evilmaniclaugh

The sense of foreboding hits as soon as they begin to ascend the rocky track leading up to the mountains. The wide valley in which Gainsborough sits is deep and verdant but vegetation soon turns to scrub and before long even that wizened brush becomes a rarity. Everything is grey and the air feels cold, despite the fact that the temperature is still moderate and spring like.

After a couple of hours of traveling, the mule is still going strong and Simon feels the urge to pat her and whisper words of encouragement. She’s become part of the family now, something he rescued and put to good use, and she’s proved to be no end of help to them. Aiya! He’s starting to think like Mal now -- as attached to the old junker of a transporter as the captain is to his Firefly. How strange the way the way adversity can alter a man’s perspective so dramatically.

Forging on past the mountain pool, Simon keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the track ahead, despite the fact that he knows that the bodies will have wasted away to bone by now. It’s not death that haunts him, it’s something far more sinister. This whole area is a reminder of how terrified he was, how ridiculously childish his behaviour was. Jayne wasn’t much better back then either, both of them too closed off to know how to communicate.

Once they pass the main entrance to the mine, the going gets a little tougher. The ascent is easy enough for vehicles purpose built for the task, but the little mule is finding it hard to pull their combined weight plus a heavily laden trailer.

“Pull over and let me off,” says Jayne, leaning forward and mouthing the words against Simon’s ear. “Wait for me at the pass.”

Simon shakes his head emphatically. He’d rather leave the trailer behind than Jayne. “She’ll make it,” he says. Provided there’s enough gas to get up there.

Jayne doesn’t argue, just adjusts his sunglasses and wraps his arms around Simon’s waist as they continue up the narrow track.

The plateau that the Reavers used as a landing spot is still strewn with piles of litter. Simon accelerates hard to get away and a few minutes later they arrive at the rocky overhang where they spent their first night away from the caves. It’s as good a place as any to stop for a break and, dismounting from the mule, he stretches out aching muscles.

Jayne follows suit and with fingers laced together he reaches up high and then arches his spine. “I remember someone taking me by surprise out here,” he says with a dirty grin.

“You started it.” Simon thinks back to that kiss. How awkward they were. How unsure. How grimy and crusted with sweaty dirt. God, they must have been desperate.

Jayne sits down on a weathered plane of rock then takes out his water bottle and a snack bar. “Reckon we’ve changed some since then.”

Almost a year has passed when measured in seasons, but it’s impossible to tell in Standard Alliance Time how long they’ve been together as a couple. Simon would like to know so he has some way of marking it. The sad truth is that he’s never been involved with someone for more than a one night stand. That’s what happens when you hide the truth from everyone. Initially, he lied to protect his family, but now he thinks things over he’s not even sure why he kept up the pretence for so long. Maybe it was for River’s sake, although if anyone knew the truth about him it’d be his reader sister. It could be because of Kaylee and her gargantuan crush on him. Most likely of all is that he was a coward, embarrassed about being tongzhi.

“You’ve gone awful quiet.” Jayne nudges him, handing over a protein bar.

“I was thinking how good it is not to have to tell lies.” Simon looks down at the vista spreading out below him and suddenly things don’t seem so bleak.

The next part of the journey is new ground. Jayne takes over driving duty and as the track becomes narrower and steeper Simon peers over the precipice to his left and gulps, becoming ever more disconcerted when the mule grinds to a halt.

“We got a problem,” says Jayne in a monotone. “We got a rutting great problem.”

Simon looks up at the rocky pass… or what would have been the pass in a former life. The way ahead is blocked by huge boulders, the opening impenetrable.

“Avalanche must’ve brought on a rockslide,” says Jayne, inching the mule along the narrow path to a slighter wider area where he dismounts.

Simon can’t help but notice how precarious the rock formations are above him. Sidling forwards, he joins Jayne who’s glowering up at the ton of stone that’s stacked in front of them. “What do we do?” he asks.

Jayne takes a couple of steps to the side, tucking strands of hair out of the way behind his ears as he looks over the cliff edge. “Well, we can’t go up,” he says thoughtfully, “so there ain’t much of an alternative.”

Surely he isn’t serious about this. A dense mass of trees spreads out below them like a dark green blanket, but between them and the comfort of the forest lie several impossibly sheer rock faces. “So… I assume you packed the climbing gear,” Simon says, his voice laden with sarcasm.

