Checks and Balances

Mal looks around Serenity’s living quarters and frowns. He has a ship full of contented folk and, whilst to most people that’d be a good thing, for some reason in Mal’s head it ain’t exactly a happy making situation.

Since taking off from Beylix Kaylee’s been humming away to herself like a songbird, and the way Mal sees things there’s only two possible reasons for it. Either she’s finally got to find out what’s in the doc’s fancy pants, or she’s excited ‘cause of all them engine parts they picked up for free from the scavenger sites. He hopes it’s the latter, but Kaylee can’t take the smile off her face and that makes the captain out and out nervy. Mal ain’t a fan of shipboard romance.

Then there’s River who nowadays is settled and quiet and is making way more sense than before. She’s even starting to contribute; learning about piloting from Wash and spending hours navigating by the star charts. Strange as it may seem, Mal misses the little girl’s odd ways. He’d gotten used to having a ticking time bomb on board.

River’s brother Simon has a genuine smile on his face, but even Mal has to admit that’s an improvement. He always hated that aloof stare the doctor permanently wore as if to say he was better’n everyone else. Thinking about it, Mal’s convinced now that Kaylee’s teaching Simon Tam a thing or two about sexing and that’s what’s sending the prim doctor’s tension levels plummeting.

Wash and Zoë are as happy as always -- a fact that still messes with Mal’s brain if he dwells on it too much. Wash ain’t the type of man he’d have picked as a husband for his second in command, but they work and who’s he to judge whether a thing is good, bad or something to pass the time?

The shepherd and the companion settled their differences a long time ago and have become good friends. For a while Mal used to get jealous when he’d drop in to Inara’s shuttle to flirt some, only to discover that Book was already there sharing tea. Sometimes he wonders what they talk about. Nothing he has an interest in that’s for gorram sure. He ain’t the philosophical type.

Then there’s Jayne Cobb. Mal don’t think about him too much because, to be frank, there ain’t much to think about. Jayne ain’t exactly cerebral; he likes eating, drinking, fighting, rutting and boosting whatever he can lay his hands on. But right now even he’s got a smile on his face as he sits at the table with a weapon laid out in front of him, cleaning it with love same way he does every day.

The gorram happiness seems so widespread that Mal wonders if it’s a symptom of some kind of disease that’s infecting the ship. He frowns a little more just to be awkward because it ain’t natural for everyone to appear to be in such good spirits, but underneath he ain’t too grouchy his own self. Twitchy yes, miserable no.

“Reckon I could do with stopping off at the Occident Sky Plex,” he says blithely to the crew who are settled around the table eating supper, “if that ain’t too distressing an idea for you all.”

Occident isn’t the biggest party zone in the verse, but there’s a fair amount to occupy everyone and, at the very least, they can arrange in advance to pick up their mail from there. Waves are one thing, but letters and packages from home make all the difference to some.

River’s dark eyes light up like starshine at the idea and Zoë and Wash share a secret smile that strangely enough matches the expressions on two other eager faces.

“How long will we be there for?” asks Simon cautiously and Mal reckons the doctor don’t want to get his hopes up too high in case they’re dashed. Spending time away from the ship can make a love life run so much smoother, but a few hours ain’t worth much to no one.

“Three, maybe four days. I got some contacts to strike a deal with and, in truth, it all depends on them,” says Mal, knowing for certain from the love struck look on Simon’s face that the doctor and the mechanic have something going on between them that’s more than just rutting.

“Shiny!” Kaylee closes her eyes and Mal imagines she’s drinking in the blissful thought of big soft beds, constant hot water and some heavy sexing sessions.

“How soon will we arrive there, Malcolm?” asks Inara. “I’d like to arrange some business.”

Mal looks to his pilot and Wash does a few mental calculations, mumbling away to himself as he figures out the answer. “Six days, maybe a little less with the all new turbo charged engines,” he decides eventually.

“What’s got me wondering is if’n the doc here is turbo charged too,” says Jayne with a leer. “Does he go faster now you’ve tinkered with his man parts, Kaylee?”

The little mechanic giggles, but Simon blushes red with embarrassment and Mal turns on the mercenary angrily. “How many times I got to tell you to fix that filthy mouth of yours, Jayne Cobb.”

“Was just having some fun. Weren’t meaning nothing by it, Mal,” says the big man with a sullen look.

“Don’t care. Stay away from the rest of us normal folk ‘til you can learn to keep a civil tongue in that big ugly head of yours.”

Leaving his gun spread out over the table in small parts Jayne gets up and strides out of the living area, slamming his big frame into every possible noise making piece of furniture on his way to the hatch.

“Weren’t no need for you to sound off at him like that, Cap’n.” Kaylee’s sounding troubled. “It were just Jayne being Jayne. Simon knows he don’t mean nothing.”

“Well, he ain’t ever gonna learn if he ain’t told.” Mal runs his fingers through his hair making it stand on end. Why can’t everyone just shut up and let him get the hell on with being captain.

“I think if Jayne was gonna learn he would have done it by now, Sir.” Zoë’s glaring at him, ticked off that the previous good mood has been spaced and Mal glares right back because it ain’t as if he’s solely to blame for it.

Walking over to the table he sits down, puzzling over each gun part and trying to figure out how to re-assemble them into some kind of firearm. The Buhnder is not a weapon he’s accustomed to. Most of Jayne’s hoard is unfamiliar territory, the man has all the obsessive qualities of a collector of rarities. Finally putting the rifle back together-- with mostly no parts left over--Mal picks up the gun and heads off to the crew compartments. Jayne’s bunk is unlocked and Mal don’t bother announcing his arrival. Opening the hatch, he slides down the ladder and within a couple of paces is standing in front of the big man who’s sat on the bed, shuffling through a pack of Tall.

“Don’t go leaving your gorram weapons where River can get her hands on them,” says Mal, throwing the Buhnder down next to where Jayne is seated. “You gotta learn to use that tiny brain of yours some.”

Jayne stands up to his full height, the cards scattering onto the floor as he looks down at Mal. “You keep pushing me, Cap’n Reynolds, and-”

“And what, Jayne?” interjects Mal. “You gonna walk away from the sweetest little earner you’ve had going since you was birthed on that stinking slime ball of a planet? I don’t think so. You wanna stay on this ship then you play by my rules, you hear.”

~~****~~

Five days later they’re circling Occident Sky Plex, awaiting docking instructions from control.

“What you gonna do with your leisure time, Little Albatross?” says Mal to River as her fingers dance above the controls ready to accept co-ordinates.

“Eat mostly,” she says with a smile, “and Inara says she has time to help me choose some new clothes.”

“Food sounds good,” says Wash. “Clothes not so important though.” He grins over at his wife and Mal can feel the heat burning off the pair of them. How long have they been married? He can understand Kaylee and Simon racing to get to the Skytel bedroom, but shouldn’t Zoë and Wash have gotten over this by now?

Mal watches Inara’s shuttle fly ‘round to the habitation side of the complex then it’s all systems go as commands are received over the com. River locks in the numbers for landing pad Gamma02 and there’s a sudden jolt and a surge forward as Serenity is dragged downwards at a steep angle.

As soon as they’re safely docked the crew gather in the hold; some of ‘em bordering on anxious to leave the ship. Once the ship is secured they exit via the main hatch, marching in single file down the metal gangplank onto the steel platform of the anchorage.

The harbour area is bustling with life; mules ferry passengers and cargo back and forth from the ships and Mal’s itching to get formalities over so he can strike up some side line deals. There’s a few Alliance troops uniformed up and on the prowl for illegals, but generally all Sky Plex safety measures are handled privately.

“Please tell me you’re not all loaded up with weaponry, Jayne,” says Mal, watching incredulously as, once again, the merc winds up handing gun after gun over to port security to be collected on departure.

“No harm in trying,” says Jayne with a wide grin. “I feel nekkid when I ain’t packing.”

Mal grins back. The merc’s been as good as gold since their altercation a few days ago. Mal ain’t always sure that he captains properly, but he does it to the best of his ability. Jayne is a mite trying at times but he has a handle on him.

As usual, the space station is painfully noisy and writhing with all kinds of low life fun. Mal’ll never forget seeing the looks on Tam faces when they first ventured onto a Plex. It came as a shock to their Core sensibilities, that’s for sure. River immediately thrived on the atmosphere, sucking up the debauchery second hand and enjoying all the acceptable pleasures that her money could afford. Simon, on the other hand, wandered ‘round with his mouth open, watching everything from the periphery whilst staying well away from trouble. This time Mal reckons that Kaylee’ll take him to a few of the adult rated shows and teach him a thing or two about life. The doctor needs to pull up his skirts and learn to let go once in a while. Mal’s found that there’s ways and means of doing that, even out in the black.

First thing the crew do, after River buys herself some candy, is get themselves to the mailing station and pick up any post that’s waiting for them. There ain’t much: a set of false documentation that Mal’s been needing a while and a few parcels for Kaylee from her family. Other than that there’s just one small scruffy envelope with barely legible handwriting which, after puzzling out the wording, Mal hands over to Jayne. The big man stares at the smudged ink for a while and then shoves it away unopened.

“Ain’t you gonna read it?” asks Mal inquisitively. He’s wondering who’d ever write to Jayne besides his mother. He knows this piece of mail ain’t from her because over the years he’s learnt to recognise Ma Cobb’s awkwardly styled print.

“Is that any of your business?” Jayne pushes his hands into his pockets and looks down at his boots.

“Might be something important,” says Mal helpfully. “Wouldn’t harm you none to find out.”

“I said it ain’t your business and if you don’t get off my gorram back then I am gonna shut your tamade mouth permanently, you hear?” Jayne pushes Mal out of the way, sending him tumbling to the floor, as he heads for the nearest bar.

