DISCLAIMER: Not mine
A/N: Sequel to Bound…once again I'm blaming a few choice ladies for this. I take no responsibility for these randy buggers. Or the characters :P Dedicated to Alphadine, super later bday prezzie and result of her evil imagery :)
Jayne ran a hand over his face as Mal droned on, struggling to pay attention as the Captain repeated the plan for what must have been the hundredth time. Simon was reclining in the co-pilot's seat, also looking slightly bored as his sister leaned against the arm of the chair. The doctor had one arm loosely around her back, an unconscious, affectionate gesture, but his eyes were trained on Kaylee. The mechanic's face lit up and she gave him a sweet smile before turning back to pretending to pay attention.
Zoe and Wash were throwing one another secretive looks and smiles, and it was enough to make Jayne feel sick. Ever since announcing Zoe's pregnancy the two of them had been annoyingly happy, and even Inara was smiling as she watched Mal act Captainy. Whatever Book was cooking up had sent some heavenly smells through the ship, and Jayne wished Mal would get to whatever point he must be skirting around to justify half an hour of droning.
He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms and letting his mind drift. Vera needed a good oiling.
He paused, struggling to get the word oil off his brain.
Ammunition…he needed new clips for Lux, and some whetstone for Binky.
He tensed as he remembered the last time he'd used his Bowie.
Ok, food. Book's cooking was something mighty impressive, and he was starving.
He was always starving after…
He grunted, the sound making Mal pause for a second before continuing. From her brother's side River's shoulder twitched, and Jayne smirked to himself. He was always starving after he fucked her. Not just because the girl could go for hours, but she brought out some kind of ravenous instinct and when his body couldn't take anymore of one thing he needed to fill himself with another.
That morning he'd followed her into the shower stall, tangling a hand in her hair and forcing her to her knees while the water pelted them both. Her skin had glistened as she moved, pink lips wrapping around him tightly while she made those little mewls in her throat, one hand digging nails into his stomach as she sucked him off.
He'd come with a roar, and she'd swallowed every last drop before darting out of the shower stall. As soon as she had the water turned freezing, and he swore he'd get her back next time he took her.
She was ignoring him, well aware that he'd make her pay for it later, and damned if she wasn't running her fingers down her neck extra slow just so he could watch. His wrist was still marked red from the handcuffs she'd managed to sling on him the other night when he'd stalked into the spare shuttle to find her.
He'd forgotten her propensity for using the ceiling as a hiding place, and so the boot landing in his back had caught him by surprise. She'd cuffed him quickly, dodging an angry blow and retaliating with a kick to his knee that landed him on the floor.
He'd been locked down on his knees as she stripped slowly, refusing to allow him to touch her slim body, and at the sight of the faded bruises he'd left on her she'd smirked. She knew he wanted nothing more than to refresh them, leave new ones on her skin, bite down hard on her breasts so she would see his marks the next morning. She'd finally mounted him, whispering obscenities in his ear and muffling her climax into his neck before slipping off with a cruel laugh. It had taken him an hour to get rid of the cuffs, and two to get rid of the raging hard-on she'd left in her wake.
Probably pay back for the thing with the butter.
It wasn't a relationship. No sane, healthy person would call it a relationship. Since their first tryst three weeks ago they'd barely spoken other than to taut and provoke the other at every turn. Their Captain was losing his mind as they snarled and snapped, occasionally threatening violence when their vicious energy made the rest of the ship edgy.
To call it foreplay would be far too kind; as much as she'd been the first to break and come begging, he knew it wouldn't have been long before he snapped. Neither could control it, the ever present need to fight and fuck overwhelming in its constancy. The night he'd found her in his bunk, slung with rope and shame and nothing more, he'd wondered if he'd broken something in her to create this creature before him.
He would have felt bad if she wasn't just as guilty.
He'd try occasionally to avoid her, and it was times like that when she was at her most dangerous. Times like that he'd be struggling to breath at the dinner table while she smiled politely at whatever story her brother was telling. Her hand would be working him under the table, slow and hard, and he wondered why he didn't have the self-control to stop it.
Later, when he'd punished her on the galley table long after the others had gone to bed, bringing her closer and closer to the edge and never letting her fall, he knew.
He didn't want to stop.
It was getting dangerous. The other night Mal had praised some loophole she'd found in a law for him, and the sweet smile she'd shot her 'Daddy' was enough to make him growl. When Mal had kissed them top of her head she'd shot him a look of utter innocence, and he knew he had to make her pay.
Late that night he'd dragged her in front of Mal's bunk hatch, making her plant her hands either side as he fucked her hard, one hand covering her mouth so the scream was muffled. He couldn't speak without the threat of waking the others, so he'd thought his diatribe, fucking her hard enough that her legs were shaking as she came against her Captain's door. She'd bitten hard enough to draw blood, and he was relieved it wasn't his firing hand.
Dangerous, too dangerous.
Mal cocked his head to the side. "Jayne, you listenin'?"
He nodded. "Yup."
Mal wasn't convinced. "So yer okay with the part where you dress up like a girl?"
Kaylee tittered as Jayne glared at the joke.
He hissed as River smiled sweetly. "Jayne is a girl's name."
He growled as Mal dismissed them. "Jayne ain't a ruttin' girls name." His crew mates exited the bridge, and he waited a second before whipping out a hand, tangling fingers in her hair and pulling her back against his chest as soon as they were alone. He kept one hand in her hair and the other around her throat as he snarled in her ear.
"An' ya best remember it girly, yer gonna be screamin' it later."
She shot him a glare and elbowed him hard in the gut, but he knew she'd be waiting for him later.
As she left the bridge he stared out at the stars for a moment.
But so fucking good.