The sex between them begins in time honoured fashion. First off there’s too much whiskey to drink and that’s soon followed by a barfight and an excess of adrenaline. One minute he and Jayne are laughing, then something goes awry and he’s tugging down Jayne’s pants, wetting himself up with saliva and mounting the big man. They rut all night, sharing spit and sweat and come, then all too soon it’s morning and Mal’s left with the harsh reality that he’s fucked his mercenary and enjoyed it way more than he should’ve done.
Afterwards he treats Jayne like gou shi; putting him down in front of everyone more than usual. More than he deserves. Jayne may not be the smartest man alive, but he sure ain’t the cretin that Mal’s making out he is. It’s pride that’s standing in the way between him and Jayne and an apology that’s sorely needed, but Mal don’t care much. It ain’t his problem. His mama always said he shoulda been born under the sign of the mule.
When it’s just him and Jayne doing a pick up again, Mal palms Jayne’s cock like it’s property then finds out that stubborn pride has caused him a problem after all. This time it turns out that Jayne ain’t quite so willing to roll over for him.
“If’n you reckon you’re sticking your ji ba up my nethers again you got some fast other thinking to do.” Jayne stands defiant, hand stroking the flank of his sidearm, and the thought that he might actually turn on him makes Mal harder ‘n hell. He’s seen him do it to Marco and in truth there’s nothing gets Mal running hotter than an unpredictable lay. It’s the only reason he’s still sniffing after Inara. She gives out when it suits her and slaps him down when it don’t.
“Been thinking s’about time for me to move on anyhow,” continues Jayne. “Perks ain’t shiny enough ‘round here no more.”
Mal frowns ‘cause this ain’t part of the plan. He needs Jayne to stay signed on with ‘em. A big hunk of muscle with a sure aim is always useful to have around. “Hell, Jayne,” he says after thinking things through for a while, “I’ll let you do me.”
Jayne grins then tips a wink to the bartender who throws him a key to the upstairs room. Kneeing Mal in the rear end, he shoves him toward the stairs with Mal putting up a show of resistance all the way there in order to get them even more fired up.
Sex don’t happen the way he expects. The big man sits in a wheel back chair, his feet up on the table as he sucks on a stogie, and all the time he has his gun aimed at dead centre of Mal’s crotch.
“Ain’t fooling me, Jayne,” says Mal. “Y’ain’t likely to use that on me. Y’ll have to try harder ‘n that to get me out of my pants.”
The firearm twitches in Jayne’s hand and a silenced bullet whistles past Mal’s hip, embedding itself in the wall behind him. Heart stuttering in his chest, Mal pats the site of the whisper-near miss like he’s checking for whittled out chips of bone.
“Strip,” says Jayne, staring him down with eyes that are as hard and as cool as glass.
Mal ain’t thinking with his head no more. He slides his suspenders down then unfastens buttons and shucks his shirt off. No point in pretending this ain’t getting him revved up. Not with his cock, thick as a cudgel, on display for Jayne to see.
“The breeches,” says Jayne, pouring himself a glass of the local alcohol that, even to Mal’s unrefined palate, tastes more like kerosene than liquor.
Mal kicks off his boots and shimmies out of his pants until he’s standing naked in front of the mercenary. “Now what?”
Jayne beckons him closer with the barrel of his gun. “Get me out,” he says with a tiny smile that twists his lips cruelly.
Mal’s mouth is dry and he’s finding it hard to concentrate. He kneels in front of the big man, and unzips his pants, taking hold of that thick prick and breathing in the scent of sex and smoke.
“Suck it,” snaps Jayne, stubbing out his cigar in the ashtray.
Christ! Mal reacts like he’s been cracked with a whip. He bends his head, tongue poking out from between his lips as he licks up the ooze of bittersweet fluid.
“Suck it I said. If’n I wanted a girl to give me head I’d’ve gone for one of them whores downstairs.”
Mal’s own cock is begging for attention by now. His balls are tight and aching and there’s a steady rivulet of fluid dripping off him. He ain’t never been treated this way before. Bending in supplication, he takes Jayne’s cock into his mouth, sucking it hard and working the shaft with his hand.
Jayne throws his head back and groans. “S good. Harder now, Cap’n. Just like that, yeah.”
Mal uses every scrap of knowledge he’s accrued over the years, grazing Jayne with his teeth and swallowing him whole until the man’s legs are juddering from the build up of intense pleasure.
