Archive of Our Own ^beta

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It was so fucking cold at night out here.

Mr. White was asleep on the other cot next to him, wearing one of Jesse’s hoodies over his own clothes and a polka-dot beanie that looked ridiculous on him. Jesse didn’t know how the dude could just lay down and go to sleep like that right after finding out Skinny Pete took a wrong turn somewhere and wasn’t coming to rescue them after all. 

Their phones were dead. No water. No generator. No lamp. No fucking battery. Nobody coming to help. Jesse was a ball of anxiety at this point and there was no way he was falling asleep any time soon.

The whole situation was freaking him out. And on top of that Jesse was craving a hit of meth like crazy, and he hadn’t gotten laid or had any privacy to jack off for two whole days either so he was craving that too. Meth would distract him from all the shit he was worrying about. Getting off would help him relax. Both would make him feel a shitload better for a little while. Too bad he still didn’t have any fucking privacy.

Mr. White seemed pretty sound asleep though… maybe if Jesse was really quiet he could sneak outside and at least smoke some crystal.

He carefully got up from his cot, going slow in case the cot squeaked or anything. He didn’t want to wake up Mr. White and get bitched out again.

He crept over to where he’d left his bag of clothes and snacks and shit, and he started quietly digging through it looking for his pipe. He’d packed it down towards the bottom of the bag, hidden inside some rolled up socks to cushion it and to hopefully keep Mr. White from finding it if he got nosy and went through Jesse’s stuff. 

After a few seconds of digging, his hand finally closed around a sock that clearly had something hard inside it, and he grinned and pulled the sock out, only to frown when he actually opened it up.

The damn pipe had snapped in half inside the sock at some point.

“Damn it,” Jesse muttered under his breath.

He hated snorting meth because it fucking hurt his sinuses and it gave him nosebleeds most of the time, so he usually smoked it instead.

He sighed, resigning himself to a booty bump this time. 

Then he remembered that he’d dumped out all of their water, so he had nothing to mix the meth with once he ground it up into a powder. And he also lacked one of the little needleless syringe thingies to shoot it up his ass with. There was that big turkey-baster sized eyedropper thing they used to cook, and that might’ve worked but he still didn’t have any fucking water.

Damn it. Maybe he would just have to snort it and suffer the nose bleed after all. He just really, really, really didn’t fucking want to.

Jesse sighed and shoved the sock-cushioned broken pipe back down in the bottom of his bag, and as he did, his hand brushed against a bottle he’d completely forgotten about.

He bit his lip and pulled out the bottle of lube that he’d brought along in the hopes of getting some alone time with his right hand in a motel at some point. There was just enough moonlight coming through the window to read the label proclaiming it to be WATER BASED PERSONAL LUBRICANT.

Water based… that should be as good as water for mixing up a booty bump, right? Well. Jesse was about to find out. Killing two birds with one stone and all of that. He could get high and maybe get off at the same time—do the booty bump and then jack off with the leftover lube. Genius.

Couldn’t go outside for this though—it was way too damned cold in the desert at night. Smoking outside he could have handled, but he wasn’t about to have his whole ass out in that cold air trying to do a booty bump. No way in hell.

Jesse glanced over at Mr. White again—he really honestly seemed to be sound asleep.

Maybe Jesse could get away with this.

And if not, then he’d just die of embarrassment.

He laughed nervously, then stuck the lube in his hoodie pocket and tiptoed across the RV to the plastic tote where they’d put all the crystal. He opened up one of the baggies and picked out a crystal that looked about the right size. Now he just needed something to crush it up with—oh, there, on the ‘workstation.’ The little pestle (that word always made him laugh for some reason) and the bowl that went with it that looked like a salsa bowl from a restaurant. Perfect. 

Jesse ground up the crystal into a fine powder as quickly and quietly as he could manage, glancing over at Mr. White every few seconds to make sure he was still asleep. All good so far. Now he had to mix it…

Jesse bit his lip and looked around for something to use—oh, sweet, there was a little petri-dish looking thing that would work just fine. He grabbed it and tipped the powdered meth into it, glanced over to check on Mr. White, then looked back at the dish and uncapped the bottle of lube, pouring some in to mix with the powder. He used the tip of his pinky finger to mix it up until the meth looked like it was all the way dissolved into the lube, then he wiped his finger on his pants.

Okay. Looked good enough.

He grabbed the big turkey-baster looking bitch off the workstation too—Mr. White would absolutely kill him if he found out, but Jesse would just make sure he cleaned it really really good when he was done. 

Now…

It would make more sense to just get on the floor where he was, clear on the other side of the RV from Mr. White, and do it here. It would. He knew that. 

