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Jesse had been awake for ages, staring up into the darkness. Mr White had carefully ensured no light was able to get into his makeshift prison but after all this time, Jesse sort of found the darkness comforting. It had been terrifying at first; Jesse had always been a little afraid of the dark, after all, that was where his demons had tended to present themselves in the past. He had sacrificed a lot – his body and his pride – to make sure Mr White let him have tiny bits and pieces of freedom, to let him choose whether the light stays on or off. Funnily enough, he actually preferred it off now. It was kind of peaceful, sitting in the dark, thinking, rolling things over in his mind. When he couldn’t see where he was, he could imagine he was lying beside Jane in his old flat, tangled together in bed after a night of getting high and watching tv and eating and fucking. If he listened hard enough, he could almost hear her gentle breathing and feel the tickle of her hair as she laid on his chest; she was warm and soft and sleeping deeply, and Jesse would run his fingers over her bare back, touching milky skin, a freckle, a small scar she got when she was a kid. The light was what made her disappear so he welcomed the dark, he welcomed the silence.
It used to be incredibly painful to think of her, but he’s had a lot of time to think. He’s had a lot of time to reevaluate everything, in fact. His days here are basically the same now and it’s comfortable in a weird way – it was like a game they played, back and forth, every morning, every evening. Jesse could rely on the fact that he now knew what Mr White was gonna say and what he was gonna do to him. It was the same thing every day. He was used to it now.
He was being good, he was being obedient. He was surviving.
He though about that night, the one where he had given in. That night had been a turning point for the both of them. His cheeks flushed and his mind on fire, he had done what he needed to do. It’s not like he hadn’t blown anyone before, of course. There were times, ages ago, where he’d had no money and desperately needed a high and the opportunity had presented itself. He wasn’t gay. He was just good at using what he had when he needed to and honestly, people didn’t really judge him for it, nor did he judge himself. He wanted drugs, they wanted a warm mouth to use – it worked out for everyone.
This felt different, though. This had been so… Jesse couldn’t find the words for it. Humiliating? Tragic, maybe? He wasn’t sure. Mr White had definitely enjoyed it, however. Mr White had really enjoyed it, to the point where Jesse had thought for a second that perhaps he had played his only card too soon. He had revealed what he was willing to do, what a little freedom was worth to him. He could see the calculating look in Mr White’s eyes as he had considered Jesse’s offer; the blazing triumph there as he had unbuckled his belt – it made Jesse’s stomach roll with apprehension. He felt sick and ashamed with himself but he went through with it anyway, took Mr White in his mouth and did his best.
They had eaten dinner together afterwards and Jesse knew then that things had changed. Whether that change was for the best, he wasn’t sure yet. He could tell Mr White was thinking hard; he kept over looking at Jesse intently as though he was going to say something important, but he never did. He had seemed a little smug, a little gleeful. Jesse briefly wondered if he had ever thought about doing this before, whether he had ever fantasised about Jesse in his most private moments; whether he had ever watched him change in their old RV or in Gus’s lab; whether he was keeping Jesse here with the intent to take all of him, every little bit of him.
They finished their meal.
“Well… I’ll just be off then.” Mr White had said. Jesse had nodded. They stood up at the same time, Jesse a little awkwardly, and Mr White considered him for a moment. His eyes were still burning. Jesse felt a wave of anxiety crash over him, and for the second time that night, thought he was going to be sick.
“Bye.” He had mumbled, unsure of what else to say. Mr White had picked up the dishes, and after a moment’s hesitation, took the bike lock and the handcuffs with him too. It was only a very tiny relief to Jesse. Sure, he wasn’t attached to a pole anymore, but he was still here, trapped in the basement of his own house. He was still stuck. He was still relying on Mr White to feed him, take care of him, make sure he doesn’t die, provide him with warmth and maybe even comfort.
And if there was one thing Jesse knew for sure, it was that Mr White never gives anything away for free.
That same night, he had awoken suddenly to the sound of the door being unlocked. His blanket had slipped off while he was sleeping and he was freezing, but he didn’t want to grab it, he didn’t want Mr White to know he was awake just yet. He kept his eyes shut and he waited. He felt like he knew what was coming, he knew what Mr White would want from him. He just wasn’t ready for it yet.
But then when had Mr White done anything at Jesse’s pace?
The door was locked again behind him, and then soft footsteps signalled Mr White’s approach. It was dark and quiet, and Jesse was on his stomach, facing away from Mr White; he laid still, silent, trying desperately to control his breathing. He could hear his own heartbeat pumping away in his chest. He was shivering, he felt sick, he was gonna throw up, he was gonna-
“Jesse.”
