Under Pain of Death

by edamamekun

Summary:

‘You’re telling me you’re cooking again?’

‘How shall I put this? I’m in, you’re out.’

Jesse doesn’t drive off after being forced out of Fring’s deal. He stays to have it out with Saul.
-Sunset S3 E6.

Notes:

Dayummm. It’s been a while since I re-watched BB/BCS or wrote fanfiction. I tinkered with this for ages and finally got to posting, so hope it’s still coherent! This is rough porn without plot. No beta.
2-3 parts that will come SOON.
Thanks all! xoxo

There is violence, non-con and dub-con in this fic, please be warned.

Chapter 1: Round 1

Neck craning, ear bent behind his closed office door, Saul listens.

A lump builds in his throat, heart rate beginning to tick up. Vaguely he can make out round two of the Walt-Jesse sparring match playing out in the parking lot. Saul strains to hear, anxious that this fight might turn physical in the aftermath of what sounded like a boulder landing with a sickening crunch on top of a windshield. Cold dread washed over Saul when he heard that.

Damn, the kid really knows how to push his luck. He must have nine lives.

Moments before, Jesse had fled the office, leaving him alone with Walt. He was about to offer some further services to go along with his measly 5% when the crash came. As car alarms started shrieking, Walt’s cat-got-the-cream expression dropped in a manner just as leaden. Wordlessly, he shot outside. Saul stepped out quickly after and began frantically signing to Huell behind Walt’s retreating back: Go watch over this!

As he slinked back into the apparent safety of his office, Saul got a glimpse of Walt’s windshield: a spiderweb of cracks fanned out from the concrete slab that had landed there in the middle. A perfect bullseye shot.

Saul clicked his tongue as he closed the door.

Tussles between clients off the premises are outside his jurisdiction. Saul is loath to get involved, even if the disagreement spills out over his doorstep. Not his problem. They eventually take it elsewhere. Except, of course, Walt is his highest value client and worthwhile protecting (even with a shitty 5% deal). Not to mention when he’s around events have the potential to get a little explosive .

But as he went to lock himself inside his office, Saul’s stomach dropped: the lock was useless. It’s been busted out for over a week. A result of him breaking in, worse for wear one night and picking the lock himself, for reasons he’d been too drunk to remember. Together, his sleuth efforts and a bit of brute force had gained him entry but rendered the lock useless.

When the morning came, he woke groggily with a pounding headache, legs still attached to the hooks of his chi machine, though he was no longer lying flat on his back. Instead, his torso was slumped awkwardly sideways, facing a small pool of vomit. As he screwed up his face in disgust and shifted, he inadvertently restarted the massager and was jolted wide awake.

Following that, he had forgotten clean all about the lock under the cloud of his hangover — until now, of course. Likely it had raised no alarms because the door to his office was usually left unlocked for convenience’s sake, with Huell stationed outside. In fact, he only sought to lock it on rare occasions when he was alone and engaged in something that he especially didn’t want to be interrupted .

Fuck.

At that very moment, a cacophony of raised voices reaches his ears from outside; the sound of Walt’s deep bellows can be heard drowning out the yelps of Jesse’s hysterical barking. Just as he wonders if they are about to come to blows, the noise cuts off abruptly, giving way to a lumpy thud — the sound of flesh denting metal. A squeal of pain — Jesse. Then, a car door slams and there’s a furious screech of tires; Walt reversing and thundering off.

Saul exhales a short breath of relief. He prays Jesse is limping off somewhere to lick his wounds, away from his turf. Suspenseful seconds go by. Before long Saul hears a windchime clatter violently-the waiting room door being smacked open against the wall. Saul leaps back from the closed door. Then steps forward again, hesitating about whether or not to batten his whole weight against it.

Where the hell is Huell? What is he paying him for?

There is a rapid thud of footsteps approaching. The last grains of sand are slipping through the hourglass. Before a rock is launched at his beautiful Cocobolo. Or worse. Panic rises and the sweat starts to prickle on the back of Saul’s neck.

Surprisingly, he hears a voice of protest — Francesca’s. Then the sound of her stomping around to the front of the reception desk. On her less lazy days, she can be a bit territorial and won’t allow anyone to run roughshod over her waiting room kingdom.

Not to mention, she can be quite terrifying.

Again, where the hell is Huell?

Francesca’s indignant yelp can be heard as it seems Jesse has cut in front of her, quicker and more determined. Heart sinking, Saul takes a decisive step back and braces for impact.

The door is thrust wide open with full force. Saul feels the whoosh of air under his nostrils as the panel misses him by a hair, almost skimming the skin off his nose. In storms Jesse with the force of a tsunami.

Saul manages to backfoot it in double quick time, thrusting some space between them.

‘You…' Jesse hisses, watery eyes blazing in their demand for answers.

‘Hey now…' Saul throws his palms up as if to fend off the wave about to crash over him.

Behind Jesse, Francesca appears in view with an appalled look on her face, as if the entirety of this situation is Saul’s fault, when this time it actually isn’t.

Finally, Huell catches up with them wheezing like an asthmatic pug. He desperately reaches out and grabs at Jesse’s shoulder to pull him back. In his temper, Jesse shakes it off with ease.

‘Hands offa me! I’m not leaving till I get answers!’

Right then, Saul makes a counter-intuitive decision. Though all evidence points to the contrary, he’s hoping a gamble will pay off. Glaring, Saul gestures sharply for his staff to get out.

Huell gladly ambles out, wiping his brow. Francesca purses her lips and snaps the door closed.

In the unsettling quiet that descends, Saul can hear the blood thundering in his own ears. But not for long.

‘Did you know?’ Jesse yells, throwing his whole body into the accusation, so much so he seems to jump the two feet Saul had put between them.

‘Hey kid, don’t take it out on me! The winner takes it all, what can I say!’

He ducks away as Jesse threatens a fist. Saul knows he’s a fool — never able to resist a quip, even in the most tenuous of situations.

‘Look. I didn’t know, I swear. All this time I was just trying to bring the A-Team back together.’

Saul rounds his desk, crab-like, putting the furniture between them. Pointless . Jesse just follows, cornering Saul until his knee backs hit the seat cushion.

‘Liar!’

Desperately, he coaxes Jesse some more.

‘ — Now if you would, please… just hit the breaks for a sec and look — look on the bright side!’

With nowhere else to go, Saul falls into a heap in his chair. He dares to glance up at his relentless taskmaster.

Above him, Jesse’s face is a dark, angry cloud. The man’s fury threatens to rain down on them any moment. Saul gulps as he spies the bulging vein in Jesse’s neck.

Jesse’s eyes flash. ‘What bright side?’

