On the Job

by Edwardina

[Story Headers]

"Jayne," groaned Simon, for probably at least the fifth time in the past half-hour. He stopped and hung there under a sign for a bar of some sort, looking back at Jayne through his sunglasses and barely keeping a lid on his impatience. Jayne had stopped to consider the contents of some thug's trench coat, and Simon was fairly sure that the glinting metallic things hanging inside it weren't watches.

He looked on as Jayne, who appeared to be completely ignoring him, selected some bit of something, forked over a few crisp credits and wordlessly walked away from the deal. He tucked whatever it was away in his jacket as he joined Simon under the sign.

"Whatever you got, you probably shouldn't have paid money for it," Simon said quietly to Jayne, turning and leading them both on through the narrow, dirty street.

"My money," responded Jayne, seeming pretty satisfied with himself as he clomped right behind Simon. There hardly seemed to be enough room for him, there in the dark street, as they stepped in and out of lights emanating from neon signs and through throngs of sweaty, drunken people. "I can do what I want with it."

"All right, but we're not stopping again. We're here to do the pick-up, not buy cheap junk stolen off the bodies of dead prostitutes."

There was a silence between them as a ship zoomed overhead, momentarily bleaching everything under it with a white beam and lighting up the dingy street and its stained, miniscule little alleys.

Then it was gone, and everything was once again lit up in reds and blues and pinks from signs advertising alcohol and sex, and Jayne said, "Fine, then. You don't like cheap whore junk, you ain't gettin' no birthday present."

"I'm... bleeding internally from sheer disappointment," said Simon.

"Well, let me know when you're dead so's I can steal your stuff. An' try not to take too long. Gotta make that pick-up."

"I hope you enjoy my pocket lint," Simon said absently, his eyes scanning establishments as they passed. They were hard to spot if they didn't have a sign, and many of them didn't, just metal doors with numbers on them somewhere under the graffiti, half-hidden in the pitchy shadows. Some were down alleys, and some were boarded over or barricaded entirely. The more popular establishments had lines stretching down the streets, and it was clear that to secure a spot inside, you had to pay outrageously; Mal had said that the Seventh Veil was just such an establishment, which should have made it easy to find, but Jayne and Simon had been wandering through the twisted streets for an hour without locating it.

Privately, Simon was glad Jayne was with him, because he could easily tell that if you were alone at night in a zone like this, you were asking to be mugged or dragged off into an alley, never to be seen again. It was annoying to keep stopping at Jayne's every distraction, but Simon wasn't about to be separated from him. Blackout zones like the one in Capital City had been risky enough, but this was Bacchus, and even its main streets were rife with pick-pocketing and gambling.

"Hey," said Jayne suddenly.

"What now?" asked Simon, annoyed. He turned to find Jayne peering into the shadows of an alley somewhat hidden under a protruding fire escape. After a moment, Jayne met his eyes and jerked his chin in the direction of the alley. "You found it?"

"Found somethin'," said Jayne.

Hoping he'd found the entrance to the stupid club so they could find their guy, do the pick-up, and get off-world, Simon joined Jayne under the fire escape, and --


The alley was dark; the only light that cut in was a dim, stuttering red glow from an exit sign, and the only thing Simon could make out through the his lenses was the shadow of a man halfway down the alley, leaning against the filthy wall and fully engrossed with what seemed to be another person kneeling in front of him.

It couldn't be. He was not seeing this.

Only it was, and he was. The constant flicker of the sign rendered the enthused bobbing into jagged snatches of motion, and there was a low moan of a chuckle from the man standing.

"Yeah, that's it, pretty boy, earn it," Simon heard him drawl, and with a huge, hot flush of discomfort, he ripped his gaze from the blatant scene.

"This isn't what we're looking for, Jayne!" he hissed furiously.

"Look again," Jayne muttered back.


"I meant at the sign, moron. Back exit's down there. We musta gone past the front already."

"Are you sure?" Simon lowered his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and tried to imagine that the alley was devoid of any and all fellatio as he peered for any telling sign that it was the Seventh Veil - and sure enough, there was a doorway bearing a sign that said, in English and Chinese, SEVENTH VEIL EMPLOYEES ONLY.

