fic: them downtown boys sure talk gritty (Firefly/SPN; Kaylee/Dean; adult)
them downtown boys sure talk gritty
Firefly/Supernatural; Kaylee/Dean; adult; 1,955 words
Kaylee ain't looking to be worshipped so much as fucked well and hard, and Dean looks like the kind of man who knows his way around a girl's nethers.
Porn for Dean's birthday. Yay. Thanks to luzdeestrellas for looking it over.
~*~
them downtown boys sure talk gritty
Bobby Singer runs the best salvage yard on the rim, and Kaylee figures if she don't find what she needs there, it ain't to be found anywhere. At least, not at a price she can afford.
She's elbow deep in belts and cables, humming happily to herself, when a shadow falls across her vision.
"You need help with that, miss?"
The voice is warm and honey-slow, and full of amusement, like he don't quite believe she knows what she's doing.
"If you can find me a timing belt for a Firefly class in this mess," she says, looking up, words dying on her tongue as she catches a glimpse of the prettiest man she's laid eyes on in a while.
"Lemme see what I can do," he says, coming to stand beside her.
He sorts through the parts quickly, efficiently, his hands long-fingered and sure, grease under his fingernails and calluses on his palms. She can't help but wonder what they'd feel like on her body, warm and rough against her skin.
"How about this?" he says, holding up a belt that looks like it should fit.
"Perfect." She beams at him. "I think I saw a water pump that'd work with it over by the wreck of that mule."
He nods. "That looked like it was in pretty good shape. I'm Dean, by the way." He holds out a hand and she shakes it, still smiling. His hand is warm and strong, just like she thought it would be, and she feels a little current of excitement shiver through her body, rush of slick 'tween her thighs.
"You work for Bobby?" She's surprised, 'cause Bobby ain't the kind to take on help. Truth to say, he's kind of a hermit, don't like to socialize much with his clientele (not that Kaylee can blame him most of the time, and she mostly loves people), but Kaylee knows how to turn him up sweet, brings him odd parts from the core when she can, and, occasionally, strange, dusty books that look old enough to be from Earth-that-was.
"Friend of the family," Dean says. "Known Bobby a lotta years." He grins, and it makes Kaylee's knees a little weak, even though she's been around her share of handsome men, had Simon in her bed a whole six months before the shiny wore off. "Could maybe get you a discount."
She smiles back, hands in the pockets of her coveralls so she don't reach out to grab him too soon. "Aren't you sweet?" Gotta play the game right or you don't get laid, and Kaylee's been playing since she was sixteen. She's real good at it now. And she really wants to get laid. "My name's Kaylee."
Dean does help her bargain Bobby down a titch, and he pays more attention to the book she hands over--worn leather cover and faded gold-leaf lettering, the pages inside so thin you can practically see through 'em--than the nearly-new camshafts she's trading for her timing belt and water pump.
"You should come see my baby," he says to her when she's done, and the tone of his voice tells her it ain't just his boat he wants her to see. "Bobby'll have that stuff delivered to your ship."
*
"She's a beauty," Kaylee says, running a hand over the perfectly kept engine, gleaming in the low light of the room. The Impala is as old as Serenity, but sleeker, built for speed and power more than salvage or smuggling, and Dean keeps her in beautiful shape. Kaylee couldn't do a better job her own self, which makes her feel good about coming home with him.
"Old girl's got some life in her yet," Dean agrees, self-deprecating now that Kaylee's shown her appreciation. The look in his eyes is familiar, tells Kaylee he ain't never gonna love a woman the way he loves his ship, but that's okay by her. She ain't looking to be worshipped so much as fucked well and hard, and Dean looks like the kind of man who knows his way around a girl's nethers. She's learned men who love engines like he does usually are.
"You said you work on a Firefly?"
"Serenity," she answers, and she's pretty sure she's got that same look of dumb love on her face when she says it, can hear it in her voice, how happy her girl makes her.
Dean blinks. "Crazy-ass ship took on the Reavers and the Alliance both?"
"Just the one." She can't keep the pride out of her voice, and if he turns out to be a purple-belly, well, she's still got her vibrator back on Serenity.
"We don't get too many celebrities on board," he says, taking a step closer, so she can smell sweat and leather and grease on him. Makes her quim ache with need. "Have to be sure I show you a real good time." He grins again, dirty and sharp, pink tip of his tongue peeking out for a second, long enough to make her want it in her mouth, in her quim.
She grins up at him, hands out of her coveralls now and curling tight around his shirt. "You don't have to buy me dinner," she says. "Engines get me hotter'n anything anyway."
He puts his hands on her hips, pulls her flush up against him, and says, voice husky in her ear, "When I rebuilt the Impala after the wreck, I made some modifications to the nav system..." And then his tongue is in her mouth, slick and warm and just as good as she'd hoped.
