Fic: Unbuttoned (Jayne/Simon, NC-17)
Title: Unbuttoned
Pairing: Jayne/Simon, Simon/Kaylee
Rating: NC-17
Notes: A little PWP that follows events in Jaynestown and Out of Gas. Seriously, it's porn. Just a lot of porn. I'm in that mood today.
Thanks to nutkin for the beta.
Simon and Jayne have sex.
Yes.
They have sex on Higgins moon, there in Canton, in that underground tavern, and Simon's never, ever had sex like that before.
It takes him a while, after waking up incredibly sore and hung over, and then getting thoroughly manhandled by that ex-partner of Jayne's, to remember what happened. He remembers Kaylee's hair in his hands and his tongue in her mouth, and the crooked wooden slats of the bench they're laying on cutting across his back, Kaylee pressing him into them with her slight weight. The thick, sweaty, dirty smell of the drunken mudders reveling all around them. The dull niggle in the back of his brain telling him how much he's going to regret these indiscretions in the morning but most of all the real and much-needed sensations of a warm human body against his. Kaylee's skin, baby-soft and sweet. Kaylee's delicate, girlish fingers slipping into the dip of his opened collar. The heated flicker of her tongue opening his mouth and making him ache drunkenly underneath her.
The way he eventually fell off the bench entirely and almost crawled up the rickety wooden staircase in effort to find a bathroom, hard in his trousers.
Jayne, leaning back against a bare dirt wall with slits for eyes and his pants gaping open and the stench of whiskey and sex emanating from him so strongly that Simon goes dizzy and has to collapse back against the opposite wall in order not to black out.
It all comes back in pieces here and there in the days following Canton.
Simon is overwhelmed with guilt.
It's all a bit blurry, that whole night, and it's all so unreal that it feels a little like Simon spent an entire day stumbling about in a bizarre dream. The rules of reality, of sanity, clearly don't apply in Canton. Jayne's a local hero, a crudely-constructed clay statue, and has mudders all over him like if they touch him enough - please him enough - good luck will rub off, and Jayne just stares at him as if barely comprehending seeing him there as two mudders kneel there at his feet and take turns lapping at his cock.
It's the mudder boy's turn.
Simon remembers staring for what felt like an hour at that boy unabashedly moving up and down Jayne's blood-darkened, angry-looking cock, his mouth and chin both shining, a half-gloved hand grasping around its base and leading it eagerly to him. The mudder woman is running her dirty brown hands up and down Jayne's thighs, staring up at him and ignoring Simon completely. He hasn't seen anything like this in so long - not since he was in MedAcad and the Cortex was the go-to for his every whim - and he's never seen it in real life.
Eventually Simon tears his eyes off the wet, rhythmic scene, chest heaving for air, the erection in his pants more prominent than ever, and finds Jayne staring at him still, and Jayne grunts, You're all... unbuttoned.
He just leans there, one hand on the boy's dark mop of hair as the boy works him up and down enthusiastically and the other holding the woman by the chin carelessly. Simon doesn't know how Jayne isn't moaning under all the attention; he's about to unravel at the seams just looking at it. Simon opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out except an indistinct noise.
Y'all git, Jayne says after a long, throbbing moment, and shakes the mudders off his legs like they're a couple of dogs.
Then Simon is being pressed back into the earthen wall and overpowered by the smell, the heat, the huge and dominating and interested press of Jayne from his knee to his chest and the next thing he remembers, Jayne's got his mouth wider open than Kaylee had and is thrusting his tongue along Simon's feverishly. There's a pounding hotness between them from both of their hearts and from the mudder's milk, and it's all as vivid and uncontrollable as a wet dream.
There's a room where a lantern is glowing and the bed is creaky and Jayne's already rolled with someone in it. But as Simon is pushed down across it and someone huge and hulking is ripping his trousers down his legs, taking his shoes and one of his socks with them, all he can do is moan and think how good the sheets feel against his bare thighs, and how unnervingly sexy it makes him feel when Jayne shoves his legs far apart by the knees and runs his tongue up the seam of his underpants.
It goes on for ages, Jayne licking his prick through his underpants and making him twitch and moan and nearly lose it several times, and they're soaking with spit and precome by the time Jayne and Simon shove them down around his ankles together.
Jayne keeps saying horrible things to him, just to get to him like always, except this time everything Jayne says to Simon is torturously hot. Feel good, huh? Damn, you want it bad. Didn't take ya for a hair-puller...