‘As far as I can see, they’ve done you a favor. You’re finally free from your master. Scot-free, ready to make your own way in the world. It’s a fresh start!’

Saul claps his hands together with brash confidence, but the nervy smile working his lip betrays him.

‘Master?’ Jesse rages.

For his trouble, Saul receives a hard kick to his chair leg. Clearly, Jesse is still not a fan of his colorful wordings.

‘Yo, me and him, we’re equals now! Equal cooks. Hell, I’m just as good as Heisenburg. And I can prove it.’

‘Semantics. Please. Jesse,’ Saul flinches, cowering into the chair. ‘I’m just the messenger, you know that.’

Jesse makes a frustrated, wincing sound like part of him knows he’s hitting a brick wall. He rocks on the balls of his feet, hands shoved in his pockets, before changing tack. Jesse grips the back of Saul’s seat, caging him in. As he dips his head to meet Saul’s eye level, his voice rumbles low, fringed with desperation.

‘Then tell me. How is he the wiser investment for a business guy like that? I mean, who even knows when he’s about to kick it?’

Clearly his confusion is sincere and it’s killing him. Saul sighs at Jesse’s short-sightedness.

‘Kid. You heard it from the horse’s mouth, already. Cancers in remission. He’s good to go.’

The truth is on the tip of his tongue. Of course, lying comes easy, but a darker side of him wants to release this out of spite.

And you’re a loose cannon, an unpredictable, drama-causing fuckwit junkie they couldn’t wait to be rid of.

Well. Wouldn’t that open Pandora's box?

The drive of revenge is strong within Jesse—Saul senses that very clearly. This could be the tipping point that drives him over the edge. If he can’t get a leash on this kid, it could put the whole operation in danger again. Such interpersonal dramas between his clients are beyond his fucks given, yet they always seem to land in his lap. Like Jesse practically is now.

The air between them is too hot all of a sudden — as unbearable as a sunbaked room without windows. Saul can feel the energy simmering off of Jesse, feel the heat of his breath as he hovers inches from Saul’s face.

For an instant, their eyes lock. Jesse’s eyes are flickering blue and white flames, burning into Saul with such an intensity it borders on unhinged. Saul has to break away.

Jesus, it’s like he’s trying to read the truth written on the back of my skull.

Saul forces a modicum of space between them by scooting back the chair. In retaliation, Jesse shoves it away an inch further, though there’s scarcely a place for it to go. Saul endures the slam against the wall, and is relieved when Jesse begrudgingly steps back.

Slapping around his pockets, Jesse starts checking for his smokes, evidently needing the distraction more than the craving.

The air clears somewhat and Saul can breathe easier. Still his eyes dart everywhere except Jesse’s face and he runs his hand through his hair, pretending to think deeply.

As much as he’s dying to put an end to this, Jesse won’t be getting the truth. That he had indeed been played. That Saul wasn’t so trusted as to be in on the act. And that he wasn’t going to vouch for Jesse now, even if he had any power to do so. That ship had sailed. The benefit to tossing Jesse a lifeline was looking smaller and smaller.

But not wishing to give Jesse time to get riled up again, Saul voices a new proposition as the train of thought comes to him.

‘Hey, how about your original blend?’

Saul knows it was something ridiculous sounding that Walt referred to earlier.

‘Huh?’

‘Your meth? Before all the crazy blue shenanigans with You-Know-Who? What was it called?’

Jesse, exasperated. ‘Chilli P — 

Wait.

Don’t be so damn stupid, Saul .

A tight warning in his chest springs up, reminding him just whose side he is on and the dire caution that requires. No competition for Walt’s guy.

‘Actually, scratch that.’

Saul bats the idea away with his hand with an air of casualness.

In return, Jesse shoots Saul a look of cold fury and his upper body twitches  as if he might go to strike him again.

Saul masks his flinch and simply points a finger gun at the middle of Jesse’s forehead. A gesture that says: I have an idea.

‘Even better. A new business model.’

Saul pauses. Eyebrow cocked; cheeky endearing smile.

Jesse might be able to provide some use, some income stream, if kept firmly lower down the ladder. Saul meets Jesse’s eyes, nonchalantly this time, refusing to slip into them, unless he becomes all hot under the collar again.

‘What?’ Jesse barks, impatiently.

‘Pot? How about some simple pot, even? That’s more your level.’

Jesse’s make saucers, and he looks as if he’s about to splutter —  this guy cannot be serious.

‘I’m thinking chill, bohemian. Yeah, it suits you, the hippie vibe.’

Jesse shakes his head vehemently.

After everything he’s cooked, learned, all the danger… that shit is playground level — an insult.

‘No offence, but maybe you should leave the harder stuff to the, eh, tougher nuts to crack.’

‘What are you saying! I’m weak?’ Jesse blasts back at full volume.

Saul sighs. Jesse’s seeking an outlet to avenge his wounded pride. With Walt gone there remains precious few people for him to lash out at. As a still paying client, Saul’s the nearest target Jesse still has some power over. The entitlement is as clear as day. What he says next will be about as welcome as Walt walking back through the door. But Saul strives to be gentle one last time. He steels himself for the backlash nonetheless.

‘Look,’ he says flatly, jest all gone. ‘I’m still willing to work with you, but you’ve got to close that door. It’s not for you.’

To his surprise, Jesse shrinks a fraction, as if Saul’s sudden softness has unwittingly stung him. Jesse’s voice slips into a raspy whine, tinged with hurt.

‘You don’t get to decide that.’

Saul sucks in a breath, hissing out through his nose. His sympathy is spent and his impatience is skyrocketing. Jesse growls at his lack of response. He’s not going anywhere.

‘Nah, you work for me! You should’a got me a chance to say my piece, instead of letting ’em edge me out.’

Saul glances at the door. Should he continue working to defuse Jesse’s hissy fit or order Huell to throw him out? He knows there will be a steady line of clients backing up outside. It’s a hassle, but maybe there’s someone he can send over to Jesse’s place to babysit him in the meantime. Perhaps that dopey friend of his, Badger. He wouldn’t say no to such a harmless bribe. Maybe Saul can swing by Jesse’s house later, once he’s cooled off. Sweeten him up with the promise of a different deal.

Oh, this was going to be a long day.

‘It’s not fair I didn’t get a shot — ’

God, this kid is veering dangerously close to sounding like he’s about to cry. That’s all Saul needs. There’s something about Jesse that is so needy it overwhelms him. Frankly, he wishes Walt were still here to deal with it. Before Jesse’s dose of karma was delivered, Saul recalled how smugly content Walt looked to see the back of him.

‘ — to prove myself. Hey, are you even listening?’