The sound of his own name startled him and he couldn’t pretend anymore. He turned to face Mr White. The man was holding a lit candle in one hand (a fucking candle could he be anymore dramatic?!), a little bottle of something in the other, and watching him with an amused expression on his face. He wasn’t wearing nightclothes – he was in the same pants and shirt Jesse had last saw him in, and for a split second, unable to help himself, Jesse glanced at the belt around his waist.
“What is it?” Jesse whispered in return, praying Mr White would tell him anything else, anything other than what was about to happen.
Mr White placed the candle on the bedside table.
“I think you and I need to finish what we started.”
Jesse had sat up a little, trying to shuffle away to the far corner of the bed. He was acutely aware that he was only wearing his boxers, and the blanket was on the ground, too far from his reach. He watched Mr White warily, who hadn’t moved.
“I don’t-” Jesse let out a shaky breath. “What do you mean?”
The flickering light danced in Mr White’s eyes. They both knew what he meant.
“Take off your boxers.” He said.
“I… it’s cold.” Jesse replied weakly, knowing then that he was fucked, he was absolutely, supremely fucked, that there would be no getting out of this one, there was no choice in the matter, he was fucked. Sure, he had been the one to offer up the blowjob that evening – Mr White had humoured him, played along, made it seem like they were simply doing each other favours – a mutually beneficial exchange, one blowjob for a little bit of freedom, thanks. That wasn’t what this was, however. Jesse knew then that it didn’t actually matter what he wanted. It didn’t matter if he was cold or anxious or uncomfortable. It wasn’t a request. This would be happening either way.
Mr White held all the cards, and Jesse had never felt smaller than what he did as he sat on that bed and looked up at his former teacher.
Mr White raised an eyebrow.
“Now, Jesse.” His voice was harder now, and his eyes had narrowed.
Jesse had relented, because what choice did he have? He pulled his boxers off and let them fall to the floor, trying to look unafraid, trying to look bigger than he was. Mr White walked towards him and they were inches apart now, Jesse still sitting on the bed and Mr White towering over him. Jesse wasn’t looking at him.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
“Oh my god, you fucking asshole,” Jesse burst out, but he had no choice.
He allowed himself a moment to breathe, and then on shaking limbs, got onto all fours. He could do this, he could, he had to.
Mr White was behind him now. Jesse felt the bed sink as the man climbed up behind him, still fully clothed. The sound of a bottle being uncapped made Jesse’s stomach lurch.
“What’s that?” He whispered quickly.
“It’s lube. I thought you might appreciate it. But if you’re not going to be good...”
“I will. I’ll be good.” Jesse had replied, screwing his eyes shut, his fingers tightening into fists. He heard Mr White put the cap back on the bottle and place it on the floor; a hand firmly gripped his hip. He expected Mr White’s dick but to his surprise, he got a couple of lube-covered fingers instead, slowly inserted inside him. It didn’t hurt like Jesse was expecting – he had prepared himself for pain but the pain wasn’t coming and Jesse wasn’t sure what to make of that. He focused on controlling his breathing, trying not to hyperventilate. He remembers feeling like this was weird; this was weird and wrong and it should feel bad, but Mr White’s fingers were fucking him properly now and it didn’t feel bad. Jesse had felt his dick stir and he tried to will it to stay soft, he didn’t want Mr White to see, he didn’t want Mr White to know that Jesse kind of liked it.
Mr White was trying different angles, seemingly searching for something inside of him. Jesse had a brief second to consider this – a vague memory of Badger, high, explaining why gay guys liked being fucked in the ass so much, briefly crossed his mind – but he had no time to process it before Mr White had found what he was looking for.
“Oh, fuck!”
“There it is,” Mr White responded smoothly. Jesse could hear the smirk in his voice and he knew he should care, but all of a sudden, he didn’t. He was riding high, no longer tense in a bad way but tense in a good way. He felt his chest tighten and the pressure build and he desperately needed to touch himself, he didn’t care if Mr White saw anymore, he needed it. He tried to reach underneath himself and grab his own dick but he heard Mr White growl and it was swatted away. His arms gave out then, and Mr White’s other hand moved to Jesse’s hair and pushed his face down into the pillow.
He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, but it didn’t matter. Waves of pleasure rode over him as Mr White thrusted his fingers against that spot again and again; he was making muffled noises into the pillow, his head was spinning and his dick aching. He pushed back into Mr White’s fingers, wanting nothing more than to just let go and forget, forget where he was and who was fucking him. He was so close, he was nearly there, he could feel himself about to-
Mr White suddenly pulled his hand away and Jesse actually sobbed.
