Epiphany

NB: I played about with the timelines here. Mal has at least three ages according to the timeline. Two of them put him years older than Jayne. One of them puts him younger than Zoe and Wash. I'm not happy with any of those. For artistic purposes I have Jayne born in 2484 and Mal in 2486. The Uni war starts in 2506 which puts Mal at 20 which I'm happy with. This makes Mal 30 and Jayne 32 when Jayne joins the crew. Iffy I know but it's doable.

Life has a habit of refusing to follow the path Jayne Cobb expects. After murdering a man with a bullet to his brain and then being run out of town by his own pa, he reckons he’s ‘bad’ enough to have a go at some private soldiering. Not so. The first time Jayne tries to prove his worth as a fighter he ends up face down in the dirt, disarmed and then straddled by a dainty girl pilot with a raucous laugh and a face full of freckles. He ain’t going to try that again ‘til he’s learned a few tricks.

Nova Prime isn’t a bad place to work, as long as a person has no particular urge to do something fancy for a living. At sixteen Jayne takes the first job that comes his way, washing dishes in one of the spittoon bars along the harbour front. Then he grows bigger and good looking in an off kilter way and Madam Liu offers him work in her brothel. She’s tiny and fearsome with a painted doll face and feet stuffed into lotus shoes and he daren’t say no even if he wanted to. Although what teenage boy is gonna say no to working in a cathouse full of naked girls?

“Jayne, perfect name for yanse lang,” Madam Liu cackles. “Strong boy, baby face, useful for many things.”

Many things turns out to be carrying stuff and guard-dogging the whores, but it’s work and Jayne gets plenty of time off to learn how to kill people with hands and guns and knives. He’s most useful when the customers behave out of turn and he can explain the error of their ways to them.

“Jayne!” Madam Liu bellows in her trademark shriek. “Show man what happens when he not got money to pay.”

Jayne enjoys the showing part a lot.

So he’s been here at The Cinquefoil for a couple of years and while he ain’t seen the ‘verse, he has money in his pocket and a trunk full of babies to and clean and tend to when no one needs him for anything. Madam Liu still calls him her yanse lang and the hookers giggle like schoolgirls when she does, but no one’ll tell him what it means. They laugh even louder when he gets sulky.

“One day,” says Rhiana when he’s laying on top of her and his prick’s resting idly against her clitty. Whore girls can’t be teased into nothing, though, and when she refuses to give in and tell him he pouts some more then slides back inside her. Rhiana ruffles his unkempt curls and laughs up at him. “You’ll find out soon enough,” she says, wrapping her legs tight around him and squeezing the come out of his balls.

Jayne likes Rhiana a lot, but he don’t love her. How can you love a girl who’ll spread her legs for any man who has enough coin in his pocket to pay for a ride?

The brothel is busy tonight and instead of lounging in her back office Madam Liu is serving behind the bar, keeping a watchful eye on her liquor. Jayne notices the boy as soon as he walks in. He’s nervous, out for his first rutting by the look of things, but he keeps his head held high, not ducking away from anyone’s eyes. Jayne glances around the room to see who’s available.

There’s Mai, dark hair and dark eyes, slight like a drink of water with little baby titties that are so white they’re like Madam’s fine china. Jayne’d like to play with her but she’s delicate -- too delicate for him. Lucy’s different; she’s not much older than Mai, but she’s strong and lusty with rose coloured skin that’s soft as a peach. She smiles like it’s always a pleasure and Jayne thinks she might be good for the kid’s first time sexing. She makes him feel comfortable enough when he has a rut with her. Sarah and Sasha are busy entertaining already and Kate has her favourite client due within the hour -- a school teacher who Jayne reckons has honourable intentions towards her. Madam Liu won’t be over the moon about that turn of events. There’s always Belle, with her coffee skin and full red lips, but Jayne hopes the kid won’t choose her. That girl’s a mite unpredictable -- bughouse crazy is the best way of putting it.

The young man’s eyes fall predictably onto Rhiana, who’s sat at the piano singing folk songs. It’s all an act to give her red hair some provenance, but it works well enough. A lot of men like to think they’re spending time with a flame haired Celtic lass even if she was born and bred on Nova Three and got thrown off planet for sucking boys’ ji bas during church.

But when Jayne wakes up from his daydreaming, he discovers he’s landed back down in an alternate ‘verse because, instead of the eyeing up the girls, the kid is looking straight at him. He don’t seem inclined to stop looking neither.

“Lucky boy,” says Liu, glancing at the stranger and then winking at Jayne. “He want my yanse lang for the night.”

All of a sudden Jayne knows, without shadow of a doubt, that he is the slowest of learners. He flushes with embarrassment and stares at the glossy surface of the bar.

“I ain’t doing that,” he mutters, lower lip slipping into a familiar pout.

Liu flicks at his baby mouth with her long gnarled fingernail and smiles. “I know you, Jayne Cobb. I know what you can do. I know what you want to do. Trust me.” She shoves a bottle of liquor and two glasses on a tray. “Go now. Hurry! If he find new entertainment house you pay for it out your wages.”