Now, this discarded Jesse is spiraling, and unconsciously itching, no, gagging for someone to shut him the hell up . Someone to put him in his place. Something base twists in Saul’s gut at the thought of being precisely the one to do that.

Time for a different tactic. You asked for it.

Emboldened, Saul stands and squares up to Jesse, his best game face on. Saul morphs his sheepish expression into one of dead seriousness, eyes narrowed; no more joking around here. A flicker of surprise widens Jesse’s eyes, but he meets the challenge head on, closing the space even more, his chest brushing against Saul’s in provocation.

Saul can feel the man thrumming with energy like a livewire under the surface; there might as well be sparks coming off him. Saul remains still, stares unblinkingly into Jesse’s blue, glassy eyes, without any of the hesitation of before. As he does so, a little fantasy of the sick and twisted kind rears itself in the back of Saul’s mind.

From time to time, when the door slammed shut on his office, and Pinkman was gone, the fantasy toyed with him, distracted him, guilted him even, until he desperately rubbed it out under the desk. That was until the reality of Jesse’s troublemaking, plus the domineering presence of Walt for most of their interactions, scribbled a line through that fantasy. Though, that hadn’t erased it entirely.

‘Pull yourself together.’ Saul warns, voice low and laced with the hint of a threat.

Rarely, if ever, would he dare to slip into such a menacing demeanor. It was too against his brand, the image he had cultivated. Playing the pathetic yet indispensable coward was his best option when operating in this shady underworld. It served him well most of the time.

However, there were exceptions to every rule and every client. Sadly, this client had lost out and found himself low down in the pecking order. And now Saul had a vested interest in keeping him there, so as to keep his much more powerful and lucrative ex-partner on his good terms. Gotta’ keep the big bills flowing.

‘Make me.’

Jesse hisses the dare venomously, spittle flying. Close enough for Saul to feel the moisture land on his lip. While Saul feels mildly disgusted, at the same time the provocation sends a thrill shooting through his groin. Hot and fleeting like an emergency flare sent up over still water.

Pinkman is squaring up to him with the cockiness of a teenager spoiling for a fight; too loaded with misplaced confidence and testosterone to entertain any consequences. Saul’s brow darkens as he glares, wanting to strike down that cockiness in one fell swoop. He wants to topple Jesse, subdue him. Make him afraid. Of him . The thought makes his hands twitch. Why was that such a turn-on?

But before he can react, Saul feels a sharp tug as something thin snares around his neck making him choke out. Rasping from the constrict on his windpipe, panic and confusion befuddle his senses for a moment. That’s before he realizes the reason for his suffocation: his tie. Jesse has yanked it spitefully.

Saul digs for some reprieve by shoving his fingers under his collar, fighting for breath. Jesse’s arms fall limp to his sides and he steps back, tilting his head as he watches Saul struggle, eyes glazed over with satisfaction.

That’s when Saul’s temper spikes. That vibrant temper he has buried deep inside of him that usually only particular ghosts from his checkered past can ignite. Now he’s furious .

The idea that Jesse of all people could touch that place with such a pathetic little assault lights a whirlwind of incandescence in Saul. Heart pumping, he feels the pulse jump to his throat, battling under the whipcord of the fabric.

Saul knows his face is turning red from the ligature’s effect and his own awakened rage; his fingers tremor as he works to loosen the knot with speed, wanting to wrap them round Jesse’s throat next. Through sheer will, more-so than skill, he somehow manages to unpick the knot, unravel it and pull it free, letting the tie discard on the floor.

As he looks at Jesse, tongue darting out to wet his lips, clearly about to open that dirty cherub mouth of his to speak or curse again, Saul’s inner voice suddenly snaps —  No, no, I do the talking here. The rest of his body leaps into action . Without hesitation he snatches Jesse’s wrist and pulls, yanking him hard down towards the desk.

Jesse whelps in pain and genuine surprise.

As Jesse is thrown off-balance, Saul gets a hand on his shoulder blade and shoves him down till his chest collides with a satisfying thwack on the desk.

The impact unsettles the objects strewn across it — the lamp switch clinks and seesaws, the phone clatters in its cradle. Cold coffee from Saul’s favorite mug splatters over papers; his swanky pen dives off the edge. The Athena falls to the floor with a soft thud.

That’s justice for you.

Saul twists Jesse’s arm behind his back, cuffing his wrist at the base of his spine. In one extra cruel motion, Saul knifes an elbow into the central nub of his spine.

Jesse writhes helplessly and groans, his cheek mashed into paperwork. His futile moves to escape only rattle the desk. Reveling in sadistic pleasure, Saul pins him  harder, deepening the excruciating needle on his spine.

Eventually, a half-strangled, high-pitched protest falls from Jesse.

‘What the hell man!’

Saul leans over him, ducks to his ear. ‘Now it’s time you listen to me.’

Saul feels his ribcage expand and contract, acutely aware of his own quickened breathing, the knowledge of what he’s doing rippling through him with a dose of fear, mixed with adrenaline.

Jesse attempts to rear back, but Saul settles him roughly back with a buck of his own, knowing Jesse’s bony little hipbones must be on fire at the brutal contact with his desk. It sends a depraved sexual frisson through his loins and he has to hold himself back to refrain from slamming his hips into Jesse again.

A move like that would be too damn obvious. Yet he’s scarily close to not caring.

Jesse gapes in shock, his mouth working soundlessly for a moment as he is stuck in Saul’s vice hold, a strength Saul has the wherewithal to actually feel impressed by himself. The power makes him feel a little giddy, the roughhousing of Jesse’s lithe body making him increasingly lustful.

‘Argh, take a hike!’

Jesse growls defiantly, landing a kick to the underside of the desk and making the cabinets rattle.

This close, Saul can feel the hot rasp of Jesse’s breath on his mouth, sense the man’s panic rising. Saul feels his arousal heightening at lightning speed, combined with his desire to punish and control which borders on dangerous.

All the while, Jesse shifts beneath him, a whip-tailed, baggy clothed ball of fury, consumed by pain-induced anger. Saul retains his vice hold over him, his jerky attempts to free himself infuriating and turning Saul on in intoxicating turns.

‘You’re going to take the advice I’m giving you, as your lawyer.’

‘Some lawyer!’

There is a mewl of anguish, as Saul cruelly drags his elbow tip over one of the nubs in Jesse’s spine and presses in the indentation. Jesse switches tack and begins babbling. There is some leakage from his eyelids that are clinched closed.

‘Yeah, yeah, alright, alright — I’ll take it, whatever! Just leave off will ya!