“Why’d you-” He started to mumble against the pillow but Mr White grabbed his hips and flipped him over to his back. His eyes focused to the light of the candle beside them. Mr White was on his knees, towering over him again; Jesse could see his dick straining through his pants. Mr White studied him hungrily and Jesse felt another surge of fear rush through him.
“You only come when I say you can, do you understand?” He had growled and Jesse nodded quickly, not trusting himself to speak. He wasn’t going to beg or plead, he wasn’t gonna show weakness.
Mr White had pulled the same handcuffs from earlier that evening out of his pocket; Jesse’s stomach lurched and he whimpered but he didn’t fight it, there wasn’t any point. Why exactly he liked him so immobilised, Jesse wasn’t sure – there wasn’t anywhere he could go or anything he could do about his current situation, whether handcuffed or not – but he knew better than to ask. Mr White had locked his hands above his head to the bedpost and once secure, sat back and scanned him up and down, from his bound wrists to his scared expression to the shitty tattoos and finally, to his painfully hard cock.
“Gorgeous,” Mr White had mumbled, and Jesse wondered if he meant to say that out loud. He had watched as the man began to unbuckle his belt and remove his pants. His cock was perhaps even harder than Jesse’s and it was bigger too; Jesse had briefly considered that possibility when Mr White was fucking his mouth earlier but anything would look big when it’s right in front of your face like that, and anything would feel big when it’s being forcefully pushed in your mouth. Jesse knew for sure now, though, and he swallowed hard.
“Mr White, I don’t think I can-”
“Yes you can, Jesse,” Mr White had said firmly, lifting Jesse’s legs up and placing them over his shoulders. He lined himself up and started to slowly push himself inside.
It hurt more this time, burnt a bit at first, and then all of a sudden, it was overwhelming. Jesse gasped in pain and tensed up, making Mr White grunt. He had tried his best to relax but Mr White’s fingers hadn’t prepared him properly for this – the feeling of being stretched out, filled up so completely. Mr White began to thrust, just slowly to start out, and Jesse made a noise he had never heard himself make before, somewhere between a moan and a strangled scream, coming from deep inside himself. He was being fucked hard and his cheeks were flushed with anger and embarrassment as he realised that he loved this, that he desperately needed more. He didn’t want to beg, he wasn’t gonna beg, he wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction of hearing him beg, but it was becoming more and more difficult by the moment. If Mr White had been holding back before, he certainly wasn’t holding back now. Jesse’s dick was hard and throbbing, leaking pre-cum on his stomach; his hands were tightly gripping the bars they were bound to above his head. He felt like his whole body was on fire. He didn’t care where he was anymore, he didn’t care that he was supposed to hate this, he didn’t care. All that anger, fear, hatred, lust, respect, admiration that he felt towards his former teacher, his mentor, his lover; it was building up inside of him and Jesse didn’t know if he wanted to hurt Mr White or kiss him – he settled instead for moving his hips back and forth to meet the man’s thrusts, whispering things to him he’d never thought he’d say out loud, secret and dangerous things.
Mr White began to repeatedly hit that spot inside of him again and Jesse just lost it. He had felt delirious with pain and with pleasure, full to the brim, completely and utterly wrecked. It radiated through his whole body, again and again and again as Mr White thrust into him hard and fast, no more gentleness, no more sensitivity, not that there was much in the first place. He was about to beg, about to plead for permission to come, but then there were two hands around his throat and once more, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t speak.
“My good boy, that’s it… that’s it, Jesse,” Mr White was grunting and Jesse made a desperate noise in response. Mr White released his throat for just a second, enough time for Jesse to speak.
“Please, please, oh god, I need to-”
The hand back on his throat cut him off.
“Not yet,” Mr White said gruffly, somehow finding a way to get even deeper inside Jesse, pumping hard and fast. “Only when I say.”
Jesse didn’t think he could wait. He was light-headed from the lack of oxygen and he felt like he was gonna explode. He felt it building again, that pressure inside of him, he needed to come, he needed to now or he was gonna fucking die. Mr White seemed to realize and he released the pressure from Jesse’s throat a second time, slowing his thrusts down to a frustratingly leisurely pace. The pressure was still there, it still hurt, but it was manageable now and Jesse could somewhat think coherent thoughts again. Almost.
Mr White took the opportunity to pinch Jesse’s nipples and Jesse nearly howled.
“Do you think you deserve to come, Jesse?”
“What?” The question felt so strange, so foreign in Jesse’s ears.
“Do you think I should let you come? Have you done enough to deserve it?” Mr White spoke quietly and breathlessly, and Jesse was confused.
“I don’t… I need to...”
