Author: The Frisky Firelily PM
It was meant to be a simple job. Nobody counted on the body shots. Two-shot.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Humor - Jayne & River - Chapters: 2 - Words: 5,536 - Reviews: 30 - Favs: 67 - Follows: 5 - Published: 06-12-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7074692
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
TITLE: Body Shots
DISCLAIMER: Not mine
A/N: Um…more smut. Blame Alphadine :)
Mal hissed. "His earpiece is faulty." His annoyed tone turned into a bellow. "Kaylee!"
The mechanic shook her head. "Can't reconnect Cap'n, it's dropped out."
Mal huffed. "Always gotta go wrong right when Jayne's set ta do somethin' dumb."
He rolled the cigar between his teeth, weighing up his options.
This was why Mal kept him around. Nobody in the 'verse was capable of staying alive the way Jayne Cobb was. Still, it wasn't just him in this situation, and he knew he couldn't bluff his way out of this alone. He flexed a hand over the corset binding her taut stomach.
He was well aware of her limits. No one went on as many jobs as they did without realizing their partner's list of do's and don'ts. River's 'do' list tended to run along the lines of 'do trust her to get her end of the job done', 'do listen to her warnings', 'do think clearly and methodically so she can understand your position'.
Her list of don'ts was short.
Don't touch her without permission.
It wasn't meant nastily, and it wasn't an indication that she didn't enjoy affection. She leaned on her brother's shoulder as he made med notes on the couch. She wrestled with Kaylee, giggling and squirming. She enjoyed the Captain's rare praise accompanied by paternal closeness, as well as Inara's maternal petting. She delighted in Zoe's wide eyes as her child kicked, relishing the opportunity to feel the tiny life proclaiming its existence. She just preferred to keep contact on her own terms, and the rest of the crew respected that.
But with Jayne?
Well, they didn't have that kind of relationship. The closest they ever came to touching was when one of them grabbed the other out of the line of fire. Jayne wasn't particularly disagreeable to the arrangement, seeing as every time their skin came into contact he tended to start sweating like a nervous teenager. On jobs it was fine.
But this had never been covered in the handbook.
They had the location of where the slaves were being held, although they hadn't collected the credits yet. He needed to get them out of here before things turned ugly; he knew these men, and if he didn't think quickly River would wind up little more than a ragdoll passed between them. He needed a distraction, and if this would throw off their opponents then so be it.
He struggled hard not to think of just what she would do if he pushed her too far. No room for that, not when he needed every ounce of bravado he'd accumulated in over 30 years to act like he wasn't scared of their slim girl in his lap.
Itre smirked. "Go on then Cobb, give us a show."
He fought the revulsion in his throat. Mal had given him a kill order if required, but he couldn't take them all out from this position, not up so close with the girl in front of his body.
He couldn't risk it.
Quashing down the brief question of when exactly he'd started caring about her enough to refuse risking her life he thought fast. He had enough weapons stashed on him for the both of them, and the girl was mighty dexterous, but she couldn't move her hands without them taking immediate notice.
He mentally gritted his teeth and gave a wolfish grin, pulling her head back by her jaw and growling into her ear.
"Ready ta give 'em a show girly?"
The whoops and catcalls disguised the nervous hitch in her breathing, though he suspected that with this particular crowd it wouldn't have been a deterrent. He stood, lifting her with him, moving to the next table and sweeping glasses and plates to the floor. He lowered her swiftly, fighting back a grimace as he heard a glass shatter beneath her.
He pulled her up until her bare throat was in front of his mouth, and for a second he caught her eyes.
Not the anxiety or tension he'd been worried about.
Those eyes were hooded, dark, smoky.
He took a drag of his cigar.
She ran a tongue across her lips nervously and he shook himself from his reverie, swiping his tongue quickly across the smooth skin of her neck. He didn't give himself time to think about the taste of her, didn't let himself dwell on how her skin was like silk. He used his free hand to grab the salt shaker, dusting her neck quickly and going in for another taste.