They slip to the floor, her coveralls shucked and his clothes following quickly, so much bare skin against the cool metal deck, she knows she's gonna have marks later, on her ass, her back, her thighs. She doesn't care. She's too busy running her hands over the hard line of his chest, which is dusted with copper-colored hair and sunny freckles like constellations around the little brass amulet he wears, and then down the flat plane of his belly, loving the way his muscles jump under the touch. She wants to lick him all over, taste sweat and grease and freckles 'til she's dizzy with it. With him.
When he's not kissing her or telling her how hot she is, he's whispering about engine specs and revolutions per minute and how to get the most mileage out of second-rate fuel cells, his breath hot against her breast before he sucks at her peaked nipples, first one, then the other, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her quim.
She runs her thumbs along the strong lines of his collarbones, strokes her hands over his shoulders, then down his back to squeeze his ass, laughing into his mouth all the while.
He pushes two long fingers up inside her, his thumb rubbing rough circles over her clit, and then he moves down her body, mouth trailing hot and wet over her belly and thighs. He teases her a little, drops kisses up the insides of her legs, making her shiver, and then he drapes them over his broad shoulders and finally, finally presses his mouth to her quim, full lips licking and sucking until she can't breathe, can't do anything but buck up against him and tighten her fingers in his hair.
She comes so hard it's almost painful, whole body shaking with how good it feels, pulse after pulse of hot, sweet pleasure gushing through her, and he keeps his mouth on her, makes it last and last until she's weak and wrung out with it. And she ain't even got a taste of his dick yet.
"Taste so good," he says, looking up at her, face shiny with her come, grinning wide enough to light the sun. "Could lick you all day and never get enough."
She laughs breathlessly and says, "Now that's a plan I could get behind," her voice low and slurred like she's been drinking engine-brewed rotgut. She reaches out to run her fingers over his swollen lips, slick from her body, and he nips at them playfully.
He shifts forward, keeping her legs spread wide, and pushes inside her, hot and thick and hard. His hands are tight on her ass, tilting her hips up so he can get a better angle, go deeper, and his tongue thrusts into her mouth, and she can taste herself on it, salty like the ocean. She's only been swimming in the ocean once--Inara took her on Greenleaf--and she loved the strength and power of it surging against her skin, same way Dean's moving over her now, rhythmic and relentless.
She tightens her muscles around him, loves the way his chest rubs against her breasts, sparks of heat bursting through her with every stroke. She scrapes her nails down his back and moans into his mouth, runs her teeth along the tendons in his neck before sucking on the spot below his ear, which makes him growl. Since they're pressed so closed together, she can feel it rumble up out of his belly and down into her bones.
They move together like a two-stroke engine, all high power and energy, his hand slipping down between them to touch her clit, and she comes again, pleasure surging in her like Serenity flying at full burn, bright light and white heat setting the black on fire.
She's still floating when his hips jerk against hers, and then he's coming apart in her arms, cursing low and fluent in Chinese before she stops him with a kiss, nipping at his lower lip before licking the words right off his tongue.
He collapses on top of her, and she strokes her hands through his sweaty hair, enjoying the heat and weight of his body holding her down.
Eventually, they make their way to his bunk for a long, slow shag that leaves her fucked out and feeling good, ready to curl up and fall asleep with her head on his chest.
"Dean? Dean, are you--Réncí de Shàngdì! I'm so sorry."
Kaylee looks up to see a hugely tall guy with floppy hair backing out of Dean's bunk, eyes wide and face flushed with embarrassment.
"It's okay," she says, "I was just leaving." She fights against the satisfied heaviness in her body to sit up, pulling the sheet with her so she can gather up her clothes, which are still on the floor in the engine room.
"Don't go on his account," Dean says, his hand warm on her lower back, fingers stroking down to tickle her. "We can lock him in his bunk for a while. He won't mind."
She squirms, feeling the wet rush between her thighs at the touch. "I really should." She gives him a long, slow kiss, though, sucking his tongue into her mouth before she pulls away completely. "But you should send me a wave next time you're visiting Bobby and looking for someone to grapple with."
He grins at her. "Now that's a plan I can get behind," he says, kissing her one more time; she knows she'll be remembering him when she touches herself for the next few months. "And in front of. And on top of."
She giggles and pulls away, reluctant to leave, but glad to know he wants to see her again sometime. "Shiny."
*
Mal is in a good mood when she gets back to Serenity, which means that, for once, the job went as planned.
"You find any bargains, little Kaylee?" he asks as she's installing the new timing belt.
She grins, secret and knowing, thinking about Dean's tongue in her mouth, his cock in her quim. "I did, Cap'n. I surely did."
end
~*~
Note: Title from Bruce Springsteen.