Jayne doesn’t pick up on the tone. “I didn’t reckon on needing it.”

“You honestly think we’re going to free climb down there with no safety equipment. No way, Jayne. No fucking way.”

Jayne frowns at him. “What else is there to do?”

“We go back to Gainsborough.”

“Besides that.”

The man is so gorram stubborn and Simon feels his frustration level pushing towards maximum. “We cannot climb down there without safety lines.”

“There’s rope back at the mine. Plenty of it as I recall.”

Chills tumble down Simon’s spine. He knows the kind of dogged determination Jayne displays in situations like these--it’s the reason they’re both still alive--and he knows that the mercenary will go through with this insane plan whatever objections are thrown in his path. “Do I have a choice?” he says bleakly.

Jayne shrugs. “You do. You get to come with me or you take the mule back to the farm and wait.”

Simon heaves in a single deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. If Jayne makes the climb on his own without the correct equipment then he’ll fall to his death and there’s no way Simon endured the agony of frostbite in both feet from saving the man’s life, just to let him fall off a mountain a few weeks later.

“I’ll go with you, but, damnit, Jayne, if you go ahead and do something foolhardy-“

Jayne guffaws. “Don’t reckon it gets more foolhardy than swinging down a rock face on a piece of rope, do you?”

Simon tries to smile, but he has too much on his mind. The descent down the mountain will be bad, but before he gets to experience that particular thrill he has to go back inside the scene of his worst nightmares. He’s never forgotten what it was like inside that cavern and has dreamt about it often, waking frozen with fear at the image of that skinned corpse trying to speak to him through bloodied lips.

“Doc?”

Hands drop onto his shoulders and, startled by the sudden movement, Simon shudders in a breath.

“I ain’t gonna make you do this.” Jayne pulls him into his arms. “We can both go back to Gainsborough if’n that’s what you reckon is best.”

Surrendering to the embrace, Simon once again tries to leech some of that strength from Jayne. Six months ago his opinion wouldn’t have mattered one iota to the mercenary, but now it seems they’re partners in every sense of the word.

“I want to do it, but…” He doesn’t want to admit that he’s terrified of going back inside the pit.

“The climb ain’t gonna be as bad as you think.” Jayne releases him and points to a spot down to the west. “See that path? If’n we can make it down to there safely we’ll be shiny.”

Simon practices meditative breathing again. He can do this. He’s tougher now that he’s ever been in his whole life. Making a mental list of his accomplishments, he wonders why the thought of stepping inside that mine is the one thing that’s defeating him. Defeat, however, belongs to the past. “Come on then,” he says with a forced air of breeziness. “Turn the mule around and let’s get going.”

Jayne looks at him speculatively for a moment, then with a, “’kay, Doc,” he clambers astride the saddle and carefully manoeuvers the vehicle until she’s facing back down the track.

Simon jumps on and with one arm clamped around Jayne’s belly he leans back and guides the unstable trailer. Going down the track is far more precarious than coming up and there are moments when it seems likely that they’ll be taking the quickest route down to the bottom.

“Reckon this here’ll be the best place to make the climb,” says Jayne as he slows at the overhang and looks out over the precipice. “We can secure the ropes and there’s some good footholds to be had.”

Simon nods. This is a place of firsts: first real taste of what freedom means, first time unfettering his desire for Jayne. Maybe he’ll get to die here too, although that won’t be a first. He’s done that at least twice in his life now.

As they pull up to the cavernous entrance of the mine the mule skids on the loose shale, her worn treads losing their grip. The engine is beginning to make this low whine of complaint every time she’s revved but she’s a fighter alright. Simon’s proud of her. She’s done incredibly well and his one hope is that he can do the same.

Jayne stares at the opening and it’s the first time he’s shown any hesitation today. “I know it weren’t pretty in there last time.”

That’s one huge motherfucker of an understatement, thinks Simon.

“But we just gotta grab what we came for and get the hell out.”

Simon remembers how Jayne kept him focused during those first few horrifying hours here. ‘Don’t look too hard.’ ‘Don’t take your eyes off me.’ The mercenary had held his hand and wet nursed him through every minute of their time spent in the caverns, but that’s no longer necessary. Simon’s proved he has mettle and Jayne has no need to pamper him any longer. “Okay,” he says.