Jayne near enough falls off the stool then trips over his own feet and as he bends back up, he feels his gun packing out the rear of his pants and wonders if he should just shoot the lot of ‘em and run away. Wasn’t that how he escaped that first ugly mess he got himself into? In the end the thing that stops him ain’t a little man on his shoulder telling him it’s wrong. He’d be lying to himself if tried to use that as an excuse. Thing that stops him from blasting the room to smithereens is the urge to find out what sly sexing is like. Maybe it’s still about Mattie. Maybe it’s all about him. Who knows?

Heart clattering like a railroad train on junction tracks, he approaches the kid who’s watching him, hawk like, from the middle of the room, standing guard over a table that’s too close to being the centre of everyone’s attention for Jayne’s comfort.

“Drink?” he asks and when the boy smiles and nods, the tremble inside Jayne makes itself known to all from the soft chinking of glass against glass.

He guides them over to the far corner of the brothel, close to the stairs in case things move in that direction. Truth be told, the more Jayne looks at the boy, the more he wants them to.

They sit down at a table, chairs scraping on the boards, and when Jayne goes to pour them a drink he’s clumsy and knocks over the bottle. Whiskey spills out in a puddle on the floor and, embarrassed, he winces and moves as fast as he can to pick it up.

The boy’s faster though--moves like a hound after the hare--and after he’s righted the bottle he offers Jayne a hand. “Mal Reynolds,” he drawls, his eyes crinkling up into a smile.

Ai ya! There’s a whole heap of self-assurance there for such a young ‘un. Jayne enjoys the tightness of the grip and it sets his mind to wandering some.

“Do I get to call you anything?”

That smile is open and appealing and few years older than the boy appears to be.

“Jayne.” He accompanies it with the usual frown which tells people not to question the strangeness of his given name.

“Pretty,” says the kid with a grin. “How much does it cost to see what’s under your skirts?”

Jayne ain’t impressed. “It ain’t gonna cost you one bit ‘cause you ain’t gonna find out nothing lessen you start treating me with some respect.”

The boy’s composure slides and his eyes widen in fear. “Sorry,” he says. “I ain’t done this before.”

Relenting a little, Jayne leans forward. “I guessed as much from the look on your face when you walked in here.” The kid--Mal--ducks away from his gaze and Jayne feels all the better for taking control of the situation. “Wanna come upstairs?”

Mal nods and stands, quick as lightning and Jayne gets the feeling it’s more from fright than from an eagerness to get rutting.

“Come in on your own?” he asks, getting to his feet slow and steady to hide his own nerves.

Mal shakes his head. “I’m with the ranchers from Shadow. My mamma’s sickening for something. Weren’t well enough to bring the steers to market so she let me do it.” He looks Jayne in the eye, pupils all dilated. “It’s good to be here without her.”

Suddenly Jayne wants to make it a whole lot better ‘n good. Leaving the whiskey on the table, he guides Mal towards the stairs with a hand to the small of his back then heads up after him, taking the lead at the top and showing the kid the way to his room.

“How old are you?” he asks when the door closes and he’s stowing his gun safely into the drawer of the nightstand.

“Sixteen.” Mal looks up at him, eyes big and scared. “Almost anyway.”

Fifteen! Gorramit. Boy’s just a baby; near on the same age as Mattie would be by now.

“I got money to pay you. I need…” Mal’s voice falters. “I need to know.”

Jayne understands well enough. Knows from every time he’s lain with a woman and wanted something different.

Is a whore supposed to kiss? Jayne ain’t sure if’n he oughta, but he does anyway. Pushing Mal up against the wall, he feels that young lean body quiver against his and leans forward until lips rest against lips, both of them panting from nerves. His tongue darts in, exploring Mal’s mouth and the boy responds eagerly, sucking at Jayne and playing with him like he’s a new toy.

The barely there stubble tickles Jayne’s excitement and he runs his hand into Mal’s thick brown hair, fingers wrapping around the back of the boy’s neck, pulling him in closer as the kissing gets dirtier and needier. Pulling away just long enough to gulp in a few breaths, Jayne studies Mal, taking in his flaming cheeks and swollen lips. His cock presses up against Jayne’s thigh, thick and willing--nothing babyish about him in that department--and Jayne ain’t gonna try denying his sly instincts. Not now with his own ji ba near enough jumping out of his pants.

His hand wanders downwards, flicking open the buttons on Mal’s shirt and all the while his tongue traces the veins on that slim neck, lingering over the pulse point and sucking hard until the boy lets out this low groan of desperation.

“Please.”

Arms encircle Jayne, fingers stroking patterns onto his ribs that make him want to come in his pants. He ain’t had a sexing before that’s made him feel this alive. He ain’t felt this alive for years.

Pushing the shirt off Mal’s shoulders, he runs his tongue along the prominent collar bones. The boy’s as thin as a lath, but he’s got muscle building from good honest hard work. That’s a turn on for Jayne. He ain’t the sort to like pampered pets. Mebbe that’s why the whore girls are nothing more than a way to pass the time for him.

