"Some Like it Hot," for MaleSlashMinis JAYNE round
Title: Some Like it Hot
Author: Alizarin_NYC
Fandom: Firefly/Buffy-Angel
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Jayne
Written for: The Male Slash Minis, Jayne round. bethynyc wanted Jayne paired with Spike, set in the Firefly-verse, Spike is still a vamp and they bond over weaponry. No higher than an R rating.
SPIKE
"Get me out of here!" Spike hissed in the general direction of the large, hulking shadow, "and I'll pay you double whatever you're making on this job."
"Mal says never negotiate with no hostages," the man replied obdurately.
"Triple," Spike spat. He was desperate.
"Deal." The man actually wanted to shake on it. Tosser.
"Name's Jayne. And the only way I'm gonna get you outta here and onto the Captain's boat is if he thinks I've got a whore on my arm, so get dressed and make it convincin'." Jayne nudged Spike with his boot as he crouched with the rest of the hostages and motioned to the corner where the lady's garments hung, pressed and ready for the actresses.
"You're fucking with me," Spike said, cocking his head at Jayne. He still had to look up, which was annoying, but the guy was tall and broad and had a stump of a cigar clenched between two teeth.
"Do it quick or I'll lose my chance." Jayne turned to the rest of the cast and said "Heads down, I said! Did you think this was a comedy? Well, it ain't!"
It was actually a musical, and Spike had landed the role of his lifetime -- not to mention how long his lifetime was, and that not over yet -- and he was starting to feel a little bit put out at having to jump and run, and in women's clothing no less. He wasn't too thrilled, either, with the blood-red dress he had to wear - too tight in the arse - nor the pillbox hat and face veil, the silk gloves that nearly split over his manly hands, nor the fishnets. Least of all the fishnets. Jayne insisted on the full get-up. Spike thought he might even be enjoying the whole thing.
Just as he was stepping into ill-fitting pumps (flattening the back end with his heel and hoping it was good enough), another cowboy appeared in the doorway.
"Mission accomplished, insofar as such things go," the cowboy said. "Let's head out."
"Mal," Jayne said, "I'm takin' this whore along for the ride - for a ride if you catch my meaning."
"What did I say about using my name on a job? Jesus on a camel, Jayne! Couldn't grow 'em any stupider than you."
"Thanks for that, Mal," Jayne said, and yanked on Spike's arm, pulling him along the corridor under the stage. Spike's heels echoed like horse hooves and Jayne grunted and swore and tugged at him until he managed to get balanced.
Their boat was a Firefly class, and it was cooling its heels on the roof of a warehouse nearby. Spike twisted his ankle and lost his shawl on the way there and up seven flights of stairs.
"Long way to drag a whore, Jayne," Mal commented.
"This one's worth the drag," said Jayne. Under his breath he muttered to Spike, "Better damn well be worth it."
Spike rolled his eyes. Money was hardly a problem. Along with synthetic blood, the Alliance provided a nice tidy sum each month, as payment for being a proper citizen, and not eating any of the local populations, thereby causing fear and terror and disrupting Alliance dealings.
Instead, Spike's biggest problem was from his past. Long ago and far away he'd loved a girl named Drusilla. Seeing her tonight in the audience as he sang onstage had been alarming. He'd nearly hit a wrong note.
He allowed himself to be manhandled onto the Firefly -- named Serenity, which struck him as odd for a bunch of amateur thieves -- and nodded to the crew as Jayne steered him under their watchful gaze. Thank god for hats and veils and gloves and the like, although it was clear that most of the passengers weren't remotely mistaking him for a woman.
Once down in Jayne's bunk, Spike leaned casually against the wall and toed off the dreadful shoes, peeled off the gloves, and removed the head gear. "Bloody stifling; don't know how women do it."
Jayne came thumping down the laddered rungs and Spike could hear the Captain hollering down the hall, "No return trip for your whore. She's getting off at the next stop!"
"Okay," Jayne replied, more resigned than annoyed.
"So," Spike said, "What's to do for fun around here?"
***
JAYNE
The guy he picked up was blond, and looked pretty good in drag. Jayne didn't give a flying fuck why the guy had to get out of there quickly (maybe he hated being in a musical, that would make sense). And Jayne didn't really mind having him in his bunk, thank you very much, if it's all the same to you. It'd been a long time since Jayne'd had anything but his hand 'twixt his nethers, to steal a phrase.