Even the surface level of the mine reeks of damp decay and both of them pull bandanas over their noses to ward of the some of the stink.

“Hope the elevator’s still working,” says Jayne as he enters the small cabin which houses the controls for all the mine machinery. “Qingwa cao de liumang.”

The swearing along with the sound of a fist slamming down onto the panel gives Simon the definite feeling that all is not well. “I’m guessing that’s a no,” he calls.

“Juice is out on all the batteries and we don’t got time to figure out where the main generators are to refuel them.”

At first Simon’s secretly relieved, at least this way he won’t have to see the devastation down there, but then as they make their way down the narrow access shaft with only the beams of the flashlights to guide them, fear slaps him across the face. The idea of walking blindly through that chamber, the scene of horrific butchery, with such a small range of vision is like something from one of those Cortex fright clips that River gets such a kick from.

Jayne stills as soon as the shaft opens out onto level one and Simon can hear the soft slither of metal on leather as a gun is drawn from its holster.

“Twitchy much,” he says, trying to dispel his own fears.

“We get to the stores and pick up as much rope as we can carry then we make our way back here, dong ma?”

Walking slowly across the cavern, Simon feels the bile rise as something squelches beneath his foot. He doesn’t aim the flashlight down, doesn’t want to know what could still be wet and soft after all this time. The place is more sepulchral than he ever remembered and he wonders how they made it through without either of them losing their minds. The floor is becoming more and more slippery and Simon skids, reaching out to Jayne for support and the feel of a gun caressing his skin is more disturbing than anything. He’s not seen the mercenary this keyed up in months.

They reach the stores and are silently loading skeins of rope into a bag when Simon swings the beam of his flashlight in a one eighty degree arc and Simon spots something that makes his hackles rise and his skin crawl. “Reavers!” he rasps. “Jayne, there’s Reavers down here.” Eyes glare yellow in the beam of his flashlight and he straightens to a rigid stance, his hand fumbling for his pistol, but before he can free it from the holster the creature is on him with a snarl and after that all he feel is an immense weight pushing him backwards and the pressure of jaws clamping around his shoulder.

The sound of a single shot echoes off the chamber walls and Simon is buried beneath a dead weight, wet iron filling his nostrils, warmth spilling over him in waves.

“Simon. Christ, Simon. Tamade, are you okay?”

The pressure is removed from his body and Simon is shocked to discover that he’s still alive. “I think… I think I’m fine,” he gasps, trying to gain control over his breathing. It’s the second time he’s survived this kind of surprise attack and he doesn’t think it’s likely he’ll make it through another one. “What are Reavers still doing here?”

“It ain’t a Reaver, it’s some kind of big mountain cat,” says Jayne as he aims his flashlight over the dead body. “Must’ve gone to ground here once all the mining folk was gone.”

Squatting over Simon, he traces a finger over bloodied skin. “Are you okay to move?”

Simon’s bruised and winded, he’s certain from the sting that he’s been clawed in his upper torso but other than that he’s good. Using the rock wall as support he gets up, legs shaky but otherwise in working order. “I’m fine,” he says once more.

“I knew there was something in here,” says Jayne in that sorrowful voice of his that Simon’s come to recognise as the beginning of a long and painful guilt trip.

“And you killed it.” Simon picks his flashlight up off the ground and aims it at the mercenary, “so please don’t go all moody on me. We’ve got a mountain to face before nightfall.”

He’s not certain how much of this bravado is real, but it seems to convince Jayne -- at least enough to encourage the man into picking up the bag full of rope and moving out of the store room.

“Will there be any more of them?” asks Simon nervously as he squelches back through the cavern.

“Unlikely. Mountain cats are solitary critters,” says Jayne. “Reckon we’re safe for now.”

Simon’s legs are trembling as he forces his aching body to haul itself up the slope of the passageway, but the thought of escaping this place is enough to keep him moving. The first hint of daylight sends him almost delirious with happiness and he breaks into a run, doubling over and trying to get his breath back as he emerges into the sunshine.

“Don’t make me go in there again,” he says when the mercenary finally exits the mine, coughing hard from the exertion of hiking up that viciously steep incline.

“Won’t ever, I swear.” Jayne collapses onto the dusty ground, fighting for air.

