by skripka

Disclaimer: All Joss's, I don't own anything. Really. Suing me for money? Getting blood from a stone. Feedback: Shiny!
Archive: Just ask me first

When the muse calls, I answer. Sffan and rebecca are my betas. Aren't they the shiniest?
Kuang: madman
Diyu: hell

It's a matter of chemistry. Simon shouldn't have a problem with chemistry, he's a doctor, after all, and there are fairly stringent prerequisites in that field.

But somehow, all his education seems to melt away whenever he's near Jayne, and breathing in the man's unique... odor. It's an odor, Simon promises himself, because no way would the man-ape smell good. Really. A distracting odor, too. Why else would he be rationalizing the effect Jayne is having upon him, in a situation like this?


They've barricaded themselves in a small supply shed, in one of the many alleys along Eavesdown docks. It's hot today, and the shafts of light which break through the ill-built walls and ceiling make interesting patterns, especially on the glistening skin of Jayne's arm.

Wait, try that one again.

The weak light which filters through the cracks in the shed defines Jayne's taut muscles as he strains to hold the door closed.

Not much better. Simon sighs.

Jayne shoots him "the look," the "what the ruttin' hell are you doing, trying to get us both killed" look, and Simon stops his noise just in time. The Alliance soldiers are searching their alley now, he can hear them, shaking doors, and shouting at each other. Simon holds his breath as the flimsy door to their shack rattles, sure that it will fall to pieces between the soldier's assault and Jayne's vise-like grip.

He holds his breath in anticipation, waiting for the moment when the whole shed collapses, when the solider yells, "This one's locked!" and moves away. Jayne relaxes, and Simon follows that slight cue, letting his air out quietly and slowly. He thinks back to how they got into this situation.

"What do you mean we can't go back to the ship?" Simon's trying to keep his voice low and dangerous. They're in a crowd, and it wouldn't do to attract attention.

Jayne's guiding him, hand heavy and hot on Simon's shoulder. This is so not the time to think about that. "It's surrounded by Alliance soldiers, Doc."

It's very hard to keep his voice down, but somehow Simon manages it, and hisses, "All the more reason for me to get back there! What if they find River?"

"Relax! Mal said that she found a hidey-hole. The purple-bellies did a sloppy sweep of the ship, and they're free to go." Jayne's looking around, tracking the movements of the crowd.

Simon's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'go'?" he asked, already anticipating the answer. Jayne had the grace to look a bit sheepish, as he rubbed his neck. "They're leaving us?" Simon had little luck keeping his voice even. It strained to rise a couple of octaves.

There's "the look". "They'll be back tomorrow, after the fuss has died down. Meanwhile, we gotta find a place to lay low for a bit."

Simon mutters, as Jayne leads him to the dark alleys of Eavesdown, "That kuang seems to take a perverse delight in stranding me."

After their narrow escape, they leave the alley quickly. Using back streets, they make it to a grimy, worn down boarding house just outside the docks. Simon has to admit it's a good hiding place. The old him wouldn't have given the building a second glance. In fact his new self is cringing at the thought of spending the night here, too. Warily, arms crossed, Simon takes in the decrepit appearance of the front room, faded drapes, loose-jointed furniture, and an disgusting old man who leers at him when Jayne requests a single room.

That gets through the morass in Simon's mind. He hisses at Jayne, as they wend their way through shadowy halls and wobbly staircases, "We're sharing a room?"

"Hell, Doc, it ain't like I brought that much money along with me." Jayne pauses, examining the number on the door carefully, before opening it. "I'll even let you use the bed if you promise to just shut up for a bit."

Simon follows Jayne into the dark room, and winces when Jayne's big hands fumble the bare bulb on. The room is worse than the foyer had implied. The cover on the barely-wider-than-his-bunk-on-Serenity bed has actual holes, while the only chair in the room, unstable as everything else in this gods-forsaken hell-hole, is placed directly next to the bed. The only redeeming factor, that Simon can see, is the packet of soap powder placed haphazardly upon the pile of threadbare towels.