But… this was the side of the RV where Krazy 8 and Emilio’s bodies had been laying after all that shit went down. Most of the time Jesse managed not to think about that while him and Mr. White were cooking. But the thought of doing a booty bump and trying to get off in the same spot a dead body had been once was just—no. No way, man. Instant boner killer. And it kind of made him want to puke too. So no.

No. He was going to go with the absolutely insane option instead, which was to go back to the other side of the RV to his cot that was only like two feet away from Mr. White’s, and he was going to do it there. And apparently just hope Mr. White didn’t wake up and catch him. Jesus. 

Jesse walked over to his cot, carefully holding the petri dish of meth-lube in one hand and the giant turkey-baster eyedropper thing in the other. He was sort of tiptoeing, trying to walk as quietly as possible. He made it to his cot, glanced over at Mr. White’s cot, and then nearly dropped the lube in shock because Mr. White was awake and staring right at him.

“Jesus!” Jesse swore.

Mr. White stared at him for a moment, then asked “What are you doing?” 

“Nothing,” Jesse answered, too quickly and probably too defensive too. Shit, shit, shit. “I just had to go take a piss. It's freezing out there,” he tried, faking a shiver as if he’d just come back inside.

“What is that?” Mr. White asked, giving the dish in Jesse’s hand a suspicious look.

“Um…hand sanitizer,” Jesse said in a stroke of brilliance. “Cause there’s no water to wash my hands and, you know, germs.”

“And it’s in one of my Petri dishes why?” Mr. White reached up and took off the goofy-looking polka-dot beanie, maybe to look more intimidating while he interrogated Jesse. He was still wearing Jesse’s hoodie though.

“Yeah, um, sorry. I’ll wash it. Whenever we get out of here and have water again.”

Mr. White gave him a skeptical look and asked in that You’re A Fucking Idiot tone of his, “And how exactly is the pipette involved, Jesse?”

“The what?”

“The pipette,” he said. Jesse blinked at him, and Mr. White pointed at the big turkey-baster thing and said, “That—in your hand!”

“Oh… um. I don’t know, I picked it up by accident I guess.”

“You guess,” Mr. White echoed flatly. 

Jesse shrugged and Mr. White just stared at him, seeming disappointed and sort of pissed off, and Jesse couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew Jesse was lying.

Jesse bit his lip, then decided to just bite the bullet too. He sighed and asked, “How long you been awake?”

“Since you got up from your cot and got into our product,” Mr. White said bluntly.

Jesse sighed harder. 

“Okay, look, I’m sorry—I took it out of my half though, I ain’t stealing. I just—I’m really freaked out right now and I haven’t had a hit in two days and I just need this, okay? I can’t smoke it ‘cause my pipe broke, and I can’t snort it ‘cause it hurts and gives me really bad nose bleeds. So,” Jesus this was embarrassing, “can you just face the wall for a couple minutes so I can do this?”

Mr. White blinked at him, mouth slightly open in that ‘what the fuck are you talking about’ look that he did whenever Jesse managed to really appall him. 

“So you can do what, precisely?” Mr. White finally asked.

Jesse’s face was hot and he knew he was blushing, but hopefully it was too dark for Mr. White to notice. 

“A booty bump,” Jesse mumbled, so quiet he barely heard it himself.

“What?” Mr. White demanded.

“A booty bump,” Jesse repeated louder, mortified.

Mr. White blinked at him a few minutes, then repeated derisively, “A booty bump?”

God. He knew he’d mentioned booty bumps before, back when Tuco kidnapped them. Jesse blushed harder and blurted out, “It’s when you dissolve it in water and shoot it up your ass like a enema,” hoping that giving Mr. White a detailed explanation would head off any more questions or any more repeating everything Jesse said in a judgmental tone like that. 

Mr. White gave him that appalled look again for a second, then shook his head and pointed out, “We don’t have any water, because someone dumped it all out.”

“Yeah no shit,” Jesse said, still feeling embarrassed about that, “that’s why I mixed it with lube.”

“Lube?” Mr. White echoed in that judgmental tone again.

Jesus Christ. 

“Yeah, lube—you know,” Jesse said, miming a jacking-off motion with his free hand.

“Yes, I’m very aware of what lube is,” Mr. White snapped at him. “How exactly did you plan to ‘shoot it up your ass,’ Jesse?”

He was going to die of embarrassment. Holy shit. He really was.

Jesse didn’t answer, he just looked at the ground and blushed harder and wished that he could sink through the floor and disappear. 

It only took Mr. White about two seconds to figure it out.

“Oh hell no,” Mr. White said, standing up from the cot and taking a step towards Jesse and then snatching the turkey-baster thing out of his hand. “Absolutely not! This is for cooking, you degenerate!” Mr. White snapped at him, stalking away to put the turkey-baster—sorry, the pipette—back in its place on the workstation. “This is laboratory equipment, not a sex toy!”

