Written for comment_fic on livejournal

The prompt was Mal/Jayne; fog

It was a nice planet. At night.

During the day it was all sharp things and slime and Alliance-manufactured buildings practically falling apart while you walked by 'em.

But at night, the fog swept in, and nothing was visible except the deep blue outline of the mountains in the distance, and cloudy moisture settling over the towns like blankets on dogs.

Mal and Jayne were alone now, the rest of the crew taking time for themselves. Jayne was sitting there silently, forced into patience, knowing that it wasn't his place to start it, or even to ask for it.

Humans were not domesticated animals, Mal knew. Humans could never really be tamed, just... kept temporarily in check.

So if someone is a self-centered killer ruled by anger and fear, then that's who they were. No use pretending otherwise.

So keep Jayne waiting, Mal reminded himself. Let him know at the animal level that Mal was the pack leader. Mal would decide if and when they kissed, if and when Mal's hands would grip Jayne's heavy shoulders to push him to his knees, if and when Jayne was allowed to stay or speak or even look at him after. And swift punishment if Jayne was overeager.

He would keep Jayne in line, let him feel his captain's authority in his gut and in every other part of his body. And then Jayne might think twice about betraying him for a quick buck, or finally punching the pretty doctor.

But if Mal let Jayne have the upper hand even for a second, Jayne would get ideas. And the whole crew would suffer. So Mal would never let Jayne forget his place, never let him forget who the lead wolf is.

Even though it was exactly Jayne's feral side that Mal wanted most. It was his grunts and growls, and the way his teeth brushed against Mal, making it clear that part of him wanted to bite. It was the fact that no matter what Mal did, Jayne would never be utterly predictable, never be completely domesticated. Hell, besides his skills in a fight, it was the only damn thing Mal truly respected about Jayne.

But Mal knew that it was best for everyone if Jayne hated that part of himself, and thought Mal hated it too.

Keep the beast in check. Never show too much mercy. Never hold him when he wakes up screaming, never let him come until he's suffered a good while, never let him know that it's the best damn sex Mal's ever had. Never ever let him know that if it weren't the case that the ship and the crew always come first, Mal would drag Jayne by the scruff his beard to the nearest out-of-the-way world and just stay with him in a cabin forever, ruttin' and arguin' and ruttin' again, lost in a neverending fog of muscle and anger and heat.

Instead, he would make sure Jayne thought that he was nothing to Mal. He would make sure Jayne knew he was nothing, period. Mal may have wanted to pull Jayne up to kiss him and tell him how good he had been, how he never wanted to go a day without hearing Jayne moan for him, but instead, Mal just frowned, smacked Jayne on the face right where Mal's seed had landed, and said, "Go back to your bunk, Jayne. I've had enough of you."