Eye of the Storm

River wandered into the cargo bay on unsteady feet. The ship was rocking from side to side, but only she could feel it. It was like one of those old sailing ships on Earth-That-Was. She wasn't alone in the cargo bay either. Jayne was there too, in his corner lifting weights. But if he didn't bother her, she wouldn't bother him. It was a deal they'd both made, though neither had said it out loud.

A final wave crashed into the side of the boat and River realised she'd reached the eye of the storm. Someone started strumming a guitar and a flute soon joined in. River couldn't see them, and she was pretty sure no one else could either for that matter. But she could hear the music. She swayed in time to the lilting harmonies, her body moving of it's own accord around the cargo bay. This music gave her wings, let her fly, let her be free from the voices assaulting her mind. Like floating in space it was pure joy, pure peace, pure... pure serenity.

Jayne sat up from his weight bench and warily watched River dance around the room. He always noticed when the girl was about, kept one eye on her - self protection he called it. You stopped watching her and she was likely to stab you for your trouble. He'd learnt that the hard way.

Jayne lay back and started pumping the bar again. Up. Down. Up. Down In that short spell he'd watched her he'd seen way too much. The way her body moved, pale skin bared with each step, each kick. She'd gone down into the splits and Jayne realised, not for the first time, how long her legs actually were. Wondered what they'd feel like wrapped around him. She was a dancer, weren't dancer's supposed to have strong legs? River had thrown her head back, her hair weaving in the breeze she had created. What would that be like, her head thrown back in pleasure?

Jayne pumped the bar up and down, faster and harder. Had to stop thinking thoughts like that. The girl was dangerous, even more so now that he knew she was a reader.

Abruptly the music stopped, but River's heart was still beating a fast race. Her dance had led her to finish in front of Jayne and she watched him at his exercise. The sweat was glistening on his body, all hard and straining muscles. He was angry, aggravated, but River couldn't tell why.

A wave lapped the side of the boat. The storm would soon return, she realised. River didn't want to face it alone this time. She wasn't sure why she did it, but River found herself closing the distance between her and Jayne. She shut her eyes and straddled his hips, feeling his muscles tense and release as he laid the bar back in its cradle and sat up. His lips met hers in a scorching kiss. His arms drawing her flush against his body. And there was no fear, no anger smearing the edges of her perception. All she could feel was lust, desire and heat. His or her own, she wasn't sure.

Without hesitation her arms wrapped themselves around his neck. One of his rough, calloused hands slid down her calf, grabbing her ankle and pulling her leg up around his waist. His other hand firm on her lower back as she shifted to a more comfortable position, wrapping her other leg around him, hooking her ankles together. She wouldn't let go.

Jayne's hands trailed up her thighs, pulling her dress up and baring her skin to her hips. Cool air made her realise she wasn't wearing any underwear. But she knew she'd put some on this morning. She did occasionally forget, but she was sure...

The thought was chased away by Jayne's mouth moving down her neck, planting kisses and suckling on the sensitive flesh there. His fingers rubbed hypnotic circles beneath her breasts. She clung to him, her fingers hungrily gripping his back. River didn't know what else to do. All she knew was that she had to get as close to him as possible. She'd crawl up inside him if she could.

Jayne's lips returned to hers. One of his hands moved up to the back of her head, delving into her hair as his tongue dived into her mouth. It sought out hers, and when River chased it back to his mouth, Jayne let out a low groan. He leaned her back, abandoning her hair to support her hips with both hands.

His mouth abandoned hers also, leaving River whimpering in protest. But it didn't go far, his teeth gently nipping at her breasts, drawing them into his mouth in turn, trying to swallow them whole even through the fabric of her dress. River's head flew back as a moan of her own escaped her lips. This was better than dancing, better than flying, better than floating through space even.

One of Jayne's hands continued to support the small of her back while the other came between them to undo the fly of his pants. But River was given no respite, caught up in the storm of his making. She was hanging over the edge of the boat with only her hold on Jayne keeping her from falling into the churning ocean below.

He was kissing her again and pulling her back up against him. River gripped her legs around his waist tighter as he lifted her by the hips and impaled her on the hardness now exposed.

This was the closeness she'd craved. Jayne guided her hips as she hung on for dear life. Her body dragged up and down against his as she learned the rhythm of their bodies and was able to take the lead in something at last.

Her head flew back again, the ends of her hair tickling Jayne's hands. This was better than anything that had come before, this feeling of oneness. River's head was swimming. She couldn't think, could only feel and it was all too much at once - like stars exploding. She was having trouble breathing, had to remind herself to breath in and out. And then the stars really did explode. And Jayne's stars exploded. And a wave smashed over the boat's railings and she was standing more than two feet away from him, where she'd been when the music had stopped.

Jayne was staring at her, his eyes locked with hers. His breathing was as erratic as her own still was, panting a little. He looked flushed, the lust blatant in his eyes. Could he have experienced what she just had? River wondered.

Jayne tore his gaze from hers and stormed out of the cargo bay. River looked down at herself. Had she done something wrong? She felt such a sense of loss she thought she might cry.

If he had seen what she had, been there with her, did that mean it had actually happened? Was it really real? River wracked her brain. There was nothing she could see to prove or disprove her theory, except... She was still wearing her underwear. She could feel the snug elastic about her waist. She knew she'd put it on this morning!

So that meant it had all been in her head. Or had it? She was a reader after all. The question was, whose mind had she been reading, hers... or Jayne's?