“And a happy vacation to all,” says Wash, helping the captain to his feet.

Mal’s fuming with rage. This ain’t how it works at all. Jayne makes a fool of himself, Mal yells at him and Jayne gives in. This way is all arse about face and he’s not putting up with being shouted at and manhandled in public by any member of his crew, especially not a stupid gan ni niang like Jayne.

“I suggest leaving him to cool off a little, Captain,” says Book when Mal dusts himself down and starts out in the direction of the bar.

“Not the worst idea, Sir,” agrees Zoë, shouting to make herself heard over the cacophony coming from the entertainment level.

Mal stops walking and then turns and stares everyone down. “I reckon you should all get on with whatever you have to do and leave me to deal with Jayne’s insubordination,” he says coolly. “Just don’t expect him to be on Serenity in four days time.”

That idea is not a happy making one, but at some point Mal has to do what’s best for them all. Jayne leading a successful mutiny attempt and taking over command is a truly ridiculous idea but Jayne attempting to do the self same thing is not so unlikely, especially given the current situation. Someone could get hurt and there’s no way Mal’s letting that happen.

“But Cap’n,” says Kaylee, her eyes wide with concern, “he didn’t mean no harm. He was riled up is all.”

“He never means anything,” says Mal. “He just does a sight too many things wrong for my liking.”

With that he hurries off, pushing his way through the crowds, a hand clasped tight over his wallet to protect his valuables from pickpockets. The rest of his crew, however well intentioned they are, don’t understand a gorram thing. It takes a firm hand to keep Jayne under control and if Mal gives in too much then there’s no saying what plans the merc’ll start cooking up inside that ugly head of his. Things need to remain balanced, the way they are at present.

The Kalar Bar is dark, dirty and depressing. Screens blaze out tickertape details of Alliance newscasts whilst the real truths are muttered around the underbelly of this strange no man’s land. Mal finds Jayne sat at a small table over the far side of the room, staring morosely into a glass of amber liquor. By looks of things the merc hasn’t noticed the dancing whore who’s plying her trade from a dais nearby, flesh jiggling enticingly in his direction. Jayne don’t even notice that Mal’s standing over him until the captain gets around to speaking his mind.

“When I told you to watch your mouth, I weren’t just talking about filthy words.”

Mal’s voice comes out in a low rumble and Jayne looks up, hand stroking over his goatee, his eyes dark and bitter.

“I’m done listening to you.”

“You’re coming with me and you’re apologising for the way you behaved to me in front of everyone or else you can consider yourself off my ship.”

“I ain’t got nothing to apologise to you for, you hundan.” Jayne gets up, shoving at the small table in his haste to get away and the chamfered wooden edge jabs into Mal’s thigh bone.

Mal curses under his breath, limping a little as he follows Jayne out to the portside quadrant of the Plex – a place where shady deals are done under cover of the stacked crates of legal goods.

“Jayne Cobb, will you quit this gou shi right now and tell me what’s going on in that worthless head of yours,” yells Mal, his voice echoing around the steel-shuttered storage area.

The big man stops in his tracks, silent and still. Eventually he finds his tongue and responds to Mal’s words. “Worthless am I?” he asks, staring in the opposite direction.

“Sure as hell appear to be at the moment.” Mal’s full of talk, but truth be told he’s unnerved by the way Jayne refuses to look at him.

“I’ve always been worthless to you,” says the merc in a detached way, turning a slow semi-circle until he’s facing Mal, his eyes festering with anger.

“Ain’t saying that, Jayne.” Mal tries to think this mess through. “Just need you to mind your manners and show me respect I’m due. Ain’t much to ask.”

“The way I see it, it’s time you showed me some respect.” Jayne pushes forward, taking Mal by surprise as he shoves him into a corner between mountains of huge transport crates.

The way that big hand is squeezing down on him feels as if his shoulder is about to be crushed into smithereens and Mal heaves in a breath to calm himself. He ain’t never known Jayne be this way with him. There’s rough and then there’s rough.

“You get down on your knees and you apologise to me, boy, else I’ll give you a whipping that’ll make you see stars.”

The merc speaks in this low, threat-heavy voice that makes the hairs on Mal’s arms stand on end. The intent is so real and so potent that he can’t even see Jayne anymore. His heart is hammering painfully inside his ribcage. His legs are about to turn to dust. And his cock… “Get your filthy hands off me and don’t ever speak to me this way again,” he says, trying to buy himself some time and dredge up a little self-respect from somewhere. “I mean it, Jayne.” Mal’s praying hard that the big man don’t feel how aroused he is.

Jayne pulls Mal tight against him, gripping him around the waist with a strong arm, leather gloved hand sliding rough against the skin of Mal’s side where his shirt has rucked up. “Apologise, or you’ll get what’s coming to you, boy,” he breathes.

“Ain’t gonna do it, Jayne. You’ll be the one saying sorry, not me.” Mal shifts back a little and his cock releases itself from its less than comfortable position, thrusting upright now and pushing against his fly.

“Apologise to me.” Jayne pulls him tighter, twisting a hand into the back of his pants until the suspenders cut into Mal’s shoulders.

“Ain’t doing it.”

Jayne cocks his head on one side, studying him intently then, with one almighty loud crack, Mal is thrust hard against a solid wall of muscle, his backside smarting from a rush of pain.

“Say you’re sorry,” says Jayne, mouth shaping each word carefully, his voice controlled and quiet.

“No.” Mal feels a whoosh of air as Jayne swings his arm back once more and this time the pain brings with it a zing of approaching orgasm as he’s propelled helplessly against that unyielding torso, hard cocks rubbing against each other in this bizarre encounter.

“Say it, boy.”

“Never.”

The next round of spanking brings about an unwelcome change inside Mal. Wilting a little, he succumbs, leaning into Jayne’s powerful body and breathing in his scent. He’s so far gone now that he’s back in the past; a child running wild on Shadow, desperately craving this kind of attention.

“Apologise to daddy.”

The words whisper over him: sick and twisted and wrong, filthy dirty but so very exciting. “No.” Mal’s begging now. Begging for this humiliation to be over. Begging to be finished off and left as limp and helpless as a baby.

“Say it.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he cries, coming hard into his pants in thick unmentionable bursts of shame.

When it’s over Jayne drops him like he’s a hot potato then skitters backwards, crunching into a tower of packing boxes. Mal watches them sway wondering if they’ll fall onto the mercenary and bury the evidence for good. They remain stacked upright and Mal is left looking at Jayne, both of them struck dumber than usual. He’d been so wrapped up in his own depravity that he’d never even noticed if Jayne had gotten off from this. It’s only now that the truth shines out, as clear in those wary blue eyes as it is in the spreading stain on the front of the dirty cargo pants.

“Jayne,” says Mal, not really knowing what to follow this up with, but it appears that isn’t going to be an issue when the man turns and strides away.

Face reddened from sex and embarrassment Mal goes up to his Skytel suite, showering thoroughly then putting his soiled clothes into the chute. That’s the one gorram thing that’s good about Core planets and Sky Plexes. Dirty laundry can always be washed in private.

When Mal returns to the public entertainment level he keeps an eye out for Jayne, but thankfully don’t see him anywhere. Sitting at the multi-lette table in the biggest of the casinos, he mindlessly places his numbers, gambling away a few hundred credits while he sits and thinks about the mess he’s gotten himself into. For the life of him he can’t fathom out how one small envelope could have turned Jayne psycho. Worse thing is, in trying make everything right between him and his mercenary, Mal’s humped things up even more. He and Jayne are more complex than anyone knows. They have history.

At the time no-one could ever understand why Mal took an untrustworthy good-for-nothing like Jayne Cobb onto Serenity in the first place, least of all him. The idea had come to him in an instant and, before he’d thought it through, his mouth was flapping and the mercenary was signed on, happy as a king at the idea of ten percent and a bunk of his own. It took Mal less than a month to find out why he’d been so attracted to the idea of the big soldier being on board his ship.

Jayne had been a foul-mouthed, disobedient crew member from day one, but his aim was nigh on perfect and his tracking skills were second to none. If Mal tried hard, he could almost convince himself that this was why he put up with the bad-tempered sumbitch, but, as it turned out, that weren’t the case at all.

At first Jayne fought against all the captain’s attempts to break him, but eventually, when Mal was at a particularly low point, fed up to the eye teeth of trying to command this group of idiots, he took discipline to a new level. Coming into Jayne’s quarters late one night he smacked his fist into Jayne’s shocked mouth. A fountain of blood flowed as the two big men grappled on the floor, heads banging into every sharp edge of the tiny cabin until Mal was almost blind from rage and pain and something else that snuck up on him from nowhere. That feeling grew and grew, obliterating everything else in its path until the grappling shifted from the wrestling kind into the sexing kind and Mal submitted, relinquishing everything for the length of time Jayne’s cock was inside him.

So Mal’s life with Jayne has become a series of checks and balances. In order to be able to get the release he needs from submitting to Jayne sexually he has to dominate him everywhere else, and Jayne has always been willing to accept that… until now.

Mal’s luck is in at the gaming tables and he comes away with a whole lot more than he arrived with. He views the casino floor half-heartedly, torn in two by a desire to see and not see the big man. Not that Jayne’d be here anyway ‘cause this place ain’t his style. He’d rather sit in a saloon slugging back shots and playing Tall with a bunch of honest-to-god lowlifes than suck up the fakery here.

Mal tips the staff and leaves, keeping an eye open to make sure he’s not followed because sometimes, even in high class places such as these, management find a way of getting back what they’ve been loathed to give out. Next on his ‘to do’ list is finding a place to eat where he won’t feel too awkward dining alone. The cafe on the far reach of the Boulevard is perfect. Small and out of the way, it has very few customers and the silence allows him more time to think. Wolfing down real beefsteak sandwiched between real fresh bread, Mal keeps his eyes lowered, hardly noticing the food. His thoughts reverberate from himself to Jayne and back again, and by the time the meal is finished he’s exhausted from obsessing too much. Jayne, a father figure! Is that what he’s been craving all these years?