“Here,” says Simon, loading both inhalers with their cartridges and placing them in Jayne’s hand. “It’s the exertion. Take a couple of puffs of the blue one and then one of the brown.”

Jayne looks suspiciously at his upturned palm. “Ain’t got no use for these. It’s you needs attention not me.”

Simon has learned that action is the best way to get through to Jayne. With no further argument he walks over to the trailer, unpacking a small medikit and a pack of antiseptic wipes. He’s covered in blood, his jacket shredded by those evil claws, but its thick padding has kept him protected throughout the short-lived attack. After emptying the pockets he takes it off and places it regretfully on a rock. Neither his pants nor his tee-shirt are in such a bad state of repair and so he opts to leave them on, saving his single change of clothing for a more serious emergency. Shivering, he wraps his arms tightly around himself, trying and failing to push recent events out of his mind. His throat is sore from yelling, his shoulder aches dully from where the animal had its jaws clamped around him and if Jayne had been a moment slower… No. Simon’s not going to dwell on that thought.

Sitting down and leaning back against one of the rocks, he uses the wipes to wash away the worst of the blood and whilst he’s doing this he hears the distinctive puffing sound of inhalers being used. It’s one less worry to deal with and should prevent Jayne’s lungs going into spasm during the descent.

“Let me see to you now,” says Jayne gruffly and kneeling beside Simon he takes a cloth from the pack and gently cleans him up. “You got sliced up some and you’re gonna be bruised to hell, but, all in all, you’re a lucky feller.”

“Nothing new there then,” says Simon reaching out to Jayne and caressing his cheekbone with the pad of a thumb. “Don’t look so worried, ai ren. I’m okay.” He stands up. “We should get moving.”

Frowning, Jayne gets to his feet. “We ain’t going down that cliff so there’s no need to hurry.”

Ignoring the ache that’s originating from every part of his body, Simon faces up to Jayne with arms folded defiantly. “I said I was willing to do this and I still am. I had a scare. You don’t have to smother me because of it.”

“It’s just common sense is all. You’re too jittery for this.”

Simon shakes his head. It’s a now or never moment for him. The idea has terrified him from start to finish and having made it this far he knows if he has to go back he’ll never be persuaded to attempt it again. “If we leave now we might be able to make it down before dark.”

“If’n you’re sure.”

Far from sure about anything, Simon looks over the precipice and then back at Jayne who’s already filling two backpacks with as much as they can safely carry from the trailer.

Without warning, Jayne leaps down to a narrow ledge four or five feet below the edge. The man’s careless bravado often has Simon in palpitations -- either from terror or urgent arousal. Again Simon peers over the edge, watching as Jayne anchors two lengths of rope to the rocky outcrops.

“It’s no different to how it was in the caves,” he says reassuringly as he holds out a hand to help Simon down and then knots a rope around his belly. “’Cept without the Reavers of course. You climb down. I’ll lower the bags, throw down a rope and then follow. We’ll have to leave one rope behind on each descent, but it don’t look to be too far to that goat path.”

Simon feels a nervous tic beginning to irritate the corner of his eye as he remembers Jayne falling into that black nothingness, the rope searing the skin away from his palms as he tries to support the man’s weight. “You go first,” he says thinking of those big feet searching for toeholds in the heavy hiking boots without anyone watching over him.

“Do you gotta argue ‘bout everything? Just do what I say, Doc.”

Simon considers prolonging the fight, but seduced by that curious feeling in the pit of his belly which comes from Jayne dominating him, he decides that this isn’t the time for a row.

Inching over the edge he slithers down the cliff face, hands and feet hunting out suitable niches whilst Jayne stands above him, paying out the rope. This time in broad daylight without a pack of violent cannibals on his tail Simon finds the climb less scary and almost exhilarating. Descending the rock face is tough on the hands and legs, however it’s more than just physical strength that’s required. It takes a huge amount of concentration to locate the correct positions and when his feet end up on solid ground below it’s almost a disappointment. It’s only when he looks up that he realises that Jayne never needed to help him once.

“Good job, Doc.”

Simon allows himself a moment to bathe in the warmth of the compliment and then he yells to Jayne to lower down the backpacks. After that’s done he watches with trepidation as the mercenary struggles to descend the rock face, his bulk causing him problems, just as Simon suspected it would.