"Hey. We use the back door, we don't gotta wait in line, negotiate the entrance," said Jayne suddenly, elbowing Simon; for some reason that only jarred his stare back to the sex act going on with little care for their presence at the foot of the alley. With his sunglasses lowered, he could see the parted folds of the man's trench coat and the dull shine of the boy's dirty hair and hollowed cheeks. Yes, it was definitely a young man. Simon's stomach flip-flopped heavily. "Hey, you listenin' to me?" Jayne snarled testily, grabbing onto Simon's coat and giving him a hard shake.

"Shi a!" wheezed Simon, shoving Jayne away somewhat ineffectually; Jayne's big hand remained firmly fisted around his coat. Jerking himself from Jayne's grip and ruthlessly coralling his mind away from all thoughts of sex, he whispered, "But how do you propose we open the door? There's a key slot, so I assume you have to have a key of some sort, meaning we'd have to break in - and if we break in, we might get caught and - I don't know - sold to slavers, or whatever people do in zones that clearly lack a strong police presence. A few extra credits isn't worth -- Jayne!"

Simon was suddenly tripping over his own feet as he was dragged into the alley by his coat and thrown against one of the disgusting, dirty walls. The acrid smell of the alley hit him just before the smell of Jayne did - Jayne was leaning casually over him, one hand on the wall.

"We was attractin' attention," Jayne muttered down at him, and Simon rolled his eyes. Well, they'd almost certainly attracted attention now, at any rate. "Act like I'm chattin' you up."

"What?" Surely not. The way Jayne was leaning in over him, nearly trapping him there, the way his hip was cocking... he stiffened with indignation against the wall as he realized what it must looked like to the man getting blown across the alley. He carefully glanced in his direction, and immediately regretted it. Now that they were much closer, Simon could see the man lazily smacking the boy on his knees across the face with his cock. "Dear God," he blurted.

Smirking down at him, Jayne got Simon's attention back as he reached into his coat pocket and drew out a worn-looking silver card, waving it a little in the private space between them.

"Oh, no," scowled Simon.

"Figured this'd come in handy somewhere down the line - didn't think it'd be so damn soon. Guy told me it was encoded with three hundred key crackers!" whispered Jayne adamantly, his face quite close to Simon's.

"That guy was probably ripping you off," Simon murmured pointedly.

"Well, I say we try it," said Jayne, in such a levelling way that Simon was reminded of the botched train job, when Jayne had insisted they leave Mal and Zoe to Niska. His eyes strayed once again across the alley.

"Fine," he relented. "But we're not alone, remember?"

"We'll just wait for 'em to blow his load an' git," said Jayne, making Simon flush with his blunt, crude choice of words. He purposefully fixed his stare on Jayne's chest, not willing to look at the sight anymore. "'S'matter?" Jayne asked indifferently. "Never seen a blowjob before?"

Drawing a deep, agitated breath that smelled strongly of the alley's urine musk and Jayne's sweaty, gun-oil smell, Simon managed through gritted teeth, "Not like that."

"What? Can't tell me core folk don't pay for jollies. 'S what Companions are for."

"That's not what I -- please," mumbled Simon, taking off his sunglasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, "just shut up."

But then, when Jayne frowned and did fall quiet, Simon could hear the mutterings of the man across from them.

"Suck it," he was hissing, over and over, and Simon silently tucked his glasses into his pocket and closed his eyes, horrified, because he could feel his cock hardening in his trousers. If he was honest with himself, it had been slightly hard since he'd glimpsed what was going on now quite near to them, but now it was really pulsing full, practically jerking each time the man breathed for the boy to suck it, suck that cock if he wanted his money. And he was over-hot in his coat now, especially with Jayne's bodyheat burning through it - but it was at least hiding his erection. He listened for what seemed like forever, sickly aroused, to the wet, sticky sounds of the boy's mouth sucking and popping off and sliding, but found himself opening his eyes again as Jayne shifted.

