femslash08 fic: your mouth like an ocean (Firefly; River/Kaylee; pg)
your mouth like an ocean
Firefly; River/Kaylee; pg; 1,345 words
River pretends Kaylee's the sun and she's the moon, and they are floating out in space.
Written for schizoauthoress for femslash08. Thanks to luzdeestrellas for the speedy beta.
~*~
your mouth like an ocean
River lies awake, listening for the absent hum of Serenity's engines like it's her own heartbeat that's gone missing. She's lost the knack for sleeping planetside, if she ever had it to begin with. Insomnia's an old companion, her mind always replaying the day's events, racing ahead to plan tomorrow's, even when she was a child. Then at the academy, she slept when they made her, and woke when they woke her. When she'd dreamt, she dreamt of drowning.
The house has its own sounds, creaking and groaning like an old woman whose bones ache in the damp, so different from the steady whirr of Serenity's engine.
River gives up on sleep, slips down to the porch on silent feet, where she finds Kaylee sitting on the old swing.
"Hey," she says, holding out a hand for River to take. "Couldn't sleep either?"
River shakes her head and curls up on the swing and puts her head on Kaylee's shoulder. Kaylee wraps an arm around her. It's too hot to be this close, but River doesn't care. Her whole body hums with awareness of where Kaylee's skin is touching hers, and she breathes in the scent of Kaylee's sweat and hair--lemony fresh with a lingering hint of engine grease. Kaylee rubs her arm gently, the way she touches Serenity, all the care in the world in her fingers, and all of it directed at River. It's overwhelming.
"Come on," Kaylee says suddenly, standing, and only River's quick reflexes keep her from tipping over sideways onto the swing. Kaylee offers River her hand again. "Let's go swimming."
River knows she should say no. They're supposed to be good, not get in any trouble, stay with Kaylee's family while the captain and Zoe and Jayne go on a job on the other side of the planet. Simon waits on Serenity, just in case it all goes wrong, the way it usually does. He would want her to stay inside, be a good girl, not have adventures. He would want her to stay safe.
But it's hot and they're not sleeping--probably not ever going to sleep off of Serenity--and this is what real girls do, so she says, "Okay."
They make a quick stop at one of the sheds littering the farm, and Kaylee pulls out a blue blanket and two threadbare yellow towels.
"I always kept these here, just in case," she says. "I don't think Momma even knows they're out here."
"Or maybe she hoped you'd come back." River says maybe, but they both know there's no maybe about it.
"Yeah," Kaylee says, brightness dimmed for just a second, torn between home and home, because Kaylee belongs out in the black, shinier than the brightest stars, and Whittier could never have held her. But her family is here, too, and Kaylee misses them. (River doesn't miss her mother; maybe that makes her a bad daughter, but she knows her mother doesn't miss her either. She has Simon, and he's enough.)
Kaylee shakes herself out of her reverie, grabs River's hand, and pulls her down the dusty path to the lake. The dirt road is warm under her bare feet, occasional rocks or bits of gravel sharp against her soles, but walking the decks of Serenity has toughened her up, and though she gasps at the sensation, she doesn't cry out in pain.
The path goes sandy and then muddy, and then they're standing on the shore of a lake, purple flowers scattered along the bank and the surface. The water is calm and black in the darkness, reflecting the stars and the nearest moon back at the sky, and River can pretend swimming is another kind of flying.
Kaylee pulls off the shorts and t-shirt she was not-sleeping in, and River stares, mouth gone dry, at her lithe body, golden even in the moonlight.
"Come on," Kaylee says. "Don't be shy. Ain't nobody around but me."
River nods and pushes the straps of her white cotton nightie down off her shoulders; she gives a full body shimmy and it pools at her feet like the foam from a breaking wave. She's Venus, rising from her half-shell, and she feels the wetness of the ocean between her thighs. She steps out of it and, though the night is warm, she shivers. The humidity in the air presses against her skin like a hug, and her hair is heavy and sweaty against her neck.
They walk into the lake hand-in-hand, the golden girl and the pale one, their reflections distorted as they disturb the surface of the water, until River can pretend Kaylee's the sun and she's the moon, and they are floating out in space.
The water laps against River's skin, cool and gentle, and she sinks back into it, her hair spreading out behind her, breathing deep and easy. Kaylee splashes and swims nearby, wide dolphin smile splitting her face when she breaks the surface, hair slicked back and droplets clinging to her eyelashes, a whole different creature in the water, and River is caught in her wake.