Paying the check, Mal leaves the café, glancing around at the entertainment that’s on offer. None of it appeals though and the thought of an early night in a comfortable bed is about as exciting as he can deal with at present.

The elevators doors are sliding shut when Mal jerks a little in surprise then shoves his hand into the gap, listening intently. The tannoy system is coughing out his name in a tinny request for him to attend the security station on the level 1. He don’t wanna go--feels more like hiding away in his room with a bottle of hotel liquor--but he’s captain and it’s a responsibility he takes seriously.

Praying this isn’t to do with the mercenary, he lets the doors close and takes the elevator down a floor, striding out along the grid way and following the signs that have a pair of cuffs and a gun on them in hope that they aren’t leading him to one of the kinkier shows. When he arrives at the desk the blue jump-suited security man grimaces up at him, sporting the worst set of black eyes that Mal’s seen for a while. He’s pretty certain where this is heading.

“He one of your crew?” The guard points at Jayne who by the look of things is so drunk he’s probably unaware of being in a cell.

Mal watches the big man slump over a metal bowl heaving his guts up over and over again ‘til his belly’s empty. “Yep, he’s mine,” he says wishing to hell that the wang ba dan weren’t nothing to do with him. He’s sorely tempted to walk away.

“There’s a penalty for being drunk and disorderly on Occident.”

Mal hands over the credits knowing full well that they’ll go straight into the back pocket of that ugly fitted jump-suit.

Having seen the contents of Mal’s wallet the guard eyes him superciliously. “And also a fine for assaulting a member of staff.”

‘Easy come easy go,’ thinks Mal as he passes over the greater part of his winnings, shaking his head a little ruefully when the door to Jayne’s cell opens and the merc is shoved unceremoniously toward him. It ain’t the way he intended to rid himself of his new found wealth.

“Mal?” says Jayne a little blurrily. “What you doing here?”

“I ain’t too certain of that one myownself.” Mal does a cursory inspection on the big man to see if there’s any damage that needs fixing, but, apart from a graze on his cheekbone, he seems pretty much intact. “There weren’t no call for you getting yourself into this state,” he adds when Jayne slumps over and retches again, the regurgitated liquor spilling through the metal grid and collecting into the waste channel beneath. Sky Plexes are designed for all varieties of misbehaving.

Jayne straightens up, looking at him with these ashamed eyes and Mal don’t want to see any of that. Shame’s big in these parts at the moment and best he’s hoping for is that all this’ll be forgotten as soon as possible.

It’s an effort to guide the man to the elevator, but Mal manages it, passing over the last of his winnings to the Skytel reception staff who are none too keen on having a drunken hundan staying in their building.

“I’ll look after him.”

Mal don’t like making promises, leastways not ones to do with Jayne, but right now there ain’t much choice. If he leaves the man to his own devices he’ll most likely get himself arrested again, or killed.

Mal lugs the mercenary into the service lift, wondering if today could have gone any worse. A swift glance in Jayne’s direction tells him that, with the alcohol out of his system, the man’s fast coming to his senses, looking more like hisownself as each minute passes. By the time they get to the right floor, Jayne’s near enough able to walk in a straight line with only a guiding hand to the elbow. He don’t even bother leaning on the wall while Mal unlocks the door to his room.

“I ain’t stopping here with you, you sumbitch.”

“Get in there.” The anger’s resurfacing now Jayne’s back to being as irritating as usual. “You’ll do as I say or you’ll be stopping here for good, y’understand?”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

The sudden compliance has a dual effect. Jayne isn’t supposed to be like this now, not when they’re alone. Mal’s furious and also frustrated for all the wrong reasons. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulls out the vial of high strength painkillers he keeps on him at all times then twists the cap off and hands two to Jayne. The pills don’t only kill a hangover before it arrives; they’re also good for sobering a person up from a full out drunk pretty gorram quick.

“Take ‘em,” he says and when Jayne looks blank he adds. “Take 'em or I’ll make you.”

Visions of rubbing Jayne’s throat like a sick dog puts a quick smile on Mal’s face and this apparently confuses the merc into dry swallowing the tablets.

“Now get out of them clothes and clean yourself up.”

Jayne’s okay getting his shirt off but when it comes to boots and pants things aren’t so straightforward. Mal won’t be helping him undress any time before hell freezes over, so instead he shoves him towards a chair and leans against the wall, arms folded, watching the big man with a disgruntled look on his face. If Jayne takes any longer over this it’ll be tomorrow and Mal needs some sleep before negotiating any deals. “Ain’t got all night,” he mutters, tapping his fingers on his bicep in a mannerism he thinks he’s picked up from the mercenary.

Abandoning clothes and boots in a heap on the floor, Jayne strides naked into the bathroom, and even though the man’s half-drunk and mighty shame-faced Mal can still appreciate the pure animal grace he exudes. As the lock snicks into position, he heaves a quiet sigh of relief. He’s dog-tired; it’s been exhausting enough trying to come to terms with his newly discovered kinks, never mind having to baby-sit a drunk and disorderly Jayne.

Mal looks down at the pile of discarded clothing wishing he had a set of tongs. The tee shirt is stained more than usual and Mal refuses to think about what may have caused the discoloured patches. He unthreads the belt from the cargoes, noticing with a slight cringe that they’re the same ones Jayne had on earlier, knees dirty, crotch still displaying come stains like they're a badge of honour. He’s about to dump the pants into the hopper when they bash against the metal rim and let out a crashing, jingling sound. Heck alone knows what Jayne might store inside his pockets. Mal sighs, not wanting to find out, but figuring that he ain’t got much of a choice.

Shaking the pants vigorously, he watches as an oddball assortment of items land on the bedcover. There’s stray ammo that escaped the notice of the beady-eyed security men, coins of various types and denomination, a small carved statue of an eagle, a lighter, a utility knife, rubbers--Mal don’t wanna think about them right now--and a wallet with no money and a collection of fake ident cards.

He’s about to bundle up the clothes ready to go into the chute when he catches sight of the corner of that envelope sticking out from the one of the deeper pockets. Curiosity gets the better of him and, even though he knows it ain’t right, he can’t resist taking a peep.

The paper’s dirty; smudged with greasy black fingerprints just the way Mal imagines everything is on Jayne’s home world. He listens to make sure that water’s still running in the bathroom then tries to make sense of the ugly lettering that wanders aimlessly over the page. ‘To J. Cobb,’ it says impersonally and Mal settles down to read, expecting it to be a final demand from some scum bailiff, or maybe a whorehouse madam whom Jayne’s wronged in the past. Turns out he’s mistaken on both counts.

‘We ain’t heard back from you since yer mother wrote and asked for the infirmary money for Matthew. He’s dead of the damp lung and buried in a pauper’s grave. Yer ain’t worthy to carry the family name just like I always told ya.’

At the bottom is scrawled ‘Cobb’ in a drunken spidery hand and Mal wishes with all his heart that it isn’t from Jayne’s father, but knows, without measure of a doubt, that it is. The bathroom door opens violently, crashing back into the wall and Mal’s drops the letter in panic, back-heeling it, and the envelope it came in, under the metal bed frame.

“What you staring at me for?” Jayne frowns and wraps the small towel tighter around his waist like it’s armour.

“Ain’t staring,” says Mal. “Just looking to see if you’re in your right mind again.” Not that the man’s right mind is much better’n his wrong one.

Jayne mutters something under his breath, eyes searching helplessly around the room. “Where’re my gorram skivvies?” he asks eventually.

“Sent the clothes down to the laundromatic. They won’t for be back for a few hours so if you’re thinking of taking a hike back to your own room you’ll have to go dressed like that.”

Jayne looks down at his near-naked self and grunts then he sits on the bed and nurses his head in his hands.

“Need more of these?” says Mal, relenting a little and offering over the vial of pills.

“Nah. Just can’t figure why you even want me here after…” Jayne sweeps the detritus from his pockets off the bed then lays back with a deep groan, covering his eyes with his forearm.

Mal glowers ‘cause he don’t wanna think about earlier. The alternative ain’t too much of a sensible notion, but it’s the only one he’s got, so, leaning over, he opens up the mini-bar, taking out two half-pint bottles of whiskey that’ll probably set him back double the cost of the room. Skytel are renowned rip off merchants; they have a monopoly and they ain’t shy when it comes to abusing it.

Jayne snatches the bottle as soon as he feels it resting against his skin. It’s a quick enough reaction for Mal to think the man may have a problem with alcohol, except right now the circumstances are so gorram awkward that even the holiest shepherd would be craving relief.

They drink silently and watch Sky Plex news broadcasts, occasionally flicking through to see if there’s anything more entertaining on offer that isn’t stripping or live rutting.

The whiskey settles happily into Mal’s stomach, mixing with the food and drink from earlier and taking the edge off his nerves, allowing him to relax a small amount. Another quart later, his tongue has loosened off dangerously. “I never knew my father,” he says out of the blue. “Could’ve been one of the ranch hands for all I know.”

“Ain’t you the lucky one.” Jayne stares at the screen, watching a commercial for Fruity Oaty Bars.

“Not so much.” Mal ain’t certain what he’s getting himself into here. “Would’ve liked to have an idea what the man was like at least. Ma was a strong enough lady to manage things on her own--a lot like Zoë--but still-”

“S’probably why you took up running with Zo. ‘Cause she reminded you of your ma.”

Mal glowers again because this conversation isn’t supposed to be about crew members. Not that he’s precisely sure what it is supposed to be about. The whiskey’s muddling things up a fair amount.

