Strength or Folly
by Chelsea
A Note: Keep in mind that I do not like this pairing. However, Lauren asked, and I delivered. I'm glad I did. I had no idea what the hell I was writing, but I think it turned out alright. Of course, your opinion on this matter is greatly appreciated. In other words: please review!
"Girlie, are ya sure this is whatcha wan'?" His words were rough, panted, low. Gravel shook from his voice as if lodged in his throat. River saw shadows draped on his feet, and thought to kiss them if only he hadn't made them so dirty. Instead, she brought up her hand, tilted her head, and stroked a bare shoulder. The skin was much darker than hers, and rougher. She played with the texture, so intrigued she didn't answer.
Jayne exhaled. Not shaky. Firm. "Well? I ain't gonna take no girl and hear 'bout rape later, ya got me? No cryin' wolf ta that brother o' yours."
"Simon hears wolves in the ceiling," she replied calmly, releasing her attention. The grip was harsh, she knew. "He hears them everywhere, but not where he should. Lost."
"Not much room for 'im to get lost in, stuck on a boat like this," snorted Jayne. His hands found her hips, consensuality a more dubious thing, a play of emotion as it flickered on muscle.
"Lots of room. But it's not him that's lost, it's you."
"You're seein' gou shi where there ain't none. Best leave well 'nough 'lone on that front, xiao mei. I sure as 'ell didn' bring ya in 'ere ta gabble at me like I can un'erstand a mite o' your words. Get on with it."
"Lost, lost, lost," she sing-songed, and without pause seated herself on his right thigh. "But, no, he won't give up. Those wolves lurk, but he ignores them. Strength or folly?"
"Ben tian sheng de – ah! Holy gorram mother of fuck – "
River applied more pressure on the bundle of flesh and nerves beneath the heel of her hand. "Reaction brought on by hormones, bred into the species to perpetuate it. Do you want to perpetuate with me?" Her eyes were bright, hazed with intensity.
"What the hell else would I invite ya in for?"
She regarded him evenly. Slipped her hand beneath his pants, over under in down, warm thick hard against her. "Sex."
"Oh, le se, yes – That's what I meant." Harder, deeper breaths, now. Sweat shimmering on a reality long before it would atrophy. Curious. River moved her hand there, there, up, fingers grasping and curling. Tips brushed a hairy sac. She gently prodded them.
Words tumbled from Jayne's vocal cords, straining and thrumming with tension. Licking the source of the noise brought her satisfaction. She didn't pay attention to the content, confident that it was unimportant, unnecessary; people were so superfluous. This fascination with reproduction seemed superfluous, truthfully, but she had yet to witness his ejaculate. Perhaps that would change things.
Fumbling hands releashed the catch on his pants, and Jayne heaved a sigh of relief as his cock sprang free. It was thick, long in erection, twitching with stimuli. River's hand hadn't dislodged. He collapsed backwards against the bed, watching her through lust-dark eyes. "Go on, xiao mei," he said harshly, impatient yet anticipatory; "get on with it."
Her hand stilled. River leaned down and, delicate and prim as any lady in waiting, flicked her tongue in a broad stroke across the head. She drew away and considered the taste, running her tongue along her lips. Jayne groaned and made desperate words of encouragement. The element of indespensible danger, unpredictability, made him hard. River was an unknown quantity.
She was also satisfied. Having fulfilled her immediate purpose, she pulled the foreskin in quick jerks, her pale, slender hand confident as a virgin's never was. Teeth lightly set around the column of pulsing flesh; she felt the veins throbbing against her tongue. One or two in-drawn breaths, a quiet hum, an experiment. He came.
The sensation of warm semen in her mouth made her screech. River grabbed the cloth of Jayne's pants, uncaring of its fabric, stuffed it in her mouth. By the time he returned from the drift of the post-coital nebula and took notice, it was too late. There was a large, obvious stain.
Drawing backwards, River gagged a few more times, then spit fiercely on his stomach. He gave a cry of indignant protest, heaving forward and grasping with his arms to catch her, punish her, question her, cut into her slice her open make her answer make her learn make her make her feel pain pain make her –
Silence.
Warm breath in her ear.
"Quiet, xiao mei," he rumbled, the strength an inexplicable comfort.
A bare, tinny whisper. "I do not comprehend."
"Don' rightly have to, do ya?"
"But I – "
"No. Let it go, River. It ain't important."
The heat of the darkness pulsed around her, and her gaze lowered. Saw his flaccid penis and reached out to it, cradling it in her palm. "Not lost," she said. "Too much room to wander in." She looked up, into his eyes. "The black. You must let it go."
Jayne released his arms from around her, settling back on his crouching legs. He chuckled breathlessly, spent and sated. "Yah, well, when I figure out what the gorram hell y' mean, I'll let ya know."
Very seriously, she thanked him.
He rolled his eyes. He kissed her. He drew her back down with him and grumbled. "C'mon, girl, sleep now. I gotta feelin' comin' ain't somethin' you're ready for."
Sleep.
"No," she whispered, face open, wonderous, scared in the black. Her eyes were bright again. "Not folly."