Mr White didn’t answer, just gripped his hair tightly and sped up his thrusts again. Jesse moaned as Mr White bit and nibbled on his neck; and then, the next moment, Mr White was coming deep inside of him with a noise of his own, one that Jesse wanted to hear over and over. He slowed, came to a stop. Jesse gasped as he pulled out and wriggled on the sheets, still desperate to be touched, knowing as soon as Mr White put his hands on him he would get there…
After a few moments, Mr White climbed up off Jesse. On what looked like slightly shaky legs, he had gotten up off the bed, and had stood there beside it, observing Jesse for a moment. Jesse gaped at him.
“What are you-” He had started to talk but Mr White touched his cheek to silence him, looking very pleased with himself.
“Goodnight, Jesse,” Mr White said. He had smiled at him and Jesse could’ve sworn he saw a sadistic spark in his eyes before he turned around and walked away, still naked; leaving Jesse with his hands tied above him, his hard dick aching and weeping, Mr White’s come slowly leaking out of him.
That had been two weeks ago, and his dick still hadn’t been touched.
Mr White had come back down the next morning, unlocked his handcuffs, let him have a wash and eat something, the usual morning routine. Jesse had been so relieved to see him, thankful he had come back, grateful to have the cuffs off – but to his horror, Mr White waited for him to finish his food and then snapped the cuffs straight back on, behind Jesse’s back this time. He begged Mr White to help him understand. He had followed orders, he had been obedient, hadn’t he? He had let Mr White do what he liked to him, he was told not to come, and he didn’t?
Mr White had laughed at him and then unbuckled his belt, ordering Jesse to his knees.
“Think of it as an opportunity to learn how to be patient,” he had said, before forcing his cock back into Jesse’s mouth. He didn’t touch Jesse, and he allowed him no opportunity to touch himself, either. At first, Jesse’s wrists were bound unless he was eating or showering, and then, for whatever sadistic reason, he decided he wouldn’t even allow Jesse that, making him eat from the plate like a dog. Jesse’s face would burn with humiliation but he would always comply, always follow orders – things just went better for him that way. It was easier to just do what Mr White said, it had always been that way, from the very beginning.
Sometimes Mr White fucked Jesse with his fingers, other times with his cock, but he never let him come – always stopping right before that vital moment, where the pressure inside Jesse was about to burst. Jesse was getting better at not gagging as much when his mouth was being fucked and he was learning how to enjoy the floaty, light-headed feeling he got when Mr White would wrap his hands around Jesse’s throat and cut off his air – it was the closest thing to getting high he had here. He thought at first that this was some sort of fucked up game Mr White was playing with him, teasing him mercilessly until he cracked, or perhaps trying to provoke a reaction out of him. He was confused, a little hurt, he didn’t understand. He thought that maybe he had done something wrong, fucked up again like he always seems to.
But the thing was, Jesse had never had the opportunity of time before. With all the time in the world, tied up in the dark, properly sober for the first time in his life, Jesse thought a lot about it. He rolled it over in his head, trying to decode Mr White’s motivations, his desires. He considered what Jane would say about all this. She’d think Mr White was fucked in the head, that he just wants to control people, that he’s an asshole on a power trip. She’d tell Jesse the only way to get one over somebody like that is to please them, make them feel good about themselves. So he does everything Mr White tells him to do and more, he eats every meal and he stays quiet. He doesn’t complain. He sucks him off and earnestly swallows what he’s given. He talks dirty, begs for it; cries when Mr White wants him to cry and moans like a whore when Mr White wants that instead. Mr White likes it. He’s pleased with Jesse, rewards him in little ways, calls him a good boy and makes him flush.
And now he gets it. He thinks he finally gets it.
Mr White is trying to break him down, trying to mould him into the shape he expects Jesse to be, just like he always has – but Jesse has no option to ignore him anymore. There’s no Mike to protect him now, no Saul to get advice from. Skinny and Badger think he’s long gone. His family don’t give a shit. So Jesse decides he may as well take the time to learn from his mentor. The first lessons were on obedience, and now the lessons are on patience – why not use the opportunity to better himself? Jesse has always been reckless, eager to get going; he’s never been comfortable staying in one place; he’s always been headstrong, defiant; angry and easily provoked. It makes sense that Mr White wants to put Jesse on a leash, especially if he wants to keep him like a little pet down in the basement. He wants Jesse to think it’s his fault, that he’s a fuck-up, that he keeps disappointing him so much he has no choice but to tie Jesse up and punish him with weird sexual games.
What Mr White doesn’t realise, however, that Jesse understands him now.
He’s learning how to please him. He’s being good. He’s being obedient. He’s surviving, and he’s being patient. He was doing what Mr White wanted him to do, and he couldn’t wait to show him everything he’s learnt.
He waits for Walter in the darkness, and he quietly plots his next move.
He’d be out of here very soon.