Mal spreads himself out like Jesus on the cross, head hanging downwards as he watches the path of Jayne’s tongue, and Jayne ups the game a little, wanting to see something more than interest light up those pretty eyes. He covers one brown nipple with his mouth, letting it linger there as his hand wriggles downward, unfastening Mal’s pants like he’s some kind of an expert then forcing them, and the shorts, down until the boy’s tackle is exposed.

The low moan of anticipation makes his own clothed cock jerk like a puppet on a string. His fingers skim over Mal’s erection which is burning hot and silky with pre-jizz. Jayne’s mouth floods with saliva. He swallows back the drool then sucks hard at that nipple until it crinkles and swells against his tongue and the effect on Mal is nothing short of spectacular. One minute the boy is as meek as a kitten, the next he has his hands in Jayne’s pants and he’s pulling at his cock like it’ll be the end of the world if he don’t get him coming in ten seconds flat.

‘Steady now,’ Jayne wants to say like he’s reining in an unbroken colt. Wants to say it but he can’t. Fingers quivering like a little virgin girl, Jayne frees up his own parts, letting Mal go to town on him. The boy grips him like he’s the shaft of an old pickaxe, working him rough and ready with both hands and when Jayne straightens himself up, he finds himself staring into a pair of needful eyes and instinctively reaches for Mal’s prick.

It ain’t pretty sexing. They’re barely through the door, still part clothed with their boots on and they’re fucking each others' fists like school boys ‘round the back of the barn. It sure ain’t professional. Jayne braces a hand on the wall and leans in. The boy’s mouth is different to all the girls Jayne’s kissed. His tongue feels bigger and works more aggressively back at Jayne. Lips are thinner and rougher. There’s no tenderness needed here; it’s give and give and give some more and if that ain’t the biggest turn on of all.

Hips bucking, Jayne jams his body up against Mal’s and they jerk and rub and grind and suck at each other’s tongues like there ain’t no tomorrow. Mebbe the kind of tomorrow he’s used to won’t ever come around again. Jayne’s a full on yanse lang now and it ain’t looking to be a bad way of earning a living. Then he thinks of Mattie and Jensen and his pa and by the time Mal comes, hanging onto his shoulders and gasping for breath, Jayne is already limp and lifeless. The kid never guesses there’s anything wrong. Spunk is spunk and there’s a mess of it covering them both.

~~****~~

Next customer of Jayne’s ain’t as pleasing to the eye, nor as clean as Mal Reynolds. Jayne figures he ain’t got too much of a choice though; he’s not got the means to pick and choose who he gets sexed up by. The old feller takes him upstairs and ploughs into his arse with no ceremony and no slick, but at least he bothers to put on a rubber. On this occasion Jayne don’t get time to think about coming let alone have a go at it.

“I like ‘em young,” he says afterwards to the madam while he’s settling up, “but this ‘un’s too hefty for my tastes. Prefer me the runt of the litter to stick it to.”

Jayne watches the fat old farmer scratch his balls and hitch up his drooping pants and feels sick to his stomach that the feller is most probably wanting a little scrap like Mattie to get himself off in. It ain’t right. He never even got to say goodbye to his brother before he was run off Nova Six.

“Least he paid, boy.” Liu grins at him, gold tooth flashing as she counts out her takings for the evening. That’s all that ever matters to her.

Jayne don’t know how he feels about life anymore. Rutting sure ain’t as simple as it used to be. He spends a lot more time round the back of the whore house, throwing knives at a knothole on a fallen tree trunk or shooting at beer bottles until they spray down in a shower of glass. Most nights off he heads into town, intent on nothing but trouble. He ain’t killed another person yet, but he figures he’ll get his aim in soon enough. The only time Liu gets riled at him is when he comes home bruised and battered from a brawl.

“My whores are high class,” she squawks, “not rats fighting in sewers.”

~~****~~

Second time Jayne sees Mal, it’s a much quieter business. The boy pays upfront and obviously expects good service. Jayne undresses himself and then Mal, folding the clothes and placing them neatly on the chair.

“Would you like a bath?” he says, using his best whore manners. Liu and Rhiana have been schoolin’ him some; learning him, teaching him what the customers want.

“Y’alright there?” asks Mal, looking at him kind of unsure. “Thought we was acquainted. Must have been some other boy called Jayne I got sexed up by last time I was here in Prime.”

Jayne laughs and it’s real and loud and it comes from deep inside his belly. “I’m fine. I just-” Then he reckons it ain’t the done thing to be offloading his worries onto a kid -- ‘specially one who’s hiring out his body for a grapple. “They been teaching me how to behave with the customers.”

“Well then, they can go to gorram hell because I like the real you better.”

That feeling in the pit of his stomach ain’t a comfy one. Jayne can’t recall a time when anyone said they liked him, even family.

Mal lies on the bed, hands tucked behind his neck. His eyes crinkle up with happiness and he’s wearing this wide-mouthed grin that makes Jayne want to forget who, or perhaps what he is for a while at least. He slides onto the bed and leans up on an elbow, walking fingers over Mal’s belly then, on instinct, he jolts forward and kisses him like he’d kiss a sweetie – he’s never had one of those, boy nor girl, to call his own. He’s done plenty of rutting, just not the kind where anyone lingers around afterwards to talk.