Then, before Simon can get any kind of proper say in the matter, Jayne has thrust two fingers up inside him and is finger-fucking him like he's - like he's a girl or something - and it's wet, and it does feel good and Jayne knows just where he wants to be touched.
In the end, Simon doesn't remember how many times he came, but it seems like it was at least twice, and though he remembers the unbearably hot and heavy spurt of Jayne's come along the back of his thigh, he doesn't remember how it happened, only that he was saying stuff back to Jayne that he'd never said or thought he'd ever say before in his life.
Something about...
Do it like I'm a whore...
Usually so clean and methodical and quiet when alone in his pleasure, Simon ends up haphazardly diagonal along the bed with his legs strewn wide, his vest busted open and his shirt streaked with his own come, Jayne spooned up tight behind him with one arm around his neck and a hand tight in his hair.
Simon's never had sex like that, where it felt so good he forgot who he even was and it's so honest it hurts somehow, in the core of himself - leaves him feeling raw and exposed. Opened up wide and played with.
Wo de ma.
Jayne says it over and over.
Simon and Jayne have sex in Canton. There in that underground tavern. Even though he somehow wakes up downstairs again, with Kaylee having fallen asleep on him, Simon doesn't think he can ever look at Kaylee again without thinking of how he left her and went upstairs and got fucked by Jayne, and can't keep his insides from dissolving into complete, bumbling, guilty panic. He likes Kaylee; the thought of her finding out that Simon was so indiscriminate with his body and with his affections is terrifying. Equally terrifying is how Mal looks at him like he knows, when he couldn't. Could he?
But none of that stops Simon and it wouldn't stop Jayne even if he could understand it. They have sex again, on Serenity, two weeks later. This time they're not even drunk or power-tripping, but it feels just like they are.
Certainly, when memory comes flooding back at the touch of Kaylee's arms, Simon tries to ignore it, to put it behind him, tries never to look at Jayne overlong or with anything but detachment; when he gingerly sits down at the dinner table, wincing in discomfort, no one knows it was because of Jayne and not Stitch Hessian.
Except - maybe - Jayne.
He spends an agonizing week wondering if Jayne remembers, or if Jayne drank so much that the entire night is a black hole in his memory. The days tick by and Jayne's moody because of the mudder boy that took a bullet for him; he's unapproachable and grim and the only one that seems to be able to get him talking again is Shepherd Book. Simon wonders uncomfortably if Jayne remembers the boy going down on him in the upstairs hall of the tavern and if that's why the whole thing is bothering Jayne so much, when Jayne is so used to death.
Just when Simon's sure Jayne doesn't remember anything before limping down the stairs, well-fucked, with the mudder woman hanging off him, the compression coil blows.
Fire rages through the ship.
Serenity shuts down all at once like it's just taken a bullet for them, grows cold and oddly silent.
Simon is in the infirmary, packing his red doctor's bag overfull with supplies while Zoe lays unconscious next to him. His mind's a mess, but he's trying to anticipate what she, Wash, River, and he will all need in the shuttle as they fly out from the ship, facing almost certain death -- River's medications... painkillers... panic suppressants... drugs to help them all slip easily and painlessly into death when their air has run out -- when someone grabs him by the elbow. He starts, whipping around to stare up at Jayne and blinking in confusion because it's not Mal telling him to hurry up and get his sister or something.
"You ain't in my shuttle," says Jayne. His face is intense; Simon can't help but feel as if Jayne is angry at him for not being assigned to the same shuttle.
"No, I... Zoe needs--"
"Likely some of us ain't gonna make it. Likely we ain't ever all gonna be in the same place at the same time again. I gotta know -- you gotta tell me. You ain't even hinted you remember. Knew you'd had a lot to drink..."
Air. There's not enough of it. Simon's lungs are constricting.
Jayne watches him with a furrowed brow, looking at him as if confused. Waiting.
"Y-you mean Canton," manages Simon.
"Yeah, Canton." Jayne's hand squeezes his arm, nearly too hard, and Simon bumps into Jayne as he pulls them closer together; he has to lift his chin higher just so he can look Jayne in the eye. Jayne's face is serious, his voice low and urgent. "Got no time for pussy-footin', doc. Gotta tell me I'm not the only one remembers you spreadin' your legs and askin' for it like a whore."
