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.