Jayne/Simon ficlet #12 (R)
Title: Taste of Apples
For: amise
Words: 333
Prompt: How about a continuation of Jayne/Simon and the Great Appletini Adventure?
Notes: Sort-of sequel to this. But it works on its own, I think.
Disclaimer: Clearly I claim no ownership to these characters/situations; nor am I making money from this fic writing thing.
At first, Simon's mouth is full of the taste of apples - sharp, bordering on sour, and mixed up with alcohol that is surprisingly smooth. Apples, green and fresh; the taste is so strong he can almost see them, out of the corner of his eye, piled up in perfect triangular stacks.
"It's 'cause yer drunk," Jayne says, and hands Simon the bottle, the mix made at the bar and sold to Jayne as a take-out.
Maybe he is drunk, just a little. Jayne's faintly blurry in the low light, though Simon can see the tan lines on Jayne's arms, proof of hours working in the sun, even if they do spend most of their time in space. Simon drinks straight from the bottle, doesn't even think about it twice, and there it is again - renewed taste of apple, washing over his tongue, and right down his throat. He's grinning when he pulls the bottle away from his mouth; the disconnection makes a wet, obscene sound, and Jayne's own grin turns into a leer.
"Knew somethin' had to make you crack sooner or later," Jayne says, hand cupping his cock, "just wouldn'ta figured it'd be some gorram green drink."
For a moment, Simon can't quite look away from the way Jayne's stroking himself in practiced, easy movements. "I've always liked apples," Simon says, setting the bottle down with exaggerated care. He fumbles with his pants, eventually getting them off, kicking them to the floor. He smirks at the way Jayne watches him, his hand moving faster, more urgently. "You want to take care of that yourself?" he asks, settling more comfortably against the bed, his hand stroking absently against his hip, and then circling his cock.
"Ah, hell no," Jayne mutters, and then he's on the bed too, on Simon, his cock hot and heavy against Simon's skin.
Later, Simon's still drunk, his body is still buzzing, and his mouth tastes nothing like apples or alcohol.
It's even better than the drink.
For: amise
Words: 333
Prompt: How about a continuation of Jayne/Simon and the Great Appletini Adventure?
Notes: Sort-of sequel to this. But it works on its own, I think.
Disclaimer: Clearly I claim no ownership to these characters/situations; nor am I making money from this fic writing thing.
At first, Simon's mouth is full of the taste of apples - sharp, bordering on sour, and mixed up with alcohol that is surprisingly smooth. Apples, green and fresh; the taste is so strong he can almost see them, out of the corner of his eye, piled up in perfect triangular stacks.
"It's 'cause yer drunk," Jayne says, and hands Simon the bottle, the mix made at the bar and sold to Jayne as a take-out.
Maybe he is drunk, just a little. Jayne's faintly blurry in the low light, though Simon can see the tan lines on Jayne's arms, proof of hours working in the sun, even if they do spend most of their time in space. Simon drinks straight from the bottle, doesn't even think about it twice, and there it is again - renewed taste of apple, washing over his tongue, and right down his throat. He's grinning when he pulls the bottle away from his mouth; the disconnection makes a wet, obscene sound, and Jayne's own grin turns into a leer.
"Knew somethin' had to make you crack sooner or later," Jayne says, hand cupping his cock, "just wouldn'ta figured it'd be some gorram green drink."
For a moment, Simon can't quite look away from the way Jayne's stroking himself in practiced, easy movements. "I've always liked apples," Simon says, setting the bottle down with exaggerated care. He fumbles with his pants, eventually getting them off, kicking them to the floor. He smirks at the way Jayne watches him, his hand moving faster, more urgently. "You want to take care of that yourself?" he asks, settling more comfortably against the bed, his hand stroking absently against his hip, and then circling his cock.
"Ah, hell no," Jayne mutters, and then he's on the bed too, on Simon, his cock hot and heavy against Simon's skin.
Later, Simon's still drunk, his body is still buzzing, and his mouth tastes nothing like apples or alcohol.
It's even better than the drink.