, then figures out he’s got to get the vest undone too before he can really see him. Jesse powers through well enough with the one hand, but he feels his cock slide over bare skin, feels the ridges of his abs under Jesse’s hand, and Jesse has to break the kiss to take a look. 

His mouth is even redder now, and he looks just as good as Jesse’d thought he would with his hair sticking out in a few directions and bruises blooming on the side of his neck. His shirt and vest frame a torso as fucking ridiculous as it felt, loose tie cutting a line through the kind of muscle nobody gets without some serious dedication and serious vanity. Jesse laughs a little, and the guy responds by letting go of Jesse’s cock and shoving two gloved fingers in Jesse’s mouth. 

The glove is slick with his precome, just like the guy’s stomach, and Jesse can taste himself. He doesn’t argue though, not about this, just puts his mouth to work and watches the color rise in the guy’s cheeks. He lets himself be pushed to his knees, guided by the fingers in his mouth and a hand on his shoulder, has to catch himself with a hand on the guy’s shiny leather shoe. 

He was thinking about it anyway, so he doesn’t fight it, gets the belt open and mouths at the line of hair below his navel once those fingers actually leave. They trail wetly across Jesse’s cheek and into his hair, and Jesse makes sure to leave another mark on his stomach, feels the twitch of muscle bump against his nose as he sinks his teeth in.

Jesse gets the guy’s cock free and dives down without any ceremony. He’s as messy and merciless as he knows how to be, sucking him down hot and fast and a little ruthless, because he might have thought about taking his time, but now he’s more interested in leaving an impression. Jesse feels him start to thrust, and Jesse shoves him, pins his hips back against the wall and screws his mouth down hard.

Jesse can feel him shudder, hears the quiet “oh,” like he’s surprised, and Jesse figures he’s getting close by the way his fingers twitch against Jesse’s scalp. He swallows him down a couple more times, hears this low little keen, and Jesse pulls his mouth off him entirely. The guy lets out a surprised grunt, seems like he’s about to protest, but Jesse just gets back to his feet, gets a big hand around him and finishes him off that way, gets him to come all over his own stomach. While he’s still recovering, Jesse grabs him by the hair again, buries his face in the unmarked side of his neck and jerks himself off against him.

They both sag against the wall for a moment, and Jesse laughs against his throat, pulls back to take another look at him. Call-me-sir is panting and starting to look a little pissed off, with good reason. Jesse made sure they ruined the whole damn outfit. He could do with a few more bruises, but Jesse considers the whole effect a hell of an improvement. Jesse grins right at him. 

“See ya ‘round, sir,” he says with a wink as he gets himself back together, pulls his coat back on and zips it up to hide most of his own mess. 

It takes about ten minutes after Jesse’s left to find the bug the guy tucked into the back of his belt. Jesse grins as he sticks it to a parked bicycle, and he wonders how long it’ll take the guy to find the one Jesse left.