All of the blood drains out of Simon's face in a rush. He looks down and away, into his stuffed medical bag, a million feelings twisting inside him.
"Knew it," says Jayne after a minute. He sounds smug, and sure enough, there's a smirk on his lips - but his eyes are still burning with intensity, focused and sharp. When Simon doesn't respond except to look at Jayne with a pained line to his mouth, Jayne steps away and leaves the infirmary quickly, shooting him a significant look over one shoulder. Simon watches his boots clomp up toward the galley out the infirmary window.
As the shuttles leave Serenity, Simon is shaking from the cold and the fear and the fact that Jayne remembers.
Jayne and Simon have sex when they all reconvene on Serenity four hours later. First, Simon stabilizes Mal, hooks up a blood transfusion with Wash, chases everyone else from the infirmary. Jayne clears the mess left in the cargo area and packs away the suit he prepared.
Simon tucks River into bed.
Jayne waits.
"'Bout time," he says, exasperated, as if he's been waiting the whole two weeks and not just two hours, when Simon climbs shakily down the ladder into his dimly-lit bunk.
Simon can barely take in the threatening metallic shine of guns and patches of naked girls lining the walls before Jayne's got him by the vest, fisting the silk of it unceremoniously, and they're kissing without prelude, Jayne's tongue thrashing savagely, Simon trying to keep up. This time, Simon's only drunk on adrenaline and his own suppressed want rushing up to the surface, and he feels the scruff of Jayne's neat beard grinding against his chin, can hear the rasp of the labored breaths making Jayne's chest rise and fall so uncontrollably against his. It's all real now, not just a crooked, dark wet dream. Jayne's got his vest rucked up in back and is tugging at his shirt, pulling it from his trousers. Simon's not sure what to do with his hands now that he's sober.
He doesn't have to think about it much longer; Jayne's steering him easily toward the bed, growling at him, "Yeah, this feels familiar."
It quickly grows too hot, with Jayne pinning Simon down, kissing him in a dirty, tongue-fucking way and sliding his big hand up and down over the bulge of Simon's cock in his trousers, and Simon's trying not to moan too loudly but he can't entirely stop himself, pulled to breaking point and hard and quivering under Jayne all too easily.
"You got a dirty mouth, doc," he hisses interestedly down at Simon when he pulls back and a string of "fuck, fuck, fuck" tumbles out. He takes his hand from Simon's crotch and lets it rest carelessly on his own leg. "Didn't know you had it in you. I'm curious as to what else'll come out."
After getting over the wrench of disappointment as the clench in his belly loosens, Simon catches his breath and moves his own hand to Jayne's hard-on immediately, stroking it through his pants and driving a lazy, rumbling noise of pleasure up from Jayne's chest.
"I want you to fuck me like you did in Canton," Simon says, and flushes hot all over, feeling himself starting to soak through his underwear and trousers at the way Jayne's eyes go dark and slitted.
"Now how's that," asks Jayne pointedly, hand returning to rub at Simon's hard-on. He knows, but he wants to hear Simon say it.
"Like a - whore."
A little horrified, Simon groans self-consciously, but he's quickly rewarded with Jayne's fingers tearing his zipper down, and he helps get his sticky trousers and underwear down around his knees, quivering sensitively as Jayne's hands wander up his bare thighs and grasp at his hipbones.
There's another zip and more shoving and the heat of Jayne's cock burns against Simon's hip, then against his rear as Jayne pushes him over onto his side.
"Slick's in the drawer," Jayne grunts at him. Simon scrabbles at the little beside compartment in the wall next to Jayne's bed, gasping as Jayne's hands cup his ass and squeeze firmly, thumbs pushing the cheeks apart a little. "Last time, you shot off just from me puttin' my fingers in." He takes the little bottle of lubricant from Simon's trembling fingers. "This time you best tell me if you're gonna shoot so I can stop. I don't want you comin' till I'm fuckin' you good and hard, dong-ma?"
"Yes," Simon can only just get out, because Jayne's pushed his leg up and just slid a finger up inside him all in one forceful slide and his muscles are gripping around it hard, alternately squeezing it with a delicious greed and trying to expel it. Jayne's breaths are harsh on Simon's neck, but he's in total control of himself and of Simon as he moves his finger in and out of Simon's ass slowly, wary of each knuckle as they pass.
"Get unbuttoned," Jayne pants at him. "Gotta see you all mussed up."