“Ride my cock,” Jayne snarls, head thrashing from side to side. The gun is hanging listlessly from his hand, close to the point of dropping to the floor, and Mal knows he could take the mercenary without much effort, but he don’t wanna, leastways not just yet. He’s happy to let his soldier boy lead the play for a while longer.
Straddling Jayne, with his bare feet on the floor, Mal slicks that monster cock with spit and pre-come and then eases himself down, feeling the head slide into position. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch without prep, but that’s the way Mal likes it. Jayne too if last time was anything to go by.
“Gorram rutting hell,” growls Jayne as Mal takes him in, squeezing tight with every muscle as he inches down onto the thick shaft.
The burn is more than good and Mal reaches down to jack himself, but Jayne surprises him again by slapping his hands away. “I said fuck me, not fuck yourself.”
Mal ain’t positive he’s still fond of this game, but his ji ba sure seems to be --even if it’s not getting the attention it deserves. Leaning on Jayne’s shoulders, he slides up and down on that solid piece of meat, wanting to outperform Jayne’s regular whores. Mal suffers from this fervent desire to be best at everything he does. The effort’s tiring him out now and sweat starts to bead and then trickle down his forehead, but it’s worth it to feel the big man buck and writhe under him, to watch him screw his face up with pleasure.
“Yeah fuck, yeeeaaaaaaah,” Jayne yells, gripping Mal’s hipbones tight and holding him in place with them big hands as he reaches his climax. “Hell, Cap’n, that was-“
Jayne stops talking as soon as he feels the gun nestle against his balls. Mal pushes his point across, digging the barrel into delicate skin as he climbs carefully off Jayne’s lap.
“Your turn now, mister. Out of them pants then lay down for me.”
Mal steps back enough to allow Jayne to room to stand up and get naked. He keeps the gun aimed true, breath hitching in his throat as the big man shows off his muscles and then submits, spreading for him like a good li’l bitch.
“I ain’t gonna last long,” he mutters, mostly to himself.
Lifting Jayne’s legs, Mal spits and slicks and then thrusts into him, leaning down close and watching the flutter of Jayne’s eyelids as pain turns to pleasure. The merc ain’t gonna come again, but that don’t mean he can’t get a good feeling out of it. Mal fucks that big body, giving it his all. This is why he likes sly sex the best. There’s no limit when it comes to rutting with another man, ‘specially when he’s a big old hun dan like Jayne. Shifting position slightly, Mal angles his hips and rides Jayne’s ass, slamming against his sweet spot until the guy is yelling out like a banshee. It’s good, can’t get better than this. Powering in with a volley of hard thrusts, Mal groans and then finishes up, filling Jayne’s inside with his spunk.
“Hell,” he says, collapsing onto Jayne’s bear like chest and heaving in gasps of air.
Don’t take long for either of them to get recovered enough for another go round.
***
When they return to Serenity next day, Mal ain’t quite so much of the
sumbitch he was last time they fucked. The rest of the crew are relieved that
a truce has been called and Mal is gorram thankful that no further explanations
are demanded. Has to be said, as much as he enjoys having a thrust with Jayne,
he ain’t too happy about the idea of it becoming common knowledge.
Most of the time they only get to rutting when they’re ashore on some backwater moon. Sometimes, though, the need overtakes them and they give in to their urges and fuck hard up against Serenity’s bulkheads. And sometimes, just sometimes, Mal rests his lips on the back of Jayne’s neck after he’s come and wants this thing that they have to be different from the way it actually is.
This particular morning Mal’s feeling sexed up and energized. He and Jayne have got a simple med drop to do on an outer rim rock and they’ve been teasing each other incessantly for the past forty eight hours. It ain’t enough for the rest of the crew to notice, even River don’t appear to have picked up on it, but it’s had Mal walking around with a tingle in his balls for two days solid. He enjoys it; loves the jittery feel of that pre-erection which makes him see everything Jayne does with sexed-up eyes. Prepping weaponry for the job is almost impossible with the merc doing his utmost to get him horny. Knife licking should be universally banned.
“Take care of my ship,” he says to Zoë as he and Jayne pack the boxes of medication into the shuttle. “And don’t go running off with her. She ain’t yours ‘til I’m dead and buried, dong ma.”
“Understood, Sir,” she replies. “And you make sure to take care of each other. Things could get hot down there.”
Mal don’t like the deadpan expression on Zoë’s face.
“S just a drop off, Zo. Ain’t nothing can go wrong,” says Jayne and he blinks at the woman in confusion.
Sometimes Mal loves the fact that Jayne was last in line for smarts and was given double helping of muscle to make up for it.