“Mebbe your pa was like Wash.” Jayne looks sideways at him and guffaws with laughter.

“Not so.” Mal’s shaking his head like a crazy thing. He likes the pilot well enough, but the thought of having a man like that siring him, well, it just ain’t the way he’s pictured things.

“Did you never ask your ma?”

Jayne’s looking at him kind of fascinated now and Mal thinks on the question a while before answering.

“Can’t recall doing so.”

“Why not, if’n you was interested in knowing?”

Mal scrubs a hand through his hair. It wasn’t the kind of subject to be brought up at supper time, and, anyway, he’d always thought there’d be time for such things. That turned out not to be the case after the Alliance pigs showed up at their ranch on Shadow.

“Was he called Reynolds?” continues the merc.

“Jayne, I have not one clue about the man so stop yammering on at me, will you.” Mal reckons it’s about time to turn the tables. “What about your kin? You never speak much about them.”

“That’s ‘cause there ain’t much to tell.”

Gorram commercials are more interesting than this so Mal concedes defeat and heads for the bathroom, the whiskey having worked a steady path through to his bladder. After pissing out the last few drops, he fastens his fly then slips the suspenders off his shoulders and takes off his shirt, getting washed up ready for sleep. But by the time he emerges from the bathroom, it seems as if sleep ain’t gonna be happening anytime soon.

Jayne’s pacing the room like a lion, towel tucked firmly in place like a loincloth, his muscles working away against each other under his skin. “I ain’t stupid no matter what you think o’ me.” His voice is a menacing growl, painting an even clearer picture of that big cat prowling the perimeter of his territory. “All this cosy family talk ain’t foolin’ me none.” He brandishes the crumpled letter at Mal. “Wanted to find out more so’s you could have a laugh at me. Well, you ain’t got the right.” The big man pushes right up into Mal’s face, face twisted into a snarl as he spits out more bitter words. “You ain’t got the right to know nothing ‘bout me that I ain’t fixing to tell you. You ain’t got the right to go reading other folks’ mail. And more to the point, you ain’t got no rights over me, period. You understanding me clear or do I talk too fast for your slow brain?”

There’s a long raw pause which is followed up by a single word that makes Mal squirm with unwanted excitement.

“Boy.”

Mal blinks, trying to force back the thrill that’s tumbling through his body. His head’s full of what happened earlier; that sudden vicious assault on his senses from an orgasm that was more like being shot in the guts, it was so powerful and painful.

“I do what I like,” he hisses, breathing in the other man’s whiskey-tainted, mint-flavoured breath. If he was trying to sound like a misbehaving young un then he couldn’t have done a better job.

“You think its fine to go messing around in other people’s things? To go reading private letters that’ve got hell all to do with you?”

Mal holds his ground as Jayne pushes up closer and that dirty thrill turns into all out need when he feels the tip of Jayne’s towel covered erection poking him low in the belly.

“As I recall we had a conversation not so long ago about you learning to show a little respect. Don’t seem as that lesson’s penetrated your thick skull any, does it?”

“No,” says Mal, casting his eyes downwards for a second then raising them challengingly before speaking. “And it ain’t going to.”

Jayne’s big paw covers Mal’s buttock, possessively, covetously and Mal feels his balls draw up tight against his body as he waits for the sharp pain that doesn’t happen. It’s shameful to be so disappointed over not getting a spanking; even worse to feel that disappointment build when Jayne steps away from him. Mal’s hard and he’s frustrated. It’s not as if the big man ain’t interested; his interest is obvious, especially from certain angles. Ye su! It’s not as if they haven’t done this before. It’s not as if they ain’t partway there already. Gorramit.

“I reckon it’s time I learned you a proper lesson, boy.”

The words are spoken quietly and slowly and Mal’s cock twitches in time with them like a metronome.

“Pull your pants down and bend over the bed.”

Feeling the kind of nervous anticipation that’s only supposed to come from a first time bedding, Mal stares defiantly at Jayne, milking the moment for all it’s worth. Then, eyes lowered submissively, he unfastens his breeches and pushes them and his shorts down to mid-thigh. His cock is at full mast, slapping tight against his belly and, all arrogance aside, it’s an impressive erection for a man of his age. Waiting long enough for Jayne to take in the sight of his arousal, he then turns and kneels, spreading his upper torso out across the bed as he waits for his punishment.

“Want me to teach you about respect, boy?”

Yes, God, yes. Please. “Yes.” Mal can hear Jayne moving behind him and his balls expand and tighten just from the sound of the heavy footfalls approaching. Jerking his hips a little, he hisses out a breath as the palm of that massive hand massages his buttock in an appraising manner. The short spell of nothing is then followed up with an unexpected whip-crack-snap and suddenly he ’s awash with pain; the sting building and building until his eyes smart with tears.

“Yes, what?”

There’s another snapping sound and Mal feels the whoosh of cool air soothe his sore parts then immediately afterwards he erupts into another spasm of agony. “Yes, sir,” he yelps

“You ain’t cottoned on to a thing yet, have you, boy?”

Mal arches as his backside receives another lash from the belt.

“That retarded brain of yours ain’t fit for nothing.”

The beating continues until Mal’s on the point of passing out. He’s never known the colour of pain before. Turns out it starts off white then splits into a full spectrum that dances behind his eyelids.

“You want me to teach you about respect?”

“Yes. Yes.” Mal can’t take much more of this, although he’s not entirely sure whether it’s because of being too bad to cope with or too good. “Please, Daddy,” he begs.

“Good boy. Now get undressed ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

The voice is gruff more than angry and Mal complies, perching tentatively on the bed, his arse burning like fire and sending out shooting sensations of delight straight to his cock. Tugging off his boots, he removes the rest of clothes then looks up at a man whom he hardly recognises. It isn’t Jayne who’s standing with legs apart and arms folded, looking down at him. It don’t make no sense, but right now the mercenary is gone, hidden away beneath a persona who’s turning Mal into a weak-kneed and dainty shadow of his former self.

When Jayne sits next to him Mal is consumed by shivers -- the good kind of shivers that race up and down his spine. He glances sideways as the towel parts and reveals Jayne’s cock which is jutting up fiercely from a dense nest hair.

“Lay across Daddy’s knee.”

Mal clambers on; upper torso resting on the bed covers whilst his bottom is raised expectantly in the air. A hand rests on the swell of his right buttock, cupping it like it’s a treasured possession, and Mal gulps back the moan of anticipation. The initial smack when it comes is too perfect as fingers bite into skin that’s still burning from the belting he received earlier. “Ohhhh,” he cries as a further flurry of slaps force his cock against Jayne’s again and again. Biting his lip, he writhes against Jayne’s groin in a wanton display of frottage, thriving on the pain from the long drawn out spanking. “Please,” he moans as his cock throbs, begging for relief from this agony.

“S’a good boy for taking your whipping like a man.” Jayne’s voice is croaky and choked up. “Your nethers’re all red and sore. D’you want Daddy to make you feel better?”

Ye su! No sentence has ever sounded so good. Mal humps against Jayne’s cock, so sexed up right now he can’t breathe let alone speak.

“Gotta tell me what you want.”

A dangerous edge is creeping back into Jayne’s voice and however much Mal may have enjoyed the sinfully wrong punishment, right now he’s crying out for a different kind of attention. “Please make it better, Daddy,” he begs.

There’s an intake of excited breath from above him and then Mal hears a different sound, a soft squelching, and he’s still trying to identify it when a puddle of something cold and wet lands on his backside. Crying out in surprise, he squirms against Jayne, feeling the big man’s cock leak out a dribble of fluid.

“The lotion’ll soothe you,” says Jayne as his hands get busy, working the cream in with gentle circular motions that play havoc with Mal’s senses. It feels as if there are fingers everywhere: pressing into base of his spine, rubbing the tops of his thighs, nestling into the swell of his bottom. When his buttocks are parted and slippery fingertips slide down into the crevice, Mal is so close to coming he’s seeing stars. Jayne’s hands are magic; nothing that big and clumsy looking should be able to turn a man into a puddle of melted butter in ten seconds flat. Massaged into a trance-like state, Mal yelps out in shock when lotion is squirted directly onto his hole and a finger circles firmly then breaches him with one quick thrust of the wrist.

“Y’ever been touched here before?”

Oh, this whole dirty business is one exquisite mess. Should he tell the truth or lie? “No Daddy,” he whispers, humping back and forth between Jayne’s erect cock and his hand.

“Well, ain’t that a barefaced falsehood.”

Another finger pushes in, then another and soon Mal can’t tell what the gorram hell’s going on.

“You’re as loose as a whore. Got four of my fingers in you already and I reckon you can take more.”

Jayne prods and pinches at Mal’s sweet spot so hard it feels like he’s shot a load in Jayne’s lap.

“Kneel on the floor, boy. Let me feel how slack you are.”

“I ain’t had no-one in me, Daddy.” The game’s too good. Soon he’ll be wanting to dress up in bonnets and skirts. “I swear.”

Mal waits for those fingers to side free then does as he’s told, assuming an all fours position, head down and legs apart as he waits permissively; a docile foal awaiting castration.

“Y’ain’t taken no man’s prick?”

“No, Daddy.” Mal’s rocking backward and forward, feeling the pull on the tendons as his erection swings, pendulum-like, beneath him.

“Ain’t felt nothing like this then?”

The words are followed up the unmistakeable sensation of a bareback cock, slippery with lotion, reopening muscles and forcing its way inside. It pummels his prostate with such intensity that Mal, already sexed up to the limit, cries out from blinding agonising ecstasy and comes all over the floor.

“Ain’t telling me you never had cock now are you, boy?”