“What you after?” he asks eventually, his face a bare inch away from Mal’s. The boy’s mouth draws Jayne in like a magnet, same way he feels when there’s a new piece of weaponry in the store window. Without waiting for an answer he kisses some more, slipping his tongue between lips that taste of root beer then pressing down harder until that smooth grade, glass paper skin scorches his face. His ji ba thickens up, pressing eagerly against the side of Mal’s thigh and he hitches in a breath of anticipation. “What do you want?” he asks again, his parts eager to get on with the sexing.

“Everything.” Mal’s voice comes out like he’s swallowed a mouthful of syrup. “Ain’t been with no one since you. No one to suit me on Shadow. I can look, but-”

Jayne has set to work on Mal’s nipples, teasing each tiny bud until it hardens up like stone. He looks up as Mal’s words come to a sudden halt. “Y’could be surprised,” he says with a smile that’s full of memory. “Some of the unlikeliest folk turn out to be sly at heart.”

“Tell,” says Mal, eyes widening at the idea of a story.

“Ain’t much to say.” Jayne smiles again as he remembers seeing Madison the storekeeper having a little fun with a delivery driver once. Not more’n ten feet from the back entrance of his own mercantile, feller’s cock delivering stuff into his rear entrance. Jayne don’t wanna get embroiled in the telling of it though. There’s other, more pressing things on his mind. “Just look at you and me,” he says, killing the conversation with a laugh that’s more than a little breathless by now.

Pushing up against Mal, he licks the salt from the boy’s skin then tongues his navel with slow determined sweeps that makes Mal arch up off the mattress.

“Ye su!” The voice comes out cracked a little, like it’s still being broken in and Jayne stops, tentative for a moment as his conscience whispers at him.

“Not sure if being with you is legal.” He straddles the boy’s thighs and leans in looking down into soulful eyes. It isn’t often he gets struck with an attack of the guilties but when it happens Jayne ain’t the kind to ignore it.

“’M sixteen now.” Mal looks up at him nervous as gorram hell, “Any case I don’t think there is such a word as legal on Prime.” He reaches for Jayne’s hand and places it on his cock, the slicked up skin pulling back and revealing a deep pink head complete with a droplet of juice that swells and then dribbles out from the slit. “You ain’t exactly forcing me.”

Jayne stares mesmerised at Mal’s face then his gaze slides lower and he watches as his hand moves with a mind of its own, working gently at Mal’s cock. Licking his lips, he shuffles backward until he’s lying prone between Mal’s thighs then tentatively licks up and down the shaft. He’s a virgin at sucking men off and as enticing as it might be--the scent of sex having a direct effect on the thickness of his own ji ba--it still manages to make him break out in a rash of nervous sweat.

Fingers tangle in his hair, a thumb rubbing reassuringly at the nape of his neck. There’s no pressure and Jayne relaxes, wrapping his hand back around the shaft and then teasing the smooth slick head against his lips, painting them with a gloss of pre-cum then tasting the flavour of the fluid to find out if it’s the same as his own.

“More.” Mal lifts his knees stroking at Jayne’s head with both hands.

It’s fiercely arousing but, at the same time, kind of comforting laying there between Mal’s thighs. Jayne settles himself in place then opens his mouth wide, taking the head of Mal’s cock into his mouth and rolling his tongue around the swollen knob. Tamade, but it feels big! Smooth though, like a warm living lollipop. It tastes sweet and tangy at the same time and the musky scent hits him again, making his juices run. Rocking into the mattress, he sucks hard, swiping away the droplets of fluid that emerge with the tip of his tongue. Braver now--or maybe just hornier--he adjusts his position and takes in more of Mal’s cock, jaw aching already as he stretches to accommodate the thick shaft. Mal’s a nice size but he ain’t huge; it’s just that Jayne has never done anything remotely like this before. The ache is good and real and starts off that tingle in his belly. Jayne never imagined in his wildest craziest dreams that blowing a man would push him close to coming. It ain’t professional to spill all over the sheets like a teenager, but least he’d be getting there. He ain’t gonna be able to keep hiding the fact that he don’t function right forever.

Mal begins making these gargled sounds and he’s thrusting up like a bucking bronco, pushing that solid column of flesh across the surface of Jayne’s tongue, on and in until it hits the back of his throat. It’s hard to breathe, hard not to gag and he pulls back, gasping in some air then quick as lightning he swoops back in, licking and sucking and drowning in mouthfuls of cock.

It’s rough; kinda like wrestling with the other kids back home on Six. Mal grabs handfuls of Jayne’s hair, holding him in place as he slides his prick ‘tween Jayne’s lips. Then he makes this low groan and rolls Jayne over, sitting astride him, dipping in and fucking his mouth hard like it’s pussy.

