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firefly_fanficTitle: First times, second chances 3/5
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wildannuette
Summary: When the object of his affections seems intent on pushing him aside, Simon finds comfort and mutual lust in what should be a one-time thing.
Rating: NC17
Characters: Simon, Jayne, Mal, Kaylee, River plus Spike from btvs
Pairing: slash Simon/Jayne, Simon/Spike
Warning: crossover fic in Firefly universe
Spoilers/Timeline: After Firefly but before Serenity.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: This fanfic is completed. Thanks tonoandwhere who kindly betad for me (Cheers hon *hugs*)
Previous parts:
Part 1
Part 2
A light touch trails down his side and Simon's squirms, teased from sleep; opening his eyes, he blinks as light assaults his eyes. "Morning already?" That's what he means to say though it comes out as a mumble "mrng dee?"
"Not yet, just got woken up-sorry to disturb you." Spike's voice is apologetic and Simon's closing his eyes against the light, rolling onto his stomach as Spike clicks it off. Cool hands trail along Simon's back, occasionally kneading at the muscles and taking away all his grumpiness at being woken early. It's almost a feeling of deja-vu since Spike spent almost an hour massaging Simon to calm his nervousness when they first entered the room.
"Mmm," Simon almost purrs as Spike's hands dip further working at the muscles in his lower back. He sighs, one eye half opening to peer at the window. Unfortunately thick black curtains block out even a fraction of light which could seep through; that's odd, those curtains look nailed up, like Spike did it himself-which wouldn't make sense, even the most light sensitive sleeper could wear a mask rather then go to the trouble of covering the window.
"How much longer do we have?"
They only have the room until eight in the morning, since Simon suspects Jayne will be barging in on them at that time just to drag him back to Serenity and so far Simon feels like he's barely slept at all. He feels Spike pause briefly at the question, "Spike?"
"It's three, you've only had about an hour or so I figure."
"Three?" Simon's turning now, his eyes on Spike, who is trying his best to appear innocent. "Spike I've not even had that. No wonder my body isn't reciprocating." He gestures to his half hard cock, which admittedly is waning despite Spike's best efforts to now stroke it into a full erection.
"Half an hour more?" Simon pleads, closing his eyes and manoeuvring himself onto his back as he wriggles to get comfy.
"Half an hour?" Spike sounds disappointed and Simon cracks open an eye to squint at him.
Spike's pouting, his lower lip definitely sticking out as his eyes dance with glee, an undercurrent mischief and a hint of wickedness showing as Simon glances at him-and then looks down, at Spike's rigid and demanding cock.
"Where the di yu do you get your stamina Spike?" Disbelief colours Simon's voice as he thinks back on the four hours of shagging (as Spike put it), they'd just enjoyed. Not to mention the four orgasms, the last of which had been almost painful for Simon.
Spike grins delightedly, "Best off not knowing, comes in handy though."
Simon's now wondering if Spike's taken something; even Jayne wouldn't have this kind of energy, Simon was sure. "You haven't ingested any kind of pill have you?" Concern laces Simon's voice and then it hits him that he's gone to far-become too doctoring. "I'm sorry that was very rude of me, I'm sure it's a personal matter."
"Nothing to it," Spike fiddles with his cigarettes, putting them away at Simon look. "Just me, luv, but I understand if you need sleep-" He hesitates, one hand gently stroking his cock.
Simon licks his lips, his fingers creeping out to cover Spike's as he strokes. "Lube?" Whilst he's not hard enough for them to have sex, he can imagine how chafed Spike must be given that Simon was a little sore himself.
Spike shake’s his head, "Not needed. Bit of pain never did anyone any harm." He keeps their hands firmly entwined and stroking as Simon moves to pull back, unhappy about causing any kind of pain, "Not bad pain, just an edge. Not so much a bite but a sting, brings you close makes you blood pound an’ your bell-end stiffen. Can be begging for it, begging for more, no matter how much it stings-pain can be delicious that way."
Simon's not liking the descriptions so much, the idea of causing pain even to release pleasure is lost on him. But then he's spent his entire life fighting against pain. Spike's obviously liking it though, his cock leaking precum and his eyes closing as they stroke-and Simon is loathe to ruin their night.
Rolling onto his side, Simon's other hand sweeps down lower and cups Spike's balls gently massaging them as Spike's breathing hitches, showing the man's enjoyment. Spike's shuddering slightly, his cock pulsing at the feeling. Simon's enjoying this control, the slight power he has over Spike at the moment and whilst he can't muster up enough energy to join in himself, he's loving the part he plays now.
Just to tease, Simon removes his hands from Spike's jarring the other man's hands loose. Despite the small growl he hears, Simon doesn't look up- instead he pulls himself up onto his knees, pushing Spike firmly back against the mattress. Leaning over Simon soothes Spike's cock with his tongue, not truly believing the other man doesn't feel in the slightest chafed, before he takes it into his mouth; gentle movements give way to forceful ones, Simon sucking hard as Spike encourages him by thrusting into his mouth. Simon tries to ignore the inherent gag relax when Spike's motions get a little too strong, it seems practice makes perfect and Spike is definitely not complaining about Simon's blowjobs even though the man has had little practice. Having to gasp for breath, Simon opens his mouth letting his hands return to pleasure Spike as he kisses the man's stomach, tongue running over and into the small dip of his belly button.