‘Not until you hear me out. You’re gonna take a break from this business, take a breather. I suggest at least a month. Do not darken my door. Don’t seek out your ex-teacher begging for an assignment. Mike’s busy, too. Heck, he does enough babysitting in his time off. Stay away from the pipe at all costs. Go back to rehab. Buy a jacuzzi. Heck, do a wood-working course for all I care.’

‘Are you kidding me!’ Jesse growls into the desk, already giving up playing ball. Saul ignores him and continues.

‘During your respite, I’ll be hard at work as careers counsellor, my second least favorite hat — can you believe it — next to marriage counsellor. I’ll be carrying out some special research tailored just for you, thinking up your next career move. Something that’ll bring us both an enviable income stream, but is most importantly, long-term and sustainable. And perfect for your capabilities. Think about how much your dear old Saul must care, to make such an investment.’

‘Hardly an investment if I’m paying you! You want me to disappear while you do nothing? How do I know you won’t leave me in limbo?’

Saul smiles indulgently, although Jesse can’t see.

‘Payment deferred until your return. I’ll happily sacrifice some for a good investment. I believe in you, kid.’

‘Screw that bullshit. I need cash flow now.’

‘Tsk… tsk,’ Saul reproaches, whispering hotly into Jesse’s ear.

Jesse crinkles his nose in discomfort, disgust or… Saul clocks the redness now coating the back of Jesse’s neck, the blush covering his cheekbones and wonders if there could be a ripple of something else in the way Jesse is resisting, suddenly not so forcefully, not so loudly…

It could well be wishful thinking rather than a dark desire that mirrored his own. Still the ambiguity keeps drawing Saul in, beckoning him to step closer towards the flames.

‘Your half will last you. Don’t be greedy. I promise to have you set up before the time comes.’

He allows his breath to ghost Jesse’s ear as he exhales. Their proximity makes the hairs on the back of his own neck stand up, the heat of Jesse’s skin makes him feel so alive.

‘Who’s to say I’ll come back?’

‘This isn’t a debate. This is your legal benefactor giving you an opportunity you will take.’

Without warning, Saul releases his elbow wench in Jesse’s spine. The sudden relief on his diaphragm causes Jesse to gulp in too much air and he dissolves into a coughing fit.

A devious smile tugs at Saul’s lips as he waits for Jesse to recover; the power trip is giving him such a head rush that he has to take deep silent breaths to ground himself.

After he recovers, Jesse makes no attempt to move but remains quietly slumped there on the desk. Quiet, but tense. Calculating. Saul is reminded of a wounded animal whose escape route is hindered by a predator.

Deciding it is somewhat safe, Saul straightens up. As he does so, his hardening crotch carelessly grazes the curve of Jesse’s ass cheek. It is accidental — inevitable. The delicious brush alights Saul’s cock, more blood rushing at the promise of friction. There’s a swooping sensation in his abdomen. Saul’s eyes roll and he can’t remember the last time he felt so intoxicated.

Jesse scoots away at that moment of contact, curling in on himself. As he shifts position, Saul notices wet marks on the papers under Jesse from the scrape of his mouth. He wonders how warm and wet that mouth would be. Saliva builds in his own throat at the thought and he has to gulp it down.

Saul reaches out and runs his thumb from the base of Jesse’s spine, up and up, slowly and deliberately over the furrows he just abused. When Saul reaches the nape of Jesse’s neck, he slides his hand into the soft, flaxen bristles of Jesse’s hair, splaying out his fingertips then winds them loosely in his fist.

At that, Jesse visibly flexes under his touch and he bridles up as if in rebellion. As he sinks back down, his body emits a shudder that reverberates through his entire frame. Saul fists the back of his head tighter.

‘Do we have an understanding?’ Saul asks, his voice rough.

Despite feigning composure, inside his heart is doing jumping jacks against his ribs. The tension in his body feels like he’s being pulled taut like a wire that wants to snap closed. The urge to clamp down and bury his cock between Jesse's ass-cheeks is becoming maddening.

‘Yeah,’ pants Jesse, seemingly pliant. However, Saul can sense the unseen energy roller-coasting through him, the prelude to some kind of violence crackling in the air.

‘Yeah, what?’

‘I’m agreeing.’

With that Jesse uses the new leverage he has to push back into Saul’s crotch, brushing the hardness there that is unmistakable now. When he touches it, teases it, Saul groans. Jesse hisses through his teeth and bucks again, frustrated, though Saul isn’t sure exactly by what at this point.

‘Unhand me, bitch.’

Saul grants Jesse his freedom, fully stepping back and letting his hands fall to his sides. He exhales, resisting the urge to palm himself. Damn. He really got a thrill from gripping pretty much the scruff of Jesse’s neck like that.

Rotating back over, Jesse begins to uncrumple himself from his hunched position. With an aching groan, he sits up and rubs the back of his neck. His eyes avoid contact at first, before his eyes dart up to meet Saul’s heated look.

Saul reads the questioning in Jesse’s eyes, the unnerved, lingering surprise, that tells him Jesse never expected this in a million years.

‘Jesus.' Jesse mutters, blinking away from Saul’s gaze as if it’s too bright.

He looks down at Saul’s light grey trousers which do all the talking needed. What he sees seems to confirm something and apparently infuriates him all over again. A flush blooms deeper on his cheeks.

Chapter 2: Round 2

For once, Saul remains silent. He’s not going to let his tongue betray him, not going to let an apology slip out to smooth this over. Just wait, he thinks. Hopes. Although he snuck a look, Jesse’s baggy clothes obscure his crotch at this angle.

Abruptly, Jesse stands. His expression seems to simmer over with dark clouds and some kind of deliberation. Keeping his chin down and eyes averted, Jesse swiftly bridges the tiny space between them. Just as Saul thinks he’s about to swing, Jesse’s hand moves unexpectedly to his belt, jerking him forward. Saul’s feet stutter forward and his mouth falls partially open. He feels another shot of sexed adrenaline course through him, followed by a queasy chaser of anxiety.

Saul tenses, his breath turning shallow. Jesse simply leans closer and closer into the cradle of Saul’s neck, letting his breath fall there, suspended; a vampire reluctant to bite. Jesse’s fingers brush over the metal buckle tentatively for a moment. Then they snake around Saul’s belt and pull him in, bringing their hips snug together in one swift motion. Saul’s erection slides into the crease of Jesse’s upper thigh, the brush delivering a wave of pleasure and disbelief.

Saul hears himself make a wretched sound as Jesse’s lips finally sink into his neck. Not to kiss, but to draw an open-mouthed scraping bite. Slowly, this wondrous tease, Jesse, makes a wet, haphazard trail from under his ear down to his collarbone, all teeth and sucking lips. 

Christ, that’s going to be one hell of a hickey.