“C’mon, Jayne,” he says, smiling benignly at the exasperated look on Zoë’s face. Just fishing is all she was doing.
“We gotta be more careful,” he says as they approach the dust bowl of a planetoid.
“Then you gotta stop leering at me all funny like when I clean my knives.” Jayne laughs.
“Well you gotta stop licking ‘em then.” Mal laughs back.
They grin at each other because that ain’t never gonna happen, not in a million years; knife play is way too much fun to quit. Then Mal’s happy face turns into a frown when he gets this moon-brained notion that it would almost be worth his crew knowing, just so’s he can get to play with Jayne a little more often. But maybe the sexing wouldn’t be so much fun if that were the case.
Shiloh Township is the only piece of so called civilisation on this tiny rock. Mal lands the shuttle a little ways out for safety then he and Jayne unstrap themselves from the cockpit seats.
“I wouldn’t say no to a thrust,” says Jayne, rubbing up against Mal as they make their way to the cargo section of the craft.
“Like you ever say no.” Mal’s just as eager for some fun, but he wants to get the deal done first. After then they can rut all night, as long as it’s somewhere with a bed. Mal likes having a bed to sex Jayne up on, even if they don’t use it most of the time. “Let’s get this drop out of the way,” he adds, “then I can think on what I wanna do to you.”
“I can think on that right now,” says Jayne, falling to a crouched position and undoing Mal’s pants in one fluid move that has him doing head spins. Before he can even consider saying no, Jayne is sucking and licking at him hard enough to make him ready to come in seconds.
“I get first go round,” says Jayne, looking up at him with wet glistening lips.
“Keep that up and you can do whatever takes your fancy,” says Mal, arms raised to shoulder height as he grips the infrastructure of the shuttle and fucks Jayne’s mouth hard ‘til he comes with a yowl.
It’s times like this Mal’s thankful for that first drunken grapple. ‘There ain’t a single regret,’ he thinks with more than a small amount of wonderment as he wipes himself clean and fastens back up.
When Jayne gets to his feet, wearing a grimace that comes from being not so young and not so small, Mal has this urge to kiss him. Jayne has a tempting mouth and sometimes Mal wonders what he tastes like -- smoke and liquor most probably. He likes the feel of that goatee brushing over his privates and thinks it’d feel mighty strange against his face, but strange in the best kind of way.
“Don’t forget, I have first go tonight.” Jayne grins.
“Whoever said romantic was dead.” Mal grins back.
They heft the carriers of medical supplies outside the shuttle then Mal double checks the co-ords while Jayne arms himself up with his best weapons.
The township is a couple clicks off to the East. Jayne’s on full alert for sentries and Mal too ain’t expecting a friendly welcome. These outer rim flea pits tend to get raided regularly by any scavengers on the prowl and so folks keep security tight. Not so this hole though; in fact there ain’t a single person to be seen as Mal and Jayne make their way into Shiloh.
“This ain’t right,” says Jayne.
“Don’t seem that way, no.” Mal swallows. Nothing chills his blood more than the idea of Reavers; he’s seen evidence of those sick hun dan all too often.
“Mal?”
Jayne ain’t fond of them critters either. He’ll never forget the sight of the big mercenary turning sickly green from the fear.
“Mal, we gotta get the hell out of here,” mutters Jayne.
Mal pulls himself together ‘cause there ain’t no proof of anyone being slaughtered or eaten. The streets are clean; in fact the whole place looks as neat as a pin. No reason to get scared off and lose out on the money. Deals are going westward all too often right now.
“We’ll check the place out first, Jayne. There’s gotta be some simple explanation, town meeting or somesuch. There ain’t no actual sign of anything being wrong.”
“Apart from everyone being not here, ya mean?”
Mal gives him a reassuring grin. “Think on some. If this place is empty we’ll have the whole town to do our grappling in. After we’ve boosted everything we can carry first.”
Jayne half-smiles, but Mal can tell that he still ain’t happy.
Footsteps echo on the wooden boards as they make their way over to the Mercantile and peer into the glazed frontage. The inside is dark and dusty and all the shelving appears to be empty.
“Looks like someone’s already done the plundering,” says Jayne with a frown. “Who is it we’re supposed to be dealing with?”
“Doctor-” Mal looks down at the details writing on the med carrier. “Doctor Garston.”
“Reckon we’ve found his place of business,” says Jayne, pointing to a plaque on the side of a grey clapboard building that’s butted up next to the store.