Simon can hear Spike groaning now, hoarsely murmuring something Simon can only just make out, as the doctor pumps his cock faster. Spike's hands are in Simon's hair, holding the younger man in place as his back arches. For a brief moment Spike's mind is somewhere else, slipped into a fantasy and so his body react unconsciously holding Simon in place not only to prolong his pleasure but so the man cannot see the raw need on his face. Simon's mouth is on Spike's nipples now, sucking and biting leaving them swollen and hard as his hands grace over Spike's cock. Simon's living in the moment now, waiting for the second when Spike's lets go and his body responds-he waits for the heat to rise, for Spike's skin to pinken as blood rushes to the surface. Simon's still waiting as Spike groans loudly his cock twitching as the orgasm is pulled from him.
It's strange that it's taken Simon this long to notice the oddities about Spike, strange that's he's brushed them aside all night; the coolness of Spike's body more akin to a cooling corpse then a living being, his strange stamina- It all now strike Simon as odd. He can't help but draw back a little, moving to his side of the bed to stare thoughtfully at Spike. Medically speaking the coolness of Spike's body could be attributed to a number of things, and as for his stamina Simon isn't entirely sure the other man hasn't taken something to keep him aroused. Thinking like that relaxes Simon, puts him back on common ground and breaks his mind away from assessing Spike.
“Sorry Pet,” the other man’s voice is low as if troubled by something and Simon squints up at him, wondering what for?
“Shouldn’t have said what I did, 's rude. I'm with you, just mind wanders sometimes; makes me remember an‘ I forget.”
“Oh.” Simon's unsure what to say now. He’d noticed Spike’s word slippage earlier, the soft groaned out word that the other man had let out, but he‘d been planning on ignoring it. After all Simon’s also guilty of slipping into fantasy; of pretending the mouth worshipping him was Jayne‘s, not Spike. “Who is he?”
Spike gives him a long hard look, seeming to weigh up whether to answer or not. “Special- he was one in a million,” he finally answers quietly as he plays with his fingers, nervously peeling and scratching off the dark colour that stains his nails.
Picking upon the past tense Simon keeps quiet, just waiting for Spike, letting the man chose whether to share or not- rather then annoy him by saying something out of turn; after all Simon's not good at talking to people- he messes it up or is a boob as River says.
“Knew him for eight years. Went from fighting each other, to fighting together, to fucking-somewhere in the middle I fell for him.” A wistful look is on Spike’s face now and Simon can’t take his eyes off him as he continues, “What’s more bloody astounding is he fell for me too, weren’t the love-dovey type neither of us but we said it, felt it and knew.”
So this is what Spike meant when he’d told Simon they couldn’t tempt each others' hearts, the man is still obviously in love; pain and sorrow etched into his face and words as equally as happiness when he speaks of him. Spike’s looking at him now, expecting him to say something but Simon can’t just wave his hand and say ‘please continue’. Instead he uses the broadest question his uneasy mind can dredge up, “You lost him?”
Spike’s nodding slowly now, the bitterness of his expression seeming out of place on him, “Didn’t even have him as mine for a decade you know. Decade was all we needed, was what we were waiting for. Then there would have been no way some damn demon could have taken him from me.”
“Demon?” The word is unusual and conjuring up odd images in Simon’s mind so he can’t help the question in his voice.
Spike’s glancing at him now and there’s something unreadable in his face, “just a turn of phrase from around my end. Would have been all right if we’d had that decade or if the damn bitches had got me or Red to him in time-could have helped him, could have made him right again.”
Simon doesn’t ask how, doesn’t go down that road. The time for questions is past now, Spike’s just telling his tale lost in the memory of his own past. His accent’s changing as he does, becoming a little less rough, more polished and refined, closer to that of Simon’s.
“He was in England, I was in LA when it happened.”
Simon’s going through his memory trying to place those planets, trying to fathom if maybe they are two cities on the same planet but Spike doesn’t elaborate, just keeps on speaking in that soft tone of his, “He was attacked, got beat up and badly hurt. Stupid git was trying to save someone, trying to help someone, he never did think!” Spike‘s hands are clenched now, “Never lost his bollocksy white knight complex, never thought about himself or what we’d do.”
Spike’s eyes are shining suspiciously now, anger and pain predominant on his face; Simon knows no matter how long ago this happened is irrelevant-the pain hasn’t faded with time, only become easier to deal with. We know a hundred ways of treating a patient's body, of righting it when it’s broken yet we can do nothing for the mind, Simon can’t help the thought, it reminds him of River because just like her Spike’s been broken inside.
“His mates weren’t with him, only that prat Andrew and his girls. They weren’t no help from what Red told me, bitches stood back and did nothing whilst it pounded on him, too damn new and unsure to trust their instincts and Andrew, “ Spike snorted derision on his face, “Fucking Watcher wannabe. Couldn’t get his head out his arse long enough to make a decision. Took them an hour to get him treated and call Red about it. Worse thing is we both knew something was wrong, were trying to get hold of them but it didn’t happen till it was too late. Internal bleeding the doctors said, thing messed up his stomach and brain, by the time Red an’ me got there only the fancy equipment was keeping’ him alive.”
