Fic: Quicksilver in the hand (River/Zoe, R)
Title Quicksilver in the Hand
Author Brutti ma buoni
Pairing River/Zoe
Rating R, mild
Words 640
Prompt for Cat at femslash_minis, who wanted slippers, sneaky, hairbrush
The lights were going out. It was River's favourite time on Serenity. That moment which the Captain had decreed was nightfall in planetary time. When the ship went into quiet mode. When the starlight came in. Night might be theoretical, out here in the black, but it made a difference all the same. Humans need the dark. River loved it.
She could hear Kaylee powering down the non-essential engine systems for the night, like a mother tucking her kids up tight. Little contented murmurs of mechanics filtered through the ship. Don't let the gremlins bite, little engine.
The captain's chair was empty. Mal turned in early these days. The new pilot was still on the flight deck, flipping all the switches that needed flipping. He had the night shift. He usually did. No bonding there.
Simon was reading in his rooms. Inara's shuttle was away. Jayne was in his rack, crooning to Vera as he did his monthly full weaponry strip-down.
The ship was all River's.
River's and Zoe's, of course.
Zoe was crossing the cargo bay, making her nightly rounds. All safe. All sound. No Reaver tentacles crashing through the roof, pinning a loved one bleeding to their bunk. Not tonight.
Zoe had always done this duty before all that, though. It was who she was: responsible, and in charge. Just, River now watched her. Twenty paces off, slipper-clad and stealthy, she followed Zoe on her goodnight tour. Slipped along the corridor after her, Serenity's clanking covering River's quiet padding steps.
Even as she clambered down the ladder from the open door of Zoe's rack.
Zoe was preparing for bed already in her open rack. Almost as if she knew there was a ghost-girl following her moves, longing to come in. Just like the first time.
She looked up, smiled at River, and continued with the efficient process of shedding her daytime persona. Weapons locked and secure. Boots off, onto their shelf. Shirt, underwear and leggings into the washlocker, to be replaced next day with more of the identical same. Brisk cleaning in the wetroom, washing away the day head to toe. Zoe liked to mark transitions: night to day, and back again.
And then the moment River loved best. Zoe, wrapped in soft cloth, sitting before her mirror, brushing her hair.
Silver-backed brush, delicately engraved with twining leaves. So different to Zoe's workday style. River loved to watch the brush running rhythmically through the long damp strands, silver and dark against Zoe's honey-bare skin.
After a while, Zoe paused. "They tell me you should give a hundred strokes a night. But I'm tired, River. You want to brush tonight?"
So River stroked in her turn, loving the sensations. It was a luxury, to give Zoe something back. Zoe loved to be protector and guide, showing River new skills. New worlds, often, and literally. River offered talk in return. Talk and thought and distraction from the mundane which occupied Zoe's daytime. River didn't usually have the physical skills. Not like this sensual pleasure she was bringing to them both.
After a while, the brush was discarded, and River's hands stroked and tangled through Zoe's curly-drying hair, and across her skin. Pale River fingers, thin and bluish against Zoe's muscled warmth. They watched in the mirror as those fair digits smoothed the hair away from Zoe's breasts, cupped them for the visual pleasure, tweaked nipples to bring Zoe's attention sharply onto sensations; then rotated flat palms against, half-soothing, half taking the two women a step higher.
"Mmm, you do nice work, Miz Tam." Zoe leaned her head back against River. "Now kiss me, and come to bed."
"You love to play the boss of me," said River, dancing away. "But if you want to kiss, you have to come and get me."
She slipped into the bunk, and waited while Zoe turned out the last of the lights.
The darkness was magic for River.
**
Author Brutti ma buoni
Pairing River/Zoe
Rating R, mild
Words 640
Prompt for Cat at femslash_minis, who wanted slippers, sneaky, hairbrush
The lights were going out. It was River's favourite time on Serenity. That moment which the Captain had decreed was nightfall in planetary time. When the ship went into quiet mode. When the starlight came in. Night might be theoretical, out here in the black, but it made a difference all the same. Humans need the dark. River loved it.
She could hear Kaylee powering down the non-essential engine systems for the night, like a mother tucking her kids up tight. Little contented murmurs of mechanics filtered through the ship. Don't let the gremlins bite, little engine.
The captain's chair was empty. Mal turned in early these days. The new pilot was still on the flight deck, flipping all the switches that needed flipping. He had the night shift. He usually did. No bonding there.
Simon was reading in his rooms. Inara's shuttle was away. Jayne was in his rack, crooning to Vera as he did his monthly full weaponry strip-down.
The ship was all River's.
River's and Zoe's, of course.
Zoe was crossing the cargo bay, making her nightly rounds. All safe. All sound. No Reaver tentacles crashing through the roof, pinning a loved one bleeding to their bunk. Not tonight.
Zoe had always done this duty before all that, though. It was who she was: responsible, and in charge. Just, River now watched her. Twenty paces off, slipper-clad and stealthy, she followed Zoe on her goodnight tour. Slipped along the corridor after her, Serenity's clanking covering River's quiet padding steps.
Even as she clambered down the ladder from the open door of Zoe's rack.
Zoe was preparing for bed already in her open rack. Almost as if she knew there was a ghost-girl following her moves, longing to come in. Just like the first time.
She looked up, smiled at River, and continued with the efficient process of shedding her daytime persona. Weapons locked and secure. Boots off, onto their shelf. Shirt, underwear and leggings into the washlocker, to be replaced next day with more of the identical same. Brisk cleaning in the wetroom, washing away the day head to toe. Zoe liked to mark transitions: night to day, and back again.
And then the moment River loved best. Zoe, wrapped in soft cloth, sitting before her mirror, brushing her hair.
Silver-backed brush, delicately engraved with twining leaves. So different to Zoe's workday style. River loved to watch the brush running rhythmically through the long damp strands, silver and dark against Zoe's honey-bare skin.
After a while, Zoe paused. "They tell me you should give a hundred strokes a night. But I'm tired, River. You want to brush tonight?"
So River stroked in her turn, loving the sensations. It was a luxury, to give Zoe something back. Zoe loved to be protector and guide, showing River new skills. New worlds, often, and literally. River offered talk in return. Talk and thought and distraction from the mundane which occupied Zoe's daytime. River didn't usually have the physical skills. Not like this sensual pleasure she was bringing to them both.
After a while, the brush was discarded, and River's hands stroked and tangled through Zoe's curly-drying hair, and across her skin. Pale River fingers, thin and bluish against Zoe's muscled warmth. They watched in the mirror as those fair digits smoothed the hair away from Zoe's breasts, cupped them for the visual pleasure, tweaked nipples to bring Zoe's attention sharply onto sensations; then rotated flat palms against, half-soothing, half taking the two women a step higher.
"Mmm, you do nice work, Miz Tam." Zoe leaned her head back against River. "Now kiss me, and come to bed."
"You love to play the boss of me," said River, dancing away. "But if you want to kiss, you have to come and get me."
She slipped into the bunk, and waited while Zoe turned out the last of the lights.
The darkness was magic for River.
**