With a yelp, Jayne slips out of a foothold and falls the last six feet, pitching to the left and narrowly missing Simon as he rolls over and comes to rest at the very edge of the goat path above yet another ridiculously steep cliff. Another few inches and he would have surely plummeted to his death.

“What happened to the fucking safety rope?” Simon kneels next to Jayne, furious and frightened and sick to the stomach at the thought of coming this close to losing the man again.

Jayne looks over the precipice and then back at Simon with a sheepish smile on his face. “Reckoned it would be more use in the bag case we needed it later. Seems like maybe I was wrong.”

Simon clenches his fists, a millisecond away from hitting the mercenary. Instead he leans over, trying to vacuum away the remains of that deep-seated death wish with gouging kisses.

“You have to start taking care of yourself,” he says, his words coming in breathless whispers. “For me, Jayne. Please.”

Simon shifts back to a sitting position, his hands moving relentlessly over that big body to check for broken bones and lacerations.

“Ouch,” Jayne yelps as Simon manipulates his left ankle.

Having unlaced the boot Simon checks the joint and is relieved to find it’s nothing more than a minor sprain. “Just a twist,” he says as he wraps the foot in a tight bandage, “you were lucky. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not indestructible? What would I have done if you’d have fallen off that cliff? Do you ever think about that? Do you ever think about how I feel?”

Once again he sees that puzzled expression appear on Jayne’s face and wishes desperately he could erase all the worthlessness that was instilled at such an early age. Jayne has grown up with the belief that he’s unlovable and, as protection, has spent the last thirty years trying his best to self-perpetuate that myth. “Isn’t it enough that I need you?”

Jayne sits up and tugs on his boot, lacing it as tightly as possible for support. “It’s more’n enough,” he grunts as he struggles to his feet hanging onto a nearby protrusion of rock for support. “Hell, I know I ain’t the easiest of folks to get along with but I’m trying, gorramit.”

Simon feels like stamping his foot with frustration because once again Jayne’s lack of self-esteem is rearing its ugly head. “I get along with you fine, I like you, I love you. I just wish you’d learn to love yourself a little more.”

Jayne looks shifty and lets out this embarrassed chuckle of laughter. “Think you’re maybe getting to know me too well, Doc. Watch out or I might have to chuck you off of this mountain.” He gives Simon a shove which sends him careering towards the edge and then at the last minute reaches out and wraps an arm around him, drawing him close.

“You… you…” stammers Simon as Jayne laughs down at him and then kisses him hard on the mouth to shut him up.

“Keep telling you, you gotta quit wasting so much time with all this mouth flapping.”

Sulking a little, Simon hefts on a backpack and follows Jayne down the precarious track, both of them limping as they slip and slide on the loose shingle. He’s not certain if Jayne’s outwitted him, berated him or taken anything he’s said to heart, but he hopes his words have had some impact. If he has to put up with any more of the mercenary’s attempts to prove his immortality then it might just be the death of him instead.

The goat path weaves its way down the mountain and just as Simon’s thinking that the journey isn’t going to be as difficult as he surmised, they come to a stumbling block. Another mud slide has stripped away the land, leaving them stuck on a jagged outcrop with no way out other than a further strenuous climb down. This time, however, things seem very different. The forest is closer now, spreading out before them like a soft cushion, and as Simon studies the cliff face, a surge of adrenaline-laced excitement replaces those previous feelings of terror.

They sit on the precipice swinging their legs over the edge and eating strips of jerky and potato chips while Jayne looks down at the drop that’s spinning away below them.

“This time I’m going first and I don’t wanna hear no bitching about it,” he says.

The two men grin at each other.

“Is your ankle strong enough to hold out?” asks Simon. It isn’t a bad sprain, but even the smallest weakness gets exaggerated during this kind of extreme activity.

“Question is, are you strong enough to hang on to me when I fall off the rutting mountain again?”

“I’ve done it before.” Sometimes Simon forgets how much they’ve propped each other up since they’ve been marooned here on this barren world.

Once their snack break is over, Jayne gets gingerly to his feet, testing his ankle and, at the same time, tying a length of rope around his waist. Rummaging in one of the bags, he digs out some fingerless gloves, the kind he uses when he’s hunting game. “Forgot I had these,” he says, handing a pair to Simon who slips them on, tightening the strapping as much as he can in order to make them fit better.