Simon, leg aching a little as he holds it up out of the way for Jayne, obeys. He snaps three buttons open, a peek of undershirt showing, and as his collar falls away from his neck, Jayne's mouth finds the newly-revealed skin and fire scorches through Simon like it did through Serenity. His fingers find and dig into Jayne's short, coarse hair and it feels nothing but good when Jayne sticks another finger inside him alongside the first. He's opening up all over; his legs part themselves further on their own and his head lolls back and all he can do is pant and moan into the semi-darkness of the room as Jayne bites him here and finger-fucks him there, making him feel like he's hanging taut between the two points.
It feels disgustingly wonderful when Jayne squeezes an absurd amount of lubricant into the crack of his ass and it drips down the crease of his leg onto the bed between them. By this point, Simon might as well be trashed, he wants it so bad.
"Do it," he hisses at Jayne, kicking his trousers impatiently off his leg and raising it up until his knee is poking at his own arm, then looking at Jayne desperately.
Jayne pushing up and sinking into him, slowly but surely, hurts and satisfies at the same time. Just behind Simon's shoulder, Jayne's face is a study of concentration and control and carnal pleasure; his thigh, muscular and huge, is cutting in between Simon's legs.
A minute later, they're fucking and Simon can't stand how good it feels, feeling bruised, opened, shameless. Jayne's balls slap rhythmically and loudly against his, the smacks wet and meaty, and Simon doesn't even try to hold himself back. He reaches back and his fingers twist into Jayne's hair and he gets growled at approvingly, and his grunts turn to gasps as Jayne wraps an arm around his thigh and starts slamming in.
He stops before Simon can come on the sharp thrusts, seeming to sense it, then pulls out with a wet pop and pushes himself up and between Simon's wide-open legs. He re-inserts himself sideways and drives a shocked moan out of Simon.
Balancing himself with one hand against the bed and the other still grasped around Simon's thigh, he pushes in so deep there's no space between them and Simon's gasping, "Yes, yes," and Jayne's muttering, "Yeah, take it..."
After that initial deep thrust, Jayne pulls back again and sets a more shallow, leisurely pace, staring down at Simon as if he's the entire universe at that moment.
"Feel good?" he asks Simon in low, guttural tones, cock slipping in and out easily, stickily. A moaned "Yes," is on Simon's lips but it's killed by a sharp moan as Jayne slaps him hard on the ass. "Yeah, you know it does," he says with a smug air. Then he spanks Simon roundly again and Simon jerks up onto his elbow in alarm.
"Jayne," he moans, a flush of embarrassment and arousal heating and stinging him to the bones.
As if reading his mind again, Jayne slows further, but the burn is still there, and Simon's so close...
"Yeah," Jayne growls in surprise, when Simon's fingers wrap around his own cock and start jerking it desperately, "play with yourself."
Simon fists at his own hair tightly, holding on hard, his thighs shaking as his fist works hard and fast around the neck of his prick, which is dripping wet, and masturbation when he's alone in his bunk is never, never like this, never this intense, never so sloppy and frenzied.
"Fuck," he cries out. "Jayne. I'm--"
"Let me see it, doc," Jayne says, and Simon, convulsing helplessly, snaps in five directions at once and comes all over his stomach and arm and hand and Jayne's bed, moaning things he has no control over and unable to stop because Jayne is still fucking him and the solid, violating feel of Jayne's prick slipping in over and over is making him spatter himself with seed.
It isn't over then. Jayne has him on his hands and knees and working for it after that, moving himself awkwardly but hungrily back and forth on Jayne's cock as he kneels there behind Simon, one hand leading him lightly.
Jayne can go forever, if he wants. It's a learned behavior; he's accustomed to getting his money's worth out of whores. He has Simon ride him lazily for a good fifteen minutes before Simon's stirred again and it quickly disintegrates from there into Simon groaning loudly into the bed and Jayne hammering ruthlessly into his ass until he comes, gasping - almost as if in disbelief, Simon thinks absently.
It doesn't take but a few strokes from Jayne's large fist to bring Simon off again, after, and Jayne is so satisfied with himself now that it would be extremely offensive if Simon wasn't exhausted. They fall asleep almost immediately, Jayne draped over Simon and both of them sticky with come.
Then in the morning, before the rest of the crew is awake, and safe in the knowledge that Mal won't come knocking at the door, Simon and Jayne have sex.
