Firefly, Jayne/Kaylee, “I could stand to hear a little more”
Jayne groaned. The dust in the air meant the mine had caved in on them, and the beam across his thighs meant he was pinned. He must have blacked out for a moment. He spat the dust out of his mouth. "Kaylee? Hey, you there?"
" 'M here," she called back. "I can't move."
He shivered. "Can't move because you're stuck, or can't move at all?"
"Stuck, I think." There was the sound of movement somewhere behind him. He reached back and groped at loose rock.
Silence rang out again. "Hey, keep talkin'," he called back, his voice rough with grit and worry.
"Don't think I can." Her voice sounded weaker than before. "I'm sleepy."
"Uh-oh." He tried to remember something. "Anything hit you on the head?"
"Yeah. Got a pretty good goose egg, here."
"Then don't go to sleep," he ordered. "Might not wake back up. Your hun dan boyfriend ain't gonna fix me up if he finds you dead ten feet from me."
"He will, too," she protested. "He couldn't not help anybody."
"Don't matter. Just . . . keep talking." Jayne mentally tallied his aches. He suspected his ankle was broken under the rubble; everything else just felt bruised.
" 'Bout what?" Her voice seemed slurred. That was bad, wasn't it?
"Anything. Engines, clothes, strawberries. Whatever." He tried pushing at the section of the beam he could see. No dice; didn't budge.
She fell silent again. Just before he was about to shout at her, she giggled. "How 'bout sex?"
"What?"
"If I gotta talk, might as well be about somethin' fun, right?" Pebbles rolled somewhere between them. "You ever used a vibrator, Jayne?"
"No." Wasn't anything wrong with his blood pressure, and he probably wasn't bleeding anywhere; his jeans were about to get real tight.
"It's real nice. The good ones, they file off the molding seam, so it's nice and smooth, and you hold it against your squishy bits and turn it on." Her voice dropped a couple of notes. "Feels real good. All rumbly and tingly. You should try it sometime."
Jayne cleared his throat. "Don't think it works the same for boys."
"Sure it does. We all got the same nerve endings; they're just arranged differently." She seemed stronger now, or at least louder. "The little ones, they're nice when you're making love, too. Y' just slide it in between, and you got a nice big cock in you and the buzz on the little girl in the rowboat. The rhythm's right, you can just about fly between moons that way, feels like." She sighed, and there was the rustle of cloth. She had at least one hand free.
"I like the cock part of that more'n the buzzer part, I think." Jayne undid the button on his fly with his free hand, edged the zipper down.
"They're both real good. Jayne, you ever think about sexing me?"
"I might have, once or twice. You're pretty enough." Once or twice a night, more like. His fingers curled around his dick, hard as a gun barrel.
"Tell me what you'd do with me." There was a rumble to her voice he hadn't heard before.
"I'd throw you on my bunk and rip that pretty little dress off with my teeth," he growled, his hand pumping slow and tight.
"Oh, yeah, in a hurry, I like that," she puffed.
"Then I'd pin your wrists over your head with one hand and make you beg for me."
"Do me, I'm ready." The plea sizzled down his spine like electricity, and he slowed down again before he lost himself too soon.
"I'd ease into you at first, and then fuck you so hard you'd think you were being split in two." God, he was harder than he could remember. A droplet of sweat trickled down his forehead and barely missed his eye.
"Oh, yeah, harder," she moaned, a soft wet noise under her words.
"You want it fast or slow?" He imagined her fingers sliding over her clit.
"Hard and fast, come on, Jayne, use that muscle on me," she panted.
"You got it." His hand sped up, and he grunted; she gasped in time with him.