Jayne reaches a hand beneath Mal and wipes away the last dribbles of creamy spunk with a crushing fist then begins to power into him, fingers of that big left paw digging into his hip bones and keeping him held firmly in place. Mal’s still trying to pull himself back from that mind-melting orgasm when a sharp slap to his buttock reminds him exactly where he is.

“You answer me when I speak to you. I asked again if you ever had a man’s cock in you.”

“Yes,” breathes Mal and another hard smack on his bottom reminds him to add a “Daddy,” to the sentence.

The pounding is having an unimaginable effect on his libido. Jayne’s pile driver prick hammers away relentlessly, attacking a sweet spot which has never felt sweeter in his life. The spanking to his arse fires up every nerve and his cock, which has been bobbing limp and lifeless between his thighs, begins to reawaken.

“Who you been seeing to?” Jayne mutters breathlessly. “Who’s been servicing my little whore-boy.”

“No one, I swear. No one ‘cept you, Daddy.” And it ain’t even a lie. Up until Jayne, Mal has never let another man fuck him. He’s taken a fair number though.

A hand slithers around; feeling its way down his belly then palming his balls and squeezing them hard. Mal wonders if his answer has been the wrong one and he worries that he might become that gelding he’d thought of earlier. There’s a fierce tugging on his ball sac which gives Mal the jitters, but then Jayne releases the tender flesh and catches hold of Mal’s prick in a fist that’s still sloppy with lotion and spunk.

“Good boy.” The voice is back to being gruff. “These parts belong to me and you don’t offer ‘em to no one else ‘less I tell you to, understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.” The word rolls off Mal's tongue now. Makes him harden up more every time he says it. Makes him sweat and buck and yearn for the freedom it brings him. He rolls his hips and fucks himself on Jayne’s erection, moaning, whimpering as that big hand works at his cock with a grip so vicious he ain’t certain that’s gonna have any skin left after. That don’t stop it being good though.

“Like being seen to, don’t you, boy. Like the feel of Daddy filling you up. Gonna finger you and fist you and fist ‘til you scream, just the way you like it.”

Mal’s gonna die. He’s going to be humped to death in an anonymous Skytel bedroom. He’s gonna die from an overdose of dirty filthy sex. Ye su! The big gan ni niang is making him fly again; making the blood surge and his brain spin in circles. His arse is screaming out in agony, his skin is raw from the belting and he’s breathing in desperate gulps of air that smell of perspiration and floor wax and spent semen. He’s not gonna be able to take much more.

With muscles trembling from the effort Mal lurches back against that big body, feeling Jayne’s balls compress against his buttocks. Jayne grunts in response and pushes down on the small of Mal’s back, letting out this animal growl as he heaves himself into Mal’s sore backside, the salty fluid burning like acid in his guts.

“Come for me, boy,” Jayne urges in a husky croak, “Come for Daddy.”

Mal’s not quite certain how it’s happening but he ain’t gonna question it. Pulling himself upright he leans against Jayne’s barrel chest and relaxes back, watching as the man milks a second climax from his exhausted body. The jism spills out of him, thin like piss, and Mal looks down at the mess, shocked and disgusted, but most of all proud of himself at managing it twice in a half hour of sex. He ain’t ever been a multi-orgasm kind of a man.

Jayne’s slides back a little and his cock pulls free with a soft squelching sound. He gets to his feet, pushing up on the bed frame and groaning for entirely different reasons from earlier. Mal tries to move too, but his knees hurt like gorram hell, his back is in spasm and his head aches from an overdose of mighty strange sex. “Help me up then,” he grumbles, taking the hand that’s offered him as support then dragging himself to his feet and racing for the bathroom.

Sex has its negative aspects.

A while later he emerges, showered and ready to lay his head down for the night. When Jayne goes for a piss, Mal wonders whether to continue being the child in this relationship and pretend to be asleep, but that seems a mite pathetic. Still, it’s not as if he ain’t tired and turning out the light don’t seem that much of a bad idea. With eyes tightly closed, he listens to the sound of soft bare footsteps walking around to the far side of the bed then the mattress shifts downwards and he feels Jayne’s arm laying next to his back.

This is ridiculous! “Reckon it’s safe to say we both have issues,” he says quietly, wondering if Jayne’ll be the one to feign sleep.

“Reckon you’re not wrong.” The bed wobbles from the force of the deep sigh. “Reckon we don’t need to talk about it though.”

“It’s not as if we’re doing anything we haven’t been doing for years,” says Mal thoughtfully. It’s true. When it comes down to the nitty gritty of the matter they haven’t done a thing wrong. They’re just consenting adults exploring a new kink – a strange new kink. “It ain’t hurting no one.” He turns onto his back and yelps when the tender skin touches the rough sheet.

“Except your arse.”

There’s a sudden guffaw of laughter and even though it’s dark Mal can see the expression written all over Jayne’s face. Maybe pretending to be asleep would have been a good thing after all.

When he closes his eyes for the second time, Mal can’t imagine that he’ll do anything but toss and turn all night, but, as it turns out, exhaustive sex sessions trump worries and next thing he knows, the place is illuminated by fake sun and the clock digits are telling him it’s 10 am.

Jayne is soundly asleep next to him, snoring away loudly and Mal’s feels an odd kind of comfort from having woken up with a body close at hand. He’s warmer and more rested than usual and it certainly wasn’t the bad experience he expected. Although the snoring may be an indication that it wouldn’t always be so pleasant.

Mal gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom then checks the laundromatic to see if their clean clothes have been delivered. Two shrink wrapped packages fall out of the hatch and Mal is relieved that Jayne won’t have to risk the chance of being seen parading half-naked around the Skytel corridors on the way to his own room.

Slicing open the plastic wrapping with Jayne’s pocket knife, Mal stows his clean clothes away in the closet, then puts on fresh breeches and a shirt. Afterwards he opens up Jayne’s laundry bundle and lays the clothes out on his vacated side of the bed. He hasn’t got time for much more as he’s due to meet up with his clients in thirty minutes and don’t wanna be late. Business is priority; it’s the reason they’re here in the first place. Recreation is a just a bonus.

“Jayne,” he mutters, leaning over and shaking the sleeping form that’s hidden beneath the covers.

“What the gorram hell?” The big man rolls over and looks up at him with bleary eyes.

“I gotta be going,” Mal says. “Don’t answer the door ‘cause I haven’t a single notion as to how we’d explain this one away to the others.”

“Yeah, Mal.” The man curls up on his side oblivious to everything.

~~****~~

The business meeting goes well. The Tsarovitch sisters are fierce negotiators, but honesty is their policy and soon Mal has a contract in his coat pocket, a black vodka shot in his hand and an offer to consort with the women up in their luxury Sky Plex apartment ringing in his ears. He can’t say he’s not tempted; the girls are scantily clad, big breasted, dark eyed lookers. And sisters? Well, he’s never had that particular pleasure and it sounds as if much fun could be had, even if he is more of a sly kind of fellow. It’s the constant pain from sitting down on the hard metal seats that puts him off, reminding him how difficult it would be to explain the welts across his backside. It’s mostly that anyhow.

The three of them enjoy another round of chilled vodkas and, prior to parting company with him, the girls seal the deal with open-mouthed kisses that taste of liquored up ice then show Mal exactly what he’s missing by locking matching pairs of cherry coloured lips together and engaging in some very public, very heavy petting.

Mal’s still wiping the lipstick away when Wash wanders past his table, coming to a sudden bug-eyed standstill at the sight of the women.

“Jayne said you were doing business,” says Wash, watching the Tsarovitches getting it on. “I have so many questions, but I can’t… think… of them… right now.”

Mal shrugs and gets up from the table, leading the stunned pilot away from the corner of the bar.

“Zoë and I thought it would be good to meet up for the circus show tonight. Give River something to do,” explains the little man. “What was Jayne doing in your room?”

“Circus sounds circusy.” Mal’s struggling to find a reason not to go. “And as for Jayne, well let’s just say he had a little too much whiskey and encountered the long arm of security last night.”

Wash nods knowingly. “So he’s still on the crew then?”

Mal nods knowingly back. “For now. ‘Til we find a new gorilla with a sure trigger finger.”

“And the girls?” Wash perks up, peering over towards where he’d found Mal.

“Contacts. The Tsarovitch sisters. Would’ve introduced you but they were a mite busy at the time.”

“Aiya! Sisters?” Wash stares at him, his blue eyes almost circular with shock. “Sisters don’t do that. Do they?”

Mal reckons it’s time he gets Wash out of the bar before the little man gets a front row seat for the girl on girl action. “Go find your wife,” he says with a smirk and Wash looks at him, mouth hanging open as he nods fervently in agreement.

“Wife. Bed. Now. Unless she’s shopping for warrior clothes then I’ll have to wait.” Wash hurries off into the crowd then just before he reaches vanishing point turns and yells, “Circus?”

Mal shrugs. He’s not sure what he wants to do with his down time but family entertainment isn’t top of the list. This thing with Jayne is vexing and more than a little exciting and it fills his mind up with obscene thoughts, so much so that he’s not sure that can handle sitting for hours watching trapeze artists swing around like monkeys. Still, it appears Wash has misread the careless shrug as a ‘yes’ and with a dumb grin and even dumber thumbs up gesture, the pilot darts off into the crowd.

The stores along the mezzanine level of the Boulevard are for adults only; a place to visit if you’re looking to buy erotic toys or rent live sex parts for the night. Without any real intention to go hunting for thrills, Mal winds up there, perusing the goods on offer and wondering to himself how he’s got involved in this very murky scenario. Jayne ain’t his ideal mercenary let alone his ideal sex partner and the more he dwells on it, the more he reckons that he’s gotta put a stop to this before it grows out of hand. Jayne ain’t the only shooter around.