With both hands, Saul reaches around to firmly grab Jesse’s ass and wrench him desperately closer. As Saul unashamedly gropes his ass, Jesse suppresses a moan into his neck and the titillating vibration dances under the skin of Saul’s ear. The turn of Jesse from aggressive to erotic under his touch is making his head swim. The fingers that throttled him are now dipping hotly beneath his belt, seeking skin-on-skin. Saul knows he soon will be too far gone to care where he is. Visions of pulling Jesse up over the desk and fucking him right here flash deliriously through Saul’s mind.

But Saul wants to feel Jesse want this too, wants to feel Jesse’s length through the clothes. He makes little bucks within the trap of their hips, enticing him to fullness. Jesse arches back into Saul with an appreciative hum. Saul feels vindicated as soon as he feels Jesse’s hardness. There’s no mystery anymore; it’s undeniable how turned on he is.

Saul shifts Jesse a little, hands tilting his waist, in order to better align their cocks. As he slots himself alongside the hard line and rubs up against it firmly, the contact elicits a murmured ‘Fuck’ from the younger man. The sound is as sharp as ice as it pierces the quiet office. Saul tries not to think about the adjoining room outside. Evidently craving more, Jesse’s fingers hook under the belt at the small of Saul’s back, sealing their groins together tighter.

They rock together, Saul’s palms cradling Jesse's ass; Jesse hunched in, mouth clamped to Saul’s neck, nipping and whimpering in a kind of pained joy. For a while the clothed grinding alone is satisfying; each slow, rhythmic jut feels intense and honeyed. Soon though, the limitation from their clothes gives it a bitter edge. As the pleasure crescendos, Saul feels like might drown if he doesn’t get more friction, yet doesn’t want to pull away.

At what feels like the precipice, Jesse is the first to react. Jesse drops his head down, nose dug into Saul’s shoulder and frantically starts to unbuckle Saul’s belt with the urgency of a man possessed. Getting it open, he rips the flies down and strips Saul’s pants and boxers down to the ankles in one rough swoop. Saul has to momentarily catch himself on the desk to steady himself.

Jesse’s suddenly insatiable. Before Saul knows it, the young man is on his knees below him. The warm weight against him and the wet suckling on his neck feels like a blow in its loss. It is replaced with a cool, vulnerable feeling as the air swarms to his sensitive cock, rock solid and exposed. But Saul doesn’t have long to contemplate the shock, because next a puckered, moist ring is popping over the head of his cock.

The action is strong enough to haul a gasp from Saul as Jesse’s devil-may-care mouth licks and nips around his tip with hungry curiosity. He swirls the bead of pre-cum leaking there with his tongue before lapping it up greedily. The touch sends Saul edgy with want. As Jesse lays his fingertips over his shaft, loosely fisting him at the base, they make eye contact and the pull between them suddenly feels magnetic, hypnotic even.

Jesse’s lips slide past where he was teasing, mouth widening as he ever so slowly swallows him down, locked onto Saul’s gaze the entire time. The sensation is so deep and heavenly, Saul’s thighs tremble and he’s worried his knees might buckle. Jesse’s firm hand is now pumping Saul in unison with that tight, warm mouth of his. Saul bites the inside of his lower lip — the visual alone makes him want to cum.

As crazy as it sounds, Saul knows he must get on the phone to Francesca right now. To do some pre-emptive damage control and prevent anyone walking in — while he still has some grip on his faculties. Before Jesse’s devilish mouth wipes all coherent thought from his brain and reduces him to an orgasmic puddle on the floor.

Saul clamors for the phone as Jesse is vacuuming up his dick. Jesse pauses, startled, when he notices Saul’s picked up the phone and is about to make a call.

At the same time Saul pings for his receptionist, he quickly places a rough hand on the back of Jesse’s head, trapping him on his prick. Immediately, Saul hits the back of Jesse’s throat and briefly sees stars. Meanwhile Jesse gags noisily and recoils, eyes spurting with tears. Angrily, he claws at Saul’s thighs in protest.

Saul peers down, unable to resist: Jesse imprisoned on his cock is so hot and depraved. The control gives him a sky high buzz and having Jesse in a chokehold is sending erratic vibrations shooting up his cock. The trapped saliva pooling in Jesse’s mouth creates a deep, delicious whirlpool for him to sink into. The sounds of muffled gagging turn quickly to wet sloshing. Saul fears he might collapse in a pile of overstimulated convulsions at this rate.

Jesse's eyes blaze up at Saul, silently cursing him. Despite the anger, they are also edged with a feral lust, of intent. 

‘That’s it, you little porn-star…’ Saul goads, throwing him a lewd smirk. He dares to ease off his grip a little.

A split second later the call is connected. His voice shoots to an unnaturally high pitch.

‘Hey Francesca! Highly confidential meeting going on, deep into it right now. No one enters under pain of death, you got me?’

If anything, Jesse is perversely spurred on by Saul’s sick move. Though he pulls back to swallow, he drives straight back down Saul’s dick, nostrils flaring and eyes streaming. Jesse blows him vigorously without care this time, teeth even grazing Saul’s shaft in revenge or by accident. Saul thrusts back playfully in retaliation but instantly pays for it; the pleasure’s too intense and he blanks out a little, feeling like he might fold.

‘Well, uh, offer them all a discount to come back tomorrow. You and Huell take the day off. Paid.’

Beneath him Jesse sputters and groans impatiently.

‘Yes, I’m serious. Clear my calendar, today — thanks!’

His thin voice cracks at the tail end. Francesca’s tinny, indignant ‘What!’ can be heard ringing out as Saul slams the phone down.

‘Sorry, had to keep you quiet,’ Saul lies easily. 

Boldly, he attempts to smooth over Jesse’s hair a little, sweep the sweaty strands from his forehead. 

‘Hey, kid. Don’t-don’t stop- ‘

Jesse just glares and slides off his dick with a wet pop. He switches to cross-legged on the floor. Saul hisses, feeling instantly regretful. Still he can’t help but stare as Jesse breathes heavily in the interim: his mouth red raw, lips and jaw slickened with drool and Saul’s leakage. Jesse wipes it away roughly with the back of his sleeve, casually enough to suggest the act is not new to him at all. Saul wonders how many, and why that’s such a surprising turn-on. Or whether it’s just the one… whether his ‘master’ taught him that too. Saul’s rewarded with a stab of jealousy that piques his lust even more sharply.

Right there, Saul fantasizes about pressing his cock inside Jesse’s mouth once more, to insist upon it if he says no. Imagines dragging it down Jesse’s cheekbone, encircling his lips before forcing entry. He wants to thrust inside so hard and deep that Jesse’s neck would snap back like a rag doll. The fantasy causes him to inch unconsciously closer; his hard-on flutters in the vicinity of Jesse’s face. Jesse crinkles his nose, choosing to ignore it.