Pairing: Jayne/Simon, Simon/Kaylee
Rating: NC-17
Notes: A little PWP that follows events in Jaynestown and Out of Gas. Seriously, it's porn. Just a lot of porn. I'm in that mood today.
Thanks to nutkin for the beta.
Simon and Jayne have sex.
Yes.
They have sex on Higgins moon, there in Canton, in that underground tavern, and Simon's never, ever had sex like that before.
It takes him a while, after waking up incredibly sore and hung over, and then getting thoroughly manhandled by that ex-partner of Jayne's, to remember what happened. He remembers Kaylee's hair in his hands and his tongue in her mouth, and the crooked wooden slats of the bench they're laying on cutting across his back, Kaylee pressing him into them with her slight weight. The thick, sweaty, dirty smell of the drunken mudders reveling all around them. The dull niggle in the back of his brain telling him how much he's going to regret these indiscretions in the morning but most of all the real and much-needed sensations of a warm human body against his. Kaylee's skin, baby-soft and sweet. Kaylee's delicate, girlish fingers slipping into the dip of his opened collar. The heated flicker of her tongue opening his mouth and making him ache drunkenly underneath her.
The way he eventually fell off the bench entirely and almost crawled up the rickety wooden staircase in effort to find a bathroom, hard in his trousers.
Jayne, leaning back against a bare dirt wall with slits for eyes and his pants gaping open and the stench of whiskey and sex emanating from him so strongly that Simon goes dizzy and has to collapse back against the opposite wall in order not to black out.
It all comes back in pieces here and there in the days following Canton.
Simon is overwhelmed with guilt.
It's all a bit blurry, that whole night, and it's all so unreal that it feels a little like Simon spent an entire day stumbling about in a bizarre dream. The rules of reality, of sanity, clearly don't apply in Canton. Jayne's a local hero, a crudely-constructed clay statue, and has mudders all over him like if they touch him enough - please him enough - good luck will rub off, and Jayne just stares at him as if barely comprehending seeing him there as two mudders kneel there at his feet and take turns lapping at his cock.
It's the mudder boy's turn.
Simon remembers staring for what felt like an hour at that boy unabashedly moving up and down Jayne's blood-darkened, angry-looking cock, his mouth and chin both shining, a half-gloved hand grasping around its base and leading it eagerly to him. The mudder woman is running her dirty brown hands up and down Jayne's thighs, staring up at him and ignoring Simon completely. He hasn't seen anything like this in so long - not since he was in MedAcad and the Cortex was the go-to for his every whim - and he's never seen it in real life.
Eventually Simon tears his eyes off the wet, rhythmic scene, chest heaving for air, the erection in his pants more prominent than ever, and finds Jayne staring at him still, and Jayne grunts, You're all... unbuttoned.
He just leans there, one hand on the boy's dark mop of hair as the boy works him up and down enthusiastically and the other holding the woman by the chin carelessly. Simon doesn't know how Jayne isn't moaning under all the attention; he's about to unravel at the seams just looking at it. Simon opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out except an indistinct noise.
Y'all git, Jayne says after a long, throbbing moment, and shakes the mudders off his legs like they're a couple of dogs.
Then Simon is being pressed back into the earthen wall and overpowered by the smell, the heat, the huge and dominating and interested press of Jayne from his knee to his chest and the next thing he remembers, Jayne's got his mouth wider open than Kaylee had and is thrusting his tongue along Simon's feverishly. There's a pounding hotness between them from both of their hearts and from the mudder's milk, and it's all as vivid and uncontrollable as a wet dream.
There's a room where a lantern is glowing and the bed is creaky and Jayne's already rolled with someone in it. But as Simon is pushed down across it and someone huge and hulking is ripping his trousers down his legs, taking his shoes and one of his socks with them, all he can do is moan and think how good the sheets feel against his bare thighs, and how unnervingly sexy it makes him feel when Jayne shoves his legs far apart by the knees and runs his tongue up the seam of his underpants.
It goes on for ages, Jayne licking his prick through his underpants and making him twitch and moan and nearly lose it several times, and they're soaking with spit and precome by the time Jayne and Simon shove them down around his ankles together.
Jayne keeps saying horrible things to him, just to get to him like always, except this time everything Jayne says to Simon is torturously hot. Feel good, huh? Damn, you want it bad. Didn't take ya for a hair-puller...
