Rating: NC-17. Yeah. Big-time.
Warnings: PWP, dirty talk, rimming
Notes: A response to the There Really Needs To Be More Smut Challenge, and to bugchicklv's rimming request. It's really graphic, sloppy, short, plotless, and probably crappy, but you know what? I'm fine with that.
Thanks to nutkin for the glance-over.
With only one more rung to go, Simon pauses on the ladder.
Jayne's bunk is unusually dark. Instead of sitting there on the edge of his bed like usual with a gun slung across his lap and a filthy, oily rag in one hand, Jayne's laying on his bed with his arms behind his head, shrouded in shadow, one boot on the ground and the other kicking a blanket deliberately off the bed. It's almost forbidding, the way Jayne's obviously waiting for him, and it makes Simon's stomach ache even harder than it already is.
"It's dark in here," he manages to say, clinging at the ladder nervously.
"You know the way," says Jayne.
Simon does. The air pressure hiss-clunk of the bunk door closing behind him seems loud with only the hum of the ship and Simon's heart to accompany it.
"You get yourself ready?" Jayne asks him, his voice throaty and low, like they're not alone in the room -- like this is a secret, even though the whole boat knows about them by now. Simon shudders a little and nods, hyper-aware of his chest rising and falling with his quick, shallow breaths. His hair's still a little damp from his shower, and his skin feels tingly from the thorough scrubbing he gave himself. Jayne makes a sudden move off his bed, oddly nimble for all of that muscle, and is up in Simon's startled face a second later, staring at him intensely and grabbing him around the middle.
Jayne's hands are so rough, his face so mesmerizing, that when he pushes Simon hard back onto his bed and growls, "Git your ass up in the air," Simon obeys quickly.
He's no sooner rolled onto his stomach and gotten to one knee that Jayne's hands pull his hips up with a demanding yank, crushing him back against the bulk of his thighs. His prick stabs against Simon's ass through both their pants. Simon gasps, fingers clawing into fists around Jayne's thin blankets.
"Uh-huh," Jayne rasps, "feel that?"
He knocks his hips bruisingly against Simon's tailbone, driving a short moan from him with ruthless efficiency.
"Ye-ahhh, doc. Oh, yer gonna get it tonight." Jayne's voice drops into a hiss. "I'm gonna pound that ass so hard you're gonna be walkin' crooked all week."
Simon only groans, hardening in his pants by the second and eagerly trying to imagine the feel of Jayne's cock up his ass. He twists and gives Jayne a look of longing over one shoulder, and Jayne stares back as he plants his hand on the back of Simon's blue sweater and pulls Simon back against him. The line of Jayne's prick presses against the seam of Simon's pants, right between his ass cheeks, right where Simon wants it. He swivels his hips a little.
"Yeah, you wanna sit on it, don't ya," Jayne drawls knowingly. "Maybe I'll let ya, once yer good an' wet."
Fire's replacing Simon's blood; everything's burning from his cock upwards.
"Jayne," he groans shame-facedly at the mattress, warring for a painful moment over how bad he wants it and how bad he feels to want it, what Jayne's been promising -- or threatening.
The firm heat of Jayne's hips disappear; he can hear the buckle-clink of Jayne's belt as it's unfastened. Simon quickly brings a hand to his own belt, fumbling desperately with it even as he balances himself on his other hand and stares nakedly at Jayne again, watching him shuck his pants down around his thighs and leave them there, caught on his holster. Thoughts of anything and anyone else disappear. Jayne's cock is fucking huge. It's beautiful in some animalistic, ugly way, too -- the veins of it, the angry red flush, the starkness and strength of it against the coarse hair surrounding it and the ragged hem of Jayne's t-shirt, that one with the cartoon of the naked woman on it. It stirs a raw hunger inside Simon that nothing else ever has; the desire to touch it, suck it, let it ram the back of his throat shuts down the logical parts of his brain.
Jayne catches him staring and fists it for him, all the muscles of his thighs and arms bunching as he does so. Simon can't undo his pants fast enough.
"Horny for it, huh?" Jayne asks with a leer in his voice, and it's not even a question, really. "You can say it... I don't mind."
"I -- it's incredibly unhygienic," manages Simon as he struggles with his belt.
"Yeah, it's downright dirty," says Jayne, relishing all this as only Jayne could. "An' you want it bad."
A jag of pleasure hooks Simon's gut, and he hisses in a breath; Jayne's reached around and unsnapped the belt easily, his fingers brushing against Simon's trapped cock.
Before Simon knows it, he and Jayne have shoved his pants and underwear down to a tangle around his knees, and Jayne's grabbed him unceremoniously by his ass and steadied him before he can topple over from the effort. Jayne's thumbs push his cheeks apart and Simon goes stiff with self-consciousness, knowing that Jayne's looking at him -- studying him. All his muscles tense, and Jayne's hands squeeze his ass cheeks forcefully in response, asserting his control. Now Simon's cock is throbbing, and hard enough to be kissing his stomach wetly as he fights for breath, somehow mortified and turned on at the same time. All he can do is slump forward to hide his face against the bed, his face burning.