Jayne's brow was furrowed, his expression forcably cool.

"He don't pop soon, I'm gonna knock 'im one in his gorram jaw," he muttered, looking more as if he was saying it to himself than to Simon. Their eyes met for an uncomfortable second, and for the first time since Simon had removed his sunglasses. He felt suddenly and inexplicably naked, like Jayne could see every impure thought that was running through his head.

Breathing hard, Simon looked down --

And found, with a detachment born of disbelief, that Jayne was just as hard as he was. If not harder, he thought, or maybe Jayne was just huge. The thought sent a horrible jolt of heat through his belly.

"Yeah," the man was breathing, "work that whore mouth..."

Jayne, the silver key card still stuck between his fingers, glanced over his shoulder and absently adjusted himself in his pants, not seeming to realize that Simon was staring.

Biting his lip, Simon tried to look away, look at the door or up at the sky or at that man - at anything but Jayne's fingers sliding over the rough canvas covering the bulge of his cock...

But instead, he found himself reaching out and cupping over Jayne's fingers tentatively.

With a growl, Jayne whipped his head back around and gave him a hard shove on the shoulder, cracking him into the wall and pinning him there. For a moment, his heart pounding, Simon wasn't sure if Jayne was going to kill him or kiss him, wasn't sure of the dark intensity of his eyes - then Jayne's hand, huge and sweaty, slid down over his, and for a hot, unreal minute, they were both stroking him through his trousers. Simon's heart was pounding in his throat. He was touching another man - touching Jayne - and his brain was on rutting fire about it --

And then Jayne's hand moved, unceremoniously shoving aside the heavy panels of Simon's coat and giving his hard-on an unforgiving rub with the heel of his hand, card still in his fingers. Simon gasped, and somewhere across from them, the man gasped, too, and Jayne's hand returned to his shoulder, this time to press down on it urgently.

Simon uttered some sort of protest, he was sure of it, but Jayne's hand was firm and strong, and Jayne was muttering, "You know you want to, doc."

Legs shaking with tension, Simon wordlessly slid down the wall, bending at the knees until he was on his haunches in front of Jayne. Half of him was disgusted because he knew his coat was probably grimy now, and he knew this was filthy and wrong and he shouldn't be doing this, especially not with Jayne - and then the other half of him was all hard-on. His fingers fumbled uselessly along with Jayne's as they unfastened his fly and dug into his pants, and oh God, Jayne's cock was huge.

He froze for a moment, hands gripping at Jayne's thighs. What was he doing? He'd never given a blowjob before. He'd never even --

He resisted as Jayne's hand gripped the back of his neck and pulled him in, but it was no use, and Jayne's prick was a velvety-hot caress on his cheekbone. Closing his eyes, Simon turned his head into it, lips sliding up its length, and Jayne hissed down at him encouragingly. Heat stung Simon's face as Jayne's cock jerked against his mouth, and he lifted a hand to grasp its heavy girth and pump it tentatively.

"C'mon," Jayne snarled down at him. "Y'want me to tell you to suck it? That get you all hot?"

Simon flinched in intense arousal, his sharp intake of breath smelling of Jayne and heat and salty skin. He leaned up and drew the tip of Jayne's cock to his mouth, swiping his tongue across it.

"Yeah. Open up that pretty mouth. Just like that," hissed Jayne, making Simon shudder and repeat the motion, this time drawing his tongue around and around in a clumsy circle that felt wet and ridiculous. Jayne's cock tasted of bitter skin and felt strangely soft on his tongue, and before Simon knew it, he'd eased down over it and closed his lips and was sucking tentatively, slowly, with Jayne's hard breaths echoing down at him and the man across the alley groaning and sighing raggedly.

Simon's jaw quickly began to ache, but he was too turned on to care - and far too eager to stop. He took as much of Jayne in his mouth as he could, pressing down a little deeper with each awkward bob of his head, tongue caressing on each slow pull back. He tried to remember how Kaylee had done it, but she'd had lots of practice and he hadn't - he was just cramming as much as he could into his mouth and looking up at Jayne to see if it was all right - but Jayne had probably had much better from any number of whores paid to get him off however he wanted...

