Ana (ana_grrl) wrote in jayne_simon,
Ana
ana_grrl
jayne_simon

Smut Challenge response: Town of the Backberth Freaks (NC-17)

Town of the Backberth Freaks
NC-17
Words: almost 2600
Summary: There is no way Jayne's doing that.
Notes: I tried to incorporate valiant's request for Simon talking dirty (but it's pretty mild) with bubosquared's call for 'townsfolk make them do it'.


Jayne glared. "I ain't doing that."

It was the worst timing for Jayne to get bashful or moral. "It's not like we have much of a choice, Jayne." Simon motioned at the people staring at them. "Do you actually want to get out of this alive? With Mal and Zoe set free?"

"Ain't like they can't take care of themselves."

"They're tied to stakes! In the desert!"

"Maybe it'll rain. Maybe some kind of ant might eat through the ropes. It don't have to be my problem."

He'd never have guessed that Jayne would be so skittish. It was almost laughable. But instead of giving in to his slightly hysterical urges, Simon started undoing his shirt. "Jayne. Do you see the scruffy desert folk standing around us? With guns? And the knowledge of the whereabouts of some of our crew? Did you hear what they said we needed to give them?"

Jayne shrugged. "I ain't deaf." He looked longingly at his guns and knives, piled together and under guard in a corner of the room. "I just ain't into this kind of thing."

Slipping his shirt off his shoulders, and folding it neatly, Simon sighed. How was he supposed to put this in a way Jayne would understand? "We've dealt with worse. Need I remind you?" Absently, he handed his shirt over to the nearest (gender unspecified) desert-person. "Reavers. Alliance. Mal in a really bad mood after being attacked by that bird." He shuddered. That bird had been a real pain for everyone.

"Yeah."

"So what's so bad about this?"

"I ain't some kind of patsy for these," Jayne gestured at their captors, "kinds of scum. Perverts. Not for no money, anyway."

Simon closed his eyes, and counted to ten. When he opened them again, Jayne was still fully dressed, and scowling. "Jayne. If you don't come over here and fuck me like –" he faltered over the townsfolk's words momentarily, but they were just words, "—I'm your bitch, then Mal and Zoe are going to roast to death – slowly – and we'll be next."

"We'll be next?"

"Yes."

"You didn't say that before."

That was because it wasn't precisely true, but Jayne didn't need to know that. "Just take your pants off," he said, already unbuttoning his own.

Jayne nodded reluctantly, hands dropping to his belt.

Simon couldn't exactly figure it out. Jayne was hardly a blushing flower, and never one to pass up sex – especially if it was free. And it wasn't like he had anything to be ashamed of. They all shared the same shower room. Simon had seen it all.

So the reluctance, the truculence, made no sense at all. Nor did Jayne, fumbling with his belt, his expression almost blank. Even worse, Simon didn't much like the discontented rumblings of the unwashed – literally – masses watching from the edges of the room.

Hell. It was time to take a cue from Kaylee and take matters into his own hands. Kicking off his shoes – they hit the wall with a satisfying clunk – he advanced on Jayne. Four steps, fast, forceful, and he had Jayne backed up against the one wall that wasn't lined with onlookers. "What exactly," he said quietly, undoing Jayne's belt in two quick flicks of his thumb, and pulling it free, "is the problem, here? I've seen you looking at me," the belt hit the floor, and Simon shoved his hand down Jayne's pants, "I know you don't have a problem with public sex, and," he grinned a little as Jayne grunted and jerked against him, "it's free. So what the hell is going on with you?"

Jayne glared down at him, an expression that completely contradicted the fact that he was breathing just a little bit faster. "Kaylee."

"Excuse me?" Simon ignored his dry mouth, the flush of nervousness, and used his free hand to undo Jayne's pants.

"She'll kill me," Jayne grunted, even as he started pulling his shirt over his head. "You ain't got no idea the kinds of things she can do." He shook his head, the hair now a little wild with static.

"Kaylee," Simon pulled his hand out of Jayne's pants – smirking a little at the disappointed moan – and stepped back slightly. He let his pants and underwear slide from his hips to the floor. Jayne stared, just a little. Like he was trying not to. "You're scared of Kaylee?"

"She's seen me looking at you. Ain't done it too much, just sometimes, when –" he cut himself off. "Don't matter. Anyway, she said you ain't for sharing. To keep my hands to myself." His voice dropped, somehow even quieter than it already had been. "She's handy. She can mess all kinds of things up. You don't know."