“That must have been awful for you.” Simon cringes after he’s said the words, knowing they have to be his most idiotic to date but Spike doesn’t notice-doesn’t turn on him and snap, he just keeps speaking,
“She begged me you know, wanted me to do what she couldn‘t, but it was too late. Magic, love, all the fucking want in the world couldn‘t do anything for him-and believe me we tried. Stayed by his bed for nearly a month trying to find ways to make him whole again. Red, she collapsed in on herself, couldn’t stop trying’ since it was all that was keeping her going. The others, they fell on each other trying to make some sense of it but Red, she fell apart.” Spike’s head is in his hands now, knees drawn up to his chest, “Stayed strong for her an’ the others when all I wanted to do was get payback and get Xan back. Even the ponce tried helping, just made everything go tits up though; got a necro-a bint to come an’ scan Xan’s head.”
Simon is nodding now, knowing what’s coming next, having heard this kind of thing before. “The mind is extraordinary,” Simon’s speaking softly, his hand on Spike’s arm. The man isn’t looking at him, still has his head in his hands, “But there’s only so much healing a body can take. Some things, they just stay broken.” He feels akin to Spike now understanding the frustration of watching a loved one suffer when you can’t help them, when your best isn’t good enough. “Sometimes it’s just too fragile.” he murmurs.
Spike is looking up now, his blue eyes focussing on Simon, reading the understanding there and for the longest moment neither say a word, just comfort each other in silence. Then Spike breaks the silence, a look of self-loathing in his eyes, “There wasn’t anything in there, nothing left but to bury his body, his soul was already gone. Girls couldn’t do it, wouldn’t ask it of them and Giles…” Spike shook his head, “Was up to me to stop the machines.”
Maybe Spike’s a writer or perhaps religious, Simon can’t help but wonder given the man’s choice of words. Having your soul move on whilst your body still lived, was more poetic a term then its clinical counterpart-brain death. “So you did what you had to.” It’s not a question but Simon says it anyway.
Spike shudders, as he swings his legs to one side and strides over to his black duster. For a minute Simon expects him to pull it on and walk out, their conversation having taken such a dark turn, but Spike merely reaches into his pockets and pulls out a white packet. Extracting a cigarette from it, he lights up and draws in a deep shuddering breath before answering, "Can't bring back the dead, no way of doing it-not anymore. Knowing Xan, an’ after what happened with Buffy,” Spike takes a longer pull on the cigarette but this time there’s resolution on his face, as though he knows what he did was for the best, “couldn’t ever do that to Xander.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Simon’s confused now, uneasy over Spike’s sentence. As a doctor he’s pulled many patients back from the brink of death or even pulled them from its clutches minutes after, but from the way Spike is speaking it's more than just cheating death.
“’Not important,” Spike’s shaking it off now, not so much putting back up a mask but putting the conversation aside along with his pain. “I just figure if I'm lucky, maybe one day the Powers will send Xan back to me.”
“The powers?” Simon’s more baffled now. He’s not one for much religion himself but he does pride himself on knowing about many different variants, however whilst Tien might feature a lot in all of them in various different forms, he’s never heard of it referred to as powers.
Spike’s hand is at his eyes now, rubbing the eyelids with his fingers, “Listen to me, I mean bloody listen to me!” He laughs, startling Simon, “sorry luv it’s just I’m starting to sound more and more like the great poof an I’m confusing you in the bargain, instead of screwing you into the mattress.”
“Screwing me into the mattress?” Simons staring at the laughing man, seriously wondering if maybe he’s the only sane person in the world. Unfortunately his question is answered when the door to their room is wrenched open and a furious Jayne storms in. A furious, armed and completely naked Jayne, that is.
Simon can’t help but stare, his eyes trailing over Jayne’s body appreciating the view. He knew Jayne was toned, had seen him working out more times then he’d be inclined to admit and he did have to stitch him up quite a bit. But there was a big difference between appreciating a view and enjoying it quite so much. Simon slaps his hand over his newly enthused and rising penis at the same time Jayne slaps his hand over his own cock.
“Get your gorram eyes from me before I whup your ass boy.”
Simon flinches a blush making its way over his face as his cock twitches in response to that idea, but Jayne’s not looking at him. No Jayne’s standing in-between Simon and Spike, glaring at the blond who looks completely at home with being naked and threatened.
“Jayne?” Simon’s trying not to look at the mercenary’s back and butt, which are just as toned and lickable as the rest of his body, “Much as we don’t appreciate the intrusion, what are you doing in here flashing around your…weapon?”
Jayne doesn’t even have the decency to blush, just grabs Simon’s trousers and yanks them on. They look almost obscene and ridiculously tight on him, not to mention several inches too short. Then Simon realises he has none to wear, “Did you…you just took my trousers, Jayne!” As Jayne ignores him and moves to the door poking his head around it, Simon scoots off the side of the bed and moves behind him.
“Jayne-” He’s tugging on his arm feeling all shades of stupid and uncouth, still cupping his penis with his hand. His back is to Spike and so he doesn’t notice as the man cocks his head obviously listening intently, although silence is all the others can hear, before grabbing his own trousers and yanking them on. Spike’s already lacing his boots when Simon glances back at him, “Spike?”
“Sorry pet, seems the git here is expecting company and not the friendly sort.” Spike’s pulling on his shirt now and moving to the bed, reaching underneath he pulls out a small metal case.