Jayne rumbles at him, "Don't look so shocked, there, boy," and Simon closes his mouth, embarrassed at himself for being so obvious. They move deeper into the room. Simon supposes he should be grateful that the room shows signs of regular use, and at least infrequent cleaning, otherwise the grime might be deep enough to wade through.

The big man settles himself in the chair, after carefully placing the towels on the floor. "You oughta lie down a bit, get some sleep. We can shower in the mornin', it's down the hall a ways."

Simon frowns, not sure he can sleep. Not on that bed, anyway. "Are you sure you don't want the bed?"

"Nah, Gonna keep watch. Mal'd skin me alive if anything happen to you." Tilting the chair back, precariously, he slides a knife, Binky, Simon is sure, out of its sheath. "'Sides, I ain't sleepy."

His frown deepening, Simon remembers the Ariel incident. Damn. Why does that always comes up? Just when he thinks he could start getting comfortable around Jayne. His thoughts are interrupted by Jayne's question.

"Gonna sleep in your clothes, Doc? Seems a mite uncomfortable to me."

"I'm not stripping to my underwear in..." Simon manages to catch himself just in time "... in a room like this."

Jayne just shrugs. "Don't do nuthin' on my account, Doc." Simon just stands there, defiantly, with his arms crossed, until he realizes how silly he's being. Sighing with frustration, and he's promising himself it's most definitely not that kind, he drops himself to the bed, pointedly staying on top of the covers.

Of course, he can't sleep. The bitter taste of adrenaline afterglow is sticking to his tongue like bad liquor. Plus, his thoughts are swirling all around, and Simon is unable to stop them from coming back to his current and local obsession.


He can't be attracted to Jayne. There's no sense in it. No way is Jayne his type. Simon's always had specific tastes. Black, not oolong. Pinot Noir, not Merlot. Linen, not cotton. Yes, he's gotten used to compromise since he's been a fugitive, but surely he hasn't fallen that far!

Mal is a better match, Simon would swear. A lot better. Strong, intelligent, if a little uncivilized, but that arrogant air more than makes up for that. Kaylee's exactly the type of girl he goes for, too. Vivacious, pretty, and fun to be around. Even Wash, for Buddha's sake! He'd much rather wake up next to Wash, if he wasn't so scared of Zoe. Anyone but Jayne.

Granted, he's always been attracted to danger. Sneaking over walls with River, tempting fate by accepting dares in school, hell, even becoming a trauma surgeon requires a lack of easy boundaries. It's one of the reasons he jumped at the opportunity to rescue River, to turn them both into fugitives. Simon has to admit, he likes living life on the run. It would just be nicer if he still had all of his money to play with.

Real adventure has turned out to be getting stuck in the nastiest hotel room ever, with a man he most definitely doesn't want to be attracted to cleaning his nails with an over-large knife sitting in a chair not far enough way, unable to sleep.

Simon gives up. He rolls over, and practically falls over himself in his rush to get out of the bed. Jayne, startled, looks up. "Whatcha doing there, boy?" The chair falls to the floor with a rattle, as Simon fumbles around for the soap packet.

"Can't sleep," he mutters. "I'm going to take a shower." Jayne sighs, and sheathes Binky as he rises. Simon stops his fishing and looks up in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Ain't gonna let you out of my sight."

Simon's mouth has dropped again. "The diyu? Jayne, I don't need a rutting babysitter while I'm taking a shower."

"It ain't close enough to this room for me to hear if you get in trouble," the mercenary growls. "Don't wanna give Mal any ideas."

He rolls his eyes. "No ideas, Jayne. I promise I won't say anything, just give me some gorram privacy."

"Not gonna happen." And here, Jayne places all of his considerable bulk in Simon's way. He's towering over the younger man, while Simon crosses his arms and stands firm. They're glaring at each other; Jayne, the immovable object, and Simon, the irresistible force. Something has to give, and Simon is prepared for the damned walls to just collapse under the weight of their stubbornness.

Suddenly, though, the anger mutates into something more primal, less controlled. Even Jayne can feel it, his eyes turn darker with puzzlement, and perhaps something more. Simon finds his body launching itself at Jayne. The big man barely stumbles at all as they crash into each other and Simon starts devouring his mouth.

