Metamorphosis
Title: Metamorphosis
Pairing: Inara/River
Words: 716
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters or source material; I’m not making any money from this.
Notes: Consensual underage sex; vague spoilers for the BDM. This is sort of left-handedly serious.
Summary: River starts to grow up.
There’s nothing wrong with River.
Not physically, anyway. No, she’s exactly the type the Guild lusts after: petite, slim-waisted, delicate. Wide, innocent eyes, soft-curved lips, waves of hair down past her shoulders, and small-perky breasts. A body that needs little maintenance: lithe, resilient, strong.
She’s even stronger now; her nightmares are less frequent. Simon said he’d finally found the right medications for her, but Inara can’t help think that she plays a part in it too. Taking the girl under her wing? Breaking the rule she set in place to keep herself from getting attached? Medication can’t replace love, she thinks; River knows--she knows Inara thinks that, she knows she needs love, she knows no one can love her.
Thoughts forming half-formed words, tumbling out before she can stop them, no care for feelings like they’d taught her. No filtering anything--no one can blame her for what she says, but they do, and she knows, and Inara holds her close.
Start small--tea in her shuttle. River’s stomach rumbles, and Inara produces a box of chocolates (gift from a client). Long-thin fingers flitting over the box before she settles on a dark chocolate truffle. It’s almost pure caoco, and she can taste the bitterness on River’s tongue.
--
Inara’s bedroom is bigger than her own, of course--no walls to close in on her there. The bed is bigger than her own, too: soft, safe. Silk sheets underneath her, one of the Companion’s robes loose on her frame. River likes the quiet, the absence of the engine humming; the dips and bumps are all distant. She looks up when she hears Inara’s shoes tapping on the floor as she walks to light a few candles, letting the flame flicker for a moment before easing out of her own robe.
Easing River into it at first, just brushing that dark-tangled hair smooth. No washing her face, not like with Kaylee--the girl’s perfectly clean as is. Silky, once the knots are gone, but there’s a brain under that hair. Broken. Inara wishes she could work out the kinks as easily as she massages those tensed-up shoulders. Thumbs rubbing rose-oiled circles over the rounded vertebrae of her spine, caressing. Being gentle, moving slowly like she was taught. Just kisses and words and touches along a cheek.
River gets impatient, and it’s logical: all those raging hormones pent up inside the body of an adolescent--wise beyond her years, but little. No way to get the feelings out, no release, save for her own inexperienced fingers; her whimper-moans echo in the shell of her room, in the shell of her head.
--
“Patience is a virtue,” Inara says as she paints around River’s eyes with the darkness of adulthood. Kohl rimming too-dark eyes, making her look older, and her blown-wide pupils look like she’s got all the secrets in the ‘verse. Secret, like her time with Inara is. Simon can’t know, but for someone so intelligent, so attentive to his sister, he doesn’t suspect a thing. He’d never suspect Inara of anything, of course--if he found out about her knowledge of the subject, her curiosity, he’d assume Jayne lectured her and sent her to her bunk with a picture or three.
Inara guiding her as slowly as she herself was taught, guiding with fingers in her hair, the warmth of a tongue. Working her up to it, bits and pieces, little touches down the curve of her shoulder. Showing her that seduction is about anticipation, about buildup, and less about skill.
Not as if River has a problem with catching on. She absorbs everything, just soaks it up like a sponge. Reacts to every little touch because it’s new; eyes widening because she doesn’t want to miss a thing. Fingers up the inside of her thigh, and she shivers. Inara’s hand over the other’s, guiding her, moving it slow-small circles.
Touching herself with Inara’s help--being taught how--and she picks up the motion so quickly Inara’s just rests on hers, weight bearing down just enough to be present. Muscle memory, she knows, and River’s hand speeds up underneath hers. Ready to be independent, and she slips out of Inara’s grasp.
And she slips into bliss.