Jayne's weight makes the bed dip a little, and his breath makes a shudder ratchet up Simon's spine.
"Ain't this a sight," he growls, and his thumbs slide lower, deeper, prying.
To his credit, Simon doesn't make a sound as a wet warmth that has to be Jayne's tongue slides up the slight and sensitive separation of his balls, right up into his crack, eager and unflinching and interested. But the tight, high-pitched moan he was struggling to keep in just leaks out anyway a moment later, because Jayne's tongue just slides right back down again, wet and strong, and there's no way it should feel that good.
"Yeah," Jayne agrees in a low rush of breath against his skin, and his tongue returns to play at the tight, tense crinkle of Simon's hole.
Trying to suffocate his whimpers into the mattress, Simon can barely breathe, but somehow that only makes it worse, makes it hotter, makes the filthy sensation of Jayne's tongue opening him up feel better than he could have ever imagined.
"Yeah, doc. Open up," he can hear Jayne muttering feverishly between long, attentive thrusts of his tongue up and down and up and in. Then, to Simon's utter shock, Jayne spits, and the wetness slips down the inside of his ass cheek in a slow dribble, and oh, God, that just shouldn't --
Whimpering, Simon has to thrust a hand down to grasp himself cruelly around the base of his cock, because he's so wound up he's liable to lose it like this, his ass up in the air and Jayne's face buried between his cheeks, and he'd never live it down, not ever. Every brush of Jayne's goatee and every swipe of his tongue makes Simon rock on his knees, trying to escape, trying to bear back against him in shameful desire.
"Bet l'il Kaylee never got you makin' them kinda noises," Jayne says out of nowhere, and Simon's head shoots up in angry alarm.
"Don't you even -- mention Kay... oh my God," he blurts, forgetting whatever he was saying completely, because Jayne's got a slippery, dripping finger up inside him and it's so painfully perfect that he loses himself in rocking back against it.
"Good?" demands Jayne. A moment later, Simon's flipped onto his back again and Jayne's roughly kicking Simon's pants down his legs and off the bed and fingering him at the same time, and Simon's pulling his legs apart, his fist still clenching his cock. Jayne's weight on him is incredible -- he's so heavy and his skin is burning Simon's and the thigh holster Jayne's still wearing is digging painfully into his leg. "You know Kaylee ain't never made you feel like this," Jayne snarls at him, jamming another finger up Simon's hole and driving a babbling moan from him.
"Oh, fuck - don't stop."
He doesn't even shy away or think twice when Jayne's mouth ravages over his, and shoves his tongue out to meet Jayne's, writhing frantically between the fingers stretching and teasing him and the sloppy kiss. The back of his head is pounding with the knowledge of where Jayne's tongue just was, but the rest of him doesn't care, and maybe even finds it...
"Wo de ma, you tastin' yourself?" Jayne hisses.
Simon responds by grabbing Jayne by the hair and pulling him down for more, feeling Jayne moan and hump against him once before he breaks away, panting harshly, fingers leaving Simon aching for more. He flops onto his back, his head at the foot of his bed and both legs hanging over the side, his broad chest heaving and his t-shirt twisted up over the knot of his belly-button. His cock has deepened to a dark purply-red.
"Get up on it, doc," Jayne commands, and Simon moves to do so with sweaty, trembling limbs. He straddles Jayne and slowly stretches over, slipping down onto his prick with ease borne of naked, shameless want, Jayne's large hands guiding him by the hipbones.
There's the burn of accommodating Jayne's girth, the sheer length of him stabbing deep inside; Jayne's staring up at him with a grimace of concentration and heat, and for that moment, Simon feels hotter and more wanted than those naked girls tacked to Jayne's wall, than the posing woman on his shirt, than all the whores Jayne's bedded and all the awkward kisses he and Kaylee ever shared. Simon grabs at the wall, fingers half on the smooth metal sheen of Vera's barrel, as Jayne's hands lead him into a hard, unforgiving pace, and he can hear the snaps as Jayne's hips hit his ass. They're the kind of thrusts Jayne gets into when he wants Simon to know exactly who is doing exactly what to him, like he's saying, Feel. Me. In. You.
"Jayne. Yes," he gasps out, but his voice doesn't seem to want to work right, so even though it feels like he cries out, all that comes out is the choked sound of his breathing. He's bouncing against Jayne's hips so hard that his hair's slipped into his eyes, and a few moments later, Jayne's hand is brushing it back and holding his face gently, even as his cock is slamming into Simon's ass in slippery, sharp stabs, and Simon's throwing himself back on it with abandon.
Jayne comes first -- with a growl like he's angry, like he couldn't help himself -- and after recovering for a few moments, wraps his fist around Simon's cock and brings him off in three short, tight tugs, and Simon's only mildly mortified that he's come all over the woman on Jayne's t-shirt. He sighs, then slumps onto Jayne's sticky chest, not even minding that he probably will be walking crooked all week.
"Knew you'd like it," mumbles Jayne with a lazy smirk.
Simon can only think of one thing to say to that.