D'Argo. Chiana. Laundry. Beginning of season 2. I was WAY ahead of my time. Shoulda posted it sooner so people would KNOW how smart I am. Riiiiight. This is fluff with no pretension, just the way I like it.
Trade
She moved with feline grace, slinky and supple. He growled and lunged for her clumsily, but she easily evaded his grasp. "Gonna have to do better than that," she grinned and moved farther away. He stood up, and made a threatening sound deep in his throat. She laughed and hugged the garment tighter to her chest. "I stole it fair and square," she explained while smoothly moving out of his reach once more. "If you want it back, you're gonna have to trade for it."
He nearly shouted back at her. "Trade? For my own clothing? You are insane. Give it back to me now!"
She gave a lighthearted giggle and skipped farther away. She stood just out of his range and held the tunic out teasingly. "It's right here, come and get it," she taunted, pulling it out of the way when he reached to grab it. "Trade," she said again, delighting in the growl that was his response to her words.
He stood still, resigned. "Fine. Trade. What do you want?"
She leaned in, not sure if he was merely trying to get her to come closer so he could make another grab for the tunic. "What do I want?" she asked. "Hmm… that's a good question. What do you have that I want?" she mused, cautiously sliding closer to him. She was emboldened when he didn't move, and she sidled up next to him. "What do I want?" she repeated and stood directly in front of him.
His eyes were wide open, his breath coming just a little too fast. He raised an eyebrow and bit his lip to keep from grabbing the garment… or the girl in front of him. He stared into her pure black eyes with pupils nearly as dilated as her own. His voice was low and gravely, even for him, when he asked the question once more. "What do you want?"
She smiled and slid herself up his chest, the contact so sudden it took his breath away. "Just this," she purred as she covered his mouth with her own.
Nothing in his life had prepared him for the shock of her mouth, the sweetness and heat combining to make something that he had only dreamed of. Her lips and tongue lay claim to his own as no woman ever had. He lost himself in the pleasure of her mouth on his, her hands on his back, her body leaning into his.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over and she was three steps away across the room, eyes dancing and a cheeky grin plastered across her face. She lay his tunic on the floor reverently, smoothing out the sleeves and folding it properly. She left it there, on the floor of his quarters, where she had come to show him what she had stolen while doing his laundry. Then she was gone, away down the hall as silently as she had come. Her last words rang in his ears, although he didn't remember hearing them.
"Good trade."