Jesse was still more embarrassed than he’d ever been in his entire life and still full of anxiety over being stranded in the desert and full of guilt for the part he’d played in getting them stranded, but something about Mr. White shouting ‘sex toy’ at him broke through all of that and made him burst out laughing.

Jesse sat down on his cot and put the dish of lube on the floor and then buried his face in both hands to try to muffle his laughter. Who said anything about sex toys anyway? What, just because it would've been going up his ass? 

“Jesse,” Mr. White said, sounding impatient.

“God, fine, whatever. Just forget it,” Jesse muttered when he finally stopped snickering. He would just keep freaking out and having cravings and probably not sleep all night because Mr. White wanted to be a prude about the fucking equipment.

“No,” Mr. White said, his tone all stern and shit, “I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep knowing you’re going to misappropriate our equipment the second I do. Just—do it now and get it over with so we can both try to get some sleep.”

Jesse’s jaw dropped and he looked up at Mr. White. “You serious right now?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re, what? Just gonna sit there and watch?”

Mr. White cleared his throat and said kind of awkwardly, “I’m…going to ensure you don’t contaminate our equipment while you…”

“So I’m still not allowed to use the turkey-baster?”

“It’s a pipette, Jesse!”

“Whatever! How am I supposed to, you know, get it up there without that?”

Mr. White gave him that how-is-anyone-this-ignorant look of his, then said, “How would you normally get lube up your ass, Jesse?” sounding sarcastic as shit.

“Uh, I wouldn’t, because I’m not a homo.”

Mr. White rolled his eyes and said, “With your fingers, Jesse. You put the lube on your fingers, and then you work your fingers into your ass. One at a time if you aren’t used to it.”

“Why the fuck would I be used to it? I just said I’m not a fucking f—”

Mr. White interrupted and snapped, “Will you stop with the homophobic slurs already? You aren’t fooling anyone, especially not me!”

Jesse’s eyebrows went up and he felt a little flare of panic somewhere in his chest. “What?” he finally managed to ask, his voice coming out a little higher pitched than normal.

Mr. White just gave him this knowing look and then said, “I really wish the schools didn’t tie our hands so much when it comes to this sort of thing, because I think you would be a lot happier now if someone had told you a long time ago that it’s okay to be gay, or bi, or whatever. Because it is okay, Jesse.”

Jesse’s jaw dropped a little, then he snapped defensively, “Fuck you, I’m not gay, bitch!”

Mr. White rolled his eyes and finally sat back down on his own cot. 

He looked at Jesse again and said, “You do realize we could very well die out here, don’t you?” Jesse blinked and didn’t say anything, because he’d been trying really hard not to think about that actually. Thanks a lot, asshole. Mr. White kept talking and asked, “Do you really want to spend what might be our last days alive lying to the last person in the world who would judge you for not being completely straight?”

Jesse blinked at him a few times, still internally panicking a little bit, then he asked, “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means I’m bisexual, and I’m very familiar with what internalized homophobia looks like. So cut the shit.”

Jesse’s jaw dropped, his brain went offline, and he just stared at Mr. White.

“You’re…”

Mr. White rolled his eyes at him. “I’m also not fond of repeating myself. Just—do the thing,” he said, awkwardly waving one hand at the petri dish of methed-up lube Jesse had set on the floor. “Get it over with.”

Jesse bit his lip and just looked at Mr. White for a long moment. 

“You’re serious?”

“Might I remind you that you’re the one insisting on doing the meth in this particular manner?”

“You’re the one insisting on watching! And then you fucking tell me you’re into dudes too, like… What the hell, yo? I mean,” Jesse let out a nervous laugh even as his heart rate kicked up along with his anxiety, “are you…into me? Is that what this is? Do you, like, want to fuck me or something?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mr. White told him in a flat tone. “I’m married.”

“Oh, yeah—real fucking happily, seems like,” Jesse said sarcastically.

Mr. White bristled and glared at him and snapped, “You have absolutely no right to judge my life—you’re a pathetic junkie imbecile—”

Jesse winced as if slapped and then scoffed at Mr. White while he kept ranting. Jesse tried not to let it hurt too much but it still did. Mr. White could always get under his skin like it was nothing.

“—whose complete and utter stupidity has gotten us stranded out here with no power and no water—I can’t wait to see what you fuck up next, Jesse. Assuming either of us survives your next fuck up, that is—”

“Shut up!” Jesse yelled at him, tears prickling at his eyes. He knew he’d fucked up and he already felt guilty as hell about it—he didn’t need Mr. White rubbing it in his face like that. He already felt like shit over it. Not as if the prick cared, obviously. “You know what? I’d rather be a stupid junkie than a heartless fucking asshole like you!”

“Well congratulations, you’ve actually achieved a goal. For once in your life,” Mr. White snapped in a vicious tone. 

