Wherein Jayne and Simon Have Sex



Simon had been a clumsy lover in college.

It had come as bit of a surprise.

Not the fact that he was clumsy, really -- because he'd known he'd been doing something wrong with those girls who were more sweaty than flushed -- but that college was the place he'd been taught this. He'd been told by his father that college was a place of serious, reverent study. That mistakes were not tolerated in such an environment and now, more than ever, Simon needed to focus on his career.

He'd been welcomed into his father's old fraternity, Kappa Sigma, with cheers and open arms, only to find it nothing more than a festering welt of sexual activity.

Most of the men (for there was no mistaking them for boys, not like Simon) came from privileged homes. They were tall and tanned and the best the genetic tweaking could buy. Not any more well to do than Simon himself, but his parents had always been a bit old fashioned. He was the same as he'd been from the moment of his birth, and Simon found himself a bit out of his league. Quickly wrestled to the beds, cheerfully taught things he just couldn't have known in his sheltered, satisfied life.

That sex was more than just a quick rut, sweaty and messy. That the longer it lasted, the more you pulled back, the better it could be. That it wasn't a contest, until it was, and then it was great.

It had taken him months to gain enough control to think anything more than curses and swears while getting hammered into the mattress (or wall, or bench, or table), a few more to think of anything to actually do other than hang on and try not to wail. A full year before he felt comfortable enough to try an initiate anything.

Now he wanted to scream, and kick and force Jayne's heavy bulk off him.

He shouldn't have gotten this good.

Not this fast.

"What'em I gonna do next?" Jayne asked into his collarbone, between a mouthful of slowly reddening flesh. "What could I possibly wanna do with you next?"

"Y-You --" Simon started, closing his eyes, forcing his head against the arm cradling his head as he gasped for air. Jayne shouldn't know about that spot, just bellow his belly button, not so soon.

"C'mon, doc. You want me to do somethin for ya, you're gonna have to ask. Nice-like, too."

"I'm not-- not going to ask for the privilege of getting screwed by an ape man," Simon said sharply. As sharply as he could manage while trying not to gasp, anyway.

"Nah," Jayne agreed, his voice a rumble behind a wide white smile. "You're gonna beg."

When they'd first started, Jayne had been the clumsy one. Huge and forceful. Enthusiastic, but not much finesse. He could usually satisfy, what with that ridiculously huge cock of his, but apparently no one had ever seen fit to teach him that sex was anything more than a few quick movements.

In and out, in and out, in, in! . . . And out. Done.

It was Simon who had wrapped his legs around a wide waist, encouraged him to ride it out a bit longer. Simon had traced out every scar and light spattering of freckles on Jayne's chest, licked and nibbled, taught by example, showed the larger man that there were more interesting parts of Simon's anatomy than just his ass.

Simon had panted, made demands and brought talking into it. Jayne had been all for closed eyes and tight grunts, Simon had cajoled every, *"Fuck"* or *"Fuck, fuck,"* or *"Fuck, I'm gonna -- "* out of Jayne's mouth.

It had abruptly gotten out of hand.

"You're gonna beg me to fuck ya, cause I can sit here, teasin ya, all night, happy as can be," Jayne said, rocking against Simon, prodding against his entrance, already slick and open, making him shiver all the way down in his toes. "But you're a cock slut, and you're gonna beg."

He created a monster.

"You're going to be disappointed, then," Simon insisted, determined to keep his wits about him. The ones that had managed to survive Jayne's sudden attack of gropes and nips in the hull, that is.

"Let's find out," Jayne said. Irritatingly smug. Not fair.

Jayne shifted, resting on his heels and letting Simon fall into the mattress. Simon watched with wary eyes as the large man made his way down, absently brushing a calloused thumb against his nipple. He very nearly squeaked.

When did Jayne's fingers get so clever? Simon gasped and whined when instead of his cock or slick hole he pressed against the area between. The perineum, Simon had been told it was sensitive, but he'd never bothered to give any attention to the area before and now he was regretting it. He no defense to the sensation outside of clinging to Jayne's shoulders and writhing.

"Like that?" Jayne said, because it wasn't really a question at all.