It feels all manner of good and bad rolled into one. The feel of a man covering him; the musky smell of his sex; the taste of his cock; all these things charge Jayne up and make him twitch with arousal. Problem is he keeps thinking too gorram much and thinking ain’t his style. He ain’t never been the brains in the family, left that job to Mattie. Was too proud to hire himself out back home and yet, here he is getting his face humped off for a couple of bits of platinum. How much more hired can you get?

Erection gone, Jayne thrashes his head from side to side, a low rumble of misery building in his chest and releasing itself as a growl of anguish. Mal presses a palm down onto his forehead, forcing Jayne’s head back into the softness of the pillow and holding him still. Riding into him hard, the kid braces himself on the bedstead and does this full body shudder as his orgasm hits, come collecting under Jayne’s tongue and spilling down his throat.

It’s bittersweet and it should be a wake up call, but Jayne ain’t brave enough to take on the ‘verse just yet. The Cinquefoil is safe, he tells himself. It’s better than most have it, he lies convincingly. It’s home.

~~****~~

The older and taller Jayne gets, the less desirable he becomes to Madam Liu’s ‘clientèle’ as she calls ‘em. She’s employed a new boy now; young, pretty and as submissive as they come. Jayne gets to play with the ones who want a rougher ride, but that ain’t always a good thing. Still, at least he earns enough money to fill up his weapons locker and has time enough to practice with ‘em. His aim is true now and he can take on most in a bar room brawl, coming out without hardly even a scratch.

He still hangs around the rough side of town, but mostly it’s to keep an ear to the ground. Things are getting a mite humped up in this part of the rim. Purple bellies are setting up outposts on a lot of the minor rocks and sticking their nose into everyone’s business. Days were better when they just dumped off a transport full of settlers and let ‘em sink or swim. Gorram Alliance.

Tonight’s one of them nights when Jayne’s fists are itching for some action. As he swivels his ass around on the polished wooden stool in order to check out the competition, he spies himself a couple of them fed hundan sitting at the back of the room, their beady eyes surveying the drinkers. It would almost be worth jail time to see them turned to dog chow. Jayne smiles and sinks a beer then strokes his newly grown goatee thoughtfully, remembering the feeling of satisfaction he’d got from the sight of Jensen’s head exploding into pieces. Course, back then he hadn’t blown the gan ni niang away for working hand in hand with the Alliance. Back then it had been all about putting a sick kiddy fiddler down.

Considering things a while longer, Jayne drinks and picks at the beer nuts while he makes idle chat with the bartender. He’s taking his time, savouring the idea of a brawl the way his ma always told him to do with his food. He ain’t never got the hang of that. It becomes apparent he’s taken too long in making up his mind when a mess of noise erupts from the back of the room. Jayne’s body reacts instantly; harsh yells and the smashing of glass on wood sends adrenaline flying through his veins. The dull ‘thut’ sound of a fist making headway into a man’s face is music to his ears and he’s up and off that stool quicker ‘n most would reckon he’d be able to haul his big frame around.

One of the purple bellies is down already, out cold in a puddle of blood, curled over on himself like a napping baby. Other one has a knife to his throat and he’s whimpering as the blade draws a thin red line into his skin, mapping out the path it’s intending to take. Jayne ain’t sympathetic toward the trooper--he’s heard too many stories of how they been treating rim folk of late--but nor do he see the point of anyone getting strung up unnecessarily. Day dreaming over killing ‘em is one thing; a fist fight is another, but slitting the throat of an Alliance officer in public? Bughouse crazy is what that is.

First off, Jayne don’t recognise the assailant. All he sees is a pair of wild, angry eyes staring out from beneath bloodied hair.

“He ain’t worth it,” he says conversationally, righting one of the chairs and sitting in it then resting the heel of his boot on the edge of the upended table. “Leastways, I don’t reckon so.”

“Little you know.”

The eyes crinkle up some and they may be wearing a different expression to the one Jayne’s used to, but that face sure as heck is familiar now he sees past the gore. An older, careworn version of Mal Reynolds is standing in front of him and this un seems intent on throwing his life away for no reason.

Jayne ain’t good with words--not a one comes to mind that’d be any use here--so he does what he knows best. Getting up, he sinks a fist into the unsuspecting fed’s face then pushes him away and makes a grab for Mal, feeling the sting as that blade swipes across his forearm.

Hissing from the sudden buzz of pain, Jayne twists Mal’s wrist until there’s a yelp and a clattering sound and the weapon falls to the floor. Stepping on the knife, Jayne uses brute strength to restrain the younger man then yanks that body in closer until Mal’s back is wedged against him.

Locking his arms tight, Jayne waits a moment for them both to collect their breath. He’s never used his fighting skills in this way and he’s kind of proud of the way things’ve turned out. It ain’t in his nature to be a peacemaker and he don’t think he’ll ever want to do it again, but it makes for a change.

“Best we get out of here quicksmart ‘fore the law gets wind of it,” he says, his lips resting close against Mal’s ear.

“Y’not wrong.”

Mal relaxes a little, but Jayne ain’t certain he’s not trying to dupe him and he retains a good firm hold of that solid body. It’s not exactly an unpleasant task.