Jayne pushes him back, surprisingly gentle, and reminds Simon, "I don't kiss on the mouth."

"Well, I do," Simon answers, pulling Jayne down for another hungry kiss. "Get used to it," he finds himself growling against that hot mouth.

Groaning, Jayne picks Simon up easily, dropping him on the bed. "You sure you want this, boy?"

Simon can't answer; the lust has taken over the verbal centers in his brain. All he can do is start unbuttoning his shirt, but that seems to be enough answer for Jayne, who groans again as he starts removing his own clothes.

Impatient as ever, Jayne ends up yanking Simon's pants off, when it seems that they've gotten stuck. Simon doesn't care if they rip, doesn't notice anything, the only thing he wants right now is the feeling of Jayne's hands on him, of his hands roaming along Jayne's body. He wants to touch every inch of the mercenary he can reach.

Simon refuses to ask himself why he's doing this. Partly, he knows it's because it's been way too long since he's shared a bed with anyone. But mostly? Mostly, it's because it's Jayne. Because there is something about Jayne that has attracted him from the start. Pheromones, chemistry, danger. It doesn't matter. And now, Simon's figured out something very simple.

He wants Jayne.

The realization is heady, and a relief, in a way. It allows Simon to react, to let go of his thoughts, to just feel what Jayne is doing to him. And God, is Jayne doing some wonderful stuff. His hands... fuck, every stroke of Jayne's hand leaves hot fire burning just under Simon's skin.

"Jayne," he manages to gasp out, arching in pleasure under every one of Jayne's touches. Fortunately for Simon, Jayne seems to understand what he needs. A hot mouth attaches to one of his nipples, teasing it into a hard point. Jayne then traces across his chest, and plays with the other one.

Simon groans and pulls Jayne's mouth up for another lingering kiss. Simon kisses Jayne long and deep, sliding his tongue over and over the big man's, trying to memorize his taste. When he pulls away, he sees a smirk on Jayne's face, but barely has time to register it before he's flipped over onto his stomach.

He thinks about saying something, but then Jayne bites down on his neck, short-circuiting any protests he might make. Simon's head tilts forward, giving Jayne free access to all of his skin. Jayne drapes himself over Simon's back, pressing him into the bed, which creaks disturbingly.

Legs spread in blatant invitation, Simon can feel Jayne's hard cock rubbing along his crack. He moans in debauched anticipation, but whimpers when Jayne pulls away, leaving his back cold. Jayne is whispering urgently, "Simon, you got anything slick?"

Unwelcome reality intrudes. Simon closes his eyes and groans with frustration. "Damnit. No."

Jayne sounds disappointed as well. "Well, shit, boy, I don't wanna hurt you." Simon's mind is rapidly flipping through their possible options, when the bed jerks violently, and he looks up to see Jayne rummaging on the floor.

Lifting himself onto his elbow, he watches curiously as Jayne produces a tube, triumphantly. "Bought this for Kaylee today." Afraid to ask, Simon decides it's better not to know, when Jayne answers, "It's engine lube." He groans into the shabby blanket. He's almost mortified. He would have been... what the hell. This is now, this is what he wants. Desperate times...

"Just fuck me, Jayne," he manages to grind out.

Jayne grins. "Nope. Wanna taste you first," and Simon gasps as Jayne's hands spread his ass cheeks apart, and his tongue grazes Simon's sensitive opening. He gasps again in shock and pleasant surprise as his nerve endings light on fire. Simon can barely hear Jayne's throaty chuckle over the roar in his head. "Like that, do ya'?"

Simon can't answer, he just twists his hands in the sheets, groaning and grunting nonsensical sounds. It's more than enough encouragement for Jayne, who just digs deeper with his tongue. "So good, you taste so good, Simon. I could eat you every ruttin' day. You're gonna be so hot and tight around my cock. Only thing better than eating your ass is gonna be fucking it."

Figures Jayne's a talker.

On the other hand, all Simon can do is push back onto the tongue fucking his ass. He's sure he's going to lose his mind, and he doesn't care, not if he gets to feel so good. And when Jayne adds a finger, and then two, to the tongue? Simon's world narrows to the pleasure which is overwhelming all his senses. His cock is so hard it's throbbing, and Jayne's still talking dirty to him.

