Two friends, both alike in dignity (in fair Serenity, where we lay our scene), from sexual frustration do dance around each other. I suppose I should mention crossed stars and loins in here somewhere, rather pertinent. The "civil hands" belong to my brother, Simon. He's kind of dense for such a smart, handsome doctor. Tall and dark, too. Every girl's dream. Even for a dream girl. That's my best friend, Kaylee. Isn't she beautiful? Funny too, and so loving and kind. And how she wants Simon. Keeps her up at night, smolders in her stomach like a hot coal. He could put out the fire, Simon, but he won't. Etiquette, protocol, laws of civility, rules of engagement, but he's hard for her and wants her too. He keeps her at arms length, all the time. The Captain and the Ambassador too, at loggerheads, like thunderheads, they'll meet with fulmination and fulguration and end in the mist that raises to start the process anew. What's so challenging, so complicated? Each lusts after the other, full-grown and consenting, Tab A fits in Slot B, easy stuff. And they say I'm crazy. At least I'm not stupid.
Sometimes even the obvious and seemingly inevitable needs a little goose. Goose, swan, from an ugly duckling. I wish Kaylee's hair was more red and maybe a little curly, but I love her just the way she is. She's all light and sparkle and she smells of engine grease and strawberry hulls. Simon smells like antiseptic and vigilance. And that horrid patchouli soap that he bought planet-side. Blechh, pbbbbtl. Kaylee likes it though, she says it makes him smell more "earthy." What's the difference, I wonder, between "earthy" and "dirty?" Of course, there are myriad ways to be dirty, even when you're clean. Especially when you're clean. All part of the ingenious and splendidly simple plan. But enough about me, you're here for the story. Hence my telling the story and rightly so. It all began with Kaylee and me sitting on her bunk, sharing a book, side by side, apricot-soft arms barely touching.
"He's driving you to distraction."
"Huh? Who, Simon?"
River smiled at Kaylee. "Yes, who, Simon. He makes you warm on the inside."
"I don't know how much...warmth is fit to discuss with the sister of the fella what caused it."
"Pretend I'm friend-River and not sister-River. You watch him a lot, watch his hands, watch his mouth."
Rosy color flashed on Kaylee's cheeks. "River!" But Kaylee just laughed and bumped her shoulder against her friend's. "Guess it won't do any good trying to hide it."
"Everybody knows."
"Yeah, I know. Everybody but Simon."
"Simple Simon."
"Wouldn't be so bad if he'd just give a little indication, ya know, a little sign-" Kaylee's word were abrupted by River's lips against her own.
The kiss was soft and warm and for all her startlement, Kaylee did not pull away. By the time River broke the kiss, Kaylee had forgotten to breathe. She opened her eyes to meet River's even, dispassionate gaze. "I'm not the one you want."
"River, honey-"
"It's okay. I already knew. I understand, and it doesn't change the way I feel." River's smile was sweet but sad, resigned. "I have a plan," she whispered. Kaylee leaned in close to hear as River giggled at her own cleverness.
The shower was located across the common area from the infirmary, where a person could reliably expect to find Simon, and that was integral to River's plan. Kaylee could not help but be a little nervous as she washed her hair and cleaned her body. She even used the precious perfumed soap Inara had given her. This should be perfect or at least as good as she could make it. Kaylee wrung out her hair, wrapped herself in a towel, and waited for the signal.
Simon was going over his inventory. It was what he did yesterday and what he would do tomorrow. He almost hoped for an injury during their transit times, just to have something stimulating to do. Simon was so lost in thinking on his boredom that he nearly jumped out of his skin when River stuck her head in the door and called his name.
"Simon, you should know this," and River ran.
"Shu mu?" Simon tried to follow her when *THUD!* He sprinted in the direction of the noise and banged on the shower door. "Hey, are you okay?"
"Simon?" came a pained voice.