From the mezzanine Mal takes the elevator down to the shipping port, wandering down to the far end of the anchorage where the less than legal exchanges are carried out. It’s easy enough to pass on information that you’re willing to transport special goods and take on crew with a tarnished reputation. A quick word in the ear of the stevedores and you’ll be approached in no time at all.

Close to the end of the docks there’s a group of loaders sitting on crates, cupping their hands around mugs of hot drink as they while away the time playing a game that Mal’s never seen before involving a peg board and multi-coloured dice.

“I’m captain of a Firefly.” Mal leans on the wall next to the men. “Any deals to be had around these parts?” He pauses. “Men to be hired?”

“Firefly, you say.” One of the men glances over at him. “You wouldn’t be Malcolm Reynolds by any chance?”

“Who would be asking?” Suspicion has kept Mal alive for all these years and he ain’t about to abandon it now.

“I have a cousin name of Monty if that’s ringing any bells,” says the burly stevedore who, without doubt, does bear a striking resemblance to Mal’s friend. “He thinks highly of you.”

“Monty’s a good man,” says Mal.

“Aye he is, and if you’ll be wanting to make a deal I’ve a sweet one to offer a fellow who can keep his mouth shut.”

The man stands up and limps over toward Mal with his hand outstretched. “Zeke’s my name; Ezekiel if you want the full horror of it.” He slings his arm around Mal’s shoulder in an overly friendly gesture that’s awkward to get away from. “Come walk with me and we’ll discuss business.”

As Mal’s hand disappears inside the big work-roughened palm he’s reminded of why he’s come here. “A sweet deal always interests me, but a gun man for my crew is more pressing right now,” he says as they take a stroll through the haulage yards.

“And there’s plenty of them to be found around here,” says Zeke, that heavily muscled arm still resting across Mal’s shoulder.

The weight is oppressive and as Mal shifts to free himself, the stevedore grips tight on his bicep swinging him into a dark passageway between two warehouse units. Mal’s a useful pugilist and he knows he can take on most men in a fair fist fight; the only pity is that this ain’t looking to be one of those. He takes glance to his right and then his left and sees bodies either side of him; two big hulking box shifting apes who’re undoubtedly loaded with far more muscle than brains.

“Thought you were supposed to be a cousin of Monty’s,” says Mal as amicably as he can manage. “In my world a friend of family is treated with a sight more respect than this.”

“Pshaw.” Zeke laughs loud and long. “Truth indeed, Cap’n, but a win at the casino puts a new spin on things, don’t it fellas?”

Ignoring the affirmative grunts circling around above his head, Mal curses himself for being so wrapped up in his sordid little affaire that he didn’t see this coming. Ain’t often he’s taken for this much of a fool. Zeke slips a foraging hand into the pocket of his uniform coat and when Mal makes a grab for the man’s wrist he feels the coolness of a steel barrel nudge at his left kidney. The wallet slides free and as the stevedore flicks through it, his expression becomes less than happy.

“Where’s the money?” he snaps.

“You must have been misinformed ‘cause I didn’t win that big, and what I did win I spent already.”

“Not so, Reynolds,” retorts the man, but he glowers at his goons and Mal can tell he ain’t big on trust. “And yet if that does turn out to be the case I’m left with no option but to silence you so you don’t go tattling to port authorities.”

Mal ain’t certain if that’s a threat or a promise, but he does know that the looming shadow is the most welcome sight he’s seen in a while. One against three was hopeless odds, but, as Jayne swiftly removes the weapon from the bigger of Zeke’s gorillas then pistol whips him into unconsciousness, the fight becomes a whole lot more even. First off Mal ain’t paying enough attention--too wrapped up in thoughts of Jayne coming to his rescue maybe--and he receives a power packed fist to his guts that sends him doubling over, catching his breath and glaring at the dusty metal flooring. But before the inevitable blow to his neck happens, Mal’s up, skirmishing in typical terrier fashion, messy and uncoordinated, yet never giving in. He may not fight pretty but he’s gorram effective and his third punch lands like a ton weight against Zeke’s jaw. Mal’s sure he feels bone splintering beneath his knuckles and to prove his point the man don’t get to his feet again. Dusting himself down, he waits with a smug expression for Jayne to finish off the final thug.

“Do we shut ‘em up for good?” says the mercenary hopefully as he watches his opponent crumpling into a heap.

Mal crouches next to the semi-conscious leader of the stevedore gang, chucking him under the chin with an impudent finger.

“My man is itching to finish you off. He loves blood and also likes to end matters neatly. Question is do I let him?”

Zeke whimpers, clutching his glass jaw and looking up at Mal with a pathetic expression on his face. “Weren’t really gonna kill you, Cap’n Reynolds.”

“Yeah well, that’s as maybe, but I’m a little more hard-hearted than you are.” He turns to Jayne. “Tie ‘em up with some of those cable straps that are laying around.”

“Yeah, Mal, but-"

“Do as I say,” he interjects, falling into that familiar old routine that fits like a glove.

Jayne gets on it and when all three men are secured, restrained and linked together by the thick plastic packaging loops, Mal looks down at Zeke, nudging his leg with the toe of his boot. “Hope you can holler good and loud,” he smirks. “Still, I’m sure I’ll remember to mention what happened to port security before I leave.”

With a grin he turns and walks away and from the agonised yelp that echoes behind him he reckons that Jayne must have got in one last kick before leaving – most likely to the man’s balls.

“You gonna tell me what you were doing lurking around here?” Mal says when he senses the big man has caught up to him. He’s used to having Jayne at his flank.

“Could say I was hunting up some il-legal weaponry?” comes the reply.

“You could, or you could just tell me the truth of it to save time.”

“I had a notion you’d be wanting to replace me. Figured I’d see if’n I was right.” Jayne pushes in front and heads for a darkly lit bar away a few hundred yards away from the gaudiness of the entertainment zone.

Mal takes off after him, feeling as if he’s being dragged along by the bonds of guilt and sex that seem to connect them together. It ain’t a pleasant sensation.

They sit at the far end of the room, squashed into a small table and separated by a dirty ashtray, a bottle of local liquor and two shot glasses.

“I admit I was looking to hire someone,” says Mal, taking a cigar from Jayne and cupping the flame from the man’s lighter as he sucks at it until it smoulders. “Things ain’t exactly been easy with us.”

“Mighty hard is how I’d put it.” Jayne grins and Mal can’t help smiling along with the man. It’s a feeble joke but it lightens the atmosphere.

“Hard ain’t everything though.” The amusement slinks off into the dark. “I got a ship to run and a crew to command and I can’t have this kind of insubordination going on.” He thinks about Jayne not being there at his shoulder and feels vulnerable. “I gotta have respect from you.”

“You have,” says Jayne earnestly and Mal knows he’s telling the truth. The mercenary looks down, puffing on his stogie, smoke exhaling from him like he’s a chimney. “I ain’t gonna disobey orders again.”

“Not just that though.” Mal’s voice lowers down to a near hiss as he pours them a couple more shots. He’s been drinking near enough all day; it’s not good but the alcohol dulls his nerves. “Not sure where to go from here.”

“Ain’t gonna push you no more,” says Jayne in that earnest voice again and Mal knows with certainty that he’s talking about the games they’ve been playing rather than crew business. “If’n that’s what you want.”

Lao tian ye! The thought of their playing makes the blood start pumping to places Mal don’t want it to. Leastways, not right now.

“Guessing you’re still wondering about that letter from my pa.”

Jayne concentrates on the table, running his forefinger through the filmy trail of ash and dust that’s been collecting there for a while by the looks of things, and Mal’s hard on fades away. He’s been trying not to think of what lies at the heart of their new kink but sometimes ugly ideas shove their way in to his head. The mercenary looks up and, just for a second, Mal catches a glimpse of a small boy sitting opposite him.

“Was a shock finding out about Mattie that way even though I been expecting it for years. I did send the money to my ma though.”

Mal don’t doubt this for a second. Jayne’s always taken care of his own. A blind man could see that Serenity is his home and the crew are his second family. Mal ain’t quite sure what he and Jayne are to each other. Lovers sounds so gorram wrong.

“My best guess would be the old hundan drank it away without remembering.”

Mal pays silent attention. He ain't sure what to say about the loss of a brother or a less than happy family life.

“It was the same when we were little uns. He’d drink the housekeeping money and then yell when there weren’t no dinner on the table when he crawled home. Most of the time he’d blame me. Give me a whupping if he could see straight enough to do it.”

“And your brother?” asks Mal. “Did he get beat on a lot?”

“Nah.” Jayne finishes the shot and then tops up both glasses leaving his half-smoked cigar resting in the rusted metal ashtray. “Mattie was a sickly little runt. Pa left him alone.”

“Must’ve hurt.”

Jayne looks a mite shocked as if he’s never thought about it before.

“Hurt? Well it did when he took a belt to me.”

The laugh isn’t real and Mal’s hates that he knows that.

“I used to dream of him not being my father. Thought maybe he hated me so much because I weren’t his. Asked Ma once.”

“What did she say?” Mal’s never heard Jayne talk so much before and he’s intrigued at getting a chance to learn about the big brute of a man.

Jayne laughs again. “First off she cracks me over the head with her mamma’s recipe book, then she says that if I weren’t his I must be the devil’s child 'cause there weren’t no one else could be my father. I was so let down. Ma said it weren’t that he hated me; it was just that I was too much like him. That’s why he treated me the way he did. Didn’t want to see me turn out to be a lowlife worthless piece of gou shi like he was.” He ends the sentence same way he started it with that bitter, hopeless cackle.

“Did he ever mess about with you?”

“Doing some of that psycho analysing on me, are you, Cap’n?” Those blue eyes are full of twisted mirth. “Nah. Thought he was going to once. Had me pushed face down ‘tween his legs, my prick rubbing into the gravel stones out back of the barn. Could feel him hard against my bare arse. He left me there and ran off, never came close to that again. Worst thing is that night I beat off thinking about it. What it would be like. Bug crazy sumbitch, ain’t I?”

