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Lucky Cigarette

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"Has anyone ever done this to you before?" Jesse whispers in Walt's ear.

"No... never," Walt manages to say in between moans.

"Good… because I want to be the only person who ever gets to fuck you,” Jesse says, and then bites Walt’s earlobe.


It’s actually a pretty chill evening for yet another conversation about murdering someone else who has gotten in their way.

Jesse is just so, so tired. He was still painting when Walt called, asking to come over. It’s not like he can say no.

He wants to go to bed. Well, what he really wants--needs-- is some crystal, if he’s really honest with himself. But he’s been drug-free for three days. Big whoop. But it’s something.

He had placated Walt earlier, telling him that he’d kill Gus first chance he got. He really just wanted to make that motherfucker shut up and stop talking to him like he was some kind of dumbass moron. No, Jesse hasn’t forgotten that Gus uses kids in his operation; he hasn’t forgotten about Andrea’s brother, he hasn’t forgotten about the particular nightmare of watching Victor get his throat cut a few feet away from him. He’s not “weak-willed,” he’s just so fucking tired. He just wanted to go back to the low-key operation he had going with Emilio back in the day; yeah, they were about to get busted, but maybe that would have been better. Better than getting so far entrenched in the world of Walter White and his bullshit agenda that he didn't know which way was up anymore.

Of course Walt fully intends to follow through with this. Jesse can’t believe Walt is asking him to kill someone else for him. He’ll say it’s for “them,” but it kind of bugs Jesse that Walt can’t see how much shooting Gale fucked him up. In every possible way. Just when he thinks Walt gives a shit about him, he’ll do something that shows he clearly doesn’t. And the sickest thing is, Jesse just keeps doing it. Keeps following orders. Keeps agreeing to Walt's dumb shit plans. Because he doesn't have anyone else.

Now he’s sitting across from the guy, his mind fuzzy with fatigue and paint fumes. There’s only the dimly lit lamp in the corner to illuminate the living room. For some reason Jesse notices how weirdly blue Walt’s eyes are in the shadows of the light. He really must be tired.

“What if they search me?” Jesse asks after Walt hands him the vial of ricin.

Will they do that?” Walt asks. It’s a good question. Jesse doubts it, but he never knows with Mike and Gus. They keep changing the channel on him. He sort of feels like Mike has his back, at least to an extent. However, Gus is the one in charge, as no one ever lets Jesse forget.

Jesse has an idea. Despite what Walt seems to think of him, he’s actually not some dipshit kid who failed his chemistry class. He’s been around, and he’s seen some shit, and he knows some things. He gets out his pack of cigarettes and empties out the tobacco, puting the vial of ricin in its place. Jesse doesn’t miss Walt staring, somewhat transfixed, at his adept fingers. Probably taking notes for some kind of future devious act.

The cigarette looks normal from the outside, and it seems like a good enough disguise for the ricin. He puts it in backwards.

“It’s the wrong way around,” Walt points out in his usual condescending bullshit tone.

“It’s my lucky cigarette,” Jesse says.

“Well, whatever you do... don't smoke it." Walt is quiet, contemplating. Jesse waits. "Jesse… I know I’ve been asking a lot of you lately. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

This, Jesse thinks is crap. He’s got a pretty finely honed Walter White bullshit detector these days, and he can finally tell when the guy is trying to manipulate him. Yet again.

“Yo, you don’t have to, like, butter me up, Mr. White. I’m doin’ what you’re asking of me, all right?”

“I know, I see that, and I appreciate it,” Walt is quick to say. But he continues anyway. “I just… don’t know how you got yourself in this situation.”

Jesse’s starting to get pissed the hell off again. They were having a nice chat here, not arguing, not bringing up the details of the day again. Why does Walt always do this shit? Why does he literally have to ruin everything?

“Mr. White… come on, not this shit again. You know how we got ourselves into this mess. You were right there with me. You didn’t have to run over those dudes--I was gonna shoot them myself. That started this whole thing. This is just as much your fault as it is mine, yo.”

“Maybe you’re right. But doesn’t it make you angry that Gus is trying to take advantage of you? I can see it, and Mike can see it, why can’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Jesse spits out. He just really can’t listen to this bullshit for one more second. “Fuck off, and fuck you.”

“Might as well,” Walt shrugs. And it’s like a scratch of the needle on a record player. What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?

“What?! What are you talking about?”

Walt shrugs, which is absolutely infuriating. “Maybe that’s what you need, Jesse. I see you. I see how angry you are. How tired, how frustrated, how alone you are. I see how you’re just trying to get through the next hour without taking a hit of something. And I know I piss you off, and I know you wish you could cut ties with me. But we both know that’s impossible, at least for now. We need each other.”

This really makes Jesse’s blood boil, mostly because the asshole is right. He does need Walt. The fact that Walt probably knows him better than anyone on the planet sometimes keeps him up at night.