River Tam and salt.
He could get used to this.
He plucked up a shot glass and swung it back, about to reach for a lemon before seeing one clenched between her teeth.
Now when had she done that?
His eyebrows shot up as the catcalls got louder before diving in to bite down on the tart lemon and softest, plumpest lip he'd ever bitten. One hand clutched at him as he turned his head and spat out the lemon rind, exhaling a stream of cigar smoke as he did so.
Somewhere along the way he'd stopped caring about their audience, because her legs were hooked around his waist and her lips were parted. Her corset had slipped down, one perfect globe exposed, and he attacked her with vigour, scraping teeth and tongue over the dusky nipple. He ran a hand up her thigh quickly, over the stocking and onto satin skin, tangling his fingers in her panties and tearing them from her body.
Her gasp snapped him out of his move to unbutton his cargos, and he suddenly remembered where they were. Their eyes locked for a second and he could have sworn he saw regret before she blinked and her face turned resolute.
He glanced down. He had no idea how or when she'd grabbed the two hand canons, but he was relieved he'd followed suit. If she was shaken, surprised, frightened or nervous she didn't show it. The only evidence of their previous state was the ripped material wedged between his hand and the weapon.
If he was honest, he was more than a little impressed.
Itre and his cronies suddenly found themselves facing four weapons pointed in their various positions around the table. Jayne, avoiding wondering why he was leaning forward to cover her bare chest from their eyes, he kept his voice low and dangerous.
One crony sneered, "Fuck o-"
The sound of a .45 ripping through his kneecap silenced the bar, the only noise a wail of agony. River's cocked a brow and Itre looked livid.
"You fuckin' whor-"
Jayne growled. "Finished that sentence an' I'll decorate the room with yer innards."
Itre wised up fast, and nodded to one crony, who threw the bag of credits on the table. Jayne stayed put as River leaned up, grabbing the bag with one hand and shoving it into his cargo pocket. He bit his lip when her fingers brushed his cock, still hard as a gorram diamond after their brief tryst.
He caught her eye, saw the twitch of a smile.
He couldn't control the gravel in his voice. "Now git out."
If there was any hesitation River's second blast, this one straight into the ceiling, ended it. He listened as the crew, the barkeep, the working girls and the staff all bolted out of the bar, leaving them alone in the barroom. The only evidence of their presence was a table full of glasses and a trail of blood from one man's wounded knee.
She bit down on her lip and he stifled a groan.
He stared down at her. "We ain't got much time afore they come back girl."
She lowered her weapons to the table, using her free hands the reach for his cargos, eyes not leaving his own as she unbuttoned them. Hesitant hands started touching him, and he leaned forward, his forehead pressing into hers as his hands slammed either side of her hips.
She was intoxicating. The dress was something out of an erotic nightmare, the smoky eyes and tousled hair belonging to somebody else, but the lips, the smell…that was her. The ballerina floating through his dreams, the girl he'd spent months watching carefully. There was no sound other than their breathing as she touched him, breath ragged and hitching. He slid his hand up the path it had been trying to take earlier, and when his thumb rubbed the inside of her thigh she whimpered.
The sound did him in, and he gripped her bare hips under the dress, pulling her towards him. He removed her hands, unwilling to pop like an over excited teenager, and couldn't look away from wide eyes as he rubbed circles on her sharp hipbones, feeling her breath on his lips as he spoke.
"You know what yer doin' girl?"
Choked breathing. "No."
He nodded, willing himself to move his hands before he got too entranced with her body. Slim but surprisingly strong fingers gripped his wrist and held him in place as whisky eyes locked with blue.
"She doesn't know what she's doing."
He nodded, confused as her eyes darkened.
"She wants to do it anyway."
He studied her face, unsure if this was one of those things that would put his soul in jeopardy.
Her voice took on a pleading note. "Please?"
Fuck his soul, he was going to hell anyway.
Besides, he'd never been one to deny a girl when she asked so damn nicely.