The guy's name was Spike, but a man called Jayne wasn't like to go throwin' stones. Once they have the money transfer sorted and it all checks out, Jayne was reluctant to let Spike linger in the halls too long in case Mal got suspicious or Kaylee got horny. And both were just as equally likely.
Jayne carefully unstrapped Vera from his shoulder and unwound the rows of ammo from around his waist.
"Nice gun," Spike said.
"Name's Vera."
"You named your weapon." Spike's scarred eyebrow went up.
"Yeah. Ain't she beautiful?"
"She's big, yeah." Spike wasn't looking at Vera anymore, he was sizing Jayne up head to toe like he was a tasty treat. That was a good sign.
"What's your weapon of choice?"
"I like to use my hands," Spike said. Jayne's mouth went a little dry. "And my teeth."
Now Jayne was sure he was being tested, to see if he was sly or not, and well, he was sometimes on Tuesdays, and to hell with it even if it was a Saturday.
"Want a change of clothes?" Jayne asked, for lack of anything better to say.
"Might do," Spike replied. He pulled the dress up and over his head before Jayne could do anything else, revealing a body that looked cut from stone, muscled and smooth. Spike knew it, too. He preened and strut around the tiny room, his underwear barely concealing a sizable bulge. "Reckon your clothes'll hang on me like on a wire hanger."
Jayne flexed a little as he turned to put Vera away. He had nothing to be ashamed of in the muscle department. He cleared his throat. "I reckon so."
Then they were reaching for each other, grappling and stumbling around in the tiny space. Jayne's plan was to throw him over the bed and have his way, but Spike was far stronger than he looked. Jayne found himself pinned to his own bed and ruthlessly stripped of his clothing. Spike went for his mouth and Jayne turned his head and mumbled, "Don't kiss on the mouth," but Spike just laughed and kissed him with gentle finesse. The feel of Spike's raspy tongue against his was better than he expected and he let it go on, kissing back even, exploring Spike's mouth with his tongue and eventually Spike's kisses went south and Jayne had absolutely nothing more to say.
***
SPIKE
Spike woke to the sound of hysterical screaming and for a split second he thought he was in the Summers' house and Dawn Summers had found an ant in her Cocoa Puffs.
But no, that had happened hundreds of years ago, in another lifetime entirely.
On this particular morning, he was slung across a broad, muscled man with a goatee, snoring to wake the undead and smelling strongly of sex. Spike remembered that he'd been hoodwinked out of a fair bit of money to hitch a ride on a tin space bucket to escape the temptress that had been trying to track him down all over the 'verse for hundreds of years with some crazy notion of revenge. He also remembered that he currently had no clothes. And what was that screaming?
Turned out they had a psychic on board, and she sensed a vamp. Malcolm Reynolds began banging on Jayne's hatch once he got wind and Spike put on some of Jayne's clothes so the two of them could go up to the common area and have it out.
"Is it true?" Mal asked.
"I'm a vampire, mate. Not altogether uncommon nowadays, and legal, too. You might as well get used to it."
Jayne looked fairly horrified and put his hand up to his lips, then to his neck.
"Oh hell no," Mal said.
And so Spike found himself ceremoniously kicked off the ship on the nearest rock the crew could find. Seemed the Captain was a narrow-minded sort. The little bit named Kaylee seemed willing to take up his case with the Captain -- I've heard about plenty of vampires who're good, got 'emselves souls and all! -- but the high and mighty Cap'n wouldn't hear of it. He was superstitious and firm. "Vampires not allowed on board. Like as not to eat the crew when rations get scarce."
Jayne seemed genuinely disappointed to see him go. Matter of fact, Spike had thought they'd have time for another go or three -- he loved nothing more than a powerful dumb ox beneath him or behind him -- but they were a dime a dozen and so Spike tried to ignore how disappointed he was feeling. This one had been clever enough to seriously deplete his funds, after all, and he'd been great in the sack.
Spike gave Jayne a long, lascivious goodbye kiss. Mal huffed in disgust, Kaylee sighed with lust and Jayne tried vainly to pretend he didn't enjoy it in the slightest. Spike sauntered down the ramp of Serenity, letting his slim hips sway with Jayne's big trousers hanging obscenely low on his hips, just to get his point across.
He'd had his fun, okay, but now he had to get back on track, get his bearings, hunt down Angel and warn him that Dru had sniffed him out. She'd be out for blood, theirs included. Time and space hadn't dimmed her desire for revenge.
It was the same old story, wasn't it? Always the same old story. He turned to wave at Jayne and Kaylee and Mal and wished them well. "Maybe our paths will cross again one day," he muttered as the Firefly's engines burned hot and then blazed a trail across the sky.