~*~
Feedback is love.
~*~
Firefly/Supernatural; Kaylee/Dean; adult; 1,955 words
Kaylee ain't looking to be worshipped so much as fucked well and hard, and Dean looks like the kind of man who knows his way around a girl's nethers.
Porn for Dean's birthday. Yay. Thanks to luzdeestrellas for looking it over.
~*~
them downtown boys sure talk gritty
Bobby Singer runs the best salvage yard on the rim, and Kaylee figures if she don't find what she needs there, it ain't to be found anywhere. At least, not at a price she can afford.
She's elbow deep in belts and cables, humming happily to herself, when a shadow falls across her vision.
"You need help with that, miss?"
The voice is warm and honey-slow, and full of amusement, like he don't quite believe she knows what she's doing.
"If you can find me a timing belt for a Firefly class in this mess," she says, looking up, words dying on her tongue as she catches a glimpse of the prettiest man she's laid eyes on in a while.
"Lemme see what I can do," he says, coming to stand beside her.
He sorts through the parts quickly, efficiently, his hands long-fingered and sure, grease under his fingernails and calluses on his palms. She can't help but wonder what they'd feel like on her body, warm and rough against her skin.
"How about this?" he says, holding up a belt that looks like it should fit.
"Perfect." She beams at him. "I think I saw a water pump that'd work with it over by the wreck of that mule."
He nods. "That looked like it was in pretty good shape. I'm Dean, by the way." He holds out a hand and she shakes it, still smiling. His hand is warm and strong, just like she thought it would be, and she feels a little current of excitement shiver through her body, rush of slick 'tween her thighs.
"You work for Bobby?" She's surprised, 'cause Bobby ain't the kind to take on help. Truth to say, he's kind of a hermit, don't like to socialize much with his clientele (not that Kaylee can blame him most of the time, and she mostly loves people), but Kaylee knows how to turn him up sweet, brings him odd parts from the core when she can, and, occasionally, strange, dusty books that look old enough to be from Earth-that-was.
"Friend of the family," Dean says. "Known Bobby a lotta years." He grins, and it makes Kaylee's knees a little weak, even though she's been around her share of handsome men, had Simon in her bed a whole six months before the shiny wore off. "Could maybe get you a discount."
She smiles back, hands in the pockets of her coveralls so she don't reach out to grab him too soon. "Aren't you sweet?" Gotta play the game right or you don't get laid, and Kaylee's been playing since she was sixteen. She's real good at it now. And she really wants to get laid. "My name's Kaylee."
Dean does help her bargain Bobby down a titch, and he pays more attention to the book she hands over--worn leather cover and faded gold-leaf lettering, the pages inside so thin you can practically see through 'em--than the nearly-new camshafts she's trading for her timing belt and water pump.
"You should come see my baby," he says to her when she's done, and the tone of his voice tells her it ain't just his boat he wants her to see. "Bobby'll have that stuff delivered to your ship."
*
"She's a beauty," Kaylee says, running a hand over the perfectly kept engine, gleaming in the low light of the room. The Impala is as old as Serenity, but sleeker, built for speed and power more than salvage or smuggling, and Dean keeps her in beautiful shape. Kaylee couldn't do a better job her own self, which makes her feel good about coming home with him.
"Old girl's got some life in her yet," Dean agrees, self-deprecating now that Kaylee's shown her appreciation. The look in his eyes is familiar, tells Kaylee he ain't never gonna love a woman the way he loves his ship, but that's okay by her. She ain't looking to be worshipped so much as fucked well and hard, and Dean looks like the kind of man who knows his way around a girl's nethers. She's learned men who love engines like he does usually are.
"You said you work on a Firefly?"
"Serenity," she answers, and she's pretty sure she's got that same look of dumb love on her face when she says it, can hear it in her voice, how happy her girl makes her.
Dean blinks. "Crazy-ass ship took on the Reavers and the Alliance both?"
"Just the one." She can't keep the pride out of her voice, and if he turns out to be a purple-belly, well, she's still got her vibrator back on Serenity.
"We don't get too many celebrities on board," he says, taking a step closer, so she can smell sweat and leather and grease on him. Makes her quim ache with need. "Have to be sure I show you a real good time." He grins again, dirty and sharp, pink tip of his tongue peeking out for a second, long enough to make her want it in her mouth, in her quim.
She grins up at him, hands out of her coveralls now and curling tight around his shirt. "You don't have to buy me dinner," she says. "Engines get me hotter'n anything anyway."
He puts his hands on her hips, pulls her flush up against him, and says, voice husky in her ear, "When I rebuilt the Impala after the wreck, I made some modifications to the nav system..." And then his tongue is in her mouth, slick and warm and just as good as she'd hoped.