Then, before Simon can get any kind of proper say in the matter, Jayne has thrust two fingers up inside him and is finger-fucking him like he's - like he's a girl or something - and it's wet, and it does feel good and Jayne knows just where he wants to be touched.
In the end, Simon doesn't remember how many times he came, but it seems like it was at least twice, and though he remembers the unbearably hot and heavy spurt of Jayne's come along the back of his thigh, he doesn't remember how it happened, only that he was saying stuff back to Jayne that he'd never said or thought he'd ever say before in his life.
Something about...
Do it like I'm a whore...
Usually so clean and methodical and quiet when alone in his pleasure, Simon ends up haphazardly diagonal along the bed with his legs strewn wide, his vest busted open and his shirt streaked with his own come, Jayne spooned up tight behind him with one arm around his neck and a hand tight in his hair.
Simon's never had sex like that, where it felt so good he forgot who he even was and it's so honest it hurts somehow, in the core of himself - leaves him feeling raw and exposed. Opened up wide and played with.
Wo de ma.
Jayne says it over and over.
Simon and Jayne have sex in Canton. There in that underground tavern. Even though he somehow wakes up downstairs again, with Kaylee having fallen asleep on him, Simon doesn't think he can ever look at Kaylee again without thinking of how he left her and went upstairs and got fucked by Jayne, and can't keep his insides from dissolving into complete, bumbling, guilty panic. He likes Kaylee; the thought of her finding out that Simon was so indiscriminate with his body and with his affections is terrifying. Equally terrifying is how Mal looks at him like he knows, when he couldn't. Could he?
But none of that stops Simon and it wouldn't stop Jayne even if he could understand it. They have sex again, on Serenity, two weeks later. This time they're not even drunk or power-tripping, but it feels just like they are.
Certainly, when memory comes flooding back at the touch of Kaylee's arms, Simon tries to ignore it, to put it behind him, tries never to look at Jayne overlong or with anything but detachment; when he gingerly sits down at the dinner table, wincing in discomfort, no one knows it was because of Jayne and not Stitch Hessian.
Except - maybe - Jayne.
He spends an agonizing week wondering if Jayne remembers, or if Jayne drank so much that the entire night is a black hole in his memory. The days tick by and Jayne's moody because of the mudder boy that took a bullet for him; he's unapproachable and grim and the only one that seems to be able to get him talking again is Shepherd Book. Simon wonders uncomfortably if Jayne remembers the boy going down on him in the upstairs hall of the tavern and if that's why the whole thing is bothering Jayne so much, when Jayne is so used to death.
Just when Simon's sure Jayne doesn't remember anything before limping down the stairs, well-fucked, with the mudder woman hanging off him, the compression coil blows.
Fire rages through the ship.
Serenity shuts down all at once like it's just taken a bullet for them, grows cold and oddly silent.
Simon is in the infirmary, packing his red doctor's bag overfull with supplies while Zoe lays unconscious next to him. His mind's a mess, but he's trying to anticipate what she, Wash, River, and he will all need in the shuttle as they fly out from the ship, facing almost certain death -- River's medications... painkillers... panic suppressants... drugs to help them all slip easily and painlessly into death when their air has run out -- when someone grabs him by the elbow. He starts, whipping around to stare up at Jayne and blinking in confusion because it's not Mal telling him to hurry up and get his sister or something.
"You ain't in my shuttle," says Jayne. His face is intense; Simon can't help but feel as if Jayne is angry at him for not being assigned to the same shuttle.
"No, I... Zoe needs--"
"Likely some of us ain't gonna make it. Likely we ain't ever all gonna be in the same place at the same time again. I gotta know -- you gotta tell me. You ain't even hinted you remember. Knew you'd had a lot to drink..."
Air. There's not enough of it. Simon's lungs are constricting.
Jayne watches him with a furrowed brow, looking at him as if confused. Waiting.
"Y-you mean Canton," manages Simon.
"Yeah, Canton." Jayne's hand squeezes his arm, nearly too hard, and Simon bumps into Jayne as he pulls them closer together; he has to lift his chin higher just so he can look Jayne in the eye. Jayne's face is serious, his voice low and urgent. "Got no time for pussy-footin', doc. Gotta tell me I'm not the only one remembers you spreadin' your legs and askin' for it like a whore."