"Kaylee? What happened? Are you alright?" Simon slid open the door just in time to catch Kaylee as she fell into his arms, haphazardly wrapped in a towel.
"I slipped in the shower, I think I sprained my ankle," Kaylee whinged and pretended to pant from the pain.
"Here, sit down," Simon helped Kaylee to the bench in the dressing area.
"I'm in the alltogether here. Can you help me get into one of the passenger berths? Don't want everyone to see my in my birthday suit."
"Oh, of course, sure," Simon, a trifle ruffled by the reminder of Kaylee's undressed state, guided her arm around his shoulder and bore her weight as she hopped to the empty passenger bunk. Once inside, he helped her settle onto the bed and closed the door to protect his patient's privacy.
With the delicate touch inherent to his vocation, Simon began inspecting Kaylee's outstretched ankle with his fingertips.
"Your hands feel nice."
"Thank you," Simon said awkwardly but with a smile. He continued his examination until Kaylee let out a small moan. His hands stopped immediately. "Did that hurt?
"Not too bad," Kaylee leaned back on her elbows and just as Simon returned to his task, slowly began to open her legs. Just a little at first, then she waited. Simon's focus on her ankle seemed doubly intense, but his body language gave him away. He held himself rigidly and struggled to keep his head forward, but Kaylee saw his gaze dart up the towel and opened her legs more. There was no denying what she was offering him.
Simon cleared his throat a little. "It doesn't feel swollen," he said, as Kaylee slid her other foot between his legs, cupping the underside of his bulge with her toes.
"This does."
Now Simon moaned, low and from deep within himself. Kaylee said his name, smokily, alluringly, and somehow like a prayer, and Simon's control was obliterated. "Oh god," was all Simon could manage as he moved to her.
Letting the towel fall open, Kaylee exposed her glory to Simon's questing hands. Her hunger to feel his skin hot against hers was as feral and desperate as anything Kaylee had ever experienced. She tore his shirt open like a greedy child unwrapping a present. Her hands roamed his arms, shoulders and chest, mapping out each plane of his surprisingly fit body.
She was sliding his pants down his hips when Kaylee's breath seized in her throat as Simon's cool hand found a sensitive breast. His other hand traveled lower, caressing her soft curve of tummy as he went. The anticipation, the excitement had left Kaylee wet and ready, and her flower welcomed Simon's finger as he slid first one, then two into her heat.
All these months, waiting and aching, dreaming of this communion, Simon's body responded to the purity of purpose. This was raw and bestial, passionate but devoid of romance. "Please don't hate me," he whispered in ragged breaths against her neck.
"Oh, Simon, shut up." Kaylee drew Simon's face to her own. Their lips met as intimacy was finally complete, two bodies sharing one space. It was almost too much for them both, the intensity of their joining. He held her that much tighter as he tried to breathe her into himself.
They moved together in concert like dancers. They moved in opposition like fighters. They moved with the endless rhythm of life, like waves beating up on the shore. Kaylee rose to meet Simon over and again.
"I'm ...I'm close," Simon panted. His head hung down between Kaylee's breasts, his face plainly displaying the strain and he struggled to fight the swell of his climax.
A feverish chill raced up Kaylee's spine, "Tien, yes, Simon! Come in me!" and she wrapped her legs more tightly around his waist.
His control bidden to break, Simon thrust into Kaylee with savage devotion and she cried out with ever lust-filled stab. Sharply, Simon stilled and crushed Kaylee to his body. His mouth hung open in a mute scream as he ground against her, his ardor, his love pouring into her. Kaylee wanted desperately to watch him in his passion, but her climax was sweeping her away, shuttering her eyes and rendering the world a swirling white mist. Simon shivered to feel her core quiver around his sensitive organ.
This is where I leave you, at the climax. Rising action, climax, falling, all at once. It's like a resonance, a signal running through the very metal of the ship. The story is ancient, a play never ending, only the characters change. And I'm glad for my part, my piece, their peace. They may regret the squandered time, but not today.