Jayne looks across at the darkening sky. “We’ll have to be quick. Don’t fancy hanging on to the side of this gorram mountain all night,” he says and then, without warning, starts climbing down long before Simon’s ready to take the strain.

Bracing himself against a boulder Simon pays out the rope, watching nervously as Jayne descends. He can tell the man’s hurting far more than he’s letting on from the way he’s favouring his right side over his left. It will, without doubt, make the climb way more difficult with only half the number of footholds available and, gripping the safety line tightly with gloved palms, Simon’s heart lurches into his throat.

“It ain’t as hard as before,” calls Jayne, his breath rattling and worrying Simon even more. “I’m most of the way down already.”

Jayne was close to the ground last time when he fell and the thought of seeing the man come so near to tumbling off that precipice causes Simon to tense up. Losing concentration, he forgets to slacken off the rope, resulting in an angry shout from Jayne.

“Hey! You asleep up there?”

Simon pays out a little more of the line, willing Jayne to reach the bottom safely and the relief he feels at hearing the words, “your turn now, Doc,” is tantamount to spontaneous orgasm.

Without wasting any time, he lowers the backpacks one by one, then having checked the line to see that it’s securely fastened, he begins his descent, searching for suitable fissures and making his way down the rock face at a fast but comfortable pace. Maybe he should have taken climbing up as a sport rather than skiing. He never showed this much prowess at physical activities when he was at school.

They’re only a short distance away from the edge of the forest now. Jayne reaches an arm around Simon, giving his cock a sneaky squeeze before fumbling in his pants pocket and stealing back the pair of binoculars. His lips fleetingly graze the soft skin beneath Simon’s ear and Simon shivers with pleasure.

“It’d be a sight quicker if we cross through the forest.” Jayne has the glasses up to his eyes and is studying the landscape. “I ain’t certain how safe it’ll be though.”

Adrenaline buzz diminishing fast, Simon suddenly realises how tired he actually is. Pains are beginning to shoot up each leg, the regenerating tissue in his feet crying out after so much extreme exercise. “How much quicker?” he asks, weighing up the pros and cons of a longer, safer walk over a trek through the woods.

“Can’t tell. Wasn’t planning on taking this route. Was hoping the pass would be open and the mule would take us across.”

In the heat of the moment Simon’s forgotten about the abandoned transporter but now he’s been reminded of it, a sudden wave of grief overwhelms him.

“Tired, xin gan?”

Simon nods, propping himself up against Jayne’s solid body, too ashamed to admit he’s in mourning for a heap of junker metal.

Jayne slides an arm around Simon’s shoulders and with his free hand continues to scout out the territory. “I reckon we gotta head for the forest,” he says. “We can make camp for the night and then set out on fresh legs at dawn.”

Simon’s so thankful for this decision he could burst into happy tears. He doesn’t want to make a fuss, but can feel the emotion building and knows that he’s only seconds away from falling apart.

This new track is more lethal than any other path they’ve encountered so far on the journey. The speedy approach of dusk is making it harder to spot the hazardous patches of loose shingle and both of them fall several times on the way down. Jayne ends up with the knees of his cargo pants shredded and some deep grazes and it’s only the sniper gloves that save Simon from causing more injury to his scarred palms.

By the time the slope levels out and scrub grass turns back into heavy tangled undergrowth, both of them are too exhausted to even speak to each other. The backpack is digging into Simon’s shoulders and his leg muscles are on the point of rebellion, but he follows Jayne obediently, knowing that the man can be relied on to do what’s best.

Finally they come to a clearing in the undergrowth on the edge of the tree line, “the perfect place to bivouac,” according to Jayne, and having removed his gloves and heaved off his pack, Simon squats down by the small stream, dipping his hand in the water and letting it run through his open fingers.

“’M off to fetch some firewood,” says Jayne, dumping his bag and then wheeling around.

“Okay.” Simon’s still entranced by the tiny rivulet and because of it his reply is vacant. The area surrounding Gainsborough was fertile farming land, but they never discovered a river nearby during their stay, although truthfully they didn’t venture too far from the farmhouse. It had been enough of a joy to just be able to live.

