A/N This one came courtesy of a prompt from Superster, so I hope they like it :-)
A Tasty Treat
The whole thing was Inara's fault.
If she hadn't been playin' dress-up with the crazy guài dàn, none of it woulda happened.
But the two of them had emerged from Inara's shuttle to reveal River all dressed up like a real girl. 'Nara'd outlined River's eyes in black, so they appeared even bigger than usual, and done some kind of curling thingy to her hair; but it was her mouth that caught Jayne's attention. She had painted River's lips a deep red, accentuating their full, pouting shape. Jayne had never even noticed River's mouth before – Jayne didn't generally notice any woman's mouth – but that evening he found he couldn't keep his eyes away, tracking every smile and frown, mesmerised by how her feelings changed the shape. They looked like luscious strawberries, bursting with sweet juice. After he noticed that, Jayne couldn't unsee it. Even the next day when River appeared as normal – with tangled hair and bare lips – he still couldn't take his eyes off her mouth. Without the paint, they were just as full and edible, only now they looked like raspberries.
Jayne ate double portions of everything that day. But it didn't help.
The next day they were planet-side. Mal had bought River a Fruit Freeze, which she gleefully received. She kept swirling the straw round her mouth, lips pursing as she lovingly drew the frozen liquid up between her lips. (Ruttin' hell – how long did it take to finish one gorram drink?) The stall's proprietor was a buxom blonde who twitched her shoulder and fluttered her lashes; Jayne leered at her, but his heart wasn't really in it. His eyes kept crawling back to River, who was now sticking out her tongue to a laughing Kaylee, displaying its change in colour through cherry-smudged lips.
Jayne bought a kilo of berries (which earned him some teasing comments considering he only ever normally bought dead cow or liquor). He ate the whole bag in one sitting, gorging himself until his lips were stained and the berries' sweet juices ran down his chin.
It didn't help.
They were on Persephone for a job, and as had become routine, Mal took River and Jayne with him. The threat of possible death grounded him, as it always did, senses snapping to the alert as he continually scoped his surroundings. Vera was a welcome weight in his arms. This was good. This was normal. Jayne relaxed (as much as you can when confronted with a group of vicious armed men).
They were a motley crew, all shapes, sizes and colours, with a slew of hardware ranging from a sawn-off carbine, a dī liè pistol, and what looked like a nicely balanced Eagle Eye poking out the top of a red boot.
Their ringleader, a sharp-faced hún dàn named McCree, stood before them, smirking in a way that made Jayne's fists itch.
"Alrigh', lil' Albatross," Mal spoke in low tones. "You just let me know if anyone's gettin' itchy fingers, 'kay?" Jayne glanced at River. She was nodding, eyes unfocusing as she nibbled on her lower lip and concentrated on the thoughts around her. Her small white teeth tugged at its rosy fullness.
The glance became a stare; his hands tightened round Vera...
Mal stalked back to Serenity, his face tight with fury. "What ruttin' good is a ruttin' mercenary who can't control his ruttin' weapon!" Jayne trotted a few steps behind, head lowered. He didn't even have the heart to argue.
A heavily pregnant Zoë waddled out the cargo bay doors to meet them. An eyebrow flicked up as she took in the crimson stain encircling Mal's bicep. "What happened?"
"I'll tell you what happened!" Mal suddenly exploded. "We were just about to make a deal, then ruttin' Mr. Trigger Happy here decided to squeeze one out of Vera, at which point everything went to gǒu shǐ and we were in the middle of a gorram full scale shootout!"
"I tole you it was an accident." Jayne shuffled his feet, still refusing to look up.
Zoë retained her calm. "Are they dead?"
"Yeah, they're dead! Mostly thanks to Lil' Albatross here gettin' hold of one fella's knife then wreaking havoc with it."
"Jayne killed three," River piped up. Jayne went to throw her a grateful look then remembered he was furious with her. It was all her damn fault in the first place.
As if he'd heard Jayne's thought, Mal spoke testily: "It was his damn fault in the first place! If he hadn't been ruttin' distracted by God knows what, we wouldn't have been in that predicament!"
River had been staring at Jayne, head cocked and a small smile hovering about her lips. "The tow-headed henchman was about to reach for his weapon when Jayne shot – it gave the appearance of deadly competence. No face was lost."
Mal appeared slightly mollified. "Well, that's somethin'." But he still scowled at Jayne. "Nigh on four years I've known you, and I ain't never known you to shoot when you didn't mean to. Whatever's gotten into you, snap out of it! Or I'll have to get me another big damned merc." He stomped up the ramp.
Jayne shot River a look of death. "I'll be in my bunk."
After that, he did his best to avoid her. Leaving rooms when she entered, avoiding group gatherings when he could. But there was little he could do during meals; a man's gotta eat, after all. So, he was there the next day at breakfast when Kaylee joyfully produced a crock of honey she'd bought in a burst of sunshine generosity whilst planet-side. They had it with fried biscuits; Zoë's specialty. The culinary treat bucked Jayne right up; he was the happiest and fullest he'd felt in a long while... until his gaze fell on River and he saw what she was doing.