“Fuck you,” Jesse muttered, crossing his arms on top of his knees and putting his head down on his arms to hide his face.

He was still blinking back the tears trying to escape, but he figured maybe if Mr. White didn’t see them he wouldn’t lay into Jesse about that too. Maybe if Jesse just kept his head down and stayed quiet and breathed slow and evenly and tried to distract himself enough to calm down and stop feeling everything so much, then maybe Mr. White would stop giving him a hard time.

That seemed to work, for a minute or so anyway. 

Then Mr. White heaved a big sigh and said, “Jesse…” but he trailed off and didn’t add anything to it. He didn't sound pissed off anymore, at least.

Mr. White's tone was kind of weird, kind of resigned and weary and maybe even slightly apologetic. It didn’t sound like a question though, so Jesse didn’t say anything back. 

“Jesse.” Mr. White repeated, more insistently. 

“What?” Jesse mumbled at him.

“The dose you mixed up—exactly how strong is it?”

Jesse awkwardly shrugged without lifting his head. “Not very—it’s just enough to take the edge off, feel good for a little while.”

“So it wouldn’t necessarily make you… overly unstable, or erratic, or hyperactive?”

“Nah, not really. I wasn’t trying to party right now. Why you asking?”

“Just want to know what to expect…” Mr. White trailed off for a minute, maybe thinking. Then he said, “All right, let’s just do this and get it over with. Do you have a condom?”

Jesse’s head snapped up. “What?” he asked, staring at Mr. White and not believing what he’d just heard. 

“A condom? To put over your fingers? We don’t have disposable gloves here and you’re absolutely not using the gloves we wear to cook—”

Jesse felt himself blushing again. “Yeah, I got one, jeez,” he interrupted, taking out his wallet. He always kept one in there—not the same one Tuco had laughed at him for having, obviously, it was a new one. 

Jesse pulled out the condom and then tossed it to Mr. White without thinking. “Here.”

Mr. White caught it and stared down at it for a moment, then he glanced up at Jesse and gave him this calculating look and Jesse realized what he’d just done and what it looked like.

“No, man, I didn’t mean—just give it back, yo,” Jesse said, holding out one hand.

Mr. White tilted his head slightly and said, “I don’t know, Jesse,” and his tone sounded like he was teasing but somehow it also sounded like he wasn’t kidding at all. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself—maybe someone more experienced in this area should help you out, hmm?”

“You saying you’re experienced in the area of dudes' asses?” Jesse asked, trying to sound sarcastic but not quite achieving it. 

“Yes,” Mr. White said, simply and unselfconsciously. Jesus. “Get on your hands and knees on the cot and pull your pants down,” Mr. White instructed, and Jesse’s brain short-circuited.

“What?” he demanded. Jesse was blushing again, he knew it—lucky it was so fucking dark in here. But seriously, what the fuck? When did Mr. White switch from judging the hell out of Jesse for attempting this to insisting on doing it for him?

“Come on, Jesse—do you want to fumble through this yourself, or do you want me to make it painless and efficient and maybe even enjoyable for you?” Mr. White asked, his voice all low and smooth and…well, sexy. Shit. Jesse wasn’t supposed to admit that Mr. White’s voice was sexy. Even if it was. Even if he’d secretly thought that for like, years.

“I, uh,” Jesse was still blushing and he could feel it spreading over his body along with a wave of anticipation and shame and arousal and uncertainty all at once. He swallowed nervously, took a deep breath, then finally said, “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay?” Mr. White echoed, as if confirming it with him.

Jesse bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good choice. Hands and knees,” Mr. White said, waving one hand towards Jesse in a ‘get on with it’ gesture. 

Jesse just blinked at him a few times, then he licked his lips and climbed onto the cot on his hands and knees. God, what the fuck was he doing. This was insane. And weirdly hot. But completely insane.

“Pants down,” Mr. White instructed.

Jesse hesitated, and looked over his shoulder. “Yo, you better not just be messing with me, because I swear to god—”

Mr. White tore open the condom in his hands and repeated, “Pants down, Jesse,” as he stood up from his own cot.

“Jesus,” Jesse muttered. His hands shook a little when he reached down to unbutton and unzip his jeans. He was beyond nervous—this was so fucking weird and out of nowhere—but he was kind of…excited for it too? It was weird and wrong and definitely pretty gay but---he kind of liked that? What the hell was wrong with him?

Jesse bit his lip and tried to just stop thinking about it as he shoved his pants and boxers down to his knees in one go—why prolong it, right? He kept his shirts and hoodie on though—it was too damn cold to take them off and besides it’s not like there was any reason to.

He felt the cot dip and looked over his shoulder to find Mr. White kneeling down behind him, staring at his ass.