"You loose enough for me, yet, boy? You ready for my big cock in your tight ass?"

Growling, Simon thinks he manages to say, "Fuck. Me. Jayne." But he can't really tell, because now? Now he's being impaled by the biggest, thickest cock he could imagine. Jayne is sliding home so strong, so slow, and it feels good and it hurts, oh God, it hurts and feels so good, and he never wants it to end.

Jayne's still for just a moment longer, still mumbling about "tight" and "hot" and then, he just moves. Simon's panting, breath coming in short spurts with every thrust Jayne makes. The wobbly bed seems to add force to their movements, and it's a dizzying effect. Not quite as dizzying, though, as when Jayne shifts, just so, and his cock grazes across Simon's prostate.

Simon yelps in shock as white light passes in front of his eyes, again and again. Oh, and it's so good, so overwhelming, he can't hear Jayne speaking anymore. Simon pushes back into every hard thrust, leans into the scrape of hair against his back. "God, Jayne," he groans, completely unable to articulate what he wants.

Jayne just pushes deeper into him, "That's it boy, come for me, Simon," he mutters throatily. Now Simon's orgasm implacably marches towards completion. Shuddering and gasping, he splatters come all over the derelict bed.

Simon's almost out of it, he can barely feel his ass contracting around Jayne's cock, but his climax seems to egg Jayne on. "So rutting... damn... that's it...," he's moaning and thrusting harder, completely out of control. Simon's reactions have gone beyond primal, and all he can do is react to the motion of Jayne's final, convulsive shoves.

Jayne's climax has the big man shuddering and cursing and gripping Simon's hips bruisingly. Simon doesn't notice, his body is collapsing, even as Jayne pulls out, and Simon doesn't even care that he's in the wet spot. He's asleep within minutes.

The comm unit squawks angrily a third time. Simon doesn't want to leave Jayne's arms, but they leave him. He groans and winces at the loss of warmth. Opening his eyes, Simon smiles upon seeing a naked Jayne answering Serenity's call.

"Yeah, Mal?"

Although fuzzy and distorted, Mal's constant vague annoyance at the 'verse comes through clearly. "Jayne? Where're you? The doc all safe and everything?"

Jayne smirks at Simon, who rolls his eyes. "More or less."

"What does that mean?" Mal sounds suspicious, although Simon can hear River giggling in the background. He closes his eyes, trying not to groan. God, how is he going to explain this to his sister? "Will you stop laughing, girl?" On the other hand, he might not have to. He smiles imagining the scene on the flight deck.

"Nah, it's okay, Mal. Doc's just used to... finer accommodations." Simon slaps Jayne's ass quietly as he crawls down the bed, closer to the comm unit.

"I'm fine, Captain. How's my sister?"

Static, "I would have said shiny, until just a minute ago." More giggles. Jayne smirks again, and Simon tries to glare at his new lover. "Now she won't stop this infernal giggling. Girl, you want me to throw you off this deck?" The giggles stop, and Simon can almost see his sister shaking her head. "Good," Mal crackles. "Our ETA will be in about an hour and a half. Think you two could be at the docks by then?"

Tossing a look at Simon, Jayne answers, "Make it two hours, Mal. Gotta replace some stuff we bought yesterday." Simon tries not to laugh at the look on Jayne's face. "Kinda got lost in all the shufflin' about."

Mal sighs. "Okay. See you then." and the comm flickers off. Simon frowns at Jayne.

"Surely it won't take us that long...," his voice trails off when he sees the look on Jayne's face change. "Oh."

Jayne holds up the tube of engine grease, grinning. "My mama always told me to never waste nuthin."

Simon grins back. "Did she."

"Seein' as we got near half this tube left, what do you say to us not wastin' it?" Somehow, Jayne's lascivious eyebrow wiggle doesn't look so silly.

Laughing, Simon falls back onto the bed. "As long as this fine establishment doesn't care about the stains..."

Jayne rolls onto the groaning bed. "Possible we might make an end to this bed, too."

"That too."

"Wanna see if we can?"

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to skripka