Summary: Jayne thinks both Tams are kind of crazy.
For: The loverly angstslashhope
The line of poetry or song lyric/s for your gift fic:
In the dusk the road is hard to see.
Wait 'til moonrise, so I can watch you go.
-Oyakeme, a girl of Buzen, Manyoshu
A/N: I am so sorry. That poem deserves a seriously thought-out story with lots of big words and angst. But you got me. I apologize if you were hoping for something else. ^^;;;; And thank you to counterfeitcoin for the super fast beta. :D!
" . . . I don't think so."
That stopped Jayne short, and he grunted a curse in an effort to stay on his feet, pants tangled around his ankles. "Say what?"
"That's not going in my mouth."
Jayne frowned and gave his pecker a glance to see if any parts were missin' or lumpy. But it looked perfectly fit to him, and he'd never got any complaints before. Gasps of surprise and astonished compliments, more like.
"What, too big for ya?" He leered.
"Try too filthy," Simon said, eyes narrowing in disgust. "When was the last time you washed . . . that? I'm really curious, how long did you have to avoid water to start smelling like that?"
When Jayne told him, he looked near vomiting, but Jayne thought that was probably more because of the empty stomach the doctor started drinking on.
"I'm not complainin about yer stink, am I?" Jayne growled out.
"You think I smell bad?" He didn't even sound offended; just like it'd never occurred to him that he could smell anything other than pretty, and Jayne wasn't so sure he was wrong. The doctor waltzed away from situations that made any proper man stink of a hard day's work with a fresh, girly scent.
"Sure don't smell right."
Simon rolled his eyes and Jayne scowled at the sight of him buttoning his shirt back up, covering his lily white chest and neck. "Three weeks. Three weeks of washing that every day, and then, maybe. If I can somehow scorch this from my memory, we can try this again. Because that's . . . that's not getting anywhere near me."
"Assumin' I'll want you to then." It wasn't exactly an ideal threat. A man didn't plan sex, it just happened. Three weeks was just beyond the boarder of what Jayne was comfortable predicting events for, and who knew if they'd even have enough alcohol to get this pissed then? Cause they sure weren't trying it sober.
Simon fumbled with his belt a bit then, but that could've been from any number of things. "Well then, maybe we should forget we even had this . . . discussion."
He brushed past Jayne's deepening scowl silently, and that gorram scent of privilege and core life wafted off the top his head, hitting Jayne square in the face.
It was a good plan; forgetting the discussion, and Jayne mighta been able to do it if it he hadn't been wound up by the doctor, and if a certain assheaded captain hadn't decided to fly into the darkest bit of black there was and twiddle. Weren't in a hurry, he said. No real need for jobs and the Alliance had been sniffin' about with a troubling nearness since the whole defraudin' them debacle. Couldn't hurt to go invisible for a bit.
Unfortunately, livin' in a dull black blur got a man frustrated, specially knowing there was a willing body not a throwing distance away. Specially without the shepard there to help pass the time.
It weren't right. Jayne's pa had told him stories of core life, of water that ran in pipes but came out clean as ice springs, and fruit so plentiful that folk got to eat only the fresh and ripe. If it was bruised even a dot, his pa would say, they could just toss it away for another. That's how much fruit they had, in the core.
It was like a fairytale land, too good to be true so he didn't bother think on it often, but then Jayne met a doctor so stupidly pompous, he had to come from a world where most folk never even had to see the face of the meat they was eating.
Ariel was a disappointment, though. There was too much fakeness about to enjoy any of it, an unnaturalness in the air that couldn't be shaken off. The air and water was clean enough, but they was also empty n' hollow-like, and the smiles on the faces that drank and breathed it were blank and unthinking.
He thought there was probably lastin' affects on a person who lived every day breathing in barren, fake air, and surrounded by fake smiles, and that's what he reasoned had done it when the doc started with this obsession about hygiene, kicking up a fuss that was hardly needed. That bizarre, snooty upbringing, and that gorram air that had to've sucked out all his commonsense.
He still tried to wash up every night and Jayne couldn't think of a more pointless waste; the boy might as well try to stop a flood with a sponge. Not to mention unhealthy-- everyone knew dirt n' grime kept the real troubles at bay.
He could see it wearing on the good doctor, too, even more than it was on Jayne, cause he got all spoiled with Kaylee spreading her legs whenever he pleased. Now she was all high chins and humphs around him, and Jayne wondered if he gave the same deadline for cleanliness to her, he'd certainly said worse without meaning to.
Jayne had never been particularly good at readin' people, but even he could see that Simon was near the breaking point, tense as a wire, speaking in curt tones to anyone but his sister, who didn't really appreciate it anyway. It was on a whim that Jayne decided to clean up some, not cause Simon asked, because he was going to anyway. But he hadn't been terribly surprised by the doctor standing in his doorway.
"Jayne." The voice was a touch less haughty this time around.
Simon looked like he'd wandered into the wrong room for a moment, and Jayne watched as he steeled himself. Simon crossed the room in five confident steps.
It escalated rather quickly from there.
Simon was tight inside like he was everywhere else. His shirts and expressions, all tight and neat and proper. Except this tightness was hot 'n wet, a tightness that Jayne hisself was forcing loose and there was an addicting rush of power in how Simon was just takin it. Whores were all open anyways, more than willing to roll over and spread, none of them bothered to hold on as long as the doctor was, they never trembled all over tryin' to be tight. None of them closed their eyes and held still their breath and shook, and thin hips were never all aquiver above his own and under his hands, and it was somethin' Jayne could get used to with scary quickness.
So it was a surprise that it was when Simon finally stopped being tight, when he reached the end and snapped, panting and gasping, that made Jayne nearly come.
"Yehsoo," Simon hissed, arching his back and rocking unsteadily on Jayne's cock. That was real nice, nicer when Jayne started setting the pace, lifting Simon then forcing him back down again with a confident grip.
It wasn't enough though, not at this angle, it didn't go deep or hard like Jayne wanted.
He wasn't sure what Simon cursed when he turned him round and pinned him proper to the mattress. It wasn't something he was likely to repeat around River, he was sure, but that wasn't nearly as interesting as the furious blush that was takin over Simon's face, or the way his jaw fell open when Jayne hit right there and clamped tight around Jayne's length all over again.
Simon's orgasm surprised them both, the body beneath Jayne tensing all over then snapping with Simon's desperate, final gasp. Jayne's stomach was hot and wet but he didn't really care about that, when everything else was this close to perfect. Simon gave half hearted, dizzied moans with each of Jayne's last thrusts.
Jayne came and collapsed on top of the still panting man, only rolling to the side when Simon gave his shoulder two irritated nudges.
Even if he didn't really want to, Jayne's body knew to take a powerful orgasm, the familiar hum of Serenity's engine and a warm body against his own as signs to pass out, and he was already more asleep than awake when he grabbed blindly for a blanket.
He woke to Simon's voice, but more importantly, Simon's still naked body against his.
"We need to talk."
How much of a woman could a man be while he still had a cock to swing between his legs? "Why?" Jayne was curious to know, and wanted nothing more than to be fully dressed and in another room. He started to shift, but Simon's hand was there on his wrist, firm as he could be.
"Is this the last time you'll want this?" Simon's voice is ridiculously soft, and if the hum of Serenity's engine had been any louder, he wouldn't have heard it at all. "Are you done? Because it's . . . I'm not. I still want more. From you."
Every inch of Simon's nakedness is suddenly too obvious to ignore, and Jayne's not quite sure what he wants to do with it.
"I'll give you three weeks to dirty yerself proper, n'then maybe I'll stick it in you again."