"What I can't figure out is how you got the handcuffs on before she hit the fountain," said Jet, walking into the common room. The engine of the Bebop rumbled above.
"All a matter of timing," replied Spike, smirking through his cigarette.
"It would have been nice if so much of the reward money didn't have to go to repairing that Foley's you explosively decompressed, though."
Spike took another drag on the cigarette, no longer smiling.
"Still, I *was* able to pick up a little something..." Jet upended his bag, spilling small white boxes printed with red dragons.
Spike's face lit up. "Curry!" He fell on the takeout voraciously, and Jet, after a moment's admiration, did the same.
After a while, both sated, they sat back & enjoyed the process of their digestive enzymes for a while. Spike, recovering first, focussed on Jet's face. He stood and walked over to him, coming to rest against the couch between Jet's legs.
"You've got a little rice right here," said Spike, taking Jet's jaw in his large hand and brushing the corner of his mouth with his thumb. The errant particle dealt with, Spike did not remove his hand. They stood like that a moment. The ceiling fan circled lazily overhead.
Spike bent down and kissed the other side of Jet's mouth, just below the metal guard across his cheek. "And here," he whispered. He brought his knees up to straddle Jet's body on the couch, and worked his mouth lower.
Jet, though not a master of comedic timing, nonetheless thought this would be the ideal time to say what he had been putting off since the elevator. Or possibly he realized he might not be able to speak if this went on much longer. "Spike, I, uh, I think we should talk."
Spike was drawing his tongue along Jet's collarbone at this point. " 'Bout what?" he asked, not pausing.
"Um, I think that we've been working in such close quarters for so long..." Spike unzipped Jet's vest. "...that maybe we've, you know, started imagining things that aren't there. There are stories of sailors who are alone on the sea so long that they hhhhHH--" Spike had thrust his hands up under Jet's shirt and was roughly massaging his nipples. He withdrew a moment to tear off his own tie, jacket, and shirt in quick succession, before returning to the matter at hand. "What I mean is, maybe we should get out of this ship more, meet some other people JESUS!" Spike had both hands down Jet's pants, and was working his tongue around Jet's ear. Almost involuntarily, Jet found himself wrapping his arms around Spike's waist and pulling him close.
Spike responded by grasping Jet's head and forcing his chin upwards into a violent kiss. "I'm sorry," he panted. "I wasn't really listening."
Jet grabbed Spike by the shoulders and slammed him down into the couch. Spike, suddenly helpless, marveled at this new display of aggression in his friend. He began to squirm.
"Don't get the wrong idea," Jet growled. Spike stared up at him. He ever-so-gently began to massage Jet's crotch with his knee. Jet pinioned it under a tree-trunk leg. "Don't get the wrong idea," he repeated, softer.
Spike, comprehending, quieted. He strained up slightly, and Jet met his mouth with a kiss. Jet removed his hands from Spike's shoulders. He sat up and removed his shirt, following with the rather more difficult matter of his pants and boots. Spike did not assist, but lay there, watching him.
Finally unencumbered, Jet ran his hands down Spike's sides until he reached the top of his pants. Carefully, almost reverently, he unbuttoned Spike's fly and tugged, revealing his nakedness. Spike placed his hands on Jet's waist like a dancer, and waited.
Starting at the small of Spike's back, Jet ran his hands down, across the globes of Spike's ass, behind his thighs to the back of his knees. He levered Spike's legs up until his knees met his shoulders, and pushed inside him.
Spike came almost immediately. He continued rocking with the motion of Jet's hips until Jet exhaled sharply and collapsed on top of him.
Spike managed to get his cigarettes and lighter from his pants pocket without technically having to move. He pulled one out with his teeth and lit it, sucking down the smoke before blowing it in a long column over Jet's shoulder. He took the cigarette from his mouth and put it to Jet's lips. Jet took a long drag on it and smiled.
"After the last of the curry, we're out of food again."
"Still plenty of cigarettes, though." Jet stood up. "I think I'm going for a shower."