Jayne’s glancing around now, having given up on ignoring Simon, “Them whores ain’t too happy that I weren’t willing to hand over all my stuff so they tried getting’ their boys on me-telling ‘em I did the dirty and owed them stuff. Hell I ain’t paying for no lousy rut,” His eyes caught the case, “You got a gun in there?”
Spike looks up and Simon can see amusement written all over his face, “No, mate, let my hands do the talking.”
“Them pretty things?” Simon can hear the speculation in Jayne’s voice though he can’t see it. He’s too busy searching for anything that can cover him. Unfortunately in a passionate moment earlier his shirt was somewhat shredded and Simon can feel, with a sinking heart, that his dignity is about to go that way.
And it’s not like he won’t have a large audience, Simon can hear people running now and shouting from below. Inwardly he curses before crossing his arms over his chest, “What were you thinking of Jayne? Intruding in here, disturbing us and embroiling us in yet another ridiculous situation?”
“Promised Mal I’d get ya back to the ship, couldn’t be sure them fine upstanding’ citizens downstairs wouldn’t take my leavin’ out on your pretty little hide.” At least Simon has Jayne’s attention now; maybe a touch too much, since his eyes are moving over the doctors body at the same time as a bullet embeds in the door frame.
“Tzao gao! These folks ain’t getting on my good side.”
“Do you even have one?” Simon’s shaking his head in disbelief, not noticing that Spike’s pulling the curtains off the wall-the nailed down curtains.
Spike lets out a whistle as Jayne lets off a few rounds, firing down the corridor, “Right this is the deal. You want out of here, I’ll get you out. Window here lead you outside and I can get you back to you ship, but since you’ve ruined this place for me-you take me with you.”
“No ruttin’ way.” Jayne growls out the words, glancing back at them, “We don’t owe you nothing. You had the doc-call it even.”
Simon’s mouth drops open at Jayne’s crudeness, more put out by that then being in the same room as both Jayne and Spike. Murmuring curses under his breath he shoots Jayne a glare as he gathers up what’s left of his money and underwear. A pair of boxers, that’s all he has to his name; sighing Simon pulls them on as Spike pressed something into his hands-his leather duster.
“Here pet, you’ll catch a chill,” A leer comes over Spike’s face as he adds, “Or they’ll be chasing us for more then just your pal here.”
“Thank you.” Simon pulls on the jacket, which covers him nicely. When he catches sight of himself in the mirror though he has to groan. He looks every inch the debauched virgin or perhaps virgin turned slut since his lips are swollen, his hair mussed and feet bare. Kneeling down, he pulls on his ‘fancy shoes’ as Jayne calls them just as the mercenary jumps back into the room, startled by the bullet that whistled past his ear.
“Couldn’t hurt to take on another.”
It’s Jayne’s way of saying he agrees, as Simon’s about to tell Spike, but the man guesses himself and already has the window open and waiting.
“You first Simon.” Jayne’s hands are on his waist as he speaks, helping Simon up onto the ledge and the doctor can’t help but pause, disbelief on his face,
“I think that’s actually the first time you’ve said my name.”
“Yeah well, gonna be the last if you don’t move it.”
Simon balances on the ledge careful not to scrape any sensitive parts as he moves himself over and onto the ground below. Heaviness fills his hands as Spike hands Simon his metal case, and the man has to struggle to hold it up. “Take this for me pet.”
Jayne’s half out the window as Simon hears the door burst open and gunfire crack in the room. Jayne teeters on the edge falling backwards and for one awful moment Simon believes he’s been hit, shot at close range with no chance of survival. He’s leaning over the man, hands running over his chest and moving to his neck to search for a pulse when Jayne’s hands shoot up, grabbing his wrists. “Damn fool whore of yours pushed me out the gorram window!”
“Spike?” Now Simon’s worry has a new direction as he stares up at the window, hearing the sound of fists on flesh, “We have to help him.”
“Ain’t no helping’ him now, took one full in the chest-fool boy.” Jayne’s upright now, grabbing Simon’s arm bruisingly, though when Simon looks at him its not anger on his face but worry and confusion.
“We still have to-” Simon’s words are bitten off as Spike appears at the window, jumping agilely down onto the ground before them. Astoundingly the man’s clothes are barely rumpled, just bloodied from the fight, though Simon is suspicious of the large patch in the centre of his chest. He stands up easily and saunters over to them, with the moonlight shining on his face he looked deathly pale and sinfully sexy.
“No way, no way in hell. You took a damn bullet to the chest.” Jayne’s voice is a whisper, a tinge of fear noticeable in it.
Spike shrugs, nonchalant to the end, “Not a proper bullet, idiot forgot to use real bullets an’ got me with a blank-tore me up some but not so bad. Can’t make a corpse of me yet.” At his last words an odd smile playing over his lips as if making a joke neither of them could understand.
All Simon can feel is relief; well relief and a touch of embarrassment, which is sure to become extreme. Pistol shots in the background remind him that they still need to run and stepping backwards, he says, “Fascinating as this is, I don’t think anyone appreciated our little runaway or Jayne’s attitude. Maybe we should be getting back to Serenity?”