Instead, Jesse shucks the jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall behind him and gets to work on his own belt, tearing his zipper down and promptly shaking himself out. Saul watches as the smooth, deep flushed hardness of Jesse’s cock springs out finally visible. The sight of it makes Saul’s mouth go a little dry, as he sees Jesse curl his fist around his shaft, wincing past that initial sensitivity, then exhaling in relief at finally being able to stroke himself. Slowly, smoothly, his hand runs at first as if he’s comforting himself. Head bowed, Jesse bites in his lower lip and starts to pick up the pace rapidly.

Saul stares mesmerized, ever more turned on by the visual of Jesse snaking his hand up and down, twisting a brutal ring around the glistening, darkened head when he reaches the top. A long rumble of deep pleasure issues from Jesse’s throat and his upper body sags, legs now spread out on the floor. Hissing, ragged breaths follow as he beats himself off furiously.

‘Wow…’ Saul can’t help but voice his awe. His own cock twitches in jealous abandonment.

Jesse finally looks up at the sound.

‘You like this?’ he asks huskily, peering up at Saul beneath his lashes like some kind of angel that landed in the dirt.

Jesse doesn’t stop fisting himself, only slows a fraction, toying out the seduction. For a moment, they don’t take their eyes off each other. Saul’s lips are parted, but no sound escapes. Jesse smirks knowingly, unable to deny how much he’s getting off on this — the perversity of this moment, this crazy switch up. To witness the lawyer struck dumb with lust over him, the man’s uncontrollable desire was so unexpected it shocked life back into his battered ego. Suddenly his situation didn’t seem so bleak anymore. Jesse knew now he wouldn’t be out in the cold forever. No, not when Saul wanted his ass this badly. He would keep finding a reason to come around.

Huh. Who would’ve guessed? He’s so gay for me.

Saul feels like he is burning up as a multitude of emotions crash through him out of nowhere; the challenge of Jesse’s question, the lasciviousness in his eyes, makes him feel vulnerable suddenly — why was he into this?

An unwelcome warmth towards Jesse wells up inside of him. Frankly, it spooks him. Not to mention makes him so frustrated, resentful even, that goddamn Jesse is the one causing this. Though his emotions conflict inside, they are quickly diminished by the overwhelming need to be touched; to be enveloped in the sensation of Jesse’s mouth again. Reaching out to cup Jesse’s face, Saul cannot restrain a needy sound. This time, Jesse doesn’t recoil from his touch.

Saul is about to go and touch himself with his other hand, but Jesse knocks it aside before he can do so. Shifting onto his knees, Jesse comes at him again with purpose, gloriously taking Saul in hand and swallowing him down to the hilt. The shock waves to his groin feel like sinking into a hot bath after being out in the snow all day. Jesse begins to deep-throat him at a rapid pace and soon enough cascades of pleasure ripple out through his entire body.

Almost paralyzed on the spot, Saul can’t do much except grip the edge of the desk hard while Jesse goes full-throttle on his cock. He barely registers the hum echoing in his own throat, a long-drawn-out moan that undulates with the motions of Jesse’s mouth, sweeping him on this delicious pleasure ride. Saul can sense the vengefulness in his sex, it hasn’t disappeared, just been redirected. That insatiable junkie is not going to pause for breath until he’s chased down Saul’s orgasm and wrung it from him.

Saul’s so grateful for the vigorous, slopping of Jesse’s mouth ravaging him, he can overlook that it won’t be much longer till it’s over. The inside of Jesse’s mouth is becoming so wet, so full as he blows fast, dribbles are escaping down his chin. The visual is a touch too stimulating, a touch too unbelievable and threatens to make Saul’s brain recircuit. He thrusts into Jesse, just to watch him choke a little, but Jesse only powers on.

Relinquishing his hand on Saul’s cock, Jesse clutches both of his shirt tails instead, pulling him in deeper, past any gag reflex. Opening up wide, he starts to pulse with his head alone as if desperate for Saul to use and abuse him. Saul fucks Jesse’s mouth willingly, with as much punishing energy as Jesse seems to crave, though he can feel himself being swept up into oblivion where nothing exists except this tunnel of pleasure. Repeatedly, he slams the back of the younger man’s throat as if he’s hitting a G-spot.

Before long Saul’s whole body feels on fire and less precious oxygen seems to enter his lungs. The intensity makes him fear he might cum so hard he blacks out. Wet flames are licking up his thighs, seeping into every inch of his groin and building into waves of heated ecstasy. 

Involuntarily, Saul’s body slows. Sensing it, Jesse slows his pace and starts to softly stroke his base and contract his lips tighter in a bid to take him over the edge. Saul’s gut wrenches when he glimpses Jesse hollowing out his cheekbones and feels the tight halo around his cock. When Jesse stimulates that sweet spot one more time, deftly rolling his tongue over the dome and slit, Saul knows he’s done for.

Saul starts to feel weightless; darkness creeps in and his eyes blink at two burning suns flashing in front of his eyes. Somehow, he manages to pant out a warning cry of ‘Jesse’ before the entire universe dissolves into one of the most spectacular orgasms he’s ever had. From somewhere far off, Saul hears himself utter an undignified noise; feels himself gasping like he just ran a sprint. Swaying, he catches the desk to steady himself again.

Jesse worked some kind of orgasmic voodoo spell on him, Saul thinks faintly. He hasn’t come so hard in years; his whole body feels like it’s flying high and literally vibrating. Just then a dramatic ebb pulls him back down and his life force feels like it is whirling away down a drain. Saul feels much of that energy begin to dissipate down Jesse’s throat. 

Weakly, Saul tries to pull out but Jesse stays resolutely pinned to Saul’s dick and sucks him through his climax. Powerless to do anything but accept it, Saul feels his seed pour copiously down Jesse’s throat and an odd sense of peace washes over him.

Afterwards, Jesse pulls back with a dazed, exhilarated look on his face. Hair spiky and damp, he rests on his haunches and licks his lips slowly and vacantly. They are the plumpest Saul’s ever seen them. The brutal swell of those lips, the glistening spit-cum coating them is so erotic Saul can’t help but fixate on them even now, burning them to memory. 

They both take a moment to collect themselves and only the sounds of labored breathing coming to a halt can be heard in the air. Jesse stares off into space while Saul gazes at his new favorite pleasure-giver, unbelievable though it is — the mouth of Jesse Pinkman.