The liquor’s almost gone and for some reason it seems of the utmost important to keep this conversation going. Mal waves the empty bottle at the bartender and stubs out his cigar, relieved that the thing is finally dead. He’s never taken to smoking. As soon as the new bottle is placed on the table, Mal refills the glasses and leans in.

“Y’ain’t crazy for having bad thoughts, Jayne. We all do it.”

He thinks back to his childhood on Shadow. First sexing he had was with a girl, the daughter of one of his ma’s ranch hands. It was unsatisfying and at twelve he was left with a profound sense of disillusionment sure that he was never going to enjoy another body. His next sexual experience had been with a young drifter who’d turned up wanting some temporary work. Calvin his name had been and he couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old when he arrived at the ranch. At first Mal had dismissed the flirtatious behaviour, ignoring the way his cock had reacted to the not-so-subtle advances. In the end, though, the call had been too strong and, having discovered Calvin sunning himself by the creek, as naked as the day he’d been born, Mal had given in, letting the boy suck his prick until it had exploded with delight.

“I’ll wager you ain’t had dirty thoughts about yer ma.” Jayne’s voice is dirty and amused, verging on a chuckle.

“I’m not a one for the womenfolk as well you know. Maybe if I’d had a father to jerk off over...”

This time the laughter from both of them is real and spontaneous and Mal don’t even think it spawns from the excess alcohol in their systems. He can’t even begin to explain the need that lies behind this new kink, but with Jayne he doesn’t have to.

“So then, Cap’n, what bad thoughts did you get yourself to sleep over?” Jayne wipes the tears of mirth away from his eyes and lights up another cigar.

Mal can’t believe this. He’s sitting in a public place sharing sex talk and whiskey with his hired gun who he likes to get a spanking from occasionally. When did the world get so humped up?

He thinks about Jayne’s question. Thinks about the small sleeping area in the ranch house and how he was only separated from his momma’s quarters by a thick woven curtain. Sleeping hours were governed by the need to get up at crack of dawn and so the one thing he didn’t have in the homestead was privacy.

“I didn’t get to beat off much at home,” he confesses and sees a look of resentment pass across Jayne’s face. “Wait up.” There’s an embarrassed smirk on his face. “Don’t mean I didn’t get up to nothing.”

Jayne pours more liquor and leans in, elbows on the table becoming ingrained with the sticky dirt and Mal thinks hard how to begin. He hasn’t paid a thought to this stuff for many a year.

“My mother was alone most of the time, but she still had needs. I was nosing around her bedroom one day--hunting for Christmas presents or somesuch--and in one of her drawers I found this glass dildo. Big bitch of a thing it was. At the time I didn’t know what it was called and I sure as hell never thought of my mother using it, even though it had a tube of slick sat next to it.”

Jayne’s getting closer, more interested by the second, and Mal reckons they must look pretty intimate to anyone who’s noticed them. Not that he cares much: the fight has energized him, the drink has loosened him up and the talk is working its wicked way through his body.

“By the time I was fourteen I’d had my first rut with another boy: let him ride my cock, pushed him down on his knees and fucked his ass, sucked him off, had him suck on me. Done everything except been screwed. The kid weren’t the type to want none of that, not that I had any clue how as to ask him. Even when I was humping him I couldn’t stop thinking about what it’d be like to have a cock inside me. So one day I stole that big glass dick and the lubricant from my mother’s drawer and I played hookey from school. Went off into the woods and found some quiet place where I knew no one would find me. There were plenty of spots like that on Shadow. Harder to find people if you had need of them, than not.”

Jayne nods and Mal reckons that his homeworld must be same kind of back of nowhere dust hole.

“So I stripped naked and lay down with my legs spread wide. My cock was hard as iron and leaking away at the thought of doing this bad thing, but I was so scared I almost chickened out. Then I figured there was no one around to see me, so what the gorram hell. I slicked up the dildo and, heck, it was a big brute, cold especially when it was covered in all that wet slime. I didn’t know nothing about stretching--the kid who let me fuck him was slack all of the time-- so I pushed the tip against me and nothing happened then I forced it hard until most of it was inside me and, tamade, if I didn’t yell out from the pain. I was so gorram scared, laying there with this piece of glass stuck inside me, my body clamping down on it so tightly I couldn’t shift it in or out.”

Jayne’s hand slides across to his thigh and Mal can see from the glazed expression that the man’s seriously turned on. He isn’t the only one.

“I thought on what was best to do and then tried pushing out a little with my guts and, hell, if the thing didn’t slide further in. The pain’d died down some and I was left feeling so gorram full, like I was gonna explode. I reached for my cock with my right hand and started pulling on it, twisting the dildo gently and easing it in and out just a little-”

“Circus.”

Mal jerks his head around in the direction of the voice.

“Circus, Sir. Wash said you wanted to go with us. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Zoë’s standing a few feet away from their table and Mal’s calm is well and truly damaged. What if she’s heard him telling sex stories to Jayne? He looks at Zoë and then back at the bar entrance where his entire crew, with the exception of Inara, are lined up like children awaiting an outing.

“We didn’t get you a ticket, Jayne,” says Zoë. “Figured you weren’t in the mood for a show at present.”

Mal almost whimpers because the one thing he’s in the mood for right now is a private show with Jayne.

“Ain’t the circusy type.” The mercenary looks at Mal with dark amused eyes. “But you go and have fun, Cap’n.”

His head full of every curse word he’s ever learned Mal gets up from the table, erection long gone and just the damp patch in his skivvies as a reminder of how close he and Jayne had come to getting off on each other in public.

~~****~~

Ice planets are good, but no replacement for the kind of treat he had in mind for himself. Mal sits back in his seat and watches the artists perform, their luminous bodies contorting and spinning around above everyone’s heads.

Kaylee and Simon have their faces close together, whispering away to each other and Mal feels oddly cheated; not that he could sit holding hands with Jayne doing some none-so-secret canoodling, but that’s not the point.

“Jayne ain’t the person for you.”

Mal frowns and looks at Zoë who’s got this resigned expression on her face.

“It’s been one long fight from the beginning and it’s getting worse. He’ll kill you one day.”

Surprisingly, being outed in this way don’t come as a massive shock to Mal’s system. Matter-of-fact it’s a gorram relief. “We’re fixing things,” he mutters.

Zoë asks around to see if anyone needs fresh drinks and, together, she and Mal leave on a pretext of purchasing refreshments from the vendors in the lobby.

“You can’t fix the kind of thing that you got going with Jayne,” she says, sitting at one of the benches in the central water gardens and patting the seat next to her. “It’s been wrong from the start.”

“Hell you know.” That was the most petulant outburst Mal’d ever heard coming from his lips. “He ain’t as bad as you paint him.”

“Not saying he’s bad, Sir. Saying he’s bad for you. They’re two entirely different things.”

Mal’s stares blankly at the people scurrying above their heads on the steel grid walkways and tries to see him and Jayne from Zoë’s point of view. He can’t explain things in proper fashion to her without delving deep into his own sex life and psyche and he sure as gorram hell ain’t gonna do that.

“I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for Jayne,” he says. “Got caught up in a little risky business and was about to get killed. He knows me and I know him. It ain’t as clear as you think and I’m handling things. Don’t you worry yourself over the man.”

“I worry myself over you. Jayne ain’t the type to be trusted, nor to want to be trusted neither.”

Less than a few hours ago Mal had been trying his hardest to think the exact same things about Jayne, but that was out of shame more than reason. “It’s good to know you’ve got my back, Zo, but I can take care of myself,” he says.

The girl sighs and then slaps him on the shoulder.

“Just know I’ll be looking out for you.”

“And I appreciate it. Always.”

She gets up from the bench and looks down at Mal with what can only be described as a sisterly look in her eyes. “I reckon you’ll be wanting to do a little more fixing right now so I’ll make your apologies to the rest.”

Mal can’t do anything but nod, stunned by the simplicity of what he’d thought was going to be an impossible conversation. Today has made him understand things a little better. Maybe there is some hope after all. Jayne and he ain’t ever going to be a romantic couple, but this gorram nightmare has brought with it a solid acceptance of each other that makes the sex and all other stuff come easier.

The words ‘solid,’ ‘sex’ and ‘Jayne’ all tangled up together make Mal jittery with anticipation. Things don’t need fixing so much as resolution and he strides out along the transparent moving walkways in the direction of the nearest elevator, heading back to that dingy little bar only to discover that Jayne ain’t there. In fact, Jayne ain’t nowhere to be found and after searching high and low for an hour or more, Mal comes to the conclusion that the big man’s getting his urges seen to in one of the bordellos on the mezzanine. Food ain’t appealing to him in the slightest even though he’s eaten next to nothing these past few days and he goes back to lurk in his room, downhearted about pretty much everything. Gorram circuses!

Skytel is deserted at this time of day; people don’t come to Occident to spend their down time lounging around on an empty bed. There’s plenty enough resort planets for that kind of gou shi, the kind Book likes to enjoy. Mal opens his door and switches the light scheme over to night mode.

“Where you been?” says a voice. “I been waiting on you for a while now and you know you ain’t supposed to keep me waiting, boy.”

All that pent up melancholy dies away when Mal turns to look at the bed and sees Jayne sitting there, dressed in nothing but a pair of beige utility shorts, the kind he usually wears for playing ball and lifting weights. Mal has had more than a few wicked thoughts watching the man getting sweaty down in the cargo hold. He faces Jayne, looking down at him with a defiant expression on his face. “Been out having fun with some friends,” he answers sassily, wetting his lower lip in anticipation of the events that might follow.