TBC
Translations:
Di you - hell
Tzao gao -damn/shit
Author:
wildannuetteSummary: When the object of his affections seems intent on pushing him aside, Simon finds comfort and mutual lust in what should be a one-time thing.
Rating: NC17
Characters: Simon, Jayne, Mal, Kaylee, River plus Spike from btvs
Pairing: slash Simon/Jayne, Simon/Spike
Warning: crossover fic in Firefly universe
Spoilers/Timeline: After Firefly but before Serenity.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: This fanfic is completed. Thanks to
noandwhere who kindly betad for me (Cheers hon *hugs*) Previous parts:
Part 1
Part 2
A light touch trails down his side and Simon's squirms, teased from sleep; opening his eyes, he blinks as light assaults his eyes. "Morning already?" That's what he means to say though it comes out as a mumble "mrng dee?"
"Not yet, just got woken up-sorry to disturb you." Spike's voice is apologetic and Simon's closing his eyes against the light, rolling onto his stomach as Spike clicks it off. Cool hands trail along Simon's back, occasionally kneading at the muscles and taking away all his grumpiness at being woken early. It's almost a feeling of deja-vu since Spike spent almost an hour massaging Simon to calm his nervousness when they first entered the room.
"Mmm," Simon almost purrs as Spike's hands dip further working at the muscles in his lower back. He sighs, one eye half opening to peer at the window. Unfortunately thick black curtains block out even a fraction of light which could seep through; that's odd, those curtains look nailed up, like Spike did it himself-which wouldn't make sense, even the most light sensitive sleeper could wear a mask rather then go to the trouble of covering the window.
"How much longer do we have?"
They only have the room until eight in the morning, since Simon suspects Jayne will be barging in on them at that time just to drag him back to Serenity and so far Simon feels like he's barely slept at all. He feels Spike pause briefly at the question, "Spike?"
"It's three, you've only had about an hour or so I figure."
"Three?" Simon's turning now, his eyes on Spike, who is trying his best to appear innocent. "Spike I've not even had that. No wonder my body isn't reciprocating." He gestures to his half hard cock, which admittedly is waning despite Spike's best efforts to now stroke it into a full erection.
"Half an hour more?" Simon pleads, closing his eyes and manoeuvring himself onto his back as he wriggles to get comfy.
"Half an hour?" Spike sounds disappointed and Simon cracks open an eye to squint at him.
Spike's pouting, his lower lip definitely sticking out as his eyes dance with glee, an undercurrent mischief and a hint of wickedness showing as Simon glances at him-and then looks down, at Spike's rigid and demanding cock.
"Where the di yu do you get your stamina Spike?" Disbelief colours Simon's voice as he thinks back on the four hours of shagging (as Spike put it), they'd just enjoyed. Not to mention the four orgasms, the last of which had been almost painful for Simon.
Spike grins delightedly, "Best off not knowing, comes in handy though."
Simon's now wondering if Spike's taken something; even Jayne wouldn't have this kind of energy, Simon was sure. "You haven't ingested any kind of pill have you?" Concern laces Simon's voice and then it hits him that he's gone to far-become too doctoring. "I'm sorry that was very rude of me, I'm sure it's a personal matter."
"Nothing to it," Spike fiddles with his cigarettes, putting them away at Simon look. "Just me, luv, but I understand if you need sleep-" He hesitates, one hand gently stroking his cock.
Simon licks his lips, his fingers creeping out to cover Spike's as he strokes. "Lube?" Whilst he's not hard enough for them to have sex, he can imagine how chafed Spike must be given that Simon was a little sore himself.
Spike shake’s his head, "Not needed. Bit of pain never did anyone any harm." He keeps their hands firmly entwined and stroking as Simon moves to pull back, unhappy about causing any kind of pain, "Not bad pain, just an edge. Not so much a bite but a sting, brings you close makes you blood pound an’ your bell-end stiffen. Can be begging for it, begging for more, no matter how much it stings-pain can be delicious that way."
Simon's not liking the descriptions so much, the idea of causing pain even to release pleasure is lost on him. But then he's spent his entire life fighting against pain. Spike's obviously liking it though, his cock leaking precum and his eyes closing as they stroke-and Simon is loathe to ruin their night.
Rolling onto his side, Simon's other hand sweeps down lower and cups Spike's balls gently massaging them as Spike's breathing hitches, showing the man's enjoyment. Spike's shuddering slightly, his cock pulsing at the feeling. Simon's enjoying this control, the slight power he has over Spike at the moment and whilst he can't muster up enough energy to join in himself, he's loving the part he plays now.
Just to tease, Simon removes his hands from Spike's jarring the other man's hands loose. Despite the small growl he hears, Simon doesn't look up- instead he pulls himself up onto his knees, pushing Spike firmly back against the mattress. Leaning over Simon soothes Spike's cock with his tongue, not truly believing the other man doesn't feel in the slightest chafed, before he takes it into his mouth; gentle movements give way to forceful ones, Simon sucking hard as Spike encourages him by thrusting into his mouth. Simon tries to ignore the inherent gag relax when Spike's motions get a little too strong, it seems practice makes perfect and Spike is definitely not complaining about Simon's blowjobs even though the man has had little practice. Having to gasp for breath, Simon opens his mouth letting his hands return to pleasure Spike as he kisses the man's stomach, tongue running over and into the small dip of his belly button.