"Wa cao, yeah," moaned the man across the alley, "I'm gonna come..."

Jayne suddenly bared his teeth, and Simon could barely get out a noise of surprise before the back of his head bumped into the wall and Jayne held him there tight, fingers holding his too-long hair, hips pumping his cock at the back of Simon's throat. Eyes watering, Simon could only chokingly groan and let his hand fall to rub at his own cock through his trousers as Jayne fucked his mouth in even, controlled strokes. He let it happen, eyes closing to the sensation and noise of it - Jayne's harsh breaths, the wet slurps as Simon tried to breathe and keep from drooling, the sound of the shaky gasps as the man across from them lost it and the boy hummed in response. His insides all twisted wildly as he realized they were done and would be leaving, wondered if the man could see him being used like any other whore behind this club, in this dank alley --

He choked at the idea, moaning around Jayne's cock, and then freely out into the alley as Jayne abruptly pulled back and jerked roughly at his own cock, rasping for breath. A wet drip of saliva and precome slid down his chin, and Simon licked his lips, looking up at Jayne dizzily to find that he was holding the key card in his teeth as he worked himself. Simon lowered his eyes and watched the hard tugs of his hand, asking, throat thick, "Are you going to... blow your load?"

"Right on your pretty fuckin' face," Jayne growled, and Simon hissed, because the man and the whore had to have heard that, and oh God, his jaw ached and his mouth tasted like cock --

Gasping and pressing his head back against the wall, Simon came first, hand clawed around his cock through his trousers; a moment later, he felt a hot, wet spatter hit his cheek, and came even harder in his own trousers, jerking against the wall. God, it was filthy, so fucking filthy; he could feel Jayne's come dripping down his neck, see it shining on Jayne's knuckles. They were rasping for breath together, and it was easily the hottest, most intimate thing Simon had ever done - even though he was outside, in an alley, total strangers a few feet away, and Jayne was the one he'd done it with. He quivered for a long minute, the clench in his belly loosening, legs aching. Jayne stared silently down at him, his frenzied fisting now gentle and slow, almost absent-minded.

"Eighty square."


A moment later, the whore boy brushed past them; Simon held his breath, and he thought Jayne did too, as the boy disappeared into the streets and the man gave a satisfied sigh. They both casually turned their heads to look after him as he went the opposite way down the alley, stopped by the Seventh Veil's exit, and fished out a card.

Jayne and Simon's eyes met briefly. There was a soft beep, and the man cracked open the door.

"Go," muttered Simon, shoving Jayne on the leg. Janye, pants still unfastened, went, leaving Simon in an awkward slump against the wall, trousers wet. He hurriedly pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face, feeling a dull sting of embarrassment.

"Gorramit," he heard Jayne growl. "Couldn't catch the door."

Simon pushed himself from the wall, wiping his heated neck and walking awkwardly toward Jayne and the exit.

"Did you try your key?" he asked, then had to clear his throat.

"Nope." There was a loud zip as Jayne zipped himself up, then he flashed the card again. "Moment of truth."

As Jayne inserted the key into the slot, Simon slipped his sticky handkerchief back into his pocket and pulled out his sunglasses again. Jayne paid no mind as he hid his eyes behind them.

They stood silently, hearing some loud laughter echoing from the street, and waited for the card to do something.

Please post a comment on this story.

Title:  On the Job
Author:  Edwardina   [email]   [website]
Details:  Standalone  |  NC-17  |  *slash*  |  17k  |  11/11/06
Characters:  Jayne, Simon
Pairings:  Jayne/Simon
Summary:  Jayne and Simon do a job pick-up on Bacchus.
Notes:  PWP, kink (public sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism, dirty talk). Ana wanted a smutty first-time Simon blowjob with some slight reluctance on Simon's part, so here it is! As a further note, the Seventh Veil was borrowed from Veronica Mars, wherein it's a strip club with an "interesting way of keeping their liquor license." Thanks to Adelaide for the wonderful beta!

[top of page]