Mr. White took the condom out of the wrapper and rolled it down over just his middle finger while Jesse watched. It wasn’t a lubricated condom, just a dry one, but Mr. White reached over the side of the cot for the petri dish, and then carefully dipped his condomed finger into it, rolling it through the meth-lube until it was coated.

Mr. White finally noticed Jesse watching him, and he cleared his throat and said, “The first finger shouldn’t hurt but it might feel strange at first. Don’t clench down, all right?”

Jesse bit his lip and nodded and looked away, back down at the cot, because it would be weird to be looking Mr. White in the face while he did this, wouldn’t it?

Jesse jumped when he felt a cool, slick fingertip against his asshole. “Fuck,” Jesse muttered as the fingertip just sort of traced around his rim, not trying to push in yet.

“Just relax,” Mr. White told him, his other hand landing on Jesse’s bare hip and stroking back and forth just slightly, like he was trying to reassure him or something. Jesse didn’t want to like it or find it comforting, but he did anyway. 

“I’m relaxed,” Jesse replied, and it was only about half a lie. He wondered again what the hell was wrong with him. 

“All right. Here we go,” Mr. White said quietly, and then his finger was pressing in, slow but steady, not stopping until it was all the way inside and Mr. White’s hand and knuckles were pressed up against him.

“Fuck,” Jesse murmured.

“Okay?” Mr. White asked.

“Yeah. Just—feels weird.”

Mr. White chuckled, pulled the finger out about halfway, then pressed back in, prodding around like he was searching for something and then—

“Holy fuck!” Jesse gasped out, because whatever Mr. White just did sent a shock of pleasure all the way through Jesse like nothing he’d ever felt before. His cock jumped to attention, fully hard in like ten seconds flat.

“How’d that feel?” Mr. White asked, his tone all teasing and smug.

“Fucking awesome,” Jesse said, too shocked to lie or play it cool right now. “What was that?”

“Prostate gland,” Mr. White answered, nudging his finger against it again.

Jesse moaned and clutched the blanket underneath him tight with both hands.

Mr. White’s finger slid all the way out of him and Jesse bit his lip to hold in a whine. He glanced over his shoulder to see what was up—Mr. White had two fingers inside the condom now and he was slicking them up with more of the meth lube.

“I’m going to add another finger now,” Mr. White warned him. “Two might burn a little at first.”

“Okay,” Jesse said, taking a deep breath and facing forward again and trying not to tense up. 

Then Mr. White’s fingers were back, pressing inside and—yeah, fuck, that burned a little as they stretched him but it didn’t exactly hurt. It was kind of a good burn, if that made sense. And once they were inside as far as they would go, Mr .White nudged them up against Jesse’s prostate again and then it was really fucking good. 

“Fuck,” Jesse moaned. He never used to understand why anybody would want to do this or how getting fucked up the ass could possibly feel good, but he totally got it now. 

…Not that what him and Mr. White was doing right now was even remotely the same—this wasn’t sex, they weren’t fucking, Mr. White was just helping him out, just helping him get high in an unconventional way. And if that unconventional way happened to have Jesse’s cock rock hard, well that was just a coincidence or a side effect or whatever. Right? God, he hoped the crystal started kicking in pretty soon so he could stop thinking about this shit and just enjoy it.

Mr. White’s fingers started spreading apart a little bit inside of him, stretching him more.

“Want to go for three?” Mr. White asked, his voice low and sexy and intense and—shit, was he turned on by this too?

“Yeah,” Jesse told him, “do three.” 

Mr. White’s fingers slid out of him and Jesse felt so horribly empty for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder again to watch Mr. White put a third finger into the condom and then dip them into the petri dish for more of the meth-lube. While Mr. White was distracted, Jesse snuck a glance down towards his crotch and—yep, Mr. White definitely had a hard-on straining against his zipper.

Jesse bit his lip and turned back around. His heartbeat kicked up a little and it felt like maybe the crystal was starting to kick in—or maybe that was just anticipation? Maybe he liked the thought of Mr. White wanting to fuck him. Maybe Jesse wanted it too. Maybe he wanted it just as much as Mr. White did.

Before Jesse had time to freak out over that, Mr. White’s fingers were back—three of them pressing inside him and stretching him and commanding all of his attention.

Jesse hissed because it did kind of hurt a little this time—he opened his mouth to tell Mr. White to stop for a second, but Mr. White stopped on his own. His fingers went still about halfway in, and his other hand started rubbing back and forth along Jesse’s hip again, soothing him.

“Give it a minute,” Mr. White told him quietly. “Try not to clench.”

Jesse nodded and said, “Okay,” and tried to do as he said.

After a moment Mr. White asked, “Are you feeling the effects of the meth yet?”

“Um, maybe. Starting to. I might’ve mixed it too weak—added too much lube maybe.”