Chapter 3: Round 3

Saul realizes he's been staring still naked from the waist down for a shade too long and feels a flush of embarrassment. The show is over and there's nothing left on stage but some wilted flowers, so to speak. Saul quickly unbuttons his shirt and crumples it, patting away any residue from his soft cock. Then, he tosses it aside and yanks up his boxer shorts.

During this, Jesse doesn't even glance in his direction. Saul feels a rare pang of guilt as he watches Jesse turn his attention back to his own neglected hard-on. Jesse's eyes flutter closed and his head drops to his shoulder as he begins to stoke himself. It must be frustrating. Saul finds himself feeling generous and wanting to make it up to Jesse. After all, the boy did good.

But his participation is technically no longer required and he wonders what Jesse would like, what he would even allow him to do. Without all-consuming lust to spur him on, he feels out of his depth suddenly, closer to his usual pantomime self than before.

Some awkward tension begins to creep in. Saul wavers, indecisive about his next move. Yet watching Jesse’s stroking hand is reawakening his curiosity. He still craves the thought of touching Jesse and exploring his body, ideally with less clothes. After a beat, Jesse's softer, slightly breathless voice issues a command:

‘Don’t just stand there. Get down here, idiot.’

Saul’s about to do as he’s told before he realizes his trouser pants are still around his ankles. Awkwardly he kicks them off, along with his shoes.

‘Just give me a sec, too much multi-tasking, never was my strong — s — oh.’

Clumsily, he falls to his knees in front of Jesse. Warily, Jesse lifts his averted gaze up to Saul and the eye contact compels Saul to lean in, unthinkingly, to kiss Jesse on the lips. Jesse’s eyes widen in horror at the approach. At the last moment, Saul diverts and awkwardly grazes Jesse’s cheek, peppering a string of not-quite-kisses there. Saul feels Jesse tense up.

Of course, Jesse would refuse something as intimate as kissing yet it still feels strange to be denied something so instinctual. He continues awkwardly, lips brushing down towards his jaw and nibbling just below his ear. The coarseness of Jesse’s baby stubble on his lips is so unfamiliar and tantalizing. The sensations are threatening to send him again. 

Jesse pointedly turns his head to the side. Saul pulls back an inch, and hovers there a little stubbornly, breath ghosting the skin of Jesse’s throat. The aroma of cheap cologne is buried amid the scents of dried sweat and sex; Saul wants to lick the taste from the jut of his jaw.

Jesse sighs. ‘Dude, seriously.’

Saul detects a trace of amusement, probably at his persistence and feels embarrassed. This warped turn of events doesn’t change the fact they don’t even like each other. To think of the venom Jesse was spitting at him earlier, yes, kissing was maybe a skip too far. You think? Saul chides himself.

Still, he’s greedy for more contact. Shifting to rest on his side but still curved toward Jesse, Saul glances down at the other man’s cock straining for attention between them. He’s so hard. Saul’s eyes flicker back up to meet Jesse’s suggestively.

‘I’m fine, I got this.’ Jesse mutters, turning away from Saul as if seeking some semblance of privacy.

‘What, c’mon…what can I do for you?’ Saul whines, behind his ear. It’s a stupid question; Saul has clearly never pleasured a man in his life.

‘Please, I don’t expect much from a virgin.’ Jesse snipes back.

Impulsively, Saul plants a kiss on the nape of Jesse’s neck. Then, another, and another. A fiery chill runs up Jesse’s spine. The nerve of it makes him want to elbow Saul in the chest, but he stops at the sound of Saul’s soft, teasing voice.

‘First time I’ve ever been called that. I’m blushing.’

Saul’s lips steal their way round the column of Jesse’s neck, a safe space, tracing kisses there. A hand roves over Jesse’s damp shirt, landing on his nipple and tweaking it. Jesse twitches and blinks rapidly; his body betrays him in its responsiveness. Saul thumbs the nipple gently in circles. It’s strangely reminiscent of feeling up a girl’s bra in high school. He wonders what other tricks could make Jesse go to putty under his touch.

Though he hates it, Jesse secretly gets off on Saul’s bold, unpredictable moves. The more fight his actions provoke, the more disgust they induce - the bigger the kick he gets out of it. Even his fumbling has the same perverse effect.

Eyes shut, Jesse gets to work beating himself off in earnest. Saul breathes up against his neck, not quite daring to kiss again. After a while, Saul slips his hand under the thin T-shirt Jesse’s wearing and finally touches a naked nipple, tracing back and forth to tweak both between the pads of his index and thumb. Jesse shudders and murmurs something unintelligible.

Reaching up, he cups the back of Saul’s head and roughly deposits Saul’s mouth over his neck.

‘There. Go to town.’

Saul responds tenderly at first, alternately wetly kissing and sucking lightly at the skin there. The taste is addictive but more so is the way Jesse’s body sinks sensually into the suction of Saul’s lips and tongue. It even helps Jesse find his jack-off rhythm; half in this warped reality, half in a dream state somewhere above the clouds. He almost gasps out of the reverie when Saul squeezes a nipple and whispers hungrily:

‘Let me suck them. Take off your shirt.’

Jesse pauses to allow Saul to shuck the T-shirt off over his head. Once the shirt is gone, Saul’s eyes widen as he takes in Jesse’s milky, freckled skin, feasting on every detail for the first time. Unexpected shyness steals across Jesse’s features. Though Saul’s in a similar state of undress; he’s the only one still center of attention, chasing release.

Without hesitating, Saul swings an arm and leg over Jesse and straddles him. Jesse slumps onto his back, falling limp at Saul’s mercy as if to say: Fuck it. Do your worst . Saul’s hands skim all over Jesse’s torso with jittery excitement. Jesse groans, shivering as Saul’s featherlight fingers dance over his pecs and abdominals, down the V lines of his groin. His hips jut and muscles ripple under the barest touches. Saul feels frantic, like he’s the addict, not Jesse, desperate for his fix.

Saul’s mouth latches onto the left nipple, a hard dark rose bud. An unexpected frisson spikes in the tip of his own cock in response to how hard it is. He kisses the nub, tongues it, nips his teeth over it, repeating the same with its twin. Taking his time to play with each one, he becomes keenly aware of Jesse’s rhythmical pumping down below and each hitching breath he draws. It seems like Jesse’s battling to keep from voicing his full pleasure, from moaning out loud. The effect is dragging Saul back down to arousal.

Saul is amazed by his own libido, although this second wind feels brittle and might not even reach the peak. As if unconsciously, Jesse takes Saul’s closest hand and naturally places it over his own so they are powering his cock together. After a few pumps, Saul withdraws, only to lick his palm and coat it liberally with saliva. Brushing Jesse’s hand aside, Saul grasps the man’s cock in his slicked hand and begins to work him vigorously. Saul can’t believe how sexy Jesse looks squirming under him like this.