.
Author: Alizarin_NYC
Fandom: Firefly/Buffy-Angel
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Jayne
Written for: The Male Slash Minis, Jayne round. bethynyc wanted Jayne paired with Spike, set in the Firefly-verse, Spike is still a vamp and they bond over weaponry. No higher than an R rating.
SPIKE
"Get me out of here!" Spike hissed in the general direction of the large, hulking shadow, "and I'll pay you double whatever you're making on this job."
"Mal says never negotiate with no hostages," the man replied obdurately.
"Triple," Spike spat. He was desperate.
"Deal." The man actually wanted to shake on it. Tosser.
"Name's Jayne. And the only way I'm gonna get you outta here and onto the Captain's boat is if he thinks I've got a whore on my arm, so get dressed and make it convincin'." Jayne nudged Spike with his boot as he crouched with the rest of the hostages and motioned to the corner where the lady's garments hung, pressed and ready for the actresses.
"You're fucking with me," Spike said, cocking his head at Jayne. He still had to look up, which was annoying, but the guy was tall and broad and had a stump of a cigar clenched between two teeth.
"Do it quick or I'll lose my chance." Jayne turned to the rest of the cast and said "Heads down, I said! Did you think this was a comedy? Well, it ain't!"
It was actually a musical, and Spike had landed the role of his lifetime -- not to mention how long his lifetime was, and that not over yet -- and he was starting to feel a little bit put out at having to jump and run, and in women's clothing no less. He wasn't too thrilled, either, with the blood-red dress he had to wear - too tight in the arse - nor the pillbox hat and face veil, the silk gloves that nearly split over his manly hands, nor the fishnets. Least of all the fishnets. Jayne insisted on the full get-up. Spike thought he might even be enjoying the whole thing.
Just as he was stepping into ill-fitting pumps (flattening the back end with his heel and hoping it was good enough), another cowboy appeared in the doorway.
"Mission accomplished, insofar as such things go," the cowboy said. "Let's head out."
"Mal," Jayne said, "I'm takin' this whore along for the ride - for a ride if you catch my meaning."
"What did I say about using my name on a job? Jesus on a camel, Jayne! Couldn't grow 'em any stupider than you."
"Thanks for that, Mal," Jayne said, and yanked on Spike's arm, pulling him along the corridor under the stage. Spike's heels echoed like horse hooves and Jayne grunted and swore and tugged at him until he managed to get balanced.
Their boat was a Firefly class, and it was cooling its heels on the roof of a warehouse nearby. Spike twisted his ankle and lost his shawl on the way there and up seven flights of stairs.
"Long way to drag a whore, Jayne," Mal commented.
"This one's worth the drag," said Jayne. Under his breath he muttered to Spike, "Better damn well be worth it."
Spike rolled his eyes. Money was hardly a problem. Along with synthetic blood, the Alliance provided a nice tidy sum each month, as payment for being a proper citizen, and not eating any of the local populations, thereby causing fear and terror and disrupting Alliance dealings.
Instead, Spike's biggest problem was from his past. Long ago and far away he'd loved a girl named Drusilla. Seeing her tonight in the audience as he sang onstage had been alarming. He'd nearly hit a wrong note.
He allowed himself to be manhandled onto the Firefly -- named Serenity, which struck him as odd for a bunch of amateur thieves -- and nodded to the crew as Jayne steered him under their watchful gaze. Thank god for hats and veils and gloves and the like, although it was clear that most of the passengers weren't remotely mistaking him for a woman.
Once down in Jayne's bunk, Spike leaned casually against the wall and toed off the dreadful shoes, peeled off the gloves, and removed the head gear. "Bloody stifling; don't know how women do it."
Jayne came thumping down the laddered rungs and Spike could hear the Captain hollering down the hall, "No return trip for your whore. She's getting off at the next stop!"
"Okay," Jayne replied, more resigned than annoyed.
"So," Spike said, "What's to do for fun around here?"
***
JAYNE
The guy he picked up was blond, and looked pretty good in drag. Jayne didn't give a flying fuck why the guy had to get out of there quickly (maybe he hated being in a musical, that would make sense). And Jayne didn't really mind having him in his bunk, thank you very much, if it's all the same to you. It'd been a long time since Jayne'd had anything but his hand 'twixt his nethers, to steal a phrase.
The guy's name was Spike, but a man called Jayne wasn't like to go throwin' stones. Once they have the money transfer sorted and it all checks out, Jayne was reluctant to let Spike linger in the halls too long in case Mal got suspicious or Kaylee got horny. And both were just as equally likely.