“Hmm.” Mr. White slowly pulled his fingers out, and Jesse whined at the loss—he was just starting to get used to them. “Settle down, I’m just getting some more of it,” Mr. White told him. “If you think you mixed it weaker than intended, we should get as much of it in you as we can.”

“Mmm, smart,” Jesse agreed, biting his lip as those three slick fingers returned and pressed back inside him with more of the lube. 

Jesse managed to mostly stay relaxed this time, and this time Mr. White got them all the way inside to the last knuckle, as deep as they could go. Still burned a little but in a good way now, sort of. 

“All right?” Mr. White asked.

“Fucking amazing,” Jesse said through a grin. “Do that thing again,” he asked, even though he’d forgotten the name for it already. That spot inside that lit him up like a firework.

“This?” Mr. White asked, sliding his fingers out partway and then pushing back in and hitting that spot fucking perfectly.

Jesse moaned and closed his eyes and his cock twitched and god he could probably come without his dick even being touched if Mr. White kept hitting that spot like that.

“Yeah,” Jesse gasped out when he remembered how to speak, “yeah that. What’s it called again?”

“Your prostate.”

“Prostate, right. Fuck yeah.”

Mr. White chuckled and his fingers started moving again and Jesse was used to it now, it felt good, felt full and hot and still kind of wrong but in a sexy way. Felt like…like maybe he wanted more.

“Yo, I uh, I don’t think it’s kicking in like it should,” Jesse halfway lied. It was definitely kicking in—he could feel it but when was he ever going to have this chance again? “I don’t think your fingers are getting it up there far enough, you know?”

Mr. White’s fingers went still inside him, and there was a pause while Mr. White seemed to be thinking over what Jesse said. 

Then, finally, in a low and intense and slightly strained voice, “So what exactly are you suggesting, Jesse?”

Jesse laughed nervously and said, “I’m suggesting, maybe something bigger and longer than your fingers.” He dared to look over his shoulder at Mr. White and tried to sound sexy instead of desperate when he added, “You uh, got anything like that handy?” with a pointed look down towards Mr. White’s crotch.

Mr. White’s mouth dropped open and he blinked a few times before finally managing to say, “That depends—are you going to hate me once you sober up if we do this?”

Jesse rolled his eyes and said, “Not gonna hate you. You don’t gotta be so dramatic about it, yo. We’re just, you know, helping each other out.”

Mr. White still hesitated, and asked, “Do you think my wife and your not-a-stripper would see it that way if they found out?”

“Who’s telling them? Not me,” Jesse said. 

He’d managed not to really think about Jane up until now, but he shoved down a stab of guilt. He wasn’t cheating—couldn’t cheat when the other person didn’t consider what they did with you ‘dating,’ right? And even though Jesse definitely wanted things with Jane to be serious, he was pretty sure that she didn’t feel the same way. They’d never talked about being exclusive or even called it dating—every time Jesse had tentatively tried to bring it up Jane abruptly changed the subject, and so far he’d never pushed when she did—and it seemed like in Jane’s eyes they were just having fun together. So what was the big deal if he had some fun with Mr. White too? 

“Okay,” Mr. White finally said. He let out an almost nervous sounding laugh and said under his breath, “What does it matter at this point?”

“Exactly,” Jesse told him, and Mr. White blinked like he hadn’t meant for Jesse to hear him.

Mr. White looked away, staring down at Jesse’s ass while he slowly pulled his fingers out. Jesse watched while Mr. White took the condom off of his fingers and carefully laid it in the petri dish of lube, the open part of it just barely hanging over the side of the dish.

Mr. White unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants. He glanced at Jesse and seemed to hesitate when he saw that Jesse was already watching him.

“Come on,” Jesse told him.

Mr. White pushed his pants down and then those hideous tighty-whities, freeing a cock that was hard and already leaking pre-cum. Jesse swallowed nervously—he’d seen Mr. White in his underwear enough times to know he was hung, but damn. It looked even bigger hard. How was that ever going to fit?

“Um,” Jesse said, but then he trailed off and got distracted by watching Mr. White tugging the condom onto his cock instead of his fingers this time. Wasn’t easy when it was already unrolled and slightly used, but he managed.

Mr. White stared at the Petri dish and hesitated for a moment, then he muttered, “Fuck it,” and dipped his bare fingers into the meth-lube, scooping out what was left and slicking his wrapped-up cock up with it. He wiped his hand off on Jesse’s jeans—thanks for that, asshole—and then shuffled closer to Jesse on the cot.

Jesse snickered at him and asked, “What, you think you’re gonna get high from getting it on your hand for two seconds?”

Instead of answering, Mr. White lined up his cock and nudged the head of it against Jesse’s hole, but he didn’t try to push in yet. Both of his hands reached for Jesse’s hips.

“Jesse,” Mr. White said, his tone managing to turn Jesse’s name into a question and a warning and a term of endearment and a curse all at once.