They slip to the floor, her coveralls shucked and his clothes following quickly, so much bare skin against the cool metal deck, she knows she's gonna have marks later, on her ass, her back, her thighs. She doesn't care. She's too busy running her hands over the hard line of his chest, which is dusted with copper-colored hair and sunny freckles like constellations around the little brass amulet he wears, and then down the flat plane of his belly, loving the way his muscles jump under the touch. She wants to lick him all over, taste sweat and grease and freckles 'til she's dizzy with it. With him.
When he's not kissing her or telling her how hot she is, he's whispering about engine specs and revolutions per minute and how to get the most mileage out of second-rate fuel cells, his breath hot against her breast before he sucks at her peaked nipples, first one, then the other, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her quim.
She runs her thumbs along the strong lines of his collarbones, strokes her hands over his shoulders, then down his back to squeeze his ass, laughing into his mouth all the while.
He pushes two long fingers up inside her, his thumb rubbing rough circles over her clit, and then he moves down her body, mouth trailing hot and wet over her belly and thighs. He teases her a little, drops kisses up the insides of her legs, making her shiver, and then he drapes them over his broad shoulders and finally, finally presses his mouth to her quim, full lips licking and sucking until she can't breathe, can't do anything but buck up against him and tighten her fingers in his hair.
She comes so hard it's almost painful, whole body shaking with how good it feels, pulse after pulse of hot, sweet pleasure gushing through her, and he keeps his mouth on her, makes it last and last until she's weak and wrung out with it. And she ain't even got a taste of his dick yet.
"Taste so good," he says, looking up at her, face shiny with her come, grinning wide enough to light the sun. "Could lick you all day and never get enough."
She laughs breathlessly and says, "Now that's a plan I could get behind," her voice low and slurred like she's been drinking engine-brewed rotgut. She reaches out to run her fingers over his swollen lips, slick from her body, and he nips at them playfully.
He shifts forward, keeping her legs spread wide, and pushes inside her, hot and thick and hard. His hands are tight on her ass, tilting her hips up so he can get a better angle, go deeper, and his tongue thrusts into her mouth, and she can taste herself on it, salty like the ocean. She's only been swimming in the ocean once--Inara took her on Greenleaf--and she loved the strength and power of it surging against her skin, same way Dean's moving over her now, rhythmic and relentless.
She tightens her muscles around him, loves the way his chest rubs against her breasts, sparks of heat bursting through her with every stroke. She scrapes her nails down his back and moans into his mouth, runs her teeth along the tendons in his neck before sucking on the spot below his ear, which makes him growl. Since they're pressed so closed together, she can feel it rumble up out of his belly and down into her bones.
They move together like a two-stroke engine, all high power and energy, his hand slipping down between them to touch her clit, and she comes again, pleasure surging in her like Serenity flying at full burn, bright light and white heat setting the black on fire.
She's still floating when his hips jerk against hers, and then he's coming apart in her arms, cursing low and fluent in Chinese before she stops him with a kiss, nipping at his lower lip before licking the words right off his tongue.
He collapses on top of her, and she strokes her hands through his sweaty hair, enjoying the heat and weight of his body holding her down.
Eventually, they make their way to his bunk for a long, slow shag that leaves her fucked out and feeling good, ready to curl up and fall asleep with her head on his chest.
"Dean? Dean, are you--Réncí de Shàngdì! I'm so sorry."
Kaylee looks up to see a hugely tall guy with floppy hair backing out of Dean's bunk, eyes wide and face flushed with embarrassment.
"It's okay," she says, "I was just leaving." She fights against the satisfied heaviness in her body to sit up, pulling the sheet with her so she can gather up her clothes, which are still on the floor in the engine room.
"Don't go on his account," Dean says, his hand warm on her lower back, fingers stroking down to tickle her. "We can lock him in his bunk for a while. He won't mind."
She squirms, feeling the wet rush between her thighs at the touch. "I really should." She gives him a long, slow kiss, though, sucking his tongue into her mouth before she pulls away completely. "But you should send me a wave next time you're visiting Bobby and looking for someone to grapple with."
He grins at her. "Now that's a plan I can get behind," he says, kissing her one more time; she knows she'll be remembering him when she touches herself for the next few months. "And in front of. And on top of."
She giggles and pulls away, reluctant to leave, but glad to know he wants to see her again sometime. "Shiny."
*
Mal is in a good mood when she gets back to Serenity, which means that, for once, the job went as planned.
"You find any bargains, little Kaylee?" he asks as she's installing the new timing belt.
She grins, secret and knowing, thinking about Dean's tongue in her mouth, his cock in her quim. "I did, Cap'n. I surely did."
end
~*~
Note: Title from Bruce Springsteen.
~*~
Feedback is love.
~*~