“I ain’t gonna fight you,” says Mal in a voice that’s cold and expressionless. “In earnest, Jayne, I done enough of that these past few weeks.”

The young man looks dog tired and on the edge of misery and Jayne don’t wanna see him wind up in a cell. “Wait here for me,” he says, bending down to retrieve the knife and, while he’s there, checking to make sure that both soldiers are unconscious and still breathing. After that he picks his way through the kindling of broken chairs and heads for the bar, passing over enough credits to make sure that information won’t get spread around. He can wait a few more weeks to pay for that Buhnder which is sitting pretty, waiting for him in the store.

Mal behaves as docile as a puppy as Jayne leads him out of the saloon doors and on through the heaving mass of people. Tonight is fiesta on Prime and there’s a wild display of feathers and fancy type costumes on display. If he’s lucky one of the smaller hotels will still have rooms available this early. Mal is stony faced and silent and Jayne resists the temptation to put an arm around his waist. Instead, he rests a guiding hand on the small of Mal’s back, staying close enough to ensure that he’ll be able to grab the young man if he decides to make a run for it.

The back street boarding house is painted a deep sky blue, its entrance lit up by bright lantern style lights. As soon as they push their way in through the fancy glass doors, Jayne can feel eyes burning into him.

“This is a respectable establishment,” says a matronly woman who’s standing behind the front desk, glowering at the two of them over the top of a pair of spectacles that’re shaped like tiny crescent moons. “I won’t have the likes of you doing business here.”

The word ‘business’ makes her pull a face like there’s a lump of gou shi under that pointy nose, but that don’t cause Jayne much offence; he’s used to dealing with snooty attitudes after being a whore for this long. “If’n I was charging him for a rut then I’d be doing it back at The Cinquefoil, wouldn’t I, Ma’am?” Her eyes narrow into slits, but she remains silent so Jayne continues speaking. “As it happens he and I just want a room for the night and I’m the one who’ll be paying for it.” Jayne stares her down. “Lessen you don’t want my money, that is?” He looks sideways at the sea of empty tables in the shabby bar area.

“Sign here,” she says frostily, pushing a large leather book across the counter toward Jayne. “You’ll pay up front though.”

Jayne’s pocket’s are decidedly on the empty side, but he has just enough platinum to make out he’s not scrimping.

“Room 33,” she says as she closes the till. “Top floor, second on the left.”

Probably gonna be no more’n a broom closet, thinks Jayne as he and Mal climb the stairs, but when he unlocks the door to his surprise it ain’t that bad. A bit prissy with drapes that’re a dead on match for his ma’s best Sunday dress, but it’ll do as a place for them to rest their heads until the heat dies down.

There’s a screened off wash area and, without asking this time, Jayne twists at the faucet on the big old tub which eventually gives in to him with a creak and a groan and a sploosh of steamy water. Mal still ain’t said a word since they were in the saloon and the silence is working away at Jayne’s nerves, turning them raw and frayed. He don’t wanna look at the blood spattered man who’s sat on the bed, richly out of place against the blue-flowered counterpane.

“Bath’s ready, kid,” he says with a nervous smile.

“I ain’t a kid no longer, that’s a certainty.”

Mal looks up and Jayne withers under the blankness of the gaze. Right now he feels kind of flummoxed. There’s too many unspoken words in that last sentence and they hang in the dusty, flower-scented air giving the place an uncomfortableness. Jayne has never been a people kind of person, nor has he been one for reading what’s going on inside their heads. If’n he had then he woulda known a whole lot sooner what had been happening to his little brother for all them years.

“Even if you ain’t a kid you still gotta get your clothes off ‘fore you get in the tub,” he says.

Mal remains seated, slumped over a little to the left, worn away and broken. Not knowing what else to do, Jayne crouches down and unties the laces on his boots, pulling each one off then removing the socks. Shirt comes next and then undershirt and pants, and all the time Mal’s compliant, staring into space like he’s disappeared somewhere inside himself.

Jayne’s frustrated--he’s never yearned to be one of them saints from the bible--and he begins to lose his temper. “Get washed up,” he snaps. “You ain’t a pretty picture to look at right now.”

Mal starts visibly but does as he’s told, padding across the rug to the screened off area and climbing into the tub, wincing slightly as the hot water seeps into the abraded skin on his knuckles. Without hardly a second thought Jayne shucks off his own clothes and joins him. There’s a washcloth laying over the edge and Jayne wets it and wrings it out then leans forward, wiping away the dried blood from Mal’s face. Reaching for the jug that’s on the washstand, he tips water over Mal’s head then lathers up some soap and scrubs it through the thick brown hair, getting rid of the muck that’s stuck into the strands like glue. After rinsing off the suds with a fresh jug of water, he hands Mal a bar of soap with a curt, “Get washed while I see to myself.”