Simon can hear Spike groaning now, hoarsely murmuring something Simon can only just make out, as the doctor pumps his cock faster. Spike's hands are in Simon's hair, holding the younger man in place as his back arches. For a brief moment Spike's mind is somewhere else, slipped into a fantasy and so his body react unconsciously holding Simon in place not only to prolong his pleasure but so the man cannot see the raw need on his face. Simon's mouth is on Spike's nipples now, sucking and biting leaving them swollen and hard as his hands grace over Spike's cock. Simon's living in the moment now, waiting for the second when Spike's lets go and his body responds-he waits for the heat to rise, for Spike's skin to pinken as blood rushes to the surface. Simon's still waiting as Spike groans loudly his cock twitching as the orgasm is pulled from him.
It's strange that it's taken Simon this long to notice the oddities about Spike, strange that's he's brushed them aside all night; the coolness of Spike's body more akin to a cooling corpse then a living being, his strange stamina- It all now strike Simon as odd. He can't help but draw back a little, moving to his side of the bed to stare thoughtfully at Spike. Medically speaking the coolness of Spike's body could be attributed to a number of things, and as for his stamina Simon isn't entirely sure the other man hasn't taken something to keep him aroused. Thinking like that relaxes Simon, puts him back on common ground and breaks his mind away from assessing Spike.
“Sorry Pet,” the other man’s voice is low as if troubled by something and Simon squints up at him, wondering what for?
“Shouldn’t have said what I did, 's rude. I'm with you, just mind wanders sometimes; makes me remember an‘ I forget.”
“Oh.” Simon's unsure what to say now. He’d noticed Spike’s word slippage earlier, the soft groaned out word that the other man had let out, but he‘d been planning on ignoring it. After all Simon’s also guilty of slipping into fantasy; of pretending the mouth worshipping him was Jayne‘s, not Spike. “Who is he?”
Spike gives him a long hard look, seeming to weigh up whether to answer or not. “Special- he was one in a million,” he finally answers quietly as he plays with his fingers, nervously peeling and scratching off the dark colour that stains his nails.
Picking upon the past tense Simon keeps quiet, just waiting for Spike, letting the man chose whether to share or not- rather then annoy him by saying something out of turn; after all Simon's not good at talking to people- he messes it up or is a boob as River says.
“Knew him for eight years. Went from fighting each other, to fighting together, to fucking-somewhere in the middle I fell for him.” A wistful look is on Spike’s face now and Simon can’t take his eyes off him as he continues, “What’s more bloody astounding is he fell for me too, weren’t the love-dovey type neither of us but we said it, felt it and knew.”
So this is what Spike meant when he’d told Simon they couldn’t tempt each others' hearts, the man is still obviously in love; pain and sorrow etched into his face and words as equally as happiness when he speaks of him. Spike’s looking at him now, expecting him to say something but Simon can’t just wave his hand and say ‘please continue’. Instead he uses the broadest question his uneasy mind can dredge up, “You lost him?”
Spike’s nodding slowly now, the bitterness of his expression seeming out of place on him, “Didn’t even have him as mine for a decade you know. Decade was all we needed, was what we were waiting for. Then there would have been no way some damn demon could have taken him from me.”
“Demon?” The word is unusual and conjuring up odd images in Simon’s mind so he can’t help the question in his voice.
Spike’s glancing at him now and there’s something unreadable in his face, “just a turn of phrase from around my end. Would have been all right if we’d had that decade or if the damn bitches had got me or Red to him in time-could have helped him, could have made him right again.”
Simon doesn’t ask how, doesn’t go down that road. The time for questions is past now, Spike’s just telling his tale lost in the memory of his own past. His accent’s changing as he does, becoming a little less rough, more polished and refined, closer to that of Simon’s.
“He was in England, I was in LA when it happened.”
Simon’s going through his memory trying to place those planets, trying to fathom if maybe they are two cities on the same planet but Spike doesn’t elaborate, just keeps on speaking in that soft tone of his, “He was attacked, got beat up and badly hurt. Stupid git was trying to save someone, trying to help someone, he never did think!” Spike‘s hands are clenched now, “Never lost his bollocksy white knight complex, never thought about himself or what we’d do.”
Spike’s eyes are shining suspiciously now, anger and pain predominant on his face; Simon knows no matter how long ago this happened is irrelevant-the pain hasn’t faded with time, only become easier to deal with. We know a hundred ways of treating a patient's body, of righting it when it’s broken yet we can do nothing for the mind, Simon can’t help the thought, it reminds him of River because just like her Spike’s been broken inside.
“His mates weren’t with him, only that prat Andrew and his girls. They weren’t no help from what Red told me, bitches stood back and did nothing whilst it pounded on him, too damn new and unsure to trust their instincts and Andrew, “ Spike snorted derision on his face, “Fucking Watcher wannabe. Couldn’t get his head out his arse long enough to make a decision. Took them an hour to get him treated and call Red about it. Worse thing is we both knew something was wrong, were trying to get hold of them but it didn’t happen till it was too late. Internal bleeding the doctors said, thing messed up his stomach and brain, by the time Red an’ me got there only the fancy equipment was keeping’ him alive.”
