Author's Note: Ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. May 15's subject: something lost. I'd sworn that I was finished for this week, but this theme kept bugging me, until I found a way to put it into words. Kinda iffy with how it turned out. Length: 410 words.

First Time

By Trisana McGraw

Wasn't he supposed to feel different? Jayne wondered as he stared up at the dark ceiling, his breath coming in pants that gradually slowed. Sure, his first experience with sex had brought on a motherlode of new, really good, sensations, and it had rapidly joined eating and shooting as some of his favorite things, but he had always heard that a person was supposed to have somehow changed as a result of it.

People would say he was a real man now. He snorted and felt his mouth twist into a half-smile. He'd been a man for years before this, his life the lonely, dangerous, day-to-day survival of a mercenary. This had just been another thing to brag about besides the fact that today he'd gotten a dead-on shot at the back of some guy's head.

The mattress beneath him shifted, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman who had taken away his virginity stand and begin pulling on her clothes. A strange, sentimental part of him almost asked her to stay, but he caught himself before he said anything as foolish as that.

Feeling his eyes on her, the prostitute turned and tilted her head to the side. "So, was it everything you expected?" The sarcasm in her voice was biting.

He swallowed and dropped his gaze to the bunched-up sheets. "Uh . . . yeah," he mumbled. "It was good. I mean, really great."

She smiled. "I should hope I left you with more of a lasting impression." Not knowing what to say, Jayne kept avoiding her eyes. After a moment, the woman touched his arm; it was the first personal touch they had shared since they had met a few hours ago. "You did great, for a first-timer," she assured him. "Pretty good for seventeen, I gotta say."

Almost eighteen, he was tempted to argue, but he didn't want to seem like more of a child in her eyes. He remained silent as she finished dressing, tucked the money he had left on the table into her pocket, and left without a look back. That was what they had agreed on: don't make it personal, keep it as business.

Jayne sighed and sat up, pulling on his pants and yanking out a cigarette. Taking a long drag from it, he sighed and rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Not for the first time, he was alone.