“You don’t have fun with no one, you hear. You’re my boy and you do exactly what I tell you ‘less you’re wanting another belting.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Mal’s arse can’t take more abuse and right now his cock likes the idea of an easy submission.

“If’n it’s fun you’re wanting then I’ll show you some.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“Get out of your clothes.”

Mal pulls off his boots and socks--never the best items of apparel for a strip tease act--then gets on with the show, shucking off his suspenders and unfastening each button with lingering precision, making Jayne wait for his pleasure.

“Quickly, boy.” The big man licks his lips and runs a hand over his goatee, those loose shorts tenting as his excitement builds.

Mal discards the shirt then slips out of breeches and underwear, throwing them on the growing pile of clothing until he’s naked in front of Jayne.

“Turn around. Let me see your backside.”

Standing shoulder width apart Mal displays his wounds, shivering as Jayne traces them with a calloused finger. His cock pulses as the tip of that finger pushes into the crease of his arse and slides downward to the strip of taut skin, massaging his prostate from the outside.

“Healing up nice.”

The voice is a low growl that's teasing Mal into an even greater frenzy.

“Lay down on your back then close your eyes for me, son.”

Mal does as he’s told without question, breath catching in his throat as he wonders what’s in store for him. This new Jayne is a perversion that Mal never expected to obsess over. This utterly dominant brute of a man, is taking him higher than he’s ever been before.

His arms are raised and then he feels the pressure around his wrists. It’s not metal that’s linking them together and keeping them restrained, more like rope or leather maybe.

“If’n you’re gonna misbehave and run off to find fun then I reckon I’ll have to keep you tied up in the barn.”

Jayne pulls Mal’s legs wide apart and fastens each ankle with more of the bindings, fixing him to the frame of the bed until Mal is left entirely vulnerable. There’s no safe word been mentioned but Mal trust Jayne implicitly. The bonds aren’t tight; Mal still has room for movement and he wriggles about to see just how easily he can misbehave. The flicker of pain to the top of his thigh tells him that this is not allowed.

“Pull back your knees and then lay still, boy. Daddy's got a surprise for you.”

The next sensation is entirely out of this world -- a slippery ice cold assault on his senses.

“I been told you’ve been taking your mamma’s private things. Been pleasuring yourself when I ain’t around to satisfy you. Is that true?”

“Yes, Daddy,” hisses Mal, writhing around on the mattress as he adjusts to the feel of whatever it is that’s inside of him. He hears a soft buzzing sound and then bucks upward hard as something slick and tight rolls over his erection, vibrating against his shaft and causing the most outlandish sensations inside his body.

“Ai ya!” he yelps, back arching, hips canting as he loses control of his senses.

“Behave!” says Jayne sternly and Mal jerks as a flicker of pain teases his belly. “Now open your eyes.

Mal does as he’s told and looks down to see a glass dildo emerging from between his legs with Jayne’s hand wrapped around its bulging base to hold it in position. His cock is purple and erect; the vibrating toy urging him towards instant orgasm whilst the tight ring keeps him from getting there.

Jayne straddles him, hairy belly glinting with droplets of perspiration and Mal wants to slide a hand into the gaping leg of his shorts and feel the goodness inside there. He stares at the distended material around the crotch and his mouth fills with saliva.

“Want my cock, do you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Want it in your mouth?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Well then, if’n you can keep that shiny toy inside your arse then you can have a suck on this.” Jayne unzips his shorts and tugs his prick free of his fly. It pokes out solid and thick, skin rolled back from arousal, the swollen head glistening and enticing and Mal discovers that he’s never wanted a cock so much in his life.

Shuffling up the bed a little, Jayne leans a hand on the wall and pushes the tip of his erection towards Mal’s open mouth. Mal leans up to accept it and the contraction of his stomach muscles forces the dildo out. He cries out in frustration and Jayne climbs off, pulling at his own prick with slow strokes of his palm, the wet sloppy sound driving Mal to distraction. It’s inevitable now. He will die from an overdose of sexing.

“Gotta start all over again now, boy. Too bad.”

Leaning over to the refrigerator, Jayne opens the door and removes a small tube of slick from the ice box, squeezing out the lubricant and slicking up the shiny blue toy with it. Mal squirms in delight when he’s filled up once more and he closes his legs as tight as he can manage attempting to keep the dildo where it belongs.

Jayne kneels over him, directing his cockhead between Mal’s dry lips, running the tip around the circle of his mouth and wetting the skin with dribbles of sweet fluid. This time Mal remains still, just licking at the smooth salty skin with the tip of his tongue.

“Wo de tian a!” yells Jayne, thrusting his hips and pushing deep into Mal’s throat. “Such a good little cock sucker, boy, such a good little fuck.”

Mal takes as much of Jayne’s cock as he can manage, opening up and letting it slide into his throat: choking on it, gagging on it, relishing every moment of the hard treatment as he sucks the big man off. Then, with a sudden jolt backwards, Jayne pulls free, jerking himself hard, each flick of the fist accompanied by a throaty growl, the sounds building to a loud crescendo as he shoots out a volley of jisum, splashes of semen falling onto Mal’s face and decorating his throat with a pearl necklace of droplets. He feels as if he’s coming; his body spasms and bucks up and he thrashes against the restraints as the cold slick glass column jams against his sweet spot and the buzz of the vibrator drives him close to insanity.

“You’re a pretty sight all undone at the seams.”

Jayne’s still masturbating, coming down from his high, and as soon as he finishes up pleasuring himself he takes off his shorts, throwing them onto the pile of clothes on the floor. Spreading Mal’s thighs he kneels in between them, reaching down to the side of the bed and picking up a tiny leather switch from where it’s been laying on the floor. The quick flick to Mal’s belly makes him buck helplessly and that dildo slides free, but Jayne just pushes it back in and runs the tip of the leather whip over Mal’s shaft.

“Ain’t never seen anyone as swollen up as you are,” he says with appreciation, leaning over and running his tongue over the burning hot prick.

“Please, Daddy,” begs Mal, his body wracked by painful spasms.

The answer is inaudible as Jayne’s head bobs up and down nursing Mal’s cockhead and then taking the inflamed shaft into his mouth as he eases the toy in and out of Mal’s hole.

“No more!” Mal can feel the tears running down the side of his face. Pain and pleasure are all mixed up now and if he don’t get some release soon he don’t know what might happen.

“Hush, boy,” says Jayne, “I’ll make it good. Do you trust me?”

“Yeahhhhh.” It starts as a word but turns into a moan of relief when the glass toy is removed from his guts and the coil of vibrating rubber that’s biting into the base of his shaft, is eased free.

As the restraints are removed from his wrists and ankles Mal stretches to alleviate the pain from his aching muscles, but is suddenly and swiftly pulled down the bed, the skin on his bottom protesting from the rubbing of the bed covers.

“Lift your knees for Daddy,” instructs Jayne. “Time to make my little whore-boy feel good.”

Obeying without question, Mal’s shocked when his buttocks are spread wide and Jayne begins a slow steady rimming, licking the sore ring until it relaxes enough to allow Jayne’s tongue inside. With his mouth wide open in a perfectly round ‘O’ of surprise, Mal remains absolutely still, urging Jayne on with soft gasps of delight as that mouth works magic on him. It’s a delicate pleasure--they’ve never come close to this before--and it soothes Mal into a tantric state, permanently edging close to orgasm. Just when he’s lulled into a trance by this gentle pressure, Jayne wriggles upward, sucking on Mal’s cock then licking up and down the shaft in a rhythmic motion. The pleasure builds and builds, but that longed for orgasm eludes him and suddenly a tongue isn’t enough and Mal needs more.

“Please fuck me.” He’s getting used to begging now. It’s part and parcel of this dirty game of theirs.

Jayne climbs onto him and the pleasure of that big body laying over his is enough to push Mal closer to the edge. The big man ain’t all the way to hardness, but his cock is full enough to slide inside and the thick spongy shaft lodges against Mal’s sweet spot and takes away some of that need.

“Want a good rutting do you?” Jayne’s hardening up inside him, pumping now, his cock pounding into Mal’s arse.

“Need it.”

“Better than a piece of glass?”

“Better’n anything.”

Mal hooks his legs over Jayne’s shoulders and grabs hold of his erection, working at it with both hands. Pulling it hard, he pinches and scrapes the most sensitive parts then fondles his swollen tight balls urging himself on toward orgasm. A sudden change of position alters everything for the better and he can feel the sperm surging up from his insides, pumping its way up his shaft. He yells out loud and long and, with Jayne’s cock buried to its root inside him, climaxes in jerks of ropey come.

Jayne collapses down, burying his face in the crook of Mal’s neck then slowly and rather painfully Mal unwinds his legs from the crazy position they’ve ended up in.

“Too old for this,” he mutters.

“Maybe you should stick to circusing,” says Jayne, his laughter muffled by bed sheets.

“Maybe so.”

There’s an unspoken mutual agreement to crawl up the bed and get comfortable.

“Ain’t gonna be the occasion to do much of this after R ’n R is over anyhow,” says Jayne as he steals the bed covers off Mal.

“Maybe not.” Mal smiles and thinks about Jayne lifting weights, wearing just those loose utility shorts. The big man don’t know that their rutting ain’t so much of a secret any longer and it might be all kinds of interesting not to tell him just yet.

~~****~~

Eight not-so-content faces board Serenity the next morning. Mal’s cut the vacation time by a couple of days because, when it comes down to it, time spent on Occident Sky Plex was about business and not pleasure. At supper time the crew grumble as they gag on the revolting protein stew and when Mal looks around the table at the matching miserable expressions he feels a twinge of satisfaction. Things are back to how they’re supposed to be. Too much happiness ain’t good for the soul. It’s all about the balance.

DONE