“That must have been awful for you.” Simon cringes after he’s said the words, knowing they have to be his most idiotic to date but Spike doesn’t notice-doesn’t turn on him and snap, he just keeps speaking,
“She begged me you know, wanted me to do what she couldn‘t, but it was too late. Magic, love, all the fucking want in the world couldn‘t do anything for him-and believe me we tried. Stayed by his bed for nearly a month trying to find ways to make him whole again. Red, she collapsed in on herself, couldn’t stop trying’ since it was all that was keeping her going. The others, they fell on each other trying to make some sense of it but Red, she fell apart.” Spike’s head is in his hands now, knees drawn up to his chest, “Stayed strong for her an’ the others when all I wanted to do was get payback and get Xan back. Even the ponce tried helping, just made everything go tits up though; got a necro-a bint to come an’ scan Xan’s head.”
Simon is nodding now, knowing what’s coming next, having heard this kind of thing before. “The mind is extraordinary,” Simon’s speaking softly, his hand on Spike’s arm. The man isn’t looking at him, still has his head in his hands, “But there’s only so much healing a body can take. Some things, they just stay broken.” He feels akin to Spike now understanding the frustration of watching a loved one suffer when you can’t help them, when your best isn’t good enough. “Sometimes it’s just too fragile.” he murmurs.
Spike is looking up now, his blue eyes focussing on Simon, reading the understanding there and for the longest moment neither say a word, just comfort each other in silence. Then Spike breaks the silence, a look of self-loathing in his eyes, “There wasn’t anything in there, nothing left but to bury his body, his soul was already gone. Girls couldn’t do it, wouldn’t ask it of them and Giles…” Spike shook his head, “Was up to me to stop the machines.”
Maybe Spike’s a writer or perhaps religious, Simon can’t help but wonder given the man’s choice of words. Having your soul move on whilst your body still lived, was more poetic a term then its clinical counterpart-brain death. “So you did what you had to.” It’s not a question but Simon says it anyway.
Spike shudders, as he swings his legs to one side and strides over to his black duster. For a minute Simon expects him to pull it on and walk out, their conversation having taken such a dark turn, but Spike merely reaches into his pockets and pulls out a white packet. Extracting a cigarette from it, he lights up and draws in a deep shuddering breath before answering, "Can't bring back the dead, no way of doing it-not anymore. Knowing Xan, an’ after what happened with Buffy,” Spike takes a longer pull on the cigarette but this time there’s resolution on his face, as though he knows what he did was for the best, “couldn’t ever do that to Xander.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Simon’s confused now, uneasy over Spike’s sentence. As a doctor he’s pulled many patients back from the brink of death or even pulled them from its clutches minutes after, but from the way Spike is speaking it's more than just cheating death.
“’Not important,” Spike’s shaking it off now, not so much putting back up a mask but putting the conversation aside along with his pain. “I just figure if I'm lucky, maybe one day the Powers will send Xan back to me.”
“The powers?” Simon’s more baffled now. He’s not one for much religion himself but he does pride himself on knowing about many different variants, however whilst Tien might feature a lot in all of them in various different forms, he’s never heard of it referred to as powers.
Spike’s hand is at his eyes now, rubbing the eyelids with his fingers, “Listen to me, I mean bloody listen to me!” He laughs, startling Simon, “sorry luv it’s just I’m starting to sound more and more like the great poof an I’m confusing you in the bargain, instead of screwing you into the mattress.”
“Screwing me into the mattress?” Simons staring at the laughing man, seriously wondering if maybe he’s the only sane person in the world. Unfortunately his question is answered when the door to their room is wrenched open and a furious Jayne storms in. A furious, armed and completely naked Jayne, that is.
Simon can’t help but stare, his eyes trailing over Jayne’s body appreciating the view. He knew Jayne was toned, had seen him working out more times then he’d be inclined to admit and he did have to stitch him up quite a bit. But there was a big difference between appreciating a view and enjoying it quite so much. Simon slaps his hand over his newly enthused and rising penis at the same time Jayne slaps his hand over his own cock.
“Get your gorram eyes from me before I whup your ass boy.”
Simon flinches a blush making its way over his face as his cock twitches in response to that idea, but Jayne’s not looking at him. No Jayne’s standing in-between Simon and Spike, glaring at the blond who looks completely at home with being naked and threatened.
“Jayne?” Simon’s trying not to look at the mercenary’s back and butt, which are just as toned and lickable as the rest of his body, “Much as we don’t appreciate the intrusion, what are you doing in here flashing around your…weapon?”
Jayne doesn’t even have the decency to blush, just grabs Simon’s trousers and yanks them on. They look almost obscene and ridiculously tight on him, not to mention several inches too short. Then Simon realises he has none to wear, “Did you…you just took my trousers, Jayne!” As Jayne ignores him and moves to the door poking his head around it, Simon scoots off the side of the bed and moves behind him.
“Jayne-” He’s tugging on his arm feeling all shades of stupid and uncouth, still cupping his penis with his hand. His back is to Spike and so he doesn’t notice as the man cocks his head obviously listening intently, although silence is all the others can hear, before grabbing his own trousers and yanking them on. Spike’s already lacing his boots when Simon glances back at him, “Spike?”
“Sorry pet, seems the git here is expecting company and not the friendly sort.” Spike’s pulling on his shirt now and moving to the bed, reaching underneath he pulls out a small metal case.