He didn't think as he dipped his head, wanting to taste those lips, one hand trailing down to the apex of her thighs. She whimpered into his mouth as the other hand wrapped around her back, pulling her close enough to feel his hardness at her centre, the calloused pad of his thumb skimming over her clit.
Her mouth tasted like apples, dark and red, juicy and sweet. The tart tang of lemon scented her breath, and he sucked that plump bottom lip into his mouth. As her lips obediently bade him entrance he couldn't help deepening the kiss, goatee scratching smooth skin, her tongue flirting with his. She moaned as his hips shifted against her of their own volition, and he leaned down, forcing her back onto the table to better study the goddess in front of him.
His words came out in a hoarse pant. "Perfect…"
She blushed, the flush spreading down her neck and across her chest, and he watched in wonder. "Ruttin' perfect…"
Hair in disarray, eyes hooded and glazed, lips red and breasts bare as the corset slipped down further. He ran one hand down her neck, gripping her shoulder as he moved to take her mouth. He pushed up in one swift movement, feeling the barrier tear and swallowing her gasp as he kissed her. He didn't move, feeling strangled by the tight, slick channel he'd just opened, and he watched as the pain subsided from her face, leaving awe and arousal in its wake.
She shifted experimentally, and he growled into her lips, feeling her tighten around him as he began to move. He wrapped an arm under one thigh, hooking it over the crook of his elbow and snaking his hand around her waist. The other slid over a supple breast, rolling her nipple between work roughened fingers as he began to slowly thrust into her. The angle rubbed him against her clit, and her whimpers turned to gasps, which in turn became cries of pleasure as he moved faster.
He'd never felt this before, wanting to make sure she hit her peak before his, and as he plucked at one abused nipple she wrapped her arms around him, hanging on as their mouths continued to brutalize one another. He pulled up until she was sitting upright; the new angle making her close her eyes and hiss into his lips as her leg tightened around his waist. The heel of her knee high boot dug into his lower back and he felt her nails prick into his skin, her lips seeming fused to his as he picked up the pace.
Her kisses were frantic, guileless, and he found something more arousing in her inexperienced honesty than he'd ever found in the most informed whore. When he plucked at her nipple she gasped, a rub of her clit had her crying out, and he felt himself approach the edge as her inner muscles began to clamp down around him.
Her choked cries and ragged gasps were filling his ears, and as she splintered her head dropped back, a liquid, piercing scream emerging from her throat. The sound had him burying his face in her neck as he felt himself come apart, tasting sweat and salt and tequila and River and loving every second of it. The force of his climax hit like a tidal wave, and he roared into her skin as he buried himself inside her.
Their ragged breath was once again the only sound in the room, and as he struggled to come back to himself he pulled his head from her neck, looking down into exhausted, sated eyes. He leaned down, nipping at her lips before landing a gentle kiss, her answering hum of pleasure making him smile into her mouth.
Both of them twitched as they heard the sounds of approaching sirens, and he looked down at her apologetically. Before he could speak she smiled, kissing his cheek and laughing sweetly at his answering grin.
Mal's yelling over Jayne's loss of earpiece ceased when the merc threw the bag of credits on the counter, along with the name of the slaver's location. The crew had them out quickly, and the town was grateful for the return of their sons and daughters, wives and husbands. Only Inara noticed the shy smile their Reader shot the mercenary as they broke the lock on the cages, and the ex-Companion kept her thoughts to herself.
River's blush was the only indication they weren't her thoughts alone.
Days later as Simon, Mal and Jayne passed around a celebratory bottle of booze, the rest of the crew enjoyed a fine home-cooked meal. Inara glanced at Jayne, who was looking down at the whisky bottle.
"Jayne, is there something wrong with your drink?"
He shrugged. "Guess I just ain't in a whisky kinda mood."
Simon hiccupped, grinning lopsidedly at Kaylee as he spoke. "What are you in the mood for then?"
Inara watched as Jayne's eyes flicked over to River, who was wearing that same shy smile as he grinned.