The running water is so different to those stagnant, black-mirror pools inside the mountain and, glancing furtively over his shoulder, Simon cups a handful and sips at it, enjoying the sweet, fresh taste. Jayne would doubtless tell him off for doing this. He’d warn Simon grouchily about the dangers of poison or disease then slap the hand away from his mouth. Simon would reprimand him for being over-protective and they’d kiss, tongues fucking wantonly against each other, seeking out more interesting ways to satisfy their need.

Once the lanterns have been lit Simon clears a suitable area for a fire, surrounding it with smooth stones. He then has a quick strip wash in the stream and by the time Jayne returns is lying half-naked, impatient, on a bed of zipped together sleeping bags, wondering if the stream has been poisoned -- with aphrodisiac rather than anything more sinister.

“Jayne,” he breathes, stalking the mercenary who’s kneeling down and laying a neat fire within the circle of stones.

Running his hands over Jayne’s flanks he then strokes upward and massages the man’s shoulders and neck.

“Thought you was tired.”

But Jayne’s voice is low and rumbling and so full of dirty intent that Simon sucks in a breath, knowing that without question they’re going to end up fucking themselves to sleep tonight. Hands shaking, he fumbles with the buckle of Jayne’s gun belt.

“Leave that on for now,” says Jayne as he flicks the wheel of his lighter until it flames, damp kindling sputtering then finally catching alight.

Simon does as he’s told. Undoing Jayne’s pants, he shoves anxiously at them until he has that big cock in his hand, slipping wet and eager through his loose fist. It’s always a thrill to be fucking out in the open and pushing down his shorts Simon nestles his aching erection insistently against Jayne’s butt. The mercenary, however, is not in the mood for playing bottom and with the fire now lit in every kind of way, he wrestles Simon, rolling him over across the damp grass and onto the softness of the sleeping bags, systematically ridding them both of their clothing. Unfastening his gun belt, Jayne lays it by his side, making sure that the pack containing his spare gun is also close at hand. “Gotta be careful,” he says by way of explanation.

As Jayne covers him, Simon breathes in sweat and gun oil, things that have come to be the biggest turn on ever, and thrusting his erection upwards, he idly analyses the connotations of the mercenary’s last words.

If he were female then being ‘careful’ would imply the use of contraceptives. He imagines himself as a woman, his belly swollen with Jayne’s baby, and, far from being a repugnant thought, it actually arouses him even more, fluid dribbling in steady waves from his piss slit. Slightly horrified by his extreme reaction to this idea Simon sniggers.

“What’s so funny, Doc?” Jayne stills, the relentless grinding of erection against erection coming to an unsatisfactory halt.

“Just some crazy thoughts.” Simon runs his hand reassuringly up Jayne’s scarred arm.

“Moonbrained like your sis,” laughs Jayne.

“Worse,” admits Simon with a bashful smile.

“Then I better find some way of distracting you from what’s going on inside that feng le head of yours,” says Jayne. “Got any slick?”

Simon’s not only brought lube and condoms with him on the journey, but he also has them close at hand--the way Jayne keeps his weapons--and with a blush on his face he reaches under the top layer of sleeping bag and passes Jayne a tube of lubricant and the pack of rubbers.

“Fuck! You give me the horn so bad,” mutters Jayne, tearing open a wrapper and then grimacing as he slides the condom over his distended ji ba.

Simon watches the show, enjoying the sight of Jayne fondling his swollen cock. Indulging once again in his transgender fantasy, he lifts his legs, hissing in a gasp of air as wet gel makes contact with the tender skin of his anus then moaning with pleasure as Jayne stretches him open with those calloused fingers.

Jayne leans over him, eyes devilish in the glow of the firelight. “Tell me how much you want me,” he says, his fingers opening and closing in rhythmic fashion, tips grazing the surface of Simon’s prostate.

“Want you so bad. Want your cock in me. Need your cock. Need you.”

“S’okay, pretty man, you got me.”

With one pile-driver thrust Jayne’s inside Simon, filling him up with agony and ecstasy and the whole gamut of feelings in between. Slick and loose, ready for everything Jayne can throw at him, the fantasy of being a woman comes to life in his head. It’s only when Jayne reaches for Simon’s cock, squeezing it tight and pulling him off with these gorgeously slow strokes that he knows he’s in the right body, with the right lover fucking him.



Chapter Fourteen