Her middle finger dragged through the honey remaining on her plate and floated to her lips, lashes fluttering as its flavour hit her tongue. Not content with this, she then inserted the finger in her mouth and carefully licked it clean, lips glistening with the sweetest of glazes. Apparently becoming aware of his dropped-jaw scrutiny, her eyes rose to meet his, a question in their liquid depths.
Jayne bolted.
Four days passed, along with every conceivable scenario. Four days where all he could see was River's ruttin' lips.
The first day, the crew was playing cards in the mess area.
Unsurprisingly, when you could get her to sit down and focus, the crazy girl was a genius at card games, something Mal continually tried to play to his advantage. On this occasion, she somehow ended up sitting between them, laughing as Mal wheedled her into helping, then brushing a finger against her lips as she became more engrossed in the game. Back and forth, back and forth, until Jayne wanted to scream with frustration, until his fingers started to twitch in sympathy, yearning to know what the lips felt like. When she slotted the tip of her thumb into her mouth with a distracted expression, Jayne swore, folded, and staggered away.
The second day, she came into the cargo bay when he was working out, seemingly aimlessly drifting whilst carrying an Ice Planet.
Unfortunately for Jayne, she had learnt how to eat them, and he was mid-lift when her tongue curled out and scooped its creamy softness into her mouth.
Fortunately for Jayne, Mal was en route to Inara's shuttle, and he lifted the weight off before any permanent damage was done.
On the third day, she planted a tender kiss on Simon's cheek; Jayne found himself staring at the Doc with a hungry expression, wondering if she'd left her taste behind.
Simon gave him a funny look and shifted his chair a few inches away.
The moment Jayne realised he was contemplating what Dr. Prissypant's face tasted like was the moment he realised he was going mad.
The ruttin' girl was a gorram witch!
Four days of stasis; four days of torture.
On the fifth day, Jayne refused to leave his bunk, figuring it was safest to stay put. He didn't even come out for breakfast, ignoring both the pangs of his growling stomach and the soft tapping from a worried Kaylee checking if he was okay.
But then the door to his bunk opened; someone was descending the ladder.
He growled from his sprawled position on his stomach, where he'd shoved a pillow in an attempt to ease its sharp demands for food. "I ain't in the mood for company."
"If he prefers, she could bring a third and make a crowd?"
Jayne immediately sat bolt upright. Ruttin' Moonbrain was in his bunk!
He scowled at her, trying to conceal how his heart rate had rocketed at the sound of her voice.
"What d'you want, Crazy?"
River didn't reply; instead she weaved her way over to him, gliding, but with a definite purpose. She stopped when she reached the edge of the bed and bent down until her face was mere inches from his own. Jayne stared at her with horrified fascination, eyes immediately gluing themselves to her lips. He'd never seen them this close before. They were pink and full and oh-so-tempting. His stomach suddenly growled. He swallowed, realising his hands were starting to shake.
"What... what you doin', Crazy?" Who was that? Whoever it was, they had spoken in a thready voice that was practically a whimper. Couldn't have been Jayne; he never whimpered.
"Sweet love, renew thy force. Be it not said thy edge should blunter be than appetite." Her voice was a breathless invocation. Jayne didn't understand the words; he might have opened his mouth to ask what they meant, but at that moment, River's small tongue poked out from between her lips and ran slowly across their surface. "Drink of me, and take thy surfeit."
The words whispered over his lips; a loving benediction; a longing invitation. Her warm breath mingled with his, changing his own to short, hitching jerks; he could so nearly taste her.
The moistened lips pursed, drawing into a perfect pout, silently asking, silently offering...
"Tā mā de wǒ..."
With a groan of surrender, Jayne hands shot out and fisted in that long dark hair. Pulling her into his arms, he urgently ground his lips against hers, desperate to feed, to quench his thirst. It was a banquet of the senses: scent, taste, touch and sound; he greedily took it all. Drinking in her sweetness, feasting on her succulence, swallowing her sighs. Biting, tasting, sucking, lapping. Filling himself with the delicious flavour of River.
He couldn't get enough. (Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he feared he'd never be able to get enough.)
He drank until he was giddy from the intoxication, but was still hungry for more, more, more... When breathing became a serious issue, he reluctantly tore his mouth from hers, pausing only long enough to snatch in a deep breath and allow her the same, before his mouth descended again for the next course.
As he pulled her in once more, one thought remained in his fevered mind.
It was the best gorram meal he'd ever had.
Glossary:
dī liè – second-rate; shoddy
guài dàn – crazy freak
gǒu shǐ – s**t
hún dàn – bastard
tā mā de wǒ– damn me to hell; f**k me
River is quoting from William Shakespeare's sonnet 56, which can be seen below. I made up the line about taking thy surfeit :)
Sweet love, renew thy force. Be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but today by feeding is allayed,
Tomorrow sharpened in his former might.
So, love, be thou. Although today thou fill
Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness,
Tomorrow see again, and do not kill
The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.
Let this sad int'rim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore where two contracted new
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see
Return of love, more blest may be the view.
Else call it winter, which, being full of care,
Makes summer's welcome, thrice more wished, more rare.