“Yeah? So what are you saying? That you’re, like, gay for me or some shit? Because that really sounds like what you’re saying, Mr. White, you know?”

“No. No, Jesse. I am simply suggesting a way for you to take out your frustration. Just for tonight. Just so you will finally know how much I care about you, and you won’t have to question or doubt me anymore.”

Jesse has no idea what’s happening. Well, not no idea, but like… what the fuck?

“Yo, Mr. White, you want me to fuck you and we ain’t even kissed or nothin’? That’s kind of fucked up, yo.” Jesse tends to get more “street” when he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Well… I can fix that. Come here.”

Jesse doesn’t move. No way is he going to move.

Walt regards him closely. They have a staring contest. And then Walt gets his old ass up and walks around the table to Jesse’s smaller loveseat.

“What, you’re going to sit here with me like we’re teenagers sitting in the same booth at a restaurant?”

“Well, you gave me no choice, did you?”

Jesse sighs and moves over to make room for Walt. He doesn’t make eye contact with him. Because this is too fucking weird.

“Jesse. Look at me. Let’s get this part over with so we can move on, don’t you think?”

“Yo, I haven’t agreed to moving on,” Jesse says with venom in his voice.

“I think you want to,” Walt says softly. “I think you want to show me how much you hate me. How much you think you hate me, that is. I think you want to take it out on me. And… I want you to.”

God, what kind of weird fetish does Walt have for him, anyway? First he blackmails Jesse into being his partner, and then… god, just look at everything else they've done together. What a sick bastard.

And yet…

“Jesse…” Walt says softly again. He takes his glasses off and puts them on the table.

Jesse exhales. Counts to three. Says “why the fuck not” in his head. And then leans in. Walt grabs his shoulder as he desperately covers Jesse’s mouth with his own. Like Jesse unlocked some kind of critical need in Walt that was waiting inside of him to be let out. He licks Jesse’s lip, and then his tongue finds his way into Jesse’s mouth. Jesse meets it with his own, and Walt actually moans.

And then… Walt cradles Jesse’s head and actually kisses him softly, warmly, like they’d been married for 15 years or some shit. Jesse finds himself getting caught up in it, surfing in the waves of affection, wanting Walt’s approval even with this.

And then he stops because this is crazy. It’s crazy!

“Yo, Mr. White, you ain’t got any business kissing me like that… that’s just not cool.”

“Oh, yeah? I think something in your pants thinks it's a little cool.” Walt’s smirk is so obnoxious, Jesse wants to slap him. Because he’s right. Jesse is fucking hard. And now he gets the appeal of Walt’s proposal.

“Fuck you,” Jesse says without thinking.

“Well, I do believe that’s what I’m trying to do here.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

Walt just nods knowingly.

“If we do this, it’s on my terms,” Jesse finally says.


“I don’t want to hear any bullshit from you and I definitely don’t want fuckin’ Heisenberg making an appearance, you got that?”

“I got it.”

“Then fucking sit here and I’ll be back,” Jesse mutters. He goes upstairs and gets the lube from his bathroom cabinet. When he gets back down, Walt has taken his jacket off and he’s unbuttoning his shirt. Jesse thinks about telling him not to do that ‘cause it’s awkward and shit, but he quickly rethinks that. He wants Walt as vulnerable as possible.

“Where do you… want me?” Walt asks, almost vulnerably, but Jesse realizes from the beginning it’s all a show to him. He needs Jesse to plow him like a farm boy, no matter how much he tries to pass it off as “doing Jesse a favor.”

Jesse can call the shots, but he’s never going to be in control. They both know that.

“Against the wall,” Jesse murmurs. Let’s see what he thinks about that.

Walt looks at him, and then the freshly painted wall, and then back at him. Jesse takes off his jeans and his shirt, and Walt does the same. They’re just in their underwear now--what a weird pair they are.

Walt takes the lead, Jesse assumes just to get it started, which he actually appreciates. First Walt removes the ladder and sits it down across the room. Then, with conviction, Walt nearly slams Jesse into the wall, which Jesse hopes to god is dry because he ain’t painting that shit again. He kisses him, and it’s not sweet, and it’s not nice, and when he bites his lip it fuckin’ hurts. And Jesse is hard again. Fuck.

Jesse reaches down to see if Walt is hard, too. Which, in fact, he is.

“Just thinking about you doing this to me gets me hard,” Walt says in a low, deep voice that makes Jesse feel all weird.

“Okay, then put your hands on the wall, dude,” Jesse says. “Let’s fuckin’ do it already.”

Walt does as he’s told.

Jesse doesn’t waste any time. He puts the condom on, and then the lube. When he grabs Walt’s hips, Walt groans in this primal way that Jesse doesn’t want to know about but it still turns him the fuck on. He finds Walt’s entrance and moves in slowly, but it’s not so easy. It’s so goddamn tight that he can barely fit even the tip in--

“Jesse. Fingers, Jesse.”