But Simon knew. He knew all about Kaylee's skills, knew the way she could be devious. Sometimes. Not often, but it happened. He stepped back towards Jayne, sliding his hands under the waist of Jayne's pants. "I think she'll make an exception. We're doing this for a reason." Pressing against Jayne briefly, grinning at the shock of warm skin against him, he whispered, "So get with the program, or Mal and Zoe aren't going to make it off this rock."

It was ridiculous, the two of them here in some dingy, dirty room, surrounded by locals who didn't seem to have any real form of entertainment other than to blackmail outsiders into public sex. They didn't seem to have much in the way of morals either, for that matter. But Simon wasn't about to screw this up. He wasn't about to let Mal and Zoe die because of this kind of petty perversion. Instead, he shoved Jayne's pants and underwear down, and wrapped his hand around Jayne's cock.

Hot, hard, and Simon couldn't quite remember the last time he'd done this, the last time he'd held the heavy weight of an erection not his own. He grinned when Jayne hissed, grinned down at the sight of his hand – the new scars along the back and sides, the slight pink of sunburn – around Jayne's cock, already hard, leaking.

It was a pretty sight, though Simon wouldn't ever say so. But maybe Jayne already knew, because he was smirking slightly when Simon looked up. Simon rolled his eyes and leaned in closer. "They were very specific about what they want."

Jayne nodded. "Bed? Probably easiest."

The bed – dubious and rank – was hardly appealing, but it was better than the floor. Simon let Jayne steer him towards it, and lay down. The sheets scratched at his skin, but he only had a moment to think about it before Jayne straddled his chest. Simon took it in, the hairy legs, the flushed cock straining towards him. He hadn't thought about doing this – hadn't thought about Jayne this way, not more than idly. But now, he didn't have much a choice, neither of them did, and he might as well make the best of the situation. He let his head tilt back, and when he met Jayne's eyes – shadowed, wide – he smiled loosely.

Jayne's mouth was slack, his bottom lip slick with spit. He watched Simon for a moment, before wrapping one hand around the base of his cock. Simon heard a harsh intake of breath, a mutter from someone in the crowd. And then Jayne shifted forward, placing his free hand against the headboard.

"C'mon," he muttered, just loud enough for Simon to hear. "C'mon. Open up, so we can give these backberth freaks a show."

Simon didn't think about the audience. He just closed his eyes, loosened his jaw, and there it was. The hothardwet push of Jayne's cock opened his mouth wide, splitting him apart with how surprisingly good it was. The weight, the tastes, the feel of opening, wide and welcoming. It had been so long since Simon last did something like this, but sense-memory never disappeared, never completely. Simon dragged in a shallow, shaky, breath, nostrils flaring and taking in the scent of male skin. He'd missed this on some level he hadn't recently admitted.

It wasn't the ideal situation – far from it – but Simon had done worse, so much worse, in the name of this crew. He and Jayne wouldn't ever talk about this, after everything was done, and for now – Simon could do this. He let his tongue push greedily against Jayne's cock, asking somehow for more, deeper, again.

Jayne's fingers pressed briefly against Simon's lips, hot, hot, as he pushed in deep, deeper than Simon should have been able to take. But it was brief, and then Jayne was pulling back, out, and his hand was slipping around to the back of Simon's skull, lifting his head up and forward, holding him in place.

Jayne was improvising, just a little. It wasn't what Simon had expected. But Jayne apparently had decided to take the job to heart. These people wanted a show. A long, slow, detailed, sticky show.

Simon could do that. He didn't even have to think about it too hard, especially when he felt fingers gripping tightly in his hair. He let his head go slack, let Jayne do all the work of keeping him up and positioned. Taking a quick, deep breath he let himself go. He focused on the smooth glide of cock, in and out, pushing against the back of his throat.

Jayne was getting his rhythm, moving faster, and it was working for Simon too. Every time Jayne moved his hips back, only to slide back in, everything got just a little more intense, a little higher. Jayne was using Simon's mouth, taking and taking, and in a different situation, Simon would grin. Even with the onlookers, even with the coercion, he liked this, the rawness of it, the way Jayne just took what he needed.

Above him, Jayne's breaths were fast, rough, and he was muttering things as he moved. They were counterpoint to the sounds of skin against skin, messy and wet. Simon caught bits and pieces of what Jayne said, words like "knew it" and "pretty mouth". He tightened his lips, worked his tongue in complex, fluid patterns. He pulled himself together, focused, worked at it. He'd been told he was good at this, and Jayne didn't seem to have any objections, even when he pulled away, letting Simon's head fall to the mattress.