Jayne carefully unstrapped Vera from his shoulder and unwound the rows of ammo from around his waist.
"Nice gun," Spike said.
"Name's Vera."
"You named your weapon." Spike's scarred eyebrow went up.
"Yeah. Ain't she beautiful?"
"She's big, yeah." Spike wasn't looking at Vera anymore, he was sizing Jayne up head to toe like he was a tasty treat. That was a good sign.
"What's your weapon of choice?"
"I like to use my hands," Spike said. Jayne's mouth went a little dry. "And my teeth."
Now Jayne was sure he was being tested, to see if he was sly or not, and well, he was sometimes on Tuesdays, and to hell with it even if it was a Saturday.
"Want a change of clothes?" Jayne asked, for lack of anything better to say.
"Might do," Spike replied. He pulled the dress up and over his head before Jayne could do anything else, revealing a body that looked cut from stone, muscled and smooth. Spike knew it, too. He preened and strut around the tiny room, his underwear barely concealing a sizable bulge. "Reckon your clothes'll hang on me like on a wire hanger."
Jayne flexed a little as he turned to put Vera away. He had nothing to be ashamed of in the muscle department. He cleared his throat. "I reckon so."
Then they were reaching for each other, grappling and stumbling around in the tiny space. Jayne's plan was to throw him over the bed and have his way, but Spike was far stronger than he looked. Jayne found himself pinned to his own bed and ruthlessly stripped of his clothing. Spike went for his mouth and Jayne turned his head and mumbled, "Don't kiss on the mouth," but Spike just laughed and kissed him with gentle finesse. The feel of Spike's raspy tongue against his was better than he expected and he let it go on, kissing back even, exploring Spike's mouth with his tongue and eventually Spike's kisses went south and Jayne had absolutely nothing more to say.
***
SPIKE
Spike woke to the sound of hysterical screaming and for a split second he thought he was in the Summers' house and Dawn Summers had found an ant in her Cocoa Puffs.
But no, that had happened hundreds of years ago, in another lifetime entirely.
On this particular morning, he was slung across a broad, muscled man with a goatee, snoring to wake the undead and smelling strongly of sex. Spike remembered that he'd been hoodwinked out of a fair bit of money to hitch a ride on a tin space bucket to escape the temptress that had been trying to track him down all over the 'verse for hundreds of years with some crazy notion of revenge. He also remembered that he currently had no clothes. And what was that screaming?
Turned out they had a psychic on board, and she sensed a vamp. Malcolm Reynolds began banging on Jayne's hatch once he got wind and Spike put on some of Jayne's clothes so the two of them could go up to the common area and have it out.
"Is it true?" Mal asked.
"I'm a vampire, mate. Not altogether uncommon nowadays, and legal, too. You might as well get used to it."
Jayne looked fairly horrified and put his hand up to his lips, then to his neck.
"Oh hell no," Mal said.
And so Spike found himself ceremoniously kicked off the ship on the nearest rock the crew could find. Seemed the Captain was a narrow-minded sort. The little bit named Kaylee seemed willing to take up his case with the Captain -- I've heard about plenty of vampires who're good, got 'emselves souls and all! -- but the high and mighty Cap'n wouldn't hear of it. He was superstitious and firm. "Vampires not allowed on board. Like as not to eat the crew when rations get scarce."
Jayne seemed genuinely disappointed to see him go. Matter of fact, Spike had thought they'd have time for another go or three -- he loved nothing more than a powerful dumb ox beneath him or behind him -- but they were a dime a dozen and so Spike tried to ignore how disappointed he was feeling. This one had been clever enough to seriously deplete his funds, after all, and he'd been great in the sack.
Spike gave Jayne a long, lascivious goodbye kiss. Mal huffed in disgust, Kaylee sighed with lust and Jayne tried vainly to pretend he didn't enjoy it in the slightest. Spike sauntered down the ramp of Serenity, letting his slim hips sway with Jayne's big trousers hanging obscenely low on his hips, just to get his point across.
He'd had his fun, okay, but now he had to get back on track, get his bearings, hunt down Angel and warn him that Dru had sniffed him out. She'd be out for blood, theirs included. Time and space hadn't dimmed her desire for revenge.
It was the same old story, wasn't it? Always the same old story. He turned to wave at Jayne and Kaylee and Mal and wished them well. "Maybe our paths will cross again one day," he muttered as the Firefly's engines burned hot and then blazed a trail across the sky.
.