“What? What the hell--”

“You have to… stretch it out first,” Walt says, clearly both embarrassed and a little mad that Jesse doesn’t know this. “With your fingers.”

“Oh, like I fuckin’ knew that? You think I do this a lot, Mr. White? Fuck all my high school teachers in the ass? Go to hell.” But as he says this, he’s putting lube on his fingers, and he places one carefully inside. It’s definitely interesting, Jesse thinks. Walt is still so tight, and as he places a second finger, he can feel the walls loosening up a bit. And now he wants to fuck this dude so bad, it almost hurts.

He tries a third finger, and his dick twitches hungrily as Walt moans.

“You like that, you fuckin’ perv?”

Walt is too busy moaning to answer.

“Answer me, asshole. You like this?”

“Yes… feels good…” Walt pants.

“Are you ready to take my dick inside of you now?” Jesse doesn’t like that these words are coming so easily to him, but they are. And Walt seems to enjoy it.

“Yes… I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

“Cool,” Jesse says, and he grasps Walt’s hips again. It’s easier this time to ease his way inside. And when he’s all the way in, god, what the fuck? How does it feel so goddamn good? There’s just no reason for it!

“Oh, god, Jesse… that’s right. That’s so good. You’re so good, Jesse…”

Jesse doesn’t want to respond to Walt’s moaning praises; he wants to ignore it, he wants to tune it out. But he can’t. He needs it. He needs this.

“You… are so tight… Mr. White…” Jesse breathes. “Feels… so good.”

Jesse reaches around to Walt’s chest and pinches a nipple, and Walt cries out a little. He returns his hands to Walt’s hips so he can fuck him harder, deeper. Maybe Walt was right--maybe this is a good way to get out his frustrations. He’s getting something out, all right.

Walt moves his hand to his own cock, and something instinctual in Jesse causes him to move his hand away.

“Oh, didn’t I mention? I want you to come from just this. You can do it. I have faith in you, Mr. White.”

Walt groans, but doesn’t protest.

"Has anyone ever done this to you before?" Jesse whispers in Walt's ear.

"No... never," Walt manages to say in between moans.

"Good… because I want to be the only person who ever gets to fuck you,” Jesse says, and then bites Walt’s earlobe. “I want to be the only junkie imbecile, the only idiot, the only weak-willed asshole who gets to fuck you.”

“I want that… too,” Walt breathes.

“You better not let anyone else do this to you, or I will fucking find out. And I will kill you, and them,” Jesse snarls. He knows he’s only saying it in the heat of the moment and he’s not particularly proud of it, but again, by the way Walt’s moaning, it’s definitely doing something for him, too.

“Jesse… can we move to the couch, please? My knees…”

Jesse wants to say no, but he takes pity on the poor guy. It suddenly occurs to him that he’s fucking a 50-year-old dude who’s recovering from cancer. It’s not the most pleasant of thoughts.

“Come here, on the couch. On your back.”


“Really. I want to see your face when I make you come.”

Walt moves quickly to the couch, and parts his legs for Jesse. It’s gross, but it’s hot. And Jesse needs to get back inside of him, like, now.

When Walt closes his eyes as Jesse moves back into him and moans and groans and grips the side of the couch, Jesse is, like, captivated. Walt’s cock is hard and dripping on Jesse’s stomach as he continues to thrust. Jesse’s honestly not going to last much longer; Walt’s warm and tight and every movement seems to suck him in deeper, like Walt is some never ending bundle of white hot light. He hopes Walt is going to come soon.

Jesse leans forward and kisses Walt, because he can’t help it, because he does look so vulnerable, and Jesse is getting his frustrations out. Walt eagerly kisses him back, and when Jesse pinches his nipple again, that’s when Walt finally comes, hard and fast, thick stripes of warmth on Jesse’s chest. Moments later, Jesse comes too, spurred on by the constricting heat tight on his cock.

“Fuck… fuck you, Mr. White,” Jesse can’t help but say as he collapses on top of him.

They lay together for maybe 32 seconds, catching their breath, and maybe still wanting the contact of the other. But then Jesse jumps up and disposes of the condom, and brings Walt a washcloth.

“Now get the fuck out of here. I’ll see what I can do about Gus,” Jesse says, avoiding his eyes. He doesn’t want to look at Walt. For many reasons.

“Good. Very good. I’ll expect to hear from you soon,” Walt says. He finds his clothes and puts them on as quickly as he can. Jesse walks him to the door.

He doesn’t turn away when Walt kisses him again. Jesse sighs when Walt releases him and gives him a lingering look that Jesse doesn’t want to think about or remember. He pulls out a cigarette (not his lucky one) and lights up as Walt speeds away, far from his house but not far from his thoughts.