stain your hands

nc-17 | sexual content

At some point, Simon told you that when people are lying, they tend to have abnormal blinking patterns.

Then he said something else, but he chose that moment to bend over, and you couldn't think about anything but his nice, tight ass in those pretty, shiny pants. It was so tempting to just reach out and give it a squeeze.

Your toes curled when Inara kissed a path down your stomach. You squealed when she circled your belly button with her tongue. And you froze when she paused, her head hovering over your nethers, and said, "Only for you, Kaylee," because she blinked and her eyes stayed closed for a moment too long.

(She wouldn't lie to you. Not you.)

She's too good, too damn good, and you can't stop your moaning, even as you start to wonder how exactly they teach this at that fancy companion school. Was there some random girl in a bed, legs spread, yawning as Inara put her studies to use? How would you grade such a thing, anyway?

It's really good sex - really good sex - but every time she looks up, you're studying her eyes. Those eyelids keep fluttering and you know damn well it can't be the lighting. There ain't no damn light here; never is when the two of you are going at it.

She'd never tell you. Doesn't kiss and tell.

(And doesn't kiss you much, either.)

Always skipping the preliminaries. Going right on to the good stuff. Not that you really mind. Kissing is overrated; why bother pressing lips together when someone could be touching you like this?

Two fingers, then three, and you know you ain't never gonna get your toes uncurled. She always does this to you, always makes you fly, and you can't help but wonder how your sloppy groping must seem amateurish to her.

(Makes you wonder why you're here at all; won't the engine grease stain her sheets?)

Don't stop, you might have said at one point, even though you know she won't. Not until she's pushed you up up up and over at least twice. Then she'll lean over you with that smirk on her face.

You always feel like you should pay her when it's over.

Delicate fingers on your thighs as you roll her onto her back so you can reciprocate. You kiss her then, trying to identify the flavor on her tongue. It's definitely different from what you made for dinner. For some reason, you think it tastes like Earth-that-was.

(Foreign, undefined.)

Her eyes flutter again, when you tell her she's beautiful. She's used to it, you guess. Bored by your clumsy flattery. You ain't never going to be as fancy and graceful as she is and you ain't never going to have the perfect words when the two of you are together.

None of that mattered in the beginning, but now -

"Only you, Kaylee."

Blink, blink, blink.