All of the blood drains out of Simon's face in a rush. He looks down and away, into his stuffed medical bag, a million feelings twisting inside him.
"Knew it," says Jayne after a minute. He sounds smug, and sure enough, there's a smirk on his lips - but his eyes are still burning with intensity, focused and sharp. When Simon doesn't respond except to look at Jayne with a pained line to his mouth, Jayne steps away and leaves the infirmary quickly, shooting him a significant look over one shoulder. Simon watches his boots clomp up toward the galley out the infirmary window.
As the shuttles leave Serenity, Simon is shaking from the cold and the fear and the fact that Jayne remembers.
Jayne and Simon have sex when they all reconvene on Serenity four hours later. First, Simon stabilizes Mal, hooks up a blood transfusion with Wash, chases everyone else from the infirmary. Jayne clears the mess left in the cargo area and packs away the suit he prepared.
Simon tucks River into bed.
Jayne waits.
"'Bout time," he says, exasperated, as if he's been waiting the whole two weeks and not just two hours, when Simon climbs shakily down the ladder into his dimly-lit bunk.
Simon can barely take in the threatening metallic shine of guns and patches of naked girls lining the walls before Jayne's got him by the vest, fisting the silk of it unceremoniously, and they're kissing without prelude, Jayne's tongue thrashing savagely, Simon trying to keep up. This time, Simon's only drunk on adrenaline and his own suppressed want rushing up to the surface, and he feels the scruff of Jayne's neat beard grinding against his chin, can hear the rasp of the labored breaths making Jayne's chest rise and fall so uncontrollably against his. It's all real now, not just a crooked, dark wet dream. Jayne's got his vest rucked up in back and is tugging at his shirt, pulling it from his trousers. Simon's not sure what to do with his hands now that he's sober.
He doesn't have to think about it much longer; Jayne's steering him easily toward the bed, growling at him, "Yeah, this feels familiar."
It quickly grows too hot, with Jayne pinning Simon down, kissing him in a dirty, tongue-fucking way and sliding his big hand up and down over the bulge of Simon's cock in his trousers, and Simon's trying not to moan too loudly but he can't entirely stop himself, pulled to breaking point and hard and quivering under Jayne all too easily.
"You got a dirty mouth, doc," he hisses interestedly down at Simon when he pulls back and a string of "fuck, fuck, fuck" tumbles out. He takes his hand from Simon's crotch and lets it rest carelessly on his own leg. "Didn't know you had it in you. I'm curious as to what else'll come out."
After getting over the wrench of disappointment as the clench in his belly loosens, Simon catches his breath and moves his own hand to Jayne's hard-on immediately, stroking it through his pants and driving a lazy, rumbling noise of pleasure up from Jayne's chest.
"I want you to fuck me like you did in Canton," Simon says, and flushes hot all over, feeling himself starting to soak through his underwear and trousers at the way Jayne's eyes go dark and slitted.
"Now how's that," asks Jayne pointedly, hand returning to rub at Simon's hard-on. He knows, but he wants to hear Simon say it.
"Like a - whore."
A little horrified, Simon groans self-consciously, but he's quickly rewarded with Jayne's fingers tearing his zipper down, and he helps get his sticky trousers and underwear down around his knees, quivering sensitively as Jayne's hands wander up his bare thighs and grasp at his hipbones.
There's another zip and more shoving and the heat of Jayne's cock burns against Simon's hip, then against his rear as Jayne pushes him over onto his side.
"Slick's in the drawer," Jayne grunts at him. Simon scrabbles at the little beside compartment in the wall next to Jayne's bed, gasping as Jayne's hands cup his ass and squeeze firmly, thumbs pushing the cheeks apart a little. "Last time, you shot off just from me puttin' my fingers in." He takes the little bottle of lubricant from Simon's trembling fingers. "This time you best tell me if you're gonna shoot so I can stop. I don't want you comin' till I'm fuckin' you good and hard, dong-ma?"
"Yes," Simon can only just get out, because Jayne's pushed his leg up and just slid a finger up inside him all in one forceful slide and his muscles are gripping around it hard, alternately squeezing it with a delicious greed and trying to expel it. Jayne's breaths are harsh on Simon's neck, but he's in total control of himself and of Simon as he moves his finger in and out of Simon's ass slowly, wary of each knuckle as they pass.
"Get unbuttoned," Jayne pants at him. "Gotta see you all mussed up."