Kaylee takes her hands as if they're dancing, pulls her around in circles, until they are both dizzy and laughing loud and bright. Finally, breathless and spun out, River puts her feet on the bottom, grounding herself, letting them sink into the sandy mud, feeling each grain between her toes and the tickle of plantlife against her ankles.
With her feet buried in the earth so she doesn't float away, she reaches out and tangles her fingers in Kaylee's hair, leans in to taste the laughter in her mouth. Kaylee squeaks and falls still in surprise, her mouth open to the curious thrust of River's tongue.
Kaylee puts a hand on River's cheek, pulls away just far enough that River can still breathe her in, and says, "River?"
"Please," River says, breathless and hopeful, running her thumb over Kaylee's lower lip, catching a droplet of water and following it down the elegant curve of her neck.
Kaylee's breath hitches and then she laughs. "Simon's not going to be happy with me."
"Simon had you and let you slip away," River answers. "He's always been a little slow."
Kaylee's eyes widen and she giggles, and then River is kissing her again, this time with her enthusiastic participation. River feels heat rush through her body as they press close together, Kaylee's hands skimming lightly over her skin like sunlight, Kaylee's mouth hot and wet and wild like the ocean.
River touches her neck, her throat, her breasts, listens to the little sounds she makes, the way her skin prickles and her breath catches at each touch, and then River moans low in surprise when Kaylee's hands stop their skimming and land firmly on her breasts, thumbs teasing her peaked nipples. She can feel herself quivering with need, sweet hot ache of want singing in her veins, between her legs, but Kaylee pulls back.
River's gotten used to being needy, so she doesn't mind the whimper that slips out when Kaylee moves away.
"Easy," Kaylee says, tucking a long hank of River's wet hair behind her ear, and running her hands along the arch of River's cheeks. "Easy. Don't gotta be in no rush, River. I'm not going anywhere."
"I want," River says breathlessly, her voice high and thin and foreign to her own ears. "I want."
"I know," Kaylee says, low and husky. "Me, too."
She leads River back to the shore and bundles the two of them into the soft, threadbare towels, and River feels like her nerves are all on the outside of her skin. Kaylee kisses her again softly, soothingly, the press of her lips and her body a comfort River can't get enough of.
Before they start back to the house, Kaylee picks two of the purple flowers that have their faces turned towards the sky, waiting for the sun. She tucks one behind River's ear, and the other behind her own.
River smiles and takes it as a promise of better things to come.
end
~*~
Feedback is delightful and delicious.
~*~
Firefly; River/Kaylee; pg; 1,345 words
River pretends Kaylee's the sun and she's the moon, and they are floating out in space.
Written for schizoauthoress for femslash08. Thanks to luzdeestrellas for the speedy beta.
~*~
your mouth like an ocean
River lies awake, listening for the absent hum of Serenity's engines like it's her own heartbeat that's gone missing. She's lost the knack for sleeping planetside, if she ever had it to begin with. Insomnia's an old companion, her mind always replaying the day's events, racing ahead to plan tomorrow's, even when she was a child. Then at the academy, she slept when they made her, and woke when they woke her. When she'd dreamt, she dreamt of drowning.
The house has its own sounds, creaking and groaning like an old woman whose bones ache in the damp, so different from the steady whirr of Serenity's engine.
River gives up on sleep, slips down to the porch on silent feet, where she finds Kaylee sitting on the old swing.
"Hey," she says, holding out a hand for River to take. "Couldn't sleep either?"
River shakes her head and curls up on the swing and puts her head on Kaylee's shoulder. Kaylee wraps an arm around her. It's too hot to be this close, but River doesn't care. Her whole body hums with awareness of where Kaylee's skin is touching hers, and she breathes in the scent of Kaylee's sweat and hair--lemony fresh with a lingering hint of engine grease. Kaylee rubs her arm gently, the way she touches Serenity, all the care in the world in her fingers, and all of it directed at River. It's overwhelming.
"Come on," Kaylee says suddenly, standing, and only River's quick reflexes keep her from tipping over sideways onto the swing. Kaylee offers River her hand again. "Let's go swimming."
River knows she should say no. They're supposed to be good, not get in any trouble, stay with Kaylee's family while the captain and Zoe and Jayne go on a job on the other side of the planet. Simon waits on Serenity, just in case it all goes wrong, the way it usually does. He would want her to stay inside, be a good girl, not have adventures. He would want her to stay safe.
But it's hot and they're not sleeping--probably not ever going to sleep off of Serenity--and this is what real girls do, so she says, "Okay."
They make a quick stop at one of the sheds littering the farm, and Kaylee pulls out a blue blanket and two threadbare yellow towels.
"I always kept these here, just in case," she says. "I don't think Momma even knows they're out here."