When they’re both done with the cleaning part, Jayne stares thoughtfully at Mal. “You gonna get to telling me what’s on your mind anytime soon?” He waits a while for an answer, but when none is forthcoming he shrugs and stands, climbing out of the water and drying himself off. Then, conditioned by years of service, he holds up a fresh towel for Mal who staggers out and allows Jayne to rub him down with the rough material. It’s a whole lot different to the last time they were in a bedroom together.
“D’ya want something to eat?” asks Jayne, dropping down heavily onto the bed and wondering why exactly he’s bothering with the kid. It ain’t as if he really knows him.

“No.” Mal sits next to Jayne, elbows on his knees, palms pressed against his forehead. “Thanks.”

Things are as awkward as all gorram hell. Jayne squints sideways, wondering whether to begin question asking again when the words suddenly start flowing out of Mal’s mouth.

“There’s a lotta stuff happened since I seen you last and none of it is what you might call good.”

Jayne stays quiet, swinging his legs up onto the bed and laying back. The pillows here are softer than at The Cinquefoil and he relaxes into them. It’s been a long time he spent a night away from his own room -- except for the odd occasion he’s gotten bound over for assault.

“Gorram feds’re spreading like vermin. Rats coming out of the sewer. Weren’t hardly a one of them in this system ‘til recently.”

Jayne nods. “There’s a gorram lot of ‘em showing their faces ‘round Prime now, that’s for certain.”

“Lot of them all over.”

Jayne can just about make out a frown on Mal’s face, even though it’s half-hidden by damp locks of hair and the cover of his forearms.

“’Bout a year ago they set up an outpost on Shadow. I could tell my mamma was concerned, but the base was way over the other side of the rock and I couldn’t see why they would bother us. Then we heard stories about how they were harassing the other ranchers and farmers closer by. There was a meeting called and somehow the feds got wind of it. An army of them turned up and their commander took to the speaking platform and offered everyone a buyout deal. Course the other folk just about bit off his hand in eagerness to get their fingers on some of that gorram Core money, but not my ma. She marched right up to the front and hollered at everyone there in that hall, calling them a bunch of yellow critters.”

“Good on her.” Jayne was enjoying the tales of Mal’s mother. He reckoned she weren’t a million miles from his own.

“Yep. Good on her. Except not one of them local scum would back her up. No one on that gorram piece of rock had ever reckoned she’d make a go of ranching on her own, but she did. She showed ‘em all and ‘cause of that they had no time for her.”

Mal gets up from the bed all of a sudden and it makes Jayne near enough jump out of his skin from surprise.

“Gorramit!”

The boy smashes his fist into the soft wood of the closet door. The panel cracks with a splintering sound and once again Jayne is forced to act as pacifier, restraining Mal with a full body hug then dragging him back over to the bed where they fall in a heap, bouncing on the overly sprung mattress.

“Them miserable hundan.” The words come out through teeth that are gritted tight shut and Jayne struggles to understand what Mal’s saying. “Near enough every day that gorram commander would swagger into our ranch house like he owned the place. Every day Mamma would refuse his offer and he’d requisition cattle as payment for back taxes.”

Jayne keeps a tight hold of Mal. He can feel the anger and bitterness presenting itself in the form of rigid muscles and skin that’s turned to shivery gooseflesh.

“She weren’t well at all. Hadn’t been for a few years. It was getting too much for her trying to keep the place going at the best of times, and these weren’t best times by a long way. Most of the ranch hands had been let go because there wasn’t enough stock for them to look after. No stock meant no money. No ranchers meant too much to do around the place. I tried, worked twenty hour days if needed, but it was never enough. Then ‘bout a month ago that arrogant Alliance sumbitch struts in with a handful of papers which he slams down on the table. ‘Compulsory purchase and property deeds,’ he says in his fancy Core voice. ‘Signed over to the military as of today. We’ll allow you a week to find alternative accommodation.’”

Mal flops in Jayne’s arms and the nearest Jayne can describe it is like a sack of laundry. He’d say something if only the right sounding words would come to mind.

“My ma was strong; looked the papers over, accepted that the fight was lost and then showed him out the door. Once he was gone though she broke down and cried; just bawled her heart out, with me standing there and looking at her. I swear it was the first time I’d ever seen her lose control and I had not one idea what to do. Later we talked a little about where we were going to go and then she said goodnight. Next morning she was dead.”

Jayne own flesh goes shivery cold. “Dead?”

“Reckon her heart just gave out. There weren’t no doc left on Shadow by this time to tell me what had happened, but I think it was a pretty sure bet.”

“What did you do?” Jayne’s dumbfounded by the sadness of the tale. His ma’s bedtime stories all had happy endings. This was more like one of his pa’s scary yarns.

“I dug a grave out back, under shade of a big old tree, then I buried her. Didn’t speak no words over her though. Figured she was a good enough person to find her own way to wherever she was going without help of a few prayers. After that I let the cattle and the few horses that were left loose and I burned the gorram house down to the ground. Hitched passage on a transport out of Shadow and spent the last few weeks beating on feds. Can’t rightly remember too much of it.”

“Hell, Mal.” The boy’s eyes are more empty than ever and Jayne feels that uncomfortableness building again.

