Alone Time

There's no room to be alone on a ship this size, with this many people on board and too many friendly, curious eyes, always watching. There's never a time when everyone's asleep, there's rarely a time -- never a time -- when the two of them are left behind, just them.

Mal probably thinks they'd kill each other, and he's most likely right. Doesn't matter.

Days can go by with nothing more than a look, heated with anger, spiced with disgust and want to hold them, nothing more than a jostle as they pass that leaves them both aching, breath shallow and fast.

Days... not weeks.

Somehow they always find time to carve out a moment, a space where half-naked -- what would it be like to see him bare? Does he want that? Would it break him, shatter what they have, because if he had all that skin to touch, taste, smell, not just the hard, hot heat of his cock, bitter on his tongue, damp in his hand, he'd kiss it and they don't kiss, never have.

Biting doesn't count. 

Sucking, well, that's different. That's needed. 

The boy's good at that. Now, he is. Fast learner considering how often he's the one leaning back against a bulkhead, thin, fine shirt bunched up high, pretty, smart mouth twisting into interesting shapes.... 

Jayne doesn't kneel. Crouches, muscles screaming; sometimes sits, splinters from a crate working their way inside his pants, his hands firm on Simon's thighs, pinning him in place until he feels Simon get close and then he holds him just a little tighter and damn if he doesn't always buck strong enough to make Jayne gag and choke and come. 

She knows. Simon says she don't, but she does.

No place to be alone with Simon. Ever.

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