“Yeah,” Jesse answered, to all of it.

Mr. White’s hands tightened their grip on Jesse’s hips and his cock pressed forward, pressed inside and god he felt impossibly big and there was no way—fuck, Jesse’s breath hitched because it hurt now and he was too big and there was no fucking way—

“Jesse, shhh, Jesse—don’t clench, you have to relax,” Mr. White was telling him. He’d stopped pushing and Jesse guessed he was maybe halfway in, and his hands were stroking back and forth along Jesse’s hips and then one of them was reaching around and—oooh fuck—Mr. White’s hand wrapped around Jesse’s cock and started jacking him off slow but firm, using Jesse’s own pre-cum to slick him up as he stroked. It felt amazing, and Jesse must’ve untensed enough for Mr. White to notice because he started murmuring, “Good, that’s good Jesse.” 

Jesse bit back a moan and he swore he felt his cock get a little bit harder from the praise.  Mr. White’s cock pressed in a little farther, and Jesse just breathed through it and tried not to tense up again.

“Bear down a little bit, it’ll help,” Mr. White told him.

“Do what?”

Mr. White sighed, then said, “Push. Like you’re trying to push me out. It actually relaxes the inner muscles and makes it easier to—” he trailed off and hissed in a breath when Jesse did what he was told, and Mr. White’s cock slid the rest of the way in. “Yes—fuck—like that, Jesse.”

Mr. White stayed still to let him adjust, except for his hand still stroking Jesse’s cock. After a minute or so he got used to it and it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, even though Mr. White was balls-deep in him now. It just felt—really full, and so warm, and Mr. White’s hand on Jesse’s dick was amazing, and the meth was definitely doing its thing now because he was starting to feel invincible and like he was tingling everywhere, like he was made out of light and pure pleasure, and like he could do anything he wanted, anything in the world.

“…Jesse?” Mr. White said, sounding worried like maybe he’d already called Jesse’s name a few times.

“Mmm, yeah,” Jesse said, reaching behind himself and grabbing Mr. White’s wrist and tugging that hand away from his hip, trying to pull Mr. White closer. He laughed and asked, “Why you all the way up there? Come here.”

Mr. White did, leaning down over Jesse until his chest was pressed flush against Jesse’s back. Jesse was still on his hands and knees, and Mr. White's hand on Jesse’s cock kept moving.

“Jesse,” Mr. White said again, his voice strained probably from holding back so long, “can I—?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said through a smile, “go on, do it—fuck me, Mr. White.” 

Mr. White muffled a moan into Jesse’s shoulder at that, and then he shifted his hips and his cock slid almost all the way out of Jesse before thrusting back in and hitting Jesse’s prostate perfectly.

“Mmm, yeah, fuck that’s good,” Jesse murmured, clenching his hands in the blanket underneath him and bracing his arms against the cot while Mr. White kept going. 

Mr. White’s hand was still working Jesse’s cock, and he was setting up a rhythm now, his cock sliding in and out of Jesse and hitting his prostate every second or third time, his balls slapping against Jesse’s. He was still pressed close against Jesse’s back and Jesse wished it wasn’t too damned cold to take their clothes off. He would’ve liked to feel Mr. White’s skin against his own everywhere. 

It was still good though—Mr. White was pressed up behind him as close as he could get, fucking into him deep and steady, leaning just enough weight on him that it was like he was holding Jesse down and Jesse fucking loved that somehow. And he loved the friction of Mr. White’s cock inside of him—it was called friction, right? That low pleasurable burn of Mr. White’s cock rubbing Jesse inside as he slid in and out of him? Whatever, he could ask Mr. White later. Whatever it was called it was fucking amazing.

It was good. It was all so good, and the crystal was dialing everything up to eleven, and it was almost too good—it was fucking perfect and Jesse wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Yo, ‘m real close,” he gasped out as Mr. White nailed his prostate again. “Mmmph, Mr. White—”

“I’ve got you,” Mr. White said into Jesse’s shoulder, kind of breathlessly as he kept pounding into him and his hand sped up on Jesse’s cock. “Come on, Jesse.”

Mr. White changed the angle and started hitting Jesse’s prostate every time, and Jesse was letting out these breathless little moans that he would’ve been embarrassed by if he was sober but right now everything felt so good and so much and too good too much and, ah, fuck—

Jesse closed his eyes as he came, and his orgasm hit him like a fucking tsunami washing over him—between the crystal and the novelty of taking a cock up his ass and the weird-hot-wrongness of that cock belonging to Mr. White, this was probably the hardest Jesse had ever come in his entire life. 

Mr. White was only a few seconds behind him—he thrust hard into Jesse a few more times and then shoved in deep and went still as he came inside Jesse. Well, into the condom inside Jesse—but still. Hot. 