Jayne’s glancing around now, having given up on ignoring Simon, “Them whores ain’t too happy that I weren’t willing to hand over all my stuff so they tried getting’ their boys on me-telling ‘em I did the dirty and owed them stuff. Hell I ain’t paying for no lousy rut,” His eyes caught the case, “You got a gun in there?”
Spike looks up and Simon can see amusement written all over his face, “No, mate, let my hands do the talking.”
“Them pretty things?” Simon can hear the speculation in Jayne’s voice though he can’t see it. He’s too busy searching for anything that can cover him. Unfortunately in a passionate moment earlier his shirt was somewhat shredded and Simon can feel, with a sinking heart, that his dignity is about to go that way.
And it’s not like he won’t have a large audience, Simon can hear people running now and shouting from below. Inwardly he curses before crossing his arms over his chest, “What were you thinking of Jayne? Intruding in here, disturbing us and embroiling us in yet another ridiculous situation?”
“Promised Mal I’d get ya back to the ship, couldn’t be sure them fine upstanding’ citizens downstairs wouldn’t take my leavin’ out on your pretty little hide.” At least Simon has Jayne’s attention now; maybe a touch too much, since his eyes are moving over the doctors body at the same time as a bullet embeds in the door frame.
“Tzao gao! These folks ain’t getting on my good side.”
“Do you even have one?” Simon’s shaking his head in disbelief, not noticing that Spike’s pulling the curtains off the wall-the nailed down curtains.
Spike lets out a whistle as Jayne lets off a few rounds, firing down the corridor, “Right this is the deal. You want out of here, I’ll get you out. Window here lead you outside and I can get you back to you ship, but since you’ve ruined this place for me-you take me with you.”
“No ruttin’ way.” Jayne growls out the words, glancing back at them, “We don’t owe you nothing. You had the doc-call it even.”
Simon’s mouth drops open at Jayne’s crudeness, more put out by that then being in the same room as both Jayne and Spike. Murmuring curses under his breath he shoots Jayne a glare as he gathers up what’s left of his money and underwear. A pair of boxers, that’s all he has to his name; sighing Simon pulls them on as Spike pressed something into his hands-his leather duster.
“Here pet, you’ll catch a chill,” A leer comes over Spike’s face as he adds, “Or they’ll be chasing us for more then just your pal here.”
“Thank you.” Simon pulls on the jacket, which covers him nicely. When he catches sight of himself in the mirror though he has to groan. He looks every inch the debauched virgin or perhaps virgin turned slut since his lips are swollen, his hair mussed and feet bare. Kneeling down, he pulls on his ‘fancy shoes’ as Jayne calls them just as the mercenary jumps back into the room, startled by the bullet that whistled past his ear.
“Couldn’t hurt to take on another.”
It’s Jayne’s way of saying he agrees, as Simon’s about to tell Spike, but the man guesses himself and already has the window open and waiting.
“You first Simon.” Jayne’s hands are on his waist as he speaks, helping Simon up onto the ledge and the doctor can’t help but pause, disbelief on his face,
“I think that’s actually the first time you’ve said my name.”
“Yeah well, gonna be the last if you don’t move it.”
Simon balances on the ledge careful not to scrape any sensitive parts as he moves himself over and onto the ground below. Heaviness fills his hands as Spike hands Simon his metal case, and the man has to struggle to hold it up. “Take this for me pet.”
Jayne’s half out the window as Simon hears the door burst open and gunfire crack in the room. Jayne teeters on the edge falling backwards and for one awful moment Simon believes he’s been hit, shot at close range with no chance of survival. He’s leaning over the man, hands running over his chest and moving to his neck to search for a pulse when Jayne’s hands shoot up, grabbing his wrists. “Damn fool whore of yours pushed me out the gorram window!”
“Spike?” Now Simon’s worry has a new direction as he stares up at the window, hearing the sound of fists on flesh, “We have to help him.”
“Ain’t no helping’ him now, took one full in the chest-fool boy.” Jayne’s upright now, grabbing Simon’s arm bruisingly, though when Simon looks at him its not anger on his face but worry and confusion.
“We still have to-” Simon’s words are bitten off as Spike appears at the window, jumping agilely down onto the ground before them. Astoundingly the man’s clothes are barely rumpled, just bloodied from the fight, though Simon is suspicious of the large patch in the centre of his chest. He stands up easily and saunters over to them, with the moonlight shining on his face he looked deathly pale and sinfully sexy.
“No way, no way in hell. You took a damn bullet to the chest.” Jayne’s voice is a whisper, a tinge of fear noticeable in it.
Spike shrugs, nonchalant to the end, “Not a proper bullet, idiot forgot to use real bullets an’ got me with a blank-tore me up some but not so bad. Can’t make a corpse of me yet.” At his last words an odd smile playing over his lips as if making a joke neither of them could understand.
All Simon can feel is relief; well relief and a touch of embarrassment, which is sure to become extreme. Pistol shots in the background remind him that they still need to run and stepping backwards, he says, “Fascinating as this is, I don’t think anyone appreciated our little runaway or Jayne’s attitude. Maybe we should be getting back to Serenity?”
TBC
Translations:
Di you - hell
Tzao gao -damn/shit
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-20 02:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-20 04:07 pm (UTC)