Spike smiled, the sweat glistening on his chest. "Wait for me."
"All a matter of timing," replied Spike, smirking through his cigarette.
"It would have been nice if so much of the reward money didn't have to go to repairing that Foley's you explosively decompressed, though."
Spike took another drag on the cigarette, no longer smiling.
"Still, I *was* able to pick up a little something..." Jet upended his bag, spilling small white boxes printed with red dragons.
Spike's face lit up. "Curry!" He fell on the takeout voraciously, and Jet, after a moment's admiration, did the same.
After a while, both sated, they sat back & enjoyed the process of their digestive enzymes for a while. Spike, recovering first, focussed on Jet's face. He stood and walked over to him, coming to rest against the couch between Jet's legs.
"You've got a little rice right here," said Spike, taking Jet's jaw in his large hand and brushing the corner of his mouth with his thumb. The errant particle dealt with, Spike did not remove his hand. They stood like that a moment. The ceiling fan circled lazily overhead.
Spike bent down and kissed the other side of Jet's mouth, just below the metal guard across his cheek. "And here," he whispered. He brought his knees up to straddle Jet's body on the couch, and worked his mouth lower.
Jet, though not a master of comedic timing, nonetheless thought this would be the ideal time to say what he had been putting off since the elevator. Or possibly he realized he might not be able to speak if this went on much longer. "Spike, I, uh, I think we should talk."
Spike was drawing his tongue along Jet's collarbone at this point. " 'Bout what?" he asked, not pausing.
"Um, I think that we've been working in such close quarters for so long..." Spike unzipped Jet's vest. "...that maybe we've, you know, started imagining things that aren't there. There are stories of sailors who are alone on the sea so long that they hhhhHH--" Spike had thrust his hands up under Jet's shirt and was roughly massaging his nipples. He withdrew a moment to tear off his own tie, jacket, and shirt in quick succession, before returning to the matter at hand. "What I mean is, maybe we should get out of this ship more, meet some other people JESUS!" Spike had both hands down Jet's pants, and was working his tongue around Jet's ear. Almost involuntarily, Jet found himself wrapping his arms around Spike's waist and pulling him close.
Spike responded by grasping Jet's head and forcing his chin upwards into a violent kiss. "I'm sorry," he panted. "I wasn't really listening."
Jet grabbed Spike by the shoulders and slammed him down into the couch. Spike, suddenly helpless, marveled at this new display of aggression in his friend. He began to squirm.
"Don't get the wrong idea," Jet growled. Spike stared up at him. He ever-so-gently began to massage Jet's crotch with his knee. Jet pinioned it under a tree-trunk leg. "Don't get the wrong idea," he repeated, softer.
Spike, comprehending, quieted. He strained up slightly, and Jet met his mouth with a kiss. Jet removed his hands from Spike's shoulders. He sat up and removed his shirt, following with the rather more difficult matter of his pants and boots. Spike did not assist, but lay there, watching him.
Finally unencumbered, Jet ran his hands down Spike's sides until he reached the top of his pants. Carefully, almost reverently, he unbuttoned Spike's fly and tugged, revealing his nakedness. Spike placed his hands on Jet's waist like a dancer, and waited.
Starting at the small of Spike's back, Jet ran his hands down, across the globes of Spike's ass, behind his thighs to the back of his knees. He levered Spike's legs up until his knees met his shoulders, and pushed inside him.
Spike came almost immediately. He continued rocking with the motion of Jet's hips until Jet exhaled sharply and collapsed on top of him.
Spike managed to get his cigarettes and lighter from his pants pocket without technically having to move. He pulled one out with his teeth and lit it, sucking down the smoke before blowing it in a long column over Jet's shoulder. He took the cigarette from his mouth and put it to Jet's lips. Jet took a long drag on it and smiled.
"After the last of the curry, we're out of food again."
"Still plenty of cigarettes, though." Jet stood up. "I think I'm going for a shower."
Spike smiled, the sweat glistening on his chest. "Wait for me."