Briefly, stupidly, Simon felt empty. Lazily, he dragged one hand across his mouth.

"You up for this?" Jayne asked it even as he reached for the earthenware jar of lube.

Simon shrugged, licking his lips. "Just fuck me, Jayne."

"Don't wanna break you. Probably gonna have to carry Mal and Zoe back to the ship. Ain't got another arm for you." Roughly, Jayne flipped Simon onto his stomach, and pulled him up to his knees.

Simon rolled his eyes, hoping none of the audience would notice. "I can take it." And he could. He really, really could. "Just use the lubricant."

Jayne didn't need to be told twice. He slicked his fingers up, roughly pushing them – two at a time – into Simon. His skin was rough under the slick layer of lube. The ingredients of the stuff were basic, Simon was sure – water and chemicals and the faintest of scents – but somehow it felt unfathomable, unimaginable. It made Jayne's hand glide, move like some liquid thing, leaving Simon gasping into the pillow.

When Jayne stopped, when he slid his hand out, away, Simon almost sobbed.

"You like it," Jayne said, low and dark. It wasn't a question.

"You're brilliant. Wonderful powers of deduction. Now shut up. Just do it. Hard. We don't have all day." The sarcasm almost washed away how pathetically needy his voice sounded. He braced himself, expecting Jayne to just go for it – no finesse, no warning – but instead the world tilted on its axis, and he found himself turned, kneeling, straddling Jayne.

"My turn to lie 'round on my back," Jayne said, spreading Simon's legs a little wider, and then grasping onto his hips.

And Simon grinned, despite the situation, despite the rough tear of cheap cloth at his knees. He braced himself, balanced, and sank down, down, biting his lip at the unexpected, rough pleasure. Jayne's eyes closed tight, but he pulled Simon's hips down, hard. His cock was slick inside Simon, relentless. It felt bigger, hotter than it had when Jayne had been using his mouth.

"Gorram," Jayne muttered, as Simon settled himself. "How come we didn't do this before?"

"Kaylee, remember?" Simon managed to get out as Jayne's hand wrapped around his cock, twisting. "You're scared of her," he laughed a little.

"Maybe this ain't so much the time to be taunting," Jayne punctuated his words with a sharp thrust upwards, a clenching of his hand. Simon bit his lip. It was good, too good, and if Jayne did that a couple more times, this would be over in a few more minutes.

Could be that was obvious too, because Jayne let go of Simon's cock, and settled both hands on Simon's hips. "I figure maybe you gotta pay for being rude in this delicate time." He sneered a little. "Work for it."

"Bastard." But Simon hadn't ever been afraid of work. Leaning down, he wrapped his hands around Jayne's biceps, silently thanked his relatively recent upper-body strength, and worked for it.

It wouldn't take long, he could tell. Jayne panted, fast and shallow, grunting a little every time Simon rolled his hips in just the right way. Simon figured out the right angle easily, perfect enough that he wasn't going to need Jayne's hand jerking him off.

But Jayne's hands on his hips, urging Simon to move faster, harder, those helped, that was perfect. Jayne was so hard, pushing deep, and that was what Simon needed, just exactly that, it was –

"Jayne," he grunted, as he came, shuddering, hot. It was perfect, and he clenched, rocked back, ground down towards Jayne, once, twice. It was enough to set Jayne off too. His hands dug into Simon's hips as he bucked up, face flushed and strained. His motions sent aftershocks of pleasure through Simon, and he went with them.

Good. Too good.

After, exhausted and coming down, Simon looked at the slack expression on Jayne's face, and felt the urge to taunt him, just a little. But he wouldn't be fooling either of them, so instead, he just went limp, collapsing down on Jayne, heedless of the sweat and semen all over his chest. And Simon hadn't forgotten about their inbred audience throughout the performance, not at all, but it wasn't so easy to ignore them now. Not the audience, and not the filthy state of the bed they were on.

"Get off," Jayne muttered. "We got work to do. Crew to get."

Simon nodded against Jayne's chest. The scratch of hair rasped his forehead. "I know."

"Anyways, this is giving me the creeps."

Simon turned his head to one side, taking in the silent audience. "I can't imagine why."

"Rutting freaks just stood there, the whole time. Didn't move. Ain't natural. Hell, if I saw a show like what we just put on, I'd be –"

Simon pushed himself up, shaking his head. "I don't need to hear the details, thank you."

"Hell, course you don't. You just rutting lived 'em."

Simon closed his eyes, and stood up, ignoring his nudity. As imperiously as possible, he said, "I believe you people owe us our crew members."

End.
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