“There’s talk of folks taking a stand against ‘em, and I swear to you I’m gonna be first in line to sign up. Gonna kill ‘em all for what they did.”

Mal pushes away from Jayne and rolls over onto his back, hands crossed over his chest like a corpse. There ain’t none of that cocky kid left and, gorramit, how much Jayne wishes he could see just a sign of him again.

Leaning over, he presses his lips hard against Mal’s thin line of a mouth. It’s dry and rough, kinda weird feeling, but it wakes the kid up from his dream state enough to react some. Jayne crawls on top of Mal, covering him with his body and there’s these parched, smacking sounds as they repeat the kissing a dozen or so times, closed mouths making contact again and again.

His cock, tangled inside layers of damp terrycloth, throbs painfully as it unfurls and thickens and Jayne pulls back, wetting his lips and angling his head, then he dips in and licks at Mal’s dry mouth until it opens for him. Slipping a hand between their bodies, he fumbles to free them from the wet towelling and the instant he raises himself up, Mal lifts his legs and Jayne’s cock finds itself nudging against an indented dip.

“Fuck me.” Mal’s staring at him, his eyes all hollowed out, but in spite of this Jayne’s hips buck involuntarily.

“Ain’t doing you like this,” he says in a thickening voice that’s full of crackle and burn, but his eyelids flutter as he feels that rush of heat to his groin. He ain’t never fucked a man before and he wants to a whole lot.

“Do it.”

“It’ll hurt.”

“I know. Just do it.”

Jayne kneels up and spits on his fingers, pushing them in one at a time then scissoring them apart. When he sees the pained expression on Mal’s face he ain’t certain he’s got things right, but then he fiddles around some and finds that hard knot of nerves inside.

“Fuck me!”

Ignoring him, Jayne pushes in a third finger and begins pumping in and out. It’s too dry this way! It’s gotta be burning like a gorram bitch.

“I want you to fuck me, dong ma?” Mal hooks his legs over Jayne’s shoulder and draws him in closer.

Ye su! Spitting into his palm Jayne wets himself over with the saliva and pre-come and then pushes his cock slowly into position, ignoring the insistent pummelling of heels on his back. Closing his eyes, he inches forward, feeling like he’s being sucked into a black hole. It pulses around him, the soft fluttery movements and constricting muscles making his skin tingle as he breathes in rapid gasps.

“Get to it, you big bastard,” snarls Mal.

Jayne’s lip curls up and with one fierce thrust he’s buried to the balls. Mal yells out in triumph, bucking up to unseat Jayne and force him into moving. It does the job. With a grunt, he braces himself and begins to pump his cock in and out of that arse like an unlubricated piston. Spitting again, he slicks up the passage best he can manage then wraps his hand around Mal’s prick.

Gripping tight with his legs, Mal thrashes animal-like as if he’s trying to escape but the kid’s cock is full on hard now, juicing all over Jayne’s palm and making slippery wet thwacking sounds as Jayne pulls him off fast like he seems to be wanting.

The sweat’s dripping off Jayne’s brow, a droplet falling onto Mal’s arm and trickling downwards. His stomach’s in knots as he pushes himself harder, rutting into Mal and making him shudder and yell out. It’s more like flying than sexing and he don’t reckon he could stop if there was a gun to his head. Neck arched back, he roars with pleasure as he brings Mal off with his clenched fist, working him down with a strong grip until the climax subsides and all that’s left is a tremble of tired muscle. It’s only afterwards that Jayne realises he’s come too.

Anticlimax! Jayne sniggers at the thought and Mal shoves him off, glaring back at him with a bitter expression on his face as he gets up from the bed.

“Ain’t laughing at you.” Jayne’s all flummoxed again.

Mal says nothing; just heads for the wash area as Jayne sits and tries to make sense of things, rubbing the handful of come into the skin of his thigh. He’s been bitter and full of hurt, but that ain’t never been combined with grieving. He supposes that must do strange things to a person.

After Mal’s finished cleaning up he pulls on his dirty clothes swift as he can then sits on the bed to tie his bootlaces.

“You gonna stop here?” he says, looking sideways at Jayne.

“I paid for the room. Might as well.”

“I mean are you gonna stick to whoring on Prime?”

Jayne hasn’t put a thought to leaving for a year or so now. He’s settled. “Ain’t so bad.”

“’Til the feds start taxing you every time you go down on a cock.”

The Mal Reynolds he knew would have accompanied that sentence with one of them wide-mouthed grins. This feller’s different though and Jayne ain’t sure he likes him much.

Mal gets up and lays claim to his knife--the one that Jayne retrieved from the saloon floor--which is resting on top of the chest of drawers along with Jayne's arsenal of weapons. He spits on the blade, cleaning the blood away on the leg of his pants then slides it into his boot. “There’s times we gotta make a stand,” he says, reaching for the doorhandle. “‘stead of laying on our backs and hoping for the best.”

There are no more words exchanged. When the door closes with a quiet thud, Jayne lays back down on the flowery coverlet and lets out a sigh that feels as if it’s been building for his whole life. Right now it seems the moment has come to try and do some smart thinking for once.

DONE