Jesse grinned and folded his arms, lowering himself down onto his stomach on the cot. He was laying right in the wet spot from his own cum and it was going to be all over the front of this hoodie but he didn’t care. Mr. White followed him down and stayed with him, stayed on top of him, stayed inside him. It felt good, and comforting and so warm. Mr. White took a moment to catch his breath. 

For a minute or two it was just warm and relaxing and nice, but then Mr. White started coughing and pulled out of him and pulled away to sit on the side of the cot until he finished coughing.

“You okay?” Jesse mumbled after him, turning over on the cot so he could look. He absolutely hated how empty he felt without Mr. White inside him.

“Fine. I’m fine,” Mr. White said. He removed the condom, tied it off, and tossed it towards the trash can. Then he stood up just long enough to pull his tighty-whities and his pants back up before sitting back down on the edge of Jesse’s cot.

“Mmm, what’d you do that for?” Jesse asked. “Lay back down. Gimme like ten minutes and we can go again.”

It was pretty dark so Jesse couldn’t see his face too great but Mr. White seemed kind of uncomfortable. Seemed to hesitate.

“Jesse,” he said, sounding tense and uncertain, “I…enjoyed that very much, but, well—circumstances being what they are, it wouldn’t be fair for me to let you think there’s any kind of future for—”

“Blah blah blah,” Jesse interrupted with a giggle. “Yo, I didn’t ask you to run away with me, just said we can fuck again if you want.”

“I thought we were ‘just helping each other out,’ Jesse?”

“Yeah, whatever. You can ‘help me out’ again whenever you want.”

“Jesse,” Mr. White said, still using that uncomfortable serious tone, “I think it would be best if this stayed a one-time thing. Further entanglement would only—”

“Further entanglement?” Jesse echoed, snorting out a laugh. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means this can’t happen again, Jesse. After tonight there’s no reason to ever talk about it or think about it again. Like you said, we just…helped each other out, and that’s the end of it. I have my wife, you have your not-a-stripper, and there’s no need to complicate things. All right?”

Jesse sighed. “Whatever. Fine.” Prick could’ve at least waited for the afterglow to wear off. Fucking buzzkill, making him enjoy getting fucked in the ass and then telling him it wasn't happening again. But maybe Jesse could just get an actual sex toy to try, like a buttplug or something. Jesse snickered at that thought as he lifted his hips and pulled his own boxers and pants back up. Then he told Mr. White, “Will you get back here already?”

Mr. White scoffed. “Jesse, I just said—”

“Just for body heat! Jesus.” Jesse turned over so he was kind of on his side but mostly on his stomach, and he waited.

It took a minute, but then he heard a sigh and then he felt the cot dip. He held back a smile when he felt Mr. White pressing up against him. 

“Just for body heat,” Mr. White echoed.

Jesse reached behind himself and pulled Mr. White’s arm over on top of him.

Mr. White tensed a little and warned, “Jesse.”

“Yo, I let you hit—let you take my ass virginity and everything—the least you can do is spoon me.”

Mr. White let out a frustrated sigh. “I just said we aren’t talking about this—”

“You said ‘after tonight.’ It’s still tonight,” Jesse pointed out, not letting go of Mr. White’s arm when he tried to tug it away.

Mr. White sighed again and stopped trying to pull away, instead wrapping his arm tighter around Jesse and settling in against him.

“Just—go to sleep, Jesse.”

Jesse smiled and tried to enjoy the fading afterglow and the crystal still buzzing his system and the warmth of Mr. White wrapped around him. It was nice. Wouldn’t last—nothing did. But it was nice right now. 

Jesse gradually drifted off to sleep, wrapped in that haze of warmth and contentment. He thought he might’ve felt Mr. White press a brief kiss to his temple, but maybe he just dreamed it.

*

The next morning he woke up to the distant sound of Mr. White coughing. 

Jesse was on his stomach on the cot, face half-buried in the pillow, alone. It took him a second to remember everything that happened last night. Took him a second to remember they were supposed to pretend it didn’t happen. No talking about it. No further entanglement. 

Jesse sighed and dragged himself out of bed.

He headed outside, walking slightly funny because his ass was just a little bit sore. The reason for his sore ass was sitting next to the burned-out generator, doing something to it and still coughing miserably. Jesse looked at him and felt another stab of guilt for his part in getting them stuck out here, along with a pang of sympathy and something else he was too afraid to try to put a name to. It didn’t matter though, whatever it was—one-time thing, no talking about it, no further entanglements.

Jesse sighed and told himself that he wasn’t disappointed, and he told himself this wasn’t going to be awkward as hell, and he told himself everything was going to work out just fine somehow. It had to, right?

Then he took a deep breath and gathered his nerve and went to see what Mr. White had come up with now to get them out of this mess.