The doc’s surgery is cold and quiet and as dead as the rest of the town. This time though there’s sign of some more serious events happening. The med-vault is open and the contents are strewn over the floor. There’s been some heavy shooting going on too if the rash of bullet holes decorating the walls are from recent times.
Mal feeling a definite sense of disquiet creep over him -- a sensation which is at odds with the blanket silence that’s smothering this ghost town. “I’m gonna check in with Wash,” he says, turning tail and striding away from the deserted surgery.
“'Kay,” says Jayne, following him out of the building and then walking a little ways up the street to where a track veers off to the left up the hill.
The radio signal is gou shi and Mal can hardly hear a thing on it. “Lemme speak to Simon,” he says trying to hear Wash’s voice through the crackle. Gorramit! He hates everything about this ass end of the Verse. Can’t even talk to your crew when you need to.
“Simon,” he says impatiently. “Need your to pick your doctoring brain some.”
“Go ahead, Captain.”
“’M out of my depth here. Town’s deserted but there ain’t no sign of reavers or bodies. Doc’s nowhere to be found and I have no clue what’s gone down.”
“Wash said you were on a med run. What were you delivering?”
“Mal!” yells Jayne.
Mal shakes his head dismissively at the merc. He ain’t got time for Jayne and his paranoia issues right now. Opening one of the carriers, he takes out the two different vials, peering at the letters on each tiny container.
“Mal! It’s okay.”
Mal shakes his head again wishing he had ear plugs. It’s hard enough to hear the com without Jayne adding to the background noise.
“Rifampsone,” he says, annunciating clearly so the word can be heard over the interference. The other drug is something real longwinded. Mycobacterium bovisbacillus or some such, but Mal can’t figure out how he’s supposed to say that.
“How long ago did you make the deal?” asks Simon and there’s this urgency to his voice that creeps Mal out.
He struggles to recall the details of the arrangement he had with Garston. “Took us a while to get the goods and get here. Two months minimum, three tops, far as I can figure.” Mal can feel his face twisting up in exasperation the way it always does when he speaks to Simon Tam.
“It’s Tzaraath, Captain. Get out of there now.”
Mal watches Jayne waving and racing toward the little church at the far end of town. He can hear distant faint singing and it’s eerie as gorram hell.
“What?” he says over the radio.
“Get out now!”
Simon’s yelling is so out of character that it sends Mal into a tailspin. He watches Jayne race up the steps of the church and throw open the double doors. The man’s been brought up with such an overpowering belief in God that he’s blinded by his faith. There ain’t nothing about a church that makes it a sanctuary as far as Mal’s concerned.
“Captain Reynolds, can you hear me? It’s imperative you get away from there immediately. The whole planet will be infected by now.”
The singing is louder with the doors open wide. Then the hymn stops and Mal is frozen to the core as he watches a horde of cloth-covered creatures swarm out of the building covering the mercenary in this tide of putridity. What in the name of hell is that smell?
“Jayne.” Mal’s running forward now, hand closing over the butt of his pistol.
“Mal,” yells Jayne in this terrified voice and he’s trying to get to his weapons, but in doing that he drops the med-carrier. It spills open, its contents rolling around on the planks then trickling down off the steps like one of them mountain streams on Shadow.
“Gorramit, Mal, help me,” cries Jayne and he’s more full of fear than Mal’s ever seen him. There’s gunfire, but it’s muffled by the layers of vermin that’re crawling over the mercenary, obscuring his big body from sight.
Mal has his Colt raised, but he can’t see clear enough to pick out what’s Jayne and what’s things that used to be human but don’t seem that way no more.
“Captain.” He can hear Zoë’s voice over the radio and he holds up the com, still aiming his pistol at the mass of critters.
“They got Jayne, Zo. I’m gonna try help him.”
“Can’t happen, Sir. If you’re in contact with them then you’ll be infected same way Jayne is now.”
Mal screws up his eyes. He can’t stand here and watch this, but, at the same time, he can’t look away.
They drag Jayne, kicking and yelling, inside the church, pawing at him like he’s meat and last thing Mal sees is the thrashing of that head. All he can think of is the merc thrashing under some entirely different circumstances, and when he tries to pull the trigger and give Jayne some peace, he’s shaking so much he misses by a mile and the bullet clips the iron door furniture and ricochets off into the dirt. The next round is wasted on the heavy oak doors as they close up tight.
“Are you out of there, Sir?”
“I’m gone,” he answers as he walks up the road back towards the shuttle. “I’m gone.”
FEEDBACK Liz