‘Jess. Fuck, you look so good.’

‘Oh, god...,’ Jesse whines. He tilts his head back far enough to expose the skin tight over his Adam’s apple.

The little rocks of his hips and small gasps are reluctant admission of the pleasurable spasms Saul’s confident strokes are sending hurtling through him. Saul’s hands are bigger than his and handle his cock with firmness and ease. The touch makes Jesse melt into submission, leaking into Saul’s fist so much it makes him feel like a little bitch.

Immediately that leads to thoughts of penetration. A sudden wild desire to have Saul, the fucking pervert, flip him over, toy with his hole, load him up with whatever lube he can find - and fuck him senseless. Go to pound town right here on this godforsaken carpet.

God, he hates the idea and wants it so bad, that it’s about to make him cum any minute. It’s nonsensical, as he can barely stand to converse longer than five minutes with this shady, selfish prick about business that never goes his way. Yet the sudden physical want is so white hot and encompassing that it eclipses all else. As if reading his mind, Saul murmurs into his ear:

‘Let me fuck you.’

It’s the most permission he’s asked for so far. Jesse breathes out shakily at the idea of fantasy becoming reality so fast. But the hard truth is he knows he won’t last long enough for the act itself, not long enough for Saul to even press in the first digit. And he definitely would require instruction.

‘It’s not … Not here.’

If he can’t have that, Jesse still wants to feel something deeper or he might go crazy.

‘Ah, fuck. Just…suck it, will ya?’

Throwing an arm over his eyes, Jesse issues a guttural moan; a tortured sound that begs I need to get off, with your despicable mouth swallowing me up…so please...

Saul hesitates. Actually, he’d rather not. This particular act is one he’s never desired to perform and is woefully unprepared for. Not to mention, that firework that was surely soon to explode? He’s scared to have explode in his mouth. But Jesse’s got him down and dirty so fast, it’s like he flicked a switch in his subconscious. Perhaps he'd make Saul do anything with enough sexual persuasion. The thought terrifies him a little.

The other man sounds like he’s in agony, so Saul tentatively begins to shuffle down his body. Too slow for Jesse’s liking apparently. Saul feels fingers curl on his hair-Jesse’s pushing his head down.

‘Hurry up and do it, c’mon!’

Before he has time to resist, his lips are dragged halfway over Jesse’s aching cock. Jesse lets out a blissful exhale at the contact. The hand turns to a fist in Saul’s hair and there’s insistent pressure on his crown. Saul surrenders and somehow gorges down Jesse's entire shaft without gagging, which is some kind of miracle.

It feels full-on suffocating, this foreign object inside his mouth, the taste of skin, of salt and mustiness, makes him want to retch at first. All reflexes tell him to break away. But Jesse’s incessant breathy moans and string of ‘oh yeahs’ peppering the air both irritates and eggs him on.

Despite his eyes watering, lips stretched tight and being close to choking, Saul refuses to be beaten. He does a haphazard job sloshing his mouth up and down the thick shaft and only gags a few times. Jesse doesn’t seem to mind though, judging by the way he tries to bounce his cock up deeper each time it happens. Asshole .

After winging a couple of turns, Saul bats off Jesse’s 'guiding' hand and pins it down. He pulls back to take a milliseconds breather, before sinking right back to it with stubborn enthusiasm. Saul attempts to recalibrate his pace and rhythm, to tighten his lips around Jesse and actually suck. The fullness of taking in Jesse whole, trying to override the cock tripping the back of his throat and blow with precision is sheer multitask.

I never appreciated those ladies’ skillset before , Saul thinks dryly.

Saul curls his fingers around the base of Jesse’s cock firmly and Jesse sighs at the steady grasp. Saul pulls back to lap his tongue around Jesse’s tip in a neat circle before swallowing him down slowly, inch by inch.

At this, Jesse curses and mutters ‘Again.’

Saul’s ego glows with pride. He can feel his own erection softly tent in his boxers and wants to touch himself though his body feels like its running on the last exhilarating ebbs of a high that will burn out fast. So, he concentrates on the job at hand, teasing himself out with self-denial.

When Saul stimulates the spot again, softly encircles the tip once, and then once again, with a more abrasive drag of his tongue, Jesse unravels. His eyes snap open and hips twist involuntarily. He cries out in one short, strangled sound, his pupils blown wide to the ceiling.

Saul feels a weak slap on his collarbone, though it’s too late for him to heed the warning. Saul inevitably tastes the bitter salt hitting his tongue as the intense load coats the insides of his lips and splatters his cheek as he turns his face away.

Jesse climaxes beside him in fits of gasps, arching into his hand and unable to contain the semen as it splays out in ribbons. The surreal rush of watching Jesse fold like origami, knowing he brought the man over the edge triggers something visceral in Saul’s gut to blossom. It’s something he hasn’t felt in a long time: something intense yet formless that dissipates away almost instantly. Like a wet dream. Confused, Saul places a hand over his groin and feels the moisture through the cloth. Oh.

Suddenly something soft hits his face—his own crumpled shirt. Jesse’s tossed it to him because — to be fair—  there is cum dripping down his face. Reality jolts him into action, and he scrabbles to compose himself. He wipes his face, retrieves his suit trousers from under the desk.

What the fuck just happened? He prays to all the gods in the universe that Francesca sent his clients packing. They know he’s sleazy but jeez, this is the cherry on top. The sounds coming from this room would be enough to have him committed. He hopes to God everyone’s cleared out the waiting room because this is downright nasty.

Likewise, Jesse gathers himself but is quicker to stand. He sidesteps Saul who’s rushing to button back up his mangled shirt. As he rounds the desk to leave, Saul panics and calls out.

‘Give it a minute before you go out there.’

He’s stalling for time. He can’t hear anything from outside, but…

Jesse stiffens. He hangs back, eyes trained to the floor, looking as though he wants to run.

‘Fat load of use that’s gonna do, they all saw me come in here. You got a back door?’

Saul does. For emergencies. Does this type of face-saving count as an emergency? Saul pulls himself up to standing, wobbling as he steps into a pant leg.

‘Wait. They should be gone. Let me check.’

He’s torn away by Francesca buzzing him first. Nauseously, he picks up:

‘You’re still here?’

‘Yeah. I shifted everyone out. Are you done?’

‘Yup, just finished up here!’

There is a pause, a hesitation. Excruciating, then:

‘Pinkman? Jesus, Saul.’

‘He was, uh, helping me move furniture!’

The dial tone is his cold reply.

Notes:

all feedback welcome ;)