Simon, leg aching a little as he holds it up out of the way for Jayne, obeys. He snaps three buttons open, a peek of undershirt showing, and as his collar falls away from his neck, Jayne's mouth finds the newly-revealed skin and fire scorches through Simon like it did through Serenity. His fingers find and dig into Jayne's short, coarse hair and it feels nothing but good when Jayne sticks another finger inside him alongside the first. He's opening up all over; his legs part themselves further on their own and his head lolls back and all he can do is pant and moan into the semi-darkness of the room as Jayne bites him here and finger-fucks him there, making him feel like he's hanging taut between the two points.
It feels disgustingly wonderful when Jayne squeezes an absurd amount of lubricant into the crack of his ass and it drips down the crease of his leg onto the bed between them. By this point, Simon might as well be trashed, he wants it so bad.
"Do it," he hisses at Jayne, kicking his trousers impatiently off his leg and raising it up until his knee is poking at his own arm, then looking at Jayne desperately.
Jayne pushing up and sinking into him, slowly but surely, hurts and satisfies at the same time. Just behind Simon's shoulder, Jayne's face is a study of concentration and control and carnal pleasure; his thigh, muscular and huge, is cutting in between Simon's legs.
A minute later, they're fucking and Simon can't stand how good it feels, feeling bruised, opened, shameless. Jayne's balls slap rhythmically and loudly against his, the smacks wet and meaty, and Simon doesn't even try to hold himself back. He reaches back and his fingers twist into Jayne's hair and he gets growled at approvingly, and his grunts turn to gasps as Jayne wraps an arm around his thigh and starts slamming in.
He stops before Simon can come on the sharp thrusts, seeming to sense it, then pulls out with a wet pop and pushes himself up and between Simon's wide-open legs. He re-inserts himself sideways and drives a shocked moan out of Simon.
Balancing himself with one hand against the bed and the other still grasped around Simon's thigh, he pushes in so deep there's no space between them and Simon's gasping, "Yes, yes," and Jayne's muttering, "Yeah, take it..."
After that initial deep thrust, Jayne pulls back again and sets a more shallow, leisurely pace, staring down at Simon as if he's the entire universe at that moment.
"Feel good?" he asks Simon in low, guttural tones, cock slipping in and out easily, stickily. A moaned "Yes," is on Simon's lips but it's killed by a sharp moan as Jayne slaps him hard on the ass. "Yeah, you know it does," he says with a smug air. Then he spanks Simon roundly again and Simon jerks up onto his elbow in alarm.
"Jayne," he moans, a flush of embarrassment and arousal heating and stinging him to the bones.
As if reading his mind again, Jayne slows further, but the burn is still there, and Simon's so close...
"Yeah," Jayne growls in surprise, when Simon's fingers wrap around his own cock and start jerking it desperately, "play with yourself."
Simon fists at his own hair tightly, holding on hard, his thighs shaking as his fist works hard and fast around the neck of his prick, which is dripping wet, and masturbation when he's alone in his bunk is never, never like this, never this intense, never so sloppy and frenzied.
"Fuck," he cries out. "Jayne. I'm--"
"Let me see it, doc," Jayne says, and Simon, convulsing helplessly, snaps in five directions at once and comes all over his stomach and arm and hand and Jayne's bed, moaning things he has no control over and unable to stop because Jayne is still fucking him and the solid, violating feel of Jayne's prick slipping in over and over is making him spatter himself with seed.
It isn't over then. Jayne has him on his hands and knees and working for it after that, moving himself awkwardly but hungrily back and forth on Jayne's cock as he kneels there behind Simon, one hand leading him lightly.
Jayne can go forever, if he wants. It's a learned behavior; he's accustomed to getting his money's worth out of whores. He has Simon ride him lazily for a good fifteen minutes before Simon's stirred again and it quickly disintegrates from there into Simon groaning loudly into the bed and Jayne hammering ruthlessly into his ass until he comes, gasping - almost as if in disbelief, Simon thinks absently.
It doesn't take but a few strokes from Jayne's large fist to bring Simon off again, after, and Jayne is so satisfied with himself now that it would be extremely offensive if Simon wasn't exhausted. They fall asleep almost immediately, Jayne draped over Simon and both of them sticky with come.
Then in the morning, before the rest of the crew is awake, and safe in the knowledge that Mal won't come knocking at the door, Simon and Jayne have sex.