"Oh, it's-it's tolerable," he said shakily and Jayne snorted. Then the room was filled with the sound of his own surprised scream; he'd been upended, knees over Jayne's shoulders as the man gave the tender area a playful nip.

"Just-- Yehsoo." Simon didn't even feel the last of his wits scurrying away. "Please!"

Jayne didn't move. "Ain't that a sweet way of askin. Please what, though?"

"Please! Please, in me!"

"My cock?"

Simon nearly screamed in frustration; "Yes your --"

Jayne had always been impressive in that area, even the very tip of him forcing his way into Simon was enough to turn whatever he was about to say to desperate, choking noises.

He slid in, his cock huge as ever. Impaled. Hot and thick and Simon thought it might burn him alive--no, not the right phrase, brought to mind weeping children with skin hanging on by liquid threads. Jayne quickly brought him back to the here and now with a quick, demanding jerk.

"Rude to day dream while a man's doin you a favor," Jayne told him, catching his gaze. Rarely ever did Jayne utilize the power of eye contact, preferring to keep his head ducked as he plowed away. Simon thought if he knew just how much it affected the doctor's ability to breathe, he'd do it more often.

He shook it off and took a few desperate breaths, clinging to the bed sheet and biting down on his lip. This was an improvement. Jayne had always known to wait, but just hadn't cared enough to do so before. Now he just sat, calm as ever, while Simon twitched and undulated around him.

"Alright," Simon said after a beat, "Move."

"That ain't a very polite way of askin."

"I'm not asking!" Simon said, glaring up at the face that hovered above his. "I'm telling you that if you want to move, you can do so without causing me bodily harm."

"N what do you expect me to do with this little nugget of information?"

"If I have to spell it out for you," Simon grit out, trying his best to rock against Jayne's girth, but finding himself firmly planted in the mattress.

"Then what?" It's a growl, Jayne's face no more than an inch from Simon's. He couldn't free his wrists from Jayne's if his life depended on it. He shuddered, aching more and harder than he could ever remember being.

"Then-- I'll spell it out for you," Simon said.

"Please do, as I'm somewhat confused as to where to go at this particular conjuncture," Jayne said, in that eerily poetic way he so randomly dished out on the crew.

"I think at this point," he said tightly, "the best decision would be in and out. If you please."

"So sweet n'everything." Jayne grunted, then thrust in with such force Simon thought he'd crack the bed, right in half.

"Fuh--" Simon said, eyes crossing as Jayne stabbed against his prostate at full force.

"Tight," Jayne gasped, looking up at the ceiling, as if he wasn't even aware of doing it, pounding into Simon, further, further than should be allowed and if he hadn't known any better Simon might've been worried about getting split open.

His entire body was forced into the motion of Jayne's hips, back and forth, and Simon was once again thankful for the slick bed sheets that let his back slide with such quick repetitiveness with heat as its only resistance. (He'd brought them for River, but she'd called them wet and refused to sleep on anything other than cotton)

It was too much, Jayne was too big, he was always too big, but now roughed hands were running up and down his chest, pulling at his cock. Jayne's grunts and gasps every time Simon tensed or flexed around him, pushing back in further, as if in retribution. Simon remembered wailing, kicking at Jayne's back -- not trying to get him to slow down or stop but under the force of such a brutal fucking, he had to do something.

"I'm going to -- I have to--"

"As if ya have to ask," Jayne told him, bit his neck, and Simon was clinging to Jayne's shoulders and sobbing out his name.

He didn't pass out when he came, but it was near enough, panting dizzily as Jayne pushed in and in, marking his neck like he meant it to last forever.

One more thrust and Jayne came with a snarl, forcing himself deeper than he'd ever been (but Simon always thought that) and filling him with wasted seed.

There was a moment of hot, sweaty silence where Simon had a moment to reflect on life. Of course he did little more than breathing heavily and search for those scattered wits.

It was only when he got them back together again that he noticed Jayne had collapsed on him like a heated, living blanket. He'd begun stirring, and was now mouthing the hickey he'd made on the doctor's neck with almost pride.



"I can't breathe."

The world turned for a moment and suddenly, Simon's breathing blanket had turned into a mattress.


Simon sighed. It figured this would be the thing Jayne would be gifted at. "Shiny."




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