"Or maybe she hoped you'd come back." River says maybe, but they both know there's no maybe about it.
"Yeah," Kaylee says, brightness dimmed for just a second, torn between home and home, because Kaylee belongs out in the black, shinier than the brightest stars, and Whittier could never have held her. But her family is here, too, and Kaylee misses them. (River doesn't miss her mother; maybe that makes her a bad daughter, but she knows her mother doesn't miss her either. She has Simon, and he's enough.)
Kaylee shakes herself out of her reverie, grabs River's hand, and pulls her down the dusty path to the lake. The dirt road is warm under her bare feet, occasional rocks or bits of gravel sharp against her soles, but walking the decks of Serenity has toughened her up, and though she gasps at the sensation, she doesn't cry out in pain.
The path goes sandy and then muddy, and then they're standing on the shore of a lake, purple flowers scattered along the bank and the surface. The water is calm and black in the darkness, reflecting the stars and the nearest moon back at the sky, and River can pretend swimming is another kind of flying.
Kaylee pulls off the shorts and t-shirt she was not-sleeping in, and River stares, mouth gone dry, at her lithe body, golden even in the moonlight.
"Come on," Kaylee says. "Don't be shy. Ain't nobody around but me."
River nods and pushes the straps of her white cotton nightie down off her shoulders; she gives a full body shimmy and it pools at her feet like the foam from a breaking wave. She's Venus, rising from her half-shell, and she feels the wetness of the ocean between her thighs. She steps out of it and, though the night is warm, she shivers. The humidity in the air presses against her skin like a hug, and her hair is heavy and sweaty against her neck.
They walk into the lake hand-in-hand, the golden girl and the pale one, their reflections distorted as they disturb the surface of the water, until River can pretend Kaylee's the sun and she's the moon, and they are floating out in space.
The water laps against River's skin, cool and gentle, and she sinks back into it, her hair spreading out behind her, breathing deep and easy. Kaylee splashes and swims nearby, wide dolphin smile splitting her face when she breaks the surface, hair slicked back and droplets clinging to her eyelashes, a whole different creature in the water, and River is caught in her wake.
Kaylee takes her hands as if they're dancing, pulls her around in circles, until they are both dizzy and laughing loud and bright. Finally, breathless and spun out, River puts her feet on the bottom, grounding herself, letting them sink into the sandy mud, feeling each grain between her toes and the tickle of plantlife against her ankles.
With her feet buried in the earth so she doesn't float away, she reaches out and tangles her fingers in Kaylee's hair, leans in to taste the laughter in her mouth. Kaylee squeaks and falls still in surprise, her mouth open to the curious thrust of River's tongue.
Kaylee puts a hand on River's cheek, pulls away just far enough that River can still breathe her in, and says, "River?"
"Please," River says, breathless and hopeful, running her thumb over Kaylee's lower lip, catching a droplet of water and following it down the elegant curve of her neck.
Kaylee's breath hitches and then she laughs. "Simon's not going to be happy with me."
"Simon had you and let you slip away," River answers. "He's always been a little slow."
Kaylee's eyes widen and she giggles, and then River is kissing her again, this time with her enthusiastic participation. River feels heat rush through her body as they press close together, Kaylee's hands skimming lightly over her skin like sunlight, Kaylee's mouth hot and wet and wild like the ocean.
River touches her neck, her throat, her breasts, listens to the little sounds she makes, the way her skin prickles and her breath catches at each touch, and then River moans low in surprise when Kaylee's hands stop their skimming and land firmly on her breasts, thumbs teasing her peaked nipples. She can feel herself quivering with need, sweet hot ache of want singing in her veins, between her legs, but Kaylee pulls back.
River's gotten used to being needy, so she doesn't mind the whimper that slips out when Kaylee moves away.
"Easy," Kaylee says, tucking a long hank of River's wet hair behind her ear, and running her hands along the arch of River's cheeks. "Easy. Don't gotta be in no rush, River. I'm not going anywhere."
"I want," River says breathlessly, her voice high and thin and foreign to her own ears. "I want."
"I know," Kaylee says, low and husky. "Me, too."
She leads River back to the shore and bundles the two of them into the soft, threadbare towels, and River feels like her nerves are all on the outside of her skin. Kaylee kisses her again softly, soothingly, the press of her lips and her body a comfort River can't get enough of.
Before they start back to the house, Kaylee picks two of the purple flowers that have their faces turned towards the sky, waiting for the sun. She tucks one behind River's ear, and the other behind her own.
River smiles and takes it as a promise of better things to come.
end
~*~
Feedback is delightful and delicious.
~*~